Posts Tagged With: high heeled shoes

nine of twelve hundred

I’m finally getting around to sorting through the twelve hundred wedding photos.
What needs to be printed and what sizes.
I’m working to create a book.
I have to say, it’s daunting as hell!

I’ve chosen a few to share here:

I think the series from the train tracks are my favorite.
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Thing 1 made a bouquet of the spikes we found.
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Boy feet.
I love the Chucks! I wish YBW had worn them for the wedding too, but he did change for the reception.
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Here comes the bride. (and her Things)
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Girlie feet!
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Thing 2 comforting her big sister during the Song of Songs. (You can’t see it, but I’m holding her hand.)
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YBW reading his vows.
He borrowed heavily from Joss Whedon but spoke from his “Wash” heart to my “Zoe” heart.
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Wedding bell is ringing.
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Signing my name to make it official for the church.
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Categories: wedding | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

cherry pie, high heeled shoes, and unconditional love

Once upon a time there was a little red haired girl.
She loved books and babydolls, green army men and Barbies.
She wanted to be a mommy and a teacher when she grew up.
She loved scrambled eggs and cherry pie.
She loved to play dress up…especially with high heeled shoes.
She had a great big laugh, way bigger than her little body could even hold.
She had her tonsils taken out and also had scarlet fever.
She wrecked her bike…a lot.
She was an excellent tree climber.
She loved to swing.
She loved the smell of lilacs.

She is me.
I am she.

Now I am a grown up red haired girl.
I still love books and babydolls and Barbies.
I am a mommy and a teacher.
I still love scrambled eggs and cherry pie.
I absolutely love high heeled shoes.
I still have a great big laugh.
I had LASIK and a hysterectomy.
I’ve never wrecked my car.
I miss climbing trees.
I don’t love to swing anymore…it makes me queasy now.
I still love the smell of lilacs.

That little girl had some seriously great adventures…some not so great, but she learned from them, the good, the bad, the indifferent. She learned how to become me. And she worked hard to learn how to love being me. I’m grateful for every little thing she experienced.

I remember being her.
I am being me because I was her.

Occasionally, I realize I should treat the me I am now the way I want that little girl to be treated…with kindness and respect and an unending supply of unconditional love.
I realize we should all experience that kind of love.

And get to wear high heeled shoes.

Categories: love, me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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