Today, as I was browsing through my scrapbook pages on my iPad, I thought about the unflattering images of me that I saw.

It’s true, like most women (and probably men too), I really don’t like having my picture taken and I don’t feel that I’m at all photogenic. (For proof- just ask my brother to share all his less than stellar images of his sister- he’d gladly share them with you just to get back at me, I’m sure.)  I could spend hours lamenting why that is.  But why waste my time?

Of course, the storyteller in me longs for evidence that I lived this life and that means images of me. When I’m really enjoying a moment or seeing a special thing evolve, I’ll ask someone (usually Cody) to take a picture of me doing whatever it is that seems like I need a shot of- like that image of Amy Lynn sleeping on my lap after her birthday party. Or this moment when my mother and I were teaching my uncle to make their mother’s pie crust- it was such a poignant moment that I don’t ever want to forget that I was there.

…continue reading

I believe, no really, I know that all of us scrapbookers are just a little bit crazy. Not because we want to capture our memories. But we will go to “extreme” heights in order to do that.

Here’s case in point:

As a coach in Finding Photo Freedom, I’m doing blog posts for the class. I wrote today’s post about the importance of archiving. And then thought about the two things I would grab in case of fire etc- probably even before my pictures. My quilt that my best friend’s granny made me and my waffle iron. Literally, I’ve been known to put my waffle iron in our fireproof gun safe. I love it that much!

I realized I wasn’t sure if I even had pictures of my waffle iron. And if something did happen to it, I’d want to at least have a picture to remember it by. (And yes, I dread the day it stops working)

So, I set out to rectify that. I made my husband go to Wal-mart and get some buttermilk. So, I could make waffles. Not so I could eat them- but so I could shoot them with my camera. Of course, I did eat the waffle I made for dinner last night and will use the batter this morning for breakfast. I even purposefully over filled the waffle iron so that I could get it to overflow like I remember happening with mom’s when I was child.

The next thing I did as I thought about all the reasons it was so important was go ahead and make this page.

Journaling Reads:  This waffle iron is one of my two most prized physical possessions- seriously, It’s one of the first things I try to protect when a hurricane or wildfire comes our way and would be one of the first things I’d grab in a fire.  You see, it’s probably not replaceable.  It must be over 30 years old.  I got this waffle iron from Aunt Elta’s house- oh how I loved that house growing up.  I knew instantly I’d hit the jackpot when I found this waffle iron- it’s just like mom’s was.  I cringe at the thought of the day that will inevitably come. The day when it won’t work anymore, it’s given me a couple of scares and we’ve had to replace the cord several times.  I have so many memories wrapped up in this waffle iron.  Memories of mom making waffles and watching (and silently hoping for a disaster) when the batter would ooze over as a child.  Mom was good at that.  Her waffle iron gave up the ghost a long time ago but it was nowhere near as perfectly seasoned as this one.  It makes perfect waffles- all I have to do is whip up some homemade batter- never the powder mix.  Mom spoiled us that way and I’ve passed that down to my nephew who can whip up his own batter.  And of course, waffles always make a god dinner.  This waffle iron is so very precious to me.

Supplies: Ali Edwards- template, twill, label; Carina Gardner- ribbon and papers; Anna Aspens- stitching; Splendid Fins- “lace”

 What crazy things have you done to capture a story?