Candy, the Cure and Carrie

It is only fitting to close the month of October with thoughts on candy and breasts.

This is my contribution to the October campaign for breast cancer awareness:

Is it a conflict of interest to run in the Race for the Cure 5K and eat Race for the Cure chocolate?  Not a conflict for supporting the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, but a conflict for my body.  Jackson says, "At least it is dark chocolate."

These are women in my family who have survived breast cancer:

Grandma Marie

Grandma Edith

Grandma Doris

My other mother, Stephanie

Remarkable, isn't it?  Yes, I examine myself and let my doctor and a big machine examine me regularly, too.

And, finally, a little follow up on The Scar Project and the photographer David Jay.  Blogger and breast cancer survivor Carrie Robinson (http://carrie-robison.blogspot.com/) had a conversation with David Jay and blogged about her thoughts on The Scar Project:

"the photos are very graphic in nature but they are beautiful and exactly how we, as women and cancer survivors, should be portrayed. Beautiful, strong, and fighters who are not afraid to hide our scars and imperfect bodies as we have been ravaged by cancer but not destroyed."  --Carrie Robinson

Carrie posted a link to a video about the project:

www.lostinvision.com/LiVe/Dont%20Look%20Away.html

And this is a little something Carrie says about herself:

"...FOOB expert, sports maniac who is training for my first triathlon in 2010, chocolate maniac, wickedly talented professional makeup artist who creates the most sexy beautiful zombies you will ever see."  --Carrie Robinson 

I like this Carrie Robinson.  Chocolate maniac:

shhhh...don't tell anyone (well, except for my family)

I may have mentioned the rain we've had this Fall (and how it prevents me from wearing suede shoes).  But when we have our normal Fall days, this is what we get.

People here say we shouldn't tell anyone about our weather.  ATL is already crowded enough and everyone would want to move here if they knew our secret.  I will only tell my family.  And a few close friends.

The place we live is perfect.  If only all of my people were here with me.

Suede? I am suede!/Fall is here

 Shoes by Betty Blue, purchased at an awesome sale in Copenhagen (yes, I am spoiled).  I couldn't find them anywhere online.  Sorry Lacy P.

It is time to put away the sandals.  I see that tights are now fashionable with sandals, but I don't think I am brave enough to be so fashion forward.  How brave would I be if I didn't live in the burbs?

Why do I still need a pedicure?

I have some really nice shoes I want to wear that are Fall-ish.  Too bad we are so rainy this year.  These lovely suede numbers are waiting for me in my closet (thanks, Oma, for the birthday gift):

 

This the Marcella shoe from Sundance.  They are a great deal at the online outlet: http://www.sundancecatalog.com/PRODUCT/Outlet/Shoes+%26+Bags/Shoes/47326.html

Did you know there was an online outlet for Sundance?  

Skeletons (and messes) in the Closet

Here is the honest truth of my closet:

Probably more embarrassing than my attempt at writing Haiku!

(appreciation of beauty, indeed)

It is that time of year when I don't know what to wear.  As I wash and put away my white linen one last time, I realize that I can't remember what I wore during this season last year. Particularly challenging is the transition of unpredictable temperatures and possible precipitation (I won't even go into the "do I straighten my hair today?" dilemma).  Last Fall, I thought I had a pretty decent wardrobe.  Some favorite pieces, in fact.  But now I look in the vast mess of of my closet and believe that I can't possibly dress myself.

My friend, Linda W., once told me that when she was a teenager, she took polaroids of her outfits and hung them with her clothes so she could remember what things went together.  I thought at the time it sounded like a project only a teenager would take the time and energy to do.  I wish I were a teenager.

Camille H. once asked to look inside my closet.  I wonder why?  A good scare for Halloween?

Olivia's shells and beach memories

Olivia's shell necklace

Since I forgot to take the camera on our beach excursion last weekend, I was glad to see that Olivia brought home some memories and whipped them into this charming necklace (the earrings are her work as well).

  

(self-portrait; she prefers this photo)

Behind the Lens

Tallulahs Holiday 2009 Invitation

As it turns out, I am better behind the lens than in front of it.  I played fashion photographer to the striking model, Michelle.  I didn't know what I was doing, but I had fun doing it.  I think Michelle did, too.

And Michelle is not photogenic.  She really is just that beautiful.  (If you don't know what a compliment this is, read my "photogenic 1 & 2" entries!)

I think she looks like a dark Uma Thurman.

What Shall I Make Today?

Station Inspiration

In my studio
The gems are calling out now
What shall I create?

(Is this a freaky 
little haiku? really, tell 
me what to create)

Don't Judge Me!

As I have been writing this blog, I am sensitive about appearing as a self-serving, name-dropping, travel-bragging, globe-trotter. I don't want to seem like something I am not:  a snooty, privileged, international trophy wife. But I hope to just be myself:  a down-to-earth, moderately privileged, suburban trophy wife.

So, when I talk about traveling to different lands, especially traveling first class on trans-oceanic flights, remember that I have Delta employee travel benefits. Then visualize me shecking my luggage on a city bus in Spain to arrive at a youth hostel on a 4th floor walk-up with no air conditioning.

You just never know about the folks in first class eating their smoked salmon and wearing their fancy sleeping masks...

The Language of Laughter

On the beach in Malaga, Rose an I saw a woman with a cane as she entered the ocean with her friends.  I didn't understand what they were saying, except for the laughter.  I wish you could see how much fun they were having.  Frolicking.  It was a beautiful thing.

Happy 15 my beautiful boys

Jackson and Eddie 18 months old.

Eddie 1+ year old.

Jackson 1+ year old.

Jackson 2 years old.

Eddie 2 years old.

Eddie now.

Jackson now.

What happened to the cherubic little babies?

Truthfully, they still are incredibly cherubic (even if I don't get to squeeze them as much).

When I was pregnant with my boys, I told Jennifer H. that I planned to call them "Jack and Eddie."  She said those names sounded like two little boys torturing a cat.  I won't go into how she pegged that one.

I can never get enough of looking at their little boy pix.  Marci G. called them "squishy babies."  Deliciously true.

Somebody stop me!

How lucky am I to be the mother of two wonderful young men?

What Makes a House a Home?

 

This was the title of a blog contest sponsored by my favorite store, The Vintage Flea in Newnan, GA.  I actually took a few minutes and snapped some photos right away when I saw this question.  I'm glad I didn't wait until the house was perfect.  I just shuffled stacks from one place to the next...and fooled the eye.

A little "Where's Waldo?" game:  Can you see Buster twice?  How many pets are joining us for dinner?  Where is Trudy in the top photo?

What makes you happy?

I am a sucker for a dog.

Especially my dog.

Trudy is happy to ride in the car with us.  I love the smiles and laughs she gets from people in the other cars as they point her out to their passengers.  They look happy to see her shaggy head sticking out of the window and smiling (yes, she smiles).  There is something about the pain of driving grudgingly through ATL traffic that dissipates when you see a dog enjoying the ride.  That makes me happy.

I am also happy to have the teenagers choose my van at carpool so they can ride with Trudy.
It makes me feel popular.
Well, I have to take what I can get with teenagers.

Feel your boobies

Every month my book club friends gather to discuss our latest read.  And to remind each other it is time to do our monthly breast self-exams.

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  It's October.

Breast Cancer Awareness is something near and dear to my heart.  I became aware of many important things in my life by becoming aware of the breast cancer history in my family.  My mother (twice), grandmother and great-grandmother all survived breast cancer.  Pretty sobering.

I found the Scar Project site through a chance meeting with the photographer, David Jay.

Barbara and I met him (and his dog Snoopy) at a NYC cafe.  He is an interesting person--a fashion photographer who divides his time between NYC and Sydney.  He took a photo of his dear friend who had experienced breast cancer at an early age.  The photo shows her scars and visually records the toll the cancer took on her body.  That photo turned into a major project, garnering interest from other breast cancer survivors and from the media.  The Scar Project took on a life of its own.  Now an exhibition and a future book, David Jay is attempting to "raise money for research, increase awareness and hopefully present a series of images that will challenge the traditional perceptions of this disease. The images portray the strength, beauty and dignity of these survivors."

The photos on the site

http://thescarproject.org/

are difficult to look at.  But they are truly beautiful, too.  Don't go there if you might be uncomfortable.

If you do go there, I'd like to hear your input.

I thought the photos took some of the stigma out of mastectomies.  And increased my awareness.  Yes, difficult to look at, but also humbling and awe inspiring and moving and... I don't have the words.

A loved one who has experienced breast cancer thought that maybe the project would cause fear in the onlooker and possibly prevent women from wanting to get checked.  She wants women to have hope and know that disfigurement isn't the whole story.  She has heard many conversations about the fear of disfigurement possibly outweighing the risk of death.  I wonder if that is generational.  My generation seems so open to talking about it and realizing how important early detection is.  We know so many survivors now.

We both agree that we squinch up inside when we look at the pictures.  Is it sensational?  Is it using scare tactics?  Is it moving?  Is it motivating?

What do you think?