This past weekend was glorious. It was sunny, warm, and quintessentially spring. We decided to take full advantage of the perfect weather and spend pretty much every second we could spare outside. We worked in the garden, setup our new backyard patio furniture, and invited a small group of friends over to enjoy smoked bbq chicken and see our new house. I soaked every second of it in.

I will look back on these moments as the precious new beginnings that always come with moving, and the ushering in of an exciting era in my life. I feel so content right now and look into the future without fear. I am filled to the brim hope and the prospect of opportunity. Last weekend was the perfect way to welcome this new chapter into my life. I feel a wave of fresh inspiration coming, and I'm so ready for it. - b.

PS- I recently bought a 50mm lens and I'm so ready to get back into photography!

I'm a perfectionist.  I like my life to be ordered, controlled, and played out exactly how I imagine it to be. Unfortunately, I'm not perfect and nothing in my life is perfect either. No matter how hard I work at something it never seems to fulfill my imagined version of it. Something I often see as a problem.

That being said, I also have a soft spot for the perfectly imperfect. Something that those closest to me know all too well. I've always preferred the wonky star to the symmetrical one. The "difficult" kids to the angelic ones. And, we all know I chose the wildest dog to take home instead of the gentle puppy. These are choices I make, seeing in these things their inherent beauty, despite their outward flaws.

One of my favorite examples of the perfectly imperfect (outside of Nellie of course) is a one-legged drawing mannequin my friend Idara gave we when I graduated college. I immediately loved him! He's fragile, slightly lopsided, and can only be put into a few positions or else he'll topple over completely. He reminds me of me.

He is proudly displayed prominently in my home and serves as a reminder that nothing in life is perfect, but that's what makes it special, and unique. I should stop worrying about being perfect and focus on just being imperfectly perfect me.

Some things in life just get better with age. - b. 

better with age series: intro | post I 

Nellie is our puppy child. She'll be three in July, but something about her tells me she'll always have a little bit of puppy left in her. Maybe it's the sweet glimmer in her eye. Or the way she cocks her head at you when you say her name.  Her insatiable need for lovings. Her smile.

More likely it's her stubborn unwillingness to let go of bad habits no matter how hard we try to break them. Her need to destroy every stuffed toy she encounters. Her distrust of helmets. Her boundless energy. Etc, etc.

I choose to focus on the good however; especially when she's moody and others only see the bad. Our recent move was particularly hard on her, and I've never felt so ferociously protective and so unconditionally in love with this wild thing. I'm so glad she'll always be our baby. She's our girl. Nellie belly. - b.