I've decided that the jump is my signature move. Well not mine, but it's the move I like to make other people do when I'm shooting their wedding. Why? Because it's friggin' cool. If you don't like it, then please don't ask me to shoot your wedding. If I shoot, you jump. That's all there is too it.
Now the question is, can you jump with style?
Did you know that regular store eggs come out brown and are bleached white?
I'm ashamed to admit my ignorance, but I didn't know that until Doug, my step-father-in-law-once-removed, handed me a dozen eggs from his chickens (that live in his back yard) and told me just that. He said, "Did you know they bleach store bought eggs white?" I said, "Really? That's weird. Why don't they just keep them brown."
"I dunno," he said. "Probably because people like the look of it."
Well, I thought about that. Not for too long or anything. It's not like I'm sitting around pondering the color of the almighty egg for days on end. It just struck me as odd. Why can't brown eggs stay brown? I can't say I ever gave it much thought...here I go with the thinking about it all again...and what I came to think about it is this:
I think brown eggs look mighty fine and real purty. Maybe if we all though that then we'd have speckly brown eggs instead of bleached white eggs. There. I done said it. I like brown better than white. Call me an egg-cist.
Across the street from where I live is a half acre lot filled with peach trees. For the last three summers in a row I've been blessed with a crate of the most delectable, mouth-watering peaches from the small orchard. My kids and I have made peach fruit leather, peach jam, peach syrup and smoothies of all design. But what I've found is I like a peach best when I can sink my teeth into one fresh picked off the tree.
3:100 thumbs up
I hitch-hiked on the North Shore of Hawaii. It was an unpleasant experience and not one that I would suggest anyone try. First, you never know who's going to stop. It could be a total stinker of a person...and then what? You have to share a small vehicular space with someone that smells so bad your nose hairs singe. Pee-You! I'm not saying that happened to me. It was the opposite in fact. A super nice man picked up me and my friends, and then drove us to where we were going...somewhere he actually worked. He took us right back to BYU-Hawaii. He told us that we should be safer and just pay the .75 cents to ride the bus. (Yeah, I'm cheap.) But he also explained to us the dangers. And he said enough to scare me witless. So no more thumbing a ride for me.
But that never stopped me from using a buddy pass.
Mark and I used a buddy pass to head over to Hawaii for my Grandma's funeral and an awesome wedding shoot. Unfortunately last night when we went to the airport and saw the backed up system of people trying to fly standby, we realized we couldn't buddy pass it back to Utah. So with a lot of prayer we were able to find an affordable one-way ticket home. So good bye Hawaii...we'll see when we venture into the buddy pass world again.
Aloha, erin
"...and I'm Julene."
Unsure about that reference? Click on this LINK.
While we were visiting the Big Island, Rachel and I stopped at Ross. While scanning the clearance rack (because that's how I roll), we found a ruffly red shirt for only $3.99. I bought it and brought it back to my Auntie's house. Then, once all my sisters saw it and my cousin, they ran out to the Ross and bought the same one because it was such a great deal.
Then while we were dressing for church, Leslie put on the new red Ross shirt. I thought it would be funny if we all wore it. So after a little persuasion, we all went to Rachel's (my sis that lives in Hawaii) church wearing the same shirt...and looking quite Lawrence Welk-ish.
So of course, we had to stop by the Laie LDS temple and snap some matchy-matchy sister photos. See below. But could you also not mention this matchy-matchy-ness to any prospective clients because I usually heckle anyone who would wear the exact same shirt as their sibling.
Have you noticed how long it's been since I've posted? Yeah, sorry about that. I had a wee bit of an emo-mental break down caused by frantic editing leading up to a whirlwind trip to the motherland (a.k.a. Hawaii). All of which caused a serious blockage in my brain. For the last two weeks I've been mumbling nonsense and downing Diet Coke like it's the new water. Um...it is the new water, right?
Regardless, it all boils down to no pictures or posts for you.
But now I'm back. And back in sweet style.
Today I was at church. I saw a girl. Not just any girl, but one that I've secretly loathed because of my insane jealousy issues. She is smart, funny, pretty, and uber-talented in the food blogging world. Oh, and she's a mom of two perfectly amazing children. Grrr...just thinking of her makes my blood boil.
What was this post about again? I'm having a hard time seeing through the red haze.
Oh right, Mariko's cupcakes.
So I saw this girl. Mariko is her name. And she said to me, "Hey, show me how to shoot some sweet-as food." (She didn't really say those exact words, but I can't be bothered to write the truth right now because it's tedious and lengthy. I'm sure it went more like, "How are you, Erin?" And I responded with, "Fine. Just fine. How's your friggin' awesome kids?...Oh, perfect as always...Yeah, and you're still smart...great. That's really great...".)
After a short chat she asked if I would come demonstrate how I shoot food. And frankly I was jumping for joy inside. Is there really something I can show her? Holla' ya'll. I said, "Sure. Make some cupcakes and I'll come over." (I'm pretty sure that's what I really did say.) And voila! She made them. I went over. And I shot her.
I mean, I shot her cupcakes.
Here's Mariko's yummy cupcakes coming straight to you from the motherland of Hawaii!
Aloha, erin.
