erin summerill { THE SUMMERILL SURF }

Wonder where I've been?

2012-01-17T21:44:00.000-08:00

I picked up this amazing addition to my wardrobe over Christmas and it's just changed my entire life. Not only am I in a constant state of relaxation, but I don't even feel the need to update my blog. Sadly, it may be time for me to finally change outfits.

Do you own one of these bad boys?

I'm getting older Goals.

2011-12-29T10:31:00.000-08:00

Today I'm older. I guess that's true everyday, but since I was born on this day 33 25 years ago, it seems like I've aged in a more permanent way. And so I feel compelled to come up with a list of goals.

In the next year I will:

1. Finish all the revisions on my book.
2. Find a Kick-A Agent
3. Make an effort to write non-crap.
4. Stop drinking Carbonation.
5. Yes, you read that right. That means good bye Coke Zero. Good bye Diet Coke. Good bye life. (I figured since this life changing goal is so huge it should take up two goal spots on the top ten.)
6. Run two half-marathons so essentially I can say I ran a marathon.
7. Read to my kids every day.
8. Go to Europe.
9. Make a million dollars.
10. Continue to mourn the loss of Michael Jackson.

Of course, I don't know if they'll all happen in that order. But that pretty much sums up my goals for the next year.

What are your 2012 Goals?

Secret 20 of 100

2011-12-26T21:03:00.000-08:00

When I was 8 I didn't get a Barbie for Christmas.

The parents that I thought loved me, didn't bring Diva from Barbie and the Rockers, the Barbie I had asked for over and over and over again.

No, they bought me Skipper--Barbie's lame-A friend.

Can you imagine the utter despair and heartache I felt? The disappointment? The near-end-of-the-world-ness?

That wrenching feeling still haunts my heart even now.

I smiled to hide the frown. (Lie)

I shed no tears. (Bigger LIE)

And not once did I speak of the pain in my heart. (Truth. I didn't complain once. I spilled my grievances until those parents caved.) My sadness must've been apparent despite how I tried to hide my disappointment.

Imagine my surprise when my mom said, "I know your birthday is in a few days, but would you like your present now?"

The tears vanished. "Yes. Now!" I ~~demanded~~ smiled.

Mom returned with a massive box.

I'll admit I wasn't thrilled. Clearly it wasn't Diva. But as I peeled away the layers of wrapping paper, I saw that the present was even better. My parents loved me after all! They gave me the three-story barbie mansion, complete with the pink convertible car for Barbie and Ken. Life was good. A mansion was better than Diva. I was happy.

And now my secret is: I always want my birthday presents early. I wan't them NOW!

Not on the day of my actual birthday. That would be late.

And since I'm spilling secrets, I might as well tell you that I convinced my mom to hand over my presents yesterday. That's right, folks. One white-haired woman down, the rest of you all to go. So if you have a present for me, I WANT IT NOW!

Where have you been?

2011-12-26T20:22:00.000-08:00

Oh. What? You've been here and I've been gone? *Smack head

With Christmas and shopping and eating and shopping and running around like a crazed Muppet, I've over looked my baby of a ghetto blog. For this, I'm sorry. In the last two weeks I haven't had a moment to ~~stalk~~ read all the blogs I love. So sad.

Please forgive me for leaving you high and dry.

Tomorrow I will post the most self-centered secret ever in the history of secrets.

secret 19 of 100

2011-12-12T15:15:00.000-08:00

I used to chew gum--

I found on the ground . . .

That had already been chewed.

Yep. That's the horrible, nasty, no-good, rotten secret of the day. Thus, why I haven't posted until late afternoon. Here's hoping nobody reads this one. But I had to get it off my chest. It's not that bad, is it? I was like four years old. And when my Mom or Dad, or really, really, really annoying sisters found me out I tried desperately to lie about it.

"I, um, got it from a, uh, friend. Yeah, a friend."

Not.

That never worked. I had to spit it out, wash out my mouth, and promise not to do it again.
Eventually I out grew that nasty little habit. (I know you all out there have some of your own nasty little habits, so tread lightly in the "ewwww" comment department.) But here's the thing. I've recently decided that my ABC gum-resuage program isn't all bad. Well the chewing-someone-elese's-gum is totally bad, but the re-usage part is good because it taught me to be thrifty and frugal and make use out of someone else's throw away. That's good, right?

So there you have it: my secret is I'm thrifty.

friday five...prepare yourself

2011-12-09T14:20:00.000-08:00

I woke this morning with lots to do,
So I didn't have time to post for you,
But when I sent a bad text today,
Inspiration hit in a funny way.

You know how smart phones have auto correct?
A genius program until it messes up your text.
Auto correct fails can be confusing and lame,
But it's so dang hilarious when your text is insane!

Friday's Five Favorite Auto-Correct Fails:

*Just know that this last one first sickened me because I hate the "N" word. But after I read it I was laughing so hard I nearly peed myself.

P.s. These were taken from this post:

http://mashable.com/2011/12/05/damn-you-auto-correct-funniest-text/#37143-8

Reading update - touch me and die.

2011-12-06T07:42:00.000-08:00

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

My Take:

"Dystopic novels are all the same," a friend of mine said. Sure, take a repressive society and a character's awakening and voila' you get the simplified recipe for a dystopia.
But that's only the frame.
It's the picture Shatter Me paints that is so very unique. I devoured the book in one reading. It's fast-paced, with a twist-laden plot that has as much action as heart-wrenching emotional scenes.
Not only does Mafi spell bind with a character so emotionally broken and yet strong at the same time, but the antagonist is deliciously deceptive yet intriguing. Shatter Me is complexity at it's finest told in a unique first-person narrative.
For any book addict, this is the perfect crack fix for the day.

What they said:
Juliette hasn't touched anyone in exactly 264 days.
The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette's touch is fatal. As long as she doesn't hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don't fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.
The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war-- and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she's exactly what they need right now.
Juliette has to make a choice: Be a weapon. Or be a warrior.
In this electrifying debut, Tahereh Mafi presents a world as riveting asThe Hunger Games and a superhero story as thrilling as The X-Men. Full of pulse-pounding romance, intoxicating villainy, and high-stakes choices,Shatter Me is a fresh and original dystopian novel—with a paranormal twist—that will leave readers anxiously awaiting its sequel.

You SHOULDN'T read this if:
Boring, lamesauce books are your thing. This one will give you a coronary.
You're my friend Rob Code--I've heard enough of your opinions on first person narratives and dystopic novels to know this one just isn't for you.
You're illiterate. For obvious reasons.

secret 18 of 100.

2011-12-05T11:39:00.000-08:00

The secret: I cut my hair.

Five inches to be exact.

See, I'm not like my sister Nikki who grows so much hair she can practically donate twelve inches a month to locks of love. No that's not me.

I cut my hair because it's terribly thin.

After I had my first kiddo, I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Which basically boils down to the fact that now I have thin hair and gain weight just looking at food. Once I even told a stylist at a salon that I had cancer because she kept commenting on how much thinner my hair was compared to other poly-girls. So now the only person who cuts my hair is my amazing friend Tammy because she just cuts and doesn't tell me that I bring shame to all the polynesian women of the world.

The longer my hair grows, the stragglier it looks. And lately it's been looking awful.

As much as I would love to look like the gal from Splash when I walk out of the shower, that dream isn't in the cards for me.

I figured Tammy was busy with Christmas stuff, so I just hacked it myself. I'm impatient and impulsive and balding. What can I say?

Now you know my real secret. If there was one part about myself I could change, it would be my hair. P.s. If you ever mention to me that my hair looks thin I might have to use my sweet bow staff skills on your butt.

What about you? Anything you would change if you could?

friday five.

2011-12-02T11:03:00.000-08:00

Today I'll be at the library til' night,

Nano is over and yet, I still write.

Before I left home, there was much to organize,

So this is my list of Friday Fives.

First, I registered for LDS Storymakers.

At this conference there are no writing haters.

My friends find editors while I'm busy taking pics.

Maybe this time I'll be the one to snag an agent.

Second I stocked my bag with treats,

That's no surprise because you know my secret,

Here's a shout-out to my second favorite snack--

Hot Tamales always hit the spot when I'm writing in the stacks.

Third I called my writer friends,

They give me ideas and support till the end.

I think the best thing you can have when you're writing a book,

Is a group of critique partners that help you with your hook.

Fourth I found my favorite sweater,

When I write I need comfort to pound out those letters,

It brings me luck and helps me sink into my groove,

It may be threadbare, but at least there's room to move.

Last, I updated my music list,

I-tunes could exist on just my business.

A little Zooey, Frank, and Taylor are a must,

Without some tunes, my writing would be a bust!

Happy Friday Ya'll.

What are your plans today?

with a bang or a fizzle?

2011-12-01T08:26:00.000-08:00

National Writing Month is OVER!

I feel successful, happy, tired, disappointed, confused, brain-dead, elated and relieved! Yes, all at once. Holy Canoli! Who knew one month of writing could turn me into psych patient of Dr. House. My brain needs serious R&R. Good thing there isn't much to do this next month . . . ur, or not.

My goal was to completely finish my book. I didn't quite get there, but I did write 60,000K total this last month. I'd like to think that I'm going to take it easy next month, but really, who am I kidding? I'm as competitive as a Survivor Contestant in the final four.

So . . .

HOW DID YOU DO?

secret 17 of 100 . . . and updates

2011-11-28T08:55:00.000-08:00

I'm a sneak.

(That's the secret.)

(But there's a little more to it.)

When I really want to write a lot, I have to get out of my house. My favorite haunt is the back-right corner of the local library beside the YA section where the chairs are soft and the windows have a picturesque view. Seriously, it's perfect. Just writing this makes me want to head for the stacks. But no worries, I'm a finisher. So let's get this thing done.

So the thing is when I'm writing, there's something else I have to have--and not just want, but really, truly, honest-to-Betsy need!

A Coke Zero. (I'm a huge DC fan, but when it comes to writing there's something in the ZERO that get's my writing juices flowing. And when I say flowing I mean like 11K words a day.)

So the problem?

No food or drink is allowed in the library.

Thus the secret: I'm a sneak.

UPDATE: I took last week off to gorge my body on food. Yeah, yeah, you probably already figured that out. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving too . . . that is, if you celebrate the holiday. But if you're like Iain from England, I hope you just had another great week of regular week stuff.

QUESTIONS: I'm curious, where do you write best? Also, we're all sneaks sometimes, right? When are you super sneaky? And if you're really not sneaky, what did you do last week

secret 16 of 100.

2011-11-21T07:59:00.000-08:00

My secret is all about my friend today.
I have this unbelievable, amazing friend who's funny and caring and smart and determined. And I can't imagine how my life would be without her. Three years ago we decided to start out on a trek together in writing. We took a class together, we started a writer's group, we attended conferences . . . and we wrote and wrote and wrote . . .

And I knew this day was coming. She trusted me not to say a thing even though it was bursting out of me in every way. But I did it, I kept my lips sealed until the day I could finally say:

My secret is: my FRIEND is going to be published.

(Click the link to find out who I'm talking about!)

friday five.

2011-11-18T09:06:00.000-08:00

There once was a writer who forgot how to laugh--

Too many hours by the computer and none in the bath.

While she edited on her own her heart felt pierced,

for she missed times with friends because she stank something fierce.

Of course, this poem isn't about me--I smell just fine,

It's just I got to thinking, how I write all the time,

And days by my laptop mean there are five things I miss,

Just like the other lonely-girl-writer with the terrible pits.

Friday Five: Things Writers (or Hermits) Miss

When you think of old friends, does your throat form a lump?

It's probably 'cause you've gone too long without a chest bump.

Or maybe like "Putty" from Seinfeld you crave,

A high-five from something other than your cat, Dave.

Stuck in a scene can make you feel down on writing luck,

It's time to call a friend and see a movie that may or may not suck,

If that's not your thing, then a night out to dinner is what you need,

There's no place like the Olive Garden because there you're like family.

If you're lonely, maybe stinky, and feeling at your wit's end,

What you're probably missing most is a game of Words With Friends!

My question to you is what do you miss?

If you had three extra hours a day what would be on your list?

Famous. Or something like it.

2011-11-17T07:54:00.000-08:00

He he! Today is the coolest day in the world. Chantele Sedgwick interviewed me on her very cool blog. Please head over and check it out:

MY WRITING BUG by Chantele Sedgwick

writing inspiration - quotes

2011-11-16T08:03:00.000-08:00

I was reading a blog the other day where the author mentioned she liked to find quotes that summarized her main character. (Please forgive me for forgetting which one. Nano has taken my brain and mashed it and then thrown it in the garbage disposal.) Ingenious, right?

So I set out to find one for mine, Costa. She's strong. She's a spy. So I thought this worked perfectly:

Then I started thinking, what quote would describe me best. Considering this month, and the writing frustrations I keep slamming into, this quote seemed perfect:

It seems the more I write and stress, the more problems I create. Do you do that too? Are you an over writer or an under writer?
So when I was about to pull out my hair, I came across this quote:

Frankly 50K words in one month is practically impossible. But maybe not.

Are you doing nano? If so, how's that going for you?

If not, what type of writer are you?

secret 15 of 100

2011-11-14T07:43:00.000-08:00

My secret is when I was fifteen I acquired the nickname "Whiskers" for about a year.

Back then, I sometimes felt like this applied to me:

One particular morning, after a late night hanging with friends, I had the hardest time waking up. Shocking, I know. When I managed to get up and walk into the bathroom, I looked like DEATH. Kind of like my example pic.
No time to shower, I hurried and washed my face, put on some makeup . . . and when that didn't help the look much, I curled my hair.

While curling my bangs, the iron slipped from tired fingers and landed on my cheek. Basically, curling iron plus tired me, meant complete and total humiliation. I went to school that day with a 1 inch curling iron barrel roll across my right cheek. Nothing I did with my hair hid that hideous purple-brown mark.

My snarky history teacher had to say something. "Erin, whoever you've been making out with needs to shave, because that's a nasty whisker burn."

People laughed. I wanted to die.

Hence, the nickname whiskers.

11-11-11

2011-11-11T07:42:00.000-08:00

In light of 11-11-11, I'll not be entertaining you with Friday's five fantastically fabulous poems.

Instead, I'm aiming to write 11,1111 words today. So in respect of 11-11-11, here's a different type of post for the day.

11 things I'm grateful for:

1. Mark. He's a wonderfully, kind and loving hubby and friend.
2. Kiddos. Mostly when they're not wrecking the house. But regardless, I love them.
3. Ma and Pa. The best parents ever. Even when I'm not the best daughter.
4. Friends. Walls that I lean on probably too much.
5. Music. I-tunes junkie. Anyone check out Kaskade's new album yet? Seriously addicted.
6. Movies. Preferably at the dollar theater in PG.
7. Books. They are my crack and the PG Library is my supplier.
8. Shoes. Imelda ain't got nothing on me.
9. Cameras. I hope to one day capture a scene so inspiring it leaves me breathless.
10. Jesus. Because he's everything.

11. You...(Yes, if you came to my blog earlier, you can see I just added this. I guess that would mean I'm grateful that I have friends that let me know of my mistakes. And I'm grateful that my brain works 10 out of 11 times).

What are you grateful for today?

Opinions needed: first impressions

2011-11-09T06:58:00.000-08:00

At first, I was like, that's a weird looking loaf of raisin bread.
I'll come back to the freaky bread in a minute. It ties in to my point for the day.

For me, one of the greatest payoffs for investing time in a novel or series is when there's a discovery in character. Like when you find out Mr. Rogers isn't just a nice old man in a cardigan (Ok, maybe he is . . .bad example). But, think of Snape. Not such a bad guy. Or Noah (The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer. If you haven't read this yet, drop what you're doing and get to it.)
Of course this isn't something new. Writers have been doing it for ages, creating red herrings to lead the MC (and the reader) astray.

Now back to the bread. If you haven't stared at the picture long enough to figure out why it looks freaky, try again. What do you see now?

It's not a loaf of raisin bread at all. It's a pug (dog).

The point is, first impressions can and sometimes should give false impressions. (Like the bread dog).
As a writer, I do this often. I lead my main character astray by allowing her to believe other characters follow hard and fast rules. When really they don't.

Question of the Day: How often do you use red-herrings. Or characters that are like the bread-dog? When do you reveal their true identity?

Writing Inspiration - quotes

2011-11-08T07:10:00.000-08:00

I love a good quote. Sometimes it's just the inspiration I need to push myself forward, or it gives me something to think about concerning the character I'm writing. Inspiration towards writing can come from many forms. Whenever I'm out stalking blogs or spending hours on fb, I make a point of writing down any quote that stands out to me.

So for Tuesday's inspiration I thought I'd share one of my favorites:

My attitude is that if you push me towards something that you think is a weakness, then I will turn that perceived weakness into a strength.

-Michael Jordan
(Taken from: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/attitude.html#ixzz1d7tdfQXV)

I love his endurance and drive to be more. To fight whatever is holding him back and turn the tables on whoever is bringing him down. My main character has this same sort of determination, and today this quote is exactly what I needed.

Do you have any favorite quotes? Please share! Or at least tell me what inspires you this week?

secret 14 of 100

2011-11-07T06:53:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the crap hits the fan. (Not the secret, just fact of life.)

For me, this happened last week. My awesome hubby got laid off. (Also not the secret, at least not mine.)

That's part of why I was MIA for days. Frankly, that stress plus a few of my own insecurities led me into a bit of a downward spiral. It took quite a few nudges from some great writing buddies to see the bright side of things.
It was during a conversation with Jessie from B-Word that I remembered an old motto of mine.
When I was eleven, I was pudgy, kids made fun of me, and I lived on an Air Force Base in California. Back then, each home had a plaque with the resident's name and rank posted on an exterior wall.
After a bad day at school, I needed some escape. I went on a bike ride with my sister and friend. I loved to read last names. Two blocks from my home, a name plaque made me stop in my tracks.

Crap.

Yep, that's right. The last name of the unfortunate family was Crap. Right then and there I adopted a new motto. Life could be worse, I could be a Crap.
That motto got me through a particularly sucky year of middle school. My sister and I came up with lots of Crap jokes, and just passing by the house left me gasping in laughter. Now that I think about it, it's kind of horrible for me to make fun of people as unfortunate as the Craps.
So I suppose you could say my secret is: I sometimes lift myself by poking fun of others.
Or on a more positive note, my secret could be: I'm doing great this week because at least I'm not a Crap!

friday five - distractions

2011-11-04T06:05:00.000-07:00

I had one of those weeks that passed in a flash,

not much accomplished but I'm bent that won't last

Distractions, good and bad, snagged me everyday,

And my poor NANO goals slipped far away

First, I shot my girl because she turned three.

What an extravaganza that turned out to be.

One hour stretched into many to draw out her smile,

No NANO that day because I was shooting for awhile.

When I had a chance to sit down and write,

blasted halloween candy called with all it's might.

The devil chocolate calls, rendering me a useless hack.

It's a relentless draw until I snack, snack, snack.

And when I'm not shoving my face full of candy,

I've twiddled hours away doing nothing dandy.

(That's a lame-butt rhyme, lamer than lame,

But so is hours on facebook stalking random names.)

Serenity Now! I need a break from facebook.

Instead of writing, I read Colleen Hueck's latest book.

I should've been typing but I couldn't resist,

a story of two hottie boys and girl like a princess.

It all boils down to a load of stress.

Little distractions that kept me doing so much less.

Less than I wanted, but I now vow that will end,

NANO if it kills me, 50,000 words will be my friend.

How was your first week of Nano? Good or Bad?

Are you taking part in all the insanity to be had?

If not, how was your week and what did you do?

Please tell me you ate candy, so I don't feel like a big poo.

Secret 13 of 100

2011-10-31T09:11:00.000-07:00

There's something creepy about the number 13, so I figure why not creep y'all out. It is, after all, Halloween. No better time for creeping and stalking, is what I always say.

My secret is I was a stalker.

No, not in the funny I read your blog and look at all your pictures on fb ten times a day. (Although I do that too.)
When I say stalker I'm talking I-wore-black-and-followed-a-boy-around-town kind of way.

Yeah, I get that the following stalking techniques may come across a little creepy:

1. I watched said boy from behind cracked blinds to see when he was coming and going from his home. (A good stalker knows when and where her Stalkee will be at all times. Stalking Tip #12, from Erin's Book of Stalking).

2. After taking note of his schedule, I mysteriously popped up in same places he was, and when confronted about it, I blinked at him and said, "You're kind of creeping me out. Are you following me?" (Always turn the tables on the Stalkee. Stalking Tip #29, from Erin's Book of Stalking).

3. I may or may not have followed said boy three cars behind while he took another (might I add hussy) girl on a date. This charge I can't confirm or deny. (Stalking is creepy when it's illegal. So try to make your stalking look like innocent interest instead of law-breaking activity. Stalking Tip #29, from Erin's Book of Stalking)

The point is, I was a stalker. I admit it, and I'm not afraid to say it. Because without my suave stalking techniques I wouldn't be married to that boy now.

All those out there that stalk, say aye!

friday five - killer characters

2011-10-28T08:08:00.000-07:00

I was thinking to myself how neat it would be

if five lethal characters could hang out with me

five deadly acts that have drawn my attention

five killers that can't go without mention.

First, I'd invite Sydney Bristow the spy

When she wore the red wig, she first caught my eye

There isn't a foe she can't fight and kill.

She'll kick your A if you're up in her grill.

Second, I'd call on my main man Ash

And not just because he'd be just as handsome in a stache'

He's the ice-prince, he's deadly, he'll kill you on sight

But for a girl, he'll go to the end of the earth, and put up a fight.

Third, there's Chuck. If I'm being honest he's no threat,

If he was fighting one of the other characters he wouldn't get my bet.

But he's lovable, and funny, and sometimes he kick's A.

So he makes my list because meeting him would make my day.

Fourth, I was tempted to talk about Noah and not Mara

He's surprisingly alluring despite his girl drama

But she's the real killer in this haunting tale

She's vulnerable, curious, and holding a secret as big as a whale.

Fifth should've been first, because Michael is the man,

Except when he's dancing around like a killer without a tan.

(Ok, so I get that probably applies to the last half of his life,

but the man's Thriller is a genius and it made me want to be his wife)

There you have it, five characters I want to meet.

Killers, well, most of them, but still they'd be cool to greet!

What Lethal persona is the top of your list?

Who would scare your pants off if he came at you out of the mist?

writing inspiration - coolness

2011-10-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

As you can see from my Secrets, I wasn't very cool growing up. In fact, I went through a pudgy phase where I was down-right the nerdiest thing north of the equator. I was the most un-cool girl around.

(Picture borrowed from www.sodahead.com)

So now as I try to write characters that are the essence of all things cool, I sometimes find myself doubting aspects to their design. From clothing, to vehicles, to their speech.

So to deal with my shortcomings, I googled coolness.

This is what Wiki How has to say:
"Have you always wanted to be the cool guy, who always seems to do the right thing? Or are you dying to be the cool girl, who flows through life with ease and grace? If you think about all the people who you think of as cool . . . they have several characteristics in common: they're all confident, unique, and on friendly terms with everyone . . . Everyone has their own definition of cool; there is really no true universal definition on how to be cool, but here are some guidelines to get you started."

I like that. Confident. Unique.

But really, is that enough? I want to know how you create a cool character. What's your recipe for cool success?

If you read my last secret, it's clear I ain't got one.

writing inspiration - queries

2011-10-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

Last year I queried a book.

And it didn't go so well. Why? Because I made all the rookie mistakes. ALL of them.

The query was confusing.
My book wasn't polished.
I gushed. A lot. I like to gush at people.
Basically I sounded like a twit.
And so on, and so forth . . .

So this year when I'm ready, I'm not going to do that again. Not by a long shot.

But in the mean time, Suzie Townsend of the Nancy Coffey Literary and Media Representation is offering a review of your query. She'll tell you why she'd really reject it. And it's for free! To enter her Query contest, go to:

Confessions of a Wandering Heart

secret 12 of 100

2011-10-24T09:31:00.000-07:00

Last night Mark and I returned from visiting my sis in Washington at midnight. (No, that's not the secret).
This morning when I woke up I felt like a giant piece of crap--sore throat, achy, fever. (Again, not the secret).
Because my brain's a little fuzzy the only secret to come to mind is so mortifying I cringe even now as I'm on the verge of sharing it. But I can't sit in front of the computer any longer to think of another good secret. So don't say I didn't warn you. This is a mother of a secret.

Secret 12 of 100:

I played violin in the school orchestra. I wasn't very good. But the summer between sophomore and junior year, when all my friends were dating, I spent my lonely hours practicing.

Junior year, my marked improvement earned me a spot at second stand. And my partner became Illusive hot boy--a guy that wore a leather coat and reminded me of James Dean.

The day of our first concert of the year I felt like a giant piece of crap. (Much like I do now). But I went anyway, taking my place beside Illusive hot boy.
The concert started. I played well. In between songs Illusive complimented me. He was flirting with me! I giggled, managed something witty back . . . and then I sneezed.

And then time seemed to freeze. The seconds of post-sneeze silence spanned an eternity. Illusive looked at me with widened eyes. What was wrong? It took my foggy brain another second to follow the path his eyes took. I looked from I-hot boy to the spot on my violin that had trapped his attention.

Oh. Dear. Mother!

There on the curved, honey wood of my violin sat the most vile, slimy, loogie I'd ever seen. And judging from the timing, I'm guessing it flew out of my mouth mid-sneeze.
In that moment I wanted to die. Especially because the conductor tapped the stand, lifted his arms and started a new song .
I didn't have time to wipe it off. Oh the horror. I had to play an entire new song before I had a chance to free myself of that forsaken excrement.

And after I did, using my sleeve with as much pride as I could muster, Illusive never quite looked at me the same. Then again, I couldn't bring myself to look at him. So I guess that makes me even.
But there you have it. My secret is I'm a loogie sneezer when I'm sick.

friday five - goodbyes and one hello

2011-10-21T10:04:00.000-07:00

This summer my husband came home from work and said, "Hey, so I know my job as a Treasury Manager is pretty freaking awesome, but I think I want to try my hand at being a dentist."
Say what?
Mark wants to return to school for the next year to take the prerequisite classes for dental school, then apply to dental school, and then after getting in . . . he wants to actually go!
Hyperventilate much? You better believe it.

After much thought and discussion and prayer, I agreed. It took a little faith because Mark and I were just about to close on a lot of land. And if Mark hadn't had his dental ephiphany we would now be living in our dream home. This post is to say goodbye to those dreams and hello to new ones.

1. Goodbye dream house and your craftsman style charm.

I think of you fondly and then want to do Mark harm.

I'm letting you go, for now that is,

And when Mark graduates, repayment will be his!

Muah ha ha

2. Goodbye 50's styled basement kitchen adjoined to my writing room

Really, you were just a dream because your cost would be my doom.

But since I'm bemoaning my loss, I added you in

Maybe in the future the expense of you won't be a sin.

3. Goodbye reading settee, so cozy by my bed

When I think of you I feel sad in my head.

Where will I sit and read in style?

Not in my dream house . . . at least not for awhile.

4. Goodbye days of lounging around like a cat

Now life's super busy because my hubby's wearing the student hat

I know this poem sounds a little lame

But I love the picture all the same

5. Hello future! Whatever you may hold

I hope the out look is good before I get too old

While Mark's studying and learning at dental school

I'll be writing away like a YA writing fool!

reading update - dragons and hot guys.

2011-10-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Slayers by C. J. Hill

My Take:
It's kind of like Rampant, but with dragons instead of unicorns. And by the end of the first book I don't loathe the main character and think she's a complete and total whore. That being said, I loved that CJ Hill crafted such a heart tugging romantic plot line without the smut.
Along with the romance, the action and adventure plotting is excellent. Each chapter brought new twists and turns that kept the book moving forward. Never a dull moment.
CJ hill excels in writing true to life characters that pop off the page.
This is a book you'll want on your Do Not Touch shelf.

What they say about it:
Dragons exist. They’re ferocious. And they’re smart: Before they were killed off by slayer-knights, they rendered a select group of eggs dormant, so their offspring would survive. Only a handful of people know about this, let alone believe it – these “Slayers” are descended from the original knights, and are now a diverse group of teens that includes Tori, a smart but spoiled senator’s daughter who didn’t sign up to save the world.

The dragon eggs have fallen into the wrong hands. The Slayers must work together to stop the eggs from hatching. They will fight; they will fall in love. But will they survive?

You Shouldn't read this if:
All you like is poorly crafted smut. Go for Rampant.
You're opposed to cruelty to fire-breathing, people-eating dragons.
You're illiterate. For obvious reasons.

writing inspiration - dialogue

2011-10-19T08:24:00.000-07:00

Two nights ago I stayed up till 3:23 in the wee morning reading the new book, Slayers by CJ Hill (aka Janette Rallison). I've been a big fan of her writing for quite some time. Usually it sort of falls under the chick lit category, so I was curious to how well Janette would pull off a fast-paced adventure. Of course, I can't share that now. I gotta keep all of my five blog readers coming back. So I'll post my opinion on Slayers tomorrow. You won't want to miss that.

But I walked away feeling newly inspired to write better dialogue. Janette's dialogue is witty, funny, true to character personality, and never forced. It makes her characters and the story come to life.

Dialogue is often my own challenge, but I've seen a lot of awkward talk in published books. I'm always surprised when I find a little "maid and butler" in something I pull off the new releases at B&N.

In order to write better dialogue, I've developed a system.

Erin's Method to Writing Dialogue

1. I write the conversation as fast as I can as it pops in my head. I don't worry about punctuation, or blocking, or tags.

2. Then later, after a trip to Harts for my Diet Coke, I read through the scene out loud. (Ask Jessie Humphries. She said I'm a mumbler when I'm writing. It's mainly because I'm getting a feel for my dialogue). When I'm reading, I omit anything that sounds awkward or fake to the characters in the scene.

3. Last I add blocking. I have them move, or show expression.

4. Then I read it once more out loud, and adjust anything that feels awkward.

My process is somewhat layered, but it's helped me create better dialogue. Maybe one day I'll be a master like Janette.

What do you do to create witty and natural dialogue? I'm quite curious.

writing inspiration - faces

2011-10-18T08:05:00.000-07:00

I used to be a people watcher. In order to make my characters feel more real, I'd go to the mall and shop a little for shoes, but mostly I'd check people out. I'd listen to their conversations and study they way they move, and look at their features. But honestly speaking, I kind of felt like creeper. Especially when people noticed me watching them.

Now I stay home. Thanks to Pinterest, I find my interesting character faces online without creeping anyone out besides my hubby. Here are the faces of my current WIP that's a contemporary spy novel:

Milla - Kick-A protagonist. Lethal agent that too often listens to her bleeding heart.

Mag - Milla's bestie, just as lethal but not as confident

Crow - their beloved trainer that looks tough but really has a soft side

Kane - the new trainer who is as mean as he looks . . . most of the time

And the boy. Sigh.

Of course a lot of my characters are dream cast, but I tried to find pictures that set the scene for me. When I'm finding my character's voice, I'll pull their image onto the screen and start writing scenes. Sometimes those scenes don't end up in the novel, but they help me figure out who the character really is.

Now, the questions of the day:
How do you find your character's voices?
Are you a picture finder? If yes, who is in your dream cast?
Or are you a people watcher? If so, where do you go?

secret 11 of 100

2011-10-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

I own 46 pairs of shoes. (An all time low for me.)

After falling victim to a terrible shoe storm in my closet, my husband made the rule that I could only own as many shoes as years old I am.

First, I'm not 44. I won't be for quite some time.
Second, I used to be pretty good about following the rule . . . by bending it a little. I separated my winter shoes from summer. Depending on the season, I kept only my age amount of shoes in the closet. But last month I had a yard sale and purged myself of fifteen pairs of shoes. (Yes, that means I had over 60 pairs.) So now that my 44 are feeling small in number I decided to put them all in the closet. To heck with the rule.
Third, I'm feeling the itch for more shoes. Have you seen all the boots this season? Ugh. I'm dying. What's another couple pairs of boots?

I admit, I'm a little bit of a shoe addict. But not bad, right? What's 44 pairs? I'm pretty sure there's a lot of you out there that probably own twice that. And if that's the case then it wouldn't matter if I add a few more pairs to the closet. I NEED shoes!

Do you have a shoe addiction too? If not (though I can't imagine why not) I want to know what's the one thing you hoard in your home. I've decided that these new shoes I want so badly can be my reward once I finish my WIP. I'm super close, ya'll. And then we can party with my new boots!

friday five.

2011-10-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

Today I'm dedicating this post to five people that I think are seriously awesome. Some are published, some are not, and some are really close. But whatever the stage of writing they're in, they amaze me with their mad skills. Check them out:

1. Peggy Eddleman - my girl Peggy has been with me from the beginning when we were rogue class attendees in a writing class that changed our lives. She's helped me figure out plot structure and fix bad dialogue. And on a side note, her husband makes a mean roasted red pepper soup.

2. Jessie Humphries - I like to call this girl Coonskin because her maiden name is coon. We met at a writing conference two years ago and she's been one of my best writing buddies since then. I can't imagine going to a conference without her. It would just be lamesauce. Jessie makes me laugh because she's kind of irreverent and kind of random and a lot of cool.

3. My Pile of Books -this awesome little book review site was started by a great writing friend of mine, Stacey. She and a few other "anonymous" bloggers support this blog. But sometimes those other gals are really busy and kind of lame and they feel really bad for not supporting so much. But the point is, the blog is awesome. And Stacey is awesome for starting it. Can anyone say awesome much?

4. Ally Condie - I met Ally years ago at a writing conference. I love her because she's small, she likes to run, and she writes like a friggin' genius. She makes me laugh with her dry wit. And her next book, Crossed, is soon to come out and it will be as fabulous as the first so check it out.

5. Julie Donaldson - Alright, so here's the situation with Julie. One, she's amazing. She can do anything when it comes to writing. I met Julie at the same conference I met Ally. Julie published a little book on love awhile back and her first national title will be out sometime next year. You'll want to keep an eye out for her.

Those are my five favorite writing ladies. They inspire me. Check them out, I hope they inspire you too.

reading update - people from England time travel?

2011-10-13T07:42:00.000-07:00

Ruby Red by Kerstin Gier

My Take:
Honestly speaking, I was more hooked by the cover of the book than by the first chapter. It took me at least two before I warmed up to the main character. I've found that a lot of YA writers write mature characters, at least to some extent. But Gwyneth is 17 and she actually acts that age. Once I got used to her quirky self doubt, yet strong determination, I was down with her. And by the end of the novel she kind of rocked my socks off. I loved her. I love that this book takes place in England. And I REALLY love Gideon, her potential love interest and time traveling partner.
The thing I didn't love is the end. Why? It ended and the story wasn't done. As in, there's a hook.
But, (there's always a but) the costumes in the book are fab. There's danger, mystery, and serious romantic tension.

What They Say It's About:

Gwyneth Shepherd's sophisticated, beautiful cousin Charlotte has been prepared her entire life for traveling through time. But unexpectedly, it is Gwyneth, who in the middle of class takes a sudden spin to a different era!

Gwyneth must now unearth the mystery of why her mother would lie about her birth date to ward off suspicion about her ability, brush up on her history, and work with Gideon--the time traveler from a similarly gifted family that passes the gene through its male line, and whose presence becomes, in time, less insufferable and more essential. Together, Gwyneth and Gideon journey through time to discover who, in the 18th century and in contemporary London, they can trust.

You Shouldn't Read This If:

You can't stand books that end with a hook. But if that's the case, pick it up when the next installment comes out.

You have no fashion sense and you're a country-ist. (England + to die for outfits = awesomeness . . . unless that's not your thing.)

You're illiterate. For obvious reasons.

Go Forth And Read!

writing inspiration - do i dare go there?

2011-10-12T07:16:00.000-07:00

I am so happy with all the feed back from yesterday. Writing has been on my mind a lot lately because I'm getting my current work in progress (WIP) ready for submission. I was so amazed with your answers and quite inspired. Thank you so much!

In short, my current WIP is a little edgier than other books I've written. People die. And not just by the (duh, duh, dun...) bad guy, but by lots of main characters. Basically my book is killer. (ha ha, sorry I had to put that one in).

So in real life I'm not a killer. And my biggest sin is my frequent use of the "D" word. I'd like to blame my hubby for that, but I'm sure if you met him you'd know I was a big, fat liar. Though I've written a kill-all book, I'm not in any way advocating being an assassin. When my character uses the "D" word, it doesn't mean I use the "D" word in everyday life. (Alright, so not a good example).

What I'm wondering is, when and where do you draw the line?

What if what you really want to write is a bit darker and scarier than your personal morals or religious beliefs?

"D" Word or the "B" Word . . . or the "Sh" word . . . or the (duh, duh, duh . . .) "F" word?

Holy mother, did I just ask that question? Yes I did.

Please, for the love of all things, let me know. Or I'll be a sad "D"word-dropping girl for the rest of the day.

writing inspiration - working out

2011-10-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

When I was seventeen I graduated from high school and went away to college. My freshman year I put on twenty pounds. Ugh. I felt tired and pudgy. After hearing me bemoan the drama of my tummy tire, my roomate convinced me to take an aerobics class with her. Reluctantly, I went.

I hated it.
Every muscle burn, drip of sweat, and labored breath. I loathed aerobics.

I know what you're thinking (well, maybe I know). You're thinking, that's weird because Erin is an aerobic instructor. Yep that's right. I am. See the thing is, when I was seventeen (not so many years ago), I made a deal with myself. I decided I would stick with it until I LOVED working out.

And the funny thing is, now that I love it I don't want to stop. I usually work out five days a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But I've found that consistency is the key. The more I do it, the more my body expects it. And really after awhile all those push-ups and lunges kind of, sort of feel great.

Writing is like working out.

Sometimes you hate it. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes forming a great scene is as hard as doing a hundred one-arm pushups.

But the more you persist in writing every day, the easier it gets. And the easier it gets, the more you love it . . . like aerobics. Right?

How often do you write?
When do you write?
What time of the day works best for you?
If you don't write, but you just read my ghetto blog for fun, what would you write if you were a writer?

Please for the love of all things holy, just respond so I don't feel like I'm talking to myself. I'm such a sucker for a comment.

Luv, erin

secret 10 of 100

2011-10-10T08:59:00.000-07:00

My mom is really my biological mom.

Seventh grade was a beastly year for me. I was chubby and I lived in Hawaii where all the kids at my school were brown or haole (Hawaiian slang for a white person. Take for instance my mom.) Since I shied away from confrontation like my kids hide when it's time to clean the bathroom, I was also teased a lot. I hated that.

One day during math, I felt feverish. My teacher sent me to wait in the office for my mom.

When she arrived the brown girl beside me asked,"Eh, who dat? Your auntie?"

This particular girl was the queen beast of seventh grade, and I didn't care for her. She teased me on a regular basis. I didn't want her making fun of me for having such a ghost-white mom.

So I said, "No. She's my step-mom."

And she believed me.

I admit I was spineless. Not claiming my mother was a terrible thing to do. So I'm setting the record straight. My secret, one I've carried for so many years is that haole woman in the photo with me and my sisters is really, truly, my mom.

Have you ever lied about something big in your life to save face? Or told a little lie? Any lie at all?
Don't leave me hanging. I want to hear your little secret too.

friday five.

2011-10-07T06:46:00.000-07:00

In Utah, it seems like this is the weekend for writing conferences. Well, at least two that I know of. At UVU, prospective and pubbed writers can attend the Book Academy, or if you want to trek into the cold snowy Utah mountains, there's the Heart of the West conference held at the Canyons Resort. My writing buddies and I have been to both, but this year we're heading up to Park City for the Heart of the West conference. In fact, we got here last night and I'm freezing my toosh off. There's something seriously wrong when it snows during the first week of October. (Silent prayer to move back to Hawaii)

Today I'd like to dedicate this post to Writing Conferences. I'm not a complete conference groupie, but I go to a couple a year. And I've learned a thing or two that may help you.

Five Things To Do At A Writing Conference

1. Shower

How should I put this? Since I'm not one for putting things in a delicate manner, I'll just say it. Sometimes people stink. And sometimes a room can be filled with the stench of dirty head. (I'm not pointing any fingers at the ladies I'm attending the conference with. I'm just saying.) Fifty writers in a room can smell bad. I know I don't shower for days on end when I'm in writing mode. But conference mode is different. For the love of all books, please shower.

2. Keep your bra to yourself

Or better said, don't wear shirts that have buttons. This one really just comes from personal experience. But since I'm back at the same conference, I certainly don't want to flash any hot pink braziers to older, erotica-writing men. You can read about that HERE!
(Side note: Don't try searching for "pink bras" on google. Big mistake. UGH.)

3. Leave the Wizarding Costume at Home

Well, if you're going to World-Con, go for it. But for any other conference, it's always best to dress your best. Wear something that plays up to your eye-color or hair style. I think setting a good first impression is sometimes more important than showing the world how much you love The Lord of the Rings. Then again, I've seen some fab costumes at conferences so I could be totally wrong about this one.

4. Put on a Happy Face

It may be a year from now when I get published, or ten years from now (heaven forbid). But since I don't know, I think it's best to always be friendly to other prospective writers. I've met some of my best friends at writing conferences. If it wasn't for Jessie Humphries smiling face and charming wit, we wouldn't be friends now. If you're open to making new friends, you can find your greatest writing supports at conferences.

5. Go with me and you'll find an agent

Call it luck, but there's something about attending a conference with me that will snag you an agent faster than you could probably finish your WIP. The last time I came to the HOW conference I attended with three other ladies. Two ended up signing with the agents from the conference. How is it possible I wasn't one of them? Well, my WIP wasn't ready. It's still not ready. The whole photography life of mine sometimes gets in the way. But I don't mind so much. I'm just glad to help another writer along even if it is by strange coincidence.

That's my five! Now keep it alive. I'd love to hear what things you've learned at writing conferences.
What conferences have you been to?
What has been your favorite conference?
What's something you've learned from going to a conference?

i want to thank all the people who made this possible...

2011-10-05T21:42:00.000-07:00

I got a BLOG award! Can you believe it?

I'd like to take a moment to thank the Cherie at Ready.Write.Go for giving me this award. It makes me ridiculously happy. Second I'd like to thank my Mom and Dad who made all this possible. Without their enthusiasm, I would've never been born, let alone given free reign to write whatever I feel like on this here blog of mine. Last I want to thank Al Gore for inventing the Internet. Thanks to him alone, I've been able to put my deepest thoughts out into cyberspace to be read by one or two people.

Now, this is my first award, so I better play by the rules:

1. Thank and link to the person who nominated me. (Check)

2. Share seven random facts about myself.

3. Pass the award along to 5 newfound blogging buddies

4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them.

GO GO GADGET O' 7 RANDOM FACTS:

1. My 4 year old is a parrot. The other day he said, "That guy is a bad guy." He was watching a movie, and yes, the guy was indeed a bad guy. Then Parrot-son added, "If I see him on the road I'm gonna kick him in the crotch."

Uh, nice. Where did he learn that? Way to go, Mark.

2. Sometimes my filter doesn't work. I should really watch what I say more. (Thus, the crotch comment.)

3. I don't wear deodorant. This isn't a blog secret, because I mentioned this years ago. But it's still the same. And if you're new to reading my blog, now you know.

4. I don't stink. Unlike my sister who got B.O. at age 13, I never had the misfortune. I could teach three aerobic classes back to back and be dripping sweat like a 50yr old fat man, and I still wouldn't stink.

5. I read a book everyday. I don't always finish it, but I still read. It's good for my soul. Not so much for my family. Yet another thing for me to work on.

6. When I write I gain weight. This is because my diet suddenly is reduced to M&Ms and Diet Coke. No matter how many aerobic classes I teach, it won't work off the constant hand-to-bag-to-mouth action.

7. I own a pair of teal sweats that my Mom gave me when I was 15. I'm not 15 anymore...a mere few years have passed...and I still wear those sweats nearly every day. I love them more than I love M&Ms and Diet Coke. If someone offered me $1000 for those sweats, I wouldn't sell them. That's the honest truth. And if my husband ever threw them out...I would think about divorce.

Now, that I've been so very blessed with this award, I would like to pass it along to other awesome blogs that I LOVE!

1. An Alleged Author - I love this blog. The writer has great voice,
and makes me laugh. And the latest post quiz is hilarious!

2. Angela Orlowski Peart - Does Angela have a rockin' name or what? I hear a name like that and I think she's probably the type to wear J Crew and drive a Range Rover. She just seems uber cool.

3. Alexis Bass Writes About Writing - For one thing Alexis is from Washington. For another, she loves the books that I love! So I know if we knew each other in real life we would be bosom buddies.

4. Myself As Written - I met Charlie a couple years ago in a brief writing group stint. She's pretty cool and she is named Charlie. What could be more intriguing. Right?

5. Iain's Iainspiration - Iain makes me laugh so hard. When he publishes a book, I'll be the first in line to buy it.

There you have it! My first blog award makes me feel so warm and squishy...or that could be that I've eaten too many M&Ms today.

Thank you all!

writing inspiration - robbed

2011-10-04T18:34:00.000-07:00

2:12 am
Rosie, my great Pyrenees, howled just outside my bedroom door. I jerked awake, my heart racing. A couple foreign noises sounded in the night outside my house, and Rosie reacted with non-stop, ear-splitting barks. Mark hurried out of bed, and took Rosie to the back yard.

2:12 am
After she settled down, he brought her back in. Mark, unable to fall asleep, curled up on the couch in the front room. The light pouring through the open window shutters annoyed him. He walked to the window to close the shutters.

2:13 am
The shadow of two people beside our van, parked in the driveway, grabbed his focus. It took him a second to register that these people were taking something from our van. They were robbing us. Mark freaked. No matter that he was wearing just his undies, he tore out of the house and yelled at the burglars. They took off running.

2:14 am
In the other room, Mark's yell gave me a coronary. I jumped out of bed just as he came crashing into the room to pull on pants. In the blink of an eye he was in the van and sailing down the road to catch the crooks.
I was speechless. Did someone really just try to rob me?

2:15 am
I called the police.

2:18 am
Mark came back empty handed. The thieves got away with a backpack and dvds. Devils. I hope they watch Tangled in hell.

2:20 am
The police arrived. Apparently one should never chase two burglars alone. Next time we'll try to remember that.

3:30 am
Still awake. I figured there was no better time to write. Laptop open, I finished a scene that had been giving me trouble all week. Now it's better. It's awesome. I guess being ripped from my sleep isn't all that bad since it inspired me to write.

Writing Inspiration -

Usually if I can't sleep I pull out a book. But why not write?
When do you write?
Have you ever written in the middle of the night? And if so, was it pure crap the next day, or was it freaking awesome?

Please, I want to know. Because last night was a first for me. And I kind of liked it.

secret 9 of 100

2011-10-03T15:34:00.000-07:00

I once lied to a boy.

Tis true. Shocking, no?

Eleventh grade was big for me. Younger than most of my classmates, I finally turned sixteen halfway through junior year. Which meant, I could finally date. Thank the Good Lord!
There was a boy I had my eye on. Tall, athletic, well known, funny (most of the time), and so sweet it made my heart swell just thinking of him.
We shared a few classes. I was on cheer (um...solely by the grace of the cheer coach. Not by talent.) And tall-boy was a basketball player. Whenever possible I would find times to talk with him, try my hand at flirting, and I'd hope and pray Tall-boy would ask me out.

It seemed like eternity passed and Tall-boy hadn't asked me out.
Until one day, he called me on the phone.
Holy freaking moly! He called.
"Hello, Tall-boy," I said into the phone, trying to sound the picture of casualness. But really, "Freaky" and "breathy" pretty much sum it up.

"Hey, Erin. My friend and I are going mountain biking this weekend. I was just wondering if you've ever gone before."

Ok, so was this him asking me out? Or was he just testing the water to see if we were even compatibable. By George! If I wasn't compatible before, I was then. I knew he was quite athletic, and though I was a cheerleader that meant nothing in way of other athletic areas. But there was no way in Hades I would miss an opportunity with Tall-boy. If he wanted a mountain biking chick, then I was the girl for him.

"Of course," I totally and utterly and shamelessly lied into that phone. "I go all the time. I LOVE mountain biking." Or not.
I'd ridden a bike before, it couldn't be that different than riding a cruiser around town. Just add a little mountain, right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Tall-boy picked me up early in the morning on Saturday. We went with another couple. After driving up into the mountains, we started our bike ride on a very secluded mountain trail. And when I say "mountain trail", I mean vertical ups and downs. As in the most hell-acious bike ride of my life.

Thirty minutes into the ride, my legs felt like jello and I seriously doubted I would ever pee normally again.

An hour later, I wanted to die.

After two hours of biking torture, I thought I was paralyzed because I could no longer feel my limbs.

Three hours later, I hit a tree.
Maybe it was because I mis-judged how fast I was coming down the mountain, or because I was shaking so badly I couldn't see the boulder in the path, but when my bike hit the rock, I didn't even realize I was in the air until the tree stopped my forward momentum. I knew right them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I never should've lied.

Lucky for me, Tall-boy and his friend had gone on, leaving me and Other-girl to follow. She helped me up, dusted off my ridiculously muddy body, and got me back onto my bike.

An eternity later we ended the trail. I could barely walk, I looked as if I hadn't showered in months, and I'd lost all ability to form complete sentences. To this day, I never told Tall-boy the truth. Though he probably figured it out.

What I did learn is that lying about mountain biking is BAD. So very bad.

friday five.

2011-09-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

I now dedicate this Friday, and every future Friday, to the number Five.

So that on Friday you'll read my Five and you'll feel alive. (Or not . . . I'm just a big fan of rhymes.)

Each Friday you'll find a list of different things.

A gathering of thoughts, or items I find interesting.

(Stop groaning in agony, the poem's ending now . . . lest you call me a crazy, rhyme-loving cow)

Sometimes I wish...

1. Michael never died.

Or changed the color of his skin.

Or hacked up his nose.

Or strung out his hair.

But mostly I wish he was still alive and singing songs that Jive.

RIP Michael. I love you.

2. Punky Brewster still rocked the tv airwaves.

In her neon mis-matching perfection.

Honing her pig-tailed style.

Annoying the creepy old guy she lived with (did anyone else question that one?)

And making us join in the canned laughter with her slap-stick comedy act.

3. Crystal Pepsi was back.

Called a Cola, but looking like carbonated water.

Confusing us with the strange non-cola taste.

Looking almost pure enough to be called healthy.

Having the coolest soda name ever!

4. Bell-ward never happened.

I'm not talking book 1, 2, or 3.

But the fourth atrocity that makes me vomit in my mouth.

The freaky child baby with man teeth.

The bed braking you know what.

Gross.

5. Ice Ice Baby was still numero uno.

When saying "word to your mother" made you cool.

You'd say "Stop" and I'd say "collaborate and listen"

And together we could bust out the running man and dance like crazy.

Ah...those were good times. Man, lets get outta here.
Word to yo' mother.

reading update - time travel anyone?

2011-09-29T18:20:00.000-07:00

Hourglass by Myra McEntire

My Take:
A book a day. That's the goal, at least. But lately I've been having a hard time finishing. I don't know if I'm getting pickier as a reader, or YA lit is kind of stinkin' it up. Either way, I needed a good read something fierce. And I found exactly that in Hourglass by Myra McEntire.
This book hooked me from the start. The main character is quirky, funny, and full of personality. Her antics kept me turning page after page. I would say this is a character driven book, but I'd be doing the tension of the plot a injustice. Each plot turn had me on the edge of my seat, wishing I could read faster and faster. There was a complex weave of time-traveling subplots that came together almost seamlessly in the end. Basically, it's good stuff.

What they say it's about:

For seventeen-year-old Emerson Cole, life is about seeing what isn’t there: swooning Southern Belles; soldiers long forgotten; a haunting jazz trio that vanishes in an instant. Plagued by phantoms since her parents’ death, she just wants the apparitions to stop so she can be normal. She’s tried everything, but the visions keep coming back.
So when her well-meaning brother brings in a consultant from a secretive organization called the Hourglass, Emerson’s willing to try one last cure. But meeting Michael Weaver may not only change her future, it may change her past.
Who is this dark, mysterious, sympathetic guy, barely older than Emerson herself, who seems to believe every crazy word she says? Why does an electric charge seem to run through the room whenever he’s around? And why is he so insistent that he needs her help to prevent a death that never should have happened?

Full of atmosphere, mystery, and romance, Hourglass merges the very best of the paranormal and science-fiction genres in a seductive, remarkable young adult debut.

You shouldn't read Hourglass if:
You only pick up high fantasy paperbacks, and you haven't showered in over a week. If that's the case, Hourglass won't be the book to float your boat.
You're my Mom. There's kissing involved. And since you couldn't stomach the first Twilight, I'm pretty sure you can't take Hourglass.
You're illiterate. For obvious reasons.

If you don't fall into any of the categories above, than this is the book for you.

Go Forth and Read!

secret 8 of 100

2011-09-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid of Goldfish.

Not the snack you find on aisle 10 at Walmart. I'm talking about the squishy, slimy, living fish that swim around in the mucky tanks at Walmart...or any other pet store.

Honestly, I have an irrational fear of finding a belly up goldfish. The fear is so great and gripping that I avoid the pet corner of the Walmart at all costs. If you own goldfish, I probably avoid your house like the plague.
Maybe once a year I'll find myself in the general vicinity of the goldfish tanks at Walmart. My throat closes, my stomach churns, my eyes water, and my gag reflex kicks into gear. I can't even walk down the very aisle because of the paralysis that will seize my limbs. Sweat beads will form on my brown, and my breathing will grow shallow.

Ugh. They're horrid little creatures that should be banned, I say. Banned!

You see, on my fifteenth birthday, my mom and sisters gave me five goldfish. Margo, Margo, Margo, Margo and Margo. Great name, right?
I loved them and cherished my Margos and fed them ALL the time. Then, come spring, I had to go away on a short trip. Before I left for those couple days I was distraught with worry that my fishy friends would starve. So being a loving pet-caretaker, I dumped a plethora of fish food in their bowl so they could have a final feast before I left.

When I returned all five Margos were dead. White bloated bellies to the sky, in a swamp of brackish water.
(I just threw up in my mouth. I don't even know if I can finish this post).

Anyway. My mom made ME flush each fish down the drain. Sympathetic much? I think not. After watching them go, and then cleaning up the mucky dead-fish tank, I swear the stank of dead Margo-fish clung to me like a special-Erin aroma for days. I couldn't get it out of my nostrils.

So you see why I can't stand fish. That is my secret. Goldfish make me vomit.

writing inspiration - Demi Lovato

2011-09-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

iTunes and I have an agreement. They email me once a week with inspiring new songs and I buy them. I used to think I was special this way, but I'm pretty sure that they email everybody. Either way, I drop a lot of moola on music.
I used to just buy music for my Aerobics class, to keep it fresh while we're toning our buns. But in the last few years I started a new collection of inspiring songs. These songs, a range of slow to fast, quirky to moody, romantic to angry, help me in a lot of ways.

1. If I'm not in the mood to write, sometimes I just need to listen to a given playlist and the inspiration comes. To help, I've downloaded my "book playlist" onto my iPhone so I can listen to my music anytime, anywhere. Mostly this is in the car when I can belt it like a gospel singer. Call me Gladys Knight.

2. If I'm struggling with a particular scene, I'll find a song that best represents the scene. Then I'll listen to it again, and again, and again. Until I'm sick of the song. Then I write the scene. Sometimes it's awesome.

3. If I'm having a hard time capturing a character's mod, then I'll listen to a moody song. I've found that Demi Lovato's recent album, Unbroken, and her last one, Forget Me.

The right song can do wonders for my writing. My playlist right now is:

1. Secrets - One Republic
2. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For - U2
3. Heartless - Kris Allen
4. Fix a Heart - Demi Lovato
5. Calling All the Monsters - China Anne McClain
6. Candles - Hey Monday
7. Fix You - Cold Play
8. Your Love is My Drug - Ke$ha
9. Catch Me - Demi Lovato
10. Last Kiss - Taylor Swift
11. Polaroids - Shawn Colvin
11. Wedding Day - Rosie Thomas
12. Collide (Acoustic Version) - Howie Day

Do you have a favorite song or playlist that helps you write? If so, let me know. I could always drop another Washington or two.

secret 7 of 100

2011-09-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

I am a hermit.

I know you're rolling your eyes at this secret, but it's true. Kind of.

I think if I'm classifying the type of hermit I am, I would be a bear-like hermit. Because there are times in my life I hibernate and times when I'm out foraging (so to speak). It's not that I'm rubbing my nose on the dirt searching for food or anything, I just go through periods of super social-ness and times when I'm the complete opposite. Like, live in my cave house and don't open the windows type of opposite.

(I like to think that if I really am like a bear, I might be cuddly like this one. Add a Diet Coke.)

When I'm social I like to:
1. Go to the Olive Garden. This is, without a doubt, my favorite restaurant. You may hate it. (Especially if you're a certain hairy friend of mine). But know that I love it. LOVE it!
2. Buy shoes. Anywhere. Anytime. Anywhere. I LOVE me some shoes!
3. Go to the Water Garden Cinema. It may not be your first movie theater choice, but it's mine because there are almost always empty seats, the popcorn is cheap, and everybody knows my name. Maybe they should change the theater name to Cheers. (I'm just kidding about the last line. I don't know if they know my name.)

When I'm hibernating, I like to:
1. Go to the Pleasant Grove Library. This is one of my favorite places on earth because every one here does know my name...so maybe they should be called Cheers. I love that they order my books. And even when I don't want to go anywhere else, I'll go here to get my book and read.
2. Read. I usually love to do this after I do #1. But I guess that's kind of a "duh" answer.
3. Write. Notice that reading comes first on this list. I think that's because at heart I'm a reader first. But when I'm not reading, I do try to write a little of my own fiction.

Does that make me sound completely crazy? Or do you get what I'm saying?

aerobics, pee, and karma.

2011-09-22T20:01:00.000-07:00

I started teaching aerobics when I was 18. Which as you might guess, was in the not so distant past

Snort...fine you haters, stop rolling your eyes. It was awhile ago.

On with my story:
One day during class, a woman complained of all the jumping jacks and jump rope exercises. She asked if we could do less, or none at all.
Being a huge fan of jump rope and it's body toning benefits, I couldn't figure out why she didn't like the activity. Maybe she was just having a lazy day. I've had a few of those. I could sympathize.
I asked her if she was having a hard time breathing. She said breathing wasn't the problem. It was peeing.
"Peeing?" I asked, unsure if I heard her correctly.
She nodded and explained that since having her last baby, jumping made her feel as if she might pee her pants.
Not having kids of my own, I couldn't figure out why having a baby would make you feel like you might pee. I told her we were almost finished and it was probably just a sensation thing. She should try to continue with the class. No pain no gain, right?
Apparently I was wrong. A minute later she bolted from the room leaving a puddle in her wake.

I felt like the most awful teacher ever.

Flash forward a few years after I had three kids of my own.

After teaching a exceptionally challenging workout routine I decided to stop by the store on the way home. I pushed the cart up and down the aisles, as my toddler swung his legs, kicking me in the stomach.
"Henry," I stopped in my tracks beside the frozen foods. "Stop kicking me. It hurts Mommy."
He looked at my face, then at where he was kicking...then he looked a little lower. (Side Note: I sweat A LOT!)

"Momma!" He squealed. "You peed your pants. You peed, you peed, you peed. Georgie look, Momma peed."
I tried to shush him, but he wouldn't stop. That kid chose that exact moment to holler like he'd never hollered before. "Momma peed!" he yelled until every adult in a three aisle range was made aware of my body sweat issue.

I decided right then that it was karma because I made that poor lady jump till she peed. I guess in life sometimes things come back to bite you in the butt. That's all.

(Side note: Oh, and if you're thinking my sweatiness was more than sweat, I'll deny it till I die.)

writing inspiration - one step forward, two steps back

2011-09-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

Remember that half-cool, slightly-creepy music video where Paula Abdul danced on the roof tops with an animated cat? Kind of random walk down memory lane, but it's the message of the song that makes my point today.
Before Paula's gyrating dance with a feline came to mind, I was thinking about my writing style. To this day I've written 5 1/2 books. None of which are published. That fact gets me super frustrated.
I like to write, but my problem is I get stuck in the thick of it. Once I finish writing a book I know it needs to be edited but I'm not sure where to start and what to do. And what if what I change actually makes the book worse?
I worry so much that eventually I put the book down and start on a new one. Hence the 5 1/2 unpublished books. Frustration to the max.

The other day as I was venting to my awesome friend and writing buddy, Peggy Eddleman, I was growing more and more irritated by the moment because in the two years that I've written 5 1/2 books, she's written two. And polished one to perfection. I thought to myself, why the heck can't I do that? Why can't I just polish one of the five?
Near closet to pulling my hair out the epiphany hit: I CAN!
I just need to take a couple steps back. If I'm sick of what I'm working on currently maybe I should take a look at one of the old five books.
That night, I picked one and read the entire thing. I'm not going to lie...some parts weres so bad it made me cringe with embarassment, but other scenes were friggin' awesome. Awesome to the point that I seriously wondered if I'd actually written it.

Now that it's been so long since I cracked that book open, I'm able to look at it with a fresh perspective. I've been editing it and re-writing scenes, and I hope to have it polished in the next month. I can't believe that I had to take a couple steps back to figure out what I need to work on. But it's like Paula Abdul says, sometimes you need to take "one step forward," and then "two steps back," to get where you need to be.

Thanks Paula for your inspiration...and the creepy can-dancing vid.

remember my doughnut craze?

2011-09-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

Here's a mini post for the day...I'll post more later. But I couldn't resist telling you that BEYOND GLAZE (the exact place I posted about three posts ago) is having a sale! You can buy their gift certificates for dang cheap. Just go here: http://dtmr.co/id2g?

Luv me!

secret 6 of 100

2011-09-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

When Mark asked me to marry him (for the second time...the first is another story all together) I said yes. Obviously. But my secret is I wasn't entirely sure I should say yes. In fact, I almost wondered if I should say no. His family and my family were gathered around and it was Christmas Eve and I couldn't help but be caught up in the romance of it all. You know I'm such a Love-nut. And I loved him more than anyone or anything.

But the next day when I woke up to stare at that shiny diamond attached to my left ring-finger, I wondered if I made the right choice. It's not that I didn't want to marry the man. I just wondered if he really was "the one". My stomach clenched that I possibly said "yes" a little to hastily. I'd answered before I'd prayed about it...before the earth quaked beneath my feet because he was, indeed, "the one."

If I was wrong, how would I turn around and tell my family that I'd made a mistake? A small greedy part of me wondered if I would have to give back the sparkly diamond? Dang it all.

That morning I rolled out of bed on to my knees and prayed. I prayed so fervently to God that he would let me know Mark was meant for me. And you know what happened? A whole lot of nothing! Days passed, and I prayed and prayed again. I would pray silently while we were together and loudly when we were apart. I loved him so much and I wanted him to be mine. But I also wanted that earth-shattering confirmation that YES he was the one.
Time passed and before I knew it, it was my wedding day. That morning as I put on my make-up and curled my hair, I said one last prayer. I told God that if Mark was the wrong one then he better stop me from going through with the wedding because I loved Mark more than life itself and I wanted him and no one else.

Well, you know what happened? In the middle of the ceremony I got my answer. Mark's gaze met mine and in that moment I could see all the times that I'd received an answer to my prayer. All the times I knew we were perfect for each other. All the times God had really answered my prayers.

He was mine and I was a happy girl...even if I didn't know he was "the one" when I said yes.

worst and most epic photography fail ever.

2011-09-17T23:18:00.000-07:00

The title of the post should be enough to clue you in on how utterly embarrassing the following story really is. I only share it because my sensor broke years ago. I'm not disillusioned enough to think that the readers of this blog believe I'm anything short of a train wreck. And that's on a good day.
Today, sadly, wasn't so good.
I was scheduled to shoot a wedding in Salt Lake City at 3:00pm. Because my favorite lens is in the shop, I planned just enough time to stop by Pictureline to pick up a replacement lens. (No I didn't snag a doughnut...what with time being of the essence and all that jazz.) Per my usual crazed schedule, I found myself running ten minutes late. I kissed the kids good bye, hopped in the mini (van...not mini-cooper), and headed to Draper to pick up the lens. I rushed in, grabbed the lens, and continued on my way to SLC. When I pulled into the parking garage I was feeling snazzy because I, the amazing photog that I am, was ten minutes early! I wanted the garage attendant to give me a woot woot, but he wasn't feeling it.

I opened the side door of my van to take out my gear. Right then, the woot woot rushed out of me. And I wanted to cry. I, the not-so-amazing-photog-that-I-am, realized with a sudden sickening gut-twist that I had left my camera at home.
Yes, my freaking camera! As in, the very tool I need to actually be a photographer. As in, my life!
Brilliant, Erin. Way to rock that wedding. And not only had I left my camera at home, but I also left the lens that I use during 90% of wedding day.

So after a minor heart-attack, I realized not all was lost. I had randomly shoved a second camera body in the bottom of my camera bag. Until Karly, my awesome-life-saving-super-fly-assistant, brought my camera and lens, I used the back-up and made due with the lenses I had. In the end, the day turned out to be amazing. And oddly enough, I think that today I snagged some of my most favorite wedding pictures ever! Even it today was also one of my most embarrassing days ever.

doughnut craze.

2011-09-16T14:49:00.000-07:00

I've never been a doughnut lover. But every time I go to Pictureline in Draper, I'm strangely tempted by the doughnut shop that sits just around the corner. The shop, Beyond Glaze, suits its name perfectly. They sell glazed doughnut creations that could be considered art. Each tempting delight in the store will make your mouth water...except for maybe the "maple and bacon" signature doughnut. I'm adventurous when it comes to sampling doughnuts, but not insane. And in case you're wondering, yes the maple bacon doughnut has actual bits of bacon on it's maple frosted top. Moving past that doughnut, I broke down and bought a half-dozen others. It was such a hard choice. Which only means next time I'm at Pictureline, you can be sure I'll go to Beyond Glaze too.
These yummy treats are a little on the pricey side, but totally worth it. I bit each one of my half-dozen and couldn't decide which was my favorite. And no, I didn't get any weird looks when I brought home a box of bite-marked doughnuts. That's kind of how my family rolls. And consider this post fair warning that if you stop by my house and there's a treat out, there may or may not be a bite out of it.

If you haven't been to Beyond Glaze, you should make a trek over soon. I'm certain you'll become an instant fan. My kids were. And they've been bothering non-stop to go back and buy more.

Question of the Day:
For all you Writers out there, what's your favorite writing treat to eat while you're tapping away on those keys? Mine is usually M&Ms and Diet Coke, but I might trade it out for a doughnut from Beyond Glaze.

agent stalking.

2011-09-15T11:02:00.000-07:00

I go to a handful of conferences every year. Sometimes I get lucky (git yer mind outta the gutter)...I meant sometimes I'm lucky because I get to be the conference photographer. Which is a position that's not without perks. For example:

Perk #1 People hate me. When I turn my big lens on someone they look away or make a face. That makes me feel awesome. I love it when people avoid me at all costs. (Cue Nacho Libre voice) It is the best!

Perk #2 I flash people...and not just with my camera. My camera hangs from a fashionable neck strap that rubs across my side and front when I sling my camera around. It's a common everyday thing that I never think about much. That is, until last year at this conference. I brought a whole new approach to really understanding the genre. (The genre being romance. Think: heaving bosoms and bodice rippers. No, that's not exactly what I like to write...but maybe after what happened last year I should re-think it.) You can read about that here.

Perk #3 I stalk people. And when I say people, I really mean agents. The thing is, being the photographer is like having an all access pass. Kind of. Usually the conference board that I'm working for wants me to take lots of pics of the VIP guests, like agents and editors. In the event they are not offended by the camera or my style of flashing, I usually get to spend some time talking with them. And when I say talking, I really mean stalking.

Basically it's an ok gig all around.

In October I'm going to attend the Utah Romance Writers of America-Heart of the West Conference. Man, that's a mouth full. The conference is going to be awesome because some pretty amazing agents are coming. Agents that I'll be stalking with my big massive camera and heaving bosoms. Want to come too? If you do, go to this link. Mention that I sent you over and they may waive the late fee! And then if you go you can come and stalk and flash and be hated just like me.

if they don't get together it ain't a romance.

2011-09-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

At one of the first writing conferences I attended I heard Lynn Kurland speak about Romance in Fiction. To this day, it was the very best conference address I've heard on the subject. And believe me, I've been to quite a few writing conferences and heard more than I ever wanted on the subject. Lynn knew what she was talking about...after all, she is the queen bee when it comes to writing epically amazing love stories. Basically she said that a romance isn't a romance unless the boy and the girl end up together. If they don't then it's a tragedy.
Simple as that.
Frankly, I agree. If I pick a book up off the library shelf and it's labeled a romance, I expect that by the end of the novel the little lady will end up with her big strapping man. (ha ha...oh wait, I meant if I pick up the harlequin. Snort. That's really not my type of book, but you get my point.)
The story should play out as such: girl meets boy, girl and boy have issues that keep them apart, and then at the end girl and boy get together.
Yes, there should be some kissing.
And yes, their romance should be something that makes my heart jump in my chest.
If the story follows the same pattern but at the end has some dramatic event like girl gets hit by a truck and dies, then the story is a TRAGEDY!
Which means, I don't want to see it, or read about it.

Which means, last night when my good friend Tracey dragged me to see One Day, I expected a romance.
But what I got was TRAGEDY!

And that, sums up why today I'm so stinking angry I could spit.

secret 5 of 100

2011-09-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

I once gave a student an A on an assignment because I was embarrassed.

For a brief stint I taught high school English. (Yeah yeah, I'm the worst speller. I put commas all over the place, and my grammar smacks...exactly why I don't teach English any longer.)
When I was pregnant, I taught senior English in Hawaii and I happened to have a drool problem. You would think these two facts don't necessarily go hand in hand, but you'll soon see that you are wrong.
When I was preggers with Ted-O, I would wake up in a puddle (or lake) of drool. I drooled when I ate, and spat when I talked. Frankly, it was gross.
One afternoon my students were completing a worksheet. I walked through the classroom glancing over their shoulders and monitoring their work like a good teacher. When I came to Bob (not his actual name, but for privacy reasons I have to censor something now and then) I leaned over his shoulder to look at his work. I could see he was struggling with a problem half way down the page. I pointed at the question and explained it in further detail. As I was finishing up my expert explanation, showing my prowess as a high school teacher, a massive glob of saliva-tinged loogie plopped down and landed right in the middle of his paper.
He jerked back, his face screwed into a sickened expression.
Frozen in my own horrified stupor, it took me a moment to process that the gooey yellowish blob on his assignment just came from my mouth. My own freaking mouth!
"Eww, Miss," Bob started to say.
I snatched his paper away faster than I could spit again. "You just earned an A."
He blinked at me and back to the spot where his marred paper no longer lay. "Right on. You can spit on me any day."
"Keep quiet Bob," I hissed, "Or I just might."

Keeping my word, I marked an A in my grade book. And Bob never brought up the loogie-attack ever again. But now you know that I'm the type of teacher that spits on students' work!

writing inspiration - something about a ring.

2011-09-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

I love LOVE. I love reading about Love and though I'm not published (yet...one day, one day) I love writing about Love. Frankly, if there isn't a romance plot line in a novel you have to prod me to read it. As the saying goes, Love makes the world go round.
I suppose this is why I'm so drawn to shooting weddings. The euphoria that surrounds a couple madly-in-love, about to take the plunge and vow their lives together is an addictive feeling. Though my feet are usually beat when I return home from a wedding, I have a smile plastered on my face and I'm often in the mood to pull out LoLa (my laptop) and go at it for awhile.
In fact, since I started really shooting weddings four years ago, I've written six novels. All with a strong romance plot line. And since I spend all day editing photos, sometimes just seeing a photo will inspire me to write.
I shot this photo at a wedding a week ago. Every time I look at it, my fingers start itching to get LoLa back from the Mac store where she's receiving a needed face lift. There's something about this ring that makes my heart fall in love again and again. As soon as LoLa returns I'm off to writer-land again where I can polish the chapters of my latest novel.

Ah, love true love...

panning.

2011-09-08T08:10:00.000-07:00

Panning is a photographic technique that refers to the movement of the camera as it captures the image of a subject. While a subject is in motion (this can be anything from a car, to a person, or an animal) the camera follows that motion while snapping a shot. The exposure of the image is set at a long enough time to show the movement of the camera in the foreground or background of the image, but not necessarily on the subject.

If that sounds a little like photog mumbo jumbo to you, then here's the simple explanation. Basically you take a picture of something moving. And instead of holding still while taking the picture, you track the target of your picture with your camera. That way, everything else in the image should look blurry and your target should look sharp...or pretty close to it.

So what I'm saying is, this panning technique can be pretty tricky.

Some tips for panning:
1. Shoot in a manual setting so your shutter speed can be a little slower. (1/60-1/125) This will add even more blur to your movement...thus making your picture even awesomer. (It's a word, peeps. Trust me.)

2. Take a lot of photos. A Pulitzer prize winning photographer once told me, "If you want one great picture, then throw away 999." That pretty much sums up my style of shooting. Shoot lots, then throw away the crap.

3. Try a panning shot on a faster moving subject to get even better blur.

Here's a panning shot I took in Hawaii. The couple were spinning in a circle, so as they came around toward me I arced the camera as I took the picture. I love the blur in her limbs and hair!

school picture idea.

2011-09-07T12:05:00.000-07:00

I don't like school photos. No. That's not quite it.
I loathe, detest, abhor, shudder-at-the-thought-of, completely-gag-when-I-look-at, HATE school photos. They're bland. They lack personality. And sometimes...if you're lucky, there's a mirror and a nicely posed child with a fist under his chin. Blech.

So this year I was inspired by a little photo I saw on Pinterest. If you're unsure what that is, email me and I'll fill you in. Basically Pinterest = best time suck ever!
This year I let the kids decide what they wanted in their picture. A favorite toy. A back pack. It was up to them. Then after the shoot, I mcjiggered a little somethin' somethin' in Photoshop. And voila! School pictures with personality and pizazz. (Can you tell I'm big on alliteration?)

It's an easy project.
1. Snap the picture.
2. Load the picture in Photoshop or another photo editing software that allows you to place text on the image.
3. Using varying fonts, type info about your kid at that age.
4. Flatten your image (if you used layers) and save a new copy so as not to save over the original file.
5. Print. If you live in Utah County go to Pro Digital Photos. They're great and I use them for a lot of my family pictures.

Here are a few samples of what I made:

bread butt.

2011-09-07T08:21:00.000-07:00

The other day while I was making the typical PB&J lunch for my two youngest kids, I found myself out of bread. Luckily I keep a back-up loaf in the freezer. I pulled it out and thawed the first four pieces. When I started spreading the PB on the butt of the loaf, Teddy said, "I don't want that piece."
That was new. Up until that very moment I thought Teddy loved the end piece. He didn't protest the day before, or the day before that.
"I thought you liked the butt piece," I said.
"Not anymore. I don't like the butt."
I sighed. This new opinion of his had recently outed tomatoes and cucumbers too. I worried for a brief moment that he might become as fickle an eater as one of my friend's kids that will only eat toast and salmon.
Ruby pulled herself up on the stool beside him and said very matter-of-factly, "I like butt."

And right then all my worries were washed away with laughter.

procrastination.

2011-09-06T21:33:00.000-07:00

I am guilty of procrastinating. Everything. Basically if I have something to do I'll wait until the very last minute to do it. Having said that, you'd think I didn't ever get anything done. Right?
Not so. See I have a theory. It is the theory of over-procrastination equals mass-production.

When I have a lot to do and I'm down to the last minute, I usually work faster and more efficiently. I get a lot more done. For example, when I have seven shoots to edit in less than a week, a chapter to write for my writing group, kids' appointments to attend, and a filthy house to clean; I actually end the week with a five of the seven shoots completed, a half-chapter written, an extra book read (because I cracked under the pressure and I de-stress by reading), only one appointment forgotten for the kids, and a semi-clean house.

If I compare that to any other normal non-stress week, I'd say my completed total isn't too shabby. I may have not finished everything I needed, but at least I did more than I usually would.

And so what I'm saying is procrastination creates an environment where you can be more productive than if you were sitting at home doing nothing. Therefore, I deem this the week of procrastinating!

Go Forth and Procrastinate.

...um, am I way off base here, or do you procrastinate too?

Secret 4 of 100

2011-09-01T16:34:00.000-07:00

My first grade my teacher, Mrs. Vial, a horribly old woman with wretched, decaying breath and hair that resembled a white mushroom, hated me. She hated my wiggly body and constant chatter. She hated me so much she gave me recess detention. While all the other kids frolicked and played out on the school grounds I was stuck in her stuffy classroom, inhaling her horrid, dragon breath.
Towards the end of the play period, Mrs. Vial told me to stay inside while she gathered the class. Then she left. I remained in my seat until I couldn't take it any longer. I'm not sure what possessed me to go to the back of the room where all the students' brown lunch bags were lined up and clearly named. But I found myself back there, right in front of Lila McCormnack's bag. Maybe it was because she gloated that her mother had packed a massive bag of Skittles in her lunch. My mom only packed healthy gross things like a whole wheat sandwich, a banana, and carrot sticks. Bleh. For all I knew, Lila could've been Mrs. Vial's offspring because she was an equally detestable girl. But there I was, thinking about Lila's Skittles.
I knew at any moment the class would be returning. No doubt Lila, the first-grade cow that she was, would say something snide about my recess banishment. So in a moment of needing to rebel and fight back, I tore open Lila's lunch sack, ripped open the Skittles bag, and shoved my hand in to withdraw as many little sweets my fingers could possibly hold. With the same fervor, I munched and chomped and chewed those skittles with guilty glee as I returned to my seat.

Moments later, the class returned. No one noticed the torn lunch bag, or the skittle dribble on my cheek. And when the folly was discovered at lunch, I promptly denied having any part of the Skittle snatching. Though I'm sure Mrs. Vial didn't believe me because I received detention after school and at recess for the next week. But to this day, I never admitted my guilt.

But I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm no longer stealing Skittles from first graders....(disclaimer: this doesn't apply to my own kids during the month of October). There you have it. My secret is I was a Skittle thief.

jump jump.

2011-08-31T21:35:00.000-07:00

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?

(This image was taken today by my second photographer, Brekke Felt. She agreed to come along and snag all my wide angle shots because my beloved wide angle (Nikkor 14-24 2.8) is sadly in the shop. So I asked Brekke to lay down and snap up, and she did it!)

egg-actly what i'm talking about.

2011-08-29T22:26:00.000-07:00

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.

Holla' ya'll for the brown egg.

Now don't them eggs look nice?

ruby and the giant peach.

2011-08-26T23:08:00.000-07:00

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.

As soon as I brought in the bowl, my little girl was asking for one. She likes them just like me. Enjoy the photo spew...she was too cute to stop snapping pictures.

She's my little sweet peach.

Secret 3 of 100

2011-08-23T18:00:00.000-07:00

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

sisters sisters.

2011-08-22T10:52:00.000-07:00

"...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.

Those were the nice sister poses...and now for the real "sisters sisters" photos.

So now don't ya'll go run out and buy the exact same shirt for each person in your family...unless you want awesome awkward photos like the ones above.
luv, erin

mariko's cupcakes.

2011-08-21T23:14:00.000-07:00

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.

Tutu.

2011-07-31T00:40:00.000-07:00

Tonight my Grandma (the only Grandmother I've ever known) passed away. My boys lovingly referred to her as Tutu and tomorrow when they wake up, I'll share with them the somewhat unexpected news. But now that it's so early in the morning and I'm still awake, I can't help but feel a deep ache of loss, regret, and sadness over her passing. I usually keep this blog light hearted, but right now my heart feels full and somewhat broken. I know her passing is for the best and she's finally reunited with the love of her life. But still, I can't help but miss this wonderful woman that I named my one and only daughter after.

Dear Grandma,

Two years ago I took you to see one of your most beloved friends, Auntie Abby.

After a wonderful chocolate pie and turkey lunch, I drove the old saddle road to get back to Kona. I never counted on the cops being around, or them clocking me at 87 in a 45. I wondered what you would say when the cop approached the window and I rolled it down. You just looked at me and let out a slight chuckle. "See I told you to slow down," you said without a trace of anger. "But you go and catch the crook."
I laughed at your reference to my speed, tried to talk myself out of that ticket, and failed. The rest of the evening we told our ticket story over and over again to everyone at Uncle Aley's home. I thought the ticket was unjust, but your comment was so funny. Since you never learned to drive, Grandpa drove you every where. I have handfuls of memories of you telling Grandpa, "Eh Daddy, catch the crook." I'm just so happy I finally have my own crook story to share.

Since Grandpa died, you haven't been the same. And I'm sure now you are so happy to be with him once again. And I want you to know even though I broke down at the Walmart tonight when I heard that you passed away, I'm happy for you too.

My one regret is that I didn't listen to the small voice that spoke to me over the last few days, telling me to call. For that I'll be sorry until the day we meet again. You have been a force in my life. I love you always. Erin

hold out your hand so i can spit on it.

2011-07-26T13:07:00.000-07:00

When I was younger my cousin Amy spit on me. For real. Alright, her act of spitting may have been perpetuated by my spitting on her first, but still it was gross. And frankly I don't entirely recall spitting on her, so in my mind she's the spitter and I'm just the innocent child bystander. Now that I'm older and wiser, I don't spit on my cousins or anyone else for that matter. And they don't spit on me. Why? Because I still think it's gross.

So when my four year old boy spits on the window in the car, I think it's gross. And I tell him not to do it again.

When he spits on his seat, I think it's disgusting. And I snap at him not to do it again...or else.

When he spits on my newly mopped kitchen floor, I think it's down right horrific. And I yell, "Don't do that again. Now go to time out!" (Then I throw my hands in the air. Serenity Now!)

But, when he spits on his baby sister, (just before losing any shred of parenting sanity) I think, somebody needs to teach this kid a lesson about spitting. And then I do the only thing that comes to mind.

"Teddy," I say. "Hold out your hand."

He spreads those trembling four-year-old fingers. "Uh, why Momma."

I don't answer. Using the spitting ability once cultivated in my youth, I hawk the biggest loogie I can and spit it in the palm of his hand, making sure that it doesn't drip off the side and further the spit problem in my home.

"Hold that," I say in Mommy Death-Con 5 Commander mode voice. "Keep that spit in your hand until you think it's gross enough that you will never ever again spit on your sister, your brother, the house, or the car. Do you understand?"

His chin trembles and his big brown eyes grow to the size of moons. "Yes Momma."

I look at him, tempted to swipe the saliva off his palm and send him on his way. But I resist his innocent charm. It's an act, I tell myself half-crazed with spit abhorrence. Spitting is gross! Four minutes later I decide maybe the punishment was a little harsh, but I doubt my little guy will be spitting on you anytime soon.

wishin' and hopin'.

2011-07-25T11:18:00.000-07:00

That pretty much sums it all up.
Sure, it would be great if the world was at peace and people gave hugs instead of slugs. But why not throw a little self-love in my wishing too? One day I wish that a literary agent will find my manuscript in his/her email inbox, and after reading through the entire novel in one sitting (because it's so uber-amazing the agent wouldn't be able to rip his eyes away) the agent will then call me on the phone and ~~ask~~ beg to represent my work because of it's complete awesomeness.

And yes, I would like the agent to actually use that term.

Is that so much to wish for?

I don't think so...but I hope the second half of my wish comes sooner than the first half.

secret 2 of 100.

2011-07-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

When I was fourteen I was arrested.

It involved my best friend, two older boys, one stolen van, and possibly a little Mary Jane (if you know what I mean...but since this is a family blog I'm not going to elaborate.)

Nuff' said.

Have a great Thursday. Obey the law.

moose tracks.

2011-07-17T18:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I shot my second moose this summer. Talk about an awesome shooting season. As I drove down the Alpine Loop headed home after shooting a family, I was feeling quite ravenous. My stomach's hunger growls almost kept me from seeing the young moose standing a short ways off. In mid 'where-should-I-eat-out' conversation, I spied the young moose beauty. I swerved to a stop and whipped out my sharp shooter. It took seconds to snap on a 70-200 mm. With the right lens, I dared to step out of my van, sneak around the back, and shoot this moose beauty while he/she (who knows?) ate.

I love me some moose!

On another note, if you were wondering where me and the hubs ate last night it wasn't the OG. Though, admittedly that was my first, second, and third choice. Mark put down his size 9 foot and we ended up at Costa Vida. Yeah, I'll admit that I might have announced their food tasted like butt as soon as we walked in the door, but I quickly changed my mind after I tasted the food. It was excellente (that's excellent in Spanish). If you're in Pleasant Grove and you want somewhere to eat...that is also now on my approved eating locations...go to Costa Vida.

luv, erin

secret 1 of 100.

2011-07-13T22:01:00.000-07:00

Today I'm starting down a new path in life. And by the title of this post, I'm sure you're wondering if that's the secret. The first of a hundred that I'll share on this blog. The answer to your silent inquiry is no. That's not the secret. However, it should be noted that I'm starting something new. I've always used this blog as my spewing ground, shooting into cyber-space whatever comes to mind with little to no focus. If we've met in person, you've probably already noticed that to be an everyday occurrence when we're conversing. What can I say? Go ADD.
But today I'm focusing. I'm hankering down and truly committing to something. I'm committing to one-hundred little somethings. One hundred truths about myself or those around me that you probably don't know. Why? Because at heart I love gossip as much as the next. No, that's not entirely why. I don't even know why except that I have secrets, boy do I have secrets, and I want to share! I may not even share a secret a week, but eventually I'll share all one hundred. And when that day comes...well, it'll come and you'll know one hundred secrets. So, um, yeah. I guess that's about it.

1:100 Gas Girl
When Mark walked me to the door after our first date, I totally farted. Not once, but twice. And yes, it was loud. He had said something funny, and as I laughed, I just couldn't hold in the gas that was pressing on my insides with unbelievable paining pressure. The laugh caused me to relax enough to, well, let it all out. Not knowing if he heard, but certain he must've, I turned the door knob and slipped inside without saying another word. I didn't give a rat's but cheek if he thought my departure was abrupt because I was more concerned that he'd never want to take out the gas girl again. Mortified, I shook my head and after a few seconds erupted into a fit of laughter. Because even though part of me wanted to sink into a hole in the earth, a bigger part of me considered the scene from another angle. Particularly the one of any one of my neighbor's.

Obviously Mark asked me out again. And after that first date he never made any indication that he heard the world's worst faux pax to be made on a first date. So I kept that secret closest to my heart for years into our marriage. And when I finally broke down and told him, he had no clue what I was talking about. Or so he said.

I haven't shared this story with many others for fear that they might look at me differently. If that's the case, than so be it. Because now you know secret 1 of 100.

huntress.

2011-07-11T22:10:00.000-07:00

Once I dated a guy who was a hunter. He sent me a picture of himself sitting on top a deer or a buck (I have no clue about these things really) and the poor deer-buck was dead. Blood and guts and all were exposed. Gag, right? That poor deer-buck animal was a goner. It's wee little offspring were left to wander through the woods alone.

Now that many moons have passed since I dated hunter-boy, I too have gone the way of the huntress.
Well, kind of.
I recently shot an animal. And I have the picture to prove it. No, it's no deer-buck animal. But a Moose!

Yes, ya'll. I done gone and shot me a Moose.

Now who's the huntress?

Boo-yah. Ya'll come back y'here.

(Something about shooting wildlife has inspired the hick-lovin', animal-huntin' side of me.)

"bare" tales from the great outdoors.

2011-07-10T19:22:00.000-07:00

If you haven't met my hubby, Mark the Shark, you wouldn't know that he can grow a beard in about two hours. Or that he somewhat resembles Tom Cruise (and he's told this daily). Or that he's one of the most helpful people out there. If I need something done, Mark's my man. Ha ha. Snort. But really. He is my main man. He's built things for me, crawled out of bed in the middle of the night to get me a drink of water, and even helped me put my shoes on when my body was too bloated with baby to move. Mark's helpful nature is one of the reasons I fell in love with him. In short, Mark would give someone in need the shirt of his back.

So...

Last night while helping me at a bridal photo shoot, Mark did just that. I wanted her to sit on the steps, but they were dirty. So Mark, being the guy that he is, took off his shirt and placed it on the steps.

this is me for real.

2011-07-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

I posted this earlier on Facebook, but it makes me laugh so hard I thought I would share it here. My friend Finny caught this true life shot of me at a recent wedding. I'm not sure whether I should be appalled that I'm looking so freakishly blissful, or that some young boy appears to be checking me out. Either way, all I can say is: That's right boys, I still got it.

truth...or something like it

2011-07-08T16:10:00.000-07:00

Some days that's truer than others. Of course, I'm still cutting back on my DC habit.

some like it hot.

2011-07-01T22:36:00.000-07:00

I love salsa. I like it hot...relatively speaking. I don't want my lips to melt off my face and my tongue to shrivel into a blackened stump from the fire in the peppers, but I don't mind a nice burn across the creases of my mouth. I love my salsa to burst with cilantro and to hold a hint of lemon or lime in each bite. I want there to be a kick and to be complimented with the perfect greasy tortilla chip. Oh, just writing this post makes my mouth water.

In order to feed my summer salsa craving I planted a "salsa-lovers" garden. Big Boys, Early Girls, Celebrity and Roma tomato plants are surrounded by a couple tall cilantro clusters, sweet Walla Walla onions bursting from the ground, two bell pepper plants, and one serrano plant. In another month my house will become salsa central and Salsa Fest 2011 will begin. (Stay tuned for updates of this years Jam Fest 2011 that went off without a hitch. Strawberry Jam rocks!)

Anyway, the purpose of this post isn't for me to brag and brag some more about my pint sized garden that will only be good for supplying my love of salsa. Basically I want something from you. I want your recipes! I'll share mine first...and granted it's not the best or I wouldn't be asking for yours. But it's decently good. So I'm begging you, if you have a great salsa recipe please share it.

Erin's Supa' Awesome Salsa

(Winner of Summerill Salsa Fest 2010)

8 roma tomatoes
1/2 large bell pepper
1-2 garlic cloves
1 small walla walla sweet onion
1/2 serrano pepper or jalapeno
1/2 lemon (squeezed for it's juice)
1/3 cup of chopped cilantro
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper

Directions:
1. Buy yourself a food processor. It makes the salsa making process so much faster. And it's pretty cool when you get to press the "pulse" button over and over again.
2. Pulse (this is like intense chopping) the bell pepper, garlic, onion, and serrano pepper until evenly chopped.
3. Cut your roma tomatoes into quarter-sized chunks, then add to the food processor. Pulse until your salsa reaches the consistency you like.
4. Add chopped cilantro, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Pulse a couple more times until it's all mixed and looking like a good-lookin' salsa.
5. Get out some real nice tortilla chips and dig in!

If your salsa recipe is better than mine, please share.

so very cheesy.

2011-06-29T22:58:00.000-07:00

I love to take wedding photos...and I love all my cute couples...and I think all their pictures are to die for. Gush, gush, gush. Yeah, I get that I sound like a total sap. Cheesiness to the max. But it's the truth. Well, most of the time. I'll not be speaking of any bride-zillas here so you can go elsewhere if you think this post has anything to do with the bride I encountered last week that nearly ripped my head off because I merely mentioned she might have to wait one minute longer to take a certain picture. Please, like I'm working on her time schedule. When will these brides learn that their wedding day is MY day? Mine, mine, mine. Where I'm the photog rockstar and they're just a momentary blip in my shot.

Uh, did I just say all thought in out-loud cyber space?

Pardon the serious tangent. The truth of the post is this, sometimes I really do love my brides and grooms to death. And sometimes I shed a tear. Like when I snapped this shot:

Sometimes I cry. (Note: should you mention this fact to anyone I'll deny it. I'm no sissy photog.)

So when my close friend's little sister gets married to an awesome guy, and then she shares a tear-jerking dance with her father...sometimes I get a little misty-eyed. Or a lot.

And it's those times I realize that I love photography even if sometimes I get stressed; sometimes I feel as if I don't have time to pee; sometimes I wish I was writing instead of shooting; sometimes I want to just turn my ringer off and spend two hours taking a hot bath.

Sometimes it's so worth it to be a photographer. And one of those times would be when the awesome father of the bride (pictured above) includes a little bonus on top of my wedding fee. A bonus that's not at all too cheesy for me and my queen of cheese.

When the bonus is a can of COUGAR GOLD, then I say it's pretty darn great being a wedding photographer!

feat. and sore feet.

2011-06-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today I ran 10 miles.

That's the darn truth. Just ask my aching legs and sore feet.

10 miles is also the longest distance I've ever ran. Ever. I'm not one of those running moms. You know, the type that actually like to go on a run for fun after a long day with the kiddos. Blech. I hate running. I'd rather stay at home with the kids, wiping booger noses and cleaning up poop. Up until the last couple months it would be safe to say that I loathed running. I spat at anyone who would suggest I even take up the sport. Ok, well maybe that's an exaggeration. I only considered spitting on others. Of course, my refined nature wouldn't allow such a hideous act. So what did I do? I decided to face my fear/hate head on. Awhile back I posted that Mark and I had signed up for the Timp half. With the date approaching, I've been training like any other non-runner would need to train. Now after months of practice, I tolerate the activity. And I do this for one reason, and one reason only.

When I'm done running I feel AWESOME!

And today, with a 10 mile feat under my belt, I felt like AWESOME-squared.

wedding day nightmare.

2011-06-10T07:11:00.000-07:00

Did your wedding day go off without a hitch? Was it everything you ever dreamed of? Or did something disastrous happen? Because if the latter is the case, believe me, I completely understand...I'm not saying my own wedding day was an absolute debacle, but I've been to enough weddings to tell you that sometimes...a lot of the time...things don't go as planned.

As in this case:
Monday I arrived at the designated location at 3:30 pm to shoot my lovely bride and handsome groom. Because they didn't have a bridal session, we shot their bridal type images before their ceremony which was to start at 4:00 pm.
First, let me say that it usually takes a few minutes to start shooting. The bride needs to be prepped and then placed in the perfect location that will enhance her loveliness. So basically when I say that we didn't start shooting until 3:45, I'm really saying that it's not because I'm slow. I am not slow! (Sorry, personal issues.)
The shoot continued for 10 or so minutes before I realized my lovely bride didn't have her ring on.
I said, "Hey do you want your ring in these shots?"
"Yes," she said.
And off her sister went to fetch the rings.

5 minutes later:

I glanced over my shoulder and saw my lovely bride's sweet sister with a look of pure petrification on her face.
"Um, Matilda (this is a fake name...but totally cool, right?) what's wrong?" I asked.
"If I tell you, you are going to freak," she said, voice shaking as much as her hands.
Um. Like that statement didn't just freak the bejeezus out of me. Sure.
"No worries. I won't freak," I said. Total lie. "What's up?"

INSERT: As I spoke the wind blew through the field tossing around weeds and wild flowers. Yes, we were standing in a field full of tangled weeds. Awesome...but not ideal for that day's shoot. You'll see.

"Well," she began after much coaxing. She pulled the ring pillow out from behind her back. "The rings are gone. They were on the pillow in the car, but after I walked across this field and jumped over that ditch there, they disappeared."
Holy freaking Moly! You've got to be kidding me, right? Right!?! No. It was the truth. My eyes grew to the size of saucers and I immediately rushed to her side, dropped down to my knees and started searching the field. My bride, bless her sweet soul, kept her composure as her fiance helped me dig through weeds. She even stayed calm after I called in the Calvary to help me search. Friends and family members of the bride came down and dug through the field.

45 minutes later:
I found the bride's ring. I wanted to cry, shout, jump for joy...at least be rewarded with some type of Hart's drink (this didn't happen). We kept searching for the grooms ring.

Alas, we never found it.

The wedding went on as planned, aside from the huge bump. But now I think, as I look fondly on that day, how bad can your wedding day really get? I suppose there's a lot more worse things that could happen than losing rings. But for your sake, I hope not.

luv, erin

true story: death threats, racism, and me

2011-05-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

I have a disorder.

In short, it is this: sometimes I'm a complete and total loser. I try to say something and it comes out all wrong. Yes, I know. Common mistake, right? Well, for me it happens all the time. Like tonight's utterly foot-in-mouth worthy example.

Tonight I shot bridal portraits for a lovely client that will be getting married in a couple weeks. I've already shot her engagements, and so I feel familiar and comfortable with her, her fiance, and her family. In fact, I feel like we're friends. Buddies. Pretty close to besties. I'm not bragging or anything about having awesome clients that are also friends. I just want to explain my frame of mind when the Disorder occurred. You'll see.

Disorder Incident #1
While shooting Madi, clouds covered the sky and the lighting dimmed. I decided to lower my shutter speed to pull in more ambient light. So to help keep a steady camera hold, I braced my back against a nearby fence. Madi's uncle, Kurt (also a friend of mine...again, not bragging) came to the shoot. I thought he was standing behind me. I thought he was also propped against the fence. I thought he was the one banging the fence over and over and over again.
So when I yelled over my shoulder, "Stop that or I'm going to KILL you!" I didn't expect to turn around to find Madi's lovely mother staring wide-eyed at me in complete shock. Apparently she's never had a photographer threaten her life. I guess there's a first for everything.

Disorder Incident #2
Flustered and completely embarrassed, we left the first location (after I apologized repeatedly) and sought out a spot that was better lit. Upon arriving at the second location, a light rain began hitting us. I wanted to hurry the shoot along so beautiful Madi and her handsome fiance, Cesar (take note of his name now) wouldn't get drenched.

"Madi," I said from across the field, "turn to face the poppies. Oh lovely. That looks awesome. Perfect."
Snap. Snap. I shot a few more pose changes, and then decided it was time for Cesar to jump into the picture.
I looked up to where he stood near the side of the road, waiting to be called into the shoot.
"JORGE!" I yelled. "Jump in."
He looked at me. Madi looked at me. Madi's lovely mom who I threatened just minutes earlier looked at me.
Then Kurt (did I say friend earlier? I meant former friend) turned to me. "You mean, Cesar? Wow, Erin. Just because he's Mexican doesn't mean you can throw any Hispanic name out there. Are you a racist or what?"

In that moment, I wanted to die.

Disorder Incident #3
After apologizing profusely, in between laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face, I recomposed myself. I was determined to finish the shoot without one more moment of complete mortification.

Five minutes later. "Madi, now you and Jorge..."

Son of a flipping mother! I said Jorge again. Apparently I am a racist-death-threat-throwing photographer. Apparently I have a Disorder and it doesn't matter that my clients are like friends...because that probably wont last very long with my record.

Reading Update. Need a book suggestion?

2011-05-23T18:27:00.000-07:00

Books are crack, and I'm a full-on addict. Thus, the reason I've been working on writing my own YA novel for the past three years. I'll be the first to admit I've written some serious crap, but hopefully I'll one day rise from my pile of great stink and produce something worthy of publishing. Something as awesome as the list of books I've come up with this evening.
Since the weather's been down right sinister lately, I've had a lot of time to read. And I've read a lot. Some good, some not so much. I'll skip the mundane, boring, and serious lame books. I'll only suggest the awesomest of all. These are the books I give a 5 out of 5 stars. That way you can be sure of your next Amazon purchase because any book on this list has my stamp of approval.

1. DIVERGENT by Veronica Roth
This is the first on my list. Probably because I just finished it ten minutes ago, but mostly because it was wickedly awesome fulfilling all of my dystopic novel dreams. It's the Hunger Games meets the Matrix. Men, women, boys and girls alike will think this book is crazy cool. And if they don't? They're pansies.

2. WITHER by Lauren DeStefano
Leery, I was when I first picked up this novel. So I checked out some of the Goodreads ratings. They were mixed reviews and left me wondering why some people would hate this book while others loved it so much. Could they all be besties to Lauren? I didn't think so. So I read. Polygamy meets The Forest of Hands and Teeth...but without all the zombies. Just death. Imminent death due to a post-apocalyptic world and medical science gone haywire. Then you mix in a little polygamy with the eeriness of a controlled society that comes with all dystopic novels and you have something that's at it's core is sickening yet fascinating. Basically I couldn't put it down.

3. A BRIDE IN THE BARGAIN by Deeanne Gist
First off, I never venture into Borders and head to the historical romance section. Never! It's just not my thing. When a friend suggested I pick up this novel I scoffed. Maybe said a few disparaging remarks...I can't seem to recall. Whatever, I read the book. It sucked me in. I loved the adventure that the Seattle territory brings to the plot. And I thought the idea that a man could purchase a civil-war widow as a bride was intriguing. I read the thing from start to finish without stopping. It made me laugh, sigh, and even cry. It was eloquent, and heart wrenching with a perfect ending.

4. CRYER'S CROSS by Lisa McMann
This book isn't for the feint of heart. It's creepy. But the spookiness of the story is presented in such a humorous, and poignant, yet simply stated package that it left me in awe of Lisa's writing style. She can write one small sentence and invoke a spread of emotions. I loved how she weaved the complexities a teenage girl with OCD might have to face into a deadly mystery. It's a quick read that will leave you chilled to the bone. You should read it, but I suggest you don't do so at 2am.

5. IT'S NOT SUMMER WITHOUT YOU by Jenny Han
Alright, this isn't the first novel in the series. In fact, it's the fourth. So this book suggestion is kind of a cheat. You have to read the first three books in the series before you reach this fourth one. Check out: The Summer I Turned Pretty, It's not Summer without You, We'll Always Have Summer, and then It's Not Summer Without You. They are are heartfelt story of a girl who moves into maturity and finds her first love. Sounds silly and girly, right? You are so wrong there. They were crafted in a way that you can see the individual emotional growth in each character. Of all the series out there, this one is one of my favorites.

There's my list for this month. If you are a reader like me, you can become my friend on Goodreads. We can share books we like, and ones we don't.

Or, have you read anything good lately? Let me know, and I'll pick it up.

food glorious food...and other conference pictures

2011-05-12T07:35:00.000-07:00

In January I stopped eating sugar and drinking caffine. Well, mostly. Alright, so it was a little hard when we went on vacation to California, and then even harder when Harts (my city's beloved gas station) has free drink day, but the hardest when I went to a writing conference last week and EVERYBODY was drinking and eating what I wanted.

So yeah, I broke down. I drank the Diet Coke and ate the M&Ms. I swear I wasn't thinking about food and soda the whole time, but when I look back at the pictures I took, I wonder if maybe I was just fooling myself.

You decide.

That's a snickers.

Yeah, and a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. Yum.

An apple. So I was trying to stay healthy...at least in thought.

Soda!!!

Food, glorious Food!

Yes a gummy worm. And sadly, if she offered it to me I would have eaten it from her nose.

These may be the unfortunates that didn't win a Whitney at the 2011 Whitney Awards,

but I just see them as Cheesecake lovers.

Yes, I'm guilty of being a food lover.

Sigh.

luv, erin

two loves.

2011-05-08T21:34:00.000-07:00

First, Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful mother's out there. I can't say enough good things about my own mother and the many women in my life that have raised and supported me throughout the years. I'm truly blessed by their influence, and grateful for all that these wonderful women do for me.

Second, because it's Mother's Day, which essentially means MY DAY, then I figured there could be no better way to celebrate today than by posting about ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!

Yeah, you get the pic. I'm slightly self-centered.

Regardless, I want to share with you what I did this last weekend. I went to the 2011 LDS Storymaker's Writing Conference. And I attended as the "Official Photographer." No joke. That was my title. You know, I dab in photography now and then.

Besides hearing amazing speakers like (prepare for unbelievable name drops): Janette Rallison, Agent Sara Crowe, Agent Sara Megibow, Agent Becca Stumph, Josi Kilpack, Tristi Pinkston, Elana Johnson, Larry Brooks, James Dashner, Sarah Eden, Clint, Tyler, Brothers: Rob and Dan...notice how I'm dropping to a first name basis like we're total besties. Yeah, we pretty much are.

Ok, don't go asking them or anything. They might be modest and act as though we've never really met. But trust me, we have met and we are BFF'S.

The point of my endless self-enduldged monologue is that while I was there I shot lots of people's pictures. Basically I was in a semi-heaven with the combination of my two hobby loves in life: writing and shooting. Learning to write (because apparently I haven't figured this one out yet) and shooting lots of name-droppable people made me feel happy and warm inside. I don't have time to share much, but here are some pics I nabbed of two of my favorite ladies.

Happy Mother's Day!
luv, erin

The famous Tristi Pinkston:

The amazing Shari Bird:

run erin run.

2011-04-27T11:47:00.000-07:00

This morning I signed up for the Timpanogos Half Marathon. Crazy, right? I hate running. Every time I start I silently curse the forsaken exercise for at least the first two to three miles. But once I hit mile three, something happens inside me.
No, I'm not going to call it a runner's high, because there's nothing high about my feet repeatedly pounding the pavement, and the monotony of inhales and exhales to keep up with my forward motion. It's almost like I hit a numbness, and in that moment I no longer feel the ache in my legs or the burn in the tips of my lungs. It's like my body just gives up and says, "fine, what the heck, keep running then. You suck."

So I keep running. On Monday, in fact, I ran just under seven miles.

Today when Mark proposed we run a half...something we've been considering for awhile...I figured, what the heck. Let's do it. We signed up, we paid our money, and now we're in. There's no turning back, but I figured why not get a few of you out there to do it with me. It could be like a super-cool group thing. You know, all the cool people are doing it.

So if you want to join me, click on the link for details:

Timpanogos Half Marathon

best album ever. oh, and a contest.

2011-04-26T11:59:00.000-07:00

I was recently reading a friend's post in which she asked, "what's your favorite road trip song ever?"
Well, my first thought was:
Of course, I'm Moving On by Rascal Flatts
That song is a given for all road trips. If you haven't sung your guts out with the Rascal Flatts boys to the smooth harmonies of I'm Moving On while driving down the I-15, then you haven't road tripped. Just hearing the song on the radio puts an itch in my step to jump in my mini (van, that is) and head North or South to my sister's homes.
But before I could type my answer, a buried memory clawed it's way out of my cobwebbed brain, and I thought of another road trip I took years ago. During a short-lived summer job in New York City, I accompanied my boss to her summer home in the Adirondacks. We drove for a few hours at most, but what I remember was bonding over a particular album that we both loved:

U2 - Joshua Tree

Favorite song:
Where the Steets Have No Name

Um, pretty much. Best. Song. Ever.

The songs in Joshua Tree were like my personal anthem for that summer, and many more after. In recent years, I lost the album and sadly forgot about how much I loved playing it over and over again. That is, until Ally's post. And if you want, you can go and enter her contest:

HERE

And now that I have that memory back, the Summerills are going to be enjoying the musical stylings of Bono and the U2 gang once again.

What's your all time favorite album?

second day of the journey I came across a large group of Wilcoxen...

2011-04-25T10:01:00.000-07:00

Remember how I said my sister has seven kids, well I shot them all! Muah ha ha ha...ok, pardon my ill-placed humor. I see now that sounds disturbing, possibly sick. It could be a result of my easter bingeing, but regardless, it was uncalled for. However, that doesn't stop me from posting the fruits of my labor, the kill of my hunt, the fabulous picture of all 9 Wilcoxen! (That's what you call a family of Wilcox, just saying.)

Enjoy your Monday. Luv, erin

seven.

2011-04-24T22:00:00.000-07:00

My sister has seven kids. I have four. That means, she has practically twice the amount of kiddoes running under foot than I do. Twice the mess. Twice the chaos. Twice the noise. So up until we visited her I thought to myself, why would any sane person have more kids than I have because I can't even keep up with the four that I have. And then when I was staying at her home in California, I remembered.

Because they're so sweet and cuddly. And they look up at you like this:

Isn't this little gal so adorable? I can understand the temptation to have another one, so sweet and cuddly and cute. Is this a spew of my own future desires? Heck no. I'm still set with my four...especially after Ruby and Teddy made sure everyone in church heard their uncanny ability to mimic a machine gun during the sacrament. That was a treat. But in all honesty, I love my four. I'm grateful for the manic joy they bring me every day...especially today when my thoughts are on all that the Lord has given me. Manic chaos and all, I've certianly be blessed.

Happy Easter.

luv, erin

build it and he will come.

2011-04-21T17:44:00.000-07:00

Remember Field of Dreams? Such a classic, back when Kevin Costner was pure awesome.

Today Brekke, my frienemy, came by with her decadant strawberry lime "scratch" cakes (cupcakes made without a box mix). Unfortunately for me, and my kids that may or may not have heard me curse, I am not eating sugar. Mark and I agreed, when we returned from California, that our sugar days were over. So for the last five days I've been doing great.

And them Brekke came.

Well, I did tell her in the past, "Bring it and I will shoot." And so she did. I guess I shouldn't be complaining. I only had to leave the room once, fist stuffed securely in my mouth, to keep myself from lunging at the scratch cake and shoving it, wrapper and all, in my mouth. Now I have these lovely pictures to post.

Enjoy a strawberry lime Brekke-Cake.

Sigh. Remember when I could eat sugar and my hair wouldn't fall out. Yes, those were the good days.

hot sister of hair.

2011-04-17T08:31:00.000-07:00

There are many things that I covet. The number one thing being: My Sister's HAIR!

If you don't know who she is, you can check her out:

HERE

As I was saying, she has Hair. Loads of it, and I have none. When we were younger I was convinced my hair was thin because of her mean, hair-pulling, older-sister ways. I see now that I lucked out and got the bum, thin-hair gene which isn't helped when I eat sugar or caffiene...there will be another post on this conundrum later...as I was saying, Nikki has awesomely thick hair. I love it and I'm jealous of it.

Confession over. Here she is.

A head full of hair, and smokin' hot.

This picture was taken during the Summerill Family Trip to SO-CAL 2011...also, there will be many of these pics to follow. Stay tuned all your 2 readers!

weedy niece.

2011-04-10T23:14:00.000-07:00

My niece is growing like a weed.

hairy situation.

2011-04-05T14:48:00.000-07:00

This is my husband, Mark:

Hairy? Yes.
Why? Simply because I cut his hair and I haven't had time to do so in the last year. So Mark got to embrace the 70's and grow out his wavy fro (as pictured above).

So, this last week I figured, why not really rock the 70's look. After a little persuasion, he was shorn like a sheep, sampsoned like Delilah would want it, de-hair-i-fied to look like this:

Oh yeah, baby! That's hotness for you.
But his serious man-ness was a little overwhelming after about 30 seconds, so we cut the rest off and now here's the new and improved Mark:

Which "look" do you like best?

a. 70's Fro

b. Mullet Man

c. Clean Cut Mark

I'm leaning toward Mullet Man.

Throw in a wife-beater top and a dirty old truck and he'd have some serious Mullet style.

luv, erin

Yard SALE!!! You know you wanna come.

2011-04-01T21:59:00.000-07:00

Guess who's having a MASSIVE yard sale tomorrow?

ME ME ME...want good stuff, come to my place:

439 E 900 N, PG.

henry.

2011-03-30T11:51:00.000-07:00

I try really hard not to label my kids, at least not while they're listening. I don't want them to think that's how they should always be. For example: if I said, "George is my shy child."

I would feel like a fail-mom if he never made any friends because of his tendency towards being shy.

But, since my kiddos hardly read this blog, I feel I can spurt about anything on here without them knowing. Mom-Of-The-Year goes to me, I know. I pretty much dropped that award in my pocket years ago.

So let me just say, my kiddos are gloriously different from one another.

Sometimes I love it. Other times, not so much.

The other day I overheard Henry say to George:

"Hey Georgie, what happens when you're feeling really grateful for something, but you really have to toot?"

Did your eye brows just screw together in a "Did I seriously just hear that?"

Mine certainly did.

Henry's answer: "You have a gratitoot!"

I'm not going to lie, a laugh burst from my lips and I thought to myself, that kid is definitely mine.

I'm so grateful to have Henry. He's clever, witty, charming and always fun.

Happy eight years old, kiddo!

book love.

2011-03-25T08:17:00.001-07:00

When I first read My Fair Godmother, I died over it. I laughed and cried and wanted more, more, more.

I told friends to read it and then I searched out, stalked, and befriended the author. It's been almost two years since all that happened and I'm finally so super excited to tell you that the second book in the series is coming out. I believe it will be as epically humorous and romantic and adorable as the first. And, she's giving it away FREE!

http://janette-rallison.blogspot.com/2011/03/fairygodmother-countdown-give-away-arc.html

Cut and paste the above address in your browser to try for a free copy of:

Don't you just love the book cover? Sigh.

cupcake.

2011-03-22T15:12:00.000-07:00

As if I didn't need another reason to break Lent. Brekke, an amazing photographer and friend, showed up on my doorstep today with a lovely box of these goodies (see images below). Believe me when I say they smell as good as they look. So here's the new motto of my little ghetto blog:

If You Bring It, I Will Shoot It.

Do you think it's too Kevin Costner? Nah, I didn't think so either.

So, if you perchance happen to make something mouth-watering and ridiculously good-looking, don't hesistate to stop by my house. I take a couple shots, more than a couple bites, and we'll call it good.

luv, erin

And in case you were wondering, the cupcakes on the left are blueberry cream cheese, and the ones on the right are peanut butter chocolate. Terrible, right? Ugh. Talk about kill my Lent with a fiery vengence.

popcorn and parties

2011-03-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

Every year March rolls around and my stomach clenches in knots. You see, I lucked out in the birthday department. My oldest two boys are born 2 years and 4 days apart. So every other March (we have friend's parties on the even years), I get to throw one wildly enormous party or two parties 4 days apart. Neither option thrills me, but this year I opted for the easy route.

Two parties. Both a trip to the movie theater so my house stay's intact.

A Movie Party! Easy right? Well, not so much. Herding 15 kids to the movie theater and back wasn't my finest mommy moment. I'll spare you the details, but I will share my one epiphany of the week. In photoshop I made these nifty popcorn invitations, and then I googled popcorn cupcakes and came up with a plan to make what you see below. If you like it, let me know and I'll be glad to pass along the party invite in a digital file.

Oh, and if you want to check out my George-a-pie's pics, they're up on my photo blog:

www.erinsummerillphotography.com/blog

withdrawal. an ode to sugar.

2011-03-10T14:42:00.000-08:00

I am

a crack addict

not really, but holy hell it feels like it

Today.

one of the lovely ladies at the PG Rec Center ate a doughnut!

In front of me.

Can you believe that?

The sweet smell of sugar glaze was like fire to my nose.

Burning my olfactory system with maple sugary goodness.

Sugar.

Itch. Scratch. Itchy. Scratch. Scratch.

I want me some SUGAR!

Withdrawals suck.

38 days from now, I'm going to feel like a friggin' rockstar.

38 days to go.

LENT. die sugar die.

2011-03-08T17:27:00.000-08:00

Lent, typically followed by Catholics, starts tomorrow.

I am not Catholic, however, I see the need in my life and my family's to break our addiction to sugar. And I figure, why not do it now while a great deal of other people are doing the same. Mark and I started our quest to cut sugar at the beginning of the year, and we did awesome for quite some time. The last few weeks, littered with holidays and vacations, haven't been the best. And I'll tell you, I can feel the difference.

When I eat a lot of sugar, frankly, I feel like Poo!

I'm tired. Blue. Un-motivated. Sluggish. Mean.

Pretty much, life sucks. Watch the video, you'll see what I'm talking about.

So, though I know cutting the sugar addiction is hard (I've traveled this road before), I also know it's better for my well-being.

I'm not saying that all sugars like those found in fruit and veggies are bad, but I definitely think rocky road ice cream before bed isn't scoring points with my thighs.

So here's the plan:

40 Days to become a healthier, more-energetic me!

Eliminate:

Candy

Cake

Anything made with High Fructose Corn Syrup

Any processed food that has SUGAR listed as one of the first three ingredients

Are you in?

to mark.

2011-03-06T15:18:00.000-08:00

I know it's cliche it is to say, "time flies," but there isn't another phrase that can accurately describe how fast the years of our marriage have passed. It seems like just yesterday we tied the knot, moved to a cozy apartment in Springville, and started our exciting married life together. It's funny, really, to think of how poor we were back then. How we scraped by on $800 a month. How we once walked by the Springville Taco Bell together and my mouth watered something bad, but it just wasn't in our budget to buy even a taco. How could it be on $800 a month?
We were the poster children for poor married college students. Living on nothing but love.

I used to curse our stinking poorness, and pray for the day when I could go to the grocery store and buy whatever I wanted to buy.

Shari, your older sister, once told me that I'd look back one day and miss the struggle, and the small apartment, and the nights you and I walked up and down the block because that's all we could afford to do.
At the time Shari was talking to me, I thought, Yeah Right! But it's true. Even though I love our lives now, our four kiddoes, our lazy fat dog, our home and careers, I do miss those early days. And at the same time I'm so glad we've moved on. The last dozen years have been littered with trials. Ugh, more than I wish to count. Finances, loss, moving, children, worry, health...so much to remember, and I'm sure there's so much more to come. But the crazy thing is, as I sit here and try to remember all we've been through together I keep getting stuck on the "we." The trials fade from my thoughts and all I see is You.
You, by my side.
That's all that's important.
I'm grateful that you're the one that's gone through it all with me. You are an amazing husband that is my equal, or better, in every way. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't thank the Lord for blessing me you as my companion. I hope our next dozen years will be as wonderfull hard and sweet and rich as the last dozen.

Happy anniversary, Mark. luv, erin

Now, if you've read through all my sap today, and you want to see some amazing pictures of our recent trip to Key Biscayne, Florida, go check out my photo blog: www.erinsummerillphotography.com/blog