Monthly Archives: January 2011

Bet Martha Doesn’t Have These Problems!

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For some reason when we moved to Arizona Mark felt that I should partake in gardening. This idea came without regard for our small “backyard”. I assume it was to preoccupy my time/mind while I adjusted to my new environment. I really do get lost when I’m out there watering and pruning. It’s now a nice escape from the stress of work.

My garden began with a variety of vegetables but it yielded very little sprouts and those that did grow, I didn’t know how to keep them alive. That was Garden 1.0, RIP.

Garden 2.0, known as the “Fresh Start” fared a little better. We only planted what had grown before and what had not grown we bought in the juvenile stages. Garden 2.0 lasted a bit longer but eventually all those plants, aside from a hand-full of jalapenos, managed to die.

I’d given up on everything except my desert plants, that continued to grow with little to no attention. Then I came upon Garden WTHeck. I was so over plants! I’d given way to the idea that my thumb was not Green and never would be! Yet here I am walking in from a long day at work and my kitchen table is covered in plants and soil!

To this day I still don’t understand why, but Mark was convinced if I gave gardening one more chance that I would be successful. I was SO MAD! I was still in mourning from my last two batches… its’ a process! I mean it’s kind of like bringing home a puppy after your first dog just got hit by a truck. (Okay maybe that was a dramatic example, but I seriously wanted nothing to do with these plants!)

Despite my protests I did end up venturing into Garden WTH. I lost the strawberry plant fast. (Sensitive thing that one was.) But everything else was still alive, to my surprise, weeks later. After a month of growing tomato and pepper sprouts,  they were all transplanted! Each plant moped for a day and I thought they were goners but a few days later I went out and they were all bright and perky!

Mark warned me that I should only put one plant per gallon pot but they were little! So I thought that putting six to a pot was appropriate. Needless to say, Mark was right (again, ugh)! And I had to transplant them again.

I’m up to 6 pots/3 varieties of tomatoes and 9 pots/3 varieties of peppers. But here comes the best part! I went out this morning to tend to my plants and was ecstatic to see clusters of little tomatoes and actual peppers forming! The plants are four months old and I wasn’t expecting anything until Spring! I guess in all my excitement I failed to notice the infestation of Aphids on my peppers until I took a photo and was again like WTHeck are all those little red things!

This should prove how much love I have grown for these dang plants! I HATE BUGS! But there I was spraying organic insecticide and water to kill those stupid aphids then proceeding to gently pick and brush them off leaf by leaf! I touched bugs today! SICK! And it may not even be the last time! Apparently they create 80 offspring at a time and do this on several occasions each week. I’m really hoping that the insecticide works or I’m going to have to bring in Ladybugs! Sure they’re kinda cute but they’re still bugs that I would then have to actually go out and purchase. It’s like buying a cat to get rid of rats, if you know what I’m getting at with that.

So wish me luck on this endeavor. I’ve put lots of energy into these plants and I WANT MY PEPPERS!

I bet Martha Stewart never has problems with Aphids…

On a random side note: I had no idea Martha use to be a model! She was quite the looker back in the day! I don’t care how crazy Type-A that woman is, she amazes me!

No Take Backs

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In an effort to continue becoming a better m.e. in my 26th year of life I have made a huge commitment/investment to my photography business. With my husband by my side we signed a contract today to advertise Fotografia Squared for 52 weeks! It should roll out in about 3 weeks! I still can’t believe it!

My mind was flying in a million directions last night know that I had a BUSINESS meeting today I couldn’t sleep! I finally feel asleep around 4am, I think.

One of my goals for this year was to photograph 5 weddings. Originally I set the goal at 6 (at least one every other month) but lost confidence I could make that happen and thought about bringing it down to 3. I wanted to make it an “easy” goal but thought better to allow myself to “ease up” while still making a challenge, so that’s how I got to 5.

My first 2011 wedding is set in Houston this March. We don’t know too many people in Arizona; and those we do are already married or not heading in that direction this year (that we know of). We first talked about advertising in the church bulletin months ago but I kept putting it off until last week. Yea after the marathon. When I was trying to redeem my sense of accomplishment. I emailed the ad company and one week later it’s all set!

I’m going to put all of my passion for photography into this endeavor! Because I know I have the talent and I have the people skills. And for the past few months all I can think of is… if I don’t start using these God given talents I just might lose them! And even if I never “lose” them what a shame it would be to have wasted them living a mediocre life.  Especially when I have such an amazingly talented husband that pushes me not only to use MY talents but excel in them.

The thoughts of what this year has to bring makes my head spin!

Here are some of my favorite images I’ve taken.

 

Race Recap: The Marathon that Could Have Been

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It’s been one week since my first 26.2 miles. While the toe blisters have healed and my busted toe nail has fallen off, my pride is still mending. I didn’t get to the Arizona Marathon Start Line full of confidence and excitement. I knew I had failed myself in training. I didn’t train. I have this issue with self-destruction. When I start to get good at something I stop just shy of success. I was much more successful at my first half marathon than I had ever imagined I would be, so then of course I had a few mess ups for my second. Knowing I could have done better I decided to sign up for my first marathon.

I signed up nine months in advance. I found the perfect nine month training guide online. Being the numbers nerd I am, I even got excited when I realized that I would be 26 years and 2 months old while running 26.2 miles. My bib number started with 65. All signs pointed to awesomeness for my first marathon! But I failed myself. What resulted is exactly what one would expect when someone tries to run a marathon without serious preparation. Although I guess it could have been much worst.

The night before my amazing husband made sure I soaked in a hot bath and stretched out my arms and legs. He made wonderful pasta for dinner and made sure I was stress free for the next day.

The day started at 5AM. I was so nervous trying to convince myself that I was going to be able to complete the marathon in 5 hours (an hour later than the original 4 hour goal) I threw up. Everything was smooth as I headed to the start line. Found a porta potty with no line, dropped off my bag at the UPS truck, found my 5 hour pace group. The group leaders seemed cool. Up to mile 3 everything was great. Then I felt a little congestion in my head and freaked out. (I had managed to catch a cold the week of the race.) I stopped running, biggest mistake ever to stop so soon into the race. I then proceeded to attempt to follow an older couple that was doing walking/running increments. That was going great until they took a bathroom break. I found another couple around my age but they kept stopping for too long to take pictures and goof off. They seemed to be having fun but I didn’t have time for that.

I grew more and more discouraged as I realized my pace was slowing down with each mile. Passing mile 13 at 3hrs was a huge blow to my confidence. I’d never ran a half that slow, but it made perfect sense seeing as I was walking more than running. All I could think about was getting to Mark and our church which were waiting for me at mile 22. Instead of those thoughts pushing me to run more/faster I let the idea that I still had 9 more miles to get there tear me up.

Around mile 16 and 17 a lot of people started passing me up. A lot of people who should never have passed me up. I saw that goof-off couple pass, the couple I stalked until their bathroom break, an old man who couldn’t even stand up straight but was booking the run with a weird shuffle, a one-legged man… more old people. It was depressing. Mile 20 got worst when a girl I’d passed earlier with a shirt that said “Slow and Steady. I’ll finish this race” ended up passing me. Her shirt had a tortoise on the back. Guess that made me the hare. I was done. The tears started. My right small toe was finished. I couldn’t run anymore. Well I probably could have sucked it up and ran but I convinced myself it was too painful. (For the record, the toe nail did fall off that toe.)

When I finally made it to mile 22 and saw Mark I just broke down in tears. I couldn’t make them stop. I begged him to walk the last 4 miles with me and that wonderful man did. In his chucks with his poor flat feet, he walked 4 miles.

Mile 25 was one block from our apartment and I begged Mark to let me go home. Seems so silly now but I was so embarrassed with the time I had taken.  I swore that I would never do another marathon. I cried “I don’t need this! It proves nothing for me!” But in reality it means so much.

I don't hide my emotions well and Mark caught them.

I crossed the finish line with some very nice women. They congratulated me on finishing my first marathon. I did “run” the last little distance. Got the medal and photos done, but the smiles were fake. I was so disappointed in myself.

After letting my pride mend a bit, by the end of the day I knew I was going to have to do that again. I have to redeem myself and stop being afraid of accomplishing great things. There will be another marathon in my future. Maybe not this year but some time soon.

Maybe one day I’ll give Sally Meyerhoff a run for her money… or maybe not. She’s a beast and was done before I crossed   13 miles.

She’s Leavings Home…

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Today a good friend of mine moved to the East Coast much in the same way I ended up almost in the West Coast. (We stopped 1/2 way there but time may just get us all the way to Cali. TBD.) She was married this weekend and with two little words, “I Do”, she went from being a Texan to a full-fledged Floridian. (Is that a word?) She shared  via Facebook that she cried the entire plane trip from Dallas to Austin; and I can bet she cried a bit more later in the day. It made me reflect back on my emotions SEVEN months ago. (I can’t believe it’s been that long already!)

I didn’t cry the day I was married. Our honeymoon kept me preoccupied the first week.

Love and Marriage... Love and Marriage...

Hanging out with family/friends and traveling all over Texas preoccupied me for the first month.

My mom and I gloating because Astros won... and Mark lost! Last minute ball game in Houston.

Then it was back to reality. Summer came to an end. Mark had to get back to Graduate School and I needed a job.

Here’s where my emotions start to get fuzzy. Having lived away from my immediate family for seven years prior to my plans to pick up and move to AZ, I didn’t think moving was that big of a deal. I was actually quite irritated that everyone felt the need to ask me if I was scared to be so far away. It wasn’t like we were going across an ocean. (Although even when I did that for a week when I was 16 I forgot to call to check in. But that’s another story that my mom would probably love to share.) Being away from home for me has never been a big deal because I know my family is still “there” for me, as I am for them no matter the distance.

Back to my point. Our trip to AZ was exciting and we crammed as much entertaining things as we could in between DFW and the desert.

Texan Size Food Challenge in Amarillo

Amazing New Mexican Food in Albuquerque

We enjoyed each others company. Then after two days on the rode we began to see the Phoenix skyline. We were almost home… home.

The last hour or two of the car ride, I was very very quiet. I didn’t know what I was feeling and mostly felt nothing. Looking back I guess I was exhausted, nostalgic, a little sad but mostly anxious. I was in a new state with a new name, a new home, and a husband. I cried… a little. (Mark may say different.)

While I had no expectations for what entering our home (the home he’d already lived in for a year by himself) for the first time would be like, I guess anything could have taken me by surprise. Mark had left Arizona immediate after finals week. I’m sure he waited for the last minute to pack and then had to make sure he didn’t forget ANYTHING for the wedding. I should have thought how crazy that must have been for him . The apartment was a bit messy. I walked in and my already anxious emotions probably saw the mess a hundred times worst than it was. I hate the way I reacted. Mark was so happy to bring his new wife home and the first things I do is cry because there is so much to clean up. How silly it all seems looking back. All that could have waited.

Overall, I love how everything worked out when we were got married. I love that we were able to afford me being unemployed for a few months so that we could really bond and learn to live as one. (Although that was an unplanned treat.) I love that our families weren’t here for us to rely on. We miss them of course but we have grow so much as a couple and as adults being isolated here in the desert. (Maybe every couple should move three states over after their wedding!)

My only wish is that I had been more prepared for all the emotions that I never knew were going to pop up! Maybe I did know and I ignored them. I’m pretty good at that. I should have reminded myself how I reacted when my parents dropped me off in Fort Worth. I cried then too.

Many many years from now when my daughters are grown and moving off with their husbands (or becoming nuns, whichever they chose) I’ll have to remind myself of how they may be feeling. Maybe give them a few extra hugs. I’ll remind them that there is nothing to worry about because people like to travel. Family and friends will come visit! Vacations will be taken! Family is never as far away as they seem! Then I’ll write again how it feels from the other side, as a mom, because I’m sure that is a whole other mess of emotions!

Feliz Día de Los Reyes

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On the 12th day of Christmas we celebrate the arrival the three wise men to Bethlehem with  their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh for the little baby Jesus!

In our family the family gets together and everyone cuts a piece of the Rosca de Reyes. Then the person who finds the baby Jesus inside their piece is then responsible for hosting the family dinner on February 2nd for Día de la Candelaria (Candle Mass). I’ve recently heard traditionally the person is just supposed to bring tamales, but hosting dinner seems more fun. Baking baby Jesus into our Rosca is to symbolize having to hide him from King Herod!

We also always have Chocolate Caliente with our Rosca!

It’s similar to the common hot chocolate but BETTER! No marshmallows needed here!

As long as I’ve been with Mark he ALWAYS get baby Jesus! I told him tonight it’s probably because he still hasn’t hosted the dinner… so something may be in the works for this year!

I planned to attempt making our Rosca this year; but after seeing the ingredients I didn’t feel I was quite up to the job. I’m glad I didn’t… although I’ll probably try for Mardi Gras. We decided to buy ours at the Phoenix Ranch Market. I can honestly say it was the BEST Rosca I have ever tasted. The fruit was so soft and fresh and the glaze on the bread was delicious! I’m taking it to work tomorrow, and Mark told me not to bring it back because we could have easily eaten the entire thing tonight!

Feliz Día de Los Reyes!