Arizona

San Clemente Family Photographer-1 San Clemente Family Photographer-4 San Clemente Family Photographer-102 San Clemente Family Photographer-105 San Clemente Family Photographer-23 San Clemente Family Photographer-35 San Clemente Family Photographer-42 San Clemente Family Photographer-46 San Clemente Family Photographer-55 San Clemente Family Photographer-67 San Clemente Family Photographer-68 San Clemente Family Photographer-80 San Clemente Family Photographer-84 San Clemente Family Photographer-86 San Clemente Family Photographer-87 San Clemente Family Photographer-110 San Clemente Family Photographer-112 San Clemente Family Photographer-114 the stork and the beanstalk2 San Clemente Family Photographer-116 San Clemente Family Photographer-119 San Clemente Family Photographer-147 San Clemente Family Photographer-148 San Clemente Family Photographer-151 San Clemente Family Photographer-169 San Clemente Family Photographer-177 San Clemente Family Photographer-190

Everything feels like it’s being crunched in before this baby comes — one last business trip to the desert, one last trip to see Willy’s family in Arizona, etc, etc. And while the phrase “crunched in” kind of insinuates that there’s not room for it, it’s quite the contrary; a welcomed reprieve from the ever-present “how many weeks pregnant am I” google search from home. I used to google it because I didn’t know; now I know how many weeks I am (due to the ease of simple subtraction from my due date, which is – good golly – today or tomorrow or yesterday…) but had been taking advantage of the countdown they also provide in terms of days… I swear they’re determined to pull you in one way or another.

So in February we took a final trip out to Arizona to visit with family. We spent lots of time relaxing, I hit up a few thrift stores, the boys discovered a dead hawk (we came back with a few tail feathers), Willy shot his guns, and we all enjoyed Superbowl Sunday just as we did last year, in the backyard with family friends; the boys and I more entertained by the horses than the game and the horses more entertained by the carrots we had to offer.

I had a photoshoot that I’m in love with and will soon be sharing, the icing on the cake to an already great trip.

Wondering how that 6-7 hour drive will fair with a newbie in tow… the times, they are (soon-to-be) a’changin’…

Childhood Unplugged | The Salton Sea

San Clemente Family Photographer-1950 San Clemente Family Photographer-1955 San Clemente Family Photographer-1961 San Clemente Family Photographer-1973 San Clemente Family Photographer-1984 San Clemente Family Photographer-1986 San Clemente Family Photographer-2007 San Clemente Family Photographer-2023 San Clemente Family Photographer-2032 San Clemente Family Photographer-2038 San Clemente Family Photographer-2039 San Clemente Family Photographer-2044 San Clemente Family Photographer-2056 San Clemente Family Photographer-2060 San Clemente Family Photographer-2062 San Clemente Family Photographer-2074 San Clemente Family Photographer-2078 San Clemente Family Photographer-2100 San Clemente Family Photographer-2101 San Clemente Family Photographer-2119 San Clemente Family Photographer-2124 San Clemente Family Photographer-2127 San Clemente Family Photographer-2128 San Clemente Family Photographer-2144 San Clemente Family Photographer-2151 San Clemente Family Photographer-2161 San Clemente Family Photographer-2168 San Clemente Family Photographer-2170 San Clemente Family Photographer-2181 San Clemente Family Photographer-2184 San Clemente Family Photographer-2186 San Clemente Family Photographer-2199 San Clemente Family Photographer-2213 San Clemente Family Photographer-2235 San Clemente Family Photographer-2237 San Clemente Family Photographer-2246 San Clemente Family Photographer-2257 San Clemente Family Photographer-2292 San Clemente Family Photographer-2293 San Clemente Family Photographer-2294 San Clemente Family Photographer-2303

Before we dropped Willy off at his meeting he told me, “Just don’t let the boys touch the fish or go in the water”. But within minutes, fish were touched and there wasn’t any winning that battle; pieces of fish bone crunching beneath their sledge covered shoes and falling through the crevices between their fingers. Holding up varying degrees of rotting carcasses, “Mama, is this one okay to pick up?”, proving needless to answer given the fact whatever fish they were inquiring about was already in their little grubby hands. “Van, keep your thumb out of your mouth” the only request I could muster at that point.

The Salton Sea; so beautiful on the eyes, so hard on the nose. This trip, however, proving not so bad on the ol’ sniffer. Not one complaint from the boys, actually, who – in the past – have been turned off by the stench of those rotting carcasses.

They climbed rocks, fell on rocks, made footprints in contaminated mud that made me cringe about the thought of those shoes later having to come off and me, invariably, having to touch them to do so. But as the sun fell and the water turned to glass I opted to rely on a faint hope that I would find some hand sanitizer in the car and with that hope I let go of whatever reservations I had. I suppose that’s what happens when in the presence of beauty. We watched the birds fly overhead, a line of other photographers slowly lining the shoreline and mimicking the arrangement of the flying birds themselves; one evenly spaced, straight line. Reflections of wood posts that used to anchor yachts that have since left for other waters, cleaner waters, mirroring the reflection of the mountains and making it all look like a Salvador Dali painting leaving one to question which end is up. Fish carcasses tossed back into the waters that have discarded them – killed them – breaking the glass-like appearance and sending ripples outward, stillness turned to movement; the silence broken. The color palette of the sky subtly changing.

We made our way back, the nights sky illuminated by what appeared to be a full-moon. The water turned back to glass, silence reigning once again in the wake of the exit of two little boys who did their damnest to return those dead fish to their home in the sea, the Salton Sea; ever beautiful, ever polluted. One of life’s most interesting conundrums. One of my favorite places.

Please join me in supporting the other photographers participating in the Childhood Unplugged movement by clicking here to see all our submissions. You can also follow us on instagram (@childhoodunplugged) and be sure to use #childhoodunplugged for a chance to be featured on our Instagram feed.

A desert escape, part II + Waiting on a baby

San Clemente Family Photographer-1250 San Clemente Family Photographer-1259 San Clemente Family Photographer-1266 San Clemente Family Photographer-1272 San Clemente Family Photographer-1279 San Clemente Family Photographer-1284 San Clemente Family Photographer-1299 San Clemente Family Photographer-1307 San Clemente Family Photographer-1315 San Clemente Family Photographer-1334 San Clemente Family Photographer-1338 San Clemente Family Photographer-1350 San Clemente Family Photographer-1356 San Clemente Family Photographer-1357 San Clemente Family Photographer-1363 San Clemente Family Photographer-1388 San Clemente Family Photographer-1396 San Clemente Family Photographer-1404 San Clemente Family Photographer-1406 San Clemente Family Photographer-1416 San Clemente Family Photographer-1421 San Clemente Family Photographer-1427 San Clemente Family Photographer-1443 San Clemente Family Photographer-1461

Being overdue with both boys was one of the most torturous times for me, emotionally. In hindsight I’m sure a lot of it had to do with hormones, but there was also a mix of lack of control and fielding the questions from loved ones who seemed to think I had this control that I’m well aware of lacking. I felt this weird pressure to have some sort of hidden communication with my baby inside me; as if it would be giving me hints as to when it was going to come. And really, I did’t feel anything until I felt the buildup of what soon became everything.

This time around I’m in this weird balance of fretting being overdue again and yet, really savoring the last bit of all the magic that is pregnancy and, well, not really wanting (or being ready) for it to end. In no way am I trying to romanticize pregnancy… this shit is definitely hard. I mean it’s completely unfair how uncomfortable sleep has become; at a time when I really feel I should be storing up whatever extra couple of minutes I can I just can’t seem to escape a backache or a cramp in my leg that sends me literally shooting out of bed or a foot in my rib that makes it feel as if my uterine lining is literally tearing away at the seam. Hooper got up last night and showed up discretely next to my side of the bed requesting to be tucked back in. It was 3 am and I had already been up twice to pee and once to request that Willy give Van cough medicine because his incessant coughing was keeping me – and surely him – up.

I digress.

I remember a loved one telling me when I was pregnant with Hooper to stay busy. It sounded like sound advice; I mean waiting for water to boil while watching it takes forever. But I also remember it being it out of realm of abilities… I couldn’t wait for the transition from couple to family to begin and I literally passed each day with it consuming my thoughts and doing everything in my power – eating pineapple, walking the dog, bouncing on the ball, etc – to make it happen.

Just as I don’t feel the urge to know this baby’s gender this time around, I also don’t feel the urge to rush this baby’s arrival. I’m treading carefully when saying such because I still remember how torturous it can be; “it” being the wait and, really, the wonder if your body is going to do what it’s expected to do in the absence of dare-I-say having to be induced, again. And while I’m still in a good place, today, in terms of trusting my body and believing it will indeed start the ball rolling on it’s own, I know that as the days go on, that hope – that trust – tends to be brought more into question and self-doubt starts to whisper some pretty nasty things in your ear.

So I’m going back to that advice I received long ago: stay busy. And it’s much easier this time around, with two to tend to and a house that because of those two is constantly giving me something to do; something to wash, something to sort, something to organize or reorganize for that matter. For example, we had the nursery all set up… everything in place. Then we decided to photograph some rugs to add to our etsy shop and just like that, the crib is not where it needs to be, there are numerous rugs strewn about the room, and a bed covered in tapestries. And so, organize the nursery is back on the to-do list after having been scratched off weeks ago. And so it goes.

We’ve also opted to join Willy on some business trips out to the desert. I knew they were coming and I figured when the time actually came, I’d see how I felt. And having been feeling good – or good enough – I trekked my 38 week ass out to the desert, spending some one-on-one time with my boys while Willy attended his meetings. And watching those little loves of mine run and explore and even comfort one another when the other got hurt reminded me that staying busy, that getting out, and living – as opposed to waiting – is what feels right at this stage in the game. The asterisk being that all of this is subject to change. I know the raging lunatic is within me. I’m just hoping the baby comes before she has the time to show herself.

Guerneville

San Clemente Family Photographer-102 San Clemente Family Photographer-104 San Clemente Family Photographer-105 San Clemente Family Photographer-107 San Clemente Family Photographer-108 San Clemente Family Photographer-112 San Clemente Family Photographer-113 San Clemente Family Photographer-116 San Clemente Family Photographer-120 San Clemente Family Photographer-122 San Clemente Family Photographer-124 San Clemente Family Photographer-126 San Clemente Family Photographer-127 San Clemente Family Photographer-130 San Clemente Family Photographer-133 San Clemente Family Photographer-142 San Clemente Family Photographer-151 San Clemente Family Photographer-154 San Clemente Family Photographer-160 San Clemente Family Photographer-163 San Clemente Family Photographer-170 San Clemente Family Photographer-172 San Clemente Family Photographer-174 San Clemente Family Photographer-175 San Clemente Family Photographer-56 San Clemente Family Photographer-58 San Clemente Family Photographer-73 San Clemente Family Photographer-63 San Clemente Family Photographer-67 San Clemente Family Photographer-69Untitled-6 San Clemente Family Photographer-82 San Clemente Family Photographer-85 San Clemente Family Photographer-87 San Clemente Family Photographer-88 San Clemente Family Photographer-93

Every time I fly or drive into the SF area I’m overcome with that feeling of nostalgia that takes over when you’re returning to a place that holds some of the most formative memories of your early adult years. San Francisco is where I spent the chunk of my college days, where I made plenty of mistakes and took many fumbling missteps; most notably with one for-lack-of-more-appropriate-terms man who really was anything but.

I pointed out my old apartment to the boys as we drove past it on the freeway, a glance back at the two of them in their carseats reminding me how different my life was then versus now and how sometimes I really think we need to thread through the muddy waters to learn the lessons that enable us to allow something good and solid and true into our lives. Willy, and the boys, being my good, solid, and true.

We quickly drove through the city and across the Golden Gate, both boys too tired to keep their eyes open any longer to see that great big red bridge in all it’s glory, and made our way to our friend’s house in Sonoma County for a quick hello and tour of their relatively new home and farm. The boys fed the chickens and alpacas, rough housed a bit with their son (who could easily be mistaken for their brother), and shot some pool while listening to some tunes.

We then took the scenic route into Guerneville, driving along the coast and stopping along the way to take in the rocky cliffs and windy roads along with the hazy fog that defines Northern California, in my mind anyway.

Pulling into Guerneville was like breathing a breath of fresh air, the yellow leaves on the trees a testament to the season… a season that had yet to really show itself down in the southern part of the state.

We rented a beautiful home via airbnb and the ceiling to floor windows had us believing we were floating among the redwoods. We poked around town, spent sometime in the Armstrong National Forest (you can see my images from there by clicking here), and tried our best to ignore the tantrums and fights that seem to be the trademark of life with two boys who love each other one minute and hate each other the next.

I shot a beautiful wedding that I’ve coined the wedding of the year; made perfect by a variety of ingredients that blended so beautifully together as to fool one into believing pure magic must have played a part.

And just like that, we drove back to the city and I bid a sad farewell to my boys (all three of them) before heading back into the city to stay for the next few days and power through the family shoots I scheduled; all of which went off without a hitch, despite the nerves that seem to plague me before any and every shoot. Mad love to my girl Jordan, who has been a long time friend from the blog world, and allowed me to stay with her and her lovely family.

Cuba

cubaSurely I may come back from this trip screaming at each of you to never partake on such an adventure with children of this age. But I do have a game plan. And I’m reminding myself often that there are several way more daring than me. I mean there are people that travel in recreational vehicles across state lines, with children, permanently.

So my game plan is this:

-Return to a place you have been before. This way, even if we miss out we don’t really miss out. No patience left to hit up that museum you visited 4 years ago? No problem, you saw it 4 years ago.

-Pick a place worthy to return. I’ve always traveled under the guise that I would never go anywhere twice and this is nothing more than a testament to the fact that I love to travel and see new places and returning to somewhere I’ve been before feels a bit lacking in purpose. But Cuba? There is no where in the world like Cuba. And when Castro is officially six feet under, things will change. It’s already in the process of change. But man, so much has stayed the same. A lot of people feel like they should have been born in another generation; sometimes I feel the same way. Well guess what? Taking a trip to Cuba is like taking a time capsule to decades past.

-Convince your friends to go with you. Thankfully this wasn’t a hard sell. Janet and I have traveled all over the world together and she, too, has been to Cuba before. Convincing her to come along with one of her babes (she’s leaving the little ones with family) and hubs in tow was as simple as sending a few screen shots of Havana to stir up old memories and borrowing a few quotes from the trusty ol’ guidebook, “Cuba is like a prince in a poor man’s coat: behind the sometimes shabby facades, gold dust lingers. It’s these rich dichotomies that make travel here the exciting, exhilarating roller-coaster ride it is. Trapped in a time warp and reeling from an economic embargo that has grated for more than half a century, this is a country where you can wave goodbye to Western certainties and expect the unexpected. If Cuba were a book, it would be James Joyce’s Ulysses: layered, hard to grasp, serially misunderstood, but – above all – a classic”.

I’m envisioning a date night with Willy, when we can leave the boys with Janet’s gang (and vice versa), best friend time while the guys either sleep or smoke cigars along the malecon (boardwalk), and plenty of group hangs where despite tantrums from hungry and sleep deprived kids we feel that camaraderie that only seems to come along with being in the company of others who are suffering right alongside you. I know it won’t be easy… I don’t like travel to be easy, but I do know it will be memorable.

Added bonus: Spanish is Janet’s first language (she’s part Cuban, part Guatemalan and despite looking ‘white’, her mom doesn’t even speak English).

-Limit your itinerary. We took this to the extreme in that we have no plans. In fact, at the time of writing this post I’m not even sure where we’re staying. But I also know Havana has loads of warm and friendly families that are happy to invite you into their home and I’m kinda looking forward to showing up and figuring it out. We’re limiting our traveling around to no more than two different places and we’re not even sure, aside from Havana, where else we’ll go. And even while we’re in Havana, we have nothing on the itinerary other than ‘hang out’.

-Shorten your stay. Typically I won’t go through the hassle of flying somewhere far away and spending money on a hefty plane ticket unless I can stay at least two weeks. We’re staying shorter this go-around and I think we’ll be glad we did.

-Prep your husband. Attitude is everything when you’re traveling with kids. This will be our first time traveling international with kids and international travels brings a whole new set of annoyances: time changes, language barriers, pillows literally stuffed with cotton balls, the list goes on and on. And so, we’ve talked a lot about being patient with each other and with the kids. I also think having friends there as a buffer will help. Struggles are always lessened when shared.

Not sure what kind of cell service we’ll get, if any, but if I have service I’ll be sure to post a few images via instagram along the way. I have a few posts scheduled during the time we’ll be gone and loads of photo sessions I hope to get caught up in sharing once we get back… along with laundry and shop stuff and now I’m getting stressed about coming back. Wish us luck. And for those who have done a lot of traveling with little ones, got any tips?

images found on Pinterest

Palm Springs

San Clemente Photographer-100 San Clemente Photographer-103 San Clemente Photographer-117 San Clemente Photographer-113 San Clemente Photographer-118 San Clemente Photographer-120 San Clemente Photographer-122 San Clemente Photographer-123 San Clemente Photographer-124 San Clemente Photographer-125 San Clemente Photographer-127 San Clemente Photographer-128

I shot a wedding the other weekend out in the desert and we opted to make a family trip, with hopes that September would bring a hint of relief from the otherwise torturous desert summer heat. It did not. It was the kinda heat that makes every step you take a conscious effort, where every cell within your body feels swollen to it’s capacity. It’s one thing I’ve noticed in all three of my pregnancies now — the inability to tolerate extreme heat; or even the 80 degree days, for that matter. The desert did not hear my plea.

We left much later in the day that we had planned, which is the case when you have kids, isn’t it? I always underestimate the time it takes to fill and package orders and given the fact I had worked in the hospital the day prior, I had not had the time to pack or get organized in the way I’ve learned you must when you’re running a household with children in it. I’ve never been a planner or an organizer and while motherhood has changed that to some extend, I know too well that there are cracks in that front and that my old wait-til’-the-last-minute self often shines through. And because life likes to pay you back in ways that sometimes feel unfair, we ran into standstill traffic that was just enough to make me a bit queasy.

We stopped at a liquor store once we got into Palm Springs and picked up a few essentials, including donuts and sugary cereal, something I blame on sending Willy into the store while the boys and I waited in the air-conditioned car. Come the next morning, no one was complaining about said choices.

Because we rented a home via AirBnb, we left Jimmie back home which allowed us the freedom to check out The Living Desert; something we always wanted to check out with the boys but never got to since most of our trips to the desert are with Jimmie in tow. We paid a small fee to get in and another small fee for the tram, which picks you up and drops you off at different areas of the park. I joked that the tickets should have been $5 and the tram ride should have been $50 because there was no physical way any person could walk those grounds, in that heat, and survive. Every step, again being a conscious effort, every cell, again swelling to capacity. It felt like there were more people working there than visiting and by the end of our hour or two stent, I could see why; it was simply unbearable. We made good use of our time indoors for lunch and in the discovery center, where the kids touched just about everything they could – including a possums tail – within a few minutes but spent the next thirty climbing up and down a small carpeted hill while Willy and I waited for our body temperatures to cool to a normal level before making what I estimate to be a couple hundred feet walk to the exit. I considered waiting for the tram, which would have made the full loop back around the park, just to take us to the exit and avoid those couple hundred of feet in the sweltering heat. Did I mention that it was hot?

We also spent some time in the pool because water is more or less a necessity in conditions like these (am I being dramatic?). And later in the day we did some off-roading and happened upon Cabot’s Pueblo Museum in Desert Hot Springs, which had some of the most beautiful woven rugs, tapestries, and ceramics.

I woke up the next morning fretting about the wedding, cuz’ that’s what I do before just about every shoot, no matter how big or small. And as if luck were on my side, the clouds hung around most of the day and between that and my adrenaline, the heat was more or less an after thought. The wedding was terrific and the couple every bit delightful as I had imagined. I’ll be sharing some of those images soon.

We left the following morning, hitting up our favorite breakfast joint just one last time; the deal sweetened by it being “Grandparents Day” and the kids eating free… something all of us parents can appreciate because we all know how wasted half those meals are anyway. Later in the day we returned home to a house full of dust (we’re working on one of the bathrooms), bags begging to be unpacked, and a memory card full of a couple’s special day begging to be edited.

But, alas, air conditioning. And a thirty degree temperature drop.

Janet & Co.

Southern California Photographer-1 Southern California Photographer-16 Southern California Photographer-3 Southern California Photographer-30 Southern California Photographer-8 Southern California Photographer-15 Southern California Photographer-18 Southern California Photographer-84 Southern California Photographer-35 Southern California Photographer-39 Southern California Photographer-47 Southern California Photographer-60 Southern California Photographer-61 Southern California Photographer-64 Southern California Photographer-77 Southern California Photographer-80 Southern California Photographer-81 Southern California Photographer-87 Southern California Photographer-91 Southern California Photographer-93 Southern California Photographer-96 Southern California Photographer-48 Southern California Photographer-101

Janet recently moved from Utah to Seattle and given the fact I had never been to Seattle (and wanted to see her, duh) I scheduled my flight.

I took on a few sessions while I was there, which turned out fantastic despite my mode of operation to practically drive myself into a panic attack beforehand. Both families were sweet as could be, a delight to photograph, and the images turned out great. I hope to open myself up to more travel sessions in the future… I gotta give my nerves some practice.

I spent the first day there entirely on my own, with intentions to explore the city, meet Janet for lunch, and pick her up at the end of her work day. I barely made it out of the shower before wanting to climb back in bed for a nap. I could blame it on first trimester or I could blame it on standing in line for an hour and a half waiting to pick up a rental car from Hertz the night prior. Seriously, don’t use Hertz. In any event, I didn’t make it further than Whole Foods – where I stopped to pick up some things to make for dinner – before taking a nap in the car; the windows down, the sun shining through the window. By all accounts, perfect car nap ingredients if you were to ask my dad (who himself is well versed in both car naps and face-down-on-the-hallway-carpet naps). I didn’t see much of the city and I nearly convinced myself that traveling, at all, while in the first trimester is a complete sham.

I felt better the next day. We packed a few things and hit the road for Portland, where both of my sessions were. The traffic reminded me of LA but we made due with good music and good conversation and a relatively good toddler that sat relatively quietly in the backseat.

We learned quickly that gone are the days that you can roll into a city, pull up at the first hotel you see, and get a room. Times sure have changed since the summer we spent on the road, driving all the way to Louisiana and back without a single reservation or even a hint of a plan. Needless to say, we opted for the Travelodge, which appeared to be the only option in town with only one room left and a front desk employee who had never even heard of a pack-n-play and proceeded to scratch his head when we described it as a “travel crib”.

We spent much of our time exploring the city and surrounding areas, stopping in at the occasional Denny’s which seems to fulfill whatever pregnancy cravings I’ve had thus far (hello magnificent butter-melted-belgium-waffles and french fries with those little salt canals engraved into their salty potato goodness). We met up with a few friends in the area as well, which makes this big world we live in feel just a bit friendlier. I shot my sessions and we headed back to Seattle, albeit sitting in traffic for much of the way, and I flew home the following morning, before the sun was even up.

I always longed for the day Janet moved from Utah; always assumed it’d be back to California. And yet visiting the path her life has taken her on has proven almost as fun. Almost. Still longing for the day…

Pinetop, Arizona

Southern California Photographer-1 Southern California Photographer-4 Southern California Photographer-6 Southern California Photographer-11Southern California Photographer-8Southern California Photographer-12 Southern California Photographer-13 Southern California Photographer-15 Southern California Photographer-19Southern California Photographer-74 Southern California Photographer-20Southern California Photographer-75 Southern California Photographer-79Southern California Photographer-77 Southern California Photographer-84 Southern California Photographer-86 Southern California Photographer-92Southern California Photographer-106 Southern California Photographer-97Southern California Photographer-99Southern California Photographer-102Southern California Photographer-117Southern California Photographer-108Southern California Photographer-118Southern California Photographer-121Southern California Photographer-109Southern California Photographer-133 Southern California Photographer-134 Southern California Photographer-135 Southern California Photographer-138 Southern California Photographer-147 Southern California Photographer-149 Southern California Photographer-155 Southern California Photographer-163 Southern California Photographer-166 Southern California Photographer-170 Southern California Photographer-174

When you’re not feeling well, it’s really hard to snap out of it. As we drove up the mountain, following the bends of the road through old dilapidated mining towns, all I could think of is how badly I wanted to have the energy to take my camera out of it’s bag; how badly I wanted to piss Willy off by making him pull off the road as I do so often on these long stretches of road we seem to find ourselves on often. Feeling tired, rundown, with what felt like a knife stabbing me in my throat, I sat quiet and had no choice but to sit back and take it all in; mental snapshots clicking constantly in my mind making me feel as though the whole ‘take it all in’ phenomena is grossly overrated.
We arrived in Pinetop, a place Willy has more or less grown up through the years, and stayed at the cabin that has been in his family for three generations.
The cabin was everything a cabin should be; creaky doors, the smell of old wood that greets you like an old memory, and the lack of natural light that only a cabin in the woods should be able to pull off. The boys spent much time riding their bikes and skateboards on the porch, collecting rocks, digging holes, and more-or-less earning the bath they never got. I spent much of that first day in a lazy boy chair, with my feet up, wishing I felt better and cursing that voice that says “at least you’re in a beautiful place” because who can enjoy such beauty when you feel like shit?
I spent much of the night swallowing relentlessly; trying ever-so-hard to clear my throat and gagging in such a way that I’m sure had Willy’s blood boiling with annoyance. In any event, I felt better after a few days but not before gaining that appreciation for health that always seems to come perfectly packaged after not feeling well.
Everyone else arrived the following morning and we spent that afternoon and evening in the neighboring town of Springerville, where we met up with more family.
The following day the majority of the group went fishing while Willy’s mom and I hit up some of the thrifts; something that despite my own overflowing closets and cycle of donation, I cannot seem to pass up. I found a gorgeous red dress, a wood-framed mirror with a wooden cactus overlying the mirror section, and some petrified wood bookends. That evening we took off for the X Diamond Ranch to celebrate Willy’s Dad’s 60th birthday. The boys had a great time with the horses and exploring the grounds, which are nothing short of breathtaking. A place we’ve added to our growing list of “must visit again” and given the fact they have affordable cabins  you can rent, I’m sure one of these days we’ll do just that.
After a long weekend at the cabin, we drove back down the mountain and relaxed for a day in the quintessential Arizona heat that can only be cured by submerging yourself in water; water that has itself been tainted by the heat and provides the same kind of relief that a pixie cup filled with sugary lemonade provides when you’re dehydrated.
Nevertheless, a nice getaway that ended with me feeling better… Just in time to unpack the car and start the never-ending loads of laundry.

A Video

It’s always my intention to shoot more video but frustrating when I can’t make the time to go through all the footage, edit the clips, and compile them together. It’s rather time consuming, in a good way, but nonetheless in a way I simply don’t have these days. So I worked on this on my birthday; a day declared as my own and it was actually nice to revisit our trip to Maui sometime later and to relive it all in a new way. I had intended to use the original version of this song but after much delay and lack of motivation, I’ve left it as is. Sometimes things are close enough. Ha.

Read More “A Video”

Childhood Unplugged | Springerville, AZ

Southern California Photographer-21 Southern California Photographer-26 Southern California Photographer-27 Southern California Photographer-30 Southern California Photographer-55 Southern California Photographer-56 Southern California Photographer-58 Southern California Photographer-59 Southern California Photographer-62 Southern California Photographer-63 Southern California Photographer-68

childhooduplugged1Please join me in supporting the other photographers participating in the Childhood Unplugged movement by clicking here to see all our submissions. You can also follow us on instagram (@childhoodunplugged) and be sure to use #childhoodunplugged for a chance to be featured on our Instagram feed.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Montana

Souther California Photographer-2 Souther California Photographer-5 Souther California Photographer-9 Souther California Photographer-14 Souther California Photographer-15 Souther California Photographer-20 Souther California Photographer-31 Souther California Photographer-33 Souther California Photographer-42 Souther California Photographer-44 Souther California Photographer-48 Souther California Photographer-50 Souther California Photographer-52 Souther California Photographer-60 Souther California Photographer-61 Souther California Photographer-63 Souther California Photographer-64 Souther California Photographer-66 Souther California Photographer-77 Souther California Photographer-81 Souther California Photographer-84 Souther California Photographer-90 Souther California Photographer-104 Souther California Photographer-108 Souther California Photographer-109 Souther California Photographer-195 Souther California Photographer-198 Souther California Photographer-201 Souther California Photographer-206 Souther California Photographer-208 Souther California Photographer-220 Souther California Photographer-224 Souther California Photographer-227 Souther California Photographer-228 Souther California Photographer-229 Souther California Photographer-235 Souther California Photographer-239 Souther California Photographer-240 Souther California Photographer-277 Souther California Photographer-289 Souther California Photographer-297 Souther California Photographer-303 Souther California Photographer-309 Souther California Photographer-311 Souther California Photographer-318 Souther California Photographer-320 Souther California Photographer-323 Souther California Photographer-326 Souther California Photographer-331 Souther California Photographer-355

We’ve talked for years about making the time and saving the money to get up to Montana to visit Willy’s Aunt Kathie, who has lived there for the past couple decades. It’s haunted my to-do lists for longer than I care to admit. And if you’re wondering if I include bucket list type stuff on my to-do list, I do. Otherwise they’d stay in the bucket and in the end, I’d kick – probably haphazardly – a full bucket.
I managed to find a great deal on Allegiant air, an airline we won’t ever be flying again. What started as a couple hundred bucks grew literally exponentially after choosing seats (yes, you pay for your seat choice) and paying for luggage (you pay one price for checked bags and another for carry-ons). Even the water they offered during the in-flight service came at a price. Let me repeat that, they charged for water.
That said, we’ve gotten quite lucky on seats the last few flights we’ve been on and this trip proved no exception; with an entire empty row behind us we had plenty of room, which makes having kids on a plane much more enjoyable.
Kathie lives about an hour and a half from the airport and the love affair with Montana was born on the drive to her house. Following the two lane highway around the bends, the sun set just behind the mountains in the distance only to reappear around the next curve in the road. We must have watched the sunset and reset at least five times as the golden rays lit up hay fields, made silhouettes out of the cattle that grazed the acres of fields, and reflected off the Yellowstone river that more or less seemed to follow us all the way to our destination.
Despite our late arrival, Kathie was awake when we got there and quickly showed us around her home. We walked over wood floors that creaked with vintage kilim rugs, inherited from Willy’s great-grandma’s collection, throughout. With her son off at college, the boys made his old room their own and quickly ransacked the closets to find knick-knacks they’d treasure for the entire week we were there; a plastic sword, a handheld windmill, a soccer ball, and a bug jar, to name a few.
The house sits at the end of a long dirt road, on 50 acres, so when the sun rose in the morning, we had the most brilliant view of all we drove past the night prior but had not seen. Deers in the distance, with snow-capped mountains as their backdrop. A view so beautiful, at all hours of the day, that not even the whining and incessant fighting that comes with having two young children in an otherwise peaceful home, could ruin.
The boys spent much of their time outside, pushing the wheel barrel about, unstacking neatly stacked piles of wood, chasing the cats, killing spiders despite our instructions not to, catching bugs, peeing in bushes, pretending to drive the old mice infested Chevy truck (that still runs like a champ, mice n’ all) and making make-shift forts in the garage.
We spent a day in Yellowstone, a few afternoons in Livingston, a day in Bozeman, and many afternoons at the house shooting guns, listening to music, drinking, talking about life, and collecting rocks and driftwood down by the river (with Neil Young playing perpetually in my head).
I packed for the wide range in forecasted weather and used everything I brought, which might go down as the first occurrence of such in our family record book. Shorts and tank tops to sweaters and beanies. And with each change in weather pattern came with it a change in light; all equally parts impressive. From storm clouds, complete with thunder and lightening, to rays of light impeding their way through breaks in the clouds, to full on uninhibited glorious bursts of light that, when juxtaposed next to snow capped ‘crazies’  mountain range seemed to come from none other than heaven itself.
When you marry into a family, you tend to see one another often at the typical family events but you never really get the chance to know one another. It was such a nice opportunity to get to know Kathie, to get to know people that are – or have been – important in her life, and to hear the stories that make up parts of her life’s tale (and there’s a lot of great ones). I’ve actually asked her to participate in an interview, as I think she has a lot of valuable things to share.
Our flight was delayed several hours on the way back (have I said that Allegiant sucks?), but we managed to make it on-board with seven unpaid carry-ons that housed thrifted and found Montana treasures, so – ya know – it is what it is. We also inhabited the still-empty row behind us… actually, Willy sat in front with the boys while I inhabited the empty row all my lonesome. The little things really are the big things.
And with that, Montana doesn’t really get crossed off the to-do list, just added back to the bottom.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

The Dominican Republic

338A5339-1 338A5341-2 338A5347-4 338A5348-5 338A5364-11 338A5376-12I’ve mentioned it here several times in the past, but prior to having kids – or getting married – I did a lot of traveling. Sure I loved seeing new places, but a large part of my motivation was to photograph; it’s always been something that called to me.
So you can imagine my excitement when Willy’s work flipped the bill for us to go to the Dominican Republic. Given the fact the trip was a work function, it was by no means in tune with how I would typically travel and I found it hard not to roll my eyes at certain aspects of the trip.
Like the all-inclusive resort.
In our backpacking days, we used to glance over at the all-inclusive resorts like they were some sort of slice of heaven we were not privy too; with comforts we longed for… like showers that presumably consisted of more than the mere PVC pipe that trickled water over our heads.
Having now stayed at an all-inclusive resort, I can now say with certainty that it’s not something I’d do again and here’s why: the food was horrible. Willy and I had backpacked throughout the Dominican years ago (it’s where he proposed to me, actually) and the food is one of the things we raved about. I’m not an adventurous eater by any means so when I travel I opt for safe things like buttered pasta, but even there simple pastas were out of this world delicious. At the all-inclusive resort, we walked out after taking a mere bite of several meals. I had to spit out the one bite of a hamburger I ate. It was horrible.
The grounds were too big. So big, in fact, that you had to wait for the trolley to come around just to take you to one of the 13 pools (talk about overkill) or the beach. There was a sign on the beach that warned you against walking off the grounds because once you pass the rope you are no longer ‘supervised’. That made me roll my eyes.
The music at the pool belonged in the club. I found it hard to read my “Homegrown” parenting book with Ludacris blaring in my ears.
Out of boredom, we ventured to the ‘theatre’ to watch a Michael Jackson impersonator perform. Watching him made me feel sad; the lip singing was off, the dancing sub par, and the smell of the fog machine made me think I was at a Middle School dance formal.
Forget sunscreen? Don’t worry, the all-inclusive resort has everything you need… everything you need at a price… and a steep one at that. It’s like they know you’re stranded and they take full advantage. We paid $20 for a bottle of sunscreen. All-inclusive, minus sunscreen.
The location did not lend to any local experiences. We were completely secluded and not in the off-the-beaten path kinda way, but more in the behind-the-gate kinda way. Walking off the multi-acre resort was not an option. We paid the steep cab fare of $70 to go to a town 20 minutes away.
I did not take a single photo at the resort because I found it grossly uninspiring. Not one.
There were highlights, of course. Like the fact the door to our room came draped with a sash that read “Feliz Cumpleanos” despite the fact it was neither of our birthdays. And, well, not having kids around provided us the opportunity to truly relax and have adult conversations, so that was nice too. And there was a casino, which doesn’t really tickle my fancy, but Willy made out playing poker and had a new stranger coming up to him each day to remind him how well he did at the tables the night before. And we got to return to the town where we stayed when Willy proposed (Bayahibe), so that was special. I dug up this old post recapping our previous trip to the Dominican, from a ‘Meet Your Parents’ series I used to write…
All in all, as a lover of traveling and experiencing different cultures, it makes me sad to think of all of the thousands of people who were staying at that resort and went home with the belief that they went to the Dominican Republic. Geographically, sure. But in all other components not so much.
In any event, it’s hard to complain about a more-or-less free trip. So I’ll end by saying that the Dominican Republic is really and truly a beautiful country with lively people and terrific food. Just don’t stay at an all-inclusive resort.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Hawaii, part I

338A3759-3 338A3765-6 338A3771-8 338A3776-11 338A3842-25 338A3855-30 338A3862-33 338A3882-36 338A3892-39 338A3895-41 338A3911-44 338A3919-47 338A3955-59 338A3964-62 338A4061-76 338A4064-77 338A4065-78 338A4089-90 338A4095-93 338A4097-95 338A4137-109 338A4201-124 338A4206-126 338A4245-133 338A4298-155 338A4318-160 338A4338-167 338A4368-175 338A4376-177 338A4378-178 338A4382-179338A4428-192 338A4429-193338A4459-203338A4482-209 338A4494-213338A4505-217338A4420-189 338A4543-230338A4586-249 338A4643-264 338A4683-277 338A4687-279 338A4691-282 338A4705-285 338A4709-288 338A4715-290 338A4722-291 338A4727-295338A4834-335 338A4735-299338A4778-317338A4964-362 338A4980-368 338A5055-382 338A5067-383 338A5110-391 338A5126-394 338A5149-398 338A5152-399 338A5171-405

Things we did while in Maui: Listened to a local sing “going to California” and “fast car” (two of my favorites), after the rain led us into a saloon that’s now on our list of favorites, saw several sea turtles both from the shore as well as from in the water, spent a windy day at the aquarium, bought shell necklaces from a local maker; one went missing immediately and two days later the other broke, ate cream puffs and apple pie from a bakery the locals rave about, put extra sunscreen on burned butt cracks, potty trained Van albeit the time he peed on the car’s wheel in the parking lot and in the tide pools too because, well, when you gotta go you gotta go, ate off of paper plates to avoid dishes, gave the boys one shower that probably led the neighbors to believe we practice Chinese torture (both boys hate showers) and one bath… In two weeks (and no, we didn’t spend a lot of time – or much of any for that matter – in the pool), saw an Elvis impersonator perform poolside for all the retired folk (many of which snapped pictures with him afterwards), witnessed my first selfie stick and I have loads to say about it (namely, what happened to asking the stranger next you to take your photo?), laughed at my horrible English / Australian / anything other than American accent, walked out of Mama’s Fish House just as soon as we sat down and noticed that the kid’s meals were $20 a pop and that macaroni, chicken tenders, and hamburgers were not listed as options, watched Hooper catch his first crab, also watched him cry tears of sympathy when he came upon a dead gecko, packed more clothing than we needed and just barely enough sunscreen, and got on the plane feeling well rested, grateful, and sad to leave.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Arizona

338A1510-42 338A1526-46 338A1543-48 338A1589-53 338A1593-54 338A1603-57 338A1631-61 338A1635-62 338A1648-65 338A1670-71 338A1676-72 338A1678-73 338A1710-75 338A1717-77 338A1724-79 338A1730-82 338A1737-85 338A1741-86 338A1745-88 338A1763-91 338A1769-93 338A1772-95 338A1798-102 338A1828-111 338A1837-113 338A1847-115 338A1869-120 338A1891-124 338A1895-125 338A1901-127 338A1918-134 338A1921-135 338A1926-136 338A1932-137 338A1947-139Determined to move on with life after my accident, we decided to spend Easter – as previously planned – in Arizona, with my in-laws. We laid low much of our time, which was just what I needed. The boys are always more than entertained with the cows, dirt, wheel barrels, hay stacks, goats, pool, and feral cats. Willy managed to catch a couple of spiders, including two black widows, so the boys had fun watching all the critters eat each other in their bug cages. A lesson of prey and predator, I suppose. Also a lesson in not playing near the stack of firewood.
There were naps, some thrifting, an evening at the food trucks in downtown Gilbert, and a trip to a local farm that has a weekly farmers market.
Easter morning was filled with egg hunts, bacon, bubbles, a wheel barrel full of toys and treats, a friendly horse named Duke, and even an adult egg hung put on by Willy’s grandparents; a yearly tradition.
We took highway 8 on the way home, which boarders Mexico, and shared stories of the past of our many trips south of the boarder. I wish it were still safe to drive down there.
It was nice to leave and nice to be back. We missed an Arlo Guthrie concert we were both eagerly looking forward to; too tired and too sore to make the extra drive up to LA. When this neck pain subsides, I know regret will set in.
Hope you all had a wonderful Easter.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Palm Springs

338A1372-1 338A1385-5 338A1388-6338A1408-11 338A1389-7 338A1431-18 338A1409-12338A1435-21338A1422-15 338A1439-23338A1454-29 338A1466-31338A1444-26 338A1473-32 338A1474-33 338A1495-39338A1478-35We spent one night in Palm Springs before hitting the road to Arizona so that Willy could finish up some work out there. The weather was perfectly warm and we spent much of the time poolside; the boys in the pool and Jimmie hanging poolside with me while I rested my sore neck. The night was rough, with Willy snoring, Hooper kicking, and Jimmie randomly barfing, but we packed up, hit the pool one last time, and got on the road.
I’ll be sharing a few images from Easter in Arizona tomorrow.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Utah | Spiral Jetty

338A9212-125 338A9216-127 338A9241-136 338A9235-133 338A9253-141 338A9264-144 338A9276-149 338A9282-150 338A9291-153 338A9299-154 338A9309-158 338A9310-159 338A9311-160 338A9348-167

When I was younger, I remember my parents taking me out to the grapevine to visit an art installation by Christo & Jeanne-Claude of yellow umbrellas. My parents weren’t really the artist-types, but I do remember trips of this nature often. You could see the umbrellas from far away, the little specks of yellow growing larger and larger the closer we got. I remember reading about one of the umbrellas killing someone. I think a gust of wind caused one to come out of the ground. I suppose that’s beside the point.
In the 60’s, artists began a movement away from the museums and galleries and started creating art in the landscape itself. Spiral Jetty was created by Robert Smithson 1970, using over six thousand tons of black basalt rocks and earth from the site to form the coil that is 15,000 feet long and 15 feet wide. “Created at a time when water levels were particularly low, the artwork was submerged from 1972 onward, and was only known through documentation. However, regional droughts thirty years later caused the lake to recede such that by 2002, a salt-encrusted Spiral Jetty reappeared for the first prolonged period in its history. Smithson often asserted that by responding to the landscape, rather than imposing itself upon it, Spiral Jetty is a site to actively walk on rather than a sculpture to behold.” I love the idea of not imposing oneself upon it; I like to think of myself as a photographer in the same sense — not imposing, but rather using what is real and before me. Makes it more indestructible, I suppose. I find that really beautiful.
I hope my boys care about art and have enough interest in the matter to search things like this out. And, at the same time, I don’t want them to be anyone other than who they are. But, at the same same time, I hope the things I expose them to leave some sort of impression on them. Much love to my girl Janet for the introduction. And with that, my images from Utah are complete. But if you wanna take a moment to discuss Van’s oversized mittens, I’m game.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!

Utah | Side of a deserted road

338A9184-119 338A9123-95 338A9130-99 338A9160-109 Untitled-9 338A9152-106 338A9156-108 338A9171-112 338A9168-111 338A9174-114 338A9191-122

We were on our way to one thing, short on time, with two cars filled with kiddos that had been promised things we realized we’d no longer had enough time to give them. The side of the road in a beautiful majestic canyon served as a fair substitute. Complaints of cold hands quickly dissipated as those numb little hands discovered rocks to throw into the stream, sticks to collect, and tree stumps to climb. And those little babies faired pretty darn well; arguably better than others. We stopped at a diner on the way home, got the big kids chocolate milk, and unthawed in the car on the way home.

Click To Vote For Us @ Top Baby Blogs Directory!