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7

Photography 101: GO TOWARD THE LIGHT!

April 3, 2013

(Sorry. But I think y’all know by now that I have a macabre sense of humor.)

One of the aspects of photography that I love is that there are very few, if any, hard and fast rules. And when it comes right down to it, if you like your pictures (or, if you’re a professional, if your clients are pleased), then that’s really all that matters. But here’s a super easy fix for a very common problem. It doesn’t matter whether you’re using the most basic point-and-shoot or the fanciest DSLR money can buy, learning to find the light will improve your photography by leaps and bounds, and you don’t have to do anything more complicated than look around and move your subject.

First, consider the time of day. “The Golden Hour” is the photographer’s best friend. It depends a little on where you live, but generally, the best light happens around sunrise and sunset (there are Golden Hour calculators online that can help you determine when it takes place in your part of the world). Personally, because I’m not much of a morning person, I like to start shooting a couple of hours before sunset. That gorgeous golden light is fleeting, but when you catch it, it gives your photos a dreamy, magical quality that’s hard to achieve at any other time.

As I said, there are exceptions to every rule, but noon is rarely a good time to take photos. Having the sun directly overhead casts harsh shadows that are difficult to work with. However, you can overcome this impediment by finding a nice big patch of shade. A lot of people are tempted to think that cloudy days stink for picture-taking, but au contraire! The clouds act as a giant light diffuser, and you can shoot almost anywhere without having to worry too much about ugly shadows on your subject.

If you’re shooting inside, however, the brighter the better. But one mistake I see people make often is to position their subject near a light source (e.g., a window), but then turn their back to it. This results in the subject being backlit so that his or her face is very dark. Or they put him or her underneath an overhead light, which casts unflattering shadows down onto the face. Their instincts are correct – get near a light source! – but the results they’re getting aren’t what they want. The solution, though, is easy: Let your subject FACE the light.

Let me show you a couple of examples. These photos are from my recent Easter mini-sessions.

In this first photo of Emma, the light sources, a glass door and a window, are on her right (and one is slightly behind her). That’s fine, but her face is turned away from them. It’s still a good photograph, but you can see there’s a shadow on the left side of her face and, more importantly, a pretty big shadow under the dominant eye.

This condition is called half-lighting, and it certain situations, it’s very effective. But with babies and children, in particular, you usually want the softer look created by using MORE light in order to match your subject matter.

Now look what happens when I turn her face toward one of the light sources:

POW!

You can see here that the light has sort of “filled out” her little face, given her skin a glow and made her eyes sparkle. It’s the difference between her looking like a pretty little girl and her unleashing her inner Disney princess.

And I didn’t whip out a fancier camera, change lenses, add a flash OR use a reflector – I just turned her toward the light!

Got a photography question? Email me!

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10

Here Goes Nothin’

February 18, 2013

It’s Monday, which would normally mean it’s time for a weekly picture of my homemade menu chalkboard, but, well, I haven’t yet made this week’s menu. I shot Valentine’s mini-sessions this weekend, so any and all activities that do not involve looking through a camera and/or repeatedly squeezing a rubber chicken dog toy (God bless you, Beebo, for your baby-attention-getting talents) did not get done.

(Want to see ‘em?! Go here!)

I’ve had a number of readers suggest that I start posting photography advice, but so far, I’ve been REALLY hesitant to do so. My reasons are thus:

1) The haters

2) I’m not, relatively speaking, that far into the photographer journey myself. I feel like everything I know could be written on the head of a pin, while all the things I have yet to learn could fill Lake Bistineau and then some. I do not, by any means, consider myself an expert.

On the other hand, I’ve learned a LOT since I shot my first wedding three years ago. Another photographer, Jennifer Robison, very graciously and generously shared some of her knowledge with me, and it gave me not only the tools but also the confidence to start Powell Photography. And my business has, thank God, grown by leaps and bounds in the last two years. Consequently, so has my understanding of some of the finer points of photography and the industry. So while I’m no expert, I do feel an obligation to “pay it forward” and teach others, whether they’re hobbyists or amateurs considering going pro, what I’ve learned.

I know that not everyone agrees with my point of view. Many photographers think the market is over-saturated (and, to some degree, they’re right), and we all hate seeing amateurs with little or no training, education or desire to improve hang out a shingle and call themselves professionals, demand undeservedly high rates and trash-talk more established photographers while delivering poor service and inferior products to their clients.

Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t necessarily feel like I’m competing with other photographers. I think I’m a good photographer and a responsible, honest businessperson, but I know I’m not the best photographer in the world or even the right photographer for every single job in Shreveport, LA. I try as hard as I can to give my clients what they want, but I am straightforward with potential clients who I can sense want something that I can’t or won’t provide (and yes, I have been approached about a couple of shoots that I was unwilling to do!). For another thing, even if I were the most sought-after photographer in the entire state of Louisiana (from this keyboard to God’s ear, right?!), I am simply not AVAILABLE to shoot everything – I’m not only a photographer, I’m also a wife, mother and freelance writer, so my availability is somewhat more limited than some other photographers’. And lastly, my prices are not in everyone’s budget. I think they’re fair, given my experience, talent and level of service, but fair or not, my fees are not affordable for every person who wants professional-quality photos.

Therefore, I think there is a place in the market for the talented, responsible amateur photographer who knows s/he has a long way to go but is honest with his/her clients about his/her experience, equipment, skills and capabilities – the sort of person who has a real love for the art of photography and an intense desire to learn and improve. But it’s very difficult to do that in the beginning, when you don’t have the money for classes, conferences and workshops, if other, more experienced professionals aren’t willing to help and guide you.

And then there are the hobbyists, people who love photography and taking pictures but who have no desire to turn pro. They just want to take better pictures of their kids, their cat, their car, the birds in their backyard – whatever it is they cherish and want to document. Some photographers don’t want to help them either because if those people learn to take good pictures on their own, why would they hire us? Well, I’m a professional photographer, and I still pay other people to take photos of my family! Personally, I think Powell Photography is AWESOME (duh), but The Guy and I love the art of photography, not just making money, so we love other photographers’ work, too. In other words, we don’t need or want a house that’s filled exclusively with Kelly Powell photos. And just because I help you learn to take a better photo of your kid in the bathtub doesn’t mean you won’t hire me to photograph that kid’s baptism, when you want to be present and not see the entire thing through a viewfinder.

There are a lot of fantastic photography blogs (I read several of them on a daily basis), but many times, the topics they cover are pretty advanced – things like what type of studio lighting to use in a certain situation, how and when to use flash outdoors and how to keep your memory cards from getting corrupted. All very important and interesting topics, but perhaps not particularly useful to the amateur who wants to learn how to prepare for a newborn session or the hobbyist who wants to know just what the heck all those letters on the mode dial are for.

I’m not planning to post on photography topics every day or even every week, but is this something y’all might be interested in? If so, what specific topics would you like to read about? If you’ll tell me what you’d like to learn, I’ll do my best to cover those subjects from my standpoint and include some other photographers’ insights as well.

Maybe we’ll learn something together!

Your rubber-chicken-squeezing
Kel

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6

Menu Monday: Annoyed Baby Edition

February 4, 2013

IT IS STILL TECHNICALLY MONDAY, OKAY?

Last week, I made a mistake that led to a good sort of problem: I planned too many meals. Our wonderful neighbor Amanda brought us a pan of venison lasagna Friday night, and there was no way I was cooking once I had that ready-made deliciousness in my hands. And Saturday, I forgot that we were going to a Mardi Gras open house at our other neighbors’ house. This is our first year living on the parade route, and we are happy to report no major problems or inconveniences except for a traffic jam on our street after the Krewe of Centaur parade finished up, which didn’t bother us because we weren’t going anywhere. The Guy had to work late last Saturday, and I’m still too much of a nervous mother hen to do take Harper to things like that by myself (first baby, etc.), but we’re planning to walk down to the Gemini parade this weekend. I’ve been working on teaching Harper to scream and lift her shirt, and I think we’re making some real progress.

(Kidding, Mother. Kidding.)

So there are a couple repeats from last week, but I spiced things up (spiced? See what I did there?) by including a Powell Family Original (TM) recipe.

Menu Monday: Baby Bonus Edition.

Monday: Pork tenderloin tips, sweet potato (we split one) and Brussels sprouts.

Tuesday: The Guy’s Tuna Rigatoni Marinara (recipe below)

Wednesday: Soup and sandwiches

Thursday: Out for Dad’s birthday

Friday: Baked Ziti With Spinach

Saturday: The Guy’s seafood gumbo – this time, we’re trying out a baked roux.

Sunday: Grilled pork chops and broccoli

The Guy’s Tuna Rigatoni Marinara

Look, I know what you’re gonna say: “Canned tuna? And store-bought marinara sauce? Blech!” PREACHIN’ TO THE CHOIR, FOLKS, preachin’ to the choir. The Guy invented this little delicacy one night while I was at Bunco, and when I came home and he told me what unholiness he hath wrought in our kitchen, I fully expected to hate it. But it was good, y’all, I swear (I only tasted it because I am a very nice wife). And it’s turned out to be one of our favorite meals, honest! Of course, it doesn’t hurt that we almost always have all the ingredients on hand, it takes about 20 minutes to make and it’s SUPER cheap.

1 tblsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tblsp minced garlic (I actually prefer freeze-dried garlic, but then I’m not usually the one cooking this)
2 small or 1 large can water-packed solid white albacore tuna
1/2 tsp chili flakes (optional)
1 jar tomato pasta sauce (we like vodka pasta sauce)
1 pound rigatoni pasta, or any large pasta you have on hand
Salt for pasta water
Parmesan cheese (if desired)

Heat olive oil, then add garlic; stir for a couple minutes. Add tuna and chili flakes (if using) and cook for five minutes, stirring often. Pour in sauce; cook at least until heated through, but ideally for as long as possible. While sauce is simmering, boil pasta. Cook for one minute less than package directions. Drain pasta, return to boiling pot and pour in sauce. Cook on low heat for 5 minutes more. Serve with Parmesan cheese, if desired.

Your can-opening
Kel

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10

Feel Like Company?

February 3, 2013

First, the big news. If you’re busy and don’t have time to read one of my rambling, stream-of-consciousness, navel-gazing blog entries (or just don’t feel like it, for which I would not blame you a bit, by the way), then here’s the least you need to know: THE GUY AND I GOT CAST IN COMPANY AT SHREVEPORT LITTLE THEATRE!!!!!!!!

(It opens June 27, and you need not worry about remembering to buy tickets, because TRUST ME, I will remind you at least once a week for the next 20 weeks.)

(You’re welcome.)

I would say YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!, but that doesn’t even begin to describe the excitement and utter joy that is practically leaking out of the Powell house this evening. A couple years ago or so, a taped performance of the 2006 Broadway revival version came out on Netflix (pretty sure it’s still on Netflix, actually), and The Guy and I watched it. The only way I can describe our reaction to it is to say the divining rod went down HARD – it’s rare that we BOTH fall like that for a musical or play, as we have different tastes sometimes where theatre is concerned. But man alive, we love Company, and because of it, we fell in love with Stephen Sondheim.

When theatre nerds fall in love with a show, the first thing they want to do, naturally, is put on their own production of it. And we had the idea to approach Bobby Darrow, the artistic director of Shreveport Little Theatre, about putting it on there in his honor, as a way to thank him for his uncountable contributions to community theatre in Shreveport. But there were a number of problems with this little endeavor, motivated by love though it would be. First, we’d have to get Bobby to agree. Second, we’d probably have to raise the money for it ourselves, and for that we’re talking about a sum of money somewhere north of $10,000 (likely a great deal more). Third, we’d more than likely have to find somebody besides Bobby to direct it, and then we’d have to cast it. In other words, it would be practically impossible for two people with a baby and two and a half full-time jobs between them.

It just wasn’t the time.

Fast forward to December 18. I realized I was, as they say, late, took a pregnancy test, and learned, much to our delight, that Baby Powell was on his or her way. Both of us were absolutely ecstatic.

Exactly 10 days later, we heard that Bobby was planning to mount a production of Company at Shreveport Little Theatre in June (i.e., he beat us to the punch). I admit I felt a little wistful. I knew The Guy would probably get cast, but alas, there are no hugely pregnant characters in Company. But in truth, I had no regrets. I would be busily preparing for Baby Powell, and The Guy agreed right away that I could “finish” the nursery (read: do some expensive stuff like have drapes made and get the glider recovered in this GORGEOUS white faux crocodile vinyl I found at Milling Around – I know, I know, it sounds hideously tacky, but trust me, this thing would’ve been drop-dead chic. Also vomit-proof!). And he would probably be cast, so while I wouldn’t be in it myself, at least I would be close to it, and that would be a lot of fun. I thought to myself, I could probably get a babysitter a few nights and go up to the theatre and watch them rehearse. Plus my mom has been wanting to volunteer helping to sew costumes, and that might be fun, too.

It just wasn’t my time.

On January 18, precisely one month after I found out I was pregnant with Baby Powell, The Guy and I went to the OB and had an ultrasound where we learned there was no heartbeat. In a daze, we scheduled a D&C for the following Monday.

It just wasn’t Baby Powell’s time.

I spent the rest of the day alternating between fits of sobbing and a grief-stricken daze. That night, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought occurred to me. “Call Bobby,” I said. “Call him right now and tell him I want to audition for Company.” Understandably, The Guy could not believe I was serious. Somehow, I convinced him I was. Bobby, having no clue that this was anything other than a perfectly ordinary weekend for the Powell family, asked us to come to the theatre Sunday at 4. He said I should prepare a song from the show.

OK, y’all, let’s just stop right here and analyze this for a minute.

1. I am, quite literally, in the midst of a miscarriage.
2. I have not sung for anyone except for babies, dogs and the crowd at a lesbian karaoke bar in New Orleans (long story) since the ninth grade.
3. While I have spent plenty of time singing along with Raul Esparza on iTunes, I do not actually KNOW any of the songs from Company.

I asked Dr. Brandi, “This is the very definition of avoidance and denial, right?”

Her answer?

“Who cares?”

I am here to tell you that the only thing in the entire known universe that could have possibly distracted me from what was to come on Monday would be preparing to sing in front of sober people for the first time since I was 14 years old.

So I threw myself into learning “The Little Things You Do Together.”

When I say that out loud – “I’m really not a very good singer, and I haven’t sung since I was a freshman in high school, but I marched my ass into Shreveport Little Theatre, climbed on the stage and sang like somebody was paying me a hundred bucks to do it,” I think to myself,

SELF, WHAT THE F–K IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?! SERIOUSLY, WHO DOES S–T LIKE THAT?!

And, as usual, I have no rational explanation for my actions.

It went…to tell the truth, I had no idea how it went, but I chose to trust The Guy when he said (with a surprised look on his face, I might add) that it went really well.

On the car ride home, I broke down, and was inconsolable until the next day when they wheeled me into the operating room, put a suffocating plastic mask on my face and told me to breathe deeply.

Two days later, while I was still very much in a grief-and-painkiller-induced fog, Bobby called and said he wanted me to read for him. I thought, OK, good, my singing didn’t automatically knock me out of the running. Only problem was, we had to wait for the scripts to come in. So we waited. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

FINALLY, finally, Bobby called The Guy on Friday, and they arranged for him to come to our house at 7:30 that evening. I rushed around, trying to make myself presentable and entertain Harper at the same time. NOT an easy feat.

We read, then we chatted for a bit, and Bobby left. And I was DISTRAUGHT. I felt the reading had gone horribly, possibly so badly that Bobby would be disinclined to cast either of us. In other words, I effed up so bad that I not only failed myself, I took Perk down with me. The enormity, not to mention the stupidity, of what I had attempted to do came crashing down on me. I am a 35-year-old mom who hasn’t been on a stage except to take pictures in over 15 years. What business do I have SINGING and ACTING in a MUSICAL when I have just lost one baby and have another one at home who spends the vast majority of her day trying every way she can possibly think of to fatally injure herself? With everything that’s happened to this family in the previous two months, the last thing on Earth we need is more disappointment, and here I have gone INVITING disappointment into our lives. For God’s sake, I’ve practically rolled out the red carpet for it! How stupid, irresponsible and positively DELUSIONAL can an adult human possibly be?

I took one of the sleeping pills that my OB mercifully prescribed for me and went to bed.

Saturday, I waited uneasily with a big, hard knot in the pit of my stomach. Bobby mentioned that two more people were auditioning on Saturday, so I told myself that we wouldn’t hear anything until Sunday anyway. About 4:00, the phone rang. It was Bobby.

He did not sound especially happy. I braced myself.

And then he said those eight beautiful words: “I would like to offer you the role…”

Everything after that is a blur or, more accurately, a gigantic ball of shiny, blinding light.

I’ve already been going to the gym and exercising at home, getting myself into fightin’ form.

And my first voice lesson is on Monday.

It hasn’t sunk in – and may not for a good many more weeks – that I am going to be performing on stage for the first time since college. That is…just…insane.

I know at least a few of you will sneer at the idea that God engineered this, but I believe He did. There is only one being in the infinite multiverse who could make Kelly Powell brave and/or stupid enough to sing in front of people who can pass a field sobriety test and speak English.

(I also think Thorpe, who was crazy for Broadway musicals, might’ve been kicking, or rather, knowing Thorpe, pinching me, in the ass a bit.)

You know that saying about how when God closes a door, He opens a window? I think that’s what happened here. No show – no TEN shows – could ever “make up for” Baby Powell. But God gave me something to do instead. Maybe it’s not “as good,” but it’s still very, very good indeed. I mean, how many spouses get to do things like this TOGETHER? I get to spend time with my husband and my best friend doing something we both love AND learn from him at the same time.

Both Baby Powell and Company are the blessings of a lifetime. They’re just different blessings for different points in a lifetime.

Now is not the time for one, but it’s the perfect time for another.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I’m playing Jenny, and The Guy is David. You can check out those two crazy kids right here (their scene starts at 2:08).

I’m pretty excited to slip into Jenny’s twin set and pearls and see how it feels to be a square.

Your triple double single-threat
Kel

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3

Menu Monday

January 28, 2013

Monday:

Eggs and (Kashi frozen) waffles

Tuesday:

Steak, baked potatoes and salad

Wednesday:

Ten-Minute Enchiladas and steamed broccoli

Thursday:

OUT!

Friday:

Baked Ziti With Spinach

Saturday:

Pork tenderloin tips, sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts

Sunday:

Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup

No picture this week – my menu has, shall we say, not yet made it onto the chalkboard (i.e., it is scribbled on a scrap piece of paper and is barely legible).

I had a couple questions about the last post that I thought would go ahead and address.

—-

1. Does your grocery budget only include food?

No, it also includes household items like laundry detergent, diapers and some toiletries. We alot money each month for “Personal Care,” which is mainly my haircuts (I cut Blake’s hair, i.e., shave his head, at home) and the occasional pedicure but which also sometimes includes makeup and things of that nature.

2. How do you stick to a budget while buying diapers?

Because we mostly use cloth diapers, we don’t have to buy disposables very often, so we’re able to wait for sales and use coupons. I also subscribe to a blog called Baby Cheapskate, which publishes the top online and in-store diaper, wipes and formula deals each week. Additionally, we make our own wipes, which saves some money as well.

3. Are you able to buy any organic products while keeping your budget low?

“Low” is a relative term, but yes, we buy organic milk and the “Dirty Dozen.”

4. They never publish coupons for healthy food/fresh produce/low-carb foods.

Oh yes they do. I regularly get coupons for fresh produce from Target and Kroger, and I’m sitting here looking at coupons for Kashi cereal, Wonderful Pistachios, Green Giant frozen vegetables, Sargento cheese and fresh eggs (any brand). There are literally hundreds of coupons for junk food (Oreo Cakesters, anyone?), but you don’t have to clip those – we sure don’t!

—-

Although I have so far had almost no luck, I am once again attempting to grow some of our own vegetables, which will hopefully save some money as well. Also, The Guy has promised me chickens, a.k.a. The Ladies, for my birthday, which means we will have organic, free-range eggs for (nearly) free, and I could not be more excited.

And on that suburban quarter of an acre she had some chickens, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh…

And finally, because of the smashing success of the baby-wipes-making endeavor, I have gotten a lot more confident about making (or at least trying to make) some household products. One that has worked out particularly well is wrinkle-releaser spray. You know, that stuff Downey makes that costs $4.99 a bottle and contains who-knows-what-all kinds of chemicals? Well, turns out it is SUPER easy to make at home and, at least in my opinion, actually works BETTER than the store-bought variety.

You will need:

Spray  bottle
1/2 cup fabric softener (any brand – we like the kind that doesn’t contain dyes or perfumes)
1/2 cup white vinegar
1/2 cup water

Mix together, pour in a spray bottle and voila! Shake well before using. And don’t worry, the vinegar smell evaporates completely once the garment is dry (and it takes B.O. and any other nasty odors with it when it goes!).

So what are y’all eating this week?

Your wrinkle-releasing
Kel

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8

And Now for Some Good to Go With the Bad

December 14, 2012

Updated: Please pray with all your might for the families affected by the school shooting in Connecticut. Our hearts go out especially to the moms and dads who lost their little ones today. It’s an unimaginable tragedy for any parent to face, and it’s even sadder that it happened at this time of year. We also pray for the children of the world, who have to grow up with the reality that horrors like this are not just the stuff of their nightmares.

Y’all better believe I’m holding Ratine Powell a little tighter today and thanking the Most High God that my biggest problem is screwed-up knees.

—-

For obvious reasons, my appointment with the orthopedist got moved up to yesterday. He examined my knees and took a bunch of X-rays, and while the verdict was not entirely good, it was more positive than we had braced ourselves to expect.

Good: The right kneecap (the one I dislocated) is not torn, and there’s nothing chipped off of it. So there’s no reason to perform surgery now. In fact, the right knee will probably never need surgery (barring any more major disasters, of course). So YAY!

Bad: The knee will, however, have to be in a brace for six to 12 weeks. I will need help with Harper for two to three weeks.

Good: I start physical therapy next week, and the doctor said as long as we’re working on one knee, we might as well work on both, which may either lower the need for surgery on my left knee or make rehab after surgery go much, much easier.

Bad: Surgery on the left knee is still, of course, a distinct possibility.

Good: The brace I wore for my first major dislocation, the original one on the left knee, immobilized my entire leg from hip to ankle, i.e., I could not bend my knee at all. Not only was it difficult to get around, the PT afterwards was, how shall we say, intense. Also painful. THIS brace, however, is smaller (about mid-calf to mid-thigh), so it’s a bit more comfortable AND it has a hinge in it so I can bend my knee a little.

Bad: I have to wear it ON my leg, i.e., not over pants, tights or leggings. Not surprisingly, I don’t have any pants with legs wide enough to accommodate this big ugly mofo. Actually, that’s a lie; I do, but they’re sweatpants from Victoria’s Secret with “PINK” emblazoned across the rear.

Needless to say, I will NOT be leaving the house in THOSE.

Good: I have at least two maxi skirts that I can wear, and I just ordered another one from the Gap.

P.S. If you need a little retail therapy today, use the promo code GAPGIFT to get 30 percent off your entire order, including sale items. I got that skirt and a sweater for $43!

Good: My WONDERFUL neighbor Amanda brought over BAGS of delicious but healthy food yesterday, including: salad, vinaigrette dressing, grilled chicken, kalamata olives, artichoke hearts, tomatoes, a fresh baguette, gourmet cheeses, crackers, roasted garlic hummus, pitas, a jar of Roma tomato chili melange, homemade tabbouleh with shrimp and a bottle of Chardonnay. OK, so maybe the Chardonnay isn’t particularly healthy, but it sure is tasty.

Bad: No bad there, except The Guy and I probably had really rank breath from all that garlic hummus. As he said last night, injured or not, that was one of the best dinners we’ve had in ages.

Bad: I feel irrationally guilty that my mom, mother-in-law and Amanda are having to help me with Rat.

Good: Since I’ll be spending a lot of time with my mom and, well, I have quite a bit of time on my hands at the moment, she’s finally going to teach me to hand-sew.

That’s right – I can cross-stitch, embroider (by hand!) and sew on a machine ’til Jesus comes back, but I have no earthly idea how to hand-sew.

Bad: My husband suggested that I audition for the role of a mentally handicapped woman. Oh yes he did.

Good: After he, uh, CLARIFIED that statement, it became obvious that he has much (misplaced) faith in my (nonexistent) acting talents. And he does have a point – I did grow up around a mentally handicapped person, and I can do a pretty awesome Aunt Carol impression*, not to mention that it’s not exactly a stretch for me to walk funny at this particular point in time.

However, this play is set in New York, and I think any of you who have ever heard me talk can probably agree that the chances of me leaving my Southern accent entirely behind are slim to none. On the other hand, it’s not like I don’t have time for dialect coaching right now.

*Please note: Do not send me 28,000 misspelled emails written entirely in capital letters telling me what a horrible person I am for making fun of the mentally handicapped. Aunt Carol could have an IQ of 192 and an impression of her would STILL be funny, I assure you. She may be mentally handicapped, but she’s also kind of a snob. She is also the biggest LSU fan on Planet Earth, a Goldwater Republican and a lover of badminton. There are students currently studying at Harvard who can’t remember dates as well as she can, and I am 90 percent sure that she would punch my mother, her big sister, in the face for a bag of M&Ms (plain, not peanut).

Bad: I can’t climb the stairs for another week or two, so The poor, long-suffering Guy has to make multiple trips upstairs every night for craft supplies.

Good: I have set up Crafting Command Central on the sofa; The Guy now not only knows what a Xyron is but also what it does.

Bad: Since I am no longer getting LASIK for Christmas, The Guy told me to look on the Internet and find something else I want for Christmas (!!!!). PEOPLE, I COULD NOT FIND A THING. I mean, I was on the Tory Burch site, so believe me, I found plenty of stuff I would NOT turn down, but I didn’t find anything I wanted badly enough to spend the money on it and/or that I can use for the next several weeks (e.g., I’m pretty sure a pair of Hunter Wellingtons will NOT fit over this dumb brace).

I also considered asking for chickens, but Mom and Dad, as former chicken keepers themselves, assured me there is no way my injured self can have a coop and all the other paraphernalia The Ladies would require prepared in time for Christmas.

Kelly’s Christmas Wish List:
1. Tory Burch flats
2. Chickens (hens)

Clearly, I have a wide range of interests.

Good: The Guy is going to surprise me! On the one hand, I’m a little afraid that I’m going to get a stocking full of nothing but leopard-print panties, but on the other, I’m pretty darn excited.

Despite a couple of bummers, the Christmas season is full of possibility.

Your optimistic
Kel

P.S. I almost forgot! More good: A lovely and radiant pregnant Christmas angel by the name of Emily brought me a GORGEOUS Christmas tree skirt that looks absolutely fantastic with my tree. MUCH more beautiful than the one I ordered, I assure you. Obviously, this is the skirt I was meant to have all along!

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7

Of Bum Knees and Christmas Tree Skirts

December 12, 2012

So I guess I need to let y’all know what’s been going on. I was in denial for about 24 hours. And actually, while we’re on the subject, you should know that I love denial. You can convince yourself of anything, you know, including that everything is juuuuust peachy.

But reality has sunk in, and I have come to terms, more or less, with the fact that life in the Powell household is going to be very different for a while.

The last couple of weeks have been…yeah.

In order:

1. My child had an ear infection so bad that she had to go to the doctor twice and the E.R. once. This went on for 10 straight days. Those of you who are parents are cringing right now, imagining what her mood was like.

As The Guy’s boss said, “It’s been 15 years since I had a baby with an ear infection. Can’t say I miss ‘em.”

2. On Oct. 15, I ordered a red and white chevron-striped Christmas tree skirt with “Powell” embroidered on it in green from one of those deal-of-the-day sites called Very Jane. After much back-and-forth, the seller assures me that it shipped last Tuesday. It never arrives.

After several more terse emails, she finally tells me that, in essence, she fibbed when she told me the skirt shipped Tuesday, because it turns out that she didn’t even have it yet. Either that, or she was planning to make, monogram and ship my Christmas tree skirt in one day.

(My mom is a professional seamstress who has been sewing for most of her life. Even she is unable to make, monogram and ship a Christmas tree skirt in one day.)

Rather than in any way making this situation right, she simply tells Very Jane to refund my money. So now it’s 13 days until Christmas and I have no tree skirt despite ordering one two months ago, and as you will soon see, I can’t exactly go shopping for one, either. Oh, and Very Jane DID give me a refund, but they steadfastly refuse to acknowledge my horrible customer-service experience.

Merry Christmas to me.

3. I went to the doctor, where I learned I will have to have surgery on my left knee. This is inconvenient but not necessarily unexpected. As Dr. Brandi put it, “Knees usually finally say ‘enough’ after so many years of dance.”

What was most disappointing is that I had finally made the decision to start taking ballet again. Feel free to laugh all you want, but I don’t think I can express how much I was looking forward to it. I mean, I know good and well that I could practice seven days a week for the rest of my life and never again reach the level I was at when I quit, but 1) it’s some of the best exercise there is and 2) it’s an activity that I truly love like no other.

But that’s life, and that’s dance. There are lots of disappointments.

4. I go on a photo shoot, where I dislocate the OTHER knee.

Excuse my profanity here, but no, I am not, in fact, shitting you.

I didn’t fall, and I wasn’t hanging sideways out of a tree or doing anything equally risky. I simply knelt to take a shot (just like any of you who are clients have seen me do a hundred times), and when I got up, bingo. The pain took my breath away, and I couldn’t talk for a little bit.

Here’s the craziest part: After it happened, I just kept on shooting. Not because I’m some kind of badass or anything, but because a) I was completely and utterly humiliated and 2) I am apparently a pathological people-pleaser. The way I saw it (at the moment, at least) was that my clients had driven all the way to Benton from Mooringsport and I was not about to send them home with four pictures simply because my knee couldn’t behave itself.

Thank God it popped back in on its own, or otherwise this story probably would’ve ended with them calling an ambulance for me.

On the bright side, their pictures turned out really pretty.

5. Because of Knee Dislocation IV (yes, four; that’s exactly four more dislocations than anyone should experience in a single lifetime), I had to cancel a three-hour birthday party shoot for this coming weekend. Thank God, my friend Henrietta agreed at the last minute to take the job in my place. Also thank God that the kid’s parents are doctors, so they understand the situation and were super nice about it and grateful that I found a replacement for them.

Who do these things happen to, I ask you? Who?

6. Then, after rearranging my and The Guy’s entire lives because I can’t pick up the baby off of the floor and/or carry her anywhere, I go to the eye doctor to have my pre-op LASIK exam and learn that I am at risk for a complication and have to have an additional scan before I can have the surgery.

Good: This scanner represents the very latest in ophthalmologic technology!

Bad: However, it has not yet arrived in Shreveport.

Worse: Because it was ordered from overseas and is currently stuck in customs.

Because of the Christmas holidays, they’re not doing surgery as often, so my procedure has been postponed until January 25. This after wearing my glasses and having a perpetual headache for two weeks. I am not ashamed to tell you that I started crying right there in the doctor’s office.

So instead of getting 20/20 vision for Christmas, it looks like I’m actually getting surgical scars and at least two knee braces.

Santa, I’m gonna be honest right now: I’m considering baking Ex-Lax into your cookies, you fat m0#$3^f@(43^.

Because I am trying to maintain some semblance of positivity, we will not discuss the likelihood that, for my and The Guy’s Great-Gatsby-themed New Year’s party, an event I have looked forward to literally for YEARS, I will be sitting in a chair almost the entire time.

—-

While I would like to tell you that I have maintained an unfailingly sunny attitude throughout all this strife, that would be a bald-faced lie. There has been much wailing, gnashing of teeth, rending of garments and florid, Texas-style profanity. It is exceedingly difficult – nay, impossible! – for me to sit and watch a movie without doing anything else, so you can imagine how I feel about being confined to the sofa for two and a half days. And not being able to take care of the house, laundry and baby the way *I* like to do it is about to cause my OCD to eat me alive from the inside out.

The Guy cautions me all the time to stay out of the business of trying to decipher God’s plans, but in this situation, if I had to guess, I’d say that this is his sure-fire way of getting me to slow down. I never take off work even when I intend to. Technically, I’m taking December off, but I turned in an article yesterday and had scheduled no less than four photo shoots. I haven’t slowed down in a long, long time, and I know in my heart that I need to. I’ve been working as hard as I can this year to be the best mom I can possibly be and to grow the photography business, and I’m getting really tired – like, tired way deep down where I can’t even see. There’s just so much I want to do and make and plan and help with! But it’s time to take a break. Obviously, my knees think so, too.

So if you need me over the next few weeks, for once, you’ll know exactly where to find me – on the sofa. While that may sound heavenly to some, I know it’s going to take some adjustment for me to be OK with it, but I also know those are adjustments I need to make. And I’d love some company, so if you feel like visiting, stop by and sit a while. (Bonus points if you bring Thai food like my sweet friend Angela did today.)

Apparently, I’m not going anywhere for a while!

Your laid-up
Kel

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