My Goodness, Where Does the Time Go?

I woke him this morning to my usual "Happy Birthday to You..." serenade, with lots of snuggles and kisses and stinky morning breath. It took him a little while to get with it, but after whispering "I love you's" back and forth and questioning if he was 4 today, or is it number 6, he chimed in with, "No, I'm five."

Yes, my little man is a half-decade old! I still have crystal clear memories of giving birth to him after 12 hours of labor and the possibility of having to have a C-section, due to him not moving and his lowering heart rate and my elevated blood pressure. Thomas Brennan finally made his appearance to us at 2:19 a.m., all 8 lbs and 13.5 ounces, 21 in. long of him, on this day five years ago!! And I've never been the same.

At five days old, he was jaundiced and had to be doctored by a bili-blanket. I remember the first time he smiled at me at five weeks old. And at around five months old, he had his first tumble off the bed. How traumatic that was for me, yet if I had only known how resilient my little man was, I wouldn't have cried in desperation for him to be fine. There are far too many memories for me to put here, but I will say that Brennan has brought insurmountable joy and happiness and pride into my life, and his daddy's.

He's been the greatest boy, temperamental and all-testerone, but oh-so-loving to his momma, and even more so since finding out I'm pregnant. He and I are like carrots and carrots, not peas and carrots, carrots and carrots because we both share the same astrological sign in Aries of impatience, ambitious, deep-thinkers, quick-tempered, and we are leaders, not followers.

I look at him everyday, every. single. day. In amazement. Awe. Mind-boggling wonder. "That's my son, my little boy, my soon-to-be man."

Just this morning, while getting ready, he came into the bathroom and the following conversation ensued:

Mom, are you a teenager when you turn 6?

Nooooo, you are a teenager when your turn 13.

Thirteen?

Yes.

So, when will I be 20???

Oh, baby boy, please don't grow up too fast. And don't wish away these years because you are only little once. Every day gone is one more day you'll be closer to 20.

Have a wonderful 5th birthday. I love you. We all love you.

And you'll always be my baby.

Notice the pregnancy bloat going on in my face!

Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery, But Downright Copying is Wrong

Let me preface this by saying I thoroughly enjoy blogging. I'm probably one of the newest members to the blogging world, and I hate that I only got started once I began my fascination with photography. And I revel in the fact that I have so many loyal readers[my stats got my back, hooooolllaaa]. But right now, I need to stand high and tall on my soapbox, and let you all know how I feel about writing, specifically plagiarism. So just follow along for a slippery ride...

There's an old saying that goes, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." And to some degree, this is true and can be applied to many facets in life: fashion, hair styles(remember the "Rachel" cut?), even accents.

But when it comes to copying words and ideas verbatim, it is called "plagiarism." Committing plagiarism in high schools and colleges can get you a big fat "F" in class, if not expelled. Representing one's ideas as your own also falls under the definition of plagiarism. However, it is not considered copyright infringement, just plain ethically wrong, and it compromises the integrity of the written material.

I've always been a writer. I'm not saying I could be the next John Grisham, but I just love writing. I wrote poetry for a time, I used to write in my journal, heck, I even won a writing contest in during my senior year in high school and I got to record it at the radio station to be entered in another contest, of which I didn't win. So there's my credentials. Nothing big, but I. am. original. And sadly, I can't say that about everyone who writes.

Today, I was exposed to a new blog that is maintained by another local photographer. I will not post this person's name or blog address so as to not give any more credence than I already have, but this person will know to whom I'm referring. As I read the following post, I felt my blood boil as if I were in the lake of fire, with Satan pointing his pitch fork at me. This post is so similar, and I'm sure it's not by coincidence, to this post I wrote. Go ahead, take your time, and compare. I'll even highlight in red the similarities. So, friends, fellow bloggers, proponents of original writing, let me know what you think.

• "I decided that since the government was giving out money all over the place, bailing people out...I'd give them a call and have them help me out too! So, I called and it didn't go very well...I was told that because I didn't have several employees that I was going to give some major bonuses to and I didn't own my own private jet to fly people around in so that I can burn up our tax dollars faster, they just weren't going to help me...that kind of help was only reserved for the companies like that!
  
  Okay, so I was joking. But seriously, I couldn't be more sick of hearing the word bailout every time I turn on the television! The economy is bad, the government is only making it worse by giving our tax dollars to people that obviously didn't know how to spend it in the first place!....we get it already!!
  
  I've decided that I might not be able to do much about the state of the economy or how the government handles our taxpaying dollars; HOWEVER, I should do my share. So, I will do my part to help out with our bad economy situation by giving some AWESOME specials!!
  
  Yeaaa me! (This is where you give me a standing ovasion...ha, ha, ha!)....Okay, now sit down and keep reading because I don't want you to miss this!
  
  As you know, Mother's Day is coming up on May 11th! Are you having trouble deciding what to buy your mother or the mother of your children or both? Well, I am here to solve that problem! It's very simple! Give them something that they will have and cherish for a lifetime! Give them a portrait of the very things in life that they love and cherish the most...their legacy, their children! This isn't just "pictures", it's memories, it's art, it is an investment and let me just say, it is beautiful! I've put together a special that will help make this decision very easy for you!
  
  Starting March 19th until April 30th I am running all of my packages for my "Family Sessions" 10% off!!! On top of that, the first 10 people that book for those dates will pay NO SITTING FEE! That's right, I said it, NO SITTING FEE for the first 10 people that book for those dates! Does it get any better than that??!! Well, actually....IT DOES! Because everyone that books through those dates will be entered into a drawing for a FREE "Treasure Collection" (collage) of up to a 10x30! Any size up to a 10x30! How SWEEEEEEEEEET is that?! I will post a sample soon so that you can see exactly what I'm talking about. They are beautiful! So, what are you waiting on? Is there any reason to keep on reading...your waisting time!...Jump on it!
  
  So to sum it up, this is exactly what you will be getting:
  
  1st 10 people to book will receive a FREE SESSION because there will be NO SITTING FEE!
  10% off of ALL PACKAGES for the "Family Sessions"
  One lucky person will win a FREE "Treasure Collection" (collage)..sample to be posted soon
  
  In case you are wondering about the session, it will be your choice of in-studio or on location. The session fee will vary in time because it will depend on how many people and exactly what you are wanting but will probably be a 30 minute to a 60 minute session.
  
  If you have any questions, please feel free to email me at: xyz@yahoo.com[changed to protect identity] or just simply call me at: xxx-xxx-xxxx. Don't just stand there in shock....get to dialing!! "

So, as you can see, I'm not very thrilled with the prospect of someone who would actually take the time to copy, almost verbatim, what I have posted. To steal my ideas. To that I say, please do your own thing. If you can't be original, the only other thing you can be is a copycat.

And I think I'm funny in real life. Maybe silly. Or just plain goofy. Point is, the way I write is how I talk in real life. Ask my friends, they'll tell you, they, like, totally know me. And they might just show you some of my funny stuff, like my "SexyBack dance", or my "Scott-Savol-of-American-Idol-4 imitation", or even, [and I can't believe I'm admitting this], my rockin' Roger Rabbit dance[it's even funnier when I'm pregnant!] You name it, that's me. And I write about it and live by it.

In the grand scheme of things, what, with all the turmoil in our economy, starving children all over the world and all the drama in Washington, this is so trivial and does not amount to a hill of beans, but I wanted to address this personally and bring to light my issues with it. Without being such a sour-puss, I just wanted to make it clear to my fans, clients, potential clients, and even blog stalkers, that what you read is what I am and that copying someone's ideas is not flattering. It's not cool. It's insulting. It shows your lack of originality. And it's just plain wrong.

And with that, folks, I'll step down off of my soapbox. But one last thing: Anyone can start a blog. That's not anything new. And we bloggers can write what we want, that's what blogging, writing, journaling is all about.

It's the blatant plagiarism and stealing of ideas, line by line, that perturbs me. And it should you too.

So with that,

::Elvis has left the building::

P.S. Off subject, but I wanted to add a big THANK-YOU to the random stranger who provided me a dime at the checkout line when I was short. I'm glad to know there are still kind strangers in the world. God Bless!

In Honor of Staff Sgt. Jon A. Brennan

Jon Ashley Brennan. Born February 13, 1982. My little brother.

Jon-Jon or "Bubba" was what we called him growing up. Yeah, I know, we were a creative bunch. I still have fond memories of of his white blonde hair. And him pushing his dump trucks down the sidewalk. And twice he tripped pushing his truck, and twice he knocked out some teeth. And clear memories of him being a momma's boy, laying up next to our mom on the couch. All. The. Time.



Oh, we had so much fun as kids, even though we didn't have much. I'd put my mom's make-up on my baby sister and him[he was only like 3 or 4], romped in the snow and rain-filled ditches, swam the ocean in our cheap plastic pool, played with our cats and dogs, rocked Nintendo Super Mario Bros. 1, 2, and 3 until our hands ached, created our own world with tattered sheets hanging from couch to chair and that was our mansion. And we were super tight.



Then I grew up. I got waaaaayy too mature and moody for my brother. We'd fight, push and yell, and to me, he just was a stupid little annoyance in my world. I was too consumed with my own teenage drama to give him much sisterly love. He was a quiet one, a gentle little boy who loved the women in his life: his momma, his younger sister and even his hateful older sister. But he needed more than I ever realized.

We were siblings, but our relationship became strained to a degree. I went to college in 1996 and he went his own direction in terms of bad behavior and he lost his nice, quiet soul in the process. Then he eventually ended up in jail. I couldn't believe it and yet, it made me so mad. How could he do that? How could he torture my mom that way? I didn't have time for this. Why? Why? Why?

Well, to say the least, that was the best thing to ever happen to him, to us as siblings. He was a high school drop-out, never excelling in school the way I wanted him to, the way I did. I tried to hard to make him be like me, but even as siblings, we are different in so many ways. He eventually found his way to a Job Corps. program, his self-esteem grew as he graduated with high marks, and he was becoming the man that was lacking in his life. Then he was off to enlist in the Army. Holy baloney! He's going to be soldier!!!





I was very proud of him, and scared too, but I was more afraid of the alternative. He would move back home, run with the same troubling crowd, and end up where he started: in jail. He was a 20 year old man now, going off to make his family proud in Ft. Benning, GA where he would become a soldier. A soldier. And soldiers die and I didn't want my little brother to die, even if it would be honorable.

He spent 12 weeks in boot camp and he was certainly a sight to see when my mother, my sister, our baby Haley and I traveled to watch this young man, a son, an uncle, a brother, all decked out in uniform, graduating during his Turning Blue ceremony. I watched my mom cry tears of pride; that was her only baby boy[and I can now relate about having a momma's boy.] I was amazed, and felt like I knew him all along, even when I didn't. That was my brother.





Then we was off to Korea for a year. And he came home for a few weeks in 2003, right after the Iraqi war began. If I ever questioned that my baby brother was a grown man, there was no denying it now. He stood taller, spoke firmly and shook hands like men do. You know, confidently and with meaning. I never could imagine Jon-Jon as Soldier Jon, but there he was standing in front of me. And I too was full of pride.

But as the inevitable would happen, he got orders to go to Iraq. I knew he had to go, but I still had the sinking feeling that I may never see him again. And I felt sad, but tried to be optimistic. He spent about 9 months over there and met his future wife, Sara, who was also in the Army. They married after they came back to the states in 2004 and welcomed their first son in September 2005. But soonafter his birth, he was sent to Iraq for the second time, but not before he and his new family got to visit with us in Missouri.



Jon kept moving up in rank and when I'd hear from him, I could hear the pride in his voice. He was taking college classes and optimistic. And he was somebody to me, to all Americans to whom he was anonymous. He was fighting in the Iraqi war, working to defeat terrorists, helping to build Iraq, and most importantly, protecting our country. This time he was in Iraq for one long year. I couldn't imagine what Sara and many other Army wives must feel, raising their children while their husbands are on a mission. And the fear that they may have to do it alone, for the potential death of military fighters always looms in the distance.

Fortunately, Jon got to make it home again and we all hoped he would never have to go again. This was especially evident in August 2007 when our community lost a young solider Cpl. Rickey Bell. It was such a devastating event to their family and community wide, but from the time he was brought home to laying him to rest, I never saw such honor and diginity displayed and never felt more proud to see our communities come together to salute one of our fallen soldiers. And never do I wish that we ever have to do it again. And I cried silent tears in my heart, praying that my family would never have to know this family's pain.

Then he called: He got orders to go back to Iraq for the third time! This tour of duty would last 15 months, his longest yet. By this time, his rank had brought him to Staff Sergeant. But that was a title, not a shield from bullets, IEDs, and random violence. I remember the day that he was to leave and he called me as I was out Christmas shopping. I stopped looking, trying to take in the conversation, secretly fearing this may be the last time we talk. Pessimistic, I know, but I thought, "This will be his third time over there, could he possibly make it out alive?"



He left a few weeks before Christmas in 2007, his son's third Christmas, to go to Iraq to once again to defend our country and our freedoms. By this time, he got into the MySpace world, so communication was easier and it was nice to see pictures he posted while he was there. He called from time to time, you know, to let us know he was okay and that he couldn't wait to come home. I tried not to dwell on the could-be's and would-be's, but every time the nightly news came about another convoy hit or soldiers killed, it never desensitized me: I still worried that it might be my brother to whom they were referring, that we just had not been notified yet.

But I'm happy and proud to say that my brother, Staff Sgt. Jon A. Brennan and the rest of his troop have made it back to the States. Each and every one of them. Now, I don't know what you believe, but to me, God has had his hands, no, his arms around these guys and proved to me that miracles happen even in Iraq. This Friday, when he and his family arrive at our home, I'll get to shake the hand of a brave soldier and hug this man I call my brother. And thank him for his service. In person.

About a year and a half ago, I was approached about a monument that our local V.F.W. was erecting in honor and in remembrance of local soldiers. Would you like to add anybody for $75?

You're darn right, I would.





Jon Ashley Brennan, my brother, you have made so many proud to know you. To call you father, husband, son, brother, friend. And you are a hero to me.

I love you. Muffin.

Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody do your Share

I haven't posted Ice Storm '09 pics in a while and since I didn't have anything interesting or funny to say, I thought I'd throw some of them in as a gesture of, well, nothing.

So, if you haven't been keeping up since the Ice Storm, we've had some serious, stronger-than-Awwnold-Schwartzenneggar winds[I totally misspelled that one, "Can you use that in a sentence please?], and then about two weeks ago, we had almost a foot of snow dumped on our beaten and battered neck of the woods.

I think there's only more thing that can top off this disasterous season and that would be that inevitable volcano eruption [uh, sorry I'm daydreaming I'm in Hawaii.] I mean, the earthquake that Dr. Brown predicted would make it's presence known in 1990. Well, I hope I'm not jinxing our weather, but I think the weather gods at the local news stations have done enough.

An-y-ways, I'm tired. Really. Tired. Must be that 10K marathon I ran this afternoon. Whew! On to the pictures...

And most of these are after the snow and ice melted and you get to see how damaged Hawaii, er, Hayti looks.





Power out at Sonic, but...


not at Wal-Mart only a few hundred feet away!! [Thanks to generators!]





























Power slowing coming back on...













Our jungle house

Shake your Groove Thang!

UPDATE: I JUST HAD A SESSION OPEN UP, SO THE FIRST TO CONTACT ME WILL SCORE THE SLOT!!

Well, my spring session openings are dwindling by the day and there are NO slots left. THANKS FOR ALL OF THOSE WHO BOOKED FOR THIS MINI-SESSION...I'LL BE EMAILING YOU SOON WITH ALL THE DEETS AND TIME SLOTS!!

If you want more information about it, get your groove on here!!

On a brighter note, we are getting sleet and possible snow again! Yay!!! Just what we wanted: more coldness, more sleet, more snow! I don't know about you, blog groupies, but I'm sick and tired of this! I'm almost dying for 100 degrees temps, dripping in sweat like you just took a shower, and even being pregnant in those conditions!

Spring. Has. Never. Looked. So. Good! Shake your groove thang, shake your groove thang, yeah, yeah!

And get those last few sessions booked! Hollllaaaaaa!!!

Funky Old Build-ina[s]

After my session yesterday, I decided to drive around in search of some funky, cool, old buildings in hope of finding some good, old-fashioned character on display. I had already noticed these buildings, but was yet to shoot some images of them. I have so many ideas racing through my head, they're just vying for the first place trophy! My favorite is the last one, turquoise and red!

All of these images were from downtown Caruthersville, and there are few that I want to shoot in Hayti. Stay tuned for those.

By the way, I'm working on a new blog layout, so you'll be seeing some changes. Right now, I went back to a basic template, but ver-wy soon, my dear, ver-wy soon I'll be looking fly! I mean, my blog will; I'll be looking pregnant!!