This is a portrait of a family that I took this last weekend. It was fun and challenging shooting this size group and although the light was a bit tricky they seemed to come out pretty well.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
good enough to fool myself
So yesterday my mom was cleaning out some old files and found my school records from 3-5th grade. We moved from California in November of my 3rd grade year and I transferred from a private school there to a public school here. After being there for a year I transferred again, this time for academic reasons, to a private school off island. Once 4th grade was complete my mom had had it with the state of education in the area and started what is now the Carden Country School. It was in our home those first couple of years and was a big change for us as a family and for me as a learner.
In my recently recovered files, I found standardized test scores and grades from these 3 years in school as well as teacher comments and samples of work. From my 2nd grade class there was a report card that was straight A's with the exception of PE which I got a B+ in. Not surprising that that was my field of "struggle". In 3rd grade I was apparently "considered for an accelerated and extended program but not selected due to an SCAT score." Whatever a SCAT is. I have never been good at taking tests. This will be proven later with my SAT score (960) in which I earned over 700 points on the verbal and the remaining on the math. Luckily Cornish was progressive enough to not look at SAT scores. So then in 4th grade we took the Stanford standardized tests and I scored the reading level of a 10th grader with the vocabulary of an 11th grader and was in the 99th percentile for listening skills. Again where is the low? Well in my mathematics operations and properties I scored below average with my 18/34.
Ok bla, bla bla nobody cares about your grades from elementary school. Right. But here is the interesting part and why I'm even bothering to write any of this down. Looking at teacher comments, every teacher all 3 years, at a public school with 30 kids in the class, at private Christian school with 1/2 that, and then "homeschooling" with my mom as my teacher they all said I needed to make more of an effort. "Jamie's workhabits have lessened in quality. She needs to be willing to stretch herself." "Jamie's vocabulary is excellent, but she needs to work much more carefully on her written French. It is a challenge she seems reluctant to assume." "...she needs to improve on double checking her work."
So I've always thought of myself as someone who tries really hard at what is in front of me, but then as I really think back and am honest with myself I guess I am pretty put off by hard work. I just want things done fast and don't have a lot of patience for small details or always doing things the "right" way. For instance I'm sewing today and getting super frustrated because I just make stuff up and it doesn't work and then I get mad instead of just looking up how to do it in the first place. I want things to be pretty and functional, but am usually adverse taking the time for good craftsmanship. It makes Josh furious how I rush through things and say that's good enough.
So I'm feeling pretty discouraged because I am seeing myself as someone who I didn't really think I was but maybe really am. And no, you can't reassess your whole identity because of some stupid papers, but I do find myself often frustrated or annoyed with washing the walls before you paint them or getting out the tape measure and level to hang a picture or soaking the seeds over night before you plant them, and therefore skipping the preliminary steps.
So where does this haste serve me well? I don't know. When I was teaching I tried to see all my students short comings as a positive somewhere. Obstinance meant that they were thinking for themselves... etc. But how can not wanting to work hard or essentially being lazy be an attribute? I am not writing this fishing for compliments, but more as a confession or admittance that a lot of times I do a pretty good job at lying, even good enough to fool myself.
In my recently recovered files, I found standardized test scores and grades from these 3 years in school as well as teacher comments and samples of work. From my 2nd grade class there was a report card that was straight A's with the exception of PE which I got a B+ in. Not surprising that that was my field of "struggle". In 3rd grade I was apparently "considered for an accelerated and extended program but not selected due to an SCAT score." Whatever a SCAT is. I have never been good at taking tests. This will be proven later with my SAT score (960) in which I earned over 700 points on the verbal and the remaining on the math. Luckily Cornish was progressive enough to not look at SAT scores. So then in 4th grade we took the Stanford standardized tests and I scored the reading level of a 10th grader with the vocabulary of an 11th grader and was in the 99th percentile for listening skills. Again where is the low? Well in my mathematics operations and properties I scored below average with my 18/34.
Ok bla, bla bla nobody cares about your grades from elementary school. Right. But here is the interesting part and why I'm even bothering to write any of this down. Looking at teacher comments, every teacher all 3 years, at a public school with 30 kids in the class, at private Christian school with 1/2 that, and then "homeschooling" with my mom as my teacher they all said I needed to make more of an effort. "Jamie's workhabits have lessened in quality. She needs to be willing to stretch herself." "Jamie's vocabulary is excellent, but she needs to work much more carefully on her written French. It is a challenge she seems reluctant to assume." "...she needs to improve on double checking her work."
So I've always thought of myself as someone who tries really hard at what is in front of me, but then as I really think back and am honest with myself I guess I am pretty put off by hard work. I just want things done fast and don't have a lot of patience for small details or always doing things the "right" way. For instance I'm sewing today and getting super frustrated because I just make stuff up and it doesn't work and then I get mad instead of just looking up how to do it in the first place. I want things to be pretty and functional, but am usually adverse taking the time for good craftsmanship. It makes Josh furious how I rush through things and say that's good enough.
So I'm feeling pretty discouraged because I am seeing myself as someone who I didn't really think I was but maybe really am. And no, you can't reassess your whole identity because of some stupid papers, but I do find myself often frustrated or annoyed with washing the walls before you paint them or getting out the tape measure and level to hang a picture or soaking the seeds over night before you plant them, and therefore skipping the preliminary steps.
So where does this haste serve me well? I don't know. When I was teaching I tried to see all my students short comings as a positive somewhere. Obstinance meant that they were thinking for themselves... etc. But how can not wanting to work hard or essentially being lazy be an attribute? I am not writing this fishing for compliments, but more as a confession or admittance that a lot of times I do a pretty good job at lying, even good enough to fool myself.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Diaper Free
So my friend Sarah has two little girls. One is 2ish and the other is 3 weeks younger than Eli. She does this thing called "elimination by conversation" which is basically diaper free living. She is essentially potty-training from birth. The way it works is she watches for signs that her girls display that "say" potty time and then she holds them up and they go. It is actually very cute and she makes this little psstsstss sound so they know what is going on. It is like any other body language that babies use to communicate, we just don't look for it enough.
Today Josh was changing Eli and talking about how cute his little buns are and that he needs to be naked more often because it is so nice to be naked and because he is so cute. So later in the afternoon we had just gotten back from a hike and I was trying to get Eli ready for a nap. I took off his diaper and remembered what Josh suggested.
Now I had needed to use the potty myself for about 1.5 hrs. and thought, "OK lets give Eli some naked time..." and left him on the floor in his room to go answer the call. He has on his floor a beautiful hand made quilt from a friend and when she gave it to me she said "Oh please promise that you'll use it and not just fold it up and put it away cause it is fragile or something." So it is on the floor for play time.
As I come out of the bathroom Josh says from Eli's room, "Oh James the worst thing that can happen when a baby doesn't have a diaper on just happened." And there is our son rolling and kicking and scooting in all his naked glory on his beautiful quilt that is now covered in poo. He seems to be very pleased with himself and when I sit him up his whole tummy and legs and arms have a thin but distinct layer caked on. How does this happen in the 2.5 minutes I leave him?
So I hose him down in the bath tub, clean the chunks out of the drain, scrape the mass of it off the quilt and throw it in the wash. As for Eli, his naked days are over for now and so is our attempt at diaper free living.
(The picture doesn't do the scene justice, but you get the idea.)
Today Josh was changing Eli and talking about how cute his little buns are and that he needs to be naked more often because it is so nice to be naked and because he is so cute. So later in the afternoon we had just gotten back from a hike and I was trying to get Eli ready for a nap. I took off his diaper and remembered what Josh suggested.
Now I had needed to use the potty myself for about 1.5 hrs. and thought, "OK lets give Eli some naked time..." and left him on the floor in his room to go answer the call. He has on his floor a beautiful hand made quilt from a friend and when she gave it to me she said "Oh please promise that you'll use it and not just fold it up and put it away cause it is fragile or something." So it is on the floor for play time.
As I come out of the bathroom Josh says from Eli's room, "Oh James the worst thing that can happen when a baby doesn't have a diaper on just happened." And there is our son rolling and kicking and scooting in all his naked glory on his beautiful quilt that is now covered in poo. He seems to be very pleased with himself and when I sit him up his whole tummy and legs and arms have a thin but distinct layer caked on. How does this happen in the 2.5 minutes I leave him?
So I hose him down in the bath tub, clean the chunks out of the drain, scrape the mass of it off the quilt and throw it in the wash. As for Eli, his naked days are over for now and so is our attempt at diaper free living.
(The picture doesn't do the scene justice, but you get the idea.)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Project Maturity
So my dear friend Dawn recently came back from a visit to her grandmother's house and came up with this assignment for herself. (That is why she and I get along. We're homeschoolers, we know how to give ourselves assignments.) Anyway she calls it project maturity. For her that means that she has to wash her hair more often than she does and she has to send more care packages and go to the dentist and stuff like that. I liked the idea and when I thought about how I could implement it in my life, I realized we all are in some way or another already dealing with project maturity.
Take for example my little brother. (God bless him he just turned 20 on Sunday. Not so little anymore I guess.) He is off in Phoenix going to school and miserable because it is 110 degrees and air conditioning is expensive, his room-mate bailed on him, he is tired of going to school year round and wants a break. Project maturity says too bad. It is hard being 20. Grow up. So you think ok, I'm going to fight it and you stay up too late and rent stupid movies and try to do that nylon over the quarter think at the laundromat and it doesn't work and you wind up having to buy a new industrial washer (not really) but it feels that way and all you're trying to do is make it fun, cause everyone and everything is out to swallow you alive.
So you either get swallowed alive or you figure it out. Some people decide they are very grown up and just get mean, grouchy and self important. Some people decide that they are going to do whatever the hell they want and expect their poor planning to be your crisis and are pissed off when it's not. So how do you meet in the middle? How do you stay young at heart with out fighting the loosing battle with maturity? And how do you love people in the midst of your version of the project and their version of the project?
For me project maturity says sometimes you have to move back in with your parents to save money. It says that when your baby is crying in the middle of the night, and all you want to do is sleep for 10 more minutes, and can't he figure out how to put the passifier back in his own mouth? that you get up and do it because there are things in life that are more important than you. It says that even though you want to sit around and play with photoshop during nap time, that you fold the laundry because you have to pace yourself and this may be your only chance.
So it sounds like project maturity is the devil incarnate and that the only people who actually follow through with all this "responsiblity" are masochistic holier than thous. Well I think that is what I had thought until now.
I think that project maturity has to do more with the common good and being a little less about yourself and a little more about others. It means doing things that need to get done and doing things for someone else before you.
So I took a picture of the kitchen sink. It is empty and clean and if for no other reason I thought it needed documenting. Today Josh came home and after working for 8 hours and commuting for 1.5 he did the dishes. He loaded the dishwasher and started it. Something I've been trying to do for 4 days now. He conquered my beast and although I unloaded the dishwasher and washed all the hand wash items, he got me past the wall I couldn't scale. That is success in the project. He laid in the hammock after that, so he still had time to relax and read is book, but he did for me what I totally should have done and he did it with out complaining.
Now the kitchen isn't glamourous and exciting when it is clean and that is why he did it, and you'll notice that the butter dish still needs to be dealt with and that there are paint brushes on the window sill that need cleaning. But project maturity isn't project perfection, it is just loosening your bonnet a bit to let the "selfish" bee out and putting on your gloves, to be ready for the mess of what's next.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
He is the Bainbridge I love
So it has been about 3 weeks now that we have been on the island living with my parents. I am pleasantly surprised at how nice it is to have the opportunity to get to know my parents again. My Dad in particular. Here is a little picture into the person he is.
Last week he wanted to clear out the dandelions that had gone to seed (turned to puff balls) but didn't want to spread the seeds, so my mom suggested putting a garbage bag over the tops of them and cutting the stems. My dad had a better idea. He marched himself outside with a long extension cord and his beloved shop vac and sucked the tops off every one of those weeds till his garden was safe from future generations of the prolific yellow impostor.
A number of years ago my parents remodeled their kitchen and instead of spending the extra money to get fashionable appliances they waited till the original ones died before they put in new ones. So we're upstairs and the dishwasher door is locked and I said, "Oh are these dishes clean?"
My dad says, "Well you'll have to check and see."
"But the door is locked..."
"It's broken. It falls open if you don't lock it."
"Then you can finally complete the remodel and get a new dishwasher!"
"The machine is operational, it just has a broken door, and if my biggest problem in life is a perfectly good dishwasher that has a broken door I would say I'm doing all right."
Today Josh is cleaning out the storage shed on the property and separating the huge wood pile into burnable, buildable and garbage. So he asks my dad to go through the piles and make sure he hasn't "miscategorized" anything. My dad says, "Well we don't want to burn anything that is at all processed because that will affect the air quality. So put the stuff you can't burn back in the shed and I'll get rid of it the way I did the bathtub."
When my parents remodeled the upstairs bathroom they ripped out the fiberglass tub/shower and instead of spending money to haul it to the dump my dad put all the pieces in the shed and week by week broke it down and put what he could fit into his garbage can for the local pickup.
I'm discussing back pain with my dad and he says he tried really hard not to lift any of our furniture, while helping us move in, alone, and yet his back still feels strained. I asked what other activities he had recently done that could have caused this. He said he thought about that on the ferry that morning and remembered that he checked the air pressure in his tires (car) a couple of days ago. I asked how that could strain his back and he said the pump at the gas station doesn't go high enough for the recommended pressure on his tires, so he pumped them up himself, by hand, with a bike pump. He wants to make sure to get the best fuel efficiency from his car. (Josh mentioned that he has a construction grade air compressor that he could use next time.)
I'm not sure what else to say other than he may sound cheap and at times I have definitely thought that about him, but the more I think about it, he is a really good steward of the things he's been given, and is not at all afraid of what other people think of him. Living on Bainbridge Island has a way of making you want to keep up with the Jones', but not for my dad. He is a true conservationist at heart. Why pay for something you can get for free with a little hard work and patience? So forget the yuppie Bainbridge you thought you might know, or even the hippie Bainbridge you might remember, cause my dad isn't either. He is the Bainbridge I love and will always associate with home.
Last week he wanted to clear out the dandelions that had gone to seed (turned to puff balls) but didn't want to spread the seeds, so my mom suggested putting a garbage bag over the tops of them and cutting the stems. My dad had a better idea. He marched himself outside with a long extension cord and his beloved shop vac and sucked the tops off every one of those weeds till his garden was safe from future generations of the prolific yellow impostor.
A number of years ago my parents remodeled their kitchen and instead of spending the extra money to get fashionable appliances they waited till the original ones died before they put in new ones. So we're upstairs and the dishwasher door is locked and I said, "Oh are these dishes clean?"
My dad says, "Well you'll have to check and see."
"But the door is locked..."
"It's broken. It falls open if you don't lock it."
"Then you can finally complete the remodel and get a new dishwasher!"
"The machine is operational, it just has a broken door, and if my biggest problem in life is a perfectly good dishwasher that has a broken door I would say I'm doing all right."
Today Josh is cleaning out the storage shed on the property and separating the huge wood pile into burnable, buildable and garbage. So he asks my dad to go through the piles and make sure he hasn't "miscategorized" anything. My dad says, "Well we don't want to burn anything that is at all processed because that will affect the air quality. So put the stuff you can't burn back in the shed and I'll get rid of it the way I did the bathtub."
When my parents remodeled the upstairs bathroom they ripped out the fiberglass tub/shower and instead of spending money to haul it to the dump my dad put all the pieces in the shed and week by week broke it down and put what he could fit into his garbage can for the local pickup.
I'm discussing back pain with my dad and he says he tried really hard not to lift any of our furniture, while helping us move in, alone, and yet his back still feels strained. I asked what other activities he had recently done that could have caused this. He said he thought about that on the ferry that morning and remembered that he checked the air pressure in his tires (car) a couple of days ago. I asked how that could strain his back and he said the pump at the gas station doesn't go high enough for the recommended pressure on his tires, so he pumped them up himself, by hand, with a bike pump. He wants to make sure to get the best fuel efficiency from his car. (Josh mentioned that he has a construction grade air compressor that he could use next time.)
I'm not sure what else to say other than he may sound cheap and at times I have definitely thought that about him, but the more I think about it, he is a really good steward of the things he's been given, and is not at all afraid of what other people think of him. Living on Bainbridge Island has a way of making you want to keep up with the Jones', but not for my dad. He is a true conservationist at heart. Why pay for something you can get for free with a little hard work and patience? So forget the yuppie Bainbridge you thought you might know, or even the hippie Bainbridge you might remember, cause my dad isn't either. He is the Bainbridge I love and will always associate with home.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
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Friday, April 27, 2007
I like to move it..move it..(not really)
Hey so moving this weekend huh? Ya really fun and great. I watched (due to apathy and exhaustion last night) "Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?" And thankfully yes, I am. The contestant however was really pushing the limits. His shining moment was when he identified the outline of the state of Nebraska and was positive that he was right cause that is where he grew up or something. (The answer is in the question if you ask me...) So we are off to the island lifestyle and if I didn't manage to get you our new info leave your request in the comment section and I'll send you an email. My email address and such is staying the same, so that is a good way to get a hold of us too. We will really miss being in Seattle and strangely enough it feels more like home than returning to my roots does at this point. Lots to think about and process. More on that later. Better go... Josh is on auto pilot and taping up the box Eli is sitting in. Not really. ...
Monday, April 23, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Rambling Brambles
I'm thankful for good friends in my life. This last weekend my dear friends Sarah and Matt came out from Wisconsin for the first time since they moved there in June of last year and it was like they had never left. It is nice to be known for who you are while being encouraged to be more. Not because who you are isn't good enough, but because who you're becoming is part of a divine plan. We talked about the struggle to keep walking when you don't know where you're going and the discipline it takes to remain on that road when it is hard. I think a big part of remaining on the road is the people around you. I had a really honest discussion with another friend this evening that reminded me to give people second chances (including myself). That grace often seems available to everyone else, but so hard to receive.
We went to a sort of impromptu wedding this weekend and it was beautiful to see how everyone pulled together to make it beautiful and special for the couple in the midst of family crisis. That is what the body of Christ should be. People coming together to make a really good party happen for other people who are hurting and then everyone just having a good time. I thought about if the wedding had been mine would I have been able to let it go and allow people to help me that way and you never know how you would really be in a situation, but I think it would be hard for me to ask for help like that. Watching it from the outside though was so healing to be able to believe that God can work through broken messed up people and situations to bring love and grace into people's lives.
My friend Anna Marie came over today and our plan was to paint together and instead we ended up going through a lot of my old work. She encouraged me to take pictures and send them out to see if I can get them shown. And I have felt so defeated as an artist lately that to have her extend grace to me by offering to help even with a little thing like that I felt renewed and hopeful that this road isn't totally endless with no viewpoints.
So before this wedding there was a shower for the bride sort of last minute and of course being last minute I didn't have a chance to buy anything so I made something instead. I made a small box that had a saying in it and I should probably take my own advice. (Stay with me this is going somewhere) Inside it said "Love is a scenic ride over a rocky trail" (cowboy poetry excerpt) and there was a small rock in the box. I wrote in the card that when the trail gets rocky use the rocks to build an alter. Alters remind us of the places we've been and the places that God has brought us out of. So I suppose that friends are sort of makeshift alters in our lives. They remind us of the people we are and the people we're becoming.
We went to a sort of impromptu wedding this weekend and it was beautiful to see how everyone pulled together to make it beautiful and special for the couple in the midst of family crisis. That is what the body of Christ should be. People coming together to make a really good party happen for other people who are hurting and then everyone just having a good time. I thought about if the wedding had been mine would I have been able to let it go and allow people to help me that way and you never know how you would really be in a situation, but I think it would be hard for me to ask for help like that. Watching it from the outside though was so healing to be able to believe that God can work through broken messed up people and situations to bring love and grace into people's lives.
My friend Anna Marie came over today and our plan was to paint together and instead we ended up going through a lot of my old work. She encouraged me to take pictures and send them out to see if I can get them shown. And I have felt so defeated as an artist lately that to have her extend grace to me by offering to help even with a little thing like that I felt renewed and hopeful that this road isn't totally endless with no viewpoints.
So before this wedding there was a shower for the bride sort of last minute and of course being last minute I didn't have a chance to buy anything so I made something instead. I made a small box that had a saying in it and I should probably take my own advice. (Stay with me this is going somewhere) Inside it said "Love is a scenic ride over a rocky trail" (cowboy poetry excerpt) and there was a small rock in the box. I wrote in the card that when the trail gets rocky use the rocks to build an alter. Alters remind us of the places we've been and the places that God has brought us out of. So I suppose that friends are sort of makeshift alters in our lives. They remind us of the people we are and the people we're becoming.
Cleaning out the Closets
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These are paintings that haven't seen the light of day in a while. I am cleaning out the closets for moving and decided to take some decent pictures of them. I am reminded of how much I love skin when I see them.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
This is my Mom. (and my brothers) It is her birthday. Anyone reading this should email her today and tell her your favorite song and why in a short gramatically correct paragraph. You can reach her at caron.cardenschool@bainbridge.net Happy Birthday Mom. We love you.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Too Much Laundry
So I guess Eli is as tired of laundry as I am. He fell asleep in this pile while I was folding it. It doesn't surprise me. Falling asleep in a warm pile of laundry is right up there with a bathtub full of jello. It's the little things.
Monday, March 12, 2007
I feel a bit like a potted plant
So for those of you who don't know team Brouwer is relocating to Bainbridge Island at the end of April. We will be moving into my parent's basement apartment and hopefully saving a fistful of money to buy a house in approximately a year. I like to look at it in a few different ways depending on my mood.
One way to look at it is that it is very normal in probably 90% of the rest of the world to live with your parents or extended family and so our move will be very European.
Another way of looking at it is that we're taking an extended "retreat" at an Island getaway that happens to be considerably less expensive than our current living situation.
But today I've been feeling a bit like a potted plant. I seem to move from doorstep to doorstep and windowsill to windowsill never really putting roots in the ground. I've stayed in Seattle long enough for my pot to grow some moss on the edges, but inside that safe little pot my roots are growing more and more cramped. They are curling and twisting back on themselves and I'm not sure how much more transition this little pot can take.
God called his people Hebrews. The word Hebrew means wanderer. Jesus was homeless. If it is good enough for Jesus it should be good enough for me. God's chosen people complained a lot too. So I've got the wandering and complaining down. Maybe I need some mulch. I'm mixing my metaphors. Yikes. I'm excited for change and scared for change. I told my friend Cindi today that I'm on strike with God and that negotiations aren't going well. She said that God has a lot of grace for new mothers. Let's hope so. I am beginning to just write whatever is going through my head. I'm not sure it matters, cause I don't think anyone really reads this. So if you are reading this help us fight spammers and retype the characters you see here..... just jokin'. I can't think of a witty way to bring it all together. So that is why I'm a painter and not a writer. That's it.
One way to look at it is that it is very normal in probably 90% of the rest of the world to live with your parents or extended family and so our move will be very European.
Another way of looking at it is that we're taking an extended "retreat" at an Island getaway that happens to be considerably less expensive than our current living situation.
But today I've been feeling a bit like a potted plant. I seem to move from doorstep to doorstep and windowsill to windowsill never really putting roots in the ground. I've stayed in Seattle long enough for my pot to grow some moss on the edges, but inside that safe little pot my roots are growing more and more cramped. They are curling and twisting back on themselves and I'm not sure how much more transition this little pot can take.
God called his people Hebrews. The word Hebrew means wanderer. Jesus was homeless. If it is good enough for Jesus it should be good enough for me. God's chosen people complained a lot too. So I've got the wandering and complaining down. Maybe I need some mulch. I'm mixing my metaphors. Yikes. I'm excited for change and scared for change. I told my friend Cindi today that I'm on strike with God and that negotiations aren't going well. She said that God has a lot of grace for new mothers. Let's hope so. I am beginning to just write whatever is going through my head. I'm not sure it matters, cause I don't think anyone really reads this. So if you are reading this help us fight spammers and retype the characters you see here..... just jokin'. I can't think of a witty way to bring it all together. So that is why I'm a painter and not a writer. That's it.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sketchbook bits
Here are some sketches from my journal. Some are old and some aren't. I'm trying out different ways of working in my journal for an upcoming workshop that I am teaching and it seems very apparent when I'm trying to be someone other than myself. Let's see if you can tell which ones I'm talking about.
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