I am missing “it”.

With change comes remembrance-at least for most, but usually not me. My memory is unpredictable-at best-and I have three theories about the why behind that:
#1-My mother dropped me on my head when I was an infant.
#2-My brothers convinced me to hold my breath until I passed out, doing permanent damage.
#3-I was born in an Army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. Need I say more?

With my faulty memory comes the need to reminisce via digital photos of bygone years. Today, as I scoured through old photos, I realized I was missing “it”.

And, here is what “it” is to me:
An excitement about life-a hopefulness for the future-a knowing that there is something amazing right around the corner.

This photo was taken shortly after selling one of our commercial properties, the Denver House.

Biceps and I were on our way to Europe for an entire month-just the two of us. I had my old manual camera-because, “By gawd, I wasn’t switching over to that new fangled digital type of photography”.

We had our backpacks, our passports, plenty of spending money and a plan.

Life was exciting. For the first time, we had more than enough in our bank accounts. Buying a car that wasn’t 15 years or more old was becoming a reality. We knew we could take on the world.

But before traipsing off to Europe, we chose to spend two weeks with both sets of our parents. We toodled around, checking out leaves, eating amazing food and just being a family.

It seemed like life was more exciting then-for all of us. But honestly, the only thing that has changed since then was my perception of life.

I was more excited about life at that time.

We still had issues. We lived in a part of town we desperately wanted to leave. We weren’t certain of Biceps’ band making it. My parent’s were seeing the end to their teaching careers and didn’t know what was next. The list goes on.

So, what I am going to do today is capture who this girl was and…

…transport her into this girl-who could stand to laugh more, to lean on God more and to realize life is what it’s going to be. And, I’d better get on board with joy.

I don’t want to miss “it” as I’m looking forward to the next “it”. Have you ever felt the same way-as if your excitement about life was missing? I’d love to hear about what you are doing to get it back.
Let’s inspire one another.

Signs, Signs, everywhere are Signs-Palm Springs, CA

When you buy a new car, do you start to notice all the ones that look like yours? Of if you happen to break up with someone, do you suddenly start noticing everyone else that’s holding hands, smooching and in love (and want to punch them)?
When I’m on tour, I get on these kicks of photographing a cool signs which makes me then see more and more signs. But, I’m glad I do-they inspire me. The colors chosen are typically eye-catching. After all, the signs are advertising something and are trying to grab your attention. The color combos, fonts and text placement influence my creative decisions, whether I like it or not.
 

The signage at the Ace Hotel and Swim Club in Palm Springs was weathered but bright. The paint was chipping off the five foot letters in a haphazard-but-we-meant-to sort of way.

These colors together inspired me to have Harold in my bathroom. Yes, yellow and bits of red can coexist without looking campy.

 

Our room number. The wood against the adobe made the sign feel warm, aged and homey. This sign inspired me to make a Cedar Christmas Garland from cross sections of a tree.

 

The color combo on this hotel inspired me to do make Pretty Paper Christmas Trees in a bold red and robin’s egg blue combo for Christmas. Granted this sign is more tangerine and aqua-but it was the beginning of a mind shift for this gal.

 

I loved the sleek black on the rough wood. It reminded me of our leather headboard behind our master bed with barn wood floors.

 

The vintage feeling of this sign always inspires me to use cutesy stars and fonts whenever I can. Cutesy is my middle name, you know:
Rebekah Cutesy Greiman.

I am inspired by signs, what inspires you?

Small Town Parade

I grew up in a small town in Kansas. A traffic jam might occur after our hometown football team–the Kansas State Wildcats–would win against Nebraska-causing the agricultural students to pull out their tractors and zoom 5 m.p.h. down our main drag.

 

Graphic courtesy of: albumelossless.wordpress.com
The only signs I witnessed of the “big-town” mentality was a coffee shop (that flopped) and the outrage over Metallica coming to play at our stadium-only to be greeted by a bunch of picketing conservatives.

 

Now that I live in the booming metropolis of Tulsa (which is really still considered a mid-sized town), I miss my hometown roots. I miss knowing the old men hanging out at the donut shop, the guy bagging our groceries and the names of everyone in my church.
I miss the small town parades full of “Sunflower Queens”, insurance company-sponsored floats, tractors, horse poop and candy.
So, I was elated when Biceps’ fire department participated in their district’s hometown parade just outside of Tulsa.

 

I grabbed my cute mother-in-law, made some coffee and headed out in hopes of witnessing combines (pronounced kom-bines) going down the road, noisy high school bands and scary clowns.

 

It became immediately clear that I would not be disappointed.

 

Of course, the Shriner’s were there. It’s not a real small town parade without them.

 

I don’t understand what exactly the “Shriner’s” are or even what they do-but I like seeing their very weird cars and eating the candy they throw at me.

 

The horses are typically put at the end of a parade-due to what comes out of their back end. However, these furry dudes were smack dab in the center of the parade.

 

Right before the fire department made their grand entrance. The boys had to dodge heaps of you-know-what.

 

This guy here is a good friend and belongs to the same fire department as Biceps.
He’s one of the sweetest men you’ll ever meet and lucky for him-he’s married to one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met in a long time. And yes, this is his really cute Dalmatian.
Too perfect.
The fire department was one of the highlights of the parade-at least for me and my mother-in-law.

 

We were so proud of this guy that’s throwing candy. At me and his mother.
He is so naughty. But you already knew that.

 

Boy, does he think he’s funny.
With my need for the small town parade satisfied, mother-in-law and I loaded up our candy booty and headed off to pick up the naughty boy, while dodging the horse poop left on the street.
Ah, I love the small town parade. It will tide me over until I can go “home” sometime soon.

Giant Tortillas, Old West Style

Ah, Scottsdale, Az. “Land of the Giant Tortillas”.

Or at least, I think that’s the city’s slogan. I could be wrong. I have been before. It’s at least our slogan for obvious reasons…

 

Now, let me give you a little backstory to these two shots of Biceps and the food that we partook of.

 

Old Scottsdale is a historic section of the city that is now mostly overrun by snow-birds. I feel a little more at home than most tourists, claiming my right to the town via my Grandpa, Aunt and Cousin who still live there. Plus, I knew what to wear-my Luchesse’s. They sound fantastic clopping along the plank sidewalk.

 

They look great as I stand next to hundred year old missions made of baked mud bricks.

 

And they fit right in as I am chowing down on the best mexican food Scottsdale has to offer-Los Olivos.

 

Los Olivos is a bizarre structure, full of nooks and crannies….

 

…with pottery that sticks its tongue out at you…

 

…and skylights that cast a blue hue throughout the restaurant.

 

It’s family owned, been around forever, and has a separate dance floor with a retractable roof-just in case you’d really like to dance under the stars.

 

And of course-it makes these ginormous tortillas. They are thin, served warm and taste like the cast iron griddle they were cooked on. Biceps and I ordered an extra side of tortillas just to take back to our hotel room.

 

Los Olivos-you’ve done it again.