Some days, when I'm having a particularly rough time I close my eyes and sit perfectly still, and if I'm lucky the hustle and bustle of the office disappears leaving only me with my thoughts. It is in these moments that I do my dreaming.

I plot out a life full of creating, capturing and loving. Of homemade dinners and family get togethers. Of herb gardens and weathered hardcover books. It is a life in which I find peace, comfort and limitless love; and I know - without a shadow of doubt - that you will always be right there beside me as we chase down our dreams... together.

xo,
rdg

It now sits atop one of the big square bookshelves in the living room.

Let’s flash back to high school (ugh…). I was super shy and awkward, with a boy hair cut and a body that was developing at a much slower pace than all of my girlfriends (I would post a picture here but I don’t want to scare anyone away). I was – and still am – a total book worm, wore far too much orange for any sane human being to be seen in, and never truly felt comfortable in my own skin. I was all of these things and more, but man was I creative. I painted, sketched with pencil, pastels and probably my favourite – charcoal. I made collages from cut up magazines. I kept a journal (and still do). I started taking an interest in photography. And I wrote. Boy did I ever write.

Fast forward to the present time; I’m in the same position.

When I wanted to improve my photography skills, I did a 365 days self-portrait project. It would be pretty hard to describe how much knowledge and confidence I gained in doing so. Just ask anyone else who has ever taken part in the project. I’d recommend Ali, Ed and Lauren.

Well, I think that the time has come to put as much thought and effort into my writing.

I want to take on a writing project. I don’t yet know what it will entail, but I feel that writing it here and posting it for the world to see will keep me motivated, and more importantly, hold me accountable.

I’m excited about this. I’m excited to pull that part of me that I loved so much back to the surface. It’s time.

Yesterday morning for one reason or another I found myself thinking about what our home says about us; what conclusions would a stranger come to about our lives if they walked through our front door?

These thoughts led me to begin to ruminate on how and what I define myself by. I had previously written about how I too often define my life by how it compares to others’ and I’m working on correcting this, I really am; but what do others see when they glance into my world?

If you step through our front door there won’t be anything that immediately gives us away (except maybe that we’re obviously not into clutter). A solitary table/chair is all you will really see. But walk a little further and you’ll see bookshelves, the photographs on the wall, and all of the movies shelved above the television. You will make assumptions based on those items, and they will probably be correct.

If you travel into the kitchen and perhaps pull open the fridge you will notice that it is a little bare, indicating that we’ve gotten a little busy over the past couple weeks. You may find my binder full of my favorite recipes and deduce that I enjoy cooking.

If you wander up the stairs you’ll notice empty rooms just awaiting the family that will certainly grow over coming years. You’ll spot my work area and camera equipment, the stacks of photographs lined up along the wall – a dead giveaway. You will find the drums and guitars and all of the sheet music belonging to my husband and quickly understand where his passion lay. A quick glance at the wall of shoes and a look into our closet will surely give away my love for clothes.

But my question is: does any of this actually give you a sense of who we really are? And if not – is that a bad thing?