Baltimore Wedding Photographer Kathy Freundel » 443.844.2352

It’s where I experience hope these days.
It’s real. It’s gritty. And it’s beautiful.
So, today I brought my friend, Good Fella of Baltimore, President of the Perfect Networker and author, Ken Rochon, to meet my incredible friends at Helping Up Mission and enjoy one of Kris Sharrar’s tours.

Ken says . . . “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” I couldn’t agree more.

So reader, this is YOUR invitation. Come see for yourself our city’s best kept secret. Contact me . . . I’ll go with you. It just might change your life.

I bring my kids with me all the time to eat lunch with our guys. They get cool aprons, cooler hats . . . wayyyy better than playing restaurant at home!

This is Popeye. He’s been at the mission for 28 years now.  I’ve heard about Baltimore’s coddies, but never tasted one until Popeye invited me to share his at lunch today.  Right after our lunch shift was over, I was across the street at Weiss Deli, standing in the LOOOONGGG line for my very own coddies. YUM!

Terry supervises the kitchen now, after graduating from the program. He travels to nursing homes throwing cookouts for the residents with a team from HUM. And he knows how to keep the party rolling with his line dances. He is a ball of sunshine.

And my man, Sean. What a transformation!

I’ve always been a sucker for talent. All those years ago, when the new hire, that cute director pulled out his guitar and sang an original he’d written for his cast of “John, Paul, George, Ringo & Bert,” . . . well, I, the choreographer, was instantly hooked. Totally hooked.

I am definitely drawn to the creative overflow of the artist’s heart and no better way to stand in the flow than to cook for ‘em. Bread and Jam is a way to feed my friends that I love so completely. And it’s a way to feed my soul. It goes down like this. . .

We set up the sound system, and hook up the Korg, the amps and the drum kit. (that’s Carl’s domain)  We throw out a FB event page and then the musicians start coming out of the woodwork. The ground rules are easy. You get a set on to play your heart out, and then a set off to hang, call out requests, eat and meet new musicians.

The food . . . well, that’s my domain. And it doesn’t hurt that my good friend, Pat Peregory . . . chef at O’Lordan’s brought a whole vat of crab bisque . . . rock star chef moonlighting as uber cool drummer.

And for me, it gives me good purpose to make my house look festive and inviting . . . and to get the kids in on the action of pre-party excitement. That’s when Carl gets to put chores on the list like . . . clean out the sports equipment shed- so you guys can find your laser guns when it’s time to run around in the dark. (it’s all in the delivery:0)

Then, when the sun falls behind the hill, the cars start to arrive . . . and out of them fall some of my most favorite people in the world. People that live full and free and aren’t afraid to unleash the freak flag of  joy that stays safely tucked away most days. That’s where the Conte’s come into play- one of our favorite families who taught their amazing kids that there are no limits to what God will do! Jono- (remember his out of the box senior session last year that involved a drum set, a corn field, and a swimming pool??? Check it out in my Seniors category.)He walks exuberance every single day.

Then meet our town’s newest, coolest girl band, Morse Code. Seriously? These guys have so much soul and joy I kinda just want em to move in. Actually, we’re heading in that direction, as Tori served as Carl’s musical director for BatBoy this spring and Katie played in the pit.  Tori’s also the Freundel’s resident violin teacher/ goddess of coolness for my daughters.

Kaila Conte, just home from Messiah College and her friend Bess . . . when they sing together- it’s a butterscotch  candy sliding down your throat. Warm and rich.

It’s a total free flow evening, guided by some random charts. And it is wayyyyy fun.

Our good friend, drummer Mike Landavere brought this guy out of the woodwork. Rob Powell is a classical guitarist from Nova Scotia. We all made some assumptions about him standing on the sidelines in his Pink Floyd shirt. Then he took the stage. Whoaaa. Fingers like lightening.

And my Carl played mandy like nobody’s business.

Steve Drummond and Jono Conte. Holding down the back beat. Tight.

Then, during the wee hours of the morning . . . this guy from the UK who had been hanging in the background all night finally took his seat. Nick Beatty. Oh my lands. . . .that guy started playing his guitar and mouths fell open. I turned to his wife and said, “Mindy  . . . . he’s reaaaallly good. She just gave me a wink and a smile and mouthed “I know.”

So, maybe you’re thinking, wow, I wish I had a cadre of super creative, talented friends so that I could do something like this . . .

Good news is, you do! Guarenteed among your every day acquaintances is a whole slew of people who have creative fire springing out of their soul  just begging for the outlet.

And if you don’t believe you could really put something like this together, get in touch with me. You’re coming to our next bread and jam, which is so life giving, so full of joy that we had several musicians threatening to come back tonight for the next session. We’re just gonna leave that sound system hooked up for awhile:)

Oh happy day.

Oh, and next session will go out on a live feed, compliments of MIT techie super cool guru,  Jamie Hanson!!!

Their stories could not be more dissimilar. Ruby was the daughter of the biggest miller in our rural county. Weller was the name, and the old farmhouse and mill still stand as a testimony to their hard work and sacrifice.

Florence was a flapper, living in Brooklyn and working at the top of the Empire State building, saving every penny for the designer shoes that she so loved.

These days they pass the time laughing, talking . . . just generally being best friends. They are roommates who know when the other needs to vent or just kinda wants to be alone.

They are my heritage. They are my grandmas, and at 94 and 100, I’m feeling pretty good about the gene pool!

Ruby. Maryland girl, through and through.

Flossy. The hugest Brooklyn Dodger fan ever.

Sweet. Life.

Flossie was born in 1910 in the heart of the Big Apple. As a little girl, she would sit on her front stoop with best friend, Fran, eating potato salad and big dill pickles from the deli down the street. The Spanish Influenza came  in 1918 and took her mother and grandmother in one weekend. She was seven. Her father learned to drive his first car, a Ford, in the rocking chair under the lamplight, using a banana as a gear shift. A similar motorcar later took the life of her brother, Buster, as he chased the coin intended for bread into the gutter. She was nine. Remarried, her father’s new wife was not warm. In fact she cracked Flossie over the head with a cut glass bowl because she had thrown an empty candy wrapper back in the bowl, deeply cutting her scalp. She was twelve.

Flossie left home, and began working as a bookkeeper in the Empire State Building in the 1920′s. . . .and was a real flapper with a passion for new shoes. Thin as a rail, she would munch on a Hershey’s chocolate bar each day on her way to work . . . at 28 she agreed to marry the love of her life, John, a Wallstreet stock broker.

These were the stories that I asked to hear over and over as a little girl.

GiGi was the best grandmother. She allowed Nancy and me unbridled access to her make up drawer and my mom’s old prom gowns each year when we would travel to north Jersey to spend the week with her.  She made chocolate chip cookies by the barrel, and would bring us powdered sugar jelly doughnuts from the local bakery  elegantly presented in a white bakery box with candy cane string tied around the parcel.

And the best part is that my kids have that same love for GiGi . . . the same territorial, jealous love that I had a child. And GiGi still makes each one of them feel like the most special person in the world.

Florence and John. Jones Beach, NY.

GiGi and Caroline have celebrated  the last nine birthdays together.

GiGi received family and friends for the entire weekend, and loved every second of it. She is sharp as a tack and still does the NYTimes crossword puzzle every day with my mom.

Watch for this beautiful lady on the Today show this Thursday, Dec. 9th when Willard Scott honors her:)

Birthday buddies.

Road trip from JMU! Erin and Katie made the journey to celebrate with us.

Some of GiGi’s girlfriends . . . Pepper, Elizabeth Nancy and Page.  Page, a personal chef, catered the party and the food was off the hook.

Baltimore’s best floral designer, Victoria Clausen stopped over with a gorgeous arrangement and warmth and hugs for GiGi.

Mom read a proclamation from the county establishing Dec. 5 as “Florence Miles Day.”

Neighbors and dear friends, Tom and JoEllen Hickey.

The Trips.

Our extended family . . . Reid and Elizabeth Robinette.

Remember GiGi’s best friend Fran?? The one with whom she ate potato salad and pickles on the stoop?? Well, Fran’s son, Dick Simeone has kept in touch with GiGi all these years . . .and he and his wife, Lynn, drove all the way from Boston for the party.

GiGi and her kids, Doris and John.

Some of those precious great grandkids . . .  she has 23 in all!

The book came out again this year. And we passed it around and read it out loud.  Abigail was thankful for oatmeal and candy.  Caroline was thankful that she has a birthday buddy in Gi-Gi, and they will celebrate their 10th and 100th birthdays in a couple days. And Katie laughed at her twelve year old self testifyin’!  Thanksgiving in our family is a big deal . . .  we are that family who just keeps adding traditions- we do it one year, somebody likes it, and it’s in the Thanksgiving canon. Pie day, bingo for prizes, chocolate turkeys, the thankful book, family portraits, football games, music recital, Christmas decorations. In our family, it’s a a five day party . . . no time for Black Friday deals . . . and I’m tired at the end of it, but it’s the marrow of life for me.

Starting Tuesday . . . Pie Day preparations. This is a tradition borrowed from our friends, the Husos . . . . Breakfast, lunch and dinner the day before Thanksgiving we eat nothing but pie. And we play football ALL DAY LONG. This year we rolled with  four families, five hours of two-hand touch,  thirteen pies, twenty-one kids and scores of nerf darts. And the kids each made their favorite pie.

Kristiana made a kickin’ peaches and cream pie for her contribution.

Thanksgiving proper, we invited some of Carl’s college students to spend the day with us.  Partha, an aspiring film maker from Nepal, serenaded us on acoustic guitar after dinner. . .  Guns and Roses.  Nathan Best, Carl’s right hand techie for going on five years, mentioned in passing that he played clarinet back in Trinidad as a boy.  Well . . . I just happened to have my clarinet handy, and hooked him up with some Rimsky-Korsakov. Sweet!  And we ended our evening with Carl’s songbird  actress/ dramaturg, Deb Jennys, singing “My Only Hope.” Just the way I like it . . . new people, lots of noise, and tons of laughter.

Partha channelling Axl Rose.

Michael scored on the turkey leg. And he put a hurtin’ on that plate.

And Lily held Nathan captive with her very own “thankful book.”

On Friday we met with the Shilling clan to continue the partying.

The annual cousin-fest.

My Mom’s semi-annual piano students’ recital.

Juliana, Kristiana, and Luke. One of three sets of cousin triplets, born within six weeks of each other, and soon to be teenagers!!

My very own peeps. The Freundel ten, who are the love and the joy of my days. My perfectly imperfect family.

I sat at my computer and just cried . . . for all the times that I was mean to my sister. Melodramatic, you think? maybe just indulgent . . . but I could be seriously ugly,  jealous, competitive, and  judgmental. Somehow my sis always found a way to love me. She shared her older, cooler friends with me.  She shared her closet with me.  She shared her Jesus with me. She heard my darkest secrets and still loved me. I picture us rocking on our porch one day . . . just bein’ sistas.   These days I text her at half past dark when I can’t sleep. I  tell her exactly what I’m feeling and she doesn’t raise an eyebrow or tell me what I wanna hear. She’s true blue all the way. And I’m glad she’s on my side.

I’m so grateful that Rachel has her Katie. And it’s pure. And it’s good. They’re tears of joy.

This is what I LOVE. Gathering some of my favorite shooters in the universe, calling in favors left and right, throwing caution to the wind and sitting back to see what unfolds.

So first, the kisses.

Paul and Debbie Wooden for giving us their beautiful farm, Holbrook Hollow, for the evening while they were out on a romantic date.

Kristen and TJ Hill, possibly the most stunning couple to ever walk down the aisle at the Majestic.  Both models by profession, obvious to all of the photogs present.

Kara Belcher, who with her firefighter husband, Zach, did the updo and just made the evening a total party.

Sarah Hinshe, who rocked two dozen roses into a bouquet with only a velcro tie and a pair of safety scissors.

And finally, my two favorite second shooters, Tim Hinsche and Ron Washington for saying “yes.”

This is how it all went down.  We wanted to shoot on the lake at dusk, but the problem was the disparity of light between our background and subject. No problem, for Tim, the lighting wizard.

Two shoot through umbrellas and several pocket wizards . . . lots of experimentation . . . check it out. Tim was really stoked to get the time and opportunity to tweak the lighting, and Ron and I were happy to stand back and watch Tim totally in his element.

And them we stopped down the aperture to block out more of the ambient light and pull more from the off camera lights.

Aperture stopped WAYYY down makes it look like a studio shot. But it’s really dusk, straight out of camera.

Two light stands, two reflectors, two shoot through umbrellas with SB800′s attached and a beautiful bride, and what I really want you to know, reader, is this is why I surround myself with top photographers that have a different aesthetic and expertise than mine. {Read . . .  I just woo the best photographers in the area to come with me} That way my clients WIN, big time . . . and I learn continually.

Next shoot out has something to do with Baltimore City, a lighting set up, and patience to wait for something exciting to happen.

I’ll admit it.  I don’t pray enough. I don’t read my Bible enough. I don’t share my faith enough. I don’t love God enough. I’m an impetuous, passionate, impatient mess and yet God loves me perfectly.

That’s why I was drawn to Crossroads. It’s the plethora of motorcycles in the lot.  It’s my bearded, pierced, tattoed friend that sits back a couple of rows and to the left . . . the one that loves his Droid.

It’s my girlfriend who is married to a drug addict and keeps believing.

Messy. Broken. Beautiful. Real.

Our annual baptism service at Holbrook Hollow is my favorite of the year. This year there were more people being baptized than were at our first church service eight years ago. That’s when we met in a garage. That pre-dates the plastic wrapped pavilion, tattoo parlor mall, cheesy banquet hall, elementary school locations. We’ve graduated to a former roller skating rink. And my pastor is the boy that I sat next to in 4th grade math class at William Winchester Elementary.

I guess you could say we’re a family that keeps the main thing, the main thing. Jesus. My Carl puts it best. “The truth is not a weapon. It just IS.”

Dana. Teacher. Espana-phile. Newleywed.

Rhoten Family. Arms of Jesus. All the time.

Stacie. Brilliant. Artistic. Nurturer.

Reid. Poolside teachin’. Meat.

And TONS of the young and the young at heart.

Keepin’ it real. Are you searching? Just come. 10 am. Sunday. Red warehouse behind the Wawa on 140.

p.s. here’s the gallery, set up for you to snag the pics.

My girlfriend shot me a message yesterday. “Go look on the Larabar site. You’re fan of the day!”

Whaaa?

So. it’s true. I did that post last week on my favorite things from Boston, and one of my “kisses” went out to Larabar, a meal consisting of 100% raw fruit and nuts- no sugar, gluten, soy- just straight up raw food. Best part?? Flavors like cinnamon roll, apple pie, and my favorite, cherry pie. So, I mentioned that I had ordered three boxes (I bought mine on Amazon from Potential Dynamix LLC- best price I could find) and I’m going to tuck them away for when we pack lunches for co-op this year. {I already have a bin labeled and waiting!} That and a glass of milk for protein- I’d be a happy mamma, and the kids would get their full recess time.

But the crazy part is that I really was selected as “fan of the day” on the Larabar blog.  And this is what they said . . . seriously.

Discovering a new blog can be very rewarding, particularly when that blog reflects the principles of a talented and respected professional. Take, for instance, Kathy Freundel: A photographer and writer, Kathy uses the medium of photography to achieve artistic excellence. Her pictures are colorful, original and beautiful. And yes, she is fan of LARABAR.

(Don’t tell that I’m just a girl with a camera.)

Our trip home from Boston on Sunday was a dilly. I spent most of the drive wondering why road tolls aren’t just wrapped into taxes . . . and cursing myself that I don’t have an EZPass, although EZPass doesn’t stop  the bickering of restless sojourners in the back seat.

But my travel pain was water under the bridge the moment I got home. My Dad . . . best guy in the whole, wide world . . . is one of those people that listens really carefully, looks for an opportunity to give and seizes it every single time. He is the BEST gift giver. So guess what I had in my hand late Sunday night??? YES.

I grabbed about five hours of sleep, and was in the car at half past dark on my way to Walmart to find my plastic organizers. And while I shoulda been unpacking and doing laundry yesterday, I was taking inventory of my life. Do you know what it costs to be unorganized? Add up my five tubes of triple antibiotic cream and do the math! I’m turning over a new leaf . . . and if you want to see it, come now, cause I can’t promise how long it will last. But it IS beautiful, don’t you think?

(note to all you evolved people) . . . I know you’re saying, “hmm. she must have control issues.”  You should try living in my brain for a day- sometimes I want to pop my head off like a Barbie and put it on the nightstand to get some quiet. That’s me- super task oriented. Good thing my family laughs with and not at. I’m evolved enough to know iyamwhatiyam.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you one more thing that I fell in LOVE with at Katy’s. Her Simple Human trash can. Kinda oxymoronic, but I LOVE that trash can.