Baltimore Wedding Photographer Kathy Freundel » 443.844.2352

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.

One of the most fun things about living in a friend’s home {for me} is to see how a fellow sojourner keep the wheels on the cart. So, here are a couple of nuggets that I stole from Katy and my week as a Needham-ite.

1. My Citizen’s Eco Drive watch. I actually bought mine last time I was with Katy. I was notorious for killing my watch batteries- but this one is powered by light. It hasn’t failed me yet.

2. Garmin e-Trex GPS. I also bought this last time I was with Katy, and heard all about the Dirks’ geo-caching adventures. That’s when our family experienced this great FREE family hobby. We love it because we can ALL participate.

3.  Larabars. Where have you been my whole life?? 100% fruits and nuts. I’m on a quest to get a case for school lunches. Cherry pie wins the gold star.

4. I know what I want for Christmas. Usually, I’m fantasizing about a new mop or vacuum.  {i know, it’s that “thing” i inherited from my parents} But NOW, I want a label maker. I’m trying really hard not to label some things in my life, but I DO want to exert total labeling on my closets. My heart beats faster when I see a closet like this:)

p.s. this summer I did fall in love. It’s a Simplicity. I got my used, refurbished, and I’m totally smitten!! vacuum love.

Following her down the beach access road, I had the strongest sensation that I had journeyed this chapter in one of my summer reads. The one about the hip mom that collected free spirited, bare footed kids, threw them in her ’75 La Sabre, and adventured off to a day at the basin, collecting periwinkles, driftwood and hermit crabs. That’s the way Katy rolls. She grew up in a family of six, whose father customized an Utz potato chip truck in the 70′s , threw the family in with games and books, and set out to show them the country. She’s a free spirit who responds, “of course!” when her wet, sandy-bottomed daughter asks to sit on her lap in the beach chair, and “thank you for holding my hand,” when the other daughter touches base during a sunset beach walk. She’s been my friend since freshman year at York College . . . back when we were the ones trying to figure out what was important about life. Katy’s figured it out.

It’s magic just to be in her circle of loved ones. I can tell by the way her kids look at her.

Carl played “Pied Piper” all afternoon, kayaking the kids around in shifts and playing “don’t rock the boat,” with the crew so that Katy and I could sit in our beach chairs and reminisce. We met several of Katy’s “Plum Island” circle including Ty Buckman, a Shakespeare professor from Wittenburg University- he and Carl had exciting things to talk about.

Isabel and Kristiana knew they would be fast friends. After all, Kristiana has been sleeping in Izzy’s bed, reading her books, and sewing on her machine all week. I heard talk of “pen pal-ing” as we were leaving.

How do you impress upon your daughters that “being a loyal ya-ya” is one of the biggest gifts a girl can give and receive? I can’t tell you how many times Katy and I have had conversations about our experiences growing into women that ended with, “we’ve gotta be sure to teach our daughters about THAT.”

Claire has graciously given her room to Lily and Caroline for the week. The girls have loved being frog and  hermit crab care takers.

And Sam finally got to meet Henry. No problem connecting there.

Katy’s one of those special ones . . .  more concerned about people than things, experiences than places; she made us feel like we were the most welcomed guests ever to cross her threshold. Our only sadness was that we missed her David, by one day.

Plum Island . . . place of magical childhood memories. New England bliss.

We lived way out in the country, so even with a 100 foot antenna bracketed to the side of our rancher, we only could tune into a handful of channels. My all time favorite was a PBS show called ZOOM. “W-aaa-tch ZOOM. Z-DOUBLE O -M. Boston Mass oh-two-one-three-four!” I sent away for the ZOOM club cards, learned to speak “ubbie-dubbie” (ask me, I’m still bilinugual, as is my sis), and know the coolest slight of hand trick thanks to cast member, Bernadette. Why do I share? Cause I finally made it to Boston, Mass!

The Freundel ten are enjoying half a house swap. We are pretending to be the Dirks family this week, from Needham, Mass. Even went to the neighborhood pool on day one and ended up visiting with one of Katy Dirk’s good friends. It is such an adventure to step into another woman’s life, to live in her house, shop at her stores and share the same adventures. Katy’s been my friend for years and years, and she’s always been the most laid back, yet purposeful woman I know. We get to see her on Plum Island later this week . . . can’t wait!

Caroline and Lily discover the “secret passage door” in Claire’s bedroom. This is the perfect “hide-and-seek” house. Reminds me so much of my Gi-Gi’s home in River Edge, NJ, I half expected to see a Beechnut gum plastic swing hanging from the rafters in the scary, red basement.

And the boys are happy to discover that it really was the right choice to travel light . . . Sam has been answering to the name of “Henry” all week. He’s learned to ride Henry’s two wheeler on bumpy sidewalks, and awakens to Henry’s train yard every morning.

Katy has ceramic tiles all over the house . . . made by her three beautiful children. I wish I had done this- so Katy.

Big adventure for the Freundel girls was our first excursion to the American Girl Store in Boston. It was a once in a lifetime for us, so we got the milkshakes, hairdo’s and everything.

Dan caught up on his rest in his own private loft room. First time the guy’s ever had his own room, and I think it agreed with him. He had a pile of letters from Chrysalis (his agape) that he savored . . . and then, it was college visitation time.

We’ve visited two universities so far, and Dan really LOVED one of them. We’ve still got a couple more on our list, but I’m so happy that he’s dreaming big dreams.

And I’d never survive without my Carl, who always knows by the look on my face that he needs to send me an encouraging text. Don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m sure glad that he’s on my side.

My girl, Jenna C.
This is what happens when you are raised by parents who tell you every day that you were created to SOAR.
This is what happens when you are diagnosed with a fatal disease as a toddler, an angel visits your bedside, and you are miraculously healed.
This is what happens when you survive an earthquake on the side of a volcano in Central America by hanging onto a tree root, watching thousands perish before your eyes.

You pretty much know that God has a purpose for your life, and you’re not afraid to live it LARGE!

My girl, Jenna C.

He was a renowned sculptor, and she had admired his work for ages, fantasizing about what it would be like to be able to afford him.

He admired her. The way she lived completely out of the box . . . manning the desk at the imports store with a wink and a smile.

He offered her a deal. With art in hand, he proposed that it would become all hers . . . for one kiss.  She debated . . .

For so long she had been rebuilding a life . . . after raising her daughters the boy of her youth had hightailed it out of town moving to sunny CA with his new girl.

She drew in her circle. Found a studio apartment. Found a job. Found a life. Found her photography.

. . . she declined. The price was too high to pay.

And he became more fascinated with her.

How does the story end? I’ll tell you this . . . she has the shattered pieces of her sculpture in a box, tucked away in the attic. But that’s a tale for another day.

I dream of Tuscany. It’s recurring. And in the dream I have a long table, lined with chiavari chairs . . . and in them sit all the people I love the most . . . and we are laughing, eating homemade pesto and  drinking good wine . . . my limonaia is lined with hanging lanterns that never compete with the fireflies that flicker over the meadows.

Closest I’ll get for quite awhile is the orchard on whose edge I live. And like clockwork, I greet my day with a long run among it’s paths. I never meet a car. I rarely meet a person. And when I run . . . my mind is my own. I let it take me wherever it needs to go for that hour. And when I finish, I savor the tabula rasa of an unencumbered mind. It’s my therapy. That’s why I’ve never had a piece of fitness equipment enter my home. I need the elements. I need the peace. I need my running shoes. I know . . .  it’s a little Forest Gumpy, but that’s how I roll.

The morning hour has gold in her mouth.

And I can’t forget to give a shout out to Eric Diamond, who gave me back my sanity!

Orange popsicles from Hoffman’s, one after the other as we sat together in the worn recliner watching The Andy Williams Show. A clown mask and wig donned on a dare to greet the tollbooth attendant in our paneled station wagon named Betsy during a late 70′s family vacation to Virginia Beach. The Fifth Dimension’s Up, Up and Away blaring from our heavy wood cabinet console stereo which doubled as the dining room server as my dad diligently refinished that old mahogany coffee table and my sister and I jumped from dining room chair to dining room chair.  Long, sunrise runs through our small town every morning before school my senior year.  These are snapshots that I wish I had in my treasure box. But I don’t.

Here’s what I do have. A stack of handwritten letters, sent to me my first month away at college. A father’s love posited in the small talk of chit chat from home to calm the heart of seventeen year old struggling to find her place. He resisted the urge to drive up and bring me home when I would pour out my heart to him from the wall phone at the end of  South corridor . . . he picked up his pen instead.

To me, he’s always been the cavalry.  He’s the one  I would go to when my foolish decisions had me buried under a ton of sludge. He’d listen through my tears, and then dig me out without letting me know that he was digging me out. He’s the man who still “pops over” to my house if the electrician is coming and I’m there alone. He’s my “you get one phone call” guy. Unflappable.

“You only spend your integrity once.”

“If you don’t want the answer, don’t ask the question.”

“Better than sliced bread.”

Dadisms. Of the very best kind.

Happy Father’s Day to the one who first taught me what it means to be a man.

I have a new snapshot to add  to the “wish I hads” . . .  two people sitting mid morning at the window table, watching passers-by walk along the sidewalk that they’ve traveled often, eating eggs benedict and talking about hopes, dreams, and realities.  Gets no better than that. I love you, Dad.

I got to talk to my 18 year old self over the weekend. I took the opportunity to speak the words that I needed me to hear all those years ago.

These friends you’re inviting into your dorm room on a hot Saturday afternoon, with whom you’ve shared the last eight months in your first foray from the comfort of your “home home” . . . these will be lifelong friends.

Cherish them.

You are craving your independence . . . wanting your life to REALLY begin.

Don’t wish these days away. College years give you the golden opportunity of authentic self-discovery. And all your choices, the good, the bad and the ugly, will shape you and strengthen you.

Embrace them.

Rachel, my sweet friend, who is ending her freshman year at York College knows this better than I ever did. She left for college with her heart full of hopes and dreams. Just three months into her first year she  lost her dad. Would  she would struggle through the remainder of her first year, heart heavy? Would she throw in the towel and come home?

nope.

I went back to campus for the first time in many years. I had my freshman roommates by my side and we visited Rachel’s Beard Hall dorm room.  Same old dorm rooms. Same old threadbare lounge furniture. Same old stale smell.  But the love and laughter were abounding. Rachel has her posse. She doesn’t know it right now, but those long lazy days are snapshots that she’ll pull out many times on her journey.

That group of friends from my first year at YCP . . . the ones  that know my good, bad and ugly, yet believe on the good . . .   they are some of my life’s richest blessings.

Love them.

This is what makes my heart soar! Thirty five actors from our community pouring months and months of their very best into a benefit for Carroll County Young Life.

I am inspired by their level of dedication and enthusiasm. Whether you have little ones or not, come see this show- you will leave feeling the love.

Directed by Shirley Dooley and Nancy Howard (who have both pitched their tents at the warehouse!) and supported by donations from our whole community, this production is everything that’s right and beautiful about community theatre! Several key builders in our community have dedicated hours and hours building our set and rigging the flying system and a special shout out goes to Jeni of Fandango Events who even got us a ship’s wheel!

And the best part? Every penny goes right back to the kids of Carroll County.

Young Life Carroll County Presents

Peter Pan

Six Shows to Choose From!

Friday              May 7      8pm                 Friday                 May 14  8pm

Saturday          May 8      8pm

Sunday            May 9      7pm                 Sunday                 May 16  2 pm & 7pm

Location:

Crossroads Community Church

895 Leidy Road in Westminster

(The old TSC Building off of 140)

Reserve Tickets in Advance: Call 410.239.0562 and leave your name, number of tickets needed, and date/time of performance.  Cash or check payment due upon pick up of your tickets from at the venue.

Purchase of tickets at the door cannot be guaranteed.

Ticket Prices:  $10.00  adults, $8.00  students,

$5  children 12 and under

Proceeds from the play go to Young Life Carroll County