Today Is A Good Day ;)

Words cannot express the excitement, anticipation, and hope that I feel today. In fact, right now, I can't even get my mind wrapped around the wonderfulness of this day. It's both humbling and overwhelming to think about what this special time means - not only to America, but to the entire world. So, instead of a rambling, incoherent blog filled with too many exclamation points to count, I'm going to honor our new President by posting a few of his amazing, heartfelt, and intelligent quotes...

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where we are today, but we have just begun. Today we begin in earnest the work of making sure that the world we leave our children is just a little bit better than the one we inhabit today."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"I think how we treat our animals reflects how we treat each other. And it's very important that we have a president who is mindful of the cruelty that is perpetrated on animals."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"I've got two daughters. 9 years old and 6 years old. I am going to teach them first of all about values and morals. But if they make a mistake, I don't want them punished with a baby."
-- President Barack H. Obama

And, finally:

"Why can't I just eat my waffle?"
-- President Barack H. Obama

Okay, so that's more than a few... But, in all honesty, I'm beyond excited to see this wonderful man lead our nation. And I'm even more excited to help by showing my unwavering support.

God bless America. God Bless EVERYONE. :)

Random Musings on a Tuesday

I used to think “alone” was good.

As a girl who lost her father to cancer at the tender age of fourteen, I learned early on in life that people come and go. There one minute, gone the next. Fathers, mothers, friends, aunts, uncles, acquaintances, pets, enemies, teachers, co-workers... It didn’t matter who they were, or what they meant to me. Gone at the drop of a hat.

The reasons that people disappeared from my life were never really important. I lost a best friend in the eighth grade due to a misunderstanding over a dinner invitation. Also in the eighth grade (wow, what a traumatic year), a messy divorce cut my sister-in-law clean out of my life. The following year, my freshman year of high school, proved to be no easier - my father died in November and my dog, Holly, who I’d loved unconditionally for eleven years, passed away the following August. The list goes on and on. Misunderstanding, sickness, death, divorce, or simply just the routine act of merely drifting apart... Like I said, the why didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were gone.

After the first couple of losses, I became extremely guarded. Never quite relinquishing control, I allowed myself to make many acquaintances, but never friends. Keeping everyone at arm's length, I lived a carefully calculated, if not somewhat lonely, existence of complete and utter control. I had say over who came into my life and, more often than not, when it was time for them to “check out.” Because I never allowed myself to get close to anyone, I was never hurt when circumstances turned and I was suddenly minus one. Sure, I experienced a sort of vague, misty sense of loss. But it was more like losing my car keys instead of a trusted friend or family member.

Throughout my twenties, the losses continued - acquaintances, boyfriends, my mother, one of my brothers, co-workers... People flickered in and out of my life like images on a forbidden, un-subscribed-to television station. There one minute. Gone the next. There one minute. Gone the next. There one minute. Gone the next... You get the picture. And it didn’t matter how much someone tried to convince me that I was wrong, that he (or she) would always be around and wasn’t going anywhere. Because I knew the truth. Things change. People change. Life changes. What someone says one minute may not be true the next. For years, I was unreachable. Regardless of what anyone said or did, I was determined to live my life in solitude. And for a long time, I did just that.

Then I met Chris.

Suddenly, life as I knew it was over. My whole existence, once so comfortable and numb, was thrown completely and irrevocably out of whack. The wall that I’d so carefully constructed around myself was broken. Brick by brick, I had let my guard down. Without even realizing it, I’d become vulnerable, exposed. As if waking from a dream, I found myself out in the open, completely unprotected against the harsh elements of human nature.

In the beginning, I was amazed at how differently the time passed with Chris than with anyone else. Hours turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years... Until, finally, the years turned into Forever. Chris settled himself into my life so completely that, before I knew it, our souls were intertwined beyond the point of unraveling. Probably due to a strong and stubborn streak, he refused to let me distance myself from him and, as a result, from the world in general. In a nutshell, he saved me from myself.

One of Chris’ favorite things to say to me is, “I’ll prove you wrong.” This statement is always said in jest, and is usually a response to one of my sarcastic comments about “forever not really existing.” But, so far, he really has proved me wrong.

Things change. People change. Life changes. But, because of Chris, I’m okay with that now. I have faith. I experience hope. And, at long last, I have finally found my courage. Because of my husband, I’m able to live a life full of purpose and passion. I no longer dread the parting of ways. Instead I cherish the stroll, the dance, the walk.

Now, I relish the journey.

______________________
Quote of the day:

"Fire scares me, yes, and earthquakes, and venomous snakes. People scare me more than anything, for I know too well the savagery of which humankind is capable." -- Odd Thomas

A Few Resolutions

1. Live a creative, fulfilling life.
2. Take a lot of pictures.
3. Write.

An excerpt from a piece I've been working on. Here's to finishing it...

The smell. She couldn’t get over the smell. It was awful.

Lacy sat on the edge of the hospital bed, feeling sick. Her heart was still hammering, drumming a steady beat-beat-beat in her ears. Every thump, every nerve-shattering pulse, reverberated deep in her bones. And while her skin felt cold and clammy, her muscles were on fire.

And that smell, vaguely resembling a mixture of pine scented disinfecting cleaner and stale urine, caused her to wrinkle her nose while simultaneously fighting brief bouts of nausea.

It was unreal. All of it.

Despite the fact that she had been fighting this battle for the last four months, despite the fact that she had prepared herself for this very outcome, she was scared. Ashamed, she hung her head.

But how can you prepare for something like this? she thought desperately. There’s no way. There’s just no way.

Tears welled, stinging the corners of her eyes. Blinking them back – for she was determined to be strong, if not for herself then for her family – she slid her palm across the stiff bed sheet, silently mustering what little courage she had left. Searching for her father’s hand, she found it, held it tight. The lump in her throat that she had choked down earlier while in the waiting room resurfaced, and for a terrifying moment she couldn’t breathe.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down, she silently instructed herself.

But try as she might, she couldn’t block out the feel of her father’s hand. Cold, limp, and rubbery, it already felt like the hand of a dead man.

Lacy bit her lip, and her palms began to sweat.

Through eyes half blinded by unshed tears, she dared a glance around the room. Sorrow, sadness, and despair settled over the place like storm clouds, pressing away any and all hope.

Directly across from her, sitting on the other side of her father’s deathbed, was her mother. Like her daughter, she refused to give herself completely over to grief, and her grim face, pale in the florescent light of the room, was dry. Her eyes, however, rimmed deep in gray-black circles, spoke volumes.

Her father’s death was going to be hard on everyone, Lacy knew. What she didn’t know was how they were all going to cope.

Behind her, as if reading her mind and therefore knowing how unstable she was both mentally and emotionally, her brother, Michael, laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her elder by as much as seventeen years, his reassurance usually meant the world to her. But now, sitting by their father as he struggled through his last moments, Lacy came to the unsettling realization that she was beyond even Michael’s help. That even his comforting support wasn’t enough to halt the icy hot pain that was creeping through her gut.

Oh, God… What are we going to do? Lacy’s body ached from months of pent up anxiety, and she felt as if her shoulders were sagging not just from the heaviness of her own stresses, but also from the weight of the entire world.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, almost unbearable, and her father’s soft, rhythmic breathing became raspy and uneven. His chest began to heave dramatically and his eyes, shut all day due to the mild coma he had succumbed to in the early morning hours, popped open. Wide-eyed and groggy, he turned his head left then right, searching. Finding and eyeing each family member, he continued to struggle for breath even as his lips murmured unformed words.

Flying up from a chair in the far corner of the room, Lacy’s other brother, Kyle, nervously approached their father’s bed. His hands were shaking, and Lacy could see that his eyes were red. Younger than Michael by only two years, he was by far the more sensitive of the two and seemed to struggle relentlessly with life’s cruelties.

Lacy felt her lips quiver, and bit down hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste lingered on her tongue, and she wanted to gag.

Even though she was sixteen and a junior in high school, she couldn’t shake the feeling of childish helplessness. As a teenager, she was excited by the fact that she could finally make her own decisions and, carved by her own actions, plow ahead on her desired path in life. But now, so early on in her path to self-discovery, life was teaching her that not everything could be persuaded by the mere power of positive thinking. That some things, like the death of a parent, were still controlled by Fate. And no matter how hard you fought, sometimes you were destined to lose.

Her father’s eyes slid shut, and his breathing slowed. An unearthly silence filled the room.

“He’s gone,” Kyle choked.

Daddy, Lacy pleaded silently. Every ounce of her being begged, prayed, cried out. Oh God, Dad, please don’t go. Daddy, please… She drew in a shuddered breath and waited.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only seconds, her father opened his eyes. Unlike before, they were now clear and focused, and he lovingly set them on each member of his family one last time. At that particular moment, time seemed to stand still, and as a single tear rolled down his cheek, he died.

Tails-A-Waggin'

Well, the snow is finally melting, and Fed Ex was (finally!) able to make it up our street this morning and deliver our Christmas packages. Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful gifts - we appreciate everything and are soooo touched by your thoughtfulness. Here are a couple shots of Dehlia enjoying her holiday gift from Uncle Jeff and Aunt Ellen. (Molly is MIA, as she was a bit too excited by the hoopla to slow down for a photo or two. Go figure, huh?)

White Christmas

In my opinion, there's nothing like a white Christmas. Being from the Midwest, where white Chritmases are the norm, it took awhile to get used to winters in Seattle - where if snow does fall, it melts practically a minute later. Granted, if Chris and I want to see snow, we're not far from it - the white stuff sticks around in the Cascades pretty much year round. But there's something special about waking up on Christmas morning, looking expectantly out your window, and seeing the ground covered in a shimmering white blanket of snow. So, needless to say, after two holiday seasons without snow, Chris and I were more than thrilled when we looked out of our bedroom window this morning and saw that our backyard was practically glowing...







Merry Christmas!

xo, The Sorbes

You Raise Me Up

A beautiful song sung by an absolutely amazing artist... This piece, along with Josh Groban's indescribable voice, opens my heart and makes my spirit sing. Enjoy. :)

Music Video:YOU RAISE ME UP (by Josh Groban)

Music Video Code provided by Video Code Zone

Fun w/Molly...

... on The Chair.





See? I've already put it to good use... ;)~

Brooding and Deep... ;)

Every once and a while, I allow myself to indulge in one of my guilty pleasures - antiquing. And, believe me, it IS a guilty pleasure.

I'm the first to admit that I can be a bit of a pack-rat. Okay, more than a bit. Actually, if it wasn't for my sweet and very neat husband, I'd be living in an apartment piled to the ceiling with wall to wall "stuff." A sentimental sap, I hate throwing things away. I tend to want to hold on for dear life to everything: cards, letters, Smurf glasses, clothes ("I might want to wear those shoes to a costume party someday" I said recently of a pair of old platform shoes from the late 90's), books, research papers, magazines, DVDs, holiday decorations... The list goes on. Even electronic equipment. "What?" I remember saying to Chris one day when I saw him boxing up our old Play Station II. "Throw away the Play Station? Are you serious?" After pointing out that he was, in fact, quite serious, I put my game face on. Sure, we hadn't touched the Play Station in years, but that was just because we'd been busy. I was sure we'd find the time to play it again. And if it was gone, we'd most certainly miss it. I tried to convince him that he'd be sorry, that throwing away such a fun piece of equipment was insane. But Chris, whose favorite machine in the house is the shredder, could not be persuaded. Biting back a laugh, he rolled his eyes and listened patiently as I argued my case. "But what about SIMS?" I begged, just a step away from breaking into the Wickey War Dance. "We can't throw it away! Puh-lease?? I'll play it, I swear. You'll see." As I snatched the game player away from my husband and cradled it protectively in my arms, I couldn't help but feeling triumphant. Seriously, I thought as I tucked it back into our storage closet. Next weekend. We'll totally have a SIMS marathon next weekend.

That was two months ago. And so far, all the Play Station has been doing is sitting in our closet and taking up space. And collecting dust.

So, with that being said, it is only on a very rare occasion that I allow myself to step off the beaten path, stop in a quirky antique or second-hand store, and root through other people's junk. But on those days - those oh so sweet days - I'm usually rewarded generously. Today was no exception.

This chair actually caught Chris' eye first. Now that I've made the delicate decision to forge ahead and pursue photography full-time, I've been looking for various props to use in my shoots. And high on that list was, yep, a chair. Luckily, Chris is as supportive as he is neat, and he allowed me to buy the chair without any type of lecture whatsoever. What can I say? We're good for each other.

So, without further ado, here's the fabulous new piece.






I couldn't resist... ;)

Brian: "For your information, Jillian is very bright and she happens to be a very talented photographer."

Stewie: "Oh, that is so lame. Every hot girl who can aim a camera thinks she's a photographer. Ooh, you took a black and white picture of a lawn chair and its shadow and developed it at Sav-On. You must be so brooding and deep..."
-- Family Guy

Life Is A Series Of... Jobs?

Jack of All Trades...

Up until my thirties, my life had been like a wild goose chase. Well, maybe not completely like a wild goose chase, but close enough. I was adrift - floating here and there, not really enjoying life, but not altogether hating it, either. Life, until I hit twenty-nine or so, had become a routine. It was something that I figured I just had to endure. Life happened to me, I didn’t happen to it - or so I thought.

Like most people I went to high school with, I started college immediately following graduation. With only a summer break in between what was suppose to be my transition phase from teen to adult, I trudged ahead completely nervous and uninspired. What did I want to be when I grew up? Sh!t!, I remember thinking way back then. I AM grown up now... I’m supposed to know this! But I had no idea. I took the general classes: Geography, Western Civ, Biology I and, of course, Psychology. After my first semester, I still had no idea what I wanted to do. Every time I entertained an idea - physical therapist, speech pathologist, elementary teacher - fear squeezed its way into my chest and I’d have a panic attack. Whenever I declared a major, I’d think, Oh my God... This is what I’ll be doing for the next twenty, no thirty, no forty years... No, wait, oh God, for the rest of my life! I guess you could say I had trouble with commitment.

Now, looking back at my younger self, I realize I was probably being a bit dramatic. But, in all fairness, I - like almost all college students - was under a lot of pressure. And I felt that pressure tenfold. Get good grades, but still work at least thirty hours a week! And better keep that social life up because people in the Midwest are supposed to get married near the age of twenty-two or twenty-three... Twenty-five tops! And then babies by twenty-seven! Pick a career that you’ll be happy with! And oh, by the way, pick one that you can make money at or you’re going to be in debt for the rest of your life due to student loans!

Whoa. Even now it makes me cringe.

It wasn’t that I lacked direction, ambition, or motivation - I had all of those things in spades. I knew I liked photography, coveted books, and loved to write. “But,” I was told by a few close-minded people, “those aren’t careers, they’re hobbies. You can’t make a living off those. Only a lucky few can.” And, unfortunately, I believed them - for awhile, anyway. But every major that lead to a lucrative career was, in my mind, B-O-R-I-N-G.

After a few years, I left college and tried my hand at banking. Working for a credit card company in the customer service department, I crunched numbers, recited APR quotes, opened and closed accounts, submitted credit line increases, calculated payment plans, took approximately 150 calls a day, was verbally abused by over eighty percent of the card members, and basically sold my soul each week for a paycheck. I worked there for a little over two years, and each day I died a bit inside. Luckily, my co-workers were absolutely wonderful, and that alone helped me get by. But even so, I remember thinking, This can’t be all there is to life...

Fast forward to my next job - paralegal for a criminal law attorney. Just thinking of my time at that office brings a smile to my face. I worked for the most amazing, understanding, and down-to-earth attorney you could ever meet. My co-worker was an adoring black lab who, to this day, I love just a little bit more than my own dogs. (Shh - don’t tell them.) I was literally the “Jack-of-All-Trades” of the office, and for awhile that was enough. Eventually, however, I grew restless. I didn’t mind doing legal work, but it wasn’t interesting to me in the slightest, and the legal jargon gave me a headache. The work wasn’t creative (well, creative in the way I desired), and after three years I knew without a doubt that I was not destined for a lifelong career in law.

A move to the Pacific Northwest brought me to my next (and current) career. I’ve been working as a veterinary assistant at a local hospital out here for the last year and a half. And, as you’ve probably guessed, I have found that this career is also NOT FOR ME. Again, I have been blessed with a great boss and amazing co-workers. And I absolutely love working with the animals - to an extent. Veterinary medicine is NOT all about furry-faced puppies and kittens. Yes, I’ve seen my share of puppies and kittens, received countless slurpy kisses by unbelievably cute canines, and have even had my heart melted by several beautiful pit bulls. However, I have also seen one too many sick and dying dogs come through our doors, assisted with more euthanasias than I care to remember, and have been bitten and scratched by so many cats that I’m beginning to cringe when I see one enter the clinic. (I have two scars on the inside of my right wrist that look like botched suicide attempts.) Yes, I’m completely aware that this is all par for the course and part of life at a veterinary hospital. Like the lovely ladies I work with say, “Life can’t be all flowers and sausages.” But I still feel that there has to be more to life. And this life, this veterinary life, isn’t for me...

The reason for this blog, this rambling spiel, is to say that, while none of these previous jobs were my passion, I appreciate them immensely. In fact, it is because of these jobs that I have finally FOUND my passion. And it is because of these jobs that I plan to pursue my true passion (and any other passion I might come across on the way) with every ounce of energy that I have.

My life is no longer a wild goose chase. I’ve learned that you never really grow up and that life, even after you choose a career, is anything but boring. And I’ve realized that you can make a living by following your dreams and doing what you love. For me it’s writing and photography.

What about you?

"I was just pursuing what I enjoyed doing. I mean, I was pursuing my passion." -- Pierre Omidyar

Walkin' In A Winter Wonderland...

One of the things we love best about living out here are our spur-of-the-moment, hold-on-to-the-seat-of-your-pants road trips. There is soooo much to see in the PNW that, at least a few times a month or so, we grab the map, snag the camera, hop into the Jeep and just drive. We almost always end up finding something worthwhile. :)

Today, after a super-fun (and fairly early) photo shoot with Fiona Rose, Chris and I took advantage of being out-and-about at the crack of dawn and enjoyed a drive through the Cascade Mtns. We stocked up on caffeine and beef jerky (I know, I know - what the heck?!), cranked up the Christmas tunes, and high-tailed it to Stevens Pass. Such a relaxing, invigorating drive! Unfortunately, it left us wishing that we had snow shoes with us, as we passed a couple of trails that seemed to be calling our names. Maybe next time... :)

More than a few reasons why we love living in the Pacific Northwest...

"In the vast region touched on the west by the Pacific Ocean, on the south by the California and Nevada boundaries, on the east by the Rocky Mountains, and on the north by the Canadian border lies a land of almost unbelievable beauty and diversity." --Dorothy Krell (The Beautiful Northwest)

The mountains and snow...

The ocean and beach...

The beautiful scenery...

The great hiking...

Seattle and the Pike Place Market....

And last, but certainly not least, big a$$ donuts.

We love Seattle, the PNW, and all the beauty that this wonderful region has to offer. We appreciate this beautiful corner of America more than we can say. At long last, Chris and I have finally found our version of "Home Sweet Home."