Blogging as a Career? Any Thoughts?

I want to make a living by writing.

Yeah, well. So do a lot of people.

But I never knew, until recently, that one can work and earn a living as a full-time blogger. But now I know. And I want to do that.

Yeah, well. So do a lot of people.

But outside the blogging sphere, when people ask me what I want to do, and I say, "I want to be a full-time blogger," no one takes me seriously. Wonder why? :)

And the truth is I haven't the slightest idea how to earn revenue from a blog.

And so, I ask you, kind and gentle reader, to please, tell me what's what. Engage with me in a conversation, for I am eager to hear about your experiences and opinions. :) Here are a few questions I'd love for you to answer: 

• Why do you blog? Just for fun or to promote yourself or your business? 
• Is full-time blogging a pipe dream or a possibility?
• Do you earn money off your blog? If so, how long did you wait before you monetized? And in what ways do you monetize? 
• What, in your opinion, are reasonable expectations for blogging?  

I eagerly await your answers...

(Image, wall art via Trading Phases)

Trash the Dress Photo Session, Take Three

Let's play a game, shall we? Can you spot the Crocs in the above photo?

That's right. Even though I was once a proud member of the Facebook group "I don't care if Crocs are comfortable, you still look stupid," I shamelessly exchanged my purple stilettos for a pair of hole-punched garden clogs, after my heels had sunk into the mud and manure for the twenty-third time and once my feet felt as blistered and sore as a red-hot sunburn.

Besides, do you honestly think this happened in stilettos?

I mean, really. You try and run through a cow pasture in high heels. Then we'll talk. 

Anyways. 

So, I was running a-muck in a cow pasture in the middle of an Arkansas summer, after an eight hour shift at Sally's Clothing Barn, and then pile on top of that that I was wearing stilettos and a girdle...(Yes, a girdle. Though I believe the politically correct term is "control top." Yeah, once I took that thing off the real Hannah burst forth like a marshmallow in a microwave on high. Hey, now. Don't judge. No shame here. Cause you know that you probably wore/will wear one with your wedding dress, too)...

What's that? 

You didn't/won't? 

Really?

Oh, my. How embarrassing. 

But like I was saying: stilettos + control top + Arkansas heat + 8 hour shift in retail = grumpy Hannah, and no matter how happy I was to be marrying Damian at that particular moment, this is how I really felt during the shoot: 

 

The one in the bottom left corner is a bit scary. Don't you think? (Oh, and when my nephew Billy saw the top right photo, he asked his mother if Aunt Hannah was sad because she got caught in a net. :) 

But in all honesty, I have no complaints about my trash the dress experience, because there were a lot of moments like this, too:

As well as timeless memories, such as The Epic Incident of the Tumbling Chair. 

So would I do it all again? You betcha. 

And therefore, all you brides-to-be (or those of you who simply like pretty dresses), go ahead and  mosey on over to the nearest thrift store, locate the rack of wedding dresses, pick one that suits your fancy, and then go prance through an open field whilst singing "True Love's Kiss", you know, that song from Enchanted. 

Come on, now. You know you want to! 

P.S. View my other "Trash the Dress" posts here, if you like :) .

Hello, Mr. Sunflower.

As you may have guessed, I am staying with my parents: Damian and I came for Father's Day, but never left. We may go home. Eventually. You know, when we get tired of free food (or more likely, when rent for our apartment in Mississippi is due). 
In the meantime, the first sunflower of the season bloomed in my parent's garden.

Simply lovely, yes? But this what a sunflower looks like before it blooms:

Sort of scary, right? Reminiscent of The Little Shop of Horrors, like that thing could gobble you up. Isn't nature weird?

Ain't no shame in living at home after college

At my college graduation, I planned to throw my hat in the air and on the way to pick it up off the ground, arrive at a fancy desk at a fancy job. 

But life doesn't work that way. 

Because you don't throw hats at a college graduation. That's high school stuff, kids. 

And after the ceremony, instead of landing a career, I arrived home: Lead Hill, Arkansas. 

That's right. I moved in with my parents after college (which kind of made me feel as if college never happened, as if it were all a dream.)

I was embarrassed, at first. But now I realize I wasn't a lazy, good-for-nothing mooch and squatter. 

No. 

I was smart. Fiscally responsible. 

Why should I have spent every penny of the tiny salary I earned by greeting customers at Sally's Clothing Barn on a shabby apartment with a cranky toilet, when two kindhearted adults were offering me one of three bedrooms in a house with perfect plumbing? For free. 

No rent. No utilities. Oh, and they threw in three meals a day, too. 

Moral of the story: don't raise your eyebrows next time you meet a single, 22 year old who lives in their parent's basement. Raise your eyebrows next time you meet a single, 22 year old who doesn't live in their parent's basement. 

Oh, the wonder of perspective. 

But alas, now I am married and live with my husband in Mississippi. I miss free food ;) 

"Trash the Dress" Photo Session, Take Two

Lizzie took my Trash the Dress photos near my parent's house, aka Middle of Nowhere, and I regretted my choice of shoes (purple stilettos) the moment I began wobbling down the gravel road to the cow pasture.

Lizzie suddenly informed me she forgot the chair. 

"What chair?" I asked. 

"The chair!"

"Oh."

She ran back to the house and left me stranded. In stilettos and a wedding dress. In the middle of a road in the middle of the fields. 

So, I did the natural thing and sat in the grass and pouted.

But no big.

Because in the Middle of Nowhere, people never see their neighbors. Right?

Wrong. 

The one day that I sat  in the grass in a veil and wedding gown, the neighbors drove by, stopped, and said:

"Whatsamatta, hun? Lose the groom?"

Then they rode away, laughing.

Lovely.

Lizzie finally returned with the chair, a family heirloom, apparently.

I sat in the chair and "worked it" as Lizzie offered tips for poses.

"Kick up your legs and lean back - Like this!"

Okay, great.

Until...

Fortunately, I am the sort of person who can laugh at myself...

And laugh...

And laugh some more...

And besides... Lizzie still took some great shots :)

 Okay, that's enough Trash the Dress for now.

I may post more of my story later, though. Like a mini series. In three installments.

We shall see.

In the meantime, any brides out there hoping to have a Trash the Dress session?

If so, oodles of fun are in store, I assure you :)

P.S. See Take One here. 

Happy Father's Day!

Hey, Dad. Happy Father's Day! 

Guess what? We are throwing you a cook out. Yeah, a cook out! 

I know, I know. Awesome sauce, right? 

But here's the best part: we're coming. 

We'll be there. At your house. For your cook out. 

And for the week, probably. 

Yeah, that's right! 

And you thought we were stuck in Mississippi until the 4th of July. 

Didn't you? 

But our schedule cleared. And you fit the next opening. 

I called mom and said, "We're coming to town!"

And she said, "Shhh! Make a surprise, a Father's Day Surprise."

Then, she gave you a gift and you said: "But no kids are coming."

And she gulped. 

But now, I am sitting in your living room and listening to your car rumble down the driveway. And now, I am peeking out your window. 

Surprise! 

Happy Birthday, Billy-the-Kid!

Billy is a solemn boy, wise beyond his years. He kindly endured the pooh costume.
And the butterfly bench.

And a necktie and suspenders, at only a few months old.

Billy, the perfect model of an eldest son, sometimes. Sometimes, he is crazy.

But always so sweet and filled with love, for God and his life and his family.

I can't believe you are six today, Billy. I remember when you were new, and I waited anxiously at the airport, with your Oma and Opa, for the phone call that signified your arrival.

Then we hurried, as fast as we could, from Trinidad to Texas, to see your wonderful, smiling (well, probably crying and screaming) face.

I am so blessed to watch you grow. Happy Birthday, Billy-the-Kid. We love you, always and forever.

Trash the Dress Photo Session, Take One

My sister Lizzie humored me when I was first engaged, and we had a trash the dress photo shoot, not a hardcore, roll-around-in-manure-and-float-in-a-swamp trash the dress shoot but a more mild version: I bought a simple wedding dress at a thrift store and then ran through a field while Lizzie snapped pretty pictures.

I asked Lizzie to do the shoot, because I was daydreaming of bridal portraits with rustic, outdoor scenery in the background but was unwilling to drag the enormous train of my wedding day dress through the dirt.

I was kicking myself when I realized the other day that I've never done anything productive with these photos, which Lizzie took over a year ago. Then a light bulb clicked on over my head, and I thought, "Hey, I have a blog, and I can post whatever I like. Brilliant!"

And that's how I decided to share my trash the dress photos with you, kind and gentle reader. 

In case you're curious, here's the outfit I put together for my shoot:

Veil, Michael's, $7.00

Hair piece, Clarie's, $4.50
Ribbon belt, my mom's gift wrap pile, free
Lace dress, thrift store, $20.00

See? Getting married is not expensive. If you have a talented sister with a fancy camera and if you don't mind wearing gift wrap around your waist, you can have bridal portraits for $31.50.

Lizzie took hundreds of photos, but I think I've shared enough for now.

Are you aching for more? I'm such a tease, right? (Honestly, I am trying to avoid writing posts that last for days, as I hear that scares away readers.) But never fear. I'll post more about my trash the dress escapade at a later date, because that shoot was crazy...

Have you ever tried walking through a cow pasture in purple stilettos?

I have.

P.S. If you like these pictures, you should check out Lizzie's blog. She is a missionary in the Philippines, and she takes lots of amazing photos. You should see her breathtaking yet heartbreaking series of photos featuring a caged bird. It's the sort of thing you might find in National Geographic, only better, because the photographer is my sister. Oh, and while we are on the topic, Lizzie saw a man jump through a ring of fire. And she took pictures. Wouldn't you? Check it out, folks. 

My Backyard, Take Two

Sometimes, you have to look hard to find beauty.

When I am in my backyard, I can focus on the weeds, the dead grass, the graffiti, and the hot Mississippi sun.

Or I can choose to notice that some of the weeds are posing as wild flowers. And I can appreciate the intricate details of a dandelion...

...and a pine cone...

...and a row of evergreen trees.  

Maybe I am crazy. (I must have looked awfully silly taking a photo of weeds.) Or maybe I am creative. Or maybe there is such a fine line between crazy and creative that there's really no difference. Maybe the phrase "Life is what you make it" means we choose how we perceive the world. Was that deep? If not, that's okay. I'm no philosopher. I just like pictures.

Oh, wow, it's 1:17 a.m. Perhaps I should scurry off to bed now.

Good night, all. Or good morning, I suppose.

I Got In! Not to College, but to Pinterest

I used to think of pinterest.com as prestigious and out of my league, the Harvard of social networks, because those guys don't let just anyone sign up, like Facebook or Blogger. Oh no, this is far more elite. You have to request an invite. 

And I was all like: what if they don't want me? What if I am not pinterest material? I didn't think I could handle that kind of rejection.

But guess what, folks? I got in. And now I am pinning all kinds of wonderful things, as I browse the world wide web. And so, if you want to see more stuff like this rockin' castle, you better follow me on pinterest.

By the way, anyone know if this place is real?

(Image via Express-o)

Hi, I'm Hannah and sometimes, I have no problem with shameless self-promotion ;) 

My Backyard

Wild flowers and view of a pine, while lying in the grass.

My niece is cuter than your niece

Okay, fine. All babies are created equal. I must say, though, that my niece gives them all a pretty good run for their money. Don't you think?

I Won an Award, a Prestigious Award

"Mr. Parker: It could be a bowling alley!

Mother: How are they going to deliver a bowling alley here tonight?

Mr. Parker: They'll send the deed for cripesake. 

I didn't expect them to send the whole [darn] bowling alley."

A Christmas Story, 1983

Holly, from Perfectly Imperfect, has kindly offered me the Versatile Blogger Award. Holly loves coffee, travel, and ice cream; I am honored to be recognized by a girl with such good taste ;)

According to the stipulations of this award, I must write seven things about myself (though if you dig through my archives, I guarantee you'll find more than seven. And once, I even wrote a Facebook note of 25.) 

I think I got this :) Here goes:

• I can't snap my fingers. But don't try and teach me. If you do, we can't be friends.
• Have you ever seen About a Boy? If not, you should. Or you can just talk to me. Cause I can basically quote the entire film. 
• I can also sing the entire score of Evita . (If you are interested in lengthy, sub par Acapella solos, that is. 
•  And here's an anecdote from my childhood: when I was about five, I climbed a tree (while wearing a dress). I slipped, but the elastic of my underwear hooked on a branch, and I dangled high over the earth, as I kicked and screamed. Eventually, the elastic snapped, and I crashed to the ground. But don't worry. I was fine, except for a skinned knee and a dirty chin. (I was only really upset because I ruined my favorite pair of Beauty and the Beast panties.)
• Here's a dislike: I hate chewing gum. Don't ask me why. If I don't question your distaste for anchovies, then leave my preferences alone. It's only fair. 
• If I go back to school, I shall write my masters thesis about J.M. Barrie. 
• And finally: I am a Christian, a follower of Christ, an aspect of my identity that inspires and informs every course of my life.  

And now, for the last of my duties as Miss Versatile Blogger: I must pass on the award to a few new bloggers, whom I feel are so deserving. 

• Miss Quoted is a bibliophile (lover of words) who makes gripping statements such as "...the internet is both monstrous and wonderful in equal measure." Here's how she describes her blog: "Work in Progress. Hard Hats Advised." 
• Dani, at The Marriage Underground, blogs about everything from the contents of her purse to life as a newlywed. Oh, and she and her husband live in a basement. 
• And the grand finale: Jennifer Zowie at Fickle Kitsch writes about fashion, decor, face paint, cupcakes, and her hair. I'd call that versatile :) 

And that completes this edition of the Versatile Blogger Award. As I bid you ado, I'd like to thank the academy. It's been a good run, and I hope these new winners enjoy their award as much as I have. :) 


(Winners: feel free to borrow my "Versatile Blogger Award" graphic. I noticed the old graphic had appeared on blogs for over a year, so I took the liberty of designing a new one.) 

Morning Glory

I am not a morning person.  I am about as happy to see the morning as I am to find a snake in a swimming pool, if you catch my drift.  

But Damian and I are traveling, which means our days begin as the sun appears, so I grump and groan and fuss and holler and demand coffee, per usual. 

Yesterday morning, I declared, "I should not feel like my head is splitting in two. This can't be normal."

And Damian (Mr. Sensitive) said: "It's okay, honey. You are like a tank engine. It's really hard to get you started, but once you are going, you are really amazing and strong and nothing can stop you." 

Which made me smile and feel a little bit better. 

"Honey, you are like a tank engine" -- just what every wife needs to hear. :)  

Photography (or something like it)

I want to buy a fancy camera someday, so I can pretend to be a photographer. In the meantime, however, here are a few photos, taken with my non-fancy camera.

Hope you enjoy.