mud pies to medicine: The New Year

Monday, January 2, 2012

The New Year

New Year's Resolution is a bit of a misnomer in my history. Five minutes before midnight on December 31st I try and think of something I would like to do that year and forget about it 2 days later (at best). That, my friends, is not approaching something with resolve. Resolve is determination. Resolve is that stuff I spray on the red wine stain and my carpet before taking a brush to it with all my elbow grease. Resolve is knowing that if I don't get rid of that stain, my landlady is going to be mad and charge my broke medical school butt. So this year, I want to bring determination to my resolution. I will work at my resolution like that wine stain on the carpet.

Making a good resolution also means knowing yourself. At first I thought I would take and edit a new photo everyday. Well, there is no way I will finish my project if I have to take a new photo everyday. So, this year I resolve to edit and post a photo everyday. Well considering it is January 2nd I'm already a day behind but that's okay. I'm going to let being behind be okay.

So photo numero uno:

This photo was taken of our barn in Vermont. My grandfather purchased it in 1972 along with the accompanying farm house and over 100 acres of property. This was a huge upgrade from the trailer he had bought so the family could ski in the winter. While the town hall burned down taking the records of the house with it, estimates based on the post and beam architecture put it at somewhere around 200 years old. Up until the 1970's this was a working dairy farm. Now we share the old farm house (not pictured) with my family.

I'll be posting a new picture tonight to keep up with my resolution.

1 comment:

UnknownJanuary 4, 2012 at 10:52 AM
I like your resolve...new years resolution. I love that you're going to take and post a new photo every day. That's a tough resolution to make but I bet you're going to be so great at photography by the end of the year :)
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The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.