Laboring Days

There was a time when I remember a three day weekend meant… well… three days of running around with friends, reaching for beers in coolers in the early afternoons and spending a lot of the time in lawn chairs. It isn’t that I don’t have the time for that anymore, I guess it’s that I don’t make the time for that anymore.

I guess that’s not entirely true. On Friday I did finish off two bottles of wine with a friend of mine on her back deck as the cool evening air pushed us inside earlier than we wished. So we took our conversation inside until neither of us could stop yawning and we gave in to fatigue.

And I did carve out a nice block of time today to photograph a new model, so I wouldn’t say it was all heavy lifting. But there was, and will be more heavy lifting before the weekend finally does end in a few hours. When I moved into my new studio space last year, I never really completely unpacked. Close, but not completely.

A lot of mystery boxes got piled up in my closet and lately the clutter was beginning to get to me. That little cleanup spurred a rather massive and merciless purge of much of my space. It’s felt good to clear out space. I think my head has been a little full lately and the physical cleansing has been a nice stand-in for the desire to clear the mental clutter that seems to be diluting my focus as of late.


Nothing like physical labor to knock the voices down a few notches.


In the process of all of that I found a few very interesting things. No fewer than three journals, all in different places. It’s interesting to skim back over all those years and see how much progress I’ve made in some areas of my life, and a distressing lack of it in others. More forward than not though. Progress, not perfection.

And speaking of progress, I haven’t quite hit the magic 100 pounds of weight loss just yet, but I’m closing in on it soon. Today I’m wearing a pair of jeans with a waist size 14 inches less than the pants I was wearing at this time last year. That’s pretty major. They are a bit snug, but when I decided to give them a try today, I was surprised when I slid them on that they actually fit today. It’s not the first time I’ve tried them on in the last few months. They’ve been sitting in my closets the last 10 years, hoping to be worn again and for a long time it looked pretty grim.

But not today.

They’re the smallest waist jeans I’ve ever worn as an adult. And like I said they’re a bit snug, but I wore them around all day today and even did my photoshoot in them which requires lots of bending, crawling and squatting and I really didn’t notice the smaller size.

One of the other happy things this weekend was stumbling across some old photographs from when I was just a little kid at The old White Sox Park around 1970. Yep that’s me, my mom, dad and sister. The pictures that don’t have people in them are ones I took of the three things that fascinated me at that old park: The exploding scoreboard, the television cameras, and the little ball machine that popped up behind home plate every once in a while during the game to give the umpire new baseballs.

Yep, some vintage Billy Sheahan Photography work. Even then, photographing what I thought was amazing. I’m happy that I haven’t progressed past that love in all these years.

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