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February is always a tough month for me.  I hibernate and not in the cozy way one would assume a bear sleeps off the winter. I drop everything.  No photos.  No sewing.  No real blogging.  I usually pull away from friends because I feel shitty.  Cooking?  Nothing fancy or new.  I just go to the couch and pull the blankets up to my chin.  I wallow in my boredom and spend lots of time boo-hooing things in my head.

But I still shoot my 365 and One Second clips.  I’m not inspired by it or motivated to do more.  For a month it’s an awful chore I do because I made a commitment to the projects.

But I keep going because I know that February thaws and March rolls in with a healthy dose of vigor.

Hello March.  I’m ready for some fun.

I’ve waited patiently for 28 days.  Bring it.

Let’s live like it’s 1 a.m.

One Second a Day :: January – February from Erika Ray on Vimeo.


  • always blocks the intersection or driveway.
  • will shave just the few inches that might show when I sit down during a winter business meeting.
  • always has to scooch a little more to get to the end of my Gynecologist’s table.
  • likes the idea of crying at weddings, but never has and probably never will.
  • will sob at ridiculously nerdy CW shows.
  • will pick the same scab over and over again.
  • will make something once just because I can.
  • believes in store-bought pie crust.
  • puts a timer on for video games and then lets it beep for 15 minutes longer.
  • will pop a pimple days before it’s ready even though I know it will result in a shitty pop.
  • dreams of a good pop.
  • doesn’t need a recipe for Grandma’s Spinach Rolls.
  • needs to read the cooking directions for every other bowl of ramen.
  • photographs her days.  Even the boring ones.
  • probably won’t lug her camera to Disney after the first day.
  • doesn’t go easy on my kids while playing board games.
  • never wins graciously.
  •  giggles every time I hear the word, “Box”.
  • feels like I’m cheating death every time I close the garage door and I’m not completely out from under it.
  • doesn’t freak out if a kid vomits all over me.
  • freaks out if they brush their teeth in front of me.
  • won’t play the game.
  • constantly asks, “What’s the point?”
  • still considers herself a Girl.
  • will play the same song again and again and again.
  • will get upset when someone asks to not hear the song for the fourth time.
  • is still learning to say, “I’m sorry” first.
  • knows when to admit she’s wrong.
  • knows she’s right when it counts.
  • is complicated.
  • is not complicated at all.


What kind of woman are you?


And apparently…

I’m the kind of woman who…

  • doesn’t give a shit about taking/sharing Morning self portraits.  

There’s no pressure with Morning SP’s.  It’s the morning.  Deal with it.  

Try it for yourself.  If you’re afraid, go with Black & White.

  • Anonymous - Always thinks THIS will be the snow day that my kids will get along, frolic in the snow long enough for me to take some awesome shots for FB, and be able to get their own boots/shit on and off. And is always disappointed.February 20, 2015 – 9:35 amReplyCancel

  • Stephanie - •Cries during American Idol or The Voice
    •Also during acceptance speeches at award shows
    •Always takes scolding hot showers
    •Moves seats in a movie theater if someone is eating something crunchy
    •Despises people who chew gum
    •Apologizes for unnecessary things (get it from my Momma)
    •Addicted to Instagram
    •Brushes her teeth with her mouth closed (the polite way)
    •Uses emoji’s in text to describe feelings
    •Dislikes when people reply with “K” or “TY” or “HB” just write it out what the fuck?
    •Says “mother fuck” a lot
    •I don’t call my Mother enough
    •I don’t put in the effort to hang out with her either
    •Indecisive when it comes down to where or what to eat
    •Will ask other people what they’re ordering before I order
    •Would like to care more about my cuticles but I don’tFebruary 20, 2015 – 10:16 amReplyCancel

    • Erika - I cry all the time at the speeches. And I feel awful about it for some reason, but I still do…

      And why bother responding at all?! I totally get that frustration.February 20, 2015 – 12:34 pmReplyCancel

  • Erika Ray Photography - … has really dry skin, but forgets to use lotion. And take extremely hot baths. Every. Night.
    … can’t stop itching her super dry legs all winter long.February 20, 2015 – 1:57 pmReplyCancel

  • Cara Noschang - Okay, I’ll play…. I’m the type of girl who…
    – only likes playing games I’m good at, so why am I playing along here? Not sure.
    – gives away too much information all the time, to anyone, even if their not listening.
    – interrupts all the time. Deep, deep down I think my stories are better.
    – is constantly performing small ballet parts; pirouettes and pada bu raes, across the kitchen floor and hundreds of frappes while doing dishes.
    – doesn’t shower every day and hardly ever washes my hair.
    – is masochistic when exercising.
    – says, “I hate these kids”, or “I hate my life”, under my breath at least once a day.
    – is prone to great exaggerating.
    – inserts bull shit figures into everyday conversation. Example: “I remember hearing that the school spent $7,000 on a party.” What? No I didn’t, why did I just say that? Do I come clean or hope no one notices that I’m crazy and I lie? The latter of course.
    – loves to cook but resents having to follow directions.
    – wishes I was a better reader.
    – loves putting on makeup, but hates having to wear it.
    – cleans up well.February 25, 2015 – 10:37 pmReplyCancel

    • Erika - -Too much info and exaggeration is why were good at being friends. It’s also why we shouldn’t talk to strangers at disgusting bars (I have 6 kids. Yes, two sets are twins).
      -Next time you interrupt I’m going to question my story-telling skills…
      -I’m convinced ALL Moms whispers those phrase daily. It’s what I tell myself so I don’t feel awful.February 28, 2015 – 1:44 pmReplyCancel

The second I heard “Risotto in seven minutes”, I was sold.  Hell, you could have renamed the Pressure Cooker to Only Makes Risotto and I would have ordered two.  But thankfully, this kitchen appliance is so much more.

I’m no expert, but I am determined to demystify the appliance so more Cooks enjoy it’s power.  So let’s talk…


  • While it is another kitchen appliance, it won’t take up much more room than a stock pot.  I love kitchen appliances.  My basement has a few collecting dust.  Every few months, I’ll dust them off and make some juice/ice cream/tiny amounts of crockpot dip…  But a PC is more than an appliance.  Rice/bean/lightening fast meat/canner/one pot wonder Cooker is probably a better name for the PC.
  • New ones won’t blow up on you.  Or so I’ve been told in every single cookbook I’ve read.  Make sure the seal is in good condition and the valve is working.  If so, cross that big Con off your list.  But read your manual!  Don’t trust me.  Remember I’m not expert.
  • It’s loud.  I’ve been told not as loud as our Grandma’s PC, but it’s still annoying to my family.  I probably wouldn’t use it to cook dinner if we had friends over.
  • I love the dump factor.  There’s browning and sauteing.   But once I pour everything in and lock it up, I’m done.  No more “Is that a rolling boil?  Or Is it a little more than a simmer?”  Nope.  I just wait for the little yellow button to pop.  Because my was owned before, I think my button might stick (I’m probably not cleaning it as well as a regular person and it’s just sticky…)  So when it seems to be spitting more than normal, I run my finger over the button.  It pops and then I turn the heat down to Medium High.
  • When a dish doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.  Once I forgot to lock the pot and burnt black bean soup.  Lock your pot, People.  That night we had cereal and no one was pissed at me.
  • Not everything cooks faster.  First, it has to come to pressure.  Then cook.  And then the pressure must return to normal.  I didn’t take into account the first and last parts of the process.  Dinner was late.  I hate being late.  For Natural Release, I always add at least 15 minutes to the dish.  It usually returns to normal faster than 15 minutes, so it’s like I get a gift.
  • Not everything cooks faster (again), but I think it taste better.  White rice is a great example.  It probably takes the same amount of time, but the difference is mind blowing.  I’m a pretty good cook.  But until the PC, I had clearly screwed up white rice.  It was edible, but was a bland as it’s name suggest.  Every single time I use the PC to make rice, my family praises me.  We eat a lot of white rice now…  I will also have a very difficult time eating canned beans again (these do cook much faster).  Minium soaking time and the beans come out buttery.  Stock?!  Please.  I gave up on making stock because I never found a recipe that had flavor (I’ve made gallons of the homemade stuff).  After using the PC for turkey stock, I finally get why people rely on homemade stock.
  • Things do cook faster!  A whole chicken in about 30 minutes?  Yes.  Bone-in thighs (a favorite in my kitchen) in 15?  Yes.  My normal beans had a 24 hour soak and 6-8 hours in the crock-pot.  Beans in the PC? 40 minutes.  Hell, yes!
  • I love a recipe.  I can’t just throw in a handful of This and a pinch of That.  I need direction.  I’ve found two books that I swear by:
  1. Pressure Perfect -Lorna Sass:  It was recommended by my cousin and I consider it the bible of PC-ing.  She includes basic cooking times for grains, beans, meats, and veggies.  She even includes different cuts of meat for each recipe and the adjusted times.  If you’re going to get one, get this one.
  2. Miss Vickie’s Real Food Real Fast- Vickie Smith:   I don’t need to make squid just because I can.  I doubt my family will eat it.  I simply want to make food my family will eat.  This cookbook has those recipes.


Have I convinced you yet?!

Do you have one in your basement?  Find the manual and dust it off.  Make a pot of beans.  Cook a whole chicken.  How about some rice?

Basic White Rice: adapted from “Pressure Perfect”

  • Heat 1 T. of oil or butter in the PC over high heat.  Add 1 C. of long-grain rice.  Lightly coat it.
  • Stir in 1 1/2 C. of water and add 1/2 t. of salt.
  • Lock lid in place.  Over high heat bring to high pressure.
  • Once it reaches pressure (little yellow button pops), reduce slightly to keep pressure.  I turn it down to medium high.  Just a smidge.  Cook for 3 minutes.
  • Remove from heat (I just push it off the burner).  Allow the pressure to come down naturally for 7 minutes and then do a quick release. (ATK said to never do the Run Under Water release, so I don’t.  Plus it’d be cumbersome for me.  I use my quick release button and have never had an issue)
  • Once the button plops down, open lid and fluff.
  • If it’s not tender (I’ve never had this issue), replace the lid and let it steam in the leftover heat for a few more minutes.
  • Ta-da.

But I never make 1 cup of rice.  I alway do 3 C. (I have an 8 qt) of rice, 4 1/4 C. of water, 1 1/2 t. of salt, and 2 T. of oil.  Takes the same amount of time and I freeze what we don’t use.

pressure cooker

See what I mean, by if a normal person cleaned their PC…  It got a good scrub after this photo.

pressure_cookingchili corn bread beer

FB and Twitter are always filled with articles linked to Forgiven, Kindness, Zen stuff.  It’s good and nice to read.  I’m guessing more people need to digest these types of articles.

But don’t you ever want to read something about Meanness?  Something about how it feels good to roll around with Mean and Nasty for a couple days?  Some times that’s exactly what I want to read.  I don’t want to feel shitty about having negative feelings.

I want to feel justified and human.

When you’re going through something difficult, everyone reminds you about Karma.  You take those statements and cling to them in the storm.  People continue to hand Karma out like it’s a band-aid when you’re Boo-Hoo-ing.  But finally you have to rip it off and simply say, “That’s life.”  You can’t hug those shitty feelings for too long or else you’ll end up bitter and angry over the uncontrollable.  Uncontrollable things don’t deserve that much attention let alone negative attention.

But one day, Karma does come knocking.  And Karma always invites you along.  He’s so kind that he gives you the balloons and confetti.

Ever get so excited over something that doesn’t deserve excitement?  I’m not talking death or health issues.  Maybe like a huge scratch on your smug neighbor’s new car?  Or watching some pompous jerk get puked on?  Or seeing the Road Raging Asshole pulled over?  Or anything shitty enough that you can’t wipe a gleeful smile off your face?  You’re able to make statements that even your own Mother says, “We didn’t raise you that way.”  And you refuse to apologize for your feelings.  You can acknowledge that your emotions are completely juvenile.  But there’s a tiny splash of delight mixed in.  Nobody writes articles about that Splash, so you feel like an awful person.

For about three seconds..

And then Karma rolls over and whispers, “You’re welcome, Sweetie.”

For a little while, you get to snuggle under a blanket with Karma.

He’s a really good snuggler.



**He also knows exactly when to sneak out of bed and leave you back under Kindness’ gaze.  Karma is pretty swell guy.

If this was a 365 month, I would have bailed on the project.  I think I missed 4 days this month.  One day is enough for me to quit a 365.  4 days…  I don’t know why.  Holidays?  Maybe.  You can blame the holidays for almost anything.

But the other 26 days were filled with pretty damn good seconds.  Christmas traditions.  Christmas gifts opened.  Dancing.  More gifts being opened.  Sweet ass New Year’s Eve moves.  Laughter.  Good friends sharing drinks.  And only a few tv shots.  I’ll take those 26 seconds over nothing.



One Second A Day :: December-January from Erika Ray on Vimeo.

At my last birth there was very little English spoken: Portuguese is their native tongue.  As a birth photographer it wasn’t an issue because I’m there to observe and document.  But there was something magical about it.  It was as if I was watching the most heart-felt movie on mute.  The scenes were so moving and powerful that I didn’t yearn for the exact words.

The caress of a loved one’s hand.  The loving touch only a mother can offer her daughter.  The nourishment of a dinner given to “strangers”.  The gracious offer of blankets and pillows. The grip and support during a contraction.  The tears and gasps of exhaustion.  The hushed words in a tone that could only be used for encouragement and compassion.

Only once did the Midwife ask someone to translate Raquel’s words.  “She said, ‘I can’t do this.'”  And Amy responded, “Tell her when she doesn’t think she can any longer, that’s right before she will do it.”

And a few minutes later, Raquel and Andres were holding their son.  The same hands that offered compassion and strength were now holding new life.

You don’t need to understand the conversation to know the entire room was deeply in love with the baby and in awe of his mother.

It’s the universal language of birth: love and awe.

Bem vindo ao mundo pequenino.














  • Anonymous - Amazing! Brought tears to my eyes!January 20, 2015 – 10:08 amReplyCancel

  • Carol Klein Ray - These are some of your very best.January 20, 2015 – 2:47 pmReplyCancel

  • Daiane Ouriques Colnaghi - :D So beautiful! Thanks for all these lovely pictures and care with my friends!January 20, 2015 – 6:38 pmReplyCancel

“What are you doing?”

“I’m seven, Ma.”


He’s the first to spark up a wrestling match, but he’s the first to crawl into your armpit area and snuggle.

He’s an excellent reader, but hates to read.

He loves chicken, even when it’s actually pork (even when you repeatedly remind him that it isn’t chicken, “I love this chicken”).

He’s a young kid, but he has the comedic timing of a wise old man.

His teacher says he has a talking “problem”.  Outside of the classroom, his family and friends hear about 4 words.

He’ll follow Lego directions for hours to create the cover photo .  He’ll sit for seconds and whip up something imaginative and beautiful from his own mind.

He reminds me with his already deep voice that he’s not a “baby”, but he’ll always be my baby even when his voice actually deepens.

This is what it’s like to know and love Becks: a ball of contradictions, spunk, humor, love, fierceness and my baby.