self portrait tuesday #23 (all of me)

(ward is responsible for this great shot, by the way)

well, this is a beauty pageant compared to the way my feet usually look. originally, I wanted to show my feet in all their gritty post-dance class glory, but thanks to ward's animation shenanigans last week and various meetings and deadlines, I will not be back in class until next week. by then, this particular self portrait tuesday challenge will be over and we'll all be onto the next one. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to move on. because aren't you just a little grossed out by my feet here? aren't you gagging just a little bit? I am. I mean, I love feet. I think they're really cool and beautiful but it took everything in me not to retouch and tweak until the cracks and calluses could no longer be seen.

but these are my ugly bits. the cracks seem to re-open every time I take class and the calluses never go away because I walk around barefoot on wood floors everyday. after class, they are covered with dirt and black from the marley floor covering of the space. I've always loved going barefoot and there's a price to pay for that. as a kid, I'd happily scorch my feet walking across hot rocks and concrete in the summer time. in the winter, socks always made my feet feel hot and restricted. and then came modern dance. going barefoot was (is) a direct rebellion against the confines of ballet (one of many ways modern dance has distinguished itself within the art form). and you know that I could go on and on here (because I love me some dance history) but all I really need to say is thank you. thank you, isadora, because I love the way it feels and feet should be free to move and connect with the floor. there's a give and take of weight that you can't feel wearing shoes and there's an undeniably gorgeous quality that comes from the mover. but of course, feet rip and burn. on the last day of ADF, I could barely make it through class, my feet were in such horrible shape. raw and bleeding. all taped up so I could at least finish the last of the session. and I think I might be strangely proud of that, proud of my feet and all that they've endured-- in a very sort of corny, self righteous way. (think debbie allen, a la 'fame' and yes, it's funny but right here, right now is where you start paying. IN SWEAT. I hope you just went there with me. didn't you? please say you did).

in defense of my personal grooming habits, I think I should say that I do make an effort to take care of my feet (when I can). I love pedicures, though will someone please help the woman who has to make my feet pretty? I usually end up apologizing all over myself and sit there in shame while they slough away. then I leave a big tip and enjoy my semi-smooth heels and candy-apple red toes for about all of 24 hours. my brother likes to say that I don't really even need to wear shoes anymore. that the skin on the bottom of my feet has, in fact, become my very own pair of shoes (custom made, cultivated from a lifetime of abuse and neglect). that I wouldn't even feel it if I walked over a big rusty nail or a small fire. funny. YOU'RE A FUNNY FUNNY MAN, NATE. people are always giving me pedicure kits and minty foot lotions and I love it all and I do use it but it doesn't seem to make much of a difference. my feet are what they are.

actually, I'm surprised at how much my feet will tolerate. I'm impressed with their strength and durability and, like the maternity underwear I wrote about last week, I respect the fact that they've seen battle. I should treat them better than I do, I know this. that's why sometime in the next couple of days, you are going to see them all gussied up in a pair of purdy little socks and some purdy shoes. and I'm going to get out the peppermint foot lotion too. because writing this has got me thinking that these old feet deserve better.

(more ugly/lovely bits here and here)

now I am happy

I remember this particular moment so well and willed myself to do so. did you ever do that when you were a kid? think about all the moments that were lost forever and then decide you were going to remember that moment, no matter what? and now, so many years later, you know you tried to remember them but you don't, not really. but you remember that you tried to remember them and I guess that's something.

back to miami, july 2001. right after I shot this of ward and ava, I put down the camera and put all my senses to work. I wanted to remember every detail about that moment. the brilliant turquoise, blues and greens of the ocean. the way the sky and the clouds looked, the palpable feel of the air, thick with moisture and the scent. holy smokes, the scent. a glorious mix of salt and suntan lotion. my feet in the sand, the deafening sound of the ocean. ward and ava off in the distance, playing in the water. faint squeals of delight coming from ava and the sound of splashing. the skin on my shoulders that felt hot from the sun and the trickles of sweat making their way down my back. a pile of collected shells at my feet. the fantastic breeze blowing and I remember feeling tired. but it was a good tired, a content, vacation kind of tired. and while I am fortunate to have this gorgeous photo to remind me of everything (and it is one of my all-time favorite photos), I'm happy to say that I don't really need it.

I'm not a big fan of winter, even though I was born in winter time and I love snow. we never get snow down here though, just cold dreariness and rain. february always finds me pining for summer. gimme some sweltering summer, the hotter the better. I need me a little summertime fix and a look through old photos should do the trick. well, that and a trip to the attic, where I will get out the beach towels and smell them (they still smell like the ocean and the pool). and shaking out the beach toys that still have sand on them. so, yeah. that should just about do it.

come to miami with me. more photos are here.

photobooth friday

ezra, city museum, st. louis, 2005

he's a bruiser, people. he loves to throw stuff and poke things and push elevator buttons and listen to the sound of his own voice. he's unbelievably strong-willed and stubborn and has in him a reserve of energy that is freakishly endless. and the ez loves a good spar with our mean old cat (whom I love dearly but really, she is mean and has always scared the crazy mary out of ava and all other family and friends outside of ward and myself). ezra is known for his scowl-- an intensely furrowed brow that I swear he got from my dad's side of the family. The Scowl makes an appearance when ezra is unsure of the circumstances or doesn't buy what you're saying. and now he has started in with the tantrums. ava was such a chilled-out child that we really don't have any experience in this particular arena. but ezra... ezra does that crazy, stiff arched-back thing which then forces me to put him on the ground and walk away. oh, it's a scene. and I am starting to become that woman in the grocery store that you feel sorry for, you know the one-- you've seen her out of the corner of your eye and felt something akin to pity (or horror). she is the one trying (in vain) to maintain a little dignity while holding onto said screaming wiggling toddler. my husband says it best: the ez is, by very definition, scrappy. and just a little bit punk rock.

ah, but he breaks my heart in a million little ways every single day. I am butter the moment he tries to wrap his stubby little arms around mine, lays his head on my shoulder and starts to babble softly. the beginnings of new words coming out of his tiny mouth, his signature dance (which is something like a head tilt and some stomping and an arm thing), his awareness of anyone, anything in pain and his attempts to comfort. the way he takes off running towards the door at the end of the day when he hears ward's keys in the door. personality for days, eyes as bright and as big as the moon, a laugh that should be bottled and sold all over the world. all of these things, they hit me so hard and I'm often reduced to mush, no choice but to soften.

this past weekend, we were in indianapolis (on a little family getaway centered around ward's speaking engagement). and there we were, in our hotel room at four am, ezra wide awake. I was too tired to get him to go back to sleep and so ward and I just let him wander the room while we talked about the weekend. the light from the bathroom was just enough for him to make his way around and he was thrilled with this unusual early morning grant of freedom. finally, he stopped at the small couch where ava was sleeping-- she'd kicked off the blankets (like she so often does) and was lying all curled up like a cat. he looked at her for a moment.

"ward, if that kid puts the blanket over ava, I swear. I will not be able to take it. I will pass out from cuteness and love."

and that is exactly what ezra did. he took the pink fuzzy princess blanket and gently covered her up (as best as he could) and walked away. shortly after that, he fell asleep on the bed with me.

so, he is not exactly the terror I have made him out to be. I'm not saying we don't have our hands full, don't have our work cut out for us, that we won't be getting calls from school or escape multiple trips to the emergency room. but he's destined for greatness, that kid. at least, that's what I'm willing to put money on.


more photobooth friday greatness:

ticky tacky
poppytalk
mad organica
jesC
lovegreendog
meegan blue
lisa's musings
anatomist
I'm channeling doris day

thursday love

the fabu-licious scrapalicious joy has started up a thursday love fest: 'things I love thursdays'. I think maybe one of the things I love on this particular day (which just happens to be thursday) is this 'things I love thursdays'. love is good, sharing the love is good. you can never get enough of love, or things people love. and I have self portrait tuesdays and photobooth fridays, so I could also establish meme mondays and wacky wednesdays. kind of like having a pair of underwear for each day of the week (except that we all know that I wear big ol maternity PANTEEZ). well, no-- I'm not going to do all that but I'm definitely hopping on the thursday love bandwagon.

today, I love paper. actually, I am just a little bit nutty over paper every single day of every week of every month for all of the years. I love brand new sheets of papers in bright colors and wild prints. I love crumpled up tissue paper and all kinds of stationary and the versatility of brown craft paper. most of all, I love vintage wrapping paper. I hit the motherload this past summer when I was visiting my great aunt and discovered rolls and rolls of seventies flower power wrapping paper in the basement, just waiting to see the light of day. (for temporary blindness, lookie here and here). see, my aunt worked in a paper factory and also had a difficult time throwing things away. I almost passed out, that stash was so good.

what do I do with all of this paper? I sit around and look at it. and I make collages. and cards. but mostly I just sit around and look at it and LURRRVE it.

self portrait tuesday #22 (all of me)

I'm still wearing my old maternity underwear. which, is not so much a big deal but ezra turns two this june. most women who have just given birth are dying to slap on 'real' underwear just as soon as it's humanly possible. honestly, I don't even think I stopped wearing them between carrying ava and ezra. it's all about security and comfort. these cheapo 'motherhood maternity' briefs (size large, natch) are just so roomy and forgiving that I cannot bare to place them on the b-team. instead, they proudly take their place each week in the starting line-up, a-team (all the way) and will not be sitting the bench anytime soon.

I even swiped those weird stretchy ace bandage-like postpartum things that they give you to wear right after you deliver. I grabbed as many as I could before nurse ratchett could catch me and I think I'd wear them (if any were left in my hidden stash). it's just that after they cut you open a couple of times to pull babies out of you, you feel strangely protective of that area. and I've spent a lifetime developing core strength (if you study dance, it goes way beyond the joy of a flat belly that you can bounce quarters off of). I took great pride in the fact that I'd built for myself an incredibly strong center from which I could move with great power and fluidity. then they cut you, people. and in an instant, it's gone. of course, the trade-off is phenomenal: yes, they slice you open, but then they put little people in your shaky arms that go onto become avas and ezras. I swear, I'd endure a thousand belly slicings for those two fantastic creatures. still, the power that you have come to know and love is (temporarily) gone and all of the sudden, you cry each time you have to use your abdominals to even sit up from the couch. I spent a lot of time sobbing in the bathroom, grieving the loss of those muscles, my belly, my core strength. it hasn't even been flat since high school but that was never as important to me as how strong I was. slipping into the giant-sized chalky black cotton maternity underwear always made me feel just a little bit better, a little more optimistic-- not unlike a nice cup of tea would. and what would they say if my beloved maternity underwear could talk? surely, they would whisper. (come on now/ don't be so hard on yourself/ it will all come back to you/ until then, let me comfort you with my soft polycotton blend and gentle elastic/ go ahead, pull me all the way up to your chin if you want/ I've got plenty of give/ and will always be here when you need some extra space). yes, I'm quite sure I heard them say these things to me on more than one occasion. postpartum hormones are crazy like that. and I know I might be able to get the same feelings from a brand new pair of the best granny underpants that money could buy but please-- the maternity ones have seen battle. I respect that.

I will also admit that I'm a little uncomfortable with how well the maternity underwear still fits me. meaning, there's still a mountain of work to do, baby fat to be lost and more core-strengthening to be done. I'm not a total freak, though-- I do have a couple of fancy frilly pairs in rotation, a couple of normal styles to rock from time to time. and I wouldn't refuse a shopping spree at la perla either. but for now, my scarred-up belly needs the comfort and familiarity of old friends.

(more truth can be found here and here)

get your shine on

"I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine." ~emily dickinson

photobooth friday

inspired by the fabulous liplocking action going on over at my house is cuter than yours last week and of course, lovey-dovey smoochy-woochy valenTIMES day, I decided on a kiss. photobooth kissing, so good. what I wrote on the back of this strip:

photobooth. forest fair mall. cincinnati, ohio. january 1st, 1991 (approx. 10:15 p.m.) k-i-s-s-i-n-g. ward and andrea. the RED curtain.

and I do believe there were lots of swirlies and hearts scribbled on the back too. we'd only been dating for seven months and so we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. I can't believe that was fifteen years ago. folks, I think I might be old. I'm old. or, thinking about how long ago this was makes me feel old. because it feels like it was only a couple of years ago that we were slipping behind that short polyester curtain. all the mall-going people walking by with their shopping bags, on the way to the dollar theatre or the food court. gawking at the lower halves of our bodies and wondering what we were up to in there. that's right, NO GOOD.

feast your eyes:

ticky tacky
my house is cuter than yours
I'm channeling doris day
poppytalk
jesC
cult of degan
a_bird (sewn with gold threads)
meegan blue
lovegreendog
slim whitman
aj fabulous
acumamakiki
mati rose (and also this one, which was the lovely mati rose's SPT this week, but I heart it and thus I share it)
photographic tendencies (another one originally meant for SPT but I had to post it up, too good not to)

five

hello, this one is just a little bit brilliant. this one made me get all cerebral and sentimental. welcome to memesville-- first stop is this peek at the much-loved experiences you wish you could have for the first time all over again (thank you ever so much, ticky tacky). (next up: a little something via the madness... but that's next week). mememememememememe. onto the meme.

five movies you wish you could see for the first time, again

1. amelie
2. bottlerocket
3. rize
4. shawshank redemption
5. in america

five novels you wish you could read for the first time, again

1. white oleander (janet fitch)
2. song of solomon (toni morrison)
3. slaves of new york (tama janowitz)
4. a tree grows in brooklyn (betty smith)
5. their eyes were watching God (zora neale hurston)

five places you wish you could visit for the first time, again

1. tokyo. and gifu and kyoto. because my 18 year-old self needs to be thrown into that kind of wonderful culture shock again.
2. italy (but of course). venice, florence, rome: more specifically, the moment we stepped off the train and caught sight of the grand canal. the blinding colors and the other-worldly quiet of the island of burano. the narrow streets of florence flooded with vespas and bicycles. sunflowers in tuscany. the fountains of rome and the lovely, earthy trastevere neighborhood.
3. new york city: all of it.
4. the american dance festival: to be immersed in that world again... really, I could cry just thinking about it.
5. the ocean: sounds, smells, the feeling of neverendingness. gimme gimme gimme, please.

five foods you wish you could taste for the first time, again

1. my grandma corrona's homemade bread, straight from the oven
2. fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate
3. hot beignets smothered in powdered sugar from cafe du monde (new orleans)
4. hot buttered corn-on-the-cob (cuban-style) from cafe habana (prince street, nyc)
5. real italian food: and by this I mean food eaten in the country of italy. sandwiches off the street, pastas and sauces, gelato, pastries, fruit and vegetables. because everything there tastes incredibly fresh and authentic and straight from the earth. everything melts in your mouth and commands you to slow down and enjoy it already.


five common experiences you wish you could have for the first time, again

1. kissing my husband. that first kiss-- and all those really good ones that follow that are still sweet and heavy with so much that you think you might just fly through the roof. or dissolve into a lovely pool of yes.
2. dancing. and I mean that kind of feeling you get when everything is working and you are just along for the ride. it happens in class when you get what's going on with the movement and your body follows suit and the other dancers can't take their eyes off of you because they see it. and they know what it feels like and are nodding silently, reverentially. it happens on stage during a performance (or just after) when the cotton mouth and urge to vomit leaves you and you relax and connect with the audience. and it also happens at 2 am at hole-in-the-wall joints when you think you are totally exhausted and unable to lift even your pinky toe but then they go and play michael jackson's 'wanna be startin somethin' or the p-funk or 'double dutch bus' or vintage prince and james brown and you find yourself breaking it down til four am. you stink and your clothes are probably ruined but you don't care. it's a high like no other.
3. running in the rain. I had a very spiritual experience with this once but won't go into it here. too deep.
4. going down the big BIG slide.
5. holding my babies in my arms for the first time. hearing their first deep-down belly laughs. feeling ezra wrap his little arms around me.

thank you for visiting. take a little piece of memesville home with you to share with the others. I swear they'll thank you for it.

it's VALENTIMES day

I say valentimes because that's the way I always said it as a kid. valentimes-- as in, it's time for VALENS. bring on the valens. where are my valens? I love the valens.

and I know it's all just a big commercial racket but I have never been one to say no to all the pink and redness. hearts cut from construction paper and flimsy doilies, glitter in your hair and paste all over your hands. the promise of fresh flowers and exotic chocolates wrapped in crinkly fuschia foil, I'll not say no to all that.

it's not so valentimey for me today though. I have slipped in cat puke, picked up the same crayons like, 78 times and am swimming in a sea of laundry. the clothes are all dirty so I am facing this day in sweat pants the color of mud and the size of a small midwestern town. it's either the sweats or a prom dress. this is what's clean. but don't cry for me, argentina. yesterday, I had a ball helping ava make valentines for her classmates and now we both have glitter in our hair. which is always cool. then we carefully laid out her outfit for the day (red shirt with sequined heart on the front, pink skirt with tiny red hearts, corresponding heart jewelry and barrettes and of course-- red sparkly shoes). we even had the time to put together a little valentine tree (a last minute, somewhat feeble attempt, nothing like this one or this one, all hail the masters... thanks for the inspiration, girls). so I got my VALENTIMES fix and I'm okay to slip in the cat puke and go on with my life. and maybe I'll have a little more time for the valens later on.

happy valentimes day, all my people. hope you get some valens. or give some valens. or both. always make time for the valens.

(p.s. happy birthday, valentimes-girl carlene... my mother-in-law, who is just one of the most fabulous women in the world.)

(we just get down)

I've got a weird thing where I occasionally (randomly) feel I must break into cheer. something in my bones that I have no control over, something held over from my long ago days as a cheerleader. and it's not so much the cheering that I feel compelled to do but the syncopated rhythms of the clapping and stomping. our wood floors are perfect for this and nothing could be more satisfying to me than the deep boom of my stomping feet. it's a startling event that my family is finally starting to get used to-- ward tolerates it (as he does so many of my quirks) but I am secretly training ava and ezra to love my ways. when the stomping echoes through the house, ezra comes running as fast as his little legs will carry him. he doesn't have the rhythm down yet, but he can really work those feet, baby. and ava jumps right in without skipping a beat. my girl is starting to come at it with her own angle too (flapper girl slash cheerleader). nothing pleases me more than to see that fringe swinging and those arms flying. not that I want her to become a cheerleader or anything. I just dig her interpretation.

and speaking of randomness-- the other day, ava asked me what clouds taste like. my answer was not scientific but more in the vein of fantasy. yo if I can't give her the facts than you can bet I'm going to teach her to work that imagination.

monday morning speculation: what do clouds taste like?

photobooth friday

meet bill and georgia, my maternal grandparents.

bill was a printer (which may explain my love affair with typography) and had his own small farm. he died when I was five, so my memories of him are faint. what I do remember is that he used to get a big kick out of my impromptu tap dancing. I had plastic white dime store sandals that made great clickety-clacking sounds and begged to double as tap shoes. at his request, I danced my little four year-old heart out. this would be my last memory of him-- his slight smile. bill was not one to show a great deal of emotion and so I knew (even at the tender age of four) that his chuckle was not to be taken lightly. I felt as if I'd won a special kind of trophy with his small grin and am girlishly proud of it (even today). besides running a printing shop, he also owned a farm where he lovingly tended apple trees, sunflowers, tomatoes, corn and such. his home-baked bread was legendary as were the lawnmower rides he took all the grandkids on each time we visited. grandpa bill also sent the greatest, most magical packages-- boxes wrapped neatly in brown paper, filled with special valentine, easter, and birthday goodies. my cousin recently reminded me of the time he sent us all flashlights-- which doesn't seem like anything until you remember just how much fun a flashlight can be for a kid. so brilliant, that package full of flashlights. yet there's also a darkness to his past. though now is not the time or place. today I'm all about remembering goodness. he remains a tremendous mystery to me, this photobooth shot one tiny piece of an unsolvable puzzle.

georgia helped bill run the printing shop and sold office supplies on the side. she loved antiques, though-- bought, sold and collected them over and over. (in fact, she just may be responsible for two whole generations of hardcore junk lovers). after my grandpa died, her love for antiques and oddities spilled over into the office supply shop. you could walk in and pick up some legal pads, a nice fountain pen and perhaps an old clock or some fine china. she's a great mystery to me too, my grandma. she's still living, though her mind is not her own most days. I have stunning photobooth shots of her, can't wait to share them here and am saving my words and memories of her until then.

this tiny photobooth snapshot was discovered just recently as my mom was organizing some of my grandmother's papers. up until this point, we had only formal portrait-style photographs of the two of them together, very few candids. I gasped when I first laid eyes on this. I love how shockingly intimate it is-- they're so young and beautiful and well, sexy. so much story there, so much I'll never know. I'll take what I can get though-- forever grateful for this small glimpse. besides, mystery is the stuff from which great imagination is made.


more photobooth friday fabulousness to be found:

my house is cuter than yours
mad organica
jesC
lovegreendog
jackie
cult of degan

and just in case you missed it, check out ticky tacky's photobooth friday post from last week (here). it's what inspired me this morning.

WORLD'S LARGEST AQUARIUM

really, I just wanted an excuse to write about the WORLD'S LARGEST AQUARIUM. because that's what we have in atlanta now-- the WORLD'S LARGEST AQUARIUM. and it must be written in all caps because if it's the world's largest then come on, a person's got to come correct and give propers. we visited last sunday, though only briefly because the joint sells out like, everyday. we went with the sole mission to get our photos taken for our season passes (manymanymanymany thanks, by the way, to my fabulous mom and pops-in-law for this most magnificent christmas present) but then (once we'd been frisked) we were in like flynn. took a little sneaky peek around and people, this place is The Shizz. we were only able to take in a fraction of the WORLD'S LARGEST AQUARIUM, but wow. moon jellies (lookie lookie here!) and entire schools of manta rays that seemed to be flying above our heads like a flock of birds (lookie lookie here!). as we were leaving, we heard the shrill sounds of seals, which caught us all a little off guard, judging from the bewildered looks on my children's faces. ava hasn't stopped with the when-are-we-going-back-I-need-to-go-back-I-need-to-see-the-jellies-plus-you-promised-me-a-treat-from-the-gift-shop-please-please-please-AREWEGOINGTOMORROWANDIFNOTTHENWHENAREWEGOING??? the child wants to go back and who can blame her? so do I. I plan on using the crap out of those season passes. after all, it's the WORLD'S LARGEST AQUARIUM. living the life aquatic is what I'm looking forward to.

self portrait tuesday #21 (all of me)

ah, such gorgeous scenery. the grand canal in venice. an outdoor cafe in san gimignano. a venetian alleyway. apparently, I slept my way through it all. unfortunately, there are many MANY more shots like this and not just from our trip to italy. I save them all in a special box, I don't know why. I just can't bring myself to throw them away. um, I hate the sight of them but they also make me laugh and laugh and laugh.

this month's self portrait tuesday challenge 'all of me' is not going to be an easy one but let's face it-- flaws are fascinating. and sometimes beautiful. and gross and funny too. because wouldn't it be just the most boring world ever if we walked around as perfect flawless robot-like creatures? yes, YES it would. so bring on the realness. let's have a big party every tuesday and love on all the crazy/kooky/sad/painful/lovely/funny/weird/gross/beautiful/ugly photographs and celebrate the flaws.

(next week: my feet in all their cracked, torn and grimy post-dance class glory. it's going to be OFF THE CHAIN. you know you can't wait.)

more truth and honesty here and here.

four things

tagged by the lovely, lovely kristyn and bee-yoo-tee-ful jenny with this one and we all know how I feel about memes. plus, have you noticed how this one has made serious rounds? hello, dooce? keri? didn't know you girls could slum it with us down here in memesville. one two three four, here I go:


four jobs I’ve had:

1. concessions girl: sold skittles and mountain dew to cute sweaty boys for a couple of summers at my dad's basketball camps. not a bad gig.
2. server/waitstaff for one of atlanta's oldest (as in old southern money) country clubs: not particularly enamored with the whole country club scene but would be lying if I said I didn't love working those glitzy wedding receptions. in the belly of the obnoxiously overindulgent wedding reception beast-- this is where I learned how to set a gorgeous table, fold elegant white cloth napkins into impossible shapes and serve champagne like a pro. and because rich folk don't do doggie bags, leftover fresh flowers and fancy wedding cake to take home. word.
3. program director for non-profit dance education organization in inner city atlanta: moving in the spirit (stepping stones program). a job I loved but had to leave behind when I became a mother.
4. dance teacher: mainly modern and creative movement but also: african and hip hop. can fake my way through ballet if I have to. ages 3-63 in schools, afterschool programs, shelters, juvenile detention centers, studios. it's what I always saw myself doing, what I went to college for and how I'll be rocking it at age 94. god willing.


four movies I can watch over and over:

1. bottlerocket
2. slaves of new york
3. crooklyn
4. flirting with disaster


four places I’ve lived:

1. salem, illinois: small town in the southern half, two hours east of st. louis.
2. cincinnati, ohio: made the big move my junior year of high school. my brothers and I were so happy to be getting out of salem, we wept tears of joy.
3. durham, north carolina: rented a room from a nice old couple three blocks from duke university for two summers while studying at the american dance festival.
4. atlanta, georgia: wow, since 1991.


four tv shows I love:

1. project runway
2. the office
3. arrested development
4. seinfeld reruns


four places I’ve vacationed:

1. new york city: again and again and again.
2. florida: miami, navarre beach and indian shores.
3. new orleans: honeymoon in the french quarter. took ava and ezra to stay in the same little bohemian hotel on our ten year wedding anniversary.
4. italy: venice, florence, san gimignano and rome (most amazing thirteen days of my life).


four of my favorite foods:

1. pizza with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes
2. cherries: fresh, frozen, dried
3. baked sweet potato 'fries' with raspberry dipping sauce
4. homemade red velvet cake: I bake it (from scratch using an old recipe) once a year for my birthday.


four albums I can't live without:

1. mos def: black on both sides
2. mum: finally we are no one
3. lauryn hill: the miseducation of lauryn hill
4. ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong: ella and louis again (what ward and were listening to together whilst we fell madly in LOOOVE).


four sites I visit almost daily:

1. wardomatic: I'm a do right woman.
2. flickr: obsessed with flickr.
3. ebay: got my eye on some pretties.
4. so many blogs, people. SO MANY BLOGS: take a looky at my linkies. all that and then some.


four places I would rather be now:

1. new york city: wandering the streets, taking photographs, letting the day happen. or sweating my way through alexander beller's phenomenal modern class. whatever you got, I'll take it.
2. the ocean: shell-hunting with my kids, breathing in thick salty air, screaming at the waves.
3. city museum: flying down three-story steel tube slides with the ava-girl, getting covered in paint and glitter while making kooky paper hats, spending way too much time and money in the photobooth at beatnik bob's.
4. italy: with ava and ezra and ward. fields of heavy-headed sunflowers (ripe for romping), cross country train rides, roman fountains and creamy gelato on the spanish steps.
*BUT ALSO: in art class (making collages), at the fleamarket or on a hot date with ward. oh wait, that's five. six, seven places I'd rather be. I hereby declare myself free of all meme rules. starting... now.


four items in my purse (bonus round courtesy of madness, via marigoldie):

1. broken crayons
2. 53 different tubes of lip gloss (yes, I need them ALL)
4. bright red super-duper bouncy ball
5. faux fur change purse with pennies for the fountain at fellini's


and this is the part where I tag four others but this meme has been all over the place and I don't remember who, what, what, when, how or why. so if you haven't done this one, tag. YOU'RE IT.

photobooth friday

city museum, st. louis, 2004


city museum, st. louis, 2005

squeezing the entire family into that small booth and scoring (marginally) decent photos two years in a row may very well be one of my finer life accomplishments. especially with mr. wiggly vonSquirmington. (and don't you love how we gave him a dollar to keep him happy? you better believe mommy drenched those little hands in sanitizer the minute we stepped out of the booth).

behold the photobooth friday love:

my house is cuter than yours
I'm channeling doris day
jesC
ticky tacky
meegan blue
lovegreendog
persnickety me
lulu's world

(yo, if you got some to share, give me a holler... either here in the comments or via email. I'll add you to the list lickety-split)

like he said

"every child is an artist. the problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up." pablo picasso

currently taken with the notion that she never left me. very willing to get my hands dirty these days though I am much more critical and less willing to experiment than I ever remember being. what happens to us? chipping away to see if the wild-style freeform painter/drawer/gluer/project girl still resides in this skin. I think that's a little bit of her in the photo above, attempting to resurface.

(embarking on my first ever postcard swap)