big fat sack of yes

my brand new very occasional part-time gig: filling in for lovely erin over at lodekka (the 1965 double decker bus turned vintage dress shop). I'll tell you, I really sort of love it. and so does my camera.

number seven

number seven off the list and no small task, my friends. fifty-seven undeveloped rolls of film from years 2000-2006. or earlier maybe, who knows? some are labeled, some aren't. I'm telling you, this is it. no more messing around. they're all getting developed, every last roll. and I'll be sharing the best ones here.

thanksgiving day

the day was a bit of a blur. but a beautiful one. happy thanksgiving, friends.

and we're brining

the truth is that I'm 41 years old and this is the first year I've roasted a turkey. on my own. things got off to a bit of a rough start (thanks in part to yesterday's minor grocery store meltdown) but we're back on track. turkey= currently in fridge brining. BRINING. I don't think I even knew what that word meant up until a few days ago. I've heard the word thrown around but people, cooking is not my thing. I do just enough to get by. thus, I do not know words like brine. but the nice lady working the meat department suggested it (as did a hundred other people on the internets) and now I think I want to brine everything. mostly so I can say the word brine.

thankful

thankful is the word over at words to shoot by. thankful for these three amazing people. also, thankful to be able to photograph them with some pretty amazing instant film. 

you totally should

again with the vinyl stickers. always a good time, always.

you totally will

written by a seven year-old ava five years ago as part of this secret mission, saved and promptly taped to the bathroom mirror. five years of looking at it while I wash my face and apply various fancy-like moisturizers. while I brush my teeth and pretend to floss. while I inspect my face for any and/or all flaws, notice new lines and imperfections. five years and still, it lifts my spirits. it helps me remember.

and on a somewhat related note: this made me happy.

this might be

my favorite polaroid. that I have ever taken, ever. my favorite photograph of ezra, ever. because all I did was follow him down the street, SX-70 in hand. I did not ask him to wear the hat, did not tuck the orange plastic water gun in his front pocket. I did not tell him to turn and look at me through binoculars. it's just who he was in that moment. ezra, brave explorer of the neighborhood. ezra, two whole years ago. ezra, age six. 

which is why it's worth more than all the money in the world to me. (and then some).

you ride the wave

it washes over you while you are standing in the christmas aisle at target. while you are looking at little cardboard christmas houses that light up. you are not even thinking about it. and then you are. around you, people are buying string lights and pillow cases and giant bags of cat food. you are pushing your plastic red cart down crowded aisles and then you are crying. in public. you are crying in public. you never cry in public.

it sneaks up on you while you are reading a book to your eight year-old son. bam. there it is. you struggle to read the words, to finish even one sentence. you are too tired to tell him why but you tell him anyway because you can't hide it forever. you finish the chapter, climb out of his bed into your own and fall into a deep, boneless sleep. if you could, you'd sleep forever.

it knocks the wind out of you while you are driving. when the sun is shining and the radio is on and your mind is in seventeen different places. you grip the wheel and ride the wave. you want to pull over but you don't. you roll down the window instead. and you ride the wave.

this is grief.

for a second, I forgot where I was

we drove to the coast and she let me talk and talk and talk until I couldn't anymore. then we ran to the ocean, head first into ridiculous rain and wind. also, there was food. and shopping. the end.

this is the thinking

if I am all about images and one liners and quotations here then I am probably off having a little adventure. or trying to.

happy friday

I love friday. and saturday and sunday. but mostly, friday.

exactly

"I start in the middle of a sentence and move both directions at once." -john coltrane

lost san francisco, part two

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as promised, part two. thing is, I've been to san francisco many many times since The Great October Trip of 2010. so, you know. more lost polaroids and all that. but I'll get to it, I will. one of these days. 

one: ward, ezra, newly purchased lucha libre masks. two: the mission. three, four: alemany farmers market. five: victoria's kitchen. six: where ezra took one bite of his burrito and immediately proclaimed his love for the city of san francisco. seven, eight: community thrift, valencia street. nine: the way back home. 

lost san francisco, part one

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hard to believe it's been two years since that first solo show of mine in the mission. since that time we packed the car up, took the kids out of school for a week and headed south to san francisco for opening night. well, and a few other adventures along the way. harder still to believe: I've been sitting on these polaroids for two years now. actually, I've been sitting on a whole world of polaroids. I don't know, people. sometimes things just get lost.

one: a ten year-old ava and the golden gate bridge. two: seen on victoria's street. three: that guy of mine in the middle of magic muir woods. four: leslie and salted caramel ice cream. five: bi-rite in the mission. six: me, victoria's bathroom. seven:  yep, victoria's sweet stove. eight: cutest little launderette you ever did see. nine: lovely leslie and the golden gate bridge. and the cape. my goodness THE CAPE.

well, that didn't take long

five short days in to this nablopomo thing and dangit if I haven't already missed a day. I'm telling you, I do this every. single. year. am nothing if not predictable. blaming it on election day stress. get out there and vote, people. meanwhile, I shall pull together a proper set of words and images. and it shall be epic and it shall make up for the sins of yesterday.

sunday night

and the house is quiet. am thinking about the week ahead. banana bread, book club, mail-in ballot. undeveloped rolls of film, unpaid bills, new shower curtain. I can't help it, I think in lists. at some point this week, I will: complain about laundry. fall asleep with the lights on. cry about my mom.

it'd be so much easier to just share photographs here. just photographs, all the time. but words are important. even when I can't seem to find the right ones.

trying

always trying. always, always.

the summer of

it was the summer ezra learned to ride his bike. the summer of the daisy, the strawberry, the raspberry. the popsicle, the sno-cone, the cherry-dipped ice cream cone. the summer of epic train trips and legendary downtown fountains. of heated games of croquet and kickball, of leaps over lawn sprinklers and lightning bugs in glass jars. it was the summer of the broken hammock, the broken hearted, the almost yard sale. of day camp and sleep away camp, of endless sleepovers and BFFs. the summer of turquoise nail polish, neon anything and mustaches on everything. the summer ava and I took our first big trip together, the summer we walked across the golden gate bridge. the summer of eight, the summer of twelve. the last summer I spent with my mom, the summer of goodbye. 

it was the summer of love.