19 May 2019

170/365

sunday scents:

mint leaves
bonfire smoke
honeysuckle

I don't need much else, really.

18 May 2019

169/365

summer twenty seventeen//23

things I miss, part three:

first kisses
the pacific ocean
rotary phones
downtown cincinnati
nineties hip hop

17 May 2019

168/365

books checked out from the library:

easy growing (gayla trail)
herb gardening from the ground up (sal gilbertie/larry sheehan)
small plot big harvest (lucy halsall)
the anxious gardner's book of answers (teri dunn chace)

if this gives you any idea where my head is these days.

16 May 2019

167/365

summer twenty seventeen//14

things seen today:

a hummingbird just outside the window
a banana the size of a human person at the thrift store
the first nasturtium seed sprout in my garden
a bird with a piece of white plastic in her mouth
the very first lightning bug of the season

15 May 2019

166/365

things that feel like a betrayal:

every time an ad appears somewhere it shouldn't
every time my hair defiantly curls under on its own
every time something I've loved for a really long time goes mainstream
every time blogger auto switches my font from helvetica to georgia
every time I see (and hear) that horrible pharmaceutical commercial jingle that uses the jackson five's ABC 

14 May 2019

165/365

places I'd like to spend the night, part two:

in this super pink love nest
in this here joshua tree hacienda
in pretty much any one of these european sleeper cars, going anywhere, any time

13 May 2019

164/365

places I'd like to spend the night, part one:

in this lil idaho potato
in this old airport terminal
in one of these here trailers with a rainbow blanket on the bed

12 May 2019

163/365

Untitled

things my mother taught me:

how to be silly
how to be generous
how to pick strawberries and blackberries
how to make a lot with a little
how to bake brownies from scratch
how to make a home feel like home
how to make birthdays inordinately special
how to cultivate collections
how to honor family heirlooms
how to make the library a regular part of life
how to keep a prayer journal
how to road trip on a shoestring budget
how to wrap presents all pretty-like
how to paint nails all pretty-like
how to look at things realistically
how to make christmas feel like magic
how to put on a pair of pantyhose
how to throw a humdinger of a yard sale
how to rock mary kay cosmetics
how to work the fleamarket like a pro
how to bake red velvet cake 
how to bake gooey butter cake
how to make groceries stretch for days
how to care for people
how to love God
how to be thankful
how to laugh
how to cry

I miss you, mom.

11 May 2019

162/365

summer twenty seventeen//6

songs I can't stop singing:

just a lil tack in the shingle of your roof (reverend howard finster)
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me (the mountain goats)
dreams, take 2 (fleetwood mac)

no really, I can't stop. 

10 May 2019

161/365

things I had trouble with today:

the meeting of a deadline
the writing of this list

09 May 2019

160/365

sounds recently heard, noted, enjoyed:

a cassette tape rewinding
ezra asleep in the next room
the hiss of the kettle
the heaviest rain
a thunderous gaggle of kids at the art museum
birds in the backyard
joni mitchell on vinyl
a million migrating monarch butterflies
the faint ring-ring of ava's bicycle bell as she rode up the driveway
the grinding of coffee beans (because, I know what this means)

08 May 2019

159/365

words I had to stop and look up in the dictionary last month:

impecunious
conflagration
nascent
declension
stentorian
vertiginous
obstreperous

07 May 2019

158/365

photobooth friday

things that happened on this day, twenty-nine years ago:

decided I liked this one guy
let him kiss me
fell in love

(we were babies)

06 May 2019

157/365

hopeful things:

seed packets
train tickets
rolls of film
new notebooks
morning

04 May 2019

155/365

monday**

things I'm excited to plant this week:

sunflowers
zinnias
mint
basil
spinach
rosemary
cosmos
chamomile
lemon balm
daisies
peppers
oregano
nasturtiums
cherry tomatoes
so many cherry tomatoes

03 May 2019

154/365

books I read in april:

sleeping by the mississippi (alec soth)
the clothing of books (jhumpa lahiri)
little fires everywhere (celeste ng)
becoming (michelle obama)
shrill: notes from a loud woman (lindy west)
the yellow wallpaper (charlotte perkins gilman)

02 May 2019

153/365

things I want to remember about april:

my feet in the ocean
easter sunday with my dad
the beginnings of a garden
the sound of ava's bicycle bell
typewriter poetry 
hours and hours in old savannah book shops
the girl in the peach prom dress at three o'clock on a wednesday afternoon
live oaks, spanish moss
the words of carrie mae weems, live
new leaf on the plant near the window, slowly unfurling
the mashing of potatoes
the comfort of cable television in budget motel rooms
the kids riding bikes to the underpass 
record store day at wuxtry
joni mitchell on luminous blue vinyl
ava's art scholarship, sunlight on her face
lemon yellow ranunculus
thick air, soft air
the facing of a monumental fear
the tiny pink flowers ezra brought me
an easter egg hunt for teenagers
a small assortment of collected shells
the zip-whir sounds of the SX-70
william christenberry at the high with ward
ezra's vase, the shine in his eyes
the first cookout of the season
paradise garden on the very last day of the month
the beginnings of all the honeysuckle

01 May 2019

152/365

on this first day of may:

plans, considered
breeze, appreciated
honeysuckle, noted

30 April 2019

151/365

today:

a short road trip
a little adventure
a major work project

I feel alive.

29 April 2019

150/365

Untitled

things that hang on my wall:

ava's painted sun, circa 2004
small embroidered daisies, bought for a dollar at salvation army last month
nina simone's album here comes the sun, bought for a quarter at salvation army twenty years ago
a painting ezra made of a polaroid I took while standing at the top of black rock mountain
stay gold printed in gold ink, on black paper
an old photograph of my mom and dad holding me and my little brother
an embroidered piece of a photo I took of ava made for me by the inimitable shana 
a small card, hand painted by the inimitable annie of three fish studios
a record album cover ward designed for me for our twentieth wedding anniversary
abstract geometrics, in the softest of ice cream colors
a polaroid I took of ava in palm springs while traveling across the country back in 2014, perhaps my most favorite polaroid I have ever taken, of one of my most treasured memories, ever

28 April 2019

149/365

things I'm tired of doing:

eating soft foods
cleaning all the things
investing in friendships that are clearly dead
worrying about things I can't control
and, if I'm being completely honest, making lists

27 April 2019

spring polaroid week

delacroix

seafood

wormsloe

cigars

alabama

pink

I've been participating in polaroid week for eleven years now. eleven years. which I find quite hard to believe. forever grateful for the inspiration and encouragement this community has provided over the years and will now say what I always say: polaroid week over on flickr feels like the last true bastion of authentic internet community. 

(above polaroids were some of my offerings to the group this past week)

148/365

things that helped me survive this week:

the beginning of a small raised bed garden
spring polaroid week
cardinal sightings

26 April 2019

147/365

things I survived this week:

the painting of the bathroom
a tooth extraction
the internet

25 April 2019

146/365

things that can always be found in my refrigerator:

almond milk
maraschino cherries
cheese
like, a lot of cheese
oranges
so many oranges
an assortment of jams 
the magical box of magical condiment packets, fully organized
film

24 April 2019

145/365

friday*

currently inspired by:

serious prismatics
a library on a bicycle
zadie smith on alvin ailey
old fashioned street photography
old family photographs painted as large scale murals
polaroid week favorites
easter sunday joy

23 April 2019

144/365

things you hear in a modern dance class, part one:

your pelvis is a bowl
broaden your scapula
let the top of your head float
move in full sentences
let your weight take you
carve out space 
unfurl your spine

(maaaaaaan I miss it)

22 April 2019

143/365

chicago

it's spring polaroid week and so far, I've got three favorites:

these hands
these colors
this self-portrait 

21 April 2019

142/365

messages put in the plastic eggs today for the easter egg hunt:

"this is a magic egg, I'm serious"
"redeem this slip of paper for a magical penny from the magical jar of magical pennies"
"redeem this slip of paper for a magical condiment packet from the magical box of magical condiment packets"
"you are hereby required to give all your orange jelly beans to mom aka aunt andrea"
"hop like a bunny or forfeit your easter candy"
"if you are reading this slip of paper that means you are alive and that should be prize enough"
"for real though I will take you to sonic"

20 April 2019

141/365

things I cannot live without, part two:

ezra's laugh
oranges
God

19 April 2019

140/365

today:

watched it rain for hours
sat and talked with my dad
watched old video footage of my kids as children and it broke me

18 April 2019

139/365

list 34

small pleasures, part seven:

bicycle bells
whistling tea kettles
bundles of ranunculus
the moment the photobooth spits out your strip
tiny paper umbrellas
the last doughnut
blue hour

17 April 2019

138/365

things I miss, part two:

reading to my kids at bedtime
driving down the 101
summers at ADF
life before iphones
card catalogs

16 April 2019

137/365

cascarones

things I'm doing this week:

painting walls white
cutting dogwood branches to bring inside
shooting for polaroid week
working on a new piece for uppercase
making cascarones for easter
hoarding orange jelly beans
opening all the windows, all the livelong day

15 April 2019

136/365

things I told myself today:

it's a gift to have laundry to do
it's a gift to have a body able to do the work laundry requires 
it's a gift to have access to a laundromat where clothes can by washed and dried
it's a gift to have a car that will take me to said laundromat and then back home again
it's a gift 
it's a gift
it's a gift

(I do believe this)
(even if it sounds like I don't)

14 April 2019

march in photographs

march
march
march
march

march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march
march

135/365

running lists I keep as the year unfolds:

art seen
films seen
books read
places stood
places traveled
foods eaten
words learned
things learned
small victories
moments I want to remember

13 April 2019

134/365

wall of good

record stores I have loved:

criminal records (atlanta)
wax-n-facts (atlanta)
mississippi records (portland)
jackpot (portland)
everybody's records (cincinnati)
peaches records (new orleans)
wuxtry (athens)
wuxtry (atlanta)

(spent some time at wuxtry today)
(happy record store day, y'all)

12 April 2019

133/365

pink

things worth celebrating this glorious friday:

level seventeen reached in french
solid foods now properly digestible
ava's art scholarship

(AVA'S ART SCHOLARSHIP!)

11 April 2019

132/365

things I am profoundly grateful for today:

ginger ale
soda crackers
library books
cool washcloths
ice chips
open windows
netflix

(I cannot remember the last time I was this sick)

10 April 2019

131/365

brushes with celebrity (the order in which they occurred):

evander holyfield, in the stairwell at an ailey show 
digable planets (sans ladybug mecca), on a brooklyn street corner, right after their first album came out 
kriss kross, at an atlanta movie theatre concession stand, whom I inexplicably felt compelled to tell just "how great I thought cherry slushies were"
sigourney weaver, at the moma gift shop, towering over the art books
lauren graham, at a los angeles antique shop, bored 
isaac mizrahi, in the village, walking a teeny tiny toy dog 
andre 3000, at an atlanta movie theatre, wearing a periwinkle silk turban
I REPEAT, ANDRE 3000 AT A MOVIE THEATRE, WEARING A PERIWINKLE SILK TURBAN
carrie brownstein, at my target in portland, looking at the same cheapo clothes I was
natalie portman, shopping for vintage on the lodekka bus while I was working there, wearing a trench coat and sunglasses and bejeweled flip flops in the middle of summer
maggie gyllenhaal and peter sarsgaard, in park slope, magical land of magical brownstones, yoga mats in tow

09 April 2019

130/365

saturday's red

streets I'd walk down right now, if I could, part one:

doyer street (new york)
burnside ave (portland)
royal street (new orleans)

08 April 2019

129/365

words I had to stop and look up in the dictionary last month:

truculent
querulous
propinquity
untinctured
impecunious
connubial
panegyric

07 April 2019

128/365

things I cannot live without, part one:

the library
the ocean

06 April 2019

127/365

things seen on the drive home today:

rotted barns
tiny towns
uprooted trees
barbeque shacks
yard sales
ominous clouds
confederate flags

05 April 2019

126/365

things we stopped the car for today:

boiled peanuts
a road lined with live oak trees
a hand painted PEACHES sign 
googie architecture
a coke from mcdonalds
a favorite book store
pimento cheese
coffee
coffee
coffee

04 April 2019

125/365

things found today:

a jellyfish, beached
unusual calling cards
a pen shell, nearly completely intact
a hidden spiral staircase
the village lip lickers lip balm from my childhood
a coppery colored olive
small pieces of driftwood
an old photograph of five women standing at the stern of a boat
a teeny tiny eastern auger
soft air

03 April 2019

124/365

portraits I desperately wanted to make today:

of the woman in the calico bonnet, sitting next to the fountain
of the girl wearing the peach-colored prom gown on a tuesday afternoon
of the guy scream singing rock the casbah, cigarette dangling

02 April 2019

123/365

books I read in march:

how art can make you happy (bridget watson payne)
the complete stories (zora neale hurston)
pride and prejudice (jane austen)

01 April 2019

122/365

on this first day of april:

jokes, played
donuts, devoured
nails, painted
suitcases, packed
spring break, sprung

31 March 2019

121/365

things I want to remember about march:

electric yellow forsythia
the making of a buttery oniony heavenly marcella tomato sauce
the making of it again and again 
my first silent book club
ezra's sculpture on exhibit, my heart burst wide open
a box of clothes from the nineties, unearthed
the ordering of a clear bubble umbrella
sumo oranges, gold nugget mandarins
the sky on fire over ponce
things I wanted to tell my newly sixteen year-old niece and her friends, but didn't
sunrise over the city, twenty-one floors up, hotel like a space ship
marshmallow peeps received from my dad in the mail, handwritten letter, twenty dollar bill taped to the box
flower petals like paper confetti, all over our driveway
swirling in shopping mall parking lots, on highways and sidewalks
caught in veinous concrete cracks underneath the most unremarkable parkways
papery petals everywhere, I tell you, the onslaught of spring 
my hands drawn by ava, exquisitely, on a monday afternoon
the sketchbook of hellos, thrifted
the kids in the hammock, reading 
nape of my neck now completely bare, tufts of hair at my feet
my favorite rauschenberg on the very last day of the month
honey light in the living room around seven, finally
and that cardinal song