things my cousin taught me:
how to put on make-up
(use various shades of powdery eyeshadow to create the illusion of glamour and finish the look off with the blackest mascara you have and you never, ever forget strawberry roller ball lip gloss)
how to dance at the teens-only nightclub with complete and total confidence
(bounce, you bounce a lot, and you look off into the distance)
how to make sure all the conditioner is out of your hair
(rinse and rinse and rinse til strands of hair squeak between your fingers)
how to pack for camp
(you make several lists and then you talk about it on the phone for hours and buy all your travel-size toiletries like, seventeen months in advance)
how to pull off the most legendary of camp pranks
(you color in your cousin's nose with a black permanent marker while she is sleeping and then, incredibly, you fall asleep while doing it so that your cousin sleeps on the marker all night and wakes up to to find a kidney-sized black stain and thinks, for a second, she is actually bleeding black blood)
how to apologize for the most legendary of camp pranks
(you stop laughing when your cousin is unable to wash the permanent black marker off her nose and you hug her and tell her you will replace the cute sheets she bought specifically for this week of camp and you tell her she can pull any prank she wants on you, any prank at all and you won't be mad and then you tell her, again, how much you love her and that her nose really does not look that bad and that there might still be a chance with some of the seventh grade boys and that someday we will look back on this and laugh)
how to do all the thriller moves
(you watch the VHS tape of the video a hundred million times and you practice together until you are convinced you are better than the actual dancers in the video)
how to make family thanksgiving dinners fun
(you hide small pieces of turkey and globs of mashed potatoes in people's drinks when they are not looking and then sit back and watch)
how to send the very best letters and packages
(you cut up your own paper confetti to pack into envelopes and you write funny letters and you individually wrap little presents and you just magically have the best timing)
how to be generous and kind
(you lend your very best outfit to the girl at camp who has nothing, you tell her she can borrow any of your clothes any time and then, at the end of the week, you tell her to keep that special outfit, to take it home with her and you never mention it, you never say a word about it)
how to work the fleamarket like a pro
(you show up on early-early buyer day and you make friends with all your favorite dealers and you are not too proud to dig through boxes of junk and you see the possibility in the strangest of things and you wheel and deal and make sure to stop every once in a while to fuel up on corndogs and lemonade and mini cinnamon sugar donuts)
how to help throw the best kid birthday parties
(you show up with a suitcase full of pink and red things for the big pink and red birthday party and you help fill the pinata and wrangle five year-olds and man the cherry sno-cone station like a boss)
how to take care of someone you love when their mom dies
(you show up and you just hug them and cry with them and you help them do all the stuff, like figure out how to get all the flowers home from the funeral and organize all the food for the wake at the house and then help clean up everything afterwards and then you take all the kids to the mall and let them buy stuff at claire's boutique and the candy shop)
(happy 50th birthday, cousin) (I love you and I really don't know what life would be like without you)
victorian slang I would please like to bring back:
"sauce box" (mouth)
"fly rink" (polished bald head)
"gas-pipes" (especially tight pants)
"chuckaboo" (close friend)
"bricky" (brave, fearless)
"got the morbs" (temporary melancholy)
"giggle mug" (habitually smiling face)
"make a stuffed bird laugh" (absolutely preposterous)
"don't sell me a dog" (don't lie to me)
"powdering hair" (getting drunk)
"half-rats" (partially drunk)
"mad as hops" (excitable)
"batty fang" (to thrash thoroughly)
"take the egg" (to win)
"bags 'o' mystery" (sausage)
"bow wow mutton" (really bad meat)
"skilamalink" (secret, shady)
"bubble around" (verbal attack)
"whooperups" (inferior, noisy singers)
"church bell" (talkative woman)
"afternoonified" (smart)
"nanty narking" (great fun)
"daddles" (hands)
(more here)
things I believed as a child that might not have been true:
I believed it was physically impossible for any human being to eat an entire dairy queen banana split in one sitting
I believed that cher actually stopped in our small southern illinois farm town (on a weekday, mind you) to eat lunch at the local pizza hut
I believed, wholeheartedly, that the high school gym was named after my dad jim, because, I mean, he was the high school basketball coach and spent the majority of his time there and my seven year-old self thought, well, why else would they call it that
things smuggled into movie theatres:
slices of pizza
jam jars filled with cake
bottles of mexican coke
cheese and crackers
junior mints, of course
cans of hard cider
breakfast burritos
marshmallow peeps
clementines
things that make me feel like a new woman:
a quick bike ride
a spritz of rosewater
the right pair of boots
eight solid hours of sleep
a new tube of lipstick
a good haircut
a good cry
things I sometimes do on sundays:
bake stuff
sing hymns
take naps
strangers who have inspired me, part one:
the older woman at the thrift store yesterday who tried out the pogo stick and landed, quite spectacularly, with a loud crash near the office supplies but just laughed and got right back up
the guy on the skateboard who moved with his entire body, like a dancer, on a sliver of sidewalk, who sailed past gas stations and drug stores and so many dumb cars as if he was riding some invisible wave
the guy in our neighborhood who walks every single day, slowly, deliberately, as if his life depends on it
little life lessons learned recently:
when sweetening one's coffee and there is no sugar or honey or sweetener of any kind to be found, strawberry jam will absolutely not work in a pinch
when purchasing a curling iron at the thrift store, a quick check for the (intact) protective little rubber bit on the end of the handle would be wise-- otherwise, one will legit need oven mitts to use said iron and one will look legit ridiculous doing it
maybe don't put so many plants in one pot
things I am excited about:
a new street photography project
a newly acquired old varsity schwinn bike
the celebration of a pretty significant anniversary
things I miss, part five:
pillow forts
early nineties thrifting
RC cola in frosty aluminum cups
dip-and-dunk photobooths
the soaking pool
things seen on a long sunday drive:
tire swings
old train depots
roadside wildflowers
peaches (exit 31)
churches (still in session)
cemeteries next door to gas stations
billowy clouds in my rearview mirror
waffle house
waffle house, always
places I would please like to be magically transported to, part one:
a small alleyway in palermo
beneath the redwood giants in muir woods
the fourth floor of powell's books
I just, I wish there was a button.
personal quirks, part two:
often throws blankets over small piles of clutter
often processes anger and frustration through rage vacuuming
unable to make even a simple grocery or to-do list without re-writing it until it is in perfect order
book stores I have loved, in no particular order:
cloud & leaf (manzanita, oregon)
faulkner house (new orleans, louisiana)
strand bookstore (new york, new york)
the book lady (savannah, georgia)
shakespeare & company (paris, france)
ohio book store (cincinnati, ohio)
a capella (atlanta, georgia)
librairie bookshop (new orleans, louisiana)
beckham's bookshop (new orleans, louisiana)
e.shaver bookseller (savannah, georgia)
city of lights (san francisco, california)
avid bookshop (athens, georgia)
and, the mother of all book stores, powell's city of books (portland, oregon)
things I appreciate now that I didn't thirty years ago:
birds
coffee
embroidery
mornings
avocados
artichokes
public radio
hot tea
hot sauce
house plants
historical fiction
home grown tomatoes
orange marmalade
documentaries
fleetwood mac
reading glasses
sunsets
to summer, which is not over, not even close, even though we've been tricked into thinking it is, second week of school and all.
and to lightning bugs, which I never ever (ever) get tired of, even after 48 years of living. gimme all the humidity in the world if it means I get lightning bugs every summer.
anyway, this is what I watch when I'm riddled with anxiety (which, unfortunately, is often these days). this little film I made three years ago is what I watch when it feels like I'm drowning.
nicknames I have been assigned over the course of my life:
andie
andie pandie
andromeda
ahn drey ah
hula
hulita
lady A
some stuck, some didn't.
the truth is that I always sort of loved andromeda.
