self portrait #47

we are currently experiencing day after day of sunshine here in portland-- the mildest weather, the kind that makes you hopeful for spring. little purple flowers are popping up all over the place. they say hello, look at me. I am to be looked at and admired. I am a hint of what's to come. it's strange, all this sunshine. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying. it's strange. just when I thought I couldn't take one more day of grey misty rainy rain, the sun came out.

did I just jinx it? I bet I did.

(more blue self portraits here)

self portrait #46

the february theme over at self portrait challenge is blue. I could use some color in my life right about now. I am stuck in the season of middle values.

self portrait #45

happy wearing secondhand. happiest wearing vintage.

(the november theme over at self portrait challenge is 'what I wear')

self portrait #45

march 23, 2007: in a mcdonald's bathroom, somewhere in the great wide open state of wyoming.

tomorrow will mark six months here in portland-- six whole months since our big trek cross country. sometimes I can't believe we pulled it off. like, how did we pull that one off? how did we manage to make it through eight days of driving? through eleven different states? how? by the grace of God, I tell you. and care packages put together by so many loving hands. and indoor swimming pools. and an inordinate amount of junk food. my friend amy (who made this same atlanta-to-portland roadtrip six years ago) said 'give yourself permission to indulge in a snickers bar. and an icy cold coke. or two or three. you're going to need it.' in fact, she even sent me a little tan leather pouch filled with several quarters and a small slip of paper with the words 'snickers fund' scribbled on it. best advice ever.

other survival tactics: flashlights in the car at night. good music. great books. bare feet on the dashboard. and the seeing of so much of america through the eyes of a little point and shoot camera.

(the last of the bathroom self portraits are here)

self portrait #44

lost in a sea of pattern. wouldn't have it any other way.

(more over at self portrait challenge)

I am a girl who needs an assignment (part one)

the theme this month over at self portrait challenge is pattern. this excites me. so much so that I might have to make up a little song to sing about it. because assignments that are rooted in the visual, they suit me.

everywhere you look, there are patterns to be seen. such a nice game to play if you know how to play it right.

self portrait #43

home as natural environment: I am at home in my home. even though I don't own it, even though it's the third house we've inhabited in the span of a year. indeed, home is where you hang your hat but also where you hang your child's paintings. it's where you stack your favorite books, where you make the beds day after day and eat pancakes for supper. it's where you plant little flowers and look out the kitchen window and have arguments.

these are the things that define natural environment. this is the stuff that roots are made of-- tendrils that grow slowly just beneath the surface before expanding and spriraling deep into place. before you know it, you're home.

(more natural environment self portraits are here)

self portrait #42

dear portland,

I am not used to wearing sweaters in the middle of june. in fact, I'm pretty sure I don't like it. but you are my new natural environment and I am trying hard to be flexible. plus, I hear the weather is about to get really, really good. so... I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt.

other factors working in your favor:

your gardens are spectacular-- including my own. I think you could put an old boot in the ground here and it would grow into something nifty. for the last two months, I have done nothing but prattle on and on about my poppies and my roses and my lilacs. fairly certain I've driven everyone crazy, which is why I've been holding back lately. I want to tell everyone I know that I've planted cosmos and sunflowers from seed and they're actually growing-- I can't believe they're ACTUALLY GROWING. little green sprouts that miraculously popped up one day to say hello to the world. I don't know why I'm so surprised. didn't I just say a boot would grow if you planted it? I stand behind that theory. still, I have never grown anything from seed (never ever) and the rush is delightfully fresh. currently, my window boxes are overflowing with geraniums and african daisies. also, I planted a vegetable garden for the first time in my life. the squirrels have devoured the strawberries (hey, can you do something about that?) but the bell peppers and tomatoes are coming along just fine. also swooning over: frightfully bright fuschia blooms and fragrant gardenias in the backyard, a lavender bush as tall as I am, mint growing wild along the side of the house, hydrangeas beneath the kitchen window and the roses. hard to believe there are more roses. I have missed gardening so much (I had a lovely garden once upon a time) and am overjoyed with the new appearance of dirt underneath my fingernails, the weeding and deadheading (so satisfying) and the daily sloshing around of the watering can. everyday brings little surpises, something new to inspect, something lovely to smell, something to cut and bring into the house. you have me over the moon about it all. I have to admit, I'm impressed. I'm falling hard for you.

also: I like your bridges. I really like your bridges. plus, the view of mt. hood just two short blocks from my house. and the fact that you can see rainbows on the regular around here. all such good things.

almost enough to make up for this sweater-wearing in the middle of june nonsense. not quite, but almost. if you had lightning bugs around here, you'd be close to perfect. I really miss lightening bugs. I miss them so much that I think it might hurt a little. you know, lightening bugs in portland would be a really cool thing. you should look into it. I'm just saying.

p.s. can you also do something about all the one way streets and seemingly random stop signs? it's making me LOCO.


(the self portrait challenge for june is natural environment-- see more here)

self portrait #41 (black and white)

if I squint hard enough, I can barely see the deep circles under my eyes. the dirty strands of hair disappear and all I see is me and that strawberry ice cream cone. we got caught in the rain that day-- me, ava and ezra. we'd been to the book store and got caught in a sudden downpour. we ducked into the nearest shop to keep dry, which just happened to be an ice cream parlor. we were bored, so we started to play with the camera. we took photos of each other, of the floor, of our ice cream, a speck of paint on the table, wadded-up napkins, our feet, the rain outside. in that moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, doing anything else.

that's a good and solid sort of memory. but I'll tell you-- when I look at this particular photograph of myself for too long, something strange starts to happen. like when you've said the same word out loud too many times and it begins to sound completely foreign to you. like a word that belongs to an entirely different language. which is not so much a bad thing-- just disconcerting. it's as if I am barely recognizable here. again, the deep circles become more prominent, the texture of my skin, the shape of my face, my nose, the hair pulled back tight (save for a few dirty strands). I start to think about how boys in junior high used to call me cow eyes. I feel like I am looking at a creature from a different planet. I feel like I'm looking at someone I don't really know.

which is all just a little too existential for a wednesday morning.


(the self portrait challenge for february is black and white-- more to see here)

self portrait #40 (red velvet cake)

every year, I bake a red velvet cake for my birthday. I use a recipe my mom used for years and then passed on to me. I wear a lovely old apron that once belonged to my favorite great aunt. I love that apron.



I love the part where I get to lick the batter.



I love that the recipe card is torn and taped back together, yellowed and stained with cake batter from my ten years of using it. the cookbook that the cake recipe came from, the one my mom used (and continues to use) has been coverless for at least twenty years and is in even worse shape than my recipe card. I love that. and I love that old cookbook.



I love the gorgeous shade of the batter, that it takes two whole bottles of red food coloring to get that bright red color. I'm pretty sure that much red food coloring can't be good for you. actually, you don't really need two whole bottles of red food coloring. you could get away with just one but I only make this cake once a year and I am not messing around.



I love that ava now participates in this yearly ritual with me and will one day bake the cake for herself. or her family. or me.



I love that my birthday cake looks like it's on fire. I earned every last one of those candles, yes I did.



it took me ten years to get this cake right. the first one I made was ridiculously flat, the frosting sad and lumpy. I ate it anyway. ward did too. but I kept on baking it year after year, no matter how flat it turned out or how strange it tasted. now it's a little bit of heaven. every december 11th. I love that.

(the entire red velvet cake-baking process is here and more red self portraits are here)

self portrait #39 (red)

on the streets of new york, I saw red. I saw it everywhere I went and wondered if it might be following me. half-eaten apples, doorway graffiti, large metal trash cans, bundles of flowers for sale at every corner deli, paper lanterns, cupcakes with gooey red roses on top. umbrellas opening and closing, bouncing rubber balls on the playground.







it was the photobooth curtain I ducked behind early one morning, the color of a dress I loved, in delicious window displays, in the pattern of a linty shag rug I stood on at a fleamarket in hell's kitchen. below me above me all around me, it was there.











fire engines in a hurry, lips stained with cherry popsicle juice, bottles of ketchup, freshly pinched cheeks, polka dotted tablecloths. the forgotten sock in the middle of the street. it flows through veins, spills unnecessarily, is terribly horribly lovely. angry, passionate and alive, red is for love. red is anywhere and everywhere.


(the december challenge over at self portrait challenge is red and I LOVE IT)

self portrait #38

(click on drawing for special notes)

for the last glam self portrait, I was all set to take on the shoe project. that is, until I found this drawing while going through The Magical Childhood Boxes. lookit people, it doesn't get any better than this. my idea of glam as a 9 year-old girl! please note: the heavy make-up (tammy faye bakker-style eyes, yo), the funky (as in, won't-you-take-me-to-FUNKEEE-TOOOWN) little beret, the strappy sandals, the disco ball-- it's all there. oh yes, it's all there. and that skinny belt, which I just KNOW was meant to be a slinky little metallic gold number. I know because I had one. I bought it at wal-mart and remember how I couldn't believe I'd found such a cool belt at my small town wal-mart. but the funniest detail (and perhaps the most troubling)-- cigarette in one hand, cocktail in the other.

my parents must've been so proud.

(the last of the november glam self portraits are here)

self portrait #37

glam in a downtown sort of way.

(more glam here)

self portrait #36

find your glam in ten easy steps:

1. drive to favorite shoe store
2. find spectacularly glamorous pair of shoes (something like this, perhaps-- or this)
3. purchase with nary a thought to price
4. drive back home
5. take shoes out of box and slowly slip onto feet
6. lay around in shoes, look at them adoringly, ponder the meaning of life
7. photograph self in said glam shoes
8. wrap shoes lovingly in tissue, place carefully back in box
9. drive back to store, promptly return shoes
10. grieve loss but stop at nearest drug store on the way home to buy fake eyelashes

obviously, I did not take my own advice. but I'm planning on it. I've been dreaming of this shoe project ever since I started blogging, for reals, and this month's glam theme over at self portrait challenge was just the little push I was looking for. but today I needed to mash some potatoes (no lie) and had to go with an old cliche: glossy lips and vintage feather boa. nothing says old skool glamour like a black feather boa.

(more of the glam over at self portrait challenge)

self portrait #35

I am not up to the self portrait challenge this month. I'm feeling a little too vulnerable to aim the camera directly at all my imperfections. something raw and a little broken just beneath the surface and one crack just might do me in. consider that my big imperfection this month: I'm not willing to show you the new lines around my eyes, the extra flab on my body, my dirty hair.

I applaud those who are bravely taking us there, though. despite my refusal to participate, I do believe our flaws make us unequivocally real. and real is beautiful. real is the new beautiful. but lately, I am finding it harder and harder to see the real in people out there. we are so afraid to age, to be exactly who we are. although I have the anti-aging moisturizers, the eye creams and 47 tubes of lip gloss that betray me and my words here. I struggle, I do. I want to find the balance between embracing exactly who I am at this particular moment in my life and taking care of myself in a way that is well-deserved. it's a thin line, y'all-- a slippery slope. sometimes I find myself dangerously close to caring way too much.

(more imperfections here)

self portrait #34

and I was all prepared to write about how we first met but it's just not something I can do at the moment. if I've learned anything in these twelve years of marriage, it's that there are up times and there are down times. right now, we are stuck in the land of in-between. another time, another time. up, down or in between, he is still my true love.

(for the september self portrait challenge 'with someone'-- more here)

self portrait #32

self portrait august is all about enclosed spaces. I'm a tad claustrophobic but really, I have nothing against elevators.

high time for a meme and I took it upon myself to bite this one from the lurvely michelle (though meridith, cat and madness have all had memes that were for the taking, memes that were of the utmost freshness). sharing random information like mild claustrophobia and indifference to elevators puts me in a fine mood for meme-doing:

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says:

"during those months, while the city was gripped by an infernal heat wave, a serial killer later dubbed 'son of sam' stalked and killed young people". (from the 2000 lonely planet guide to new york city)


2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can...what do you touch first?

an enormous pile of clean (but unfolded) laundry.


3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

an episode of the comeback which I TOTALLY love. why do they always cancel the good shows? why?

why?


4. WITHOUT LOOKING, what time is it?

7:18 p.m.


5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?

7:26pm


6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

ezra's bubblegum voice and the faint rumbling of his quick little feet. also, the fan over the oven. I burned dinner.


7. When did you last step outside?

a couple of hours ago. it was pouring down rain and I ran outside to cover the sandbox while ezra watched in absolute awe from the window. mommy saved the day! what can I say? I'm living the dream, people.


8. What are you wearing?

an old black leotard and cut-off sweats.


9. When did you last laugh?

about an hour ago when I answered the phone. back story is: my cel phone is a piece of trash that emits mysterious static for no apparent reason. if I hold my index finger on the strange button on the back, the static disappears. for some reason, I refuse to buy a new one. so when my brother called me, he asked: did I have a brushfire going over at my place, what's with the brushfire? he always asks me this because it sounds like I'm talking through the high-volume crackle of a serious brushfire. this always makes me laugh. something about the way my brother says things makes me laugh-- that deep kind of laugh, the real kind. I won't go into it now but something he once whispered to me in church made me laugh so hard that I began to snort uncontrollably. I was snorting because I was trying NOT to laugh thus the laughter came out of me sideways and with an unstoppable force of (most appropriately) biblical proportion. you know how it goes. I couldn't stop with all the snorting, I couldn't breathe and the harder I tried, the worse it became. I convulsed and snorted my way all through the prayer and the closing songs and am quite sure all two hundred and some people heard my rapid-fire snorting.


10. Seen anything weird lately?

last week while I was driving downtown atlanta, I saw a chicken wandering alongside ponce de leon avenue. two minutes later and about a half mile down the street, I saw a woman shooting up.


11. What did you dream last night?

I dreamt that I was wearing a chartreuse polyester wedding gown with a princess neckline and tangerine-colored feathers attached to the hem. there were plastic socks on my hands. I was at the piggly-wiggly grocery store, buying box after box of fruity pebbles cereal, jugs of clorox bleach and big mama pantyhose. everyone sang to me as I walked down the aisles, everyone. I had the feeling that they all loved me, that they had come to the piggly-wiggly to see me and only me.

oh, not really. I'm just free-styling. sadly, I can't remember last night's dreams.


12. What's on the walls of the room you're in?

school maps, framed photos of the kidlets, of me and ward, of places we've been, places we want to go. and a (harmless) bug.


14. What do you think of this survey?

me likies.


15. What's the last film you saw?

little miss sunshine, which I really really REALLY loved. I have been waiting for this film all summer long and when it finally came to town, I was there with bells on, bells all over the place, bells for days. let me tell you-- the theatre was crowded saturday night. you know why? because there has been nothing but crap crap crap all summer long, hollywood crap pummeling us from all directions. there's no escaping the cinematic crap that continues to infect us, one by one until we are all starving for a microscopic nugget of something good. the people came out because the people wanted to see something different, something good. the people, they know what they need. and the film, it was what they needed. it was good-- great, in fact. fantastic, even. sure, it had some flaws but I'm not about to complain-- that's the most I've laughed in a movie theatre in a looooooooooooooooooooong time. (watch the trailer here, if you so desire)


16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?

a completely restored (but carefully preserved) authentic villa in the tuscan region of italy (fully staffed, of course) whereupon I would spend as much time as reality would allow. I would invite all my friends and family to visit and eventually retire there. retirement includes (but is not limited to) me wearing the finest silk muumuu money can buy, me riding a rickety old pink bicycle with a rattan basket to the nearest outdoor market to buy my produce, me making crusty collage after collage outside in the sun, me dancing randomly and freely, me and ward together-- grouchy and tender. and grandchildren that come to stay with us every summer for two weeks and a grown-up ava and ezra begging me not to wear the silk muumuu.

an extremely close second: old school B&W photobooth. and then I would have a big party so that everyone could come over to get in the booth and take as many strips as they wanted. there would be a most magnificent band (I'm thinking along the lines of the roots because I do so adore questlove) and a thousand glowing paper lanterns hanging overhead and red velvet cake for everyone.


17. Tell me something about you that I don't know.

I have strong pessimistic tendencies. also, I think I prefer to wash my hair in the kitchen sink. it's just too much to do it all in the shower. I want to get in there and rinse the grit off and (maybe) shave my legs and get out. in the sink, my hair gets all the loving attention.


18. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you change?

honestly? well. I kind of really pretty much sort of don't like white people. I am white people, I know that-- so many of the people I love are white. I guess I'm talking more about whitey, so let me rephrase it-- there are a lot of white people that I find hard to love. maybe because I'm white and I see what they do, I see how they act, I know what they think. more accurately, I'm strongly opposed to hatred based on race and I realize this goes in all directions, all ways, upside down, inside out and across the board, I do. so if I have to choose one thing to change: I'd eradicate racism. a little pollyanna, yes, but it must be said: the world would be a better place. pollyanna or not.


19. Do you like to dance?

I'm going to have to say yes. yes, I like to dance.


20. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?

if there's another: vivi or ruby.


21. Boy?

if there's another: choochi rodriguez.


22. Would you ever consider living abroad?

absolutely. ABSOLUTELY.


more self portraits are here and here. thanks for indulging me, y'all.

self portrait #31

july's self portrait challenge: "self portrait as..."

self portrait as a WOMAN ON THE VERGE. stress will do that to a girl yo. and cleaning out an attic in sizzling, sweltering heat isn't helping much either. heat will take you to kooky places.

more self portraits here and here.

self portrait #30 (pop art)

eh. not my favorite. although I dig warhol's ideas about using colors to represent different sides of the self. that concept is worth diving into.

(more here)

self portrait #29

hello, I am a mover.

I flex and point my feet. slowly, carefully, always as if I were pushing my toes through peanut butter. I enjoy the slight, starry pain that travels from the densest part of my calves up to the section directly behind my knees. instantly, my legs feel longer, a little less angry with me. when I feel overwhelmed, I stretch my arms out wide. I think of them as weightless appendages and they float up towards the ceiling. this almost always makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.

I see dance everywhere. I make small dances in my head that may (or may not) include the gestures of what I see around me. the way my groceries were bagged, the way the woman at the next table told an entire story with her hands, the uneven swagger of the boy on dekalb avenue. everyone is a dancer. rhythms and patterns are everywhere. random conversations and unrelated gestures remind me of pieces I've performed, dances I want to make. when I was younger, it was all about tricks. the higher the leg, the greater the leap, the quicker the turn, the better the dancer. we defined ourselves in this way, measured our worth as movers according to skill. somewhere along the way, I let that go. and when I did, the world opened up for me in ways I couldn't believe I'd never seen before.

I tried to give it up once. after ava was born, I questioned everything. I thought maybe this part of my life was over. a close friend and fellow dancer reminded me this would not be so easy to do. she said dance was as much a part of who I was as the color of my eyes or the sound of my voice. and deep down, I knew she was right. inevitably, it would come back. quietly through the back door, slip in through a cracked window, show up unannounced at the most inconvenient times.

so I am not performing like I used to. I'm lucky to take a class a week. I'm not sure if the dances in my head will ever be anything more than that. I'm not exactly where I thought I'd be. sometimes I am okay with this, sometimes not. the one thing I do know is this: I'm a mover, I'm a dancer. I can barely sit still and I can't hold back. and I am never more sure of myself than when I am dancing. this is when I'm most alive.


(the last of the introductions are here)

thank you, ward-- for the taking the photo