thursday love

this is making me really happy today. couldn't stop playing it yesterday, can't stop playing it today. can't decide if it's the music or the video I'm so bananas over, though I suspect it's a hearty mix of both.

and I promise it's not just because my brother produced the track (laid down that sick beat too), not just because he shot the entire video himself (on super 8mm film with a camera he snagged on ebay), directed and edited it all on his own. well, maybe there's a little bias involved here but I think I can honestly say that if I heard this/saw this someplace else and didn't have any idea who it was, who produced or directed it, I would still love it. and the MC is pretty alright too. poems is officially on my list of People I Like. nate's been at the top of that list since the early seventies, way before he could do stuff like this. way back when he followed me around and called me 'ahr'-- couldn't really pronounce 'andrea' so he called me 'ahr'. something like a nasal version of 'air' and this charms me to no end when I think back on it. naturally, he has earned a spot on the People I LOVE list.

will not be sold is officially my new favorite song and my thursday love for like, the next 77 thursdays. this is what real hip hop is. or
what hip hop should be, folks. and dang it if all that video footage doesn't make me miss atlanta somethin awful.

thursday love

color color color, lots of it and in a million different shades. sure, I have my favorites but at the end of the day, I heart them all.

I'm thinking it might be time to do the color week thing again. I'm aching for another round and this falls right into place with the shinyhappysummerprojectme. I am currently reveling in shinyhappysummerprojectme. wondering if anyone out there would like to play along? if so, please do feel free to join in. starting next week:

monday: yellows
tuesday: blues/turquoises
wednesday: greens
thursday: blacks/browns/whites
friday: oranges
saturday: reds
sunday: pinks

(many thanks to shash and mav for the idea/inspiration. here's a peek at what I did last year)

seventy times seven (thursday love)

thoroughly enjoying:

bubble guns that work, soaks at the kennedy school with old (and new) friends, watching ava and mia spider-swing together (playdates with the little birds), blooming rhododendrons in the front yard and the peeking out of the wisteria and lilacs in the back, trips to powell's books (the dance section alone there is enough to bring on real salty tears of joy), fabulous cardboard box tunnels, new lavendar flats from urban, flowers from dear meegan, lunch with new friends, a dreamy new kitchen (so well designed it has cabinets specifically built for cereal boxes, which very naturally required the immediate purchase of seven new boxes of cereal), driving over the river and over bridges, dinner with great friends at sushi land (the wonder of food on conveyor belts), the look on ezra's face the moment he bit into seaweed, friendly librarians, salty shampoo from lush, stale peeps, a new wind-up robot from this little general store, refrigerator poetry, shopping for art supplies at collage, the deep green of everything around me, lost sequins on the sidewalk, secret gardens, a franciscan pitcher scored at the local resale shop, odwalla blueberry B monster smoothies, a daily view of mount hood, the way ezra pronounces the word rocket (RAH-dig), new hidden graffiti, a walnut-covered path at the side of the house that crunches spectacularly underfoot, fresh pink tulips like upside down skirts.



and donuts from annie's.



plus also: ava's new bubblegum-blowing skills.



highly anticipating:

a trip down to the famous saturday market, digging in amy's garden, dance classes at conduit, the blooming of our rose bushes, filling the window boxes, the unpacking of the last box (which just might be years from now), movies at the old hollywood theatre, a trip to saint cupcake with ava, yard sale season, the rose festival parade, a bicycle with a basket, old skool skating with new friends, messy art classes with ezra at collage, a road trip to seattle (and meeting more fantastic new friends), planting my first sunflower garden with the kids, a massage at the shrunken heads place on alberta, seeing my old friend julie again (for the first time in years), dinner with ward at lovely hula hands (or maybe crepes at leHappy), walks in the new neighborhood, an afternoon with the kids at avalon, the saturday morning farmers market, finding an african dance class, thrifting with stephanie, organizing a long-awaited postcard swap (I absolutely have not forgotten about that), a trip to the ocean, the purchase of a hammock, more crossing of things off the list (which may need some revising since The Big Move), backyard craft sessions where things get out of hand, an afternoon of shopping to myself, the wearing of peasant blouses and sandals, breaking out the holga, the finding of photobooths, the coming of summer.

thursday love

cupcakes are an easy sell. though that doesn't make them any less deserving of my love. I bite into a cupcake and I remember every childhood classroom party like, ever. do you remember? someone's mom always bringing in homemade cupcakes for special occasions (neatly packed in tupperware containers the color of avocados). and then we were all so painfully aware of the EXACT location of that tupperware container. oh, and the torturous scent of vanilla and chocolate permeating the room, the slow tick of the giant clock above the chalkboard. nothing like the promise of a cupcake.

but then there was always that girl who watched as the rest of us inhaled ours (we couldn't eat fast enough, nevermind all the crumbs, nevermind the frosting everywhere). she was the girl who waited until the very last possible minute to eat her cupcake. yes, this was a deliberate move on her part. all we could do was sit and watch her. like fools. big fools with globs of chocolate frosting on our chins. she was the kind of girl who peeled the foil liner away slowly, who looked around the room before she took the first bite. she was also the kind of a girl who saved the frosting for last and WE HATED HER FOR THAT. well, hate is a strong word but that's who we were. school kids throw around the word 'hate' like so much confetti.

I eat my cupcakes slowly these days, though I am nothing like that girl. at least, I hope not. I think she might've gone on to torture kittens and taunt senior citizens. I eat slowly because I have the sense God gave a goose but also-- I just really love cupcakes. as ava would say, I INFINITY love them. which just means that I love them a lot and I love them for forever and ever.

(madness, this is a little bit for you. go forth and bring the magic of your cupcakes into the world, my friend)

more thursday loves here.

thursday love

about a year ago, I participated in my first postcard swap. initially, I was all giggly and excited about it. but then I did that thing where I wait until the very last minute to get started. when that happens, the thing that I have put off doing becomes more like work and less like fun.

all my supplies were neatly laid out on the dining room table, right next to the list of names I'd be sending postcards to. I walked past those supplies several times a day-- folded clothes around them, spilled milk from my cereal on them, fought tooth and nail to keep them safe from grubby little hands. still, they went untouched. and worse, they began to mock me.

when I could stand it no longer, I made my first postcard. while the kids were asleep, I spread everything out on the living room floor and got to work. my name was at stake, people. and I really dug christina (the woman who organized the swap and invited me to take part) and couldn't have her thinking less of me. wouldn't you know? once I got going, I couldn't stop. a kind of euphoria set in-- like when you get lost in a project and you lose all sense of time and place. you don't want to stop to eat or sleep, you don't care about the monumental mess you're making. in fact, the bigger the mess, the better. my kindergarten self came bubbling to the surface and I found out she's pretty tired of being all pushed down and smothered by the grown-up self.



then it came time to mail them off. I'll tell you-- I had a difficult time letting them go. my hand would not release that thick stack of postcards, I was physically unable to drop them into the mailbox. all those little miniature pieces of art that I'd spent so much time on, all of them helplessly out there in the hands of any given postal worker? I hadn't thought about that part. they might be subject to rain. or greasy hands. or worse. they might very well be put in a situation where unnecessary manhandling would be involved. why didn't I put them in envelopes? although, wouldn't that have defeated the whole purpose of sending out postcards? oh, the vulnerability! too much. finally, the guy in the car behind me honked extra loud and rude-like and I came to my senses, reluctantly tossed them into the slot and drove away.

as I turned onto dekalb avenue, I thought about all the different places they would be going-- texas, vermont, california, oregon, arkansas, washington, tennessee, maryland, canada, japan. so terribly exciting to be sending them out into the world like that. I remembered the time in fourth grade when we each attached our names and our school address to balloons. on a sunny afternoon (and in dramatic ceremonial fashion), we let them go. so many red balloons floating away, bright like tulips against the turquoise of the sky, strings trailing and spiraling. I remember the humble little white squares of paper that held our neatly printed names, I remember the way they flapped in the wind. I will never forget the sight of it. the idea behind the project was that maybe somebody somewhere would find your balloon and write to you. I never received a letter but that didn't really matter. the real joy was in the moment I decided to open my hand and let the balloon go. the real fun was in the possibility it represented and what it felt like to intentionally put something good out into the world. where would it go? how far would it travel? who would find it? what would they think? I remember watching my red balloon grow smaller and smaller, I watched until it completely disappeared from sight and I wondered about it and I felt good.



so I've decided I have mad love for postcard swaps. even though I've only done one. I've just signed up for another and am planning on organizing one of my own. if you care to join in, leave something in the comments or email me. details will be decided in the coming weeks. or we could all get together and release red balloons into the sky. I'm open, you know.

(more thursday love aka TILT here)

thursday love

foil stars, I love them. they make everything better-- fingernails, spelling tests, love notes, photographs, birthday cards, homework assignments, christmas tags, envelopes, the tops of little feet. but the reason I love them most: they keep ezra entertained for hours. well, not hours. but fifteen minutes with ezra is like seven hours. something like a christmas miracle.

thursday love

the things that save me when I am having to spend dreadful amounts of time in my car: music (duh), random conversations with ava and ezra, npr popculture podcasts and public art.

I love public art. I love it when it catches me completely off guard, when it makes me want to drive around the block again or get out of the car-- just to take a second look. I love it even when I don't like it, even when it's bad because it's something different to look at, something to think about. for a quick moment, I am completely unaware of the sea of stale goldfish crackers beneath my feet, the odd smell of the car's upholstery. I am not thinking about the joker behind me who will not stop honking his horn or the crap on the radio. in that moment, I am not late for anything. there's no whining coming at me from the back, no mysterious stickiness in my cupholder, no traffic, no fingers urgently tapping the steering wheel. me and public art, we are so good together.

(more on the above exhibit here and here... and more TILT here and here)

thursday love

day trips, outings, miniature adventures, field trips. there are so many things to see, everywhere you look, all the time. I don't know why I don't get out and go more often. and when I am with the kidlets, everything looks so new to me. through their eyes, possibility is in every little thing. growing up, do you remember what that felt like? when your parents planned an outing in another city or neighboring town or your class was boarding the bus to go on a field trip? oh, it was too much for me, too much. I was so thirsty to see the world.





except for maybe the time my fifth grade teacher took us to a funeral home for our yearly field trip. her family owned the town's main funeral business and so while other classes were going to the state park, we were off to learn about the wonders of embalming fluid. dear readers, my fifth grade mind was unprepared for that sort of reality. honestly, I think I was more deflated over the fact that it was such a short bus ride across our small town. and there were no refreshments served. yes, I distinctly remember feeling cheated out of the standard kool-aid and cookies. I vividly recall the oppressive scent of formaldehyde and remember thinking that if I was going to have to endure the smell of death, then someone better cough up some refreshments. and of course, my entire class had been buzzing for weeks over The Question. would we be seeing any dead bodies? no one dared ask the teacher. because we all knew the answer would be a most emphatic NO and why kill a good buzz? it was all we had, that possibility. especially since we were the laughing stock of all the fifth grade classes (sample exchange: what's that you say? you're going to see all the pretty leaves and the big lake? well, we're going to see DEAD BODIES. yeah, that's right-- nature is for BABIES). I also remember lightly touching the satin lining of the display caskets and feeling like ms. rankin was the meanest teacher ever.

still, it was an adventure. better than sitting around in class, mean old ms. rankin pointing a finger so craggly and crooked that we never knew exactly who she was addressing.



ah, but I digress. to be out with my kids, exploring the city (or country)-- that's the thing. it's what I live for, what I absolutely love to do. (fifth grade funeral home field trips included).

recently, I took the kids to see the niki de saint phalle exhibit at the atlanta botanical gardens. more of her fantastic work (and us playing in and around it) can be seen here.

(and more thursday love here plus the lovely TILT originator and all my other thursday loves here)

thursday love

the fleamarket, I love it. in terms of procrastination: if you can't go dancing, get thee to the fleamarket. I think I might have just inadvertently stumbled upon my new personal motto.

the TILT originator is here. more thursday love: here and here. more fleamarket: here.

thursday love

by bcbg

I love peasant-style embroidered blouses so much I'd like to make up a song about them. and then I will sing it and sing it and sing it until everyone in the house (including ezra) begs me to stop.



flimsy numbers with bright embroidered flowers like delicious little pieces of candy, they are like mexico next to your skin. they are unsent postcards, turquoise waters, flushed cheeks. I snatch them up at the thrift store even if they are too small, even if they have stains and have the uncontrollable urge to mouth out the word bow-hee-mee-en when I wear them. bohemian-tinged blood runs through my veins, yo. they feel good on me, they feel right. that being said, I only wear them occasionally. I pull them out of my closet when the time is right. sometimes I hang them up around the bedroom to remind me of things that are good.


by free people


from anthropologie


by paul&joe for target

I have been drawn to these blouses for as long as I can remember and would like to own one for every day of the year. right now, I've got seven days covered.

more thursday love here.

thursday love

I love the scratchy sounds of records playing. I like to sit and watch the uneven rotation of the grooves, I find great joy in carefully placing the needle where it needs to go.

things that are helping me to get over:

-a late night telephone conversation with my best friend (whereupon I ranted for an embarrassing amount of time)
-encouraging words from y'all
-project runway (yes please, I cannot get enough)
-nina simone singing 'here comes the sun'



(nina simone albums thrifted for a dime a piece-- so sick, I know)


the TILT originator is here. and more thursday love to be found here and here.

thursday love

I am having a torrid love affair with the macro lens effect on my camera. I realize that this is not entirely appropriate language to use when talking about one's camera (and the various effects) but I'm through with all the pretending.

the thursday love originator is here. and more love to be found here.

thursday love

(the ava-girl, easter sunday, 2006)

much love for: dresses you can spin in, skirts that make you want to twirl around and around until you are dizzy.

(more love here and here)

thursday love

(ezra, today in the car)

I am in love with ezra's eyelashes. long, velvety and fringe-like, ava has them too. sorry to say, this is not a trait they inherited from me-- ward is the one with gorgeous lashes for days and days. thankfully, I'm not the jealous type.


(ava, miami beach, 2001)

(more thursday love here and here)

thursday love

(gorgeous handmade bracelet by superfresh madness-- sent to me just because-- a whole lot of fabulousness in a nondescript manilla envelope)


I love mail. obviously, not the kind that is financially draining (aka: bills) or the endless stream of junk that comes our way but the occasional postcard, personal letter or unexpected package? love. it's the teeny tiny hint of pink in a sea of grey, a little bit like gold.

I have not always loved it like I love it now. I mean, you learn to love mail growing up-- what, with all the postcards from friends and letters from penpals and boyfriends and birthday cards with crisp dollar bills inside and fancy holiday packages from grandparents. and the church camp that I grew up going to each summer made a big deal over mail. each day during lunch, they called your name over the loudspeaker if there was any sort of mail for you. and if there were three pieces or more, you had to SING for it-- into the microphone, in front of EVERYBODY (horrific for the completely insecure preteen, I know). my cousin kristy jo, she knew this. she sent me three letters almost everyday, some with nothing but hand-cut confetti inside. because she knew I'd have to sing for it and (even with as much as I protested), she knew I secretly loved the attention.



(package of goodies from superbrilliant lisa that magically arrived in the middle of dreary january, all because I happened to mention a desire to try out blender pens)


when I was sixteen, we moved to cincinnati. leaving behind a serious boyfriend and a couple of best friends made the receiving of mail the most important thing to me that year. thankfully, one of my best friends purchased a journal that we each wrote in, filled with gossip and c-o-o-l collages and sent back and forth through the mail (beth, you know I still have it and treasure it-- is it my turn to send it back to you? you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers). but really, I lived for the letters from my boyfriend: plain white envelopes filled with clumsily folded college-ruled notebook paper, letters that promised longing and faithfulness and undying love (sixteen is such a dramatic age). my family lived in a one bedroom apartment those first six months (all five of us, which is an entirely different story for another time). each day, I'd walk down to the foyer of the old apartment complex where the brass mail boxes were, hoping and praying (mostly closing my eyes and crossing my fingers) for mail. on one of my more memorable trips, I peeked into the dark slot to find what looked like a thick love letter. a surge of electricity filled my body as I went to open the little door. but the box was jammed and I was forced to resort to frantic banging and pulling. when that didn't work, I thought maybe I could access the letter by going in through the top of all the boxes. I had seen the mailman drop the mail in like this, was sure I could figure out a way. I jumped and slammed my hand in as deep as I could, but nothing. you know, love makes you so loco sometimes and so I continued to jump and reach like that for what felt like hours (more like fifteen minutes, I'm thinking). on what must've been the seventh or eighth try, I made contact but my arm stuck and I hung there-- helpless, ridiculous. my fingers still gripping the letter, I cried out and my eyes quickly filled with tears over the surprisingly sharp pain and the thought of my arm snapping in two. finally, I gave up and dropped the letter which somehow released my body. I cried like a baby that afternoon as I walked back to our small apartment. I cried because I was humiliated, because I was empty-handed. I cried because I wanted that letter more than anything. for those few months, mail was absolutely everything to me-- almost worth a broken bone.



(rad turntable baby tee: ordered from the supertalented anatomist, given to ezra for christmas)


(the best pink and red swap EVER from cool girl/color genuis jek-- the tiny red suitcase filled with joy arrived wrapped in brown paper and I'm just a little ashamed to admit that I tore into it while driving in traffic)


then you become an adult and the mail is more about bills, credit card offers and bad news-- an ongoing reminder of obligation, responsibility and disappointment. I went through this thing where I truly dreaded that daily walk to the mailbox. I blame this perpetual state of anxiety on more than a couple of things: a) credit card bills. b) summertime electricity bills. c) crazy tax mix-up. d) the time the health insurance company sent us a bill for $18,000 for the special care ezra required for the three days after he was born (again, another story). I found myself having to work up courage for that daily trip, having to take deep breaths, having to say little prayers. each day that we received only the garden variety assortment of junk and expected monthly bills represented a small victory whereupon I celebrated by exhaling slowly and smiling all the way back to the front door.



(lovely flower power mug from england, courtesy of an anonymous thrift store swap and a splendid vintage chiquita banana recipe booklet from the superlovely ozhiaz)


(march's color-iffic swap-o-rama had me weeping with joy over greengreengreen delights from the superfantastic oneye-- goods from the netherlands? always cool)


so, no. I have not always loved mail like I do today on this day of thursday loves. at best, it has been more like a lifetime of love/hate/fear/hope. but lately, the mail has been great. and I'm not afraid to say that this here blogging gig has cracked the world of good and lovely mail wide open for me. you can see it all here, beautiful things that have made their way to me, all from fantastic people I've met through THE INTERNETS (and man, I don't even have photographs of the postcard swap I participated in to show yet either-- ah yes, next week). that's not to say that I don't occasionally receive an unbelievable package from my cousin (the master, for sure) or my mom and dad. but mostly, good things have come my way through friendships and swaps found via THE INTERNETS. the internets, they have been good to me. I used to think that this internet business was the whole reason I would never receive any quality snail mail again (forever and ever and ever, amen). I was wrong. and this (miss alanis) is the definition of ironic: the very phenomenon that should be keeping me from loving the regular visits to my mailbox is precisely the reason I am receiving so many incredible packages, letters and postcards these days.

thank you to everyone who has sent love my way, thank you to those who are even thinking of sending love my way or will, sometime in the near or far future, send love my way. it will come back to you tenfold, I promise.

(more thursday love here and here, more of my thursday loves here)

thursday love

I love old globes. I have them all over the house, big and small. I love the roundness of the shape and the turquoise blues and greens. but mostly, I love what they represent-- that there are still so many places in the world I want to see.

(more 'things I love thursdays' here and here. and more of my globe collection here)

thursday love

moleskin journals are good, just really-- so very incredibly steeped in the goodness of good. I love the thickness of the paper, the way it absorbs india ink, the way oil pastels glide effortlessly over the surface. and the delightful pocket in the back that holds scraps of whatever. I love them almost as much as the old school diaries with the little brass locks that I filled with bubble lettering and puffy hearts and preteen drama back in the day.

almost.

(more 'things I love thursdays' here and here. and more of my 'thursday loves' here)

thursday love

I don't care if you're drinking three day-old coffee out of a rotten boot, a little paper umbrella will always make it better. always.

I love little paper umbrellas.

(more 'things I love thursdays' here and here, my other thursday loves here)

more thursday love

(ava's favorite ring)

I can't stop with all this thursday love because who knows where we'll be this time next week? it's a crazy, mixed-up world. a world where handmade pipe-cleaner button rings wait for no one.

loving: making anything and everything with ava. paintings, drawings, collages, various craft projects-- always worth the mess. she got the itch earlier this week to make these and wouldn't stop until she had me grumbling under my breath and digging through my box 'o' crafty goodness. and now: I'm totally addicted to making these things. people, get ready. pipe-cleaner button and gem jewelry is so going to be the next big thing.


(thank you, hand models: ava and neighbor girl)

it's the process more than anything. the gathering of the materials, the brainstorming of ideas, the mess-making. it's witnessing her put colors together and get excited and tell the stories behind the art. the look on her face the moment she figured out how cool it would be to glue the smaller red heart onto the larger pink heart gem? delicious. and now it is her favorite ring that she made and she loves to tell anyone who will listen why. honestly, I'm just a little bit jealous that my husband thought up 'ava thursdays' before I did (I don't even think I was bloggedy-blogging yet). but I adore him for it and burst with pride every stinking thursday. this week is no exception. ava-girl blew me out of the water with her three-part drawing and story on learning how to fly. (please indulge this proud mama by promptly clicking here).

more 'things I love' thursdays here and here.

thursday love

I love striped socks. I love shoes too but I think maybe I like striped socks with shoes even more. though lately, all I seem to be capable of is throwing on sweats and sneaks. I am the ultimate mommy cliche. I think maybe I owe it to myself to wear something that is not black and stretchy. I owe it my feet, I know that much. hello feet. here are those purdy socks and shoes I promised to put on you. (what's that you say? you were hoping for a deluxe pedicure? the one with the rose petal foot bath and lemon sugar scrub? too bad. that's a pipe dream and you know it).

perhaps the best part about these socks is that I found them at the dollar store. they were hiding behind the mens' black dress socks and my heart jumped a little when I saw them.

thank you joy, for spreading the love. more things that people love here and here.