346/365

spectacular falls I have taken:

age nine, in an old church choir loft during the christmas program (stepped on the front of my floor-length gingham dress and went down like a sack of potatoes in a sort of 'now you see her, now you don't' moment) (the entire congregation fought laughter and I mean, I get why but I fought real tears and delivered my lines like a true stoic and secretly despised them all for what clearly felt like betrayal)

age seventeen, on stage during a dress rehearsal of anything goes at taft theatre, downtown cincinnati (took the last high kick a smidge too high, swept my own feet out from underneath myself, went airborne for a fraction of a second before landing flat on my back with a sickening thud whilst the high kicking continued all around me) (wanted to die but popped right back up, as if internally operated by some magical animatronic machinery)

age forty-six, on a walkway crowded with tourists along the mississippi river in new orleans (stepped on the outer edge of the walkway, lost my footing while carrying a heavy backpack full of polaroid cameras and film, fought like a mother scratcher to regain balance so as not to damage said cameras which resulted in the lengthiest, most cinematic and dare I say most balletic of tumbles, really and truly, it felt like it was happening in super slow motion, like, I actually had time to think about things while I fell, A LOT of things, like, will I see this on youtube? are all my bones still intact? will I be able to walk away from this? also, why am I still falling? will I ever land? like, ever? or is this my life now?) (when I did finally land, a good fifteen feet from where I began, I prayed the earth might swallow me up but the choir loft spill at age nine had obviously prepared me and I played the whole thing off as if completely incapable of feeling and/or displaying any sort of human pain or emotion)

314/365

things I can't believe we did as kids in the eighties:

laid out in the sun slathered in baby oil
laid out in the sun on shiny aluminum foil mats 
baked things and ate things with margarine

313/365

things I can't believe we did as kids in the seventies:

considered canned vienna sausages a special treat
consumed large amounts of bright orange and red kool-aid
played, seat-belt free, in the wide open back space of station wagons while flying down the highway

293/365

things I have always worn, will always wear, whether they're in style or not:

burnt orange
striped pieces
turquoise jewelry
patchwork anything
vintage adidas everything
technicolor tights
embroidered blouses
wooden clogs

WOODEN CLOGS FOREVER

273/365

things my cousin taught me:

how to put on make-up
(use various shades of powdery, shimmery eyeshadow to create the illusion of glamour and finish the look off with the blackest mascara you can find 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 maybe there might still be a chance with some of the seventh grade boys and then you tell her 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 glasses of water and iced tea 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 write funny letters and 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 to anyone)

how to work the fleamarket like a pro
(you show up on early-early buyer day and make friends with all the best dealers and you are not too proud to dig through boxes of junk and see possibility in the strangest 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 with goodies 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 just hug them and cry with them and 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 candy and stuff at claire's boutique)

(happy 50th birthday, cousin) (I love you and I really don't know what life would be like without you)

271/365

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

186/365

things I do when I feel tired and old, part one:

ride bikes
turn cartwheels
look at old photographs of my younger child self
try to remember she's still in there, somewhere

113/365

things I wish I still had, part one:

my 110 camera
my charlie's angels lunchbox
my OG roller skates with the royal blue stripes
my dad's brown leather maranatha wrist cuff
and all his old adidas shirts from the seventies
my very first pair of brown wooden clogs
also, my twenty-something optimism
and the missing piece from my mom's sterling silver dogwood ring that, unbeknownst to me, broke off whilst I was in a department store dressing room rage, trying on a thousand horrible, miserable bras

103/365

lists I loved to make when I was a kid:

party ideas
what to pack for camp
stories to write
clothes and records to buy
ways to be thinner and prettier

(yes I know-- the last one is sad)

96/365

things adults once told me, part one:

you should not eat that one thing
you will always struggle with your weight
you will never pull it off

89/365

childhood books I read over and over again-- tirelessly, joyfully-- books I loved so much it hurt:

maria tallchief (tobi tobias)-- purchased in first grade at the school book fair, filled with gorgeous pencil drawings of a native american dancer who went on to become a famous prima ballerina with the new york city ballet-- I spent hours examining the drawings and though I have long since parted ways with ballet (modern dance forever) this book was the definitive beginning of a life devoted to the study of dance (there are still times I want to slip back inside this book and become maria tallchief)

peppermint (dorothy grider)-- a litter of kittens is born in the back of a candy shop and all of them find a home but one, a sickly little white kitten named peppermint-- the heartbreak, I could not take it-- which is probably why I read it a hundred million times

little majorette (dorothy grider)-- baton twirling was never really my thing but the pictures of the costumes in this book (specifically a little red two-piece number with bright white fringe and matching white leather boots) had me seriously reconsidering

I know a story (miriam blanton huber, frank seely salisbury, mabel o'donnell)-- pretty much your standard collection of classic tales but the last story in the book, the boy who went to the north wind, was about a magic stick and a magic goat and a magic tablecloth and wind that actually talked and a boy and his mother who had nothing but got everything in the end 

popular party games (alison m. abel)-- purchased at the school book fair in second grade and the beginning of a lifelong obsession with party planning-- there's a price tag on the front marked 30 cents and my initials scrawled next to it which means at some point, I probably tried to sell this book at family yard sale-- thank the good lord it never sold because there are key sentences underlined throughout, specific game titles circled and entire paragraphs crossed out-- it's a little piece of second grade andrea and I die when I think how easily it could have disappeared into the ether

flicka, ricka, dicka and the strawberries (maj lindman)-- checked out from the local library repeatedly and then purchased twenty years later at an antique mall somewhere in tennessee-- to be clear, I loved all the flicka, ricka, dicka books as well as the snip, snap and snurr books (because old-fashioned storybooks about swedish triplets are meant to be adored)-- however, this particular flicka, ricka, dicka book just about did me in-- the girls (in adorable matching red and white dresses, mind you) go on a picnic in the woods, get lost while picking wild strawberries, and are taken in by a sweet family who has nothing-- in the end, the family helps them get back home safely and the girls return with a basket filled with strawberries and milk and bread and other assorted goodies to repay the kindness and every time, my little seven year-old heart burst wide open reading this, every single time

76/365

boys I have loved:

greg
jason
dustin
billy 
sean
cute boy met while on vacation down in florida in 1982 whose name I can't remember
mark 
kelly
bryan
troy
brent
charles
adam
stu
kip
darren
joe
ward
ward, forever

48/365

things I'd like to tell my mom, who would have been 73 today:

I miss you
I love you
it's hard without you
and oh my goodness you would be so proud of ava and ezra

22/365

things I remember about this christmas circa 1979:

divinity fudge and hard candy in glass bowls, spaghetti and meatballs for dinner

the sweet smell of my grandpa's pipe, the faint scent of beer

the snow white ceramic christmas tree with the tiny candy rainbow lights that always, always sat on top of my grandparents' enormous television set

the way I loved that darci doll, the one I'm holding in the photograph above, with her more generously proportioned body and her brassy brunette hair and the very, very professional little modeling portfolio she came with

the way my brother loved that howdy doody doll, the one he's holding in the photograph above, with his goofy grin and painted freckles and mouth made to tell a thousand kid jokes

my dad in that burgundy velour, my mom with that sterling silver locket 

the way we drank RC cola out of frosty aluminum cups in magenta and amber and royal blue

the way we snuck upstairs to listen to old 45s on my dad's suitcase record player and throw things down the laundry chute

the pallet of quilts and blankets my grandma laid out on the floor of the front room for the kids to sleep on

the way we fell asleep right there, to the blink of christmas lights and the sounds of barney miller on the television

home

my favorite childhood polaroid picture sits in the bottom of a box somewhere. I do not actually need to take it out and look at it to remember. the details are forever forged in my mind. it's a polaroid my mom took right after she surprised a ten year-old me with a redecorated bedroom. in it, I'm sitting on my bed, which has been freshly repainted, the old comforter replaced with a brand new cream-colored satin one. there are fresh, frilly new curtains on the windows, a cornflower blue bedside table (covered with flowers hand-painted by my mother) and a frosty new glass lamp. plucked right off the pages of the JCpenny catalog, I believe. in the picture, I'm sitting on that bed and I'm beaming. it's a moment I revisit again and again. because it was a room that made me feel special, a room that felt authentically mine. I knew then there was a very specific art to the planning and making of a space. that there was love in it, so much love. in all the details, love. what I didn't know was just how much it would affect me later on in life. how much it would influence me, both as an artist and a mother.

and so this is the subject of my most recent piece in issue sixteen of uppercase magazine: my mom and the home she (artfully) made for her family. it was not an easy piece to write, friends. but I'm glad I did it, I'm glad I pushed through. it was the least I could do, the very least.

and I wish you could read it, mom. I really really do. because this one's for you.

1983 (and so on and so forth)

not sure what my eighties self would have thought of friday night's all school eighties dance. I mean, I think she probably would have been fascinated. plus maybe a little mortified but mostly fascinated. I can distinctly remember my preteen self wondering, what are future people even going to think of the eighties? we have no style, no real definitive style. we are nothing like the fifties, the sixties, the seventies. what defines us? I just couldn't see it. because I was living it, I guess. I turned ten in 1980, twenty in 1990, so there you go. I am the eighties.

so, friday night I slapped on my (ahem, original) go-go's pins, yanked my hair into a stupid side ponytail (which I never ever ever would have worn back in the day, by the way) and declared my sloppy self properly attired. oh but to see my daughter wearing the clothes I wore a hundred years ago, the colors, the tights, the mess of pins. to see her at the dance standing next to the boy she likes, to see the sweet, awkward way that all played out. the whole scene made me ache. filled me with the sort of longing that can only be described as ridiculous. and so of course I hid behind my camera the whole night, tried to figure out how I really felt about the whole thing. mostly, I felt old. I tried to pretend I didn't but I felt old.

and I wondered what these dances will look like in twenty or thirty years. what will define the style of the millennials? the 2010s? what pieces of clothing will ava save? what will she share with her own children? what will make her laugh? cringe? and will it make her feel as old as I did friday night? probably.

anyway.

I am still wallowing in nostalgia here which means I will be spinning eighties records all week long and maybe watching john hughes films on repeat. it also means I will be treating my eighties self to a little neon because you know, after friday night, she really sort of deserves it.

six years!

of photobooth friday! how is this possible? wait, don't answer that. this I do solemnly swear: as long as there are photobooths, I will be jumping into them. and as long as I am here on the internets, I will be sharing.


p.s. that is ezra up there, top row, second frame. THAT IS EZRA.

list thirty-five: books I loved as a kid

these are the books that I read over and over. tirelessly, joyfully. these are the books that I loved so much it hurt.

1. maria tallchief by tobi tobias. purchased in first grade at the school book fair and the beginning of so much for me. filled with gorgeous pencil drawings of a dancer who was born on an indian reservation and went on to become a famous prima ballerina with the new york city ballet. I spent hours examining the drawings. hours and hours and hours. and even though I have long since parted ways with ballet, I still want to slip inside this book and become maria tallchief.

2. peppermint by dorothy grider. a litter of kittens is born in the back of a candy shop and all of them find a home but one-- a sickly little white kitten named peppermint. oh the heartbreak! I could not take it. which is probably why I read it again and again. also? pictures of pretty candy in big glass jars plus pictures of fluffy kittens= total win.

3. little majorette by dorothy grider. baton twirling was never really my thing but the pictures of the costumes in this book had me reconsidering. oh, that bright red two-piece number with the white fringe! and the fancy majorette costume that patty's parents surprised her with at the end! SO. GOOD.

4. I know a story by miriam blanton huber, frank seely salisbury and mabel o'donnell. pretty much your basic collection of classic tales here-- i.e., the gingerbread boy, the three little bears, little red riding hood, yadda yadda yadda. but the last story in the book, the boy who went to the north wind, was something special. there was a magic stick and a magic goat and a magic tablecloth and wind that actually talked and a boy and his mother who had nothing but got everything in the end. the best, people. the best.

5. popular party games edited by alison m. abel. purchased at the school book fair in second grade and the very beginning of my lifelong obsession with party planning. there's a price tag on the front with 30 cents marked on it and the initials A.C. scrawled next to it. which means I must have tried to sell this book at one of my mother's many garage sales. which, if it had actually sold, would have been nothing less than tragic. there are important sentences underlined and specific game titles circled and entire paragraphs crossed out. it's a little piece of second grade andrea and I die when I think of how easily it could have ended up in someone else's attic.

6. flicka, ricka, dicka and the strawberries by maj lindman. checked out from the local library repeatedly and then purchased at an antique mall somewhere in tennessee a good twenty years later. to be clear, I loved all the flicka, ricka, dicka books. all of them. I was also a big fan of the snip, snap and snurr books. because please. old-fashioned storybooks about swedish triplets are meant to be adored. however, this particular flicka, ricka, dicka book just about did me in. every time. the story: flicka, ricka and dicka (in adorable matching red and white dresses, mind you) go on a picnic in the woods. along the way, they fill their baskets with wild strawberries which their mother has promised to pay them each a silver coin for. at some point, they lose track of time and end up horribly lost. which is when they stumble onto a sweet family who takes them in. fyi, this family has nothing. they're walking around in ratty clothes and bare feet so in my 7 year-old mind, they have nothing. but you know, the mother keeps the tiny home clean and clearly, they're kind, humble people. the kind of people that just sort break your heart. so anyway, the mother sends her daughter (who just happens to be the same age as flicka, ricka and dicka) back into the forest to help the triplets find their way back home. when they return, the triplets tell their gorgeous (blonde) swedish mother everything. they tell her they want to use their silver coins to buy the girl a new dress and there's a whole page devoted to the shopping (which I loved) and of course, they pick out the most perfect dress ever-- crimson red with white polka dots and a little white lace collar. in the end, they take it to the girl, along with a basket filled with apples and jars of strawberry preserves and milk for the baby (who you just know was starving) and oh people, it was beautiful. and I don't remember crying but I bet I did. I just bet you I did.

list thirty-one: christmas gifts I have loved

1. purple tricycle, 1973. complete with plastic white basket and little chrome bell. love.

2. kitchen set, 1975. with a refrigerator door that opened and closed and a stove that had knobs that turned on and off. details that thrilled me.

3. toy coffeemaker, 1977. as pictured above, friends. it was filled with a dark brown liquid that made it look as if you were really making coffee. and of course, there was an on and off switch. very important, the on and off switch.

4. darci doll, 1979. coolest doll ever. because she was a brunette. because she was a little bit larger than all the other barbie dolls. because she came with a portfolio that contained little paper magazines with examples of her work as a high fashion model. because clearly, she was a modern woman. you know, just trying to make it on her own. and who also just happened to own several very awesome pairs of metallic shoes.

5. shiny red leotard and skinny gold metal belt, 1980. there could not have been a more perfect gift for a solid gold dancer-loving ten year-old me.

6. mr. microphone, 1981. OMG I LOVED THIS THING.

7. white casio boombox, 1983. with dual cassette feature. classic times one hundred.

8. the harvey edwards leg warmers poster, 1986. what I wanted was the life of the person in this poster. bad. and my friends, they knew this. so they went in together and bought the poster for me. which, if I'm telling the whole story here, was purchased on the DL the day we snuck off to st. louis to go christmas shopping together. which wouldn't have been so bad had I actually been allowed to drive on my own with friends the two hours over to st. louis. this was the first major lie I ever told my parents and I'll spare you the details but I will say this: it did not end well. a week or so later, when my friends finally gave me the poster, I wanted to cry-- not because I was still in a crapload of trouble (and I was) but because it was the first time anyone outside my family had ever given me such a thoughtful gift.

9. vintage black velvet cocktail dress, 1988. which I originally found at a vintage shop downtown covington, kentucky and promptly hid deep in the rack so no one else would buy it before I got my mom down to the shop to buy it for me for christmas. really, I had no idea where I'd even wear such a dress but I wanted it. and I wanted it bad. I wore it around the house for a while. and then five months later, I wore it to my senior prom.

10. silver heart locket, 1990. very first christmas gift from ward, very first christmas together. seriously smitten.

11. charlie brown christmas soundtrack, 1992. favorite christmas album ever.

12. photobooth by babette hines, 2003. first spotted at a book shop in new york and then it seemed to disappear. but somehow, ward tracked it down. I am never tired of this book. never, not ever.

13. record player, 2004. six years later and I am well on my way to wearing this sweet little machine out.

14. sterling silver hula girl charm, 2005. with hips that actually move. LOVE.

15. vintage turquoise hermes rocket typewriter, 2007. the first year ward and I participated in advent conspiracy, we established two rules: the gift must be secondhand and it could not cost more than twenty dollars. imagine my surprise when I opened the box and found this beautiful thing inside. people, I could not love a typewriter more. I could not.

16. modern dance paper dolls, 2009. isadora duncan, doris humprey, martha graham, katherine dunham, they're all there. the awesomeness of such paper dolls cannot adequately be put into words.

18. every bracelet, necklace, ornament and painting ava and ezra have ever made and given me, 2000-2010. sweetest christmas presents ever. ever ever ever.


p.s. I don't know what happened during the nineties. I really don't.

list twenty: things I'd like to tell my 17 year-old self

1. you are not fat.

2. he is not The One. it will seem like he is, but he is not.

3. you do not have to smile for every single picture.

4. you are not going to believe this but you do not know everything. also, your parents are right. about soooo many things.

5. your studio art class will spend a whole quarter on photography. pay closer attention.

6. that little 110 camera you love so much is a total piece of crap. people call it a toy camera now but that's hilarious because, really. it's crap. beg your parents to buy you an old used 35mm SLR. then shoot roll after roll after roll of film. and throw out the flash.

7. remember how good it feels to do a back handspring. in a few years, that skill will be long gone.

8. diet coke is not the answer.

9. do not listen to the people who tell you you cannot be a dancer because you don't have enough training, didn't start early enough and don't have the right body. more specifically, do not listen to that teacher who tells you to eat only saltine crackers for a week in order to drop a few pounds. in a few years, you'll discover modern dance and your world will crack wide open. suddenly, ballet will seem like a stupid idea and everything else will make sense. you will go on to do things you were told you could not do. and it will feel spectacular.

10. you know that awesome color photobooth at the kmart two minutes from your house? visit it regularly.

11. you will get a letter from that girl you stood up for in P.E. class. she will tell you that what you did really did mean something to her. her letter will make you cry and you will be glad you took on the mean girls.

12. wear anything you want. because you can.

13. enjoy the widespread availability of polaroid film.

14. keep writing. keep writing. keep writing.

15. do not wear those vintage spectator pumps you love so much to that choir competition. because your left heel will get caught in the crack of the risers and you will inadvertently flip it several feet into the air. it will land with a dull thud smack dab in front of the table of judges and you will be forced to walk (one shoe on, one shoe off) in front of hundreds of people to the center of the gymnasium to retrieve it. you will not die from the embarrassment. but you will want to.

16. for pete's sake, take that typing class.

17. and when your mom offers to teach you how to sew, do not blow her off.

18. do not stop writing letters to your french penpal.

19. stock up on vintage clothing before thrift stores everywhere are sucked dry by the masses.

20. make grandma corrona teach you how to make her bread. she will tell you it's nothing, that it's just ordinary bread but you will come to realize that it's not. you will come to realize that it is, in fact, the best bread in the world.

21. take bigger, scarier risks. because I promise, you will regret it if you don't. you really, really will.

22. the boys, they are not worth it.

23. stop with the black eyeliner. it's enough already and really, you don't need it.

24. and while we're on the subject, beware of all cosmetic counter makeovers.

25. you are never going to find that party on graduation night. your will drive around with your friend michelle for hours and hours, you will find yourselves in the middle of nowhere at three in the morning. you will feel a little scared but even worse, you will feel stupid. so not the way to spend graduation night, so not the memory you will want to have.

26. do not slather yourself with baby oil and lay out on foil mats. furthermore, wear sunscreen. ALL. THE. TIME.

27. turns out your dad was totally right about the whole time thing. twenty years, gone. just like that.

28. seriously, you are not fat.

(twenty down, thirty-two to go)