from arkansas with love

listener is coming to a town near you. and he is awesome.

personally, I like someone who can take the stage barefoot, talk about things like people who swallow handfuls of night and somehow (seamlessly) work in a little trumpet playing. all while paving the way for talk music. my kind of musician.

listen

whaddup knitta

first piece of guerilla knitting spotted recently downtown. probably not from an original crew but still. very exciting and completely rad. rogue knittas of the world, I love you. if I could knit, this is totally what I'd be doing.

on an unrelated (though totally relevant) note, there's this. I think it should be on billboards. I think it deserves to be said over and over and over. and I think it probably needs to be said loudly. preferably very loud.

yay! (part one)

a few things you will find on the pages of the absolutely fantastic premiere issue of uppercase, a magazine for the creative and curious:

a cherry red typewriter

a treehouse extravaganza



a brilliant use for a balloon



candy-like vintage typewriter ribbon tins

reinterpreted book covers



whirlers and twirlers plus the ten commandments of square dancing



rad poster designs

beauty in the unfinished



a spectacular polka dot umbrella

the healing properties of cupcake decorating

the humble nature of the paper towel

peewee herman versus shakespeare

tear-out art involving colorful spherical balloons and bubble ink drawings



the most lovable monsier character ever





a piece on record players written (and photographed) by yours truly



I'm telling you right now that I am gaga over uppercase. even if I wasn't a contributor, I'd still be gushing like a school girl and that is no lie. get your copy here, peeps. you'll not be sorry, I promise you that.

p.s. processes (like hangers) can be pretty.

hangers are pretty

see, what happened was I got tired of looking at pictures of peeps. and then I sort of got tired of eating them too. which is when marginally random photographs of secondhand swimsuits on hangers come in quite handy.

I will write something with some sort of depth and meaning soon. please stand by.

also

I've been eating peeps. happily, methodically.

I've been:

wallowing in the aftermath
contemplating red, aqua, pink
eating lemon curd straight out of the jar with a tiny baby spoon
learning about legos
struggling to keep up
loving daffodils in vases
spotting birdie nests with ezra
scrambling to meet deadlines
singing out loud
turning the house upside down
organizing art supplies
reading and watching
painting walls white
hand-mending an old quilt top with an unimaginable number of holes
wishing for magic dresses
dreaming of balconies and fire escapes
making paper collages with ava
photographing strangers again
anticipating pink heady blooms
developing roll after roll of film
feeling horribly inadequate
waiting for something good
swiping orange jelly beans from easter baskets that are not mine
crushing flower petal confetti underfoot
drowning in laundry
praying for sun

photobooth friday

how is it that I am not in chicago this weekend for the international photobooth convention? because how great would it be to be at the photobooth convention today on photobooth friday? how rad would that be? very.

but my resources are tapped and I've done more traveling in one month than I ever thought possible. I probably ought to sit still for a minute. but holy smokes, I'd like to be there. I really really would. instead, I'll be living vicariously through all you chicago peeps who choose to do me proud and represent. please do report back with vivid, complicated details. because vicarious living is in the fine details, you know.


p.s. I dig the poster yes I do.

p.p.s. I do not own the sombrero pictured above. though someday I hope to.

part two

I think I will talk in pictures

for a while, just for a little while. because I'm telling you, I have lived a years' worth of happy in about 30 days. easily. I am still processing processing processing. so I think I will talk only in pictures for a while. just until the words come. which should be shortly. I think. I hope.

oh, and lists. there might be a few lists.

back soon

am currently having an adventure. which has everything to do with number 16 from the list. back soon, friends.

part one

to get on a plane and fly south, to step out of the car and onto the beach, to smell/taste/touch familiar air, so sticky and sweet. oh gulf, I have missed you. to blow through six packs of polaroid film in two days, to wear sandals, to work with shiny people, to drink mexican coca cola, to work with my brother. these are luxuries. I know this to be true.

p.s. there's a nice story behind how we found the orange VW bus.

flight 749

I squeeze past him and he doesn't even look up. which is fine with me. when I'm flying, I keep to myself. I always ask for a seat by the window and I say as little as possible to those around me. I do not invite conversation. I turn my body towards the small oval window and slip my headphones on. I line up potential reading material, I organize snacks. I look out towards the wing of the plane and pray that it does not fall off while we are up in the sky.

forty minutes into the flight and we are still pretending we are not sitting next to each other. he asks for a tiny bottle of jack daniels and a can of pepsi. he chases it with a pinch of tobacco which makes the air between us smell sour and acidic. he seems mildly agitated with everything around him. there's a thin, steely layer of something akin to anger just beneath the surface of his skin, I can feel it. he asks for another miniature bottle of jack daniels and mixes it with watered down pepsi. he downs it and closes his eyes. he is the kind of man who enjoys magazines like maxim. he eats lunch at hooters. he tells his girlfriend she's put on a little weight even when she hasn't. he is this kind of man, I am sure of it.

across the aisle are three loud twenty-something girls who cannot stop talking about some party. she was like and then I was like and then she was all and then I was all and we were like I was like he was like she was like. I cannot tell where one begins and the other ends. they are a fabulous tangle of diet mountain dew bottles, great lash mascara and people magazine. I am fascinated and see a former version of myself in them but the girls, they are killing him. they are killing the small bald man who sits next to me. he has no patience for these kinds of three-headed creatures, pretty as they are. finally, he dozes off. he snores quietly while I look out the window. below us, the land is laid out like mismatched linoleum tiles. I marvel at the sight of this. my ears start to pop and I know we are getting closer. closer to land, closer to home.

we land and right away, half the passengers on the plane stand up. this is when I realize there are two types of people: those who stand as soon as the plane lands and the seat belt sign goes off and those who don't. I get swept up in the anxiety of the moment and stand up too. I wonder what this accomplishes. what is the thinking behind this? obviously, the standers want to be first to grab luggage from the overhead bin, they want to be first off the plane. they have jumped to their feet before the appropriate time and they avoid any sort of eye contact. they pretend to look bored, annoyed, anxious. on the other hand, the sitters look content. as if they know something the rest of us don't. there's really nothing to be gained from standing the minute the seat belt sign goes off. standing doesn't guarantee anything. the sitters know this. I decide I don't want to be one of the standers. I want to be a sitter. I sit and immediately feel better. the small bald man next to me is standing, of course. he's got one hand on the overhead compartment and is poised for action. this is when I notice his hands. he has nice hands, tan with veins that protrude in a way that suggest strength. I begin to look at him differently. maybe he doesn't tell his girlfriend she's fat. maybe he leaves her love notes on the night stand. maybe he reads the new yorker. maybe he faithfully eats lunch at the small family-run deli on the corner everyday. maybe he is kind-hearted. maybe.

I wait until most of the people have gone before I start to gather my things. I take one last look out the window and silently thank the wing for not falling off. I am one of the last to make my way off the plane.

ear to ear

I'll have you know that I was all set to break from list-making for a while. I do believe I've developed a bit of a disorder. but then melissa went and tagged me and I'll not say no to melissa because she makes excellent scones and has cute babies that I like to pretend are mine.

six that are smile-worthy:

1. sushi bar conveyor belts and video cameras. I cannot stop watching this. I am in love with it and would like to hole up in a dark room with it and watch it until the sun comes looking for me.

2. husbands who find things you thought you lost forever.

so ward gave me the most fantastic ring for my birthday which of course, I promptly lost. because somehow, I am able to hold onto every last cheap, crappy ring I own but the minute I receive a gorgeous handcrafted piece that feels as if it was designed especially for me, I lose it. I lost my first engagement ring too. yes ma'am, I certainly did but that's another story. but then, over a belated valentines dinner last week, ward said hey, lookie here and there, in the palm of his sweet hand, sat said lost ring. and the heavens parted and the angels rejoiced, I swear it. he'd found it in the trunk of the car a few days back and decided to save it and surprise me with it at dinner. I have not taken it off, not even once because honestly, I'm just trying to enjoy this ring before it inevitably slips off my finger and falls prey to the curse of andrea, the girl who cannot hold onto pretty rings. I figure I have a couple of weeks. a month, tops.

3. pink balloons that don't die.

there's a pink balloon in my room and it will not die. not that I want it to die, but it's been two weeks and shouldn't it be dead by now? really, it should be somewhere near the floor looking sorry. instead, it continues to hover shyly over my side of the bed and let me tell you, it's as pink and buoyant as ever. I've taken to calling her pinkie and I'm rooting for her to make it. I really am.

4. collaborations with siblings.

I'm collaborating with my brother on a project of his this week. this is big news, this is great news but also, this particular collaboration requires me to get on a plane and fly someplace warm and near the ocean. I leave in about 24 hours and am still in a state of disbelief.

5. ezra's word for tights: sockpants. I'm sorry. I know I've mentioned it here before but I can't help myself.

6. orange ranunculus. omg, orange ranunculus, I love you.

and speaking of list-making, joslyn over at simple lovely recently invited me to put together the list of all lists. if you're not totally sick of me and list-making, you can read it here. oh, and christina, I'm officially tagging you. your world is filled with all kinds of smile-inducing sort of stuff. I know that for a fact.

photobooth friday

dear uncle von,

me and the kids, we've been talking. we're feeling a little down. here's why: we're here, you are not. we think you should move here. we think you and portland could really be good together plus we need you. we miss your endless supply of coins and your excellent school of pool. we miss the way you consistently allowed yourself to be climbed on, jumped over and tackled. we miss the marathon mac photobooth sessions and the genuine enthusiasm you had for the very legendary playmobil hospital. we miss the music from your pink phone and your very contagious late night ways.





personally, I miss all the movie-going (which promptly ended for me the moment you got on that plane back to new york). honestly, I don't know what was more memorable-- watching godfather II at the old hollywood theatre with you or the walk back home afterwards. then came man on wire on new years day (which, okay, you sort of had to talk me into) but you were right, you were so right about that. best film ever to see on the first day of a new year. I'm sorry I doubted you because you know, we will surely be talking about it when we are 100 years old.

mostly, we all just really miss you so please make the necessary arrangements and move here already. and please hurry as we are currently in great need of shiny coins and new music.


xo

you know who


p.s. all the cool bikes are out here. you know I'm right. also, we have annie's donuts.

number six

dancing lions, flying yo-yos, candied mango, pale pink blossoms, shiny red envelopes, small pots of tea, fortune-telling boxes, tiny bridges, hanging lanterns. I'm telling you, I am a sucker for such things.

number six crossed off the list and the rest are calling. the year stands before me like a giant sun.