photobooth friday

clearly, I have no idea how this whole 'days of the week' thing works. that's what it must look like, what with so many of my recent photobooth fridays showing up on saturdays, sundays and now (gulp) mondays. actually, I was about to let this one pass, but I couldn't. I just COULDN'T even though I'm up to my eyeballs in paint (soft white satin interior, if you must know). there's paint in my hair, on my toes, my hands, the backs of my legs. the new house is a little, how you say... rough around the edges. needs several gallons of paint to smooth it out. I haven't packed the first thing. I'm in some strange holding place, walking around the old house like we're not about to uproot and vacate in four short days. I put clean towels away in the hall closet with nary a thought to the big hot mess this house is about to become. it's only been three short years since we last moved, so I vividly remember the work involved, the chaos that moving brings on the entire family, the unfamiliarity of sleeping in a new place. still, I walk around as if nothing is about to happen. and it's not because I don't want to move-- I'm prepared, I've made my peace with it. I'm ready to inhabit a fresh space, I'm open to the change. but something is strange. I feel strange.

one tradition I have is to take a photograph of the refrigerator door right before we move. there are always photobooth strips on the fridge (yes, of course)-- they're part of a small kitchen exhibit that is constantly evolving. scraps of drawings, various photographs, corny magnetic poetry-- it's all there. just like so many refrigerator doors all over the world. these photobooth strips, the photo of me dancing, the randomly placed words ('pink delirious wind' being my favorite), the ava drawings-- items that made (make) me happy every single day. this weekend, I will be working on a new refrigerator door exhibit. look for it to make tremendous waves in the art world.

moremoremore from my photobooth friday girls:

jesC
leSophie
the whole self
jek-a-go-go
lovegreendog
acumamakiki
a.stray

for revital

I was all set to complain about our upcoming move. I was. I've been writing it all in my mind for the past two weeks or so, muttering it under my breath like a crazy person. I was absolutely furious over having to pay 25 dollars for one gallon of paint the other day, FURIOUS and I've been all schlumpy in the shoulders over the amount of painting that needs to be done to the new house in the next several days before we move in. I've been feeling sour with no intention of sweetening anytime soon. and I was all prepared to share the sour.

and then I got an email from revital monday morning. back in mid-july, revital sent me the most magnificent color-iffic blue and brown swap package. the day it arrived, we'd been looking at house after house after house and I was feeling fairly sour then, too. I resisted the urge the rip it open and let out a little gasp of surprise when I saw that it had traveled all the way over from israel. israel! a few weeks earlier, I'd sent my blue/brown package to norway. I'm loving this globalness, I thought. with ava right by my side (and breathing excitement down my neck), I carefully opened the brown paper package. oh, we marveled at the goodies inside and the way it was all so lovingly packed. chocolate bars and rain-scented soap from israel! papers and craft supplies! and the handmade items-- magnets made to look like little chocolates (good enough to eat), a sparkly mobile (which ava laid claim to almost immediately), a hand-decorated journal (for my travels, she said), a beaded bookmark (because she noticed my love for books, she said) and my absolute favorite-- a hand-beaded ring (pictured here on ava's hand). I was deeply moved by the amount of thought put into the package, the loveliness of everything and put it all back in the box the way it came. just so I could re-open it again and again.



so we've been trading emails back and forth and all that is going in israel has not gone undiscussed. but this month has been particularly horrible for revital-- bombings all day long, completely unable to go out in the light of day, scared beyond words for her family, her friends, herself. she craves normalcy, friendship, kind words (don't we all). but truly, can you imagine? I'm not about to get all political (as I so easily could)-- it's not my style. I'm just asking: can you imagine what this must be like? because I can't. and I've been seeing it all on tv and reading about it in the newspapers and listening to reports on npr but I'm not sure I really really got it until I read revital's email monday morning. suddenly, my outrage over having to pay 25 dollars for one gallon of paint seemed absolutely ridiculous.

and I feel so powerless. I hear her and I want to help, I want to say something that will help. what she wants more than anything is the normalcy, the friendship. and that is the one thing I am able to give her. it's a drop in an enormous bucket, but it's something.

so, dear revital (if you're reading): thank you. for the most gorgeous package and all the heart and thought that went into it. but also for opening my eyes in the way they needed to be opened.

and everyone else reading-- if you're feeling it-- leave some words for my girl revital. my guess is she could use the diversion. she would welcome the kindness.

photobooth friday

my mom, she got tickled.

take a look around, you might like what you see:

jek-a-go-go
leSophie
jesC
the whole self
lisa's musings
nessie noodle
velvet vox
acumamakiki
lovegreendog

and the enchanting miss pickle-b sent this my way. upon viewing, I turned 23 shades of purple and danced a little happy dance inside my head.

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.

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.

photobooth friday/sunday

well, I think this is just like, the best. one. ever. a seventh grade me, a 1984 new wave wannabe me (and so obviously, so very very sadly failing). even though I had no real idea what new wave meant or what punk rock was all about, I knew enough to know I wanted in. polka-dotted tees from the mall (with matching turquoise hoop earrings from claire's boutique, natch) do not exactly radiate new wave-- omg, NOT EVEN CLOSE but holy flourescent jellies, people. I was trying. I listened to my k-tel new wave compilation record album on the daily desperately hoping to absorb any coolness that might be seeping out of the brown speakers and into the air around me. the waitresses, haircut 100, bow wow wow-- I would gladly lay down on any grimy thrift store floor and cry salty-sweet tears of joy if I found this album again. you think I'm joking, but I am not. I lovingly remember how it was grey flecked with various stylishly bright-colored triangles all over it and photos of the offending bands on the back. in the far out world of thrifting, this would be my white whale.

today, I am choosing to embrace the lazy-lidded junior high me. and I will be humming I know what boys like for many, many hours (maybe even days) to come. sadly, I knew what boys liked. even at the tender age of thirteen.

the photobooth friday cats, I do so love them:

jesC
scrumdillyumscious
leSophie
sewn with gold threads
the whole self
lovegreendog
woof nanny
acumamkiki
anatomist
velvet vox
a.stray

photobooth friday

is coming.

south carolina is for lovers

for me, the week was about the littlest things.















for starters, there was a refrigerator icemaker that dispensed perfectly crushed ice at my every whim. really, I have a crazy thing for crushed ice. and a bag of the freshest, sweetest cherries, with juice so startlingly red that every time the bebes bit into one it looked as if they'd been drinking blood. the fantastic private pool meant that I could prance (yes, prance) around the place in my favorite, oldest and most faded two-piece swimsuit with no one (and by no one, I mean other women) sizing up every square inch of my body. oh, the freedom! I almost passed out from joy. viva a sarong-free life and my husband makes me feel like the most beautiful creature on this earth. oh, and diving for the first time in years (did you know it's like riding a bike?) and drinking homemade strawberry slushees by the pool. mornings at the beach went beyond all the playing-- like a trip to the spa, babies. a sand-covered body meant that for once, my feet were wickedly smooth and clean, my skin soft and brown and my hair wavy from sea water. there was the shell-collecting, which I love. I really, really love to do this. nevermind that we didn't get around to making the shell boxes and necklaces that I always think we're going to make. also: a spotless, most cavernous tub into which I poured way too much bubble bath. I think I must be out of touch with the whole bubble bath thing because when I switched on the jets, I thought I might (quickly) be buried alive by cucumber-melon scented bubbles. the beginnings of panic set in (a little I love lucy-ish, yes?) but still, it was a bath-- a hot and bubbly one at that. and there was the bed with the impossibly soft white sheets. it called out to me (earlier and earlier) each night. sleep is a most delicious thing when you embrace it whole-heartedly.

I am now ready to take on the world. meaning: ava starts school monday morning and we will be moving into a new home september the 1st. I'm ready now, I can take it. I've had loads of crushed ice and some sleep plus time in the ocean, diving and floating in the pool. I'm ready.

(thank you so much marilyn and carlene for making this vacation possible)

you've seen a lot already, I know, but go here for more. you'll feel like you've been on vacation, I promise.

photobooth friday (er, sunday)

first time since I started with this whole photobooth friday thing (back in the grey, dreary days of january) that I have posted so late. but I'm on vacation. these snaps are fresh from a booth near the beach, y'all. back soon, lovies.

more photobooth eye candy:

sewn with gold threads
jesC
scrumdillyumscious
leSophie
the whole self
woof nanny
acumamakiki

photobooth friday

and even more with the birthday girl. strip taken in december 2005 at the primal screen christmas shindig (ward snuck her back in that night to surprise me with this). I love that haircut on her but she has since vowed to grow her hair long (looooongLONGLOOOOOOONG, she says) and won't go anywhere near a salon. even if it is one with sparkly, shiny orange chairs. even if it means giving up a dig through the treasure box for a prize once the stylist is finished. anyhoo. more birthday fun here.

and holy photobooth, they're ALL OVER THE PLACE today. me likies:

jesC
scrumdillyumscious
the whole self
nessie noodle
lovegreendog
acumamakiki
lisa's musings
a.stray

and for the mother of all vintage photobooth postings, check it: swapatorium

poor five

that's what she said to me tuesday when I asked her what it felt like to be five years old one last day.

"poor five," she sighed. "I'm going to miss being five. and I think five is going to miss me."

I knew I was going to miss five too. I felt that deep, familiar ache and looked at ava with new eyes: legs long and spindly, dirty blonde bangs fringed unevenly over big brown eyes, crumbs from an afternoon snack on her cheek, two newly loose teeth. the frailty of all this, the urgency of living right now, the soaking up of as much of ava and ezra as possible. all of this. I felt the waves of something absolutely indescribable wash over me.

that night, we lay on her bed under the large paper lanterns. we talked about the day she was born andI  began to ask her questions, mostly about things we both assume I already know. things like her favorite number (1,000), her favorite color (red. and pink. and yellow and purple). her favorite food: spaghetti. least favorite food: black beans. all-time favorite drink: cold milk with lots of ice. favorite book: count down to grandma's house, favorite song: twinkle twinkle little star (and uncle nate's 'breathe slow'). favorite piece of clothing: something that no longer fits-- a pink terrycloth skirt with the tiniest, cutest little front pocket, a skirt she wore until it begged to be retired. I continued to ask the questions because I wanted to know. because it's the kind of stuff you think you know about a person (namely your own daughter) but so often don't. and it's true, some of her answers surprised me. surely these answers will change a hundred times over the course of the next ten years, but on the eve of her 6th birthday, I wanted to know. so that'll I never forget who she was on that night. she's deeper than these questions but, still. you think you'll remember the basic things, but you don't. so many times, you really just don't.

and so she turned six yesterday. and we celebrated a birthday, in the midst of an impending move and a current of stress so electric I'm afraid to step in water. we ate breakfast in bed, ran through fountains, rode a carousel, built a bear, ate lunch with daddy at the varsity. and there were balloons, of course and lots of family and chocolate cake with cherry-flavored icing and presents. I woke up at three in the morning with confetti stuck to my cheek and immediately attacked the mess of crumpled wrapping paper and ribbons, the party plates that littered the living room and dining room area, plates with remnants of cake floating in pools of melted ice cream. afterwards, I quietly walked into ava's room. there she was, sprawled out and pillowless, unmistakable evidence of a birthday well celebrated. I kissed my six year-old girl on the forehead and headed back to bed, salvaged what was left of the night in the way of sleep.

hello, six. you are so lucky to have her.

photobooth friday

(september 2003, first trip to city museum in st. louis, photobooth at beatnik bob's)

taken a month before we found out I was pregnant with ezra and a month after we moved into the house where we live now. so much happening then, overwhelming changes and transitions. not unlike where we are now.

my fellow photobooth friday peeps:

jesC
the whole self
acumamakiki
leSophie
woof nanny
nessie noodle

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.

fly fly away

we'd been facing the drama head on for a couple of days and decided we might like to wallow in denial instead. just for a day or two. so we decided to pretend that we did not have numerous houses to look at and a monstrous attic to clean out. for one day, I feigned sunny-faced optimism and ignored the frantic feelings that are beginning to run rampant right beneath the surface.

we did what any self-respecting family facing mild adversity would do in our shoes: we went to the butterfly festival. doesn't that make sense? isn't that what everyone does when the shizz hits it? naturally. saturday afternoon had us pretending that it was not as hot as it was, that you didn't need a butter knife to cut your way through the humidity, that we weren't feeling all melted and sweaty. instead, we watched as they released hundreds of monarch butterflies from a wooden cage. they fluttered around us in the thick air like little pieces of papery magic. one landed on my shoulder and I felt like the Chosen One. I could feel her slightness on the bare skin of my shoulder and marveled at her brilliant colors and patterns. unfortunately, she flew away before I could properly introduce myself. we spread our cotton blanket out and attempted to eat a picnic lunch but kept wandering off in different directions to follow the monarchs. we watched as they landed on flowers, got as close to them as they would allow. we gently touched the tips of their delicate wings and were genuinely surprised when they didn't seem to mind. and of course, there were crafts. we made butterflies out of marshmallows and paper and paint, we made butterfly bookmarks. somehow, the volunteers were able to paint on the sweaty faces of so many children. ava couldn't stop looking at her decorated butterfly self in the small hand mirror and ezra kept touching the caterpillar on his cheek. we were headed for the popsicle guy but heard thunder off in the distance. we watched one last time as they released more butterflies (ezra on my shoulders and ava on ward's) and then ran happily towards the car. we were a mess of hot and stickiness but it had been worth it-- the wallowing had been good.

later that night, we had dinner with friends (thank you, james and mandy). chicken and vegetables grilled to perfection and fantastic conversation. and the pineapple-- so sweet and juicy that I wanted to lay down right there on the floor and cry like a happy little baby. yes, wallowing had been just the thing.

butterflies, face paint and one sweaty family: lookie here.

photobooth friday

my stash of vintage/found photobooth snaps. I heart them all. I talk to them in the wee hours of the night and listen to them whisper deep, profound secrets. um, not really. but I do like to look at them.

because you can't (you won't and you don't) stop:

leSophie
jesC
scrumdillyumscious
the whole self
a.stray
woof nanny
acumamakiki

and this one because it is ridiculously fantastic.