vacation

we are headed south for vacation and I am finding it hard to contain my excitement. though the preparations for this seven-day adventure (SEVEN WHOLE DAYS, PEOPLE) have been unbelievably detailed and tedious, I have been able to keep my head on straight and my eyes on the prize. I am looking forward to the scent of suntan lotion on my skin, the infinite sound of the ocean and ava playing so hard in the sand that she (literally) falls into bed at night. I am looking forward to catching up on my reading (who am I KIDDING), sneaking in late night swims, hunting for shells, and witnessing ezra's first experience with the water. I am thrilled to be getting out of this house and out of the city and into a car that will take me straight down to the ocean.

FAME!

I've been thinking so much about ava and her first dance performance. it got me to thinking about my first show. said reminiscing led to digging and the result: this little gem of a photo. I am eleven years old here (summer of 1982) and had just finished doing my fame (fame!) solo. please note the woven headband. the lavender leotard with coordinating pink and white baseball shirt and socks. and oh how I loved those nike tennis shoes. my mom sold mary kay and I remember how exciting it was to have her do my stage makeup. lots of burgundy and wine shades, lots of brown. and friends, how much do you love for the dark brown pantyhose?

the performance (ahem, recital) took place at a band shell in the park and there were maybe thirty people sitting out in the audience. a microphone propped up next to the speaker of a tape player (aka jambox, y'all) functioned as the sound system. the rest of the details are fuzzy. though I do remember being so nervous I was sick to my stomach. I remember wondering why I'd even wanted to do this thing in the first place. and I experienced such an immediate sense of relief when it was all over it's a wonder I even continued to take dance classes. fortunately, I have the photograph (in all dorky gloriousness) because the precious video footage was accidentally taped over with a 76ers game. sorry, dad. you know I think you are the greatest man in the whole wide world, but I'm afraid you will never live this down. I'll tell you, I would gladly give up my left thumb (any appendage or limb, for that matter) to see this dance again.

must stop writing now, must dig out my  fame record album. I will be playing it loud, singing along, driving everyone in my family crazy. and man just wait til they get a load of my solo.

my dancer-girl

about a week ago, ava had her very first dance performance and I'm all crazy inside about it. it's so much that I don't even know what to write or how to begin. such an emotional thing for me, seeing her on stage for the first time. yes, okay. I admit it, people. I cried. all these years dancing, performing, teaching (other people's children)... wondering what it might be like to have a child of my own who might be interested in dance. I am aware that ava is only four and this is probably one out of like, 5,731 things she is going to take an interest in, but still. there she was, up on that stage... in her brown velvet costume, under those bright lights, a little unsure, a little unsteady. the student musicians started to play (miles davis!) and they all began to dance (well, sort of) and my heart swelled and I thought surely I might burst into a million pieces. I wanted to fly out of my seat and onto the stage and hug and squeeze her and dance with her. instead, I sat quietly. beaming. at the curtain call, the sound of african drums filled the rialto theatre as a swarm of young dancers and musicians took the stage for final bows. I could barely see ava amidst the chaos. what I was able to make out was her smile-- small, but proud.

ava and dance. in the womb, she kicked (hard, man) while I worked with the moving in the spirit kids (usually when the drums were loud and driving). she is partly named after an amazing african dancer I met while studying at the american dance festival at duke university, summer of 1997. this woman (ava) was one of the strongest, most beautiful dancers I had ever met. behind the electricity and power of her dancing was also an incredible mother, so warm, so open and loving-- full of grace and life. I loved watching her move. fell in love with her name (and all that it had come to represent to me) that summer and secretly vowed that it would be the name of my daughter, should I ever be so blessed to have one.

and so this could be the first of many performances for ava... or the last. I have no way of knowing what will spark her interests in the coming years. of course, I would be lying if I said I didn't care. to take her to her first modern dance performance... to expose her to all the wonderful and different kinds of movement out there... to take an african dance class together... maybe even collaborate/choreograph/perform together. yes, that would be brilliant. what I am thankful for today, though, is this: I was given the chance to see her on stage dancing with live music and lights and excitement this once, to share this love of dance with her, witness this thing of beauty. and that is enough for me.

doorway in rome

it's ordinary to love the marvelous,
but marvelous to love the ordinary.


I have these words (scribbled in red crayon on a scrap of paper) tacked up in my work space. don't know who wrote it, can't even remember where I saw it, but I read it every single day.

photo by ward/ trastevere neighborhood in rome, italy/october 1999

millions

I'm quite happy to report that I spent last night at the movies with my brother (birthday groove was ON). this is kind of a big deal since I LOVE (and I am not using the word 'love' lightly, here) movies and rarely get to go. when ward and I first started out (so very young, married and poor), he worked as a projectionist at the monster-plex we have all come to know and love as AMC theatres. we saw so many movies. SO MANY MOVIES. movies, movies, movies until you just wanted to lay down on the floor and cry. but they were free. we had no money, no children and so this is what we did. we ate cheap (slices of pizza at fellini's), hung out at the book store (even cheaper) and went to the movies. we saw everything. by the end of my twenties, I had seen enough cinematic crap to determine what I liked, what I didn't like. as a result, I am fairly picky now (aka: film snob) in what I choose to go see. what I saw last night brought me great feelings of joy-- it was worth the small loan I had to take out to buy my ticket and concession goodies, worth some minor movie-going irritations and so worth enduring the hoops I had to jump through just to get myself a seat in that dark and comforting little theatre.

if I may (just for a moment) address some annoyances: first of all, the coke we bought was (seriously) the size of a third world country. usually, we sneak in our own refreshments but it was nate's birthday and so I wanted to treat him to some over-priced movie concession delights (nothing says your sister loves you like a thirteen dollar coke). okay, look-- I know the jokes have been made a thousand times over about how enormous america's food portions have become, but the size of the drink we purchased really was beyond reason (all joking aside). and since ward always has to have the largest-sized coke wherever we go, I'm no stranger to unnaturally sized beverages. however, I have never (NEVER) seen anything like this, in all my movie-going, coke-chugging days, NEVER. it was like a giant corn silo filled with cold, fizzy liquid. people, I could not even hold it in ONE HAND. that's just not right. we drank and drank (and drank) from it, but were unable to make even the smallest dent in it. I was so taken with the size of this cup that I brought it home to show ward-- like it was some sort of strange artifact from a foreign land. "LOOK AT THIS!", I cried. "will you please just look at the SIZE OF THIS THING?!" (and I went on and on like that for quite awhile). then there was our unfortunate choice of candy. on a whim, birthday boy chose tart'n'tinies. yeah, the magically delicious quality of those sour powdery/sugary pellets wore off about thirty seconds into the movie. nate swore he could feel the canker sores forming in his mouth as he bit into each piece. they were promptly re-named 'canker bits' (and next time you hit up concessions, just ask for 'canker bits' and I bet they'll hand you a box of tart'n'tinies without missing a beat). and the seats! I'm not usually bothered by situations like this as I can almost always make myself comfortable wherever I am, but these seats... they were constructed in such a way that forced you to sit in a very upright position with the head rest tilted slightly forward, preventing any sort of reclining or relaxing. it should be said that these were brand (spankin) new theatre seats, no doubt meant to upgrade the old art house theatre. but instead of soothingly inviting you to relax and enjoy the movie while sitting in them, they seemed to scream, "SIT UP STRAIGHT! THIS IS SERIOUS! WE'RE NOT FOOLING AROUND HERE! THIS ISN'T SOME MEDIOCRE HOLLYWOOD CRAPFEST, SISTER! THIS IS AN ART FILM! PAY ATTENTION! LOOK ALIVE!".

ah, but I digress.

I would gladly endure these annoyances over and over again to see the film we saw last night. 'millions' is the name of this cinematic little gem (props to nate for his discovery). didn't know much about it going in, save for the fact it was directed by danny boyle (best known for trainspotting, 28 days later). if you have seen any of his flicks, then you might understand why I was also just a little uneasy going in (boyle is amazing with visuals, but blunt and brutal with storytelling). this is a brilliant and beautiful film, saturated with color (pure joy to look at) and rich in content (in love with this story). I loved how fresh and modern it was, completely unpretentious. soft, without being so, well... soft (it makes no sense, I know). curious? check out the trailer here. I am saddened by the fact that this wonderful little movie will probably slip through the cracks, so go see it. there's just so much crap out there and aren't you tired of sitting through all of it? if 'millions' is playing anywhere near you, go see it. I can almost guarantee you will like (love) it.

birthday boy

today is my brother nate's birthday. I am hoping to perch a silly hat on his head, obnoxiously sing the birthday song to him and dig into some serious birthday cake (lard plus sugar= the best icing EVER). also, I plan on making many more 'thirtysomething' jokes because he has not yet truly embraced the fact that he is now a MAN IN HIS THIRTIES (face the truth, brother- the truth will set you free). actually, there are so many reasons to celebrate this 11th day of may: little ezra turns 11 months old (just one month away from the big first birthday!) and nate and kendra are also celebrating their wedding anniversary. and since we're on the subject of celebrations, deepspace 5 (the hip hop collective that my bro is a big part of) just released their newest collaborative effort, 'unique, just like everyone else' (if you're a hip hop head, you'll want to click here lickety-split).

feel free to celebrate today, people. eat some cake, wear a party hat, toot a little horn and blame it on me.

happy birthday, little brother. in my world, you rock the proverbial casbah.

bliss

my mother's day:

krispy kreme donuts
fresh sunflowers
full body massage at natural body spa
original painting by ava

I ask you, does it get any better than this? I think not.

p.s. ward, you have scored MAJOR brownie points with me.

my mom

with her, every single birthday was a special event. trips to the library were a weekly treat and she never limited the amount of books we checked out (also, she pretended not to notice when I stayed up late nights with those same books, flashlight in hand). painting, drawing, dancing, singing, writing (creating of anything in general) was met with great encouragement. our house was never without a certain amount of silliness. to this day, no one can make me laugh like she does. she was the one who introduced me to the world of yard sales. with her, they were fantastic places where glittery old costumes and vintage jewelry could be purchased for a song. and though she might not have always been thrilled with the clothes I wore during my teenage years, she (almost) always respected my freedom to choose. she made every christmas, every easter, every holiday so special (instilling in me a magnificent love for tradition and celebration). she represents strength, intelligence, creativity. she stands out as an example of what it means to be selfless, loving. she is the voice of calm when I feel I am swimming in an ocean of stress. she has seen (and supported) me through everything and knows how and when to keep me grounded. she always had time for picnics in the front yard, heated games of sorry and uno and impromptu dance performances in the living room. beautiful and radiant, she's my mom.

happy mother's day.

poetry

one of the more poetic things I have done in my life was to walk across the brooklyn bridge at dusk. in my 34 years of living, I have found that these instances are few and far between and that when they present themselves to you... well, you gladly partake. and the best ones are little surprises, most always born out of unusual circumstances. no grand story here, just a stroll across an old bridge with people I love.

knowledge is power

the other day, we were sitting on the couch and I was talking (sarcastically) to the television. can't remember who (or what) was the cause of my agitated state. ava looked up from the book she was reading with a serious look on her face.

"mommy, they can't hear you. they're not real."

pause. I'm looking at her, she's looking at me.

"mommy, it's just the tv. they're not REAL."

and don't you know I switched that television off, walked into the kitchen and had a little laugh.

I made him laugh

in the infrastructure of our family, I am the head of what you might call the 'complaints' department. that is, I handle most of the complaints (aka: whining) filed on behalf of the three humans I love more than anything in this world. in the case of ezra, I am THE go-to person when serious comforting needs to be done. inconsolable and crying? over-tired? coffee table wipe-out? I am super-soother to the rescue! able to calm even the most cantankerous ezra with my super-magical nursing powers and freakish arm strength. I hold and sway, hum and whisper until said complainer is calm and happy, 100% satisfied with services rendered. ward, on the other hand, is in charge of providing the entertainment. seriously? he is a walking cartoon/carnival/vaudeville sideshow with comedic abilities beyond my scope. it's kind of like he has that special whistle that only dogs can hear but instead of the whistle, he uses crazy noises/faces and instead of dogs, it's children (namely his own) that respond so enthusiastically to his repertoire. and I love this about him. after all, he's the one who scored the very first smile from baby e-z. he has also been known to drive ava into daily breathless fits of giggling. this is not to say that I haven't made my kids smile. quite the contrary-- ava and I share all kinds of silly inside jokes and have a very similar (albeit wicked) sense of humor and ezra's grin lights up the joint the moment he sees me walk into the room. it's just that I'm not usually the one who makes them laugh that most beautiful-sounding gutteral laugh. ten months into this gig, and I had yet to make my son really REALLY laugh.

until about a couple of weeks ago. I was giving ezra his lunch and was sort of just playing around, pretending to eat his baby food. I immediately caught his attention as I brought the spoon to my mouth and made a loud gobbling noise. this fake-out scenario was met with loud, uncontrollable baby laughter and incidentally, took me completely by surprise. this wasn't some sweet little obligatory giggle-- it was hardcore and more in the vein of a 'hey-look-at-all-the-oatmeal-and-yogurt-in-my-mouth-wow-I-think-I-might-be-SNORTING' kind of laugh. it was the kind that made his little shoulders shake and forced his mouth wide open (allowing me to see for the first time just how many teeth were starting to push their way through). the sound that came from my son was so undeniably authentic... I really didn't know whether to laugh or cry. actually, I think I passed out. knocked temporarily unconscious by waves of monumental cuteness. finally, I had made him laugh.

today, I discovered that maniacal tap-dancing also has a very similar effect. please believe me when I say that I will gladly hoof myself into a drunken-like stupor if I think it will get a big laugh from my bambinos. I'm not switching departments or anything (I'm good with complaints) but laughter is where it's at.

hooked

I'm not sure when it began, the somewhat obsessive collecting of found photographs. I do remember when the habit kicked into high gear though-- we were in east atlanta at a great little junk shop called 'craptastic' (a name so wrong it can only be right), happily navigating our way through stacks and piles and boxes of stuff (aka crap). as always, hoping to unearth something worth all the unearthing. I had just decided against purchasing a pair of authentic seventies platform clogs (clogs that also doubled as roller skates: CLOGS AS SKATES, PEOPLE) when I spied an open suitcase in the corner. the sign taped to the side said 'ADOPT A RELATIVE, TEN CENTS' and there were hundreds of old photos inside, mainly snapshot-style/photobooth portraits of men. I spent the good part of an hour deciding which photos to take home with me and the ones you see here were (are) my absolute favorites. they continue to stand out in a collection that now rivals all collections. I fell in love with the faces and good lord, the style-- effortless style for days, what I imagine it must be like to be smooth, the very definition of the word cool. kind of tragic that they had no one to treasure them, no family memebers to lovingly pass them down through the generations. with this, I was hungry to collect. I snatched them up wherever and whenever they could be found: an antique store in illinois, a flea market in italy, an abandoned box at a swap meet. anywhere and everywhere I traveled, I looked and looked and always managed to bring at least a couple home with me. I am certainly not original in my pursuit here-- people have been deep in this gig long before I hit the scene. and I have only begun to scratch the surface of the resources out there (if you're at all interested in vernacular photography, take a lookie here, here and here). the appeal is universal-- I think we are unable to resist the anonymous nature of these photographs and how engaging they are to the imagination. the story, photographer and subject are all unknown, leaving the viewer to come to their own conclusions (or not) regarding said discarded snapshot. plus, there's the aesthetic-- rich looking sepias and silvers that are hard to come by today. and I think people love the idea of rescuing these unknowns from an eternity in the local landfill. I don't know about you, but I can't stand the idea of my family photos lost in a sea of slimy garbage somewhere. that being said, I cannot save every lost photo I find. I have had to narrow my search (and collection) and find myself especially drawn to those that showcase individuality and personal style, relationships and odd little details. special bonus points (dingdingding) if I find personal handwriting on the back. I am hoping to share them here every once in awhile. too good to be hidden away in my cigar boxes, too good not to share.

it pains me to say that 'craptastic' has long since gone out of business. I do regret passing up those platform clogs/rollerskates (I'm begging you, dear reader-- share the vision and imagine the GREATNESS) but at least I didn't turn my back on the contents of the suitcase in the corner. here's to photographic orphans everywhere and two bucks well spent.

enjoying

every once in awhile, ava becomes obsessed with a particular song and will demand it be played over and over again. while this normally drives me nuts, I can't help but secretly enjoy her latest fixation-- classic eighties tune 'happy birthday' by altered images (take a little listen here). since ward and I share a car, we find ourselves spending more time than we'd like on the road (lots of driving back and forth between home and work, running errands and blah, blah, blah). what this really means is that we are listening to 'happy birthday' about 73 times a day. ah, but I am thoroughly enjoying ava and her little rock-out sessions. I watch her through the rearview mirror as she dances in her seat and tries so hard to get the words right. she is in her own little world, looking out the window, singing her song. I purse my lips together tightly to keep from giggling because I know how sensitive she is-- if she thinks I am laughing, she will immediately become self-conscious and this great little scene that I have been joyously witnessing on the sly will come to an abrupt (and tragic) end. "can you make it louder, momma? get it LOUDER!" she says. I ask her to say 'please' but I am smiling as I crank the volume up.

V to the O

what more can be said about someone who has been known to spend hours helping his niece set up wildly elaborate polly pocket scenes? about someone who willingly (and quite enthusiastically) attends experimental dance performances with his sister? much more, naturally. so blessed to have brothers who inspire me endlessly: nate (known to many as dj dust of mars ILL), who amazes me with his creativity, his music and skills as a turntablist, and von (yup, V to the O), who blows me out of the water with his vision and raw, magnificent talent as a designer/artist. von (in the photo above that I took a couple of years ago while visiting him in new york) is the brother I'm talking about today. he just finished construction of his website (take a little looky here). I know just how it feels to labor so intensively over something for such a long amount of time, to have so much of yourself invested in something. it ain't easy. I applaud him for seeing it through and putting it out there. so if you're reading this baby brother, you should know how proud I am of you. your brilliance shines like a thousand suns.

(oh, and by the way-- ava misses her polly pocket partner in crime)

dress-up shoes

photo I took of ava in cinderella dress-up shoes, halloween, 2004

I can't seem to stop buying dress-up shoes for ava. I think it has something to do with the insatiable childhood need I had to adorn my feet with the most glamorous shoes I could get my small-town hands on. these days, little girlie dress-up shoes are so fancy and sturdy. when I was little, they were fairly plain in color (no glitter, no feathers) with only the slightest heel. mine always snapped in two after about three minutes of prancing around my room, hips akimbo, singing and dancing to k-tel disco records. my dear cousin kristy was my crafty partner in crime and we were always looking for ways to score shoes, ALWAYS. as we got older, our taste became more evolved and refined (holding back laughter here) and we often found ourselves at woolworth's, digging through bargain bins piled high with plastic candies-style high heels. you know the ones I'm talking about -- olivia newton-john made them famous when she wore them with her black satin/leather outfit at the end of the movie 'grease'. the eyes of little girls everywhere glazed over at the sight of those bright red spiky-heeled mules. I can still remember the sinking look on my mom's face as kristy and I teetered out of the dime store in our new faux candies. there we were -- in our short shorts, knee socks and high heels, strutting (and wobbling) down main street, giddy over our $3 purchase.

I guess that's why I get lost in the girlie dress-up aisle of target. I have a very difficult time saying no to all those shiny little shoes with the jewels and sequins and feathers. too bad they don't fit me (don't think for one moment I haven't tried, people). it's been years since I've owned a pair of real dress-up shoes. my obsession has transferred itself to old-school/vintage-style sneakers (adidas, anyone?), with the occasional clog/wedge/mule thrown in for good measure. I live in flip-flops and dr. scholl's during the summer. it wasn't until just recently that I lost my senses over what I would deem the most perfect pair of dress-up shoes (for grown-up girls) EVER. a couple of months ago, I was at betsey johnson salivating over clothes that I couldn't afford and had no place to wear. then I spotted them -- deliciously sparkly and ruby-colored (pictured at right in turquoise). I felt nine years-old all over again. and there, right in the middle of that hot pink boutique (with poor ezra strapped to me in the baby bjorn), I kicked off my sad little black rubber sandals and slipped that shoe on my foot before the tiny horrified sales girl with the asymmetrical haircut could offer me the 'proper size' (or, perhaps another shoe?). I ignored her strained smile and wondered how I could justify blowing $200 on my dream dress-up shoes. true, they're not really anywhere near the style that I tend to rock these days, but PLEASE. don't think I wouldn't find ways to incorporate them into my everyday living. maybe doing the laundry, going to the post office and changing diapers wouldn't seem like such a chore if I had these to strut around in all sassy-like... in the end, I was able to salvage what was left of my common sense and left the store without the shoes. I figure I can drool over the photo of them whenever I like. just the very idea that they exist keeps the little girl in me alive.