guilty pleasures

my girls meridith and AJ tagged me with this here meme. I'm all about indulging (especially in these dreary january days) and so I intend to willingly bare all here. please refrain from pointing and laughing. my five guiltiest pleasures (in no particular order) are:

1. cheap make-up. and well, expensive make-up. 99-cent nail polish in mad crazy colors. lipstick, lip gloss, lip lacquer, lip balm, I am obsessed with all lip products. and products that make you look dewy or flushed, lotions that make your skin shimmery. while I am bananas over brands like stila and nars and MAC, I also love me some wet-n-wild and rimmel too. that being said, I rarely drop major cash on cosmetic goodness. oh, but I love to roam the beauty aisles of target and get lost in the likes of sephora. what's even crazier is that I tend toward the natural look so I really don't know why I'm so crazy about things like eyelash curlers and liquid bronzer and green eyeshadow. I know. it's a little nutty.

2. cherry-flavored blowpops. or really, cherry-favored anything. hey, just cherries. fresh CHERRIES. and cherry snowcones, cherry slushies, cherry coke, chocolate-covered cherries, cherry pie, dried cherries, frozen-fresh dark pitted cherries, maraschino cherries, the juice that you find in the jar of the maraschino cherries. however, due to my recent major cut down on refined sugar, I'm passing on all aforementioned cherry-flavored products. except for fresh, frozen and dried cherries, of course. and miss danette, I want to kiss your feet for introducing me to the cherry pie larabar (which is sort of like an energy bar but made with dates, almonds and unsweetened cherries and nothing else, no sugar, no artificial anything). I am currently having a love affair with cherry pie larabars. is that wrong? now, if I can just keep myself from inhaling several of them a day, I'll be okay. my massive love for all things cherry will remain intact and all will be lovely in AndreaLand.

3. television. as in project runway. as in arrested development, as in lost. and the office (both versions). and what not to wear. and best week ever. and I'm sorry, but I can't say no to america's next top model, either. because how can you resist tyra and her overly dramatic speeches at the end of the show? how can you not LOVE to make fun of jay's faux orange tan? why, WHY does he insist on making his skin look like that? why can't he see how wrong that is? I am also prone to repeated viewings of seinfeld and sex and the city. this thing about me watching old shows over and over, this makes ward NUTS. late night viewings of the cosby show and I love lucy, it's all good. people (and you know who you are MOM and yes, I know there are others and I know who you are too) like to question this guilty pleasure of mine but my thing is: I read. I read a lot, I write a lot, I make art, I dance, I teach, I've got my hands in a whole mess of things that aren't television-related so if I want to zone out and feast on some mindless television, well, I think that's okay. so BACK OFF. (it occurs to me that I will re-read this sometime tonight or tomorrow and have the urge to edit as I do believe I sound a tad defensive. but whatever).

4. magazines. holy smokes, I love magazines. my must-haves are jane (I'm a 'sassy' girl from way back in the day), bust, violet, relevant, readymade, budget living and martha stewart kids but I won't say no to a big fat issue of vogue or martha stewart living. glamour, self and marie claire will do in a pinch. I also enjoy hand-me-downs of in style (thank you so much, lulu). sometimes I like to thumb through ward's premiere or entertainment weekly or elemental issues. occasionally, I splurge on dance magazine (but only if there's something inside that I feel I must have for my dance files). I have also been known to drool over obscure art and design mags too. and I'm not too proud to thumb through people or the enquirer while standing in line at the grocery store.

5. dress-up shoes. shoes like this. I rarely rarely buy such girly sparkly shoes but I do so love them, love to try them on, love to think about where I might wear them and with what. in fact, I wrote a whole thing about this (here) and even have an idea for a project involving shoes that I may eventually share here in hula seventy world. the wheels are turning in my mind. I'm desperately looking for reasons to adorn my feet with such lovelies.

AND: my guiltiest pleasure of all: memes. I am the biggest meme dork of all time. and proud of it. if you want, you can feel a little sorry for me and all my dorkiness and leave me a sympathy comment. and you know, tell me what your guilty pleasures are.

self portrait tuesday #18

I don't know when it happened. I started collecting vintage brown suitcases and couldn't stop. the old ones are lined with coarse satin and smell musty, like old cologne. they are square in shape, sometimes with stripes and I imagine them once being stuffed full with things like stockings and garter belts, blouses and tins of crusty rouge. I imagine they were most at home on trains and buses and in the roomy trunks of old cars, though the ones I have managed to snatch up in past years aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

they have been stacked on either side of the bed and lovingly filled with my history. one suitcase holds all the souvenirs we brought home from our trip to italy (including a little handful of dirt I swiped while we were standing in a field of sunflowers in tuscany). when I open this particular case, it smells like italy to me-- sweet and earthy. another suitcase holds all the love letters, notes, cards and mix tapes I have ever received from ward. I turn several shades of red just thinking about those steamy steamy words waiting to be discovered and wonder if we can bear the consequences of holding onto them. I cringe (and am sick to my stomach) when I think of ava and ezra reading those letters someday. though I could never ever actually bring myself to throw any of them out. another suitcase holds scrapbooks I made growing up, and another holds every journal and diary I ever kept. and the cutest little piece of luggage (that you'll ever lay eyes on) holds all my favorite random special things: a red paper dragon from a chinese new years celebration in new york, a birthday crown made of shells, a swatch of fabric from a costume of an african dance I was in, pearlized chopsticks and coins I brought back from japan, an antique black shawl ward bought me while we were on our honeymoon in new orleans, my college diploma, my photo ID card from the american dance festival, the earrings I wore on our wedding day, my grandpa's black leather watch, the metal tap off the shoe from the first musical I ever performed in... and the list goes on and on and on. anytime I am in the mood to look back (or in this case, examine personal history) I consult the suitcases.

and the suitcases said, "here. look at this one. tell us you don't see a huge chunk of your history right here." oh, yes they did. and the suitcases never lie, people. why would they? what would they have to gain? really, I don't think they're capable. this photo that I found stuck between the pages of an unfinished scrapbook was taken at a time that could be seen as the beginning of Adult Me. I had just moved away from home for the first time (here to atlanta), had just started school, had just begun to work with moving in the spirit. I had my own apartment and was paying my own bills. that day, ward and I were goofing, just driving around downtown atlanta when we discovered a stunning wall of graffiti infamously known as the civic yard. thinking back, I can't believe I got out of the car and posed barefoot for the camera there, all that broken glass and god knows what else. I'm sure I wasn't thinking or maybe I didn't care. years and years later (nine, to be exact) I would become a piece of that wall (look here). and I wonder what I would've thought, had I been able to see the history of my years laid plainly before me. my life in atlanta, my life with someone that would go on to become the father of my two children and a graffiti writer that would paint me as a new mother (only a few steps away from where I was spinning that hot sunny monday afternoon in september of 1992).

the civic yard is no more. for so long, it was a legal wall where graffiti writers were able to paint without fear of being arrested. and then crappy uncool people came in and destoyed the goodness and that's that. it's a boring story as old and predictable as every hollywood movie ever. I'm okay with it, though. landscapes change, people change. if I need a nostalgia fix, I go to the suitcases. the suitcases are always there.

(more gorgeous, fascinating SPTs here and here)

the fog is lifting

this week, the most evil stomach virus in all of the land reduced me to stinky lifeless zombie mommy. it hasn't been the greatest way to start the new year but tonight there was a full moon and tomorrow is another day. not quite brimming with vitality just yet but the letters are beginning to form words and the words are well on their way to becoming thoughts and ideas. I'm hoping they'll all have a little 'welcome back' party in my head. you know, throw down, get loose. mix and mingle and dance on top of tables topless and do what they do best. nothing fancy. also hoping for: color back in my cheeks and the will to get back in the game.

am sick

and tired.

johnny

"I'M BLEEDING!"

this is what we heard our mother scream from the downstairs bathroom on christmas morning thirty years ago. I was only five but knew something big was about to go down. I remember being scared but also a little concerned about the status of the christmas presents that lay waiting magically for us under the tree. this 'bleeding' that my mom claimed she was experiencing... did this mean we weren't going to get to open any presents? or would we just have to endure some sort of momentary delay? the details are fuzzy after that. there was the dramatic declaration of blood, the wondering about the presents and then a mad jumble of events. in no particular order: grandparents were called, you (dear baby brother von) were born (christmas day!), grandparents arrived, gifts were (tentatively) torn into, the end. a week later, my mother came home, weak and smiling. I remember that her face looked so shiny to me that day. and then finally, under mom and dad's watchful eyes, I held you in my lap. you were like a little giant, not at all like the delicate baby dolls I had been practicing on. pretty rad christmas present-- better even than the holly hobby colorforms, I promise.

sadly, my wishes are belated. and I suppose this is what it has been like to celebrate a birthday on christmas each year. I've been in the front row since the beginning, brother, so you think I would've known better. still, I can't help but celebrate you. welcome to a brand new age bracket. I remember thinking that I would be SO OLD when you turned thirty and now here we are.

oh yes, you were leaving trails of powdered sugar all around the house and always always stirring things up. you and your infamous parachute pants (weren't they really just BMX pants?), shocking and wowing the kin with your b-boy moves. funniest kid ever and so stinking bright.



though really- my words here can't even begin to compare with what you gave me on my 30th. do you recall? all of us sitting on the floor, barefoot around that big table at the imperial fez, eating moroccan food with our hands and watching belly dancers jiggle and gyrate. when all the drunk stupid people around us from all the sad little office christmas parties threatened to cheapen the vibe of the night, you got up in front of everyone, cleared your throat and silenced the room. you announced to the checked out crowd that it was your sister's 30th birthday and that you had a gift to present to me. you proceeded (in a loud and confident voice) to perform eric b. and rakim's classic rap 'paid in full'. it was at once the most awkward, most beautiful thing ever and one of the most memorable things about that night.

I wish I could reciprocate, I do. all the same, happy 30th. just look at you now.

self portrait tuesday #17

after traveling in the car all day today (coming home from vacation), I really thought I would crash on the couch OR get caught up in a mad cleaning frenzy. you know, unpacking and vacuuming and muttering complaints under my breath. but alas, I sat down to check my email (just for a SECOND), and before I knew it, I was sucked in. a quick look at the clock (two hours until midnight!) and I was off to rummage through some albums and photo boxes to see what I could find for this month's self portrait tuesday challenge.

and so this is what I dug up: one of my favorite childhood snapshots. I loved that day. I loved that outfit, that hat, those white leather sandals. that's me, all right. I sort of think of this as quintessential andrea. always moving, on fire to play, to go, to see, to do.

each summer, my family piled into an enormous brown stationwagon (aka the chuckwagon) to make the two hour trek to st. louis to spend the day at six flags over mid-america. like christmas in july, folks. oh, the anticipation leading up to the big day, waking up early EARLY in the morning to pack up and go. my eyes grew big as the st. louis arch came into sight. I pressed my face against the window to take as much in as possible. the city was a mysterious place that I loved so much it hurt. small town living will do that to a little girl. when we finally arrived at the amusement park, the sight of all those bright-colored flags waving in the sky... the smell of the black-top pavement (a scent as intoxicating as old library books, fresh-cut christmas trees, my grandma irma's bread baking and the ocean)... all of it just too good for words. we ate an early lunch in the parking lot (picnic-style), gobbled down tunafish sandwiches and drank warm lemonade, though my brothers and I had absolutely no appetite. we just wanted to GET IN THERE. and once we did, what a whirlwind, what a blur of giddy activitiy: kiddie roller coasters, the antique cars, cotton candy and straw hats with red pompoms! the time tunnel, the log flume, the six flags dancers, the arcade! we always stayed until the park closed, until we were sweaty and sticky, tired and grouchy and whipping each other with those plastic glowing flourescent necklaces. sometimes, we would catch a late night concert on our way out of the park and I will never forget marilyn mcoo and billy davis jr. performing a cover of the eagles' 'heartache tonight' to an audience of about fourteen people. they were ridiculously excited, trying to get us to clap our hands above our heads. it was kind of a sad scene but I still thought they were so cool. (marilyn mcoo of solid gold fame, can I get a witness please). I remember wondering, where WAS everyone? this was FABULOUS, this place, this performance, this moment in time. yes, I was high on cherry slushee and ice cream and taffy candy but I was more right about that than I ever could've known. those yearly trips are such a sacred part of our family history. someone brings up the subject of six flags and it's so easy to get lost talking about it. in my mind, they were magic, magic times and I think my brothers would be quick to agree. I am forever grateful to my parents for this, for these trips. and I want this for ava and ezra. I want them to have old photographs like this to look back on and I want them to be able to sit around and laugh about family trips like we do.

(how about that rad yellow adidas teeshirt my dad is wearing in the photo? dang. where is that shirt now? I'd just about do anything to have that in my possesion. including-but not limited to-naked bowling outside in the dead of winter)

seek and ye shall find

it's true: I've done more than my fair share of complaining. it's so easy to do. it just sort of wears on you, the everydayness. dirt and the rocks, that's what it is. the everyday dirt and rocks of a foundation you work so hard to build, and you get lost in it and then it becomes near impossible to see what you were working so hard to create in the first place.

and then all of the sudden, it is the last day of the year and you find yourself looking back. if you're lucky, you really see. you are able to look beyond the daily gritting of teeth, the sweating, the steady application of much elbow grease, the inconvenience of 365 days of living and you see your life for what it really is. people, I am an expert whiner, I am superb. my skills in this area are unmatched (it may surprise some people to know that I am the pessimist, the realist and ward is the eternal optimist in this marriage deal). I am not so dense though, so steeped in my ways that I can't see the beauty in my life that is spilling out all over the place. I am so rich, I am rolling in it, I'm drenched and saturated. love, love, love. I see it, feel it even when I don't want to.

this year: watching ava and ezra grow up in a million heart-breaking little ways (too many to name), playing in the ocean, dancing again, teaching again, celebrating eleven years of marriage, and wow, the writing I have done. this blog gig broke open a world I didn't even know existed until about a year ago. and the people I have met along the way have inspired me in the most divine ways. I'm humbled by the creativity and support my new friends have so willingly offered up. sitting here writing this, I feel something crazy and alive bubbling under my surfaces and I am excited to think of where it will take me. I have been laying in bed at night, eyes wide open. thinking clearly and slowly untangling threads of ideas in my head. the possibility of art, of painting, drawing, of photography, of choreography, of more dancing, more writing, it's too much. I feel good and green and bursting with colors, seconds away from eruption.

2006! here it comes. to my friends, my family, the world-- happy new year.

it's the thought

ava has really gotten into the spirit of things. she has taken to wrapping up tiny little found objects to give to all her school friends. I haven't had the heart to tell her that her classmates might not be so excited about receiving a piece of an old pencil eraser. frankly, I was thrilled to see her focus shift from getting to giving. it's an exciting thing to witness, it's what you hope for as a parent. even if it has been breaking my heart on the daily. any little thing that caught her eye (which included the cracked half of a plastic pink bead she found on the floor of the thrift store the other day) was lovingly wrapped in a minuscule piece of red tissue paper and a whole mess of tape. she held them in her hands the other day, all those tiny little red packages. she held them carefully, as if they were jewels and her eyes shone with pride. she could not wait to give them to everyone in her class and I said a small prayer that her friends would somehow see the love behind the odd little gifts. and then in the car on the way home from school the other day, she told me that she had given out all her presents. she looked out the window and said nothing else. and of course, this worried me but I did not pry.

yesterday, we had lunch with ava at her school to celebrate the grand opening of the new cafeteria. as we sat eating macaroni and cheese and fruit cocktail (naturally), a little boy eyed me from across the table. I could tell that he was working up to the saying of something. then finally, "ava gave me a present," he said, grinning generously. oh, he was so happy about that little gift, he was. and then ava, she smiled too-- a smile as wide and as open as the whole of the sun.

kids, man. they can be so cool.

fa la la la la

I am currently in a state of super-crazy-holiday-momminess. I'm not screaming at sarcastic sales people or swiping parking spaces from nice old ladies in oldsmobiles or anything like that but I am feeling completely spent. super-mommy wants to make everything extra-special for everyone, but andrea (the real live human-being) is unable to do so without some sort of superhero powers. and so I am letting it go. which is why I decided to post the above photo of the ava girl because I look at this and I think that I'd like to be all wrapped up in her glowy happiness and earnest anticipation. so I am going to try to let go of all the lists and the urgenturgenturgent need to cross all items off said list and I am going to get all wrapped up in the spirit with ava and ezra and ward and my family and friends. maybe it's corny but goodbye to all my caring about what's corny and what's not because we are going to sing and bake cookies and dance around the house in our pajamas and wrap presents and celebrate the birth of christ and revel in the love.

I'm off to revel. I'm wishing you the same.

self portrait tuesday #16

more self portrait tuesday loveliness here and here.

hello, I'm 35

and I'm blissed out. check it:

1. adorable children and husband treating me to breakfast in bed (which would be a warm krispy kreme donut with birthday candles stuck in it and a glass of ice-cold milk).
2. an ava-girl original birthday card (best present EVER).
3. and more food: lunch with all my people at figo. butternut squash ravioli good enough to make the knees buckle and the eyes roll back in the head. chaotic and lovely and everyone together.
4. three words: RED. VELVET. CAKE.
5. and you know there were presents (and they were good ones).
6. a fabulously designed birthday card (jan, I LOVE it) and an inspired gift from poppy.
7. a little shopping spree at victory vintage (where loverboy is painting a mural in return for a nice little chunk of store credit).
8. a massage at my favorite local spa, natural body.
9. brown suede wedges that I finally broke down and bought myself.
10. and still, more food: dinner with ward at agnes & muriel's. working on my '35 things to do before I turn 40' list over fried green tomatoes and mashed potatoes. ward kept making me laugh thus preventing me from finishing this list (stalled at number 21).
11. lovely words from the man I love most (thank you).

people, it was a birthday weekend extravaganza. started off with a bang when we hit the scene at husband's work christmas party. no lie, there was a photobooth on site (free and unlimited use! I almost passed out, I swear). hence the above photo. AND there were fresh strawberries and a chocolate fountain. A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN, PEOPLE. that's really just about all I need. saturday included a trip to the fleamarket with my momma and the purchasing (and setting up) of a fresh christmas tree. the house smells fantastic. and so today, I am on a post-birthday high. me likies birthdays.

oh christmas tree

soon the house will be filled with the scent of fresh pine. we are headed to pick out a tree this weekend and when we bring it home, we will play vince guaraldi's charlie brown christmas music and sit on the couch and stare lovingly at it. we'll be breathing deeply, through the nose, taking in as much of that christmas tree smell as possible. eventually, we'll get around to stringing the lights on (a day or so later) and then finally, the ornaments. ah, the ornaments. sadly, all the vintage ornaments (so carefully wrapped in paper and just waiting to make their yearly appearance) will have to remain in the attic. ezra is completely and totally head over heels in love with and obsessed with balls. or anything AT ALL ball-like in nature. 'BAH! BAH!", he screams. or "BOON! BOON!" when he catches sight of a balloon. he dives into the refrigerator the moment I open it, hoping to get his hands on an orange or an apple or kiwi whereupon he will throw the poor fruit around until it is reduced to mush. I knew we wouldn't be able to hang the ornaments on the tree this year but thought at least maybe I'd be able to set them all out in clear glass bowls around the house (which is what we did when ava was two). but I just KNOW that once he lays his big brown eyes on all those sparkly little orbs (placed just out of reach), it will be all over. it will become his personal mission to get his hands on any and all ornaments and my time will be consumed with preventing him from doing this. there will be unbelievably wild acts of baby desperation: supernatural scaling of walls and furniture to get at said ornaments, crying, whining, baby-like pleading and begging. and you know, you just can't reason with a baby. which is why I have chosen not to bring them out (oh how I will miss you, glittery little ornaments). they will stay nestled in their old cardboard 'shiny brite' boxes. and we'll be cutting out many MANY paper stars to hang on the tree instead.

self portrait tuesday #15

reflection all over the place, what with this month's self portrait tuesday theme and me turning 35 in like, less than a week. bring it, I'm READY. (shut yer piehole nate I am embracing my age and I am proud of it and OH YEAH YOU ARE IN YOUR THIRTIES TOO).

keeping my head above water

clothes fresh from the dryer, the japanese maple in our front yard (currently a brilliant fiery red), ava's new pixie cut, music by the shins (chutes too narrow please because I cannot get enough), my husky/scratchy/raspy head cold voice (that I wish I could keep forever), freshly painted toes in crimson (thank you amy), sugar lemon soap , this birthday/christmas wish list (that was loads of fun to make), ava's super enthusiastic nightly discoveries of planet venus and all the stars, these bright colored photos (that make me want to lick the computer screen), strawberries dipped in chocolate,  paper snowflake-making (with the ava-girl), a dance class high, the promise of a red velvet cake, ezra walking around with boots on his hands, the scent of freshly cut christmas tree, the possibility of a tuesday night trip to star bar (whereupon I will dance with lovely dancer friends to the likes of double dutch bus and come home with clothes drenched in sweat), recently thrifted knee-high boots, a new season of project runway (I can't wait, people), ward's new beard (which I am weak in the knees over), this christmas album by my bro (original album cover art by this totally hot guy I know), the possibility of a road trip to see this art exhibit, the unconditional love heaped on me daily via sloppy kisses, frantic squeezes and much bum rushing.


I'll not front. the title here was indeed inspired by the good times theme song. ain't we lucky we got em? you know you want to sing the song now, don't fight it.

dance class

photo by david olivari.

class was so good the other night that I slept in my leotard and sweats. walked in the door of my home and crashed, deliciously exhausted yet strangely energized and ready to take on whatever the world might be dishing out. with as much as I have been squawking about getting back into it, I finally felt like my foot was in the door of a place I have not been to in some time. oh, I have been going to class but really struggling to find my way back.

just getting myself there every tuesday night feels like an impossible feat, one that I am continuously attempting with what feels like several large rock-filled bags attached to my body. slow and deliberate and just a little bit agonizing. ava takes creative movement at the beam right before my class and so there's a whole special tuesday night routine that must be carefully followed lest things fall apart at the seams and wreak havoc on the entire evening. it starts with dinner (which must be served early) and is then followed by a drawn-out potty time that absolutely positively must take place. then comes a whole mess of dance clothes that have to be squeezed into while ezra runs amok. there's the hurried round-up, the packing of everyone in the car (which often feels like I am collecting marbles that are rolling in all directions). there's the trip to pick up ward at work downtown whereupon I try not to race and swerve and pass and speed. we sing along to 'they might be giants' here come the ABCs (at the top of our lungs, natch) and we do this to get excited about dance class. but also to keep ezra from falling asleep. if he sleeps early then there will be hell to pay and we might be in for an epic struggle at bed time involving relentless whining that will feel a little like chinese water torture and will make us want to whine and cry too. so I feel like I am tormenting ezra by tickling him, singing loudly or rolling down the window a tad for 'a little bit of cold air' to keep him awake but it must be done. normally, I would not have him in the car at this time of day, but it is unavoidable. why don't I just prod him with an electric stick? I feel like a horrible mother. and nine times out of ten, he falls into a deep sleep by the time we pull up to ward's work. then there's the fight to make it through traffic the short distance to moving in the spirit, where class takes place. we struggle to make it on schedule and by the time we pull up, I am on edge. I hate being late. after ava's class is over, ward takes both of the kids home while I stay to take (the oh-so-fantastic) wayne smith's 7:45 modern technique class. but by 7:45, I am depleted of about 98% of my energy. my reserves are low and I wonder how I am going to make it through class. I'm tired. I want to go home and cuddle up on the couch with ward. but I stay. I stay because I remember how important it is for me to stay, how good it feels to move, to sweat, to dance. I stay because I can't give up on that part of me. and I try not to think about the times in my life where class was an everyday occurrence, late night rehearsals were the norm and I try not to think about how much I took all that for granted.

and so I am there. I have been getting myself to class for a while now but this tuesday night felt different. oh, I was still tired but once we started moving, things started to feel electric. when you are dancing and everything is working the way it should be, it feels a little like your body is taking you for a ride. everything you have is engaged- brain, muscle, skin, bone, organs, nerves, cells, blood, breath, EVERYTHING. muscles expand and contract, the back widens, shoulders relax and drop, the chest opens up. your movements are weighted but you feel like you are floating. mad energy spirals up and out of the core of the body, out through the fingertips, the top of your head and every part of you feels like it is alive and buzzing. you are moving through space fully and effortlessly and it feels exactly like it sounds. it feels AMAZING. it's glorious, such a thrill. it's a little bit like flying and yes, a lot like a good ride at the carnival. don't get me wrong, you are working and thinking and (best of all) sweating (oh, the sweating) but it feels more like the natural, automatic rhythm of breathing. which is where I found myself the other night.

my chica danette says that dance 'shakes things loose and free' and I think there is no better way to say it than that. which is why I keep dancing. and why the fight to get there is worth it.

(check out this photographer's beautiful work on flickr. he is responsible for the stunning photo above and best captures what movement really feels like, I think. I am especially taken with this set. oh yes, and thank you wayne.)