right now

no fronting, yo. I'm tired.

around town

trying to catch them all before they disappear.



(more of matt haffner here, and 'atlanta celebrates photography' here)

photobooth friday

what's written on the back:

andrea, 18
von, 13
kmart photobooth
november 2, 1989

I'm leaving in about four days to visit my brother in new york. I'm so excited I think I might be hovering outside my body. like I might pee my pants and not even care about cleaning it up.


others bringing the photobooth friday noise this week:

scrumdillydilly
leSophie
jesC
the whole self
nessie noodle
acumamakiki
woof nanny
a.stray
bobbyS

the one where I hijack 'ava thursday'

well, I've gone and done it. I've been thinking of how to make my move for a good amount of time now. I have to admit that when ward first started his blog, I didn't really get it. when he started up the whole 'ava thursday' thing, my first thought was how I would SO be doing that if I had my own blog gig. and then I ended up jumping on the blog bandwagon. and then I was really really mad at myself for not thinking up the whole 'ava thursday' thing first. and maybe just a little bit mad at him too, because my brain has been clouded by all the baby-having and the baby-raising, with no room for good ideas like the ones that come flying out of his head left and right. 'ava thursday' has always been this very special little thing that the two of them share and what kind of a wife/mother/human would I be to do any kind of tampering with it? NOT A VERY NICE ONE. plus, I love that he loves this, that he pays special attention to the art ava makes. it brings on a sort of wobbliness in my knees.

funny thing is, he's been at me for a while now to post up my own ava thursday artwork. but I felt strange about doing it. I was all, oh no, this is your thing, I'm not going to crash your party, that's not my style blahblahblah. and he was all, don't be silly, woman-- you're thinking too hard, I don't understand you, don't be ridiculous. this part could go on and on and on. you know it could.

so I'm not really hijacking anything, not really, I'm just doing it already because I'm too much in my head about it. I'm a little too much in my head about everything and I think maybe I could use a break from that. and that girl of mine, she is all the time giving me drawings and paintings that are begging to be shared. like this one with all the fantastic hair styles. ava quietly handed this to me a couple of weeks ago, right before I went to get my hair all chopped off. she told me that I could cut out each style and place them on the head of the bald-headed (save for the bangs) girl, just to see what I liked. I love her for this. because of the way she was thinking, because she seems to know that a girl needs choices, because wouldn't it just be the cat's meow to put on your hair style du jour like a kicky little hat? (yes, I know they're called WIGS but they don't make them like this). plus, those asymmetrical swirly curls are just so 21st century. in ava's world, I wouldn't have to pay a crazy amount of cash three times a year for The Big Haircut. I wouldn't have to bring seventeen pictures to show the stylist what I want. I wouldn't have to sit there all sheepish and pumped up high in that chair, using crazy words I picked up in a british hair magazine at the book store the night before. especially when what I really want to say is, don't make me look like a mom, okay? can you do that? don't give me a mom cut. and I wouldn't have to throw my jacket over my lap so as to avoid looking at my stumpy self in that horrible full length mirror. hair salon owners everywhere, I am begging you: please promptly remove all full length mirrors. no woman I know wants to look at herself sitting like that, it's terribly, unforgivably unflattering. it makes me want to jump out of the chair and run into traffic, it really does. in fact, I have been known to put off getting my hair cut just so I won't have to face looking at myself in that stinking full length mirror.

ava, I love the way your brain works. and I live for the day when the hairstyles are spectacularly flippy and fancy and transportable like this. although I have to say, I would miss getting my hair shampooed. I would miss that occasional slice of heaven known as the scalp massage. still. I'd choose to reside in your world anyday, child.

(more ava thursday here and don't you know I've got more in the hopper)

the magic number

at six in the morning, when the house was still dark and the circles beneath my eyes were saying everything I couldn't, when I was hunched over and yanking peed-on sheets from a bed for the 17th morning in a row, when I felt like the grouch in me was about to ripen, fall off and go rolling in all directions, I hear this muffled voice:

"mommy!"

"what?"

"MOMMY! MOMMY!"

"WHATAVAWHAT!?"

"three really IS the MAGIC NUMBER!"


sesame street. man, I owe so much to sesame street.

self portrait #36

find your glam in ten easy steps:

1. drive to favorite shoe store
2. find spectacularly glamorous pair of shoes (something like this, perhaps-- or this)
3. purchase with nary a thought to price
4. drive back home
5. take shoes out of box and slowly slip onto feet
6. lay around in shoes, look at them adoringly, ponder the meaning of life
7. photograph self in said glam shoes
8. wrap shoes lovingly in tissue, place carefully back in box
9. drive back to store, promptly return shoes
10. grieve loss but stop at nearest drug store on the way home to buy fake eyelashes

obviously, I did not take my own advice. but I'm planning on it. I've been dreaming of this shoe project ever since I started blogging, for reals, and this month's glam theme over at self portrait challenge was just the little push I was looking for. but today I needed to mash some potatoes (no lie) and had to go with an old cliche: glossy lips and vintage feather boa. nothing says old skool glamour like a black feather boa.

(more of the glam over at self portrait challenge)

monday night meme

because it's monday and I have something I really, really want to write about. but it's going to take so much out of me, I just know it and I am not up to it, not tonight. and this random meme business is just SO MUCH EASIER. plus, katie tagged me and I never could resist a meme. it's a shortcoming of mine and I'm not sorry for it.

if your life were a soundtrack, what would the music be?

here's how it works:
1. open your library (iTunes, winamp, media player, iPod)
2. put it on shuffle
3. press play
4. for every question, type the song that's playing
5. new question-- press the next button
6. don't lie and try to pretend you're cool


opening credits:
"femme fatale" velvet underground

waking up:
"ain't I good to you" ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong

first day at school:
"these boots are made for walking" nancy sinatra

falling in love:
"I am waiting" rolling stones

breaking up:
"I am a grocery bag" they might be giants
(um, I love the idea of a break up scene with this in the background)

prom:
"bonita applebum" a tribe called quest

life's okay:
"sweet thang" van morrison

mental breakdown:
"acetate prophets" jurassic five

driving:
"next universe" mos def

flashback:
"you can't go home again" DJ shadow

getting back together:
"night fever" bee gees

wedding:
"freakazoid" midnight star
(think about that for a minute, it's just so good to think about-- walking down the aisle, occasionally breaking into the robot)

birth of child:
"playground love" air

final battle:
"mambo italiano" rosemary clooney
(come to think of it, I have been known to belt this out at random and sometimes inappropriate times-- this song could so be my own personal battle cry)

death scene:
"naked as we came" iron and wine
(I SWEAR this was the one that came up)

funeral song:
"our lips are sealed" the go-gos
(you got that right, mojambo-- so true and maybe a little too morbid for monday night)

end credits:
"la valse d'amelie" yann tierson

in conclusion, I think there's a little man in the ipod and he is on to me. I am now tagging all y'all.

tag sale tales

will be contributing to tag sale tales occasionally-- my introductory post is here. take a little lookie at this site if:

1. you cannot pass by a yard sale or thrift store without stopping to take a look.

2. you have a basement/attic full of chairs/lamps/tables you just had to rescue.

3. your idea of the best vacation ever includes a parisian fleamarket.

we're all coming down

yes, we're all coming down off that lovely post-halloween sugar high. and it hasn't been pretty. the candy is nearly gone and we finally got ezra to shed his mr. bones persona and take off the costume. which is funny since we could barely get him to put it on in the first place-- you'd have thought we were trying to squeeze him into a suit made of steel spikes. and forget about our plans for an elaborate (yet appropriately cute) skeleton face. one look at that swipe of white paint on his cheek and we found ourselves in the throes of a meltdown that threatened to ruin halloween for the entire metropolitan statistical area of atlanta. ava, on the other hand, was dressed and ready to go three hours early.



fortunately, we were able to divert the meltdown catastrophe (yup, we used candy) and pull it all together. mr. bones was a hit on the streets. and I highly recommend trick-or-treating with a gaggle of folks (thanks katie and joel for making the trip). I would also strongly recommend seeking out neighborhoods where the people get nutty about the whole halloween affair. and by that, I mean fog machines, pumpkin sculptures and FULL-SIZED CANDY BARS. they might as well been giving away bundles of cash. but then, they had a wurlitzer jukebox, a harley davidson and a neon coca cola sign on display in their small front room. so, you know. they must be all about the show. well, they win. because every kid will always remember the house that gave out full-sized candy bars and had a motorcycle in their living room. and I thought I was the shizz for giving out chocolate eyeballs. silly, silly me.



if only I'd had time to pull together my halloween costume. I was inspired by friends who threw a party where you had to come dressed as what you wanted to be when you grew up. I've spent the last two weeks thinking of how I could construct a costume that would allow me to be one part breakdancer, one part prima ballerina and one part solid gold dancer. I figured one leg could be devoted to the b-girl, the other leg, prima ballerina. naturally, my top half would have to be all about the SOLID GOLD DANCER. oh, the possibilities. my head cannot take it. of course, I also wanted to grow up to be a broadway dancer and a famous painter but a girl can only do so much. I only have so many limbs. but this halloween I was just lucky enough to remember to put my shoes on before we left the house. and it has to be said: the prize for 'halloween costume I wish I'd thought of' goes to the husband of the divine miss madness. people, the BK dude makes me laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. he just does.

my other regret is that we've only just now located our vhs copy of 'it's the great pumpkin, charlie brown'. at least I know what we'll be doing tonight. the last of the candy is sure to disappear by midnight. then (and only then) will it officially be november to me.

(the adventures of cowgirl and mr. bones, aka halloween 2006 can be viewed here)

photobooth friday

those crimson lips. stunning, no? though great aunt augusta (whom my mother was named after) was mainly known for her wide smile, gorgeous teeth, her deep raspy laugh. at least, that's what I remember most about her. and I always had the feeling that her kindness was a rare, genuine sort of kindness. something about her breaks my heart a little, though-- cannot exactly put my finger on the what or the why of it. she looks around fourteen here, maybe fifteen and do you see it? the melancholy? I wish something had been written on the back of this photo, I wish I knew more about her, I wish her story was a little clearer. I wish I wish I wish.

a bit of a mystery to me, that aunt augusta.

others waving the photobooth friday flag this week:

jesC
jek-a-go-go
the whole self
nessie noodle
woof nanny
acumamakiki
jördis anderson
sfgirlbybay
leSophie

(and because it's leSophie's BIRTHDAY today, I chose one my favorites of her: it's here and happy birthday to you, lovely miss leSophie)

thursday love

the things that save me when I am having to spend dreadful amounts of time in my car: music (duh), random conversations with ava and ezra, npr popculture podcasts and public art.

I love public art. I love it when it catches me completely off guard, when it makes me want to drive around the block again or get out of the car-- just to take a second look. I love it even when I don't like it, even when it's bad because it's something different to look at, something to think about. for a quick moment, I am completely unaware of the sea of stale goldfish crackers beneath my feet, the odd smell of the car's upholstery. I am not thinking about the joker behind me who will not stop honking his horn or the crap on the radio. in that moment, I am not late for anything. there's no whining coming at me from the back, no mysterious stickiness in my cupholder, no traffic, no fingers urgently tapping the steering wheel. me and public art, we are so good together.

(more on the above exhibit here and here... and more TILT here and here)

every stinking day

it's national blog posting month, my friends-- aka NaBloPoMo (think NaNoWriMo lite). and because I am a huge blog dork and am not yet ready to take on the rigors of novel-writing, I have decided to join up. meaning: I will be posting something every single day this month.

it's about writing daily, I think. with the idea of something great eventually floating to the surface. not unlike like photography where the more you shoot, the better your chances are for a sliver of something solid and good. speaking of which, photos may appear here more often than words. or not. I don't know and I'm not even sure that's allowed but I'm not really in this for the prizes. maybe if there was a little sparkly tiara involved, though I'm not really a tiara sort of girl. unless rubies and moonstones and turquoise gems are involved. okay, so maybe I'm a little bit of a tiara sort of girl, but not in the conventional way. I like to dream of tiaras made with seashells and german glass glitter. and fresh flowers. and the aforementioned jewels and gemstones, of course.

really, I just want to see if I can do this, I want to see what happens. so don't laugh if I end up flaking out, which is a very real possibility. I guess you could laugh and laugh and laugh and I'd never really know. ah, the beauty of blogging.

all the same, I'm off and running.

happy halloween

I have absolutely nothing clever to say about halloween here. I just really wanted an excuse to post my photographs of pumpkins.

thank you. that is all.

photobooth friday

I caught him eating waffles out of the trash the other day. there's a kind of quiet that settles over the house when ezra is up to something. it's an ominous quiet that jolts me out of wherever I am in my thinking, whatever I am doing. I drop everything and fly through the house, yelling his name. on this morning, he was nibbling on something near the trash can and when I saw it was waffles, I knew where he'd been.

he's also taken to waking up at 5:30 most every morning. which wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't head-butting involved. if he would wait until, say-- sevenish-- to run full speed at my belly with his tough little bedhead bowed and ready for contact, I might be able to pass it off as some weird, adorable little toddler quirk. I am absolutely not a morning person and probably never will be. and it really doesn't matter if I go to bed in the middle of the day, 5:30 in the morning still feels like the anti-christ to me. I am steeped in grouchiness until about eight and there's just no getting around that. the combination of all these things has stretched me in spectacular ways.

then there's the pinching. ezra takes great comfort in pinching the skin on the insides of my arms, near the crook of the elbow-- and he's figured out that bending my arm in just the right way allows for the most perfect amount of meaty, pinchable flesh. some of those pinching sessions have brought tears to my eyes, dear readers. those little pinchers are powerful weapons that should be registered with the U.S. government. I believe he pinches out of love, I do-- and comfort. and probably to get my attention. I haven't put a stop to it just yet, mostly because I'm genuinely fascinated by it.

I'm not as fascinated by the 'elbows of death' though. yes, that's what I like to call them-- the 'elbows of death'. ezra likes to pounce on me like an old grey mattress that's been left out on the side of the road. he's so joyful in the pouncing that I don't usually mind it. until I feel a pointy elbow dig in my neck or thigh and then I mind it very much.

and like so many toddlers everywhere, he loves (LOVES) running through the house pants-less. it must feel so good and free to zip naked through each room (which is why I allow it). the problems come when it's time to put the pants back on: when ezra sees me coming towards him with jeans and diaper in hand, he begins to spiral his body violently, comically. like a tiny cartoon twister. there's no containing him, no bribing him, absolutely no stopping him. I grab his ankles and pull but my arms start to twist too, at which point I give up until he's worn himself out. I keep waiting for him to bore a hole through the couch cushions, the sisal rug, the wood floor. I keep thinking he might end up somehwere near the center of the earth.

oh, but I am so crazy about that kid, so crazy-- in spite of these things, because of these things. I am crazy with love, so crazy that I think it probably comes out of my ears and eyeballs, from the top of my head, out the tips of my fingers. it's a love so alive it lights up like an electric sign that cannot be turned off. and you know that it's too much but you can't really stop from looking at it.



and here is where I give up the photobooth friday goods:

jesC
jek-a-go-go
the whole self
bobby S
acumamakiki
velvet vox
a.stray
jördis anderson
leSophie
under a pink sky

and here is something that makes me so happy, so jealous-- all at the same time.

I'm listening

"sometimes while she was writing, a slip of one of these street conversations insinuated itself into a poem, and what had been fleeting and anonymous was set down in print. so much of writing was about not saying this, not saying that, the obvious crossed out, whole pages of notes not used, and then, purely by chance, a stranger's talk suddenly mattered. unpredictably, a scrap of the world seized up and glowed."

(from holy skirts by rene steinke)