Saturday, January 31, 2009
I've let it be known that when I die, I would like to be cremated and have the ashes spread in front of the display window at the Anthropologie store at the Grove in LA. Each individual store is dressed and decorated by a master of What Will Lure Girls Inside to Convince Them to Dress like a Vaguely European Librarian. I fall into this buzzy retail fugue state anytime I'm in one their stores. I'm swept along by bland indie pop as I inspect cocktail dresses and cardigans and frilly aprons and tea cups, and with a pretty impressive stash of gift cards, I was able to indulge and several beigy, flowy numbers. And this cute thing:
I stocked up on birthday/thank you cards at Social Graces, but with the Anthro spree completed, I was all about the food.
What I consumed in the past 24 hours:
a shepherd's pie
hummus and pita
chocolate chip pancakes
fish and chips
banana ice cream/chocolate cayenne pepper ice cream
We split our time evenly between the Hillsboro neighborhood and East Nashville which looks exactly like Silverlake in miniature. We had dinner Friday at Family Wash, a former laundromat turned restaurant that is all about serving comfort food and hosting local bands. It took Harlow about five seconds after spotting the drums to demonstrate her skills.
After dinner we went back to the hotel, passing guests getting ready for their night out.
Harlow kept declaring that she was ready to go to bed, and we actually thought for a moment that she might actually sleep in the pack in play five feet from our bed. 8:30. Lights out for the Sweazy family. I'm not sure any of us got that much sleep. It wasn't so bad, because at 7:30 we were seated at the famous Pancake Pantry. I figured if we were gonna pig out, I might as well go for it.
Me, going for it:
We struck out with shopping in the late morning. Two different stores I had hoped to visit in the 12 South neighborhood had closed, so we grabbed lunch at Battered and Fried.
And yes, that is edamame in the background. I suppose it shouldn't be strange that a place that fries fish can serve it as sushi, but it was still a little odd. Harlow happily ate sushi rice and edamame and some of Caleb's chicken sandwich. Schizophrenic, but everyone was happy. Even happier when my hints to be included in a family trip photo were honored.
Because we weren't full of yummy disgusting food already, we stopped by the Pied Piper, an ice cream store owned by one of Alexa's closest friends from her camp years. The place is too cute, housed in a Victorian home and offering homemade ice cream along with retail items and baby clothes. The ice cream was just ridiculously good. I had banana pudding ice cream (with wafers!) some of that spicy chocolate ice cream on the side. Harlow had the oatmeal raisin cookie, which was cinnamon ice cream with oatmeal raisin cookies crushed up. Caleb got the I Can't Believe it's Not a Butterfinger. Next time I'm all about the Trailer Trash which was about 6 different types of candy bars mashed up together. I've never really been an ice cream person, and I was moaning out loud after every bite, convincing myself that maybe I'm the one who needs to drive around in a restored bus doling out gourmet foods and ice creams. Could be a nice life.
Fun stuff. And doesn't Caleb look like he's kidnapping his own baby here?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
But I keep coming back to this picture of you, of your dad holding you up in the air, you with this smile that just slays me. I mean, it kinda knocks the wind out of me.
I've always known you are beautiful. But man, you are just something.
You talk to me, all the time. You have so many stories to tell, and I am legitimately sad that you are asleep because I'd love to hear more of them. And not just because I am procrastinating.
You are so full of questions, and I do my best to answer them. You stare at me and watch my lips move, and you ask more questions, and then you study study study. And then you ask another, and I answer, and you have NO IDEA what I just said, and you know I know, and you respond with this soft, kinda uncertain "Yeah" that makes me want to scoop you up and hug all that vulnerability right out of you.
I love you munchkin. I'm gonna get back to work now, but I just had to tell you.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
My friend Laura is a self described "golden retriever;" she's unfailingly positive, cheerful, loyal and kind to a fault.
She's also a smokin hot pregnant lady and deserves to be photographed as such.
We had a very fun session over at Molllie Fontaine Lounge. My very cool video light that gives photos a noirish feel died the second we turned it on, so the lighting was a bit challenging. My model was not. I have so many amazing pictures of her I don't even know where to begin. So here is one starters. More to come!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Perhaps this is why I am learning to be a photographer.
I'm having too much fun to stop.
My friend and fellow writer Stacey Greenberg is an eco warrior. She's the kind of person who buys cloth bags and actually remembers to take them to the store. She's so dedicated to raising awareness of the ills of plastic bags that she borrowed a handmade "bagmonster" suit fashioned out of what must be a 1000 plastic trash bags. She had some photos taken downtown in her scary bagmonster suit, but all I could see was conceptual Vogue shoot written all over it. Stacey was game and came over for a fashion shoot at my house. Lucky for her the suit was so damn big that she wasn't subjected to my original plans which had her channelling Grace Jones and doing some really weird posing. But the lady rocked the suit and we got some really cool shots. Hopefully next time I will figure out how to get rid of those crazy shadows!
Do you remember Faerie Tale Theatre from back in the day? With Shelley Duvall and pretty much every famous working actor of the day? It was on Showtime, and it was must see TV for my whole family. Even at age 10 I knew the show was pretty weird and could actually be pretty creepy. These were the kinds of tales that ended with sharp objects being plunged into body parts, people burning alive and did I mention Shelley Duvall hosted it?
Here is Cinderella with Jennifer Beales and Matthew Broderick:
An article from Babble.com gives some great scoop from behind the scenes, like how Mick Jagger as the Emperor in The Nightengale wore nine inch finger nails and had to have, ahem, EVERYTHING done for him. The box set of the entire series is coming out, and I cannot wait to cozy up to some Klaus Kinski and Susan Sarandon in Beauty and the Beast!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
(as I am adding cookie ingredients to the Kitchen Aid mixer with Harlow in my arms)
M: Just let her throw in the walnuts.
C: No, you're making me nervous. I once met a guy who only had a thumb and a pinky. Put his hand in and ...(he makes a claw)
(He takes the baby from me)
M: A kitchen aid mixer did that?
C: A big industrial one.
M: There's no way this Kitchen Aid mixer could do that, on this speed. With a paddle.
C; Do I have to explain the laws of physics to you?
Harlow holds out a walnut to me from ten feet away.
M: Sorry baby. Daddy won't let you.
C: Right. I'm the no fun daddy. Because I want her to have fingers.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Where have I been?
Musician Ben Lee, known to most as the ex of Claire Danes and Ione Skye, known to most as the recipient of Lloyd Dobler's boomboxed affection* just tied the knot in India
* I attended a screening and Q&A with Cameron Crowe who told the story behind that famous scene. Turns out John Cusack was really into speedmetal at the time, and he gave the director a tape, convinced that his character would be into the same music. He apparently was equally as convinced that Lloyd Dobler would not be into pansy-ass Peter Gabriel. Humoring his star, Crowe did several takes with the speedmetal but wasn't psyched. The light was fading, and Crowe asked/begged Cusack for one more take. He reluctantly agreed, holding the boombox above his head while the stupid, stupid Peter Gabriel song played and he was bored and pissed off and done. And thanks to the magic of cinema - and a pissy star - we have a heartbroken, yearning Lloyd Dobler, a Top 40 smash, and one of the greatest moments in teen movie history.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
I think since the beginning of the holiday season, and I am counting from the best one of all - Halloween - Harlow has been healthy for maybe a total of one week. We had a good stretch down in Florida immediately after Christmas, but then we came home with a toddler who felt like molten lava to the touch and has a cough to rival my late grandmother's. One could look at the accompanying photo - pantless toddler on the beach - in December, and assume we were actively trying to court pneumonia to come calling. The beach wasn't the problem but her proximity to other little ones who, I am beginning to suspect, magically conjure germs when entering other babies airspace.
Fortunately she just has a nasty ear infection as the result of yet another cold. But I have never seen this child so sick. She slept about 18 hours yesterday, tossing fitfully and coming to briefly to ask for a sip of apple juice and then going back under to try and let her poor body rest. When she was awake, she just laid her blazing hot body against mine and softly cried. She is better today. The fever is down and glimpses of my sweet baby are back. But there is that persistent nasty cough, the snot, the pitiful crying and the sheer helplessness of my not being able to make it better.
I just keep coming back to this photo, and how proud I was to watch my daughter charge into the waves, screaming BATH! and trying to pull her clothes off so she could go for a soak. That girl loves her the the ocean. It'll be a pity that she will have to enjoy it inside a bubble on our next family vacation.
Friday, January 2, 2009