The belly that ate the wedding

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Grrrr. Argh.

the belly that ate the wedding

p.s. There are few things more depressing than running into a wedding guest who is also pregnant and due on the SAME FRICKIN day - with their FOURTH FRICKIN CHILD and they look a good twenty pounds than you. Ok, I guess the only thing more depressing is how much I care.

Whitney & Todd: Sneak

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I am in love with the bride, the groom, and those sweet little kiddos, but I think I might marry that tree.

on location at Carahills



A sweet candid from yesterday's portrait session with the ballerinas of Collage Dance.


Va va va dang

Monday, January 24, 2011

va va voom

Seriously, y'all. This is how I spent my Sunday.

I cannot begin to describe the buzz I get from making beautiful women feel, well...beautiful. It's an honor, a privilege, and such a freakin sexy way to spend the afternoon. It makes me grateful to be a girl.

Any ladies out there feel like getting dolled up and playing in front of the camera?

I'm ready when you are!

Recent google search and decoder ring

Friday, January 21, 2011

First Time Dad

Thursday, January 20, 2011

For those of you in the mid-south who have written, called, emailed - no, Caleb does not have a doppelganger - just a burgeoning career as a "Dad-type" on local TV! Here's his ad for Farm Bureau insurance. I'm sure getting into character wasn't much of a challenge.

28 weeks later

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I wonder if there is any coincidence that the title one of the scariest (and most kick ass) horror movies in recent memory is also what is known as the beginning of the third trimester?



Friday, January 14, 2011

There are a lot of things I meant to hash over this week.

Like, how seriously are to take Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, the Amy Chua memoir that has roiled the mommy blogosphere with its smug, borderline child abusing case of extreme parenting?

Harlow had a bully, and then kinda turned into one herself.

And when will these motherf-ing hormones leave me alone? I just stumbled onto a little treasure trove of baby Harlow videos which I'm looking forward to watching if I didn't SOB MY EYES out the second her little cherub face pops up on screen.

There's that website idea I want to talk to you about, and my thoughts on Black Swan and if psychosexual will be a new genre at Red Box?

But as I am spending every moment either cleaning the kitchen to avoid writing or writing my little fingers into nubs, I really only have this to offer. In my search to find an interesting fireplace for our house, I stumbled across this photo.

I love the herringbone, but I'm not sure how well it goes with rabbit. Or if rabbit prefers the chocolate cake someone left out on the stairs over the carrot dumped unceremoniously by the the mirror...on the floor.

Um....stylist? Wtf?


The Abandoned Snowpeople of Midtown Memphis

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

We will not forget you. Again.

(An oldie but goodie originally posted here)

(And just like the original post, you have to wave the cursor over the inexplicably blank window below and look for the "play show" button to pop up. Showit slideshows suck.)


Thursday, January 6, 2011

Thanks to the online moviemaking site Xtranormal, you can unleash you inner Spielberg...when Spielberg was still making home movies and sneaking onto the Universal lot in a suit and briefcase to fool the security guards. It's super easy and fun and an excellent way to procrastinate, so without further directorial debut.


Daddy's Girl

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Hey you.


Yeah, I’m lookin at you, blondie. The one whom I so glowingly reviewed a few weeks back.

You like making a Pinocchio out of me, ne c'est pas?

Or you’re going through what I am told is “a phase.” An “I can’t stand my mother and will punch her in the nose because she is not daddy” phase.

The problem is that for it to be a phase or to exist at all, it must be googleable. I believe that needs to be, like, the fourth law of physics. You google it, therefore, it is. I mean, you can google “sheep sombrero” and get an actual hit. Go ahead, try it. I’ll wait.

Now try and google “4 year old rejects mother” and you will get a steady stream of sympathetic residents and mamapedes reassuring your husband that their child will eventually come around and like them again. Because clearly, hating dad is a milestone, like rolling over or saying Ma for the first time. It's normal because moms are AWESOME. But nowhere can I find empirical evidence that it is normal for the under 15 set to spontaneously loathe the person who foreswore dresses and regularly inserted their nipples into a pump that sounded like a possessed Italian man so that said kiddo could nurse freely for a year and a half.

Not that I’m bitter.

I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve lost the most important popularity contest I never knew I entered and I have no idea how I did it. I went out of town for work just as she came down with a nasty virus. Daddy was there to play nurse when he is usually playing Captain Ahab to our white whale on Overton Park, so when I came home the next day, I apparently shouldn't have bothered.

I want Daddy, she told me when I heard her stirring.
Why don’t we get some breakfast I asked, holding my arms out to her.
No! She kicked the air between us.
Hey now. That’s not nice.
I want Daddy! She hollered. To reinforce her point, she punched me in the nose.
I took my own timeout in the kitchen and tried to calm down while she sobbed for daddy.

The next morning she didn’t even talk to me. Rather than brush it off like I should have, I behaved like the pregnant woman I am and sobbed. Harlow glared at me. I told her she made mommy cry. This made her burst into tears - and hold her arms out for daddy. He shot me a look and dried her tears. I went to the bathroom so I could sob in private. And for the next week, every morning proceeded the same way, giving me the cold shoulder or down right swatting me in the hopes I would vanish. I kept a roll of toilet paper at the breakfast table to mop up my morning tears.

Daddy went back to toiling on the house full time. She would wake, grunt at me, search the loft and finding no sign of daddy, she would finally permit me to hold her.

I buried my face in her hair and held her while she drank up her chocolate milk. Maybe it's because of the unexpected bribe - er - bounty of chocolate milk she has discovered recently at the table, but she's being nicer. I'm thinking chocolate croissants may be in order to start the day. Whatever I can do to make her love me again before she hates me in earnest at age 14.


Monday, January 3, 2011

Happy 2011, y'all!

Hope you're all rested and ready to kick some new year ass!

For this Monday, I'm bouncing back and forth between some Black Keys and Memphis' own Magic Kids.

If all the hype is to be believed, they are BLOWIN UP.

Therefore, that makes my daughter, who appears in this old video of the Magic Kids playing a friend's backyard, infinitely cooler than me. She's the one rockin the red electric guitar.