Skeleton Sex

Sunday, February 26, 2012

I'm not sure how I missed this. It's exactly the kind of wonderful, twee, hipster stop motion adorableness that design blogs eat up and spread around the internet like those baby animal pics mucking up my pinterest feed.

Maybe it's the skeleton sex that gave them pause.

But this is pretty wonderful.

Spike Jonze collaborated with handbag maker Olympia Le Tan to create a short film that brings her work to life - in this case, one of a kind classic works of fiction book covers that she has transformed into clutches. Her work is pretty extraordinary, as are the painstaking hand-cut pieces of felt that Jonze filmed to dramatic - and sexy - effect.

I'm serious. There are skeletons getting it on, so this is NSFW, if animated, adorable pieces of felt can be considered NSFW. What a world. More on the behind the scenes process and an interview with Spike Jonze here.

Spike Jonze: Mourir Aupr├Ęs de Toi on Nowness.com.

10 Months

Monday, February 20, 2012

twister

If this month has a theme, it's getting sh*t done.

Teeth? Check. His debut tooth just cut its way through!

You want cool tricks? We've got waving. We've got clapping. We've got classic crawling up on hands and knees. We've got pulling to standing. We've got an average attention span of .026 seconds which makes attempting to do anything else besides following in his wake pretty much impossible.

His favorite thing to say? MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA

Sadly, the one thing we don't have is context, but it still makes my heart melt when he says it to the coffee table.

The other thing we still don't have much of is a good night's sleep. Every now and again we will have one or two nights of good stretches, but I think we've resigned ourselves to the fact that we just got the model that really won't sleep until he is a teenager.

And when he is 14 and it is 6:30 AM, I will have my revenge.

Other than that, he' s just darlin. Truly :)

New York, New York

Monday, February 13, 2012

I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do first.

Take a picture of myself eating a two pound cookie from here?

Use my phone to flip through Urbanspoon to see what random little deli had the best matzo ball soup?

Tweet my location from Central Park or that Valentines chocolate shop (and eat insanely delicious sweet and savory pies) in the southside seaport?

I was going to New York with no agenda, no children, and as it turns out, no phone. More on that in a minute.

The trip was a godsend. A lovely girl who has become a good friend invited me to tag along on her girls' getaway, and just like that, I had my ticket out of Memphis, the big city fix I'd long been craving, and my very first trip away from baby. Caleb and my mom were both amazing enough to take fulltime baby duties so I could have a quick breather, and Friday I was off to the airport. I'd picked up a cheap computer/carryon bag, a knockoff of a leather anthropologie bag I'd been drooling over, packed a carryon rolly suitcase, and I was ready to go.

Except when I walked out to the car, bags and keys in hand, I realized it just wouldn't do to spend one and 1/2 days in NYC with a cheap looking bag as my purse. So I marched back inside, switched to my old but still lovely leather bag, and promptly left behind my phone at the house.

I realized my mistake when I pulled into the airport parking lot. I just sat there, staring at my bag in dumb shock. I had no idea what to do. There was no time to go back home and get it. I was meeting my friend in the city, and I now had no way to contact her. I was supposed to call her when I landed to get our destination address. I didn't have her number anywhere on my person. That's why we have phones! I was supposed to meet another friend at a concert in a park later that night. How the hell was I supposed to track her down? How did we ever function, let alone leave the house, without our mini handheld computer/phone/cameras?

How did we survive the eighties?

I ran inside the airport and headed straight for the bank of payphones that for some reason are still exist - and work! - in the main terminal. I had just enough quarters to make one phone call, and being out of practice, I let it go to voicemail, eating my only quarters and my only chance to get through to Caleb before he left for work. It sounds stupid now, but my next move was to try and switch to an afternoon flight. I'd be taking a serious chunk out of my already super short trip, but how else could I contact my hostess? The truly helpful agent and the many $$$ we discussed talked me out of it, and I made my way to the terminal, scrounging quarters from the giftshop and trying to find working payphones to call Caleb again, a much trickier task out in the A terminal hinterlands. In the meantime, my name kept being announced over the PA system, and I finally made my way to the gate agent who gave me a very important message: my husband called. I should call him back.

Assholes.

I sat at the gate, sweating and furious with myself. The plane was minutes from boarding, so I did the only thing I could think of. Smile wide and ask a stranger if I could borrow her phone. She very kindly did, and Caleb thankfully answered. He'd already texted my friend to inform her that I left my phone and brain behind, and then I wrote my friend's number on my hand, because clearly I was a grownup ready for her big trip to the city.

As the plane touched down, my lovely seatmate let me borrow his phone to call my friend. I got the address, a big sigh of relief, and confirmation that sometimes it is a life affirming thing to depend on the kindness of strangers.

There was lots of eating and lots of walking. There was a broadway show (Stockard Channing! Justin Kirk!) and Eataly and late night dinners. There was snow and a borrowed blue fedora that garnered many a compliment from NYC shopgirls. I had no map, no camera, no way to tweet my thoughts about Strawberry Fields or Bergdorf's "sale" section or that perfect pasta I ate Saturday night while wearing my favorite pink dress.

And maybe that was the point.

I wasn't able to take any photos of my time in New York. That's okay. I captured the best part of the trip, which was the coming home.

Love

Co-workers

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I don't get out much, so as not to feel like I'm festering away in solitary, I have co-workers. Terri Gross and Jon Stewart are both excellent with the water cooler chat. Nolan? Nolan really shouldn't try so hard but I think deep down, Emily really likes him. And then there's this guy. He drools a bit and eats with his hands, but that giggle makes my turkey sandwich go down that much better.

My dining companion from Melissa Anderson Sweazy on Vimeo.

Philip + Savannah

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Maybe it was the cat's cradle of contrails in the sky this morning, my giant cup of coffee, or perhaps Savannah's oh so perfect shade of lipstick in her photos with Philip, but I've got love on the brain.

Are they not just swooningly perfect together?

It makes total sense that wedding photographers should be married. TO EACH OTHER. Who else would totally get their client's big day as well as they would?

They are excellent shooters and excellent partners and I was beyond thrilled to get to hang with such a lovely couple AND hang out in front of their lens. Memphis has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to great photographers, and these guys are heading the pack. And making me wish I could convince my husband that hanging out with me for 12+ hours on the job would be a blast!

love

philip + savannah

love