Sweet Brown

Monday, April 30, 2012

The Page Awards. The Nicholls Fellowship. Script Pipeline. All the big screenwriting contests that swing around yearly to make me thing I can totally take a crack at this thing and win before I fail and flameout and eat yogurt with chocolate chips in bed - which I'm totally not doing right now - the deadlines are nigh and I am scrambling.

And it's wedding season.

I am about to punch my face in from this seasonal allergy nonsense that NEVER ENDS.

I am tired and whiny and sick but holy shit did I just find something that made me feel better. And yes, I'm sure all of you have already seen this, but you need to see it again. Because she is right.

Ain't nobody got time for bronchitis.

Emily & Greg: Sneak

Monday, April 23, 2012


Glorious wedding season is upon us which means allergy season has pounced as well...which means if all else fails, I am a shoe-in as an extra for The Walking Dead, and I would totally save the makeup dept money as they would't need to use any. So, Glen Mazzara, call me!

My poor little corpse could use some TLC, but I'm brightened by images from a kickass engagement shoot with Emily and Greg whose wedding in June promises to be wildly romantic. More loveliness to come!

p.s. anybody else on Blogger having difficulty with the new formatting?


Saturday, April 14, 2012


Mama shot a wedding all morning.

Daddy served BBQ and beer to about a thousand folks at Rock N Romp this afternoon.

But the most important thing we did today was celebrate Declan Grey Sweazy's first year on the planet.

There was more BBQ and presents - the dump truck was the clear fave - and D's first inkling that there something even more fabulous on this planet than his mother, and that would be the chocolate cupcake.

He immediately wanted another.

From the babbling and yelling I hear upstairs some three hours later, I gather he still does.

Baby's first sugar buzz.

We made it, little man. And now that you have been Facebooked and tweeted and Instagrammed and blogged, my social network has been duly informed of the miracle that was you arriving on this planet one year ago today. I love you more than I ever thought I possible, especially being a boy and all. I simply had no idea what was in store.

Happy Birthday, baby boy. And now, goodnightzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The Mystery Machine

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

There once was this house that wasn't really a house, see. More of a workshop with an apartment above it, and we bought it. Lots of folks thought we were nuts, or hillbillies, or crazy ex-Californians to recycle to such an -nth degree. After awhile, I knew we were nuts. I mean, just look at it.


But through lots of blood, sweat and my copious tears, we finally made our house a home. This past weekend, Harlow had some friends from school over to celebrate her fifth birthday, and the hope I'd always had for our weird, quirky space finally manifested. It looked so pretty that my lens flare gave me a rainbow.


And yes, Shaggy, that is a mystery machine in the yard. And a badass swing Caleb built for his baby girl.


Angela + Stephen

Thursday, April 5, 2012

I had so much fun on an unseasonably March day following around Stephen and Angela in some of their favorite haunts downtown. Their sweet puppy, Rugby, even made an appearance. Thanks global warming for the awesome weather! And thanks Angela and Stephen for a perfect afternoon. Looking forward to the big day!










Tuesday, April 3, 2012


I'd gotten engaged. Naturally, I had a nightmare. My parents had thrown me a surprise wedding. The caterer was doing my hair. My wedding gown was a belted, airbrushed t-shirt from the mall, the image possibly my yearbook photo from sixth grade. In my mounting panic, I looked up at the ceiling where the gods are supposed to dwell and asked them for a sign. I looked out the window, and there it was - a dragonfly made out entirely of flower petals floating by. I heard a voice in my head.

Follow the dragonfly.

I woke up.

A few minutes later, my nephew, Thomas, ran to the door, ready to haul us over to breakfast where my folks would be meeting my fiancé's for the first time. Thomas turned around and told us to follow him.

He had a dragonfly on the back of his shirt.

I shit you not, people.

Everyday after that, I saw a dragonfly. On busy LA streets, by the beach, in my backyard, every day I saw a dragonfly, cementing my belief that my request for a sign had been heard. One scorching hot afternoon during a return trip to Memphis, I scouted for a place to get married, coming to a field in front of the Pink Palace. The coordinator guided me to the spot where all her brides typically chose to tie the knot, but something in my gut was directing me deeper into the grass. I pointed at the lone tree and said - "There." We walked closer, and it wasn't the tree I was looking at anymore, but the hundreds of dragonflies that swarmed the spot where Caleb and I would get married a few months later.

My first thought was, alrighty. Message received. My second thought was, "Huh. What if there was an actual guy whose job it was to process all those signs from folks below?" Two seconds later. "What if he f-ed up and sent the wrong sign to the wrong person?" A few months later, The Department of Signs and Magical Intervention was a finished draft. And because I am crazy lucky, the script won the grand prize at the Vail Film Festival, allowing me and Caleb to take our first child-free vacation in 2 1/2 years, further proving to me that somebody up there thinks that the two of us together is a good thing indeed.


This was my first bonafide film festival, so I don't really have a reference point, but I couldn't believe how lovely the staff of the VFF was to the writers. I'm half wondering as my transformation into HIlary Swank is reaching its critical mass if my doppelgangerness afforded me such good will. But they were also just really nice. We were given a filmmakers pass that let us in to all the parties, screenings and free booze vestibules. I had to gently explain to anyone who asked about my "movie" that it was only a script, but people still came to the staged reading Saturday morning. There was my introduction, the reading performed by various staff and filmmakers, and finally my Q&A where I tried not to poke out an eye while flailing my hands and imparting sage advice to the sweet 12 year old in the audience who was writing his first script. Bless our hearts.

In another amazing stroke of luck, we met up with a super fun gang (gaggle? Crowd? What do you call a bunch of awesome documentary filmmakers and photographers?) and partied the day and night away. Literally. We had two hours of sleep before our evil, evil shuttle came to get us at 4:30 AM. Still paying for that one.

So what's next? I've had a lot of encouragement to make my short. I've done a lot of talking myself out of making it. There are so many reasons - sound, practical, reasons - why I shouldn't take the plunge. But right now, this very moment? Practical can take a hike.

I'll be the lady with the bullhorn and the jodhpurs.