wednesday wonderfulness

Hmm. Seeing lots of style this week.
Ok, I'm peacing out. Trying to finish up some stuff before I head to Frederick MD to shoot a wedding this weekend.


self-portrait sunday

project 52, week 24

project 52, week 24
I'm going to cheat this week, and use a photo I didn't take myself. (This despite the fact that I'm sitting here in fake eyelashes and therefore really should drag out the camera.)
I don't dance. Ever. Unless I'm alone in my house with the music turned up. Every time I've attempted something to that effect bad things have happened usually involving awkward photos.
On the other hand, I have THE COOLEST JOB in the world. I take pictures of people on the happiest day of their lives. And in the process, I meet some really rad brides, grooms, bridesmaids, and parents. Yesterday's wedding was insanely chill, and so when, at the end of the night, the bridesmaids pulled me onto the floor and wanted me to dance with them, well, I did. Yep, I looked like a tard. We all did. And I loved every minute.
And when in 25 years I'm hobbled from wearing too many heels, when I'm old and responsible, I hope this is what I remember: dancing with abandon, and loving my life.


currently obsessing over: over-the-knee boots

I really want a new pair of boots, so I've been poking around online. And I'm currently loving some over the knee styles. I know they can be over the top, but I'm thinking with some jeggings tucked in and a tunic-style top, it would be awesome. I also love the idea of putting them demurely under a pencil skirt.

What do you all think? (As always, click images for information.)


self-portrait sunday

project 52, week 23

project 52, week 23
I have no hand-eye coordination. None at all. People think I'm exaggerating, and then they try to teach me to play volleyball/softball/basketball/any other kind of sport. (One summer the whole church tried to teach me to play softball. Nope, it didn't work.)
I spent many long hours as a teen trying to redeem myself, but it didn't work. Not a bit. I can't play the piano, I can't play any instrument, really.
But one thing I can do: I can bake. Pies, cakes, cookies, brownies, cheesecake, bread...I love it all. The stirring and measuring and leveling and fixing calms me, and the smells? Oh, the smells. Baking is for me an act of sharing, a sign of esteem, a reaching out. When I share baked goods, it's silly, but I feel like I'm sharing a little bit of myself. If I'm trying to make a friend, I bake them cookies. If I want to comfort someone, I bring them pie. If I want to make someone fall in love with me, I feed them cheesecake. (Kidding, I promise.)
And because of all this baking, my hands are covered in scars. My nails are short and stubby, and there is usually a burn or cut somewhere.
But despite all that, I don't mind my hands. For those scars are signs that my hands have loved and served. And what better way is there to live?


this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which growshigher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

There are only two things in this world that I know for sure:
One. Always take a sweater, because you can take it off if you have it, but you can't put it on if you don't.
Two. No matter what I do or say, no matter wether I fail or succeed, my sisters will always ALWAYS have my back.

Here's the thing. You know how you have those friends who you claim that if you had to hide a body they're the one I'd call? Well, I'd call Sarah. Not Joy, not at first. She would get a little worked up. But if I called Sarah she'd say "ok. Here's how we dissect it." And then we'd figure out how exactly to tell Joy, and once we got her into the picture, she'd help us figure out a cover story.

On the other hand, if I have to make a GIANT PRESENTATION or rewrite a resume, I call Joy. She's amazing at that stuff. Also at thinking of 47 other uses for [any random object you can think of]. (Fact: at one point we were trying to come up with a list of 100 uses for empty frappucino bottles. We were up to 67 before I lost it.)

And I call either of them when I'm sad and discouraged and generally can no longer face the world. They'll make me laugh or kick my butt into gear, whichever is required, actually. True story: when J and I moved back to the East Coast from Ohio, and I kind of wanted to get into photography but was overwhelmed/had no idea where to start, they sat me down and brainstormed for about an hour about how to start building my name. We came up with 10 things, and I did six of them. Three years and literally hundreds of thousands of photos later, I know that I wouldn't have thought of one of those without those two.

joie de vivre

They then proceeded to ask me regularly what I'd done that day, what pictures I'd taken, what shoots I'd planned. They posed for me, did makeup for me, shared their wardrobes, cheered when good things happened, and stormed about angrily when bad things did. Once, for about four months, we were at odds. I physically couldn't eat for days at a time. I'd get hungry, and then I'd remember: "oh, yeah. My sisters think I'm epically wrong and I don't agree" and my appetite would disappear.

more bunny!

We've always been partners in crime. We might not know whattheheck we're doing, but by golly, we're doing it together. Bus visitation, serving as camp counselors, wearing long skirts, talking the parents out of long skirts, watching unapproved movies on the sly, reinventing cullottes, walking ALL OVER CHICAGO, sneaking out of hq with pants hidden under skirts, learning how to highlight hair, learning how to apply makeup, learning how to talk to boys, learning how to buy jeans. Whatever we did, we did together. We failed together, we succeeded together, we cried together, and we cheered together.

About a month ago Joy moved two hours away, and now it's ridiculously hard to keep everyone updated on life, so we've resorted to long, newsy emails, recent editions of which include such ideas as crazyface, figgy compote, huzzah, and the phrase "guts in the face! It just doesn't get any better!"

This is why I love my sisters. I whine to them about the SHEER TIME CONSUMINGNESS of personal grooming and they assure me that as lovely as it sounds to be a hippie, give up showers, and wear patchouli to cover the smell, they will stage an intervention if required, and that it is not a Wise Life Choice. And then they turn around and discuss the recent primary election without a pause.

That poem I shared at the beginning? To me, it is my sisters. So when I started thinking about my next tattoo, that's what stuck in my head. They are the wonder that hold the stars apart for me. So on one side I have Leo (Joy) and on the other I have Libra (Sarah) the tattoo begins over my heart on my back.

I carry them with me. I carry them in my heart.


in which I play with film

I've been given access to a film camera, and I'm oh-so-slowly relearning how to shoot it.



wednesday wonderfulness

No particular theme this week, at least as far as I can see. Just some fun stuff.
Hope your week is going fantastically, lovelies!


the list undone

I got a lot done today, which was nice. I didn't get even more done, like baking a pie for the weekly pie and finishing editing a family shoot from last week. I did, however, blog a wedding that I've been trying to get to, and my fingernails are painted metallic gold. So there's that. Also, I was at the farmers market over the weekend, and I learned two things: fresh persimmons go bad QUICKLY, and gumbo made with fresh okra is slimier than gumbo made with frozen. The end.


self-portrait sunday

project 52, week 22

project 52, week 22
I have a very simple philosophy when it comes to rainy weather footwear: if your shoes are tall enough, you can go through puddles instead of around them. So far, it seems to work.
It never ceases to amaze me when people tell me they think I'm graceful. My family also laughs heartily when this word is applied to me. You see, I'm the family klutz. At eight, I'd trip on air pockets walking across a room. My mother enrolled me in ballet along with my younger sister to hopefully instill a little bit of grace in me. It worked only to the extent that I can now wear heels.
And as to my heel-wearing obsession: I started wearing them for two reasons. One, I'm 4 inches shy of six feet, and I wanted to fix that. Two (and this is the big one): I used to be very self-conscious about the size of my feet. Much to my dismay, I have the biggest feet in my family, and cannot share shoes with anyone. So, using my extensive knowledge of mathematical principles, I determined that by placing my feet at an angle it would decrease the apparent size. So I started wearing heels when at all possible.
I currently have friends who have never seen me in flat shoes. I'm fine with that. I've also had friends who, when they see me barefoot for the first time, say "I didn't realize you were so short!" I assure them I'm not, not really. I'm taller ON THE INSIDE.
I've had people tell me since then that I'm caving to society's ideas of how I should look/dress with this high heels thing. I disagree. If I were following society's standards, I'd weigh a solid 30 pounds less, I'd watch football, and I'd care about True Blood.
Instead, I know what works for me. I can walk in heels, k? That is the only vaguely coordinated thing I can do. Let me have my tiny triumphs.


introducing a new project

Because, you know, I don't have enough irons in the fire already. Without further ado: the weekly pie. Hopefully it will live up to it's name.


wednesday wonderfulness


I approve this shirt

I don't normally shop at Charlotte Russe, but I picked up one of these tees today in an emergency situation, and I might go back and buy them in every color. Lovelove. Perfect neckline, ruffle detailing without being twee. And I bought it in the pale pink, and it's the perfect shade of blush. Highly recommend.


I cleaned my desk and needed to save the proof

today I cleaned my desk
If you click on the above photo it will take you to flickr and you can see all my notes about all the crap on my desk and why this isn't in fact messy.

But wait! What is that above my computer screen?

Why, it's a LewisCat who's convinced that my desk is his bed.

Terrifying, is he not?

So what do your workspaces look like? Share!


self-portrait sunday, goodbye summer

project 52, week 21

project 52, week 21
happy labor day.
I'm always sad when labor day rolls around, because it means the end of summer, and I love summer with a fiercely irrational passion.
It's not just because of the hot weather, although I love that. I've grown up here on the Eastern Shore, so the humidity and mugginess pressing down on you just feel natural to me, somehow. When I moved to Ohio I was alarmed by how dry the air is during the winter, and I couldn't get used to static-y hair.
It's not just because of the beach, although I love that to. Despite years when I didn't go to the beach because I was embarrassed to be seen in public wearing a swimsuit covered by knee-length shorts and a tshirt (yes, that's how we swam), and subsequent years when I was just ashamed of the way I looked, period, I've always loved the beach. The sound of the waves makes me relax, and the salt air makes my skin happy.
No, the main reason I love summer is because of the nights. For some reason, I've no idea why, sitting outside on a summer night, watching the lightening bugs begin to wink, enjoying the relief from the heat of the day, well, right then I feel like infinite possibilities await me. The world lies before me, and if I want to reach the moon all I have to is work reallyreally hard.
When cold weather comes I begin to fold in on myself, wanting to hibernate, wanting to sleep away the long nights and short days. In winter, I dream only of seeing summer again.


finally, it's friday

It's been quite a week for me. Busy, crazy, awesome, loving it. Currently I'm typing this as I look out at the non-rain brought by the non-hurricane while I smell the steaks le husband is grilling for dinner. I don't have a wedding this weekend, which means I can relax a tiny bit, and also I get to go on a boat tomorrow. I know! Woo! No details beyond that, sorry. I'm just trying to find appropriate footwear.
Sunday I have a photo shoot with a teeny tiny new baby and her sisters. I'm so excited, if a little scared. It's been a while since I shot a baby.
Also, I love the new gmail priority inbox.
Also, I'm working with my tattoo artist on designing my next tattoo. Since this will most likely be my last one from her (she's moving away!), it suddenly got bigger.
Anyway, that's my life right now. Senior photos keep rolling in, which is awesome. I'm really enjoying working with these teens to create some unforgettable images. Good times.
I leave you with this clip, below, one of my all-time favorite moments in television.


random rooster

I was in Hampstead, Maryland last week for a photoshoot, and this completely random rooster was sitting by a pond. I couldn't NOT take a picture.




wednesday wonderfulness

Happy September! Can you believe the summer has raced by so fast? I certainly can't. Ok. On to the linkage.
And that's all for now. Hopefully I'll have some fun news soon.