BEEB

I've moved!

2009-10-13T11:56:00.000-07:00

There's a new blog in town, and that's where I'll be posting from now on.

In conjunction with my photography site, I gave my blog a makeover.

So, goodbye BEEB!

Hello, Thoroughly Modern Medusa!

James Lee House

2009-10-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

Today's droopy mess of a day seems like the perfect time to post about my amazing tour last week. The James Lee House sits on the corner of Adams and High St., and in its day, it was a proud monument to Victorian architecture and capitalism in all its four-story see all the way to the river glory. Turn around and you're looking at Section 8 apartments and the dreary Memphis Housing Authority headquarters, so let's not look that way.

The house once functioned as the art school that became the Memphis College of Art, but it hasn't been occupied in over fifty years. The house is literally crumbling to its foundations, but its grand, sweeping lines and ornate details are hanging on.

Scott Blake and Victorian Village Inc are in the process of transferring ownership from the city to the Center City Commission with the hope that with all of its tax incentives and easements, the right buyer will come along and restore the James Lee House to its former glory. In the meantime, I want to grab my camera, gather up some girlfriends in long flowy dresses and turn them loose. Doesn't it scream fashion shoot?

Soul Sister

2009-10-06T09:45:00.000-07:00

I stopped reading the books. I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point I must have realized that I could actually get through the day without unwittingly destroying my child, and I stopped reflexively reaching for the What to Expect or the Google to forsee the next big crisis. It's nice feeling the confidence that you can get by on just your gut telling you that maybe 2 hours of Dora is maybe too much today - that those avocados and green beans she voluntarily ate for dinner don't cancel out the TV and the pretzel you bribed her with at Target. But sometimes I think maybe I should be reading the books. Just because I stopped doesn't mean she's not going through fascinating developmental changes and documented milestones.

At this point she's not going through the crazy day by day changes of infancy, and the changes that do occur have been pretty well documented by the friends and family that have bravely gone before us. How often did you hear friends bemoan that they now had to watch everything they said because the baby now "repeated EVERYTHING." But my kid? She usually just bounces back the last word you said, and I realized to my delight that its like have my own 60s girl group backing band.

Me: (in response to a question) Oh I think we're gonna grab some lunch and head downtown.
Harlow: ...downtown!

Me: I thought you bought the detergent.
Harlow: DeTERgent!

The Target Halloween display: That hurts! Ouch!!
Harlow, repeatedly: Ouch! Ouch!!!!!!!

So it's not always charming, especially when overheard on the phone discussing salient points of Dan Save's latest Savage Love podcast. (So filthy, so funny, and so not for toddlers' ears)

Taylor

2009-09-28T19:07:00.000-07:00

I don't know where you were on Saturday, but I was outside, patting myself on the back for resisting the urge to don every pair of boots and piece of fall clothing I own. After 3 weeks of steady rain and the kind of humidity that makes you feel like you're stowing a pair of corduroy pants in your throat, it was exhilarating to walk outside and just...be. Not break into a sweat, not freeze, but just be outside. Happily I got to spend the afternoon outside shooting Taylor's circus-themed 2nd birthday party. Taylor's brilliant mama Selena put together an adorable spread, and the guests quickly got into the theme.

The birthday girl:

Lindsey takes the cake

2009-09-25T13:01:00.001-07:00

I need to give a very big shout out to my sis Lindsey who made this spectacular cake for my signing yesterday. It matched the book! If you ever need a cake for a special event, my sister is your girl. Luckily for me, she's not your sister.

Today at Elmwood

2009-09-24T08:29:00.000-07:00

Warm summer sun shine brightly here
Warm southern wind blow gently here
Green sod above lie light lie light
Good night dear heart, good night, good night.

This gorgeous monument is but one of the may, many reasons you need to visit Elmwood if you've never had the occasion. When I was in college, my creative writing professor brought us here for inspiration, and I'd say he was successful.

(Except for the former staff member who imperiously declared in front of my entire class as I handed over a check, "There is no A in CEMETERY!" She does not inspire me.)

I really want to use the descriptor of "haunting" when describing this cemetery, all punnyness aside. There's just something about the rolling hills and marble angels standing watch over loved ones passed on that stays with you long after you leave the grounds. Kim McCollum, the director of the cemetery, is often asked if she finds her workplace frightening or spooky, and she laughs out loud at the thought. She insists it's just too beautiful to be anything but enchanting.

But obviously, it's a cemetery. A very old cemetery. People were taken from their loved ones much too early, and that's why I was so stuck by the monument of Ms. Etta Grigsby Partee. As I learned on a walking tour of the grounds one summer night, Etta died.

On her wedding day.

She was loved so much by the fiance she left behind that this beautiful monument was built in her honor. A glass dome originally shielded her from the elements but inevitably shattered. I stood there staring at her statue long after our group walked on, and it just seemed obvious to me in that moment that this is where I would need to have my book party. This bride never had her wedding day, so the least we can do is eat some cake and sip some champagne in her honor.

I hope you'll join me this afternoon at 5. If not, make an effort to visit one day. I promise you'll be haunted in the best way possible.

okey gnocchi

2009-09-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

This is an ugly duckling story.

I do not mean to say that the ugly little duck turns into a swan. That's a fairy tale. And this?

This is a really, really ugly mound of potato.

The October issue of Gourmet arrives with promises, promises (with photos!) I don't know if it can keep, the kind that compel the easily distracted into their first attempt at making pasta from scratch.

Fairy princess had her doubts.

She wasn't willing to trade her magic wand for a cookie, so we got this.

Not bad, definitely not glorious, but a decent first attempt. Oh, but you know what is glorious? Pan fried sage on homemade pasta. Try it. You will thank me. She will, too. Or turn you into Dora with her magic wand. I can't make any promises.

Mr. Swayze

2009-09-16T10:30:00.000-07:00

Shortly after moving back to Memphis, I had a nutty dream. I was a high-end petfood distributor delivering my wares to a Whole Foods-type store where Patrick Swayze was the manager. He also happened to be a werewolf. I find this out after he's taken me on a date to this deserted palace up on a hill, and he sets his pack on me. I manage to escape and immerse myself in my premium catfood because werewolves can't stand the smell of it.

I promise I'm not on drugs.

The dream cracked me up and gave me a great movie idea, but in only the way dreams can, it also made me feel strangely close to Patrick Swayze. I had wished that I'd be able to get the screenplay written and have him attached to star, but the news of his cancer made my silly dream seem that much more impossible. And now he's no longer with us, and I'm just so incredibly sad.

I hope he and Chris Farley are cracking up heaven with this number:

(pardon the crappy video but its the only complete version on You Tube)

Book update

2009-09-15T13:21:00.000-07:00

So...hi!

That's me. Trying not to look like a complete doofus having my picture taken by myself by my mother/promoter at last week's booksigning at Muddy's Bakeshop. There were torrential downpours and a late start time, yet the bakery was packed with friends and family and -to my absolute thrill - complete strangers who wanted to check out the book! Kat Gordon, empress of Muddy's, made adorable mini cupcakes that matched the book, and I ate those cupcakes as I signed my name... over and over... for people buying the book. I cannot begin to describe how surreal it feels to type that sentence, let alone how it felt last Wednesday. I'm proud to say that they sold out of their first run, and I had to bring in extra books from the car! If anybody needs anything of theirs sold, just hire my mom.

The next signing is rapidly approaching - Thursday September 24 6 PM at Elmwood Cemetery! I'm throwing this party for myself, so I have free reign to get my goofy on. Expect weirdness. And cake. There will definitely be cake.

Chicago in photos

2009-09-15T12:52:00.000-07:00

I'm really starting to fall for Chicago. If I wasn't such a weather wuss, I would totally move there. We have family in the suburbs, one of whom just turned 40 and decided to celebrate by running the Chicago half marathon. Classy, no? We spent Lara's bday evening carbo loading at a seriously yummy Italian restaurant. The race was three days later, but a little extra carbo loading never hurt anybody, right?

Gramma Sue graciously watched the kids so we could go into the city. I dropped my book off at Greer and Paper Doll, my two favorite stationery/gift boutiques, in the hopes they might carry it. But I mainly just fed off the energy of the city. I mean, have you seen this place?? Even their rundown, abandoned skyscrapers are extraordinary.

Photos I took of the Carbide and Carbon Building, the current Hard Rock Hotel and my absolute favorite building in Chicago, were pretty lousy, so if you're a fan or architecture and art deco in particular, I'm gonna insist you wiki that sh*t. It makes you feel special just spotting it from 10 blocks away.

Saturday brought a kick-ass surprise. The Renegade Craft Fair*, whose very existence makes me turn many shades of green with envy, had their fall show, so we strolled around Wicker Park checking out the awesome booths and enjoyed the gorgeous weather.

Are you still here? Have I crashed your computer with all these pics?

Sunday was the race, and sadly, but not surprisingly, I have no photos. Lara and Caleb kicked-ass, but the City of Chicago Metra planners ? Not so much. They arranged for extra trains to transport everybody TO the race, but when it came time for all 25,000 of us to leave, there was one train. Coming in an hour. 1000s of runners, fresh from the race, had to walk many more miles to find a train or a cab or someway to get home. It was rather awful. But we scored some post-race matzo ball soup, just in time for us (ha! "us") to refuel and walk many more miles down the Magnificent Mile. That Caleb, he's a trooper. The trip ended with me feeling pretty much like I'd been chewed and spat, and here I am, sickly on the couch with a toddler who sounds like she has lungs made out of crunchy elevator gears yet has the energy of five me's.

If I'm lucky, I'll a really cool excuse to go back to Chicago in January. I'll keep you posted.

Chicago

2009-09-15T07:14:00.000-07:00

The Sweazys got home yesterday from a ridiculously fun stay in Chicago, and it seems we're now paying the price. Harlow and I are spending most of our time lying together in a big pile in front of the TV, comparing the amount of phlegm in our lungs. Amazingly, Caleb, whose half marathon was the reason we traveled to Chicago in the first place, is just a bit stiff from the race, but otherwise airborne illness free. I'll have more pictures and stories from our trip when I can summon the energy to think.

Tonight's the Night!

2009-09-09T06:32:00.000-07:00

My very first booking signing is tonight at 7. Muddy's Bakeshop has offered to throw me a party, and I really hope you can make it. I will do my best to be conscious and not pass out from nerves and excitement.

I think I was about 8 when I made the decision I was going to be a writer. I think at that time I also had solid gold dancer and paleontologist on the list, but I always got extra attention in class when I turned our "Write a sentence using the vocabulary word" assignment into some ridiculous rambling paragraph. (I certainly got attention when trying to imitate my favorite dancers, but fortunately fate has been kind of enough to me that I did not have to choose professionally gyrating as a profession). I kinda cringe seeing myself shoot my hand up in the air - ooh oooh pick me pick ME! - as the other kids rolled their eyes, but my way with words was something that made me feel special, and my teachers certainly encouraged it.

In the years since I've gone stretches where I was no more qualified to call myself a writer than a brain surgeon or an accountant. I moved to LA expressly to "become a writer," and I quickly learned that even though I did the things that came as close to following a "career ladder" for an industry without one, writing actually required the day in and day out slog of long, boring, WORK. Just because I felt like the profession of writing had chosen me like I had pulled some sword out a stone didn't mean it was just gonna come naturally. And most of the time it didn't come at all. When it did it was from pulling out clumps of hair and agonizing and rewriting and starting to eye those 1000s of books in the bookstore with increasing dread and suspicion.

So after writing umpteen screenplays and tv scripts and shorts that got attention* and an agent but nada in the way of actual production, or more importantly - cash - I felt the dream starting to slip. I used my afternoons while working for a lovely, forgiving TV writer to focus on my wedding and write about the planning on my very first blog, Snidebride. I felt like a failure, but I did my best to cover that deepening ache by focusing more on my responsibilities as a bride (ha! if there is such a thing).

And then a funny thing happened.

The wedding got called off, and not only was my husband to-be leaving, I lost my job, my self-esteem and the very things I used to distract myself from why I was there in the first place.

I'd been to a psychic a few years earlier, and after the requisite love, job predictions, she fixed me with a stern stare and warned me. "You've been given a gift that is not yours to keep. It was given so that you would share it, and by keeping it inside, its going to cause you to become very sick."

Anyone could easily dismiss it as fortune cooking ramblings, but her words chilled me because I knew exactly what she meant. After arriving in LA and announcing to anyone who would listen that I would someday own that town, I had the fight in me slowly and systematically beaten out. I was so afraid of the thing I used to be in love with that I tried to cover it up and ignore it and yes - talk about it with my shrink in Beverly Hills, you know the one - but little in the way of truly going for it.

With no more wedding to plan and procrastinate with, it took a little while to recognize that I had been handed a gift, one that ultimately took shape in the form of the book that I will be signing tonight.

I am proud to say that I actually have a literary agent, but not for this book, so this sucker is all me. That means I get 100% of the glory and 100% of the blame if it all comes crashing down around me. It's been a ridiculous, humbling amount of work and rapidly dwindling $$$ being my own publisher and pr agent, but I've learned a lot. I've learned that I still want to be a Solid Gold dancer, but I really want to be a writer in whatever form or shape I can eek it. I'm proud to show off my efforts tonight, and I hope you can join me!

* I will never forget the day my boss' high powered agent called to talk to ME because my script had buzz. bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sign Up!

2009-09-08T11:15:00.000-07:00

Howdy y'all!

Hope everybody is rested and relaxed after the holiday weekend. I'm excited to announce that my very first reading will be at Muddy's Bakeshop tomorrow night!

Cupcakes for dinner, tales of love gone awry, prizes - what more could you ask for?

(Yes, I know Glee premieres tomorrow night, and yes, my TiVo will be set as well)

Muddy's Bakeshop
5101 Sanderlin Ave

If you'd like to signup for more Veiled Remarks news, click the link below to get the newsletter. I promise nothing but long life, excellent karma and instant friendship on Facebook if you do.

Sign up here!

Low

2009-09-06T18:03:00.000-07:00

Thank you, inventors of You Tube, for the gift that truly keeps on giving.

The ginger kid is PRICELESS.

E&G Part 2

2009-09-04T19:31:00.000-07:00

There are some awesome taggers in this town.

There's the guy responsible for the thing I can only describe as the floating uterus on the overpass of Sam Cooper at Highland.

The alien touting Good Times on the old Brewery building.

And whoever tagged the body shop on Walnut Grove, thanks for the sweet backdrop you provided today. Elizabeth and Gary didn't need any extra cuteness, but it was definitely a bonus.

More pics to come.

p.s. You know how I know its a holiday weekend? Falco on the radio. Happy Labor Day!

Food & Book Signing

2009-09-04T06:11:00.000-07:00

After several days of being held hostage by an extremely hyper yet sick toddler, I was excited to get back to work yesterday, and by work I mean driving around town with a friend who has hired me to shoot pictures of her favorite meals for an installation project in her kitchen.

If only everyday could have been like yesterday.

After sampling dipped cones, key lime pie, homemade veggie plates and korean delicacies, I still managed to find room for a Muddy's cupcake with my friend Jen who has delayed her return trip home to LA for a few more days. (She doesn't think oxygen masks coordinate well with her summer dresses.)

I mention Muddy's because it will be the site of my very first book signing!

Next Wednesday September 9 ( I think at 6? I'll get back to you on that one) come ruin your appetite for dinner with a cupcake and learn about making Dumb Cake, the husband finding dessert.

If you can't make Muddy's on the 9th, I'll be doing another signing on the 24th of this month. Details coming soon!

What Sunday Sounds Like

2009-08-31T20:43:00.000-07:00

What Sunday Sounds Like from Melissa Anderson Sweazy on Vimeo.

Local Color

2009-08-31T14:02:00.000-07:00

After my India Fest post, I'm craving more color.

1. The gorgeous quilt Mary Allison made for Miss Harlow's big girl bed 2. Whitton Farms flowers 3. balloons from Avery's Under the Sea party 4. swimming with Thomas

India Fest

2009-08-30T07:42:00.000-07:00

We took a break from scouring the house for a new realtor (yep, we're back on the market) to grab some lunch over at India Fest. When we arrived at the Agricenter, we were pleasantly surprised to find the parking lot packed...until we saw all the signs for Delta Fair staging areas. But our spirits were lifted again when we entered the Cultural Arts Hall and found it packed with folks who had the same idea as we did - scoring some excellent Indian food for lunch.

I hope that when I am stranded on my desert island, it is somewhere in the vicinty of India, because I could happily subsist on nothing but naan and samosas and curry until the end of days. Then perhaps I would actually return as an Indian, because then I could get away with wearing bejeweled saris everyday. If I ate nothing but chicken tikka masala and plates full of samosas, I and my burgeoning waistline might not have a choice.

Face Paint

2009-08-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

Avery's third birthday was a Little Mermaid theme, so as the doting aunt I dutifully tracked down an adorable mermaid tail the Queen Mermaid could wear at her party. As a bonus, her mom hired Connie, the Parties by Pickles facepainter, to transform all the party guests, and the Little Mermaid herself requested...a tiger.

So I give you the birthday girl, the butterfly tattooed, tiara wearing tiger-mermaid hybrid.

Miss Connie was a big hit. She has some mad skills. I could dig hitting the grocery store done up like spiderwoman.

Avery's 3rd Birthday

2009-08-22T19:41:00.000-07:00

Today was another milestone in my daughter's life.

Today was the day she did not turn three.

Her cousin, however, did, and this required cake and presents and singing and general adoration heaped upon...not Harlow.

The entire week before we tried to prep her, gently reminding her that she, too, would one day have a third birthday party, but I don't think she could hear me over the omnipresent ping pong battle of

Avery: My Birthday!

Harlow: MY Birthday!

It was not Harlow's birthday, despite her very loud, sobby insistence that it was while Avery blew out the candles on her cake. Fortunately some quick thinker shoved ice cream under her nose, and all was forgiven.

And because she is my daughter, I think I am beginning to understand my parents' institution of the un-birthday present when I was growing up. Lindsey turns four, Melissa gets a new Nancy Drew. The world continues to spin on its axis. I'm gonna try to avoid this technique for now, so...

So, Happy Birthday, Avery, and what's that? More ice cream, Harlow?

Sous chef

2009-08-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

Good thing for us Sweazys there is a baker in the house.

She makes some wicked awesome chocolate chip cookies.

Cottawaddo

2009-08-19T06:27:00.000-07:00

I've been visiting Colorado for the majority of my life, often in the winters, sometimes in the summers, but whenever I am there, I truly feel at home. The only hitch in that plan is that home doesn't seem to like me as much, as I spend the duration of my trip with fresh eczema from my corn-cob dry legs, bloody noses, terrible nights' sleep from the perennial lack of oxygen and the inability to lift a jug of milk from the refrigerator without feeling winded at 9,000 feet.

But the sight of endless snow capped mountains and wildflowers and rushing streams and half-baked hottie ski instructors is worth the hassle, especially when the average temperature in Keystone in summer is 70 while at least one tourist partaking in Elvis Death Week is sacrificed to the Great Heatstroke Volcano that is Memphis in August*

Because they are smart, my parents have been spending longer summer stretches out in Keystone and don't have to do much arm twisting to convince us to visit. They've had the chance to get to know their neighbors, some of whom invited us over for an ice cream social for all the kids to have the chance to play.

Adorable, right? Hadley made the robot who greeted us at the door:

These were some of the treats that awaited us:

I'm always amazed at the ease of children who can just sit down together, throw on a strand of beads, grab a pair of binoculars and play Candyland trains, no acquaintanceship required.

Thanks to the Walkers for the excellent afternoon! No thanks to Keystone who refused to be crammed in my suitcase and dragged home.

* Can we all just agree that there is no sane reason to be here in August? Why can't we all just agree to close up shop, get the hell out, and come back refreshed and cool just in time for the Cooper Young Festival? If any mayoral candidate can promise me that, you've got my vote, sir or madam...or His Majesty.

Harlow: A Glossary Part II

2009-08-18T22:28:00.000-07:00

Strange things are happening with this child.

She says things like " Where are we going next?" and "What are you looking for, mama?" and "I need to go shopping" and I respond in kind like two people actually having a conversation. You have to understand that up until very recently the typical exchange is more like:

H: Mama.
M: Yes, honey?
H: I want mumumumum(indecipherable)mumumu no!
M: No?
H: CHOCOLATE NORK!

Even stranger was her reaction to her new parents-day-out classroom and teachers, where instead of trying to gouge my eyes out in fury over being left behind with kids and toys I know she loves, she calmly walked to a table, sat down, and briefly looked up from her game to wave goodbye.

I was so proud and kinda devastated all at the same time.

Scary Mary

2009-08-13T20:35:00.001-07:00

I'm filing this under, er, research.

Is it Halloween yet??

Lunch date

2009-08-06T19:13:00.000-07:00

It's not every day that a lunch date turns into an excursion through three cemeteries and walking tour of a mausoleum, but not every lunch date is with my friend Michael. I had all sorts of plans lined up for my afternoon while Harlow was with a sitter, but they had to take a back seat when Michael revealed that Elmwood cemetery had a section devoted to the Order of the Odd Fellows, a fraternal order that has long been a fascination of mine. Before I knew it, we were touring Travelers' graves at Calvary, dodging dragonflies at Elmwood and peeking inside an open, vacated tomb inside Forest Hill's mausoleum. No lunch date with MIchael is complete without some good ghost stories, so I learned about the Crying Angel in Millington, the Blood Family and why it was never a good idea to agree to visit cemeteries with his Uncle Jimmy.

While the cemeteries and Victorian architecture were the icing, the sheer act of doing something spontaneous made for one of the most freeing afternoons I've spent in a quite awhile. So thanks for that.

She is mine

2009-08-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

I know she is mine not for her curly hair or her once every three minute dramatic spells or her lust for anything with cookie in its name but for her outburst this afternoon.

We pull into our driveway and she immediately starts sobbing.

"What is it?" I ask. "We're home."

This makes her cry harder.

I'm out of ideas. "Did you wanna go somewhere else?"

"Uh huh," she says between sobs. "Airplane."

Me too, baby. Me, too.

Cupcake Stare

2009-08-03T19:40:00.000-07:00

There's a Harlow cupcake stare:

It's cute.

Stains the Dog's cupcake stare about made me pee my pants:

Blahg

2009-08-03T15:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a little nutty in Sweazyland, what with Daddy recording an album and doing manual labor in 100 degree heat and prepping for a half marathon next month while Mommy is trying to get ready for her photography show and work on the launch of a book whose physical arrival to her home may ultimately require human sacrifice. I know I am about ready to volunteer for it.

So not much blogging.

But we still have a kid, and I must say she's crazy busy, too. She's really, really into letters, physically hauling around at least half of the alphabet in a red bucket wherever we go, because you never know when there might be a spelling emergency. I think she must read my facebook posts.

We made the switch to a big girl bed, and by big girl bed I mean mattress on the floor. Daddy is going to build you that platform bed anyday now. (See above) The day she managed to rappel out of crib like a baby this guy was also around the time the pacifier fairy came to take hers away, we explained, to a sweet newborn babe.

This did not go over well.

She broke us after a week when, on the last night, she was up from 11 PM - 4 AM. Too tired to fight, we gave her back the pacifier, and to thank us, she stopped taking her afternoon nap. Overnight this child went from luxurious 2 -3 hr mama-gets-a-decent-amount-of-time-to-work naps to nada. It never occurred to me that the afternoon nap was something that could go away, and now that it has, it seems to have been replaced by some kind of crazy supertoddler energy that boils over a good three hours before bedtime. It is because of this phenomenon that by 5 PM I'm ready to write a master's thesis on the origins of cocktail hour, cold beverage in hand, while daydreaming about kissing the inventor of white wine full on the mouth.

One glass of wine followed by a 3 mile run in the hot dusk (I hate you, August) = signing off.

Found at Spruce

2009-08-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

Already thinking about this coming weekend? Me too.

Fellow photographer Kerri Dugan and I will be showing work at Spruce, Memphis' best boutique, this Friday from 6-8.

Spruce
5040 Sanderlin
(right by Interim restaurant)

Pardon my crappy scanner, but my fave photo made the cover of the invitation!

p.s. Does this bagmonster look familiar?

Sam Anderson

2009-08-02T11:37:00.001-07:00

This may be the first book review I've read that made me want to immediately read everything written by...the reviewer.

Sam Anderson on William T. Vollmann's new opus, Imperial:

I was sitting on the train one day chipping away at William T. Vollmann’s latest slab of obsessional nonfiction when my friend Tsia, who incidentally is not an underage Thai street whore, offered to save me time with a blurby one-sentence review based entirely on the book’s cover and my synopsis of its first 50 pages. “Just write that it’s like Robert Caro’s The Power Broker,” she said, “but with the attitude of Mike Davis’s City of Quartz.” This struck me as good advice, and I was all set to take it, but as I worked my way through the book’s final 1,250 pages, I found I had to modify it, slightly, to read as follows: Imperial is like Robert Caro’s The Power Broker with the attitude of Mike Davis’s City of Quartz, if Robert Caro had been raised in an abandoned grain silo by a band of feral raccoons, and if Mike Davis were the communications director of a heavily armed libertarian survivalist cult, and if the two of them had somehow managed to stitch John McPhee’s cortex onto the brain of a Gila monster, which they then sent to the Mexican border to conduct ten years of immersive research, and also if they wrote the entire manuscript on dried banana leaves with a toucan beak dipped in hobo blood, and then the book was line-edited during a 36-hour peyote séance by the ghosts of John Steinbeck, Jack London, and Sinclair Lewis, with 200 pages of endnotes faxed over by Henry David Thoreau’s great-great-great-great grandson from a concrete bunker under a toxic pond behind a maquiladora, and if at the last minute Herman Melville threw up all over the manuscript, rendering it illegible, so it had to be re-created from memory by a community-theater actor doing his best impression of Jack Kerouac. With photographs by Dorothea Lange. (Viking has my full blessing to use that as a blurb.)

via NYmag.com

Strawberry Swing

2009-07-28T07:08:00.000-07:00

I'm just gobsmacked by this video for the song Strawberry Swing by Coldplay (directed by Shynola)

Perfect antidote to this gloomy Tuesday.

link right here

via Black Eiffel

Dirt is Good for You

2009-07-27T10:15:00.001-07:00

So they've changed the name, but it still looks pretty kick-ass.

Babble.com's first anthology comes out this fall, and yours truly is included (p. 67 to be exact!)

Rest assured, I'll let you know about 2,387 times beforehand where you can get your copy.

(p.s. Because I never expect such blurbage to occur again, I would like to direct your attention to the blurb from the NEW YORK TIMES on the back of the book. It's like Brad Pitt declaring that he finds white women in their mid-30s to be his type. I, my friends, so qualify.

In other pub news, I expect my first truckload of Veiled Remarks copies today, so the glorious divine who have pre-ordered can expect a copy soon!

More Schorr!

2009-07-27T08:30:00.000-07:00

Ta-dah!

2009-07-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

Howdy!

It is with great pride and pleasure that I'm announcing pre-sales for my book, Veiled Remarks: A Curious Compendium for the Nuptially Inclined. The book will officially be on sale in a couple of weeks, and it will be available through my website and Amazon. (I'm also finalizing plans to have it carried locally, as well)

I plan to have a couple of book signings here in September, so stay tuned!

Wait.

Hold up.

What is this book thing, you ask?

It's the culmination of about 6 years of research, heartbreak, a wedding, a baby and a crash course in publishing. After planning one wedding that was never to be, I wasn't exactly up with matrimony and took great solace in reading stories about the dark side of such a storied ritual. Hell, it wasn't that long ago that marriage was glorified kidnapping and barter, so the stories of superstition, bizarre ceremonial rites and receptions gone wrong were legion.

A book idea was born.

Know a bride that can use a laugh? Married and curious about the history of the ceremony? Hate the idea of government sanctioned unions and will take great pleasure in reading about cell blocks specifically for homicidal Indian mothers-in-law?

Then this book is for you!

Katie and Chris get married

2009-07-21T20:12:00.000-07:00

There was definitely some lovey voodoo magic in the air, because last Saturday may have been some of the nicest weather ever to occur in Memphis in mid-July. Luckily for Chris and Katie, it was the day they became husband and wife. Having gotten to know both of these sweet, loving folks, it was truly an honor to capture their big day. I have to take a sec here to thank Chip Chockley who took time out his insanely busy schedule to second shoot with me. He spent time with the groom and not only caught some great moments with Chris but snapped some beautiful detail shots as well.

Here is a hodge podge from their day . There are so many I'd like to feature that I think I'll have a second post with more "traditional" family shots and more of the wedding details. Enjoy!

Save the Date

2009-07-20T17:21:00.000-07:00

Wooo-hoo!

I just got my kick-ass save the date to Elizabeth and Gary's wedding that I will be shooting this fall, and I have to show you the adorableness from our awesome session.

Weak-end

2009-07-20T07:46:00.000-07:00

Whew. The Sweazys are getting too old for this sh*t.

We had a jam-packed weekend of Elmwood cemetery tours, a wedding shoot, a screenwriting seminar, a photo shoot at a drive-in, recording an album at Ardent, and the corresponding migraine and stomach bug, respectively.

I'll let you guess who did what while I try to haul my worn out bones to the computer to edit the photos.

In the meantime, if you're in town and like hearing live music, Caleb plays his first gig at the Hi-Tone this Wednesday at (gulp) 10 PM. I know this eliminates about 90% of you, but what if I told you Wednesday was my birthday (it really is!) and the best gift you could ever give me (besides plane tickets) would be to come out and support my extremely hardworking and talented hubby? He's gonna have a backing band and it's just gonna be awesome.

I hope to see you there!

p.s. I'd like to say BIG THANK YOU to Gramma Sue who helped make this crazy weekend manageable!

Puppies & Babies

2009-07-16T05:36:00.000-07:00

It's a gloomy day, so how about some puppies and babies! There's been a flurry of new additions (and one adorable mainstay) around the Sweazys as of late.

Congratulations to Laura, Tony and big brother Diego on the birth of sweet Jesse!

The Rattons have a new baby girl! Welcome to the world, cute burrito (otherwise known as Anna)

And then there is my puppy nephew, Walter, the cutest great dane that will grow up to be the cutest pony on the block.

And my diva, working it by not working it for the camera.

It's Not Easy Being Sweazy

2009-07-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

Around midnight Thursday, Caleb fished our screaming daughter from her crib and flipped on the light, revealing her little body covered up with angry red hives.

Shit.

We took a deep breath and ran through the calm, organized checklist we've adapted for Caleb since his own mysterious hive-riffic allergies appeared three years ago:

1. What did she eat?

M: Nothing new!
C: Nothing new?
M: Wait! What did she eat for breakfast? Did she have breakfast?

2. Was it a bug bite?

M: It has to be a bug bite.
C: It's not a bug bite.
M: It's a bug bite!
C: It's not a bug bite. I checked her sheets! (reveals sheets, mattress pad, pillows and cases flung around the room)
M: It totally could have bitten her and gone into hiding.
C: It's not a bug bite!

HIves are ickyness non grata in this household. After watching my husband's body turn bright red after taking a bite of beef short ribs, I look at hives as those great bulldozers of the flimsy walls we put up around us. They are the reason Caleb has to keep an epi pen close by in case he accidentally gets a piece of bacon in his baked beans and his throat decides to close up. They are a frightening reminder that no matter how many rules you follow, how many outlets you cover and lactose-free milk you provide, the very air you breathe could one day swallow you up in the hot, red welts that were currently snaking their way around my daughter's torso.

Oh yeah. After eliminating food and bugs as the culprit, we were going with "air."

Moments later, I'm on the phone with the pediatrician's emergency dispatcher, her voice thick with sleep.

And what is your name, ma'am?

Sweazy.

Sw ---?

SWEAZY.

I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm having trouble hearing you. Could you spell it?

My daughter is gagging.

S-W-E-A- Z-Y

"C" as in car?

Motherfucker. Never in my life have I longed more for my old, boring name, the Anderson that forever offended me with its bland, vaguely Scandinavian blahness and belonged to my kindergarten teacher and my principal and that girl who played blind Mary on Little House on the Prairie and took up 12 solid pages in the phone book.

Why was I yelling Z! NO Z! Like motherfucking ZEBRA! when my daughter's esophagus could be swollen shut from hives?

Fortunately the gagging was just from the excessive crying. After the nurse established that I wasn't Melissa SWEACKY or SWYZXC or her flight confirmation code phoning her up to mess with her, she finally patched me through to the nurse who said pretty much what we expected.

Benadryl.

We gave Harlow the instructed dosage and watched Wordworld on PBS until the hives magically disappeared.

And all was right with the world.

Until the air made them come back the next day.

Et tu, tutu?

2009-07-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

Last Monday found me at Target, my child standing in the cart and urging us onward like some baby General Lafayette, if said general were searching for tutus.

"I WANT TUTU. TUUUUUUUTUUUUUUUU!"

Who was this kid? One day she's begging to go outside and eat dirt, and the next she's listing off the names of Disney's princess clique and demanding their wardrobe. What was confusing is that we don't own a single princess movie, but after spending a week with her cousin in Maine where I think the word princess was said about 8,476 times, I knew she was a goner. Add that to her parents' day out program where she learns terms like "Whoopsie!" when she whips off her diaper and drops it on the floor, it seemed the inevitable Disneyfication had begun. And honestly, why fight it? Her mama wears mascara to the farmers market and considers 4 inch heels practical, so I figure I'm the biggest hypocrite in the world for trying to deny what's in her blood.

Still. My skin crawled when we entered the pepto Barbie aisle, and I quickly searched for the least offensive concoction of frills and tulle. I found a blue fairy dress - with wings! This was a big plus as Harlow wanted to fly as well as rule a kingdom, so I proudly showed her my find. She gestured for me to hand it to her, and she narrowed her eyes, her fingers moving straight to a small plastic brooch affixed to the bodice. Inside was the picture of a comely brunette.

"Who's that?" she asked.

I had no idea.

"Tinkerbell's...sister?"

She stared at me, and I KNEW that she knew I was BS'ing her, but it somehow it passed muster. We came home, and I helped Harlow wiggle into her brunette kid sister of Tinkerbell dress, handed her Majesty the paper crown her father scotch taped together for her, and we stood on the front porch, holding hands.

She turned to me and pointed to the sky.

"Fly!" she demanded.

Ok, I said, spreading my arms wide and doing my best seagull.

She stared at me, those huge blue eyes narrowing in frustration. She stamped her foot. (She was getting this princess thing down cold. )

"No!" she insisted. "FLY!"

She reached up on her tippy toes and hopped, looking like a baby bird about to make the leap from the nest. I felt a sudden pain in my chest. How to tell her what I knew would break her heart?

"Honey, we can't fly. We're not made that way. But we can pretend!" Again, I spread my arms wide and flapped like crazy lady dancing to ragtime on her front porch.

She burst into tears.

I wondered if Amelia Earhart took to running around the family lawn with a pair of pipe cleaner wings, determined to prove everybody wrong. I wondered how much it hurt her parents to tell her what they knew to be true.

I gathered up my little sobbing princess and carried her inside, wishing that one day she might prove me wrong.

The Hives

2009-07-11T09:48:00.001-07:00

Dear Mysterious Hives on my Kid,

Quit it. You're freaking me out.

Sincerely,

The Management

The List

2009-07-09T06:48:00.001-07:00

What I neglected to mention in my last post was that this extremely hot, extremely naked actor has been on The List for about a year now. You know, the five actors/celebrities you'd leave your spouse for if you had the opportunity to have one crazy wild night of...staring at them from your friend's couch? ( I say with all sincerity that I am married to a man I find so irresistible that he still makes me all fluttery inside when he walks into a room. Oh, true story: Caleb was at the premiere party for a movie back in the 90s, and his buddies kept pointing out that the actress star of the movie kept checking him out. They made eye contact. There were some smiles, and fortunately for me, nothing else. The actress? Angelina Jolie. )

Angelina Jolie, who I believe, is #2 on my List.

So, basically, I am chatting real time with my friend who is taunting me, TAUNTING ME with Mr. #1's proximity to her bedroom. Oh hey! He's juggling limes in my backyard! Now? He's sitting in my porch swing, being dreamy.

How often does this happen? Where you actually know the whereabouts of Mr #1 on The List, and they happen to be in your friend's BEDROOM?

Lesson learned? It is a very, very good thing to be a photo rep.

When Nylon Magazine comes out in a few months, I'll post some pics of Mr. #1

Rounding out my list?

#3 Johnny Depp (I know. He's on everybody's list. But thanks to Public Enemies, he's firmly back in the top 5. And I'm just a sucker for men in tailored coats and suits...and guyliner)
#4 Gerard Butler (300 may be the gayest movie that wasn't straight out gay porn, but it worked for me)
#5 Cary Grant (yeah, he's dead (hint for #1) But he was my very first celebrity crush. And did you see The Philadelphia Story?

Who's on your List?

At this very moment...

2009-07-08T11:48:00.001-07:00

...one of my best friends is hosting an extremely handsome, extremely naked actor in her LA home for a magazine photo shoot.

And right now, I'm trying to reassure myself that leaving LA was a good thing.

Anybody wanna help?

Please??

Happy 4th

2009-07-05T19:39:00.000-07:00

Week in Review

2009-07-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

It appears an illiterate but well-meaning drunk took over blogging duties. The mistake is being corrected and the responsible parties are being sacked.

Posting has been light this past week because I've been writing. A lot. I'm facing down a huge, self-esteem shredding deadline, so unfortunately this also means I've also been...how should I put this? A smidge batshit crazy. Not diaper-wearing, driving cross country crazy, but the kind where I had to rule out possible medication snafus and hysterical pregnancy before I had to accept that I just really have a hard time writing on deadline. In deference to my husband who craves privacy like I do chocolate covered anything, I'm not gonna go into details of our week of marital discord, but I will say that I've been awful to live with. And to the woman who walked in on me sobbing in the Volvo dealership bathroom, no, mascara is not supposed to look like that.

I'm sorry.

I hope that when I make my deadline, my everyday, endearing brand of crazy will return, along with more posts.

Happy 4th

2009-07-03T08:17:00.001-07:00

If you have fight, and you didn't blog about it, did the fight really happen?

Cowden

2009-06-27T20:01:00.000-07:00

My sister in-law lives in Chicago, and year after year, for six months out of the year, she is subjected to the kind of weather that unites an entire people in cred-building misery. A few years ago she decided that she was too tired to be a hater, and she embarked on the official Make Winter Fun! campaign, buying cute coats, those retro muff-thingies for your hands and making the choice to stay positive.

I've been thinking a lot about her and her efforts to find silver linings as we live daily with voodoo jungle heat that threatens to scramble our brains into little eggy bits. I've been hoping to employ the same positive attitude in the face of June acting suspiciously like August, but I feel like my little bucket of cheer just keeps getting kicked over. We bought a little plastic pool at Target where we managed about two minutes of relief before we are set upon by every mosquito in the tri-state area. We went to the zoo, my child's face, in the shade, turning the color of her popsicle by 10 AM. In the meantime, my parents continue to send me photos daily from their Maui vacation, the ocean managing to sandwich itself into every pic. Mainly we've been staying inside and watching Surf's Up on TiVo, and I am becoming murderously jealous of cartoon surfing penguins.

One happy result of our staying in most of the weekend was the unexpected visit from a man and his family who were in town for reunion. His mother had been born in our house, and various family members lived here for over fifty years, so the house obviously held many memories for him. We didn't let them get past the entry, because I couldn't bear to have them leave knowing that the McSlobsteins had taken up roost. His wife sent us pictures, but even cooler, we got a song he wrote about the house, too. Our house has its own song! Take that Garden of the Month!

Hooray for Hollywood

2009-06-24T18:42:00.000-07:00

Big day! Thanks to a tip from Stacey, we packed up Harlow's Dora backpack* with contraband snacks and headed to Ridgeway Malco 4 for the Malco Kidfest - and Harlow's first ever movie theater experience. Sadly the actual movie wasn't particularly buzz-worthy like Finding Nemo or anything from the Pixar canon. Her first movie theater movie?

Madagascar 2.

At least it had Alec Baldwin. Oh, and my new hero, Will.i.am, who punched Perez Hilton via proxy.

The really cool thing? Ridgeway Four was the site of my first movie theater experience. My first movie? Empire Strikes Back, well, up until the Hans Solo is frozen part and I lost my mind and my seriously pissed-off dad had to haul his sobbing kid into the lobby and miss the ending.

I spent many an evening in that lobby, buying popcorn, cokes and gazing at the mural of Hollywood stars that spanned the entire wall.( I specifically remember being entranced by Clark Gable and Judy Garland. What that says about me only a Facebook quiz can determine.) But that theater was my introduction to Hollywood. It played no small part in inspiring me to head west and try to capture some of that magic. Most importantly, it led me to meet her daddy.

It was happy reunion and a successful introduction. Harlow smiled and bobbed up and down in her seat and was riveted. We mainly just handed her popcorn and m&ms and thrilled to her every laugh and head movement. She's smiling! She likes popcorn! She wants to stay through the credits!

Next week I think we're gonna try Horton Hears a Who and Harlow's first stadium seating experience. Oh I can't wait for Harlow's first Cineramadome experience! Her first arthouse movie! Her first Milk Duds! Her Oscar acceptance speech!

Mama can dream...

* For those of you who caught the facebook status, the lipgloss-shaped glue stick did not accompany Harlow and her backpack to the movie. Happily, she'd only applied about one coat before I took away her "lipstick." Not that some parents would mind their toddler's lips being glued together. But still.

Elizabeth & Gary

2009-06-22T15:29:00.001-07:00

One of the best things about moving back to Memphis was reconnecting with my friend Elizabeth. She comes from the same stock as my husband, one of those folks who generally excels at pretty much anything she sets her mind to. I believe she went to school for design and specifically window dressing (dream job, non?) but is also recognized as a singer, fellow photographer, makeup artist, hair stylist, graphic designer and master wig maker for Opera Memphis. (Don't even get me started on that creamy, flawless skin.) So I was beyond thrilled and honored when she asked me to photograph her wedding to the impossibly dreamy Gary. I was doing little cartwheels inside when she said it have a Venetian Carnivale theme. (Caleb wanted me to verify which kind of carnivale so as to avoid showing up in a sequined thong and peacock headdress. Gotta love those Brazilians.) The only hitch in our plans was that the day of our engagement shoot was around 12,000 degrees - and Elizabeth in her corset and Gary in his velvet matador jacket threatened to spontaneously combust. The folks at Mollie Fontaine Lounge graciously let us come in last minute and capture some of their ambience. We ran out of daylight, so we're going to do another shoot to get some more "traditionally" me kind of shots, but I'm loving what we have so far. Satin and masks and disco balls, oh my!

Sneak Peek

2009-06-21T20:23:00.000-07:00

It seems fitting with the scorching heat that I had a sizzling engagement shoot this weekend. I am pee-my-pants excited about Elizabeth & Gary's Carnivale-themed wedding this November, especially after seeing how they worked it - in costume - in 100 degree heat. I'm not finished editing, but I had to preview this little number. More hotness to come!

Hey, sexy

2009-06-19T07:42:00.000-07:00

Turn the lights down low.

Let's get the mood right.

You ready?

mmmm-hmmmm.

You see that texture? That letterpressed loveliness?

That KICK-ASS logo? That's right. Mama's got a logo.

And correspondence cards. I'm bringing 19th century back, and it's hot, people.

Maine

2009-06-18T18:15:00.000-07:00

The plan was for my family to finally visit New England, a long overdue pilgrim's journey to the land of Plymouth Rock, pulled taffy, and Stephen King. We picked a house off Craig's List, packed our bags and toddlers, and hopped on a plane to Maine. (Kid friendly movies downloaded beforehand on the Ipod make for great distractions. Even better, travel with grandparents who VOLUNTEER to ride with the kids in first class. You've never seen a happier coach.)

We stayed in York Beach, the kind of town for which the word "quaint" was invented but still couldn't quite capture the utter aww-ness. Unfortunately I also managed to pack the nasty-ass cold virus my doctor swore was a sinus infection. 75% of our group was struck down over the course of the week, and the mounting piles of snotty tissue, barking coughs, swollen red eyes and general malaise gave us our own Stephen King-worthy plague to contend with. But we all soldiered on, taking long walks to Brown's ice cream when the weather permitted, or wearing sweaters, spying on the lobster fisherman with our binoculars outside our window and granting each other no mercy at Scrabble. And generally consuming about 3,000 calories a day. I am still trying to fit into my shorts, and I feel like Sookie Stackhouse prancing around in hotpants, except with much more jiggly.

Caleb managed to surf at Long Sands Beach, and while Lindsey and I made the fatal mistake of bringing toddlers to the beach honestly thinking we'd keep them out of the 50 degree water, the ensuing mess was worth watching my sexy, wetsuited man drop into the waves. We made sidetrips to Boston, Portsmouth and Salem, tried to out-annoy each other with our worst Yankee accents. Shopping at the gap outlet was made even more pleasurable by my cashier's greeting : To staht, would you like to open a Gap cahd and save fideen puhcent? I know we talk funny. They talk funniest.

This was the house across the street from us, taken with my phone. This was not photoshopped. It looked even creepier in person. It we all hadn't felt so sick, I'm sure we would have responded to all the moaning and ghostly screams that wafted down to us from the top floor each night.

This is the least claustrophobic bookseller in the world.

And this is what I did on my summer vacation. Enjoy!

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

So Happy Together

2009-06-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

Chess

2009-06-18T08:27:00.000-07:00

Last night Harlow and I caught a WKNO broadcast of Chess, the 1986 musical that had a splashy revival this year with Idina Mendzel and Josh Groban (who I still think has never sounded finer than on his collaboration in "I'm F*cking Ben Affleck). As far as musicals go, it pushes the limits of what will pass as sung dialogue then watches them fall off the cliff. It's the Cold War! It's an American and a Russian facing - off! It's the American's publicist whose family has gone missing in the war in Hungary and somehow the Russian's publicist finds her father in jail and tries to get the Russian, who has now defected to America and left his wife and two kids for sexy America publicist - to throw the match! You try singing about that!

I really got a kick out of watching my daughter fall under the spell of musical theater. And she's not the only one. Caleb came home to find me doing pushing ups to showtunes. In honor of Chess, here's some fun facts and a cheesy video!

It was totally written by the dudes from ABBA!

You know that awesome 80s song, One Night in Bangkok by Murray Head? Totally from Chess. And Murray Head? Totally Anthony Stewart Head's (Giles!) brother.

Sandra Tsing Loh

2009-06-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

Brilliant, rather terrifying, self-excoriating/freeing piece on the futility of marriage - and the merits of divorce - by one of my favorite nutty professors, Sandra Tsing Loh.

p.s. I love you, honey!

SADLY, AND TO my horror, I am divorcing. This was a 20-year partnership. My husband is a good man, though he did travel 20 weeks a year for work. I am a 47-year-old woman whose commitment to monogamy, at the very end, came unglued. This turn of events was a surprise. I don’t generally even enjoy men; I had an entirely manageable life and planned to go to my grave taking with me, as I do most nights to my bed, a glass of merlot and a good book. Cataclysmically changed, I disclosed everything. We cried, we rent our hair, we bewailed the fate of our children. And yet at the end of the day—literally during a five o’clock counseling appointment, as the golden late-afternoon sunlight spilled over the wall of Balinese masks—when given the final choice by our longtime family therapist, who stands in as our shaman, mother, or priest, I realized … no. Heart-shattering as this moment was—a gravestone sunk down on two decades of history—I would not be able to replace the romantic memory of my fellow transgressor with the more suitable image of my husband, which is what it would take in modern-therapy terms to knit our family’s domestic construct back together. In women’s-magazine parlance, I did not have the strength to “work on” falling in love again in my marriage. And as Laura Kipnis railed in Against Love, and as everyone knows, Good relationships take work. (More)

Comedy and Miss Drama

2009-06-16T19:17:00.001-07:00

These photos, taken within seconds of each other, are a pretty spot-on metaphor of my toddler's brain. These days there's just no telling what will make her smile let alone lose all her bones and collapse into a screaming, red-faced, jelly-like mass. Because I would not let her have a second cupcake at Muddy's (I know, bad mommy), she proceeded to scream and try to pinch off sections of my face. I threw her over my shoulder and told the staff that they should take her meltdown as the highest compliment. They both just stared at me, and I suppose, mentally tried to pinch off sections of my face. We stopped in at the grocery store where she continued to moan OW! OW! and thrash as I shoehorned her into the cart, and then she was just done. She turned the darkest shade of red and just screamed. I tried to distract her, tempt her with samples, speed shop and when I tried to wipe her tears, she punched me in the face.

I KNOW!

I Mr. Miyagi'd those hands so fast it shocked us both, not to mention the guy next to us in produce who let out a low "whoa." I stood there, my wailing kid's arms clenched in fists, her face awash in tears when I was threatening to start my own. I just felt mortified and tired and wrong. There were no fellow mommy looks of solidarity, no smiles, just people getting the hell out of our way as my shrieking kid and I tried to buy some salmon. And for the love of God, why do they always keep the fish in the furthermost corner of the store?

Caulk and Cake

2009-06-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

Huzzah! We had one brave, clever entrant into the Let's Play MacGuyver with Melissa's Random Purse Contents and Susan of Caulk and Cake won!

And what did she win? A free portrait of anything she would like! Susan with her dogs, the cool looking sidewalk grate she passes everyday, a statue of headless angel at Elmwood, a man wearing a hairnet in the rain? You are only limited by your imagination - and Memphis city limits.

Susan, send me an email of what you'd like shot a Medusahead@mac.com, and I'll get to work and send you a 11x14 print.

Thanks for playing!

Home

2009-06-13T19:44:00.000-07:00

There are pictures to be uploaded and laundry to be done, but right now I can say, unequivocally, my favorite moment of the trip occurred as we were boarding the plane back to Memphis. Harlow suddenly bolted from the line because it was necessary to tell all two hundred people in the gate about poop.

No, not just poop.

POOP!!!! at the top of her little lungs. I mean, this girl put some muscle into it, running around in a circle, lunging, then screaming poop POOP!!! to anybody that would listen.

POOOOOOOOOP!

Wait, I meant my favorite part happened right after that when we handed off the toddlers to Nana and Papa and used our free drink coupons back in coach. That was pretty killer.

Lahbster Pahp

2009-06-09T11:37:00.000-07:00

Maine menu

2009-06-05T20:08:00.000-07:00

The Sweazys will be out of the blogging office this next week. I thought I'd leave you with the contents of my purse.

1 wallet
1 roll of toilet paper
3 crayons
1 phone
1 baggie of cheddar goldfish, date of origin unknown
1 maraca
2 swimmer diapers
1 pen
1 girl's phone number

Most creative task using all (or the majority) of these items wins a prize. Seriously.

Katie and Chris at the park

2009-06-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

Katie and Chris really wanted to have pictures taken in their favorite spot in Memphis - Overton Park. It was the least I could do after locking their keys in their car (sorry guys! again!)

And I brought a very fun toy along - my super cute bike!!

Total Eclipse of the BWA!HAHAHAHAHAAH!

2009-06-03T10:45:00.001-07:00

The only thing funnier than the original video is this clever little ode to Miss Tyler's nightmare of quitting the music biz due to layoffs and taking a teaching position at a demonic boys school with ninjas and lots of gauzy curtains.

At least I think that's what it is about.

Katie & Chris part II

2009-06-01T19:53:00.001-07:00

I'm all sinus-y and generally ugh, but before I get all cozy with my neti-pot, I had to show you one of my favorite pics from tonight's session with Katie and Chris...

Pool Party

2009-05-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

Harlow was invited to a pool party today.

My favorite photoshop action I run on nearly all my photos? "Pool party."

Coincidence?

Absolutely.

Summery cupcake goodness ahead!

Sneak

2009-05-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

Here's a little sneak from today's shoot...Miss Sadie

Wedding Video

2009-05-26T12:33:00.000-07:00

This makes me just ridiculously happy knowing there are people on this planet with this much imagination and joie de vivre - not to mention excellent friends.

Brian & Eileen's Wedding Music Video. from LOCKDOWN projects on Vimeo.

via Cup of Jo

Chris & Katie

2009-05-24T20:02:00.000-07:00

Happy weekend!

2009-05-22T10:56:00.001-07:00

rockstars

2009-05-21T09:21:00.000-07:00

Baby and babydaddy laying down tracks

playdate

2009-05-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

LA in Bloom

2009-05-17T22:46:00.000-07:00

Because it is Memphis, I often run into friends from college or someone from the years before I knew I could actually style my hair, and inevitably I'm asked how I'm adjusting here after nine years in LA. No one has been more amazed than me that I can look them in the eye and say honestly that things are good. Things ARE good. I've found my way into a career that never would have materialized out west, I've made so many lovely friends and my purpose here is clearer. What is not clear is my head and my sinuses that threaten to explode with every big, juicy thunderstorm or cold front rolling through. Due to a shoulder injury when I was 13, I experienced headaches daily for about 10 years - headaches that pushed me awfully close to reenacting that scene from Pi with the powerdrill when storms blew threw. In LA, a combo of pilates, little pollen and perfect weather gradually set me straight, but alas, the lack of those ingredients are setting me back. For weeks my head has felt stuffed full of cotton when not threatening to split open. Never having been an allergy sufferer, Caleb can barely breathe here. The lovely allergic rash on my leg that I have battled for years is out of control thanks to the non stop pollen parade. After googling "Best Places to Live in the US for allergy sufferers/" and finding LA near the top, that old familiar heartsickness for my allergy-free home has crept back in and taken roost.

All that to say is that I'm not exactly sure how I found my way on to her blog, but that little hole in my heart for LA has been patched up by this lovely blog, LA in Bloom. Heather Taylor has an artist's eye, and the images she's been posting shows why the city is special to her and why it will always be special to me.

p.s. But if that's what it takes to get more perfect, cool days like yesterday, I gladly offer up my head to be split open by the barometric pressure.

Awkward Family Photos

2009-05-17T12:50:00.001-07:00

Why even bother captioning. Just go here for more gems.

Huh?

2009-05-15T13:35:00.001-07:00

Carrie Underwood covers Home Sweet Home?

METALLICA covers Careless Whisper?

What the hell is going on here? Just stop it! Seriously!

Unless you are Rufus and Ben Folds. In that case, carry on.

Yummy harmony that's well shot here.

Footage from the concert where I (eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!) saw this live is here.

French bebes

2009-05-15T07:40:00.000-07:00

When Caleb and I were catsitting in Paris for two weeks (long story), we spent hours walking the city, and we often passed by an outpost of Bonpoint, a tres hoity-toity boutique for the plus de chere bebes. Seriously, one item from the store is more expensive than an average US ensemble. But I am kinda googly-eyed over the outfits - for babies - on their website. Don't think I'd mind my own hipster scarf and golden shoes.

Faust

2009-05-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

When I was eight years old, my mom brought me to the Orpheum theater to see The King and I starring Yul Brynner. According to my mom, we left at intermission - most likely because my Dad couldn't take another minute of musical theater and Yul's sexy bald head. I don't remember leaving early. I remember being glued to my seat, completely overwhelmed by the experience. The gilded theater, the mezzanine seats, the velvet curtains, the bathroom that seemed it's own mini palace - I can still see myself curled into my seat, terrified that I might fall onto the theater goers below yet never, ever wanting to leave such a beautiful, magical place.

So imagine my delight when I am invited to photograph Opera Memphis' production of Faust at the Orpheum. The gig is to cover both nights of the dress rehearsal, backstage, in the house.

Wherever I want to go.

I KNOW, right??

So wander I did, observing the orchestra warm up in the pit and the actors transform themselves into doomed souls.

The production itself was a gorgeous, moody, steampunk take on the classic opera, and I had fun capturing the details: Mephistopholes' dapper costume and creepy coiled nails to the metal gears as hair pieces. I had a ridiculous amount of fun and hope I have the chance to wander the halls again.

More of Allison's Birthday

2009-05-12T10:38:00.000-07:00

There were so many cute ones I couldn't resist posting more!

The Program

2009-05-07T20:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning was Caleb's and my first experience as parents doing what, in my opinion, is the reason one has children:

free donuts and songs performed in your honor by adorably dressed, illiterate ego monkeys.

Moms and dads and grandparents and approximately 32,000 cameras crammed into her daycare's basement (the church of my childhood, actually) for the festivities. True to our nature, Lindsey and I staked out a table closest to the muffins and muttered over why nobody else was helping themselves to the buffet. Harlow and her cousin Avery were first up. Her group of 30 or so toddlers were led onto gently sloping risers, handed maracas and instructed to reveal the choreography, that if her daily notices are to be believed, were of a rigor that might make a completely out of his mind on qualudes Bob Fosse feel some shame. And there was my girl front row center. The karaoke machine revved to life. Miss Carrie jumped up and down and shimmied. Harlow clenched her maraca between her teeth, flattened herself on her belly and commando crawled to a space between the risers. She was getting the hell out of there.

We couldn't have been prouder.

Harlow was redirected to her mark where she promptly squatted down in her adorable butterfly dress and displayed not so much a diaper but a seven pound mini zeppelin. Lazy teachers. Gnawing on her maraca like it was a hunk of turkeyleg, she surveyed the audience with a dispassionate eye. It was like a baby Martin Sheen from Apocalypse Now had suddenly materialized in the middle of "I'm Smushing up My Baby Bumblebee." The other toddlers blinked at Miss Carrie. Somebody started sobbing. Over her shoulder, cousin Avery was a virtual Mr. Bojangles, soft-shoeing to a song...somewhere.

It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Molly's 3rd Birthday

2009-05-05T20:42:00.000-07:00

Kelly is one of my sister's best friends from childhood. She's got a wicked sense of humor, and combining that with an endearing habit of getting into bizarre accidents, she's one of the best storytellers I've had the pleasure to be around. Next time you see her, ask her about the trapeze at Adventure River. Or her ACL.

I was thrilled and touched when she asked me to photograph her adorable daughter Molly's third birthday, so I set off on an unexpectedly chilly afternoon last month to watch Molly and her friends ride trains, pet some animals and ride horses at Molly's traveling zoo party! The pics subjects were so cute that some of them made it into this month's Memphis Parent Magazine in an article by local -if not national - treasure Stacey Greenberg. Holy cow, we have linkage! You can see the pics and learn about my photo services online here!

p.s. In case you were wondering, and I know you are, those cookies in the online story were made by my seriously talented sister Lindsey Suber.

Vaycay

2009-05-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

Home

2009-05-05T05:44:00.000-07:00

I've never handled vacation transitions well. I blame this on my father who traditionally extends our family vacations by at least one day as a "surprise," but we've become so accustomed to the "how about one more day?" huzzah that it always seems kind of impossible that we actually return home. In post-vacation fashion, Caleb and I got into a stupid fight over diapers and spent most of our evening sulking in our respective corners until we finally hashed it out.

C: What I am SAYING is that I would have just changed her there.

(translation: What I am SAYING is that I don't travel well and am so grateful that I got home a day before you just so I could mentally prepare for the freaky mess that is YOU)

M: You weren't THERE and I'm not saying I'm proud of how I handled it but that is what I CHOSE to do.

(translation: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Beach!)

So. Back to reality. Pictures of Opera Memphis' Faust, Molly's 3rd birthday and (wah) vacation coming soon!

The road to hell is paved with good inventions

2009-05-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

The first in an occasional, ongoing series

TODDLER BIKE HELMETS

We know they need them. They don't know they need them. Good times.

Why it benefits everybody when you shop local

2009-05-01T11:13:00.001-07:00

I learned about the 350 project via Black Eiffel and thought I would pass it along. I'm off to Sundog Books in Florida to help the economy!

Go shop and have a lovely weekend!

Allison's Birthday: Sneak peek

2009-04-29T06:41:00.001-07:00

Photographing my friend Margaret's party last week yielded an unexpected bonus - photographing the hostess's daughter's 13th birthday party!

Her backyard was transformed into a disco paradise for 70+ 13 year olds, an event that I wasn't about to miss. The beauty, awkwardness, thrill and pain of being 13 was on full display, and it was a privilege to be down in the disco pit capturing them all. I don't have all the pics with me, so here's a sneak peak until I get home. Enjoy!

Margaret's party

2009-04-27T18:44:00.002-07:00

My lovely friend Margaret invited me to photograph her birthday party last week. The hostess blew us away with the seriously gorgeous spread, delicious food and fascinating company. I took the medium format for a spin and got some great table shots...that will have to be posted when I get home from the beach. In the meantime, here are a handful of pics!

By the way...

2009-04-27T04:29:00.000-07:00

After the drama of forgetting my wallet, any form of payment and my insurance card at my yearly gyno exam, the nurse announces to the very full waiting room that she's ready for "Mrs. Sleazy."

I'll be honest.

It took me a minute to stand up.

Gone beachin

2009-04-27T04:13:00.000-07:00

Good morning. The Sweazys have been up since around 4:30, but it's (almost) hard to complain when we spent the pre-dawn hours watching the sun peak above a roiling, turbulent ocean. Harlow has been talking about the beach for months, and after arriving in Florida yesterday evening, the obsession has reached fever pitch. She could barely sleep she was so excited, and finally we gave in, bundled up, and climbed over the boardwalk to the beach.

After about 15 minutes of shivering in the wet sand, even she was ready to come in. She just fixed a pot of coffee, that sweet baby.

I have a lot of catch up blogging to do, so posts with pretty pictures will be coming soon.

busybee

2009-04-21T20:29:00.000-07:00

After a very twitchy week without my computer, my photoshop is back - just in time for a very fun week of work and several weeks of catchup ahead of me. Work! How do I get paid for this??

I had an absolute blast shooting a very glamorous birthday party this morning (check the heels, darlings) and then traded the heels and fancy shrug for flipflops and a reflector, my photobitch uniform. I'm learning a lot assisting my seriously talented and lovely friend Dirk at his fashion shoots. Like, I can work me some fan. And man, am I glad my very shortlived career as a model is behind me. Food and I have too good a thing going. And Dirk brought sugared orange slice-thingies. You treat your peeps well.

Easily the best thing about today was meeting some seriously cool chicks, in particular a seriously gorgeous photo geek and a Chilean stylist whose closet I'm going to move into. I'm just giving you a headsup now.

Tomorrow, the dreamshoot at the Orpheum and then a birthday party this Friday. And hey, speaking of birthdays - remember that blonde kid who just turned 2?

Tuesdays

2009-04-20T18:52:00.000-07:00

Maybe because I was a born on a Tuesday - and it used to be Buffy night - that Tuesdays are my fave day of the week. This one promises to be stellar. I shoot a birthday party tomorrow morning and then get to play in a real, live studio with the medium format camera I've been dying to use. And it's about time. I haven't shot anything in so long that I'm starting to get twitchy.

The computer blew up last week along with my phone, so with no way to upload or edit photos, I put away the cameras and dove headlong into writer world. It's been extremely challenging and thrilling at the same time, flexing some very weak, out of shape writing muscles on my novel but falling back in love with characters that first introduced themselves to me ten years ago. I so wish I was one of those writers gifted with the ability to just sit down and spill some pretty compelling material. Even blogging is Iike pulling teeth sometimes. I suppose I am the writer equivalent of a cow, eating, swallowing, then chewing - oh, ew I don't even want to continue with this analogy.

All this to say that pictures are coming soon, and Veiled Remarks is coming soon, and if I don't crack under all of my silly, cud-chewing pressure, my novel will be coming someday soon.

Home cookin

2009-04-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

Who knew that pureed edamame - with a few simple added twists - could make a dip almost as yummy as guac? Because I was that lazy and couldn't be troubled to get my camera, I took a picture of our main course - homemade oat burgers on ciabatta from the farmers market - with my camera phone. That is why you won't be seeing a picture it here. Because it really was tasty. Picture? Not so much.

Gimme my money

2009-04-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

For all the writers in the house, Mr. Ellison shows us how it's done!

Gang initiation season already?

2009-04-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

Gang initiation season already? It seems like it was just here.

Caleb was in the backyard around 8 pm and came inside just as the first of 4 police cars hauled some serious ass down our narrow street. He said he'd heard a popping sound ("like firecrackers" - isn't that what the witnesses always say in the news?). Neither of us were willing to walk in the dark to check out the action, and this morning, after some serious time wasted trying to find a breaking news bulletin on the local news websites, we learned a man out walking his dog one block over from us had been stopped for directions by a passing car.

And shot three times by the driver.

Miraculously the man survived and gave police the inevitable description - black guy, sedan.

What's miraculous to me is that the victim wasn't my husband who walks our dog around the same time - and on the same street - each night.

In the first few weeks of new motherhood, I was too afraid to sit in our living room with Harlow.

Because I was afraid of sniper fire.

My doctor promptly wrote me a prescription for anti-anxiety meds. Now if she could only write me a prescription for a protective shell around midtown.

Hats Off

2009-04-14T17:12:00.000-07:00

We had one of those uncomfortable moments occur today where I was faced with a parenting decision I wasn't sure how to make.

My daughter wanted to leave the house looking like this:

(Me looking like that is a different story entirely).

She thought she looked adorable. There was no doubting that. But I also didn't want the general population thinking I was that mom who forced her kid to wear a crash helmet out in public.

And then I remembered a story from my youth. I showed up at elementary school one day having inexplicably worn the same outfit as one of the most stylish, popular girls in my class. Of course her top and skirt were put together impeccably, and she pulled the whole outfit together with a clever, super-wide belt. I might as well have shown up wearing a garbage bag. I knew the next time I wore that outfit, I, too, would be sporting a super-wide belt and looking equally as fabulous. The problem was that I didn't own one. I ransacked my closet and finding nothing, I rifled through my mom's. No luck. I happened to be up in our playroom/gym when I saw it: a tan, superwide belt that would tie my outfit together perfectly. The next morning I put on my top and skirt and belt and went down to the kitchen. My mother just stared at me and took a large sip of coffee. Finally:

Mom: They'll let you wear that to school?
Me: Of course! This is what everybody's wearing. It's fine!
Mom: ...okay.

And she let me go to school wearing my father's weight belt.

His weight belt. Was I a complete and utter jackass? Absolutely. Was I called out by the same girl whose style I was trying to steal. You betcha. And I love my mom for that. I love that she loved me enough to let me make my own mistakes rather than wage and lose yet another battle with her stubborn preteen. That I looked like I was ready to pahmp (clap) her up was besides the point. She respected me enough to let me make my own decisions and stick by them. Or maybe she just needed a huge laugh to get her through the day. Whichever.

With that in mind, I resigned to take the toddler in the crash helmet to the store. It was at that moment her inherited claustrophobia kicked in and she clawed at the helmet, screaming OFF! OFF! until her father and I managed to shoe horn it off her noggin.

Crisis averted. I can only hope another deus ex machina will strike the next time I need to act like a parent.

I am wondering

2009-04-11T21:34:00.000-07:00

...why Harlow owns about 12 pairs of pajama bottoms with no tops.

...why the realtor always calls to show the house right as I've made plans to write.

...why I desparetely want hair extensions but wear my hair pulled up in a clip about 95% of the time.

...if this couch will ever go on sale.

...if John Locke = Smokey & Jacob? If Richard is Smokey? If the Miles the ghost whisperer episode I've been hoping for since they introduced his character will be appropriately spooky and awesome.

...when they say spring has sprung, is spring a euphemism for mucus?

...why I feel strangely flattered when someone chooses the bathroom stall I just exited - and there's no line.

...why Guy Pearce never became a big star.

...what exactly they put in the Benihana cream sauce that makes my stomach resemble the former president William Taft's.

...if I ever get pregnant again, can I have this cake served at my shower. Lindsey?

Easter Egg

2009-04-09T18:47:00.000-07:00

I am that mom who forgot to bring the easter basket for the kid's easter egg hunt today.

In my defense, Harlow's teacher told me last week that they had plenty of eggs and I didn't need to bring any. It never even occurred to me that she might need a basket to collect the eggs that I didn't bring. By the time I picked her up, they had already put up a bulletin board with pictures from the day's outing. Each picture showed a group of kids converging on brightly colored eggs, baskets tucked under their arms. Then there was my kid, snapped alone, staring down at an egg with a look like "And you expect me to do what with this?"

While the other kids toddled out with their cute bunny-shaped Target baskets, my kid had a bunch of eggs socked inside a wadded up Target bag scavenged by Miss Katherine. Miss Abbey tried to make me feel better, telling me that it was okay, that "another mother forgot to bring eggs."

Sheesh.

To round it out, Caleb and I dutifully cracked open each egg at her command, pocketing the goods and eating all the candy after she went to bed.

It's good to be an adult, semi-functioning or otherwise.

Shameless Husband Promotion

2009-04-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

The sexy husband unit is playing what's sure to be an awesome show this Friday at Otherlands! In his words:

Hello all,
It's been a while. Two quick notes and I'll let you go back to updating your Facebook profile.

A) I'm playing this Friday (April 10th)...WITH A BAND!!!
It's a three piece, just like the old days. I'm so excited! It's been too long since I've made that much noise.
Otherlands
640 So Cooper
Memphis
Doors at 7:00, music at 8:00

B) My song "Long Road" will be included on the Roadtrip Nation soundtrack. Hurray for PBS and their tireless support of the little guys. I think they're giving it away on college campuses so this is a perfect time to take that extension class you've been talking about.

Word.

For more on Caleb's music, check out his site!

Edible Memphis Spring

2009-04-08T13:38:00.001-07:00

The spring issue of Edible Memphis has sprung, featuring me and lots of people who like to eat good food and drink on the cheap. We'd like to continue drinking, so support us and our habits by picking up a copy at Davis Kidd or wherever fine food is served.

And I'm happy I can write that last part without irony.

I LaLalove you

2009-04-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

What can I say when it's been said so beautifully before:

"Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town." - Ask the Dust

Back soon...

Bollywood desserts

2009-03-30T09:44:00.000-07:00

A separate post with pics from Harlow's big day is coming soon, but I had to do a separate post to thank my sister for the jaw-droppingly kickass job she did with Harlow's cake and party favors. I gave Lindsey very little direction, just showed her some pictures and turned her loose. This is what she came up with:

She is taking babysteps toward making this a business, but I don't think she would have any trouble drumming up business. Thank you so much for making H's day so unique - and from saving me from a last minute Schnucks run!

100 Things I love About Harlow (give or take 80)

2009-03-29T18:04:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, sweetness. You are two. You know how I know this? Neverminding the easy peasy labor and the shock of your non-boyness 2 years ago today. This morning, you threw yourself onto the floor and screamed because I asked if you wanted apple juice. Welcome to Two. Mama will take two xanax to mark the occasion.

We had a Bollywood brunch to honor the big day, followed by dinner at India Palace. Tea and scones represented the colonized India portion, and cardamom spiced scrambled eggs, paisley-adorned cakes and Bollywood on the soundtrack made us a dance move away from a full on birthday musical.

In honor of your birthday, the following are things you, your future spouse, your employer, your millions of fans when you become famous and your mother when her cheesehole brain finally goes kaput would like to know about you at two.

You love the color pink, closely followed by yellow.

Babaganouj, kalamata olives and peas are your favorite foods. We will have a good laugh about this over nuggets in the near future.

You dig your pink kitchen.

If I am holding a wine glass and you a sippy cup, you say "Cheers!" and we clink glasses. This also extends to anything identical - we "cheers!" over bath toys, kitchen pots and markers.

You're never happier than when you are playing in the herb garden. You thrive on dirt.

When someone gets too close to your turf, you repel them with a hand and a high pitched squeal like you are a crazy anime superhero. It's quite something.

You bring to mind the Gerber baby in many a stranger as they tell us this often.

You really don't like wearing clothes.

You've been to the beach twice in your life, but rarely a day goes by that you don't ask about it.

You are a budding artist, drawing constantly. Sometimes even on paper. Fortunately the couch is slip covered.

Things I love about you:

The look on your face when you learned of the existence of a cookie cake

Your impression of an elephant, informed by your mother's horrific attempt at the same

the way your hair curls like mine

the way your nose points up like your daddy's

how you love to dance and spin in a circle

How you shake it like a Pom-Pom on the way to PDO, and then ask for more Missy Elliott.

Your daddy says: everything. Can't compete with that.

Happy Birthday baby girl. We love you so.