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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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gang initiation season already?

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

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

...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

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

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

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

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

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)

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.