one more thing before i go...

this site makes my eyes well up a bit.

beginning with the straightforward mermaid starts every sentence with "look." this comes from being raised in a sea full of hooks.

one time? i was almost fired before i quit because my boss HATED that i started every sentence with "look." i've forever thought him irrational and foolish until exactly right now. i am a mermaid. a straightforward mermaid.

and then there's this...

so that's what i'm to call it.

honestly, i don't know what it is. but from the beautiful mind of victoria hart is just tearing me up. and i'm only up to page eight of her three hundred and ninety two. do you have a blog that makes you feel this way? like, you must eat up every post or else? because every post was surely written for you and it just wouldn't be nice not to appreciate them by getting all weepy-gaspy here and there? share it, please? xoxo.

the weekend...

the weekend was a hit. an absolute hit.

we went to a party and i kept my booties on all night. joy! and my skirt was cah-yute. it was this one in white. yes, it adds volume to my bum, but i didn't care. i've loved taffeta ever since i was a poor little farm girl.

that's a long story, but my best friend back then was an awesome greek girl whose parents owned a bunch of restaurants. she taught me how to correctly pronounce gyros and the importance of taffeta.

i'm nervous about this week. i've a huge business-ish report due before christmas for one of my clients. capital letters make me so nervous. plus there are numbers involved. i'm so bad with numbers that when uncle sugar asked me for the party house's address this weekend, i honestly replied "one one nine and stuff."

what?!

also, there's the state of my fridge. when i mentioned the state of my fridge with an aggravated growl, lillie chimed in with a "yeah. it's like arkansas."

nothing against arkansas. she's just still bitter about the difference in pronunciation between it and kansas. she's been known to pronounce kansas like kan-saw.

lately, i can't seem to write a post without mentioning esmé. this one's no different. her favorite tree these days are forevah-greens. you may know them as evergreens. i think her name is best.

anyway. i think i won't be back until twenty eleven. i was going to write two thousand and stuff, but i'm not that bad with numbers.

yes i am.

if we don't chat, have a really happy week. or weeks. i'll see you around, ok? xoxo. button tights from here. they made me grin.

nailed...

i never ever paint my nails. i like them to be only perfect and they never are so i never do.

it's a problem, because i die whenever i see a brill polish. like the colors on the very last one on the left. turquoise and indigo.

also the color mix for my new business cards. remember my old ones? i'm hoping these will be just as me.

read, goofy.

have a sweet weekend, friends! xoxo. nails via the socialite spy.

i think i know one of my prezzies...

i may be getting these for christmas.

only because this is the first time i've emailed uncle sugar without writing any words other than the ones in the subject line that went a little like I WANT THESE with the link attached. they're the only things i really want and i never really ask for anything, although uncle sugar might disagree with me on that point as he thinks i'm the most passive aggro girl he's ever known and that i ask for things without ever even asking.

i don't know what this means, but it probably has something to do with that sense of entitlement he thinks i keep in my back pocket.

also. while we're on the subject. he believes me to be the nicest meanest person he knows, so whatever. i will take the compliments, kind sir. keep 'em coming.

if he didn't gift them to me, i'd be fine with something else from that shop, too. with feathers. anything, really, with feathers. except for the charm bracelets. because i kind of feel like charms should be collected, and not all at once. like this:

but. this really wealthy guy i once knew? he was the husband of one of my old bosses. silly wealthy. his therapist advised him to get a hobby. collect something, even. so he started a swarovski miniature collection.

and. bought. them. all. at. once. THE ENTIRE COLLECTION! how funny is that?

where was i? oh, that's right. nowhere. man, i could do this all day. but you need to get back to your afternoon, don't you? ok, then. see you. xoxo. OH! and go see her entire tiffany collection. it's sweet.

tumblr...

i'm a huge fan of tumblr. if i ever kill mackin ink, i'm going tumblr, for sure.

two sites over in those parts have been bringing me giant joy: bunny victorious and cayenne kisses.

i love bunny because she's smart, stylish, and she posts all. the. time. all day all night. i'm always complaining that there aren't enough blogs for me to eat up that are personal plus pretty, but hers so is.

also, she loves me. that's one of my favorite qualities in a person, and you should know the feeling is mutual.

as for cayenne kisses, i'm not sure whether she loves me or not. i will work on this. but i don't follow anyone, and i've given her one of my tabs so that gems like this pop up every morning.

anyway. i'm trying to remember to tell people exactly the compliments that i'm thinking in my head. good thoughts are so much better when they're shared. and still feeling woozy so this may be it for me this week. melissa of reverie blames the stressy boot debacle for my flu. i love her, too. oh! and the lil bee needs a name for her girlie. i suggested holiday. you should suggest some, too. oh! and i'm also thinking very nice things about you. yes, you. xoxo.

i'm just going to ask...

so uncle sugar and i went to a pretty fab party this weekend. we were kind of rushed all day, so i didn't think too terribly hard or long about what to wear: black.

there also may have been some cleavage and over-the-knee boots in a delicious caramel.

for about ten minutes, i couldn't find any tights in my sea of never-ending black. only footless. so for about nine minutes, i debated wearing those and just a little pair of socks.

like, white athletic socks. {i. know. but i was not thinking.}

luckily, i found tights. i say luckily not because something like this is important in any way, shape, or form to anyone in the world with half a brain...but luckily because when we got to the party...the hosts. asked us. to remove. our. shoes.

blink. blink.

sorry? i reverted back to my british accent. i was peeved.

here's the thing. not a white carpet in sight. it was hardwoods and slate. lots of persians, but those are meant to be trampled.

i don't get it. tell me what you think, will you? because i'm more than happy for my opinion to be swayed. eventually. right now i'm still a little bitter about spending my saturday night smelling feet.

when we left, a bunch of people gathered around to say goodbye. there i am, bent over with my boobies probably hanging out all over the place, tugging on my boots. i think i said something like thanks for having us! a great time, really!

but totally in a british accent.

still dreaming of feathers. found here.

will you remember this...

i redid the girlies' rooms this weekend, and turned esmé's into a magical little toy shop. there are gold star garlands streaming from her sloped ceiling, fairies dance from invisible wire, and her hand-painted italian growth chart is finally hung at the correct height. just about.

i think we may be closer - uncle sugar and i - to having our king to ourselves.

near bedtime, my mé started getting concerned. i could feel it. so i carried her to our king, and told her she could plan a sleepover in her new room for another night.

that little thing. her gratitude and relief just about gutted me. she held my face and smiled so damn hard...

so we lounged and talked, face to face, for a while before sleep. and we were smiling at each other. and i asked her - i don't know why - mémé? will you remember this?

she stopped and tried to smile, but her watered eyes and her little nostril wings gave her away. so she just nodded. and i did, too.

there's no point to this post. as usual, right? except maybe to remind myself of something. or maybe i just wanted to remember this. photo via georgia bean.

i smell saturday...

...and it smells like tom ford.

i've a shopping and eating date with uncle sugar fast-approaching, and it is a most welcome development. after a week of being wrapped 'round every single one of esmé's rattling breaths and fiery degrees, i'm beyond ready for some civilized conversation and spending of money.

last night, my littlest asked me, mommy? what's the sea like again?

i swear i came back to life describing it to her. the one in venice and the dead one in jordan and the red one in taba. i regaled her with tales of massages on a phuket beach, snorkeling on any given friday in muscat, and how the four seasons is the best invention ever.

blink. blink.

the c, she repeated. i'm writing a story about a cat, and i've forgotten the c. what is it like again?

two things: i am experiencing severe wanderlust. and uncle sugar is in for some dumb-dumb dreamy conversation.

in honor of my wanderlust, i'm picking up something feathered on our shopping spree. i just am. have a sweet weekend, you. xoxo. feathers via here and here.

on marshmallows...

again with the marshmallows. i love them.

and after two nights of no sleep for my boiling and coughing little sugar britches esmé, she's a wreck. and by esmé, i mean me, too.

but there's nothing giant marshmallows and noodle soup can't fix, is there? and by marshmallows and noodle soup, i just mean marshmallows.

speaking of marshmallows, uncle sugar is so old-school sometimes that it hurts. every holiday, he needs needs needs a blasting set of darlene love. i now do, too.

ok. i'll be huddled next to baby attila for the rest of the day, trying to sneak in some holiday shopping in between marshmallows. have a sweet thursday! xoxo.

wreath via oh hello amy.

exactly...

my baby baby don't mean maybe has strep. she tends to be a bit of a beast when she's ill, so there's going to be a lot of this going on over here...

which is just fine. uncle sugar needs a partner-in-crime every once in a while.

found via it's mary ruffle. i know! it's a little saucy for mary, yes? love that. xoxo.

my little joslyn...

...is a year older today.

she was my very first imaginary friend who has since turned into a real life bestie. i'm sure she won't mind one bit if i told you one of my favorite things about her, which is her vocabulary.

she has been known to sprinkle our mails and phone convos with genius tidbits and word combinations, the likes of which your little ears and eyes can't even imagine. i don't dare to share them here. because i kiss my mother with this blog.

honestly? i just like everything about her, from her throaty laugh to how she adores her girlies two to her naughty sense of humor to the way she encourages my wicked tendencies.

happy birthday, friend. see you in january. xoxo.

hi, monday...

sometimes i like to give giant squeezes and growl let me get my mitts around you!

it's ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as my william hickey impression, which almost made uncle sugar spit out his dinner yesterday.

anyway. here's the thing. i've got a pretty conservative forever winter coat. it looks like this, only longer. i've never found good gloves to match both the coat and my personality.

until now. i just bought these.

i was worried about my fingertips, but @pourporter told me they're genius layered with elbow-length gloves. and i believe everything she tells me.

now i can get my mitts around you.

in other purchase news, i also bought my mary ruffle a calendar! it's way naughtier than the t.ruffle girls' calendar, which is still available with free shipping until the end of december!

my new home...

the cutest little realtor in the world found me a home.

i showed lillie and grae their bedrooms and they just about died. how does she know us? they asked.

she is a very good realtor.

see the rest of my new home here. i just about die every wednesday to read and drool over this series. so far, melissa and katie and i live in the same neighborhood. ask her if you'd like a casa nearby...you could come over for happy hour!

what a crock...

my mother-in-law has gifted me approximately three crock pots in my lifetime. i cringe every time because i really don't like that word.

plus there's that whole cooking thing.

but yesterday i bought some sort of porkish blob at the market, and i wanted it to be spectacular. so i called uncle sugar at work and asked what to do with it. apparently, someone was in his office so he couldn't really run down the ingredients and processes i should use, so he suggested i look up a recipe.

no! i said disgustedly. i want it to be spectacular. something no one's made before.

that might be a good path to follow creatively, karey. he never calls me karey. but you really don't want to invent something new for. tonight's. dinner.

i didn't listen to him. trying to stifle my creativity, that one.

long story short, he fixed my soured grey porkish blob when he came home. turned it into something pretty genius. of course, we ended up eating at 9.30 pm, but the girlies three thought it was sort of an adventure. and they slept well with their full little bellies. and they didn't catch trichinosis.

if i could have a do-over, i might like to be better in the kitchen. i'm pretty much only good at pouring drinks.

i made chili a few weeks ago, and called uncle sugar straight-away to tell him i had cut four fingers - really bloody bad - in the process.

chopping onions? he asked.

no! does he know me? opening all the cans!

he told me never to tell that story in public. i didn't listen to him.

so i fell in love with the socialite spy. but all the photos i chose for this post originated on oh look...that's pretty. my newest fave crave. and guess who curates that sight? my greedy girl.

ugh...

so i dropped the babes off at their various schools and headed to the grocery.

can i tell you how i despise the grocery? it confuses the heck out of me and i buy nothing but nonsense and then the girlies three ask for things i totally forgot to bring home. like milk and bread.

but today wasn't so bad. i am in a giggly mood of late, and even the woeful state of the chobani flavors couldn't bring me down.

and then? then. i. get. to. the. checkout.

only one lane was open and it was marked express. like, ten items or less. i probably had one hundred items. since no one was around, the checker-lady said it's fine, darlin'.

as soon as i'd unloaded the hundredth item from my cart? about ten people walked up. each with one or two little nothings. no longer fine, darlin'.

in a panic, i did what i always do when i am in a panic: i started laughing. no one joined in. and the worst part? checker-lady didn't have my back! this was her fault, anyway. she told me to go express.

it could not get worse. until checker-lady asked loudly would you like to donate to homeless children for the holidays?

umm. nah. i whispered.

what, darlin'?

not today, i answered little more loudly. and when she kept staring at me, i followed up with a i'm sure they'll be fine...it's going to be a mild winter...

{crickets.}

and then. she asked if i'd like to donate a dollar to breast cancer research.

now, i'm not going to bore you with what i give and what i don't give and which charities i adore and which i ignore...because we're all adults who make our own adult decisions about those sorts of things. but i will say that the local grocery is not where i'm donating a dollar's worth of breast cancer research.

and then. she said oh! lucky you! your rewards card just gave you a ten dollar voucher to be used toward your next purchase.

lucky me. yeah. especially when trashy mommy in juicy behind me who's holding two v-8s and a roll of summer sausage pipes in you can use it toward my next purchase!

so i did. not because i was shamed into it or mortified by the previous four minutes of my life, but so i could say to everyone in that line see? i'm not a bad person who hates homeless children and people with breast cancer. i'm not. i'm a giver. happy christmas to all and to all a good night.

i didn't really say that. well, i said that except for the i'm a giver happy christmas blah blah blah.

remind me why do you hang out with me again?

some of my friends have asked how i choose photos for my posts. i tell them that i have a really scrolly speedy mouse, and when it stops to give me a moment to gasp? i know i've found the right photos. this happens a lot on the steward. a lot a lot.

two sweet things happened...

i wrote a guest post about me and my uncle sugar and how we eloped over here. i do love that little kathryn.

and marta sent me some of her goodies. i do love that little marta.

one problem, though. my lillie's handwriting is currently the bane of my existence. in short, it's insanely illegible and the basis for every bad grade she's ever earned. think "oh! that was a 7?!" and forget spelling tests. lillie has.

but there was something about marta's As and Tees and Esses that spoke to my girl. like, screamed at her. and now she is inspired to write like this.

her teachers will hate me, but man...i love it when my girlies show a little glimmer of artistry. and do you even KNOW the brilliant shop i'll open if lill's successful in recreating marta's penmanship?

it will look a lot like this one, i bet.

inspiration board by mary. have you seen her new site? it's brilliant. by the way, she and i are submitting some of our t.ruffles for some sweet projects, and were asked to take down our site while doing so. a lot of you have asked, but i keep forgetting to tell you. now you can remind me to tell you about our next collaboration together. we have a vague but completely cool plan. i'm kind of in love with it already.

new inspiration...

or would you say it's old? because i think i've had denim like this in my closet at some point in my life, yes?

esmé strolled up to me last all matter-of-fact and told me basically? i can't do without you.

better than any love letter ever written by me. and i've written a few...

pure detox all week and up to as close as i can get to christmas. think i can do it? say yes. i need the encouragement. covetable denim found here.

making stuff...

it's been such a sweet week that i forgot to wish you a happy thanksgiving.

don't feel too badly; i didn't even call my mom. {i. know.}

it's just that we've been eating each other up over here. doing nothing everything. and today? today, i made marshmallows.

you don't know the back story on that, and now's certainly not the season to tell it. but once upon a time, my homemade marshmallows meant...happiness. but way better than that.

i haven't made them since. until about one hour ago. and i had to tell someone.

sometimes, do you ever whisper to yourself i'm having such a fun little life! i do, too. but then i worry about karma or voodoo or something equally insane, so i always add the disclaimer ...this week!

just in case it all flies into hell in that handbasket. it's been known to happen, you know.

those are not my marshmallows. i found them here and here. and here's the recipe i tried today because i couldn't find my old one. i don't even care how it tastes. xoxo.

moving out...

we've had it, uncle sugar and i.

after a weekend of both our oldest and our youngest girlies in our bed, we made a decision. we'd stand up to our five-year babe. we may also have to stop sneaking up on lillie to scare the britches off of her and telling her tales about axe murderers who chop up girlies who don't do their math homework.

mézie, uncle sugar began. you've got your own fluffy bed and your own room. you can't sleep with us anymore, ok?

you guys...it worked. no drama, no tears, no nothing! minus the axe murderer thing? we're awesome parents!

that little thing nodded her head once, as though she was resigned to the fact that we meant business. this time. and she crawled out of our bed and walked all straight-backed proud to her room.

and returned thirty seconds later. with her toothbrush and special toothpaste.

i think it's better if i put my toothbrush in our bathroom, she said as she passed by her awesome parents.

our. bathroom.

awesome.

i am in love with the steward. more in love with the girlies three, with whom i will be spending the week. lazy posting ahead! xoxo. oh! and just so there's no confusion...the little enemy is still sleeping with us. she just moved in harder with the addition of her toothbrush.

hi...

i'm knee-deep in a few deadlines, and my eyes are absolutely cashed.

i tried to help grae with her spelling words this morning - as well as east coast geography - and i blamed my dumb on blurry eyes.

oh, what? montpelier is not the capital of maine? yeah yeah yeah. now i remember. vermont. bangor is maine. yeah yeah yeah. i meant augusta. sorry! my eyes are all blurred up.

and then i popped into middle school with esmé in tow, and someone had the nerve to say that OUR. HAIRCHOPS. LOOKED. THE. SAME.

ok. the woman was trying to compliment us, which didn't warrant my aghast face. nor my aghast blurt DOES MY HAIR LOOK LIKE THAT?! SHE CUTS HER OWN HAIR WITH CRAFT SCISSORS!

{blink. blink.}

so i'm planning not-so-much for this weekend. just to round out a perfectly tragic trifecta of a geographically-dopey, mangled messed-out hairchopped karey m. with the addition of shiftless.

awesome.

sweetest pair from telecommunication. in other news, i want a perm so my hair could look like this. yes?

about last night...

so i was chatting with joslyn {all the best stories begin like this}, when all hell busted out of its handbasket.

the doorbell rang. esmé ran for it. lillie was faster. because she is twelve. she should've known better. because she is twelve.

there may have been a buttface from my youngest girlie three, and a priceless from my joslyn.

then, after everyone was calmed, my grae girl initiated small talk. this is the natural progression in our home after tears; there's the initial ENOUGH!, then sniffles and hugs, about thirty-two seconds of silence, and then small talk to officially break the drama.

grae is the master of small talk. so is lillie. but do not - i repeat, do not - reply to esmé's small talk or you're stuck for hours talking about why god invented stuffy noses and whether he has a pony or a dog. or both. and do you think he's allergic to cats? does he have to brush his teeth every night? does he have a best friend?

for the record, uncle sugar told her he went to high school with god and santa and that guy from the allstate commercials. they were all in algebra together. they still keep in touch.

so grae's small talk? wouldn't it be horrible if we had a deaf grandpa?

umm. that's what we like to call, in the small-talk business, an ender.

there was more to this day that i hated, like my baby's banged-up head, a lost race, a cold, candy wrappers, bills, and a pressing deadline. yep...that was the sort of day i had. with my forehead all crinkled up. and it ended with esmé asking for help finding her giant farm puzzle.

i threw it away, remember?

why would you throw it away?

because it was broken, remember?

she looked at me as though i was insane. and wasteful. honestly? it was the wasteful that got to me most.

but that's the way with puzzles. they break, and then you put them back together.

oh. exactly.

it would be easy for me to throw away yesterday. just erase the day, as my mom likes to say. but, in the end, i kind of like how my girlies three know how to put it all back together.

can you tell i'm cuh-raving old-school quality today? all from apostrophe...9, found via cayenne kisses. how into picasso are you? me, very. and how into hot tumblrs are you? me, very. xoxo.

only two posts in...

and i want mackin ink to be this blog.

surely, they won't notice if i swipe it.

drive-by post while waiting for everyone to get ready for lillie's concert. we are a ruffly sea of black and boots and one giant tutu. uncle sugar is not so ruffly. but, man, he smells lovely. thank you, gucci.

who lives like this...

i was vacuuming doritos from behind the chaise last night, all incredulous that this was my reality.

who throws doritos behind a chaise?! shocked and peeved, for sure. uncle sugar loves when i'm in that sort of a mood.

more importantly! who! eats! doritos!

then i started old lady mumbling. who lives like this? seriously. tell me. because i'd like to know who. lives. like. this.

uncle sugar shook his head at me like i was crazy. which...yes.

you were a slob when we got married, he said.

huh?

don't you remember? you'd throw your clothes all over the floor? i'd do the laundry? every saturday i'd clean the house top to bottom? you complained when the bathrooms smelled like bleach? like, clean?

no. way. YOU GUYS! I WAS A SLOB! i honestly thought i was PERFECT! i am not, it turns out. and do you know how lovely a feeling that is?

i can't explain it, but i think it has to do with taking a lot of pressure off of me and my girlies three.

later, i was talking to my mom, happily telling her the news. mom! i used to be a slob! do you remember this?

yes, she told me. also, you were not a very nice child. today you'd be called a bully. back then, we just said you were mean.

huh?

turquoise overload via would you stay? she likes shiny as much as i do.

this is why...

lillie? your concert is this weekend. when are practices going to begin?

they started last week, mom. before school. but you wouldn't take me.

but. i. wouldn't. take. her.

and this is why i screamed all night.

legs via invisible monster. because in other news, esmé told me i am dressing lately like a ballerina. i am? i smiled. yup, she answered. 'cept your legs are chubbah lubbah. increasing treadmill time today. ugh.

oh, polly...

lately, it's not the young girls' inventive styles that thrill me.

anyone can take a chance.

nah. it's that long-established taste cultivated by cool women of substance that makes my mouth water. a nearly impossible self-assurance that comes only with class and age. neither of which is guaranteed. only earned, if you're lucky enough.

polly? you're eighty-six. and i'm flabbergasted. in total awe. and a little smitten.

tell me about you...is it the new or the established girls who inspire you? and i wonder what our choices say about us?

devour polly mellen's not-to-be-missed words here. i'm on my third reading. in related news, from now on i'm going to applaud genius as she's always done. do not be surprised when you see me at alt summit and think i resemble a seal. i will take that as a compliment. i would also like to be known hereafter as too noisy. that is all. xoxo.

alt design summit...

so last night was the sort of night when everyone who lives in my house pronounced no with at least two syllables.

at one point, i even hisspered i. am. not. digging. your. nos. girls.

esmé's hand flew straight-away to feel her nose. i could see that little wheel creaking as she wondered what the heck was wrong with it. and then she segued into full-on fighting mode.

well...i don't like your nose, either!

{sigh.}

we all hit pause. which is always a good choice when fast forward and rewind are not an option.

also - and here's the only important part of this post - you MUST watch first ascent on the travel channel. you just must. i'll admit i have a thing for heights and adventuresome boys, but this...oh, this. it's a brand new series, so it may be hard to find at first.

find it. you'll die a little after seeing it. plus it may also make you want to climb to higher peaks. and then jump from them.

wait. here's another important part of this post. last night, amid all the grumpy girlies three and their grumpier mom, popped up an email. from her. about alt design summit.

i won't bore you with details {here is where you think really, karey? you'll bore us with stories of homophones and completely gloss over the sweet bits? really?}, but her note made me smile all darn night.

truly important part: if you're at all interested in design and trends and social media and anything creative, you should go to alt.

it's not about who's speaking, really. it's about the magic of the collective group. it's about sitting next to erin from design for mankind, listening to gayla of you grow girl speak and comparing chillbumps on your arms. it's about meeting joy from oh joy! and proudly admitting you know every detail ever written about her life. and then asking about beth. it's about encouraging san francisco girl by the bay before she speaks to a packed room, and thinking how insane it is that she has no idea the impact she has on the design community. it's about taking the seat next to someone you've read, and thinking they're so much sweeter and prettier in person. it's about seeing the sparkle in someone's eye, trading business cards, and keeping in touch.

it's about getting inspired and sharing the energy and transforming these thin air relationships we have into real, tangible, touchable, and very sweet friendships.

if there's a chance you could go but are hesitating because you think i'm not a design blogger or i'm not a good enough design blogger or i don't know anyone from my real life who's going to this thing or i'm scared to just jump?

jump.

because you do know someone who's going to this thing. we've been reading each other for years.

pretty faces from a painted face. i love make-up.

one more thing...

i forgot to tell you about our posters. there are three.

and i can't, for the life of me, tell you which one is my favorite.

there's the one that whispers to me as a dreamer...

and the one that sings to me as the la la la everything should always be perfectly sweet optimist...

and the one that just guts me as a mom and a wife and a woman. because it always comes back to love, doesn't it?

my mary ruffle and i are pretty proud of these babies, available in our shoppe. they're all so sick-saturated with color and kindness that we can't even believe we made them. between you and me? mary ruffle's not that nice. {ohmygosh! mary! did you giggle at that? are you turning pink? oh, good!} xoxo.