psa by esmé...

we still have a few books signed to lillie and grae-rose from my sister lin in her mad cool handwriting.

they are like rolexes to us, gaining in value over time.

esmé carries them around some days and i catch her whispering to herself i'm being careful with you. i guess i've warned her enough-many times, yes?

yesterday, she had a little friend in the car with us. together, they were reading one of lin's books. {no matter their titles or authors, the ones in which she's written will forever be lin's books. sorry, kevin henkes. i know you'd understand, mo.}




be very careful with this, esmé told her friend. these are my aunt lin's words and we have to save them because she's an angel now.

because that's what one does with an angel's handwriting, i imagine.

and then esmé hisspered, she died of cancah. nevah get that, ok? it is not a happy thing. it makes you dead. remembah that, ok?

my girl. handing out nightmares like candy.

this pic just broke me into a million this morning. i always wonder what my dad would think of my girlies three...oh, hey! weekend's almost here! i am going to kiss it as soon as it walks in. for sure. xoxo.

ouch...

i jammed my pointer finger.

there was this stinkbug on top of my bedroom door yesterday morning. so i slammed the door shut, hoping that my brave-bold act would squash it. i even kicked it twice to smush it good. stinkbugs are skinny, though, and it crawled out of the tiptop of the doorway and slowly down the door and starting coming after me. it was all so michael meyers scary to me.




so i panicked. i got one of my obeline boots. i love these boots. leather like butter, stacked and layered wooden heels like they were handmade by a handsome, widowed italian cobbler with zero children, and the happiest kelly green interior lining the insides. mmm. i love these boots.

where was i? oh, yes. the squishing and the pounding and the ultimate demise of said stinkbug. it was the final pounding - and, embarrassingly, my final HIYAH! - that ruined my finger.

ouch.

it's now fat and won't move. just like this friend i used to have. {kidding, kind of. but lillie's smack in the middle of this moment where she responds to requests like "lillie, can you load the dishwasher?" with "you're a dishwasher!" it. is. maddening. and. dumb. but at least she's moved on from "your dad, the skeeve" replies, yes? ugh.}

anyway. this is a joy buster. i didn't realize how often i pointed at things and laughed.




my week is certainly not being a sweetheart to me. we'll probably be broken up by friday. but for sure i'll have a new cute one on my arm by monday morning. xoxo, you.

cute girls found here and here. oh! and remember when i asked for your help with summer shoes? well. i ordered both and both were supra unsafe! so i ordered these and am also waiting on these. sturdier, yes? and i figure if all i wear is black...can't i wear this color on my feet? say yes to me...

i try...

but you know how i'm enamored with fingers and wrists dripping with cool. plus that turquoise. never get tired of any of this...




i've been having one of those monday moods. you know. i've got too much to do but, man, i really should be doing more, mixed in with equal parts i'm awesome and boo...i stink.

do you ever have mondays like this? say yes.

but instead of worrying about it, i'm totally blowing it off. this is more difficult than it sounds. i've previously tried this tactic with musses in my house, but i still end up vacuuming at ten pee em.

{that's how lillie spelled it in first grade. this was also the year she abbreviated her name lkm because lillie kate mackin plum wore her out. i still giggle about her odd little confidence.}

anyway. i thought i had so much to tell you, but the only things my head is holding is i may start wearing necklaces again. i've got to get over this weird I'M CHOKING weirdness. i need to stretch more. especially after a run or the 100 workout. this plus my new magnifying ray-ban wayfarer glasses leads me to believe i may be getting older. nah. that can't be right. i've also got to stop describing people i may dislike as pigs. that seems really offensive. more so than a swear. i've got to meet two deadlines and instead i'm writing nonsense and complaining in my head about my chilled fingertips, and then i read this...

exactly. happy monday, you. if you're in a mood, blow it off with me. there's power in groups.

i learned that gem in finding nemo and norma rae. xoxo.

hands here. words here.

my morning...

i had nightmares all night. terrible ones.

there's this house in my neighborhood. i don't know its story for sure, but i think it involves an owner who could no longer afford the payments and a bank that stepped in and a someday foreclosure, but for now? it's in some sort of limbo. and now? there are now a few too many young men living there.

i haven't met them yet, but they sure are popular. they have loads of what i like to call ten-minute friends. the kind that drive up, stand at your door, and text you that they're out front so that you'll let them in. and then {and here's where i got the name!} they stay for ten minutes.




i don't know what to do, honestly. i've called our homeowner's association, who gets heaps and piles of monies from us every month to make sure our lawn looks lush and our brick looks brick-ish but apparently does nothing about ten-minute friends. i've called the non-emergency number for the police, but that's proven ineffective, too.

i miss the middle east. i know how those laws work. {well. very. very. well.}

so anyway. last night, i was swearing all through my dreams. and i guess i woke up with some leftovers. lill asked me to play chess with her before school and i said i couldn't. but then i did because i always say yes. but i didn't smile until she checkmated me. and then i wouldn't help grae find her justin bieber bracelet. because she shouldn't have one. but her friend made it for her and so ugh. and WHY are all the coats hung on the stairpost?! we have a closet for a reason! i'm hanging up one of grae's north faces because she wants to wear her other north face and why are young girls so obsessed with all things north face and all of a sudden her face is beaming.

lillie! she squealed. mom found my justin bieber bracelet!



yay! where?

she was hanging up my coat aggressively and it fell out!

and with that, i got a hug and a thank you for your angry mood, mom!

i'm spending the rest of my day losing it. the angry mood, that is. i've got three things to write and then i may get another gel mani. my last one survived for three weeks! there. i'm already happier. also...do you think i should bug the police with this business? or let other neighbors take the lead on it? what would you do? keep in mind that i'm kind of a karma worrier and a leave-other-people-alone kind of a girl. so many questions for you. sorry about that. i'll try to find some better stories this weekend, ok? ok, then. xoxo. and whoops! forgot the links to the pics! here and here.

the good writers...

ooh. i like this.

i think i see one story every few days. more than that, maybe, but i can't share all those.

i feel guilty when i don't write to you daily, but my free time seems to be fast fading between the girlies' schedules, outrageous life plans, and my fun freelance.

fun may be an understatement. right now, i'm in the middle of writing two newsletters that look and sound nothing like just any old newsletters, a bio for a woman who doesn't want it to sound anything like just any old bio, and one. witty. speech.




i was joking with uncle sugar, telling him i wanted to start the speech {for a pretty well-known and all-around cool guy, i might add, which makes the story even more uncomfortable.} with my favorite joke, and i swear his face...i don't know how to explain all the emotions that crossed it. like, pain was the most obvious. shame and disdain were in there, as well.

i wish i could tell it to you. if you were here next to me, i would. and i'd be laughing so hard and you'd be looking at me all quizzically as if your thought bubble read "this. girl. has. lost. it. and also? she has disgusting and rather childish taste in jokes."

i'll tell you the last lines. ohmygosh. no. i cannot. i'm sorry.





speaking of speeches, when i was at alt summit in january, uncle sugar had to help lillie with hers on one of the harry potter books, and he suggested an attention-getter of DEAD UNICORNS...more on that in a minute.

she got an A+.

i said "how did you come up with that?" and he told me he was the king of attention-getters in junior high. he modeled lillie's on one of his better ones.

"which one?"

"DEAD HOOKERS...more on that in a minute."

man, i am glad we didn't have boys.

listen. if you ever need help writing something, ask me. i stink at a lot of things, but i can make you sound larger-than-life and turn your words into something everyone will adore. promise. if you don't hear from me for a bit, that's what i'm doing for someone else, ok? it's not you...it's them. bastards. KIDDING! xoxo. words i copied down from here, loft from here and via stash's brill blog, girl in the sun from here. can you tell my dreams consist of three things these days? finding stories, renting a loft for a year in downtown dc, and sun on my skin. obsessed with all.

longcut...

the weekend was full of us, and i think i laughed most of the way through it.

however. if you somehow felt a shot of peeve fly through the air on saturday morning, i do apologize. it's just that we had ten minutes to get to the girlies' lacrosse scrimmage, which is normally not a problem because it's only five away.

unless.

ohmygosh. do you even know how hard i tapped that unless? very.




unless you have an uncle sugar in the car. one who sees how huffy-impatient you are at the way he leisurely arranges his travel espresso, looks at himself in the mirror, and then de-smudges his ray-bans. and unless. he. decides. to. take. a. shortcut. that. is. more. like. a. longcut. because. it. just. added. seven. minutes. to. your. drive.

i am still gritting my teeth.

i realize this is not that big of a deal, but i am a fuh-reak about lateness. i feel like it's right next to lazy and disheveled and doesn't brush their teeth in the dictionary. i hate hate hate late. so that really contributed to my scowl.




but then lillie asked me about the craigslist killer. and esmé's eyes grew huge. so i made that crazy-face at lill like i'll tell you the real-ish story later and proceeded to tell a tale about a lady who wanted to sell her couch so she ran an ad that said something about "i have a couch to sell you. i live all by myself and i always answer the door to strangers even though my mom tells me that is dangerous behavior, so just come over and create an unsafe environment for me! i won't care!" and so a bad man showed up and said "red?! i thought this couch was going to be brown!" and then he pushed her over and she hit her head and became an angel straight-away because she wasn't wearing a helmet.

and esmé's eyes grew huge with understanding.

until.

ohmygosh. do you even know how hard i tapped that until? very.




until uncle sugar piped in and said "karey...it was a prostitution ring, wasn't it? and the guy raped a bunch of women before he killed them, am i right?"

i get a lot of comments and mails about how dreamy is uncle sugar. sometimes, people even ask "does he have a brother?" and sometimes i tease him and say that he'll find his next wife among my readers. to which he replies "i would NEVER get married again." which sounds a lot less like "because no one could ever compare to you" and more like "you think i'd put myself through this #@*! again?" and so sometimes i think i should give you the real skinny on my uncle sugar. that naughty thing.

that makes me laugh and forget all about his failed shortcut. plus that whole craigslist debacle. and anything else, really. because he made us fish tacos that would've killed you with their yumminess...and crème brûlée. and removed every stinkbug in my path this weekend.

nobody's perfect, i guess.

except me and you.

my friend sent me this ages ago, and i still laugh so hard at it that i have to wipe tears from my eyes. it's funny, yes? the first three photos that stopped my in my tracks this morning: here, here, and here.

fifteen...

i was in a really happy mood when i wrote this.

i think it has something to do with that little sprite of a marta. i do enjoy the marta.




also. my answer for the most recent rad thing i've found online sounds a little old lady to me, in retrospect. i could try to impress you now with something way radder, but i haven't been online as much as usual these days. i told you i've been trying to add content to my life, and it's working. i'm feeling a leetle smarter, more well-rounded and active, and not as creepy internet girl.

does that make sense? say yes to me. and please visit marta, will you? she's a little-letter lady, too. happy balloon found right here.

i won...

so you know i never enter any contests. i honestly don't believe in them.

mostly probably because i never win.

but there was this sweetheart girl's birthday post and i'm drawn to what she has to say anyway and she asked us all to guess her favorite flavor birthday cake and i was just going to wish her a happy day and i might've mentioned lemon but only because it reminds me of sunshine and sour patch kids and anything else that makes my mouth turn kiss-shaped and all of a sudden I WON HER CONTEST!




plus this pillow. which arrived on saturday along with a petite pack of coconut lemon marshmallows. seriously, a little box of happy.

so here's the point of my story...

if you're not mad in love with her, you should get on that. and if you're not mad in love with her, you should read this.

the end.

my weekend? i did something funny in a sobby kind of way to my lower back, so i spent the weekend stretching and chatting with uncle sugar while he tried out new recipes for breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. we listened to lots of music, too. it was much lazier than it sounds. xoxo. photo of my exact pose and perch from here.

thank you...

such a big old drain of a week. do you ever have those?

i'm a smidge dizzy with lots of fun freelance work slid in between my girlies three and their jam-packed little lives, and all the rest of the stuff that fills us all up.

i have to tell you, though, your comments from the other day...all week, really, between grae-girl's essay and lillie's bad day with girls who chew with their mouths open...really made me again.

does that make sense?




for a minute or two, i wasn't me. like, if i were blue, i'd be navy and not my usual turquoise. if i were the windows along the back of my house, i'd be smudged with jerk fingerprints. if i were a cloud above you, grab your brelly. my smiles were suspect and didn't match the glare in my eye. or maybe they did. and maybe that was the problem.

it probably doesn't make sense. but here's what i want you to know: you are very nice to me. and i appreciate the heck out of you.

sometimes i want to erase mackin ink. start fresh. or just don't start again at all. especially when the sun's shining. but then i think...whatever would i do without you?




no amount of sunshine could take your place. just couldn't.

the other day, grae was home sick and went with me to bring esmé to school. the head of the school stands out front and greets all the babes, but can i tell you that when she sees esmé? it all stops. they hug, they compliment each other, they hug again...it's love. it really is.

so mémé's telling grae "my principal's gonna hug me. don't worry. you'll see. she just loves me so hard."

that feeling? that's what i'm trying to send you right now.

xoxo and happy weekend. photos found here and here.

advice needed...

let me ask you something...

say there's a rather rude group of twelve year old girls with zero social skills and bullying tendencies who chew with their mouths open and have tremendously gross parents with matching amounts of social skills. and say they are wearing the heck out of one of my girls.




would you talk to the parents or let your babe work it out herself?

one of my friends called one set of parents clueless, and my thought was that i am more than willing to give them a few.

it's maddening. these weirdo parents are oddly hella involved in the parts of their kids lives that don't really matter, and insanely oblivious to the parts that do...i honestly feel a little lost.

it's hard to navigate around crazy.




so i'm worrying. you know me. but then lill came home from school and she'd worn the most gorgeous j.crew tee with the lightest, most delicate sprinkling of shiny chips around the collar and halfway down the shirt. it's gorge and simple.

but one girl had to say, in front of everyone, "gross! who designed your shirt and put all the sparkles around your boobs?"

and my sweet, innocent, unable-to-protect herself lillie answered, "your dad. the skeeve."

oy. i may just have lill give the parents a clue.

will you tell me what you'd do? i need some advice. but only if you have a second. xoxo. OH! AND! she wore three twisted little buns just like i showed her on joanna's site...and these girls were all what is wrong with your hair?! and she said IT'S ON A CUP OF JO! apparently, twelve is not joanna's demographic. soon enough, girls. soon enough. sixth grade would be a better place, yes? tattoos from here and here.

my guest, grae...

so grae writes a little essay every week, and they're usually pretty wonderful.

both she and lill have been listening when i tell them not to write with their thesaurus, but with their hearts. their teachers may not agree, but i feel like semi-colons and past participles are organic. they'll come when they come.




in my little opinion, learning to write exactly what you mean to communicate is king. and if you think you shouldn't say it, that usually means you should. this is a difficult concept for a fifth grader, but grae's killing these essays in terms of content.

anyway. grae's topic this week was to write about the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. here it is...

There is a grand mirror standing right smack in the middle of my room, exposing my bed, closet, desk and my dog’s crate. I love my mirror. If you know me, you know that I am very much full of myself, and that I definitely overuse my wonderful mirror. Every day, I sit in front of that mirror and stare at my surroundings behind me: my clock, my favorite stuffed animals, and Lillie‘s bed. It‘s always unmade, which isn't a surprise if you know Lillie. Of course, I stare at myself the most, but there is always something pretty beautiful in my room: my little sister, Esmé.

Esmé imitates my every move, and she loves most everything I do. She will do anything to please me, and even calls herself my twin. From the minute I met that kid, we have shared a really special relationship. When she was brand new, my mom begged me to work my magic and put her to sleep. All I had to do was hold her.

Sometimes, though, she can be bit of a handful. Like when she tells a complete stranger a family secret or a secret about THEM that she has heard from me or my other sister, Lillie. That is never a good happening. When she gets embarrassed in public, she occasionally kicks and bites the closest person to her, which is usually me. I‘ve learned to run when I see her start to feel uncomfortable.

But when she looks into my eyes and earnestly whispers, “I’m really sorry,” it’s just too hard to be mad at her. The only thing I can do is accept her apology and we just go on being twins.

Just yesterday, Esmé asked for someone to get her some tuna. She meant me. Well, Lillie made her some tuna instead because she was holding the can opener. Lillie loves the can opener, and I'm okay with that because I can't really see a way for her to cut herself open. I still don't let her near the mandolin, though.

Esmé simply made a disgusted face and said, “Lullie! Ewww! I don’t want Lullie’s stinky hands making dis!” So I lovingly prepared her tuna, and set it in front of her.

“Who made dis?” she questioned rudely.

“I did.” I replied nicely.

There was silence, then she mumbled just a simple, “Oh, ok.”

Lillie, as you can imagine, was offended for a second, then she went back to her careless self. This is what happens every day.

As you can already tell, Esmé favors me and I can get her to do absolutely anything. Esmé is very funny and she is like me in most every way, except for the fact that I sadly can’t cut my own hair like she does. Don’t tell her, but I am actually glad that I won’t try to cut my own hair! I’ve seen how bad it can turn out. After the last scissor incident, my mom had to take Esmé to the salon and basically get her a boy’s short haircut. We all told her she looked like Tinkerbell, but I think we all meant Peter Pan.

Esmé is seriously the most beautiful and most interesting person I have ever met or seen. The next time I look in my mirror, I will not just stare at silly objects in my room, but I will focus on my awesomely amazing sister, Esmé, more than I normally would. She will only be five once, right?

this took her about fifteen minutes to write. amazing. also, she makes lillie sound more hapless than she usually is, which makes the writer in me giggle more than the mom in me.

before grae printed this, she asked me to "fatten it up with some metaphors and similes and stuff." i said no. it was perfect, as is. i don't know. i probably shouldn't have posted this without grae-girl's permission, but i just wanted to save it. and you know i'm a crap scrapbooker.

Pins from here, here, here, and here.

hi...

this made me giggle.


in general, a lot of things make me giggle. but i posted this to make our friend rafe laugh, too.

and now i am laughing even harder because he's probably totally shocked and weirded the heck out that i mentioned him. in giant letters.

it's fun to have a blog.

i've been absent, and i'm sorry. i've just been adding content to my life. also, when i'm a stink blogger, i'm a way better mom. and these girlies need me extra lately. catch you later, friends! xoxo.