dear 2009...

today's t.ruffle is for you.

no hard feelings. xoxo. karey m.

ooh...

mary and i are over on the bright side project today...

if you visit and leave a comment, you could wins loads of cool stuff. loads!

where are my words today, you might be thinking. i might be thinking the same thing.

i think they started to disappear yesterday. it was so cold outside that the girlies three and i stayed inside for much of the day. hung pictures and sang a bit. and then we might've marathoned a few episodes of the little couple.

they now have a new game of pretend. which is why lillie and grae have been thumping through the house and doing their chores...walking. on. their. knees.

i hear lillie! want to play the little couple? and i cringe. if my grae-girl falls down the stairs one more time, i will scream. if lillie falls from her bunk ladder one more time, i will scream. i hear thunkthunkthunk and i know someone's lying in a clump. i scream. race to them to assess the damage.

and there they are. in a clump, but smiling. lill sees my terror and offers weakly i think this is teaching us empathy?

what's worse? last night, we accidentally stumbled across one big happy family on tlc. i dread the game that this will inspire.

teeth...

i think i've got to tell lill. which makes me all sorts of sad.

not the weepy why me wailing sort of sad. more the why does the magic have to end sort of sad.

she found an envelope of uncle sugar's. inside was a rather...pointed...letter from me written a few years ago. or maybe it was from some other raving lunatic who wrote in lower-case and used an impressive amount of dot dot dots. what can i tell you? the man likes my writing...even when i'm...pointed.

also in that envelope were about twelve tiny teeth.

she came to me and stood smack in front of me. i found baby teeth. her little lip quivered and tears puddled and she started giggling at her own crushed heart.

where? i was clearly buying time.

dad's side table.

oh. well. those are his. {what?!}

those are his teeth? tears drying. hope blooming.

no. but they're his and i can't tell you why he has them. that's his story to tell you. {what?!}

does it have something to do with his job? her eyes widened as more hope bloomed.

yes, lillie. i whispered in a low official-sounding monotone. your dad punches little kids and knocks their teeth out. sometimes he comes straight home after roughing up a toddler and doesn't get a chance to drop off the teeth at his office. well done. you've cracked the case, encyclopedia brown.

she laughed and i laughed and she stopped asking questions. maybe because she wanted to enjoy one last christmas as a little kid.

not the kind uncle sugar apparently deals with in his job, but just a regular little kid. who still believes in magic.

i'll probably take her to lunch this week. just us. wish me luck.

on a side note? why on earth would she connect twelve baby teeth in an envelope that her dad keeps next to his bed with. his. job. {sigh.} this is going to be one long lunch.

oona patterson? genius. for sure. see more of her art on her blog.

i missed you...

i don't own pretty enough words to tell you about our holiday. esmé said it best when she walked downstairs on christmas morning.

is this a true story? she gasped.

i think it is. happily ever after, all.

if you'd like, you can read about my favorite holiday tradition over on s.hoptalk. and even though i didn't get a peacock cloche this year, my gifts - given and gotten - were quite perfect. photo via spiderlashes.

catch you later, friends...

my mom is here with me. and all of a sudden i feel ten years old again.

forget that i've girlies of my own. for the next eight days, i'm happily her girlie.

we'll go for walks and i'll spill all the words i've been saving since we were last together. she'll listen to them all. twice. we'll laugh the most at my most awkward moments. and all the tears in my eyes? she'll dry them. all the cracks in my heart? she'll mend them. she always travels with band-aids. the good kind that don't hurt when you pull them off. not those crummy spongebob ones that esmé makes me buy.

i'm lucky. i know that. but, man...this has been a year. and i always get a little weepy-sentimental around the holidays, you know? tell me you know.

i'm not sure how i feel about oh nine yet. i don't know if i'll miss him. i'm thinking i won't, but you never know. also, i am desperately hoping ten will live up to her name. i'm looking forward to meeting her.

anyway. i'm taking time off from mackin ink. just until my mom leaves and i'm all growns up again.

i'll be back before the year changes, ok? but there'll be no break from the sweeterie. mary ruffle declined my holiday request. so we'll continue to post daily over there. which is exactly fine with me...that place adds stars to my sky. it just does.

so. catch you later. save up your stories for me, will you? say yes...

i heart weheartit. also...will you keep your fingers crossed that i don't break my ankle again? we have some mini getaways planned that both frighten and thrill me. xoxo. and happy days ahead to you all.

and the t.winner is...

uncle sugar suggested that mary and i give a t.ruffle to each of you. because there's no way we could determine a winner, especially after reading your sweetheart words.

umm. elizabeth? if you don't win and if susan said so doesn't win {because i'm thinking she'd give hers to you, yes? yes.}, mary and i will probably be needing your address.

ok. let's get to it. introducing my lovely assistant, esmé...

twintales!

ok, you. send me your address and tell me which two you'd like...remember: one to keep and one to give, ok?

thanks for playing, everyone! mary and i quite liked this. as did my littlest wildebeest, mookie blaylock. ugh. and, as always, thank you from the bottom of our bottomless hearts for enjoying t.ruffles and the sweeterie. we so appreciate you. xoxo.

hurry! it's a t.ruffle sweetstakes...

i'm swamped today. you probably are, too. so let's make this short and very. very. very. sweet.

mary and i want to give you a t.ruffle. we're closing the shoppe this weekend for a bit while we bake some new treats, so consider this a petite thank you and we like you very much and you're the best friends we've never met and can you make me a coffee, please? i am feeling lazy this morning.

and in the spirit of friendships, both real and imaginary, we're giving away two t.ruffles. one to keep and one to give.

it's quite difficult to win. first? you must sprint to etsy and choose your favorite t.ruffle. {this one is mary's. this one is mine. in case you needed help.} then? spin around seven times or until you're sufficiently dizzy. hop back here on one foot as fast as you can and leave a comment.

i'm teasing. you don't have to hurry. this isn't a t.ruffle t.race. it's a t.raffle.

seriously. just tell us your fave or anything at all. we'll choose the winner at noon tomorrow. and then i'll race to the post to get it to you pronto.

i really can't wait to hear from you. xoxo. and p.s. the winner will be chosen randomly but scientifically and perhaps even mathematically. i don't know what this means, but it sounds official, yes? plus kindness counts. so spread the word. and have a sweet day.

more later...

i've a pretty packed morning and afternoon, but i'm hoping to be back a bit later with more words.

plus also? i've been awake all night worrying about everything and my lillie. i don't think her teachers are treating her kindly.

i just kissed her out the door and instructed her to be respectful and be the sweet lillie i love...but don't you dare let a low-rent cow make you feel any less than the greatest person ever invented.

she giggled and gave me her chandelier smile that absolutely guts me. i will probably who am i kidding definitely need to fight for her today or tomorrow, but i need to run fast for a few miles before i even think of what i'm to do.

a little later, friends, ok? ok, then. xoxo.

i think...

this is a brilliant sight.

i have no good words today, plus a few paying projects and maybe one more than that if uncle sugar pays me for unpacking. i'm pretty sure i can arrange this.

and yes. i am still unpacking.

but. lovely plans tonight and tomorrow and all weekend, really. which coincide nicely with my lovely new haircut.

oh. one thing that makes me feel dumb and rotten. we've gotten excellent feedback on our t.ruffles and the packaging. i like that you think they're flat out happiness on an eight by ten, too. i like that very much.

but do you know what i forgot? somewhere in between those little surprise cards and the fat circle stickers and the glassine and xoxo...i forgot to include thank you notes. ugh.

now i have to send apology notes.

remember...t.ruffles is only open until friday, ok? we have one of these left for your love. a few of these for your kitchen. and a couple of these to hang over your babes' beds. and i promise i'll send you a thank you...xoxo, friends.

names...

hello. my name is karey and i do not wish to speak of boxes anymore.

{sob.}

but guess what? i got a pretty genius haircut last night. total kate lanphear that i can - get this! - flip to either side. plus color that looks like i picked it up at the beach.

i am thrilled.

did you know abe lincoln also switched up his parts on a whim? i believe this is a true story, mostly because uncle sugar told it to me a long long time ago and he does not lie when it comes to anything abe lincoln.

but it could also be a trick. because he's been seeking revenge ever since i told him that patrick ewing's teeth were dentures. he thought that faux-fact was so interesting that he told everyone he knew about poor patrick ewing's teeth. i sat next to him for years listening to this total fabrication of mine, wearing a bland smile and sometimes plugging my nose so i wouldn't laugh and blow the whole joke.

somewhere along the way, i forgot to tell him it was a whole joke. until he'd saturated his friends and acquaintance market with what would later become known as the are you kidding me, karey? they're not dentures? fib. in, like, all caps incredulity. plus he never calls me karey unless it's serious.

anyway. i really liked my stylist. she was covered in tattoos and quite open-minded, and we had ourselves a lovely little chat.

there was also an adorable stylist-in-training with hair so black it looked cobalt blue. just an effortlessly beautiful boy, you know? he had the coolest boy name i've ever heard, and my stylist said but wait until you hear his siblings' names!

just. as. cool.

and i smiled and said your mom killed it with names.

he frowned. his face turned all stormcloud dark. and he said that's the only good thing she's ever done for us.

crushing, right? because if you've ever named anything...i don't care if it's a turtle or a puppy or a brand-new babe...you sort of pour all of your hopes and dreams into it, don't you think?

i still remember uncle sugar walking up to me at random points during my first pregnancy, holding out his hand, pretending to introduce our someday girlie.

hi. i'm lillie kate mackin. your attorney.

i wonder how that happens. how somewhere along the way, the hopes and dreams are overtaken by fights and misunderstandings and pointless searches for apologies. i wonder what that day is like. when you can't patch the break. when you turn away instead of clutching. when you can't for the life of you find any more love.

i don't want to ever know.

both images from a new tumblr i already like. it's called made by hands attached to people. great name. and i know i like it because i'm peeved there are only, like, five entries. hurry up, lady! more more more.

darling...

yesterday, gabrielle of design mom featured a t.ruffle print on her sight. it looked very pretty over there.

especially when paired with her post title...gift guide: darling things.

in my ever-eloquent fashion, i shot her a mail packed with some of my best. words. ever.

i think it went something like YOU'RE darling! and i believe there was a WHEEEEEEEE! in there somewhere.

{sigh.}

so so so many of you have shown much love for t.ruffles. that thrills me to no end. because i've been telling anyone who will listen that all i really want to be is an artist. and as soon as i figured out that probably definitely would never happen? i begged a real artist to let me write all over her art.

for the record? mary ruffle always says yes to me.

in case anyone was wondering, i have other wishes. i would like to dunk a basketball. like, with mad panache. i'd love to play the violin. i'm trying to learn all the words to o holy night. that song guts me every time. no matter who's singing it.

i've got more. i wish someone would unpack for me. i would also enjoy a beach holiday. and i wish i could tell each and every one of you who's been so sweet to me and mary and our shoppe...thank you. it would maybe sound like this...

found and giggled over this at least four times since maggiedammit showed it to me and all of her other fans. and today's photo over at the sweeterie just about made me cry this morning. i think i've some words to do it justice. xoxo.

moving me...

two things. because now i am stressed to my guts.

i've got the first floor almost nearly crackhouse finished. but that's only because i've shuffled boxes of unnecessary shininess around to one of the other two floors. my closet is a mess. all of them. but mine is a sea of black. and i am drowning in it. when did i acquire all of this nonsense?

what's worse is that last night i broke. it was a day of putting things in their places and then an evening of three shorties taking those things from their places. and then leaving those things on the floor. which didn't really matter until it did.

i wisely decided to take a break and decorate one of our three trees. {i. know.} so the girlies three joined me and we talked and adorned and laughed. twinkly lights have an effect on us all.

while lill and grae babbled, i noticed something. lill was retelling her day's dramas. that girl tells a good story. plus? she's taking a family slash lifestyle class, so they're peppered with saucier terms. this may be why esmé has named her freshly-unpacked santa plushie ballopian tube. which is better than her baby doll named flagina. if i had to choose.

lill regaled us with awkward moments, mostly with butts as her main theme. she told us the naughty words other kids and even her teacher were allowed to say. that two fifth grade girls got into a fight at lunch. and how a boy was suspended for making a bang-bang gesture with his hands.

this school is a joke, she said. and then flopped down on the couch.

and this is where grae comes in. no, lillie. you're wrong. i didn't learn anything at our old school. my teacher had no plan. he just told us stories. i'm finally working hard and learning something. i love it here.

the difference? grae adores her teacher. lillie's teacher does not adore her. and that? that makes a big difference.

i noticed something else. lillie feels. like me, she will float through life on emotion, never really caring about facts too terribly much. but grae? she's nothing but the facts, ma'am. it just struck me as funny.

lill will be the friend you call when your marriage is on the rocks because she will hate him for you when you need him to be hated, tell you how great he is when you need to remember how great he is, make you feel stronger when you're anything but, cry with you when you're all out of tears, and then forget it all when all is well again. grae will be the friend you call when you find a lump because you know she will research the best oncologists in the city, hound the veryveryvery best one until she gets you an appointment exactly two hours after you called her, and be next to you all the way through until all is well again. i know this about them like i know my name.

so back to the moment. we were calm and happy and things were good. twinkly lights. and i asked grae to toss me a pink pig ornament. {easy e loves pigs on skis. who knew.} she threw it without thinking. when it hit my chin, i started crying without thinking. and in their rush to get to me and hug me and kiss my boo-boo, they stepped on my favorite ornament i've ever owned. cracked it to bits.

it had belonged to my sister. who loved christmas so much she started decorating smack after halloween and never took down her twinkly lights. ever. i honestly can't think of christmas without thinking of her.

everyone but esmé gasped. and while lill curled herself around me and stroked my face and giggled about how cute i looked when i cried plus wow! tears really make your blue eyes bluer, grae set about trying to glue those smashed pieces back together.

and i saw two things. clearly. one? things do not matter. moments certainly do.

and those two girls together? the only friends you'd ever need.

fancy photos of a feather princess amid hidden treasures is exactly how i'm feeling today. lovingly swiped from dustjacket attic. have i told you i'm really missing visiting you? i am. i'll be back soon. and now? i've a date with some boxes. have a sweet day, friends. xoxo.

so far, so good...

nothing broken. not even my poor little back. and the girlies three are still smiling.

a petite announcement...i woke and saw that t.ruffles is sold out of a pinch of magic and i'll wait for you right here. and there's only one we fit, too.

if you'd like one of these prints and it's not an urgent if you don't have it by 24 december you will never speak to me again and even though i probably wouldn't recognize your voice if we ever actually spoke, i would still miss your words terribly and i would not want to disappoint you. ever. sort of thing, just ask me. ok?

because i always say yes. and mary ruffle is even nicer than i am.

be back soon, friends. i do miss this. and you. xoxo. karey m.

p.s. esmé's slept in her own bed for two. gorgeous. nights. in a row! i hesitate to jinx it all by crowing, but then i think i don't believe in jinxing. even though i do count crows.

p.p.s. i honestly thought this one would be our most popular print. nope. haven't even sold one. i hung mine near the light switch where i put on my make-up in the morning. when i catch sight of it, the first thing i think is ooh! those colors are sick! and the second thing i think? add. more. shimmer. {i fear this is not a selling point. hmm.}

genius good mistakes from karin eriksson. yes...that karin eriksson.

someone does not want to unpack...

i have this ritual when i wake up.

rouse two of my three, head downstairs, and turn on a few twinkly lamps plus the tree. it sort of eases us from drowsy to day. tricks us all that it's dusk instead of a dark morning. we seem to be dusk people.

this morning, though, i did not head downstairs easily. we have boxes on top of boxes. i haven't cracked them all open, but they appear to be full of who's the idiot who would pack that up and send it?

and now? right now? that idiot is procrastinating. hanging out with you instead.

oh! i actually do have something to tell you...the t.ruffles shoppe will only be open until the 18th. and then we'll close up and think of something brand new for the next go-around.

if you haven't bought a t.ruffle yet, you might want to rethink this. mary's photos are stunning and cheerful. they just are. even when she tries to be all arty and moody, they still come out happy.

this is a colorful one for the one who adds rainbows to your days. and this is a sweet one for one who makes your life sweet. this is a gorgeous reminder for gorgeous girls who forget sometimes.

and this one might very well be my favorite...because life - and love - is often about believing in someone else even more than you believe in yourself. putting all your eggs in one basket is never recommended. aesop would not buy this print, fer sure. but i think it's quite daring to take that chance, don't you? especially when you believe that basket is strong enough to hold your heart...without one teeny chance of breaking it.

wow. i am totally procrastinating. i must tell uncle sugar i wrote this last week and scheduled it. he will think i am smart.

wait! i do have one more thing to tell you. we had a lot of mails about our guardian angel post on the sweeterie. that's the lovely thing about not having comments on that sight...if you love it...if you really love it...you find a way to tell us.

a few of you asked if we'd think of making it a print. and since i had nothing better to do, i did. get yours here.

and now. i've got to think of what to do today. nothing's really coming to me. any ideas? ugh. and xoxo.

moving day...

they're coming this morning.

movers bearing seven thousand pounds of unnecessary gifts that remind me of a time for which i ache but also want to forget. i'll furiously tear open the smaller ones with a scowl, while huffy-directing the bigger prezzies over there...to the left...your other left.

but then. when all the wrappings are cleared. i'll pour myself a drink. in a not-plastic glass. i will arrange my white not-plastic plates and white not-plastic bowls and fat silver not-plastic candlesticks and hide everything else not-glass plastic from our sight. because four months of plastic is three months, three weeks, and six days too much.

wait. i just felt chills up my arms. glass. linens. chubby towels. turquoise vases. a giant's bed with sheers to close ourselves in at night. and by ourselves, i mean me and uncle sugar and you-know-who.

ours bed is coming! she exclaims whenever she remembers. i've tried to explain that hers is, too, but she has a hard time differentiating between hers and ours. i do not anticipate she will outgrow this by tomorrow night.

{sigh.}

and do you know what else is coming? she teases me. your toys? no. our books? oh, man. about four thousand pounds of our books. more chills down my legs. but no. not our books.

bear's coming tomorrow! and with that, she dances away.

crap. bear is our chihuahua. she stayed in jordan.

so i'm sitting here thinking two things. one? bear better not show up in one of those boxes. and two? i need to get these girlies a new puppy.

words will be light this week, ok? i want to be sure the girlies three enjoy all things moving, as i am itching for a big move again soon. so i need to make sure there's a total absence of stress and only pure joy at unpacking our things again. no matter how unnecessary, they are still shiny. and ours. boxes from weheartit.

i thought this a misprint...

one book called monsters of the household variety.

twelve hundred dollars. which threw my rolly chair from my drafting table all the way back to the bookshelf. which is something...really something...since i am very gentle 'round this desk of mine. my dad transformed it from old and throwaway-able to pure caramelized wood magic.

but then i saw the inside.

and then i understood. i got it. completely. this is not just a book. it is art.

but then i saw this.

oh, man. this takes wish to a whole new level.

the anthropologie sight, it goes without saying, is an utter marvel. as is ruth ashton, for sure.

in love with love...

hi.

i have something important to tell you. are you listening?

it's true. it just is. you're all very nice to me, and if you think i don't appreciate every bit of your kindness? you're crazy.

ugh. i wanted to get through this post without calling you names. unless it was something like buttercup or sweetpea or sugar-britches or dear dear friend.

one more thing. i've a wish list over on design crush. if you'd like, you may read it here. and if you get lost, no worries. you'll find something way more brilliant anywhere else on kelly's site. it's, like, a law or something.

one more thing.

coulson macleod is on my wish list. if someone loved me...really loved me...that someone would buy me a coulson macleod. as seen recently on stash studios. design crush post here. also. don't be alarmed by all this love business. imaginary friends can love each other. and someday? we just might be able to get married! or something equally...uhhh...equal. xoxo.

i. love. i.anton.

directly to my inspiration board. like, directly.

i think i'm going to get in some sort of trouble for posting this. it clearly states on i.anton's flickr that i'm to email him before using any of his images for my blog. but i could not for the life of me find the mail address! plus i think it would be a mistake for i.anton to provide me with a mail address. it could get awkward.

me and my girl...

esmé and i just spent the most delightful ten or more like twenty minutes scrolling through some pretty stunning spaces. i think it's funny to see what moves her...

this wall of tea...

and audrey.

she honestly put her face smack against the monitor, gasped, and asked is that a fairy? in, like, the deepest what chu talkin' 'bout, willis voice i've ever heard from her mouth.

she thinks there's a lot of love in this house...

and i think she's a little in love with this boy.

she is also...and i quote...having this tub for christmas. she assures me she will share it with me and only me.

apparently, i don't screech like lill and grae do when she peeps in the tub. and on esmé's list of stellar tub-mate traits, this is king.

the first two photos were snatched from the english muse. wow and wow and wow. a very cool space. the rest are from like a butterfly in your house, a perfectly named space, for sure. it is full of magic. have a sweet day, you. my girl and i may pop by later. so if my comments read like c-a-t and p-u-p, blame her. catch you later, friends. and xoxo.

i can't even think of a title for this post...

oh, man. what've we done?

because it looks an awful lot like mary ruffle and i just opened up our t.ruffles shoppe on etsy.

i have to tell you...i'm scared. i just filled an entire paragraph with worries and zero-confidence ickiness, but then deleted. instead, i will tell you something interesting. less worrisome and way more positive, in fact.

like how esmé remains unmoved by any midnight threat i throw at her. except. except. {and please know that i am bright pink while i type in these next words.} except there's a chubby can outside who will run in and give us candy if he knows we're still awake!

{crickets.}

actually. it would be closer to the truth if you replaced chubby with bloody. can with man. let's see...waiting outside who will run in...yep. accurate. oh. please delete the give us candy section and insert kill us dead. blah blah blah awake. ok. we should be on the same page now.

{louder crickets.}

when i'm nervous and in full-on panic mode, i tend to spill secrets. i am low on secrets this morning. but my second most popular panic maneuver is to tap dance. shuffle ball-change hop brush step.

ugh. this post was a total waste of your time. i'm sorry. plus mortified. and i just know that mary ruffle's going to run in and give me candy when she reads this. will you go look at our shoppe anyway? say yes...

this is not a photo you can purchase in our t.ruffle shoppe. and i am sorry about that, too. you know how i feel about marshmallows. but i'm pretty sure you'll forgive me when you see the rest of monica eisenman's food styling talents. and hopefully you'll forget all about that chubby can business above when you see mary ruffle's photos. they are flat-out happiness on an eight by ten.

eleven stories...

i'm enthusiastic. it's one of my better qualities.

and i'm not bragging. i mean, some of us were born with lustrous hair or covetable teeth or an ease with numbers or one perfect smattering of freckles on our bum. along with said smattering, i was also born with ardor.

{i don't know why i just spilled such private information. please erase from your minds that whole enthusiasm thing. very sorry. and wow. can you tell i've been sick and sleepless all weekend? very very sorry. truly.}

so i'm never really shocked by my visceral responses to artists or essays or even mittens, for that matter. i tend to gasp easily.

but for the first time in my life, i think, i saw the work of nicolas de staël. it floored me. i experienced an instantly physical reaction to the few paintings i saw, which is nothing new. not really. i told you i was enthusiastic. no...this went beyond i love it! whether it was his fat impasto or how i felt like i could see each and every stroke he made or just my affinity for landscapes. i don't know. but, man...he moved me.

which always makes me smile. because i think, at this point in my life, i've seen it. i've done it. i've been moved. i've got it mastered. and when i'm reminded out of the clear blue that i've not remotely seen it or done it or been moved or mastered at all?

well. that thrills me.

he also breaks my heart a bit. a lot, in fact. jumped to his death from an eleventh floor when he was just forty-one years old. that guts me more than i could ever explain, so i won't even try.

but i will post a few of his paintings. and i will show them to my girlies three at some point today or tomorrow or a few dozen times in their lifetimes. and grae will say something like i can paint like that! and lill will roll her eyes and esmé will not understand.

and then i'll tell them that he fell from a sadness too high in antibes, and grae will fall silent and lill's eyes will fill and esmé will not understand until she does. but then they'll look more closely at his work. and they'll carry him around in their hearts for as long as little girls can...maybe fifteen minutes. maybe less. hopefully longer. and grae will proclaim him to be her new van gogh. lill will, too. and esmé just won't understand. until she does.

someone who ended so tragically and so alone should have nice things said about them after they've left, don't you think? they must not have heard it enough when they were here.

sad when it's a strange artist found on another girl's blog who you couldn't have caught even if you'd been on the ground in antibes that day, looking up at the eleventh. sadder still if it's someone you could've grabbed before they even stepped out onto the balcony.

i'm going to try to be kind all week. that sounds dumb, doesn't it? oh...be kind.

first of all. i am completely taken with liberty london girl. she's seriously influential while entirely anonymous, which intrigues me to no end. but. and i believe this is my second of all. i found her via india knight's posterus, which is so overflowing with genius that i find i need a bigger monitor. it was a good weekend to be a sick girl plus an insomniac. thank you, ladies.

i'm as sick as a...

chick.

my tweets are hoarse. my beak's all fourth grade fat kid stuffy. even my feathers ache.

but i've got to get it together in, like, seven minutes. grae will wake up soon, and she's got big plans for us today. they involve swimming and a rock climbing wall and a walk to the potomac and a hunt for her newest obsession...a silver laborador.

i warned her that there are probably not many silver labs who need to be rescued. she waved me off with a matter-of-fact please-stop-messing-with-my-dreams-mom tone...everyone needs to be rescued.

oh.

rajha? you must peek in sharon montrose's shop. she's having a sale today. i think these prints would be most excellent for nafissa's and sarra's girls, yes? i don't know anyone who doesn't squeal when they see her work. did you just turn pink? i hope you just turned pink. i miss you, sisters three! xoxo.

like optimus prime...

the house was chill silent this morning. i peeked over at esmé. sprawled out on top of the comforter and quilt despite the cold and despite the ceiling fan throwing more chilly air on her.

no matter. that little thing runs warm. plus she has her own personal hot water bottle. his name is uncle sugar.

anyway. i went on a run. it's raining here, but i figured i couldn't freeze any more than i already was. i probably couldn't get any grumpier, either. thanksgiving always puts me in a mood. i do not enjoy a thursday telling me to be grateful.

anyway. i hooked chris brown and lil wayne into my ears, smiled to myself, and headed for the trail. oh. did i ever tell you i turn into seventeen-year old hooch when i run? the sort who applies for a career opportunity at the local dance establishment.

go ahead, lil mama. i could transform ya. know i can't dance, but i could dance on ya.

anyway. i saw one arrogant great dane wearing a red sweater. one boxer looking for a fight. many goofy mutts. one white squirrel, who left me wondering if she was the christie brinkley of the squirrel world...or an outcast.

and then i saw a girl. running toward me. music hooked in her ears. she was smiling. she waved. she passed. and i gasped.

she smelled like a ralph lauren scent that sent me straight back to high school. and i don't know what the heck happened next, but i felt a bizarre rush of sad and happy and regret and tears and giggles and guilt and hope. all at once. intense, for sure.

because i'm certainly not a girl who minds getting older. i've always enjoyed being exactly where i am. who i am. but if you asked me, at that moment, would i go back?

i might've said yes.

i could change your life. make you so new. make you never want to go back to the old you.

i'd play more tennis with my dad. look him in his eyes and tell him how i'd miss him. beg him to stay so he could see the babies i'd someday make. understand sooner that lillie swims upstream. against all currents. feed grae more of my time. i fear there were moments when she went hungry while i was giving lill all those swimming lessons. i'd vacuum less. paint more. i'd watch love, actually with my sister one more time. and sob like babies with her again during phenomenon. i thought this was an alien movie! she wailed in that dark theater. i laughed so hard and so unapologetically loud while i was crying. just as unapologetically hard and loud. thinking god damn, lin...do not leave me. i wouldn't be shy. i'd dance somewhere other than my kitchen. i'd sing. i'd say yes more. say no more. i'd say it. i would say it.

knees weak, i'll stand you up.

anyway. i'm home now. feeling grateful for exactly where i am. who i am.

i ran warm.

most days, i tell myself i run to get faster and stronger. most days, i feel like i'm in some kind of race. but really? i think i just want legs like these. all from weheartit, but two originated on vild, ville, vann...a pretty genius space on tumblr.

with apologies to katie...

...who wrote in yesterday's comments i don't trust red. it's like red's trying to hide something behind its vibrancy.

and also to mrs. darling, who threw down a bold correlation between those who wear shades of burgundy and those who smell cringishly reeky.

i trust your taste, ladies. i do. but, still, i gasped when i saw this...

now. how do you feel about grand-scale nudies over the mantle?

please pardon this post. i fear i am, as all the cool post office kids say, mailing it in. i have a few paying and looming deadlines that are causing me panic. and then! did you hear about thanksgiving? apparently, it's a big deal here in the states. i will try to be back later. and to katie and mrs. darling...your words yesterday made me giggle. find katie here while i try to persuade mrs. darling to start a blog. she gives good comment. foyer photo via morning's light, for sure one of the more stunning blogs i've read in some time. both photos originally from 1st-option.

blaupe...

have i ever told you my least favorite color? i describe it as blaupe to the girlies three.

blah plus taupe. it honestly takes one day off my life.

which is why i'm shocked that i saw these surreptitious photos over the weekend of this house on some site i'd not visited before...and despite the overwhelming blaupe of it all...i find myself inspired. shockingly inspired.

i'm such a sucker for book sculptures and text on a ceiling. paper and words overcome all things blaupe.

and when i was explaining this to my girlies three, lill interrupted my tirade and asked but what about your favorite tee shirt?

ahhh. my favorite tee shirt. my fifteen-year old j.crew silky tissue jersey tee. see-through like i bathed it in windex. the best friend of my collarbones, shoulders, and - avert your eyes, boys - bigfatboobies.

that. shirt. is. not. blaupe. i replied patiently, with a definite say one more word about my baby tee, kid, and i'll leave it to grae when i die tone.

it is nude.

do you have a blaupe? a color that nearly ends you when you see it? say yes so i don't feel as loony. photos courtesy of colour me happy, a decidedly not-blaupe blog. i will probably have to come back later today and replace this post with something less blaupe, but i have a few deadlines to meet. and sgm? there's one line in here just for you. also. can you please concentrate on all things mtv? like, the hills and the city. i find i prefer watching realities via you...scented glossy magazines. thank you in advance. and xoxo.

i tried...

i had big plans for another post today. it's just that mary ruffle assigned me extra work on our t.ruffles shoppe.

i said but...

and she interrupted me with a brisk there is no butt in get your arse over to the shoppe!

not really. mary ruffle is not very brisk at all. nor is she bri'ish. plus she's way more swearful.

hope you feel that magnetic pull with someone this weekend. that would be lovely, wouldn't it? candy for your soul found daily at the t.ruffle girls' sweeterie. and yes. i said shoppe.

come back later?

i do have things i'd like chat with you about before the weekend, and i'm planning on heading back here later. if you have a minute, want to come back, too? say yes...

i'll tell you one little quick bit of nonsense now, if you'd like.

last night, i was trying to have a conversation with uncle sugar. in bed. and i tell you that not so you think oooh! but so you remember that i am a co-sleeper sort of parent, apparently. by order of the management. whose name is esmé dahlia.

{it is at this point when it would be completely apropos to clench your fist and hissper esmé in a drat-her! villain voice.}

so. uncle sugar would say something like do you think we should try to go to montauk tuesday? stay until thursday night?

i replied totally. but i don't think uncle sugar heard me. because esmé is a loud bed-talker.

i don't think so. she offered.

we ignored.

oh! i remembered. do you have any cash?

no. sorry. i don't.

which would be odd if that was uncle sugar's response, because that boy always has cash. i think it came with his nickname. however, it was esmé who answered. she's always broke.

this went on and on for as long as we could stand it. like, two more questions answered by her. which may have been fine if she'd...i don't know...been more agreeable? more helpful?

we both lost it. he yelled can i PLEASE HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH MY WIFE? at about the same time i yelled almost the same thing. which may have sounded to the neighbors like esmé! you are KILLING ME!

this offended her. she folded her arms and closed her eyes. her always-grinny mouth went all straight-lined. and i saw it quiver.

ugh.

esmé...i'm sorry...it's just that your dad and i...

at this, she covered my mouth with one very sticky hand.

quiet, mom...go to sleep now...it's the witching hour.

they should be here by noon to stamp my mother-of-the-year i.d. card with a giant revoked. and while i'm sort of joking, i do have this thing about not going to bed sad. i've always told the girlies three that they need to smile right before they fall asleep. no matter their mood at the time. a smile scares away nightmares. i'm pretty sure the three of us IN. THAT. ONE. BED. all had bad dreams. anyway. i will fix that. until then, look at little wing's photos. i found them on need supply's brilliant blog, but i think i remember seeing her on creature comforts ages ago. i could be wrong. but get this: she's seventeen.

do these look blurry to you?

this morning did not begin well. at all.

i just sat here and looked at the above two sentences. italicized all and then at and then not and then debated whether to capitalize and bold and underscore and color the rest. blood red.

but in true lalala! can'tyouseemyfingerspluggingmyears? i'mnotlistening! fashion that you've probably come to expect from this space, let me just tell you about how this mini-morning ended.

they'd almost reached school, but grae stopped. handed lillie her backpack and binder and giant brown grocery bag that is holding exactly one orange and one turquoise sharpie. and then ran as fast as she could all the way back to me for a kiss and a hug.

as i always do, i gave her extra ones for lill.

and then that girl...my girl...ran back to her sister. in spite of all the drama that had gone down between them only minutes before, grae took back the grocery bag and set it on the ground. took back her backpack and binder and set those down, too.

and then she hugged lillie so tightly i thought my heart would break on the spot. and kissed her. in front of three other classmates.

as for lill. i was warmed by her chandelier smile all the way back to me.

those two remind me that it's all about the ending, isn't it? i think it is. the end matters. i need to remember that more often.

maybe...no matter where you find yourself and no matter how you ended up exactly there, it's not as hard as it may seem to get back where you need to be. and end well.

marc yankus cityscapes look even more stunning when you've tears puddling in your eyes. catch you later. and xoxo.

look over here...

i'm off visiting a very good friend today...

you're probably already friends with her and you were probably already planning on visiting her today, too, but i wanted to make sure you knew i'd be there so it didn't get all awkward oh-i-didn't-realize-you-were-invited when we bumped into each other.

i will be wearing this. please don't wear yours.

see you at s.hoptalk, yes? say yes.

ceramic genius available at little white dish. and, man...i covet haute hippie. but shimmery haute hippie? oh, it's on.