man on fire...

we watched man on fire all together camped out, with esmé playing more furiously when scenes turned too red for her liking.

it's one of my favorite movies. when the girlies ask me why, i tell them that it's love. in its most basic, beautiful form, it's love.




would i kill for you? die for you? trade my life to save yours? yes to all. in a half-heartbeat.

before mémé fell asleep, she told me she thinks she can feel herself growing up, listing all the things she knows now. how to make friends anywhere, how to read a few words that she couldn't read before, how to make art that makes her dad's eyes water, how to change the kitchen garbage bag, and the meaning of love.

what's the meaning of love? i asked her.




when you cross the bridge for someone, even when there's something awful waiting for you.

yes. that's a start.

here and here.

fears...

it's strange, the list of things-that-probably-will-never-happen-but-that-still-scare-the-britches-off-me. you probably have a similar list, don't you? here are my top five. this morning.

one. wooden stairs and socks.

two. a lion attack out of nowhere.

three. replying to all.




four. piñatas. which is really more about the sticks.

five. when you're leaning over the sink, brushing your teeth, and then you look up at yourself in the mirror and there's a killer in a balaclava standing there. this has only happened once. and it was gracie. but, whoa.

golden bandit bunny. too bad it's sold, bunny! have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts! and if you find yourself forced to run up a dark staircase, just be sure to throw out several donkey-kicks in case there's a murderer chasing behind you. it works. tah-rust me. xoxo.

so this is it...

it was a sunday morning or maybe saturday, but i remember three things. uncle sugar was looking quite chocolate-lovely on a leather chair with a bon appetit in his hands. i was standing in the kitchen hoping someone would make me something. and then he looked up.

those browns of his, when concerned, gut me every time. and at this moment, he looked very concerned.

kar? we're about to go through a very. bad. period.

every bit of liquid that sloshes through my body rushed to my toes and i thought i'd faint a little. so. this is it. this is how it happens. on a sunday morning or maybe saturday.




he continued, shaking his head in grave apology.

those beans i bought...they're terrible.

liquid back to sloshing as usual.

coffee beans. coffee. beans.

i almost just wrote we need bigger problems, but then i got scared about throwing that out to the universe. so forget that, mister. i will gladly take sub-par and somewhat bitter beans over trouble any day. did i say that loud enough? sigh.

gimme. gimme.

murder...

so i was picking up my friend's full-length mink the other day...

i could stop there, couldn't i? but i won't.




the place was nice but kind of a hike, and there was a doorbell. i stood there for a moment while the guy inside stared hard at me and i stared hard back at him and that's when i made the decision not to ring the doorbell. they let me in anyway. i think because of my furry mitts from pour porter peeking out.

fur shops are strange to me. i'm not anti-fur or anti-anything, for that matter, but i felt like i was choking in there. it smelled old. and everyone was unattractive, but trying super hard to make you think they were not unattractive. did i just write that? oh, my. i should've stopped at the choking bit.




so they give me my friend's mink, which is the longest most beautiful richest color piece of perfection that kind of made me make the same sound i make when i am cuddling with one of my people. the end.

wait. there's more.

so i walk out of the shop, merrily making my way to my car when i hear FUR! IS! MURDER! and i thought about it in my head as i was walking and agreed. good point. for sure. it is murder. unless the animals in question have already perished. then it's simply serendipitous, yes?

again with the FUR! IS! MURDER!

and i looked at this group of grungy fellows on my right, one with a camera and all looking at me, and i smiled and nodded politely and said something along the lines of it sure is, mister.

and then i looked down. you'd think that my first thought would've been dummy. you're. carrying. a. giant. bag. out. of. a. fur. shop. with. the. name. of. the. fur. shop. emblazoned. across. it. sadly, it was not. my first thought was a hissper to myself they see my mitts!




anyway. i hid my hands under the gigantic mink and smiled my most reassuring, brightest, non-threatening to all animals of the world smile and assured those lovely boys in a bit of a panicked voice that IT'S NOT MINE! IT'S MY FRIEND'S!

i didn't tell them she has others. and i won't tell her what they said, either.

p.s. my friends said i could wear the mink as much as i want before they come to pick it up, with only one rule. i must wear it to lacrosse games while puffing on a filtered ciggie in one hand, a dirty martini in the other. i will be sure to instagram that as soon as it happens. also, for the record, my mitts are not even fur. they're just so darn...furry.

gimme.

wise words from my friend...

trying to get back here. i am i am. until then, a stashism.

we're not going to talk about this...

do you even know some of the poor decisions i've made? like, trying to cook a pizza on a wooden pizza peel.

as soon as it started flaming, i stomped my foot and asked the girlies three why the heck would they name it a pizza peel if you couldn't use it to make a pizza?!

their answer included something or other about the basics of fire and flammability. doesn't take much, does it? wood and flame. yep.




i've microwaved metal, even after insane conversations with my brain trying to convince whoever's in charge that it's not so much silver...maybe the microwave won't even notice it.

i never wash my grapes, i seem to always ask when the baby's due when the mom is standing there holding a three-month old, and i continually forget to ask the guy to trim my nails until after he's polished them. can you just...a little bit shorter...it's fine...

it's remarkable. when you say to someone that it's fine and wave away all the it's not fines from the air around you, it usually is fine.

i thought i shouldn't go to alt summit this year because we're moving this summer. this should come as no surprise, but i am not good with time or numbers or deadlines - or at least not as good as i am with creating fires, contained explosions, and uncomfortable situations - because, to me, there's no in-between time. there's now and then there's late. and now, i find that i actually could've spared a few days next week. too late.

{insert a traffic jam of regret right here.}




so, if you're speaking, feel free to facetime me during your chat. i will nod my head and smile at you like you're the smartest little thing in the room. you probably are. and if you're attending, you can do the same; i'll whisper all the right times to clap and encourage you to ask questions. lots of them. and if your name is joslyn and you have a blog called simple lovely, you can call me at midnight and i will call down to the front desk and order you coffee for the morning. at which time, you are to call me once again so we can share a cup of caffeine.

sigh.

the whole point of this post is that i would've worn these tights to the white party.

name calling...

ages ago in oman, i had a friend who was so awesome. like, swedish supermodel who adored her gorgeous and witty italian husband and her three gorgeous and witty babes and spoke four languages. i still miss hanging out with her. they don't make a lot of women like that in my current neighborhood.

the point of this is that, if she didn't like another woman, she would call her a cow. i thought that was funny and rather mild, and i was always a little shocked when our other international friends would take instant offense. i kind of thought something was lost in translation, do you know?




fast-forward to last night, when grae wouldn't let lillie in front of the bathroom mirror. as an aside, can i tell you that this home is insanely mirror-heavy and there still aren't enough for those girlies three.

and lillie called grae a pig.

{insert brawl here.}

part of me is happy that they're not using the language i hear coming from, say, their busmates' mouths. but the other part of me is taking away their electronics and telly privileges for the weekend. i told them that sisters don't call each other animal names. sisters don't fight. if they don't have each other, they have nothing.

grae shrugged and replied we'll always have esmé.

{insert brawl here.}

have you ever been called a name that set your temper on fire? tell me...

instagram...

yes, instragram. i don't know how to use it and it seems silly to me but i am such a screamingly visual person that it seems sillier that i not try it out. so i am.

here is my new bauble tree. it's massive and it catches the light so captivatingly in the mornings that i gasp. and i don't even mind that captivatingly is not a word. it should be.

i wish i was a photographer. i do. so does uncle sugar. one christmas in london, he bought me a fancy camera. when he gave it to me, he said something like "now you can be one of those cute ladies who walks around with a camera and takes pictures all the time."

i remember telling him a few minutes later - just after i whipped off the camera strap from around my neck because i thought it was choking the life out of me. i'm claustrophic like that, you know. - that i take better pictures with my words. and that i'd prefer to just look at things hard and write them in my memory. that if he ever wanted to revisit a particular holiday or one of the girlies' sporting events, just ask. i'll tell him the story. heck, i'll even re-enact it as best i can.

{crickets.}

yep. that was a good christmas memory. if you'd like, i can re-enact the look of disgust and disappointment on that guy's face. let me know. because there's no photo.

p.s. and here is my little disco ball.

stealing my breath...

just a few images that stopped me.

this is what the new year is looking like so far. stunning.




i need to remember this one. needy and homeless, redefined.

and whoa. this is love, yes?

may you have someone or many ones in 2012 and beyond who will always always come after you.

gimme. gimme. gimme.