our hero...

this is one of those stories i need my girlies to remember. when i'm here. when i'm not. whenever. forever.

it's a story about strength. the iron giant kind of strength. stronger than that, maybe. it's a story about love. a fierce and fighty love as everlasting and as heartbreaking as old dan had for little ann. it's a story about keeping your word until the very end. kind of like inigo montoya. hanging on to dear, dear life even while scaling the cliffs of insanity, even when battling rodents of unusual size, and even in the pit of despair.

oh, it's a good story. because this story? this story is all yours. it's about your aunt lin. a real-deal hero. who was all yours.

you weren't even supposed to meet each other. her cancer had come to visit again. but this time? her cancer brought some friends. they all barged in without invitation to breasts and bones. and this time? it looked as though they were staying. no matter how politely all those surgeries and chemotherapies and radiations asked 'em to leave.

we rushed a brand new little lillie from dallas to chicago to meet this ball of magic i called my sister. and a funny thing happened, lill: lin fell head-over-tails in love with you. so, with a brand new you in her heart, she fought her cancer and all those nasty companions. and she won.

that's how important you are.

then came you, grae. a mini-me in colors and smiles. from the minute she laid eyes on you, lin was hooked. so, with a brand new you in her heart, she continued to fight. and continued to win.

that's how important you are.

the two of you and lin shared a birthday month, you september girls. every september, we'd find her or she'd find us. with fireworks. always fireworks.

fast forward to the end of an august, when lill would turn seven in less than a week. but your aunt lin hadn't gotten out of bed in over that. she couldn't even walk on her own. even so, you had to ask, sweet lillie kate.

will you be at my birthday?

yes. she answered, after a great pause and with more conviction than anyone else in the room owned. i wouldn't miss it for the world.

and so, on your seventh year, lill, your aunt lin came to your party. walked right in grammy's door without any help or extra hands. wearing eye make-up, even. it was unforgettable.

that's how important you are.

and grae? don't think i didn't see you that entire night. hovering over lin. touching her every so often with one gentle finger just to prove to yourself that, yes, she was really there. when she really wasn't supposed to be. my god, grae...you were only five. but nineteen days later, you would turn six. so you had to ask.

will you be at my birthday?

an even greater, how-could-it-get-any-more-painful pause this time. i wouldn't miss it for the world, grae. promised with more conviction than i think even she owned. and i don't know how the heck she did it, but she held on until your birthday. remember? she even brought fireworks.

that's how important you are.

there was one more mackin girlie due to arrive. but not until october. there was just no way lin would meet this one. i knew it. she knew it. everyone knew it.

grae-girl? i could see in your eyes that you knew it, too. but you had just turned six. one of those ages when there's a miracle behind every moon. so you asked lin if she could stay. to see our newest babe. and what do you think she promised?

she wouldn't miss it. not. for. the. world.

esmé dahlia...you came early. snuck in at the very end of the month. i think you must've known. or maybe you just wanted to be a september girl, too. lin was the first to arrive that next morning to meet you. to hold you. until her tears became too much. you wouldn't know each other long. less than two weeks. but know this, esmé. the very idea of you kept her alive.

and that's how important you are.

as i write this story...lin's ending...you are nine and eight and two. today, your lives are fairly simple. you ask. you get. like magic.

but someday, your lives won't be so simple. someday, your lives will become less about asking. more about giving. someday, your lives will become less about today. all about tomorrow. and that's when you'll truly understand all that lin gave to you. and that's when your hearts will just shatter with the weight of her gift.

so fold this memory into a tiny square, you three, and keep it in your back pockets. reach for it when you need it. and if one of you forgets for a moment, remind her, won't you?

that once upon a time and happily ever after and over the hills and through the woods and now and forever and 'til death we do part and goodnight gorilla...this was your story. this was your hero.

i hope your memories of lin make you better. just better. just more. hold tight to her strength when you need to be strong. or when someone else needs you to be strong. recreate her love as often as you impossibly can. and then once more after that. keep your word until the very, very end. try. give. care. stay.

because that's how important she was.

this was originally posted on mackin ink's first edition, way over two years ago. i think i wrote a lot better then. artwork by studio mela.

headeggs and hippos...

i've got such a headegg, as mémé would say.

i would add more swears. because i never get headeggs, and this one is completely shattering my vision. when i woke up this morning, i was so dizzy i smashed into one of our bedposts.

ooh. i whimpered, rubbing my hipbone.

aww. mémé to the rescue. your hippo!

she rubbed it and blew on it and murmured sweetheart words to it until my dizziness and pain eased up a bit. and then i realized she wasn't comforting me. she was talking to the little fairy i've inked. on my hippo.

esmé looked up, that little sprite, and assured me all was well.

you didn't kill her, mom.

photo found here. begging off for the rest of today. but i wanted to tell you something...i've gotten so many mails and messages about my sister, mostly from readers who weren't around for mackin ink's first year when i really talked about it. mary and i are in the middle of putting a book together full of her photos and some of my best words from my original blog. it's pretty stunning so far. but i thought it might be nice to post one of the first things i wrote about my sister's life for the girlies three. i've read it a thousand times, maybe, and every time i love it more. i'll lay it down here tomorrow if you'd like to read it. catch you later, friends. and can you tell i didn't smile once - not even once! - while writing this post? i can, too. i'll be better tomorrow. xoxo. karey m. and her headegg.

snow day...

me and my girlies three have some awfully grand plans today.

some, if not most, include chocolate. in all of its various and glorious forms.

these are my egyptian wellies. {nafissa? did you just cringe?} a good friend hunted them down because she knew i loved turquoise. i'm told it took a lot of time and many uncomfortable discussions with gardeners who hadn't showered. ever. and also those who worked in sewers. i think it was all worth it in the end. have a sweet day, friends. oh! and have you seen what mary's done with the sweeterie? it looks pretty, don't you think? she's amazing, that mary of mine...

no contest...

uncle sugar and i had a bit of a contest last night.

now. i am an utter fool to enter into any sort of contest with that man. he loves to win. he never quits. he is incredibly competitive. rather vindictive. taunt-ish. add his cheat-ish delusional quirk that i find ever-so-attractive, and you might understand.

he was performing his nightly sit-up routine - as i lounged lazily next to him - when the girlies three rushed us. it was grae who asked, and i'm dead-certain of this detail because she's the only one of our three who concerns herself with comparisons.

who's stronger? you or dad?

which is exactly how uncle sugar and i happened to spend more than fifteen minutes with lillie and grae hoisted on our feet à la airplanes. up down up down up down.

at some point during that fifteen, i looked at my legs and felt no small sense of pride at how well they were winning. i mean, working. it flew me to a faraway moment i shared with my sister when she was still alive.

she told me i was looking thin. this was just a few days after esmé was born, and probably even a few minutes after my mid-morning snack, but i believed her. because she was magic like that. she'd see a glimpse of beauty and magnify it. shine her spotlight smile on you, and before you even knew it, you were centre stage. even better? you felt like you belonged there. amazing.

but remember, she said. it's not important to be thin. you want to be strong...just in case you need to fight.

this was the last real moment she and i would share. my sister was two weeks from her ending. maybe a few hours from hospice, if you can imagine. i don't remember those details as well as i remember how her words made me feel. stunning. invincible. perfect. i stand taller even all these years later when i remember how she looked at me. how she saw me. how she made me see myself.

i remember how she looked to me. stunning. invincible. perfect. i'd never seen such beauty, and i maybe never will again in my lifetime. she was kind and generous and loved nothing more than filling a room with laughter. hers and yours. she looked around the world with sheer joy, and honestly got a kick out of everyone walking around in it. i miss her like crazy.

i won't tell you i won last night. uncle sugar would lie and tell you differently, anyway. but it's funny. i realized that memories of my sister don't really make me sad anymore. i mean, they do. i miss her like i imagine i'd miss air. and some memories are like sharp jabs to my ribs. but. i think of her and feel strong. and i will tell you it's good to feel strong.

{this morning, i mentioned to uncle sugar that my legs felt a little...worked. not sore. worked. his, no surprise, did not. he swaggered out of the house, and i watched him walk to his car. and i think i saw him limp a little. i won.}

i seriously begin and end my day with mary ruffle. but it's no surprise she found these gorgeous pages on little alouette first. i adore them both, don't you?

for my mom...

please. feel free to avert your eyes.

so here are my panel-mates at altitude design summit. they were all amazingly cool. the only part i really remember from our hour was that i laughed and smiled. a lot. plus threw down a few stellar sites: daily poetics, mrs. lilien, stash studios, pour porter, the diversion project, designers' block, and not your average ordinary. plus apparently? showed some cleavage.

i got an email last week sweetly informing me that i was a way better writer than speaker, which upset me to no end for at least thirty seconds. until i thought about it. really thought about it.

my first thought was duh. and then i decided i'd save only one part of that note. the part that describes me as a way better writer than.

think of the possibilities! i can fill in anyone's name whenever i'm feeling rotten. anyone's.

or? i could just read this. and this. and a number of other sweetheart words that my imaginary friends send me. at least thirty times a day, you make me feel like a million. so if anyone but my mom is still reading, thank you. from the very bottom of my heart.

speaking of hearts, we added a new print to the shoppe today. it is my all-time favorite for a babe's bedroom, don't you think? and small enough to fit over a light-switch, which is where i like to hang little reminders about taking extra care with delicate objects i've made. you, too? xoxo and catch you later, friends.

things i learned this weekend...

i'm a little in love with michele oka doner. i've known of her for years, but two recent-ish interviews i tripped over had me scribbling notes like mad.

"oh there’s so much great truth in how things divide and replicate themselves. there’s such a life force, whatever name anybody gives it. it’s undeniable. and there is magic. it’s why we all stop when we see the lightening. to hear the thunder, the dialogue in a way between electricity and violence."

she's tactile. goes around touching things all the time. she's a barefoot girl. and then there's this...

"evolved women have begun to form a collective awareness of how to support one another. it goes way beyond 'what dress am i wearing tonight?' i really like women. i've learned how to negotiate a world filled with intelligent and attractive women, giving everyone their due."

breathtaking, she is.

lee van cleef was hot in the good, the bad and the ugly. henry fonda was even hotter in once upon a time in the west. but chatting for hours with uncle sugar long after the girlies three fall asleep about all things sergio leone? well. that's not bad, either.

sally mann's photography guts me.

and when i'm next due for color, i'm going silver.

to match parts of uncle sugar's beard. which reminds me of something else i learned this weekend: when i teasingly call my husband old man, it makes him huffy and indignant.

i hope you laughed and stole some kisses these past few days. two musts for a fantastic weekend, yes? yes. which reminds me of a super cute tumblr called kissez. enjoy. and you're right. i am trying to distract you from asking for all of my references for the above pics and quotes. please excuse my lazy. and xoxo.

travel day...

when uncle sugar and i met, we were babies. but, man, did we have dreams.

that boy promised me the world, and i believed him. he said we'd travel it. he said i'd love it. he just knew it. because a girl like me who fell in love so easily with wind chimes and tiny chess sets and everything else upon which her eyes fell was made to see something besides illinois.

we'd raise our someday babies we weren't even sure we needed everywhere, so that they'd learn to love the world and america's place in it. he said they'd love it. he just knew it.

one of those someday babies would most certainly be named esmé. when she sang, her voice would be distinctly separate from the other children's voices. it would have the best upper register, it would be the sweetest-sounding, the surest, and it would automatically lead the way. her smile would be oddly radiant. her observations not of a smart aleck but that of a truth-lover. she might even wear an enormous-faced wristwatch, its face much too large for her tiny wrist. the first rolex he would buy, in fact, would be hers. he just knew it.

i tell uncle sugar all the time that he's a good man. this irks him to no end.

a good man, he snarls with that deviled grin of his. that's so lame. {i'm censoring him here. because mackin ink is not the place for his saucy language.}

i've got to agree with him, i guess. he's not a good man. we've had our share and maybe even yours, too, of squalor. when he is naughty, there's no one naughtier. but when he's half as good as he can be, there's no one who even comes close. and when he's perfect? well. that is that.

he promised me the world. we've traveled it. i've loved it. those someday babies we weren't entirely sure we even needed? we've three, and it turns out we needed them desperately. they love the world, too. and one is named esmé.

he's right. he's not a good man. he's extraordinary.

crazy for the french rentals from appartement blanc paris, discovered first by a little hamster. so many gorgeous photos on appartement blanc, but the sunlight dancing in her memories made me smile. and if you've never read for esmé -- with love and squalor, you might want to reconsider this. j.d. salinger, january 1919 - january 2010.

kitchen envy...

i didn't eat much yesterday.

the girlies three and i made sand, which is exactly like dirt except with vanilla pudding and smushed up golden oreos. we stuck swedish fish in at the end, although nudie sour patch kids were also considered.

it was all very yummy until lillie asked "so...are the fish dead and washed up on the beach?"

she is good to have around if you're ever dieting. she's at that age where she spells everything in her head. do you remember doing that? like, your mom would say something like "set the table, honey." and you'd do it while mouthing t-a-b-l-e-c-o-m-m-a-h-o-n-e-y.

so when i ask lill to grab three bowls, i see her lips moving. her forehead crunch up. and then her chandelier smile, full-on wattage.

"how do you spell bowels?"

did you hear that? it was the sound of my appetite losing it. because then i had to get all anatomy with grae and assure her that yes, everyone has bowels and yes, everyone probably looks at you and knows you have bowels, too.

what's worse is that esmé now has a new pronunciation of bowls. no. i take that back. if i'm being completely honest with you? what's worse is that i had to google what are bowels and what do they do. exactly.

oh. did you hear that? it was the sound of my adult card being revoked.

the first kitchen, found here, is a dream to me. the second, found here, is a dream for the girlies three. outdoors plus bird cages. made better only if there are actual birds flitting about the table. they are begging hard for a bird this week, which i'm actually considering. i mean, a bird in the kitchen? i'd never eat! xoxo and have a sweet day, friends.

back to cali...

i'm mad about the world. it's honestly the best place i've ever lived.

and since we've moved back to the states, i've started to see the benefits of raising our girlies three overseas. they're wide-open-minded. their synonym for change is adventure. they're always on orange-alert for injustice, and fight for the underdog just as hard as they beg us for a new dog.

and? they're killing it in their school's geography bee.

lillie raced through the door last week, though, and breathlessly told me the latest development. if molly answers her question right tomorrow, i'm out!

what didn't you know? i was incredulous.

this is a girl who has slept on red sands, napped along knightsbridge, and woken up on the lido. she knows the proper pronunciation of phuket. when to call it israel, and when to call it palestine. she carries dead-on accents in her back pocket from all the friends and strangers we've collected on our travels, and she can cluck her tongue with the disdain of an old jordanian woman. what didn't she know?

apparently, there's a state called california?

{gasp!} i've never taught them california? are you kidding me? my brother lives in california. i've never mentioned california? see? this is why i could never in a million years home school. because i would teach things like be kind, because karma can really mess with your stomach. and support other women...because if she's doing well, we're all doing well. don't be judgy, especially about tattoos. capital letters are unfriendly. too many ellipses are like bad wine...you'll feel it the next day. and sequins were made for sunshine. as for states? they're awesome. you should visit some. ugh.

but here's where grae saves the day. with her i-can't-possibly-be-bothered-with-this-nonsense tone.

lillie. she deadfaces us. it's the long one on the left.

yes! i gave an imaginary fist-pump and waited for one of my brainiacs to mention how california is also usually pale-pink on the best old-school maps.

so tim mazurek's name might not ring a bell. but lottie + doof should. read the full article here. photos from his home in chicago. fyi. chicago's in the middle.

quick share...

did i even tell you the topic for my panel at alt summit? how to find the best design sites. or sights, as all of them turned out to be...

pictory was on my list at some point, but somehow didn't make it to utah. it's currently a one-woman operation, which makes me smile and clap, but also inspires the heck out of me. and her concept is also something to which i've always been drawn.

a picture plus a story equals a pictory. cool.

her current series just about punched me in the stomach. coming home.

The side door to my parents’ house was the only door I ever used to enter the house. I’d walk in slowly, stalling before telling them about a car window I broke, or walk in late, feeling invincible after spending time with my first love. The side door was the place where I reflected on all the monumental moments in my life, before leaving one world behind and entering another.

the house where i grew up is long gone, destroyed in a flood. it was tiny and half-finished at all times and crowded with the seven of us who all complained about the lack of privacy except me because it's so much fun to pop in on your older sister and ask why are you shaving there? are you going swimming? and listen to my older brothers' conversations with girls on the telephone extension until i finally had to know why he was talking in that deep voice. was he sick or something?

i honestly don't think it mattered a bit if our house was small or big. i would've been smack next to them anyway. just as my girlies three are today. it's the sign of a good house, i think.

exactly enough room for what you need.

you've got to check out pictory if you haven't already. i've talked about it before, but i'm totally digging it this morning. and how was the house where you first grew? do you miss it? most of my friends don't, which i never understand. must be my youngest child syndrome acting up...

alt...

if there's one thing you should know about me by now, it's that i'll never make you feel badly about missing something. whether it's a party or my birthday or even one of my most aggro two-handed forehands on the off chance we ever play tennis together. {call it out. i don't care. i hate keeping score.}

but if there's one other thing you should really know about me by now, it's that i can't keep a secret.

i won't tell you what a thrill it was to mingle with such a brilliant bunch of creatives at alt design summit. i won't. unless you ask. i also won't even mention how even the most seasoned bloggers walked away from alt with fresh inspiration. nope.

you know how i am with compliments, and you probably know how i cringe whenever i hit publish. but to learn that she struggles with all that nonsense just as much? made me breathe a little easier. i was smitten three seconds after meeting her.

but that's all i'll say about that. because if you knew what you were missing when you missed the chance to meet everyone...oh, what the what. i'm getting tired of all this secrecy. and you'd feel worse if i didn't tell you, right?

briefly, then.

i was super nervous to meet jaime of design milk. i mean...she's it. no need. she was even cooler than her space, if you can imagine that. erin from design for mankind should be in the dictionary under - to borrow a term from melissa - effervescent. and the two of them together? a genius combination.

when maggie mason speaks, you should listen. and write it down.

i nearly clapped when vané from brooklyn bride walked into the room. wait. i did clap. and i turned absolutely pink when i saw the little sprite danni of oh, hello friend in the front row during my panel.

nicole from making it lovely is - no surprise - exactly that. she giggled and shrugged whenever a design superstar walked up to her and gushed. this happened a lot. and allison from petit elefant gets the biggest eyes whenever she says something to make me laugh. like, oh? did that amuse you? yes. it did. this also happened a lot.

i met a new-to-me blogger who fast became a new-to-me friend. her name is shayna roosevelt. she has amazing brows and an even better smile that lit up the lounge at the grand america.

and you already know how i feel about kelly of design crush and caroline duke from greedy girl. they were like little sisters. huge emphasis on little. man...they are petite!

as opposed to the two leggy supermodels i spied all the way in the back row. i recognized {and probably embarrassed the heck out of!} her, but enjoyed her simply because she was cool and friendly and beyond stylish. the next day, i asked my lunch dates to point out kirsten grove. turns out, we'd already met. ugh.

if i'm speaking of stylish and pretty much every other cool adjective, verb, noun, and interjection, i'd be hella remiss if i didn't mention janel of apartment therapy. i first noticed her stylish chop, the just-right shade of red on her lips, and a covetable black wardrobe. but there are giant brains behind that beauty, and an even bigger sense of humor. one of my favorite finds at alt, for sure.

it'll be no surprise that chelsea of frolic! floored me with her openness and expertise she was excited to share, and i found myself a little envious of kathryn's firm little set of rules and way way envious of her stunning complexion and widow's peak. and no surprise that gayla made me want to grow something, monica made me want to learn everything, sheila made my jaw drop with her idea bubbles, and emily made me want to move. or maybe she just moved me. whatever.

my first two bloggers i ever read were there. only a few hours after telling oh joy! that i'd memorized every one of her posts since 2005, we were eating sushi together. but did i introduce myself to dooce? no. i chickened out.

i was standing there, totally psyching myself up for an embarrassing rambling gush-fest, and then it all sort of reminded me of the only other time in my life i waited anxiously to talk to a real. live. star. i was six or seven and wearing a bathing suit, swimming at our town's hotel pool, when i caught sight of liberace. i ran as fast as my soaked, pudgy little body could, and greeted him with my giant smile at the bottom of the stairs. he chucked me under my double chin, and said three words i'll never. ever. forget.

hello, little fella.

i didn't want to chance it.

joslyn? did you think i'd forget you? as if. i just don't have shiny enough words to tell you what an absolute and indisputable real friend you are. not a shocker, but you are my girl. and you are the neatest. person. evvvvv. vvvvver. that last part is not true, but my adoration for you is. the end.

a heartfelt thank-you to gabrielle of design mom fame for organizing alt summit. she and her family are king in my book. and by family, i also mean her and her. it was no surprise to me that this event turned out so well. it was organized by kirtsy. and if i've forgotten anyone i met and loved? remind me sweetly, will you? i raced to write this while esmé coated the house in pink glitter. not a bad thing, exactly...

photos not taken at alt. rather, all photos via heroines.

i'm back...

i'll be back here in a bit, ok? it's a crazy writing day ahead, but i wanted to tell you i missed you. xoxo. and yes...those are my business cards. mary ruffle made them for me.

do you know what i love about mary ruffle?

besides pretty much everything...

she loves photography. flat out loves photos and the brilliant eyes behind them. you wouldn't believe the links she shares with me while we chat during our days discussing the sweeterie and our shoppe. she's like my own personal curator, really.

i probably shouldn't get all proprietary huffy with you, should i? it's mary ruffle is available to us all.

but yesterday, she sent me a note about beth retro.

i lingered on her flickr for far too long. and finally left thinking feeling wistfully happy. wistful because i wish i could take pictures and collect them like mary does. and over-the-sun happy because she's the beauty behind t.ruffles.

by the way...t.ruffles on etsy is open again. would you like some cards? we made them just for you.

beth retro on flickr. she needs a shop, don't you think? xoxo. and p.s. I'M AT ALT RIGHT NOW! all caps. i must be giddy.

now open. say ahhhh...

a card set for your sweetest of sweets...

and one for your friends. real and imaginary.

our t.ruffles love to travel, but they're also looking forward to hanging out on your inspiration boards, fridges, and just above that last light switch you turn off at the end of your day.

because we believe wholeheartedly in t.ruffles before bed.

purchase our sweets for your sweetest set here. and the imaginary friend collection right here. xoxo, friends

dancing over at reverie today...

i learned all my best dance moves from dance party usa.

during my short-lived punk-ish stage, i copied all the disinterested kids who danced with excellent posture and dull eyes. this was extremely difficult to pull off with my huge smile that shows every single tooth i own.

then there was that awkward period when i threw down a style best described as naughty by nature. my apologies, treach.

these days, i dance in my kitchen. sort of like this. with pretty much exactly the same eyeliner...

three things.

one...where did you learn your moves? roman numeral two...will you please visit me on reverie daydream today? say yes. and c...aren't you in love with lily and the muse? i thought so. xoxo.

in a dreamy haze...

best. long. weekend. ever.

perfect little moments here and there, which is usually just enough. the girlies three were tucked by my side at precisely all the right times, and - poof! - disappeared to play without fighting at precisely all the rest of the right times. i like those girls very much.

and there was a dinner with a most charming uncle sugar and four of our most delightful friends and a pretty stellar tasting menu. i think i'm a little in love with tasting menus, are you? although i hadn't eaten all day and my stomach continued to growl until after the third of seven presentations, i quite liked the bite-sized pageantry of it all.

and these friends...let me just offer this: we should all have friends who are rooting for us as earnestly as we're rooting for them. it's a treat, for sure.

so. no dramas except for one. lillie wanted to peel potatoes while grae and uncle sugar were cooking. long story short - the kind of story that involves days of lillie begging off all things wet, like swim practice and showers. ick. - the tippy tip of her thumb is long gone. grae is still keeping an angry eye out for it.

uncle sugar sweetly told lill she's just like her mom, which my girl took as a compliment, never fully hearing the rest of his sentence..."so it's best if you stay out of the kitchen."

eh. what can i tell you? i lose interest after two ingredients, and sharp shiny objects distract me.

anyway. i hope your weekend was even better than mine. because i'd hate nothing more than if you had a bum few days and then had to hear all about family time and tasting menus and charming uncle sugars. which is why i added the part about the bloody thumb to spice it up a bit. just in case your long weekend lagged.

because...real friends or imaginary...i'm rooting for you just as hard as you're rooting for me. a treat, for sure.

ghostlings found via it's mary ruffle. i swear, her sight is a gold mine. do not visit unless you have a million minutes to dreamily follow her links.

there's just something about...

a mussy, totally disheveled workspace that thrills me.

add some photos of serge gainsbourg? a smoking serge gainsbourg in every possible sense? i'm all in.

a great quick read here. don't you love it when she says "our home is pretty civilized up to the third floor, and then it deteriorates." exactly. there are days when i call the girlies' rooms the stables.

hey. have an amazing weekend, ok? i'm rawther {reading eloise non-stop 'round these parts!} excited about ours. we're taking the girlies three skiing, made some fancy dinner reservations, and mary and i are working feverishly to re-open the t.ruffles shoppe. by the way, don't buy any cards 'til we do, ok? {except for richie's below, that is.} save room for a t.ruffle or two? say yes...

but i knew this already...

look at the card richie made for me.

and by me, i mean all of us. new in her shop right now. plus this one, which she definitely made for me. and by me...

i need a moment...

i've a few nagging drop-deadlines plus one botched print job at which i'll be staring this morning. maybe glaring is a more accurate word.

sorry. i'm a tad disgruntled. no sleep plus a tragic nightmare that wouldn't end.

now. i'm no stranger to nightmares. and i truly require very little sleep. neither issue causes this level of disgruntled.

but last night's neverending terror was...offensive is as close as i can get.

for some reason, i was working in a nail salon. actually, i was the only one working in that salon, so maybe i owned it? ok. a glimmer of hope. but i had to give someone a full-on pedi. i will not revisit my client's hygiene standards, except to tell you that if i called her a low-rent cow, you would not disagree. and not only did she leave without paying? i had three appointments scheduled after her.

{sob.}

art by kate macdowell. reminded of her first here, but just spent a lovely smattering of minutes on her sight. this one's called canary, which is what my husband calls me and what my dad once called me, too. gets me every time. even when i'm feeling like this. or when i'm giving a free pedi to feet like these. ahahaha. see? this is why everyone needs a space to write to nobody-everybody. my disgruntled is long gone. in large part because of you...my imaginary friends. thanks, you. xoxo.

flight...

are you a fighter or a flighter?

i'm sure it won't come as a huge surprise that, most times, i fly away. i am a notorious crow, after all.

haiti is gutting me right now. i woke up this morning and resisted the urge to to snatch up uncle sugar and my girlies three and fly us all to a remote beach. hot sun and chill waves required. no need for bikini tops. perhaps a partagás. serie no. 1. those sure do taste like chocolate...

you know what killed me? the quote that honestly stole my breath? a former senator, dr. louis-gerard gilles, said "the hospitals cannot handle all these victims. haiti needs to pray. we all need to pray together." that made me incredibly sad.

can you even imagine? when praying is your only viable option? the entire city in darkness. people running and crying. people just sitting in the streets. fight or flight? that choice would be an unimaginable luxury right about now.

off to see what we can do. photo from vi.sualize.us. xoxo.

here's what i liked, relyn...

so i told you i'm reading american gods. love it. love a myriad of things about it. but when i tripped through pages 394 and 395...i don't know...something. just. stuck.

a friend of mine always rewrites excellent writing. just to see how it feels...

"I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen - I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when i was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of casual chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it."

i could read this a thousand times, i think, and still feel a thousand fleeting bursts of some feeling that comes so fast i can't figure out which one it is. maybe it's faith. in myself, maybe. because i believe in pretty much everything, and this worries me. i look at someone like uncle sugar, who believes in very little. shockingly so, in fact. but the five or six things in which he does have faith? dead-certain. shockingly so.

it's one of my favorite things about him. when that guy believes, there's nothing like it in the world. you can trust it with all you've got. bet on it, pony up, double-down, shoot the moon, and take it to the bank. he is black or he is white, while i slide easily into silvery shadows.

i love this about me. but i hate it, too. i'd love nothing more than to be more certain. less precarious.

the best sort of writing, for me, is the kind that makes you hope for more or different or better or makes you simply wish to change. this made me want to start a list of my own. a list of my own beliefs, which will end up certainly uncertain. i'm certain. i'll share it with you if there's anything to share. promise.

could you write a list like this? sure and unsure and golden and as true as you know it? tell me if you have a minute, will you?

that's all, i think. plus lisa solberg's work. my favorite paintings are from set one. the second one, titled snow in the white, reminds me in the most brilliant ways possible of van gogh, don't you think? ok. xoxo. and have a sweet day.

pants on fire...

i overheard esmé describing her new tumbling class to her sisters...

there were clowns and they popped balloons and then monkeys came and shot off some guns. and there were rocket ships. i had a staring contest with a wickle cat. i was scared at first, but then i liked it.

did she think that would make them jealous?

very much digging this shop called bona drag. stumbled on it while hunting down my dream harness. look at this one, will you? i will own one by summer. this is not a resolution. just a tiny hope. oh! and this ring? swooning over its hidden personality. i think i'm drawn to things and people who hide part of their sparkle. does that make sense? eh. it's monday. xoxo.

sweet...

crushing on these pillowcases.

because i love unexpected reminders. not to mention those magnetic pulls, yes?

i love fridays, too.

something's wrong. i'm foggy, despite two double espressos. i'm also frozen, despite wearing a very cute tart dress over two layers of tees, leggings plus leg-warmers and arm-warmers, furry-ish boots, and one magic jersey scarf that also stars as my cover-up in the summer. {sob.} did someone say summer?! also. i believe i now understand the definition of squalor. how do people LIVE like this?! ok. arrêtte. i will be back when i thaw. xoxo.

pillowcases and more...like glasses and coffee cups...designed with love. right here.