July 09, 2007
SPC: air
I could take this week seriously and try to choreograph a self portrait for the element "air," or I could just dig something up from yesterday's photovault and call it a day. Which is just what I have done, because it has been just that kind of day, so far. I wonder what everyone else has been submitting for the "Earth, Air/Wind and Fire" challenge...
(more SPC.
Posted by Steph at 01:19 AM | Comments (2)
May 16, 2007
SPC: week 2 of street photography
We are chomping through granny smiths at Moss Beach, watching the tide slip back over the reef, watching a school group return to their bus up the hill. I ask Ford if he is excited about starting school in the fall. He is. But he hesitates, then continues that he is going to miss coming to the beach as often as we do.
Then I start to daydream about having a boat in Santa Cruz for the weekends, a swaying slumberpad, beach hub, newhaven.
More SPC.
Posted by Steph at 07:35 AM | Comments (2)
May 02, 2007
SPC: street photography week 1
A Saturday afternoon and we're walking through the sweaty corridor of Haight street in San Francisco. We are passing a man who wants money for weed. I smell nothing but incense and urine and pizza and sweat, and I wonder if Haight will ever grow up out of its Tibetan-American phase, whether Chas will ever grow out of his nipple fascination.
No, and probably not.
See more street photography at SPC.
Posted by Steph at 08:51 AM | Comments (7)
April 05, 2007
SPC: body parts challenge, week 1
The osmotic veil between us is sometimes so imperceptibly thin,
that it seems to me a nod to maternal reflex and the power of biology to connect human souls.
You can see more body parts at SPC.
Posted by Steph at 03:34 AM | Comments (1)
April 01, 2007
SPC: final week of flickrtools
museumr tool.
It's been a fun month at SPC.
Posted by Steph at 06:36 AM | Comments (2)
March 21, 2007
SPC: Flickr tools #3
More fun with the Flickr tools.
The Warholizer tool.
More SPC.
Posted by Steph at 11:00 PM | Comments (1)
March 13, 2007
SPC: Flickr tools #2
With little difference to the stiff neck I felt yesterday morning, I drove the kids down to the beach. All the elation that nearly winded me on the drive down to Half Moon Bay fizzled once I started lifting Chas out of deep tide pools and stretching to capture fossils embedded in the rocks. I remember the swirling panorama of beached seals and hungry surf, thinking, This is a very bad place to be with a stiff neck and two exploring preschoolers.
So I let both of the kids clamber their way back to the beach on their own (Chas is getting surprisingly nimble) and then rested in the tent while they bouldered and threw rocks at the incoming tide. This overexposed shot is taken from my little infirmary. I like the way it captures the heat, unforgiving light and pain (although I might be the only one to look at this picture and feel it). It also has a nice retro tint. What's your impression? I'm obliged to use these flickr tools for SPC's current challenge but I'm not sure I'd use these tools in my own. It lacks authenticity. Not sure I like that, although it has a home somewhere.
My advice to anyone waking up in the morning with a stiff neck is to traction yourself to a board for the rest of the day and hook yourself up to an IV and catheter. Don't drive a long, winding road to the beach, set up a tent, wrangle children across the rocks at low tide and then press reverse. That was a recipe for disaster. Damon says it wouldn't matter; that the muscle would spaz no matter what.
I wonder if he's right.
If you want to learn more about online photoediting tools , check out a gallery exhibiting some at SPC.
Posted by Steph at 07:32 PM | Comments (0)
March 06, 2007
SPC: Flickr tools
Ambient temperature outside. The screen door flapping continuously as I chase the kids chase the dogs chase the kids chase me around the house. I'm preoccupied with the tide of afterschool traffic whirring past our driveway, and the kids, puddingfaced and disheveled, monkeying around for the caravan of SUVs, all with their windows down, cheering them back. Where's the dog? Where's your bowl of chocolate pudding? Where's Chas?
This is a shot we took during a ticklefest intermission, all on the sofa in our living room. I uploaded the image to a Hockneyizer Flickrtool website.
For the current challenge atSPC
Posted by Steph at 03:05 PM | Comments (1)
February 27, 2007
SPC: Black & White
Before the furniture arrived, there was a skateboard in an empty living room and me, in my adjacent studio, acting really silly.
Posted by Steph at 11:35 PM | Comments (3)
August 02, 2006
SPC: Enclosed Spaces: Living the RVida Loca
When Ford was about six months old, and we were weary of living in a hotel in Connecticut, we slung our money into an Airstream trailer. If not just as an escape, we bought it so we could toodle around the East Coast for a while. We trailered it with a converted stepvan that had a wireless satallite atop the hood, which served as Damon's workspace, and I'd follow the trailer around New England in our family car, birddogging through the convoluted Boston construction, around granite cliffs in Maine, along quaint historical neighborhood streets. I loved every part of the journey, even the perpetually damp and confining bathroom that served our family of three and any visiting guests.
During the days that Damon worked at the brick office in Middleton, Connecticut, Ford and I spent our mornings and afternoons at the beach. I'd jog along the trail, he'd fall asleep under the billowing mosquito net ofthe jogger, and when he awoke we'd hang out on the beach itself. He learned to crawl on the sands of Hammonassett State Park. I'd put gossamer ctenophores in his hand, and they'd glisten little rainbow hairs as they slipped through his fat fingers. He'd wave his hands through the floating garden of red and green algae, slick translucent stained glass that looked entirely edible. He'd put rocks in his mouth, I'd sweep them out.
During the middle of the day, when it was too hot to be outside, we'd be confined to the trailer. And this was all good and actually lovely when he took his afternoon nap. I would steam up a latte and write or read. But when he was restless, we went a little stir crazy in the 22 foot trailer.
In this photo, Damon caught us decompressing against the screen door one hot afternoon, when we were too chicken to leave our three-odd square feet of cold air-conditioning and head to the beach.
Last May, we downsized and sold the trailer where Ford spent most of his first year. I miss it dearly, but what's shocking is that Ford misses it, too. The other day I asked him,
"What do you miss about the Airstream?"
"The stickers in the windows. And the bed with all the windows around it."
I miss the bed, too. I miss the encapsulation of our family within a small space, streamlining our experience and always having home to return to at the end of a bust day exploring some foreign place. That's why I dream of a sailboat, of taking the kids for a year or so around the world, when they're old enough not to need a "time out dinghy" or a line of drying cloth diapers hanging from the mast.
See more enclosures at SPC.
Posted by Steph at 04:24 AM | Comments (12)
July 25, 2006
SPC: Me As A...Farmer
No time. Gotta run. More SPC. More later.
Posted by Steph at 08:38 PM | Comments (10)
July 12, 2006
SPC: Me As... A Dental Student
Once upon a time, I used to be a dental student! I did, I really did. I was so proud of myself: I had this great routine where I never had to figure out what I'd wear the next day, because I owned an endless supply of antique green surgical scrubs. And they were SO comfortable, like a pair of pajamas, that I often found myself sleeping in them with my books lying across my chest, the booklight still beaming down on me, my glasses resting on the arm of the sofa. At three in the morning, I'd have to turn on The Weather Channel just to have a chatty person to keep me company while I pored over flow charts and glossy Netter illustrations of nasal conchae, nerves, shiny pink mounds of taste buds.
On the first day of class, I sat in the front row, careful not to miss a detail. But with every day came another quiz or exam, so in no time I migrated towards the back of the classroom, where I was able to efficiently gather notes and vent stress by making fun of geeky professors along with the other juvenile students in my class. I could rest my feet on the back of the chair in front of me without being noticed, and eat the rest of my egg McMuffin and orange juice, or study for the next exam.
In gross anatomy, we were assigned a woman in her mid-seventies. Her lungs were matte and moldy black from years of smoking. Her withered terrain made me sad and her cross-section was so yellow with fat that I couldn't eat enchiladas for the entire year. For weeks I tried masking the smell of formaldehyde with Vicks Vap-O-Rub, but it left my nose chilled and my chest filled with a heavy ghost of tank juice (which is what I called the bath). By the end of the year I'd resigned to the smell of gross lab, because there was little time to fret over odors during finals.
In this hilarious and surreal picture above you see me posing, as if I were about to grind the surface of a tooth down with a huge burr. We were clowning around that day and I think this was a halfass attempt to be amusing. I look possessed. What do you think?
When I transferred to California (University of the Pacific) during my second year, I suddenly felt at a crossroads where dental school, and all the rigidity it imposed on me, represented a dead-end road. So, to sum up an emotional month or two that followed: I quit. And I haven't looked back.
...But I would like to know where I put all those probes and scraping tools, because they'd come in handy right now with the encaustic painting!
Enjoy more Self Portrait Challenge.
Posted by Steph at 05:08 AM | Comments (13)
June 27, 2006
SPC: Pop Art: week 4
Watching soccer on five plasma screen tvs at the same time. Drinking beer and eating fries with mayo (indeed) under the misting fans. There's the modern dining experience. More SPC.
Posted by Steph at 10:17 PM | Comments (12)
June 20, 2006
SPC: Pop Art: week 3
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I'm supposed to write something about this photograph, according to the Self Portrait Challenge rules. Well, screw that. I don't have a thing to say about this photograph. I just like it. So there. |
Posted by Steph at 11:58 PM | Comments (7)
June 06, 2006
SPC: Pop Art: week 1
Summer is saturated with mass-production. The sun destroys anything left outside. So after lingering twilight, chasing fireflies and each other around the flowerbeds, toys stay outside night and day. Our home has stretched out onto the lawn. Plastic toys will only last a few months in this climate.
This is an inflatable swimming pool that I bought last summer. I also bagged sand toys, beach balls and a Slip and Slide, but these have all been shuffled into the other toys, buried in sand and punctured by piercing UVrays. This pool has lasted longer than I imagined, knowing when I bought it that it would destruct by Fall, like summer plastic tends to do.
It's beginning to get a fair amount of use, now that we're baking our way towards the double digits. And every day we drain it, like I'm doing (with Ford) in the photo above. I don't have time for stylized puns on Pop art. Take this as a nod to mass production. We like it. Well, maybe not, but it's convenient and cheap and beautiful when you're short on cash. And who isn't, when you majored in Industrial Design in school?
And you can see more Pop art self portraits here.
Speaking of mass-produced: balloons. They are in high demand at our home. Chas loves them. We can drive by Blockbuster (our fallback now that all of our Netflix movies have gone awol) and Chas will scream for boobahs. BOOBAH!!?!? BOOBAH?! BOOBAHH?! like some heroin addict. JUST! ONE! FIX!!!
We brought home two of the Blockbuster balloons with us on Friday, and Ford picked one up to practice the properties of static electricity.
So he rubbbbbbed the balloon on his nappy hair a minute and then I watched him hold the balloon over a small mount of sugar. The sugar flitted excitedly on the table. "A sugarstorm, mom!" He passed the balloon over a pile of punched paper holes: "Dancing dots, mom!" and then he passed the balloon over an ant trail in the kitchen: "Mom! Check it OUT!" And, sure enough, the ants were flicking up onto the balloon. Can you see them? They're tiny pharoah ants (otherwise known as 'Piss Ants' by my father in-law, the entomologist). Science is so funny.
Posted by Steph at 06:57 AM | Comments (4)
May 24, 2006
SPC: Introduction #2: How I Operate
While it's true that I prefer to stand in the wings and allow my children the limelight, there are a couple of hours each day that I reserve solely for myself. I'm completely selfish with this time. It's my workout time, maintenance time, and I tend to either drop them off at a sitter or ignore them (...as I trot around the hood with them in the jogger--relax!) . Lately, I drop them off with the fitness club child care; I can no longer ignore them and jog around the neighborhood while they drift asleep. They're too excited about the universe at this age, full of questions and their own ideas. Bridling this kind of vitality kind of quenches my own, and I hate myself for dragging them into my sphere (but occasionally I still try).
When one of the kids is sick, as they were a few weeks ago, the machinery jams and I have to get creative. Fortunately, I have friends (hi Polly!) who can watch the kids when I need to go to the gym. Sometimes, I may do pilates at midnight on the living room floor. When all else fails, I have to do yoga when the kids are home. And it usually ends with injury, no matter how hopefully it commences. Less than a minute after this photo was taken, I was in cobra pose when Chas climbed onto my back, sunk his fingers into my nose, pulled my head back and really pissed me off. I clutched my nose, seeing stars, and had to run into the kitchen so the blood percolating from my nose wouldn't drip onto the Bella rug.
Posted by Steph at 05:54 AM | Comments (3)
May 16, 2006
SPC: Introduction
I'm happiest when my children occupy the stage. Right now I'm enjoying myself in the wings, and this photograph captures my sentiments perfectly.
Posted by Steph at 03:58 PM | Comments (13)
March 23, 2006
SPT: time :week 3
We left the house on Sunday at noon.
The fog loafed through the canyon without much hurry,
and in our own haste I thought breathlessly about 101,
driving into town just before the tunnel above sausalito,
before hitting the traffic awaiting the Golden Gate bridge,
around 5 o'clock.
I was sad for a while after that, missing the eucalyptus,
thinking of how ridiculous is was that we had to move away from that place,
where Ford was born and where I enjoyed salty air in my lungs
simply because housing was too expensive.
The thought was fleeting, though, because the quality of life is good here.
And I like the smell of juniper about equally.
Around midafternoon we ran into thicker rain, to explain the mounting traffic.
When we arrived in DFW, cars were swimming in feeder lanes,
and flashing lights from towtrucks, fire trucks and squad cars reflected in the flood.
The following day, we spent much of out time in the car.
Why? Because I forgot how big DFW really is. In fact, we lived out of the car,
collecting disposable stuff and growing stinky.
Chas would go to bed later that night exuding that patented
deep-fried Twinky chimichanga funk, still in his day shirt, but too tired from
a fatty dinner to take a simple bath. Which is okay, because we were tired, too.
Damon had two exhausting days of training. A difficult thing for an introvert.
On the way home, I picked up my needles
and a skein of Peruvian kettle-dyed wool.
I smiled as we passed Willie's Bio Diesel truck stop, in the middle of nowhere,
happily having left that muddled maze of people-clutter behind us.
While the kids were awake the ENTIRE trip back to Austin,
Chas occasionally would point to my needles and frown, reminding me to be careful,
by saying, "ow. ow. ow."
Posted by Steph at 04:08 PM | Comments (2)
March 15, 2006
SPT: time: week 2
Midday, as the sun passed over us:
Chas dangled from my arms like a marionette,
complaining that I wouldn't let him swim.
I inadvertently pissed off the fish.
I think it was my shirt.
Ford asked me to retrieve a berry,
he later pelted me in the head with it.
I fed Chas avocado chunks, but he didn't eat much.
I worried that he isn't eating enough.
While Ford asked "which is faster, 'x' or a satallite?"
Where x = many, many, many different things:
jet planes, cars, space shuttle, rocket...
Posted by Steph at 10:41 AM | Comments (6)
March 08, 2006
SPT: Week 1: Time
In 2000, the experts told us it would take on average about one year to conceive, after throwing the pills in the trash. I googled (on Yahoo, at the time) "trying to conceive" and followed my nose to babycenter, which suggested the use of a basal thermometer to predict the time of ovulation. On the way home from Point Reyes, I stopped off at the Long's drugstore in Mill Valley and found a ten dollar basal thermometer on the bottom shelf. Smiling at the clerk, I stepped back out into the rain and into the world of possibility. I felt control and the hand of science on my shoulder.
Some mornings I awoke at six, to journal, and I'd forget to take my temperature until I was already comfortable on the sofa. Irritated, I'd drag myself back into the bedroom and wake Damon up with the tiny BEEP BEEP BEEPing. Then, I'd turn the corner, reach into the medicine cabinet, and pull out my chart. I'd have to squint my eyes to plot the coordinates.
Other mornings, I'd open my eyes to bright sunlight, staring at the ceiling with fatigue. The chart made its way to the bedside table, out of convenience, and the beeping and recording would commence. Those were dreamy mornings, before children, when the sun could rise up high in silence. When the scrub jays would wake me up, rasping among my zoo of potted geraniums, spilling over the balcony.
It only took one month, one spike. One night? Clockwork. Looking at Ford, as he sleeps with rosy red cheeks and a tangle of blonde curls beside me, I can't say I wish it had taken longer. But it was a year-long program, and we took the weekend workshop. It wasn't supposed to be this easy, and I, torn between pride and guilt, hysteria and fear, stood there staring at the pink line in the bathroom for ten minutes. The countertop was cluttered with tears and cosmetics, the pregnancy test commanding my focus. I looked up, smiling with red eyes and a wrinkled forehead, naked in every way, and carried the test to Damon. And the last thing I remember from that night was him, holding me and laughing, wondering why I was crying, running his fingers down his chin as he does when he's trying to make sense of someone else's imperfect logic. This time, however, with a hint of pride. We'd done good.
Posted by Steph at 12:24 PM | Comments (4)
March 01, 2006
SPT: all of me :week 4
Zilker park, public restrooms. Bad hair day. Blah. We're all pretty tired.
Posted by Steph at 06:36 AM | Comments (2)
February 21, 2006
SPT: All of Me :week 2
This is my vice. I remember trying to stop biting my nails when I was about eight. There was a small vial of Stops-It or No-Bite or something, which tastes bitter. It worked for a while, but long enough. Look at this! I can't believe people see me do this. Yet, whenever I have a dry cuticle, it has to GO, and the fastest way to remove it is to....bite at it?
I've just set a new goal for the year. I'm NOT going to walk around looking like this.
Posted by Steph at 08:22 PM | Comments (0)
February 15, 2006
SPT All of Me :week 2
One of those neverending, nagging summer days alone at home with the boys. I have a negative default response to stress that, over time, has begun to improve. It takes work for me to think positively. It's important to be positive for your children. They learn to cope by example. I'm unlearning, rewiring my brain.
See other real people here.
Posted by Steph at 04:12 AM | Comments (7)
January 24, 2006
SPT
When I was four.
I remember playing with my dad's Koh-I-Noor Rapidographs until the points broke off, and pulling bit after sticky bit off his gum erasers. But I never came across his crow quill pens. Where did he hide them, as a medical illustrator?
Ford, also four, loves to dig through and (accidentally) destroy my art supplies, crow quills included. He uses them as wands. I've found sewing machine pressure feet discarded on the floor after being used as rocketships, bobbins (previously used as Ty-fighters) under sofas. I never manage to keep it all concealed.
Posted by Steph at 07:45 AM | Comments (0)
January 10, 2006
SPT
Week 2 in Personal History series.
Is there a child that isn't immediately enchanted with her first visit to the beach?
I have this fantasy that I will live another life that I can completely devote to the study of echinoderms.
More SPT bloggers here.
Posted by Steph at 11:12 AM | Comments (8)
January 03, 2006
SPT Personal History Series #1
I have loved horses since I was four. Our vegetable garden backed up to a small pasture, and a paint named Skip Bug would stretch his neck over barbed wire to eat our corn. After school, there were days when I learned patience, by standing at the fence, waiting for the girl to finish riding practice; she would often let me ride atop Skip Bug as she walked him in circles, during his cool-down. My lofty perspective gave me certain power, and I felt great pride as I looked over the garden each time we passed, above the tall stalks of corn, with the sun setting behind our roof.
When I was in college, I took a job waiting tables so that I could buy a horse of my own. I learned what it means to own a horse. In the morning I'd drive in darkness to feed the horses, through patches of mist on the farm roads. The grain smelled like molasses and I would sit in the hay loft and finish homework, while listening to the soft munching below, interrupted occasionally by the hens, clucking about the stalls.
When we moved to California, Damon bought me my first dressage horse. From this horse I learned to fear injury and to prioritize my goals. He threw me one morning and I broke my pelvis, but I healed and I kept riding. Within a month, however, I was pregnant with Ford. So I went back to the basics of ownership, enjoying the simple things like sunny showers under the eucalyptus trees, and once again I practiced the art of letting go.
I have two saddles; one here at my parent's house in Houston and the other in our garage. They wait with me for the opportunity to ride again, meanwhile enjoying piggyback rides with the kids and basking in the sunny hope that it might indeed again happen.
More self portraits here.
Posted by Steph at 10:03 PM | Comments (2)
December 28, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
The Christmas buzz that had us sailing into hyper drive has slowed to a sobering halt, and the quietness in our house is chopped into pieces by the babble of children at play. Here I am, taking a picture of Chas, on the back porch, trying to open the back door. I stand here laughing from the dining room because he has smooching his nose up to the glass, making funny faces at me:
Unintentionally, I took a revealing self portrait today. It's me, the me that I see, the reflection of my children. I see my creativity in the toys I make for them, I see my attitudes in the way I dress them, my discipline in the way I may sometimes remember, but not always, to cut and comb their hair and brush their teeth. I see my self-esteem in the way I keep my house (dirty windows and all).
Perhaps my perspective is just as distorted as the self portrait; in the act of mothering my mind is sometimes so absorbed in the middle of every minute that I lose point of reference, and my closest point of navigation is my limbic tunnel, that impulsive, instinctive maze of motherhood. My rational mind is often in left field. In content imbalance, I'm satisfied. When I put things into greater perspective, I feel so fortunate. Left to calmly breathe and think in quiet, as I am doing now beside that little boy you see above, now in deep slumber, I tend to call upon the more rational part of myself and remember that it's all good, it's all part of the process. Breathe in, breathe out.
Other self portraits can be seen here.
Posted by Steph at 05:47 AM | Comments (0)
December 17, 2005
SPT: Reflected Surfaces Challenge
I keep forgetting about to the weekly Self Portrait group. Here's my contribution. So what if it's really Wednesday.
Some of the entries were amazing!
I don't know why I love this type of self portrait so much.
Two weeks ago, for fun, I took this photo. It's pretty half-assed, I know. And it's late, too!
I could take another shot; alas, the camera is charging and in five minutes my five minute window of opportunity will be gone.
Look familiar? Same glass door, this time in winter:
Posted by Steph at 08:41 AM | Comments (0)
November 09, 2005
SPT: Self-Documentary Series #6
I am his teacher.
From birth, I have helped translate the world to him.
And now, the world is not enough;
he wants me to explain the universe, and death, and subatomic particle behavior,
and my mind is getting tired and feeling ignorant.
I need someone to translate these things for me.
Posted by Steph at 08:44 AM | Comments (0)
November 01, 2005
SPT self-documentary series #5
Everyday me. The silly cornerstone of the meal.
It's all good. Sometimes, on the job, I dream.
Mostly about other things I could be doing,
not that I'd rather. Even when I really do feel like a pig on a spit.
Posted by Steph at 11:33 PM | Comments (2)
October 26, 2005
SPT, Self Documentary Series #4
My little corners, here and there.
Nobody but me would put Rosemary the pony in her own stable for the night, nor would they place Bird the fish next to the lava lamp during the night to stay a degree warmer:
Nobody would go to sleep at night without putting the lily pad sculpture back together again and tuck it aside, either. And here is the Christian coloring page that Damon gave me and that I laughed at on Sunday after we argued about the importance of the church to religion:
I enjoy feeling a tad more like gentry when I see these putters beside the entrance, along with my homemade cedar walking stick. Offset by a huge walking shoe collection (of which mine dominate):
These little green clogs are a gift from mom on a trip to Amsterdam a few years ago. Damon keeps accidentally throwing them away and I somehow manage to rescue them every time, my sixth sense (or what I call my Unwanted Clog Sense) kicks in. I prefer these to remain nested by the front door, even though nobody can currently fit into them.
The last photo is the wild card; the tabletop is a good reflection of my spirit tonight: slightly cluttered but creatively content. I am building a wild boar head for Ford with papier mache. This is for his Snifferator costume WARNING!!!! CREEPY!!!! But he insisted and I think it's way cool anyway.
Posted by Steph at 11:19 AM | Comments (0)
October 18, 2005
Self portrait tuesday - self documentary series #3
Working in the office.
Multitasking, usually involving children. Here, with Chas:
Working as he is headed towards the power strip:
Pause,
A moment of peace while I work:
Distracted:
I need to clean the upstairs. Wait! what was I working on?
How important is it, really?
Posted by Steph at 04:42 PM | Comments (3)
October 13, 2005
SPT, Self Documentary Series #2
Conversation at lunch.
Self Portrait Tuesday, Self Documentary Series #2
Posted by Steph at 01:26 PM | Comments (0)
October 05, 2005
SPT, Self Documentary Series #1
Ford is now in an afterschool program from 3-6pm. It was quiet today even with Chas whining in the background as I did mundane chores, but it was a deafening kind of quiet, and I felt a little out of balance as I putzed the hours away. I missed the din of his bubbly monologues and the nonstop questions, meanwhile wondering whether it's time I did something new to really make myself happy.
Posted by Steph at 10:02 AM | Comments (3)
September 27, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
A picture of Ford and I at a private beach in Rhode Island, summer of 2002. We had fun arranging and eating large round rocks. Aside from the cheesy Hallmark symbolism (you know, time slipping through our fingers yeah yeah yeah), I like this picture because if the Mork reference. Naa noo Naa noo, I wore jeans with rainbow suspenders in third grade. No, really, I did.
Ford officially turned four tonight at 8:11pm. Which means that tonight is also the fourth anniversary of Star Trek Enterprise. I am somewhat embarrassed to say I was actually watching the show's premier during active labor. How luxurious! compared to the Holy Visceral UnMedicated Shriekfest of Chas' birth.
Posted by Steph at 01:43 PM | Comments (0)
September 21, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
These colors work very well with pink construction paper. It is my new sketching combination. My hands are beginning to age.
Posted by Steph at 05:21 AM | Comments (0)
September 14, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
I drive to Houston every three months for a haircut; I only trust one person with my hair. One of the best features of the current do is that it holds up when tossed about and messed up, because it is usually tossed about and messed up. Actually this is not unlike how I feel currently.
Posted by Steph at 09:00 PM | Comments (0)
September 06, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
I've been blogged down for a couple of weeks, but tomorrow is a new day.
Posted by Steph at 07:16 PM | Comments (3)
August 16, 2005
pass the kleenex self portrait tuesday
Chas has evolved into this dense chunk of loveliness that stops my heart mid-beat; I have to remember to breathe. I don't know if it's the hobbit-baby hair, long strawberry blonde pouring over his ears and face, or if it's his huge top teeth set a mile apart from each other and opposing two tiny bottom teeth, or his cosmic blue eyes. Or if it's the Proof of God that I see as I watch him sleep, with leaden eyelids. But it's arresting, his presence. Of course, at other times I'm too distracted to sit in awe.
Posted by Steph at 06:15 PM | Comments (3)
August 09, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
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August 03, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
Negotiating a deal with upper management.
Posted by Steph at 04:13 AM | Comments (1)
July 26, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
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July 19, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
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July 13, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
Evidence that we, too, play dress-up; although, as I painted Ford's fingernails today (as per his explicit request, in the color orange no less) I realized he quite often cross-dresses. I think that's way cool. I'm down with the whole cross-dressing thing. I hope he never gets fussy about trying to look conventional. This orange scarf here? It makes a great,long head of hair when Ford pretends he's Violet (Incredible). He'll chase around the house, in pursuit of...Dash? muttering and repeating sharply, "I said shut UP!"
Posted by Steph at 11:39 AM | Comments (1)
July 05, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
Posted by Steph at 06:59 PM | Comments (0)
Self Portrait Tuesday
Posted by Steph at 06:59 PM | Comments (0)
June 29, 2005
Self Portrait Tuesday
The June heat in Austin makes everyone cranky midday.
Posted by Steph at 12:49 AM | Comments (2)
June 18, 2005
Da! Da! Da! Da! Da! Da! Da!
Here is One plus Two very good reasons to feel fortunate. Happy Father's Day.
Love, s
Posted by Steph at 12:37 AM | Comments (0)