Somebunny Loves Egg Shell Gardens

Happy Easter, everyone! Sorry I suck at coming up with cute, witty bunny rabbit puns. I hope you'll forgive me.

So yeah, it's Easter - which means lunch at Mama's and flowery dresses and still holding out for it to feel like Spring so I can start planting herbs and vegetables.

I've been seeing these eggshell gardens pop up all over the internet and I absolutely love them. They're so charming and a great way to repurpose something naturally.

I think I may give it a try if the weather can manage to consistently stay above 59 degrees.

xo.

Gap-Toothed and Gorgeous Are Synonymous

If you know me, you know that one of my distinguishing features is an itty bitty gap between my two front teeth. I was actually fairly lucky in school, in that I didn't know any assholes who were ignorant enough to ridicule me about it.

Thank goodness for that, too.

Because if not, I probably would've gotten it fixed with awful braces, instead of it essentially fixing itself the older I got. People asked me to all the time. But not surprisingly, I didn't listen and did what the hell I wanted. Braces be damned.

Now it's just a quirky little part of my face that I love. It's specific to me, part of my own visual diary.

And it would appear that I'm not the only one. Turns out that some of the most beautiful women in the world rock a gap. And way better than I do.

I feel like it's important to highlight the fact that perceived flaws can be a wonderful, beautiful, unique addition to a person. They should be celebrated and glorified.

It's worth noting too that in the 14th century, a gap in between your front teeth was symbolic of a sensual nature. The Wife of Bath had a gap. And in Africa, where a gap is considered to be a rare mark of supreme beauty, women who possess one are seen as wise.

So rock that gap girlfriend. It looks damn good on you.

Xo.

Oh, it should be noted that all of the gorgeous, strong, unique women above are models, one of whom has been bewitching the heart of Johnny Depp for like 15 years. The gap is ALWAYS in.

Monday, you bastard.

Reasons why Monday is being more of a bastard than usual today:

1. It's nearly April. And Spring. AND I live in the South. Please, Ken Cook, explain to me why the high today is 41 and it was snowing this afternoon.  
2. I rear-ended someone.

Cheers, guys.

the boy

It's grey outside. And misty. And chilly - the kind of weather that drives me inside and under blankets, armed with tea mugs and good books.

And because this is Georgia and Spring apparently doesn't come until May, I just finished a lovely little book called the boy by Lara Santoro. I read a review in Elle or Vogue or some place and to be honest, my expectations were kind of low. It's described as a story about a mother who feels trapped by her life and obligations and finds some fucked up sense of escape in her neighbor's twenty year old son. Most books like this are campy and propped up next to 50 Shades of Grey on the bookstore shelf - and don't even get me started on that shit show.

But I couldn't have been more wrong. While obviously the book's namesake plays a key role in the plot of the story, what propels the book forward is the main character Anna's relationship with her little daughter, Eva. That and the beautiful intricacy of Santoro's language:

"Summer carries with it both mutiny and slumber. The heat swallows hours, entire midsections of the day, but beneath all that, something always stirs, something always pulls, a kind of anarchy just below the skin, something to do with the body - what the body might want, what the body might get, should the heat hold."

Lara Santoro

It would be easy to hate Anna as a character. She's selfish and hedonistic, and those kind of flaws are painted neon when you have a child. She balks at Eva's constant, incessant, but innocent need, and she also simultaneously craves it. Her daughter dictates her life, and the boy (referred to by his name only like, 4 times throughout the whole book) is a vortex of want that distracts her from it.

Anna's a fully realized character, fucked up and bitter and an alcoholic. But there's an awareness in her that I relate to and empathize with. You want to follow her down this rabbit hole of bad decisions with a boy whose absence makes her feel "the first stirrings of melancholy...the cold crash of chemicals after a sudden spike."

I finished it in two days. It was the perfect companion to a cloudy day.

How do you guys battle the rain?

xo.

Feminism Tied with an Apron String

This post has gone through several different versions because I had to calm down enough to get it out in the right way. I always feel uncomfortable writing about political, divisive things. But if writing has taught me anything, it's that these things are the ones most worth saying. Or shouting. And in the light of the innumerable stories commodifying, undermining, persecuting, and harming women today, I've decided I need to say something.

This week, New York Magazine printed a piece titled "The Feminist Housewife: Can Women Have It All by Choosing to Stay Home?" It's basically the tale of career-women turned housewives, like Kelly Makino who's stories are but an example of the "legions" of women deciding to leave the workforce and go back home, lest their lives fall apart having been entrusted to the care of feeble, incompetent dads and caretakers. As a woman raised by a mother who worked and who nannys as a day job, I think I have certain qualifications that entitle me to these opinions.

Photo by Julie Blackmon for New York Magazine

Among other things, the article claims that women like Kelly are happy to give up their day jobs for the chance to completely oversee the the goings on in their household, to program their husband's clothing size in their iPhones so they can surprise and "spoil" them with new clothes and back rubs. But perhaps the most unsettling thing is the author's claim that all this fighting for equality, fighting traffic to get to work, fighting husbands over who stays home with sick or troubled children "is just too much." After all, "What if her husband works 80 hours a week and her kid is acting out at school, and she's sick of the perpetual disarray  in the closets and the endless battles over who's going to by the milk and oversee homework?" Well, obviously she should just give up any semblance of an outside life and continue fighting her husband instead of just asking for help and then walk around and claim that archaic gender roles are alive and well in the media and the suburbs. Obviously.

Ah, and this:
If feminism is not only about creating an equitable society but also a means to fulfillment for individual women, and if the rewards of working are insufficient and uncertain, while the tug of motherhood is inexorable, then a new calculus can take hold: For some women, the solution to resolving the long-running tensions between work and life is not more parent-friendly offices or savvier career moves but the full embrace of domesticity.

We go on to learn that this new league of extraordinary housewives is an epidemic most concentrated in affluent white communities. But in spouting statistics this like these: "The number of stay-at-home mothers rose incrementally between 2010 and 2011... While staying at home with children remains largely a privilege of the affluent (the largest number of America's SAHMs live in families with incomes of $100,000 or more), some of the biggest increases have been among younger mothers, ages 25 to 35, and those whose family incomes range from $75,000 to $100,000 a year," we are recreating the same culture that women suffered through and bucked against in 1965. By highlighting the fact being able to stay at home is a luxury afforded only to those of a certain color or income bracket, those women who DO work, because they have to or WANT to, are being set up to be stigmatized and vilified. Again. All why STILL having to come home and get dinner on the table and do a load of laundry before settling in to finish the work they brought home from the office that pays them 77 cents to their boss's dollar.

From Good Housekeeping

I was raised by a mother that worked. I was raised by a mother who also packed my lunch every day, checked my homework at night, and stayed up late to talk to me about my day. I never felt shorted or neglected because she chose to get up everyday and contribute, and I certainly didn't grow up to be some type of delinquent, due to a perceived lack of maternal guidance - contrary to the article's claim that "no amount of professional success could possibly console [a woman who felt] her two young children were not being looked after the right way" because she was at work.

I was also partially raised by two grandmothers - one who worked and one who didn't. BOTH of whom felt happy and fulfilled. And who successfully demonstrated to me that there are different ways to live as a woman and be happy.

Feminism isn't about how women choose to spend the hours between 9 and 5 everyday. It's about GETTING to choose, and not being persecuted for what you decide. All this piece did was perpetuate the notion that there's a specific mold women are inherently born into and if you do decide to be a "feminist" - whatever that word means these days - it means not only that you're seen as "militant" and "with a chip on the shoulder" (thanks Marissa Mayer, current Yahoo CEO who went on PBS saying she didn't want to label herself as a feminist because of its negative connotations) but also that you spend all of your time working AGAINST what you were apparently born to do. After all, according to Kelly, "girls play with dolls from childhood, so 'women are raised from the get-go to raise children successfully. When we are moms, we have a better toolbox."

That little semantic snack is really just saying that women shouldn't trust their husband/boyfriends/partners with the duties of the home because they're of course incompetent and useless in the field of child-rearing and therefore shouldn't bother with it at all. After all, boys didn't grow up playing with dolls. Well if they didn't, it's because they were probably told by scared, conservative fathers that boys who played with dolls were wusses and would obviously grow up to be gay and that's ohmygod the worst thing that could ever happen. Learning such things as empathy and kindness and taking care of others has no place when it comes to raising a boy.

Jesus.

Guys. ALL THAT DOES IS ALLOW MEN TO ABDICATE DOMESTIC RESPONSIBILITIES. Men are not incapable of taking care of kids or fixing meals or making cookies for the PTA. They're just taught that they are and therefore deem themselves unfit for that type of activity. For every woman vilified in the workplace, there's a stay at home dad making macaroni art who's the laughing stock of his golf buddies. And that's the whole fucking problem. Mindsets like those belonging to Patricia Ireland, also mentioned in the article, who believes that her husband's job should simply be "[going] to work and [depositing] his paycheck in the joint account." These are whole fucking problem. If I were a smart man, I'd be pissed off and insulted, not self-righteous and grateful that I don't have to do much more than take out the trash. Maybe if we started EXPECTING men to help and making them feel like they are actually good at it, we wouldn't be so scared to leave home.

There should be no parameters on what men and women are fit to do. Especially in terms of running a household or a business. There should be no difference in the price tag on their efforts either. Neither a woman staying home or a woman going to work should be newsworthy. They should be seen as everyday choices that are as accepted and generic as what brand of wipes to buy.

Articles like this line up one type of woman against another in a battle over who is the better woman. And if feminism is "fizzling," as the author so eloquently put it, that's why. Women are throwing their hands up in the air because they feel like no matter what, they loose. And that's not a culture I'd want to raise a daughter or a son in. If and when I decide to have children, they will be raised with the notion that they can BOTH do whatever they want with their lives. They can stay home, work, be gay, be straight, be doctors, be teachers, be scientists, be pissed off, be aggressive and ambitious. Be kind and empathetic. They can be all of these things with no regards to their gender. And hopefully they won't have to read articles like this one - that are limiting, divisive, and short-sighted.

But it's going to take a lot more than bitching on a blog to ensure that happens.

/endrant

xo.

OH! And if you want something a little less rage-inducing on the topic, this is a much better read:
The Impossible Juggling Act: Motherhood and Work on NPR

Saturdays are for...(on a Sunday)

farmer's marketing, car washing, sun-roof open, windows-down cruising, puppy loving, and French dessert eating.

Yesterday was one of those days that just kind of floats on effortlessly. The kind where you don't really pay attention to what time it is because you're so throughly enjoying everything that you're doing.

Instead of writing it all out, I actually documented much of yesterdays happenin's on my super advanced camera phone and I figured I'd just share 'em all here.

Hope everyone's having a groovy weekend!

Pictured above: Axl Rose head scarf, little bit'a Georgia grown, lemon tarts like sunshine, quick view from the sun roof, and the best little car washer I ever did see. Perfect Saturday.

xo lovers.

Music Monday

Is everyone in love with Zooey Deschanel? Because they should be. And not just because New Girl is absolutely hilarious and she can make her eyes look perfectly round.

Everyone should also be in love with her because when she and M. Ward get together and decide to make a song, the universe - at least for 4 minutes - decides to right itself and send down positive vibes whose sole purpose are inspiring beautiful, melodic, nostalgic music.

Thankfully, that's happened. And the result is a new album from She & Him, titled creatively Volume 3.

Take a listen at the first single here. There isn't much about it that's surprising, but for the people that love them, like me, that's not a bad thing. So go throw on an A-line dress or some Oxfords and enjoy.

Sweet dreams.

xo.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with Kate Bosworth's editorial in the March issue of Elle magazine.

Do you guys remember Kate Bosworth? I've gotta be honest, after that whole Blue Crush thing and her being a liiiittle bit of a racist be-yotch in Remember the Titans, I had kind of completely forgotten about her.

But when I saw the editorial she did in this month's Elle, I was completely smitten. She's channeling Joni Mitchell if Joni Mitchell had been best friends with Brigitte Bardot in 18th century France. Forgive my possibly incorrect historical reference, but she looks so, so beautiful. There's something wistful about the way she's wearing the clothes. And it looks like she was just absent-mindedly caught in couture in her bedroom. The luxury of it all was an afterthought.

It's perfection.

One day, my bed and my hair and my clothes will look like this. And it will be awesome. Also, if you're into that sorta thing, go pick up this month's copy of Elle. Aside from stunning editorials, the essays this month are pretty incredible. Nice little snack for your brain :)

Happy Friday, loves. And HAPPY WOMAN'S DAY :)

xo.

Images courtesy of Zulema Fashions and Google Images

Women I Wish I Could've Been Friends With - Joan Didion Edition

I guess I should say women I wish I could be friends with considering Ms. Didion is still alive. But I'm not counting on being able to call her up and ask her to brunch anytime soon.

That being said, when I consider who I want to model my writing life after, Joan Didion has always been one of the first people to come to mind.

Back in the 60's, when most women were cinching their waists and marveling at the concept of microwaveable dinners, Joan Didion was traveling and writing and recording the world as she saw it. The essays she wrote became a commentary on an entire culture and she is respected as one of the most successful, poignant, personal writers of literary journalism of our time.

I've always felt a kind of kindred spirit in her. Not simply because she writes non-fiction, but also because of why she writes. In her essay, "On Keeping a Notebook," Didion said "keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss." And so it is. She writes, and I write, in a vain attempt to hold onto everything. To preserve the things we can't touch and save. Something about her work gave me permission to want to write something other than a novel. Because real people and real moments, those are stories too.

After my dad died, I kept subconsciously looking for someone or something that would make me feel like I was not the only person in the entire world who had ever been swallowed whole by grief. Obviously I wasn't, but everything I read, everyone I talked to who said "I'm so sorry for your loss" never even began to touch on the depth of that type of sadness. It was so isolating - a fact that actually compounded the pain. Not only did no one know how I felt, but after about 3 weeks or so, people generally tended to expect me to be fine. Pick myself up, go back to work, make dinner, take a shower, take movies back to Redbox on time. It was an unspoken statue of limitations on expressing the fact that I was still so fucking sad. If I was going to cry, I needed to take that shit back inside and shut the door. It was time to be okay now.

But I wasn't. And honestly, I'm still not.



It wasn't until a few months ago when I read The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion's memoir written after the death of her husband and right before the death of her daughter that I FINALLY felt like maybe there was someone else out there that got it. Her book offered no apologies or condolences. There were no images of the typical grieving widow. Instead, Didion offered up tiny, poignant details that I immediately understood and identified with.

In reading it, I was suddenly in the middle of a conversation with someone who knew. Who knew the dangers of driving down the wrong road, of looking at a piece of handwriting, or being aware of just the right time of day, lest the suffocating grief decide to show up and buckle your knees in the middle of a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon.

That knowing has made the pain substantially less. And it's not the first time in my life that stories have saved me.

Joan with her husband and daughter for Vogue magazine

That's the power of effective writing. The power of telling a story. It's the ability to connect with people, across time and distance and experience. I will never know her, but she helped me to navigate some of the most profound pain of my life. She also gifted me a picture of a decade I'll never know, but feel like I do, because of work like hers.

They say that the universe is made of stories, not atoms. And I believe that.

It's what I've learned from reading her work, over and over again. And what I hope to give to other people so long as I don't develop debilitating carpal tunnel.

xo.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with themed parties.

And lucky for me, I have friends that like to throw them.

Tonight, I'll be attending the Tarantino Throwdown - successor to Pajama Jam 2013. And obviously, the idea is to dress like a character from the amazing Tarantino oeuvre.

I have chosen the often referenced Mia Wallace as my costume and thought I'd share some of my inspiration with you guys.

(I wish I had the time to pull something off from Death Proof or Planet Terror, or maybe even locate some type of yellow racing unitard and a sword, but these are tough times, my friends. And a girl's gotta get creative on a budget.)

I hope you guys have a fantastic weekend, full of awesome, violent movies, good friends, maybe a couple beers, and jammin' dance moves.

I'd leave out the cocaine and OD-ing though, but that's just personal preference.

Happy Friday!

xo.

all images found via Google Image Search