Looking my age.

Recently I was walking with a friend and a woman stopped us to ask where I had gotten the skirt I was wearing. I was almost embarrassed as I replied “twelve years ago at a goodwill in Atlanta, Georgia.”  The woman seemed disappointed, and my friend seemed a little surprised.   When I really thought about it the same was true for most of the stuff in my closet. Most of my things were purchased eons ago, when I was in college.  I  don’t shop for myself anymore, mostly because I don’t have extra money for clothes.  When I do have a little extra cash, I spend those pennies on my spawn instead (as it should be).  I went home, complained about it a little to my partner, looked in my closet, realized I didn’t wear most of the stuff in there anyway, and purged.  It felt really good.  I swear the universe has ears, because the day after I purged, I was given some super awesome clothes, from not one, or two, but three different friends. This includes the skirt I am wearing in this photo, a new vintage fave that reminds me so much of Alexander Girard’s art. Long live friends!

Photo: Seth





Foos & Me // Freelensed

We had a great weekend! Sleepovers, good weather, the springs!  Happy our home is one the kids & their friends like to spend time in, and grateful I get to spend my days with these people. These are things I need to better at remembering.

Photos: Seth



This weekend we piled everyone in the car, including the dog, and drove south to Sarasota, to see Grandma, Pepaw, and the gulf.  Seth and I snuck away for a date to the Selby Botanical Gardens, which were excellent and merit a second visit. The kids spent most of the time at the pool, where any trace of Foos’ paternal wasp roots were overcome by a conspiracy between the sun and her mother’s caribbean melanin. I loved it.  We took a backwoods way back home, which made me nervous.  For reasons I cannot explain, I feel ill at ease in America’s open spaces.  The barns and depressed towns don’t conjure up any feeling of nostalgia or even beauty, only of  mild panic and fear. Seeing a Trump sign for the first time displayed proudly on somebody’s lawn, didn’t make it any better. It may as well have said “I hate gays, women, and people of color.”  But we made it back to our nest safely, and I’m sure the only memories which will remain of the visit are of family and love.



Photos: Seth