103 day 88

remember back in the day when fridays were saved for "fish frys" and what not? 

no? doesn't matter. 

it's friday. these are crab cakes (from whole foods). and i'm baking them.

.102 day 87

have some a coke and a smile.

  

.101 day 86

i'm in love with her. i still kiss each each toe and eyelid and tips of nose and fingers. lie down beside her and sniff (she smells like baby and bliss and a day worth of powder and play) when she's sleeping. wonders if she knows just how ridiculously loved she is. i adore her. watching every teeny tiny thing about her when she's playing, i study her. the intense way she decides just where to place random toys around the room, palm on chin, forehead scrunched (she's such a silly and serious soul). i light when she discovers something new that  she can do, like push chairs up to dressers, tables, desks, to explore new worlds she couldn't reach before. or when her squeals fill the space we share anytime she sees familiar things from her growing mind. cat. dog. plane. horsey. bus. the letters, A, B, C, E, T, A, B, R, S, K and Y (11 out of 26 ain't bad at all). The colors green and red. her favorite phrases "oh nooo" (future thespian, perhaps?), "ewww, that's nasteee" (to anything wet, slimy or otherwise) and of course, good ol' fashion "moooomeeee" (yes, yes, YES to whatever she wants!). she's mischievous...and brilliant...and quirky...and fiercely independent in her desires. my amazing little aquarius. a beautifully strange, soul. i'm her biggest fan. and i reckon, that will always be so... 

.100 day 85

today was quiet. gloomy, almost. waiting for snow while growing bored with the rain. walking around the house shooting random things in random rooms...

upstairs hallway light fixture

chair from breakfast nook

living room lamp. i shot this before with natural lighting and broader range.

.099 day 84

i've kept a diary since 8th grade. filled with pain and prose and promise, they are an awkward glimpse into the lunacy of my legacy. daily dialect. they will be my daughter's history books. penned prayers. chaotic confirmation of all she questions. while pregnant, i wrote sporadically, leaving unknown gaps between each entry. after birth, i barely wrote at all. barely wrote at all until vulnerability spilled out the night before i said goodbye to my father (in this realm). 

my day 84 photo fell into place solely because my latest diary fell into view. scooping off floor, i ran fingers along the edge of ridged pages and worn tape. tape that symbolically shut out a part of my life i tried not to look back on. the last 5 years of my twenties. finding what works, shedding what doesn't. full of grown woman naivete and silly girl notions, secular secrets and nympho like remedies, thirty-something me cringes at the scribbled insanity of it all. 

but it isn't finished. and obsessive compulsive me has to finish it. but to do so, to continue telling the tales that brought me through the madness, i must un-tape the past...

.098 day 83

dinner with my family at pf chang china bistro.

i'm not impressed. not by the the huge and badly scalpted greek trojan horse that greets you before you enter, not by the imperial dynasty mural that lined the walls, not by my non-asian server with volley girl  giggles at inappropriate times and even less by the tasteless, "gourmet like" food that is served quicker than your neighborhood chinese store. not impressed by one little thing. the only thing that piqued my interest was these spaceship like saucers that hung from the ceiling and, perhaps, the wine display...but not because i wanted its picture. 

.097 day 82

when i was three years old, i received a gift that would last a lifetime. my twinkin. son of my aunt, my mother's sister, who died when he was just a baby. through fate, he ended up in my mother's care, and my cousin became my brother and as we grew, the closet of twinkins. shared birthdays, shared cakes, shared parties where family came together with gifts and love to wish 'the twins' wellness for their next year ahead. 

til' this day, it is our day. a special bond. inexplicable to foreigners, we share a entire history of births celebrated. we fight. sometimes viciously so. but, we love. hard enough to overshadow. living in separate states now, less birthdays are spent together. calling each other to wish mutual birthday blessings and changing profile pictures to matching tributes, meaning just as much. but this year he is home. 

ten months ago, i lost my father. last may, i nearly lost myself. so while nothing that we "planned" turned out the way we hoped, his presence was, both, needed and loved more than ever this year..."if you wanna make god laugh, make plans".   

my father bought this coat for my mother on a rare family outing. 

he took us thrifting at this uber funky vintage spot in west philly. 

khary, twinkin's best-friend, is also becoming a staple in our birthday shenanigans. 

the only thing i wanted (more than a full day mommy duty-free, which didn't happen)

was to get the poem my father wrote for me, on me, eternally. 

i chose french because it's the language i'm learning and the language i love.

"awww, come ooon, twins, just one toast before you go"

.096 day 81

he has no clue who 'ralph lauren' is, or that he loosely designed his glasses. no idea that the price his mother paid to replace his first expensive pair (that he lost) cost her a mere entire paycheck. no. he doesn't know any of this. but what he does know is that they make him look smarter and are possibly the very reason he has a 'girlfriend' now.

"aunt b...girls like smart guys with swagger. i've always been smart...but now...but now i think i have swag, too".

(jalen)

.095 day 80

driving in the city at night. full of wonder. full of light.

/sba 

.094 day 79

she was the first person i ever blew doja with. fourteen years old. perched at the height of a barren, chilly sliding board in an abandoned playground, she taught me the proper inhale/exhale protocol. she was a natural. soon i would be, too. felt groomed since childhood and watching my father tediously roll his "special cigarettes", my calm. cigarettes that smelled entirely different from the tobacco 'old man archie' rolled at the corner store. cigarettes that made him laugh loudly, scat to bebop and create delicious dishes for me to try. it wasn't until she began to "roll-up" did i even make the connection. my 'aha' moment. a smokey, green light bulb hanging above my head. and i suddenly felt like scatting, too.

i stopped by her house on my way back from the market. a semi - "pop-up" visit (i called from the driveway, as i'm also semi-respectful like that). and there she was. barefoot, and pretty toed, clad in black tights and tank top. stretched across her bed, a cigar box filled with doja by her side, she was more open than usual (never has she done this when my camera was near) and i relished the exposed energy. chided her about her use of 'wraps' (my father thought it disrespectful to the herb), she laughed. and when she clowned me about my overly cliché use of nag champa incense, i laughed. and somewhere within giggles and jokes and watching her roll her nightly therapy, i calmly captured the spaces in between. 

 v

.093 day 78

.092 day 77

.091 day 76

i used to date myself. pre-toots and motherhood, whole days were spent in solitary bliss. at least once a month, i pampered myself. spa. movies. dinner. dancing (if i felt fancy). people watching in random cafés. sunflower picking on south street. back when the flowers were bigger, brighter, fuller and deteriorating atmospheres not easily seen.

these days i  date toots. some days, dressed to the nines, just to make it all surreal. breakfast, lunch or dinner with deliciously healthy foods and the greatest of conversations. she makes me laugh til eyes water and cheeks hurt and engages me in the most profound conversations of baby banter spewed wisdom. 

vegan chik'n ceasar salad. $11.

watching toots tediously pick out all of the croutons with an exaggerated "ewww" as she places each on a napkin beside her? priceless.

.090 day 75

and this is what happens when two pseudo-intellectuals, creatively spawned souls meet, fall in love, grow a child, then separate.

.089 day 74

long day. the kind that seeps into bones and leaves knots on necks, backs and shoulder blades.

short night. the kind that makes two estranged friends, unite over telling truths, strong spirits and edible entrées.

.088 day 73

at my favorite spa laundromat again. 

(read why here)

the colors in here, both, excite and calm me all in one. toots thinks it's her personal playground. i think it's my personal spa. either way, it's the perfect way to convince myself i'm not doing chores at all.

today, she went around closing open machine doors and turning handles upwards, while i sat in a massage chair (an entire fifteen minutes + 3 since toots slide an extra dollar in there) day-dreaming of strong hands smoothing out tight places.  

i spoke to one of the owners. a brown skinned scorpio man with a peaceful voice and peaceful spirit. his eyes had vigor. his energy, refreshing. i smiled as he lit  up describing the vision and purpose of their venture. i saw it all, as he spoke, and the detail of this space, the positive vibes that radiates air and bounces off walls, that causes strangers to become friends the short time that they're there, made perfect sense. this is their child, a reflection of their combined beings, and it shows in beautifully settle ways. 

thus, i'm not surprised that, for the second time, my capture here rests largely on toots. an abstract play date: my child and their child get along rather well.  and anyone who knows me, knows all too well how color excites me. her eyes, those colors. i melt.

.087 day 72

renata cut my hair today. and now i'm bringing sexy back. 

check her out: www.rebornknots.com

editor's note: this is the hairstyle. taken on my cell phone.

.086 day 71

my teeny tiny aquarius, with a spirit bigger than the universe. she's been here before. and now, she's here again.

.085 day 70

i love going to the mechanics. minus the car problems that carry me there, the people i meet are invaluable. this guy is a mechanic. name tag read "edward" but he answered to "doo-doo". first generation haitian with timeless eyes and creamy dark skin. i thought him beautiful. told him that i liked his face and asked him could i 'please, oh, please' take just a small piece of him home with me. he smiled. i warmed. "dirty pun not withstanding", i blushed. and then he uttered, in the thickest, sweetest, softest accent ever, "of course you, can, my lady"..and i think i fell in love for a whole 7 minutes.  

.084 day 69

faces. 

i just met them 10 minutes before these photos, so there's no story here. i like her freckles and the littles is a sagittarius. 

the end.