i came. i saw. i ate all your cheese. photographer :: imaginary world traveler :: word guzzler :: coffee grinder :: night owl :: indie listener :: wisecracker. a little sarcastic, a tad comical...Sarcomical.
We walked by a few pet stores one day strolling around the West Village during our trip in October, and if one thing is true everywhere (no matter how much you detest them being in the place), it is this: walking past a puppy nose pressed against a window without stopping is nearly impossible. This fellow didn't look like he was in an especially sunny mood when we passed him, but as I turned around to snap a photo of the street scene behind us, I caught a moment that made me smile.
Last week driving back home from a trip I was compelled to pull over and take a photo of this overwhelmingly grand sky just before the colors disappeared. As I just prepared to post it, I realized that if I hadn't stopped for the couple of minutes to stand next to my car along a cornfield-adjacent highway, I would not have hit that cream kitty that jetted in front of me and only me on the very busy interstate an hour later one exit from my house (the first time I have ever hit an animal - EVER), and consequently would not have gone into a bizarre internal hysteria which made it necessary for me to hold my breath to stifle the heaving and sobbing over the next 10 minutes so I could see past my teary eyeballs and get home without wreaking MORE death and destruction and return to the four pets in my house, who had to put up with me successively crying into their furry heads after I came in, especially the cat who was brazenly laying on the kitchenette table staring straight at me damningly when I walked in.
I've finally been able to pick back up with a personal project I've wanted to undertake for a while now - photodocumenting the disadvantaged in Indianapolis and the surrounding areas and the vast (amazingly, surprisingly, and largely unnoticed by the wider population) mass of non-profit organizations that serve them. I am especially touched by the children in these circumstances, and though each time I visit a new place I have to overcome a flutter of fear of walking into an unknown environment and worrying I won't be able to do the situation justice with my images, this is something I am determined to follow through with, wherever it leads. The following are just a few images from my latest trip to an after-school program downtown; I'll post more of this story on my photo blog soon.
I myself have a complicated relationship with summertime. I love it; I always feel like I am coming a little bit more alive when the sun starts blazing and the flowers are exploding. On the other hand, of all the seasons, I always seem to come out of it with the sense that I completely missed it somehow. I wouldn't doubt this is something a lot of you share on some level; maybe it has to do with our childhood calendar, where summer was always this vast and endless expanse of fun and popsicles and chlorine.
About a week ago one of the little boys across the street asked if we could bring one of our dogs out to say hello. While Mr. Sarcomical took Ricky over to be the ambassador, I snuck a photo through our front door. I thought their body language and expressions were so cute. Kids in summer, WITH puppies...
It seems Mr. Sarcomical & I haven't had much luck so far this year of grabbing fully onto summer. We have yet to attend a festival or fair, have not taken a picnic anywhere, and haven't hiked, biked, picked or played. That's okay; I know we'll find a way to cram some of that in before it's all over. On the other hand, something we have managed to do that I love about warm days is people-watch and meander the sidewalks downtown.
We saw a few more of these pairs downtown that day, obviously on a photo scavenger hunt. Kind of fun, I thought.
We've only been to the Chatterbox a few times, but I love it. It's a super-tiny spot, just one row of tables, a bar, and barely enough room in front for the live (mostly jazz) artists performing there to pile in and play.
(...see Lucille Ball up there?)
I love murky summer night skies...
We're trying to plan some sort of outdoor adventure in the next couple of weekends, but in the meantime we'll go for long walks after dinner peeking into lit windows in the neighborhood and then cuddle into the couch together watching a bit of bad television...with this guy barreling his way between us, of course. (Ricky gets all the pooch press today, I suppose.)
"What, ith sthomething wrong with my fathce? Why are you stharing at me like that?"
We celebrated our anniversary of being married 11 years and dating about 14 1/2 downtown this year, and after a shockingly ravenous meal of multiple varieties of meats (scurried about via 'Meat Gauchos' carrying giant skewers of sizzling non-veggie-ness), at Brazilian Steakhouse Fogo de Chao, we paused to pretend with The Sexy. It was dangerous for all who passed by our radius. As you can clearly tell.
(More photos and awesomeness to come from the past few days...*including MY BIRTHDAY ahem ahem*. Oh, I assure you.)
The photo that went in our Christmas card this year...which A FEW of you will be getting in the mail SOMETIME this week. Let's just say we were a little...tardy.
I made this garland one night using construction paper, red file folders, a silver calligraphy marker, silver brads, a star-shaped stencil, tiny razor blade cutter, and a long silver fabric ribbon...all things I found in the house. (Which is very odd, considering I am not a "crafter" in any way...although I did try to do collage journaling for a while, maybe that's where some of it came from...?) It took about 3 hours. And yes, it was an insomnia night.
Lucy doesn't know how to hold her surprise chewy stick. But she reminds me of some cigar-waving wise guy..."Lishen heere, sheee, I'm gonna give you one more chance, sheee..."
I went super cheap this year with the tree, and liked it that way. Found red beads that hadn't been used for a few years and bought rolls of red raffia (for about $1.99 each - only used one), cut it into even lengths and tied each in a plain knot on random branches. They curled from being on the roll. So easy.
Ricky gets the urge to take a nap even from simply watching ME do work.
We have a trio of tiny trees so we can have something lit in the room we watch television in, where we put up a very small amount of our older or more favorite unique ornaments.
Shiloh, uhhh, needs a bath. Pomeranians are hard, yo. The hair. It just...keeps growing, and the undercoat, MY GOD the undercoat.
Even though the full amount of itchy rash that invaded my arms from the weeds I yanked out of the backyard in the middle of the night during a manic caffeine rush isn't fully visible here, suffice it to say that whenever my skin gets in direct contact with weeds or cut grass, I become a scratching machine. When I was younger, sometimes sitting in the grass while wearing shorts would cause an entire blanket of red pimply bumps to explode on my thighs and behind my knees. I know what you're thinking. Sexy.
For this week's 5-7-5 assignment, get creative about telling us something that YOU'RE allergic to or seem to have an otherwise strange reaction to. Yes, this has the potential to get a bit icky, I realize, especially if you do it well. But who ever said the Internet was always pretty? Maybe sometimes it's got a rash.
I'll get the ball rolling:
nature-hostage teen band camp wasn't bad enough my legs looked like braille
I started reading Mighty Girl at the beginning of my blogging here at Sarcomical, about three years ago. Through reading her clever observations about life and what she heard in conversations when she was out in public, I realized the importance of paying more attention to the little things going on around me, so I could use those bits and pieces to generate interesting blog material.
I must say, in person her sense of humor is just as clear and witty as it has been in her writing style. She was really very sweet, smart, and also? My God, her outfit was damn cute. The girl's rep for being great at putting things together is not an exaggeration.
So, the time came to talk to her at the table afterward, and Sarah (being shy, her words) and me (feeling inferior in the presence of Maggie's mind and very cute boots) both had to suck it up and just say hi, even though we felt as if we were quite stumbly during the conversation. I mean, what do you say, really? "Hi, we know who you are, and see that baby and husband of yours over there? We know them, too. And we really, really like your shopping site. And you're very awesome. I'm a fabulous blogger, by the way. No, really. And I am totally NOT phased by your internet stardom." NO. No, you do not say that. Instead, you find yourself saying things like "Thanks for coming!" and "The two of us met online!".
It felt very much like Brian Regan's act "You Too and Stuff", where he talks about that awkward feeling you get when you meet someone or are talking, and then for some reason you go and say something stupid like "Take Luck!", because your ability to string intelligent words together in certain social situations seems to vanish into thin air. Then all you are left with is blaahbitty.
(Seriously, make it to the end and you'll be rewarded. Grandly.)
Some Things I Love:
French accordion music.
Rubbing my puppies' ears. They're so soft. It soothes me.
Root beer floats, baby. The foamier, the better. Did you know there's an A&W Root Beer Stand/KFC (yes, that's a "slash KFC" because someone thinks chicken and root beer mix well) near our house? By the way, if you use Barq's instead of A&W you are a freedom-hating psycho who wants the terrorists to win because all Freedom Lovers drink A&W. Barq's sucks ass. Oh no. I've tripped my "Must Have a Float" wire inside my brain. Now I'm all obsessing. Shit.
Switching it up and using a bar soap every once in a while in the shower. Blast the shower gels and body washes! You can't get more Old World than bar soap, my little friend.
Alan Freaking Cumming. I know. I KNOW. Say what you will. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to agree with me. (I'm not sure I understand it, either.) But I think he can be seriously hot and I can't help it. Now, just move along down the list and leave me and Alan alone.
Some Things I Hate:
Being pissy with The Husband even when I don't really want to. But it's so easy! For instance: Him: Okay, so I'm going to go back to work now. Me: Yeah. Fine. Him: I'll call you later, okay? Me: WHAT. the hell EVER. Huh???
Dodo birds. Yeah, they're extinct. But they're ugly. So, BUH-BYE Dodo!
Coconut in chocolate. I hate the texture! It shouldn't be there!
When the puppy pukes cat shit all over the floor. Oh, I recognized the Puke Smile beforehand and rushed to pick him up. I grabbed. I ran. But I didn't make it. A trail resulted. I had a panic attack. (You do NOT understand how close I was to having a puked-up cat crap strewn about my body.) The Husband had to clean it up (naturally).
Some Things I Just Don't Get:
I only need to give you one today. It will satisfy all your needs. Trust me. This was just after the Ice Mountain guy dropped off our water and was driving away. Wait for it. Waaaiit for it. I don't know why he does this. If this doesn't make you laugh then YOU MUST BE DEAD. Be prepared. The cuteness and freakiness just might render you unconscious.
My neice turned 3 on Tuesday. We had a party for her this weekend. Basically...it was Dora-fest. Dora plates, Dora napkins, Dora cake, Dora gifts, Dora party bracelets, Dora movie-watching, Dora decorations, "Dora Pizza!" (which was the only way to get her convinced to eat lasagna), etc.
She's so cute, though.
This is my favorite picture from that day, because she took it herself.
The haiku this week? What was your most wished-for gift as a child?
I'll go first: who knows what comes out
light bulb baking at its best
I'm an animal snuggler, Lover of Words and raging introvert who others often confuse for an extrovert. I'm typically caffeinated as a rule, BE IT BY BEAN OR BY LEAF.
This is the year I'll be talking a lot about my journey to grow further as a photographer, artist, music addict, YOGISTA, writer, volunteer, life adventurer, ALMOST-VEGETARIAN, runner, book devourer, knee sock connoisseur and procreator (yes, after 13 years we're finally working on that one, and it may be a more twisty path than we anticipated).
I embrace my inner geek (see: obsession with finding the perfect pen, affection for NERD GLASSES) and accept my irrational fears (see: FEET, rug bugs, outer space). I figure they balance out my super cool musical tastes, good luck in parking lots and long legs.
*Wife to 1, fur mother to 4. Future parent to severely over-photographed children.
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Are you wondering where most of the past 5 years-worth of posts went? I kicked them out (just kidding -read here), but do not fret. I'll be putting up the very best Vintage Sarcomical posts regularly!