January 3, 2004, Atlanta, Georgia/January 4, 2013, New York, New York
Although slightly belated, this post had to happen once I came across the picture on the left earlier tonight. That was taken at Abby‘s 21st birthday shindig at her parents’ house lo those many years ago. At right, we have a picture taken roughly three weeks ago up in New York at Abby’s 30th birthday bash. What a difference nine years makes, huh? (A camera flash that doesn’t wash us out helps too.)
BONUS: Check out what Abby instagrammed in honor of our 25 years together:
Hiram College, Hiram, Ohio, winter 1949
When my dad was born in 1949, my grandpa was finishing up his Ph.D. and teaching chemistry at Hiram College in Ohio. I guess these are the kinds of things you do with babies when you are an academic/amateur photographer? Awesome. (Please note the kitty patches on the knees of little Jimmy’s overalls.)
The camp/friend reunion over the weekend was super awesome (and super hot, even up in the mountains of Western NC). Here are a few pictures from the trip accompanied by one of my favorite quote/poem things that I read as a camper:
This is the land I love, these pine-clad hills
and ancient granite peaks, cloud-rimmed above.
There is a peace up high among these hills,
a solitude of soul, and God is nigh.
The valley down below may call to some;
but mountains beckon me, and I must go.
Yeah, it’s a little cheesy, but it holds up. Hope y’all had a beautiful weekend too. Bring on the mid-week holiday!
Cedar Mountain, North Carolina, summers ’96, ’99 and ’01
This weekend I’m going back to my summer camp for its 25th anniversary shindig. It’s been described in its brochure as a “natural science camp for gifted children” forever, but it’s easier just to call it a treehugger camp, because it is (or was, at least). Above, you see me there in my third and final year as a camper*, with my best friend Lindsay; in my first year as a CIT/professional dishwasher*, with one of my best camp friends Pardue (and our beloved industrial dishwashing machine); and in my final year as a staffer with my counselor Laura. Over the years I wore a lot of flannel, overalls, tie-dye and hemp jewelry, and I think I’ve got homemade dream catchers stashed in almost every drawer at mom and dad’s house. These were some of the best summers of my life.
(*Photos purloined from Pardue’s throwback Facebook album… mine aren’t handy in my apartment!)
DeBordieu Colony, Georgetown, SC, summer 1986 or 1987?
East Pond, Smithfield, Maine, summer 1989?
I’m posting late again, and since today (Wednesday) is the summer solstice, OTT is all about summer. Apparently back in the mid- to late ’80s, primary colors were all the rage for the season, whether you were beach people, like my family, or lake people, like Jon’s.
I’ve wanted to paint our bedroom for a long time, and this weekend we finally got to it. As it turned out, we inadvertently matched the paint to the cat:
Two weeks ago I had the first session of my second round of letterpress class at Atlanta Printmakers Studio. (You can read all about my initial adventures in letterpress printing here.) It’s the same idea as the first — letterpress basics — but I’ve got a different teacher and the studio has made some upgrades in the meantime. This is the kind of press I did most (all?) of my work on last time:
Our first printing assignment was to set our names in metal type and make some stationery. Easy peasy, right? I found a cool typeface to use (Twentieth Century Medium, 12 pt) and set it in the composing stick,
then I mixed a lovely grey,
inked up one of the Vandercook presses and locked up the form,
futzed with the registration and cranked out about 75 notecards.
I started running short on ink (somebody else had cleaned it up before I was finished), so I have a few duds in the pack, but on the whole it was a successful run. I feel way more comfortable with the Vandercook already. I’m not sure what my future projects will be, but I’m planning to try printing in multiple colors and/or with tight registration — and I definitely want to make some coasters. More on this to come!
As anybody who kills time on the internet surely knows, the trailer for the movie version of “Les Miserables” hit the web today. If I had a dollar for every giddy post I saw about it in my Facebook feed, I could have covered our delicious Chick-fil-A dinners tonight, plus milkshakes. (Hey, it’s something.) I dutifully watched it at my desk, and, well… here’s the thing. I have a confession to make:
I have never seen “Les Miserables.”
Yes, I was a music major in college; yes, I was a borderline theater nerd in high school (full-on choir nerd, for sure); yes, I consider myself a lover of musicals. And yet! Somehow I managed to completely miss “Les Miz.” I’m pretty sure this disqualifies me from being a true musical theater nerd. (My hetero lifemate, Abby, is perhaps the most committed of this kind. Anywhere she encounters satellite radio — rental cars, her mom’s car — she turns it to the Broadway station and doesn’t give anyone a choice about it. Thus I have yet to experience the joy of Pearl Jam Radio.)
There are, of course, such inescapable tunes as “On My Own,” (most memorably performed by Joey Potter), “Stars” and “Bring Him Home.” I’ve heard them, but I couldn’t even sing you one of them in its entirety. I think my older sister knows the show, which has me puzzled as to how I missed it when so much of what she was into trickled down to me. My theory is that I was stuck on “Cats” and the golden age of Disney Classics for the better part of my childhood.
All of this is to say that, while I will happily pick apart the vocal abilities of any and all actors involved, I don’t have any stake in or point of reference for the casting decisions, which I gather are and will continue to be a topic of hot debate. I may or may not go see the film; I’m indifferent. If we were talking about a movie remake of “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers,” though, I’d be all over it.
Carrier Dome, Syracuse, N.Y., May 13, 2007
Right around this time five years ago, we were “graduating” with our master’s degrees. (That’s in quotation marks because we still had about eight daunting weeks of work ahead of us in the form of writing and workshopping our capstone stories.) This photo, post-walk, was my way of determining whether my cap had left unsightly lines on my forehead, because Jon probably told me I looked totally normal and I didn’t believe him.
Yesterday the fine folks from Live Nation confirmed rumors that had been swirling for weeks on the internet: Pearl Jam will headline this year’s Music Midtown, a festival that happens to take place in Piedmont Park, oh, HALF A MILE FROM MY HOUSE. HOLY SHIT Y’ALL.
I’ve been joking about offering up our place to the band so they can stay for free and be close to the park, which of course makes me think of the Wayne’s World episode with Aerosmith and Tom Hanks as one of their roadies. A true classic! (Click on the photo to play the excellent video. Best part is around 2:00.)
The concert is September 22 (adding further support to my theory that 22 is a magic number for me, as previously noted here), and comes toward the end of a month that is already packed with awesome. I already know I’ll need to take the last weekend of the month to lie in bed and recover from my epic fun bender.