happy birthday, stoopie!!!

confession: i used to keep much better track of stoop's age when it was unclear who was older so that i could exclaim something to the effect of "you think i'm older? stoop is a whole 25 years old!" but now that she has shorter hair and a big giant rock on her finger i don't have to worry about much. except for my calculations, which, if they're correct, say that she is 27 today.


a lot is going to happen this year. she's gonna have to use four syllables when she tells people her age, she's going to--spoiler alert--receive a t-shirt from me with a whole bunch of front stoops all over it, and she's getting married!!!!

holy guacamole. i need a donut. 

happy birthday, stoopie!!!!!


happy birthday, mum!

more and more i'm having those omg i'm turning into my mother moments.
like this weekend when nobody was allowed to leave my apartment hungry.
how just about every loaf of bread must be homemade,
and how nearly every condiment must be served in a ramekin.
the large amount of energy i expent this week on thinking about my hair,
the way that i'm slowly becoming intolerant of crowded spaces and long lines.

in preparing for the b.y.o.p. party on sunday, i must have said a hundred mum-isms:
let's wait to bake the bread until right before guests arrive so the house smells nice,
do we have enough donuts?
do we have enough whoopie pies?
please. take some pumpkin bread to go with you. do you have snacks for the plane tomorrow? take this, you're going to get hungry.

soon it's going to be,
do i have roots? 
has anyone seen my glasses? {when they're on my head.}

and you know what?? i'm ecstatic about all of this turning-into-mum business. because she's the bomb and she is wonderful in the goofiest funniest hilarious way. in the way that i can talk to her about anything and in the way that when she comes to visit she often brings an entire suitcase filled with homemade rugelach and pumpkin bread.

and today she turns one year older! which is a secret number, although if i told you you'd be like damn she looks younger than that.

happy birthday, mum!!!!!!



gnarly buttons.

for my birthday getup, i doctored up this american apparel dress with
buttons that i found at my new favorite place on the east side,
tender buttons. the shop sells just about every single kind of button
that you didn't think existed. it makes me have more faith that a
mustard shop can survive. four of the buttons that i got for my dress
are from the 1950s and they illustrate "sing a song of sixpence," and
the fifth button is a gold one made in france that is pierrot lunaire!
i am so smitten with my finds. all on one dress, you'll find my loves
of pie, rhymes, princesses, birds, song, and atonal sad clown creeps!
p.s. i am not responsible for the title of this post. i wish i were
because i very much enjoy the sound of these words together.
gnarly buttons is the title of john adams' piece for clarinet and 
chamber ensemble. if you do not know it, i recommend you get to know it. 
here, james plays it. clean shaven and all.

stream of consciousness day

to ring in my birthday, rob and maria and i engaged in stream of consciousness day: a 24-hour piece of performance art centered on doing whatever we want, when we want it. obviously there's not much planning to be done aside from taking a vacation day from work and mentally preparing yourself for the possibility that your stream of consciousness could lead you to a tattoo parlor or the lunchable aisle of the grocery store or, heaven forbid, staten island. luckily our streams didn't lead us to do any permanent damage. i was mostly looking to eat as many breakfast sandwiches as possible, maria and i got massages and our nails did, and rob went to the party store to buy those absurd clown glasses for us. we ate cake balls and nougats and... we just didn't hold back when it came to eating and drinking. the day ended with sangria and bacon cheeseburgers on the hudson as the sun set, some really strong coconut cake at good enough to eat, and belly aches that carried on into the next day. hehe, oops.