Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Photos_I'm a Delighted Person and I'm Raising My Hand

It's not everyday that someone takes time to honor a special someone; to recognize their talent, their contributions to society, their unique mark branded in our collection of memories.

I thought I paid sufficient respect to the infamous Sufjan Stevens when I photoshopped my face in place of his "wife" in his Christmas album artwork, or when I dressed as a Hooper Hero for Halloween 2009, or when I referred to myself as Mrs. Sufjan Stevens when I introduced myself at dinner parties. But this, my friends, puts all my efforts to shame. Behold the wondrous Amy Jones and her friends who put together a lovely dinner party honoring the King of all things Indie: Suf and his jan. Feast your eyes on this (pun intended):

 Larger version of menu items

This kind of devotion inspired me to do this... something I should have planned to do a long time ago:

Cheers to Amy Jones and her genius, most dedicated friends.
And to Sufjan, see you on November 9.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Photos_Texas Forever

Robbe's current location: Texas
If Robbe was a cowman from Texas, I'm pretty sure this is how we'd end up together.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Words_Can I Get a Jehovah's Witness?

This has nothing to do with Jehovah's Witnesses. I just thought it would be funny. I'm regretting that decision right now.

There are numerous times when I've witnessed my niece or nephew (all under age 7) fighting over a toy; one is awarded the toy for a set amount of time and the other is doomed to find something equally if not more entertaining. Usually this search is futile. The emotions exchanged during this polarized battle of haves and have nots are so over the top, I find myself unable to empathize with these little ones and attempting to talk adult sense into them. I know I'm not alone in this when I hear their parents respond by saying, "Yeah, well life's not fair," or "It's just a toy! You have five other ones exactly like it right there! Why do you care if you she has one of them!" We try to make them see what we see; to apply adult logic to a mind that is not nor should be ready for that kind of application.

I see this in myself a lot. Robbe and I have our share of squabbles over what can be such trite, insignificant things. In the moment, they're fierce and unsettling and no matter how logical it would be to surrender my pride and come to a resolution, I instead can only fight and focus on my selfishness while wallowing in my have nots. In these moments, I need a hefty reality check; someone to tell me to take a step back and examine everything I have that is wonderful and good; to not waste this time on such trivial things because what we face now is really the easiest part of life and it would be a shame to continuously clog it up with unnecessary hurdles. We have so much to be thankful for and so much to enjoy, but we make it unnecessarily difficult for ourselves.

So. Who is going to be that person who drops this reality check on me on a regular basis? Please leave your contact information and how often you're available. And $5. You'll get it back if you're good enough. But probably not.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Photos_Hey Pixie, You're So Fine

Love Harry Potter (I'm almost finished the last book! Gagagagagagaagaga).
Love Emma Watson.
Love Emma Watson's pixie cut.
As Mandy would say: "I love pretty people. Ugly people are the worst!"

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Words & Photos_A Heart of Rold Gold

Last night I inadvertently created a heart shape out of my thin Rold Gold's pretzel snack. (Dream big, Kimi.) Upon this revelation, I decided to put it aside, which Ray interpreted as "you're gonna take a picture of it and post it on Twitter or something, aren't you?" Do you really think I am that predictable Ray? I mean, really. So I decided to post it here on Blogger instead. (In your face!) Now, I have to be honest. Last night, when I retrieved my heart-shaped pretzel snack for its first photo shoot, it broke. My heart that is, but also the actual pretzel. I achingly relayed this to Ray who reassured me that God has bigger and better pretzels out there for me. He was right. When I checked my she-mail this evening, I found a pretzel heart waiting for me in a message from Ray. This pretzel heart is the one you're viewing above. Yes, it's much different than my other pretzel, but that doesn't mean I care about it any less. So, cheers to Ray and to my new pretzel heart. This one is for sure unbreakable.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Words_From the Heart of a Hillbilly

There are some changes going on around these parts. I got me a new banner. I made me some fancy picture pages. And by fancy, I mean I used the microwave looking screen and punched some funny buttons and vwa-hool-a, I got me some new boxy thangs that say a buncha stuff bout yours teee-ruly. What I can't seem to figure out is how to make all them letters on the daggum page the same kinda style, or as some of them tie wearing people be saying: fonda or fonta or maybe it's just font. I really don't know. Font sounds like the cousin of a baby deer. Perhaps it's the three cans a me-moonshine I drank or maybe it's cuz I fell asleep next to a goat for two hours, but I can't seem to figure out what I thought was a simple push this here button or push here that button. So if any of yous readers out there who know what I'm talking bout, it would be mighty helpful to help out your ol' pal Kimi. I'll even repay ya with some quality, homemade, heart-stoppin moonshine that I make me-self when there ain't no more trees I need be choppin or corn I be huskin' or banjo I be pluckin. And I pluck a mean banjo. Believe me, I'm trying to take some words to heart that my ball n chain be saying to me one day about making my moving picture pages a bit more fancy. "Add some pictures here" he say and "make this colored here" and Lord save me from strangling him that crazy buffoon. So ya'll need to help me keep on it and stay ahead of his ramblings so he can stop telling me what to be doing. I'm holding ya'll to it. Bahbye now.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Words_Back to School, to Prove to Daddy I'm Not a Fool

Today was the the first day of school, so, like any sucker of "fresh starts" and "new beginnings" or any other smile-numbing, feel-good, self-help slogan, I am compelled to document a few painless, non-interesting details, of course, or I wouldn't be me. The start of anything is cause for good documentation, really, so let the games begin.

The weather here in Maryland today was absolutely gorgeous which was an automatic schwing! for the books. A tourist could have easily mistaken Annapolis for the geographical temperature of San Diego, that's how beautiful and non-sweaty it was. All I could think about all day was the amazing run I was going to have at exactly 5 p.m. My iPod strapped to the arm; This American Life streaming through my ears; and the bay wind blanketing my arms and face. No humidity. Just awesomeness.

The day went by pretty smoothly for the first day of school. There were only two surprise-don't-drop-everything-but-a-few-things-would-be-good-to-make-room-for-this-other-big-thing phone calls. I only had to explain to someone once which pages they had access to on our Web site which I guess was not clear in their URL or what they see when they login to update their pages, but that's okay. It's the first day which is the perfect day to be as stupid as you want to be without serious ramifications or judgments.

Around lunchtime, I started to feel a little queasy. A little discomfort. Honestly, crampy with a side of bloatedness. And then I realized...my monthly bill had come a day early. Blast! My insides instantly became cramp city with those ruthless sharp pangs that you have to literally brace yourself for. My fantasy of that five o'clock run with the wind whipping through my hair and the taste of salt water on my lips quickly shifted to a date with my bed smothered in my covers with a plate of plump and spicy chicken wings from Chevy's and a gleaming, salted 32-ounce margarita. But no wings or margarita came to my rescue. I ended the day with a few Maryland crabs, courtesy of my brother, two Corona lights, a Mexican hat dance party with my niece and nephews, and a lazy rest of the night watching high quality TV: The Bachelor Pad, Miss Universe, The T.O. Show, Wipeout, Dance Your A** Off, and Tosh.O.

For a first day of school, I can't complain. I didn't get to go for my coveted run but I foresee this in my future (a 5K perhaps?) as well as that delicioso margarita. Ole!

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Photos_A Babyful Celebration

A Saturday afternoon celebration of my college roommate (and longtime friend) and her beautiful new baby.

© Kimi Shoots People | All rights reserved

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Words_Trailers, Speedy Gonzalez, and the Vow of Silence

In the past few days I have racked up an unusual list of events.
Hear, hear...

Story #1: I backed into a trailer bed while exiting my driveway on Tuesday morning.
First reaction: awesome. The trailer was parked unreasonably close (obviously), leaving me no option but to make a 30 point turn or to collide directly into the trailer. I chose the latter. Eh, boy. Luckily, my catastrophe went unnoticed somehow. There were no angry landscapers running toward me with growling weedwackers or glistening clippers in hand. My next move would be to complain to the board association of this inconvenient weekly obstacle, but my neighbor Steve somehow convinced these landscapers to cut our grass because of our end unit location which dips right into generic community territory, leaving us free of landscaping responsibility. So you see my dilemma. Potential future car damage vs. gleaming beautifully manicured grass. I hate my life.

Story #2: Tuesday night (yes, the same day as the accident), my roommate tells me to look out for a little lizard running around on our bedroom floor. "Oh, really?" I said casually, maintaining a mildly alarmed but more concerned reaction when in reality my whole body had broken into a full sweat. She said her mom had spotted one and to just be on the lookout for it. Yeah, sure, no problem, just a lizard, walking around, harmless, lost, on my back biting me while I'm sleeping or peeing on my face, no big deal.
The next morning, I go to the bathroom, swing open the door, and there, flat on the white carpet is, what I think is a black gecko felt cut-out but of course is the lizard my roommate had warned me about the night before. It's not moving; it's completely still, which surprised me as most lizard creatures disappear after a blink of an eye. I'm ashamed to say what happened in the next ten minutes.
There was a lot of staring, then pacing, then more staring, then my brain perked a bit and I began eyeing every object in the surrounding area to see how I could catch this predator. The weird thing was that if it did move at all (cue full sweat again), it was in slow motion type speed. Completely abnormal for this kind of species.
After some more staring/panicking/sweating, I finally decided on my weapon of choice: the shopping bag. Forever 21 by the way. I inched the yellow plastic bag right into the lizard's path so that it eventually stepped right into it. I quickly scooped it up and booked it downstairs to the deck door. I didn't dare look inside it for fear it would be that exact moment the lizard would run up my arm and latch onto my face because of course that would happen. I laid the bag down quickly on the deck's surface, expecting the lizard to shoot out of there like Speedy Gonzalez (ole!). I backed away and shut the glass door as it would be just my luck that Speedy Gonzalez's escape would be right back into my house. I decided to leave SG to his escape route and finally went to work.
When I came home eight hours later, I fully expected the lizard to be gone, reunited with his lizard friends, probably making fun of my painfully slow reaction to his unannounced visit. The bag was still there but had shifted 90 degrees clockwise. I boldly picked up the bag and there he was: shriveled and dead. I emptied him out on the deck table, examining his head that looked like it was trying to make a U-turn towards his tail. I wondered what went wrong. Where I went wrong. I didn't think about him again until it poured later that night and I thought how the water just swept him away somewhere (probably just to the first floor). Hasta la vista Speedy G. Hasta la vista.

Story #3: My spankin' new roommate moved in on Wednesday. Like any good roommate I welcomed her, chatted about jobs and life and future and whatnot, and she eventually retreated to her basement room while I headed to my 3rd floor bedroom.
The next morning, she came into the family room and I asked, "How did you sleep last night?" (As it was her first night sleeping over.)
"Great," she replied.
"Could you hear a lot of noise up here?" I asked. Her face remained in a blank smile.
"Like, did you hear a lot of foosteps and stuff from up here," I tried again. Still nothing. "I mean, it's not like we're stomping up here but just didn't know if we bothered you." Maybe she got it?
"You mean...." she began. "Did I listen to...what?"
"Could you hear anything while you were sleeping, like us being loud up here and you being in the basement," I said more firmly, loudly; I had started to sweat (classic).
"Oh," she looked thoughtful. "No I can't hear anything down there."
"Oh, good," I smiled, which was true in the sense that oh, good I'm so glad this conversation is over and I don't have to talk to you anymore. "Sorry that was such a painful way of asking," I laughed, probably too forcefully. And that is why I'm never talking to anyone ever again.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Words_Raystown, Robbestown

I have to wonder what the locals of Raystown thought when they slid into their Ford trucks last Saturday morning, backed down their gravel driveway, and hit the gas to see, not the normal cluster of cows in the next yard or a neighbor passing by on a tractor, but a small Asian girl jogging down Shady Maple Road. I envisioned all the early morning cigs propped loosely on the pout of every mouth passing by dropping one by one into an unprotected lap, leaving a permanent coin-sized sear of black on whatever lay below. The truth is, I did go for a run on Saturday morning but no cigs that I knew of fell into any unsuspecting laps. I was chased by a small black dog who barked at me for about 20, 25 paces. I made the whole 2.6 miles (hills and all) without stopping (to kick the dog).

As I mentioned in my last post, I went on a mini vacay with Robbe and his family who stay at a huge cabin in Raystown, PA (Bitter Goose Lodge to be exact) with 6 bedrooms, a huge backyard, deck, a small pond, and access to a shared pool. There was hiking, s'mores, a bonfire, horseshoes, ghost stories, croquet, Rummy, FNL (yes), ribs, homemade pies, harmonica-playing, carp feeding, mini-golf (I suck), ice cream, fields of flowers, produce stands (aka human trafficking/death sentences), no phone service, hula hooping, crawdads, and Phineas and Ferb.

The highlight of the trip was probably the song Robbe and I wrote together about Raystown, which of course can only be sung with the accompaniment of a guitar (preferably banjo and some spoons). I'm not sure when we'll copyright it and get it out there for the masses to enjoy but while it's in production, here is a verse and chorus:

Verse 1
Took a week off of work
Had to cuz my boss is a jerk
Packed up my fishing gear
And two cases of beer
Started up my 4-wheel dodge
Headed down to Bitter Goose Lodge
Getting out of Central PA
Maybe I'll be back (No way!)

Going on vacation
Headed down to Raystown
Gonna hang out with my friends there
Til' the sun goes down (2x)

Note: the 3rd time the chorus is sung, it's a capella with the assistance of clapping in the background. 

So, boyfriend's family vacay? Successful. Song? Genius. Raystown? Maybe I'll be back (Yes way!).

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Photos_Raystown, PA

Scene I: Leaves of grass 

Boy in the field


Counting Flowers

Scene II: Generations


 The Redds + 1

3 going on 16