Issues

My daughter enjoys plucking her father's leg hairs.

I know she's at it when I hear my husband screaming from another room.

Nuts o' Nuts

Olive begging for pistachios. 

Look at that pathetic gaze.

Just like our dog, Beans.

Doing It

I, like most folks, have a bucket list. (List dictating all the shit I want to do before I kick the bucket.) Mine has yet to change since college, and it remains short and feasible. It reads like so: 1) Get a puppy, 2) Have a baby, and 3) Write and illustrate a children's book. Number one and two on the list have been achieved (Beans and Olive, your Ma thanks you), but number three remains to be seen. But I'm working on it. I read "Writing Children's Books for Dummies" (desperate times call for desperate measures) and have began brainstorming the plot of my very first tale in a brand-new Moleskin. (A glimpse into my mad mind above.) You excited? I am! Self-imposed deadline? December of 2012. It's happening.

Master of My Universe

Holy crap. Our munchkin is over eight-and-a-half months-old. For those of you who followed me through my post-partum months (remember THIS entry?) I am long past my exhausted-frustrated-crying phase of mommyhood and am now in the triumphant-relieved-amused phase. I am in total, utter love with the ankle biter. Josh and I feel so lucky to have someone so incredible in our lives. I know I'm totally gushing, but look...

Behold. Our budding foodie. 

Ordering up a storm at Umami Burger. "Got milk?" (The answer is, "No.")

OMG. So filial!

Helping her Ma fold her Pa's undies. What fun.

With my mini-me finally under control, le hubby and I went on our first Sundate (Sunday date) yesterday. We ventured out for brunch and a movie sans baby. (She chillaxed at home with the nanny.) We grabbed a very adult brunch at Barney Greengrass and then caught a viewing of Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom. Though physically away from Olive all morning-afternoon, neither of us were able to refrain from talking about nor avoid sharing iPhone photos of her during our short time away. Which leads me to point out...

It's a good thing we're obsessed with this baby. I hear there's a strict no-returns-policy when it comes to this sort of thing :)

Doodles to come.

Fashion's Night In

 One my many fashion idols. Alexander Wang's niece, Aila :)

To my husband, Labor Day marks the transition from summer to fall. To me, it signifies the start of my favorite season to shop for and ooh-ooh-ooh, let's not forget Fashion Week! My fingers can't refresh the Style.com website and Garance Dore's blog quickly enough. Seeing all the cool kids stomping around ol' NYC in deliciously creative outfits from the comfort of my pajamas whilst in bed is one of my favorite past-times. With Olive in tow, I knew that I wouldn't be able to make it to any boutique parties on Fashion's Night Out. Who am I kidding? I'm so socially awkward, I would never have made it out with or without my lil' monster. But armed with a laptop and internet connection, I can do some serious damage. Miniature lumberjack me, be gone! This mama needs new pieces!

Little black waffle jacket by Iro. Oui, please! The texture! The leather trim. What is love? THIS is love. Hunter green suede pumps by Rachel Zoe BFF Brian Atwood. Taking them! In these, my legs will look as if they go on for miles. Is that even possible when you're only 5 feet tall? Theysken's for Theory Frigi flared pleated shorts. Need! Worn over black tights, I'm going to look so Katherine Hepburn goes downtown. Equipment Diem contrast collar blouse. Effortless. So-Garance. Flare-legged jeans by Elizabeth & James. Done. Move over skinny jeans, my cankles deserve to breathe. Phillipa paisley tunic by A.L.C. The cut is so feminine and lovely. RAD message tee by Zoe Karssen. Nike Dunks in navy suede. Elizabeth and James Centinela glasses in tortoiseshell. And the piece de resistance? A Stella McCartney Bryce wool and cashmere coat in navy... 

Ahhhh... Whoever said that money can't buy happiness, simply didn't know where to go shopping. (Pearls of wisdom borrowed from the mermaid herself, Bo Derek.) I'm so happy, I'm glowing. Am I diseased?

Hubby, if you're reading this, I love you. Life is too short to look ugly. 

And if you're still steaming, please read THIS:


“He’s always asking: ‘Is that new? I haven’t seen that before.’ It’s like, Why don’t you mind your own business? Solve world hunger. Get out of my closet.” ― Michelle Obama

- - - - -

I think about death. In fact, I think I do so than most. But like most folks, I think about how I could avoid it and how I could avoid be surrounded by it. I am awful with good-byes, and well, death to me, is just one big, unwelcome farewell.

This past weekend, a dear mentor and friend of mine whom I've known for a decade decided to bid adieu early. He committed suicide and left a letter for his friends to digest. Months shy of 40, he explains that endless disappointments became his overwhelming end and according to my friend, "a life not entirely made." He insists that his friends could not have stopped this from happening, but I can't help but think differently. 

The loss of someone so humble, generous, brilliant and genuinely caring... is heartbreaking. It is out of selfishness that I cry, because I know, my friend, that you're finally at peace. I should be happy for you, the way you've always sincerely been happy for me. Always smarter than the rest of us... even when gone. Ha!

But I miss you too much to say good-bye. So I won't. 

Take care, SWC. We'll meet again.

You Complete Me

Never thought this day would come, but my thesis is FINISHED. I am presenting it to my advisors this Friday back at UCLA, and then *crossing fingers* I will officially receive my Masters. (I walked in graduation over a year ago - pregnant with Olive - but never received my actual diploma because I hadn't turned in my final film.)

This labor of love was inspired by my difficult munchkin, whom my hubby and I love and adore, but struggled dearly to appease during her first months in this world. All characters and props were fabricated from the Amazon cardboard boxes her baby gear arrived in. Pieces were then scanned and manipulated in After Effects and Final Cut. (I had initially hoped to shoot them in stop-motion under a down-shooter camera, but ended up having to learn After Effects when I realized the project would be more feasible if made that way.)

While the short is minimally-animated, spastically-timed, and probably leaves you thinking, "Wahhh? That's it?!?" I am still proud to have, simply, finished. It wasn't easy making time in my packed child-rearing day to grind this out. And it wasn't easy uploading this film online for the whole world to see. (Feeling kinda' naked.)

I hope you like it.

P.S. Thank you, Alexis and Jeff, for making this possible. I could not have pulled this off without you two!!!

So Close

                               

Ermahgeeeeeeerd!

(Olive crushing me with her baby fat.) 

I'm presenting my thesis before my advisors next Friday.
Animation is all done. *mother-daughter woot*

Rendering, compiling, and color-correcting is taking an eternity, but the little one has taught me that baby steps are always the way to go.

Training Day(s)

Good sleepers are born, not made. Olive, unlike most babies, hates to sleep. Instead, she prefers to spend her free time practicing her Indian accent and watching "Keeping Up With the Kardashians." I kid. That's what I do in my free time. No, really. Olive is strangely really anti-napping, and in the evening, she's like the J.Lo of babies - requiring a truck load of assistance and amenities to fall asleep. In spite of my husband and I providing a abundance of sleep-inducing goodies, the munchkin still has difficulty going the eff to bed. The little monster needs to be rocked and held. She needs to sleep in our room - more specifically, on our bed. Le hubby would sometimes complain while I, deep down, adore having her sleep with us. She's a great cuddler! But now that she's a crazy crawler, in order to ensure her safety, I've agreed to put an end to her bad habits and our mother-daughter co-dependency. Olive, mommy's sorry, but your sleep-related privileges are coming to an end.

Le hubby and I began sleep training last week. In the evening, we plopped the munchkin into her crib (situated in our bedroom as it is where she sleeps best), shut the door and left! We promised each other not to "save" the baby until the next morning - 6am at earliest. So much easier said than done. Olive woke up about two times during the night, and each time I heard her crying for help, I wanted to cry. I'd reach for the baby monitor to see what she was up to, and as expected, there she was, standing in her crib, hollering for dear life.

                                  

Ermahgerd! If she cried for an hour, I was awake for that hour. Last week was rough.

Le hubby was able to sleep through the commotion just fine. Dads. Yes, well, we're in week two, and I'm slowly getting used to the sound of her "self-soothing." And Olive? She's actually starting to get used to sleeping on her own. Sure, she still wakes up at least two times during the night to scream for help, but the duration of her crying has definitely shortened from 1.5 hours to 30 minutes. This may not be much to you parents with good self-soothers, but in our household, this calls for a juice box toast. I'm so proud of my munchkin. Give her two more weeks, and perhaps we'll have this sleeping thing down... Here's hoping.

* Photo of Olive looking unimpressed was taken by Monica of Shoots & Giggles. 

Are We There Yet?

With less than two weeks left to complete my thesis, I'm starting to feel panicky. I feel like I'm running a marathon that's never going to end, and it's an awful feeling! Beans wants to help, but the canine has no opposable thumbs. After Effects requires them.

On my own and freaking out. Should any of you encounter me in these next two weeks, reconsider saying "Hello." It's like that Peter Cetera Chicago song, "Look Away".  

"If you see me walking by, and the tears are in my eye, look away... baby, look away."

Seriously. I just might bite your head off. GRRRRR.

*Above: A sneak peek of one of many inappropriate scenes in my thesis. didn't bother to allow the computer to render properly, so D'OH... the quality of these two images is bound to be totes shitty. deal with it!)

This or That?

THIS: SELLARSBROOK

or

THAT: USHAK

For le hubby's man cave. 

Help me decide :)

Why So Serious?

"zou bisou bisou..." (translation: "oh, kisses, kisses...")

nora kogan's man ray lips bracelet in coral. yours for the bargain price of $585. available here.

i lust after it the way beans lusts after bananas and milk bones.

nektar de stagni's happy pearl earrings. *tee-hee*

a family heirloom for $345. available here.

Floored

the berber.

she's light.

she's neutral.

she's got the potential to be manly. 

 

      

the ponti.

she's hypnotic.

she's bold.

she can be super duper manly.

 

the ushak.

she's versatile.

she's moroccan.

she's kinda-sorta-not-really manly.

with the arrival of olive 7+ months ago, le hubby's man-cave took a high-dive from being a space with great dude heaven potential to becoming glorified storage room. (will post photos one of the "before" one of these days). it's been in need of a makeover since our move 1.5 years ago, and well, it's high time that i grab the proverbial horns of this baby and do it justice. i'm starting ground-up. literally. 

some flooring options in consideration.

Mr. Sandman

Baby sneezes are super cute. But I think overdosed on 'em yesterday and caught the munchkin's cold. I have what she had. Snot running down one nostril. Attractive, yeah?

Yes, well, better me than her. She's feeling a lot better today, but I'm feeling like a pile of doggy turd. I haven't slept well for two days straight (try sleep training a sick infant), and now that I'm completely congested (even my ears are stuffed up) I do not foresee a solid night's sleep tonight...

Looking forward to le hubby's return from New York. I could use some back-up right about now!

Ah-CHOO.

I'd been successfully shielding her from harm for as long as I could... but last night, mommy-the-protector failed. The munchkin has caught a slight cold. (I blame the A/C.) Watching her in discomfort makes me sad. To think... this is just a runny nose!

Poor chublette. Because her nose was running (note: only from one of her itty-bitty nostrils), she wasn't able to catch a good shut-eye. Which means neither did I. Check out our early-morning "party" at 4:30 am.

Top: My mini-me being needy. She's like a baby sloth... clinging on.
Bottom: Olive sneezing. I know it's wrong to enjoy them, but I do. Baby sneezes are so cute.

Feel better, little one.

Girl, Look at That Body

It's never too late, people. NEVER.

At the ripe age of 32 (going on 33), I've finally committed myself to a fitness regimen. Can you believe it? This sedentary mama who has spent countless evenings sitting in bed watching The Biggest Loser whilst munching on blocks of cheese (true story) joined THIS Crossfit box a couple months ago and *gasp* have strangely, gotten into it. Since joining, muscles I never knew I had are confused and sore (see above). Distances I never knew I could run have been ran. (Seriously, the last time I ran was in the 90s!) And well, I never spew stuff like what I'm about to spew, but... I am really proud of myself. I'm becoming physically and mentally stronger with each work out, accomplishing tasks I never imagined achieving, and that's like, totally radical.

As if positive-mental-attitude mumbo-jumbo isn't weird and out-of-character enough, I signed up for the LA Half Marathon taking place downtown on Halloween. Losing my mind? Yeah, probably. Le hubby signed up with me, so we'll see how the power of love manifests itself day of. (Visualizing le hubby carrying me over the finish line on piggyback. Ahhh... how romantic.)

Under Pressure

Most folks I know have a bucket list. You know, the list of crap you want to achieve or attain before you croak? 

Since college, my bucket list has consisted of getting a puppy, making baby, and writing and illustrating a children's book. 

With Beans and Olive in tow, I've got one and two taken care of. But the children's book? I'm working on it. The moment I turn in my thesis (gaaaaaah, it's taking forever), you can best bet that I'll be grinding out something wonderfully strange. I've been brainstorming a bunch. Let's just say it ain't easy coming up with a satisfying story that can be told within 25 pages! Lots of self-editing. NOT my forte.

On a side note, my friend, Mary Lai is currently working to fund a kick-ass comic anthology via Kickstarter. Click HERE to back the project up! The deadline for artists to submit work is tomorrow. Naturally, I started and finished my submission today. See above. You may want to click on the image to see it enlarged. That is, unless you have bionic eyeballs and can read micro-type.

Show and Tell

Final peek at my thesis.

Hopefully, the next time you see anything new from my short, you'll be watching it in full!

Decided to go with sepia tint backgrounds as colored backgrounds got distracting. 

Cardboard + After Effects + a little help from my friends = MAGIC

Old Dog, New Tricks

Those who know me know that I am somewhat of a dinosaur when it comes to technology.

I still: 

Cut checks,

shoot on cameras that require film, 

send snail mail letters, 

and read actual, physical books.

Much like a grandparent, when there's a choice, I gravitate towards the analog.

That said, I am shocked that my friends, Alexis and Jeff, have somehow managed to teach me to use After Effects with success...

Above: A peek at what's to come. 

My thesis is due end-August, so come end-August, whether I like it or not, I'm going to have something to show. *raise the roof* Below: Another test shot. This one with the Mama.

Au Naturel

Seen Lee of Australia (AP Images)

She didn't leave the summer Olympics with a medal, but she definitely made an impression.

I want to braid that shit.

Kohei Uchimura of Japan (Reuters)

Power pits going for the gold.

They match his 'do!

Kohei Uchimura of Japan (Reuters)

Too good to share just one.

Another shot of the armed and dangerous winner.

I am obsessed with the display of arm pit hair in the Olympics. 

Don't know what I'm going to do with myself once the summer games come to a close.