Nude!

I found more photos, so it's an excuse for another lazy post all about me me me!

Me, naked as a jaybird, somewhere between one and two years old. Check out the Early American decor! I just realized those chairs are the same ones I currently have in my dining room. Funny.


I'm pretty sure the top portion of that dress was red velvet. Isn't it lovely? Here I am perfecting the fake smile.


The essence of me? Perhaps on my more manic days. And shit, I had that frakking double chin when I was three. No wonder I've never been able to get rid of it.


My dad was getting a little artsy in his photography at this point. I'm digging that shirt and my hairdo. I had recently turned three when this was taken.


I love this photo. It's very different from most of the photographs my dad took. For some reason, it reminds me of a '60s psychodrama kind of movie. Specifically this crazy Carol Lynley thing I saw recently called Bunny Lake is Missing.


These two pictures were taken either by my mom or my brother Kenny in Germany. Near the end of my third grade year my mom and I traveled to Germany to see Kenny get married. For three weeks we drove all over Europe visiting Switzerland, France, Austria, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg and Germany, of course. In Munich I gazed at the Olympic grounds pool, dreaming of Mark Spitz. I don't suppose I thought too much about the terrorist events that went on as well. We were at a petting zoo when these were taken. That day I saw a goat being born which I remember as being disgusting and exciting and terribly interesting all at the same time. Perhaps my true love of goats was born this day! I think this was also the place where I discovered vending machines that sold FRESH FRENCH FRIES (or frites as they were known). How did that brilliance never come to the States?


A newspaper clipping of me and my cousin Judi, hanging out in the public park in good, ole Dexter, MO, home of my grandma and grandpa, and three aunts and their families. I still love tube tops and flip flops.


This was taken the day of my eight grade graduation/dance. My mom made the dress for me and it was fabulous, in a Gunne Sax tradition. The straps were satin ribbon and the same ribbon was used to wind through the ecru cotton lace trimming the top ruffle. If only you could see the brown leather strappy sandals with the four inch wooden heels. God, I loved those shoes.


Here I am at 15, perched on Sugar, my sister-in-law Lynn's cousin's horse (is that complicated enough?). My brother Bobby and Lynn lived in South County in this great log house on a big piece of land shared with Lynn's uncle. It was one of my favorite places to gather as a family. Actually probably my favorite place. I was really sad when they moved away from that house and the horses. This is my Rod Stewart sticky uppy shag growing out.


And here's a self portrait of my dad, Ken Alsobrook. I assume this was taken somewhere in the mid to late '60s.

No time to look for relevant lyrics -- I managed to make things today!

Since I only seem to be able to make new things with the promise/hope of dirty lucre, Subterranean Books' request for some new cards lit a fire under my lazy, uninspired ass. Finally.

When I found the photos of myself, I also came across a little stash of vintage pictures we had scored at an estate sale last year. I decided to scan them, then print them out on transparency sheets. Perhaps because we need to replace our black ink cartridge, the photos came out a sort of eerie dark purple. I attached them to the cardstock with some teeny brown brads I bought months and months ago with no idea what to do with them.

While I was card making, I also found a number of my sock monkey photos. So, the dirty sock monkey cards have been resurrected. "Back Door Bear" is still my favorite...

All the cards:


A couple of close ups of the vintage transparencies cards:

All through the day/i me mine/i me mine/i me mine

I was pulling out some art materials today and came across some photos I had been meaning to scan and post. Yes, they're all me me me. About when I was born, my dad took up photography, setting up a darkroom and all that jazz. Thus, there are lots of photos of me when I was a tot. So these first two were taken by my dad. The rest, of course, are school photos.



I think this one is from 2nd grade. If only I could get my hair that color again...


Fourth grade, I believe. Check out the lesbian-chic hair and shirt!


Fifth grade, I suppose, sporting my version of the Dorothy Hamill hairdo.


I think this one is my eighth grade photo. While there was some nice accessorizing in the previous shot, I was coming into my own as a fashionista in eighth grade. I was voted Best Dressed in my class. Note the turquoise ring used as a scarf holder. And I wish I still had that scarf. The colors were gorgeous and it had a print of flapper girls and those wavy cloud-like graphics all over it.

That love is all/And love is everyone/It is knowing/It is knowing

The other day I walked into the living room to such a sweet scene. Steve, surrounded by Foxy Brown on the floor, Olive on the back of the couch and Lydia next to him. He was so engrossed in what he was doing, I don't think he even knew I took this photo.

You realize your fantasies are/dressed up in travesties/enjoy yourself with no regrets

I'm not in the habit of documenting it when someone says something nice about or appreciative of me. Everyone, of course, loves compliments, and I'm no exception, but even if you greatly appreciate the sentiment, you don't necessarily write it down or think about it later or share it with anyone else. Well, today I'm going to throw modesty (or whatever you want to call it) to the wind.

A friend with whom I have an intimate, albeit primarily written, relationship told me something extraordinary today. In a small discussion about my tendency to conversationally be, um, too much for some people, he said this: "You're like a sun...and too much exposure burns them up...now me...I like it when it gets hot."

An offhand comment maybe, but since it was in writing I guess it took on more gravitas than if it had merely been spoken. Whatever the intent, I consider it one of the best things anyone has ever said about me. It struck me dumb for a moment. Like a sun. Damn.

In a string of days in which my workplace has made me feel like I'm in a place where my personality is completely unwanted, it was extra sweet to be reminded that I don't rub everyone the wrong way, and in fact, a few people do like me for me.

So thank you, T.Rex.