Aidan pie. That's what I want to bake.

I have this thing with baby feet. Which is weird because I absolutely detest grown-up feet - but what can I say? Baby feet are such soft, chewable little sausages, and all I want to do is squeeze their little toesies all day and all night.

And the most delicious feet of all belong to little Aidan. Could be because he hates me (his lip starts wobbling whenever I approach him, and sitting in my lap is more terrifying than a cage full of hungry velociraptors) and I quite admire that, since most babies succumb to my charms in mere seconds. Could be because he has look about him that is reminiscent of an eighty-year-old man; a little wise, a little serious, a whole lot cranky. Could be because his mother is one of the most fantastic people I know.

But I think it's because he's a man of so many expressions.

There's something special about seeing Aidan and his mama together. Mel makes it look so easy; every time I see them I come away yearning for little toesies of my own to nibble on, and little blue eyes of my making to look at me with so much wonder and glee and love. 

Then I get home, and the dog tries to jump straight in to my arms while I have hands full of bags, and ends up bouncing off the wall and crying, and I end up in a disheveled puddle on the ground swearing my head off and cursing every deity I can think of, and I remember, oh yeah, this is why I leave the child-rearing to professionals like Mel. Because my dog takes enough care and attention, and we're still working that out.

It must be amazing to be a mother. And it must be amazing to be Mel, a woman so fantastic she should be run through a juicer and bottled. A beautiful girl, beautiful mother, and, lucky for me, a hell of a talker. One day I will live on the same side of the city as Mel, and I will force her to become my best friend, and I will strap her to a chair and make her talk to me for days on end. 

In the meantime, she'll have to make do with Aidan. I'm sure it's tough.

He is so lovely. 

xoxo

Keep calm and carry on

Sometimes you just need to slow down... close your eyes, breathe, be calm, and remember why you live and love like you do. Then you revive, lift your chin and look around... look for the faces of the people who are most important, the ones who make you feel like your real self.

I'm still looking for some of those people, but I know that I have enough right here for now. When I open my eyes, I see what I have and I am grateful. 

xoxo

A definition

A true friend walks beside you.

xoxo

A military wedding, part 1

Young love:

and young style:

xoxo

Dim Sim

I have a million and one things to do tonight - among them an essay and the assembly of a portfolio for a prospective employer, eeghads! - but I have to sneak in here and post a picture of a beautiful girl.

Both my cousin and my homegirl, Dimity (also known as Dim Sim) helped me out today when I was in a pickle, and I'm so thankful. That's what my family does; we're always there to support each other with the big things and the little things, and catch each other when we fall. Things in our lives haven't always been rosy - are they ever? - but that these kids are still there for me during crunch time is such a blessing. 

I love photographing my family; I think I see them in ways that other people simply can't. Not to mention they're all ridiculously good-looking.

xoxo

Sunday funk

xoxo

Sometimes, all you need is a bit of contact.

xoxo

A place to start

And what could be a lovelier place than this?

I visited my grandmother today, a truly amazing, five-foot-tall woman who has three things of major note: a moustache, a memory that rivals your local encylopedia, and a sense of humour made of pure caste iron. She is the kind of grandmother who always has a big dish of lollies on her table. She is the kind of grandmother who has been in the Salvation Army since before she was born and can curl your nosehairs with godly discipline. She is also the kind of grandmother who collapses into adorable fits of giggles whenever I mention the strippers I'm hiring for her 90th birthday party this year.

Today, over a cup of sweet Earl Grey, she gave me these beautiful, humble ramekins. They were given to her mother and father on their wedding day, almost a century ago, and her mother gave them to her just before she died; and now she has given them to me. She said it was because I was the only one who would appreciate them. She is so right! These were everyday dishes to my great-grandmother, but to me they are exquisite works of art - the curves, the colours, the scratches. My mind goes to happy, wandering places when I think of all the meals these have seen over the last 95 years, and the path that led them in to my hands. Oh, she always knows how to get to me!

My grandmother is a dollface. I can't wait to cook something sweet in these.

xoxo