pssssssssst.

i started a newsletter.

it has nothing to do with weddings. so far it's mostly just a blurty, semi-casual, once-a-monthly update on me and my burgeoning career.

other topics may include: tv, tacos, and (??)

i'm still figuring it out.

anyhoo, it would be my distinct pleasure to send this strange little thing straight to your inbox. click here to make that happen.

xoxo,
meeeeeeeeeesb

someone got married in that temperley dress!

too bad the groom's ensemble is blinding.
but the hair/lipstick situation is pretty satisfactory.

-- says an anonymous reader

I say, WHY NOT LET THE GROOM STEAL A LITTLE THUNDER? That suit fits him peeeurfectly.

In other news.... I am alive. Just got back from Atlanta + NYC. Ate too many potato products, drank too much coffee and toooooo many cocktails, tried on a pair of Birkenstocks and concluded that they are not for me.

Also: I may finally be a skinny jeans convert. More on that later.

(Photos by Jessica Peterson via The House That Lars Built)


p.s. There's a fresh MMOHIAC for you over here.

Dear ESB: Why is life so hard?

My husband and I are backing out of a business endeavor we were super excited about. Our visions weren't lining up with our prospective partners, and we realized that we weren't willing to give what they were expecting. It's fine, but I'm back to feeling lost in the whole "what am I doing with my life?" game. I've had it with my Etsy store, and always knew I wanted to switch gears when my son started school. But I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I suck at working for other people, so I need to start my own project again…. I guess I just wish sometimes that I wasn't so PASSIONATE. I should have just been an accountant.

#whitegirlproblems

*****

I just had a very similar conversation with a writer friend -- she said something like “I feel sorry for people who don’t have something they’re passionate about” and I was like BUT WOULDN’T THAT BE EASIER

Lately I've been in a bit of a funk myself.

I don't want a real job (or: I prefer my real job to run 20 weeks/year) but I'm terrible at managing my time. I scaled back on blogging to give myself space to write, and then spent most of January and February staring at Twitter and/or playing Threes. I decided to use our tax refund to make a short film,* which feels amazing -- I've been casting! and location scouting! and talking about shots with my dp! I feel like a real director again! -- but now I have to get my act together and write the feature script that comes next and YES LIFE IS HARD

Wait, was I supposed to be giving you advice? I'm not sure I'm qualified.

All I can do is send you a ginormous hug across the interwebs and tell you to a) Cut yourself some slack, and then b) GET TO IT. It's okay to take baby steps. It doesn't have to be all good and finished and perfect all at once.



Sophie Vlaming by Hicham Riad for Marie Claire Belgium (March 2014) via visual optimism

______________________________

*Thank you, H.

LET THE PEPLUM DIE

Does this even count as a peplum? WTF is going on with this??

Get it together, Alexander.



In other news:

We survived the rain!

I am directing a short film.

And.... Jenny Wren just sent me the perfect pair of pants (similar to these, but in vivid orange and blue). They're the ideal blend of pajama/evening and THEY ARE MY NEW JAM.

Hello, friends.

I feel like I owe you a real post.

Like, something more than yet another Dear ESB (though there are plenty of those coming... don't worry).

Should I fill you in on what I've been doing? Just finished a casting gig for that pretty cool fashion-related reality TV show. Pitching one film project, madly drafting a new draft of another.

Life is pretty good, you guys. Lately I've been feeling like an honest-to-god writer. (Though I'm breaking one of my own rules by talking about it here. Rule #10: Stop talking about writing and write.)

Weirdly, when things are going well in other realms, it makes me clam up on the interwebs. I'm always more inclined to blog when I'm avoiding doing something else.

But there's nothing to avoid at the moment. There's just me, tapping away on my laptop. Watching American Horror Story: Coven with my adorable husband. Making lentil soup. Going to yoga.

Whoops I just broke another rule: DON'T BE THAT ASSHOLE WHO TALKS ABOUT GOING TO YOGA




OMIGOD I'M AN ASSHOLE. I'M A BORING BORING ASSHOLE



























You are all unsubscribing right now, aren't you?? Shit.

Nancy Fouts via The Independent

HALP I NEED RUNNING MUSIC

4 days into a 10-day visit with in-laws and I have become an AVID RUNNER. 

Yesterday I even went out and bought myself a pair of actual running shoes. (2 days x 5 miles in "casual" athletic shoes = 1 enormous blister + 2 sore ankles.)

So here's my question: WHAT SHOULD I BE LISTENING TO?

Most of my old workout faves aren't fast-paced enough.

You guys have been killing it lately, b/t/w. Did I even mention I bought the Blu Dot table after this one turned out to be too big? I think I ought to just crowd-source everything from now on.

______________________________

Nikes via Misha West

There's an enormous knot in the pit of my stomach.

It's been there for two days.

Possible causes:

a) cramps

b) the approach of my 40th birthday

c) anxiously awaiting notes on script x

d) dreading returning to work on script y

e) feeling stagnant here on the blog

f) mezcal

Or could it be THE MOON?

You know you're getting old when….

1. Your husband gets a big check in the mail, and you go on a bender PAYING BILLS. Paying your property taxes, paying your cable bill, paying both of your wireless bills motherfucking EARLY. AND YOU'RE SUPER EXCITED ABOUT THIS.

2. You decide not to pour yourself a glass of whiskey at 9:30pm on a Friday night because WHOO, that might keep you up.

3. You realize you have a crush on Tom Colicchio.

3a. You find old Daniel Day Lewis to be the cutest Daniel Day Lewis.

4. Omigod forget it, this is depressing

5.


Photo by Pinar Yolaçan via c ktnon via Frédéric Chollet

Fall, My Ass

I refuse to freak out about how summer is over when it's 88 fucking degrees outside.

Summer isn't really my season, anyway. This may have something to do with the fact that I grew up in San Francisco. I will always prefer strolling on a foggy beach to lying, BAKING, in the sun.

Speaking of foggy beaches, we got a lovely little taste of them on our only-semi-successful camping/road trip, which I have yet to report on. We did just a teensy bit of camping (woot woot SLO + Mendocino!) on our way up to my dad's, stayed nowhere near long enough, and rushed back to LA in a huge hurry because we got a house.

WE GOT A HOUSE, PEOPLE.


A CUTE HOUSE.




A teensy tiny cute cute house with a porch and a view and a claw foot tub! In Echo Park!

Whoopsies, this post was supposed to be about fall.

Anyhoo.

Our fall is going to be heavy on plumbing and electrical and figuring out how the hell we're going to fit our stuff into 460 square feet (I.E. purging).

Jane Birkin via Ginny Branch Stelling via Shauna O'Toole

If you'll indulge me....

I used to share weird personal stuff on the blog.

You know, stuff about dirty dishes and my struggle with our finances and how sometimes my husband sleeps on the couch.

And then I went "pro" and readership went up and somewhere along the line I stopped sharing so much. I guess I worry that y'all are just here for the wedding snark and you have no interest in the rest of it.

But. I really liked the blog when I was putting myself out there. The posts that I am most afraid to publish always turn out to be the most gratifying.

And so, if you'll indulge me, I think I'll try to get a little more personal again.

Up next: An ode to eye cream

(You think I'm kidding??)

Photo: Vivienne Westwood by Juergen Teller

On house hunting (part two)

Ten months ago, when we started the house hunt, I made this list of ten things I wanted:

Detached cottage/bungalow
Off the street
Outdoor space (deck or patio with trees)
Hardwood floors
Washer/dryer (or hook-up)
Clawfoot tub
H studio/guest room
Writing corner for me
Parking
Storage

Somewhere along the line I crossed out clawfoot tub and wrote in VIEW.

That was when I realized we probably couldn't afford Echo Park, and I kept announcing, "If I'm going to leave this neighborhood, I have to have a view."




ha
ha
ha
ha





ha ha ha


Now all I want is a CUTE HOUSE.



Cute.

Is that too much to ask??

(compact beach chalet by studiomama via designboom via Pennyweight)

On house hunting

Take a look at the photo above.

Your first thought is: "CUTE!" Right?

Unless you are house hunting. 

If you are house hunting, before your brain can even fire on "CUTE!" you will think:

"The roof must be rotting under that grass."

"Bummer, only three windows."

"Is there parking??"

We've been house hunting for nine months now. It was casual until April, when my apartment in NYC finally sold. Now we are READY TO FUCKING PULL THE TRIGGER, but every cute house (in our price range, obvs) seems to have a slew of issues. Either that, or we get outbid. Or, you know, both.

Photo via The Shiny Squirrel. Does anyone know who took it?

Remember that new leaf I turned over?

Hogwash and poppycock.

Caffeine-induced dementia.

I've been working this….fun! really quite fun! but surprisingly exhausting day job for 6 weeks now, and I can barely manage to get out of bed in the morning and put on a reasonably cute outfit, let alone get up in time to WRITE for a fucking hour before work.

I missed the last deadline I set for myself. I've set another one, which is LOOMING. But I'm thinking maybe I should just let me off the hook for the next month until I get back to my sweet little life and my desk in the corner of the kitchen.

Beating myself up about it doesn't seem to be helping.

Anyhoo.

Thanks for listening, you guys. It always helps me to blog it out.

Angela Lindvall by Mark Borthwick for purple FASHION, Summer 1997

happy spring.

this morning i got up at 4:50am to take my best girl to the airport.

h and i were home by 6:20am, and we did NOT go back to bed. 

instead, i had a second cup of coffee and spent a whole hour with my script. not the new one i've been tearing my hair out outlining, but the old one i haven't touched in 6 months. i've got a rewrite due on april 11, and i've been avoiding it like the plague.

i actually accomplished something. as in: wrote a few lines of dialogue. thought up a few new scenes. 

AMAZEBALLS.

maybe i'm turning over a new leaf.

maybe i really can hold down a full-time job (for the next 9 weeks) and keep up the ol blog and turn in this damn rewrite on time and figure out how to promote my first LA screening.

HAPPY SPRING!

here's to new leaves.

Photo by Michael Graydon via Forty-Sixth at Grace

on the Catbird set

I can't tell you how much fun we all had making our short.

Can this man rock jewelry, or can he rock jewelry??

I didn't even notice the heart tattoo when I cast him. (And by "cast him," I mean..... accosted him on the Lower East Side two days before the shoot and made him PROMISE TO CALL ME. Thank fuck he did.)

We ladies almost died when he started trying on wedding bands.

Funny story.

Teepee's mama told me that bananas were her favorite food, so all day we kept trying to use bananas to get Teepee to jump up on the bed and interrupt the smooching.

No go.

That is one polite chihuahua.

It was finally a little bit of leftover BEEF from my nacho lunch that did the trick.

And Anya is adorable, no? I knew we had the right girl when H's friends kept asking him if they could see ALL THE FOOTAGE.

Photos by Cary Tijerina

Sexiest diamond commercial EVARRRRRRR

Or: Short film featuring the sexiest fucking jewelry you've ever seen??

MOOD PIECE?

Whatever you want to call it, I directed it, and I am pret-ty pleased with the way it turned out.

Featuring Anya Skidan, Matthew Green, and Teepee
Cinematography by Jon Edward Miller
Hair + Makeup by Charlie Taylor
Flowers by Amy Merrick
Music by Oceanographer
Jewelry, Props + Styling by Catbird, of course. (Head on over there to shop the video.)

you guys...............

i'm supposed to be decked out in sequins (or NOT SEQUINS) right now, on my way to that hill country wedding.

instead i'm holed up in an nyc office bldg, script-suping on a micro-budg feature.

i know. cry me a sparkly gold river, right?

(Photography by Will Davidson, Styling by Stevie Dance, Model Jessica Stam; via Vain and Vapid)