Winner of the Way Rad Award Goes To....

Rebecca! For not only completing the edits on the entire photo session and posting them to her proofing site (I first wrote "poofing site" there, and I think I like it better. Heh. Poofing site...), but also for making this KICK*SS slideshow. I mean, really. Where does the awesomosity end?

Richie Tenenbaum Is Jealous

She will not take it off, and she will not lift it off of her eyebrows. She will slice through the still summer air with wicked serves and she will volley with fearsome justice. Behold, Iris the Hardcourt Hooligan.

All Hail Rebecca, Queen of Photography and Awesomeness In General

• Step one: Go to here (http://www.rebeccaallenphotography.blogspot.com/)
• Step two: Leave a comment for Rebecca. Be sure to use words like 'amazing,' 'delicious,' and 'life-altering.'
• Step three: Hire Rebecca.
• Step four: Be jealous of me till you finally get her to photograph something for you.
  

I tried to snag these from Rebecca's blog and just post them here, but the size went all wonky and I did my best to reformat them. Did not work out so great, let me tell you. The quality here is really poor compared to what's posted up at Rebecca's place. Which is here. Go to there.


There are a bunch of photos in the main body of her most recent post, and here very shortly the entire gallery will be available on the client proofing site (that leetle grassy square that says "clients"). Various sizes of prints can be ordered from that page, so peruse to your heart's content.

Reunion Tour

Hola Friends,

Here are some photos I ripped off of Grandma & Grandpa Reinhard. I didn't post all of them, just most of the ones featuring Iris, and one without Iris but that I think makes Kyle and I look really dashing and relaxed. We're like, "hey, join us on the lanai. Kick back, have a cocktail, be good-looking and chill like us." It's what we do.

Anyhoodle, the reunion was fun but sweaty. So much so that we mostly opted out of bathing, as it was mostly useless. You know it's bad when you all smell like dark armpit and you can't find it in yourself to care. So here are the photos. I'll try to get them on Picasa later, for now, please to enjoy:

Portrait of the Baby as Esther Williams

Thank you all for suffering through my first attempt at a home movie of sorts. I thought it was going to be this awesome click/paste/cut/slap/done situation, but it ended up taking me the better part of six hours to get it compiled, formatted, and posted. And yes, it is embarrassing as all jehoshaphat to admit that to you. Oh well. Learned something about this lovely piece of macintosh machinery here. The upside is that I apparently nearly made a pregnant lady cry (said pregnant lady who took at least half of the photos that comprise that little number), if you consider that to be a good thing, anyway.

I'm here to tell you a quick story and to direct you to the new! awesomesauce! photos of Iris in her yellow swim suit from last weekend, which are completely dissimilar and opposite in every way to the photos of her in her green swim suit from the weekend previous. har. Anyway, second things first: go check out the Picasa albums to see the new set of pool pics. They're cute.

Okay, story time: Every morning at dawn o'clock, light begins to seep through curtains. The house starts shuffling and rolling, trying to hide from the shifty new light, and a little chubbylegged, curlyhaired, sassyfaced monster begins her song. "Woof? Dawh? Dawh? Dawh? CACK CACK CACKCACKCACK! woof? aaaaaahhhhhhhhh! AH!" Every day is the same. Every song begins with a "woof" and ends with an "AHHHHHH!"

Eventually the monster is dissatisfied with her lack of audience and commences a round of protestation so thorough that it cannot be ignored. Then, the gate to the evil steep stairs is closed, the monster is relocated to the big bed, and the assault begins. First it's wiggles. Then it's thrashing. Then it's full-on grabbing and kicking and pulling hair and gnashing (of tiny, singsong, monster) teeth. Once the slumbering beasts in the big bed have lost enough hair/sleep/sanity, the monster is returned to her white wooden sleigh with a book and a toy and a kiss.

The monster recommences singing, and the slumberbeasts pretend like there's still some night left in which to sleep. Dawn solidifies, and there's silence again. Curlyhairs plays with her toys or reads her book to herself, or contemplates Hemingway's position on modernism and houses on stilts. No one knows, but they welcome the quiet nonetheless.

The silence lasts for an indiscriminate number of minutes before the pleas for rescue begin. They are traditionally jumbled cries, but they are not always without actual words. Favorite requests include "ba!" (bottle), "Moah! Bie! Eeee!" (More! Bite! Eat!), which are always fulfilled with expediency, as hungry monsters are sad monsters, and no one wants that. Some days, there is no request for goods and services, only a call to action: "Da. DA! DADADADADADA, Mama. Mama?" So the beasts heed the familiar call of the monster; they accept defeat, flick switches and squeeze chubbylegs and descend evil steep stairs, and the day begins.

Today, the monster completed her silent dissertation on Lacanian Jouissance while the slumberbeasts slumbered, and when she was finished, she said,

"Lola?"

We weren't quite sure what to do. So we fed her some strawberries and pickles, gave her a bottle, and got ready for the day.

who'd have ever thought her

I.L.K. from Megan Kelley on Vimeo.

It's a Complicated Spiritual Exercise

'Twas an exciting afternoon here at the Kelley abode. We pumped up the giraffe pool (me) and filled it with water (kyle). We donned our saucy spotted suits (iris) and prepped for the sun (half-gallon of SPF a million and The Dreaded Hat of Scalp Protection).

We had a bunch of fun at the inaugural pool event. Iris walked up to the pool, and shouted at the pool, and shook her little spotted booty at the pool, but was not so keen on entering the pool. She got a really big kick out of throwing grass into it. So that's nice. She did eventually concede to standing in it, but the closest she got to sitting was a modified squat and grimace. I swear the temp was like bath water, so I think it was really just concern for squashing the giraffe or something. Anyway, she got really into splashing it and then running around the yard, then coming back to splash some more. In fact she and Kyle both got so into it that I feared to interrupt. Things got a little serious there with some sort of devotional to Poseidon or something, so I just let them be and did my best to document the revelry. See below.

I think they're doing the wave.

p.s. rest of album on picassa.