Heads and Holgas

Something really bizarre is happening this week:  I'm starting to develop this thing that most people call "a life."  Between the outing with our blog buddies, the book reading Monday and the art show I'm attending this evening, one may be fooled into thinking that I do more than work and watch America's Next Top Model.  (I'm a master at smiling with my eyes BTW) Are you in Austin?  Perhaps you would like to play my new favorite game, have a life, as well.  Here's how:  Head south to Austin Art Garage tonight to check out the latest work from two of my favorite ladies, Cory Ryan and Hope Perkins at their show, Heads and Holgas.

Austin Art Garage is located at 2200 S. Lamar Blvd.  Not in Texas?  Here's a peek at what you'll be missing.  Sorry, I don't have any photographs of free booze.

A few of Hope's older pieces.  The bobcat on the bottom right started it all.  Her name is Tanya, she wears a tierra.  I happen to know from my many trips to Round Top with Hope that Tanya has since gained a sister, Zatarans McGillicutty, who's just as cute as a stuffed button.

The piece on the left is "So you DO know Betty Blackwell?" If you live in Austin and have ever found yourself watching tv past 11:00 at night, you will know that this is the funniest title for a neon pink taxidermied deer with a telephone ever in the history of the planet.  I'm not sure what the one on the right is called, but, knowing Hope, I'm sure it's hilarious. 

It should be noted that I tried to find a video clip of the Betty Blackwell commercial to share with you all, but it doesn't exist online.

Cory will be displaying photographs from her extensive Holga portfolio.  She's spent the last year obsessively shooting Austin from angles I've never seen (normally I can name almost any street corner in an Austin shot, but most of these leave me guessing).  

I'm not sure if I should be beaming with pride over having such talented friends or spending my energy commanding that you hit the show this evening... perhaps a bit of both.

Superfriends Unite!

Ok, I think I've finally gotten enough sleep to ably recount the awesomeness of this past weekend, which Karly and I enjoyed with blog buddies Molly and Raina. We spent much of the trip shop shop shopping, with a healthy dose of boozing and shooting added in.

Molly and Raina, looking all cute and sassy at Opal Divine's downtown location.

The ladies arrived late Thursday night and shacked up with Karly, since baby Ike makes me go to bed freakishly early. On Friday, we kicked off the day with Mexican martinis at Austin chain Trudy's... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Delicious. Then, we couldn't let our friends leave Austin without visiting paint guru Sanders, so off to Benjamin Moore we went. After our paint powwow, we headed to South Congress to satiate the shopping bug, where we indulged in a day of vintage. Uncommon Objects took most of our time there with its elephantine selection of curiosities, but we also visited Prototype, New Bohemia and Feathers, all run by lovely Austin bizness women.

Image courtesy of Uncommon Objects.

Then we headed across the river with baby Ike in tow, to Threshold Interiors -- which I actually did not set foot in since the Ikester decided it was time to fuel up. But it sure looked pretty from the windows.

Image courtesy of Threshold Interiors.

I'll definitely be back someday, hopefully to nab that little gnome for the baby's room.

After Threshold, Ike cried all the way back across the river until he got home to nap. Later that evening, we all headed over to Karly's for an evening of steak and booze. Well, everyone boozed except for House of Slappy blogger Andrea, who's due to provide Ike with a brand spanking new playmate in February.

On Saturday, we rose at the crack of noon to do some thrifting, then headed towards the skeet shooting range out in the rural wilds of east Austin. That's right -- us lady bloggers pack heat.

And if you mess with us, Karly will bust a cap in your ass.

I'm not sure how we ended up skeet shooting, but when in Texas, right? I can't wait for my dad to see this, because he is gonna LAUGH HIS ASS OFF. He's been trying to get me to shoot something for the last 33 years (yes, I was born with a pistol in my tiny baby hand).

Well, here I am, Dad, doing my best Annie Oakley Calamity Jane impression. Actually, he'll be proud to know that I hit my very first target our instructor let fly. Not only that, but after shooting several clay pigeons, I had the strange urge to shoot anything that moved... including butterflies that fluttered by. Maybe I best avoid the gunslinging lifestyle.

Although I did respectably well, I would never engage in a gunfight with Raina. LADY HAS MAD SKILLS. Like, scary good. Stay out of her way, mean people.

Have I mentioned yet that we are the very best dressed skeet shooters in Texas? This is Molly, hitting targets in four inch heels. In case you were wondering, no one really noticed when we walked onto the shooting range. Ok. We got a few looks.

Because we are badasses, that's why.

After getting our redneck on, the ladies went out to shop downtown. Ligne Roset had Raina rolling around on Togos like a wild pony in hay. Sadly, no footage of this exists -- it's a travesty that can only be corrected by another visit. In the meantime, enjoy this stock photo of the store:

In addition to Ligne Roset, the ladies hit Mercury Design Studio:

They have a gorgeous store with stunning merchandise, but they obviously need to hire me to shoot it (with a camera, not a shotgun), since they don't have any pictures on their website and I had to steal this old image from the internets.

After shopping, we dined downtown. I headed home early like a good mommy, but Karly and the girls went out clubbing. I can't really provide any details, but I hear that men in underwear were involved. I think Raina has further information for those of you with inquiring minds.

Molly flew out the next afternoon, but Raina's flight didn't leave until the evening, so we hit Room Service, where I found this guy waiting for me:

I may be watching too much Deadwood... nah. That's impossible.

After tacos from Torchy's (don't get the turkey special, Austinites!) and some family time around the tv, it was time for Raina to board her plane. Karly and I were both sad to see our guests go, but we already have plans to visit New York and Denver. Thank Jeebus our buds have good taste in places to call home... not sure we'd be so ready to set out for North Dakota. Just kidding North Dakotans. And just kidding, Molly and Raina. We'd be happy to hang with you anywhere!

Running With Foreclosures

24 hours after the sad departure of Molly and Raina, I'm almost recovered from our weekend of gun-slinging-decorating-debauchery.  Even though I may be the "hostess with the mostess" (Molly's term) I'm not so good at remembering to put my camera in my purse so you'll have to cruise over to Raina's blog for the recap.  I believe Erin will be uploading some pictures here tomorrow as well.  Sooooo... I'll be writing about something else Tonight (it's Monday night right now) Mattypants and I cruised over to Book People to see Augusten Burroughs read from his latest memoir, You Better Not Cry.  Burroughs was rail-thin with a great sense of style and graciously fielded less-than-interesting questions from the audience:  "did you know my name is Meg, just like the girl in your story about Wendy's fast food restaurant?"  Oh Augusten, you are a better person than me.

You're also a good decorator.

As luck would have it (I was really hoping to write about his house after the reading), the New York Times just did a piece on Mr. Burroughs home, which is in an apartment building as ill-fated as the character's lives in most of his stories.

Mr. Burroughs bought the $625,000 Battery Park studio, his first home purchase, a year ago from "sleek creatures in Prada" who quickly went bankrupt and fled the country.

The unfinished building's exposed wires and touch-and-go hot water system didn't stop Mr. Burroughs from piecing together a lovely apartment on his own.

The entire space revolves around the king sized bed that functions as his office placed smack-dab in the center of the room.

Augusten did all of his home shopping on first dibs (mental note:  write some memoirs to afford a similar shopping spree).  

Downloading images of furniture, like this Borge Mogensen sofa, Mr. Burroughs used a program similar to photoshop to arrange each piece proportionately before making his purchases.  The sofa now rests at the foot of his office-bed.

Despite the fact that he can't "sell you this place for $15 now," and the building's future is unknown, Mr. Burroughs is happy with his purchase.  Keeping in perfect pace with his well documented life, the foreclosure scandal seems to be nothing more than a tragic blip that will one day be given comedic life in print and should send enough of us to the book store shelves for him to just buy the whole damn building.

Case in point:  I found this photo of his former home via the magic of google.  The home was destroyed in a flood (ironically, Augusten installed lightning protection because "I’m the sort of person who gets struck by lightning").  The story is now recalled in the book I just waited in line to have signed this evening.