Photos by Forrest Anderson, photographer extraordinaire, and my DAD.

My dad spent the better part of his career working as a photographer for Time Magazine. He photographed all sorts of politicos, artists, weirdos (and occasionally, all three in one). He and my mother (who was a journalist for the AP) are China-philes. I think there’s an actual word for it, like Anglophile… hold on, I’ve gotta Google it. (Huh, did you know that “chionophiles” are: n. any animal that thrives in winter conditions, particularly snow?) Ok, the word I’m looking for is apparently sinophiles. So, my parents are sinophiles, people who love China. Right, that’s how I ended up being named Tai Li. We’ve been through this before.

Now my very cool parents live in North Carolina instead of Beijing – and while I know that they are just waiting for the remaining chillins’ to finish school so that they can go galivanting about the world again – they haven’t stopped doing what they love. My dad can’t breathe without a camera within arms’ reach, and he continues to chronicle his surroundings in breathtaking photographs that he posts on his blog Natural Selections. (He also posts totally rockin’ China-related photos in his other blog Words & Pictures).

I finally broke down and did laundry. I had gotten to the point where I was wearing completely mismatched outfits. Pencil skirts with pajama tops, that type of thing. But I still haven’t folded the pile of clean clothes yet. I covered it with my pink towel so it’s at least an attractive pile. As a result I’m wearing head-to-toe black today, with silver sequined flip flops, and my hair in a french braid. It sounds chic, but believe me, when I say I look like a lumpy piece of licorice that got dipped in glitter, I am not exaggerating – much.

It’s been one of those weeks where I’ve been busily taking care of everything else in my life – work, shed building, redecorating, cooking, teaching Sunday School, and shopping (because I needed some stress relief and a purse that wasn’t peeling). As a result, I’ve lost track of the simple things, (like this blog) and small things get lost in the fray. For example, the fact that I remembered to shave my legs for church on Sunday was somewhat of a miracle. I found myself sitting in church going, did I shave? Oh, yes, I did. What a surprise. Hey, the fact that I remembered it was Sunday was a miracle.

So, my goal from here on out is to take the time to breathe, the time to pay attention to the small things – maybe to blow dry my hair on a weekday for once. (Have I mentioned that my hair is officially waist-length? Yes, yes it is.) And now that I have clean clothes, even though they’re in a basket next to my bed, I can at least wear things that match.

(Photo from Style.com Charles Anastase Spring 2009 Collection)