7.23.2012

Pacific Crest Trail Love Quest

Two of my closest pals got engaged over the weekend. I've known Jon since our college days, even before Ashley entered the picture. Over the years, I've discovered one crucial piece of information which informs everything Jon says or does: He's one of the most excruciatingly thoughtful people you'll ever meet. True to form, this camping trip evolved over a litany of emails, maps, plans, phone calls, and more emails. Every single detail of this elaborate choose-your-own-adventure-style engagement was painstakingly and meticulously wrought. From the Field Guide notebook he filled with instructions for the journey to the ring bearing his own fingerprints, Jon made sure the weekend was suffused with his sense of whimsy and imagination. 

One rarely knows where to begin when it comes to Ashley. She's a black belted, zombie-slaying, BBC fanatic with a penchant for digging in the dirt and sucking down Slurpees. In other words, she's a 12-year-old boy stuck in the body of an adult woman, with the imagination of a comic book geek and an unerring commitment to the movie Lost Boys. And as it turns out, she's Jon's ideal woman.

It took them a long time to get here, and there may have been a few casualties along the way, but at last,  eight years after meeting, they've finally decided to take on the zombie apocalypse as an ass-kicking pair. 


Since we had no cell reception, our instructions relied on the accuracy of napkin maps. 



The field guide Jon put together to guide Ashley on her trek, our campsite, and the ring in a custom geode box. 




Ladies and germs, this is a lady who is about to get engaged. She wore potato sack pants with one cuff rolled higher than the other. Put the flirty dresses away, because she wins all rounds, hands down. Having received her walking stick and field guide, Ashley consults the manual before proceeding. 

But danger lurks around every corner! Along the trail, Ashley encountered zombies and one very reluctant vampire. 

DIE! DIE! KILL! KILL!

In the foreground, a dead vampire. Ashley marches on, unfazed. 

Carnage from the kill.

After 20 minutes on the trail with an special playlist, a bag of supplies, and instructions, Ashley met Jon and he led her to this outcropping where she found a box of treasures. 

The PANTS. Oh, how I love you, Ashley. This is the part where Jon proposed. IN SPITE OF THE PANTS. 


She said yes. 

Jon also formally invited Ashley, previously a lone wolf, to join our wolf pack (friends and family). They returned to find the tribe waiting at the campsite with a few surprise cross-country visitors. 




Emily Weiss created the wolf ears for the pack.

"OMG are those his fingerprints molded into the ring?" YES. Yes, they are. 





Everyone contributed veggies and meat for hobo stew. 


Congratulations, you two. It's been a long time coming. 

7.16.2012

Fauxchella 2012: The Hurricane Song


The Hurricane Song - The Sound and the Wind from Loose Luggage on Vimeo.

Here is where talent and nostalgia collide. I'm fine with it.

(Read/watch more about Fauxchella here.)

7.10.2012

Instalife

Lately.

(I'm @laureldailey if you're so inclined)












7.09.2012

Janessa Leone

I got a chance to shoot a few portraits of friend and chapeau-wielding business maverick Janessa Leone last week. Janessa makes hats. The kind of hat you're going to wear with everything you own. The kind of hat you're going to throw on time and time again until years have slipped by and it's worn in all the right places and it has become your signature. That kind of hat. Let's call it a best friend kind of hat. The I'm-wearing-this-in-every-single-Facebook-picture-I'm-tagged-in kind of hat. The hat you take with you on your travels. The kind that just gets better with age. 

If you're without a hat like this (and if you've been doing most of your shopping at Forever21, I'd assert that you are definitely without this kind of hat), then you are missing out on a crucial part of life. It's as important to a person as having a go-to drink or a favorite ages-with-you song. It just is. 

I've worn mine to death and I'll likely keep right on wearing it until it falls off my head. (No seriously: In the California desert. In Central Oregon. In the Canadian Rockies.)

Now you know what you must do, friends. So do it.







7.05.2012

July 4th, 2012


Has everybody successfully dragged their beer-soaked, fuzzy-mouthed, hazy-eyed selves to work this morning after the Freedom Festivities yesterday? Yeah, me either. My Fourth was typical of many similar afternoons around this great country of ours: Beer, meat, fireworks, music, Flip Cup. 

Despite the fact that the sun never quite made it to the party (really, sun? We couldn't rally for one afternoon out of the year when you're essentially the guest of honor? What is this, San Francisco?!), we still managed to let freedom ring with watermelon, Springsteen, and a Costco-sized bag of Solo cups. After the sun went down, we schlepped to the beach to watch the fireworks explode over the Queen Mary. I love this particular part of the Fourth because it finds the locus of national pride in Long Beach residents. There is nothing Long Beach residents love more than living in Long Beach. You might think you love your city, but trust me: the face of a resident beams ever brighter for Long Beach. The streets are choked with pedestrians making their way to and from the coastline, street dogs sizzle on the corner of Junipero and Ocean, appreciative Oohs and Aahs ripple through the crowd while the fireworks display shimmers in the distance. Afterward, we head back home, get another drink, and enjoy the efforts of amateur fireworks enthusiasts around the neighborhood.

All in all, I love my country; but I really love Long Beach. 

















 
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