Remember that time I said I’d show you photos of my life and junk? Is now a good time? I feel like other blog(ger)s are far more successful with this sort of thing. I’m not being modest; they absolutely are, but I don’t know why I think or care about that.
McCoy and I woke up late. He got fresh lettuce; I got coffee.
Only four of my herb plantings have survived. I sometimes wish I had “a bit of earth” for these sorts of endeavors.
I’ve already started packing for my mini-trip to NYC (to visit boy while he’s working the US Open). I leave Monday. I’m a little over-prepared. There’s a $4 chartreuse satin party dress in the bottom of my suitcase.
I had considered organizing my closet, today. I’ll get back to you on that, perhaps via twitter.
This is an old sewing machine table that I purchased for next to nothing at Goodwill. The machine itself needs to be oiled and cleaned up (but it works!), so for now the table serves as a tiny work station for art things. I did do some art work, today.
…and this charming disaster is my bookcase.
There was a shortlived time (inbetween highschool and my first foray into college/artschool/mania) where I envisioned my future-self with ink-stained fingers and late late night coffee insomnia. I guess I felt a bit like that in my mid-years at UVM, as well. These days, all I really want to do is soak up all daylight/moonlight I can and make/grow/care for things. Nesting? I don’t know. I’ve returned to a rather comfortable state of being since I left Burlington a year ago.
I don’t quite know how to communicate what all that has to do with a messy bookcase. I think I’m just imagining those books someday happily nestled among others, belonging to a certain occasionally-bearded gentleman.
My goals are happy ones. I want to take care of myself and the people (creatures) I love and I guess, I don’t know, live until I’m ninety.
what we need is a climbing song