day three hundred sixty-two.

sunday travel scenes

 (light rail)

(shades)

(you are here)

(hail decatur, rest stops)

day three hundred forty-seven(-ish).

we will miss you, bailey dog.

i still remember the day we got him: my sister katie held him in the backseat, tucked partially into her coat to keep warm.

it was pouring in december and the roof of our car was leaking all over me on the passenger side.

i was cold and wet and couldn't have been happier.

day two hundred eighty-five.

a sunday with hot peach tea, volunteerism, fire-tinted leaves, and gas station fountain drinks.

i also wore these boots to the farmer's market yesterday morning.
i stepped in dog vomit before purchasing apples and warm bread.
today: a better day for shoes (and dogs).

day two hundred seventy-one.

un fine de settimana en ottobre

(indoors)

i had lunch at za's with former roommate beth, who shares an intense love for halloween and garlic bread.
she put me in the october spirit with this:

(goblins are sneaky, dancing creatures) 

(i'm also quite relieved that they clarified who the fashion coordinator was on this video shoot for my future reference)

 at jamie and bethany's apartment. neighbors!

tiny dog i thought was a cat and/or ewok the first time i saw him emerge

then it was time for: librarian dance party!

movement clothes: check

 dance cookies: check.

 too much funk for camera lenses to handle: triple check.

so much work to do now 

hsuyfujshdfsyduifyasudyfpabf

day two hundred fifty-four.

king kong! has! opinions!

the alphabet

bad dog.

i thought a sock was a mouse this morning.
the time has come to pick up the apartment.
pick it up, shake it out.
also to write a paper, clothed in the color of my greatest power.

c'mon weekend, i can feel you waiting.

day two hundred thirty-seven.

pets: wild and western
elmo n. stevenson
c1953

give us this day our daily meat.

i'd like to travel to school in an old handbag myself.

listening to: beach house
at: the library
watching: a man in a purple hat reading comics

day two hundred thirty-two.

the fridge in the GSLIS basement

sending emails, eating granola, organizing. all night long.

day one hundred eighty-nine.

part two
science, housewives, and gift shops

the remainder of our american history experience on saturday
(brian boitano's figure skates not pictured)
(not because i didn't take a picture)
(because i did)

a scientist escapee from the air & space museum, probably


utopiaaaa

brunette betty draper

(i'm watching a mad men marathon right now. its a "best of season 2"- does that mean the entire season?)

(also there is a very dramatically cut commercial for at&t u-verse customers who might lost AMC before the mad men season premiere. reactions to kennedy's death and dramatic face rubbing. amazing)
(end television tangent)

i want this living room.

OH DEAR

careful, ladies

for keith

images of classic dresses...on this

fashion: N/A

bo would not fit in a purse

"oh, my hair looks okay."
also, it stopped raining

we ended with a pizza dinner at ella's in chinatown
soy cheese & spinach + sangria, and a birthday cupcake for beth from red velvet

also: i finally got my badge today for work. i think security is going to miss seeing me get signed in every morning.

day one hundred twenty-seven.

puppies!

i try to be mature, you guys. i swear.

puppy's first group x-ray.

final went well this morning.
grad school is now 1/2 complete.
tomorrow is the day for thai food and a baumbach-athon.
i like the month of may.

day one hundred.

this is a book from 1951 featuring real animals. i can only imagine it was made to frighten children into not asking their parents for a pet.

(click any image for a bit of a closer view, because that is something you might want to do if sight is not your favorite thing)


this is precisely what i look like when i get to class.

if i knew you were coming i'd have baked the photographer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AOfbnGkuGc

so, this is supposed to be a well, and not gallows. i think.

oh great, they killed one.

i'm a pretty girl.

this dog wants to kill himself.

the ever-snarky review, this time wildly appropriate.

happy one hundredth day.