Less is More, More or Less.

I've always heard that it's wise to stop and check yourself in the mirror right before you walk out the door and remove one element of your outfit; the hat, the pin on your jacket, something. Since I am terrible at accessorizing – I never wear hats, belts or pins on my jackets or sweaters. Hell, I hardly even stray from solid colors – that concept seems to be non-issue with me in the fashion department.

Winging It.

Before I begin, I would like to make a bold statement: never again will I have a brilliant writing concept as I'm falling asleep and assume I will recall it the next day. I would like to tell you all right here and now that forever forward I will keep an adorable little notebook and a nice pen on my person at all times. Even in bed. Especially in bed.

Slab City

I don't know why but lately, for no good reason, I have been waking up way earlier than I ever have before. It's very discombobulating to have my day, routine and schedule change so radically. All because of three little hours. It makes the concept of when a day starts and ends get all blurred. Naps start to feel necessary. Bed time becomes earlier. The light is all different. Cooler.

Go Figure.

After a month of picnicking and al fresco dining, July rolled in. It's uncomfortably hot and I don't have air conditioning, so clearly I thought it best to start baking again. I dabble, it's true. Doug makes fun of me as I always claim to never, ever bake. Usually I'm proclaiming this as I'm handing him an oatmeal cookie or a loaf of banana bread or some such thing. He's right. I do bake more than most non-bakers, and I certainly bake more than I ever have before. But the truth is, most of the time I don't really know what I'm doing.