eight non-consecutive days

In eight non-consecutive days this happened:

Celebrated the life and times of dear friends with a good ol'fashioned birthday bash, party hats and all.

A lot of good eating at Tennessy Willems.

Samantha Savage Smith at Raw Sugar.

Finding reasons to wear my play clothes. 

Hanging out with the fearless types. 

Dishing out dog pats.

Finding quiet moments during the big, bad bustle.  

Participating in the 24 hour brunch that inevitability turns into a dance party.

x

later, at the bar

images Remi Theriault  

Sometimes just going for a drink can change the course of your life. Instead of pacing back and forth in your apartment tallying up your to-do list or trying to think of a word that describes the thing you have no idea you're trying to write, go drink some fine grained liquor. 

Trust me. People's advice sounds much better and you end up talking about oysters and other important details of the evening like the creme fraiche in your ceviche, thinly sliced meats and the handful of characters behind the bar.  

Good things happen to those who go for a drink. Which is why I went to Whalesbone recently with a whimsical lady friend, who sings lovely songs, and a talented gentleman friend, who takes lovely pictures. 

See above. 

sweet outside, nuts on the inside

Portrait of the last few days

*

Taking part in some very productive hibernation.

Waking up most mornings with the feeling that something has changed, something subtle, something I don;t quite understand yet.

Saw The Coppertone at Raw Sugar. Dope.

Toying with the idea of starting a band with my friends. None of us sing, but we can all almost play an instrument....I might just stick to dinging a triangle and writing lyrics.

My new neighboorhood is in sandwich heaven. Two blocks away--German Town. Four blocks away--Bowich. 

x