Dusty parking lots and abandoned houses

I can’t remember what sparked it exactly but I think I was drawing out some random phrase and David laughed and asked if I was an emo hipster hip hop artist, coming up with lyrics. I think you’d probably get that impression with my blog post titles, lol, which means I really hope no one goes back through the titles. I think the really good ones are on the Moose blog, though, so there’s that. We were visiting friends, though, recently and I made us pull over to take some photos. The weather was beautiful and the valley we were in has such a nice, open feel that I miss after being in the city for so long. Also we went pant shopping for David the day before and he was super proud of his red pants. They’re amazing

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I was in middle school when I first discovered the amazing genius that is red pants. They’re seriously the bomb and you guys have no friggin’ clue how stoked I was when colorful pants came into fashion because it meant I could find red pants evvvvverywhere. But more importantly, David is now a card-pant-carrying member of the Red Pants Club. We found them at Target, 50% off, and they were perfect. He’s been wearing them all the time and it’s funny to see how well suited we are for each other in the dumb small things, like loving red pants.
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I’ve never been much a cereal and milk person

I mean, I’ve never been much of a food person in general. Don’t get me wrong–I love to eat, I do. Food and I just have a complicated relationship, what with gastroparesis and allergies. Anyway though David loves cereal and milk in the morning, so we usually have a decent stock. I talked him into using almond milk for a while, and I joined him in his cereal ventures. He went back to cow milk (bleck) though so I stopped. I used to eat granola, yogurt and applesauce exclusively in the mornings a few years back but I’ve fallen off the habit of yogurt. I’ve swapped it out for cottage cheese at lunch, which is kind of weird but so much easier to eat in a staff breakroom than something packed from home. In the mornings, though, I’ve made the delightful discovery that Rice Chex and applesauce work perfectly together. You have to eat it fairly quickly, which can be rough since I’m a slow eater. Like, take a couple bites, wander off and draw for a while, come back for a couple more bites, etc. It can take me all day to drink a cup of coffee. Well, I mean, I refill it but I also end up microwaving it like seven times at least.

Rice chex and applesauce, though. Yum.

Talking about breakfast food might be a weird first post after a long absence, but I think by now it should be clear that consistency is one thing this blog probably won’t ever have. It’s May now, though, which hopefully means that the awful hellishness of February, March and April are over. Srsly guyz it’s been a rough start to the year. Still, though, happy things have happened. I’ve been scrapbooking them project life style, and hopefully soon I’ll get around the posting them. No promises, though, because you know. Consistency is for losers and awesome organized people, neither of which I consider myself.


Things are still good, though. We’ve been walking to the park in our neighborhood a bunch, which Lyra just absolutely loves. Yesterday afternoon we packed up a picnic of cantaloupe, apples and green peppers and walked down to eat it on a park bench. Lyra immediately hopped up on “outside couch”, as David referred to it, which was adorable. She was so pleased with herself neither of us saw it necessary to tell her to get down. She just sat between us watching the park goers run around while we passed our snacks back and forth in front of her. Also David wears his hair up now in a manbun, which I think has to be the sexiest thing on the planet. Which is a bit odd, since I’ve never been a fan of long hair. It’s cute, though, because he has no idea how to put it up himself, so in the mornings while he enjoys his bowl of cereal I end up doing it for him. I use hairspray on him and everything and he just sits there patiently.

Till next time, friends.

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My best friend is my mirror


When I was in high school, I met the coolest chick on the planet. I thought she was gorgeous and amazing and smart, and I was just blown away by how advanced she was. She was everything I wanted to push myself to be, and she’s even the reason I’m interested in politics. It was the first time I ever became aware of her. I was loitering in the halls outside our shared class and overheard her talking to another classmate, another woman I fiercely admire for her politics and activism, chatting about Bush’s pushing the oil pipeline agenda in Alaska. She was holding her pocket folio , you know what I’m talkin’ bout, and it sporting a bold, clear bumper sticker. DONT BLAME ME I DIDNT VOTE. I was fifteen and so engulfed in my own tiny microcosm and I didn’t yet think I was allowed to know about The Adult World, the World of Grownups. I tried to figure out what her bumper sticker meant–was it because she was too young to vote but would have made the right decision? Or was it something deeper, a satire perhaps on apathy? My brain couldn’t quite form that last question, but it tried grasping at it. It wasn’t too long after that my brain traced a fragile line between the dots of fierce patriotic outpourings from 9-11 and the subtle ease of Bush’s success with Alaskan oil. Words like American Interests Aboard called out in a faint echo behind my ears and stayed there, developing and expanding and adding until I graduated with a BA in Political Science, a minor in Economics. A lot about my beliefs have changed and evolved, but my general fascination in political science, and the specific topics that keep my interest, remain tied to that first encounter with my best friend. Her and I have moved in a similar direction with our beliefs, although with me closer to the center. Whenever we get together and catch up, it feels like spinning around clasping hands together in the yard, only with my feet acting as the anchor while she spins in the wider circle. I want to join her, I think, in her beliefs but I’m not sure how to get there without losing my balance.

In the summer after that school year, we cemented a very close friendship. It was still too early for driving cars, but we found out that she was in walking distance to the house I just moved into. The convenience had a huge impact on our friendship, especially since we had the incentive of meeting directly in the middle where there was a convenience store that sold pints of ice cream for not too much money. We spent long days together walking her dog out in the trails behind her house and hanging out in parks and have a lot of very innocent and silly shenanagins. I remember one day in particular, where we spent the whole day with her dad’s camera, taking photos outside. Our adventure in vanity, way before the time of Selfies, was over 1000 photos. Mostly portraits of our faces in different expressions, showcasing us practicing a whole range of emotions. We took photos from a ton of different angles as we posed playing outside with her dog, goofing around in their vegetable garden and walking around the neighborhood block. It was a ton of fun and very awkwardly insightful when we sorted through the photos later. I think I’ve never learned so much about how I look, to myself and to the world, and about what level of control I have over it. It was fascinating. And hilarious, because oh man only the intensity of being a misunderstood adolescent could lead to that much introspective navel-gazing. I wish I still had those pictures, because I know they’d be a trip.

A lot of people thought (probably still think, really) that we were dating, which we always thought really funny since I spent the entirety of our relationship very openly and publicly dating a different girl. Still, we set ourselves up for that confusion in a way. At the end of the year, when our (very beloved) english teacher invited students to read pieces of literature or poetry in front of the class, I was one in the ranks. I recited Shel Silverstein’s Where The Sidewalk Ends as an homage to our time together, and it’s still a poem that makes me sentimental. We’ve stayed incredibly close friends, even when the times between talking stretch longer than either of us likes. Each time we get together it feels like two puzzle pieces clicking back into place and I love that person that she brings out in me. I feel smart around her, and curious. She makes me realize how much I’m actually paying attention to the world around me, which is a really good feeling as well as a reminder. I never feel I’m paying enough attention to what surrounds me, and I think it makes me lazy and grossly passive.

Anyway as I’ve said, this friend and I have stayed close, despite the huge changes in who we are as individuals.  And after I had been in college for almost a year, we had a date together where we spent the whole day together, exploring a new park, getting coffee with that english teacher, and finishing off the night with an epic Mario Kart battle. We had a camera with us and, for what I think was the the last time, we took a bunch of photos together. I mean, like, only a fucking eentsy fraction of the first batch, only like 40 or something, but still. A lot, for any normal outing standard (before lifestyle blogging, though, I guess,). I was looking through the only ones I saved from the outing and I thought they were just the coolest. For whatever reason, we traded the camera back and forth, recording each part of an adventure with matching photos, identical poses and backgrounds. When I saw the last one of me, the super intense happy face with the yellow shirt, my first thought was instantly “that’s the happiest moment I’ve ever captured”. It was like living in that moment again, feeling that giddy euphoria of a perfect day where you spend most of it trying to catch your breath from laughing so hard.


Anecdotally it’s almost a sad memory, in a way that’s more powerful than just nostalgia. I look past the tinted shading from my current perspective, the one reminding me the euphoria was more likely due to an unmedicated mania, and that I was grappling with a crippling trauma at the same time involving the person I was dating. Still, though, none of it mattered on that day, and it still doesn’t have to matter when I revisit the memory, which is freeing, letting me enjoy the best part.

The best part, my favorite part of this whole memory trip, was that each picture was only one half of a whole. I faintly remember doing it deliberately, trading off to make sure each of us had a photo like the other one. It turned into a joke, with us making sure we were copying the same expressions as well. I think we are like mirrors, though. At least that’s how it feels to me when I’m around her. Not that she’s the mirror, that is, but rather like when I’m with her, she’s holding up a mirror that I can look into and see what I used to be like. It’s a fascinating form of accountability, and it only works because we still let each other grow. Neither of us holds the other’s views or values against each other, but instead we’ve been free to grow our separate ways, and when we get together, we knit the new experiences and perspectives onto our memories of who we used to be. She lets me see not just who I used to be, but how I’ve grown since then, and what part of that growth is good and what parts might need to be pruned. Each time I see her is like the cosmic wellness check up, letting me see just exactly how much more Grown’d Up I am compared to last visit.


Oh and also? Having pink hair was the fucking bomb.

Random Phone Photo #004

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So it’s a few photos that I turned into a gif. This time it was all me, people, no help from GoogleSingularity. I made it for David, though, when I was at home and he was at work. I always feel so clever when I come up with silly photos like this in a sequence, but then I go home to my mom and on her fridge is a similar set of goof faces I made when I was a freshman in college. I guess this kind of selfie has some solidly formed roots.

It’s been very strange finding a balance of working part time and turning into a very domestic mostly-stay-at-home partner, but I’m not complaining. I think I’m so lucky to have David and I work out a balance like this. There are definitely days where I feel like my world is way easier than his, and those are the days I try to cheer him up with goofy selfies with post it love notes. It’s also a phrase we use on a daily basis. It usually goes something along the lines of “Ummm sooo…. yer my fuckin’ favvvvorite” because we’re gross and mushy all of the time. Gag, I know, but this is what you get when I talk about the smaller details of my life.

What to Wear: Pop Of Colours

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I never thought about having  specific colours represent you until I met David. David owns the color red more than anyone I’ve ever known. He possesses a full range from bright apple red to a deep, sunset maroon. I used to joke that I knew what our wedding colors would be, since it’s not like I’d have much of a choice (maroon and pale blue, with silver accents, if you must know). Over the years, though, my own colors have infected him as well, and now our apartment has a really great blend. Chartreuse, turquoise, bright red, and pops of coral. Funny enough, it’s similar to what I’m wearing in the outfit. Oh right, segue…


I was already thinking about the colors when my mom and I headed out for a play date at the art store They were having a beautiful and glorious sale that resulted in the utter annihilation of even the word budget, as well as the addition of a few beautiful paintbrushes to my collection. Paintbrushes that are a beautiful robins egg blue and bright red, because there is little in life I do better at than keeping to a color palette. Also go say hi to Nicole and see what all the other girls are wearing because it’s definitely a What to Wear week!

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Random Phone Photo #003


Keeping an eye out for quirky little details in my new neighbourhood is my new favourite thing. The awesome thing about walking everywhere and having a nice camera phone is getting the chance to see all sorts of street art and being able to keep a record as well. I’ve been getting really into drawing geometric black and white drawings in making labels and using them as stickers, although I’ve never stuck them on anything other than my phone case…

This guy makes me laugh every time I see him. My first instinct every time is to call him creepy, but he’s really not, not if you look carefully. Imagine him interrupting himself all the time trying to say something, or even if all his mouths synchronized to say the same thing. Or maybe he is his own barbershop quartet quintet.

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On the other side of that tunnel

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I kid, I kid. I don’t hate the holidays like that. I’m lying right now. Seriously, though, I’m only a smidge bit of a scrooge. This year I was positively delightful, all busy with the fancy wrap jobs and thoughtful presents. We keep white lights by our front door because it makes a really pretty entrance way when they’re lit (for reference, the photographer is standing literally in the door frame for these photos).

Do you like my glasses? I won’t lie, painting them was a ton of fun. The paint (um wall paint samples, if you must know) was a little too chalky, and so there are some ridges. I also had a bloody hard time painting right by the lenses, so that was that. I’ve only worn them out of the house once, but it’s fun to throw them on around the house and pretend to be a little old granny art teacher.

I hope you had a great holiday. Or holidays.

David’s parents (whom we spent Christmas with) took us to see Tuba Holiday, which is just fucking baller. So good.

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Either I’m selfish or a little sister or awesome or all of the above

First off, thanks everyone who commented on my previous post about asymmetry. It’s embarrassing to admit but I had no idea about (nor did I intend for) the negative self-image tone in the post. You’re all such loving, awesome people so thanks for the gentle reality check. Okay now for more pictures of myself! Huzzah!

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I may have impulse bought this sweatshirt at Target the other day, along with a watch and hot pink nail polish. The second I saw the sweatshirt, though, I was super stoked not just on wearing it, but how to make it MINE. Like I mentioned in the title, either I’m a selfish person who wants only one of a kind things, or it relates back to being a little sister tired of handmedowns. Or it relates to my amazing, creative spirit that wants to constantly be involved in what I wear, adding to the art of my wardrobe. Let’s stick with that last one, since it sounds the nicest, eh? I went through and embroidered around the edges of some of the hearts. I really liked it, but now I’m thinking (after a couple weeks of wear) that it isn’t enough, so I’m going to pick up some light greens, blues and yellows to go with it. Oh and with that picture of my watch below? So forever ago Nicole from this adorably awesome blog posted about nail polish on her list of Things I Don’t Understand (PS Nicole I miss those and think they’re hilarious). I can’t find the exact post, but her rant went something along the lines of not understanding nail polish, since it just seems to instantly chip and not look awesome hours after application. I remember when I read it, I was all hey that’s not true! My nail polish lasts forever! And then I went and found a bottle and painted my nails. And then a couple hours later I went to my art table, and then five minutes into painting something I remembered why I never paint my nails. Because um I also paint my nails. Acrylic sticks to painted nails harder than just about anything.

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Keffiyeh & Shorts: thrifted | Shirt Watch & Tights: Target | Shoes: Payless | Tank: Romy

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But my face is freakishly asymmetrical and it creeps me out


So like I mentioned in David’s symmetrical face post, this whole project started when I started noticing how very asymmetrical my ears were. I’ve always known I have a crooked smile, so it’s not a surprise that the rest of me doesn’t match up either. But um guys I had no idea that I had two entirely different faces. I have a theory that I was originally a pair of twins, but unlike that scifi version of one twin consuming the other twin, I think my twin versions each consumed half of the other, leaving two halves that joined together, so that I am literally two halves of two different people. It’s creepy, and once you see it it can’t be unseen. Also? That crooked mouth and lopsided ears? I checked. They’re the only two symmetrical parts of my face. Oh also also? These photos? Make me feel incredibly self conscious and very vulnerable, since I know they aren’t flattering. I’m posting anyways because I’m a badass. Just thought you should know.

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