After eight years, it's finally come back to
hang out in the Holy City!
Did a walkabout... snapped this in front of the Children's
Museum. It was really coming down!
I love that truck. Everything in its bed was completely
covered. Also, check the cute romantic stroll going on.
Made this in the parking lot when I first got home
around 9. Had to leave to go charge up my camera, and
when I came back at around 10, all my tracks had
been covered back up! Had to do this, though. Snow
just before good ol' Valentine's!
I'll fall in love there, I think. If not with a handsome fellow who likes oxford lace-ups and tailored suede coats with elbow patches, who gets around on foot or on bike and enjoys a brioche with his cioccolata calda and thinks my naïveté is both charming and, let's face it, funny, then I'll fall in love with everything else Umbria Hill could possibly offer.
I'm not picky. Not picky at all.
Lately, I've been thinking...
Come a pet-friendly apartment, I will have Vincent, Pablo, Henri, and Pierre. And they will all be splotchy, mutty, just rolled through about three or four spilled puddles from paint cans little ragamuffins.
I did, however, purchase one of her gorgeous turquoise satin belted frocks today. $54 dollars out of $162.80, so I'm feeling really good right about now. Really good, albeit hungry and cooped up in a library where a man's cellular or MP3 device is blaring "Free at Last" from behind me. Should I take this as a sign that at least some aspect of fashion is liberating? To answer that, I spent last night writing an essay on the dichotomy of Christopher Columbus's vintaged golden-boy reputation and his actual fall from grace... it bores me to even have to explain the prompt... but anyway, after forcing myself to make it read somewhat interestingly (I'm sure I still failed there) a little retail therapy was just the thing I needed on this hideously rainy day. So, yes, I would say so.
Writing that paper, however, forces me wonder: Why are we still talking about Christopher Columbus these days? Is he even relevant? He didn't set foot in North America, and the college here doesn't observe the 'holiday,' so. What has he done for me lately?
My second pair of 80%20's came in the mail today. (Talk about fast! Ordered them Friday night, received them much sooner than expected at 4pm today -- shipping was free, too. Thanks, Endless!) They couldn't have come at a better time, seeing as how a) I'm a sucker for smoke and mirrors and b) I may have worn my pair of Molly wedges (pictured below) right into the ground. Ce Ce Chin, I will thank you over an infinite amount of giant basted turkeys and gravy boats for gifting us of the average height with hidden wedges. Genius, really. I'm all about deception. Growth spurt overnight? Why, thank you for noticing. Do my legs look like they go out for, like, a mile? Don't mind if they do. Seriously, good things happen in these shoes.
Now I just need to invest in some inserts for my Mollys so I can start walking on clouds -- in style -- all over again.
Sandol Stoddard's book is the cutest little thing. It might be too big for the every day pocket, but it's just small enough to hold between your two hands. Sort of like an underloved teacup chihuahua, shaking from ear to tail because, unlike the Grinch, it's got a heart three sizes too big. Similarly, I Like You is this wonderfully earnest monologue that reads more like a declaration than a confession; it's set in the context of children, but reading it as a person in her twenties, its meaning is more universal than that. This is the kind of book that instantly became special to me, the kind of book you save for just the right person so you can tell them, too, in the most whimsical and honest way...
I like you and I know why.