I wish I could write (good) poetry. Today would be the day for it.

[paint fumes + (little sleep + approaching deadline)] x excitement = giddy
And oh, we are. We are.

I will miss the two neat rows of rosebushes underneath my kitchen window. I will miss yellow, pink, orange, white, red.

Thank you I love you bye-bye

*sigh*

Photo by rahen z

We are in the thick of moving. And right at that tipping point when an apartment becomes a home, and a home returns to an apartment. It's a little bit sad. And a little bit thrilling.

More of the sky. (It seems to be all I photograph anymore.)

Last week's happy discovery: I am in love with ranunculus.

Tuesday was all euphemistically titled budget meetings, drafts, revisions, paperwork, spreadsheets, blah, blah, blah.
But then, there were rainbows.

The ripple throw is only halfway complete, but already hard at work.

One year and one week ago.

I love the parts of California that look like the midwest.

How eight-year-old boys kill time at the Apple Store.
(Or maybe: what strikes a 31-year-old girl as amusing on any given day)

I never thought I had much of a stash to speak of. But I was mistaken.
(I seem to find more and more -- hidden away in drawers, shelves, and corners -- every day.)