d'oh.

it has been two months and two days since my last day at work (but who is counting right?! well, my fiance is; thats for sure.) and yesterday as i watched season two of parks and recreation while having my recipes spill all over the floor with our lame-excuse for a decorated christmas tree learing over me it dawned on me - i have done nothing which i set out to do on this trek of un-employment. d'oh.

so today i bought recipe cards.

babysteps people. babysteps.

call me martha.

or don't because its a terribly old fashioned name and it doesn't match the young, sprite spirit that i am. but, please do call me crafty.

i stuck some sticks in a vase yesterday and called it decorating.

today i'm planning on sticking more (pun intended) in our christmas tree and maybe even make snowflake garland to drape around the windows.

i know, i know...i see the multi-billion dollar empire with my name on it too. its ok, head toward the light.

if we're even the teeniest bit lucky...

...we'll end up like this. 167 more days.

couch potato.

a lot of really great things are made from potatoes...

french fries
mashed potatoes
hash browns
um, did i mention french fries?

...so i really don't mind admitting that today i was a couch potato. in fact i'm kind of proud of it since my multi-tasking tendencies typically send me into a stressed out rage where i ask jason, "WHAT IS SO HARD ABOUT CLOSING THE MEDICINE CABINET ALL THE WAY?! HOW OLD ARE YOU?!" in fact i'm quite proud that we'll be avoiding that (awesome) conversation today and instead head to the movies (to see harry potter. like i said, "how old are we?!"), and to show it off i have composed a list of the top three commercials of the day. enjoy (the commercials and your weekend.)




...i mean am i the only one who eats a sausage egg and cheese sandwich and feels like death?



...if only the commute really was like this. i totally wouldn't have quite my job.



...get it?! love it.

its real. its a real live ring.

no, not my engagement ring which is also real (and awesome), but this ring...

...as pictured in a previous blog post just a few scrolls down.

you can buy it here. and ship it (to me) here.

say it with me, "yes please."

the city makes dog cry. story 1 of 3.

i get it all the time.

from people on the street, "gasp, how could you ever want to leave new york city?" (raises head (and nose) in conceit.)

from friends at home, "you're too young not to be out and about in the big apple!" (shakes head in disgust.)

from interns at the office, "don't you have to a family to live in the suburbs?" (tilts head in confusion.)

even jay-z is all like, "the concrete jungle where dreams are made of. the streets will make you feel brand new. big lights will inspire you. blah, blah, blah."

well folks, you heard it hear first -like all new york sports teams the city itself is overrated.

when jason and i met we were both living in a luxury building in downtown manhattan. while it was all sorts of fancy and schmancy we were ready for some good ol' new york "quaintness".

Quaintness we thought we found when we rented a renovated 4th floor walk up on a brownstone-lined street on new york's upper west side. with central park just down the block, boutiques at every turn, and four starbucks within walking distance i thought for sure we had hit the realestate jackpot.

but we couldn't have been more wrong. here is one (of three) short stories which, when smooshed together into a tiny one-bedroom apartment, explains it all...

you see, winter had melted away and the city was (finally) coming out of hibernation.

jason had headed to the beach with some friends, while i was spending the weekend in the city dogsitting for one cute, four-pound excuse of a dog named toro.

after taking advantage of restaurant week (one point new york) with old family friends, i tucked myself and the tiny little pup into bed. thats when i felt the tickle.

"toro," i said, " that tickles," as i held him just a bit tighter. but then i felt it again.

quicker than jay-z could lay down a beat i threw the off those covers, jumped up on to the bed, and let out a scream; there it was - our very first cockroach.

it was (only) at this very moment i was grateful to have such a tiny lil' room. without getting off the bed i reached into jason's closet, pulled out the biggest, thickest, shoe i could i find, and repeatedly smacked it against the ground while simultaneously dialing jason on my phone.

that conversation went a bit like this...

"WHERE ARE YOU," i belted.

"Just pulling in to the beach house (in a car packed with five guys)he calmly responded.

"YOU HAVE TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW! I DON'T CARE THAT YOUR FOUR HOURS AWAY," i rationally retorted,"WE HAVE COCKROACHES."

"did you kill it," he replied.

"YES! OF COURSE"

"well, then i'll call you later and i'll see you on sunday. you're fine and i love you." click.

sure i was fine. but what about toro? well, that poor sucker went shuffling into the air and i'm pretty sure pulled off a few 360's before landing in the opposite side of the room, when i "lightly and calmy tossed" the blanket off the bed. it took him a whole three hours to forgive me while he sulked (voluntarily) in his cage.

new york city makes dogs cry. why don't they rap about that?

i beg to differ. a story about contradicting mothers and non-traditional weddings.

actual conversations. names have not been changed to protect the identity of the participants.

me: i don't really like the idea of bridesmaids
my mom: but you have to have bridesmaids.
me: why?
my mom: because who will sign your wedding certificate? and who will throw you showers*?
*showers, those awkward things no one likes attending. gosh, how would i ever live without one of those?

me: i don't really like that idea mom.
my mom: well you already got your shoes.
me: yes exactly, my shoes. for my wedding.

me: i don't think i want flowers.
my mom: you have to have flowers.
me: why?
my mom: don't think it'll be weird you to walk down an aisle not holding flowers?
me: don't you think it's weird that people spend way too much money on flowers that just die the next day?

me (five minutes ago): i think i found an alternative to a bouquet.
my mom: whats that?
me: brooch bouquets.
my mom (in absolute disgust): brooch? bouquets?
me: they're cute, really.
my mom (again, in absolute disgust): oh ok. i'll take your word for it.

well mom, to quote the always fabulous children program, reading rainbow, "you don't have to take my word for it." feast your eyes on these...

and my ultimate favorite, the color-scheme-friendly variety...


brooch bouquets are everywhere . they're such a unique, quaint alternative to the overpriced floral bouquet. you can ask your guests to donate a piece (so you carry a bit of of all of them with you down the aisle), raid your grandmother's jewelry collection (because no one was classy or fashionable as your grandmother), or hit up local vintage stores, ebay, and thrift shops for cheap additions to your wedding decor.


i hold my ground, brooch bouquets are awesome and moms aren't always right*.
*but they are most of the time, its a weird magical mom power

all (you) want for christmas.

as i have mentioned in a previous post i have aged 30 years over night and the highlight of my month is no longer dollar pitchers at the local bar, but finding the latest real simple in my mailbox. while i usually ogle over the recipe section, december's issue had me drooling over the splendid offerings of their annual gift guide.

("wait a minute. scratch that. reverse it." - willy wonka)

here are a few that have made their way to my "must buy" list...

1. eco tennis balls and bucket for the dog-owners in my life (which unfortunately does not include myself)

2. my beer guzzling buddies are sure to find, etched pint glasses in their stocking this year. (the mustache is my personal favorite.)

3. for a certain hostess-with-the-mostess, a custom state-shaped cutting board
4. i know a certain nature loving boy who will find this anatomical frog puzzle "cool", "rad", or whatever phrase kids these days are using.

5. while another little guy in my life thats five going on 55 will look just a tad bit too cute in this tie tee-shirt, which comes in a variety of color combinations.

6. the city dwellers on my list will thank me for these crocheted headphones - not only can they stay warm, maintain ultimate style, and listen to music, but they can also tune out the homeless guy singing on the train.

7. these eyeglass straws, while used simultaneously with above mentioned mustache glass could make for one dapper drunk. drink up monsieur.

8. and for myself this classic, elegant, tracy reese l.b.d.

you are welcome.

love at first sight.

i could not be more head over heels for this marie claire spread of emma watson.

the clothes, the makeup, the hair.

i hate to bum off of other (brilliant) blogs, but this, this is my daily girl crush.

sah-woon.

freedom. freedom. freeeedom.

i can sum up my emotions of this past weekend in one word, freedom.

and no, i'm not talking the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (as awesome as all that is.) i'm talking about wind in your hair, radio blaring, sweet sweet 16 year old, just got my drivers license car driving freedom.

you see, the past five'ish years of my life i have lived in a big city where owning a car was darn near impossible. (trust me, i borrowed one once and got it towed twice. in 24 hours.) but now that jason and i have aged roughly 30 years over night and have made the big move to the 'burbs of NYC, not owning a car is darn near impossible. (trust me, going to target loses its appeal when you have to walk home with an oversized pack of toilet paper in your hand no matter how good of a deal you got on it.)

to be fair, we have a "car", but i'm using that term loosely. its tiny, it seats two people, its a convertible, i can carry more in my arms than you can even begin to imagine squeezing into the "trunk", and stick shift. so on top of all that impracticality throw in my questionable driving record, my inability to hold on to a wallet for more than a few months and therefore my drivers license, and that impossible to learn manual transmission and you have one ride-bumming trapped ashley.

but this weekend we bought a car. a real car. a real automatic car. a brand new real automatic car - a mini countryman. (it has a back seat! it has trunk space! it has naviation, reclining seats, a port to plug in your iphone!) and it is so brand new that it doesn't even come out until january.

oh wait.

...i guess what i'm trying to say is i feel like a 15 and half year old. you know - just got my temps and can't really drive, but can still smell that sweet scent of freedom, freedom, freeeedom.

oh well whatever, i'll be busy until january anyway. i mean i have to practice my mini wave (so i can greet my fellow mini owners on the road. and shoot, if there isn't one - i'll be busy making one up because there clearly should be one), read up on ny driving laws (did you know you can't turn right on red in nyc?), and brush up on my flirting so i can get out of the tickets i'll inevitably deserve (i'm joking jason.) (not really.)

i'll never forget...

image

that feeling, the pure emotion that ran through my body, my mind, and my heart when jason got down on one knee.

and now this lucky lil' bride to be won't either.

say it with me, "adorable."

lets be honest...

"no shopping" policies, are for the birds. so i bought a set of these from here. and i can't wait to get them (in february. apparently i'm not the only one who threw caution to the wind when it came to these bad boys. its the curves, they'll get you everytime - just ask the boys.)

oh bother...

image

i'm not going to lie; it has been a "rough" start to my lil' experiment. and please note, i do use the term "rough" lightly as i do, at the very least, recognize that commuting to your couch isn't all that bad.

but do you know those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong? and everything thats suppose to be super simple, was all kinds of complicated? well i have had roughly seven of those gems right in a row. and while i want to curl myself up in a ball, in my bed, with the covers over my head, for at least a few days - i'm going to tell you a story that always makes me smile, because i made him smile.

i met jason, my fiance, the day lehman brothers went bankrupt. the day the recession began, the day fortunes were lost, the day the job market began to crumble. the worst day in jason's professional life.

you see, he worked (well, works) for lehman and while i was spending that sunday in the lounge of our shared apartment building drinking and watching football with friends he was quietly sitting in the corner searching for news online about the future of his job, his field, and (of course) the economy as a whole.

after rooting for my hometown team, the cleveland browns, i called it a night and headed up to to my place, but not before saying something. and while i don't remember what that something was i do remember that something that made jason smile. and right at that very moment i knew i wanted to make him smile for the rest of my life.

if at first you don't succeed...

...buy a box of pre-baked brownies.

via vi.sualize.us

raise your hand if you thought being voluntarily unemployed meant a life of leisure? that it means voluntarily becoming a nap taking, manicure getting, lunching, reading, bum? well my friend (and my family members who will undoubtedly be furiously raising their hands with an exasperated grunt of "pick me, pick me!") you could not be more wrong...

i've got things to do! i have my life to get back. i have content to dig up, stories to tell. i have to chisel away at a few years of corporate living (also read: stress) and a personality to re-find. i'm busy. really busy. i gotta...

play with my new camera. artsy photos aren't just going to take themselves.
decorate the bedroom
get crafty
make some memories
bake cakes (from scratch)
learn how to sew
take up pilates and/or spinning (i'm not about to get all crazy and do both. i'm going to be
honest with you; i will be taking a nap from time to time.)
organize my sad excuse for a closet
maybe start writing again
oh, and plan a wedding (details, details...)

so you see, you won't find me lounging on my couch, eat bons bons and watching soap operas. on au contraire, i'm taking this time to master a few things, try a few others, and obviously fail at a few more.

today.

via vi.sualize.us

today i am walking away.

today i am closing the window on hatred, pettiness, and greed and opening the door to hope optimism, and change.

today i am saying no to "no" and yes to opportunity, to chances, and to hope.

today i am turning my back on them and opening my arms to me.

(today i quit my job. today, i return to my blog. today i chanter sous la pluie.)

brilliant. duh.

have you ever come across something and while smacking your hand to your forehead thought, "man, i wish i thought of that!"

post its, care bears, silent velcro. whatever...

i mean the ideas (however big or small they might be) just seem so practical that it just astounds you, i mean absolutely puzzles you, why it never ever (ever) crossed your mind?!

...no?

well, i'm positive the second guy who thought of disposable diapers knows just what i'm talking about. (what took you so long buddy? wait, scratch that, what took the first guy so long?)

thanks to one of my favorite blogs, playing grown up, i will now smack myself on my head every time jason (my boyfriend, er scratch that, FIANCE sucker) says he wants to save money and eat in and (not so brilliant) lil' ol' me proposes the best idea of all time - a desert date.

duh.

if i had a nickel....

i bought my first pair of chuck taylors as a sophomore in college.

...they had just made the turn from artsy fartsy to main stream and everyone was wearing them.

and my mom says to me, “i couldn’t pay you to wear those when you were little.”

and (i’m not going to lie) she was spot. on.

if it wasn’t a frilly dress, white tights, or black flats it wasn’t going anywhere near my wardrobe. end of story.

then one day it hit me, that ensemble wasn't so awesome. (duh.)

enter my mom’s favorite quote.

well I’m not little and here are just a few of things that I’m loving that my mom “couldn’t pay me to wear" when I was little...

ankle socks with heels

boy (inspired) clothes



straw hats

and big ol' boots

if only i had a nickel....

i'm going to ocean city,and i'm going to get....

"i'm going to grandma's house and i'm going to bring..."

remember that game?

in an effort to improve your memory (while simultaneously embarassing you in front of the whole class, thanks mrs. rustad) your teacher would gather the class in a circle where you'd all sit indian style (oh, how politically correct we were in the late-eighties, early-nineties) and repeat from "a" to "z" what everyone is bringing to grandma's house . with the totally logical elephant to the always tricky purple popsicle you had one crazy suitcase filled by the time you were packed, in the car, with your seat belt on.

...well, this game is kinda like that game, but with a way better outcome than an impractically packed bag and a weekend of ginger ale and bridge that most certainly awaits you at grandma's.

play, er, read along.

"i'm going to ocean city*, and i'm going to get..."

fresh donuts from browns, no matter how long the line is. nothing beats the hot out of the fryer, topped in front of your eyes goodness that is browns. well, except for...


super cute, always in, cat eye sunglasses on the boardwalk for a whopping total of $1.00. probably the best deal of the summer right there. well, except for...


an engagement ring.** now THAT is a (steal of a) deal. lucky lil' ol' me gets to spend the rest of my life right next to my best friend, my rock, and quite possibly the most amazing man on the planet.

nothing beats that.

*disclaimer: ocean city, nj is absolutely nothing like rest of the "jersey shore". there is no fist pumping, no trucker hats or ed hardy, and (surprisingly) no alcohol.

**please excuse me for the next few days as i spend more time looking at my hand than anything else ever, including working on this blog.

a puddle of knowledge…

…doesn’t that just sound like something you want to splash in?! i know i do.

unfortunately you can’t. but you can drop the puddles of knowledge for others to splash in.

a perfect example of said “dropping” is described below.

conversation has stalled at a weekend bbq. crickets are chirping, dogs are barking, and the last gulps of beer are being consumed while people awkwardly feign interest in their feet (did i step in something?), the closest tree (i wonder if i can climb that bad boy. it can’t be more than what, 50ft? 70 tops. i can climb that tree), and the thinning hair on your friend’s cousin’s boyfriend’s head (wow, that’s unfortunate!).

no one wants that.

this is where you drop your puddle of knowledge.

did you know the days of the week are named after the gods* ? its true. english days of the week were translated from roman so thursday, originally thorsday, is named after thor, god of thunder. while in a number of other countries (italy, france, spain) their word for thursday
usually starts with a "j" for jupiter the chief roman god who seized and maintained his power on the basis of his thunderbolt.

..."huh, really?! wow. i did not know that," the now alert crowd responds. "did you know….?!"

and on the conversation rolls. new beers** are popped, your friend’s cousin’s boyfriend puts his hat back on, and all distractions sink into the background all thanks to your puddle of knowledge.

splash , splash, splash!

have a wonderful weekend!


*days of the week mixed with and ancient gods not your “thing”? check out all kinds of puddles here.

*beer not your thing? whip up this lil’ peach (pun intended):



gingery peach fizz (good call kerry)

in a pitcher, combine 3 cups of ginger ale, ½ cup peach nectar, 2 thinly sliced ripe peaches, and 1 tablespoon grated ginger. Add an ounce (or two) of gin or rum before serving over ice.

243 paintings in 1 museum in 125 seconds.

its like you’re there except without the tourists, swarms of uninterested little ones on field trips obstructing your view, and intimidating security guards calculating the distance between you and closest renoir.

i carried the watermelon

like all girls who find themselves working in the fashion industry (and like all girls named ashley for that matter) i am 100% guilty of playing dress up (and stealing clothes from my sister's closet, but thats another story).

however, unlike most girls in the fashion industry (or named ashley) i wasn't reaching for the princess dresses or my mother's pearls. i had one thing on my mind. and one thing only...

... (majestical) strappy, gold high heels.

you see, for one reason or another my 4'11", homemaker, knitting machine grandmother owned them. and for one (obviously crazy) reason or another she came to the conclusion she no longer needed them in her wardrobe. her loss, my gain.

and once again i found myself veering of the path of innocent childhood, bypassing playing princess or mom to a rowdy gang of little ones and headed right for the couch.

...and there i sat for the next one hour and forty minutes feeling just like penny. not the whole knocked up, illegal abortion'ing, full of regrets penny, but the confident, sexy, dancing penny. the penny who wore strappy, gold, high heels.

press play

there are songs that within the first few notes, transport me to another time in my life. some happy, others sad. some reflective while others are plain out ridiculous.

the funny thing is, when people ask me what kind of music i like, i tend to respond with, "i'm not that into music." yet I can tell you my life story through a chain of songs.

put on your headphones and join me as i set the sound track to my life.

silent night - to most this is a christmas carol sung just 25 days or so out of the year. to me its a promise of comfort, love, and sleep. this is the song my mom would sing to me when i was a baby. and as a toddler, when waking up to put me back to bed a few times a night lost its novelty, this song was played to me on a music box i kept snuggly under my pillow. whenever i hear this song, to this very day, i am filled with an abundance of warmth, safety, and my mother's love from so so far away.

low rider, war- he wasn't in a band. and he didn't play any instruments (as far as i know). but my biggest brother (along with his buddies) recorded a cover of war's low rider and wow, when I heard that, IT was set in stone (i use to only think but now i knew) my brother was a rock star. was his number one fan. he was after all the one who drew maps when i'd wake up from naps so i knew where to find him and wouldn't feel afraid. the one who found me hiding from the family and a trip to the nursing home to visit my great grandmother (not even my dad who was circling the neighborhood in his company car could do that). the one who would sing songs about poop in my microphone with me. he was the one i wanted around all the time. so can you blame me for jumping on my low rider, er, big wheel when i woke up from a nap to find him gone and graduating from high school without me! but then the bugger one upped himself and went away to school, again without me! could you believe the nerve of this guy?! but after receiving a card with mr rogers on the front and a thingy of red play-dough (that i can still smell) i realized that he'll always be a rockstar in my eyes.

bette davis eyes, kim carnes - fast forward to third grade. my sister and (other) older brother were in high school. lets face it, i wasn't exactly the one they wanted to spend their time with and god forbid they be seen together. but one night for a few hours the star aligned and we not only spent time together but had fun doing it (gasp). we blame the perogies we had for dinner that night (the night did become known as "perogie night" afterall) because apparently my mom laced them drugs (or maybe just a dose of looooove). after a pillow fight, playing dress up, and throwing my sister's mattress across the room, we danced. with bette davis eyes on repeat we brushed our v-shaped fingers over our eyes and shook our hands like we were rolling a dice. man, we had moves. now whenever i eat perogies i anticipate something magical happening and of course, it never does. so maybe it wasn't the perogies maybe, just maybe, it was only some family wanting to have some good old fashion fun together.

one sweet day, mariah carey and boyz II men - my hair is perfectly flipped. my plaid jumper had never looked better. and my mary janes had never been so shiny. there i was at my first middle school dance. this song was on and my arms were wrapped around the love of my life's (well for that month at least and as far as middle school love goes) neck. his arms are around my back, no wait they're sliding down. what? where are they going? they're not suppose do go down there! what does he think he's doing? we never even kissed (well not kissed kissed). pure panic sets in as his hands come to their final resting place, my butt! gasp! luckily mariah hit her last haunting, utterly depressing note and the song came to end. phew, my virginity was still intact.

3 am, matchbox 20 - you can't make fun of me for listening to this song, everyone else was did too. heck, you probably had the cassette tape. you also can't make fun of me because this is the song i listened to as i got ready for my grandfather's funeral. while i was still young (in 8th grade) and didn't yet grasp the importance of getting to know your grandparents on a personal level, i did know there were things i was going to miss, things i took for granted, and thing i never ever told him were just great. his fedora. they way he knocked on the door when he came over. how he would always be the first to leave saying, "every party has pooper, thats why you invited me." how he'd take me to burger king on grandparent's day and always (always) acted surprised when i housed a whole whopper. his seat at the head of the table and the brown coffee mug he always drank out of. his hawaiian shirts. the little towel he'd wear on his belt when it was hot outside. the oyster crackers sprinkled with ranch seasoning that he never came over with out. all of that was gone and for the first time i grasped death. and it, my friends, is forever. but memories are too.

crazy game of poker, o.a.r -i broke up with my boyfriend of almost three years during my junior year of high school. and boy, was i scared. who the heck was i going to hang out with on friday nights now?! then my friend (and i won't name names because i want my parents to still like this person) took me, a few friends, and a water bottle full of booze (syphoned from a number of bottles from his mom's stash) out on the town. the goal: to teach me how to drink. a few swigs, several humiliating acts of drunkenness, and a box of powdered sugar donuts later i most certainly didn't know how to drink (i still don't),but i did learn the importance of friendship. barf (on all accounts).

bad day, daniel powter - i know, i know. these songs couldn't get much lamer, but hey its my life (as the equally lame bon jovi would say). so picture this i'm studying abroad in southern france my junior year of college. i have a like-new apartment all to myself with a cleaning service and fresh croissants delivered everyday. i have three of the bestest friends a girl could ask for all living within the same building. i'm traveling and eating and seeing things people only dream of. i'm drinking french wine by the kegs (literally, there were kegs of wine), sipping espresso in cafes, and wearing scarves like a true parisian. so whats so "bad day" about that? my dumb ass missed home so much, was so frustrated with the cultural differences, and couldn't bear waking up at 6 am to make it to class that i forgot to enjoy myself most of the time. and my bestest friends, well they were no help whatsoever. we moped around from futon to futon together with this god awful song on repeat (not by choice mind you. the french justreally dug this song and would play it practically nonstop. why? i don't know - their french.) andputting down whole baguettes in minutes. mon deux, the songs are lame because i'm lame.

pda, john legand - at some point after meeting my current boyfriend (and again i won't say when that point was because i want my parents to still like him) i woke up in his bed. he jumped right out when the alarm went off, went to his closet and started getting dressed in a (wait for it) suit. you see i'm the creative type and i work in "fashion". a suit is a straight jacket to me. but hey, he works on wall street so what did i expect?! but then he turned on this song and i thought, "straight-edged white boy just might have some groove." you know that giddy feeling you get in a new relationship? well thats when it started and it hasn't gone away yet...


...that being said, i'm really looking forward to looking back on today's music and being transported to this time where i have never been happier, more in love, or more optimistic about what the future may hold.

i may not be in [to] music, but music is definitely in me.

whats your soundtrack?

when snack attacks

you know that feeling. its around 3:00. lunch is long gone and dinner is barely a glisten in the horizon.

your boss is chit chatting away but you've tuned him right out. your belly is the top dog now and he is telling you something far more important, "grumble, grumble, grrrrumble." loosely translated (because thats what I like to do around here), eat or else...

panic sinks in as the great debate ensues. what to eat, what to eat?! something sweet? no salty! or wait, something chewy? no no, something crispy. but chewy! but sweet! aahhh!

the possibilities are frustratingly endless, but i'm here to tell you my friend. you can have it all...as long as you're not aiming for anything near healthy.

introducing (drum roll please) momofuku's compost cookies. an unbelievably delicious maybe even heavenly (albeit odd) mix of oats, chocolate, peanut butter, coffee and (wait for it) chips and pretzels!

gasp! wha...?

yeah. chips in a cookie. its genius. and can be replicated at home thanks to the (equally) genius man who runs a lil' oatmeal cookie blog and clearly understands that spending $5.00 for one cookie is a bit ludicrous. oh yeah, and that people do happen to live outside of the city and should not be denied proper protection against hunger.

snack snack and away!

chanter sous la pluie.

roughly translated, to sing in the rain.

...if thats not pure, simple, carefree happiness, i'm not sure what is.

getting your morning coffee just right, the first sunburn of the summer season,
finding that perfect someone in the middle of an ordinary day.

its the little things that make life worth living and i am here to celebrate them.
from crooked smiles and childhood books to warm cookies and memories between old friends.

that is what life (and this blog) is all about.

enjoy.