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Sunday, November 9, 2014

| hi, stranger |

Guys! Hi! I hit a record high of days-not-blogging. I could lie and say I went on a digital detox and took a break form all things Internet, e-mail, and social media but that would be one big fat lie. I'm really not good at this whole 'keep a schedule for blogging success' thing. What is blogging success anyways? I have like, two followers. My boyfriend (it's mandatory that he reads my posts if he wants to stay roommates) and my mom, because I e-mail her when I publish a post: "SUBJ: READ MY RECENT BLOG POST."

I thought about deactivating my account all-together but really I love writing and what else is there to do when you're watching The Voice?

I've completely, totally, and utterly neglected you lovely beings. Here's what I've been doing instead of writing to you: 

The Giants won the World Series. And it was crazy. San Francisco went wild. For the parade downtown (pictured below) people were hanging out of windows, sitting on streetlights, climbing trees and huddled in packs under umbrellas.

I saw grandparents navigating the crowds with grandkids on their shoulders, interns and CEOs, firemen and nurses, the homeless and the rich all cheering for our boys. It felt a little bit like magic.

Then life went back to normal. So, I went to the local nursery. We bought little green plants and trendy succulents for our apartment. And so started my love affair with air plants. They're like plants for dummies. They don't require a pot, soil, or much water. If we manage to kill this little dude, then I give up. At least we've managed to keep our cat alive.

Fall. It's now November (say what!?) and I'm loving every bright morning and dark night. The air smells different, too. Like pumpkins, trees and sandalwood candles. My feet are cold unless I wear boots. Wearing scarves every day is now (at long last) socially acceptable. What's more is Thanksgiving by-the-sea is quickly approaching and that means my little brotha will be home from college and I'll eat stuffing.

The Goldfinch. Donna Tartt is giving me nightmares. Ken said I was screaming in my sleep last night. So much for sweet dreams. I'm on page 620ish of the 800+ page book and while I'm hooked, I'm also having nightmares. Last night I was trapped in a house with a bloody murderer and none of my neighbors would help. Sicko. But I'm going to keep reading because holy shit I feel bad for Theo and his series of unfortunate events, I want to know if Boris leaves this story alive (and sober), and I need to know where this masterpiece of a painting is hiding. 

So there's all that. I'm back.

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