our lives

Blah blah blah. A whole lot o' blah going on over here. To distract myself there has been this-

Fred Astair movies

 and this

fresh fruit and juicing endeavors

and dancing around to this

Love this song!! I am so glad I am past my dating guys who drive vans phase. Good grief. No bueno.

Fresh produce is certainly one of the great advantages of being in California during December. These guys know what I'm talking about. I need a project. My strawberries might just inspire a redux of my fruit blog. Sexy fruit that is. Or at least a weekly post dedicated to fruit? Who am I kidding, I just really love the sound of sexyfruit.blogspot.com

Breaking: Dammit it all, someone else took the name. Sigh, always a bridesmaid.  

twenty and nine; thirty minus one

Another birthday. The cake was good. The company was lovely. Every year I feel less sparkly and this year felt especially lackluster and I found myself to be sans a celebratory spirit. There seems to be a consensus regarding 29, at least in my circle. There is an immense and bizarre pressure, both as the last year of your twenties, thus one should party your face off and live it up, but also as the year before the big 3-0, thus prompting one to get your shit straight once and for all. 

Can I just stick to eating cake, s'il vous plait. 

And drinking bubbly, of course. 

Stills from from Danny William's film entitled "Harold Stevenson" via A Walk into the Sea, 

a great documentary about William's life and work.