There are like 2 photos of me from Easter, and this is one of them.
Good morning from my messy house and my very dark eyebrows.
Occasionally I try to see what happens to my hair if I let it air dry.
Why can’t I make my hair look like this on purpose?
When I studied abroad in France (1993-94), I still didn’t really drink, but because I was living in France, I did drink some, because it seemed like a part of the culture I should experience. Anyway, this is the beer I drank. Aaron brought me some as a surprise the other day. (Yes, I have an awesome, husband, don’t think I don’t know it.) Now that I have more beer consumption under my belt, I don’t think this would be my choice anymore, but it sure is nostalgic.
Gratuitous picture of yourself engaging in afternoon activities you are going to regret later.
My one wish, with pictures like this, is that 20 years from now Sylvia will look back at them and say, “Wow. My parents were babes.”
Sylvia poured me wine and put my hair in tiny pony tails. She’s all right.
Every day my hair has gotten less straight. As my enthusiasm for this week has waned, so has my desire to spend time fixing my hair.
GPOYW: shiny lotion edition
End of the visit group selfie!
I have basically been sleeping in a weird horizontal closet all week.
Pretty happy to have a less terrible driver’s license picture than before.
It may be 36°, but I’m wearing sunglasses and a hoodie. Up yours never-ending winter.