Photo Seventy Nine

11. Jet.

Photo Seventy Eight

There is a monster in my basement.

Photo Seventy Seven

It's a good day when our family's books are obscuring the view of our television.

Photo Seventy Six

Here come the geese!

Photo Seventy Five

HoHo's Hipstamatic.

Photo Seventy Four

Eleanore prefers her sushi fried. I forgive her because she is 2 and would otherwise survive on cheesy poufs.

Photo Seventy Three

Trampolining at dusk.

Photo Seventy Two

Breakfast! Also, you will notice a stamp on my lovely manhand (probably, there won't be offers of hand modeling gigs pouring in after this) from the Henry Rollins spoken word tour, a show that I went to yesterday thanks to friends, Janet & Steffan! (Who I now owe a sock beast) It was fantastic. Ironically, Ann Coulter was speaking at another event in town. OH to have those two in a room together! It's the only way I'd pay to see Ann Coulter, the she-devil (unless is was a mean spirited roast or a public head shaving, I'd totally go to that). Anyhow, I got a message to be AT the venue immediately if I wanted to go, and I did my best to materialize on the spot with zero speeding tickets. HENRY ROLLINS? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??!?!

I took one super crappy picture that made Mr Rollins look like one of those Halloween-Leaf-Bag people doing the robot... from which you could argue that it was a setup and that I didn't see Mr Rollins at ALL because clearly I went to see a bag of leaves with tape recorder in it.. or that I am just crazy, so I opted for a hand-stamp photo instead. We can't have anyone questioning my sanity now, can we? No questions about it; it's questionable. >:D That's how I like to keep it.

The stamp reads, "Spectra Sonic". I kind of wish it was a tattoo. Also, go here to read the superextended version of this post.

Photo Seventy One

Fluffy Sparkles relaxing in her kitty blanket nest after an exhausting night full of kittying.

Photo Seventy

Neil says that I can't use this picture of the home made, singing, papier mache, animatronic grocery store cows for my photo of the day.... I beg to differ, don't you?

They were an integral part of my shopping experience.

Photo Sixty Nine

Oh Jerry Maguire, I guess you just don't complete people the way you used to. Maybe you should have someone take a look at that superfluous middle tooth.

That hanger is still perfectly good, though.

Photo Sixty Eight

Urban camouflage.

I wanted to show off my new photostitching skillz, but it's hard to appreciate a teeny panorama, this one is made from 11 separate photos:

Photo Sixty Seven

The runaway.

Photo Sixty Six

Shoes on the power line near my house. I always wonder what the story here is.

Photo Sixty Five

Yay, Daddy's home!

Photo Sixty Four

A little irony on one of the city's cool, stapled-to-death posts.

Photo Sixty Three

The foreboding little moat around the swings. The houses of suburbia, quietly watching us...

Photo Sixty Two

The Monster at Watson's Mill. Do you see it?

Photo Sixty One

The future miss Kaki King...

Photo Sixty

The Electric Six is my sixtieth photo! *high five*

This is an awesome live band. High Voltage rocked my socks right off.

Photo Fifty Nine

S's first day of Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, he loved it, and I think Neil is excited to have someone to nerd out with about marital arts. My house is not ever going to be the same. It's already a flurry of feet and hands from one end to the other.

Photo Fifty Eight

2 monkeys.

Photo Fifty Seven

My daughter is a dirty rotten little ratfink (just like her Mama). I nearly hit the ceiling when I went to get an ice cube. I didn't even have to question any of the other people in this household, either because I knew which one was this terrible. Touche, Libby. You will get your comeuppance.

Photo Fifty Six

Today I made Blueberry Peach Muffins. Yummo. Just out of the oven, made with my very own peach preserves. I tell ya, I'm like freakin' Jane/Julia Child sometimes.

Photo Fifty Five

Fella downtown, outside the rare book store.

Photo Fifty Four

"No picture of me, I old. I too old!" says our favourite chip lady. Then she makes us tinfoil ketchup boats to dip our fries in. "I make for you- ketchup boat... see? You dip it"... she makes you put all the food back in front of her so that she can look at it while she tallies up how much you owe her in her head. The fate of the world sits on a pin while she concentrates. Today- $17.50.

She is back with her bus and that means spring. I didn't take her photo because she didn't want me to. I will yet, though; I'm going to be the chip lady paparazzi.

Photo Fifty Three

Fella hawking Stomp Swag. The show was awesome, though. We bought a magnet.

Photo Fifty Two

Hurray for books. I've had my face in a book every spare second for the past couple of months.
(And nothing else to take a picture of today...) Not time to break out the silly hats just yet.

Photo Fifty One

Boooooooo.

Photo Fifty

The search for a typewriter has ended in success. Hurray for follow through!

Photo Forty Nine

Wilco