Socks, and other contemplative thoughts

I have a philosophy of socks. Well, one that I just thought of. Socks are like relationships. They are soft and snuggly and cushion your feet and make it a lot easier to bear your burdens, especially the ones with the special weave that are supposed to help your arch or whatever. Sometimes you lose a sock in the dryer, and that's sort of how some relationships are, like elementary school friends. Sometimes socks get holes in them, and then you have to mend them or just take them off. Putting on holey socks over and over again is just bad for your feet.

Wow I am SO philosophical this morning. Really, this just stems from me thinking about the socks I am wearing and how the socks I wore on Friday developed a hole in the toe which really annoyed me.

Many hugs to everyone I haven't seen in a while. I miss you! I hope the summer is going well for everyone. May your socks always be warm, whole, and dry.

The Big Melt

It's hot. We are experiencing the Big Melt.

Not really. It's just going to storm soon, and so the air is humid, heavy, and feels like a damp hug from a wool sweater. Gross.

The other day, while putting my contacts in, I dropped one and searched for it for probably close to ten minutes before finding it stuck to my foot. And since it was my last pair of contacts, it's probably not a good thing. So I ordered new contacts. Hooray mail! Poo $$$.

I have a scab on my hand now. Scabs are nature's bandaids. I like bandaids. I have some at home that have Garfield on them.


More frivolity later.

Wow...long time no blog

Yes, indeed, long time no blog. I have interesting news to report - my camera is on the fritz. Yes, indeed, my camera! Pretty much my lifeblood! Unlike some people I know, who don't use their cameras very often, mine is almost always in my bag, ready to snap a picture - or nine.

The LSAT is also coming up - a scary and unthrilling prospect looming large on my horizon. Ew. Gross. Because my favorite thing in the world to do is bubble in little circles with a number two pencil that doesn't erase well early in the morning on a Saturday. Fabuloso!

On another note, Sideways = best movie ever. I seriously, honestly, absolutely love that film. Could it get any more fantastic? No, I really don't think so. Also, Twizzlers are the bomb, peaches are delicious, and Bernie is getting to the point where she actually is too busy to blog. So au revior, until next time. Hopefully, it'll be soon.

Ow

I became unbalanced while on my bike because of a stupid guy who was going really fast around a croner and almost hit me and knocked me off balance and i fell and skinned my hand. It hurts! I want my mom. And also a Tom.
And I put alcohol on it and it really stings!

This sucks.

Miss Clavel, orange gum, and the occasional grapefruit

Hi everyone!

I got an awesome doll from the Fourth of July kids table. Behold!



She is Miss Clavel from Madeline. Remember her? I loved her. I always wanted to live in an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, and be one of those twelve little girl in two straight lines, and she would rush up and down stairs putting on her wimple while I was having an attack of appendicitis.

Also, orange gum is amazing.



I know the Orbit commercials are kind of annoying and don't make any sense, but the gum is really delicious. And it manages to leave a good taste in your mough instead of the weird gross one you get from Juicyfruit or other such falsified fruit flavored chewing gums.

And I'm a big fan of the occasional grapefruit.



And in case you're suspicious, yes, that is indeed a grapefruit, not an orange. Trust me on this.

My Tom is coming to visit me!

My Tom is coming to visit me! Isn't that the AWESOMEST? Yeah, I know.

While indulging my slightly-childish-but-eminently-lovable penchant for soft snuggly things that are good for cuddling, Tom has bestowed upon me his favorite childhood stuffed animal.



Nicefur is a puppet dog whose nice fur has been mostly loved off. His eyes are chipped from numerous throwing matches and his ears are tattered from the tug-of-war tournaments held in Tom's youth. He has a vicious looking scar running up his back from where he was sewn up after a valiant battle wound, and a hole behind his ear that yields the soft pressure of his cotton filled head when pressed. He doesn't have a mouth, so he is silent.

Best of all, he's loved. And now, he's mine (well, sort of. I share him.)

Yeah, I know.