I just never gave up faith in myself.

To Aleigh and Michelle (in alphabetical order),

who never stopped believing that I would eventually paint this beat-up

"Polaroid Corporation 25 Years of Service"

rocking chair that I got off the curb across the street.

Michelle, you'll be happy to know that this cushion has *ties* (to ensure the safety of any prospective rockers).

I feel good... I feel great... I feel wonderful (and I'm a good helmet-wearing citizen to boot.)

Yesterday my advisor and I had our regular 'you're the biggest disappointment to the planet since J.J. Abram's new series Fringe' talk. These conversations can be a tad discouraging, so I tend to cling to any and all positive feedback (a survival skill employed by most graduate students I know... at least in my field). This morning's harbinger of kind words was a certificate-bearing woman who was inspecting my person for deformities (in a ritual known commonly as a "physical"). Her ever-so-kind praise:

"You have good blood pressure."
"You wear a helmet while biking? That's a wonderful habit."

"Well...your cervix looks clean."

As an added bonus, the nurse who took my vital stats before the real exam commented that she liked the way my chapstick smelled. See (not to brag), I'm not worthless!

The Art of Processing

Last year Cami and I explained to a disappointed Bryn that "Uncle Chris" was going to be my friend instead of my boyfriend. We tried not to transfer the sad feelings associated with such transitions, and instead focused on the fact that she could continue to be his friend. She seems to have adjusted well, and Peter found this creation on their floor the other day after she had been drawing: (Please be sure to note Tim's beard and Chris's hair...)

* drawing not to scale

To the girl who introduced our family to things like hugging and talking about feelings...

I love you Jill - happy birthday!

Mean ol' thief stole my underwear...

I've been waiting and waiting for the next Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale because I was in desperate need of (ahem) their premier product. Yesterday I bought about a hundred copies of my favorite style, and stopped by school to feed some cells. When I came back to Tim's car (mine kicked the bucket) twenty minutes later, a loose window had been pulled down, and the items (and other miscellaneous purchases) were gone. Gone. Gone. The police filled out a token report, but told me they had bigger fish to fry. So I ask you, my friends and family, to be on the lookout for a petty thief who looks like his undergarments lift and separate.

P.S. That's not actually me in the photo...

This just in: My renter's insurance will cover the cost of the stolen items (~$315, US)... after I pay a $500 (US) deductible.

Time for a makeover

I am completely, ardantly in love with this girl's outfit. Taken at the Andrew bus station, with my non-iPhone. The photo didn't do the outfit justice, so I tried to point out the highlights:

(Incidentally there were quite a few older men who also seemed to really be in love with her outfit...)

Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, USA

When I went to your town on the wide open shore,
Oh I must confess, I was drawn, I was drawn to the ocean,
I thought it spoke to me.
It said, "Look at us, we're not churches, not schools,
not skating ponds, swimming pools,
And we have lost people, haven't we though?"
~Dar Williams

Tim and I spent Saturday riding the coastline of Newport, Rhode Island. The area is famous for the takes-ten-to-twelve-maids-and-days-to-clean mansions, but I can't figure out why anybody cares about all those rich-people houses when there is the ocean to gawk at.

I kept hearing a little crunching sound as I was riding. Not sure what it was...

We stopped for lunch at a sea-side clam shack that had a very sophisticated method for keeping track of orders.

It was grand.

P.S. Does anybody know the proper penance for inadvertantly killing 10-20 snails?