…the who cares girl…

The Boy lowered our planters with rope because they were growing so tall they were hitting the patio ceiling, and look, even lowered, they’re still hitting the ceiling. Those are some tall ass flowers.

These guys are growing sideways instead of up.

Sometimes in the morning both dogs will pile on top of us in bed so it’s one big furry, panting, slobbering family. Bear Cub always leaves first. Deserter!

This morning Comcast flashed “America’s Deadliest Desserts!” at me, so I checked to make sure that my personal favorite (Oreo Blizzard) didn’t make the list. Phew. It was mostly sundaes, I never order sundaes. Who does? Okay, my husband does.

Speaking of my husband and food, tomorrow we’re going on a two day fast, and then we’re going to follow it up with the Gold Coast or maybe South Beach diet. I’d like to research the Scarsdale, I have no idea what it is but it sounds like it was made up by some rich doctor and it’s one diet I haven’t tried yet.

The Boy is a big believer in not telling anyone you’re fasting, but shit, what else do I have to talk about, really? It’s not exactly the Center of Excitement around here. Hard to believe, I know.

We’re back…..from outer space! In the time that I was gone Flickr has changed and I don’t like it ONE BIT.

The first portion of our trip was One Sky, a yearly camping trip that takes place up in the mountains on an old hippie commune with the people we went to Burning Man with.

It was a little different this year, more low-key. No stage, no turntables, no band set-up.

Drug snarfing, sure. The Boy smoked pot and ingested some kind of psilocybin nugget and had a good time…until Kim appeared.

Kim was some kind of scary leftover from the 60′s, with an emaciated frame, long scraggly hair, and a penchant for constantly asking people for booze or hits, and losing her cigarettes (which were always in her jacket pocket).

We went back to our camp at one point to hang around our campfire with Dizzy, our hilarious campmate, and there was Kim, hovering around just out of eyesight from the fire, so all you could see was the ghostly glimmer of her white sweatshirt. She mumbled to herself about the devil and staying up for three months and the mire, it was all about the miiiiiiire.

Eventually, thank God for hippies, Dizzy and his girlfriend Dolly gently led Kim back to the main camp. The Boy perseverated on Kim’s creepiness for at least an hour. Kim was awful enough sober, but nobody should have to handle Kim on their first mushroom trip.

That was the worst of it. It didn’t rain, delicious food was made, everyone had a good time.

Ugh, my weird fake tan. So the tanning salon that I go to changed their Mystic Tans to some other machine, “Vespa”, or something like that, and they’re awful. I’ve had two now, they’re patchy and spotty and fade horribly. Word to the wise: beware.

I brought our hoops and my box of hoop tape to donate to the hoop-making that went on that weekend. I am, predictably, “over” hooping. I’ll still do it from time to time in the backyard, sure, but the days of obsession and practice and videotaping my efforts are ovah.

The gang started up a game of kickball.

I did not participate, insisting that I was “the photographer”. Let’s face it–I don’t do sports. ANY sports.

The blue hippie house that is in the center of the property.

Mer-lerp-plurp-preeturp. The Boy is watching “Ghost World”. Never mind that I’ve seen it 10 billion times–suddenly now I wanna watch it too. I love that movie.

I’ve been listening to a 10 part documentary on Jazz during puzzle time. It’s been enlightening.

But why do I wear the Boy’s worn-out ancient flip-flops when I have 1000 pairs of sandals in my closet? Because they’re comfortable and I prefer men’s flip-flops. They have extra-wide straps that I appreciate.

This is a Loreal lipgloss that I’ve had for 10 billion years that I keep in my purse for photo shoots on the run. It photographs extremely well.

I keep this in my purse for jotting down important items, like songs I like on KEXP when I’m in the car or random creative ideas. You never know when they’re gonna hit!

Look at this beautiful pink flower. JUST LOOK AT IT!

This may be in the running for Most Boring Post Ever: look at the contents of my purse! Here’s another self-portrait with sunglasses! How about flowers in my backyard?

But oooh, ah, what nice flowers they are.

I’m not crazy about Cezanne because most Impressionism gives me gas, but there’s a really nice flowers-in-vase still life of his I’m thinking about painting. On our vacation next week–never leave home without canvas and paints. Argghhsssppp–I can’t wait.