On: beltower lean.

Reading week has been/is being, as I type this, deliciously wonderful. I spent several days with my beautiful boyfriend; his name is Ian. I went to my parents’ house on Tuesday and spent more days having a lovely time with them. Dad made a horn from the spinner of a washing machine that he found in the garbage; it’s super rad, it’s named the Outside Agitator and I get to paint it someday. We have plans for a second horn that will be a collaborative project employing both of our talents. Mom and I spent lots of time hanging out, going to small towns and eating tasty things. My plan was to go visit Nox and B-Rad and others after that, but an invitation was issued that I could not refuse, and thusly it was accepted. I am currently sitting in a hotel room in Ottawa formulating plans and dreaming of future cuddles. Life is tasty!

On: no biggie, just my favorite self portrait of time thus far.

On: Racoon house, continued.

I'm calling this the raccoon house, though I don't remember if that's entirely accurate. Just about all of the houses I've been in had signs of wildlife, particularly raccoons, but this one had been taken over more thoroughly. I used to have tons of pictures from this house; it was only one country block from my parent’s residence so I would bike there on a regular basis, it was positively gorgeous, and I'm quite sad that I have so little documentation remaining. Torn down last year, I think.

On: Do I have to?

On: HOT TUB HONEY MOON

1) Exposed piping in the Deathpit (my cherished sub-urban home) 2) The stove in the Racoon house (more on it to follow) taken by my darling father 3) HOT TUB HONEY MOON, the text on a sign for an (I assume) sleezy motel a half an hours walk from my room.