Salva Storie Instagram

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

I set a calendar alert a year beforehand that I wanted to get a dog February 15, 2019, the first day of reprieve from my busy season. On Feb 12 @pollenies sent me a link to a weird dog at @humanemiddletown and I went to see him. They let him into the little visitation room and he tore through it with wild eyes and I figured this dog had problems but I figured I’d always adopt a problem dog, so. Knowing him now, I can tell that he was only looking for something soft, he only had a thin sweater on and there were no blankets. Middletown is a great shelter but they couldn’t have known like I know now that he needs to wear pants in the winter or he shivers. I couldn’t get a good look at him because he was zooming around wildly but his skin looked terrible and I thought that maybe with some care and relief from whatever had happened to him in the hoarder house he was from his fur would grow back. The next day — Valentine’s Day, busiest day, but everyone at the shop started chanting that I should go get that bat-dog, so I did — I went to pick him up. ⠀
⠀
I soon learned that though he had so many pimples and blackheads he didn’t have anything wrong with him that layers of blankets and skincare wouldn’t fix and, to the shock of this intense anti-breeder, he was a goddang purebred #xoloitzcuintle. The history of this breed (literally who am I) has blown my mind ever since, it’s been the hugest joy to learn how to care for this bonkers dude with the noble lineage, dog of Frida, dog of casa azul and ancient Aztecs: Xolotl, god of lightening and death. ⠀
⠀
Other than his persistent love of meat, we are, coincidentally, the same person, cleaved neatly into two halves. We have strange tufts of hair in all the wrong places but not much overall we come from warmth and sun and we need both to thrive we love carbs and demand gentle pets and nice clothes, preferably layered even better bespoke, because of our odd proportions. Most of all we love each other, look for each other’s eyes, my xoli valentino, my darling, darling.

unrelated, 15 years ago my b f stopped the car in the middle of the road to tell me that if I didn’t go to therapy to process childhood trauma he would break up with me — one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, thank you jjmfp

unrelated, 15 years ago my b f stopped the car in the middle of the road to tell me that if I didn’t go to therapy to process childhood trauma he would break up with me — one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, thank you jjmfp

unrelated, 15 years ago my b f stopped the car in the middle of the road to tell me that if I didn’t go to therapy to process childhood trauma he would break up with me — one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, thank you jjmfp

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

Just a perfect Sunday with no work (on a chocolate holiday?!?), Helena got up at 7 am and made an incredible carrot cake having never made carrot cake before much less a vegan one, romping around with this crew and @thanluu all day. I can’t believe I get to live with these guys.

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

shopify home page subtitle blocks don’t have a character limit?

19 years of Ashton today, fresh off two months traveling around Southeast Asia mostly by himself, with no reservations or plans, going wherever he felt like going, staying in hostels and traveling to hidden valleys on the back of scooters, eating a million bowls of pho. Taller than his dad and smarter than pretty much anyone I’ve ever met, but in seven years of trying I haven’t succeeded in teaching him how to get soap out of a dispenser without getting it all over the counter. Parenting for me is holding all of these contradictions in my hands, how the day after he came home from Vietnam I woke up and saw the soap gloop on the bathroom counter and it felt the way I’ve heard family described but hadn’t exactly felt it until with this crew. A love borne of deep familiarity in all its weirdness and intensity.

19 years of Ashton today, fresh off two months traveling around Southeast Asia mostly by himself, with no reservations or plans, going wherever he felt like going, staying in hostels and traveling to hidden valleys on the back of scooters, eating a million bowls of pho. Taller than his dad and smarter than pretty much anyone I’ve ever met, but in seven years of trying I haven’t succeeded in teaching him how to get soap out of a dispenser without getting it all over the counter. Parenting for me is holding all of these contradictions in my hands, how the day after he came home from Vietnam I woke up and saw the soap gloop on the bathroom counter and it felt the way I’ve heard family described but hadn’t exactly felt it until with this crew. A love borne of deep familiarity in all its weirdness and intensity.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I think it’s no surprise that my best friend Liz and John Waters were born one day apart. Both make me feel seen and alive and safe in ways almost no one else does. Both have an unapologetic, joyful capacity to be total sluts for nuance, heterodox thinkers to the ends of the earth, a horror of fitting in but a loyalty and wild love for their kin.

I have merely an intense parasocial obsession with JW (plus a bar of soap he autographed, plus a video of creeping on him in Ptown once) so these are observations I’ve only gleaned from afar but I get to be grateful witness to Lizzard up close through texts and audio messages every day and this closeness has made me a more expansive, unafraid person. We both had the worst year ever 9 years ago and we’ve been obsessed with each other since, even through we met because of my old blog like 20 years ago, when she was writing zines and I was making truffles (plus ça change). I asked her to marry Mike and I twice over because I was scared to do this thing I’d not only never wanted to do but actively disdained and judged others for doing. Who else could I ask to bear witness to such growth but the person who’s grown right along with me? Happy birthday, Eelizabeth. I love you.

I don’t think I get enough credit for getting as much done as I do without even 1 inch of torso

I don’t think I get enough credit for getting as much done as I do without even 1 inch of torso

I don’t think I get enough credit for getting as much done as I do without even 1 inch of torso

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

wednesday to drive down and back with reesie talking for hours to go to lunch with a friend to strategize about making <redacted chocolate based on a book I love> to walk 40 blocks + 7 avenues through the city to buy new sunglasses at @fabulousfannysnyc to see hailey to breathe in the air of my own little part of nyc thursday to jump on the thruway with my beloved to find free parking it always feels like monopoly to walk past chelsea mkt to pull him inside for the ultimate laggy combo meal spicy as hell handpulled noodles + tahini ice cream sundae b&w twist halva crumbles & black sesame drizzle 

I love the intensity of work cycles because december-easter working nonstop then poking my head up in the spring feels like being on drugs everything is technicolor and I can’t believe I get to see it we did it and to breathe for a minute to go to a fashion party wearing my new clown collar fruit dress with open sides only new clothes purchase of 2026 — proud — to get dress compliments and mike’s mentor and first NYC employer platon is there and I get to hear all the stories how his first day was sept 11 and how he can do it all, that one (it’s true) and we walk through the chilly april streets to a bad hotel but who cares and I dream about a bookshelf whose books I have to carry one at a time through a strange city in the morning I get to walk to grand central remembering commuting to ct to work at bloodroot for a decade — 4 hour commute each way + 12 hour day on the salad station, gentle reader I was in my 20s bien sûr — the flowers are all coming up around the library lions and reesie and I started confectionery after we did a market at bryant park the year my mom died so it’s always special and I stop touristy to take photos of everything a great sunny spring morning on the ceiling at grand central there’s a heart balloon bang square on my sign ok ok I’ll take it as a sign 

the river on the train up the river that flows in two directions and back at work in time to cover kara on lunch jump on the line and make some mac and cheeses a couple sandwiches make myself a tofu pocket local pumpkinseed oil and everything can’t wait to take the dog for a walk later

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

There are three things that I have known were true as soon as I learned what they were. As soon as I found out what babies were, probably around age 4 when my brother was born (love u Len) I knew that I would never have one. It just wasn’t me, and a simple decision was made that has never needed revisiting.

(BUT, I would give anything to see Helena and Ashton as babies, and the knowledge that I have but didn’t know who they were, because they had an annual tradition of coming to the chocolate shop on Halloween, gives me weird chills whenever I think about it.)

Second, when I was 15 I became vegan and I knew that I’d be vegan forever. Easy. I still feel about it exactly as I did then.

Third, in high school I was watching an episode of The X-Files and realized that I was equally attracted to Mulder and Scully, a condition that persists in both its specificity and generality to this day. I remember wondering what kind of chaos this would unleash on my life, and it has done so, mostly pleasantly.

So I haven’t held a lot of babies. But when I do, when there’s a good baby, someone whose aura you can sense even from Instagram stories, it’s a goddamn moment. A transfer of energy that can’t be explained or lessened. I got to meet James after months of admiring his crazy face from afar. It helps that I adore Andrew and Alexis, always have. I knew I would like James, I knew he was one of the good ones, and I don’t mean babies who don’t cry or anything, I mean babies with a goddamn spark. Crying is fine, how could you not cry? The thing is the spark. James was shooting rays from his little beautiful fluffy hips all day like a mini aura farming spiderman. His diaper got changed in my office! The space is blessed 1 million times over. Alexis nonchalantly asked if I wanted to hold him, and I felt so nervous, but the minute I held this guy I felt a zap. Energy transfer! Energy sharing! The portal had opened. James is my buddy. That’s that. When you know you know.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I always wanted to be a grown up, disdained the world of childhood, always wanted to get out & on with it. Now I see that looking so forward to being an adult was of course a trauma response I’ve worked hard to unlearn, to not always be responsible ~everything under control~ even though my lizard brain believes those things kept me alive. 

But now I’m grown up for real for real and I’m obsessed with it. It’s as good as I thought it would be and I’m knocked over every day that I have like a car, a house, a fun job, a dog. Constant astonishment at the kids & husband thing. So grown up!!!  I don’t want to be in my 20s I don’t want to be in my 30s I want to be Lagusta who turned 48 last week — 48!!!! Can anyone fuck with me, at 48?! With all this work I’ve put in?? The center holds. 

Watching yourself get old is incredible — intensity intensity intensity. The tiny changes & the bigger ones and in opposition to a secretly still-held childhood belief that mainstream medicine is poison I even went on HRT, read a million articles about how the benefits outweigh the risks & took a deep breath & I’ve never been on a medication before. Hoped stupidly to keep that streak going forever so ridiculous: the outdated belief of someone who is definitely not 48!! Forward motion always changing & growing shedding silly beliefs always & so far it seems good? I’m less dizzy & maybe it’s placebo All Fours effect but feel generally on an evener keel. 

A few months ago I read a review of a show at the Met & mentioned I’d like to see it, so the day before my birthday Mike & I went to the city not for work (it’s allowed sometimes, who knew) and spent the whole day doing culture and eating. We stayed forever at the Helene Schjerfbeck exhibit & it was better than it sounded on paper. 

Helene knew what was what and what was what was selfies & I loved them all so much. What a gift, this record of one’s face becoming something else over time, until the last one when it’s something transcendently strange and alien: most tuff ever: to have an honest eye, to get the vision down on the canvas, no flinching not celebrating not denigrating just living 
being a person alive, aging.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

I got Xoli a marked-down mystery box of three items of clothing where you enter your dog’s size and get what you get. I picked large but dog sizes vary so hilariously that I was prepared for anything. I was happy to open up a tank top that fits him perfectly, a Chicago Bulls sweater paying homage to his matriarchal Windy City roots, and this puffer that is so comically giant I can not put a harness on over it so it’s his homecoat, perfect for nose tucking on a snowy day. Seven years of Xoli Valentino in my life this past Valentine’s and he’s a little rickety at 12 but the best — pure happiness, heart-exploding fun, every minute.

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft

Pink lettuce garleeks puréed kimchi + tofu dip citrus persimmon salad with orange flower water vanilla vin not pictured vat of mushroom stroganoff (hoarded porcini, neighborhood shiitake) giant phyllo pies with trending squashes and saved up freezered wedge of barn cat (vegetable ash inlay, cave aged) she wolf miche lugged up the interstate pro tip go on vacation while the NYE banana bread bananas rot we did tarot at 2:30 and at 3 opened sake made by 7 makers just one tank made the persimmons were fuyu but I’m really hoping for a hachiya year, melting soft