as the weather gets warmer my music taste definitely brightens with the california sunshine. lately i’ve been diving back into my sixties french pop. 10th grade, madame jester’s french class: i was a goner with just one play of françoise hardy’s...
shock. tears. depression. rage. insanity. a bakery visit. or two. public display of insanity. a brief ‘loss of time’. more sweet and safe. taking to bed. finding the perfect anti-depressant. Similar posts:these words....sawyerweekend happy...
if you looked in my bathroom drawers, you’d think i’d be a wizard at the sun-kissed face, the glossy lip and the come hither eye. but i have neither the skills nor time to keep a post hotel du cap summer flush, or nights in black satin stare. i could open...
i can’t thank you enough for the messages, comments, calls and gifts. losing truman was such a shock. he went to bed last saturday night with {what we thought} was the health of a pup. he definitely had the demeanor and show of dog with at least 3 or 4 years...
i’d like to preface this post by saying i truly, sincerely wished friday’s confession would be a purge of my somewhat sooty ways. a press of the publish button and i had hoped class and sophistication to magically fairy godmother themselves into my manners...
