it's the little things

I could listen to her say "croco-deel" all day.

The best story ever!


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

there are no words.

Dear Internets,

Yeah, life is good.

Not Dead (yet)

I have a history of abandoning blogs.

But I won't let this die.

The time I meter out for myself these days comes in rather small doses. Maintaining a balance between work, planning a wedding, supporting a partner through grad school and sleep doesn't leave much wiggle room. When I have it, I hoard it. I cocoon with books and magazines and red wine and just take life in. This balance will shift soon, Avi will be done school in September and the wedding will be done with and we'll be married people, grown-fuckin'-ups. This is slightly insane.

To be continued... Post Mrs.

how hard we love

I love living with a musician. I love watching him, like this. Peering from around the wing of the couch as he sits at his keyboard playing silence and hollow plonks, the secret music feeds into headphones and he's inside himself and in front of me at once. Tonight, he is wearing his favourite brown sweater and blue jeans. Mismatched socks ("there's another pair just like this in the drawer"). Newly acquired (read: required. The week before his 30th birthday, natch) spectacles are slipping south as he bends to make a note on the chart papers in front of him. He looks handsome and noble.

We both hammer away at our keys. I solve problems and ease minds, he poses questions in sonata form. Sometimes I try to type rhythmically along with him and we sound good together.

lolcats

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