Cossayuna tender Bittles

I guess I just love crap that meth-heads sell for cash or that no one else wants from grandma's attic (God rest her soul). When I thrift, I start to talk and move really fast bumping into bins while rummaging for mismatched shoes. I try on every busted hat and literally gasp at stuff I would never look at if it were new and someone hadn't died in it. The sleeping cats of shop owners should know to move.
I know on fb I posted family photos of blueberry picking, a country fair, pastoral farmlands, etc. but truth be told; the highlights of my vacation were in motheaten consignment stores. I found a Gucci (it has a serial number on the tag so if it is a fake it is a really authentic fake) for $4! Apparently long, thin straps don't go with my "rugged" look because when I put it on I looked like Mrs. Richvalsky browsing for muffins at the PTA bakesale. Of course it looked perfectly chic on my sister, Ava - fine take it, label whore.
Don't worry I was able to procure a lovely pair of striped knee high socks, my third jean jacket (this summer), a water-damaged print of Little Lord Fontleroy, a rusty baking tin for madelines, 3 identical pink and white drink trays, and a fringed purple suede clutch.


I recently finished reading The Secret Life of Zzzzs. Although I didn't love the book, I have decided that I need to be an apiarist. I also saw a bee keeping demonstration in the children's room of the library so it is not just a passing fancy. My dreams of owning chickens might be farfetched but bees are small and for the most part neat unless they swarm.
Brendan and I happened upon a Master beekeeper class this week. I was able to get pretty close and pretend I was one of them but then when I started distracting people who were handling thousands of bees by asking questions about how I too could become a Master of bees it was hinted that I leave. They told me that bees are easily "agitated" when it is cloudy plus I was taking a lot of pictures and standing way too close in a short sundress and flip flops. They could have just offered me one of those funny hat-veils. Sheesh, don't bee a hater. (I'm sorry but you have no idea of how many bee jokes I didn't make.)

Pain in the pork butt

When it is 90 degrees and humid I think about adding cucumbers and mint to yogurt and serving it with blackened salmon or maybe salad nicoise and a glass of cold white wine. I think about these things and then I drag home the shoulder of a hog, I rub, I wait a day, and then I turn on the oven for 12 hours and slow-cook us all. I sweat, I complain, I set my alarm clock to mop it in the wee hours, I toss and turn all night worried our home will burn down and my meat with it. I do all this more often than I care to admit.

The damn thing didn't pull. The bark is decent and the meat is tender but the damn thing didn't pull. I guess I would rather have flavor than form but still the damn thing didn't pull. Damn.

Bloggers remorse

I have a total blogover today. Sorry about the way too many posts yesterday. I was totally "that blogger"! I'll try to keep it to a 3 post max especially if I haven't eaten much and I've been in the sun all day.

Eloise thinks we're cool

I read some blogs of people who collect lovely vintage buttons or have created craft empires or everything they eat is gorgeous or everyone they know looks edgy and not remotely infirmed or deranged in a pillbox hat and gloves. I aspire to be any of those things or capture any of those things with my turn of the century (yes, this century but still) shutterspeed and smudged lens. In the meantime, Brendan, Ellie, and I had a really great day at our towny pool. Eloise watched us dive in total awe. I'm serious, our 3 year old thought we were AMAZING. The rest of the pool was probably cringing in embarrassment on our behalf and you probably will too. You, still being just Brendan.

We Both Say Potato - I just say it more

Dear Brendan,

I'm so glad you agreed to be my first and only follower. I guess technically that guy that followed me home from the subway looking up my skirt with a hand mirror was my first follower but you're a close second. Welcome.

Until I look up from the computer,
kimiblog

Rutgers, you're welcome

WILL YOU MAKE ME A LIBRARIAN? I LIKE WHAT I CALL GOOD BOOKS AND SOME PEOPLE AS LONG AS THEY LIKE THE SAME GOOD BOOKS I LIKE. I CAN START IN THE SPRING.

(I wrote this 15.15 times and used a calculator to figure that out and I think starting off with a question makes it compelling plus I used CAPS so I'm obviously a computer literati.)

Hypothetically

If you were me and had to write a 500 word personal statement about what makes the librarian in me tick, what exactly would you say? Use the 500 spaces below to say it and please check your grammar and spelling - I really don't want to have to do your work for me for you.