At the end of today, at the start of my commute home, I was sitting on a subway platform bench reading last week's New Yorker (I'm running a bit behind), when a woman walked past and stepped on a ketchup packet that then burst and squirted ketchup all over me. I didn't react fast enough to yell at her, and thanked the heavens that I had ONE napkin in my purse to do some precursory mop-up. Yuck.
I'm sitting at my living table watching the Yankee game (winning, for once after being embarrassed by Boston), painting my nails in Essie Chubby Cheeks, and reading through my blogs. This is rest to me. My new giant straw hat is sitting underneath the window and I am excited to debut it in Cape May next weekend. Fireworks, which are mystifyingly common on my block, are going off again. Where lives the pyro?
I saw Theysken's Theory collection pics here and they were what I expect from inspiration: skimming and paying half-attention to the pictures until they drew me in at once. This picture especially evocative. Then you go back and they are all amazing, funny how that works. How cool.