the rock that skips

cats are assholes. see? 

I revised the B&W from the Facebook thing a couple weeks ago. the dark foreground bothered the fuck out of me. this has been "fill light"-ed by about 300%, which is why it now has a rather pleasant curdled texture. 

scene from a sleazy 70s miniseries. 

sorta-unsatisfying holiday attempt at mulled wine. this was the first Thanksgiving I spent completely, purposely, blissfully alone. there was no frantic ER shift, no depressing birthday falling on the same date, no expectations. if I had a car I'd probably have gone to the family gathering in Tacoma, but I don't. 

holidays are weird. I've spent my entire life purposely avoiding or at least downplaying them. I loved working those days. I loved taking myself out of the obligation equation. 

mulled wine, the way I ending up making it, was barely-okay. Trader Joes shit-wine, the peel off a shriveled clementine, cloves, a free spice packet one of the workers at TJs nonchalantly ripped off a bottle of mead for me ("don't worry about it" he said cheerfully). I didn't add the cinnamon sticks or the honey I'd bought. I thought "why waste awesome ingredients on something that's inherently not very delicious?" 

it's kind of a social beverage. so I just had a mugful. but the lair smelled festive. 

that all sounded a bit more pathetic than I intended. 

the pen-testing section at the UW bookstore. PUPLE. 

sneaux! 

Alaska it ain't. but fuck, the cold air feels divine. and snow smells the same no matter where you are. 

15th NE. 

and right now. 

ever reread your old journals and realize that everything you were miserable and confused and bitching about has been resolved? it's a fucking delightful feeling. I feel practically jaunty right now.