I haven't been able to write. And it's making my brain hurt (more on the brain later. there'll be photos too.). After a year of spilling my thoughts into a text box, I miss the release it gave me, the way it made me laugh, the kind of perspective and sense of accomplishment these silly little posts gave me. And then there's the people who remind me I'm not blogging...
|(This is how I look when unable to write.)|
|Look at that. Typing. Right now. It's a bloggin miracle.|
blur. I did a sloppy recap of July, but August deserves a little more care. There was so much in August, typically marked as my second least favorite month of the year (behind February of course), but yet again the 8th month was packed to the gunwalls with delights.
Jen. (You'll probably click on this link. And then see her blog. And yes. She was on a billboard. And on Ellen.) She megabused into my city and we had a weekend that'll go down as one of my favorite with her in all the 26 years we've known each other. We awed the crowd at AJs with a stirring duet of "Gotham City" (oh and then she iced me. i thought this was a city of justice. a city of love.), took in the Iowa State Fair efficiently and hosted a pre-rager-rager at the Stoop right after she color-coordinated my bookshelf and unboxed some more of my belongings. (Thanks Jen. Can't wait to come see you and complete #25 in December!)
Janet Jackson live at the fair and witnessed the re-emergence of fun Tone and his dancemoves, I went back (back back) to Cali (Cali) with my fun-foodie coworker and the most delicious cake I've ever tasted, had my freelance illustration debut hit 100 mailboxes thanks to the Dwolla, lived through a zombie attack in Des Moines' East Village, sangria-ed in a salvage shop, and got all sporty at a wiffle-ball tournament (and that weird Des Moines wall climbing thing happened too).