A perfection of thought.

Dear 29,

I think it's officially summertime. I mean, not "officially" according to the calendar (maybe it is officially according to the calendar... when I started this post, like three weeks ago, it wasn't), but according to the way my hair frizzes up and the number of freckles across my face, it's official. Since writing that post, you know the one where I called myself a bad ass, I've certainly soaked up a whole bunch of summerness (hence the exponential increase of freckles.) Wallace Stevens felt pretty great about summer nights, as did the cast of Grease. Currently so do I.

June has been a blur of awesome. (Pause for damn cute baby break. Yes I did get him that shirt. And yes I am his favorite fake aunt.) So much good has happened in this first summer month. So much good that I've referred to it as the summer of Laura. Conceited? (Maybe.) A bigtime funtime? (Absolutely.)

I'm still obsessed with the #stoopgarden. So there's that. But I don't need to write two entire posts on it... (You should expect to see another post about it soon.)

Not only did I get to see my first itty bitty tomato plant bud, but Will and I also got to watch men dance in tutus during Billy Elliott. I think I'll raise my child to be a star on Broadway. I mean the kid who played Billy was charming and talented, had comedic timing (something my Broadway bound child could teach me) and only has to perform like once a week or something. The kid learns about sharing the spotlight with two other Billy kid stars: valuable life lessons. And then my kid would be more talented than everyone else's and I'd get great seats in the Civic Center, and probably discounts on something. I suppose I run the risk of being an overbearing stage mother, but that's better than an overbearing science fair mother. For the record, I am not pregnant and until typing this post I hadn't ever considered a Broadway baby. So let's move on. (this is the second reference to a child in this post)

I'm afraid this is going to be extraordinarily long if I include all the fun parts of June, but in an effort to prove just how "bigtime funtime" year 29 has been thus far, I will continue. I bought someone else's serving platter (Erica the entomologist) and watched Gretchen haggle during a marathon morning of garage sale-ing. Word of caution: garage sale signage can lie to you. If it says "super awesome" it's probably above average. And there will likely be a box of cat statues on a card table. You'll want to buy one, resist that urge. You will also find tables of romance novels with cracked spines. When you walk by the woman hosting the garage sale, you'll blush knowing she read them all and then blush because you read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. (More on that in an upcoming post. Judge away though. I can handle it.) But do feel free to buy baby clothes for your friend who has no babies. Third child reference in this post. Many years from now Rocky will thank me and I will become his favorite fake aunt (fine Chels. We can be co-favorites.)

Unrelated photo: This is delicious.
VitaCoco you've outdone yourself.

This month I ate a cornichon, which is actually a pickle. I know, I'm surprised too. What's more surprising, I liked it. I served as a bouncer for a VIP lounge. This is actually true and I was good at it. Sort of. I saw a baseball game at noontime. There are a lot of people who go to noontime baseball games. There are enough people who go to noontime baseball games to cause traffic jams.

The man in the spongebob biker shirt thing in this photo had a daughter with him wearing the same outfit. 

I got to see the Wildcat and Jane, which was awesome. We talked about why kids play in fountains at baseball games. Fountains are not wading pools, FYI. We also went to see the Mural (you should go too if you have yet to get there. Only up until July 15th) and Wildcat pointed out that it's "surprisingly symmetrical." I come from an arty family, we basically speak in art critic jargon all the time. (that's only half true).

I rode a bike for the first time in ten years. This sounds like an exaggerated statement, but I'm pretty sure it's accurate. I did yoga in a park. I saw a man get arrested outside the stoop in the rain. I had my first Jasper sangria of the season. And I got my photo taken in a tshirt (which isn't at all like modeling).
Summer of Laura.
Oh, did I mention I got a new job?
xo-LP