Washington? More like WashingFUN!

"C'mon Tom, what street is this? Where are we go --"

"Aww, right on! FARMER'S MARKET WOOOO!"

*sounds of om nomming*

And then we saw this weird thing. I look like I don't have any arms. My sweater blends into the tree. D:

The skyline from the top of the Space Needle. Why is it called the "Space Needle" anyway? There's nothing particularly needley about it. It actually kind of looks like... an air conditioner.

I'm going to be a good little blogger and not backdate. Shame on me for entertaining such thoughts.

This makes me so happy. c:

Seems like the other bloggers I follow have been doing kitty-related posts, so I'm playing along.


Imagine, 700 kitties! Bedtime must be a right snuggle-fest.

Please please please get me out of here.

Tom Hines Photography.

Barely home a week and I already want to leave. Antsy for class, antsy for dorm, antsy for life on my own again.

Dollhouse rooms.

I took these a while ago and never got around to posting them. My mom keeps the dining room table set fancy like this all the time. I don't usually go in there. If I sneeze, the whole room will break. I think most houses in suburbia have this sort of room, the kind that you make purposefully unusable so you feel like you've got a big house with extra space.

Tom says this one ^ is a little creepy. He likes it.

Moving back to school soon. I have an unknown roommate. I hope she won't want me to party with her.

Eavesdropping in sushi joints.

Executive-looking twentysomething to friend: She's like four days past her due date. Actually, I probably shouldn't be here right now.

Adventure over. :c

Returned from my sojourn in Washington yesterday. That's twice in the last three months that I've had miles and miles of Florida waved in my face as I flew back in from wonderful, wonderful travels. I hate flying.

I have lots of pictures and stories from my trip, which I will write about and backdate so they're in proper order. That's probably one of the Seven Deadly No-Nos of Blogging, but oh well. I'd rather have them chronologically organised.

Eavesdropping at small-town fairs.

Middle-aged bicyclist woman: Yeah, all that testosterone I'm not supposed to have? I have it.

Eavesdropping in state parks.

Woman at the next campsite, to her nephew the birthday boy: When you turn five, yeah, you get more big-boy patience!

(This must be the first time she's met a five-year-old.)