Hi

I think I'm back. My body is back anyway, happily getting reacquainted with my little desk in the kitchen of the bungalow. It's possible I've left a few pieces of my brain strewn across the Bay Bridge. And in the parking lot of the Emeryville Denny's. (Which is a movie unto itself on a Saturday night, let me tell you.)

Anyhoo, I missed you guys. My plans for recovery/reemergence are as follows:

1. Bloggety blog blog blogging.

2. Blog stalking. (Yeah YOU.)

3. Doing laundry laundry and more laundry. This may not seem like an important part of the cure, but a) all our clothes are dirty and b) I find doing laundry strangely theraputic. I think I'm still high on having my own washing machine.

4. Drinking whiskey and watching the new True Blood.

5. Tweeting publicly again. I love YOU GUYS. I want you with me always so I can talk to you, say, when H-town gets wrapped up in a wildly boring cell conversation in the car, or I'm standing in the dressing room at Crossroads and I need style advice asap. It's only when the desperate self-promoters/assy wedding planners/porn spammers (it's a fine line) descend that I want to scratch my face off.

I have much suckier things I need to take care of, like replacing the rusted-out exhaust pipe on Blue, my beloved Volvo station wagon, and finally f*cking doing our taxes. But what's another day or two?


Images via Le Fashion. I just can't wear docs again (believe me, I wore the hell out of them from 1989-1994), but when I was costume shopping here the other week I was sorely tempted by a pair of combat boots. They are supremely good with this sheer dress.