aaaaand Friday.

A smirk from Harrison to end the week.

Giddyup, these next few weeks are going to be a bit mad.

1951

Elizabeth Taylor as a ballerina

The Other August

...and just like that, the weather breaks - the mornings are cool, the afternoons breezy, and the evenings are for sitting close and holding hands.

August

My cousin's grandmother told us that when she was young, in the summertime her mother would lay a white sheet out in the yard, sit the children on it and tell them to "play quietly." There's really nothing else you can do in the kind of heat we've been having. I've been veering toward long and three quarter sleeve shirts rather than tank tops to keep the sun off my skin. Bailey just looks at me like "you want me to do what?" when I try to take her outside. I wish everyone could experience the deafening sound of the cicadas that takes over in the evening. I mean loud. The grass is all brown, but there are still flowers blooming and thriving because they were made for this kind of weather - zinnias and sunflowers and morning glories and hollyhocks.  I like to think I was made for it, too.

Nice things to come home to

I had a little bit of a breakdown yesterday - tears, sobs, gasping for air, I-will-never-stop-crying-ever kind of breakdown, but it only lasted for a few minutes and I was good. I think I needed it. Afterward I took a shower and went to bed and slept like a rock. Good thing it's Friday! Here's my list of things to do this weekend:

1. Laundry

2. Buy a box of wine

3. Watch Olympics.

Repeat.

David's brother is the sweetest guy ever. Ladies, he's single. And he teaches second grade. And he runs marathons and teaches swim lessons. And can play piano.

Bailey being the strangest snugglebug ever. "Just let me sit on you. No?  Well I'm going to do it anyway."

We're a few steps closer to finding a place to live. I'm so excited. Fortunately I don't really know what my tasks are at work so I have plenty of opportunity to sit around and make lists of moving-related tasks and items. Heaven.

all the balancing

First two days of work. I'm half living in Kansas City, already losing track of what outfits I've brought with me and whether I've lost or merely misplaced my favorite belt. I don't have my beloved clock radio with me, and waking up exclusively to my iPhone's alarm is a little jarring. I still find myself reaching for the orange-capped key to unlock my apartment, home for the last five years, instead of the one with the black cap that opens the front door to David's. 

 But the cicadas are still deafening. Bailey still turns in a full circle while jumping backwards, so excited she is when I walk through the door. She doesn't care what door I'm coming through, as long as she's on the other side. I'm slowly building up my stock of yogurt and fruit and granola in a fridge that mostly holds condiments and shredded cheese and half-drunk cans of Pepsi. I (hypothetically) get out of work at 4 which means I can make it in time to the happy hour at Glace, Kansas City's, nay, the world's, greatest ice cream store. I get to tell David about my day in person, instead of on the phone, every day, and kiss him goodbye every morning, even if he doesn't remember it. 

Figuring it out.

Last day on the job

It's here!

Almost 3 years since I was asked if I knew anyone who might want a secretarial job, and I snagged it up for myself right away.

I'm so glad I did. I've learned so much, about law, human nature, and myself.

I'm really going to miss it, but I'm so excited for the next step!

grams from the last few years:

desk accoutremont and shadow Jayhawk

courthouse and desk bamboo decoration

loading up my personal items on my last day, and a client's dog who likes to visit

desk buddy hiding in the bamboo and some legalese

"antique" treasures and the Kansas seal

illustration of my boss and the same guy, decades later

office jungle and basement jungle

briefs and books

my shadow when the light is just right