We just returned to SF from a trip to Tennessee. It had been a while since I’d been to my home state in the late spring/early summer. I was struck by the unbelievable air. The way it smells all flowery as it whips in the open window as you drive. I can’t believe I used to take that for granted. We did leave before the blistering summer heat set in though. Now living in mostly chilly San Francisco, I recall even the hottest days with some degree [ha!] of fondness. Summer trips for me are now mandatory, and will hopefully be longer than one week. I crave that blanket of humid air, strangely enough. I found a bunch of great 70s vintage wrapping paper and a few cards in a vintage shop in Knoxville. Score.

Also, I fairly thoroughly documented our trip, including a few days in a cabin in the Smoky Mountains over here. Though I love where I live now, I’ll always be a smidge homesick for the south whenever I’m elsewhere.

I got published in 48 Hour Magazine, after thinking I had not made it in. Yay! That is all.

There’s nothing funny about this crazy flood, so I’ll just revert to seventh grade humor. I wish I was in my old home state to help sandbag, but I won’t be seeing you until the 15th of May, Tennessee.

Some more frivolity, please? I won a fabulous BingBang necklace as a result of some self-portrait photography skills. I adore BingBang and my birthday is coming up…so this is a bright spot.

Let’s just go ahead and bust out the big levity sandbag guns on this surreal day of floods, oilslicks and other assorted horribles. I just got a spam advising me to “Taste the sweetness of a rich looking person. You don’t have to tell your friends how cheap this watch was.” Good then, they’ll never have to know. Thanks, “Darla Cates”.