Just Not Very Good

Royal Pains, a show which was promoted NONSTOP by USA, had it's season finale tonight, which no one should really care about. However, the news that it won't be returning until next summer distressed me. Not because the season ended on a cliff hanger and I want to find out what's going to happen (which I would care even less about 10 months from now than I currently do) but because it means 10 months without the scrumptious Jill Flint, who's replaced Evangeline Lilly as current natural beauty I'm infatuated with. Until Lost comes back on the air, at least.

What's a Strawberry?

Stealing a link from HD's new blog post, I checked out the definition of "strawberry" at urban dictionary dot com, and found out that it was a fruit, with seeds. And it's red. I was shocked. What really got me though was I could get a mug made with the definition and example sentence on it. With ease, I mean. Like, there's actually a link right next to the definition, "get this def. on a mug," imploring and seducing me to do so. As if the first thing I would think of when reading below is "Man, I'd really love to see this every morning with my OJ and/or tea. Thank God for the link to a mug!"

"WTF everyone it's a damn fruit. Person: Damnit I love strawberries so frickin' much they're red and have seeds and stuff yum"

Garden

French Brocade marigolds

Seeing chocolate mint bloom for the first time

I love watching my brandywine tomatoes ripen...

Blackberries, too

My first raised bed, built by me (not Fisher Price)

Leeks, beets, carrots, etc.

BOUNTY! Clockwise, from top: green zebra, sungold cherry tomatoes, costaluto genovese

Kewhan Fashion Shoot

On Saturday, along with plucky and able sidekick HD, I did my first fashion-y shoot of Kewhan, a model I met off craigslist. Contrary to what my mother has told me about craigslist, and in fact all websites, there was no scam involved, I wasn't murdered, and no one stole my social security number. I did get some nice shots though, and Kewhan was great to work with. HD performed admirably as my lighting director as well, wielding the reflector with grace, precision and an artistic flair.

Beantown Buffoonery

I decided to join in with the huddled masses and take a Greyhound bus from Penn Station to Boston, since I haven't felt like a poor college kid with no other transportation options nor been annoyed/wished my nose wouldn't work in quite a while. Luckily I got to sit within earshot of the one girl on the bus who wouldn't shut up. Ever. I don't think she was friends with or even knew the girl next to her, yet that didn't stop her from talking about guys who didn't want to date her, her favorite areas to run, or her favorite topics to talk about. She gave advice, inquired about inquiries and mentioned 25 places she had lived for 3 years or more each. Despite looking mid-20s, she was apparently 80 or older. Normally I'd be fascinated with her Wolverine-like powers, but she was the most obnoxious person on the bus, even speaking with a fake British accent the entire time. For what reason? Who was she trying to impress on the bus?

Everything was made better when my bus finally docked in South Station and a car driven by a yellow labrador named Sahara showed up to pick me up. She was so excited to see me that the next day, at the ungodly hour of 7 something, she evolved opposable thumbs in order to open the door to my guest room and wack everything in sight with her billy-club/tail. At least, that's what must have happened since Chris denied her involvement in this plot. Chris is my old neighbor from Ithaca College and now lives in Chelsea, north of Boston. Along with her limey husband/butler, she is the largest landowner in all of Massachusetts, with four properties in the area, all completely gut renovated and beautiful. After purchasing and moving into the 4th location, Chris and Simon plan to eventually move to Seattle, Washington, where they will make a land grab to rival the Louisiana Purchase.

In between ducking her racist septuagenarian bi-polar neighbor who threatened (promised, really) to knock out Simon and catching a death trap bus with a driver who cursed non stop, spoke to himself, thought the rumble strips were a bus-only lane and tried to sideswipe cars in NYC, I had time to pick raspberries, watch old men in tie-dye shirts hold dance competitions at the Beach Boys concert, travel to Johnny Cupcakes and Harpoon Brewery with Mario and lobster bake.

Dedication to fetching; Sahara the big yellow dog

Sheep eating their natural diet of watermelon and pineapple

I wear my Johnny Cupcakes kangaroo shirt while Mario wears the only Karlos Dansby shirt ever made