The Universe Has A Cruel Sense Of Humor, OR, Crying Over Spilled Milk

So, a couple of months ago I broke my long-standing aversion to capris and wound up with four pairs. I had tried some on faithfully every spring in high school, and they all looked funny on me, so I gave up for a long time. Anyway, I finally found some that I was happy with and have been wearing them like someone who has never worn capris before and needs to make up lost time (that is, all the time.) I even, based on the success of my one white skirt, been brave and bought a white pair of capris.

Shocking, I know! The sheer existence in my wardrobe of white capris was clearly thumbing my nose at Murphy and his laws. So first, he made me spill salad dressing on the khaki pair that I have that are identical to the white pair.

Today, I spilled milk. All over my white pants.

Summertime and the living is easy

I love summer. I love the smell of grass growing, and freshly cut grass (but not too long after it's been cut, then it starts to smell bad), the way skin smells after it's been slowly heating in the sun. I love the smell of grills, and chlorine, and salt air, and suntan lotion. I love that asphalt is too hot to walk on with bare feet, and the feel of that first jump into a cold pool or lake on a really hot day. I love summer ales, and ice cream trucks, and tomato salad. I love that I don't have to bundle up against the cold (except in my office) and the way the sun doesn't set until 8:30.

But I've had a few too many hot, sleepless nights, lately. Boston, can we dump the humidity out to sea and have a few pleasant days in the low 80's with no humidity? I think I might melt otherwise. Or buy an air conditioner.

Dancing Robots and Signs of Aging

Greetings from the currently-not-at-all-sunny Jersey Shore! I'm on vacation with my mom and brother for her birthday/the 4th of July and stealing internet.

I was peering into the mirror today, examining my roots, when I realized that I've started going gray. I suppose it's not too surprising, seeing as how I'm fast approaching 25, and most of my friends have found at least one gray hair by now. I've also always thought I was going to gray early, because my grandmother did. It's hard to assess the extent of the gray, between the dim light of our motel room, the fact that I've only got about an inch or two of growth since the last dye job, and I've been out in the sun a fair bit over the last week, but there is at least one pure white hair, several others which are suspect, and two patches that may have gone completely white. (These two patches are just above my temples on other side. The hair there has always been lighter than the rest of my hair, blond even after the rest of my hair rounded the bend from "dirty blond" to "light brown" and solidly into "brown," so I'm not surprised on that count, either. I'm not particularly fussed about going gray, but still.

Also, Dancing robots!