wait, wait, don't tell me

amy came east to celebrate the day of no labor with me, and a full recounting of our various and sundry adventures and death-defying feats will be posted as soon as the adequate photographic evidence has been compiled. to hold you over, here is a taste of our three-day weekend intrigue.





i know, i know. you can hardly wait to hear more.

and now, on a completely unrelated topic, one bummer about living with uncle bob (and there are very few) is that he gets A LOT of mail. and i do not. nor did i get a particularly large amount of mail before i lived with uncle bob (again), but something about his piles of fancy letters and invitations throws my own lack of (non-netflix-related) correspondence into sharp relief. (sometimes, i take his "newsweek" to make myself feel better. don't tell, ok?) so i was pretty excited when i opened the mailbox today and found an iron & wine mix cd from the cliff, just for me.

and that's the end of that story.

p.s. if that story made you feel guilty because you haven't been sending me mail, i am sorry. because i didn't mean to make you feel guilty. but if you are already feeling guilty and feeling guilty will motivate you to send me more mail, then i am not sorry at all.

and that's the end for real.