Sickies and Kitties.

This post is brought to you by a very red, very chapped nose and we mustn't forget the duffel bags under thine eyes. A head cold (the plaaaaague! if I describe it appropriately) put me at mercy over the weekend. Our perfectly soft, appropriately soothing couch and I conjoined nicely.

Alas, I've had enough of declaring correct Family Feud survey answers at the TV -- do you suppose they get paid to give the most screwball responses for good television? Because a Koala is not a popular answer for an animal who uses the bathroom excessively.

And oh my favorite boy. He provided lots of soup and his left arm I love cuddle so. And my girl Taylor blessed the world with her best album yet -- and I thought she wouldn't do better than her last because I adored Red. My favorite track from 1989 is I Wish You Would. Others of course are Blank Space and Out of the Woods. It usually takes some time for albums to warm up to me, but as always, her music is instant.

So my Friday + weekend was: work appropriate, lazy Halloween costumes, a beautiful birthday celebration dinner for my beautiful mamabird, homemaking, and pulling off the ragamuffin-chic as made blatantly apparent above.

But I must add how achingly excited I am for what is to come. Holidays, joy, warmth, and everything leading up to July 31st where I will be a married lady.

A Saturday in Hours.

slow, soft morning // bath pt.1 // bath pt.2 // breakfast // favorite health store // a couch I wanted to thrift (but did not) // coffee with mamabird and daddylove // making something

And so forth, a glimpse of my very lovely, plentifully good Saturday. In photos taken in over a span of eight hours. 

Energies of things.

Me and rocks and crystals. Rocks and crystals and I.

When I was a girl, I collected rocks. I'd sit in the gravel of my play-set for hours with the setting sun, looking for the strange opaque white stones. The bottom of my Aladdin shirt transformed into a makeshift basket and I'd stand and run up the hill to the house with it overflowing down my legs -- bare belly and button, out for the evening moths to see.

I can see my wild hair and yearning eyes. My knees would acquire permanent carpet burns with how fast I'd slide to reach my rock collection under the bed. Or in my closet. The dresser drawer on the bottom left. I'd often hide it; just convinced some other little girl would want the bright pink stone, tiger's eye, deep sea-blue agate, or my favorite, the huge amethyst geode. The energy I had! I'd look and gaze and stare at them.

Over the weekend, amidst our errand running, my sweet friend Kelsey and I made a stop at the most perfect rock shop. I cannot count the number of nights I'd slowly inch past with my window down, willing my vision to bore through the darkened windows trying so hard to see its entrails. Closed. It would always be closed and I'd curse my commute and it's long, drawn out itinerary. But that's a story for another time. A rant, if you will.

We looked and gazed and stared. Touched and held and poked. Geodes and agates, garnet and citrine! Enough amethyst points and Himalayan crystals to shake a stick at. I based my haul on aesthetics -- pieces I physically felt drawn to. I know they have healing properties, which I will certainly look up later. But for now they'll sit in a dainty glass box on top of lace. Or huddle close to a succulent or three. You can see a few of my picks in the top frame -- a geode half and four pieces I loved. Not pictured are a handful if little ones I plan on using for crafts. They're exquisite, take my word.

Oh my. I just read this over and my nerd is showing. But that's okay. I felt marvelous after leaving the shop. For the rest of the entire day. An extra spring in my step and everything. Sweet, positive energy down to my bones. That makes sense, because we're kind of made of this stuff, right? Energy and minerals and all that. I must stop here, I'll talk forever.