We had a great weekend.
Lots of sitting.
Lots of snuggles with sweaty necked toddlers.
Lots of quiet breezes.
Amy Turn Sharp writes a poem every day.
don’t they taste like food from the street
stuck to the asphalt
these are the echoes of the dream time by Kate Ingliss
I vow to be more graceful than I am. Still, goat’s arsehole makes me smile. I don’t mean it but it works, in that healthfully resigned kind of way.
Donna Hay on Pinterest. This pleases me.
There’s a lady that I love with the old lady afternoon cocktail part of my soul and her name is Pamela Ribon. She’s the friend that I name drop as “my friend who writes for Hollywood” as though that was a thing that a person would do. Pamela has written the excellent web log Pamie.com since long before the breaka dawn.
She wrote yet another book, and it’s perfect for summer consumption. I ate it right up with my eyeballs this weekend and now my eyeballs are full, but like, summer salad full, not gravy fries full. It’s worth the pre-order. Promise.
Articles from Style United.
Thinking about summer entertaining? You should host a bellini bar next weekend.
How to chill beverages quickly.
Would you rather speak in front of a crowd or sing in front of a crowd?
*Other People’s Posts