It's a neat place, and not just because it's run by the former campus pastor and his wife (they are fun people). They feature a different artist as eye candy every time I come in, with the whole Victorian interior dripping with watercolors, weavings, and sketches.
Here is some art:
My hot chocolate in the midst of its creation. Yum.
This was one of those pictures that just seems to happen. I was initially trying to get a shot of the front counter, and the barista walked around the corner just as I took a picture, ending up right there, pouring steamed milk like she'd been there all along. I am fond of this picture.
Here is a bit more:
I love super-tall old Victorian windows. I can just picture standing in front of one and staring across the city, watching for someone. I was born in the wrong era. Or maybe I've just read The Woman in White one too many times and am just on permanent lookout for Count Fosco and his creepy white mice. Probably the latter.
Mom is fixing Paul's schedule, since she is the master of scheduling. No one else could better ensure that he will graduate when he ought. Not the dean, not his advisor, not even divine intervention could better write that last semester's schedule for Paul.
Because Jen will use this as an opportunity to laugh at Poor Paulie, I will speak again in his defense: He has all the classes he needs and wants only some interesting electives. He could take boring classes or even the ones he has set already, all he wants is to see if he can fit in something more entertaining, and I won't help him anymore because he's depressing when he works on things like this. I told him he was on his own last spring, when he shot down every idea I had then got mopey, forcing me to hang up my phone and put it on silent and resulting in his needing help now. Kind of like some of your relationships.
There. I have done my sisterly duty of defending my little brother.
I spent last night working on the little hearts until my fingers cramped up. Now I have three fronts and backs ready for sewing into three 3D hearts, and I looked at them this morning and thought: these are going to be ugly as sin.
I'm going to sew one up and stuff it, then if it is nasty, I will frog the lot and give up. I thought they were cute on Ravelry. But if they are going to look like kidneys, not hearts, I give. No one wants a Valentine's Day Kidney.
That's the nastiest organ, too. Look inside one sometime, I have, and eww. I know we need them to live, but I was creeped out for a week afterward just thinking that I had two kidneys inside me.
Just another weird moment in Laura's life, chronicled for all to see. Enjoy. Pull up a chair, I have a million stories just like it.