i die.

The weird games we played when we were little kids that absolutely must reveal some deep-seeded suppressed problem about our psyche later in life: I used to be the jungle caregiver/research scientist to two sloths named Sloth Coco (Meg) and Sloth Nilla (Casey). Turns out, such things exist!

mold-a-rama.

I've never been much of a zoo person, mostly because trips to the zoo always remind me of hours in extreme heat equivalent to the Bataan Death March, being run over by strollers, acne-faced teen boys from Hugo, Oklahoma taunting poor animals in their thick accents and nightmares of being trapped in the dark, stuffy herpetarium.

But boy was I wrong. The zoo is a wonderful place.

I'd forgotten about Mold-A-Rama! Such joy in something so completely elementary and waxy and weird. How can this still exist!? Or, more to the point, how did this ever exist!?

I'm now the proud owner of an orange giraffe - my favorite animal at the zoo.

Walker bought me an ICEE! My parents never ever bought me anything at concession stands as a cardinal rule of my upbringing, so this felt like a real indulgence - even if it was a little foamy.

There was a hippo wallowing in mud.

A peacock with its beautiful feathers completely fanned out.

Hilarious seahorse and badger narration by Walker.

The black bear playing with the log.

The totally content lifestyles of otters and sea lions. Enviable really.

Tiny tigers with pretty eyes.

Flamingos stomping on one of their own to death - not kidding, it was traumatic.

And the gorillas going absolutely nuts over the incoming weather. One of them pressed itself against the window after a couple of somersaults and gave me the "Rock On" sign - not even kidding.

...it was about this time that we decided to take the hint and head home - we beat the apocalyptic hail storm by three minutes. Just enough time to slide my car in the garage, pop popcorn and experience one of the craziest things I've ever seen. It was literally raining golf balls, leaving a trail of ruined cars and broken windows in its wake.

So, in conclusion, nature is spellbinding.

when in dallas: we gotta eat at mark salvie's taco place.

This weekend Walker and I headed to the Dallas area for Casey Jarma's wedding - which was absolutely gorgeous and so Casey, whom I luckily got to live with for a joy filled semester in the Theta house, Room 303 to be exact, sharing bunk beds and all.

Beautiful Casey with her Texas drawl, winks, laugh and huge heart was too cute for words in her lace wedding dress and cowboy boots.

I also ended up utterly confused about what exactly goes into a Seabreeze.

So on our way there, Walker and I decided to "explore Dallas."

The only real highlight of this attempt were the tacos (and corn cart) found at a large gas station just off a highway - Fuel City - that Walker remembered Mark Salvie loving more than life. And he's just the kind of guy you should trust recommendations from.

They were really, really good. The vivid pictures above should help you fully realize the experience. Especially Walker's my-mouth-is-full-of-spicy-corn-and-I hate-the-idea-of-taking-pictures-of-food-for-your-blog-stop-bugging-me-you're-weird-I-will-not-participate look.

summer.

fox lake pool marathon day when i return!?!!! break for iced tea and pita/hummus
- Text via Meg. Can't wait.



p.s. the other sister got into ACT II (showchoir, duh)! Hello, Glee!

i found this hilarious and so true. but this may only be because i've read and loved Anna Karenina and am, to this day, terrified of freak dancing.

Anna-logue
There’s a section in Anna Karenina which describes a landowner observing some peasants whooping with joy. The landowner is envious of their fun but knows that he can’t join in. Watching the peasants he feels “a heavy feeling of anguish at his loneliness, his bodily idleness, his hostility to this world.”

Naturally, this scene could apply to a lot of situations in which a person feels alienated from an ecstatic group. On my account, here is the memory that emerged while reading: a vision of high school dances in which everyone vigorously freak-danced while I, who did not know how to freak-dance, watched with aching desire from the sidelines, found excuses to go to the bathroom, and played Snake on my phone.







Via MagicMolly which is genius.

the way to get things accomplished.

Make overwhelming to-do lists less whelming by interspersing it with the mundane. For example:

Coffee with Beth.
Call mom.
Buy postage stamps and paper clips for office.
Make/Save enough money to go to Costa Rica or Bangladesh in two months.
Return library books.
Write 10,000 words.
Find sunglasses.
Run three miles.
Hulu Modern Family & 30 Rock while house sitting.
World peace.





...I wonder if Obama has a similar formula?

so perf.

The National + Sufjan.

p.s. Fun with translation, look through these multi-international signs and these Chinglish signs. Gosh I love travel.

look at your style i ain't really got nothin' on/and you wild when you ain't got nothing on/baby you the whole package plus you pay your taxes.

I love this picture. Via The Sartorialist, of course.

Beautiful is being interesting, comfortable in your own skin and visibly happy.
Sometimes we all need a reminder (before we become relative Heidi Montag equivalents) - and that's what I get out of this picture. Really, all of his pictures.

I made this blackberry cobbler for Mother's Day! Maybe ate most of it myself...

I am always coming up with outfits in my head so this site is brilliant!

Picasso's on Paseo for wine. Pachinko Parlor for the Teddy Roosevelt roll. Alliteration.

In the midst of reading War & Peace, I got stuck on the Chelsea Handler memoirs. She's no David Sedaris, but somehow I can't put them down. Confusing Russian names just pale in comparison at the moment.

like like the the the death / air crickets air crickets air

Goodness gracious I love this picture.
(And this entire wedding).
I think this might be my summer inspiration: curly blond hair, bare arms, be outside, eat potato chips, attend weddings.

Plus, it just reminds me of the beauties of childhood.
Especially appropriate on Mother's Day:
My Mom let me and Meg and Casey run wild and for that I am eternally grateful. It is everything I am today.

Like Like The The The Death, Silver Jews.
Jungleland, Bruce Springsteen.

p.s. This is cute.

no such thing.

This is the perfect purse.

(Celine's classic box bag).

Lately, I've been wondering why everyone buys into this concept of a real world, where you don't get Spring Break, worry about money all the time, power playing, hate the work week schedule and are crushed by paperwork concerning loans, mortgages, taxes, etc.

No really, it confounds me. Everybody hates it, yet everyone buys into it.

I totally believe in American productivity, but there's got to be a more innovative way of conceptualizing this idea of the real world.

I'm currently trying to figure this out for myself. Answer the question: What would it take for me to love a job?

What I'm working on so far: daily motivation, energy to continue cultivating a life outside of work, zero commute.

I am trying to be a better person in regards to the little things I always feel guilty about:

Completely stopping at the stop signs in my neighborhood. I am so going to run over an adorable little street rat.

Putting my parking brake on.

Texting while driving. It's so tempting, but it really is one of those things that's going to get me killed eventually.

And mainly: wiping down gym equipment after use. Gawwwwd I hate doing this, I am like the least germ-a-phobic person on the planet. I seriously don't care at all. It's just that I know everyone else does.

And the big things:

So Walker defends his thesis Tuesday! If you're interested in Southern Baptist missions to the Jews and a dynamic womanizer named Jacob Gartenhaus you'll soon be in luck. Also, please note the impeccable proof reading.

But on top of all this, when our Sunday evening turned into an impromptu sandwich and sleeping bag handout I marveled at Walker's ability to give without even thinking twice.

Whereas, I'm not so naturally giving (what's in it for me) - he's made me a believer in the idea that the more you give, the more you get. There's almost a type of freedom and safety in this kind of proof that everything always works out for you when you forget yourself.

I love:

The City. Really, really. I could so care less about The Hills, but Whitney Port is my style icon.

The combination of Common & Lilly Allen on Driven' Me Wild.

Treme. Watch it, visually and culturally stunning.

Leftover pad thai for lunch. That perfect cold, greasy noodle combination.

Getting to see the Thunder play Game 6 with a crowd's cheering that only increased after the loss. What a great season for Oklahoma City. These playoffs have been incredibly special to me.

The sticky rice topped with fresh mango at Lemon Grass.

Angela Kelley's thoughtful insight on immigration. When I was working at CAP I saw her speak, she was so amazing and dynamic and smart and clear.

I don't love:

Oil spills. The picture of a dead sea turtle sealed the deal for me. This sucks.

Auckland, New Zealand.

Don't bother unless you're catching a flight. Eerily utilitarian, reminiscent of Communist Russia or something.

My theory is that New Zealanders just don't know what to do with themselves when it comes to big cities.

I did make my major trip purchases there though: an opal ring and Ray Ban sunglasses.

Learned that all you need in order to make the best salad ever is arugula, lemon, olive oil and parmesan shavings.

Lots of sailboats.

Christchurch, New Zealand.

Where you should either a) like extreme sports or b) like to hike.

Good thing I love to hike - walking is a strong point with me, I could endlessly walk. We took two day hikes along Arthur's Pass and Mildred's Valley.

Or there's option c) love The Lord of the Rings with all of your heart.

Which fortunately my Aunt Barb does. It kinda felt like I was with a 12-year-old boy sometimes when she'd pester all the guides in a voice of giddy excitement: Now is this where Gandolph fell? Is this where Treebeard lived? Wow, I remember this from that scene with Golem and Sam and the Queen of the fairies and...

She also happens to be a foremost expert on C.S. Lewis. Not kidding, she leads conferences in England. So the fact that those movies were shot there as well have her over the edge.

Where sunsets and mist and boulders and golden meadows and peaks and sheep and moss take on a magical form.

Where little boys and girls walk around in their adorable school uniforms like something straight out of Harry Potter.

Where I had the best tuna ever - despite it being a country of meat pie fanatics. Gross.

Where the great explorers find a last respite of civilization before heading off to the South Pole to perish.

...

So Aunt Barb and I are in a taxi headed out for a romantic gondola ride, when all of a sudden Barb practically screams at the poor, unaware Bangladeshi cab driver to turn up the radio. We then here some BBC foreign correspondent tell us that health care had passed and we begin to freak out, doing dance moves in the backseat.

Later, this adorable old man dressed to the nines approached us after overhearing us in conversation. "Excuse me, are you Americans?" Yes. "So health care passed did it now?" Yes! "Ah, I'm so relieved the most powerful country in the world has a heart." And then he proceeded to hug us.

Even later, I went to a tiny bar with some people from our hiking group and everyone bought my drinks in celebration.

So in conclusion, judging from the facebook status updates, it's best to be in foreign countries when progressive things that you're really excited about happen.

...

Queenstown, New Zealand.

The most adorable resort town in the vein of Aspen, except much more untamed and set along Lake Wakatipu.

A lot of international kids backpacking through, bungee jumping and obscenely drunk.

We stayed at the weirdest, most impractical little inn ran by this impossibly chic french woman who cooked us breakfast to order in the mornings.

Eat at FERGBURGER - seriously, one of the best hamburgers of my life.

Milford Sound is this incredible, eerily mysterious area right off the Tasman Sea with waterfalls straight out of this computer game called MIST that my family used to be obsessed with, back when CD-ROMs were cool. I also saw seals and dolphins there which made my life complete.

Mt. Cook, just this epically snowy peak beloved by Sir Edmond Hillary.

Where the water is the indescribable blue of glacier runoff.

The Remarkables - best, most honest name for a mountain range I've ever heard.

Plus, my second favorite experience of the trip (scuba takes the cake) was spending an entire day on these flat, little jetboats that spin you across the Dart River - the scenery just really came alive with speed and the wind in your hair. Plus our driver was really into spinning out and attempting to make it across rock beds, which made it seem all the more thrilling.

And after stepping off the boat, soaked and shivering, I got a mug of hot chocolate from a nearby, nondescript cafe and it was absolute heaven.