I refuse to freak out about how summer is over when it's 88 fucking degrees outside.
Summer isn't really my season, anyway. This may have something to do with the fact that I grew up in San Francisco. I will always prefer strolling on a foggy beach to lying, BAKING, in the sun.
Speaking of foggy beaches, we got a lovely little taste of them on our only-semi-successful camping/road trip, which I have yet to report on. We did just a teensy bit of camping (woot woot SLO + Mendocino!) on our way up to my dad's, stayed nowhere near long enough, and rushed back to LA in a huge hurry because we got a house.
WE GOT A HOUSE, PEOPLE.
A CUTE HOUSE.
A teensy tiny cute cute house with a porch and a view and a claw foot tub! In Echo Park!
Whoopsies, this post was supposed to be about fall.
Our fall is going to be heavy on plumbing and electrical and figuring out how the hell we're going to fit our stuff into 460 square feet (I.E. purging).
Jane Birkin via Ginny Branch Stelling via Shauna O'Toole