It's time to paint. It's time to nest. It's time to take this perpetual skybox for the metaphorical Los Angeles home game and make it amazing.
What a weekend. This is the stuff weekends were made to be; were conjured out of moon-based, pasted-on linear measurements to provide for us. It was a heart-pounding solo hike in flawless weather, accompanied by a freshly-synced iPod. It was Teddybears STKHLM, The Shout Out Louds, Justice and Bloc Party, filling up the streets two blocks from the house. It was motorcycle grad school, whizzing up the hill I've waited two thousand miles to tackle at magical speeds, the freshness of early-fall wind seeping through my leathers to tickle electric skin. It was loading up on bottles at CWC, chowing voraciously on startlingly delicious Blue Hen tofu, and finally enjoying a real, live evening at home without anybody accidentally falling asleep in the middle of a sentence.