of Craisins and cat scarves

One of my roommates celebrated his seventh birthday a few days ago. He got a new Nylabone and a special trip to Vista Hermosa Park, where he copycatted my other roommate down the slide and sniffed stuff. Because you're never too old to sniff stuff.






Chaucer has only gotten sweeter and more entertaining with age. While he has grown a bit stubborn in his advanced years (I now have to keep dried cranberries handy on walks, for when he refuses to go where he should), it's usually less frustrating then funny, because he's just endlessly curious. He always wants to investigate new paths, go through strange doorways, and explore unfamiliar corridors. At home he is our constant companion. He trails us from room to room, forever ready with a toy to play, and always down for a cuddle puddle. The second my mood turns south he's at my side, nosing me for reassurance that everything's okay. There is nothing as familiar and comforting as his velvety face resting in my hands, and I love him so much I can barely stand it. He truly is one of the best things to ever happen to me, and I'm grateful for every last drop of drool.








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We spent the 4th of July with Kerry and Ross, barbecuing and watching fireworks from the roof. There may or may not have been an 80s dance party in the living room immediately following. And there may or may not have been a dollar flag from Wallgreens turned into an armband/headband/cat scarf. Here are way too many photos of said event:














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Saw my friend Z a few weeks ago. As is typical with Z, the better I look, the more likely he is to blink in a photo of us.


Amazing. Love him anyway. More fun from that weekend:




Upon the recommendation of some friends, I dragged Terence to Avalon for Roger Sanchez. Fun stuff.



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Aaaand, last but not least, my four favorite recent WordSwags (we make and send each other way too many of these, it's sort of ridiculous):






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Happy Friday everyone!