Nothing is permanent.
So, when you are in distress, feel better knowing that your pain will soon go away.
If you're in good times, live them up, because they will be gone soon, too.
Musings from New York
Nothing is permanent.
So, when you are in distress, feel better knowing that your pain will soon go away.
If you're in good times, live them up, because they will be gone soon, too.
Here's Nate, after a night of playing at Brandy's on the Upper East Side, an awesome gig that is slowly making him nocturnal. Sometimes he doesn't get home until 6 or 7 AM. This photo was taken this morning at about 8. It's really typical of what I see through his doorway after a Brandy's night--exhaustion so complete that he doesn't even care he's hanging off the bed.
According to Erin:
"I hate eyeglass fashion because I'm forced to wear glasses.
It's like wearing hearing aids as fashion."
This guy sat across from me from 14th Street to Church Ave in Brooklyn, a Q-tip sticking out of his ear the entire way. Toward the end of the trip, he rummaged through his bag, shook a couple pills out of a few different bottles, and gulped them all at once with a swig of water. I have come to no conclusions about this guy other than he must have had quite a headache.
They had a photo booth at the reception. This is possibly the best thing I have ever seen at a wedding. Everyone loved it. They had dress-up bins with all sorts of costumes, and there was a glue stick on a nearby table for guests to glue a photo in the guest book and sign their names. Here I am with the other bridesmaid, Amanda.
The wedding cake. That's a little Denny-and-Amie figurine sitting on the side of the cake. Thankfully, it tasted as good as it looked.
The girls: me, Amanda, Amie, and Amie's sister Cindy.
Looking at some of the awesome plants at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.
Don't let the smile fool you--I was feeling like crap, just getting over the worst of my week-long illness. All I could bring myself to do was sit on the couch and watch hours upon hours of Law & Order. Really--it's my healing regimen. I guess the cats thought that what I really needed was to be smothered to death. (There are four here. . . Sam's hiding by my feet under the blanket.) Shortly after this was taken I began flinging them around the room in fear for my life.