I LOVE Your Accent… (San Diego pt. 2)

I know it’s 2:02 am, but I drank caffeinated tea and my neighbor’s Internet is working, so I see little reason to head to bed.


Adventure called and so last week I went to San Diego to visit Anne and Rachel. They graciously took me on fabulous tours of their city, despite the fact that I have zero social skills or graces.


San Diego skyline at night.


Some people sound the same no matter what they’re saying or whom they’re talking to. That’s not me. I have one thousand million voices, each of which I try to incorporate daily into my life.

Actual Conversation:

O’s Kitchen Employee: I love your accent! Where are you from?
Me: Oh, I just like talking. (Awkward silence) Wisconsin.

Sorry about that. Thanks for the crayons, O’s. Your breadsticks are fantastic.


Aside from putting up with my awkwardness, Anne and Rachel also helped turn my dying creativity spark into a promising flicker. Or something equally poetic. Whatever. I blame the creative lull.

Long-term creative lulls are the absolute worst. I’ve spent the last few months glowering at  my photographs, boycotting my camera, giving silent treatments to journals, ignoring guitar, and tussling with sewing. (I still hate you, dress pattern -don’t think I’ve forgiven you for your unSEAMly behavior.) (Also, that was a pun and borderline creative.)

I tried to tone the San Diego photos sooner, but a fight erupted and most of the photos won. They’re mostly still winning actually.


We saw a sword swallower. While, actually I think just Anne did because Rachel was busy making this face and I was busy capturing said face.

Through My Headphones
*Gasoline -ALPINE


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