All the Little Birds Sing for All the Trees

Love love love her. And we went to Grymes together. Legit.

Think I'll Look Up My Rainy Day Man

Random weekend shots. Might be back later. Might not. xxx

I spy Uli Pie!

My little bastard child.

She frolics in the wild!

She prowls for the unknown!

She is ever-suspicious...

 

Windy Knowl Love

Within Me There Lay an Invincible Summer.

June!

July!

August!

So ready.

So Much for Them Daisy Chains...

Today I...

1. Paid off my final student loan!!!

2. Ate artichoke dip for lunch

3. Unwrapped 700 pens for a trade show

4. Found out I have Friday off!

5. Sent an open letter to Congress explaining how pissed I am about the recent cut to Planned Parenthood funding.

Happy Wednesday! Happy hour tomorrow, free as a bird for weekend plans...NYC? DC? Blacksburg? Fredvegas? The Lou? Time can only tell. Until then, here are some shots from this weekend's trip to the Smithsonian (the Spy Museum was a no-go for cameras...but awesome nonetheless).

--

Driftwood horse sculpture. My favorite.

 

Creepy kneeling paint-splashed person.

Sunshine and columns.

Goopy, delicious oil paint.

Ms. Monroe.

The most badass self portrait...ever.

Bill Hartack in Technicolor.



xxx,

Hann

-

He would imagine her vividly, only a few feet and forty years away, intent on finding him. 

-Ian McEwan

I'm Goin' to Jackson(s), I'm Gonna Mess Around

Jackson's for happy hour tonight, thank god! Gonna get some lemon drop martinis, chat with some lovers, and ignore the fact that I will probably, maybe, possibly have to work this weekend. NoooooOOOoooo.

not thinking about it not thinking about it not thinking about it


Whatever. I've been channeling some serious domestic goddess waves recently--I am officially the creator of the world's best bread that consists of rosemary, olive oil, and garlic. Basically makes me want to die of happiness. Smear some homemade Pepper Jelly on a slice (or three) and you will get the sparkly feeling in your tingly place, guaranteed.

It's gorgeous outside--go forth and frolic!

One Day, the Internet Will Kill Us All

Today I got to work and there was an ominous sign posted to the wall stating there was a major power outage in Herndon and ALL SYSTEMS WERE DOWN AND OUTLOOK'S NOT WORKING AND WE CAN'T ACCESS ANY INFORMATION AND WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!

Now, most people in my office took this...badly. Screaming, cursing, sweating, ulcer-creating madness consumed the whole floor and reeked havoc to all in its path. However, I found this information as a source of comfort and relief--it guaranteed my morning of sitting around, reading my book, and catching up on what I do best: looking busy while crafting in my journal, writing to friends, and otherwise performing non-work-related tasks. Brilliant!

Sigh, life is rough.

I went to lunch with J + S and we pondered the idea of how much we "depend" on the Internet/cell phones/TV/technology, and how much better we would be without it (ironic that I'm musing about this via blog post? Meh). Anyway. I want to go back to the days of no TV in my house, negative cell phone obsessions, splotchy Internet connections, and more time with friends and lovers. I need a job "in the field" where I can rock some serious jorts, play in the dirt, and hold actual conversations that don't involve bitching about work (or discussing work in general). Let's get on that, people!

In the meantime, please observe this ridiculous birthday card that one of our graphic designers crafted me yesterday. When I first noticed the ribbon in the sun's hand, I was like, "Wha?" and it was quickly explained that the blue ribbon represents my love for the one and only, Pabst Blue Ribbon. Love it! Is it good, bad, or obscene that my entire office knows how much cheap beer my friends and I consume? Whatever. Living my life, god dammit! Plus, I'm rocking a VT shirt so you know I'm lookin' fly.

Booking hotels for bachlorette festivities...counting down the days till O'Keefe's blissful union (and post-wedding debauchery a la Wintergreen Resort!)

xoxo,

Hannah

In the Bedroom...

While I'm sure many of you fine and fabulous people spent your Valentine's wrapped up in a sea of sappy love sickness, I don't care. If I had my choice, this is where I would spend my next free weekend...burrowing deep under the covers of these delicious gems.

Ok. I'm really into this mirrored shit. I don't care if it's trendy of gaudy or whatever. I think it's sweet, and lord knows I've never met a mirror I didn't like.

So. This is very white. Like, compulsively white. It makes me want to whip my hair back n forth with paint on the ends to splash things up and drip some color onto this palette. However, I'm digging the super low, bed-on-the-floor look. It's just asking to have a Sunday crossword completed in its nest.

First off, I am automatically jealous of anyone living in a loft, much less a loft with exposed brick and chipping paint. Nothing says love like potential lead poisoning. Nothing.



This is J-Lo's bedroom. It almost makes up for the 98% skank vibes she puts out. I die for that light fixture. I pine for the flesh-colored, rosy walls. I want some GD lucite in my life! Damn you, Jenny. If this is what your block is like, sign me up.

My fav fabric, minus the color. This is what I would upholster my chairs with in my dream world.

My thoughts...exactly.



Happy Tuesday, hoebags. My face is feeling luscious post-indulgent facial and the angels are singing.

P.S. Speaking of angels...potential Holla Back DC! alert in my very office:

Get in the elevator. Hit L. Go down one flight. Two guys from my work get in, both old/decrepit--go figure. They push the button for P3. We ride down the elevator, them chatting, me ignoring. Arrive to the lobby and they realize they've pushed the wrong button. As I get off the elevator, one of them says, "Well, we forgot to push the right level--looks like we were distracted by the angel in the elevator with us! Couldn't get over what we saw! Did you see that? Bahahaha!"

Kill me. Angel of death if you look at me again, mofos.

That is all.

Twenty Five.

"This time 25 years ago I was standing in the kitchen making a pot roast for your dad--no wait--that was your brother. This time 25 years ago I was driving through a blizzard on the way to buy flowers for your Uncle Mike!" 

Bahaa, thanks for blurring the details of my fabulous birth, Mom. Anyway, hooray me. Once again, my birthday has reaffirmed my belief that I truly have the best friends ever. So many amazing/badass messages, calls, and wavelengths... definitely a lucky lady. 

25 will be different. 

25 will be new. 

25 will be a challenge, an adventure--and I'm excited for it all. 

.

All I really ever need is love... and flowers.

Jewels from my lovers...

Love,
Hannah

Bittersweet Bday

Love ridden, I've looked at you

With the focus I gave to my birthday candles

I've wished on the lidded blue flames

Under your brow

And baby, I wished for you

Death to Vday

Long, successful, fun weekend. Had a blast in Fredericksburg with the lovely and insightful Rob and Eileen (ok, and Clifford too). Lounged, chatted, ran, drank coffee, visited bookshops, vented, philosophized, reminisced, and in general had a much-needed relaxing time. We went to a couple super cute bookshops that I would probably stalk/live in if I were a Fredvegas resident.

Great colors and perfect nooks.

Drove back to DC. Met up with other lovelies, put on our fiercest anti-Valentine's outfits, rocked to Beyonce, popped celebratory champagne, went dancing, gorged on late-night pizza, sparked up the hookah, jammed in the creepy Smoosh Room, passed out at 5:00.

Painfully good looking. 

"We don't love the way you lie."

See-through black tank + black bra = totally appropriate.

Bidding adieu to old St. Valentine.

Passive-aggressive entry stamp, well done.

 A toast to the future... 

Stoked to have tomorrow off. Treating myself to a day of book reading, coffee drinking, and....a facial. Bahaa whatever. Nothing like a legitimate quarter-life crisis to set me straight or throw me completely off balance. 

au revoir xxx