Tuesday morning

sounds like: Future People, that scene in Huis Clos when they start to hate each other, and Spirit Animal's Crocodile Skins (Black Cat on Monday. Do eet.). 

tastes like: Avocado and a poached egg over toasted English muffin with fresh oregano and thyme, coffee, and vanilla yogurt. 

feels like: Damn it's starting to feel like winter (but only at night), hey today is Mardi Gras, that groove your body falls into after listening to a song for upwards of fifteen minutes, and "hey, you're dressed for the gym. How about you get off the internets and go to the gym?"

smells like: fresh pineapple and that antibacterial spray they have at the gym for the mats. 

photo via My Polaroid Blog

Wednesday evening

sounds like: the lemonade mix cd that Stephanie made me two years ago. It contains all kinds of wonderful songs by The Ink Spots, Nat King Cole, Pomplamoose, Doris Day, and Django. 

tastes like: roasted eggplant with balsamic vinegar over raw kale, green tea, and fresh ginger/apple/carrot juice. 

feels like: It should not have been 70 degrees on the first day of February. Reading Sartre's No Exit with a warm winter breeze through my open window which should be mildly depressing but is oddly pleasant. The music and breeze makes up for the "I'm stuck in hell's waiting room with two people I hate" existentialism. 

smells like: vanilla perfume, fresh laundry, and the promise of cold weather in the air. 

photo via Sandra Juto