just barely Thursday morning

sounds like: American Horror Story/Freak Show (Scary clowns. No.). Could I Be coming home with Sylvan Esso? Current favorite driving song: Bang Bang by the Monophonics.  Will You, Daniel Wilson, will you? Supreme guilty pleasure song, though def can't blast this one down the streets of Old Town: Lil Dicky's Ex-Boyfriend. 

tastes like: Hot wasabi spiced peanuts. Black garlic from Union Market, though I don't know what to do with it yet. 

feels like: I turn 31 on Saturday. I'm throwing an ice cream social because I'm an adult and I make adult life decisions. In all realness, I'm excited to spend a nice (maybe rainy) afternoon eating ice cream—cough-photographing ice cream—with my best friends. I've also decided to design menus after shindigs such as this one - keep my personal design skills fresh, ya know? 

smells like: dried lavender and perfume on my pillowcase. It's time for bed. 

photo via Not Without Salt

the beginning of wednesday

sounds like: I've listened to Ki:Theory's Stand By Me on repeat for over an hour now (play count: 29). I'll listen to this song if I ever walk down mean city streets in the rain and dressed all in black like I'm John Constantine. You should listen to it too. Pretty please. 

tastes like: Coffee at the Fair and coconut milk yogurt at the traffic lights during my morning commute. I sampled the new (and secret!) Filipino entrée at Restaurant Eve. 

feels like: New projects on the horizon: I was asked to shoot Baker Nathan & Chef Margaret's wedding next May (squeeeeee), preliminary photo meetings about the April wedding in Jamaica and ten shades of excitement from just the conceptualization of my personal logo, website, and redesign of my book. So much to do, so little time. Did I mention that I used a new fabric softener on my bedsheets and my bed has reached a new level of “I never want to leave”-dom?  It's the little things in life, man. 

smells like: Jasmine perfume. I give no fucks this time. Ok, that's a total lie but whatevs.

Illustration via Infinite Positivity

late Wednesday evening

sounds like: new albums by Vampire Weekend, Fitz & The Tantrums, She & Him, Hanni el Khatib, and The National. A little Skrillex to get me through the evening. I just want to go to bed. 

tastes like: seared venison and carrot purée, avocado and roasted tomato on baguette, that basil/rhubarb/gin cocktail from Eve (all about that herbacious life), pork belly at some point. I had some crisps with Virginia dip for dinner. I like crisps. You know you work for the Irish when potato chips are crisps and French fries are chips. 

feels like: Summer at last. My ring tan is back, and today I got a heat-induced nosebleed. It has begun. As a side note, super excited for Steph's possible new endeavor. Ummmmmm yes food blogger friend outings, not that we don't have those already. RVA Fried chicken and doughnuts soon. 

smells like: Sophie was tearing fresh basil at Eve earlier. The scent permeated the entire restaurant. Wonderful. 

Photo via No Architect

Wednesday afternoon

sounds like: Andrew Bird, ceiling fans, the clickety-clack of typing furiously on a keyboard, Gary Clark Jr., and Zee Avi's smoooooth smooth voice. 

tastes like: a crisp white wine with sliced strawberries and mango, soft scrambled eggs with slow-sautéed bacon and tomato, and hearty vegetable soup with a rasher of smoked bacon and rosemary for depth and dimension. 

feels like: writing my French lit final and comparing food and art with existentialism (come on, are we at all surprised?), icy condensation on my wine glass, and the necessary freedom that comes with closing all social media to obtain maximum productivity (then again, I am blogging so..). 

smells like: rain in the air and pink peonies from the garden.

photo via Sandra Juto 

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

Wednesday Morning

sounds like: the washing machine, construction work on Old Bridge Road, new Spirit Animal musics, Squirrel Nut Zippers, and The Importance of Being Ernest. 

tastes like: vanilla yogurt with peaches and pecans, coffee, radishes (ah, I wish I had some butter and sea salt), turkey on whole grain with dijon and clover sprouts and cherries. I think I'm going to sear some tuna for dinner. Oh, and kale! Kale and I have become the best of friends. 

feels like: sweltering heat, freezing studio. Filling out paperwork and converting Adobe Illustrator files to Adobe Photoshop slices. Productivity like a boss, son. 

smells like: humidity, air conditioning, lemon perfume, sunblock, and peaches. 

photo via The Blue Hour