Another Insta(nt)gra(tification)m!

For your viewing pleasure, I have Instagrammed views of all sorts of summer things: camping, dogs, babies, sunburn, karaoke, just to name a few.

2. Dressed up as Dr. Girlfriend for our show at the Rusty Gear Con.
3. Buffy and the creature from Alien, before our private gig.
4. Sunday night karaoke crowd.
5. Elmo, is that you?
6. In the back of a windowless van, en route to 4th of July hangout.
7. Nicholas.
8. Lunch break.
9. Me, Paul, and the 87 bus.
10. Karaoke magic.
11. Trying to sell my stuff.
12. Vintage shirt tag.
13. Sam “the Beagle” Sensale.
14. My beautiful post-flea-market sunburn.
15. At the new falafel place in Davis Square.
16. Lucy, the newest human I know.  (Born just about two weeks ago to my friends Nancy and Mike)
17. Definitely the coolest thing that’s happened to me at work thus far.
18. Snacks at our office’s carnival-themed summer party.
19. My current favorite beer, enjoyed on our camping trip.
20. New Kork-Ease sandals that were waiting for me when we returned from camping.  They were on sale!
21. Burly-q rehearsal.


Buying Other Peoples’ Things Is Very Grown Up.

When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a ton of money (see: raised by hippie artist types), so a lot of my clothes were hand-me downs or thrifted.  I remember the point I realized that not every clothing store carried only one of each article of clothing.  Looking back, I don’t think I thought it was strange to be wearing a souvenir shirt for a place I’d never been (one of these days, I will get to Hawaii!).  In high school, my wardrobe was full of vintage slips and secondhand children’s t-shirts.  In my home growing up as well as my subsequent apartments, probably 75% the things once belonged to someone else.*  I guess I, like so many people I know, am just a sucker for cool, weird shit that someone else didn’t want.

Which is lucky, because there’s a brand spankin’ new flea market in Somerville, just a short walk from our apartment.  In prior weeks, I’ve scored some kitschy wall art, a bunch of earrings, and a sweet vintage bathing suit (more pics of that to come soon).  My lady Jenny Z, a lover (and purveyor) of all things vintage and wonderful, hadn’t been yet, so we hit it up last Sunday, 90-degree heat and all.

to market


Lovely Jenny Z.


Me and J-Z.



I wanted this, but couldn’t imagine carrying it in that heat.


omg shoes.

Husband wanted to buy this painting to put in our bathroom. I wasn’t convinced.


no thank you

oh hi.


Husband. You can see the polka dot skirt I ended up getting to the left of some green stripes.


Sandal weather.

no thanks again.

Sweat notwithstanding, it was a successful trip.  Jenny got a bunch of stuff, including this bracelet:

I picked up a vintage skirt, some maple sugar candy, and these old photos:

That little girl in the kimono looks eerily like me as a kid.

And our friend Dan Blakeslee was playing:


When we got home, the husband kindly agreed to help me with my first-ever outfit photos.  It was (as I’ve mentioned) super steamy out that day, which inevitably brings out my dirty bohemian hippie side.  I just got this dress at the Gap (not something I do often!) and have totally fallen in love with it.

Why yes, I did go braless.

(dress – Gap / sandals – MIA / earrings (if you can see them!) – thrifted / camera bag (greatest thing ever) – Jo Totes)

All in all, what I’d call a Nice Little Sunday.  Davis Square Flea, thank you for making my summer.  Oh, and be sure to check out Jenny’s new blog, too.

* When settling into my first apartment in Boston, I kept finding little items I’d put out in the common areas would mysteriously reappear back in my bedroom.  I asked my friend/roommate about it; his response was “TOO MANY KNICKKNACKS!”

More Insta(nt)gra(tification)m

I give you the last 2.5 weeks, as seen through my wonky Virgin Mobile Android:

Prop-makin’ for a new routine.

Backyard fire at my friend Courtney’s.

Idyllic in Somerville.

Allix Mortis changing in the car, pre-show.

Undoubtedly the most photographed sign in Ralph’s Diner in Worcester.

Tijuana Sweetheart, with whom we had the pleasure of sharing a stage.

Day-after-show hair: burlesque is nothing if not glamorous.

Lunch on the patio at my office.

State Street orange line stop.

Hotel Marlowe and a little of my husband.

My dad and Aunt Susan, before my sister’s wedding.

My own wedding shots.

Porch wine, candlelight and the White Album.

A friend we made at Kimball Farm.

Maybe not the best mini-golf shoes.

Kimball Farm and a little more of my husband.


Feeling self-congratulatorily bohemian (and cleavagey), sipping wine and writing out on our porch.

Our friends Hallelujah the Hills’ CD release party.

Beard here.

So did I!

Hazy Memorial Day bathroom self-portrait.



Sorry for the overload.  What can I say?  Life’s been aesthetically pleasing these days.