Nothing prides me more about the people in my life than the fact that I can be in a friend conference call with loved ones in Chicago, Houston, and speckled everywhere else on the map and, in the midst of a passionate conversation about the future of organizing among with these guys that forever smell of goat and wet sweaters, a half mention of Taylor Swift can lead to a cover of our favorite song of her recent album being planned and executed.
Such is the seeming contradiction and obvious genius of my friends.
Today has been the day of sleep in luxury, and I sit here at my stand up desk (thank you, tall chairs!) drinking cold brew with a splash of peppermint soy milk and chomping on chocolate baton cookies.
The most work-intensive part of my thesis is 90% complete and turned in, and I will be taking a shower in celebration.
As my glasses slide to the end of my nose (the light-weight ones; the ones that I keep calling my "indoor glasses"), I am pausing to thank my loved ones that have rolled with and supported my hiding out in order to finish this beautiful beast.
Sometimes, indeed, love must be sent on airwaves and through letters until the physical unfolding may commence once again.
be well; be loved,
k.
(image: Absurd Architectural Situations (miniatures) by Frank Kunet via saraviatablas tumblr)
(title: Snippet from "ME!", you know who.)
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