smoking room

I am doing some major procrastinating right now! Trying to avoid reviewing these horrible stories. Sitting in our little undecorated basement common room, oriented towards the television set.

Gaye Advert.



It currently smells like fireplaces in Bed Stuy, curiously these smell the same as fireplaces in Middleburg, VA, where my parents' best friends live. It's rural so maybe it's the smell of a bonfire. They are friends with one of the Smothers Brothers. Now it smells really ridiculous, like a yew log is burning.

A fruitless google image search for yew log has left with the feeling that I really meant "yule log".
Today I hung out with an old volleyball peppering partner, Erin Raker Sisk. Erin is even taller than I am, 5'11"! We went into an art-supply store to ask someone a question about the location of B&H, and there, while idly staring around the store, I noticed a handwritten sign:

(image to come)

it said "williamsburg black oil: lead-based painting oil, $18 a bottle".

It was fun hanging out with Erin- both of our jeans were a little too short, and she is so amazing at parallel parking (like me).

We both admitted to having stress dreams about volleyball.

Something weird is that we both looked taller to each other than we actually are. I told her I thought it was because our eyes are only like 5'7", and that's why it's hard to tell.

Erin was smart enough to quit the team when the immaturity of our 24 year old coach, Brian, became an issue! That guy was pretty good at volleyball, though. He could dance and prance and jump around the court with grace. He had an immature fit in front of all of us once that made Amanda Christiansen cry.