torn sheets in the rain

i may have just read too much hemingway, but i am entranced by the running of the bulls in pamplona. my goal is to go to san fermin next year - not trotting alongside a bull or steer, but merely observing from a distance in a crowded morning cafe, preferably sipping a bitter, cloudy pernod and nursing a tremendous hangover from reveling madly the night before.

etta james is singing in the background. she is so very good.

this weekend i'm heading to the arts festival at state college. for the past couple of years, riots have broken out late at night amidst the drunken undergraduate youth - looting, downed telephone polls, etc. rumor has it that this year, any student who is arrested will be expelled, no questions asked. take that, drunk fuckers!

at any rate, arts festival is a tradition for me, my sister and the mom (tm). it is one of the rare girl-bonding opportunities we partake in each year, leaving our menfolks behind and sipping frozen drinks while laughing uproariously. i'm counting the days.

i posted new pictures on walterama, including ones from ed's b-day and a few dark but serviceable shots from my bridal shower.

i am hungry. time to get ed to rise from the bathtub and take me to dinner.