Meanwhile, I love this:

      

(fictional) New York City urban etiquette posters. 

Brilliant.

Arrived in the Mile High and before the internet could get hooked up, my computer suffered some sort of stroke. Crimeny. Right as I'm sitting here with no Web, no car, no job, nothing but loads of time to devote to novel-writing. I suppose I should have impulse-purchased that old typewriter I saw in Chicago. That'll teach me to be frugal.


So the computer is in the shop and it's going to cost me about $300 to fix, and hopefully nothing I've saved there will get erased, like my research, and photos, and wedding info, and the images I've saved for this blog, and my entire iTunes library. I tried to perform an emergency back up of my stuff, but the computer froze mid-burn and went black. Clearly, my computer is an anarchist.

This, apparently, is the typewriter Hemingway owned, and actual descendants of some of his cats. I love how the descendants of Hemingway's cats have been traced, but my family still isn't entirely sure if great grandpa came from Russia or Germany.

i. love. paris. in the...wintertime?

Does anyone ever feel like they have the time and money to travel? I'm guessing not. I mean, both the time and the money? Probably unlikely, unless you're my friend S, who is a kept woman and can go wherever she damn well pleases.

Unlike my friend, R, who simply wanted to go to France and so she saved her money, took some French classes and went. Jealous.

Or my friend A, who had not the money but found the time and went. And is now in debt, but at least she has some great stories (especially the one about eating fresh figs under fig trees in Germany) and also some great photos of Amsterdam.

So what holds me back? The answer is inertia. I suffer from my own tragectory. I need, I truly, really need to break this path and go, go, go.

I don't even have a passport.

So I just sit at home, like this. Looking just exactly like this.

I self-sabotage by saying I do not have the time, I am saving vacation days for the wedding (however, am leaving this job and moving to Denver, so, now my excuse will be "I cannot, I do not have a job"), or I say that I can't, I don't have the money, I am saving for the wedding (caught in the second lie: um, over a year into the engagement now and I have literally done nothing to further this wedding, save one afternoon of trying on bridal gowns with mom in Ohio.)

Yesterday, while musing over a winter wedding in Colorado, replete with sleigh rides and twinkling lights (t.l., btw, are on my list of "must have's" for the wedding; this much I know) and he tossed out the idea of a honeymoon in Paris. At Christmas.

ffffound | Bristol Hotel | arc de triomphe