52.52 ~henry wadsworth longfellow.

Stormageddon wasn’t into it. At all. But this blurry chaotic almost hilarity is so perfectly us, I went with it. That’s a wrap, chickens.

51.52 (henry david thoreau)

51.52 (the wasteland and other poems, t.s. eliot)

50.52 That’s how it feels today, anyway. Bah. Too much to do. I hate this picture. Canon is going, going …

50.52  These days I’m lucky if she’ll let me anywhere near her with the camera. (Also – standing right next to the bloody window, and still, the Canon struggles. le sigh.)

50.52 With the Canon dying a slow, laborious, agonizing death, low light is ridiculous to even attempt. Yet here I am. At any rate, this sums Stormageddon up fairly nicely.

49.52 (moonraker, ian fleming)

i’ve had three separate migraines this week, and am working up a fourth. i’d cry, but that’d just make it worse.

49.52 (william gibson)

we’ve been out adventuring, so – another gap.

48.52

two week hiatus on account of Miss W’s grand adventures out of town, and i didn’t want us to get out of sync. we’ll be off again on a collective adventure, so you’ll just have to wait. assuming you’ll miss us at all. wink. smile. other appropriate emoticons. what have you. etc.

47.52