Just Me And My Dead End Friends Again

Babies, I've been sick.
I always think of that genius poem 'Fever' by Ted Hughes that he wrote for Sylvia Plath. It begins, "You had a fever. You had a real ailment. You had eaten a baddie. You lay helpless and a little bit crazy With the fever.".
(Actually, I just read the whole poem - and it's lovely. Really gorgeous. Go read it.)

I guess the bug captured me after a couple of weeks of busy madness...sort of punctuated with a few poor choices and playing kickball in the freezing cold.

I was probably due though - haven't been sick all winter.

It really took hold while visiting Mom in Wyoming - although, there couldn't be a better place to be sick.
Still we were able to do a little thrifting where I scored a ridiculous cache of New Wave records and some cardigan sweaters.

Still, I thought I should mention that yesterday was this blog's third birthday.
Yeah, unreal, right?

Three years ago, I bought a camera and decided that I wanted to really start investigating.
Sometimes I'm enthusiastic about the whole thing - I get excited at the prospects of the adventure and thrilled with the end results.
Other times, I feel weighed down by the obligation...but that rarely lasts for too long.

To my surprise, lately, I've been getting more traffic here. Which means that, whether you love it or hate it, you're looking at it.
So...that means, I should keep 'em coming, right?

So, thanks, sweet followers and endeared haters.
And more so, thanks to those that let me snap them living in my world.
Three is the magic number.