Summer sandwich: Peaches and tempeh sauteed in olive oil with rosemary, thyme, cumin, paprika and red pepper; tomato; kale; avocado; vegenaise. Top with salt and pepper and a second piece of toast. So good.
i'm lindsay. when not blogging photos of my cat or my food or my cat with my food, i teach yoga. i live in brooklyn.
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in good taste
in good taste
Why, yes, that is my upside-down, leggings-clad leg all the way on the right. And, yes, Heidi is stunning irl.
Sometimes I feel like the prints that I’ve pinned to my bedroom wall are mocking me? Esp. when bathed in rainbowy light.
Meaghan’s kitchen table. Also, there’s a lesson here. Which is: Don’t allow my cat to stay in your apartment if you’re not prepared for him to sit on your kitchen table and nuzzle your boyfriend’s SciFi.
My friend picked this up at the Brooklyn Flea last weekend and was laughing at the album cover which doesn’t make any sense to me because, hello?, 1970s JT is basically the ideal man, is he not. (Ending previous sentence with a period bc it’s not really a question.)
Anyway, I bought it and it has become my a.m. soundtrack and I highly recommend it: ‘You Can Close Your Eyes’ followed by ‘Machine Gun Kelly’ = Genius. Buy this album. Immediately.
“Sorry. I’m going to be late. I have toothpaste in my hair.”
—
True thing that I almost just texted.
(Emphasis on almost.)
(I still have some dignity.)
(But not enough dignity, apparently, to prevent me from blogging about toothpaste in my hair.)
(And now I’m going to be late because of overuse of parentheticals.)
(I think I’ll text that. It’s less embarrassing.)
(Right?)
View from my window or Greenpoint’s version of Pride? I think maybe it’s both.
