Photo flashback of the week
Just flew in from Chicago this morning (and boy are my arms...wait, sorry). I got an e-vite last week for a big party in D-Dawg's newly renovated Bronzeville Manor, and the thought of the hyper-efficient socializing, with so many friends gathered in one place, was too much to resist, especially when combined with a super-cheap last-minute ticket. So off I went. I was having too much fun to take pictures, and don't even really have wacky anecdotes to relate, so will simply summarize and say: two parties, non-stop socializing, balmy weather (high 20s-mid 30s!), good food, delightful people = just what I needed.
So instead of documenting my jet-setty Chicago weekend, I'm going to introduce a new feature to these chronicles: the photo flashback of the week. When I was back home for Thanksgiving, I was forced to address some stuff that I'd left in the garage back in '95 when I moved out to Berkeley. One thing was a suitcase filled with late 80s-early 90s clothes (and if you think that half of it came right back to Spookytown with me, you are so right -- once the musty smell comes out of the circa-1985 black paint-splashed t-shirt from Greenwich Village it will be a new wardrobe staple). Another thing was a hatbox with greeting cards, postcards, and photos. I will spare you all the many postcards of Morrissey with or without the Smiths (how many did a girl need? Apparently five), but have started scanning in the photos as part of my new digital photo archiving project (facilitated by my new scanner) and feel compelled to share.
Below is our first entry for Photo Flashback of the Week: our pet guinea pig, Squeaky, photographed in either the summer of 1984 or 1985. Although Stovie and I longed for a real pet of some sort, read here cat or dog, we were instead given a guinea pig whose only functions in life seemed to be eating, drinking, squeaking, and excreting. Luckily for him, out of all these characteristic behaviors we chose the squeakiness for the naming. This photo shows how we used to take him for walks on the front lawn of the suburban manse, or hook the leash over a low branch and let him graze as we lay out and read.
Squeaky died the same day as the Challenger crash, in January of '86; we think a stray stream of toxin on the part of the exterminator was to blame. RIP Squeaky -- we hardly knew you.
So instead of documenting my jet-setty Chicago weekend, I'm going to introduce a new feature to these chronicles: the photo flashback of the week. When I was back home for Thanksgiving, I was forced to address some stuff that I'd left in the garage back in '95 when I moved out to Berkeley. One thing was a suitcase filled with late 80s-early 90s clothes (and if you think that half of it came right back to Spookytown with me, you are so right -- once the musty smell comes out of the circa-1985 black paint-splashed t-shirt from Greenwich Village it will be a new wardrobe staple). Another thing was a hatbox with greeting cards, postcards, and photos. I will spare you all the many postcards of Morrissey with or without the Smiths (how many did a girl need? Apparently five), but have started scanning in the photos as part of my new digital photo archiving project (facilitated by my new scanner) and feel compelled to share.
Below is our first entry for Photo Flashback of the Week: our pet guinea pig, Squeaky, photographed in either the summer of 1984 or 1985. Although Stovie and I longed for a real pet of some sort, read here cat or dog, we were instead given a guinea pig whose only functions in life seemed to be eating, drinking, squeaking, and excreting. Luckily for him, out of all these characteristic behaviors we chose the squeakiness for the naming. This photo shows how we used to take him for walks on the front lawn of the suburban manse, or hook the leash over a low branch and let him graze as we lay out and read.
Squeaky died the same day as the Challenger crash, in January of '86; we think a stray stream of toxin on the part of the exterminator was to blame. RIP Squeaky -- we hardly knew you.
posted by Pangea at 6:56 PM
1 Comments:
this picture was probably taken the time that we put him out and then forgot about him and then went out for the whole day and came back amazed to see that he was still blissfully grazing away on the grass. Now THAT's low maintenance (to complement low fun, low love, and high excretiness). he's buried in the backyard, if you want to pay homage.
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