But Call Me Betsy

That was the plan on Friday in meeting up with a bevy of girls at Mantra for happy hour. We liked it lots because the wine was only $5 and we got to sit outside to people-watch. Because Celia is such a good photographer, it ended up also being a night of photographs. Consider her the guest picture taker, except you will note that I ended up taking quite a few of her. First though, check out our adorable waitress, Brie. We left her almost a fifty percent tip and hope to see her again as she is our new girl crush. Here is Celia, demonstrating how not to pick up men. Hands-off. I can't remember why we were doing all these things with our hands. Here is my hand illustrating lovely fingernails with flecks of red polish. All the chairs outside were backless. I warned everyone that it was quite likely that I would start to fall backwards after a few glasses of wine. Celia noted that I would then reach for the table, but not be able to grasp the edge to save myself because of the chip. ...

I am fortunate to live near a church whose bells peal once an hour. I seriously do like this sound, but the funny thing is that this particular church often seems to go above and beyond the number of bells required. I was walking home the other day around six p.m. and heard the bells, registered the sound absently, and then realized that it didn't stop after what would reasonably be six dongs. I started counting and reached nineteen before it finished. Other sounds on or near my street: 1. The previously mentioned, incessant ding-a-ling music from the ice cream truck. 2. My neighbors screaming at one another (this doesn't happen often; I called the police the last time they were arguing and nothing much happened. The cops did show up but they didn't stay long). 3. Mexican music at all hours. I can often only hear the repetitive bass sound. 4. The little kids riding their big wheels and bikes up and down the street and yelling and laughing. I like this sound too. 5. Pigeons ...