Fourteenth

It's always bothered me that there's a U in "four" and "fourteen," but poor "forty" has to go without. Also, fun fact, did you know that in the St Louis accent, it's pronounced "farty"?

Well hello. And welcome to my bathroom:

I've still not provided a really good look at the gorgeous tile in the shower--I keep forgetting to take a picture during daylight hours when you can really see it--but here's a peek. Note, too, the fancy curved shower curtain rod and the finished beadboard paneling. Well, not finished, clearly, because now we need to patch some holes and paint the whole bathroom and put the radiator back and paint the floor. But still!

À bientôt mes chéries.

Linky

But first, sea and sky. Sky and sea. Because spring is coming, we were able to visit the dog beach after work, before sunset, a little preview of summer and its endless days.

I've come across some great things on the internets lately:

Fact-checking at The New Yorker, which I found fascinating. It also illuminates the difference between good old-fashioned solid magazine/newspaper reporting and the glimmery, quick, near-immediate stuff we all read online every day.

The recently unearthed 1996 "Dirty Girls" documentary about eighth grade Riot Grrl/zinesters/outcasts, and the followup interview with them nowadays.

This brief, chilling, beautifully written snippet of memory, tangentially involving Charles Manson.

An amazing obituary, via Mary Phillips-Sandy, by way of Twitter. This is the kind of thing we can all only hope for after death, along with (in my case) a second line and an impromptu Iron and Wine concert for my mourners.

Even Isaac (like Zoë, perennially unamused by things I giggle at, me with the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy) thought this was pretty funny: Justin Timberlake and Jimmy Fallon singing "Africa" at summer camp.