Katelyn has, as usual, what feels like several dozen shows to attend this weekend. She'll be darting in and out of venues, doing the laundry she meant to do three weeks ago, and making a point to re-stock her sock supply at Target.
Katelyn has, as usual, what feels like several dozen shows to attend this weekend. She'll be darting in and out of venues, doing the laundry she meant to do three weeks ago, and making a point to re-stock her sock supply at Target.
Seattlest's childhood summers were for three things: camping, sleeping late, and reading. The latter was the most pervasive. We borrowed stacks of ambitiously thick books at a time from the Lake Hills library--a bike ride through the greenbelt away--and we'd burrow somewhere comfortable to read for long hours. We inhaled books, goldfish crackers, and pina colada-flavored slurpees from the corner store during those summers like there was no tomorrow, because back then, it was almost like there really wasn't. At least, there wasn't a tomorrow we needed to concern ourselves terribly with--as long as we had a good book waiting.