carolinemitchelldesign.com

I put up a website. All by myself!
www.carolinemitchelldesign.com
...still ironing out the kinks.

oops

I slipped. oops.

Here's my habitat: Jenny will not work on her blog, although she knows the deadline has changed, and she has mentioned "Pinkberry" four times today. (She doesn't know I'm counting.) I just took a bathroom break and slipped up the stairs, and Matt is up here with us hiding from a co-worker.

This is why the Pinkberry owners are millionaires:

Jenny: Do you want to get Pinkberry? [That's mention number 5 for Jenny.]
Matt: I don't knooooowwww.
Jenny: It's frozen yogurt.
Matt: I know, but I'm not a huge frozen yogurt fan.
Jenny: You don't have to get it. Unless you want to be cool.
Matt: Will it hurt my gums?
Jenny: I don't know; does cold hurt your gums?

Hey friends, mostly siobhan and rusty, i guess. So it's been almost a year since I've said anything on here. How about some pictures. Let's see what I have....

So in the last year I've said goodbye to siobhan in new york:


Nannied for some amazing 2 year olds:





Graduated!:


And wove my way down behind home plate at a yankees game with Phil and Kalen:


but I'll be in Ireland (Newbridge, County Kildare!) next week, so I promise a good post to follow....

new every two

I seem to be slow as christmas when it comes to updating. here are (mostly for rusty because i think he might be the only one who reads this) picturas de italia! we took the little town of lucca by storm...every day at the crack of noon, when we woke up to go into town for an early dinner.

treacherous pebble roads to our house on a hill; vineyards on the way; two rights and two lefts to our sweet Asina; lucca brick streets; napoli friends; lots of red wine and pasta; and liam, siobhan, and caroline n.b...the most wonderful new bridgeians I've every known. when in doubt, revert to speaking spanish. ciao.

spedometer in km, so I had no idea how fast I was going. With no speed limit sign, it was all up for interpretation. 185 km seemed fast, and at 3 a.m. by myself, it seemed like a good idea to take a picture.

and then take one of myself.

siobhan as an italian heavyweight.

me as an italian heavyweight.

the kitchen window view of Lucca.

Lucca street

my favorite digital picture of the trip.

A photo essay from the past month. Freestyling on stage, being the yahoos in the upfront rows. rain and jersey, buses and overused ATMs. the heavenly peroxide sinks in. my anthropologie of people has changed, and i pray for the loveliest and most graceful. that's what i've been shown. new york will swallow you half and half; nashville's my break from summer camp. hitting fences and throwing darts until the sun punches through the shrubs and the thursday morning rental car. if you were a street, which would you be? the pace of raised heartrates and strolling parents? sweet friends, i love you and miss you. willer, you look great on the big screen.

sweet olive

Meet Ollie, the newest member of my extended family. It hurts to look at her for too long. A little obsessive. My mom says Ollie reminds her of me. (I think she needs grandbabies.) Mark? Where ya at?

golden day

on tamilove's golden day. thank you, abba. beauty and love reign. i love my friend so much i can't stand it sometimes.

she woke up on her birthday and moseyed down the block to find her freebird had flown. i kept dreaming of goya and the spanish inquisition. she called the eastern european lady at the impound because within the belly of her freebird were her earthy posessions entire. i was dreaming of little miss sunshine.

crunch said the precinct could help. the precinct gave her ten. she called and waited, praying for an omen. "Haf you look'd en de place were you parked de car?" the lady asked. north carolina? no, south. definitely south carolina. yes, she looked. this time i was dreaming of demarchelier and jimmy choo.

one more try. "It's at pier 76, bitch pleeezee. Cost ya a hundred and eighty-five bones." she'll be there at 7:31. and more realized than ever. she'll be dreaming of his dreds all over her buttery body.

Fidel Castro's dying, so we'll try to understand; but there's Jetson bubble chairs and reflecting pools all around. The World Trade Center grounds are more upbeat than I've seen, and the subways are filled with steam. I hope that one day we won't want the groveling, but for today it's an obsession.

all the poems we've heard of choirs invisible and sins deliverable don't compare to the dollar-store love of friends indivisible. of acceptance miscible. tell us where you'd have us go. we want the dirt and the distance.