.dream.hope.wish.be.

OOOOhhhhh MMMMMmmmm

This is the walk to bars, notice the heinekens in the background, they were on sale, I swear.

Blacked Out Betty taken to a new artform.

.Kris and Stacy.

Blake and Matty were not enthused by the paparazzi like conduct.

I just ask for one normal photo Kris, just one.

When do month old memories that were once black and white suddenly blur to gray? Tuesdays are the hardest days. Strolls down Newbury, North End lunches, and visits to PCCF only to return to Beacon Hill Pub and top the day off with drinks full of cherries. Bonfires on the 3rd, Roofdeck over looking the Boston skyline on the 4th. The fireworks on the top are the best, so per usual, we only saw the ones worth watching. 2 dollar drafts at Sissy K's with the entire USS Kennedy. Lt. Barrios and giving ourselves a personal tour of THE big dig. Lunches on the water and internet boyfriends. Dancing like a five year old in the red room and early mornings on the heroine couch. Entourage marathons. "Sir I will give you 100 dollars for that prime rib." Hoop Fever and the MMM face. The North End Pub Crawl. Roofdeck, Lucca, Bricco. Morrocan admirers and Bartender Boyfriends. Wake and bake sessions complete with sunglasses. Always sunglasses. Realizing that hygene is cool and trips to the Peace Garden. Free Slice Monday at the Pushcart, SOX Sundays and Italian Feasts. Beach days in Marshfield and a complicated canopy. A last minute ferry ride. Banana Boats, Smocks and gaucho pants. Jump on it. McDonald's dollar menu and pitchers of blue moon at Rattlesnake. Lost ATM cards, taxi cab confessions and 5 am sunrises. X&Y. I love yous, how did you beat us homes and are you sure we're not being filmed right nows. Drama and Turtle. Mean girls and Paddy O's Coast Guard boys. Dating the city, swan boats and Peanut. The guy in the cordorouy jacket. Power outages, plastic bag coolers and The Purple Shamrock. "Do you have a crazy ex-boyfriend or something?" The perfect night that was Aug. 11th. Lifeguard chairs and chocolate ice cream. Jimmy Buffet. Reggae night and a last call at the pub that waited for us until 4:30 am. Free lunches from construction workers, Pompeii, and aviators. And it all comes down to beer checkers and pong. Here's to the amazing amounts of laughter and the beautiful people who I had to hide drinks from in the bathtub. I love and miss you all ... more than all the stars. Don't Stop Believing.

610 Castillo. This is not a house, this is a home.

Front Porch, perfect for late night guitar sessions with Kendra

Backyard flowering trees

The Orange tree that hasn't ripened yet.

A gray haired and wrinkled couple with rickety bones sit in Starbucks on the corner of State and Cota and share. They share a newspaper and a venti coffee, probably the least expensive house blend. They give off vibes of Colorado, or Northern California. Their age tricks an onlooker to think that they are less active then they actually are. They are visitors, and probably arrived here via RV. They dress themselves in Navajo print vests and fishing hats that should have lores on them. The man wears closed toe Birkenstocks with navy blue socks that you can see the tops of because his khaki pants don’t hit the shoes. He has a gray beard that reaches his gray hair, with almost no bald spots. He shuffles his shoe off to place his socked foot on top of, he looks like a bunyan type of man, while reading something to his bride. She listens intently while sipping from her thermos. They have Momma and Poppa bear stainless steel thermoses. A larger one for him, a smaller, slimmer thermos for her. She wears new balance sneakers. Her hair color mimics that of her thermos, silver, and it forms a flip under her khaki cap. She wears a fanny pack that probably carries everything she would ever need in life, as long as she was with him.

They pour small amounts of coffee into the tops of their thermos’. They sip eloquently. Small Sips. I presume their names are very crunchy, she could be Magda, and he looks like a Phil. Magda calls her husband Phillip when she wants his attention all for her own. When Magda is feeling sassy she calls him Philippe. I presume that Magda is a professor the way she adjusts her posture, has her glasses hanging around her neck from a string and speaks of current events with her less-than-put-together husband. Phil sells things. He probably sells fishing equipment, or maybe John Deere tractors. He also smokes, probably a pack and half a day. Phil wheezes a little when he laughs at his wife’s jokes


As they read the local section of the Santa Barbara News Press, the word flabbergasted is thrown around. The world is not the same as before they met, which was so many harvest moons ago. As America changed, Magda and Phil changed, together. They live a simple life. A life filled with vegetable gardens, of washing the Buick on Sunday afternoons and then cruising through the green leaved streets, of reading, and discussing and rocking in the chair that was a baby shower gift on their front porch. Magda and Phil have three children, all boys. The two eldest boys, Peter and Daniel went to east coast schools, Ivy I presume. The third, Leif, enlisted in the marines at the age of 18 in order to receive a free education. He was taken by the Gulf War. The family talks as if he is going to be home at Christmas, because if they close their eyes tight enough, he is still with them. Magda and Phil raised their boys to be men. Think-for-yourself type of men. Silver-lining-in-every-gray type of men. Gentlemen in every aspect. They are a family of intelligence.

Phil and Magda are cultured, in a way that they have never really been anywhere, but have experienced new things. I would presume that the farthest distance they have traveled was for their son’s commencements on the east coast. Phil and Magda antique at flea markets, attend pow-wows at local conservations and stargaze during a meteor shower. They almost never dine out, but when they do, he drinks scotch, well, Johnny Walker Black on-the-rocks and she sips white zin, Rose, at best.

They still have things to talk about. In the forty-five minutes that it has taken to consume their large coffee, the conversation has had no holes. Phil and Magda still look at each other while they speak. Again, sharing the stage, they both listen, they both speak, and they both look. When Magda is onto something, Phil nods his head intently in agreement.

They casually pack up their belongings and head to their next destination. Phil forgets his cane leaning next to window they were sitting next to. As I quickly grabbed it and scurried up to the front to give it to him, I learned that Phil's real name is John. John, Phil it’s all the same thing. John smiled through the window as a thank you and I extended a warm wave. Wouldn’t you know that John and Magda rode off on matching bicycles, complete with baskets to carry their matching thermoses, never knowing that I just affected their reality as much as they just affected mine.

As I sit and listen to the postal service watching the Red Sox, I glance to my beautiful Kendra and silently thank her for more than I ever could form words. Her superficial flap that constricts her to the sofa is the only superficial attribute the girl has in her whole body.

The ER was an experienced that I wish I had captured on film, old rickety film. I laugh when I get nervous. I was nervous, and thus, giggling like 13 year old girl that was just asked to a movie by a cute boy in her science class. Laughing so hard, I could not push her up the shallow ramp into the Emergency room. Thank you to the J.Crew clad dad who helped me. We slumber partied her stark hopsital room and joked with doctor. We quizzed the male nurse and learned of his life as a floating practioner who is on his way to Kansas City.

Six stiches later, and for the past three days, I have attended to her needs, all while she apologetically giggles as I did in the ER. I love having a patient, the meals, the board games, the complete and utter bubble that she's been put in.

To the selfless girl who brings laughter from tears and tears from laughter. Kendra has given me an amazing opportunity to experience California, her style. I love her for bringing me into her world and embracing me with open arms. I love that she has offered me her friends, her home, her happiness.

Home is where the heart is. Although my heart is mending from the pieces I left behind in Boston, I can make a home here for myself, anywhere for that matter. And my red headed beauty is responsible.

He got the left side for the special occasion. He had "friends stopping by", as if he didn't since October.

Brettalicious

Boyfriend Bartendah Sequence

The only one missing is Old Man Marty... how sad.

"Fucking Locals"

Suffolk Sisters

Former Roommates

Melis and Brettalicious

Lindsay Sequence in

3

2

1

Stoop Loving... or scaring.

And, when a once fast friend turns into a fun friend. A how am I ever going to leave you friend. A Turtle and Johnny Drama type of friend.

And, when a new friend becomes a pretend boyfriend, to shield from South African friends. A 3 am beer pong friend, an "I'm homesick." friend.

And, when old friends, are still the last snuggle of the day. The " I can't believe its time to say goodbye again" friends. The lets play and date the city friends. Thick and thin, can't live without each other friends.