“Why typewriters? What happened to spoons?” – my dad, lugging my three typewriters out of the car in Buffalo, lamenting my lapsed spoon collection
Big news: I am now the proud owner of another typewriter. Eliina spotted it at a hipster yard sale on Saturday as we were wandering about in Bucktown. She whispered to get my attention and slyly pointed to it as we picked our way through other useless hipster castoffs: a leather cuff with metal studs, vintage kitchen chairs with ripped vinyl seats, an orange and blue 1970s ski vest. I kept walking. Who wants to look like a complete dork jumping up and down over a typewriter? Then my fingers started to get itchy… I moved in for the kill, bargained them down easily to $10 and walked away with the cutest typewriter ever. It works even better than the other three, and even the case looks like something Paddington Bear would have taken on the train.
Other happenings, working backwards: Saw a Found Magazine show last night with Cleo and Eliina; walked along the lake with Amanda on Sunday afternoon; spent Saturday night watching the Gilmore Girls on DVD and wishing that Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups could be delivered both orally and intravenously; wondered again what the hell I was thinking; calmed myself down again. And again.
