Dear San Francisco Summer,

Stop.  Just stop.  Rihanna ballads all the time.  A lack of motivation.  General grumpiness.  This fog is so, just not.  I need some sunshine.

Hugs and kisses,

Mel

Ring of Truth

Last night I dreamt that one of my counselors had gotten into a relationship with one of our campers.  A relationship.  In real life the counselor is 20 and the camper is 6. So in my dream I was like "Holy shit, what?!  How is that possible, how old is he?"  And then, as if it made it all okay, she goes "10.  But I'm 16.  There's only a 6 year difference.  It's not that big of a deal."  To which I respond, "Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense."  Womp womp.  I'm surprised the dream didn't continue with me calling his parents for permission.  "Hi Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, this is Melissa from Camp, I just wanted to check-in with you about your son's romantic relationship with one of our counselors.  It's completely mutual and they are only 6 years apart.  We figured it would be no big deal, but I just wanted to confirm with you that it was okay.  It's camp policy."

I woke up and I was like "Not funny, subconscious.  Not funny."

Missed you.

"Hey Mel,  long time no blog!"

Thanks internet, I know right?  I've been hella busy.  And not even like the kind of busy where I'm like "let me share some amazing stories!"  Just like the "and then I went to work, and then I went to practice, and then I didn't have time to get groceries" busy.

Like I am constantly doing things, that are very boring and not worth blogging about.

I am seeing someone, however.  But that's all I'll say about that because it's new and probably too brief and those things are always fragile.

Sloppy

Ohmygod.  What a weird night.

Mostly, I got capital D Drunk for maybe the second time since Abigail moved away in May.  And I was like sloppy by my second drink.  Losing all sense of personal space, and personal privacy, acting instead like it's 1:45 am in the back of a darkened bar (when in fact it was about 7:30 in public).  Like come ON me.  In retrospect, I know better.  And I'm ruh-eally embarrassed that I  lost so much motha' fuckin' self control.

Also, of course, alcohol made me real honest... REAL fast.

Somewhere in there I realized I didn't have my phone, and wasn't sure when the last time I saw it. So I hope it's at work.

Then it's time to go work the box office for this Improv group I work for, and by then I am just drunk enough to be moderately handsy and mostly just tired.  So I kind of fall asleep before the intermission... OOOPS!

Finally, I'm waiting for the bus when this random guy by the stop start's flipping a shit and shatters the glass in the shelter.  Like knocks out an entire 10 foot pane of glass.  I'm not sure how, but he does.  Stil drunk, but moderatley uncomfortable, I think, "I can't deal with this shit right now."  And walk to another bustop... hope that doesn't count as fleeing the scenee of a crime.  Also, I'm still flalling alseep... right now.  I'm outie.

Waving at Mirrors

Super proud of my Fourth of July outfit.  Shares.  Selfies.

Gentlemen of the Road shirt from Mumford.  Fave sailing sweater from Mom's closet.  Cut-off jorts.  Mocs.  Feather Earrings from May.  Cat-eye sunglasses.  Ever-present floral backpack.  Slight tan.  Sass

"HEY ME!" Unlike May, I may be more torso than legs, but what legs I do have are looking super sleek from all that biking.