Burrito night is what happens when one or both of my roommates are not home, I work late and I realize that if I will be required to cook for myself, I will eat pasta with butter for dinner (again). But I live in California, where the burritos are plentiful and cheap. Afterwards I still feel like doing something, even if that something is writing about my dinner to you.
Behold, I have finally posted
Keep Writing #47 and #46. If you look closely and pay attention, you will realize they are both numbered 46. That is what happens when you prepare files late at night. In a few months I will be handsetting type again, but while the Center for the Book is still unpacking and setting up, I will print where I can. Including at Painted Tongue Press (where I work). Printing post cards on a Heidelburg Windmill, that's right.
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| thrift store score--the tea pot |
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| our cat-centric fridge |
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For the next two weeks or so (and the past one) I will be at home printing, or at Painted Tongue or at the Center for the Book. Don't fear, last week I had a chance to make the house look pretty and sit and drink tea in the ktichen for hours.
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| from a book of photos of signs |
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| a post card i made two years ago |
And while we were walking around Berkeley a few weeks ago, working up an appetite for
giant vegan cinnamon rolls, Andy and I found this in a book . Weird.
