Spring

It was one of those Southern Spring nights where it is almost rude to stay inside. The kind of weather where the breeze is so warm that it feels like you're being wrapped up in the most perfect kind of blanket. 

I don't think I'll ever get tired of walking around our neighborhood; with every house I pass, a new potential of history lingers in my mind blooming stories upon stories upon stories of the families that live (or have lived) in them. I love these streets so much that it already makes me sad to think about a time when I won't be surrounded by such stately brick and wise tree branches.

Have you ever really looked at an old house? I'm talking about studying it for so long that you feel almost like you're untying its walls and challenging its roots in a staring competition of its merit. At first, the house will stare back and stand up tall wondering why you are daring to intrude on it's privacy. Don't be intimidated. Old houses like these just aren't used to this type of flirtatious attention.  After a few minutes though, it will begin to trust your subtle pressure and it will lean into you out of its own pure curiosity. You will show it your face and an earnest furrowed brow so it will show you it's toothiness and it's knobbed knees. The cracked paint and the muscular columns. It will share all its secrets with you as long as you share one too. It will smile. Or it won't. It may growl. Or scream. But you and that house will know each other forever. 

Mobile Uploads

Spring quarter always has a way of rushing up on me. One day it's Winter and life feels chilly and well paced and then suddenly, I wake up one morning to find a layer of pollen on my car and sandals on my pale feetsies. I'm a winter person (nothing suits me better than layered clothing and bowls of hot risotto), but there's something about Savannah in the Spring that makes you want to drive for hours with the windows down and the sticky breeze on your face. That, and the flowers. You guys. The flowers. They're unreal. 

Also, what better way to welcome in warmer weather with a set of cornrows? Oli had those bad boy braids for a solid week after her trip to the Bahamas for Spring Break. She knows how to rock a row. 

Me and Susie at the Library. No one loves the fashion reference section of Jen more than this gal. 

Me and the bros on our front porch on Easter. We're all looking so ladylike, aren't we? Nothing calls for dresses and manners quite like Easter brunch. 

Our delicious Easter bounty. Some cherished family recipes. Some new ventures. But all ridiculously good. (I made potatoes gratin with bearnaise sauce). Eating meals like this gets me excited for days in the future when hosting holiday dinners will be my responsibility to tackle. 

 Spencer's turned 21! We celebrated with dinner at Local and I made chocolate chocolate birthday cupcakes with sea salt. Remember: the best way to ring in a new year of life is with mountains and mountains of salty chocolate.

Baille Younkman can be blamed for this pic. She's trained me to see accidental art on the walls of my own city. There's so much around when I take a second to look. 

I love these people. Even just hanging out on the couch watching marathons of Nashville is an absurd amount of fun. Sometimes I can't believe that I've only known them for three years. Sometimes I can't believe that I've already known them for three years. Can time just please slow down a little bit? Especially on weekends? K. Cool. Thanks. 

Whirlwinded

I know, I know. Bad blogger. I get it. 

Let's just forget one second about how mad you are me for taking so long to post again while you peruse some pictures from the last few weeks of the Winter quarter. And hopefully, by the end, we will have completely forgotten about this whole non-blogging-blogger behavior, huh? 

Look at these cats on the first day of school. Pretty sharp, huh? 

Spencer Malinski kitchen dance party. Beyond typical.

 Whoever said that girls with glasses get more passes... WAS RIIIIGHHHTT!!!! BOOYAH. 

Frances and my very first trip to a REAL LIFE BAR. Abe's, to be more specific. Salt of the earth, I tell ya. Frances wore a bow in her hair. Claire ordered potato vodka. I was almost forced to take a shot. (Almost). We got stared at.  The locals hated us. It was wonderful. 

This weekend was just simply oodles of fun. Hey, Bushka Lifers-- remember my senior collection from high school? Well, as much as I LOVE the shots of all my friends modeling the clothes in high school, they needed a little updating. The amazing Kara Reichart re-shot all of the looks in our backyard and Frances got her twerk on as my beautiful modela. (PS- remember that one time last quarter when Kara was amazing?)

You can see more pics of the shoot right.... here... on my website, which, by the way, is chock full of new goodies if you wanna click around and check it out. 

And then as if Friday's photoshoot wasn't enough fun, Saturday gave it a run for it's money. Dearest Lindsay Giambattista came over and filled our home with the sweet, sweet smells of homemade, family recipe style marinara sauce. And meatballs. Homemade ones. Oh, baby. This girl is Italian, alright. 

Oh. And then we made homemade spaghetti. And eggplant parmesan. And watched the Godfather. Viva Italia, bebe! 

Ok, wait a second. Is Savannah pretty or what? 

This little lug nut was giving me good luck hugs this morning before I was headed to class and then to a  very important... interview! ...for an internship! ...with Anthropologie! ...that went really well! Oh. Weird. Did I forget to mention that? Hmmm... must've slipped my mind! Or maybe I've been working on my portfolio 28 hours a day for the last week keeping me from doing anything but formatting pictures and InDesign pages. 

Anywhoooo, I don't know what's going to happen with that little Anthro situation, but I felt like the interview went really well and the rest is out of my control. But I promise I'll do better at keeping you all posted on such matters. 

And in closing, let's just all agree, once and for all, that Spencer Malinski has mad talent. And that these backpacks are the world's coolest. Ok. Good. Now that that's settled... 

What bunch of awesome days all in a row, ya know? This quarter: so far, so good. In a big way.

two things:

1. I need to journal more. I have a lot of thoughts, ya know? 

2. I am officially in Savannah typing these very words on my computer at my desk in my room with my music playing. My thick handful of yellow mechanical pencils are relaxed in the blue can just like I left them. My room smells kind of musty and woody like an old house that holds a lot of memories. There's a dried ring of water on my desk marking the exact spot where my hand naturally places a sweaty glass of ice water. 

I can't wait to see what happens next.  

5

Way way way excited to see these five lads. Can't wait for Thursday and then Saturday. 

Life is just a lot of fun with them. 

Stephanie

Last night was an exercise in adrenaline, flexibility and a true testament to a women's ability to remain calm, eat a few midnight oreos, and get sh*t done. 

After wasting hours spending my evening with Frances and Dawson's Creek, I was just putting my head to the pillow at around midnight when it hit me that, wait a second-- that three page paper that is due tomorrow (the one that I was putting off finishing until Monday morning) may not actually be three pages. That three page paper, may have actually been 5 pages. 

And after confirming with a panicked text to Susie that the paper was in fact at least five pages, it quickly became an unplanned late night. 

And though I was able to churn out a pretty awesome paper fairly quickly, getting up from bed on this Monday morning was a little rougher than previously forecasted. 

I am in a fog. The sort of fog that after drying my hair this morning, decides to not turn off the hair blow dryer, but to simply just put it down on the sink still running for about 5 minutes before I notice. The sort of fog that walks out to her car without her car keys and tries to unlock the door by just pulling on the door handle a few dozen times. That sort of fog. 

So, after completing some morning errands in record time, I decided to treat myself (treating myself for the poor in class listening skills, time management, and just being an all around walking zombie sort of mess, of course) to a quick Starbucks run. After ordering my Chai Latte, I waited and waited and waited for my name to be called. I finally asked the barista if mine was coming up anytime soon and he plainly stated that he'd been calling my name for 10 minutes. I looked down at the cup labeled "Stephanie," confirmed that whatever the beverage may have been, it did not contain caffeine, smiled, grabbed the cup and walked out. 

Am I going crazy? In my extreme fog, did I forget my own name? Or is Mr. Starbucks Barista in a similar fog so thick that it distorted the word "Julia" to something so ridiculously different? That is something I'll never know. But it doesn't matter. Because today, I am Stephanie. Third year communications major at UGA. Loves windsurfing and the color teal. Wears tall, dark brown riding boots and jeans almost everyday and has a black Jansport backpack. A Jason Mraz CD. And long brown hair. Hates the rain, but likes taking pictures of her Starbucks coffee cup when they start serving the seasonal flavors to post on Facebook. This morning, she is on her way to an interview at Bank of America for a part time teller position. 

This post in long winded and has no point. Just leave me and Stephanie alone.

Miss Them Already

After three years, my whole family finally visited little old Savannah for a long weekend. And it was glorious. I showed them around to my favorite SCAD spots, introduced them to the greatest sandwich this side of the Mississippi, and took in the brisk(ish) air of changing seasons. 

In return, they bought me pumpkins, made me tacos, took me shopping and told me that my art was the greatest they'd ever seen. Like I said-- glorious. 

It felt great to have them see all the things that I've been talking about for the last three years-- especially this year when I feel the most comfortable and maybe just a little bit like a local. Just a little. Teensy. I can't wait to see them all again back in Newport in four weeks!

Goodbyes

"It's just sad cause we're growing up."

An emotional morning in Savannah.

Forsyth Farmer's Market

Claire, Spencer and I   spent  the morning at our local Saturday Farmer's Market. 

It seems from this picture that Walker Farms really loved Claire. She must've made a really good Kale joke or something. 

It's never too early in the morning or late in the summer for a popsicle. 

I bought homemade spinach gnocchi (one of my faves) from the pasta stand and fresh tomatoes and onions for some sauce. 

And look who we ran into! Kara, Lindsay and Tyson the pup. Such a pretty amazing little family.

Who wants to come over and try out the goods?!