My whole world seems to be blooming pink this week. I keep thinking of that great Sarah Vowel essay when she tries to become Goth for a week, and she's so cute and sweet that all the Goth kids tell her she's the "pink of Goth." That would be so me. Everywhere I turn this week, no matter how serious and writerly I try to be, I keep catching flashes of giggly, sugary pink. The dogwoods in front of the old mill outside my window have just exploded in a deep rosy blush. I look forward to the bloom of these particular trees every year because of the gorgeous clash of the blossoms against the deeper pink brick.
After a long writing morning, Todd and I headed up to Portsmouth, NH, today for lunch at one of our favorite spots, Friendly Toast. Deep pink walls and kitschy nostalgia combine with crazy good comfort food to make this place very friendly, indeed. Plus, I love restaurants that serve breakfast all day.
Sister Mary Pink-Eye
This is my all-time favorite milkshake: a pinkie. A black & white shake with crushed raspberries. Do you remember the five-dollar shake in Pulp Fiction? This one's $5.25, and worth every penny.
My veggie BLT (on anadama) and home fries were served on a pretty, square, pale-pink plate.
Back at home, our crumbling neighborhood even glowed a pretty pink.
My mum and me after my reading on Monday. I wore my Morrissey "black on the outside 'cuz black is how I feel on the inside" sundress, but topped it with, of course, a splash of Goth pink.
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