When I was young (cough 16 cough) my imaginary baby name short list contained, among other questionables, Hieronymus Euripedes. I named all of my instruments (nerd alert), but it was too soon after everyone I'd mentioned it to had told me that it was a mild form of child abuse to throw away my dear baby names on mere instruments. Enter the age of the iDevice, and I have a number of wonderful inanimate objects to give the names of my childhood dream children. Ideal.
Hieronymus Euripedes is a much better teller of stories than I am, even if I play with his narrative too much with Instagram filters.
Here are some of his recent shorts.
And then it was beautifully sunny and Notre Dame was fit.
I bought myself flowers, and was taught a little bit about flower arranging. Picking flowers to go together is really hard. And I'm really bad at it.
And then I ate the best burger of my life. So far. More on that later.
In other news, I've been watching and rewatching Buffy season 2, and, spoiler alert, the death of Jenny Calendar is always a heartbreaker. I can't even talk about Becoming, parts 1 and 2, because they are tearjerkers like nothing else.