In which Serena ponders falling pianos, tackiness, and the unknowability of the infinite answer of being. Okay, the first two, not that last one.

I'm up to my old tricks again, this time procrastinating working on my resume. You see, I figure if I don't send any resumes out then I don't risk rejection. Simple as that! Oh dear. But really, it's a combination of fear of failure and plain laziness.

Today, all I wanted to do was wander the city and take pictures and maybe indulge in a little vintage shopping, floating from store to store and just enjoying the sunshine. It's been so beautiful lately. You know when life is so great that you fear a piano will fall on your head... you know, to kind of even things out? That's what the weather has been like. And I wanted to be out there, frolicking and wandering without a care in the world. But I have many cares these days...

Stop.

Enough about sadbad things! Fashion! Today I played with patterns, mixing a crazy bright floral with ladylike houndstooth to a pleasing effect, if I do say so myself. I topped it all off with my saffron yellow toque (not in the pictures). A mid-life crisis white dude driving an SUV with the windows down blaring the oh-so-gangster rap tunes turned all the way around in his seat to watch me as he drove by. I shudder to think that his taste and my taste somehow overlap, that he actually liked my outfit. Rather, I will ignore this aberration and contend that I looked good. This is a fashion dilemma I've never encountered before. Does it hurt my style cred that a conspicuously tacky fellow checked me out? This needs pondering.