Google world takeover?

We know Google remembers our searches, our addresses, and everyone we've ever contacted. Of course it's creepy. Of course it makes us want to run to a tree, read poetry all alone and then grow basil in our windowsills.

So we can feel free from it all or something.

When we're done thinking we can rid ourselves of the computer, we can at least have a little fun with it. HuffPo published a list of some of the strangest Google maps sightings.

Freshman year, my friend Emma and I were actually caught on the Google van cameras as well. I've got on shorts and white tennis shoes:

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Grateful for, excited for

Grateful for:

The creativity of my friend Allie.
Wine made to pair with venison.
Curious people who write.

Excited for:

Grapefruit. I'm really starting to like this fruit more. A lot more. I eat it like an orange in the morning or broiled with honey (the way my mom makes it every Christmas morning). I like where this Vitamin-C relationship is going.

Fourth of July in Ithaca! A small town parade, World Cup, watermelon, and my best friend.

Treating the senses

This is what happens with the moon, a slow shutter speed, and a twirling hand.

Friday, I climbed on a bus, rolled out of the city, and drank in the rural life at a community-supported farm in Maryland. It was sensory overload:

Taste

Homemade gumbo with big shrimp and an herb called lovage. Yeah, LOVE-AGE.

Touch

Juicy figs at the farmers market.

Counting sales of fresh snap peas and radishes.


Smell

Home-brewing beer took us late into the night. The sour smell of hops kept us going.

Sight

Nathan took this one. Sunset over the barn.

Sound

The happiest pup in the world, Bear was huffing and smiling at the market.

A lesson in hunting.

picture not by me.

Pronghorns are not actually antelope. They aren't closely related to any animals on earth. Their speed whoops up on the American cheetah. American cheetahs don't exist. Pronghorns outrun their extinct ancestors. Whoa.

Shameless self promotion. Want to win a hunting knife? Want to see photos from the Field & Stream archive that I selected and scanned so that you can write ridiculous captions? Click this.

Only lightning bugs smell like that.

I am searching for a visual metaphor to describe how many lightning bugs were in Union Square Park tonight.


I remembered this picture, of shells so numerous at first I thought they were sand. Until I looked close, under the nets of fishermen who cast when the sun rises in Gonaives, Haiti. Little shells in piles and piles. Hands and jars and bugs and shells.

And, in both places, mosquitoes to outnumber them all.

Catfish and Zaboka

The oven in my apartment is fixed. To celebrate, I baked catfish. My inspiration is the much cooler and much more legit blog, The Wild Chef (Ok, I'm biased).

The lovely Lilah chopped maters and avocados and we had a meal like real people. But we still lounge and laugh on counter tops.

Build a hunting vocabulary

GFade: A type of camouflage. Also my huntress rapper name.