Clouds... strange clouds.

Wingapo
and Oh. my. goodness. I just finished reading my terribly awfully horribly boring book for class. Admittedly, it's a very comprehensive and detailed outline of the thought processes and moralistic behavior that should taken into consideration when pursuing a journalistic career.

Regrettably, it's no Harry Potter.

All truly worthy books require one or two good quality spells to spice things up a bit, wouldn't you agree?
Or a three-headed dog.
Or butterbeer.

mmmm. Butterbeer sounds so good right now (even if I'm fairly certain I have no idea what butterbeer actually is). So does apple-picking. I LOVE fall. I love all the wonderful things about it. I love really badly carved pumpkins and dorky-non-revealing-totally-asexual costumes and leaf piles (one of which I made a valorous attempt to jump into today, before being alerted by my slightly more practical roommate that not only was I in a public place, but in the middle of a busy street surrounded by pedestrians and speeding cars).

Alas! it's OK! And whyy, might you ask, is my thwarted attempt at a return to a childhood happy place causing such a disconcertingly small amount of emotional scarring?

Because, my dear companions, I am going to be Pocahontas for Halloween! (if all goes as planned and I don't catch pneumonia or fall or have an exam or just decide to be lazy).

Today my roommate and I walked into a Halloween store in Georgetown, and I was astounded by the number of Native American costumes they had - and also by how wonderfully politically correct they all were! Of course Indian princesses wore sweetheart-topped fringe laden mini dresses, complete with precariously placed loin clothes and ruched bodices! Obbbbvviously they had nothing more important to concern themselves with than the deep-v plunge of their strategically revealing attire.

Let it be known that I will not be wearing one of these generic store offerings, but conjuring up some totally earthly-inspired little do-op of my own, -

for I channel the colors of the wind.

Georgetown Halloween is, as rumor has it, a pretty big shin-dig, so I'm looking forward to flaunting my fringe-laden (or possibly non-fringe laden, depending on how ambitious I attempt to be) frock for the DC world to see. Watch out stuffy politician and executive bound Washingtonians, your earth-child neighbor is preparing to bust out the Que que na-to-ra so highly recommended by Grandmother Willow and to follow her dream-giver just around the riverbend.
(can I cram in one more Disney reference?? can I do it? can I?!?)



Ana.
(did it)