So Freakin Excited

For this...

oh yeah, and that...

Let's Move Here

Lovely neighborhood, don't you think?
By: Ross Racine

Swimming Hole

Jane came from a small town.

Everybody just standing around.
They got bingo games, and the raffle.
And everybody chewing tobacco.
Well she grew up kinda restless.All of her boyfriends wanted to be dentists.And she got a job at the local truck stop,
Grew up fast and never did what she wanted.
She's only a person.
Lyrics by Jon Swift

Watch this. Just do it. Thank me later.

Love Letter to Greg Kinnear

Dear Greg Kinnear,
I love you... Oh, if you only you knew how many times I wrote and re-wrote this letter to you, trying to find all the right things to say. I feel like a fool. Greg, I would die for you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Love always and forever,
Erin Jane

Isadora Duncan

"I want to have all my children by beautiful men."

Watch this movie in fifteen parts HERE. It will change your life.

Wedding Invites

I've been spending a lot of my free time designing wedding invitations and thank you cards and table markers and RSVP cards and envelopes and anything else that I think of. Here you go.

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

More Beautiful Canada. Take it in.

So funny

I just can't stop laughing at this.

Water Slide

Dear Blake,
I think you should include this slide in your next water park design. What do you think? Map it out and get back to me.
Love,
Jane Found HERE

More Invites

God Bless America

So with all my traveling I never got to make a 4th of July post! Now I don't want to miss out on an opportunity to celebrate my country on this here blog so here is a happy belated 4th of July post.
I spent the fourth in San Francisco at a Giants game. What is more American than baseball?? Easy, Nothing.

Swenson-Dewey Invites

Williams Weddings

Aimless Love

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,

I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

 

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

 

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

 

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

 

No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

 

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then

 

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

 

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

 

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

 

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

 

 Billy Collins 

Rowing on the Lakes of Canada