Little bones. Soft skull.

The other night we walked by a bar and saw these two fellows enjoying a couple Rainiers in Tyvex suits. They wouldn't tell me what they were up to, but let me take some photos.

Ross and I spent an evening perusing Myles' inventory. They have a pair of nifty typewriters--a junior, more portable version, almost the size of a laptop, and a bigger one that matches. This is the big one; it comes in a case.

And an encyclopedia of obstetrics from the late 1800s.

Oh, the dreadful boredom of giving birth...

And the grace of a newborn.

One of Myles' latest finds is this magic handbook, a WPA project. The artist is not identified.

And a second copy of accordion style world atlas.

Now that we'll be moving to more permanent digs, I've been documenting our current place, which is slated for destruction in September.

I'm sometimes afraid I'll lose my balance going down this ladder, and crack my head on the hatch.

The cats are fearless though, always racing up and down.