Going home again

Sometimes, on the weekend, I spend the night at my parents' house in my hometown, about 45 minutes away from where I live now. Joe and I go back every weekend to go to church and hang out with friends, and so when we need to stay overnight I sleep in my old bedroom. We moved into this house when I was two, and I lived there into my early twenties (and off and on when between roommates since then), so it's very familiar and yet strange, since it's so empty now, but still has remnants of the way it used to look. The carpet is the same old weird striped berber I never liked, though my mom insisted it was nice and never let me change it. The walls are the sage green I picked out in high school. An old cork board hangs on the wall. But now I sleep on a cot, next to a drying rack, a part of a computer desk, and my mom's hope chest. 

My outfit was put together for going to see a band a few of my friends started play a show at a local venue. I've been wanting more plain-colored miniskirts, and I have also been loving the idea of fuller miniskirts, so I improvised. I'm wearing a blue knee-length halter sundress that has been hiked up, the halter top folded over and tied around my waist. I love the bright blue for this time of year, and it was so flowy and light. I couldn't stop fussing with it, sort of the way as a little girl I would twirl around in my poufy dresses. 

Here's a shot where I set the camera too close to a full-length mirror and half the flash got blocked. It's weird how the shadow goes down the exact middle of my body.

And, just in case you were curious, this was my sleeping situation for the night. My grandma made me the purple blanket when I was little, and my friend is a stuffed dog named Pudgy. In the morning, when my brother was playing music that was keeping me awake, I lay on my side and stuck Pudgy on my head to cover the exposed ear. It worked pretty well to muffle the sound.