Turns out I’m pretty terrible at blogging even when I tell myself I only have to post once a week. So here’s what I’ve been doing the past few weeks, in photos that you’ve probably already seen on Facebook or Twitter, but screeeeeeeew you.

Cassie asked for a picture of the new spire on the 1 World Trade Center building, and I delivered, because I can see it out the window at work. Have I mentioned I live in New York City? That’s weird.

My college friend Sandy got a job here in the city and visited with his wife a couple of weeks before he officially moved. I met them for brunch at Montmartre in Chelsea and had something boring and low-carb, but his wife had these corn pancakes:

Sometimes it gets sort of foggy outside the window when you work 25 floors up. Right below these buildings is the charging bull sculpture that every tourist in the world has touched the genitalia of. There’s also a bronze sculpture of a man in the Time Warner Center that has turned gold in the penis from so many people touching it. Stop it, weirdos.

I don’t get tired of seeing this thing. I know it’s a gross display of American power, corruption, and excess, but it sure is pretty when the light catches its faceted sides:

I went to Ohio and texted my roommate:

While I was there, I went through my great-aunt’s scrapbooks and found this picture that’s supposedly me at 14 months, but I’m just not seeing it. Everyone on Facebook claims the eyes give me away, and I guess I don’t disagree, but I kind of feel like I’m such a nondescript baby here and grew up to be such a descript adult, you know? I guess maybe this proves that my hair is my entire personality. I’m not even sure my mom brushed mine here. And now she’s dead, so I can’t even give her a hard time. #deadparentproblems

Speaking of descript babies, that’s my grew-up-to-be-perfectly-normal-and-not-a-serial-killer uncle in the middle there and my dad on the left and his sister on the right. My dad is wearing a bowtie. And here I thought all of the guys I’ve dated have been exact opposites of him.

I shot a wedding while I was there, and it was KIND OF A BIG DEAL, but I didn’t have any pictures of that on my phone. I did have a picture of my stepbrother’s baby, though, who I did a shoot with the day before I left. And who is perfect. It’s so strange to not want babies of my own but to edit pictures of this kid and think words like precious, angelic, and whatisgoingonwithme.

Here’s a beaten-up farm cat to cancel the baby cuteness:

I came back to NYC, and it was still foggy. This is a building going up near my apartment, and all I can think about when I look at it is how there are suddenly going to be hundreds more people trying to get on the subway with me every morning. It’s strange to imagine where these people come from. SOMEONE is filling these new buildings. Ohioans, all of them.

It was my friend Nik’s birthday, and I went to Louro with him and our friend Anthony, where we had cardoons, which were terrible, and maple bacon donuts, which were incredible. But all I took a picture of were our drinks:

The weird part about being single is that I don’t technically ever have anything to do on a Saturday night, so when other single friends call my landlord/roommate/co-worker/friend Jack up and ask us to go to dinner on an hour’s notice, we just kind of shrug and do it. This was from a night when Jack, Jeff, Anjam, Gherald, and I went to Joya for Thai food down the street from our apartment and then went to a bar where Gherald told me the watermark I use on my photos is generic and the table we sat down at had this ticket on it:

Jeff did a photoshoot for Gherald’s company, and I was the girl who held his reflector for him. This is akin to being a boxing ring girl, but I wore much higher heels and a much skimpier bikini.

Three of my favourite dudes at our first archery lesson together:

We went to the Brooklyn Promenade to celebrate there being sun. This is what it looks like when Nik celebrates:

Jack did somewhat better (in his new glasses):

I’m sure the look on Andrew’s face was downright gleeful:

Nik again, pretending to be troubled:

Right before he bombed my beautiful flower photo:

I learned how to use the panorama function on my phone in the kitchen at work:

And then I learned how to use my new 10-20mm f/3.5 lens at Grand Central, where I found this adorable old sign about personal checks:

Anthony, Nik, and I went to Louro again for a guest chef dinner with Ken Vedrinski from Lucca in Charleston, SC. The gnudi was huge balls of cheese stuffed with mushrooms. My life is so good.

Bridgette moved back into town after two years in Paris, Chantee was visiting from Philly, and Jeff is also black, and I’m pretty sure that was the entire reason for this picture:

Bridgette, Jeff, and I went to see the new Star Trek movie in a theatre attached to this ridiculously clubby hotel with lights under the couches. Everyone says the first one was better, but I think they were just upset that the second one made them cry.

KILLED IT. “It” being whatever smallcutefurry animal we’re imagining this target as. Ignore that fourth arrow that’s almost completely off the paper; I’m sure that was Jack trying to hit his target next to mine and missing by that much. The best part of archery, aside from my being really ridiculously good at it, is that we have to take a car to get there. This particular Sunday, it was raining, and we first went to another archery place that was full and then had to get back in the car and drive even farther, and we were listening to a 90s Pandora station full of Nirvana and Soundgarden and Tool, and it was glorious for someone who hates driving but loves being driven.

Kamran set up a photoshoot for me in his former firm’s office so I could get this shot for him to decorate his new California office with. I’ll show you the real-camera version later, because it’s sort of epic.

The upstairs room at our go-to happy hour bar has this upstairs room with Victorian furnishings and an indie rock playlist. Probably going to have to bring a model back here immediately to take advantage of these cool lights, because Nik’s grimace isn’t cutting it for me:

After archery one weekend, Anjam drove us in his navy blue SUV with the chocolate leather seats and the moon roof (sorry, can’t help myself) to SriPraPhai, which has the prettiest little curry puffs:

Jeff, his girlfriend, Jack, Ash, Michael, and I went to Medieval Times, which is a completely real place in New Jersey and not just something you see in movies when you’re a kid in Ohio, and when we got back to Brooklyn, Jack and I walked to the Promenade and saw this, which I assure you pictures can’t even begin to capture:

Jack, Nik, Kim, and I drove to Connecticut last weekend for a party with Jeff, Anthony, and Anjam at our friends Ash and Michael’s apartment, and this was the view leaving the city:

While we still had the rental car from our trip to Connecticut, Jack and I drove to the not-at-all-subway-accessible Brooklyn neighborhood of Red Hook, where we bought Maine- and Connecticut-style lobster rolls from the Red Hook Lobster Pound and ate them on a pier overlooking the place where the Hudson and East rivers meet. Summer, you guys.

In keeping with the theme of me not being horrified by seafood, I also ate this fried fish sandwich at Schnipper’s in Times Square with my new friend Sarah, who is originally from Ohio and is therefore genuine and earnest and basically had me telling her my deepest, darkest secrets within five minutes of our meeting.

Have I mentioned that Jack has a robotic vacuum cleaner? It does a great job of allowing us to be lazy, but I sometimes get freaked out when I come home and see shoes in weird parts of the apartment and assume someone’s hiding out in his bedroom and waiting to strangle me but had the decency to remove his shoes first:

And now I’m going to Ohio until Sunday to shoot another wedding and my very pregnant friend. LIFE.