thank you

This holiday, I'm giving thanks for all the love in my life.


oh yeah, and for this wonderful meal I am about to receive.

seven random things

Sarah at Saipua tagged me! Jon told me this a week ago and I thought I knew what he was talking about. Until today, when I actually realized what he was talking about. Long story short, I owe the blog world Seven Random Things about yours truly.

1. I talk too much. I have been given the book Little Miss Chatterbox by two different people. One of them didn't know me very well. Every year I secretly make a New Year's resolution to talk less. Secret until now.

2. When I was little, I declared my favorite food to be radishes. I don't know why. I think I didn't know you could have the same favorite food as someone else. Today my favorite food is the center piece of any undercooked quick bread or cake. Never leave me in charge of taking your quick bread out of the oven. It already looks done to me.

3. I have massive tooth anxiety. This stems from an 8-year hiatus on dental care followed immediately by 14 fillings (I so wish I was exaggerating for effect) and a crown two years after that. I regularly have tooth dreams in which my teeth are not teeth at all, but carrots or shapes vaguely resembling teeth crafted from a substance like the petrified foam that comprises the cushions of old sofas. My teeth then proceed to grow or crumble or contort or multiply in a variety of shocking ways. I wake up much like I fell asleep- probing my teeth with my tongue. The relief upon awakening to find all of my teeth intact is profound. The other upside, I floss religiously.

4. My sister, Jamie, and I have a secret language that we use to communicate with each other. It is actually the English language, but spoken with such poor enunciation that we believe we are the only ones who can understand it. We don't really close our mouths when we speak to each other in this way. It comes off looking like we have both suffered massive strokes. In truth, we do not always understand each other when using this language and it is quite possible that casual observers are more adept at translating than ourselves. There have been times when Jamie initiated a conversation in this language in public and I had to pretend I didn't know what she was talking about/what was wrong with her. I believe traitor is the word for that.

5. I break out in hives on my chest and on my neck when I get nervous. I used to pretend I liked dresses with high collars so that I could hide my red blotchy neck during the Christmas programs at school. I lusted after a turtleneck swimsuit in middle school, but was too embarrassed to ask my mom to buy it for me.

6. Two butterfly facts: 1) I followed a butterfly downtown when I was 4 years old. My Grandpa was supposed to be watching me. I chased it straight to the police station where they found me, took me in and fed me a fudgesicle. I really learned my lesson. 2) My Community Theatre debut was as a butterfly when I was in kindergarten. I flitted once across the stage in the opening scene of Once Upon A Clothesline. Dad was the lead clothespin.

7. I write letters. I always have and I always will.


I tag Jon.

secret project

I have been working hard at something since my return from NYC. This something will fail to impress. It will also fail to suggest to anyone the sheer tedium involved in its creation. I take heart in this fact. I am often embarrassed to admit how much time something trivial has taken me to create. My life is full of dirty secrets like how many hours it takes to cut 4 words out of paper with a pen knife. That's what secret means. I'm not telling.

the bronx revisited

Jamie and I did a little bit of everything on my trip to the bronx. I'll stick to the highlights that translate directly to things everyone should attempt to do when visiting nyc. First, check out Free Friday Night at the MoMA. Otherwise it will cost you $30 to get in. And, if your budget is anything like mine, spending $30 on a museum virtually guarantees the day's largest coffee drink counts as lunch and a slice of pizza for dinner. It is crowded but you simply have to chill out. The big bonus is not having to make good on your investment by sticking around for a few hours. Ogle and run.

We hit the Brownstoner's Brooklyn Flea on Sunday and agreed that it was the best flea we had been to in NYC. Not the biggest, but the best blend of quality vendors- food and objects alike. I found a silk smoking jacket. Jamie visited an old fave from the Hell's Kitchen Flea, the ceiling tile guy. I bought a handful of vintage hardware from him to revamp my kitchen cabinets. We ate a world class huerache. Please visit this flea. Especially on Sundays through December 21st, when an amazing collection of artisans sell wares directly across the street. If you can't find a gift here for someone on your list, they don't deserve anything.

On to Saipua. We love Eric and Sarah. I bought soaps that smell good enough to eat. All of their offerings are impeccably packaged. This year, give the gift that is too beautiful to wrap.

And if you're packing your goods in a suitcase, you will freshen your entire holiday wardrobe en route. Jon and I are devotees of Sarah's blog. Check it out.

A final recommendation. Go to the little owl in the west village. It is on the corner of Grove and Bedford. Try the meatball sliders and everything else you can afford. Jamie and I had a fantastic meal and dined so close to Ralph Lauren that I had to resist the temptation to pat his head. My only regret from the whole trip is resisting that temptation.

the bronx

I just spent a week in the bronx with my little sister. I like the Bronx because it is one of the rare places in America where people still respect trees and their elders.

on text and texture

variation on a theme:
wool, chenille, dust



A note on the text- Sentimental Education is a touchy subject around the apartment. It is a book that Jon advised me not to read. I am reading it as a matter of principle. This does not change the fact that Jon was right.

thrift alert!!!

Tuesday, 8AM - Lake Street Savers

I promised I would warn of Savers next 50% off all used merchandise day. Savers loves to pimp out the lesser national holidays to their advantage. If you plan to go, get there early. And prepare for disturbia. People with massive hording tendencies flock to the store. Their carts are completely full of useless secondhand things. If I wanted to make a tragic silent movie, I would simply videotape a compulsive horder passing through the aisles of Savers on a second-tier national holiday.

YWCA locker room

About twice a week my trip to the gym coincides with the ladies attending water aerobics. Mean age 68. We all end up in the locker room at the same time. They are a wise group of women. I know this because I eavesdrop shamelessly as they dry their bodies with more care than anyone from my generation can conceive of. This fact alone I find marvelous. What would happen to them if they dried off as recklessly as myself? Perhaps bedsores. These women in the locker room speak casually of cataracts, bouts of cancer, exacting sequences of hip replacements, heart problems, politics, gardening, remodeling, 20-year-old microwaves that just won't quit, grandchildren, people dead and dying. All this at 8 o'clock in the morning. It is a profound experience to have before the day has even begun to take shape. To bear witness to so many lives well-lived and realize that I will one day speak as casually about such things. Possibly in a locker room full of other sagging bodies. And while I find some measure of comfort in the thought, I am more comforted by the things they never speak of. Namely, that they never worry if their jeans make their butts look big.

The Duel!

GUEST BLOGGER!! Jackie's common law live-in boyfriend guest blogs.

I'd like to write about one of my favorite aspects of plot in olden day novels: the duel! There is nothing as exciting as an adult allowing another adult to fire a pistol at him. It's not the quick draw stuff of western films, instead each man is given an opportunity, with ample time, to shoot his adversary. The last two books I've read, Sentimental Education and War and Peace (actually only 470 pages into it) have incredible duel scenes. And one of my favorite movies, Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, has several duel scenes. It's a very basic life and death situation, and a duel is almost always started over woman. Life, death, and sex: the basics of any great novel. Some common traits of the duel: the participants are obstinate jerk-offs, the seconds usually beg the duelers to reconsider (adding to the suspense, because the duelers, though scared, never think backing down is an option), and though they seemed to have been common, duels weren't actually legal. There isn't a modern day equivalent that I can think of. I think pistols in the late 18th and early 19th century were inaccurate; the ball could go any which way. We all know what happens if you point a modern gun at someone standing ten feet a way and pull the trigger. If anyone else knows of any books with great duel scenes, I'd love to hear about it.

philosophical question

How many calendars does a man need?


For my dad, there is no possible way to answer this question. Calendars are his weakness. Calendars and picture books. I think my dad views calendars as a one-up on picture books. Because you can open it up a year later and remind yourself of what day your anniversary was on. This is why the basement holds decades of calendars. Since Dad stopped keeping a journal, he has been compelled to keep every calendar as historical record. Every year Dad buys more calendars than the number of rooms he enters on a daily basis. He buys so many calendars that he has had to master the art of downloading them on other people and in other people's rooms. I never turn down a calendar from Dad because I know he is counting on me to receive them. Last weekend he gave me a 2009 calendar of China. He was mesmerized by it. Which is why he bought 2 of them. We spent a little QT marveling over the thumbnails on the back cover through the cellophane. I love fanatics. But more than that, I love fanatics who spread it around. Dad is wholly generous with his compulsions. He has yet to meet his match. The thought is terrifying.

change

My proudest moment thus far as an American.
How can we repay him for all the hope he has given us?

detritus of Halloween

The aftermath of Halloween is even scarier than the real thing. I found this eponymously pimped out necklace on my way to the bus today. It is not as precious as it looks. I had no intention of keeping it. I also had no intention of putting it around my neck but there you have it. Sometimes even the best intentions fall by the wayside. I find the necklace depressing because it epitomizes a piece of complete junk. Still, I hate to think that something becomes trash just because it was dropped on the ground. Which is why I picked a snack-size Crunch bar off a sidewalk near St. Thomas and stashed it in my pocket for later.

Last night Jon and I attended a horror flick party. On the way home at nearly 2AM, we encountered a couple in argument. The guy was dressed as a detainee from Guantanamo Bay. I thought the whole thing was a skit because the guy was so ill-equipped to defend himself. Merely a coincidence.

I don't think Halloween is that much fun. It might have something to do with the number of limbs I watched being sawed off with a chain saw.