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June 27, 2010

Bumper sticker of the day

I imagine this will be a one entry feature as I don't much like bumper stickers. I think it's genuinely odd to wear your political heart on your car. Or your traveling history. It's the same way I feel about personalized checks. Why? Why would you personalize the act of rent or dental bill payment? It's just..weird.

But today I saw a bumper sticker that made me laugh. And that in it's very rareness seemed worth writing about. So here's what it said:

"I enjoy poetry, long walks on the beach, and poking dead things with a stick."

May that car's driver be blessed with an absence of traffic tickets.


June 15, 2010

You know what I don't hear often enough?

The words "man about town."
Why doesn't anyone introduce himself this way?
It's such a great line.

June 14, 2010

Music that will delight

When it comes to music I am a lyrics kind of girl. What can I say? I like words.
So Jonathon Coulton has won my heart more than twice for his songs such as "Code Monkey" that describes the life of software jockeys and the crazy catchy "Re:Your Brains" about an annoying coworker zombie who keeps pestering you to let him inside so he can eat your brains. And you thought your coworkers were awful.

Check his stuff out http://www.jonathancoulton.com/store/downloads/
You won't be sorry you did if you have any semblance of taste.

April 26, 2010

The music of my blog

Don't worry. I promise it's nothing I've composed or played (both of those tasks exceeding my limited musical skill set--I'm not sure what I have passes for a skill set). Anyhoo, there's a site called Codeorgan that analyzes web sites and assigns musical values to them based on...I don't know.

Check it out!

You can enter any URL and click "play the website" and hear what algorithm generated music it produces. When you type stephaniegayle.com the music is a little discordant and amateurish. Kind of like something I might invent.

April 13, 2010

Rewriting the classics

So the comedy troupe Second City has decided to explore what would have become of Shakespeare's doomed female characters if only they'd had a sassy gay friend. A literary question worth exploring as you'll see in the clip below.

Favorite line?
"You took a roofie from a priest. Look at your life. Look at your choices."

There's also an Ophelia video and a Desdemona video. English nerd humor for the win!

April 06, 2010

No excuses

Oh man. It's been a really long time since I updated this blog. Oops. I would love to claim that it's because Random House just offered me a seven-book deal and I need to get cracking on them books, but um, that's not it. I could attribute some of my silence to the fact that I was traveling internationally (to Canada!) but that was only for a long weekend. So I guess the sad truth is I've been a wee bit lazy. Forgive me.

In order to win you over I am going to suggest a book for you to read.

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The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep and Never Had To
Awesome title! (God, that makes me jealous. I suck at titling.)
And it gets even better. The story is told by Darren who recalls his high school adventures with his friend, Eric, who doesn't sleep. This leads to trouble. But it's actually the day to day stuff that's worth reading. Darren has an authentic, winning voice and some of his observations made my heart ache, just a wee bit.

You should read it. It has hand drawn illustrations AND it was made by one of the actors who starred in Mystery Team.

March 07, 2010

Oscar Fever

In past years I might have had a case of Oscar Fever, that peculiar ailment that hits in early March and involves watching hours worth of a very boring awards show in which very few awards are actually, er. awarded. This year I will spend a portion of my Sunday night watching the awards show, though I intend to get to bed at a decent hour and thus will miss most of the "big" awards. No matter. I think I've seen two of the nominated films this year, so I'm not feeling terribly invested as it were.

However this little film of Oscar cliches made me remember anew just what it is that gets a movie to this most special of awards show. Please enjoy.

February 23, 2010

To the woman at my gym class last night

Hi petite woman from my Zumba class last night. Wow! That was a cardio workout, huh? All that fast paced dancing with little instruction. Really keeps you moving. So when I (new to Zumba--it was my first class) bumped into you because I was looking at my feet and I tripped over my pants I was sorry. Very sorry. That's why I said, "Sorry" and smiled to show I meant it. Also I was embarrassed so my cheeks might have been red with something more than exertion. So at the water break when you walked away from the spot next to me and crossed to the opposite side of the gym I felt bad. Even more embarrassed. I wasn't going to bump into you again (most likely). I sure was going to try my hardest not to bump into you. But you did not give me that chance. No. You moved as far away from you as you could get. Oh wait. I just had an epiphany. You didn't move away because you feared my flailing limbs. You moved because you couldn't bear to see your poor excuse for a booty shake beside my pro version. Yes, I'm sure that's it. Well I'm sorry petite lady that I bumped into. Maybe if you practice a lot you can get better. Yes, maybe.

Yours in booty shaking excellence,
Stephanie

February 20, 2010

Disappointed

The doorbell just rang. It's a very soft sound and if I didn't have superheroine hearing I'm not sure I'd know there was someone ringing it most of the time. But I heard it and I jumped up and ran to the door, excited. I was sure it was the delivery guys come to bring my long awaited washer/dryer.

No such luck.

It was two gents from a local church looking to offer me eternal salvation.

"Does it come with a washer/dryer?" I almost asked. But I was pretty sure they'd say no so I didn't.

February 01, 2010

Best New Site Ever!

I'm so sorry for my belated and (let's admit it) half-assed posts of late. But when I present to you the following I think you will understand why I've been absent for some time.

Selleck Waterfall Sandwich

OMG indeed. I'll see you in a week, when you've escaped the delicious, crusty embrace of Tom Selleck and his sandwich du jour.

Yummmmmmmmmm...

January 25, 2010

Tempting

While checking my gmail I noticed that one of my chat status options was "invincible." I thought that was rad until I noticed it said "invisible," which disappointed me at first. But why? Invisible is pretty awesome too. Oh google! What can't you make happen? I'm going to go get invisible!

January 05, 2010

If you're contemplating

adding chowder to your backpack I recommend you don't. The stuff smells and it leaves white marks on black fabric and I know this because a quart of chowder exploded in my backpack tonight. Not good. Of course the very handsome boyfriend (for whom the chowder had been bought and transported) on seeing the little of the chowder that remained in its plastic container said, "Thank god you got the quart. Otherwise there wouldn't have been any left to eat." Ah yes, that's my man. Always looking on the bright side.

December 29, 2009

Homeowning and Not

Tonight I was in the basement and suddenly heard what sounded like rain. Only inside. Above the basement dryer the ceiling was indeed raining. "Oh shit, oh shit," I thought. "How much do plumbers cost? And what will the plumber need to fix?" Right on the heels of this thought was, "Your house in intact. It's just raining a little. Calm down."

The second thought came courtesy of my friend and former New York roommate, Andrea, who experienced a rather apocalyptic pre-Christmas event. Her house exploded. Let me amend that statement. Her house exploded while she, her husband, and her 18-month-old child were inside of it. Luckily they all escaped though her husband did suffer burns. The firemen had to bulldoze the house to put the fire out.

All too often when crazy scary things like houses exploding happen you're able to forget them sooner than not because you don't know the people involved. In this case I know and love the people involved and so I think for quite some time their very sad and dramatic event will stay with me. And it will most certainly check my ready-to-despair attitude about small things, like a little rain inside the basement.

December 27, 2009

This was supposed to be an entry about my new bird feeder

and it's rather expected assault by squirrels. But the kicker is that it has attracted the rare black squirrel I saw during our first week in our new home. So I took some great snaps of the squirrel who obviously prizes seed over safety. But I can't share the images with you because my camera's memory is wonky and it's taking me much googling to discover how to repair this problem.

So until then imagine a black squirrel feasting on the bird seed I installed yesterday in the hopes of attracting...birds.

I guess nothing is turning out as it should.

December 24, 2009

Books I Have Read

Today I was taking a gander at my "books read" spreadsheet.
Yes, I keep a spreadsheet of the books I've read. Don't you?
According to my records I have read 65 books in 2009. The number seems low to me and I admit that I don't include the books I read for research. Not sure why, but I don't. So the true number is probably closer to 75. I suspect that number will get even greater in 2010 now that part of my commute involves the bus. You can get a lot of reading done on a bus.

I thought about making a "best of" books list but those lists are so subjective and most of the books I read weren't published in 2009. It's just when I read them. So I've decided to make a different subjective list which you are free to counter, dismiss or gobble up, as you see fit.

Of the books I read in 2009 these were unique in specific ways.

Most Heartbreaking: Cost by Roxanna Robinson
Classic I Could Not Finish: The Man With the Golden Gun by Nelson Algren
Book That Made Me Want to Donate My Body to Science: Stiff by Mary Roach
Mystery Novel that Shattered Preconceptions: Chalk Circle Man by Fred Vargas (the detective frequently cites that he's not intelligent)
Most Testosterone Per Page: The Outfit by Richard Stark

And there you have it. Some of the books I read in 2009.

December 22, 2009

Open Letter to Plague Lady

Dear Plague Lady,

So why exactly are you inside the Gap, shopping? As you've so clearly detailed on your cellular phone you are sick. Very sick. Sick with a virus you say, so you can't get drugs for whatever ails you. Lots of people in your office have the same "thing." You tell your phone friend that you texted your boss and your boss told you to stay away from the office. Do you know why? Because contagious sick people get other people ill. That's why contagious, sick people should stay at home instead of bemoan their fate while hacking up a lung near the sales rack of the Gap.

That look I gave you as I quickly walked past, holding my breath? Not nearly dirty enough.

If you're going to be dumb enough to expose others to your germs be smart enough not to reveal that fact in many minute details, okay?

Wishing you a relapse,
Stephanie

December 19, 2009

You're so vain

Vanity plates are like personalized checks: an advertisement of some preference/feature about a person to an audience that largely doesn't care. So besides the inanity of paying more money at the RMV or DMV or whatever MV you prefer there is the all important choice of message. Can't be profane or a duplicate but otherwise the 8 digit alphabetical or numerical vehicular plate is the limit.

Last night I saw the following NY state plate: PALEMALE.
Way to own your pale skin, mister! Sure it seems a bit odd to sell that aspect above all others but um, hey, yeah.

Today I saw the following MA state plate: MAGICD.
"Magic D!" I yelled.
"Or Magi CD," the very handsome boyfriend said.
"Even better!"

So to those vain enough to get those special plates, thanks. They liven up long road trips and I'm sure the extra funds you contribute to the RMV or DMV fills potholes.

December 09, 2009

A desk to call one's own

I need a desk. I need it to work on. My current available work surfaces are either outside my office or about one foot wide which is approximately three feet shorter than I'd like. I'm having a hard time finding a desk that is not hideous, made of cheapo veneer but retails for a true wood price, or is set up such that I'll bang my knees into it. I am a great one for banging my knees.

I want a stylish, functional piece that fits into my small writing area and that I'll keep for years and years. Tonight I found the Grand Ecart Table.

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"Pretty!" I said. "Red!" And then I saw that it is way to large for my office area and it costs $7,950 (on sale at The Conran Shop now for $6,360).


I think I'll keep looking...

December 04, 2009

Cold hands, warm writerly thoughts

I have long limbs. Some might attribute this to my poor circulation and why my fingers are always so damn cold. Other might argue it's just symptomatic of the coldness within. Whatevs. I do know that when I'm typing and I'm cold my hands get that much colder. A dear friend gave my fingerless arm warmers last winter and it was possibly the best, most practical gift I received.

Today I found these online.

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The gloves plug into your USB drives.
Gloves that warm your hands while you type. Frickin' genius!
I will take two please.

November 26, 2009

Big News at Last

So at last...the big news I hinted at months ago...I bought a house with the very handsome boyfriend and we are sinfully living in the beautiful city of Arlington. We have moved our belongings into and around our new space. And it's lovely. Today we took a walk around our new 'hood and the presence of so many trees made my heart happy. As much as I love the 'ville it was nigh on impossible to find a place with any green. More often than nought we'd look out the back of Somerville houses and find the lawn had been paved over to create parking spaces. Hmph.

I could happily spend most of my day in the new kitchen. It's just that awesome. So today we're celebrating our first Thanksgiving in our new space by cooking dinner--just for us--we don't have a dining table or proper chairs for, um, sitting.

So I'm pretty damn thankful today. And you?

November 16, 2009

Fiona Apple

I love Fiona Apple. I love her piano playing and her angst. But what I love most if her sly lyrical dexterity. Today I was listening to Extraordinary Machine and I almost stopped in the ever dangerous Shaw's parking lot, which probably would have ended in a car striking me because that's how they roll there. Anyway what brought me up short was that I'd just heard the word folderol. It's in "Better Version of Me."

The verse is:
Oh, after all the folderol
And hauling over coals stops,
What will I do?

Seriously. Folderol used in a song. I don't know how I never noticed it before. But to Ms. Apple I have this say: I adore you. Please keep making music.

November 13, 2009

Final Lost Symbol recaps

I almost sent a strongly worded email to Maureen Johnson about her failure to finish recapping Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol, but then I realized she was moving apartments and writing books and maybe her chief goal in life was not to make me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. Though, as goals go, I think that is a good one. Feel free to share it with your career counselor.

So, without further ado, the last two recap installments. Well worth the wait!
Part Five
Final

November 11, 2009

I figured it out...

what I wanted to eat. I wanted Trader Joe's vanilla granola with dried blueberries and milk. But it took me a big salad, four pork dumplings, two oatmeal raisin cookies and a handful of chocolate chips before I figured this out. Sometimes food detection takes a while.

Photoshop of Horrors

Dear Advertisers.

Please stop Photoshopping models (most of them women) into human versions of Bratz dolls.

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Wow! Her head is wider than her waist. Likely!

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No one with this frame could actually stand upright.

You're not fooling anyone. And you're certainly not enticing them to buy your stuff.

So knock it off.

Sincerely,
Stephanie "please don't retouch me" Gayle


November 10, 2009

Movie impressions

Last night I saw "An Education" with my friend Maggie.

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My lasting impression?

I will never ever be able to see Peter Sarsgaard without shuddering. His role as an older man who seduces a sixteen-year-old girl was just too creepy to be easily forgotten. Worse yet, he was good at being pervy.

It got me to thinking about how some actors cannot shake the perceptions pivotal role lent them. Both Chirstopher Walken and James Cagney are/were song and dance men but no one ever thinks of them that way because they are/were perceived as tough/creepy guys.

Vincent Price didn't always play the role of horror movie man but that's all we remember him for, by and large.

And though I know it's not fair I think it's going to take the role of a lifetime for Peter Sarsgaard to overcome my knee-jerk perv alert after seeing that film.

P.S. My other deep thought on this film is that we should all dance as they did in 60s jazz clubs. That whole waggle your hands and rotate slightly thing looks very easy.

November 05, 2009

Announcements

30 Rock is a very funny show!
I'm knocking back a couple of episodes a night as if they were special tablets. Laughing pills, if you would.

In other breaking news: sliced bread is da bomb!

November 03, 2009

All too public transportation

What do you do when something disgusting happens to you? Do you keep it to yourself and try the age old therapy of repression? Or like me do you tell a LOT of people in the wisdom that misery loves an audience?

This morning I got a seat on the subway and was reading until we reached MIT. Then I stood up and realized the back of my pants were soaked. Ewwww. I internally hyperventilated as I made my way to the office. "Yuck, yuck, yuck," was my inner dialogue. Also, "Can you tell if you're standing behind me? I can't see my own butt! I wonder if people think I wet myself?"

I had to rush into a 9:00 a.m. meeting with my supervisor, explain that I needed to change my pants, and hurry to the ladies' room where I swapped out my oh-so-wet pants AND underwear for fresh undies and my yoga pants (thank god it was the day I usually go the gym and I had my spare pants). I tried hanging the jeans inside the Dyson hand dryer to get them, well, drier. Then I went to my meeting. My supervisor agreed it could be any number of things that had wet the subway seat: coffee, juice, or water. I said yes, but it was the not knowing that perturbed me. My vivid imagination kept recalling the man on the subway from last week who had smelled strongly of stale urine, and who, when he stood, proved that the urine wasn't all that stale. His pants had a wet track inside the leg.

It later occurred to me that if I wanted to go to the gym I'd need to change back into my jeans. And that's when I thought of it. I should sniff my jeans just to make sure they were safe to wear once I got them Dyson dry. I held them to my nose and inhaled. Not coffee, not juice, not water. Not good.

I went to my gym and showered under water as hot as I could stand without blistering my skin.

And now I'm home. Where I showered again, this time using exfoliating scrub. My jeans are in the washing machine where I think they'll endure two wash cycles before I let them escape.

I think the saddest/funniest moment of consolation came from Andres who offered this tidbit, "The urine of healthy people isn't very bad." He paused. "But sick people urine is bad."

I said, "The kind of sick people who might urinate on the subway?"

There. I shared. Pay it forward, I always say.

November 02, 2009

Design

I might have mentioned my enjoyment of design websites. I like looking at pretty, clean things. Part of me aspires to live in a beautiful, clean space. But most of me knows that isn't likely to happen as my desk currently attests (piles of papers, books, a tea mug that requires washing, paperwork I need to not forget about so I left it out where I'd see it, the Kitchenaid timer, and, oh yes, the key ring that says C.I.A. File Room).

During one of my latest design sojourns I came across a screen printing studio, Ink&Spindle, that makes textiles. Doesn't that sound like lovely, fun work? It's probably grueling but novelty has a certain sheen, no?

Anyway, I really adore this fabric.

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It's called Blue Wrens in Snow. What a great name! Only then I think: what would I do with it? Make curtains? Napkins? And that's when I realize why I don't have a design home. Because I tend to break down on the whole follow through portion of the program.

October 30, 2009

Martha's comeuppance

I'm not much of a Martha Stewart girl. Sure she makes things look beautiful. I am (I confess) often drawn to the colorful cover of her magazine while standing in line at the grocery. That said I have little interest in most of her endeavors and she strikes me as a bit of a cold fish. Plus it seems she has a habit of making catty remarks or verbally chastising her tv guests. So I have to admit watching Amy Sedaris take ol' Martha down several pegs while baking a cake was sort of delightful.


Why yes, I would like an extra helping of schadenfreude with my cake, thank you!

October 29, 2009

I'm evil

but only 38 percent! See?

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According to the Gematriculator my blog is 62 percent good.
How does it make this very precise calculation you ask?
By searching word patterns for words beginning with vowels and seeing if they are divisible by the number seven, which is said to be God's number, which is funny because I saw the movie Seven and I don't think God had anything to do with its production.

Anyhoo you can test your own site or stories or your what you did with your summer essay to determine your own good/evil quotient using the link below.

http://homokaasu.org/gematriculator/

October 22, 2009

What's it worth?

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This is the kittypod. It's a piece of furniture for your cat. It's a nice design: simple, clean.
It retails for $320. I realized that the kittypod costs more than any piece of furniture I own with
the exception of my very nice bed.

I'm not sure what this means except that even if I should get a kitty someday I'm reasonable sure I'm not getting a kittypod.

October 17, 2009

Bad water

Um, this morning the water at home looks bad. Reddish and cloudy and the pipes are making fffffttzing noises. Huh. Now the city of Somerville is supposed to test fire hydrants. But not until two days from now. So...do I assume the fire folks got a jump on this activity early and that the water is just rust tinted but not a real danger or do I suppose that perhaps the cloudy water is a manifestation of some pandemic taint that will soon turn us into ravenging hordes of human-eating zombies?

Okay, I watched I Am Legend recently.

Also I realize that my (ostensibly) few hours of restricted water use represents a minor inconvenience where as for many, many people in the world, access to clean water is a daily struggle.

October 14, 2009

Elephant parade

Every year the Ringling Brother and Barnum & Bailey Circus comes to town (Boston, specifically--I don't know if they come to your town.) They take the train to some railroad tracks at the edge of MIT's campus and then all the animals and some of the trainers and clowns parade past campus. My friend Karen witnessed that parade this year. When she saw the elephants she cried, a lot, and scared a group of kids who were watching the parade with something less than an adult appreciation of the miseries the circus industry inflicts upon its animals. Of course she starts to tell me this story and I interrupt to shout, "I LOVE watching the elephants!!!" which made the rest of the story (her breakdown) that much more distinct from my own unthinking reaction. The truth is I'd never attend the circus because:

1. Clowns (as if I'd let them near me)

and

2. Depression (I only attended one circus and it filled my twelve-year-old self with such a sense of despair that I vowed never to go again).

So I get Karen's whole crying elephants reaction. But man, I sure bet those children on Mass. Ave were confused.

October 13, 2009

Badge of honor

I was sorting my files recently and I came across my rejected submissions folder. It's easily the biggest thing in those files except for the printout of my screenplay. The rejections are several years worth. I also have a folder of accepted material. It is much thinner. I collect the rejections in part because they are a history of my writing career. Some of them are funny, unintentionally so. Like those addressed to some person other than myself. But mostly they are form rejections: curt and of the "not for us, thanks" variety. I feel a certain achievement at having persevered through the rejections, at having honed some of the early rejections into later acceptances.

I wonder if perhaps I should toss them. They do after all take up room, space, that might be better occupied by something else. Tax returns, perhaps.

And yet something in me resists.

October 11, 2009

Corn Maze Adventure

I did it! I visited the David Mega Maze, an 8-acre corn maze located in Sterling, Mass. Here are some things I learned about corn mazes, navigation, and myself during that several hour journey through the 10 foot tall corn paths.

1. If the people running the maze say it might take up to 3 hours to complete said maze, believe them. Your cavalier attitude will win you only frustration.

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2. Helpful teenage guides like being helpful and dispensing clues. Listen to them. Ignore the others (men) who tell you that asking for clues is cheating.

3. At some (many) points you will be filled with an innate sense of rightness, of knowing to turn right or left. That's nice. It's good to feel smart. Just don't be surprised when your infallible sense of direction leads you in a circle.

4. Don't drink a lot of liquids before disappearing into a maze where even the portopotties are hidden well inside the labyrinth.

5. Snacks are a good idea. Getting lost is hungry work.

6. If you succeeding making it to the victory bridge, by all means indulge in victory gong ringing. You've earned it!

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7. If you win you get a gold coin and one of the corn maze owners, dressed as Indiana Jones, will pose with you. He will then give you a gun to hold. You'll notice it feels suspiciously heavy. Feel free to aim it at your head as you pose! Whee!

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Now go take a nap and eat some dinner. You deserve it!!

October 07, 2009

What a girl wants

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This 360 degree rotating fireplace. That's all. I am a person of simple needs. Food, water, shelter and a $7,000 fireplace. We'll talk about the gold-plated unicorn later.

October 02, 2009

More Lost Symbol recaps

by YA author Maureen Johnson...
I jest not when I say I have been waiting most impatiently for these.

Part Three and Part Four

Here's a taste of her thoughtful insight into the book as a whole based on Chapter 37.

"I guess the one complaint I have about The Lost Symbol, if I have any at all, is that it seems like Mal’akh is seriously overworked. If there was a Union of Bad Guys, there is no way they would let him work this long and not have a break. He does everything bad in the book. Everything. No one helps him.

So far, he’s had to: call Kathleen Solomon and pretend to be Dr. Christopher Abaddon, hack off Peter Solomon’s hand, stash Peter Solomon, and lead HSRL on this treasure hunt . . . all at once. And he does this, mind you, while wearing full makeup and having to constantly change costumes and juggle cell phones and manage at least three different identities. Would have it been so much to ask to give him one henchman? Just one?

This is why I am annoyed by the fact that in Chapter 37, he has to corner Trish Dunne, get her access code out of her, and drown her in the tank of ethanol with the giant squid all by himself. That right there could have been the work of one henchperson. It’s not like extra characters cost money. I’m just saying."

September 30, 2009

Wordsmith

Despite the fact that I delight in language and consider myself handy with words I occasionally prove myself completely incapable of speech. For instance tonight as I got on the subway I could tell that someone behind me was angling for the empty seat before me, so I made sure to sit, fast. I just didn't feel like standing. Then I looked and saw the belly of the woman who I'd stolen subway seat victory from: the belly swelled considerably. She was very pregnant. My face flushed and I looked at her and blurted, "You sit!" Then I quickly stood and gave her my seat. "You sit!" She wasn't my pet, for god's sake. What I meant to say was, "Please have my seat. Sorry for being so rude." But no. I said, "You sit!"

Can I have that Pulitzer now, please?

September 28, 2009

Strong women

I know that Netflix's systems are not perfect representations of all film selections but I still say it's a damn depressing sight when they give me a whole category called Strong Female Leads and 95% of the films they list are period dramas. That's right. Outside of Austen and British historical pieces we don't write about strong women. Awesome. If you'll excuse me I'll pour myself a strong dose of scotch.

September 25, 2009

Dan Brown Digested

Confession: I didn't read The DaVinci Code or the one about Angels and Demons? Is it Angels and Demons? Wikipedia says yes. And I'm not gonna read The Lost Symbol because Maureen Johnson, fabulous YA author, did it for me. And summarized it here and here.

Here's a little sample: "A professional waver named Pam (one suspects that she is not so much an employee, merely someone who likes to wave at planes and the airport has just accepted the fact that she is not leaving) greets Robert Langdon on touchdown. She immediately wants to know if he is THE Robert Langdon who writes the books on symbols and religion. It’s Pam’s lucky day because he IS that Robert Langdon! Pam has recognized him because of his “uniform”: a turtleneck, a tweed jacket, khakis, and loafers. It’s possible that Pam has asked every single person she has ever seen wearing this outfit if they are Robert Langdon and has been disappointed for YEARS. It just goes to show . . . you have to hold on to your dreams and keep trying!"

A-maz-ing.

Give that woman a cupcake.

September 22, 2009

Big News

There's big news on the horizon. But I don't want to jinx it so I can't share just yet.
No, I didn't sell another book. Thanks for the lemon juice in my open wound.
And no it's not a baby. Oy.
But I promise I will share soon. It's far better than a baby and about on par with finished-and-sold-novel excitement.
Stay tuned....

September 21, 2009

Parental guidelines

My parents are going on a two-week vacation to Arizona this week. Yay! Good for them. They have never been on a two-week vacation. Ever. The other night they told me their plans for this trip included the following activities:

* horseback riding
* Jeep ride in the desert
*hot air balloon ride
* white water rafting trip

My parents are swell but they are not incredibly active people. I'm not sure I'd describe them as mildly active people. My mother has an aversion to early morning.

So when I heard about their plans I asked what any reasonable, loving child would ask, "Have you increased your life insurance?"

Here's hoping they survive vacay.

September 17, 2009

TwiHard Part Huh, TwiHarder

For various reasons (including a non-existent desire for immortality) I have not read Twilight or any of the books in Stephanie Meyers' series. And now that I have read this amazing recap of all four books I don't think I ever will. Because I believe the author of this Cracked article has outdone the original.

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Tree climbing=not just for cats!

Follow the link and be the judge!

September 15, 2009

So good you'll leave your food behind

Wow. I just experienced a first. I got home, having just finished The Chalk Circle Man by Fred Vargas. I was thinking about the book, sorting my mail, getting settled when I realized I'd left a bag of produce on the train. So wrapped up was I in the book's conclusion that I just walked away from the fresh produce I had bought hours earlier. Damn it. The book's plot, involving a mysterious person who draws circles on Paris streets at night, was much less intriguing than its protagonist, the strange Commissaire Adamsberg. I like that Vargas made Adamsberg a detective with a winning track record whose triumphs come from instincts, not intellect. He doesn't even enjoy reading! Such a departure from most mystery series chief inspectors. I found his approach fascinating. Fascinating enough so that I left behind the figs I really wanted. Damn it.

So if you want to lose yourself in a book, might I suggest The Chalk Circle Man? Just check for all your belongings before you exit the train/plane/home, etc if you're reading at the same time.

September 14, 2009

A-maze-ing

I think in addition to apple picking and pumpkin carving this fall I'm going to kick it into high gear and explore the magic that is the corn maze. Apparently there are several throughout the state. I'm favoring the one that celebrates the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin's birth.

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I have a friend who has a terror of corn fields due to such films as Children of the Corn, so I guess I won't be asking if she'd like to come along.

September 08, 2009

Culinary tip o' the day

If you have mozzarella cheese in your fridge that is squishier than usual and has a slightly green cast to it and smells just a bit off you shouldn't eat it. Trust me on this one. It won't taste good.

September 03, 2009

Update on warning labels

I happened to be inside an Origins store tonight. The woman working there recommended the stinging eye product (ouch!) to my friend, Karen. My immediate reaction: "Oh, that's the one I got in my eye!" The saleswoman turned to me, gaping, and said, "You got it in your eye?"

And that's when I knew--oops--it really wasn't a product for my face but my body. Why didn't the warning label tell me that vital piece of information?

She then said, "Did that happen in the store?"
I assured that I had committed the heinous deed myself, in the shower.
And then I skulked around the bath products, trying to look as little like a moronic, self-injurer as possible.

September 01, 2009

Warning Labels

I got some samples from the Origins store and I was trying to determine whether one tiny tube was intended for my face or my body. Instead of telling me it said in large font: DO NOT GET IN EYE! And then told me what to do if I did get the stuff in my eye (flush it out with water). Turns out the stuff is for your face and the packaging folks at origins are psychics. Because in the shower I got the stuff in my eye. Directly in my eye. But I knew what to do! Add water. (I"m surprised that didn't make it foam). Now I have a bloodshot eye and wounded pride because it turns out I'm the person they write warning labels for on packages. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to soothe myself with a drink.There's an intriguing looking bottle under the sink with a cool skull and crossbones logo on it!

August 26, 2009

Wedding song thoughts

Two months ago the very handsome boyfriend and I attended a wedding. He got to be best man!
I got to be the best man's best girl. We got to talking about wedding songs, specifically the first dance for the newlyweds. Let's face it, most choices are dated or supremely cheesy or just...wrong. But I couldn't think of a song that's amazing, or even a song that was better.

It finally came to me.

"Hard to Concentrate" by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. That's my answer.

Final answer? Yes.

August 25, 2009

Most Popular Nerd in the Lab

Want to be the most popular geek in the place?
Follow this simple tip: wear what I am wearing in the picture below.

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I'm not claiming all the people in the background are my groupies, but a good 75% of them did shout, "You have the shirt!" in the same tone you'd declare, "You have the Holy Grail!"

I know my audience.

August 24, 2009

One way to control your spending

Snakes on your ATM machines!

Insert your BOA joke here or your Snakes on an ATM joke here. Really. Have at it.

August 17, 2009

Parenting: Stories in Excellence

Ah, airports. Is there any more relaxing place? After a seven hour journey? Yes, yes, and yes. However I had to be at the rental car counter, waiting on the very handsome boyfriend to get us our car so we could get out of there. While I waited I watched a couple arguing. I heard her say, "Well then maybe you shouldn't have had four children, if it was going to be inconvenient." She might have had a point but I thought it a bit callous to make it in front of the four children. So then she tottered off on her wedge heels that conjured images of broken ankles. She left and the husband/father sat down on a bench and stared at his phone, checking email or texting. Meanwhile the four inconvenient children start playing soccer and throwing a Nerf football within the crowded confines of the rental counter area. They hit several people during the course of play. Meanwhile, fantastic father of the year watches only his phone. I'm debating whether to call his attention to the children he's ignoring.

But at this moment he looks up and says, "Mason, trap the ball before you pass it."

Wow. I guess he was paying attention!

August 13, 2009

Twitter

Obviously I don't tweet. I'm a human, not a bird. Hence the lack of flying skills and the lack of tending to poop on your cars (you're welcome!)

As far as I am concerned the following two people are the only people who should be allowed the use Twitter because they understand that the format should be used for punchy jokes only.

Wendy Molyneux http://twitter.com/wendymolyneux
and
Max Silvestri http://twitter.com/maxsilvestri

As we all know I have a big ol' cruch on Max but Wendy has also earned my semi-steady love for tweeting such gems: "Let's just go ahead and make it Shark Year, shall we?"

Wow. By typing out someone's tweet instead of linking to it I think I might have just broken the System. Yay!
So for the rest of you fools. Stop tweeting. Leave it to the pros.

August 12, 2009

Going to the coast

The West Coast. Northwest Coast. Leaving Friday! Huzzah.

Today I received the following important advice: "Watch out for rain and vampires."
I'm pretty sure it's the dry season out there now but vampires? Hadn't even thought of 'em.
I was told to watch out for people not eating who sparkle in the sunlight.
"But what if they're wearing body glitter?" I asked.
After all I'd hate to stake the wrong person. That kind of stuff can get you a bad rep.

I'm sure I will have much to report (hopefully no slayings) upon my return to the Northeast Coast.

August 08, 2009

Conservation laws

Based on the conservation of energy I invented my own conservation principles.

*Conservation of the letter "r." Here in Massachusetts we drop "r"s, a lot. BUT! We never actually lose the letter. In strict accordance with conservation principles, for every "r" we drop off "car" or "park" we add said lost "r" to a word previously unadorned such as "idea" or "Sheila."

*Conservation of injuries. For every injury I avoid or that heals I am given a new one. Case in point: I just discovered that I don't need surgery on my left wrist (thank you!). The next day? I threw out my back. This might be hilarious if, you know, it involved someone other than myself.

I'd feel a lot better if I'd invented three principles but I didn't and it's beautiful out of doors today, so rather than stare at the screen I'm going to go outside and get some of that air that's fresh. Oh and walk a ton so my back doesn't form itself into a Gordian knot.

August 05, 2009

Image of the Day

"Excuse me, ma'am. I think I left something in your..um...I just need to reach up and grab...is that okay?
There it is! Great. Thanks!"

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This plaster relief, from c.1900, illustrates assisted childbirth.
(Image: Family Coolen, Antwerp / Museum Dr Guislain, Ghent, Belgium)

This is but one piece of art in the current Exquisite Bodies exhibition at the Wellcome Collection in London. Man I wish London were closer by say several thousand miles. Stuff looks amazing!

August 03, 2009

Can you spot the difference...

in this Twilight poster?

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Three of four highly educated friends could not. Whereas I, mere holder of a B.A., saw it right away.
Perhaps because I am ever alert to the threat of velociraptors. Jurassic Park, dudes. Look it up.

July 29, 2009

Gabe and Max: The Movie

As part of my continued commitment to bringing you the finest of what the Internet has to offer (Ed. note: good excuse for not posting often!) I present herewith the latest installment in the Gabe and Max series.

July 27, 2009

Moving Day, almost

So I might have mentioned that I needed to move. Did I mention that the teenage boy below me is a monster who must listen to Eminem at deafening levels with maximum bass? That's why I had to move. But after a solid month's worth of responding to Craigslist ads, visiting stranger's apartments, and donating much excess stuff to Goodwill I decided not to move houses. I love my roommates. I like my house (1890s charms like no insulation and faulty wiring aside). I don't want to move. So I'm moving rooms! Jesse will take my palatial room with the two closets (one walk-in) and I'll move into her smaller, pinker, but blessedly quiet room. I suspect my writing productivity will increase (can you writer fewer than zero pages--well, I suppose there's the old editing trick of removing written ones, so sure) post-move.

Someday later when I'm far enough removed to laugh at the situation I'll write a compilation of shorts on the whole interviewing with roommates situation. Plenty of story potential. Plenty.

For now, I just have to move everything in this room down the hall. This would be easier if it was not 90 degrees with 90 percent humidity now. I keep staring at my walls and thinking, "I should take those photos down and put them in a box." And yet, I'm not moving....Inertia. It's truly compelling sometimes.

July 18, 2009

Worst product ever

If you put 100 monkeys in a room and gave them 100 years to design the worst product ever they could do no better than the chimps behind Secret "Flawless" Touch deodorant. On the back there is a list of what makes it *flawless* touch and item 2 is it "goes on clear." Ahem. I know from clear people and this stuff is white. That doesn't bother me except that this stuff is like whipped cream in consistency and it's as easy to get out of the container as...it isn't! You have to turn a dial on the bottom that looks as though it's made of plastic but in truth is made from slippery. Heaven help you if you try turning said dial when your hands are damp. If by some miracle you manage to turn the dial the deodorant comes out of these petal shaped holes in the top. Gah. Then you try to rub whipped cream odor protectant on and by now you're so angry that you are sweating! Because I'm a cheap bastard and hate to admit I've bought something terrible I have been hanging onto this stuff but with every time consuming attempt to use it I become more determined to chuck in in the trash. It's time. Goodbye worst product ever. Hello, Teen Spirit!

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AVOID!

July 07, 2009

"Don't love the ocean too much...

it doesn't love you back."
Words of wisdom from Mega Shark versus Giant Octopus, the greatest movie of our time.

I suspected that after a rough day this was the cinematic medicine I required.
It's so much worse than I suspected. There's a man with a terrible Irish accent saying"lass" far too often on screen. Oh he's an "ex-navy palentologist guru." My bad.

There is a montage featuring scientists at work that involves pouring brightly colored liquid from one test tube to another. It's like an eight-year-old's vision on science. I might be insulting eight-year-olds here. Apologies.

I'm guessing that of this film's $2700 budget most of the money went to crafts services.

July 05, 2009

Look no further

I know all twelve of my devoted readers have been wondering what to buy me for the holidays (What holidays? Any holidays, silly! I love gifts.) but you need look no further. Behold!

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Mo's Bacon Chocolate Chip Pancake Mix.

This is really going to simplify my weekends.

Sunday schedule

9:45 am wake up
10:00 am make coffee
10:10 drink coffee, make pancakes
10:30 eat pancakes
10:45-3:45 pm bounce up and down singing whatever comes to mind including patriotic songs made
to sing in second grade, because, right? who doesn't love those
3:46 pm nap
5:00 pm wake up
5:30 pm drink more coffee, do chores
8:00 eat dry pancake mix for dinner while making up magic spells for next day's use at office
10:30 pm sleep

July 03, 2009

We interrupt your life

to bring you this important announcement.

There is a movie that exists called "GPS: The Movie."

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I am not making this up. Here's the description: "Motivated by the possibility of bagging two million dollars in cash, a group of college friends, led by ringleader Andrew (Daniel Magill), embark on a GPS-led treasure hunt through the backwoods of the Northwest. When their search leads them to the discovery of a coffin filled with pictures of an abducted woman, the hapless pack find themselves thrust into the middle of a disturbing kidnapping plot."

Wow. Just wow.

It's available from Netflix. Hint, hint.

July 02, 2009

Here comes the rain...again

Massachusetts
state bird: chickadee
state flower: Mayflower
state GDP:whining, 2.5 tons

What do we talk about when we talk about anything? The weather. And how much we hate it. Don't get me wrong. We Massholes are a hardy lot. Throw blizzards at us. No problem. The occasional hurricane? Okay. We've even survived the Molasses Flood. But overcast skies and constant drizzle/rain? No. That we cannot bear.

We don't ask for much. A couple of months of sunshine to make the other 9 months of winter bearable. But we've lost June! And now it's July and it's raining, again. Overcast, again. It is too much.

On the anniversary of our nation's birth is it too much to ask that we, one of the original 13 colonies, get some joy up in this holiday weekend? Soggy fireworks are no good and barbecues are less fun during thunderstorms.
All we are saying is give us some damn sunshine. Stat.

June 28, 2009

Not a shoe girl

In today's American culture shoes have been used all too often as some sort of magic talismen for women. Got man troubles? Buy some sexy heels! Lost your job? Buy some kick ass riding boots! Just been diagnosed with a disorder that requires six months of strict bed rest? Buy some feathered mules! Yes!

I don't buy the whole fetishization of shoes. This may be because I have misshaped feet that require size 11 shoes or because I'm above such trivial nonsense. Ahem. However today I saw this and my heart did indeed go pitter pat.

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How awesome is this?! A shoe wheel! It's the coolest storage solution for shoes I have ever seen. Want. Never mind that mine will not be filled with pastel pumps but instead dirty-toed size 11 sneakers. Want.

I won't have to use the bottom shelf of my bookshelf to stack all my shoes inside. Instead I can put them in the wheel. It conjures up images of game shows AND hamsters.

You can purchase it here if you too are overwhelmed with shoe wheel desire.

P.S. Just read that you have to assemble the shoe wheel yourself and tat it is not easy. Damn it! This latest blow makes me want to...eat chocolate. (Did you really think I was going to say 'buy shoes'?"

June 24, 2009

Rebellious Acts, Part the first

Today I added fresh blueberries to my blueberry yogurt.
That's what I call kicking it up a notch.

June 16, 2009

Living situations

Since I've begun looking for a new apartment (wah) I've seen some pretty interesting ads. There's the one with the ever-changing subject lines that ends with "must be okay with kink." Uh huh. That place isn't far (geographically) from where I live. And then there are the ones with about 36 bullet points highlighting attributes NOT desired in a future roommate and ending with a story about how someone they knew once got a paroled murderer as a roommate using Craigslist (unwittingly). Yikes. Then there are the ones from older men (some with headshots) offering to show younger, female roommates the city's sights, if they are new to Boston. Run, ladies. But I think I found my favorite today. It offered house sharing privelges rent free in exchange for house sitting and some errands. The proposed roommate? A thirty-something nudist female who insists potential roommates be comfortable with a "clothing free environment." She inists on no emails but instant messaging instead. At night. Uh huh.

Who needs the personals ads with listings like these?

June 12, 2009

Sharing the cute

Oh man. I just discovered My Milk Toof
It's constructed around the premise of the author's baby teeth, Ickle and Lardee, going on adventures.
The teeth are adorable .

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Check it out.

June 11, 2009

Laundry

The spinner on the washing machine keeps refusing to behave so when I pull my clothes from the washer they are sopping wet. This requires much fiddling with the dial and prayer. Neither remedy seems very effective. So then I dry my clothes at too high a temperature for a long time and end up shrinking some of them. All of this while in the comfort of the cobwebby, damp basement that lacks only a serial killer hiding in the shadows to give it exactly the right shade of horror ambiance.

And yet...it is a washer and dryer in our house. I've been apartment hunting. Every time it is revealed that the "super convenient laundry" is across the street and requires quarters my heart falls several stories. No way. When I was twenty-five I resolved no more sleeping on futons. I was sleeping on real mattresses from now on. I am now at an age where laundromats hold zero appeal. Hauling bags or baskets of laundry outside to launder? No. Just no.

I guess I should make sure the next place I live has in unit laundry AND that the spin cycle functions properly. So much to do...

June 06, 2009

Pimp my ride

I don't own a car. I have never owned a car. But the other day I was riding in one. (Stranger+candy=old story). And it came to me: the single greatest idea ever. Instead of adding flashy rims or booming stereo systems to your car to attract attention (and the ladies--am I right, fells?) try this: put some babies on your car. Strap 'em to the roof or the panels. Maybe place on one the back window. You will get attention. Pronto. And everyone and his police chief will want to know where you got your babies. But you're no fool. So you just sit back, smirk, and say, "That's my secret. You've got to find your own."

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You might wonder why I'm giving this best idea away for free. It's because I love you. Very much.

June 01, 2009

Gratitude

Some days I wish I was child again. People are expected to feed you. You think money is kind of magical. You don't have a job. Sigh. Good times. But every now and again I'm reminded of why it's good to be an adult. Urban Outfitters sent me one such reminder in the mail the other day.

Here it is:

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See? If I was a kid I *might* just think that outfit is acceptable, nay, cool. And I might buy it and wear it. But due to the adult powers of reason and discernment I can understand that at no time in history is this outfit a good idea.

Thanks, wisdom of years. I owe you one!

May 28, 2009

Evil Wonder twins

Today I made a Wonder Twins reference and then had to explain to Karen (Canadian) who the Wonder Twins were. Apparently they don't have TV in Canada. Then later she called me her evil twin and I thought, Evil Wonder Twins!
They could transform into evil animals and evil forms of water including....wait for it...acid rain!
I am pretty sure Canada is always whining about how we Americans (USA! USA!) are always sending acid rain to their fair lands. Perfect metaphor. Someone give me a damn metal. And make it sparkly!

Incidentally, here's what Wonder Twins looked like when I was a child.

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And here's what they look like today.

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They look like they've been eating steroids. Great. Good message for the kids. Way to go.

May 20, 2009

Time travel

I just watched Time Crimes, or Los cronocrímenes, as it's known in its original Spanish. This movie just confirms what I have always suspected/known: time travel is no way to travel, friends. Between butterfly effects and grandfather paradoxes you can cause all sorts of chaos and you never seem to win. Ever. Plus time travel has no frequent traveler programs and does not have a first class option. The next time someone offers you a trip back in time, even if it's only a couple of minutes, say no. Friends don't let friends violate fourth dimension rules. True dat.

May 16, 2009

Trend predictor

The first time I saw this "theatrical" trailer I knew it was going to be huge.

Mega Shark AND Giant Octopus? Yes, please! I mean, obviously, it isn't enough to have a shark with jaws large enough to wrap around the Golden Gate Bridge. You need a helicopter-destroying octopus. It's called balance, people. Look it up. And the characters! I can tell that Deborah Gibson is going to be one foxy scientist lady who will use words such as organic and biology. Lorenzo Lamas? Say no more. Did you know he was on five episodes of The Love Boat? Let's sail this ship into danger, captain!

This movie appears to be on the straight to video path, which is a shame. I'm not sure I can appreciate the subtleties of Mega Shark and Giant Octopus without seeing them played out on a giant screen. But let's all try our best, shall we?

May 12, 2009

Adage for the Day

When Life hands you lemons, throw them really hard at the people who are irritating you.
You'll feel better.

--S. Gayle

May 08, 2009

The story within the spam

I was just scanning my spam box, checking that no legitimate messages had made their way into that cesspool of Viagra advertisements, Rolex offers, or opportunities of other types. Nope. However I did catch the phrase "make your love bombardment work" in one message just as I hit Delete All.

Love bombardment is an evocative phrase. It conjures images of missiles and more importantly hearkens back to grade school gym class. Bombardment was a game played by two teams. Separate the room in half. Give each team a number of medium size, red rubber balls. Let the teams hurl the balls at each other with glee. If you're hit by a ball you're out. Leave the game. If you catch a thrown ball the thrower is out. Last man standing wins.

It's barbaric. I'm sure there are people on couches talking through this agony with their therapists as I type this sentence. Sadists loved bombardment.

So what then of love bombardment? Do you hurl poetry, roses, sentiments of heartfelt amour at your object of affection until they succomb? I don't know, but I'm deeply curious. I'm just willing to bet that unlike bombardment the game, you probably don't wear a smelly mesh jersey while engaging in it. Or you shouldn't. It can't further your cause.

April 27, 2009

Shocking News

On the treadmill at the gym today I made a shocking discovery.
I can't run as fast as I could when I was fourteen years old.
Okay, I know, I know. When I was fourteen I ran track. I could
run a six minute mile. Today? Not so much. Aging, training, yada yada.
What if a wrinkle develops in the space time continuum and for reasons as
yet unknown, for the continued existence of humanity, I have to run after
and catch my fourteen year old self? It just won't happen. Sorry humanity.
I'm old. And slow.

April 26, 2009

Not a good idea #173

It's not a good idea to sand a piece of painted furniture when it's 90 degrees outside.
Because you'll get hot and sweaty. And you'll get sawdust all over your limbs, mixed
into your sunscreen. And you'll realize this wasn't your best idea about a half an hour into it.
Aren't you glad I share this wisdom with you?

April 10, 2009

Poisoned!

On Wednesday afternoon I felt quite certain I'd been food poisoned.
I felt nauseous as all get out and broke out into sweats. I left work for
home. The last time I'd felt this pukey was years ago at Blue in Boston.
I'd made the error of ordering four martinis in short order on a stomach with
very little food in it. To compound that error, when the bartender asked
what type of martini I'd like for my fourth I yelled, "Surprise me!" The good
man did not disappoint. I made it to the ladies bathroom just in time to
rid my stomach of martinis one through three. (I think four held on long
enough to make me experience 'spinning room.')

Unfortunately, I didn't have food poisoning two days ago. So the nausea went away
with no barfing but I am now complete and totally exhausted.
Must sleep 16 hours a day exhausted. This sucks.

It almost makes me long for four-martini-sickness. If memory serves that passed
more quickly.

April 04, 2009

Head and Shoulder, Knees and Ouch!

Last night I bent my knee and a half moan, gurgle escaped me. I recalled that I had slammed that knee into the sharp corner of my desk a few hours ago. Not the same knee colored with a hideous green-purple bruise I earned smacking it against the side of a hot tub. So to recap: left knee: recovering, right knee: freshly injured.

I missed reinjuring the right knee by mere millimeters this morning, again with the desk. Writing: it's more hazardous than you think!

But what all of this reminded me of was the winter I was ten years old. Something in my body's circuitry went haywire and that winter I kept falling when I went ice skating. Inevitably I landed on my knees. They looked terrible, so mottled and raised with bruises that my mother didn't want to take me to basketball practices because she was certain an authority figure would start questioning the origin of my bruises. They never did which now makes me wonder why? Because they knew I was a klutzy kid or that my mother wasn't the beating type or they just didn't want to ask? Hmmmm. It's probably a combo of 1 and 2.

I hope I stop smacking my knee into desks (the hot tub option is no longer viable, alas). The weather appropriateness of bared knees is growing more likely and I'd hate to have to hold back because I've managed to bruise them again (and again). Then again, aren't purple and yellow Easter colors? I'm in fashion, after all.

March 30, 2009

Reason 653 not to Shop at Walmart

You can get arrested for saying the "F" word.

See the story here.

Wow. Okay so the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence, but that lady was arrested for saying the "f" word conversationally. Man, if this was commonplace I'd spend most of my time in jail, cursing the fact that I spend most of my time in jail.

Fuck that noise. Thanks, Walmart, for making me feel even more secure in refusing to shop your stores.

March 22, 2009

It never rains...

in Southern California.
But man, does the wind blow!

I saw the biggest tumbleweed ever today, and lots of palm trees debris in the street. I also saw a rainbow! But I was too lazy to take a picture of it and even if I had I couldn't share it with you as it turns out that I did not pack my camera-computer cable even though I thought I had. So I also can't share with you the picture I just took of a bag of tiny dried shrimp from Stater Bros. grocery here in lovely Palm Springs.

Aside from today's dangerous winds, the weather has been phenomenal.
Sunshine, blooming plants and a heated pool go a long way toward restoring my equilibrium. And time with friends I rarely see is splendid. Tonight's plans include attending a drag show (queens not cars). Maybe I'll take some pictures. But you'll have to wait for them.

March 18, 2009

Anti Valentine's Day

I hate Valentine's Day.
I'm not against romance.
I just find Valentine's Day to be lacking in the romance department.
It's trite, commercial, guilt or envy inducing. Fuck that shit.

So this Valentine's Day I decided to do things a little different. I decided to celebrate my anti-feelings. At the Media Lab I hosted tea on the day before Valentine's Day. Karen Brennan was my co-host. She likes Valentine's Day. She likes chocolate and crafts, so I concede where this might sway her, but I counterpoint with "Halloween!!!"

As part of the Anti/Valentine's Day tea we had red and black frosted cupcakes and DIY candy hearts, made with edible ink. The event was a hit. We had tables with paper, pipe cleaners, glue and all sorts of accessories you might need to create a valentine.

To inspire creativity I made a few samples.

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I used Lego figures for this one.
The little Lego man holds a bouquet and peers through the panes of a door,
where he sees his lady love kissing her lady love. Oops.

When I first made the card I grabbed the third minifig without checking for gender. The fact that it was a lady seemed a better choice. I mean there are surprises and then there are surprises.

The funniest part of this whole experience is that people kept telling me how much they liked/loved me, as I suspected they thought I felt anti-valentine because I had low self esteem or some such. So I got a LOT more Valentine love than expected.

Surprises all over the place.

March 12, 2009

Priceless

You could try to put a price on this image*, but I assure you it's impossible.

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There is nothing about this I don't love.
Burt Reynolds? Check.
Open track suit? Check.
Safety pinned ribbon? Check.

*Special thanks to Steve Pomeroy for finding this gem.

March 08, 2009

Spring cleaning

Yesterday I went for a looong walk because it was 60 degrees outside. And when it's 60 degrees outside in New England in March you seize the day, friends, and you do not let go. Because two day later it will snow another 1-3 inches. True story.

While on my walk I popped into a few local stores to check out the wares. I had some upcoming birthdays to attend to. Inside D-Squared, a Davis Square store, I found this little critter.

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It's a dust bunny. You slip it over your hand like a puppet and you dust. It's made of microfiber that picks up dust well. Oh, here's the thing. I hate dusting. But I thought: it's a dust bunny. It's adorable. Nothing has ever made me want to dust, ever.

Last night? I dusted. Today? I dusted. This may be the beginning of a new, dust free era.

March 03, 2009

The Vermont Country Store Catalogue

I can't remember when I started getting The Vermont Country Store catalogue. But I do know that it's brought me more hours of enjoyment than I can rationally explain. From hideous caftans to shampoo that was insanely popular in 1976, the catalogue has a lot of odd stuff. Recently there was some furor caused by a reader who discovered that the catalogue pedaled vibrators. Ha! Anyway, it's a really eclectic mix of stuff and I'm so obsessed with it, that I actually made the very handsome boyfriend drive us to one of their two stores during our last Vermont vacation. While there, I bought a geode which I have been unable to break. I've tried hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers. Nada. I still have it, dinged but intact.

But I was just leafing through the latest catalogue and they have Banana Walnut Bread in a can. What? My mind, it is boggled. I'm familiar with the concept of bread in a can. I think the Brits are responsible. But banana bread. Of all breads, banana is the easiest to make. Really. But for those of you who fear baking you can gets yours from a can from The Vermont Country Store.

Don't say I never taught you anything.

February 21, 2009

What are your secrets, John Varvatos?

John Varvatos, tell me your secrets. Not all of them. No. I'm not interested in your secret recipe for the perfect brownie. Okay, I am, but I'm even more interested in knowing what it is that makes your men's shirts so soft. You know, the hipster cotton print ones? The ones I want to buy by the pound and then roll in? Except I haven't got that kind of money. In fact, I was sort of hoping you'd tell me your secret so I could make my own cotton tees and hoodies for less than $135. I suspected you of weaving silkworms into the shirts but then they'd have a silk percentage attached and they do not. Tell me, John Varvatos. Please?

February 14, 2009

Sample Conversation

If you were a fly on the wall, with the capability of understanding spoken English, you would have heard the following exchange this morning between me and the very handsome boyfriend.

VHBoyfriend: And what do you want, sweetie?
Me: A baby
VHBoyfriend: And how would you like that prepared?

He's very good at this game. Very. Good.


February 11, 2009

Saving the world

The very handsome boyfriend and I enjoy playing board games. Yup. That's how we roll.
Recently we bought a new game called Pandemic.

pandemic.jpg

It's a cooperative game, which is antithetical to my world view (I can't win individually?!) but I liked the idea of winning together. What I do not enjoy is losing together. When you lose Pandemic, essentially, you destroy the world through your inability to contain outbreaks of epidemics.

It's a complicated game in terms of setup and rules. Often we'd lose because we'd forget a rule about clearing infected cities on the board. Losing through forgetfulness hurts.

But...last night after once again losing (partly through forgetfulness) we played and won!
We saved the world! We discovered all four cures and saved humanity.

I didn't accomplish any novel writing last night (bad writer) but I saved the world, damn it. So I think that squares.


February 09, 2009

The natives have lost it...their clothes that is

So on the seventh day of the week there was sunshine and warmth and high winds, because Winter is a relentless bastard here in New England as mentioned in my prior post. So though the thermometer reached 50 degrees, it felt colder. But that didn't matter to the natives, who took 50 degrees as an invitation to expose their chapped dermis to the world.

Among the lunatics I saw on Sunday were the following:

*man in flip flops (dude, hy-po-thermia, look it up)
*woman in mini skirt, no hosiery of any sort, and high heeled strappy sandals (it's February, sister--but I applaud your dream of sunnier days)
*woman in hot pants layered over sheer hose (not sure this is appropriate in July either)

And on an unrelated sartorial snark note: to the guy in skinny jeans at Park Street--dude, skinny jeans shouldn't show me the distinct outline of your patellas. Ever.

February 06, 2009

Winter (Melt)downs

My forefathers and foremothers chose to land their ship, the Mayflower, around Cape Cod in 1620. To my dismay, a lot of their descendants (my family) never left and we remain in New England, not far from Plimoth Plantation. Why?

No, really. Why?

It's the time of year for such questions, because it's February. It's below freezing, again. The snow that looked pretty a week ago is no longer welcome in its frozen form on sidewalks and streets. We've grown tired of wearing two layers plus overcoats. We've wearied of our sweaty winter boots. We are well and truly tired of cleaning rock salt and sand from our houses.

We fantasize about warmer climates. I've seen several friends yell, "I've had it. I'm done!" and I know what they're referring to: winter. They want spring. But they're not going to get it for another three months because spring may begin (officially) in March but it doesn't arrive until May. So when they see the spring clothes arranged in storefront windows, all skimpy and bright hued, they tend to grind their teeth and mutter, "Where am I going to wear that?"

Where indeed?

They're predicting a high temperature of 50 degrees Farenheit on Sunday. I intend to be out of doors. But I know enough to have a hat, scarf, and gloves at the ready and I know this is a one-day treat. Steady warm temps are a long way away. A very long way.

Why couldn't the damn ancestors sail further south? Much further south.

snowyday.jpg


Me. I was enjoying the snow then. Fool.

February 01, 2009

Happy Super Bowl

The other day it occurred to me to ask a friend, "Hey, friend, is our local pro football team in the Super Bowl this year?" She said no, and I said, "A pox upon the Patriots!" Not because I care about winning the Super Bowl. (You probably guessed that.)

You see when the Pats are in the Super Bowl it is the single best night to eat out in Boston. You can get a reservation anywhere that is not a sports bar. You can park anywhere (except, perhaps, near a sports bar). And your dining experience will be awesome. It will be the most subdued, splendid culinary event of your life. Because all the loud people are somewhere else, yelling at people on television who are dressed in tight uniforms hundreds or thousands of miles from them.

I imagine that on years such as this, when the Pats are not involved, it's still easier than usual to dine out. But it's not the same.

So to this year's Patriots team: Fellas, you really let me down. Let's not do this again, okay?

And to everyone else: Happy Super Bowl!

January 25, 2009

An Open Letter to AARP

Hi there AARP,

I got your email this morning. The one promising me a complimentary travel kit when I join your organization today. Here's the thing. You're the American Association of Retired Persons. Or you used to be. I'm not retired. Oh, so very not retired. As soon as I finish this post I've got to start working (again). Um, also, don't you have to be at least 50 years of age to join your group? Listen, I might or might not have a gray hair or two and some age-old wisdom. But I'm not 50 years old. That's still a distant star from this here young galaxy, okay?

Oh, and another thing. Your travel kit resembles a fanny pack.

Youthfully yours,
Stephanie

January 22, 2009

Cousins

I was looking through my photos recently and came across this gem.

megstephcrazy.jpg

That's my cousin Meg and me. She looks to be talking to me and I look craaaazy. Par for the course.
When Meg was three years old she kept asking my Mom when I was going to be born. She really wanted a baby cousin to play with. As fate would have it I was scheduled to be born on Megan's birthday. But I knew a good womb gig when I saw one so I clung by my tiny infant fingernails to my Mom's innards for another whole month. (Besides, who wants to share a birthday cake? Not me!)

Meg and I loved to play together. Our siblings called us M&Ms (short for "mental midgets). I don't know about the mental part, but we didn't stay midgets. We're the tallest women in our respective families. (There's a secret to our height: it involves sugary cereal. I dare say no more!)

Meg's klutzy like me. She's silly like me. I miss her. She lives in Denver with her husband and two children. Denver is not very close to Boston. Not ride-your-bike-down-the-road-and-up-another-road close which is how close we used to be.

But whenever I think of us, I imagine this:

megme06.jpg

Bowled over laughing. And with crazy red eye. That's how we roll, yo. Cuzins.


January 19, 2009

Undercover

The very handsome boyfriend was sporting quite the facial shrubbery the other day. He has a tendency to five o'clock shadows, but this was some serious beardage.

"You look like a pirate," I told him.

The next day he emerged freshly shaven from the bathroom to ask me if he was bleeding. He always asks me this after he shaves. Sometimes I'm just sitting on the couch, reading, and he'll half-shout, "Am I bleeding?" It's very good thing I don't tend toward panic.

He was not bleeding. I told him so. Then I said, "Guess you're not a pirate anymore."

"Maybe," he said, "I'm an undercover pirate."

I had no response for that. Except, wow. Undercover pirate. That is quite a concept.

January 17, 2009

My staring contest with Bjork

Yesterday was a little crazy at work. I had a lot to do and some time constrictions inhibiting me. At one point I hustled to the third floor to beg a grad student to let me have a half hour of his room reservation he'd had the foresight to book well in advance. So I'm trying to cut through a research area to reach his office, and I notice that there's a group of people blocking the exit I want. Damn. Sponsor visit. So I look to see if there's an easy way to angle past them for the door and realize that I am looking at this woman.

bjork.jpg

Sadly, she was sans feathers.

Seeing Bjork at work didn't startle me much. I'd seen her yesterday outside my office. I just wasn't expecting her to be there then. So I stared at her and she stared back.

She's thinking, "How rude! I'm just like everyone else. She should stop staring."
I'm thinking, "Damn. Can I get around her? I'm going to have to go 'round and find another door and by now she thinks I'm staring at her because she's Bjork but really, I just want her to move out of my way."

I walked around and exited another way.

And it's probably a god thing I did, because apparently Bjork does not suffer the attentions of people who pester her.

She's little, but scrappy!

January 14, 2009

On burning pots and getting better

I just microwaved some popcorn. Then I sprinkled chocolate chips on top of the piping hot popcorn. Now I'm eating it. Damn, that's good stuff! While the popcorn was plunk plunking away in the microwave I remembered a story. A story I'd like to share with you.

Once upon a time there was a child old enough to be let near the stove, but not yet old enough to have cooked much. She asked her mother if she might make popcorn. Her mother consented. She told the girl how much oil to add to the pot and how much kernel corn. (This story takes place in ye olden times before microwaves existed. Or possible they existed but the girl's family didn't one. This girl's family didn't own a microwave until Christmas 2006. Can you imagine?")

So the girl put the lid over the pot and shook the pot handle so that the pot moved back and forth across the electric coil burner. "How do I know that it's done?" the girl asked.

"When the pooping noises stop," her mother told her.

So the girl shook the pan back and forth and the kernels began popping. And every now and then when she though the popping was over another small "pop!" would sound, so she kept shaking the pan. Until acrid smoke rose and her mother rushed in to ask what had happened.

"It kept popping," she explained. And so it had. There are always stubborn kernels popping at the end (and beyond).

The pot was burnt beyond use. The girl didn't understand. She'd done just what she was told (keep going until the popping stops.) Traumatized by the ruining of a pot, she didn't try to cook again for many, many years.

Lessons learned:
Be careful how you instruct children as they are of a literal mind bent.
Just because your first kitchen attempt failed abysmally, doesn't mean that you should avoid the kitchen for fifteen years.
Popcorn+chocolate chips=delicious


January 12, 2009

Sea Kittens!

PETA is in the process of renaming fish "sea kittens."
Yup, you read that right. Sea kittens.

Apparently, they're convinced that all it takes for us to stop
maltreating fish is an image rehaul. Hence the name change.
On their sea kitten website they have sea kitten stories and a
design your own sea kitten game.

trout_sea_kitten.jpg

I used it to create this trout that I named Milly.

The oddest part is how damn anthropomorphic they've made the fish.
The stories about the trout's scholastic achievements, the design tool
that lets you put lipstick on the fish, they all reinforce the ideas that fish, sea kittens,
whatever you call them, are almost human. But they're not. They are fish.

It seems crazy to think an animal rights organization hopes to stop
animal exploitation by overlooking the fact that animals are distinct in
their own right. Fish aren't kittens. They're fish. That's what makes them special.
And they don't wear tiaras or lipstick.

I get that what PETA wants is for people to stop thinking that fish don't feel pain.
But I'm not sure sticking tiaras on their heads and renaming them kittens is the best
way to do that.

January 10, 2009

From the Department of I Don't Recommend

Car accidents.
I was involved in my very first one Friday morning.
The very handsome boyfriend got rear-ended by an MBTA van*. (Thanks public transportation!)

At first I thought the car had stalled very abruptly. Until the boyfriend started yelling, "Are you okay?" several times and then I realized we'd been in an accident. Good news is that we weren't hurt, nor was the car. Can't say the same for the bumper of the MBTA van. Maybe it will learn a valuable lesson. As for me my takeaway is this: car accidents suck, even when they're minor.

So in case you were considering one, I advise against it.

* One witty friend suggested that perhaps this was the MBTA's way of encouraging people to take public transportation. By disabling personal cars, one accident at a time. Since the MBTA does favor expensive, not-so-practical systems, I'm going to say that this idea is not as crazy as it seems.

January 03, 2009

Toys of my youth

I bought an awesome toy recently. Not for myself. For a baby of a friend. (Don't you love that? Instead of my friend's baby? I'm totally getting that into the lexicon.) Here it is.

alphatoy.jpg

Sorry for the trippy, flash, light quality of the picture. The toy is wrapped in plastic.
What is it?
An alphabet wall hanging with pockets for a little felt object corresponding to each letter. Apple is inside A. It resembles a tomato. Whatever. B is boy. G is girl. (It's never to early to introduce gender issues!) Lion is inside the L pocket. And, um, I'm not looking at the toy as I type this. I know the objects inside the pockets because I had this toy as a child. I adored this thing.

I'd play with the little objects, and I took a certain pride in knowing where each belonged. It appealed on so many levels: tactile, aesthetic, organizational.

In fact it may be partly responsible for the fact that I reorganized the very handsome boyfriend's spice drawer alphabetically this weekend. (How can anyone find spices out of alpha order? How?)

So, yes, I'm probably dooming this baby of a friend to a lifetime of alphabetic obsession. To which I say: good. We need more of those people!

December 29, 2008

Chemistry=witchcraft

I heard a rumor about the new dating site Chemistry.com, and being the insatiable nosy parker that I am I set out to verify said rumor. And it's true! The first question you are asked to complete on chemistry.com's dating profile is about the length of your index finger in relation to your ring finger.

I'm sorry, but this seems like one step away from phrenology.

phrenology.jpg

Seriously? Srsly? Finger length? Finger length is going to determine the chemistry match between me and millions of strangers? God, if I though that were true...I'm not sure what I would do with that information. They had some more usual questions about smoking and drinking and whether you'd have a baby with your future perfect mate, but the finger thing put me off.

Maybe it's supposed to. Maybe they're weeding out those who think pseudoscience is not a legitimate means to romance, so that those who do believe in it can frolic together and adopt babies and marvel at their fingers! (Their own fingers, not the baby's fingers, though ostensibly they can marvel at those too.)

This stuff makes me think of the old apple peel trick. Toss an apple peel over your shoulder and the shape it makes spells the first initial of your true love's name. Not satisfied with the results? Try again, and again, until you have enough peeled apples for a pie. Then grab a fork and enjoy!

December 27, 2008

Disappearing act

Sorry for the silence, everyone. It's been a very jam packed past week? Two weeks? How the hell long have I been gone? No matter. I'm back!

"Well," you say (arms crossed tight), "Where were you?"

Um, I can't tell you. But I will give you a hint.

smx.jpg

"Pretty," you say. "Wait, are those palm trees? Is that the ocean? Weren't you just in the Caribbean recently?"

"Errrrrr."

"Are you some sort of international spy masquerading a sun-starved tourist?"

"Heh."

"No, really, are you?"

"Gotta go."

Hope y'all had a fabulous holiday season thus far, and may your New Year be delightful and hangover free!


December 17, 2008

Holiday tips from Gabe and Max!

Yay! More Gabe and Max!
Drunken shenanigans.
That's right. I called shenanigans. I'll do it again, too.

December 15, 2008

Just say no

to this winter gift idea (monstrosity)

Winter Crocs!

619363RED1R.jpg

I know, hating on Crocs is so 2007, but really? Synthetic fur lined Crocs? Inappropriate. If you want to wear hideous plastic footwear go ahead. But if you must wear something warm and ugly, why can't you wear Uggs?

uggs.jpg


December 11, 2008

Scary gifts, part deux

After yesterday's gift idea suggestion: silhouette cutouts of scary babies, I had a revelation. Maybe I should share with you, the readership, more terrifying gift ideas. Because nothing says "the holidays" like an elevated pulse, beads of sweat on your brow, and the certainty that things are going horribly awry.

terror.jpg

This lady is ready for the holidays! Hand her some nog!

So I think this gift is a no-brainer. It's a facial mask that is guaranteed to tighten and tone your face through the power of electrical shock. That's right. A nine-volt battery, a mask reminiscent of Friday the 13th, and you've got yourself a gift that will make everyone scream.

Feel free to watch the video, set to the soulful sounds of "You Are So beautiful to Me."

December 10, 2008

Nightmare fodder

Tis that time of year, when every website and blog has ideas on what you should spend your holiday gift money on. Gardening kit for mom (um, well no, since my mother tends to kill all plants) and a shaving kit for dad (nothing says I love you like a razor, right?) Today I came across this:

cut-arts-by-karl-custom-silhouettes.gif

It's a custom silhouette. You send in a photo and a few weeks later you get a hand cut silhouette.

So good idea, but can we just acknowledge the elephant in the room? That baby is terrifying! I know small unformed people have different features than adults but those cheeks! What has he got stored in there? Greenland?

And yet the silhouette is lovely. It's sort of Photoshopping, isn't it? Either way, I am scared. I'm sleeping with one eye open tonight and a box of Cheerios with which to distract the scary tyke should he find me (please don't let him!)


December 01, 2008

Gym person

That's it. I've turned into a gym person. By which I mean the type of person who belongs to gym but rarely goes and thus gets less exercise than before when I lacked a membership. It used to be that I worked out at home, regularly. Free weights, a yoga mat and a resistance band were good enough. But then I joined the gym and I started going to classes. Great, good. But then I skipped classes taught by substitutes (with good reason) and I missed classes because of other obligations. And I wouldn't work out at home. So no exercise. The other day I realized that the me of several months ago could kick the ass of the me of today. That made me concerned. What if the me of tomorrow got her hands on a time machine and decided to settle the score over some perceived slight. Uh oh

My best defense is a good offense. So this week I've gone to the gym 2 days out of 3 and the third day I worked out at home. My quads and glutes ache. The stairs are a lesson in pain. But it's going to be worth it when my past self comes a calling. Because I will surprise the hell out of me by kicking old me's ass. The old me won't know what hit her.

Funny notes

Downstairs, in the kitchen, two covered plates sit. Atop one is a note that says, "Eat pie!" Atop the other is a note that says, "Have cake!" I went on a baking rampage recently and thought the roommates would appreciate the sugar. I just noticed that on the bottom of one note is a comment. It reads, "nag, nag, nag."

Incidentally, for those of you who've been waiting to make the Pumpkin Spice Layer Cake with Caramel and Cream Cheese Frosting from the November issue of Bon Apetit...don't bother. The cake is far too oily, and the frosting is good but not damn near as good as it should be given the effort involved. File that one under "Disappointment."

Funny notes

Downstairs, in the kitchen, two covered plates sit. Atop one is a note that says, "Eat pie!" Atop the other is a note that says, "Have cake!" I went on a baking rampage recently and thought the roommates would appreciate the sugar. I just noticed that on the bottom of one note is a comment. It reads, "nag, nag, nag."

Incidentally, for those of you who've been waiting to make the Pumpkin Spice Layer Cake with Caramel and Cream Cheese Frosting from the November issue of Bon Appetit...don't bother. The cake is far too oily, and the frosting is good but not damn near as good as it should be given the effort involved. File that one under "Disappointment."

November 27, 2008

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all.
May your holiday include friends, family, food or something equally good (miniature horses, perhaps?)
Given that this is the day of thanks and the day before Black Friday and a time when a lot of people in our country (and beyond) are struggling to survive, might I make a suggestion or two?

When you're trying to cram T-day leftovers into your fridge, set aside some canned food that can be donated to your local food pantry.

When you're trying to weed through your collection of too many magazines (guilty!) consider donating them to a local hospital, women's shelter or your library. Ditto for books, though please remember that anything donated to a hospital should be in good, non-dusty condition. People with suppressed immune systems are susceptible to allergens and germs.

When you're gazing with lust at the new coats in the Bloomingdale's catalog (do I even need to say guilty?) consider donating all the clothes you don't wear to an organization such as Planet Aid or Goodwill. Your closet will be roomier and someone else will look better wearing that floral blouse you bought even though you know capped sleeves make you look like the Incredible Hulk.

Hear endeth the lesson. Happy Thanksgiving!

November 25, 2008

Fever

I know that y'all have been deeply troubled by my lack of recent posts. I understand. I've been suffering a real crisis of my own inasmuch as I've had the virus that just won't go away for two weeks now. Yesterday I went to the doctor and while he was getting ready to take my temperature I felt it prudent to explain that my baseline temperature is nowhere near normal. Ever. 98.6? Pshaw. I'm lucky if I get above 97 degrees. It's just the way I am. I run cold people. Ice cold.

So he put that electronic temperature gadget under my tongue and said, "You're not registering at all," and I would have said (if I hadn't had something under my tongue) that I told him I had temperature issues and that my blood might be part reptilian (but cute reptilian like a wee lizard and not like a big snake). But then the gadget beeped and he showed me the display and it read 99.2! Oh.My.God. That's like 104 for normal people. I got a little worried. I started to consider all the afflictions I might have and then I realized that I'd been watching too much "House." That in itself might be an affliction. But I doubt it causes fever. Even though Hugh Laurie is rowr and all.

hlauire.jpeg
Paging, Dr. House. Patient is presenting with fever, sore throat, sinus pain, excessive snot and...a wee bit of mental confusion. Or maybe that's laziness. Not sure. Anyway, request a consult STAT.

My doctor tested me for strep but it's probably not strep because my throat feels better. And it's never strep. Oh, except for the first day of college when I had to stop at my pediatrician's office and he told me I had strep throat and my parents had to stop at the pharmacy and get me meds before dropping me off at college. True story.

Ahem. So I'll let you know if the fever spikes and I start hallucinating. I actually did that once when I was very young. I hallucinated toys floating outside my bedroom window. I wanted to reach out and touch them and my sister and mother had to restrain me because my room was on the second floor and that would have been quite a drop for someone three feet tall.

Still waiting for that consult...

November 21, 2008

Profilin'

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately. Perhaps to make up for my time away from computers last week. Funny how sitting on your duff reading blog posts is about as productive as sitting on the beach, staring at the ocean. Only blog posts are less pretty and restful. Anyhoo I found this doozy of a blog called Fake Interviews with Real Celebrities.
I think I could enjoy drinking with Wendy. Or perhaps even being sober with her. Now that's high praise!

Anyway her blog led me to the NYC Donut Report. You know me and how I feel about donuts. So I visited and found, through the site, another site (ah, the never ending spiral of the Intertubes!) this handy tool: Typealyzer.

It claims to pscyhologically profile bloggers based on their blog entries. You enter your blog's URL and zip! you've got yourself a profile without all that FBI mumbo jumbo and going through your personal effects and such. Not that I've ever been profiled by the FBI. Yet.

So what does Typelayzer say about me? Apparently I am an ESFP, or a "performer." More on this dicturbing personality below:

"The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions."

Well there go my dreams of middle management. Damn it! If you'll excuse me I have to go sniff some pretty pillows now to make my ESFP self feel better.

November 19, 2008

Deeper Shade of White

Hello! I'm back from sunny Grand Cayman. Not sure why I returned to this brutally cold climate. Really. I think it was related to money but surely I could have found a way to make some cash in the sunshine.

The very handsome boyfriend and I had a marvelous time, despite the fact that the sneezing, coughing jerks on the flight from Charlotte to Grand Cayman (you know who you are) totally infected me with their cold plague. This in turn made it much easier for me to snorkel, as breathing through my nose wasn't much of an option. And it's hard to be sad when you're basking in the sun, reading good books, even if you're breathing-impaired.

My mother asked if I had a tan. I told her I was a darker shade of white. She didn't know that was a possibility. For one as pale as me it is.

While we had a great time swimming, snorkeling, eating out, reading, and exploring the island, I think the highlight of the trip might have been seeing the turtles at Botswain's Beach. They raise turtles there and they varied from wee babies that had just hatched to 600 pound giants.

seaturtle.jpg


The very handsome boy fell in love. He's determined to get a pet sea turtle. No amount of reasoning would dissuade him. Thank god you can't bring back any turtles or turtle-related products to the States (they're an endangered species) otherwise we might have a very large souvenir of our trip. A souvenir that would grow to be 600 pounds.

November 10, 2008

Gone baby gone

Faithful readers I have some bad news and good news.
Bad news: I am going away.
Good news: to the Caribbean on vacation so don't cry for me Argentina, or any of you other guys.

I will be gone for a week. I will not be posting during that time. Instead I will be looking at this:
7mile.jpeg

Ahhhhhhhhh.


In other good news, I just missed this:

news.jpeg
Hurricane Paloma. I have a history with just missing hurricanes while traveling to and from vacation.
It's almost like a super power. One that I can't control, at all.

Despite the fact that it's a big tourist attraction, I am going to avoid swimming with these.

stingray.jpeg

If an animal possesses a barb that can penetrate your skin and well, kill you, I say "pass" to swimming with that animal. My cousin, Megan, swam with the stingrays. But then my cousin Megan is the same person who was walking on the homemade basketball pole my brother made when I stepped on the rusty nail. In fact, it was cousin Megan who walked ahead of me the whole way. Lesson: if their is a pointy, dangerous thing, it will find it's way into Stephanie's bloodstream, not Megan's.

The other thing I'll be doing while on vacation is making my way through these:

pileofbooks.jpeg

That's what I do on vacation. Read. Read. Apply more sunscreen. Read. Repeat.

So I'll be posting again in about 10 days, assuming no stingray attacks. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

November 09, 2008

The future will have dirigibles!

News flash: the future will have dirigibles!
I base this claim on just having watched two movies set in the future: Synecdoche New York and Aeon Flux. Both had dirigibles. Both were set in the future (Synechdoche's future was closer to our present.)

Why dirigibles, you ask? Isn't that technology kind of 1930s? Yes. But they look good. And the future is all about set design.

So invest in some dirigible stock now. You can thank me in fifty years.

November 01, 2008

Tip of the day

If you don't want to find a corpse, don't get a dog. If you've ever seen Law & Order, you've probably seen an episode where a dog walker stumbles across a dead victim because the dog finds the body and just won't stop calling attention to it. Well, I've been doing some reading today and I assure you dogs are to corpses what I am to cupcakes. If there is a dead body in the area your dog will find it. Then you'll have to call the cops and talk to Lenny and Briscoe. So, unless you like that sort of thing, don't get a dog.

P.S. Cats never find corpses. And if they did, they wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

October 30, 2008

Playing politics

Despite the fact that I sometimes adopt a public persona by reading in bookstores or calling a book club or interacting with 300 teachers during a conference, the truth is I consider myself an introvert. When you spend hours at a time inside your own head creating fictional characters it seems natural to think of yourself as 'less social.' Calling strangers to inquire about their political leanings? Not my cup of tea. But I've been doing it this past week. Despite the fact that I get anxious and nervous as I dial the numbers and wait. The waiting is the worst. Once you realize the person isn't home or even that they don't want to talk to you, it's a moment. It's not waiting.

But...as much as I don't enjoy it I think it's important. I don't want to hear that our next president is the guy I didn't want and feel that if I had tried harder maybe I could have made a difference. I don't want regrets. So I call and am cheerful and polite and hopeful. And I hope it makes a difference. I hope my guy wins. And I'm going o do what I can to see that happen. Even if it means moving beyond my comfort range.

October 29, 2008

Laying down some sweet tracks

I am no musical prodigy. The height of my music career was reached when, in fourth grade, I played "Hot Cross Buns" on the recorder. Until last night. One of my research students, Eric Rosenbaum,* has created a kick ass application called MmmTsss. You can download the application here! And then you can use it to record sounds, lyrics, whatever and lay down the tracks. It's so easy it makes playing the recorder look like brain surgery. I recorded several tracks and they were all fantastic. No, really. Plus it's fun to do with friends. Collaborate and share. And then sit back and wait for that call from Kanye. Aw, yeah. My rock n' roll lifetsyle to which I've been longing to become accustomed is ready to start!

*When I say "my" grad student, I mean a grad student in one of the research labs that I support at the MIT Media Lab. I don't actually own them. They're more on loan.

October 27, 2008

Cooking

Recently a friend I'll call Karen was staying at a hotel in the Silicon Valley area.
She called for room service and when the man delivered her food he noticed that she was reading this book.

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He said, "I like a woman who cooks."

Hilarious! Because as anyone who has spent any time with coding geeks knows that animal line drawing is the symbol of all O'Reilly books. And CSS stands for Cascading Style Sheets and...really, dude? You didn't think it odd that a cookbook would have a picture of a bear on it? Maybe he thought she liked to kill her grill.

(Lest you think he was being funny, he was in fact distressed to learn that she was reading a coding book, and not a cookbook. That friends, is what we call a missed connection. Or not.)

October 16, 2008

Roadtrip!

Hey all, I've got some good news and some bad news.
The good news is that I'm going on a roadtrip, starting tomorrow.
The bad news is that I won't be blogging.
Why? you ask. Good question!
I'm going to Maine. I don't think they have the Internets in Maine.Sorry.

So instead, I leave you with the gift of a new Gabe and Max video.
Because I love you all very, very much.

Okay, looks like I can't find the embedding information for the video,
so y'all will have to go to Videogum where Gabe works and view it there.

It's on a page labeled "Gabe and Max are your boyfriends." But that doesn't mean you.
It means me. Forever.

October 13, 2008

Backsterbating

For the past few days my upper back has felt as though someone is squeezing it. But I've looked behind me and nope, no one is there, squeezing. I complained to my roommate Tracey, who understands the woes of back pain. She offered me the use of her tilty-chair/neck massager combo I like to call the backsterbation station. (To give credit: Tracey is the one who coined the term 'backsterbation.')
Anyhoo, I'm sitting in this chair while two bits of covered plastic (are they plastic? I can't see them) grind in circles against my muscles. Normally I prefer a massage that's more akin to petting than muscle rubbing, but this almost-painful rubbing is getting it done! I'm just not sure how well I can edit under the influence of the backsterbation. This story may take an unanticipated turn. Rowr!

How to destroy a manicure in 45 seconds

Recently I went to a salon/spa and had a manicure because I had a gift certificate and I thought it might be novel to have some polish on my fingernails. It's novel all right. I find myself staring at my fingers, saying, "Oh! Color!" I'm easily distracted that way. When I entered the spa I made a resolution not to destroy the manicure within two minutes of its completion. Perhaps my sly self figured that destroying it within 45 seconds didn't technically violate that rule, as I'd said two minutes.

So while the majority of nail polish is where it was applied, my right thumb is hella messed up. I don't understand how people keep their manicures perfect. Okay, that's a lie. Those people don't hop up out of their chairs as soon as the fan machine pings and run for the register. To which I say, "Is there anything more boring than waiting for paint to dry?" No. I'm not good at sitting and waiting, especially without benefit of reading material (whose pages I'd be forbidden to turn anyway).

I use my hands a lot. It's hard for me to not use them for more than 45 seconds. I kept looking at my watch while my nail polish was drying and saying things to myself such as, "One more minute. Jut sixty seconds. I don't care if the damn fan is done. This is hideous. Who thinks spas are relaxing? Waiting is not relaxing."

So after I manage to ruin another thumb or finger I'll probably just remove the polish (badly) and forget about manicures for another few years. And then we can run another time trial. 45 seconds? I can beat that no problem.

October 09, 2008

Substitute Fitness Instructors

Substitute fitness instructors are worse than substitute teachers. Back in the day, you could try to fool a substitute teacher about your lesson plan. Often they phoned in it, knowing they wouldn't be teaching you for more than a day or two. They were benign interruptions. But substitute fitness instructors...bad. They don't care how the other instructor does things..they're going to do it their horrible way. Today that involved using the step. I hate step. I hate step class. That's why I don't go to step class. Step class is like walking up stairs, only interrupted by silly leg movements. Plus, it sounds disturbingly Third Reich when people are in synch. Do not want.

Bu today's sub won my undying enmity by playing a cover version of "More Than Words" that was only slightly more uptempo than the original by Extreme.


Do not watch this video. You have been warned.

More Than Words? I know brides who have banned that song from their wedding just in case the DJ got any bad ideas or requests. More Than Words?

I looked around the studio at my fellow gym folks, trying to catch their eye so I could suggest that we take our free weights and use them to quell this atrocity. No one else in that room looked horrified/appalled/scared. Was it possible that they liked the song? No, no, I won't imagine that horror.

The next time a substitute fitness instructor enters the room, I am exiting that room. 'nough said.

October 06, 2008

I've been away

Sorry it's been so long since I posted, friends, but I was on retreat. On Friday I and nine other LLKers went to the Cape for a weekend of sun, fun, and research objectives. That is how we do at MIT. From group meals to beach walks to trying some capoeira moves, it was great. Plus, I learned several new things while on retreat including:

1. I can't sing and clap my hands at the same time except when playing
2. Big Booty, which was probably my favorite thing I learned (um, it's a game)
3. You can take a group of grad students and researchers out of MIT to Cape Cod but they will all bring their laptops and spend half the time there plugged in to their machines
4. The sacrificial first pancake to the gods is not a concept known by everyone
5. Sand fleas can hop very far

I learned more than that, but it's a bit lost in the fog that is the head cold I developed on Sunday.

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Me, my research group, and the Cape Cod Potato chip lighthouse.

September 30, 2008

New England Aquarium

On Sunday the very handsome boyfriend and I made our way through the rain to another damp spot: the New England Aquarium. We just happened to be in the ticket line behind a nun, whose head dress part of her habit was unlike any I'd seen before. Of course I stared. Not as badly as the time I was ogling the Amish at the National Zoo. But still, you know, staring. So you'd think that giving the staring and her proximity and all I would have known to keep my mouth shut while the idiots in the ticket line consistently failed to approach the sales windows when called. Every person at the front of the line would get yelled at, and they' be looking at the seals or some other thing, any place other than the ticket windows. Being the helpful person I am I'd yell, "Window two!" at them and point. They rarely noticed. It was almost as if there was a coma-inducing-front-of-the-line curse at work.

After this happened several times I muttered loudly, "Christ!" And then I slowly pivoted to the boyfriend and winced. He gave me the "how exactly did you fail to notice the nun in front of you?' look. I know. She didn't react visibly. Maybe she was watching the seals. Maybe she was deaf. Actually, she wasn't. I know because the man with her had to explain to her (in Italian) about the photo taking part.

I hate the photo taking part. Nowadays when you visit the aquarium, and you enter they make you stand and get your photo taken. Then, when you leave, they try to make you buy a copy. I don't like having my picture taken much. I hate having people take it against my wishes and then displaying said photos for every aquarium-loving person to see. And there's really no way to avoid it. You can't escape the line.

This then, is where the nun worked in my favor. When her interpreting friend explained about the picture she shook her head and he said, "No thanks" and the staff weren't going to argue with a nun. So the boyfriend and I did the same, quickly speeding past with a "no thanks." It was awesome. No unwanted pictures. Huzzah!

So thank you, nun of the exotic head dress, and sorry about the blasphemy. My mom tried to raise me better. Really, she did.

September 21, 2008

Goodbye memories...

This weekend the very handsome (and smart--I'm no objectifier!) boyfriend and I went apple picking. We picked apples and got cider donuts and I fed and pet some billy goats. So tonight I thought I'd upload the photos. I got to my Ofoto account (now Kodak Gallery) and encountered a difficulty. I logged in and couldn't find any of my photo albums. Not one.

So I got a little frantic. I have backups of my photos but these were neatly arranged into little albums...and they're gone. All of them. Apparently if you don't buy prints within a year Kodak Gallery deletes your albums. What kills me is that they didn't warn me. No little email with a "hey, your galleries are about to expire unless you give us some cash." Fuckers.

So in response I'm singing pop music loudly. I hope you can hear me Kodak! Because my vocal talents are nonexistent and I want you to suffer!

For the non-Kodak fuckers among you, please enjoy the photos below.

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Goats aren't much for manners!

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Leading the way to the apples!

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Lovely apples.

September 18, 2008

Ouchie

Oh, hello there! How are you?
I'm in pain.
Yes, that white thing sticking up out of the waistband of my pants? No, not an adult diaper, but I understand your confusion. It's a heating pad. I wish it would get hotter. Normally, I prefer the adhesive pads that are like giant Band-Aids and that get hotter than the sun. But Medical didn't have that kind of heating pad. They had only the wrap around sort that resemble adult diapers and only get as hot as a trashcan fire.

Not hot enough!

It only hurts when I sit or bend, so as long as I avoid that (impossible) I should be good (not writhing or screaming).

The culprit?

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My beautiful Nanda laptop bag. Lovely, but not ergonomic. The straps are way too short for my shoulder when the bag is empty, much less full. I might try carrying less stuff in a bag, but I know and you know, that effort would be short term.

So, looks like Mama needs a brand new bag!
You know how I like bags....almost as much as I like coats.

In fact, last night I almost bought this coat because I had a discount coupon code

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But then I realized it was still expensive and it doesn't come with the horse.

September 06, 2008

Having a vagina does not a feminist make

I'm a feminist. Lots of my friends are too. Those friends include men and women. Feminism is not the exclusive territory of those with ladybits. Nor does having those ladybits make you de facto a feminist. Not at all.

In the interests of being helpful I searched for some quotes on what feminism and feminists are and here are just two.

"Feminism is the advocacy of political, economic and social equality between wome and men." - Feminist Majority Foundation

Feminism is "a socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians." --Rev. Pat Robertson, 1992 Republican Convention

So sixteen years ago at the RNC feminism was evil. Twelve years later at the RNC it's everywhere. And by everywhere I mean in every half-second of political commentary. I don't mean to imply it was actually present. It was not.

You know what you call a woman with children? A mother.
You know what you call a woman with children who has a job? A working mother.
You know what you call a woman with children who has a job who is chosen or chooses to run for elected office? Egads. So many options to chose from! Whatever your choice, feminist cannot be the default option.

Being a feminist means holding a set of beliefs about the value of women and working to ensure equality for all. It does not mean that you have a vagina. Feminists are not born, they are made.


August 29, 2008

I'm rich!!!

Check it out. I now have 25 billion dollars. That's right. Billion with a b.

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See?

Only trouble is that the currency comes from Zimbabwe where inflation has rendered money worthless.
The Z$100bn note is not enough to buy a loaf of bread. People from Zimbabwe sell the currency to tourists as souvenirs. That way they get some value from the valueless bills.

But wait. It gets worse. Zimbabweans now have the lowest life expectancy in the world. Age 37 for men and age 34 for women.This is attributable to HIV/AIDS, economic collapse, and not-so-freely elected Robert Mugabe.

I have a 25 billion dollar bill and it's the saddest object I own.


August 26, 2008

From the Department of I Couldn't Make this Stuff Up

The Associated Press reported August 16th:

When Susan Kuhnhausen returned home from work one day earlier this month, she encountered an intruder wielding a claw hammer. After a struggle, the 51-year-old nurse fended off her attacker by strangling him with her bare hands.

Neighbors praised the woman for her bravery, and investigators said they believed the dead man — Edward Dalton Haffey — was burglarizing Kuhnhausen’s home.

But after an investigation, police now say the intruder Kuhnhausen strangled was apparently a hit man hired by her estranged husband — Michael James Kuhnhausen Sr. — to kill her.

End of story.

Holy hell, y'all. Women strangles intruder with bare hands. Then discovers intruder was hired by her husband to murder her? That's stuff I might not dare write, because it sounds...made up. Amazing. As for comeuppances, "the husband was taken into custody and charged with conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder. He was ordered held on $500,000 bail."

But the best sentence of the story is this: "A large woman, she was eventually able to get the slight Haffey into a chokehold and police later found him dead in a hallway."

A large woman. Well, that explains her overpowering her "slight" murderously intentioned intruder. We should all be so large.

Women's Equality Day

Hey ladies!
Did you notice something different this morning? Did you wake up feeling freer, perhaps?
Cuz today is Women's Equality Day!

August 26th is designated in the United States as Women's Equality Day. Instituted by Rep. Bella Abzug and first established in 1971, it commemorates the passage of the 19th Amendment, the Woman Suffrage Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which gave women full voting rights in 1920.

Did you know this? Hell, the White House web page even has a wee letter by the president on the subject. Yeah, me neither.

So I came up with a chant to celebrate the proper spirit of the occassion.
"What do we want?"
"Women's Equality?"
"When do we want it?"
"On August 26th and August 26th only."

For 364 days a year I can worry about equal pay, the inequality of medical research into women's healh (hello heart disease!) and domestic violence. But today I can kick back and chillax since it's my special day.

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August 23, 2008

That's not a mouse

I was in City Sports today, as all my athletic socks have gone the way of the dodo. They rearranged the store, so I was a bit confused by its layout. When I saw a display with what looked like computer mice I was confused. So I handled one of the packages. And then I realized I was holding a man's athletic cup. So I put it back. Those manufacturers need to rethink the way their merchandise (ha!) is shown.

August 21, 2008

Leggo my pepper!

I decided to self-check at Shaw's this evening. But because I know the machine freaks out after I've 'skipped bagging' six items I decided to bag my two produce items (bananas and an orange pepper). Though why they can't program the machines to let me 'skip bagging' all the time I don't understand. I'm just trying to save the planet by using my awesome reusable, organic, Mother Nature-approved Envirosax bag!

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My tool against global destruction.

Ahem. So I grabbed my red bag and strode out the automatic door only to realize I'd left the plastic bag with my produce behind. So I turn around, walk back the twelve steps to my check-out machine (where no one had arrived during my absence to check out) and the bag is gone. I'm staring at where it was and it's not there. I was gone from it maybe 20 seconds. W.T. Fuck?

So I tell an employee I'm looking for a bag I just left behind and he goes to a cart filled with several bags. "Bananas?" He holds it up. This bag has about three dozen bananas. I told him that was way more than I bought. He directs me to another employee stationed a few feet away. She reaches under her dais and pulls out a bag and I watch as she stuffs my pepper back into the bag.

Huh? Why was my pepper outside the bag? I'd only been gone 20 seconds. Were they planning to return it to the produce section? Did I interrupt her plans to snack on my salad fixing? I guess I'll never know.
Maybe next time I'll just make the machine choke on my 'skip bagging' demands. That's fun.

August 19, 2008

The New Year

I don't much like New Year's Eve. It's cold, it's late, it's often crowded. So I stay home. And I don't make resolutions. Yeah, I'm a real rebel that way. As I was walking past the prematurely-turning tree that adorns MIT's campus (its leaves turn orange every August) I realized that for me New Year's starts in September. Back to school starts the calendar cycle anew. Working at a university helps keep me in line with that particular calendar. But it also helps that fall is my favorite season. It's damn lovely, the weather is comfortable and except for that inevitable decline into darkness and cold, it's swell.

Plus autumn brings us the jackets and coats. Which bring me to the below-pictured Valory jacket by Rock and Republic.

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I have one word for this jacket: WANT!

Which brings me to part two (everything above this sentence was part one--surprise!) School is starting for many children in late August this year. The hell?! How are those children supposed to wear their newly bought school duds (of itchy wool) in late August? Wearing it in early September is also an issue but August? That's just cruel. On behalf of kids everywhere excited to wear their new thigh high boots (Why are you looking at me like that? They were awesome boots!) to school, I must protest. School in late August is wrong. Besides, there's no way I'm going to be able to scrape up the cash for that beautiful jacket by next week. Nope. I think I need a sponsor.

August 07, 2008

When Cakes Go Bad

I love cake. I have a sweet tooth the size of Alaska, so no surprises there, but in the dessert hierarchy I rate cakes first. Cakes above cookies, pies, ice cream, tarts, and whatever other sweet confections you might bring my way. I quite enjoy baking them, though I admit I've never been stellar in the decorating department. I've never tried to make fondant or learn to make intricate shapes with a pastry tube. As long as it tastes delicious, it can look less than perfect

However, when professionals create cakes that look half-assed?
Whole other story.

And that's why Cake Wrecks is my new favorite blog to visit. Showcasing the worst of all that the cake professionals have to offer, it combines my love of cake with my love of snide.

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Would you eat this cake?


July 15, 2008

Damn it Clive Owen

Damn it, Clive Owen. I just watched your film "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead." I'm planning a 300 person conference for work, so my free time? Severely curtailed. Spending 102 minutes over the course of two evenings (did I mention the minimal free time?) was an investment of sorts. An investment squandered.

Clive, your clean-shaven face on the DVD promised me the handsome visage I've grown accustomed to watching in superior films like "Children of Men." This? You have a scraggly awful beard. I kept shouting at you, "Shave it off! Please? Shave it!" You obeyed when there were but 10 minutes left in the film. I endured Malcolm MacDowell (ew) and some of the worst dialogue ever for a last minute physical transformation? No.

Damn it, Clive Owen. I know you didn't write the awful script, but when you read it didn't it strike you as a bit stilted? Slow? For a thriller didn't the story seem short on thrills? And I know, I know, it was supposed to be broody. You brooded the hell out of it, really you did. But, um, brooding alone does not make a film. A story usually helps. You know, a story that holds more water than most colanders?

Don't do anything like this again, okay? You deserve better. So do I.

June 20, 2008

Got salt?

Good news!
Mom is out of the hospital!

Turns out the salt levels in her blood were critically low. Salt? Yes, salt. Lack of salt can lead to extreme fatigue and mental confusion, and the longer it goes the worse it gets. Not cool. Seems one of her blood pressure meds was to blame. Oy.

Having spent the first night in the hospital with her I can assure you that hospitals are no place to get any sleep or rest. It's a wonder anyone gets better in those places. I did overhear some amazing (and depressing) stories while there.

The highlight? Aside, of course, from Mom getting well, was using the ear thingy. You know that lighted scope doctors use to look into your ears? For years (truly) I've wanted to use one, but you can't use it on yourself, and I hesitated to ask my doctors if they'd let me look in their ears. For some reason I always suspeted the mere act of asking might lead to a psych consult. Anyway, while Mom reclined on a stretcher I asked if she'd like to indulge my dream. She agreed. Turns out ears look kind of pink and not very interesting. But still...I got to use the ear thingy.

And Mom is well. Huzzah to the nth power.

June 16, 2008

Technical Difficulties

Due to family issues? problems? trials? I've been incommunicado. Trust me when I say that I wish this were not so.
My Mom is quite ill, and so the blog may go without updates for a bit.

But for being such troopers I will share with you a birthday LOLcat that Andres (one of my grad students) made me.

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I got a ton of personalized LOLcats plastered all over my office door and wall. They were amazing and all the participants: Annina, Adam, Karen, Ingeborg, Ellen, Noah, and Andres deserve mad props for the joy they brought me.

Here's hoping Mom gets better and that I'm back in the blogging saddle soon.

June 09, 2008

Coffee!

So despite the MBTA fire problem (just one of many this month) and the fact that I had to walk half of my commute in 90 degree sunshine and despite the fact that I worked until almost 8:00 PM and am still working (writing) I'm not tired! Not remotely. I think I know why.

I had three coffee drinks today. Usually I have one. Today I had three. That's two more than most days. And wow, I'm not sleepy. Not even a little. I'm a little scared that I'll never be sleepy again. Or that coffee will be my gateway drug to dieting pills (don't those have speed or am I remembering my after school specials wrong?) and then to real speed and then to cocaine and then to rehab and then to my triumphant career comeback on Dancing With the Stars. Oh man. That sounds sad.

Maybe I'll just have one coffee tomorrow.

June 01, 2008

Notes to Spammers

I get lots of spam comments on this site, as I'm sure most boggers do. Spammity spam, oh my is there a lot of it! Now most of the spammers are probably looking to make money through links . But maybe, just maybe, they are looking for something more. Perhaps they want a conversation. So, in the spirit of generosity, I'm going to answer their calls into the wilds of Internet. Here goes!

This one begins "Asteropeus discharged they cut". Ah, Homer. This is a classicist amongst spammers. Sadly, the story gets interrupted by a lot of cheap-drug links. To you, dear spammer, I say, "Yes, the cost of prescription medications in this country of ours with poor health care coverage is indeed criminal. You are a pioneer for calling this important issue to my attention. Now that you have done so, return to The Iliad, good sir. May the bloody tale of battle inspire you to continue on in your quest to bring low-cost medicines to the people!"

Then we have "Viagra relaxes muscles and increases blood flow to particular areas of the body." But what areas? And which muscles? Dear spammer, you have left me without crucial information. How can I know if I want this, how you say, Viagra? If you will not tell me more of its promised properties I will have to turn my attention to...."free sexy girl cursors." Huh. Imagine that. Sexy girl cursors. Now if you'd said "sexy girl cursers" I would have told you I'm all full up. Me and my sexy girl posse swear like sailors (when we're not busy sailing). But cursors, huh? That seems...distracting. I think I shall pass.

And that's all the spam I have time for today. My apologies to all those spammers kind enought to contact me that I simply don't have time to respond to with the sort of stabby personal attention I wish I could devote to them.

May 28, 2008

House lust

As a woman I've heard lots about the 'biological clock' that's supposed to be ticking inside me like a bomb. You know what? I've never heard a tick. Not once. Not even when I've been in the presence of uber-cute, precocious babies. Nope. So either my clock is broken or missing or the whole damn idea is a myth. But lately, I've been experiencing something else in a profound must-have, want-now, can't-wait way. House lust.

I want a house. I want a roof and windows and nice wooden floors and a fireplace. Please, please, a fireplace! I'd like a wee yard too because it's hard for me to conceive of 'house' without a bit of land (blame my semi-rural upbringing.) I want to fill the house with furniture I bought and decorate it with colors I like and bake masses of cookies in the kitchen (but not for future children--still no ticking!)

I've been perusing the Sunday Real estate section and browsing Craigslist for properties for sale. I'm getting familiar with the real estate lingo. Cozy=frigging tiny. As is=major work needed. Just gut renovated=expensive. Most of the listings don't stir me from my Goldilocks inspired criticisms. Too small, too big, etc. But occasionally I see one that makes my heart go pitter-patter (and then I remember I have an erratic heart beat so I discount that). But once in every two thousand listings I see one for sale that makes me wish I had money with which to purchase said house. Then I go look at my savings account in the hopes that the money has somehow gotten infused with rabbit-DNA and has begun breeding! (That hasn't happened...yet.)

But until then I have hope and house lust.

May 20, 2008

I'm tired

Damn, I'm sleepy. I could curl up in bed right now, only it's not even 9:00 PM. Long day at work. Oy. Then I came home and ate dinner and watched Jeopardy. The funniest bit was when I yelled, "What is ebony?" when the correct question was "What is ivory?" Damn you Monsieurs McCartney and and Wonder for confusing me!

Next, I tried to read an article about robotics. That didn't go over so well. It had a lot of...words. While generally I'm a crackerjack at the whole reading thing, it seems that exhaustion is able to render me stupid, even in the reading arena. Note to self: don't operate any heavy machinery in the next hour before bedtime.

But I realized I hadn't posted any new material for all five of may faithful readers and I felt guilty. (I majored in guilt with a minor in self-abuse. True story!) And instead of giving you fun stuff to read I'm telling you how tired I am. I just yawned. It's official. I'm boring myself.

Anyway, to reward you for reading this and to keep me from having to type any new thoughts (there aren't any--ha!) I'm going to post some links. Follow them at your peril or leisure or both.

The Office writer and actress Mindy Ephron has a blog called Thing I've Bought that I Love Enjoy!

Winona writes about fashion, but funny. My favorite feature of Daddy Likey is when she polls her three brothers, father and boyfriend on their first impressions of an outrageous fashion item.

I'm semi-addicted to design blogs because they're so fucking pretty. I browse them thinking "that would look lovely in my future home," forgetting that it's hard to fit real furniture into a cardboard fort. Anyway, DesignSponge is just one o fthose blogs I drool over.

Okay, that's three links. I think I'm done here.

May 15, 2008

The Way Back Machine

When I was in fourth grade our teacher read to us from a book called Z for Zacahariah, by Robert C. O'Brien. He also wrote Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Z for Zachariah has nothing to do with rats. What's it about? Um, a post-nuclear war survivor named Ann who is, as far as she knows, the only person alive in the world. So now I remember why I spent much of my childhood waiting for the missiles to blow us up and dust the landscape with deadly radiation. Thanks public school story time! Now here is my therapy bill.

As it turns out, I still remembered the book enough to want to read it again (sort of like picking at a wound ). The book, published in 1974, is no longer in print, but there are copies for sale through second-hand book sellers.

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Here's the cover. You can tell some bad shit is about to go down.

Ann is our sixteen-year-old post-apocalyptic survivor. The novel is told through her journal entries (the style of the prose is a bit sparse for that age and gender, but no matter). Ann has mad skills. She farms, she can shoot a gun, she knows a bit about how to take apart and put back together stoves. Basically she can survive in a world without people (or electricity!)

Allow me to insert a plea here to YA authors of today: please create amazing, strong female characters like Ann. They have existed! They are appealing! Girls AND boys will like them. They don't need magic or credit cards. Okay, end rant.

Ann's less than ideal world grows more complicated when a person dressed in a green plastic radiation suit approaches. Suddenly she's no longer alone in the world. But surprise! That's not necessarily a good thing. Mr. Loomis, Adam to Ann's Eve, is a scientist who happens to be a bit of a control freak. He also thinks that novels are frivolous (novel haters=the evil). He tries to molest Ann. Again, why did they choose to read this to us in fourth grade? Had we been acting up? Okay, so the attempted assault scene is brief, but um, fourth grade....Hell, reading it now still gives me the jibblies.

Ann, however, proves a fearsome contender. She didn't survive for over a year on her own because a house elf was helping her. Ann is terrific because while she's practical and clever, she's also vulnerable and has dreams that she realizes will not come to pass given her situation.

Here's a sample paragraph:
And I thought: what would it be like, ten years from now, to be up here gathering greens some morning with children of my own? But that made me feel lonesome for my mother, a feeling I have tried hard to avoid. So I stood up to change the subject. I got out my pocketknife and cut a bunch of apple blossoms.

Damn I love that sentence, "So I stood up to change the subject." I can't tell you how much I wished I'd written it.

If you're less than terrified by post-nuclear scenarios and you're older than ten, consider reading this book. It's the sort of thing you'll remember two decades later.

May 06, 2008

Pet peeve, the first

People who use the term "quarter life crisis."

Most of time they are referring to someone who is age twenty-five having a crisis. That's a quarter century crisis, friend. We're not all going to live to be 100 years old.

This also seems to be a way of making it possible to have a crisis prior to a mid-life crisis. How many crises do you want to have, people? I'll happily settle for one.

May 05, 2008

Notes from a morning commute

Overhearing a person talk about her new diet (into her cell phone, naturally): not so interesting. Listening to someone talk about all the food they cannot eat makes me want to run across the parking lot of Porter Square, into Dunkin Donuts, and stuff a donut into my mouth. Really. The mere concept of food deprivation gives me carb cravings.

April 21, 2008

Happy Patriots' Day!

Today is Patriots' Day here in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts (also in Maine and--oddly-- observed as a public school holiday in Wisconsin). Patriots' Day is celebrated with obscenely early-hour reenactments of the first battles of the American Revolution in Lexington and Concord. It's also the day the Boston marathon is run now. It's a day off from work few other people have, so it feels special. Today, to celebrate the consistent warmth of the past week I'm taking the insulating caulk and plastic off the house's windows. Nothing like fresh air! Of course, every year when this happens I expect a cold snap, just to teach me not to expect spring to show up anytime before mid-May. We New Englanders are a cautious lot when it comes to weather.

I have the day off from MIT. I think I might go for a walk later, but for now I think I'll do a bit of writing. Nothing affords the chance the get work done like a day off!

April 18, 2008

On cats and engineers

I like cats. I don't happen to own one in part because the landlord says I can't and in part because my current level of pet commitment is fishsitting. But I like cats. I've had kitties as pets in the past and what everyone says about them stealing your breath and hating you and being less than stellar pets is a pack of filthy lies. But I think dogs tend to be a little easy with their love, so go figure.

I also like engineers. Probably because I'm surrounded by them and they've worn down my defenses over time (clever engineers!) But also because many of them are funny, smart people who can solder something for you if you need something soldered.

So today I found 'An Engineer's Guide to Cats.' Huzzah!

The video is a bit long, but the cat 'art construction' at around the 3.00 mark is well worth the wait.

March 28, 2008

Bitches need not apply

To the woman who brings her dog into the ladies' room at work,

Knock it off! That is no seeing eye dog and thus has no place sniffing at my stall door. You dig? It's not restful to find a canine in my bathroom. I'm pretty sure Emily Post has my back on this.

Teed off,
Stephanie

I'm thinking of posting a sign on the door. Maybe, "Must have two legs or fewer to enter this space" or "No Bitches," though I'm guessing the latter might get me sent to Human Resources for a chat.

March 26, 2008

Saddle sore

I'm back, and I am saddle sore. Riding a Clydesdale and then spending six hours the next day confined to a plane seat is a recipe for sore thighs, friends. Don't say I never taught you anything.

So riding a Clydesdale horse through a beautiful canyon was definitely a highlight of my LA trip. Others included the weather (sun! heat!) the smell of the air (ocean! jasmine!) and the places we visited. The Gamble House in Pasadena was extraordinary. If I thought I could have succeeded in obtaining squatter's rights, by gum I would have tried. The Getty was lovely, though I was underwhelmed by the Getty Villa. I would have happily spent a month exploring Huntington Gardens. Even the books I brought to read during the journey were beyond the usual enjoyment. Paul Auster's The New York Trilogy? Oh, man. The intro to City of Glass had my arm hairs all on end.

All in all, an amazing trip to a part of the country I'd never been before, and that I enjoyed far more than I'd anticipated. Now, I just have to adjust back to cold temperatures and overcast skies. Boo hoo.

March 16, 2008

Easter

Easter is coming! Easter! Unlike Valentine's Day, I feel warm and fuzzy toward Easter. Not because it's more legitimate or anything. Not at all. But because it involves adorable baby animals and candy. What's that you say? Something about Christ rising from the dead? Yeah, that's not why I love Easter. Baby bunnies! And the success of advertising!

Truly, Easter reminds me of two things. The ad for Cadbury eggs that had a clucking bunny "laying" candy eggs and the jingle about brown eggs that played, as I recall, constantly throughout my childhood. The jingle went "brown eggs are local eggs and local eggs are fresh!" It doesn't sound like much, but trust me it was catchier than most STDs. Anyhoo, the brown eggs thing always comes up around Easter because growing up I only ever ate brown eggs. The local brown egg marketers had some amazing stranglehold on this part of the country. So, as a consequence, I thought white eggs only existed around Easter and were some sort of 'special' egg. Truth was, if you didn't buy your white eggs in a timely fashion then you were screwed because brown eggs may be local and fresh but they do not dye well. And dyeing eggs is part of the holy Easter experience.

So yes, to sum up. I thought white eggs were only produced in late March or early April. I am a sucker for candy and baby animals (and oddly, pastels, at this time of year). And I will be dyeing special eggs sometime soon! But not eating them afterward. Fresh or no, I don't much like eggs (unless they're chocolate).

March 12, 2008

Plague

I have the plague.
Sore throat, achy, no longer reliable sense of temperature, ouchy lower back and my eyes hurt too.
Did I mention the exhaustion and stupidity? The part of my brain that remembers words or concepts has been sacrificed. For what? Fuel? Its white blood cells? Dunno. Just know that I need to go back to bed now. I've been awake a whole half hour and am thus wiped out.
I hate being sick. Expect more posts after this plague passes and let's hope it's fast-acting plague, shall we?

March 09, 2008

So bad it's good

I love to read. Ever since I mastered the whole phonetics thing and basic reading I was good to go. Rarely since has a day passed since then that I haven't been involved in reading. Except when I'm reaching the end of my first drafts, as you know. Well, this weekend I'll confess that after editing a lot of chapters and a 72 page story for a fellow writer I didn't have it in me to read. It sounded too much like work. Instead, I plopped myself down on the sofa and engaged in that most noble of exercises: channel surfing. Last night the cable gods offered me little satisfaction, but today, praise heaven, they gave me just what I wanted.

The Wicker Man. Specifically the 2006 remake starring Nicholas Cage. Sweet manna, was the movie terrible. I loved it. I only saw the last 40 minutes, and I think it best. After all, I got to see this scene:

Nicholas Cage, in bear suit, punching a woman in the face. Oh, cruel Academy for overlooking the subtle art evinced in this scene! (The music in the video is obviously not the same as in the real film clip.)

I spent most of my viewing time muttering, "This is horrible! He just keeps yelling his lines! God, it's awesome!" Sometimes, when one has been wandering the lush gardens of prose, one needs a chaser of Hollywood schlock. Palette cleansing! By the time the movie concluded I felt as though my brain had returned from vacation. Thank you, director Neil LaBute. Some might have argued the 1973 version didn't need a remake, but you, kind sir, boldly ignored that advice and created this masterpiece that shows what can happen when ladies run a society. (Seriously, what woman turned LaBute into public misogynist #1?)

I'm reading again. I feel up to it, and honestly I'm not sure it could endure another masterpiece like The Wicker Man.

February 22, 2008

Enviable grace replaced with not-so-enviable clumsiness

Hey all, do you remember when reviews of My Summer of Southern Discomfort first came out? No? It wasn't quite the thrilling event on par with say the day you got a free slurpee? Fine. That's okay. I remember. I especially remember the Booklist review because it said I had rendered my main character's problems with "enviable grace." This was at the forefront of my mind last night when I found myself stuck half-in, half-out of my bookcase. The other half was stuck on a stability ball.

Picture of stability ball:
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Looks pretty harmless, no?

I was trying to perform a side crunch. My hands were on the floor, in push up position, my belly was on the ball and I was twisting my legs to the side, when I rolled and got my feet and legs stuck in the lower shelf of my bookshelf. A lot of thoughts went through my mind, "How do I fix this? I hope my books are okay! I can't believe I'm stuck. I can totally believe I'm stuck. Oh hell, I have no leverage. How do I get unstuck?"

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This woman loves her ball. It has never tried to kill her.

I started laughing and then calling "Help" in a very small voice because I didn't want anyone to find me in that position. Not to mention, there wasn't much anyone could do for me. Eventually I had to settle on gently falling off the ball to the other, non-bookshelf side.

You know what? After that fitness fiasco, I have to say my editing went well last night. Perhaps my writing's grace is inversely proportional to my physical grace. In which case I say, "Bring on the bruises!" It's all about the writing, sugar. I'm willing to take a few hits for my art.

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Objects d' torture? Or aides to art?

February 16, 2008

Men's clothing: part the coats

Today the very handsome boyfriend and I went shopping at the bigger-than-most-towns Natick Collection. (Seriously, place is huge.) We were inside Macy's when I made a beeline to the men's coats, which puzzled the vhb. I told him I was looking for him because his handsome winter wool coat had several holes, courtesy of hungry moths. But as I surveyed the racks I realized something crucial: men's winter coats are boring. Good god, the monotony. Gray, gray, black, gray coats with three buttons.

"They're like blankets with buttons!" I cried in despair. Where was the variety? The frippery? The interestingness that continues to make me adore (and buy) winter coats.

"Most men's clothes are blankets with buttons," the vhb said.

"That's tragic." And it is. So take note designers of men's clothes. You can design a handsome jacket and still make it look better than a blanket with buttons. In fact, I challenge you to do so. And if you can make it resistant or offensive to moths, so much the better!

February 13, 2008

An Open Letter to Valentine's Day

Dear Valentine's Day,

Please go away. Please? Look, I enjoyed you once, long ago. When I was in elementary school and celebrating you involved cutting out construction paper hearts and adding glitter. It was nice to stuff cards into the little envelopes set up in front of everyone's school desk, fun to see what creative interpretation everyone put on you. (Though I have no doubt, this involving elementary school children, that insults were exchanged and tears shed out of class). But since those days, I admit, my attitude toward you has changed. I don't like you.

I curse when my email inbox is filled with last minute exhortations to buy roses or chocolates or anything for my sweetie (you assume I have one and that he wants such things). I have a strong desire to sweep my arm through the oh-so-red-and-white display at my local drugstore, knocking items onto the floor, spilling forth candies from your gaudy beribboned hearts for the single, engaged, and married alike to consume.

They've managed to attach chocolate to you as a lure, but you know what? The genius fuckwits of holiday marketing have decided to begin deploying Easter candy insanely early this year, so I can turn a blind eye to your rather red-light charms and select a bag of mini-Cadbury eggs. You know I always prefer bunnies to armed, naked cherubs.

I'm tired of your gender-specific assumptions that women demand jewelry or roses as tokens of love on a day chosen by advertisers to push more of this merchandise. You know what? I'm not a big fan of roses (not the red ones, especially). And you can keep your frickin' tennis bracelet. What I want is your absence. Go away, Valentine's Day. Go away. And take those creepy naked babies with the crossbows with you.

Goodbye,
Stephanie

February 12, 2008

Mornings

I was out of my bed at 6:30 AM this morning. I do not intend to repeat that action for quite some time, as I am a cranky person before 8:00 AM. I'm actually cranky after 8:00 AM but the levels of hatitude/whininess drop.

Observations: Not a lot of people on the road at 7:00 AM though at 7:25 it is a zoo, especially near the school by my house. Which reminds me: parents who park your giant ass SUVs at the end of the drive so that I have to step into busy traffic in the early morning: I hate you. Oh, and you're a terrible role model. Also, it's quieter at 7:00. That I like. But it's darker, which doesn't help my internal clock much. And it looks like the only time of day that my grocery store is not full unto bursting with people.

Tomorrow I am going to sleep until 7:50 AM as usual and Heaven help him if the teenage boy downstairs wakes me up before it's time to go-go. Honestly, how hard does he have to slam his dresser drawers to get them to close?

Thus concludes today's cranky update.

February 05, 2008

Fitness

I did something recently I've never done before. No, not that. Get your minds out of the gutters, y'all. Honestly. I joined a gym. It's not that I'd never considered it in the past but usually two things stopped me: 1. The idea of working out around other people and 2. The whole paying money thing. But my wallet and my lone-wolf ways have taken the hit and I have learned several valuable things since joining my gym.

The bicycle program will not start until you pedal. Oops. I assumed you programmed it before pedaling. I was wrong. Working out in the afternoon doesn't give you more energy. At all. In fact, since my new workout routine began I return to the office looking wet and exhausted. It's not so much post-workout hair that I mind (though someone pointed this out to me) but the exhaustion. After my workout and lunch I just want to sleep for several hours. And I can't because I have work to do. However my new routine does insure that when I get home I have more time than I used to have to do things like writing and watching The Wire (I finished Season Three) and reading and eating ten times the amount of calories I burned at the gym.

And please someone tell me that the calorie counter on that bicycle was broken today because I pedaled fast and hard and my calves hurt and according to that machine I burned as many calories as are in half my Kashi bar. And I never eat just half. Wouldn't be polite.

January 30, 2008

Making lemonade

I had a bad day yesterday. A very bad day. Someday I'll tell you why it was bad but not today. Today I'm going to tell you how to survive a very bad day. These tools may help you in the event of a painful breakup, unexpected baldness, or post-apocalyptic survival in which you discover your only companion for the rest of your days is David Spade.

When life hands you lemons, add these to the mix:

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Pandas. No matter how bad the day, knowing that evolution gave you pandas to enjoy makes the world a slightly less hellish place.

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Bret and Jemaine will make you laugh through those tears! Especially if you listen to "I'm not crying" in which Bret sings, "I'm not crying. I've just been cutting onions. I'm making a lasagna...for one." It's the delivery. Genius.

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Rereading old books you adored as a kid. My pick was Beverly Cleary's Fifteen. Holy Moses, how I loved that book and pitied poor Jane because I thought her last name, Purdy, was awful. And the clothes that she hated (Peter Pan collars?) sounded so fascinating! Plus, this book totally prepared me for Macbeth, with a Birnham Woods advancing reference when Jane brings her too big bouquet to Stan at the hospital post-appendix operation. Though I hate the new cover they gave the book. The cover pictured is the one I had. Now it's an illustration of a milkshake. Feh.

I must give props to the ladies at Jezebel for turning me on to revisiting old books. They have a feature called
"Fine Lines" penned by Lizzie Skurnick that revisits classics such as Then Again Maybe I Won't by Judy Blume. The book that taught me about puberty in teenage boys. (Man did I feel badly for boys after this--wet dreams? Uncontrollable boners? Eww!)

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Rosie's Bakery. When life is bad, cupcakes are good. Hell, when life is good cupcakes are good. Mine had bits of Heath bar atop the chocolate frosting. Yum.

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South Park. If laughter is the best medicine, then these guys dosed me. The episode I watched featured a boxing match between Jesus and Satan. Good stuff.

I hope all of you are having fanfreakingtastic days and don't need any of the above-listed tools to keep you from drinking liquor. I mean more liquor. I mean...enjoy!

January 22, 2008

Baby it's cold outside

I just took a peek at my favorite source of weather information: wunderground, to see what tomorrow has in store for me. I like to set out the clothes I intend to wear to work tomorrow on my chair the night before. This happens about 30 percent of the time. I said I like to do it; I didn't say my attempts ever make it past the thinking stage. Anyhoo, I see that tomorrow is forecast to be cooler than today (wunderground is always anxious to tell you whether tomorrow will be hotter, cooler or nearly the same as yesterday--would that all parts of my days could be this predictable). It's going to keep getting cooler until Saturday when the predicted high temperature is 37 degrees. A number, that, when I first saw it, made me exclaim, "Now that's what I'm talking about!" It's sad what will excite me in the dead of January in New England. As for tomorrow's outfit I'm thinking pants and a sweater, just as I've been thinking every day since November began (except for that freaky warm stretch around Thanksgiving when I might have worn a long sleeved shirt instead of a sweater).

Hey, Global Warming, want to help a sister out? Yes, yes, I know you'll want something in return, like the sustainability of my planet. You're so greedy that way.

January 20, 2008

Miracles happen! (Sort of)

The very handsome boyfriend and I recently traveled...to Connecticut. We visited the Mystic Aquarium where we saw lots of things including the inside of a beluga whale's mouth. I have to say, I found the arrangement of its teeth surprising: two vertical, parallel rows. We also visited the Submarine Museum. Oh boy. Was the very handsome boyfriend excited about going inside a submarine! Though he later admitted, "I forget I get claustrophobic until I'm inside a small, cramped space." The thing I love about submarines is how they maximize space, which, I believe, is the very thing I would hate about a submarine were I ever forced to live in one. I mean, six bunks in a space smaller than most closets? No thanks.

But perhaps the most amazing thing to happen during our trip was at the least expected place: Saks Fifth Avenue Outlet. While I was browsing the dress rack I found it: the red silk Marc Jacobs dress I had been coveting for over a year. Periodically I would look online to see if it had been discounted by 90 percent. Sadly, that never happened. But here was the dress. Before me! In my size! Deeply discounted (though not by 90 percent). I grabbed it and ran to the boyfriend, exclaiming, "Jesus is real!"

Here's a picture of said Jesus-is-real-proof dress.
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The very handsome boyfriend, once he got over the fact that I'd been stalking a dress online for over a year, agreed that this was exciting. He shooed me toward the fitting room where I discovered that the dress of my dreams didn't flatter me. It made my breasts look like pudding, and while I like pudding I don't want to resemble it. Then I had a time getting the fitted dress back over said breasts. Not fun. So then I decided that if Jesus is real he's got a mean streak or a funny sense of humor. Either way, I no longer need to stalk that dress. Thanks Connecticut!

January 13, 2008

Five things you may not know

I was watching a few YouTube videos recently featuring folks I like (including YA author Maureen Johnson) who spoke about five things that are unique or less well about themselves. And I'm too damn lazy to think of a good topic for today's blog, so I'm going to steal the topic.

1. For someone who injures herself routinely, I have a real lack of broken bones. In fact, I think the only thing I've "broken" was my little toe, two years ago. I stubbed it on a coffee table. When the doctor looked at my foot, he said, "Coffee table?" before I'd said anything. He explained, "About ninety percent of these injuries wouldn't exist if we didn't own coffee tables." So, in the interests of saving you, my readers, I share this. Avoid coffee tables! They just want to break your feet.

2. I used to have a sizable gap between my front teeth. A little less than say Lauren Hutton, but sizable. My dentist told me throughout childhood that when I was a teenager my wisdom teeth would show up and push my front teeth together. So I waited and waited and waited. Nothing. My wisdom teeth didn't show up in my teens or my early twenties. Finally, at age twenty-five they were erupting and I looked in the mirror and realized my gap was almost gone! It was sort of freaky, to have something there no longer be there. Now I have no gap at all. And I can get food stuck in my front teeth, which still fells really novel and annoying.

3. I didn't have many young girls in my neighborhood so I grew up playing with boys, boys who had no qualms about tackling girls during football games. As a result, I learned to throw a mean spiral curve and I thought girls who thought boys "played rough" were sissies.

4. For many years I wanted to be an astronomer. I watched stars at night and learned the constellations names. I knew a girl who went to Space Camp the summer after sixth grade. I was so jealous. Space Camp! I got worried about my astronomy prospects when I began failing Calculus, so I stopped saying I was going to be an astronomer or thinking I would be one. I still try to catch the Perseid meteor showers each summer, but it's tough living in a light polluted city.

5. When I was young I didn't believe adults when they'd say things like "It's safer to be inside a car during a lightning storm" or "You create more heat waving a fan in front of yourself than you would if you'd just sit still" (an old teachers' standby). Because I felt safer inside my house, and I felt cooler with a little breeze on my face. So you know what? While technically I concede their points, I'm still standing by my arguments. Aren't safety and coolness perceived anyway (or can be)? Yup. Still arguing.

January 11, 2008

That girl is poison...

Dear Shape Magazine,

In this month's issue of Shape you solicited reader feedback. Well, here it is!
One of your tips on how to look your best was: Botox before wrinkles! You say that if we, your readers, start injecting Botulinium Toxin into our face before wrinkles begin we can stop them. See, injecting Botox makes your face freeze, for all intents and purposes. You can't smile or frown. Therefore, you're preventing wrinkles with facial paralysis. Only, see, here's the thing. I LIKE smiling. I even like frowning. I appreciate that people around me can interpret my facial expression as an indicator to my mood. I don't like the idea of not being able to move my muscles.

Also, I have some startling information for you. Whether your face is smooth as Silly Putty or wrinkled like a Shar-Pei, you are still going to age and die. Really. You can have a face that looks twenty years younger than your age but that will not save you. Nothing will. Just thought you should know.

Also? I am frowning at you right NOW. Can you see it? Good.

Stephanie

January 09, 2008

Totes Environmental

I hate plastic shopping bags every major supermarket and drugstore hands you. Hate them. Not just because they are environmental destroyers but because they suck. If they're weighted down with anything heavier than one pound they bite into your skin as you carry them so you have a red, angry groove on your hand when you get home. I try to bring a tote bag with me when I go shopping, but when I'm coming straight from work I don't have it on me and it doesn't pan out. Until now!!!

Introducing, Envirosax!!!

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My bag looks a bit like this, but is not this one. I couldn't find a picture of mine. This tote is awesome because if you're not using it you can fold it up into a wee bundle the size of, um...a pack of smokes? Yeah, about that size. And unfolded it holds some serious goods. I carried groceries,a magazine, and a book home in it last night. Plus the bag itself is so lightweight that it doesn't add to the weight of your good. Unlike my beautiful red leather bag.

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I love it, but man alive will this bag misalign your shoulders after heavy usage. (It would probably help if I carried less junk, but that's another issue for another day.)

Anyway, the point is when you're not using the Envirosax you can carry with you: in a pocket, in another bag, in the crotch of your pants if you like to stuff and I'm not saying you do.Then when you need said bag you unfurl it like a banner to your environmental righteousness and use! Chicks love that. I swear. Just don't let them see you reaching into your pants to retrieve it.

January 07, 2008

My Sports Franchise

I have the best idea for a new sports team. It all started when I first ran across the name Mehitable. Not a name you see often these days, but it enjoyed use, if not popularity, several centuries ago. I am crazy for it. Ma-hit-able. Awesome. So. The idea is this: start a WNBA franchise called the Formidable Mehitables. Our logo will be the woodcut profile of a seventeenth century woman. I can envision our championship banners now.

Any investors?

December 18, 2007

All I want for Christmas...

is not my two front teeth, though there was, in fact, a holiday season when I was sans two front teeth. I'd say it was adorable, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. What's cute about a gaping hole in your mouth where your teeth should be? Ick.

Anyway, the other day my mother pointed out that I hadn't made a gift list. So savvy me turned the tables by saying, "You didn't ask for one this year." But she trumped me with some mother's guilt, for the win.

So this blog post is for you Mom. Though I honestly meant it when I said I didn't need anything. The items below should prove that.

Here's the book I mentioned, of animal photographs.

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I also want a solar jar. I told Lesley this but then she asked me what size top I wear, so I'm sort of doubting she bought me one. You can order this through RedEnvelope. Their phone number is 1-877-733-3683 because I know you don't shop online. Ever.

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It's on sale for $32.00. And yes, it's a jar that captures solar energy and then glows. I told you I didn't need anything.

What else? I like fancy ass cocoa. In fact, I have a hard time drinking less-than-stellar cocoa. What's best, though, is that your darling daughter will corrupt a $6.00 cup of fancy ass cocoa with Fluff if you let her. Awww, remember how Lesley and I used to climb the kitchen counters to eat Fluff straight from the container and it made a mallowy ring 'round our cherubic mouths? Yeah, we were adorable.

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So fancy ass cocoa from Vosges would be good. Their phone # is 888-301-9866. Really, anything from there is fine except white chocolate. Bleh. White chocolate isn't even chocolate. (Tell that to my Philistine sister, Lesley. Remember how she always wanted the white chocolate bunny at Easter? Gross.)

Oh dear, that image isn't very large. The cocoa pictured is La Parisienne Couture Cocoa. I know how you like to speak French. See how generous I am? Giving you a chance to parlez-vous francais.

Yes, truly, never was there a more loving daughter. You should probably buy me all of these things. Or. Better yet? On Christmas take all the gifts with Lesley's name on them and give them to me and say, "Here. I think you deserve these more." That would be hilarious, and priceless. Not that I want her gifts or anything. I mean, she likes white chocolate. Ewww.

December 15, 2007

Off to see a man about a turducken

Hello friends!
I'm getting ready to attend a holiday party at which I will finally witness the glory of a turducken incarnate. My friend Cheryl's husband, Chris, actually deboned all the birds himself and sewed them back up with stuffing. A chicken inside a duck inside a turkey. The very handsome boyfriend is very, very excited. He's been talking of creating a turducken for years and I've been doing my best to rain on that particular parade. Just the idea of handling all that animal flesh gives me the squicks. But the boyfriend persists in his desire, and, I'm afraid after tonight I may not be able to check his turducken desires. Unless Chris tells him it was godawful to create. Hmmmmmm....I bet Chris isn't immune to bribery.

In fact, when I first mentioned that Chris would create a turducken for this party here's the conversation that ensued between me and the very handsome boyfriend.

VH Boyfriend: If Chris gets to make a turducken, so do I!
Me: Ummmmm.....
VH Boyfriend: I mean, Chris cut open his leg with a chainsaw!
Me: You see how that comparison doesn't work in favor of your argument?
VH Boyfriend: Right. Well. I want to make a turducken!
Me: (mumbling through drink)
VH Boyfriend: What?
Me: I want a pony.


December 14, 2007

Where is the Middle East?

My geographic knowledge is laughable. My public school education required no geography curriculum. How I wish it had! I break out in a sweat if confronted by a "Where is that country (or state) located?" question.

So when I tumbled across this learning tool I was intrigued. It's a puzzle map of the Middle East (and more). You click and drag the name of the country to the spot you think it belongs. You get a bong sound when wrong and a happy noise when correct. The puzzle aspect helped me by engaging me more than staring at a map would. For all of you with similar geographical shortcomings who would like to know more about the region of the world from which many a news story is generating, try it out.

December 12, 2007

The Internet

I never get tired of watching this.
Gabe and Max's How to Get the Dreamlife of Your Dreams Using the Internet.

Bing bong! You've got emails!

December 10, 2007

Open Letter to RCN

Dear RCN,

Here's a thought. When I press the button on the automated menu that sends me into the "my internet is not working at all" section could you disable the phone message that keeps telling me all the options available to me using rcn.com? Because, you see, as I just told you, me internet is down. Not working. Incommunicado. Got it? So a message in my ear every thirty seconds extolling the virtues of your website is not what I want to hear. Nor do I want some employee in Bangalore telling me to recycle the power to my modem (did that) or plug in an ethernet cable to the modem (after I had explained all of the computers weren't working, not just mine). When both my cable tv and internet are down it's clearly the RCN connection, no? Oh, and thanks for not coming to my house until tomorrow. Really, that's swell.

Hoping you choke on holiday cheer,
Stephanie

December 03, 2007

How did I miss this????

I was inside a Williams-Sonoma store yesterday, fondling the baking supplies and somehow I missed this:

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How? How did my donut radar miss this? At $49.95 it's a good deal cheaper than the Sky Mall maker.
Ohhhhh, it's an Internet/catalog item only. That's how I missed it.

Well, it's on my radar now.

November 21, 2007

Great gift ideas: part the third

Usually, while browsing the Sky Mall catalogue during flights I am struck by the extreme crapiness and craziness of the merchandise. Usually. But ummm, this may have made me a convert. Ladies and gents I present to you the Dough-Nu-Matic!

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It makes mini-donuts!!!! In less than a minute. Ack.

I I have a strong supposition someone is flying in an airplane in the skies above me now, leafing through the Sky Mall catalogue, saying, "Who needs a mini-donut maker? That's ridiculous." And to that person I say, "Me and Homer Simpson."

November 06, 2007

Great gift ideas: part the second

If, like me, you live in a century old home with inadequate heating you spend much of winter fantasizing about being warmer. Some of that time might be spent on the couch, covered by a blanket that's not quite large or warm enough but which you're truly reluctant to relinquish when say nature calls or you need a cupcake from the kitchen. (When DON"T I need a cupcake from the kitchen?)

Fear not friends! For there is now the Slanket! As described on the product's site the Slanket is "a gigantic fleece blanket with sleeves."

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Attractive? Hell to the no! Comfy? No doubt. Oddly, this represents almost exactly what Tracey was describing some months ago when she was thinking of the "perfect" winter body warmer. There may be one in her future.

If, like me, you have "ice hands" come winter, hands you have to warn people about before you shake theirs and they still yell, "My God! It's like you're dead!" when they touch yours, well, I'm sorry. But also: gift idea! This one's been around longer than the Slanket, and has a similar name: the Smitten. It's a mitten for two!

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See? It kind of looks like a heart. But no matter. You put one hand in and your honey or friend or very obliging stranger puts a hand in and screams, "Dear God! Your hands are like icicles!" But now you have their warm hand next to yours! You win! Huzzah!

To round out my trifecta of winter gifts I have the Rick Owens Lilies Padded Funnel Neck Coat. I know, it doesn't have a ridiculous name that begins with an "S." Sorry! And it's not funny looking. It's bee-yoo-ti-full.

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This image doesn't do it justice. Trust me, it's gorgeous. And as a coat connoisseur (or addict) I am in the know.
At 520 pounds sterling it's pricey, but did I mention how pretty it is and how it's made of an angora/cashmere
blend (ooh, soft)? And how stunning I'd look inside it? I know how to work a winter coat!

So there you have it, more gift ideas perfect for the cold-as-the-undead friend/family member/author you all love.

October 31, 2007

Writers' blogs

Many days, when I should be writing or blogging I find myself reading other writers' blogs. It's a whole lot easier, plus entertaining and informative!

Here are some writers' blogs I enjoy. You may too.

Maureen Johnson, YA authorwho pines for a pink taser.

Meg Cabot, another YA author who has a wee obsession with my former boss, genius Marilyn vos Savant.

Tess Gerritsen, bestselling thriller and mystery author who I keep missing at local readings (damn it!)

John Connolly , mystery, thriller, fairy story author who has prompted in me book cover envy (see the cover for The Book of Lost Things--awesome, no?)

I like these blogs because they're often funny (especially the first two) and they impart writerly advice, wisdom, or just in-the-trenches tales to which I can relate. Maureen provides beautiful photos of Cary Grant regularly, which I appreciate. Plus she has a pet stuffed monkey. And Tess just dropped a tip the other day on how to check out how many copies of your book your local Borders has ordered (useful!)


October 29, 2007

From the Department of Misheard Lyrics

I always thought Jamiroquai was singing "I've got candy in my heels." It sounded like fun. Apparently he has "canned heat" in his heels. Oops.

You know, I think I'd still prefer candy. Canned heat sounds as though it might be a euphemism for athlete's foot.

October 23, 2007

Dear Kashi

Dear Kashi Bar makers,

First, let me say, thank you for making a product I enjoy that appears to be good for me. It gives me protein, which is great, because although I am not a vegetarian I often live like one. I prefer to let other handle my dead animals and cook it for me. So yes, protein, good. And fiber. They say you need fiber. And chocolate chips. You managed to include chocolate chips into my healthy snack. Well done.

Your portable treats have also made it possible for me to make it to the next meal without killing someone and I think I can say that my companions during those low blood sugar moments appreciate your product too.

Ahem. HOWEVER. Today's bite into my Chewy Cherry Dark Chocolate bar met with a sharp cracking noise and a horrifying moment of resistance in which I thought I'd broken my molar (or a piece of it.) Those seconds spent very carefully moving the half masticated granola bits about in my mouth were truly fearful. I didn't want to swallow tooth bits. Moreover, I didn't want to visit the dentist. As I gingerly spat the remains of the bar into a tissue and poked around said bits (yes, yes, ewwww) I looked for tooth. Remarkable how sesame bits and granola look like tooth.

Kindly fate seems to be on my side (except for the horrifying snake nightmare I had this morning and oh, yeah, tooth scare thing). No broken bits of tooth.

But, in the future, could you ease up on the crunchiness?

Sincerely,
Stephanie Gayle

October 21, 2007

Providence

Saturday the very handsome boyfriend and I finally made it down to Little Rhody to walk around Providence.
We visited RISD's museum, which was free because it's under construction. I love free. Also, the collection pieces we did see were lovely. I especially liked the giant Buddha, the Botero painting of people who resemble Weebles, and the amazing silver and mother of pearl inlaid desk and chair that kicked Tiffany's ass to the curb and won first prize in silversmithery in the Great Expo of 19somethingsomething.

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Here's the very handsome boyfriend before the RISD museum.

Then we went shopping. Window shopping.

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Here's a store I wanted to shop. But it was closed. They had roosters. But no roosters for me. Alas.

We ate lunch at Bravo Brasserie. Very yummy. Our waiter rocked. All waiters should be like him. His attention to soda refills was commendable.

The problem I had with Providence was I couldn't orient myself easily. After years of Boston/Cambridge/Somerville you think I'd be used to one way streets and maps that suck, bu no. I got frustrated.

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This is me and my 'where the hell is this place' gesture.

At long last I found the store in Providence I most wanted to visit: Figments. It's a very cool, small store with funky gifts and very pretty objects d'art. I'd bought stuff online before but I wanted to see it and touch things. The owner was super friendly and, unprompted, suggested a place for us to find some stellar desserts. It's as if she saw into my soul. Dessert recommendations? Way to my heart.

I enjoyed Providence very much and plan to return soon, with much better maps in hand. And maybe more money. There were things I wanted but they costed money. Such a problem.


October 12, 2007

Recovery

Ahoy! Good news! The snot tide had turned and I can now breathe through my nose (mostly). Just in time for the weekend, during which I plan to continue devouring the books of my new author friends (reading Mary Modern right now--so, so good) and maybe bake some more (funny how the weather change makes me want to stoke the oven's fire.)

I'm hard at work submitting a just-completed story to literary magazines so that in a few months' time I can begin to get rejected. A day without rejection is a day I feel less like a writer and more like some normal person.

When the weekend ends so too does my reprieve. Then it's back to book #2 for the polishing draft, when the prose gets polished and I check to make sure I haven't changed a character's name mid-narrative (why yes, I have done that before and no, I really didn't notice for some time). I hope to finish by Thanksgiving but it's a lofty goal.

Until then, let the reading/baking/relaxing begin!

October 10, 2007

Head Cold

I have a head cold. It sucks. My nose is red, my eyes are glassy and my reading comprehension level has gone back to third grade.

So, on a whim, I googled "cold remedy" to see what the shiny internets had to offer me. Ah, the Mayo Clinic! Well those folks have degrees of a medical nature. Alas, all their advice: drink fluids, chicken soup, avoid stress (ha!) provided me with no new remedies. Besides they overlooked the obvious one I'm considering: a head transplant.

September 30, 2007

Apple picking

For me, fall is the season of beginnings. That may seem backwards, but it marks the back to school season and, in and around Boston, September 1st is the official day to move. So fall is when things begin anew. Or so it seems to me.

Fall is also apple picking season and I love apple picking. I like meandering through the orchard, twisting the blushing red fruit in my hand, and smelling the aroma rising from the decaying fruit at my feet. I don't even mind lugging a half bushel bag of apples back to the car. I like apples, and fall is the season for them, where they're crisp (nothing worse than mushy apples) and available in abundances that demand you make apple crips, apple cakes, and, this year, apple pie.

My pie making history is brief and, until recently, not illustrious. I had attempted one pie: a blueberry pie. During the construction of said pie I was swearing with such vigor and ferocity that I cleared the apartment of all other living creatures (who actually expressed fear of me in that moment). When said pie came out of the oven looking less than perfect a small bite confirmed that it looked better than it tasted. The spices had not gotten mixed well, and, as a result, you could end up with a mouthful of cloves. My failure was made more terrible by the fact that not two weeks later I was at a dinner where someone else had made a more perfect than perfect blueberry pie that just happened to be her first pie ever. I nearly cut her right then and there.

Eight years later, I was ready to try again, but this time I was going classic: apple pie. No fancy lattice crust or crazy mile high type structure (I knew I wasn't ready for that). Just a good old regular apple pie. The kind I feared I'd never be capable of making. As if I was afflicted with a very specific baking afflication. Sure I can bake cookies, pies, profiteroles, whatever. But pies? Ack! It's my baking Kryptonite!

I'm happy to report that the pie turned out well. It won't win any prizes but it looks as it should and tastes pretty darn good. And so fall truly is the time for new beginnings.

September 24, 2007

When life hands you lemons...

Put them aside and go here: funny kitties!
Truly, I cannot explain my love for 'I can has cheezburger?' But I love it. Fiercely. Part of the magic is the pictures, but mostly it's the captions. And that too is odd because I have a strong track record of hating dialect. I've stopped reading books because the dialect, it was too much. I much prefer it when the author makes apparent that the characters talk differently, gives an example or two of colloquial speech, and then moves on. Otherwise, I tend to growl and hurl the book across the room. It's just my way.

But the heavy dialect of the LOL cheezburger cats? Totes kewl. Fureals.
Okbainow!

August 22, 2007

Somedays you should stay in bed

Today might have been one of those days, but the call of employment must be heeded, so I went to work.The T (subway for you non-locals) was operating in fine form this morning (by fine form I mean not at all). There were very many cranky people standing on the platform looking down the tunnel for a delayed train. At work I proceeded to spill a fourth of my coffee on my pants. Precious coffee wasted! Pants wet! Yuck. The day's workload has been increasing as I prepare to go on vacation and I'm worried that maybe I won't get to do laundry tonight and who needs clean undies anyway?

I haven't reached the point in my manuscript I had hoped to reach before leaving for vacation, and I realize I'm not going to have any more time to work on it (party tonight, packing/seeing cousin tomorrow). Bit of a bummer.

I keep telling myself, "Soon you will be overlooking the harbor and watching big boats dock and won't that be fun?" And it will. I know it will. I know I'll be 1000% more relaxed once I'm away. It's just that now...not so relaxing.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

If I have time I'll try to let y'all know what I'm taking to read on vacation (lots of mysteries--I dig mysteries). If I don't get to it, I'll do so upon my return (with reviews!). I think I have 7 books (maybe 8) in the suitcase. And I'm contemplating buying another because I'd really hate to run out of reading material. I could borrow a book from the very handsome boyfriend but I think he's bringing non-fiction exclusively. Hmph.

Oh, god. I just remembered. I have a dentist appointment tomorrow. I hate dental appointments. No good ever comes of them. Just pain and usually bad news.

Vacation can't come soon enough.

August 20, 2007

Technical Issues

I'm back! I was experiencing technical difficulties. Damn SQL server socket! But thanks to the very, very, very handsome boyfriend's help (which involved driving to where the server is and bitch slapping it) we're back in business!

More good news: We spent this weekend in New Hampshire and saw lots of friends and played croquet, went hiking, sat in a hammock, almost tipped the hammock (frame and all), played new board games, journeyed on the lake in the paddle boat, sat in front of a wood fire, and generally had a fabulous, relaxing time. Much love to the Stuarts for hosting us and feeding us.

More more good news: Hurricane Dean didn't damage the Caribbean island I'll be flying to on Friday.

More more more good news: I'll be flying to the Caribbean on Friday and I'm bringing loads of recent fiction to read (a pleasure I've been denied the past 7 weeks). A good book+beautiful ocean=happiness.

August 15, 2007

Coffee Haiku

Coffee, for you I
get out of my bed
and *sigh* go to work.

True story: I didn't drink coffee until after college. I made it through four years of undergrad without it. Of course, back then I had a two-liter a day soda habit, so maybe I didn't need it so much. But now that I no longer drink soda every five minutes, coffee and I are best friends. Even before I drank it I liked the scent of coffee beans. Earthy, dark, rich, with a little kick.

Now I have a medium coffee every single morning. The rare mornings that I don't develop into headachey, tired afternoons. Addicted? You bet. But when confronted with this evidence I tend to shrug. I think a coffee addiction is okay. And mine is mild. I'm not going to die like Balzac. Given all the writerly vices I could adopt: alcoholism, tobacco addiction, deep sea fishing, I think drinking coffee is pretty tame and requires less commitment than, say, a heroin habit.

I'm still anti-Starbucks (can't drink their stuff and can't write in coffee shops) though I do patronize other chains. Lately I can't walk into Dunkin Donuts because I might be confronted by a six-foot tall poster of Rachel Ray, and nothing provokes me quite like that woman. She's ubiquitous. She showed up on a box of Triscuits recently. Is no place on this world sacred from her? Not to mention no one in many family forgives her for that stupid $40 a day show she did on Food Network in which she routinely undertipped the wait staff. Undertipping is considered a sin where I come from.

Ahem. So yes: coffee good. Coffee excellent. Rachel Ray: bad. I think I've made my point here. And that point is: goddamn! Did they put decaf in my cup this morning?! Neurons not making the leap! Need help or nap.

Coffee, why hast thou
forsaken me in my hour
of desperate need?

Feel free to share your coffee haikus, or tips on how to battle sleepiness, with me.


August 09, 2007