The Grey Shorts Incentive

This weekend I'm running the NYC Half Marathon. It's on Sunday. At 7 a.m. That's right, I'm going to start running 13.1 miles (that's 21.1 km for all you metric-lovahs) at 7 in the MORNING, and hopefully be finished before you wake up. In fact, if I'm quiet, I can slide right back into bed without you even noticing I was gone. I promise to shower first.

The half marathon also marks the halfway point in my training (holy smokes!) AND, with your help, I'll be well over halfway to my goal of raising $4500 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

If you've been thinking about donating but then also thought, "What's in it for me?" well, friend, wonder no more. A few weeks ago I purchased a pair of grey shorts. At the time I wondered to myself, "Self, why don't I have any grey shorts? Only black. Weird, I think I'll go for it!" So I did. Then I ran 8 miles in them. Then I remembered why I don't have any grey shorts, and it has to do with sweat. Unflattering sweat. Still unclear? OK, it's unflattering CROTCH sweat.

If my fundraising tally hits $2500 before Sunday, I will run in grey shorts, AND post a post-race picture. It may not be quite as appealing as other fundraising ploys I've seen, but trust me that it's hilarious, and will likely cause me embarrassment. And aren't hilarity and embarrassment the two key tenets of the internets? Oh, and porn.

Donate here. Or here.

And here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/nyc/nikesf08/gilliang.

So Tempting

This is why I might have to get cable this fall.

Update: Joe E. Tata is joining the party, too. GOOD TIMES. I just hope Gabrielle Carteris is too busy looking after her grandchildren to sign on.

12 + 99 = 4

Or, Ambition + Temperature = Reality

I had grand plans to run home from work tonight, plans which were thwarted when, about 3 miles into my run, I realized that it was 99°F even along the waterfront, and that crossing the tourist-laden Brooklyn Bridge and running up fume-y Atlantic Avenue in that heat was really going to suck. So I cut my run short after 4 miles.

Fortunately I sweated enough to still feel hardcore.

Training update: I ran 10 miles last Saturday, a totally beautiful run starting and ending in Prospect Park, and across both the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges. The weather that morning was perfect, and I felt great. Tuesday night I had another hill workout, which wasn't exactly *fun* but I (and my calves) survived.

Count to Four

Even if you've already seen this, watch it again. It's so happy-making.

Street Cred

Overheard in the men's room after tonight's Ani DiFranco concert:

"We made it, guys. We earned some major street cred." Pause. "Use it wisely."

Piperlime Is The New Zappos

I'm a longtime spender at Zappos.com, often ordering 4 or 5 pairs of shoes at once, sometimes with multiple sizes or colours of a particular style. Free shipping! Free returns! More often than not, Zappos upgrades your shipping so that you order one day and the next day you get that magical email: "You have a package - please pick it up at the front desk." I love being able to sort by style, colour, and even heel height. In short, I'm really fussy about shoes. Zappos has been there for me through many changes of season, during which I inevitably become anxious about such decisions as whether or not to show my toes at work (currently yes) and whether I should buy boots with a heel (undecided).

Enter Piperlime, at whose email I scoffed when I first received one a year or two ago. "Oh, that's cute," I thought smugly, "Gap is trying to compete with Zappos with a shoe site. It'll never work." But I didn't unsubscribe, and eventually this year they got me with an email about trendy summer gladiator shoes.

The truth is, no matter how picky I am about footwear, I'm no fashionista, and I'll take all the help I can get. It didn't hurt that I'm keen on sandals that are a) flat and b) cover much of my feet, so the gladiators are already up my alley. But to have some sort of fashion expert reviewing the shoes and giving me suggestions seemed like a good idea, and I ordered a few pairs. When the shoes arrived, Piperlime's packaging charmed me: The inside of the shipping box is printed with Piperlime's sweet limey logo, and the invoice comes tastefully tucked into a lime green envelope. To top it all off, each shoe box came wrapped in brown tissue paper secured with a green lime sticker. Sweet times!

I decided to keep only one of the three pairs, and the other two pairs have been languishing in their boxes for the past month or so, because I vaguely dreaded the process of going to the website to print out a return label (which I keep forgetting to do at work, where I have access to such essential items as a printer). Today I finally decided to at least package them up so I could print the label on Monday and I was delighted to discover a self-adhesive return label IN THE BOX! Zappos, take note.

Now that I have a cool pair of summer sandals, I'm almost looking forward to deciding whether to get mid-calf or knee-high boots this Fall.

O Canada

In honour of Canada Day, UFF proudly presents a brief installment of Canadianisms: The Expressions Edition.

Expression #1: Had the biscuit

Meaning: Is broken or no longer working (electronics), has gone bad (food), is dead/dying (plants, pets). I read somewhere that during wartime, the mattresses placed outside a first aid tent were called "biscuits," and when a soldier died he was placed on the mattress - hence he'd "had the biscuit." It's more commonly attributed to the host used in the Catholic sacrament for the dying.

Usage Example 1: "My watch stopped working again. I think it's had the biscuit."

Usage Example 2: "These cherries have had the biscuit. I'm going to throw them out."

Usage Example 3: "That hydrangea's had the biscuit. I guess that's what happens when you forget to water it."

Expression #2: Fucking the dog

Meaning: It's not what you think! To fuck the dog simply means to waste time. I don't know the origin because I'm old enough to know better than to Google "fucking the dog," but by all means knock yourself out (and don't blame me if you're forever scarred).

Usage Example: "My hard drive at work finally had the biscuit, so I fucked the dog all day."

Happy Canada Day!

The French Lifter

Tonight as I was making treats for tomorrow's festivities I was reminded of a conversation I had whilst in Waterloo back in April.

I was there for young Charlie's first birthday, and as I had been charged with baking his cake, I brought with me my usual cake-decorating implements, including my offset spatula:As our post-party hangovers were subsiding and I was packing up my belongings, I asked Dr. & Mr. Sirrah! if either of them had seen my offset spatula.

Sirrah!: No, I haven't seen it.

Greg (rooting through the drawers and holding up an offset spatula): Does this look like yours?

Me: I think that's mine, unless you guys have one like that.

Greg: I thought we did. Sirrah, do you know if this is our offset spatula?

Sirrah!: I thought that was a French lifter.

At that point, as it often does, the conversation deteriorated rapidly:

Me: Hey baby, let's try the French Lifter later.

Greg: I think I threw my back out performing the French Lifter last night.

Dog: Ooh, yeah, I love it when she does the French Lifter.

Sirrah! (rolling her eyes): I thought that's what it was called.

Back, then, to tonight, when just as Dog was leaving to meet his brother for a drink, he saw me holding the infamous utensil. "Ooh," he said, "had I known you were going to get out the French Lifter tonight, I wouldn't have made other plans."

Back to California

Strawberry Shortcake
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Last weekend I made the first of 2008's pilgrimages to California. We arrived at SFO to unusually warm weather, and after a stop for the most delicious burrito in the world, or at least North America we drove down Hwy 1 through Pacifica to Half Moon Bay. We stopped on Hwy 92 to buy strawberries, which were advertised at $6/box. We both thought it was sad that we could get California strawberries cheaper in NY right now until we learned that a box didn't mean what we thought it meant - it meant SIX of what we thought it meant! Six dollars garnered us a half-flat of sweet, ripe berries the size of small apples, which we couldn't even finish in our short stay (though not for lack of trying). Above: Possibly my most delicious birthday cake ever.

UFF Loves xkcd

And You May Ask Yourself

As you may have deduced from my most recent Flickr pics, I was in Canada last weekend to do some recruiting at my alma mater, visit my peeps in Waterloo, and run a 10k.

Dog & I flew back from Buffalo and when a handy email from Orbitz alerted us that our flight was delayed an hour we decided to detour through Niagara Falls. Yeah, we just decided to stop and see the Falls, like you might stop to get gas at a Shell station. Just like last year when I used to occasionally go for a run at lunchtime - across the Brooklyn Bridge. Oh and tonight after work, I'm going to swing over to a little venue around the corner from my office to see a band play - just the band that pretty much defined my high school musical experience.

Then tomorrow morning? Oh, you know, we're flying to San Francisco for a wedding and to celebrate someone's (ahem) 34th (dear god, how did I get so far past 30?) birthday (it's on Saturday, in case you're keeping track of these things - express shipping will still get my gift here on time, even!). And I was informed last night that I will need to take Monday off work and change my Sunday evening flight to Monday afternoon. Can do.

At the very least, two 5-hour flights mean plenty of time for writing, in particular for finishing the draft posts I've started in the midst of all this wonderfulness. Stay tuned.

Giant Rhubarb Spotted in Southwestern Ontario

Sunny Defeats the Rhubarb!
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Rhubarb slayed by 77-year-old woman wielding a sharp knife. Details at 11.

P.S. More verbosity coming soon, I promise. In the meantime, there are a whole bunch of new Flickr pics available for your viewing pleasure.

More Options

More Options
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Thanks so much for all your comments!

I dropped off a CD of pictures to be printed yesterday, and last night my photography teacher emailed me with another set of her faves. Anyhoo, if you still have it in you, let me know what you think of these.

Photo Exhibit

Candidate for Photo Exhibit
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

I know I know... lots of pictures around here, not enough writing! I promise a real post this weekend, but for now your comments would be much appreciated. I've been taking a photography class at Photo Manhattan and on Tuesday night we have an exhibit! How fun! Anyway, I get to show 6 photos that I've taken over the course of the... course, and these are the candidates. Click that link to go to Flickr and view the collage, and click any photo in the collage to be taken to the original. Anything else in the Portraits set is fair game as well. I'm kind of partial to ANTM*. Note that all the photos will be printed in black & white for the show.

P.S. If you want to come, the show's on Tuesday, June 10 at 8 p.m. at 51 West 14th St, #2R. There are a couple of extremely talented photographers in my class, so swing by. It's free, and there will be food & booze!

She Works Hard All Week

She Works Hard All Week
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Fierce Enough for Tyra

Dog: our little hunter just caught a mouse!

G: SHUT UP!
did she eat it?

Dog: nope
well, she had it in her mouth
carried it to the bedroom
held it
held it
wait for it
dropped it
and it was there stunned and she was just watching

G: then what?

Dog: i put an empty strawberry thing over it
now it's outside in a little cage
while i decide what to do with it

G: let it go!
what would you possibly do with it?

Dog: should i throw it over a neighbor's fence?

G: no

Dog: i'm not going to fricassee it, bebe.

G: just let it run away
don't throw it!
it's been traumatized enough!

Dog: not throw
i just mean put it somewhere where it's more likely to end up in someone else's house, rather than our own

G: believe me, it isn't coming back

Beginning

Back in April I planted seeds: Two varieties of heirloom tomatoes, mini sweet peppers, and jalapeños. Given that I haven't grown anything from seeds since Mr. Stumpf's grade 3 class and internet research that suggested I was starting a few weeks late, I didn't know if the seeds would even sprout.

But they did.

I went away for a weekend a couple of weeks after I planted them. Before I left I moved the tray of peat pucks that housed the tiny green sprouts into a sunny window. At the airport I bought a Martha Stewart Living that advised I should ease the seedlings into direct sunlight, maybe for an hour or two a day to start. Oops. I half-expected to find them brown and withered when I got home, but they were fine.

I was really excited about these seedlings. I called them my "little dudes" and sometimes in the morning I asked them if they needed water. (And sometimes Ken answered on their behalf, in falsetto, "Yes, we do. But don't give the peppers too much; they have no self-control." Hee.) At one point I mentioned to a friend that I'd planted seeds, and he thought I meant figuratively. I laughed, but when I thought about it, the idea didn't seem so ridiculous. I've moved three times in the past year and lived with roommates - strangers, really - for six months. As a result I had a lot of pent-up nesting to do. I liked that planting seeds - literally - could be symbolic of putting down roots and growing into my life for a little while.

I'd planned to plant the sprouts outside when they were a few inches tall, then did some more research and found out I should wait until they were a little bigger. I kept them in their tray in the sunlight and as a few started to develop their first set of "true" tomato leaves, I planted them in small pots. The rest stayed in their incubating peat pucks on the sunny windowsill, growing.

This week it looked like more of the seedlings were ready to be planted, so on Wednesday morning I got up early and carried the tray of earnest young plants out to the backyard to move them into their new homes: Plastic flowerpots filled with fresh potting soil.

Then, on the way outside, I dropped the tray.

Most of the peat pucks fell out of the tray, and many of the tiny plants were decapitated, leaving them no leaves with which to photosynthesize. My careful labeling of the tray with stickers was ruined.

I surveyed the damage - dirt on the floor, of course, littered with tiny stalks no bigger than blades of grass but that seconds before had held the potential to become tomatoes and peppers and, more importantly, the potential to become proof that I could do this thing, that I could plant seeds and put down roots and cultivate whatever grew from them.

In that moment I felt overwhelmingly like I'd failed. As I picked up the pieces part of me wanted to just sweep everything out the door and start over some other time. Instead, I halfheartedly rescued a few survivors, probably about half the plants I'd started with, and moved them into the waiting flowerpots.

Yesterday afternoon I called my friend Lee to wish him Happy Birthday. I don't think he's ever been home when I've called on his birthday - I always sing to his voicemail. Despite about ten years of this tradition, I missed last year, and this year I was a day late. After I finished my enthusiastic, off-key serenade (to his voicemail, of course), I apologized for my general lack of communication in the past 18 or so months. "It was kind of a busy year," I explained. "I got divorced, moved, and changed jobs." I paused. "And I'm really happy now."

It turns out I planted a few other seeds along the way, some without even knowing it. And they're doing splendidly.

Rough Week

Monorail Memphis
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

This cat has had a rough week. On Wednesday night around 9 p.m. Ken (his real name! Yay!) commented that she was being really quiet considering how close we were to feeding time. I immediately suspected that she was being *too* quiet - in other words, that she wasn't actually in the apartment. Apparently when I had come back in from the backyard, she hadn't. We called her back with a few shakes of a can of treats, and she didn't seem any worse for the wear - and in fact, I suspect she might have eaten something somewhere because she was remarkably unpesky as 10 p.m. approached.

Then, on Friday morning, a cockroach (ugh, I know) ran across our hallway. It stopped beside a box, and Memphis, descendent of fierce feline predators, sauntered over to it, gingerly touched it with her paw, then walked away.

What a pussy.

How To Win My Heart

When I arrive home from work with a pint of New York Super Fudge Chunk and announce that it's dinner: Heat a mug of water in the microwave so that I can warm my spoon, facilitating ice cream consumption.

I will swoon.

Just A Reminder

You must do the things you think you cannot do.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Will Work for Food

About 7 years ago (Jesus! Time flies) I moved to Park Slope, Brooklyn, an idyllic neighbourhood full of restaurants, shops, lesbians, toddlers and dogs, and home to the Park Slope Food Coop.

Back then I knew about the coop but mostly thought it was a bunch of communist nazi hippies who would shun people like me for eating carne asada burritos and the occasional Egg McMuffin, and engaging in such practices as underarm hair removal ("shaving"). Despite those preconceptions I was vaguely curious about joining, but the rules state that everyone in a household has to join, and the rest of my household was firmly opposed to committing to the required 2.75hrs of work every 4 weeks. So I dropped it.

On recently returning to the Slope in an apartment not 3 blocks away from the coop, and feeling quite affected by such tomes as The Omnivore's Dilemma, Plenty, and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I raised the question of joining to the other half of my new household. He replied: "the co-op gives me the heebie-jeebies - they sound like crazy ideologues" and sent me an article as evidence. Still, he agreed to go to an orientation, and we both signed up that night. Our motives were a little different: He was swayed by the produce quality (excellent) and prices (everything at the coop is marked up exactly 21%, which makes most goods über-cheap in comparison to other local stores), and I was won over by the availability of locally-grown foods. We both signed up for shipping and receiving shifts, and I went home and calculated how much I'd save on cat food in a year ($42!).

This morning I worked my first shift. I barely slept last night because I was so anxious about it - I had dreams that my job was to crack open eggs to hatch chicks (?), and that Birkenstock-clad lesbians were hitting on me. Stereotype much? Anyway, I arrived just before 6 a.m., and my shift flew by. I stocked parsley, onions, potatoes, coconuts, apples, and more potatoes. I learned when to throw something in the soup kitchen bin (you wouldn't buy it but you'd eat it if you had it) and when to compost (you wouldn't eat it yourself). I learned to keep organic produce separate from conventionally grown varieties, and that everything needs to be rotated so the older stuff is on top (some of the potatoes at the bottom of the bin were very sprouty). Overall it was a pleasant, easy experience. Halfway into the shift, someone did a coffee run. There were several announcements inviting everyone to come look at the lilacs that had arrived for the coop's 35th birthday celebration this weekend (they really were beautiful). Everyone with whom I worked was friendly and helpful. Nobody suggested we join hands and sing Imagine, and the cashier didn't point me to the tofu when I paid for my (grass-fed, reasonably-priced*) ground beef at the end of my shift. In fact, the only advice I received was to keep my boxcutter closed when I wasn't using it, which seemed quite sensible.

OK, there was one debate about whether all people who do yoga like kombucha. They don't; I'm living proof.

*FreshDirect sells organic ground beef for $6.99/lb, antibiotic-free ground beef for $5.99/lb, and regular 85% lean ground round for $4.49/lb. The organic grass-fed 85% lean ground beef I bought at the coop was $4.92/lb, and it was delicious.

Purr

Purr
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Random Evening

When I left work this afternoon I had a pretty low-key evening planned: Recycling, laundry, water plants, pet Memphis. General domesticity.

Instead? I just spent an hour in the basement with my upstairs neighbours, taking a kick-boxing lesson with a private trainer who travels twice weekly from Long Island for training.

When I got home I called my neighbour, T, to belatedly thank her for feeding the beast while we were away on the weekend.

T: We're about to start a kick-boxing lesson. Come work out with us!
G: Oh, no, thanks, I worked out this morning.
T: So did I! Come on!
G: Oh, I... maybe I will sometime.
T: Come on!
[Note that T and her girlfriend were already warming up, and were dressed in sweats and tank tops that showed off their intimidatingly hot arms. I'm not exaggerating - these girls are TONED.]
G: Well, OK. I'll go change.
T: Really?
G: Yeah - are you sure it's OK?
T: Yeah, for sure! Hurry, we're starting at 8!

And so we spent an hour punching and kicking, with a set of abs thrown in for good measure.

I feel pretty righteous.

Mouse!

Last night about an hour into my gentle slumber I was awakened by a vigorous kerfuffle under, and beside, the bed. Usually during the witching hour Memphis is sleeping soundly, so I knew something was up. I popped out of bed to see what all the fuss was about, and just as I did she raced out of the bedroom and into the office and disappeared into the very tiny space under my very tiny desk. I pulled the chair out so I could watch the hunt (I'd already gathered she was chasing *something* and I hoped it was mammalian - I'd WAY rather be faced with a rodent than a roach). She was wedged under my desk, twitching, and finally emerged victoriously with the ass (and tail) of a mouse sticking out of her mouth.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a plan for mouse disposal. I thought about grabbing its tail and tossing it into the backyard, but I was suddenly squeamish. I tried to open the back door to, I don't know, chase it out there? "Mouse! Run! Be free!" -- yeah, not so much. I didn't even know at that point if it was still alive or if it had died of fright (or predation). I startled Memphis enough that she dropped it (uh, good move) and I think it ran behind the bookshelf in the hallway. Then I went back to bed to lie awake wondering if when I found the mouse again it would be alive or dead, and evaluating which would be preferable (I think dead, but only if it's in one piece).

Memphis stayed up to stare at the bookshelf.

Hit the Ground Walking

This morning, for the third Wednesday in a row, I got up at the crack of dawn -- and not just because a small furry creature was poking me in the butt. I've started training again, this year for the Berlin Marathon at the end of September. And let me tell you something: It is much, much easier to get out of shape than to get back into shape.

I don't like running in the winter. Used to be I didn't like running at all, so I consider this an improvement. In the winter, I like sleeping and eating cheese. These activities, it turns out, do not preclude going for a tempo run as soon as the temperature is above 40°F/10°C at 7 a.m.

So, I'm easing back into it. Two of the past three weeks I've run with my friend Jim, who has been entirely supportive of my emergence from hibernation. He has yet to mock me for my untoned (read: flabby) thighs and shortness of breath after only 2 miles at an easy (read: slow) pace. He's very kind, but he's also a coach, and I still have flashbacks to last summer when he stood at the top of the hill in Prospect Park yelling, "Is that as fast as you can go?!" as I ran toward him.

While I'm enjoying the Special Olympics treatment FOR NOW, I'm also really looking forward to running longer, faster, and stronger as the season progresses -- not to mention getting my hotlegs back!

Happy Birthday Charlie!

Delish.
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Charlie, the star of many an entry here at UFF, turns one today. We celebrated in Waterloo on the weekend with the birthday boy's friends and family. Somehow we even managed to squeeze in an episode of 90210, which was extra-enjoyable in our collective post-party stupor.

Uh-Oh

This afternoon on reddit I noticed a link to a game called Bloxorz, described by someone as "The best puzzle game I've played in ages."

So when I came home tonight and was looking for something to do to avoid packing (I'm going to Canada this weekend to celebrate a certain someone's first birthday), guess what I remembered?

That was over an hour ago. I just finished level 15 and I already know what I'm going to be dreaming about tonight. It doesn't have the same cool ambient music as Chain Factor (my most recent intarweb game addiction), but it does have satisfying clicky sounds. And I actually feel freaked out a little when my block goes over the edge.

In fact, I got so caught up in Bloxorz that I forgot to see if the latest episode of ANTM is up on YouTube!

...wow. I'm going to have to blog about some of my more intellectual pastimes soon, just to counter the superficiality of that last sentence.

Disconcerting

Mom: Your cousin Noelle had her baby yesterday.

G: Oh, cool, boy or girl?

Mom: Girl - her name's Ainsley Amelia.

G: That's pretty! How's everyone doing?

Mom: I don't know, I haven't talked to them - I just saw it on Facebook.

Bread Alone

Back in December I often joked that I had a tapeworm (named Tapey) whose diet was bread and cheese. So every time I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich or picked up a slice for dinner, it was all in the name of being a good host. Then came HBJ and Tapey fell on hard times.

All attempts at hotbody were put on hold yesterday when I woke up before the crack of dawn to catch a train to Poughkeepsie, NY, then a short taxi ride to Hyde Park, home of the Culinary Institute of America. I've read numerous books about the CIA and going there has been my life backup plan for about 10 years. I will happily go $20,000 in debt to spend two years living on the campus and waking up at 5 a.m. to slave away in a kitchen (maybe I should have been born a century ago so that I could have lived as a prairie housewife!). The CIA offers a number of Saturday classes for "Enthusiasts," a category I fall into, well, enthusiastically. I've been drooling over the Artisan Bread class since I first noticed it about a year ago. Yesterday I took the class, which meant six hours baking as many different types of bread in a professional kitchen with Chef Jürgen Temme, who has been doing this "forever."

We baked sourdough, lean dough, ciabatta, focaccia, whole wheat and multi-grain loaves. I learned what a pre-ferment is, and how to make a biga and a poolish. I learned how to properly knead bread to develop the glutens, and also that if you've accurately measured your ingredients, you don't need extra flour when working with the dough. (Had Chef Temme not said this, my instinct would have incorrectly been to add more flour when I kneaded my dough.) When the chef escorted the class to lunch and said he'd stay back to bake off our loaves, I stayed behind to help him score the tops of the loaves (which, among other things, strengthens the crust's structure) and remove baked bread from the many ovens we were using. I'll be back to the CIA for a meal at some point, but who knows when I'll have an extra 45 minutes to apprentice with a professional bread baker?

Lunch, then, was my focaccia - fresh from the oven, still hot and loosely wrapped in foil for transportation back to Brooklyn, eaten in the sunshine while waiting outside the CIA for my taxi back to the train station. Dinner last night was a lean sourdough loaf with goat cheese from the farmer's market, and good red wine.

Both my belly and our freezer have been full of bread since I got home, and I'm already looking forward to replenishing both supplies. Tapey is happy, too.

Online Shopping

Dog:
G: shiz, those are awesome AND cheap!

Dog:
Dog: man, good sale

G: I like the sneakers in brown
with orange laces :)

Dog:
G: it's hard to buy jeans online

Dog: except:
that i've bought them before!
and i'm wearing them right now!

G: CRAZY!

Dog: all those blazers are cheap as hell

G: when's the last time you wore a blazer?

Dog: never
maybe in my last life

G: Right.
so put that $25 towards a nice gift for me.

Dog:
G: hm
those could end up looking orthopedic

Dog: good answer!
they're horrible
it was a test.

G: you're a freak!

Tupperware and Antiques

On realizing that my trusty Tupperware cannister set had been lost in the shuffle of the past year, I decided that instead of ordering the set, I'd host an old-fashioned Tupperware party.

It turns out not everyone is familiar with this half-century old ritual. When I asked the boyf if he minded if I had a Tupperware party, he replied, "I don't know what that means, but sure." I think he looked it up because later that evening he looked at me as though I'd grown an extra head and asked, "So... this doesn't mean you're going to have someone come over to sell Tupperware, right?" Wikipedia defines this format as a party plan: "a method of marketing products by hosting a social event, using the event to display and demonstrate the product or products to those gathered, and then to take orders for the products before the gathering ends." My mom hosted regular Tupperware parties, at which her white-haired Tupperware lady, Vera, would hock her (Tupper)wares and my mom would receive an extra pitcher or set of bowls in return for hosting.

And so, yesterday six of my closest friends showed up bearing deviled eggs and ambrosia and a burning desire to buy food storage items that come with a lifetime guarantee. I now have a awesome Tupperware lady (Peggy) and a set of cannisters that's even better than my old ones on the way. I also have leftover SPAM & macaroni salad and an unopened box of delicious, delicious Mallomars, not to mention new insight into my mom's love of Tupperware (the four words I said most yesterday while leafing through the catalog: "My mom has that.").

This morning I wandered over to Fort Greene to check out Brooklyn Flea. I'd expected it to be prohibitively overpriced but most things were priced within reason, and I came away with a few small purchases. While the weather was ridiculously cold (after yesterday's glorious Springness), the overcast skies made the lighting perfect for taking pictures. Amy has some gorgeous photos up, and mine are here:

Memphis: The Sequel

In case you missed it in the comments yesterday:

via Dawn via Jim

The punk woke me up again this morning, and my new plan is to clean up our office this weekend and start stashing her in there at night. Which of course I'll feel guilty about, but at least my sleep will be in consecutive hours.

Memphis: City, Cat, Alarm Clock

Beloved Memphis, the pretty orange cat whom you've all come to know and love, is a royal pain in the ass daily, at some unpredictable time that's predictably between 4 and 7 a.m. I think the catalyst for her waking up is one of us stirring in our sleep - I become slightly conscious of her leaning on my leg but needing to move it, and as soon as there's a hint of daylight those movements seem to indicate to her that it's time to get up! And get fed! So she starts walking across the bed. That doesn't seem like a huge deal, right? Consider: At bedtime, when she's settling in, she might walk across the bed a couple of times without touching either of the humans lying in it. She'll step over legs, arms, torsos until she finds a good spot. In the morning? I swear to God every single paw touches every single human body part with each crossing. It. Is. Fucking. Annoying. If one of us then moves in her direction she takes off, only to return a few minutes later and do the same thing.

Her other M.O. is to poke one of us with her paw - in the butt, in the back, shoulder, whatever she can find. It isn't a gentle poke, either - it's as hard as a person would poke. And it. Is. Fucking. Annoying.

Sometimes I don't think she's the brightest cat, but she definitely learns. I've started locking her in the bathroom when she wakes me up at ungodly hours (anytime before 7 a.m.), but she's onto that, so the moment I sit up she hides under the bed. For a couple of days going out to the kitchen and standing beside her food bowl was enough to get her to show herself, but two days ago I actually had to OPEN the can, and yesterday I had to set her (empty) bowl on the floor before she'd even tentatively peer around the corner.

OK, so we play this little game and finally she comes out from wherever she's hiding and I put her in the bathroom. I'd like to report that at this point I go back to bed and sleep peacefully until my alarm goes off, at which point I wake up well-rested. Sadly, that isn't the case. Instead, I go back to bed and am faced with one or more of the following scenarios.

1. I accidentally haven't pulled the bathroom door shut well enough, and so with enough pawing, the door eventually unlatches and it's wake-the-people o'clock again.

2. Memphis meows (the most pathetic mewling you can imagine) and paws at the door. Which thumps. While I can sleep through the mewling and thumping, I have trouble falling asleep to it. So I lie there, listening to the mewling/thumping, considering how many ways there really are to skin a cat.

3. She is quiet in the bathroom, and I'm convinced she's dead.

4. I worry about her comfort. I've read that cats don't do things out of spite but if the bathmat is on the floor when I put Memphis in the bathroom, there will inevitably be a turd in the middle of it, less than a foot away from her clean litter box. So, I put the mat over the side of the tub, then lie awake, worrying about Her Preciousness having to lie on the floor.

I don't know how I've lived with this for 11 (no, that's not a typo, ELEVEN) years, but here we are. I've scoured the internets for any tips on how to deal with this problem, and the most common advice is to ignore the pestering, but they don't offer any information on how to deal with the resulting sleep deprivation. The vet has recommended spraying her with water or compressed air. I've tried the water and the result was me lying half-awake loosely holding a spray bottle and waving it at Memphis every time she comes back to bug me, which is every 3 minutes, or every time her tiny brain forgets that there was some reason she wasn't in there continuously pestering me.

I'm certainly not the only cat owner with this problem, nor am I the only cat owner to lie awake at 4:30 a.m. considering the benefits of goldfish as pets. I can only hope that future generations' feline companions evolve into their domesticity and ease up on those nocturnal hunting instincts a little.

Chocolate Chip Cookies and Perrier

Dear UFF Readership,

It's been a while, eh? I was sitting around tonight waiting for delivery of the Poang chair I bought from someone on Craigslist, eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking Perrier, and mentally composing this missive as I've missed you all terribly.

So much is new since we last spoke! On Saturday I had my debut performance at the Upright Citizens Brigade. I think it went well - my class was supremely amazing and I'm kind of in awe of their skills. I'm going to take 201 after my photography class (which starts next week!) is done. (I'm also trying to kick this overcommitting habit I've developed.) Speaking of activities, this morning I had the first of 16 sessions with a personal trainer named Gaby. Gaby is legit, guys. She also makes jokes about Riverdance when I'm doing high-knee kicks.

The new job is going swimmingly. We get lunch EVERY DAY, catered. It's so different from my last job, where you might wander into the kitchen at 11 a.m. on the day of a sales meeting and consider yourself lucky to find a paper-doily-lined tray with a tub of cream cheese and a few loose grapes. I've also gained 5 pounds (ref: chocolate chip cookies; Gaby).

And finally, GBNAA, while no longer Brand New, is still Awesome. We're thisclose to being unpacked (I swear!), and I'm counting down the days to late-Spring and early-Summer evenings in the backyard. The cat is a huge fan of the boyfriend (to an almost ridiculous extent - she will walk across my lap to sit on his), and I think he kind of likes her, too (except when she's waking us up at 6 a.m., which, OK, is pretty much every day).

So yeah, things are good. Sorry I haven't kept in better touch! At least with this photography course starting there will be some pretty pictures for you to look at.

Love,
Gillian

Bake This!

Or, a filler post because I'm mad booked this week.

Friday is Pi(e) Day! Get it? March 14? 3/14? 3.14? π? You with me here?

Celebrate! Bake a pie! Eat a pie! Here are a couple I made last year to celebrate (I think the banana cream will get a revival this year because it was soooo good):




Also, Easter is just around the corner, and it's never too early to start your Bunny Cake preparations. I took the time last year, sweet sweet readers, to post a full set of Bunny Cake instructions. Enjoy!

Spend: USRobotics Internet Phone

In addition to 2008 being the year of the 140s, it's also the year of Monk Mode, wherein Steve and I (especially the I part) are going to try to save lots of money.

However, monks don't need to make phone calls, and I do. And let me tell you, cell phone calls to Canada are EXPENSIVE. Last Fall I purchased a $29.95 Skype plan to Canada but stopped using it after a particularly painful call to Air Canada's customer service line in which the word "Pardon?" was used more than all other words in the conversation combined.

And so I ordered a USRobotics internet phone which arrived today. I had a brief moment of panic when I noticed the box only listed Windows compatibility, but a quick rendez-vous with Google (my other boyfriend) turned up instructions for Mac installation (the Mac USB utility for the phone is available for download from the USRobotics website). I haven't quite figured out the Skype software navigation from the phone (that or it just doesn't work very well) but since I'll be at my computer to make phone calls anyway, that functionality isn't essential. Now I can call my mom without asking her to call back every time. The only problem is I'm tethered (just like the olden days!) so I can't do the dishes while I'm talking to her... but I *can* still take my Scrabulous turns.

It even qualifies for Monk Mode, because the $30 I spent on the phone will save me much more than that even in those one-minute, call-me-back calls to Canada.

2008 Mulligan

I'm declaring a mulligan for 2008.

HBJ was OK and all, but it turned into what my special friend (tee hee) (who we'll call "Steve" before anyone starts to think that special=retarded) now refers to as TOLF: Tub O' Lard February. (I think he might have been calling me fat.) And so, inspired by Kajal's leap day post and GBNAA, I'm making some New Year's resolutions.

1. 2008 is the year of the 140s. FOR REAL, even though I hit up one of the jars as recently as today.
2. Recycle and compost. Did I mention that GBNAA has a backyard?
3. Always be taking a class. Right now it's improv, and starting next month I'm taking a photography class. Learning is fun! Especially when the homework is going to improv shows or taking pictures of Memphis.
4. Add more to the perspective series, just because I like it.
5. Get rid of half my stuff. In particular, the half I don't want, but which my friends thoughtfully loaded into and out of a moving truck on Saturday. Thanks again, guys!

Overheard on Moving Day

While my friends were loading the contents of my wardrobe, including some particularly... bright clothes, into a bag:

Doug: Hey G, I didn't know you toured with Prince!

As I pondered the sheer number of boxes full of things I own:

G: Half of this stuff I don't even want.
Sars [laden with a particularly heavy box]: How about you don't tell us that until after we've moved it?

After I walked forcefully into the trailer hitch on the UHaul:

G [to the UHaul]: Fuck you!

Right after that happened, I also kicked the UHaul in the nuts. That's right, I got in a fight with a truck. It was late. I was tired.

Whew.

With the help of six really amazing friends, we did it.

We're situated in our new apartment. It's possibly more awesome than I'd hoped.

We're also really, really tired. Updates and pictures soon!

Things I Do To Avoid Packing: Redux

Six months ago.

This morning:

7am: Wake up by mistake. Try to go back to sleep.
7:12am: Tell cat to shut up.
7:14am: Sufficiently annoyed by cat, get up to go to the bathroom.
7:19am: Reset 8am alarm for 8:20.
8:20am: Turn off alarm.
9am: Meet friend for coffee.
10:10am: Come home. Feed cat; eat yogurt.
10:33am: Frame picture.
10:45am: Take Scrabulous turns.
10:57am: Start a game of Chain Factor.
11:22am: End Chain factor at a disappointing 149,000 points. Check Scrabulous. Bingo with SEATING. Feel better about self.
11:23am: Think about stuff.
11:40am: Pack a box.

Dear Internet: Please come to my house and pack my stuff. Love, Gillian

P.S. Please also bring supplies. So far today I have eaten: yogurt & granola, a cup-a-soup, and a chocolate letter G.

The Richie Game

Both Lisa and Brianna have recently mentioned "Richie" on their blogs of late (OK, Lisa's last mention was in August, but whatever), so let me give you a little overview of the Richie Game.

The Richie Game can be played with any number of players who are approximately equally fiscally-enabled. The goal of the game is to notice when one of your friends mentions something that cost money, then call him or her "Richie." There are straightforward examples, like:
"I bought a new car yesterday."
"Richie."
The game really gets going, though, when you notice those things for which your friends are casually spending money, and working the Richie into the conversation without explicit justification.

Allow me to illustrate with a few examples.

Example 1
Greg*: The baby's crying.
Gillian: Oh, you could afford to have a baby? Richie.

Analysis: This example is somewhat crass, as the second player calls out the first player's wealth ("you could afford...").

Example 2
Greg: When I was in university...
Gillian: You went to university? Richie.

Analysis: Here we have a slightly subtler example. The wealth of those with higher educations is implied.

Example 3
Gillian: I'll pick up Swiss Chalet for dinner.
Greg: Ooh, takeout. Richie.

Analysis: This one's funny because Swiss Chalet? Cheap.

OK, got the gist of it now? Great, let's move on to defensive moves. In the Richie Game, a defense is successful if you can show that you're not really rich. In our examples, good defensive moves might look like this.

Example 1
Greg: The baby's crying.
Gillian: Oh, you could afford to a baby? Richie.
Greg: Yeah, but now I'm broke because all my money goes to the baby.

Example 2
Greg: When I was in university...
Gillian: You went to university? Richie.
Greg: It was community college. And I got a scholarship.

Example 3
Gillian: I'll pick up Swiss Chalet for dinner.
Greg: Ooh, takeout. Richie.
Gillian: Only once a month, and I have a coupon.

Now that we've established game play, you too can enjoy endless hours of entertainment playing the Richie Game. When you're finished with that, you can play Do You Know What Your Problem Is?, which can be just as fun.

I leave you with the most stellar example of Richie game play I've ever seen.

Gillian: Maury Povich was making a speech in the next room, and John, Dave and Greg offered me $60 to go kiss him.
Kate: Did you take it?
Gillian: No!
Kate: Richie.

*Not his real name.**
**OK, yes it is.

On My Mind

1. The 50mm lens I ordered from eBay this morning so that I can take pictures like this. Eventually.

2. Packing. Going to Puerto Rico this weekend to avoid packing. Packing for Puerto Rico. [Boo.]

3. Ways to start a scene in improv. This one plagues me. I love the improv class, but I have to tell you, whenever it's my turn to start a scene I break into a sweat. I have some ideas this week, including:

- Rifling through clothing racks and saying, "You know, Roberta, sometimes you can find really great deals at Goodwill."
- "Chad, thank you so much for getting us a room at the Holiday Inn Express for our tenth anniversary!"

[Chad: No offense.]
[Mike: You didn't see this, and tomorrow night my ideas are ALL NEW.]

4. Avoiding the jars of deliciousness at work.

$900 Poorer

Last Friday I went to B&H to buy the Nikon D40 kit with extra lens. I followed the DSLR breadcrumbs to the counter upstairs, put on my friendliest smile, and announced to the gentleman lucky enough to serve me that I was in the market for my first DSLR.

Me: I've done some research*, and I've narrowed it down to the Canon XTi...
B&H Guy: Excellent, excellent, that's a great camera.
Me: ...or the Nikon D40.
[insert crickets chirping here]
Me: I take it you're not a big fan of the Nikon?
B&H Guy: The Canon is an excellent camera.

And so it went, until I left 20 minutes later with a quote for the Canon (body only), a $230 lens, and a few other necessities that would total $880. I needed to sleep on it so I went home and read too many reviews (again) of the Canon and the Nikon and played a few (dozen) games of Chain Factor in between. Today after work I went back to B&H and upped my tally to a nice even $900 (they were out of the 2GB CF cards so what the heck! I bought a 4GB one).

I brought it home and let it sit in the bag for an hour while I ate dinner. Then, and I'm slightly embarrassed to admit this, I played another game of Chain Factor (my high score is over 200,000!). Moments ago I unwrapped my lovely new camera, snapped on the lens and took a couple of really crappy photos.

Next step: RTFM, and relearn everything Mr. McDonald taught me in Grade 11 Photography Class.

*The understatement of the year. I have read every article on entry-level DSLRs and most reviews of lenses in my price range. And my eyes are bleeding (probably why I can't take a decent picture tonight).

P.S. I went with the Canon because I really want a 50mm lens, and I want it to auto-focus. The cheapest Nikon body that will support that for existing Nikon lenses is the D80, and it rings up at $800. Big huge thanks, again, to everyone who emailed me and left comments with advice, especially Mike, who proved that you don't need IM or Facebook to waste a lot of time at work.

GOOD NEWS!

OK Internet, I admit it, I've been holding out on you. But holy crap do I have some good news: I am moving into what may be my absolutely perfect and ideal apartment. And so I bring you:

The UFF FAQ to Gillian's Brand New Awesome Apartment

Q: What's so great about this new apartment?
A: I would have a much easier time answering what ISN'T great about it, to which the answer would be NOTHING. But since you asked, here is a partial list of what it has:

1. A beautiful kitchen with very new appliances (including a kickass stainless steel fridge and a gorgeous gas range)
2. A private (!) backyard
3. Two bedrooms, one of which will be used as an office
4. The closet of my dreams (in fact, I didn't even know I had a dream closet until I saw this one!)
5. Laundry in the basement

Also, crazily, the current tenants not only have the same rug I have in my bedroom now, they painted the bedroom to match it. And cats are welcome, which is, as you know, a requirement.

Q: Where are these fabulous new digs, anyway?
A: I'm glad you asked! The apartment is steps away from (for real, not the fake Craigslist ad "steps away from" which is short for "steps away from the subway that will take you to") Prospect Park and Grand Army Plaza (and the Green Market!), not to mention a Crunch gym (hello HBMAMJJASOND!). There's also excellent public transportation nearby (my commute will be a very reasonable 40 minutes).

Q: Why are you leaving BP:LE? I thought it was the cat's meow!
A: It's been a good six months, but despite a few moments of harmony, Memphis and Grapple are decidedly not BFF. But that's not the main reason...

Q: Will you be living in GBNAA alone, Missy?
A: Tee hee. No. I will be sharing the apartment with my special friend. Did I mention tee hee? I'll introduce you to him soon, promise. Let's just say things are very happy, and I definitely have a Valentine this year.

Q: When are you moving?
A: March 1!

I do need to bitch for a moment about the process of applying for an apartment in NY. It SUCKS. For one, you can't really start looking for a place until a few weeks before you're ready to move, because the market moves so quickly. You have to submit a crazily huge application package, including pay stubs and income tax info, references (yes, written references), and a credit check. Your annual income needs to be at least 40x the monthly rent. Then you have to wait for a few days while you anxiously pick at your cuticles until they are all bleeding - oh, wait, that might just be me. When you finally sign the lease (a year, minimum) you usually need to pay first and last months' rent plus a security deposit (usually another month's rent). And all that is if you're lucky enough to find a place without using brokers, who are not only slimy liars (Windsor Terrace might be getting nicer, but that doesn't mean that Park Slope is "growing"), they also charge ridiculously high fees (1-3 months' rent, FOR REAL).

Anyhoo, I can start letting the skin on my fingers grow back now. Too many good times to even count.

P.S. Thanks for all the awesome comments about the cake! Did I mention that they *paid* for it? Did I also mention good times?

Taking the Cake

Side 1
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

A few weeks ago, I brought cupcakes to a friend's birthday party. Another girl there liked the cupcakes enough to recommend that I do the baking for an upcoming Indian-themed birthday party, and this cake is the result. The decorations are inspired by mendhi designs. More pics on Flickr.

(Sorry for the crap photos - I'm going to buy my new camera this week!)

Improv and Life

1. don't be nervous
2. "There are no mistakes in improv, only bad follow-throughs" (which is to say, the only way YOU can mess up is if you make somebody else look like they messed up)
3. just pay attention and be focused
4. don't feel awkward - whatever you're doing, just commit to it!
5. have SOOOO MUCCCCHHH FUN

That's the advice LaFarlow gave me when I emailed her about my improv class that starts tonight. Seems applicable.

Ridiculous

It is completely ridiculous when I unsubscribe to some annoying spam service (ZDNet and Classmates.com, I'm looking at you) and I get a message along the lines of: "Please allow up to 10 days for changes to your subscriptions to take effect." Seriously, if there's really a TECHNICAL reason that it takes that long, your service is not one that I want to be using anyway.

Advice for the Unemployed

I quite enjoyed my week of unemployment and would like to impart some words of advice to you, dear UFF reader, that might come in handy should you ever find yourself in the glorious predicament of having some amount of time on the pogey, as they say. If I had it to do again, and believe me, I will, because unemployment is really awesome versus working, I'd take at least 3 weeks off.

Week 1 I would spend vising my family/friends (like I did last week).

Week 2, I'd take an intensive class of some sort. For example, the Culinary Institute of America has these 4- and 5-day Boot Camps at their Hyde Park campus and I'd be really into any of them. Scratch that, all of them. (Prospective sugar daddies, please leave me a note in the comments.)

Week 3 I'd get my life together. I got home late last night from watching the best Super Bowl I've ever seen (go Giants!) and then had to do laundry for my first day at scho^H^H^H^Hwork! Oops. I haven't even unpacked from my trip to Canadia last week, and I have a bunch of administrivia that it would be oh-so-nice to get done, like getting a NY driver's license (yes, it has been 8 years, and yes, I still have the Ontario one).

However, I only took a week, and today I started my Brand New Job, which is going to be really great (even though it does cut into my ability to take Scrabulous turns). Happily though, my improv class starts on Wednesday night! Start collecting those rotten tomatoes; the end-of-class show is on March 29 at 1 p.m., and you're invited.

Canadianisms, Part the Fifth

On my recent voyage to Canadia, a few more Canadianisms occurred to me.

1. Shortening of "afternoon" to "aft," as in, "There's supposed to be a snowstorm this aft." I even heard a radio dude do it!

2. Getting in "heck" as the equivalent of getting in "trouble": "If I don't get the car home before the snowstorm this aft, I'm going go to get in heck." It's very wholesome, which makes me wonder if it might also be a Midwestern US expression. Anyone?

3. The Ceasar, a cocktail similar to a Bloody Mary but made with Clamato which is popular in Canada - in fact, according to Wikipedia, it's "popularly known as the 'official cocktail' of Canada." It's also quite delicious, and I highly recommend that my American readers mix one up. Usage: "If that kid doesn't get the car home before the snowstorm this aft, he is going to be in a lot of heck. Will you mix me a Ceasar?"

I'm back in the US of A, celebrating my final day of unemployment with a hangover. I bid farewell to HBJ with a few (OK, 4) glasses of red wine and I'm now welcoming HBF and, inspired by Deniser, I'm making 2008 the Year of the 140s. I haven't seen the 140s probably since high school, so it's going to be some good times.

Unemployment: The Budget

Yesterday I figured that even someone who's unemployed needs to do her part for the economy, so I went to a mall. [On my way out of the mall I stopped at Orange Julius and had an old-school Strawberry Julius, which I vaguely regretted when I saw that it contains powdered sugar and dairy creamer (Wikipedia).] As I mentioned earlier, I was in the market for a purse, and had some crazy idea in my head that I'd buy a handbag, even though I somehow made it to age 33 without owning much more than a backpack and a tote bag. I went into Roots and wandered over to the bag section, not even sure where to start. One of the salesgirls came over to ask if she could help, and I confessed that I've never owned a purse. She looked me over and said, "Where do you put your stuff?" I pointed to my coat, out of which my wallet and cell phone were practically hanging with a giant arrow covered in sparkly dollar signs and "ROB ME" Bedazzled across the pocket. She suggested that if I wasn't used to carrying a purse (check!) that I might leave a handbag somewhere, and handed me one of the Roots flat bags. I LOVE IT! My wallet fits perfectly in that zipper pocket on the right, and my cell phone and camera in the pocket on the left.

Speaking of cameras, I'm in the market for a DSLR. Thanks to excellent recommendations from Amy and Elizabeth, I've narrowed it down to three choices:

Nikon D40
Canon Digital Rebel XTi
Olympus Evolt E510

The Nikon is highly recommended by everyone I know who has one, and was initially my first choice. However, the price of the Canon has dropped fairly significantly since I first started looking about a year ago, and I do love my current Canon point-and-shoot. The Olympus package is a bit more expensive, but it comes with 2 lenses and was recently rated Wired magazine's top choice for DSLR. Help! I'm pretty sure the next step is to go to a store and try out all three, but that process interferes with my general impatience now that I've decided to spend the money.

Unemployment: Day 3 continues with the happy surprise that Sirrah!'s first appointment of the day was canceled and she's back home, which means we will probably continue our Beverly Hills, 90210 marathon (we've watched about half a dozen episodes since I got here) with more of Kelly's eating disorder from Season 3. Good times, people. Good times.

Unemployment: Day 2

Well, it's after 10:30 a.m. and my accomplishments so far today include consumption of yogurt, granola and coffee, completion of half of the Post's "Canadian Crisscross" crossword puzzle, and petting a big brown dog.

Last night as I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of wine and reading the paper, Greg whispered loudly: "Uh, Sara, how long is your UNEMPLOYED friend going to be staying with us?" Heh.

I'm off to inject my weak American currency into the Canadian economy - will hopefully return with a new leather purse of some sort.

Unemployment!

For no particular reason I haven't blogged about this yet, but today I am enjoying my first of five days of unemployment before I start a Brand New Job on February 4. (My friend Larry suggested that starting a BNJ the day after the Super Bowl probably isn't a great idea, and he's right, but I didn't think of that at the time.) Right now I'm in Canada visiting the folks and Sirrah's family. We've enjoyed two fabulous brunches, at the Black Forest Inn and Langdon Hall (both recommended if you're in the area), and today has mostly involved playing with babies and dogs and trudging around in the snow. I expect tomorrow and Wednesday to be more of the same, and Wednesday evening I have a Very Important Date with not one but two of my absolute favourite people in the WHOLE WORLD. It's going to be good times.

At one point this morning I was surfing the internets and eating BBQ Fritos (I know, not exactly HBJ-friendly) and I thought, this is how unemployment should be. I highly recommend it.

Familiar

Monday's Daily Candy featured a picture so familiar that I did a double-take. It's from a site called Jacaranda, an online boutique that sells "sustainable, handmade items from Mexico and Central and South America." I meant to post the picture, at left, when I first got the email and Kajal reminded me about it today. The resemblance to my pictures of Memphis (below) is uncanny.

For the record, that fabric is ridiculously expensive - 2m x 2m costs $265! My duvet cover, on the other hand? I originally paid $19.99 at Ikea (with pillow shams!), and recently bought a replacement (after an unfortunate laundry incident involving a red rug and poor judgment) on eBay for $24.99 + shipping.

Comfort Food

Snack
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

On Friday I started a loaf of the Almost No-Knead Bread from February's Cook's Illustrated and baked it on Saturday afternoon This recipe adds beer and vinegar as well as a few kneads of the loaf. The crust and texture are both as wonderful as the original, and the flavour is deeper and more complex.

The recipe rightly suggests that the bread is best on the day it's baked, but toasted with Nutella a couple of days later it's still quite delicious.

Bargain Hunting

A few weeks ago my roommate, who moonlights at West Elm, texted me to tell me about a big sale happening at the store. I happened by later that day and was quite enamoured by the big, soft throw-pillows that they were practically giving away for free. I picked up one of the Bamboo Cotton Pillow Covers, in Cinnabar, of course, and found a matching pillow form in the 75% off floor section, so the whole thing cost around $10. I pretty much cannot describe how much I love this pillow. It is big and soft and cuddly, and if I thought they wouldn't look ridiculous I would buy 3 more. (Also, I can't believe these are still available and for SO CHEAP, so if you're in the market for the best pillow ever, I highly recommend clicking on over.)

[Aside: I have to confess that I LOVE extra pillows. I love finding ones that match even though they're not from the same place, and I extra-love finding them when they're on sale. The other two in this picture are from Anthropologie, both purchased on sale. The one at the back was also seen on Six Feet Under in Claire's room, which of course validates my taste.]

The other awesome deal I found recently was at Victoria's Secret. I was in SoHo and wandered in to their store there, then remembered that my absolute favourite lipgloss is from VS. It's their own Beauty Rush brand and the colour I love is called "Oatstanding" - in the tube it looks ridiculously red and sparkly but on lips it gives just a hint of colour. It also tastes like oatmeal cookies. I found a bin with a few tubes of it left, and they were marked $7 each or two for $10 - being the good consumer I am, I decided to pick up a couple (spend more to save more, right?). The salesgirl scanned them and said, "$3.79, please." I said, "What?" She repeated the amount: $3.79.

I AM TOTALLY SERIOUS! Somehow these babies were on sale for $1.75 each. I felt like I won the lottery.

Finally, on my way home from the gym today, I stopped by Barnes & Noble and spent a few minutes browsing their post-holiday sale section. I found the Christmas Tree In-A-Box that was featured on Popgadget back in December for 75% off, and with my Barnes & Noble card (an additional 10% off), I paid a whole $3.37 for it. I also found a few other cool and similiarly-discounted Christmas craft kits, which I'll tuck away for next year's Secret Santas and stockings.

I'm pretty convinced at this point that January is the best shopping month. As Bri says, "it's not a sale until it's at least 50% off" - retailers, take note. (Shoppers, too - the J. Crew online sale is an extra 20% off, but just until tomorrow.)

Sign of the Times

Yesterday when I walked past the local deli, one of the regular pandhandlers, who's in a wheelchair, was out front, holding a cup for money. He seemed to be resting his head in his hand. When I passed, however, I saw what was really going on: He was talking on a cell phone.

Good Problem to Have

Today Mark Morford writes:

Just how the hell did it come to pass and which planets finally aligned and what sort of Kool-Aid has been gulped by the universe that the two white-hot Dem frontrunners, the two brightest lights on the political spectrum for the 2008 presidential election also just so happen to be members of the two most controversial/least represented groups in modern uber-white ultra-patriarchal American snake-oil politics — which is to say, a smart, savvy woman and a smart, savvy black male?

link

Living in the Northeast

Not Photoshopped

Contrast
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Top: Memphis, who you all know and love.
Bottom: Grapple, arguably Memphis' arch-nemesis.

Since we moved into BP:LE, Memphis and Grapple have "tolerated" each other, if by "tolerate" you mean "studiously ignore each other for 22 hours/day and spend the other two, preferably when the humans are sleeping, being generally pissy to each other and erupting in loud hissy (albeit harmless) scraps". (For the record: Memphis is usually the instigator.) Grap's cat-mom (aka my roommate) has been away since the beginning of the month and I've been gradually encouraging the two of them to be in the same vicinity so that they can both have pets and such.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, Memphis was sleeping on my bed and Grap came in the room. He hopped up on the bed and I expected the fur to fly, but Memphy barely opened an eye. I'm just glad my camera was handy, because I really love this picture.

Why I'm Weird

Kajal recently blogged that she likes being touched, for example, being frisked at the airport. While I knew that I like being touched (as many of you know, I'm particularly fond of hugs - the real ones with chest-on-chest action, none of that lean-in nonsense), it hadn't even occurred to me that I like being frisked at the airport, but I totally do!

Anyway, I mentioned this to Bri who asked me if that's the weirdest thing about me (that I could think of at that exact moment). I thought for a second and came up with something that's probably weirder and definitely grosser: I like blowing my nose (or sneezing) in the shower.

Internet? What's the weirdest/grossest thing YOU like?

HBJ Update

We at UFF are 7 days into HBJ and things are going swimmingly. I've been to the gym several times (OK, three times, but twice to cycling classes which are like super-concentrated hotbody). I've studiously avoided alcohol, eaten only the healthiest of foods (except maybe at Bri's birthday dinner, which involved copious amounts of cheese) and not eaten any sweets of any kind (we'll pretend I wrote this BEFORE I was seduced by the sweet sweet siren call of a jar of Nutella).

Anyway, I'm down 2.5 lbs as of this morning. Hooray!

HBJ: Day 1

HBJ is on. Tonight I turned down cream puffs and bourbon.

Remember kids, just say no:

(Although, that extra layer of blubber is kind of handy when the HIGH tomorrow is going to be 24°F/-4°C. It's freakin' freezing here. As Sunny would say, that's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.)