Granny Stance is Making a Spectacle

This Week on California Street 1/5/2012

2012-01-06T21:52:00.002-05:00

Megan is biting my old style.

And I got a shot of healing power from my favorite Brand Strategist/herbalist. Marshmallow root for the mucus membranes, y'all. It soothes!

gimme all your lovin'

2011-11-27T01:57:00.008-05:00

(This is totally a rambling-confession-style blog post. If you're here for some of my wit, come back later.)

It was a lovely day, nearly 70 degrees and sunny. Rare enough for SF and some lovely friends sent texts to the effect that we simply HAD to go out. But, it's been a while since I spent a whole day at home reading, so for today, I refused to venture out into the sunshiney California paradise.

And, I mean, sure, I've read plenty of books on planes in the past few months, but a day spent reading at home is the best thing ever. Home has kittys curled up and purring. Home has a kitchen (no, I didn't cook, but the kitchen is where I keep my ice cream). Of course, I stretched the boundaries of my home a little today. I wandered as far as four blocks north this morning and read at a restaurant while eating breakfast; several hours later I managed to cross the street for a salad and two PBRs that I was able to portion into tiny little sips that lasted long enough to justify finishing the novel at Radish instead of interrupting myself mid-read to re-cross the street. And we wonder why I am low on cash.

(Tangent: I name-drop Radish because, even though I never considered the word this way before, now that it's the name of a restaurant in the Mission I think of "radish" as a hipster term for something that is not quite all the way rad, but still kind of approximately rad. Which is kind of perfect for that place.)

Anyway, gorgeous day. I read Margaret Atwood's The Edible Woman, even though I totally just bought 1Q84. Murakami's more than a single day's worth of reading and will probably be traveling east with me next month. But on the other hand, I'm not sure that I'm going to really heft it all the way back east, really. Because...well, because, I've decided I'm just going to start publicly owning my massive romance novel habit.

My mom knows all about it, of course. In fact, she shushes me if I mention one that I got from her. Because, what? Because of how often we've been told that reading books by women for women about women's escapist fantasies is shameful somehow. Yeah, by society, but also (WARNING, gasp! I'm about to talk about my childhood, with blame and finger pointing:) my dad used to really insult her for reading them (and by extension, insult me for reading them, but I was like, 8*, and hiding them pretty well at that point, I think, but I remember the gist of what he said about women who read that filth). He would say she was wasting her time, she was reading trash, blah blah, she should read something that made her a better person instead of reading whatever frivolous waste of ink she was reading.

My dad used to read a whole lot of Louis L'Amour, by the way. (Maybe he still does?)

Feel free to spend a minute here laughing at his deliciously obvious lack of self-awareness. Interestingly, though, I only just noticed it. Yeah, I'm going to blame (society) (gender stereotypes) (small town small mindedness) (lack of education) (whatever, this is boring) for the fact that "men's romance," or Westerns in this case, get some respect and the ones I want to read get a bunch of scorn. Oh, I know, there's plenty of romance novels out there that deserve scorn. I've read a lot of them. But I've also read some pretty okay ones that made me really happy.

Which brings us to here and now, and me owning my guilty little pleasure and admitting I need a little help, I guess, finding more romance novels I'll like. It's too random to count on the luck of the bookstore draw, although I did accidentally stumbled into Diana Gabaldon's An Echo in the Bone the day I quit working at JWT. I bought it because it was thick and I had a lot of free time to kill. And I fell in love with it. I read the whole series in a matter of a few months and sometimes now I'll randomly catch myself missing the characters.

Where do I find more decent romance novels? I just read this awesome article about Nora Roberts and I think I'm totally going to start seeking out some of her books. From the Guardian:

...she's doing a signing and answering questions...What does she find helps keep her going when she's writing? "Alcoholic beverages." Does she tweet? "I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a flaming stick." What does she think of the recent news story claiming that romantic fiction gives women unrealistic expectations? "Because women aren't supposed to have expectations, right? We're pretty smart. I think we know the difference between reality and fiction. I don't think that people read Agatha Christie, and then think: I know, I'll go and murder someone."

She sounds like my kind of lady. I found the link to that article on a blog I just started reading called Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, which also sounds like my kind of ladies.

In other news, I have to sleep now so I can go poke around and gawk at big ol' redwoods tomorrow.

This blog post has been brought to you by stream-of-consciousness, fatigue, and the number 6**.

* I was probably 8. I have a memory of looking up the word "libido" in the dictionary, and this memory is set at the elementary school I went to for Kindergarten through second grade. Around this same time, I believed "temples" were some sexual part of the body because frustrated heroines were always going off alone and "rubbing their temples" and thinking about the jerky dude who was only being a jerk because of how into her he was. Anyway. I knew what "libido" meant before I understood which body parts were considered sexual, if that explains anything at all about me.

**"The number 6" being more of an Edible Woman reference than a Sesame Street joke, even though I hope by now to have gotten my unfortunate blog readers so helplessly lost in their own reminisces about their own childhood beliefs and misconceptions about sexuality that any dirty thoughts they ever had about Sesame Street will now be shared with me, either publicly or privately, for my own amusement.

Severe Bi-Coastal Disorder

2011-11-18T15:31:00.004-05:00

Last night I dreamed (so did you, i bet).

Last night I dreamed I was moving into Red Zero. Lots of the old people were still living there, and there were lots of new people, too. Chief was moving into a new room, so I was taking his old one. It was supposed to be the same room that P. and Steph lived in (the second one), only it looked different in my dream, of course. Also, there were spiral stairs with a slide where the real stairs should have been. Alan lived there, too, but I didn't see him, I just knew he lived there. And Dave was there, but not really stoked that I was moving in. Scott was, of course, offering to help me move stuff in.

Even the yucky bathrooms put in a cameo appearance.

I was moving with my two cats, one of which was Gracie, who got stuck on the spiral stair-slide and earned us all a disapproving look from D.Mo, and the other was a Disco/Lyle combo that was fat and fluffy and confident and didn't even really need me to help her/him settle in.

But, the kicker is that, in my dream, I was also keeping my job in San Francisco, because that's how I do.

It made perfect dream-sense that I'd be a bi-coastal commuter, and spend my weekends tending the garden in the back of dream-land Red Zero and taking my turn in the kitchen on potluck night. I woke up wishing I could make that happen. Who knows? Maybe I'll figure it out.

Anyway. Dreams are boring if they aren't yours, so here's a picture of that one time that I moved back to Richmond:

I'm hideous; you all are gorgeous.

2011-10-04T20:18:00.003-04:00

I'll say this about the west coast. A lot of y'all will drop by out here. That's just the absolute best. I've got an all-star list of folks I've seen in the past couple of months, and some of them were unplanned spottings. For example: I went to lunch one day the other week and nearly ran right into Bruce and Molly. And, even though Andrew Deutsch and I had planned to meet up for some yummy dinner (Mission Chinese, fools, it's good, put it in your mouth!) one night while he was on the wrong coast, a few days later I was late for work and ran into him again on the street. Nice. Who else have I seen out here? Tom Sullivan, Alan Seigler, Sherrie Edwards, Bob Kaputof, Trevere Thomas, Brian Leo...uh, I shouldn't have starting rambling on about names because now my mind has gone empty. Let's blame that on the steroids.

What steroids? Who's writing insane run-on paragraphs with barely any transitions? Funny you should ask.

This past weekend while I was suffering a serious face malfunction more commonly know as a sinus infection, I had the pleasure of hanging out with the fine folk behind the Travelogue Appreciation Society. Ramming and (another!) Molly are in their third month of vagabond awesome adventures and even though I'm a health hazard, I managed to meet them out at Hobson's Choice Punch House --and enjoy a half-used bowl of punch we acquired after some less thrifty co-consumers wandered out of the establishment--shortly after they arrived (which was right after I left Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. More on that in a moment.) Naturally, that led to late night Mission burritos at Taqueria Cancun.

They got a sweet parking spot for their truck right in front of my house, so I got to play a weird sort of Mission Lodge role where I invited them in for internets and launderies, but they slept outside. I managed to hit Brunch Drunk Love at Bruno's with them on Sunday before I admitted defeat and went home to sleep and wish them well enjoying SF without me. Hope they had fun, it sure was nice to see them.

Ok, back to Hardly Strictly. I wanted to see so much of it, but I only heard some of it. I heard Merle Haggard and Kris Kristofferson while sitting on a blanket with Charity and the other Nancy under some trees off the beaten path at Golden Gate Park. We made friends with a European dad who was hanging with his kids, letting them climb tiny trees while we shared a beverage with him. (The forget-me-nots were collected by his daughter, who made a number of nice little bouquets while we were there.) Later, we transplanted our little camp over to another little hill to listen to and not see Gillian Welch and Steve Earle. It was good times. I wish I'd seen more acts, but if that's my only complaint about a free festival, then I think we're all doing ok out here on the west coast.

Especially now that I'm all 'roided up.
I think I have to go walk really fast up a very steep hill now.

13 States* in 10 Days, or How I Remembered to Just Drive and Relax Again, For Crying Out Loud

2011-09-06T01:05:00.003-04:00

I'm back in SF, safe and sound and suffering from what my doctor calls "non-allergic rhinitis," which I think means that he thinks I'm crazy, but in the end we can all agree I'm sneezing and involuntarily weeping and my nose is training to run a marathon. WebMD writers patiently suggest that these things can be provoked by excessive travel, especially by air, so I think it's totally worth it and I truly hope I can fall asleep tonight even if I am hopped up on all this drug-store-brand-speed.

13 States* = should I count DC as a state? and should I count landing in VA as a State I traveled to? I decided to answer both of those questions "Maybe" and count them both as half states. So, in the past 10 days: Virginia, the District of Columbia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Oregon, California.

I'm in love with Portland, in one of those "I want to go on long strolls through dark neighborhoods with well-lit porches, content in the cool evening air" sort of ways.

I have much and more to relate about the great times I had all over the country, but for now my brother Daniel is curling up in an Army sleeping bag that I got from eBay that he's explained to me how to pack better. Disco is curled up at his feet and as much as she loves me, she loves male people even more. It's night night time and I'm going to sleep the sleep of a weary and happy traveler.

xoxo,
n.

Update on The Adventure

2011-08-22T19:01:00.004-04:00

Ladies and Gentleman, I am pleased to announce that I have officially decided not to drive from Salt Lake City to San Francisco next week. Instead, I'm flying to Portland to visit Sherrie. Please prepare yourselves to be inundated with photos of us having fun together that will have surely been staged for optimal hot-looking-ness in the middle of a "let's make them miss us" conversation. Exhibit A: Sherrie at Big Sur, March 2011:

On the other hand, I've got a Things To Do and See List about a mile long for that town, so let's hope I remember to take some pictures. Perhaps this picture of us at the Hearst Castle is going to have to tide you over for a while because we'll be having so much fun that we forget to document it.

I suppose that all we can do now is wait and see. Meanwhile: I'M GOING ON VACATION NEXT WEEK OMG, I CAN'T WAIT TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS ABOUT IT.

Life Moves Pretty Fast

2011-08-22T17:25:00.003-04:00

The longer I go without updating, the harder it gets to even think about blogging. There are stories I haven't told you! So many stories, how do I pick just one?

I guess I'll just jump in...here:

One of the most remarkable things from the past week was a whirlwind visit with Kara S., whom some of you may remember from such stories as That Time I Went To Greece and Lost Both My Temper and My Lunch or the more boring Long Nights and Bleary Eyes at 3rd Street Diner. Kara's been living in Chicago for the past X years (please, Lord, don't count them) and has visited me in both NYC and SF, so it's pretty much looking like I owe her a visit in the Windy City at this point. She and her man friend arrived on a late flight last Thursday and were setting out to Nevada City the next day, so I disregarded my geriatric-lifestyle-approved-bedtime and dragged them out for some late night food and drinks at to Taqueria Cancun and Benders. Next time I see her, I'll have to be less sleepy so I can do a better job of provoking that famous Kara giggle.

Anyway, the tacos were 2nd Dinner, because Thursday nights I have a standing date at Cafe Gratitude with Liz, Kelly and Megan. Cafe Gratitude is so very California (even worse, it's so very Berkeley), and it's growing on me. (Please, send help!) It's mostly a raw vegan restaurant with a few cooked dishes. Part of their deal is that the dishes have hippie-dippy names like "I am Fulfilled," "I am Rejuvenated" or "I am Whole" (those are my three favorites, by the way), and then when the server brings the food they say "You are Fulfilled" or whatever. When you order wine -- which, hello, it's ladies who work in advertising, we order it by the bottle -- the server says "You are Spirited." You can say that again, you tip-pooling communists!

They also have a question of the day every day and I used to grumble and wave them off, but now that I've started to lose the top layer of my east coast crustiness, I allow them to ask the question even if I do still refuse to answer unless I have an appropriately inappropriate or flippant answer. You could probably guess the questions, they're all like "what do you love about yourself?" and "what's your loving wish for the world?" And of course they also have communal seating. The first time I ever went there I swear to Ronnie James Dio that I was sitting next to these chicks who were comforting their one friend whose life was an absolute mess. Like, I'm surprised this woman is successful at arranging food and shelter for herself. Anyway, it seems that in addition to everything going wrong for her always, she was particularly upset that night because she wasn't really getting very many clients in her business as A PROFESSIONAL LIFE COACH. My word, these people.

And so, in conclusion, since the server at Cafe Gratitude asked, here's my loving wish for the world today:
May your life be as warm and comfortable as this picture of Disco looks.

Three things you'll see in Dolores Park that you'll never see in McCarren Park

2011-08-13T23:53:00.001-04:00

1. Drum Circles
2. Ganja treats guy
3. How do you pluralize "penis," anyway?

That's just what I get for kicking so much ass.

2011-08-03T13:51:00.004-04:00

I call this one Composition 2: Office Desk With Baby Carrots, but it's more commonly referred to in the blog-reading public as Sorry About My Potty Mouth, Mom.

The doctor said a lot of things to me today, but only two of the things really stick in my mind. One preposterous thing and one awesome thing. The preposterous thing she said is NO EXERCISING, and this includes the little Restorative Yoga I've been doing so as to try to prevent myself from going crazy and yelling at people (more than I already do on the average day). The awesome thing she said is that for the next two weeks I only have to wear the boot when I'm commuting.

(All y'all suburban haterz with minivans [I'm just jealous] need to recognize that I commute on foot, which means I walk a half a mile straight uphill [only a slight exaggeration], I'm bobbing and weaving around little old Chinese ladies and weeble-wobble tourists, I'm limping and hopping and lop-sided swagging and still getting really frustrated about how slowly everyone walks around here. So, yeah, pedestrian rage + steep hill + me + recovering foot = wear the boot when you commute. It has a rhyming motto, does your doctor's advice have a rhyming motto? I didn't think so.)

I still have to wear the stupid compression sock at all times except sleepy time until my next appointment, and I still have to strap on the old bone stimulator at least once a day, and I still have to wear sturdy shoes when I'm walking around in the office, but starting tomorrow I'm going to finally start working on recovering my normal walk again.

There are people in California who've never even seen my normal walk. Can you just imagine how amazed they are going to be?

Baby We Were Born to Run

2011-08-02T15:39:00.004-04:00

As many times as I've driven up and down Interstate 95, or back and forth between Texas and Virginia, I've never driven all the way across the country.

Now that's about to change.

In a few weeks I'll be flying out to DC to meet up with my Mom, who's getting ready to serve an eighteen month mission in Salt Lake City. She needs to have her car with her while she's there, so we'll be driving together from DC to Utah. After I drop her off, I figure, what they hey? I'll just rent a car and drive the rest of the way home to San Francisco.

(ATTN: DC friends: party on 8/27. With my mom, but still, a party's a party.)

Here are things I need, if anybody still reads this blog and has advice, suggestions, or an overwhelming urge to bake us some cookies for the trip :)

- a passenger from SLC to SF (this is a "nice to have" not a mandatory). I think I can peer pressure Liz into this, unless we spend all of our money planning to go to Palm Springs in October.
- A cooler full of vegan snacks.
- Tips on where to stay between SLC and SF. So far, someone has suggested that Truckee is cute, especially the Old Town part, and I could wander around Tahoe enjoying the view before driving again.
- I hear there are good vegan restaurants in Sacramento. True/False?
- Hotel/vegan food tips in Cheyenne. For some reason, I'm obsessed with Cheyenne right now.
- Audio book advice. I think I'm going to download The Hunger Games. What else?
- iPhone to stereo connector contraption. (What's good? Still googling about that one.)
- Tips/suggestions on sights we should not miss along this route.

F 8/26
Flight: SF to DC

S 8/27
Spend Day in DC with Family & Friends (maybe see Joanie!)
Going Away party for Mom

S 8/28
Washington DC to Indianapolis, IN (9 hours 58 minutes)

M 8/29
Indianapolis, IN to Nauvoo, IL (5 hours 48 minutes)
Nauvoo, IL to Des Moines IA (3 hours 30 minutes)

T 8/30
Des Moines IA to Cheyenne WY (9 hours 49 minutes)

W 8/31
Cheyenne WY to Salt Lake City UT (6 hours 53 minutes)
Plan to arrive in time to have dinner with Daniel

(Also, I hope I can take off this boot. Is my foot done being broken yet? Geez.)

Things We Hate About Clawfoot Tubs

2011-07-01T13:30:00.003-04:00

1. When you (yes I mean me, damn your proofreading eyes) drop a little sample sized container of expensive face scrub off the windowsill and it bounces, ricochets, rolls or whatever it does/did, as far as it can go under the tub and you have to get all the way down flat on the bathroom floor with your broken foot and reach, stretch, almost grab it, accidentally push it just out of reach, ow, stretch further, got it, ugh, drag it back out all covered with a slightly damp combination of cat hair, roommate hair, your own hair and dust. (Just like the entire length of your own arm!)

2. The fact that it is nearly impossible to ever really clean under it, or in that space between it and the three walls that hug it ever so closely.

3. Instead of one shower curtain, there are four of those jerks that are constantly touching you and sticking to you and trying to wrap themselves around each and every one of your limbs as you awkwardly try to shave your legs without putting any weight at all on that one troublesome foot.

4. Clawfoot tubs are total snob-bait.

5. Nobody makes those corner shower caddies I like so much for clawfoot tubs, because there aren't any stupid corners on stupid clawfoot tubs.

Disclaimer: I actually really like clawfoot tubs.

Actually, Screw You Guys. Here's the Top Ten Things I Love About SF

2011-06-29T17:11:00.003-04:00

1. Brian Wilson's Beard.
2. Miner Bro Beards
3. It's always scarf season. *
4. Fresh produce.
5. Flowers.
6. Riding my new bicycle on all the dope bike lanes. **
7. Rainbow Grocery.
8. Out of town visitors who want to catch up while they're here.
9. Family dinners at ABS Unlimited. (Thanks for cooking Armando!)
10. The fact that I will never be the oldest chick in the room trying to pull off pigtails and glitter.

* Perpetual autumn also appears on my list of Things I Hate About San Francisco.

** Except for when I'm wearing a foot cast, or haven't got the right bike pump yet.

And Where Would That Be Anyway?

2011-06-29T16:19:00.003-04:00

Some of you might recall one of my favorite posts on the topic of home (not the band Home, did I ever make a post about them?), so maybe you'll giggle at me when I confess that this past weekend I was brushing my teeth in the apartment where I currently reside when I caught myself thinking, "I wish I could go home."

Oh, god, how I wish I could go home.

I just really have to buckle down and figure out where home is, first, so that I can then proceed to go there.

Now I have to decide which of my two ongoing lists I want to share with you all. Maybe both?

One list is short, it's the list of stuff I desperately miss having in my life.
(I don't use the word "desperately" lightly. I'm desperate over here, people.)

The other list gets longer every day.
It's the list of things I hate about San Francisco.

My hesitation to share has four main elements:
1 - My certainty that sharing will cause Keith will send me a terse email that says "I read your blog Sis. You sound sad as hell. Cheer the eff up."
2 - My ongoing fear that people I love will waste time worrying about me. Please, if you love me, never worry about me b/c that just stresses me out.
3 - The seeming inability of people (not you, of course) to realize that the fact that I hate a million things about SF doesn't preclude the possibility that there are also several, or possibly even many*, things that I actually quite like about it.
4 - The tendency of San Franciscans to stop listening and start insulting me the second they suspect that I might be about to imply that this is not the most wonderful and perfect place in all of known existence.**

*I stole that joke from the dude I went on a date with last night. I also let him pay the tab, which is actually kind of major for me.

** Point 4 of my hesitation to share list is actually also Entry 1 in my Things I Hate about San Francisco list. Stay tuned for it, I can almost guarantee that it will cause you to either laugh or worry or ask me if I'm sad or raise your voice at me about how wrong I am about everything that ever was or ever will be. (Appropriate responses included laughing, contributing, or sending me flowers.)

Workplace Exchange

2011-04-22T18:11:00.002-04:00

Picture me, sitting at my desk with my back to the door.
I was reading Mashable, if you must know.

I sense rather than hear that someone has entered my office, so I look up as CC is creeping up to scare me.

CC: Oh, I was going to scare you.

Me: I don't enjoyed being scared, FYI.

CC: Yeah, me either.

Me: I mean, I don't watch horror movies or war documentaries or films with too much suspense, it doesn't feel good.

CC: Really, what do you watch?

Me: Romantic comedies, mostly. Except for the ones that contain scenes where one character snoops through the other's stuff, that sh*t stresses me out.

CC: (laughs a little) What's wrong with you?

Me: I have overactive empathy.

CC: How do you even survive being in this world?

Me: I'm vegan.

CC: God this conversation sounds like movie dialogue.

(pause)

CC: Does being vegan even help?

Me: Yeah, but you have to remember to take your B12.

CC: What's up with all these bullfighting pictures?

Me: (wanders out of the room)

Is this thing on?

2011-04-14T23:31:00.003-04:00

Ok, I'm back. Phew. And with my URL business all cleaned up!

Today, my throat was sore so I skipped work and slept all day. Now it's 8:30pm and I'm feeling a bit better. Also, I'm drinking coffee, because that's what I do when I wake up. Be sure to keep this little incident in mind next time someone (me) tries to tell you I'm smart.

Yesterday I went and had a dinner with some vegetarian folks after work because my roommate Jo was giving a talk after the dinner. Jo has a book out called Move the Message that teaches activists about creating powerful and persuasive messages to create change, and so her talk was about that, but on a more personal level. Her talk "Move the Change" was about how sometimes we think we want to change ourselves, but can't, so what do we do?

Well, if you really want to know what she says in her words, I'm sure you could hire her to speak at an event. But, for me, the main takeaway is that change doesn't come until we're truly ready for it. And we don't always recognize the reasons we're not ready yet. But when we're ready to make the changes we want, they'll come more easily. In the meantime, we should honor where we are now and keep having fun.

I guess, to turn this little anecdote into a more personal story for you, my readers who have probably given up on my blog several times over, I'll tell you how I feel about San Francisco.

SF hasn't done anything wrong to me, but it's not my home. I've been emotionally zig-zagging between petulance that this is not Greenpoint, Brooklyn or Richmond, Virginia and self-chastising for not getting out there and discovering the things that will surely make me love this town.

I've been reading, rather than going out and making friends. I've been limping around and gaining a pound or two, rather than going to a pool to get some low-impact exercise. I've been sleeping perhaps more than I should. I've been tasting food and thinking, "there's a place that does this better in New York." I've been leaving my bed unmade.

Well, you know what? For all that, I'm not new at this. I don't not know what I'm doing. I move a lot. I know it takes time. I know that every new town turns me into a different person, even if there is a thread of constancy deep down that we all think of as Nancy Strange. I think that even while part of me keeps saying "hurry up and learn to belong in San Francisco" another part of me really loves and cherishes who I was before I got here. It's hard to let that go. But, in time, it'll just happen.

Hmpf. I got all touchy feely there for a second. Little bit of California rubbing off on me?

In parting, I'll leave you with a moment of cuteness. Jo's fostering some motherless kittens right now. Amazingly, Disco and Gracie have kept their curiosity pretty much within the perimeter of my room, as if they know they should show respectful concern and not venture too close to kitten headquarters.

Here's a bad phone-video of the little squeakers for you to enjoy:

Thought of the Day: Be Good to Yourself

2011-03-03T15:05:00.002-05:00

The words of David Foster Wallace, via Jezebel, via David Lipsky:

If you can think of times in your life that you've treated people with extraordinary decency and love, and pure uninterested concern, just because they were valuable as human beings. The ability to do that with ourselves. To treat ourselves the way we would treat a really good, precious friend. Or a tiny child of ours that we absolutely loved more than life itself. And I think it's probably possible to achieve that. I think part of the job we're here for is to learn how to do it.

On the top of the world

2011-02-14T01:51:00.002-05:00

Being scared of heights is totally weird. I always knew I was on solid ground, always several feet away from anything that might be considered an edge, but still, I kept catching views out of the corner of my eye that made my stomach lurch.

This picture below is low quality (camera phone!), so you can't tell that fog is covering all but the very top of the Golden Gate Bridge in the very far distance. But trust me, that's what this is a picture of.
There was one spot where I could see a girl standing with a kite, and it looked just like she was at the very end of the world, or flying over the city below, and I couldn't even take a picture because just looking at her for a few seconds made me have to find a bench and sit down for a few minutes. Here's the view from that bench. That's a bay view, looking east, for those of you who are keeping score.
I loved seeing these two people in the distance. I should have touched these rocks that are crumbling off the hill, but I only just now realized that I wonder what they feel like. I guess I'll have to go back up there...seriously, I'm terrified of those hills, but I think I want to live up there if I ever move again (not likely).
After I stopped goofing around on top of the city, I saw this street sign that reminded me of where I come from (the state and the grandmother).

Along the Way

2011-02-14T01:16:00.003-05:00

No matter what happens on any given weekend, I always kind of get this feeling that it's not enough. I think what I need is three day weekends. I didn't go to the gym this weekend, and I didn't do any yoga, but I did walk so much today that I feel like my foot bones are all tired. That's because I wore terrible shoes.

Here's a jade plant that's growing in the ground. It's quite unlike all the potted jade plants I've owned, in that I haven't killed it yet.

Google maps gave me street directions, but I ignored them in favor of taking stairways. I think I traveled along Esmerelda Corridor, but what do I know about anything?

I know I got on that slide right there.

And I know I did it more than once.
You see those shoes? They're cute and all, but I walked about 7 miles today and totally wished I was wearing sneakers for at least 4 of those miles.

Stop me if you've heard this one...

2011-02-14T00:11:00.002-05:00

I like flowers and I also like food.

Oh, this isn't news to you?

Interesting.

I haven't bought any flowers for my new place, mostly because whenever I think about it I'm on a long walk and I don't want to be walking around mile after mile with a bouquet in my hand. Although, now that I've typed that sentence, I think maybe that should be my deal from now on: wake up on a Saturday morning, buy a fistful of flowers and walk them all over town until all the petals fall off.

Saturday I woke up (rather late, actually) and took myself down to the Ferry Building on an empty stomach. I didn't even drink coffee! Anyway, I didn't want to miss Isa Chandra Moskowitz's cooking demo, and so I didn't. She's one of the authors of Veganomicon, and she's really funny, self-deprecating and awesome. I would be trying to friend her so hard if we lived in the same town. She made a roasted root vegetable curry and sweet potato biscuits and was generally just adorable.

Anyway, next week we're having a potluck at my house, and I'm going to use her lemon bar recipe, IF I can ever find agar flakes in this town. Stay tuned for either bragging or crying, depending on how that goes.

So (this is where a transition sentence belongs, but I don't care and I'm not going to write one!), I'm doubtful that anybody who reads this blog reads many of the blogs I read, so maybe you missed the kerfluffle last week over this viciously righteous & amazing article in the Atlantic (The Moral Crusade Against Foodies) and the counterattack from some guy whose main argument was basically, "yeah well, vegans don't enjoy eating." Au contraire, mon ami. Check out this vegan sloppy joe from B3 on Valencia St. It's made out of black beans and beets and top with carmelized onions, mmmmm.

After I "didn't enjoy" eating that, I hoofed it up to Bernal Heights to enjoy the views (photos coming soon) and also try to work up enough hunger again to justify "not enjoying" a banana split on a freshly made waffle cone at Maggie Mudd. That's right, I'm out here on the west coast, just suffering. Poor me and my scoop of toasted coconut, my second scoop of mexican chocolate, and all that non-dairy whipped cream that kept getting all over my hands. Sigh.
Anyway, on my walk back down toward Noe Valley, I spied this lemon tree. Imagine, if this were my front yard, I'd already be making lemon bars. But it's not my front yard.

Anyway, my roomie's gonna swipe some lemons from her folk's house, so, free lemons anyway!

Sweet

2011-02-09T14:36:00.003-05:00

Home is where the art is

2011-01-22T00:34:00.001-05:00

Keeping Up Appearances

2011-01-09T23:52:00.010-05:00

What a day. First of all, I was up and at 'em 4am local time, due to having left my circadian rhythms back east. And also because yesterday, in the early evening, I just decided to sleep until my cold went away. Which it did. At around 4am. So.

Here's another thing. You'd never suspect it if I didn't tell you (or maybe you would), but my first moment of desperately missing The City That Never Sleeps was the moment when I realized I was up too early to buy some more soy milk for my coffee. Gah! Travel back in time five or ten years and tell former-me that I become the worst sort of early bird, and that's the reason that I start to miss New York. Guard your shins, though, former-me was kind of aggressive when confronted by crazy people. (BTW dear loved ones, I'm talking about missing a municipality. You are consistently missed, you lovely people you.)

So. I tidied my little temporary domicile, looked at the internet, blah blah blah, until the sun was good and up and I could get going on my way. First Stop: South Park, as recommended by Jon Goldberg. I read a few more chapters of Breakfast of Champions, watched a family picnicking, got chilly and on my way out noticed that even the people who look to be homeless were nose deep in books. That's one of the first things I'm loving about this town.

Then, on to the next. I always said I was going to join the MoMA in New York, but there was just so much going on all the time that I never got around to it. Well, today I joined SFMoMA. If I go four more times this year, I'll have saved money! Anyway, why do I think like that? That's stupid, it's like turning something awesome into a chore. What it really means is free admission for me and a guest, plus discounts on my espresso whenever I'm chilling on the rooftop garden.

Do you like how this photo perfectly illustrates the concept of "me and a guest"? Yes, I thought you would.

The museum had an exhibition about wine. California is nuts, y'all. My favorite part of the wine exhibition was the architectural models of vineyards, and the little sniffing devices they had along a wall, each accompanied by an overused adjective that describes that wine, and little anecdotes about the language of wine reviewing. Yeah, I dorked out on language and landscaping, and ignored the soil samples and, well, whatever else they had there. I mean, it was a Modern Art museum exhibition about wine. Weird. I bet next month it'll be about Contemporary Cannabis Designs.

Let me see, then I wandered through the Yerba Buena outdoor space, and saw this dude making a colorful sand mandala.

Then, while he had a big old handful of blue sand, he got a text or something he had to deal with.

Phew. You know what I did after that, right? WRONG. I went to Sephora and bought some fake eyelashes and glittery eyeliner. You heard me. Some people resolve to lose weight for New Years, I resolve to start wearing fake eyelashes. Sometimes. I'll start with next weekend and take it from there. Also, and furthermore, thank goodness for YouTube. Because for some reason, nobody ever showed me how to put on make up, so I am going to just learn how to do it from teenaged transvestites outside of London. Holler.

After Sephora, I took myself out to see Blue Valentine, which is a movie about how Ryan Gosling will still be hot even after his hairline starts to recede.

Do you like how this photo perfectly illustrates a sense of yearning juxtaposed with an icon of Williamsburg Brooklyn? Yes, I thought you would. Also, my butt has been where Ryan Gosling's butt has been, so there.

Today in Tourism

2011-01-09T01:22:00.002-05:00

Well, okay, I have a cold and I feel kind of rotten, but I wanted to have a little adventure of some sort anyway. So, this morning I went out and paid my five dollars to tour Mission Dolores, which, as I now know, is the oldest original intact mission in California and the oldest structure in San Francisco. It was founded in 1776. The paranoid among us will notice this is well before the earthquake and fires of 1906.

I read that it was home to one of only two cemeteries in SF. Again, paranoid people will be nodding that, yes, you don't want the corpses surfacing in the event of another earthquake. But also, I wonder where the other cemetery is. I could look it up, but I'm not going to. So there.

I have a home now

2011-01-09T01:12:00.006-05:00

I haven't moved in yet, because the truck of stuff will arrive Wednesday. Until then, the cats and I remain, chillin', at corporate housing, listening to the soothing waves of traffic on the Bay Bridge.

I'm moving to the Mission, which is exactly what I wanted because Wikipedia said the Mission gets the best weather in SF. And, like all good buildings in the neighborhood, there is a mural:

I've got the front room, with bay windows and drafty air. I'm going to have to invest in one of those ceramic heater jimjams that everyone around here seems to have.

The carpet is...how shall we put this?...a hideous color. It's comfy on the feet though, so I've decided to go ahead and love it.

Stay tuned for your regularly scheduled nesting updates :)

Donuts & Chinese Food

2011-01-04T14:21:00.001-05:00

This must be the intersection of Heaven and Shut Your Mouth! streets.

Familiar Faces

2011-01-04T14:17:00.003-05:00

That's right. I've got a big face and Bob Kaputof invited me to go to dinner with his sister, niece & niece's husband last night. The husband does QA at AKQA, how's that for a fun-to-say job?

Also, FYI, the world is very small except for when you have to buy plane tickets.

Golden Gate Bridge

2011-01-03T00:40:00.004-05:00

For my first adventure involving a camera, I decided to go see the Golden Gate Bridge. And walk part of the way across, but not all the way, because it's not like there's a Grimaldi's at the other end, or whatever.

So, I went out far enough to take a bad self portrait with my hair all Medusa-style, and then I turned my cold butt around and walked back to the gift shop. I didn't buy anything, but if they'd had the kind of t-shirt Dakota Fanning wore in The Runaways, I would have been unabashedly all over that.

Home

2010-12-22T20:29:00.004-05:00

My thoughts right now are scattered, all over the country and all over these scraps of paper.

I don't have one to-do list, I have so many. Consolidating them frightens me, so I keep them strewn over any number of notebooks, post-its, websites and used envelope backs. I must have faith that if I keep going through my pockets and my desktop and my wallet, then all the actionable items will get actioned and all the cancellable services will get cancelled.

It's harder to know if I've gotten my ducks in a row w/r/t all the loveable folks getting the love.

Anyway.

I started this blog to share the sights and my thoughts about making a new home in Brooklyn.
And now I'm leaving Brooklyn.

I'm torn between one impulse - which is to make this a maudlin post detailing the names and events and rituals and sights that I have loved so much - and another desire that's harder to name, perhaps impossible to accomplish. The desire to identify, have & hold, know & be able to one day return to some mythical place that is My Home.

By process of elimination:
My home is not a structure.
It doesn't have a dollar value.
My home is not where I grew up, or any place from the past that served as backdrop to any of those coming of age dramas that shaped me into a strangenancy.
My home is not where some relative lives.
My home is not where you run after you clear third base.
My home is not this city, or the last city, or the one before that.
My home is not boring.
My home cannot be taken for granted.

Home is:
Where I hang my hat: on my head, in my purse, under my bed and on random hooks.
Where my heart is: inside my ribcage, favoring the left breast more than the right, in a backyard with laughter and cicadas, in a cozy bar that smells of mulled wine and intermittently suffers from blasts of ice cold air from the the front door (the one that sticks a little and is reluctant to latch again once it's been loosened), stuck on a hurt that should have died years ago, bleeding for the pain of children and animals and hunched old ladies and lonely teenagers and fictional characters and unrecognized opportunities and blooming flowers that will one day eventually wither and die.
Wherever I'm with you: in my imagination and out in the world, on vacation and at dinner, unexpectedly facing each other on a train late at night surrounded by strangers and bundled almost past the point of recognition.
a feeling: i can say anything or remain silent. i could smile or frown. i could listen or be distracted. i could sit in a chair or lie on the floor. i could rummage or sit on my hands. i could laugh or cry or do both at the same time for any reason or for none at all.

Home is me. Home is a process. I'm sorry, but you can't send mail here. And there are cats, so that's something to consider, if you're allergic.

On a slightly unrelated note, I'm really going to missed the Great Vagina Tree of McCarren Park:

Image via

JWT, I'm so proud of you

2010-10-08T12:38:00.002-04:00

I try not to ever write specifically about the place I'm working for, because this is my personal blog, not some fancy-pants professional forum.

Today, I make an exception, for a really good reason.

Employees at JWT New York just got an email from the man at the top that JWT has signed PETA's Great Ape Humane Pledge. Morality aside, I always felt that using great apes was a cheap trick and probably the sign of a weak creative mind, but I'm kind of a jerk like that. It's good to know I'm not alone in refusing to sell ideas that depend on the subjugation of anybody in our beautiful, smart, wild primate family.

Watching old Tex Avery cartoons at my desk today.

2010-09-24T13:15:00.001-04:00

This is how I'm living

2010-09-05T12:20:00.002-04:00

Gracie's got a brand new sink.

The entrance to the apartment is a long-ish hall, so the bathroom is the first room, really. Then, after the bathroom, the hall opens up and there's my cute little living room.

My teeny tiny kitchen (so easy to keep clean!) is tucked off to the right when you enter the living room.

And this is where I lay my head.

Room with a View

2010-07-31T19:56:00.004-04:00

The cats have already moved in, but I haven't yet.

- blogging via mobile, please don't judge me or my spelling

Good Stuff: this song had me doing the sitting down dance

2010-07-29T10:33:00.003-04:00

burberry acoustic via luxurysocialmedia

There's a Deep Purple Renaissance going on ... IN MY EARS

2010-07-22T12:07:00.006-04:00

Because I can't get the bass line of Space Truckin' out of my head. Of course, playing it over and over and over again isn't going to ease the situation, but I just can't stop myself.

You should see me walking, waiting, getting onto the train in the mornings, trying not to actually sing out loud: THEY GOT MUSIC IN THE SOOOLAR SYSTEM... That's what we all need on the Morning Hug Train To The City. And by 'Hug Train' I mean the stupid sardine-tin L train packed full of sweaty people who, like me, really wish they could get to work with zero people touching them, only to settle for letting six or seven people touch them all at once.

Ugh, think about this for a second: 7pm, you're sweaty, it's been a long day...and somebody else's hair is stuck to your arm. And! Another person's hair is stuck to your other arm. Summer might have its ups, but it's got its downs too, for sure.

Anyway, because it's Deep Purple Renaissance week, I have to admit that I never knew there was a reference to a woman named Nancy in Knocking at Your Back Door. I was always caught up by Strange Kind of Woman, for, you know, obvious reasons. Anyway, in KAYBD, they say 'sweet Nancy was so fancy,' but in SKOW, it was all 'her name was Nancy, her face was nothing fancy...'

So now I have two questions (wait! make that three*):
1. Was she fancy or wasn't she?
2. You're Deep Purple, writers of a variety of awesome and classic songs. Can you not think of a different rhyme? Chancy? Dancey? Romancey? Antsy? I mean, I'm sorry we can't think of a word that rhymes with Purple, but you don't have to take it out on us, do you?
3. Was there a real Nancy, and was she a hooker or what?

*Ok, 3 main questions and 1 follow-up to the 3rd question. I'm blogging at work and listening to Space Truckin' for the 4th time today, so sue me.

Good Stuff: today it's a beer commercial

2010-07-22T09:42:00.002-04:00

Cut+Run Serves Tatra With Character - (2010) :60 (United Kingdom)

Good Stuff: Dark Night of the Soul

2010-07-21T15:33:00.005-04:00

The incomparable Jay Wee mentioned that I should take notes on all of the stuff that inspires me, but...the thing is, I lose notes.

So, Granny Stance The Blog is taking a bit of a turn starting now, but I wasn't blogging as much lately anyway, so there's probably no one left around here to care if this becomes more of a notebook and less of a hair style diary. (OH, I got a haircut. Separate entry coming soon.)

So, without further ado, welcome to Granny Stance's Selection of Good Stuff, Episode One. Today, we're amazed by Dark Night of the Soul, which is going to be an album, but I don't care because I'm so in love with the site that no stinking album is going to turn my head. No, sirree.

Pics by David Lynch, sounds by Danger Mouse, Sparklehorse and more (I would tell you, but you have to click through to the site. The new Granny Stance isn't in to holding your hand.)

Mess around with it with your headphones on. Trust me.

dnots.com via fwa

Happy Earth Day (my newest project)

2010-04-22T10:49:00.005-04:00

Every day, JWT New York kills almost three trees.
In a year, we turn 689 trees into wastepaper, just by hitting print.

This Earth Day, the JWTree Project and JunkWasteTrash are raising awareness about our paper consumption and encouraging everyone to take small steps every day to use less paper.

JWT NY's goal for 2010 is to Reduce Reuse Recycle and Replant, through our partnership with the Arbor Day Foundation.

Moment of the Day: April 12

2010-04-12T23:13:00.001-04:00

Eyes closed to the other women, and the broken clock, I measured my stay through the gathering beads, their quickening falls over cheeks, a-long spine, and down neck, detour clavicle and run, finally, down the litany of chakras, backwards.

There was a symphony, I heard. The wood creaked, creaked our shifting seats and the tick tick tick of heater swelled to aahh rattle tat tat and the bass of train as the subway cars raced, and roared, and screeched; then shuddered, pause, briefly. And as before, rumble rumble throbbing, vibration back up through the guts of the city and the station and the gym and the body and the mind.

And then. Well, I guess it's time to be moving on.

Would you drop everything for love?

2010-02-02T15:07:00.002-05:00

I've been offline for a bit. But something good came of it.
David & Kirsten 9 months strong:
You have to watch this love story. http://bit.ly/aN9fXz

2009: don't let the door smack you on your way out

2009-12-31T14:42:00.002-05:00

Listen, it's over.

If you have any of my things, it's okay, just toss them or whatever.
I don't need them or even want them anymore.
Yeah, we did have some good times.

But I got a new year now. And I really want to try to make things work this time.

Later, '09. It's been real.

Crotch Pillow

2009-12-26T16:40:00.001-05:00

Crotch Pillow
Originally uploaded by kommik

Um.
This is my latest project.
I didn't want to waste anything, and I've used so many pant-legs from jeans that I have all of these unwearable shorts laying around.

So I made a crotch pillow.
They are perfect as neck bolsters, or if you just like to run around on Christmas Day pretending to have a very large front butt.

Lucy makes herself at home

2009-12-26T16:36:00.001-05:00

Lucy makes herself at home
Originally uploaded by kommik

Kim and Lucy spent Christmas with us...Lucy looks like she belongs in our living room, right?

about new moon.

2009-12-04T15:44:00.004-05:00

I just saw someone else's LOLrecap of New Moon, and you should look at it here.

Me? I still have one major question about New Moon:

If Jasper loses his fool mind because Bella gets a paper cut, am I to believe that Bella is pre-pubescent throughout Twilight and at the beginning of New Moon?

If so, does she finally get her period in the third book? (oops, that's two questions)

I accidentally skipped the third book and read the forth instead*, so I know she gets preggers, so I would assume that at some point, she finally reached Her Glorious Womanhood.

I have questions. I need answers.

*Listen, Stephanie Meyer, it's one thing that you torture those innocent sentences like that -- and it's still another thing that you glorify emotionally abusive relationships -- but the fact that I didn't even notice when I skipped an entire book's worth of plot - and I'm a super-critical** reader - is really damning evidence that you are the worst writer-who-is-succeeding-commercially that I have ever encountered.

**Double entendre fully intended.

Jordi's Pix | Warm the House | The Pantry

2009-11-07T14:49:00.002-05:00

Jordi took nicer photos of the pantry than I did.

Plus, I've been making progress since the last pantry post. I'm eating some of those dried apples right this very minute.

mmmm...box full of teas for the winter!

Jordi's Pix | Warm the House | Around the Kitchen

2009-11-07T14:42:00.001-05:00

It was raining the night of our housewarming party, which makes it all the more wonderful that such lovely people were able to come out and fill our chairs and enjoy the nest.

We basically emptied the fridge of cheese, and I also made an apple bread pudding and we had about a billion frozen finger foods that Gary kept preparing through the night.

Jordi's photos make the fridge seem cool, even though it kind of annoys me to have so much stuff on it.

Housewarming snapdragons were a gift of the inimitable Langdon, and wine rolled in from guests all evening.

Jordi's Pix | Warm the House | Some of the Bulls

2009-11-07T14:27:00.002-05:00

Thirty-five dollar art seems to be a theme around here. This is a detail from a velvet painting that Brad Roberts was unloading at a yard sale for that price. Bobby Gorman called from the yard sale to let me know I needed to buy it, and he was correct.

The painting hangs above the bookshelf by Gary's desk, which is also home to a red matador figure given to me by Kima, and a red bull given to me by Jon.

This wall is behind one of the patchwork chairs. I can't remember where all of those came from, but the Picasso copies were a gift from the Ganz, the one in a black frame is a postcard by Rob G., and the set of three was acquired from a thrift store in Austin Texas. The hook came off of the one I picked up in Athens when I was there with Kara, but we'll get around to fixing it, and filling the empty wall space where it belongs.

Jordi's Pix | Warm the House | Some of the Art

2009-11-07T14:09:00.002-05:00

Detail of a painting by Teddy Blanks, formerly of The Gaskets, who, the internet tells me, apparently lives in NYC now. Hmm. Anyway, I bought this for $35 at the end of an AFO critique, and everybody's always trying to steal it from me.

The intersection of a group of paintings. Three of them are by Dave Moore. The one of a cat is by Shawn Bishop-Leo, one day I'll tell you the story of how I should have framed the receipt.

Sailboat painting by Seth Ganz, the bird house was made by Dave More, and three little robots by Nick Kuszyk.

Jordi's Pix | Warm the House | Downstairs

2009-11-07T13:54:00.002-05:00

I'm sharing the pictures Jordi took at our little housewarming the other weekend, so those of you who couldn't make it can mentally help keep our house warm. Jordi did a really interesting job of focusing on little details and I think this collection of pictures is a pretty nice housewarming treat. It'll take me a number of posts to share them all, so let's jump into this first set.

This is our downstairs/living room/den/bachelor bad/dance floor/garage/playroom. The TV sits on these shelves that have somehow evolved into being a tribute to our childhoods & toy display:

The weird space we didn't know what to do with is a perfect home for my new bike. I ought to be out riding right now, but I've become resistant to wearing pants on the weekends.

This angle really flatters the space into looking more...uh, spacious. Here's Lee and Amy and Disco on my denim patchwork covered chair.

Disco can tell that camera's signify attention, therefore she always gets in front of them.

And here's the other chair, the one that is almost finished. The back still needs work, but since we pushed it up against the wall, I'm not really in a hurry about it. This picture makes me exceedingly happy:

JWT_Halloween Party_0059

2009-11-02T10:06:00.001-05:00

JWT_Halloween Party_0059
Originally uploaded by Digit_Studio NY

Shanty Town's resident unicorn won 2nd place in the costume contest, according to our panel of judges who ranged in age from 3 to 11 years old.

First place went to a bewigged man sporting huge fake boobs & a white t-shirt. He got up on stage, poured water on his ample prosthetic mammaries, then wrapped a blue Wet Tshirt Winner sash around his soaking shirt.

We all learned a very important lesson that night:
Boobs always win.

JWT_Halloween Party

2009-11-02T09:56:00.001-05:00

JWT_Halloween Party
Originally uploaded by Digit_Studio NY

Our work cube is so messy it is known to Project Managers as Shanty Town. That's why we like to wrap our drinks in brown paper bags, but I don't think it has anything to do with how hard we rule Halloween.

Just another day in the office

2009-10-28T16:43:00.000-04:00

another way I budget

2009-10-12T23:16:00.000-04:00

If you can't
go with the best -
go without.

how i budget

2009-10-12T16:53:00.000-04:00

Got this here: nytimes.com

home sweet home

2009-10-07T11:27:00.003-04:00

I've been spending some quality time in the kitchen lately.

Pulled pork BBQ from an overnight crockpot experience.
Potato salad from Sunday's pants-free-day celebration, featuring spicy pickles made by my friend Jason Alley of Comfort fame.

And, uh...frozen broccoli warmed up with some garlic and olive oil for good measure.

Not pictured: I made a bread pudding with apples and prunes baked in and that stuff is DELICIOUS.

After kitchen time was done, me and the kitties got all cozy in front of the boob tube. The Secret of Roan Inish makes me want to go to Ireland right now. In case this picture makes you wonder, the answer is no, I haven't finished the other chair. But I will!

This was June 26, 2009

2009-10-05T13:34:00.002-04:00

It must be a slow Monday in the office. A good day to clear out some old photos on my phone. I can't believe I skipped blogging about June 26. It was one of the most incredible days of the summer, both weather-wise and socially and newyorkerly.

After work, I decided to walk down to Chelsea where the VCU MFA folks were having a gallery opening. I had not counted on the storm that drenched me halfway between point A and point B.

Even though I was uncomfortable supporting the clammy weight of my wet jeans and squarking shoes throughout the opening, I saw a lot of friendly faces and former colleagues and when we left, the sun managed to pull off a spectacular display just in time to set.
Bob Kaputof and I enjoyed the walk along the High Line to the after party and kept exclaiming what an amazingly beautiful day we were having. (iPhone pictures hardly do that day justice.)

Maybe you saw some pictures of the mammatus clouds that appeared toward twilight that day. Every single person in Manhattan took a snapshot and uploaded it to the internet. It was kind of amazing to have so many people gawking at the sky at one time.

Jerks

2009-10-05T13:30:00.000-04:00

In-Progress Pantry

2009-10-05T11:32:00.002-04:00

This pantry is still missing a bread-making machine and some canisters for keeping dry goods organized, but it has already drastically improved the usability of our kitchen.

This was August 28, 2009

2009-10-05T11:03:00.001-04:00

This was September 6, 2009

2009-10-05T11:01:00.004-04:00

BA's birthday party: karaoke and yummy food on the Miale party deck.

Long Island!

This was August 24, 2009

2009-10-05T10:59:00.002-04:00

home
sweet
home

This was September 18, 2009

2009-10-05T10:56:00.003-04:00

Baking night with Kim. I made a fresh fruit cake with strawberries, blueberries and peach in the cast iron skillet. I use coarse salt to clean the skillet, so the cake's crust had an interesting sweet/salty taste:

I didn't take pictures of Kim's brownies, but trust me, they signified a full-scale detour from my alleged 'diet.'

This was September 22, 2009

2009-10-05T10:53:00.001-04:00

Gracie, don't put my love up on no shelf.

This was September 23, 2009

2009-10-05T10:46:00.003-04:00

After work, I stopped by Grand Central Market with Jose and picked up the fresh baguette you see, and the mysterious looking meat to the left of it is rabbit pate with figs in it. Gary rinsed off some grapes and sliced up camembert, added a little ramakin of oil and balsamic vinegar with pepper and the feast was almost complete...

The crowning glory of the evening's munchies was definitely my little harvest of figs from the tree in our building's backyard.

Please note the shelves in the background, because they are long gone by now. Or, okay, they're downstairs holding books now.

Stay tuned for homely updates.

This was September 30, 2009

2009-10-05T10:32:00.002-04:00

So. Hi there.

I'm almost settled into the new place. I almost don't have any pain in my feet or toes. I almost have enough money to buy the bread-making machine that will fill this upcoming winter with good smell. Whoever said almost only counts in horseshoes musta been a self-absorbed jerk, because I think this almost-awesome phase of my life is like the get-ready-get-set-go momentum builder that I need.

This is Disco's new Container Store bag:

This is Gary doing the staging on the dinner scene I was wanting to take a picture of:

And this is a glass of Chianti next to baked bowtie pasta with sausage, spinach and artichokes. Next time, we'll aim for a higher filling-to-noodle ratio.

A square peg in a round hole

2009-08-16T10:22:00.003-04:00

I forgot. Using that cliche was the only reason I even wanted to blog about the process of installing those hooks. After I made the holes in the ceiling, the folded anchors were squares. So I had to...get it?...I HAD to put the square peg in the round hole. It was required of me. It was the right thing to do!

Eh. I forgot the punchline the first time around, and now I don't have any love left for it.

handy capable

2009-08-16T09:41:00.002-04:00

There is no feeling in the world quite like the giddy euphoria of being in less pain.

For one, obviously, hurting less is pretty neat. For two, there's the sort of cognitive dissonance that comes with stopping and considering myself as a deconstructed collection of elements like bones and cartilage and brand new fat cells that stopped by to hang out and make sure I didn't get too lonely while I convalesced. For three, all those little chores that were undone and were causing my state of mind to come undone along with them...well, they're finally starting to get done.

Consider a simple hook.

Two dollars and fifty-nine cents each at the hardware store. I got the super neat kind that comes with the screw and anchor, and has a separate base so the hook can swivel. In case you have not lately considered how OCD can affect the smallest of considerations, like whether or not a hook is acceptable, let me explain: A swivel hook means that I can slowly and easily rotate my hanging plants on a regular basis so they don't grow lopsided. LOPSIDED. You can see how the word itself is ugly and disconcerting and uneven. Gives me the shivers.

Installing the hook was yet another awesome moment in handy Nancy land. You may or may not remember the stubborn screw from my old apartment. Let's just say I never give up in the face of a minor home repair that I'm completely ill-equipped to accomplish. The first part of the instructions were to drill a 9/16 inch hole in the ceiling. Ha!

I'm not going to buy or borrow a drill!

I put a small screw in the ceiling. Then I looked at the measuring tape to make sure I had a good idea of about how big a half inch is. Then I forced the small flat head screwdriver into the hole and I twisted. Then I found a bigger screwdriver and shoved that in and twisted. By the time I got to the thickest screwdriver (it's got a bigger diameter to hold the interchangeable bits), and I was straining to shove that into the ceiling without ripping the hole too big, I felt I had truly and brutally violated the proper order of home repair and murdered the ceiling until it was dead.

But the hanging pots look nice, so it was worth it. Don't look too hard, but for some reason, even though I measured, one of the plants seems to be hanging a teeeeeeny bit lower than the other one. I think with breathing exercises and medication, I'll learn to accept that and try to move on with my life.

King Gracie, the ruler of all the is awesome, approved this message.

girl with guns

2009-08-06T17:20:00.001-04:00

girl with guns
Originally uploaded by strangenancy

Here I go again

2009-07-31T15:31:00.003-04:00

So, earlier this month, Whitesnake opened for Judas Priest at Jones Beach. I'm including a picture of the Whitesnake stage because by the time Priest took the stage it was dark out, and their set ruled too hard for cameraphone tomfoolery.

I was reminded I should post this a few hours ago when my friend Jason announced that he's taking me to see AC/DC tonight. Expect pictures.

The Brat Pack

2009-06-15T12:45:00.002-04:00

Photos courtesy of Kim Mok.
Post title courtesy of Amy Franklin.
Sweaty Friday night courtesy of Brooklyn New York.

Mom's in town this week and last night she met Jason and Amy for the first time over a delicious dinner at El Almacen. I think Mom won the entree competition with the cotton-candy-tasting pork and apples. It was soooo good, it might have even been better than the Aji Rellenos, which I am totally addicted to.

Kim's housewarming party Friday night was celebrated by the neighborhood mosquitos who bit her no less than 45 times. I think it was the smell of her homemade wontons that lured them all into her apartment.

And another thing: sometimes I forget to notice how extremely good-looking this man is. Shame on me!

Presented Almost without Comment

2009-06-02T17:48:00.004-04:00

I toured a cruise ship, in a strictly professional capacity.
Among other things, this means that I did not have any pina coladas.

These are Suzanne's pictures. Perhaps I will eventually upload some of my own.

Invention Idea of the Day

2009-05-27T15:48:00.001-04:00

Someone please make chopsticks out of tortillas.

Thank you.

The Reasons I Own a Vaccuum

2009-05-26T23:04:00.002-04:00

Disco, aka Bean, Mean Bean, Fatty McFat, Grrr Hiss-A-Lot

Personality Overview: A lover and a fighter. Thinks laptops are warm for napping. Thinks cords are good for chewing. Loves to groom men's beards and sleep under the covers. Will hiss at you for the following reasons: you're in her way, you moved the food, you just woke up, you entered the apartment, you are breathing.

Gracie, aka G-Racy, Bubba Catt, Mr. Grace Street Joebraham* Strange

Personality Overview: Me, if I was a cat. Is weird and skittish and slow to warm but will eventually show some love. Loves to hang out on the bathroom sink, and, more disturbingly, will usually only sit on your lap if you're sitting on the toilet. Is innovative enough to have been hit by a car even though he is not allowed outdoors. When someone other than me enters the apartment, he will skedaddle and hide in the following places: in the bathtub, under the dresser, between the bed and the wall, between the chair and the bookshelf or in the closet if I forgot to close the door.

* I just stole the name Joebraham from Stephanie's incredibly smart soon-to-be-four-year-old daughter, who believes that our current Vice President is named Joebraham Lincoln.

Recipe of the Day

2009-05-26T20:15:00.005-04:00

Pasta & Bean Mush with Cheese

Total Preparation Time: approx. one and a half months

Hands-on Time: maybe a couple of hours, depending on your level of organization, ADD, OCD and how many times you have to try to separate the cats from your cheese grating project.

Step 1: Make yourself some mac n' cheese. You can use the boxed kind, or your grandma's recipe or you can follow Mark Bittman's recipe like I did.

Step 2: If you use Mark Bittman's recipe, make sure you don't use Progresso's Garlic & Herb bread crumbs, because that's actually a funny choice for an otherwise rich n' creamy mac n' cheese.

Step 3: Suddenly realize that the urge to cook and the urge to eat have little or nothing to do with each other.

Step 4: Divide your finished pasta concoction into numerous individual portion-sized freezer safe containers.

Step 5: Forget it's in the freezer. Continue to live your life as usual, preferably taking time to stop and admire flowers in the yards of strangers every now and again.

Step 6: Get home from work one day and freak out about being hungry and having a lot of chores that you keep neglecting.

Step 7: Place one individual-portion-sized frozen-solid block of mac n' cheese into a sauce pan. Without waiting for it to thaw at all, dump a can of black eyed peas directly on top of it.

Step 8: Realize that you're a fool. Briefly regret living alone because if someone else were here you could at least laugh about all of this. Decide to blog about it as soon possible in order to not feel so alone.

Step 8.5: So alone. So very, very alone.*

Step 9: This is the part that most recipes call "stirring ocassionally," but since the beans are soft and the pasta is frozen, what you'll need to do is mush the beans under your rock solid pasta mass.

Step 10: When you just can't take it anymore, remove mushy food substance from heat. Pour sriracha on it so it will taste like sriracha. Pause briefly to reflect that this is how it always turns out.

Step 11: Enjoy!

* Mom, all that stuff about feeling alone was just me trying to be funny. Please do not worry about me, I'm fine and eating well. I promise.

oh, and about my birthday

2009-05-20T00:25:00.002-04:00

I'm tired and I don't feel like the writing process. On the other hand, I do want to mention that I am older and still alive and feeling pretty danged special most days. Some days I earn that feeling, and on others I just decide to feel it.

OK, lazy transparent blog posting: Gary took these pics with my phone at the little Grand Street park that's so lovely. Now I'm just going to sleepily talk to them and hit "post" when I'm done.

To explain to folks who haven't been here: it's a tiny little park in an area that's historically pretty industrial. It can be a good place to go look at water when you're tired of pavement. I remember on one of my first visits, I wondered why the water was flowing "up." Turns out, the East River is not a river, it's a tidal estuary. Now you know. It goes one way when the tide is in, the other way when it's out. It's also pretty interesting to watch for Water Taxis, barges, tour boat, etc. Another busy New York street, made out of water.

There's a couple of good things about this quadcamm app on my iphone. The first, obviously, is that you can really set a scene. Like, it's a narrative image without it having to move.

The second good thing is that you can look at the whole and like it without doing that natural thing where you see a picture of yourself and can't stand how your nose looks, or the expression you make when you're talking or how your chin is starting to be an adult lady chin instead of a taut little teenager lady chin.

So, it's like being able to see yourself a little more naturally than you can when you look at individual pictures. There's not so much 'this is good' or 'this is bad' - and really, just one picture is as much of an untruth as any bad sketch I could make of myself. So, it makes me more comfortable with representations of myself.

I'm gonna stop talking about the app and admit something funny. Madeline triumphantly produced a bunch of happy birthday stickers before we went to the park and I stuck them all over me. And then, everywhere we went, I felt like people were super checking me out and I just couldn't figure out why. This, my friends, is proof that I'm not very smart. Or maybe I'm ADD. Maybe I'll use my new insurance to ask a doctor about Ritalin.

I think this next picture is one of the best pictures of friendship I've ever seen. Steph - I love you.

In other good birthday news that has no photographic evidence:
BA was DJing at Mark Bar and we shook our behinds.
The door guy, Buddy, had a red velvet cake from Juniors for some reason and gave it to me.
The bartenders gave me a bottle of champagne.
Stephanie baked me a cake, and Madeline decorated a layer of it for me.
Hilary supported my future plans to shop at Brooklyn Kitchen.
My friends are super.

No editing now. Only sleeping.

Midtown Update: the best birthday present

2009-05-20T00:15:00.003-04:00

Full time employment.
It's nothing to scoff at.

I've been busy and it has been good.
Another good birthday present: bodega flowers from a good Italian boy who brings all the ladies flowers on their birthday. Thanks, J., I put them in a lot of little containers and felt all happy about having some flowers.

Another good thing: iTunes on random playing Conway Twitty's "I'd love to lay you down." Goodness me, to think my parents listened to this stuff in front of me.

as it turns out, i totally have the time it takes to tell lies about alaska

2009-03-31T13:16:00.001-04:00

Millions of years ago, departing Cylon base ships carved out Alaska's Inside Passage, leaving majestic orange water fjords, radioactive islands and bays teeming with monsters in their wake. Today, the spectacular views will leave a lasting impression on you, should you visit during our annual Jimi Hendrix tribute concert and ritual blood sacrifice.

The incredible landscape of the Inside Passage is home to diverse wildlife including large herds of indigenous unicorns, little green martians who scamper adorably over the glaciers, and teams of migratory Loch Ness monsters who gather annually in the temperate waters to engage in the seasonal orgiastic behavior described by top scientists as "Ye Olde Feed & Breed."

From the wildly addictive poppy fields of Tongass National Forest - allegedly the birthplace of the Cylon human hybrid – to Hubbard, the rainbow colored, martian bedazzled glacier, you’ll see jaw-dropping insanity every time you dare to open your eyes.

the weekend that was

2009-03-03T14:56:00.004-05:00

We're not going to talk about all the snow, or the freezing cold. Because that stuff is stupid and I don't like it.

So. Let's talk about weekends and flowers! Here's some Friday night tulips:

I just typed a lot of stuff that wasn't funny, then I erased it. But it doesn't matter, because - flowers!

Also, on Saturday night, we went to Lizzy's house for recession cooking.

Also, maybe you've noticed, I am now obsessed with the QuadCam iPhone app. It's good time-lapse fun.

it's practically nearly almost summer again, folks

2009-02-09T13:12:00.005-05:00

It's like my great-great-grandmama used to say "if you can't blog something nice, then don't blog anything at all."*

So, the first week of February is over, which means that the next time I look up from my desk it'll be Valentine's Day, and then February (aka, the most depressing month ever) will be half over. Then it'll be March, and, before you know it, I'll be wearing shorts and headphones and shaking my bee-hind near a blanket at McCarren, listening to a dance-able song - one that I probably hadn't even heard of yet, back in yucky old February - getting scoffed at for acting like a hipster by random hipster passersby. I am so excited!

Yesterday popped by with 50-something degree weather in tow, just in time to release some of that near-crushing ice-cold winter-time pressure on my soul. I wore a coat that wasn't my warmest coat -- it felt emotionally liberating, but kind of tight in the shoulders.

Also, I brunched! Lately, you know, I've been anti-brunch because I cut up all of this cute little fruit and cheese and make coffee in my pjs and then, suddenly, an entire weekend day is gone and I'm still nibbling pears and fretting about how the shape of a kitchen chair is getting indented into that aforementioned bee-hind of mine. It's a good life, basically.

But! the sun was shining and matinees were showing, and Gary and I went to see Coraline in 3D.

After that we climbed into a different magical blue setting & ate some veggie dumplings and drank some chai at a Himalayan tea house. I made faces there, because I'm a grown up.

Gary didn't make faces, but if he doesn't open up his eyes, that tiger's gonna sneak right up on him!

*I had to start this post with a lie. Because I'm a liar now. But everything else I just said in this post is true. Really, really true..

can i get a witness to cornify?

2009-02-04T15:25:00.001-05:00

Push this button:

Thank you, www.cornify.com, whoever you are.

I finally understand you, Jeremy Piven

2009-02-02T11:38:00.003-05:00

There seemed to be something wrong with me, it felt like a venomous river of thoughts, but then I found out it was just mercury poisoning.

Thanks for the diagnosis, Cranklin.

Now: I have a score to settle with a groundhog, so I must sign off.

Um...What? (a ransom note of sorts)

2009-01-21T14:46:00.003-05:00

Haha.

Unemployment is funny -- also depressing, liberating, enjoyable, monotonous and suffocating.
(But not all at the same time.)

This week I'm making an honest (read: "not dishonest") paycheck.

Keep your fingers crossed that this type of situation continues, or you'll never see this blog alive again.

looking back for a second

2009-01-03T18:40:00.004-05:00

This is not a New Year's post.

This is a "Cleaned Out My Wallet" post.

I found some amazing artifacts, considering that I thought I emptied my wallet rather more frequently than it seems that I actually do (did? have done? that sentence confuses me so much, I refuse to edit it. that'll teach that sentence!).

Some of the things that I found:

a paystub from TBWA dated 12.1.2006
a receipt for laundry drop-off service in Richmond dated 4.18.2006
a Delaware Turnpike toll receipt dated 12.16.2005
a love note that came with some birthday flowers. I haven't had delivered flowers show up for my birthday since I turned 29, so if the note were dated, it would read 5.17.2004
a four leaf clover
a Starbucks gift card
four baby photos of my niece
six business cards belonging to people that I cannot imagine I ever actually met. Who ARE you people?
ticket stub for Bon Iver at MHOW dated 7.30.2008 (that's gonna go back in the wallet.)
a VA State Fair portrait of me, Janey, Sandy, Bonnie and Stevie dressed up as old west hussies holding fake guns and empty liquor bottles, yet sporting very real expressions of hostility

There! That was at least as boring as any 2008 recap I coulda scraped together.

Only. Okay, wait, I'll give you a scrap of a recap, based on the only item on my list that is less than a year old:
The first time I listened to Bon Iver I was laying on a blanket in McCarren Park on a beautiful sunny day, like so many others I enjoyed this year. And the sky was blue and the clouds were fluffy and we looked so cute holding hands that a hipster felt moved to snear at us for being hipsters. Ahhhh. Brooklyn, I love you.

Now I'm going to throw the detritus from my wallet into the trashcan, and we can dream up whatever kind of metaphor we would like about me finally throwing away junk* I didn't even know I had.

It's a coming of age story, I think.

*Don't worry Janey, I'm not going to throw away the photos until after I scan them. I'll share!

I swiped this picture from Holly

2008-12-25T21:04:00.002-05:00

The lights were still bright at the New York Deli, so this was before I sat down without realizing my chair had moved, and before Craig accidentally bought himself some stupid plastic mugs. Both of those things might sound bad, but neither is as bad as the fact that I used to work the lunch shift at that place, before it got hipsterfied.

Sigh.

I can't believe the beautiful variety of people who showed up to say hi to us on a Monday night. It made me feel heartburstinglyinlovewithmyfriends.

Merry Merry.

Last night

2008-12-10T15:59:00.002-05:00

Ladies and Gentleman of Earth, I present to you my newest nephew, in the form of photographic text messages that were a bureaucratic nightmare to find, thank you very much, AT&T:

Jakob Roger Strange, our new little Saggitarian. May he break hearts and forget names with the best of 'em.

Hungry Hungry Hippos

2008-12-09T13:56:00.000-05:00

oh yeah

2008-12-02T08:09:00.004-05:00

I guess there's an online guide to Copenhagen that used a photo I took. No big deal, they used lots of people's photos. But it's neat to look at, I guess.

Saturday Night

2008-12-01T11:24:00.002-05:00

We sure do know how to party.

Madeline's Turkey

2008-11-28T12:49:00.004-05:00

No matter what any of us may have said last night, Madeline's turkey was hands-down the best.

Thanksgiving Evening, Greenpoint

2008-11-28T12:37:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving Morning, Sunset Park

2008-11-28T11:25:00.007-05:00

Yesterday morning I took my groggy head down south on the R train to Sunset Park Brooklyn, where Meals on Wheels was orchestrating Thanksgiving meal distribution from the cafeteria at the senior center on 45th St. and 4th Avenue. Because angels constantly look after me, and put pillows on the sidewalks I tread and catch me when I trip over my shoelaces (among other neat guardian-type duties), I lucked into a partnership with a car-owner and a school teacher.
Dale, the car owner, was spending the morning of his 64th birthday with us. Ila taught in the neighborhood. She rode shotgun with the address list, and I sat in the back and grabbed the hot food out of the delivery bags at the last possible moment before running up apartment stairs and shoving the steaming containers directly into the delicate hands of unsuspecting elderly persons. (I'm kidding, I always offered to put the food down on their tables or counters or somewhere. Except in the case of that one angry woman who made us drop the food on the ground in front of her door. Which was awesome, because I like to meet people I will resemble in forty or fifty years.)

Anyway, I felt very fortunate, because even though I like helping in the kitchen or doing dishes or whatever, I get stressed about the idea that I might be assigned to make small talk with strangers I never plan to see again. Small talk that usually either focuses solely on, or avoids altogether, the glaring sadness of eating a holiday meal in a cafeteria with people you aren't related to and whom you never chose to be among your best friends. Although, when we went to pick up our second round of meals and saw this guy leading a group of dancers, I realized that maybe I had the whole thing figured wrong.
The other food recipient that I think I'm going to be like when I'm older is the short little lady with the quiet voice who just blew kisses at us and wished us a happy Thanksgiving and said to give her love to our families. So, family members reading this should now pause for a moment to feel loved.

Good.
And thanks to Dale for emailing me pictures!

Yes we can

2008-11-05T20:30:00.004-05:00

How do I start this post? After having spent so many hours just absorbing the things that others are saying about what happened in America yesterday, I don't quite know what's left for me to say or what I want to say or what I should say. Hang in there for this one, I'm just going to keep typing and see what happens.

I'll start with something that's been on my mind off and on through this election season.
It was something my grandmother said. I didn't and couldn't identify with what she was talking about or the feelings she described. We were different generations, and I don't think I ever expected to understand. I forgot about it for a while, and now it's back in my mind. And this time, I feel like I understand.

It was a conversation we had in '91 or '92. Not a normal conversation for us. Normal was "gramma, can we have a chocolate pie?" (with the perfectly browned and fluffy white meringue on top of thick, wonderful chocolate and a crust I would invariably leave to waste after scraping it clean with my fork) It was an assigned conversation for my 11th grade English project. The assignment was to conduct, record and transcribe a conversation with an old person, only I think the assignment was worded more politically-correctly.

We talked about things I never would have thought to ask her about otherwise. Her favorite invention was the vacuum cleaner. Her mother loved coffee, and during the (original) Depression, friends would generously show their affection for my great-grandmother by sharing some of their own coffee rations with her. Her favorite president was FDR. And here's the part where I thought I'd never understand her worldview: she told me about excitedly gathering with her family to listen to his Fireside Talks. Her family would stop everything and gather around the radio to hear what the president had to say. Every time he addressed the nation, they would listen. It was something she looked forward to when she was young, and it became one of her favorite memories. Just sitting there listening to the President.

And I grew up hating that the once-a-year State of the Union Address interrupts more interesting TV options.

This election was a game-changer, for all of the reasons that everyone else has already talked about (race, gender, the economy, etc.), but it was different for me in a much simpler and more personal way. This year, I googled speeches by Obama. This year, I made plans to watch the debates. I don't have a TV, so my plans would involve gathering with friends in a public place to hear the words of men and women who strive to lead our nation. Gathering at a restaurant/bar with my friends might look like it's different from a family gathering around a radio during the Depression, but it's not. All these years later, I'm starting to understand what patriotism meant when the word was used by someone like my grandmother.

More Americans voted yesterday than any other single day of voting in our history. All day, people talked about what their voting experience was like: long lines or short lines, sticker or no sticker, exciting or anti-climactic, everybody wanted to talk about it. Langdon said voting made her feel all squishy inside. Kim tried to strategize the best time for line-avoidance. I felt a little bit lonely and couldn't figure out the lever. These are going to be some of our memories, perhaps, when some brat asks us in 50 years what it was like the day America elected its first African American president.

I'll remember the people I was with. The strangers I spoke to, the fireworks in the street, the cabbies whooping for joy and blaring their horns, the bodega man's smile when I wished him a happy election day, and the beautiful people who are my friends who gathered around the new-fangled picture-radios with me to see and hear McCain's eloquent concession speech and Obama's promise of a First Puppy.
I'll remember thinking I was onto something when I suggested that nine months from now there'd be a whole slew of American babies named Barack. But it seems like I'm not the only one who had that thought. Ha!

There's something else I remembered. When the President-Elect was saying, "Even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime," I remembered another game-changing speech from 1963, "This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy."

Not to overdo it on the patriotism tip here at the end of this little ramble, but I can't help thinking how true that is, and how it has always been and will always be true: Democracy and Freedom aren't things that we can just have, they are things that that we have to do.

(New prediction: an upsurge in "yes we can" tattoos. I'm just sayin'.)

yesterday I turned a corner

2008-10-30T12:46:00.002-04:00

This picture contains none of the magic of the moment:

glint of reflected sunlight from the Empire State Building, smell of damp autumn leaves laying on dirt, sharpness of air touching my face and hands and sneaking through holes in my hat, moisture gathering, foreshadowing a drip from my nose, pockets of warmth in every pool of light, sun shining on trees that have already turned next to green-leaved tree in the shadows, sound of tires ripping themselves off of a street not yet dry

yep. yesterday was a fine day.

Season's Greetings

2008-10-30T12:31:00.003-04:00

Hmmm. These pictures loaded exactly backwards from the way I intended. Not that I had big, artistic plans for this one, or anything.

Moving right along, backwards, here is the finished product: Pig-Nose Jack.

Sunday was warm and beautiful after Saturday was rainy and grey. I was addicted to a book and wanted to read in the park, in case it was my last chance for a while. Langdon texted while we sitting on a bench and I managed to put down Name of the Wind for a few hours for some good clean fun. Gary and I shared a pumpkin, but I will accept full blame for the pig nose. Noses are hard!

I'll have the Recession Special, please hold the despair. Thanks.

2008-10-22T16:35:00.003-04:00

What have I been doing with my time?

A little of this, a little of that. Not much. The usual. Hanging in there. And so forth.

I did get my sweaters dry cleaned, and since today is super chilly, I busted out my favorite cashmere sweater -- only to discover two pretty obvious holes in the front near the collar.

Sigh.

OH, but I have nothing to do with all my free time and I own some needles and some thread.

Now I have dimples in the front of my brown sweater, made with some erratic stitching done in black thread.

I bet that nobody will even notice, unless I shove my chest in their face and demand that they look closely. Which, you know, I'm totally not going to do. Here's a picture in which none of my skin shows through areas that are supposed to be covered up by my sweater:
This sweater better be careful, though. If it (or any of its buddies) gives me any more grief, I'll turn them all into a blanket.

Lord knows I have the time.

Cuddle Butt

2008-10-21T23:02:00.000-04:00

GWAR

2008-10-09T18:34:00.003-04:00

Just a few minutes ago, Facebook suggested that I add Dave Brockie as a friend. Perhaps Facebook has been keeping up with my social/concert calendar.

Just yesterday I was sitting on the GWAR bus talking to Bobby, and apparently I was the third person in as many days to announce a preference for Facebook over Myspace. Maybe Facebook was listening to me, just like Obama is. (Slight tangent, today's Obama email features Ralph Stanley assuring me that Obama is best for southern Virginia. How does the internet know me sooooo well?)

One cool thing about being unemployed is being able to wander about on unusually beautiful fall days. On my way to Irving Plaza in the afternoon, I paused a bit to read in the sunshine at Union Square and, of course, I made a sauntery detour to smell the Farmer's Market flowers. When I met up with Bobby, we poked around some bookstores and jibberjabbered and chitchatted and maybe even veered off towards gossipland once or twice before we reigned it in (we probably talked about you! we said nice things!).

Something about the friends I keep around for a long time, I noticed, is that no matter how long it's been since I've seen them, the conversation just sort of resumes itself. And for some reason, I still let that surprise me. One of my life's more pleasant surprises, to be sure.

And so it came to pass that I saw GWAR for the first time. It was a matter of some pridefulness in Richmond that I had never seen them. I'm not sure why, I think being contrary is like a natural high for me, or something. Also, I kind of hate being dirty (unless there's planting involved), so it's a good thing we got a spot on the balcony so we could view the mayhem out of slime's way.

There was a fairly proportionate female-to-male ratio in the balcony, but downstairs was pretty dude-tacular. I mean, there were some females there, I know, because when I went to the bathroom, there were green and red splattered young ladies freaking out about having to look respectable for work in the morning.

I had to wonder what those young ladies thought was going to happen at a GWAR show. Maybe they had heard about my half-hearted plan to toss Farmer's Market flowers at the stage between songs. Hmmm. Somebody shoulda told them I was too cheap to throw flowers away at a metal show.

So, the balcony might have saved me from the testosterone-riddled crowd down below, but don't worry, metal fans. We staged some sibling violence before the night was through:

Overheard

2008-10-09T18:18:00.001-04:00

"If you don't feel good, you don't walk around saying you don't feel good. You gotta say, I think I feel a little bit better. You gotta give yourself confidence! Confidence will make you feel good."

September being the 9th month

2008-09-30T14:06:00.003-04:00

Lots and lots of birthday parties.

Lots.

I'm not going to get all introspective about it, but today woulda been Patrick's bday. It's kind of hard to forget because I know four other people from Richmond who have birthdays today. Happy birthday, Libras!

Saturday we ventured out to Long Island to celebrate BA's 33rd on the Miale party deck, and I realized that I hadn't left the city all summer. Well, unless Copenhagen counts, but technically that was Spring.

BA's family has a karaoke setup, a matriarch who makes the best eggplant parmesan I've ever eaten, and an impressive amount of patience for 30-somethings singing War Pigs at the tops of their lungs. Good times, for sure.

Saturday was also Klodi's birthday, and we went to meet her in the city after BA's, but I had stopped taking pictures by then.

And Sunday wasn't Steph's birthday, but it was the day of her party...her karaoke party. I didn't snap too many pics b/c Hil was there being an actual photographer, but here are the few I got that aren't blurry:

When the Day You've Been Waiting for Comes

2008-09-29T17:58:00.003-04:00

So now it's Fall.
Goodbye summertime frenzy, goodbye free shows at the pool, goodbye little skirts and sandals.

But it is Fall!
Hello indoor rock shows, hello olive drab, hello layers and boots.

On the last Saturday of summer we went to see Motorhead play at Roseland. And yeah, I made everyone pose for a snapshot so I could paste it into my little diary here. So, I'm a dweeb, but I don't care 'cause this picture is super cute:

Midtown Update: the very last one

2008-09-27T13:19:00.004-04:00

One funny thing to do after you're told it's your last day on a job is this: when someone says, hey we're meeting downstairs, you say, hey you can't make me.

Another funny thing to do is get Amy to snap a pretty gleefully happy looking picture in front of the breast cancer awareness firetruck. She wanted me to suit up in one of the pink outfits, but I didn't feel like we had that kind of time. I was too impatient to get out of midtown.