sprinkling of photos

Undoubtedly, you can be sad when you lose someone.


My grandpa's new view (not too shabby, eh?):





But then all the energy you put toward the sad eventually makes you exhausted! And it needs to be channeled elsewhere. Preferably into a fish and chips affair, with beer and basketball.

Mom & older sister:


Me & dad:




And then, you just have to get crazy, like the little sister (although it appears she was on crack, it was just the chips and salsa, medium; you should see her on hot):



Here's to you Grandpa!

tables, food, and words

Unfortunately, I have a really poor track record with keeping tabletops tidy. If the Madge thesaurus was ever published the only synonym for tabletop would read: really big surface that Madge covers with crap. Used in a sentence: Would you please set the really big surface that Madge covers with crap for dinner? Now let me define crap. Clothes, garment tags, loose change, miscellaneous Sharpies, bubble wrap, shoes! Part of it might have to do with the fact that we have a puppy that likes to chew things in his reach. So is that to say if we didn't have a puppy, my floor would be covered with loads of crap?

Asked, and answered. ::blush of shame::

So I've been reading food-related books lately. No reason, it just sort of happened. First, it was the memoir Trail of Crumbs. So delicious. Le author was abandoned in S. Korea, scooped up by young Americans at age three-ish, grows up in New Orleans, goes to Paris in her late teens. Then Stockholm. Then Provence. Then Paris again. All the while a self-taught cook of gourmet proportions. Hot lover of the founder of L'Occitane. Owner of a tiny poetry bookshop in Paris. I said so delicious already. But I loved it. ::satisfying book belch::

Now I'm reading In defense of food: An eater's manifesto by Michael Pollan. I haven't read his previous book, The omnivore's dilemma, but this one is bloooowing my mind. I began writing about tabletops. I wish mine was uncovered right now. Because it's time to start eating.

u sleep. im on lookout fer dogz.

I suck at lolcats. But, you get my drift.

thank you

For all of your kind words.

 

Will be back here soon. 

empty benches

I cannot believe I live so close to the beach and rarely go. It's a crime. Even with multiple applications of sunblock, I always miss something. Like my nose, ears, or shoulders. I cannot trust myself! To go to the beach! I wish I weren't so prone to sunburn, or that a new study would come out with results like sunburns are actually good for you. Well, until that's published, I must remain a safe distance from the bikini lifestyle.

I've had the best day of all time, and it's only 3:00 in the afternoon.

Slowly starting to pack a suitcase for a trip home -- one more grandparent gone to a better place.

currently

• Just starting Trail of Crumbs by Kim Sunée. Already I know it is just the book I need.
  
• Still listening to House of Mirth on my commute (Corley! I like it quite a bit).
• Rediscovering the silly sinister art of James Flora.
• Maintaining a Diet Coke free status. Feeling certain I really am kicking the habit.
• Can a girl drink enough peppermint tea?
  
• Intrigued by the Edna Lewis essay in January's Gourmet, "What is Southern?"
  
• Convinced the next book I read/listen to must be The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.
• Loving the cool mornings here. Please last forever oh beautiful Winter months.
• Dwell subscription began last week -- enjoyed pouring over it last night. Talk about passionate letter-writing subscribers!
  
• Looking forward to Friday, Monday.
  
• Goodnight / reading time.
  

worth noting

Lots of little things going on here and there...

A part of me wants to start yet another blog about my magazine subscriptions (yes, I really said that). The magazines are resting in peace, folks, and this is so not okay with me. First, JANE went (which I actually sort of ripped the very first month I began this blog). Then, House & Garden (which I recently blogged about, too). And most recently: Martha pulled the plug on Blueprint, one of my most favorite magazines. What's going on here?! People. Do you understand how much I love my magazines? I have magazine rituals. I read them backwards. I can rip a page out of a magazine without getting a jagged edge. I boycott Hearst magazines (which is too bad, since I always loved Harper's BAZAAR more than Vogue). I'd love to share what I love about magazines as they come in monthly. It could be one way for me to organize information for my own sanity. So, I'm thinking of that...one day.

But that may never get accomplished because I'm addicted to practicing calligraphy. I'm entertaining the idea that, while I'm librarianshipping 40 hours a week, I could do some hand-lettering projects on the side. I can blame this on my endless search for the cozy. What is the cozy? This qualifies:



Well then. Now that two of my secret dreams have accidentally slipped out, what are yours?

right before I took this picture

I told Dean the funniest joke.

outside the set

...of Cashmere Mafia, in New York.


I tried watching the show last Sunday night but it -- how do you say -- didn't appeal to me whatsoever?

definitely not taken in florida

From my first morning in New York, where it was strangely quiet and noisy all at once.


You might recognize this woman.


Some Protestant church with a whole lot of prettiness going on:


I'd really like to say this is my stoop. And, sigh.


And yes -- I looked up in Grand Central!

hoarse

I'm a woman of few words. I really don't talk that much. You get the picture. This is the place where I blab, blab, blabbity-blab.

When I teach classes for work and talk for 1.5 hours straight I get so damn hoarse it takes me a day to recover! I don't understand. It's like I have a cold. Only no drippy nose. Drippy. It's perhaps the grossest word describing a nasal symptom. Also, the word reminds me of this book. Read to me as a youngster by who else? My grandpa.

I'm planning a bridal shower that's not a bridal shower . A happy hour for a bride that just wants to 'hang out' at my house with friends and wine (no gifts wanted; no games wanted; must obey bride's wishes or yours truly will be kicked to the curb). I am the worst party planner, even though I am addicted to reading about entertaining in magazines and books (see Fête Accompli, Shriftman & Harrison, 2005). There's not much more to add, other than the thought of it is keeping me preoccupied.

the billy cat gruff

The password is JANIAC.

snoring isn't boring

I know. Cole looks really, really sad. The truth? He's TIRED. When I leave for work? He gives me this face -- and this is not a, gee, I'm going to miss you face; rather it's YOU are keeping me awake. LEAVE. face.





I love this guy.

*No more down comforter. This is the new look - the quilt coverlet that can be washed without causing both machine and human to gag. It wasn't made in America. Shit.

resolution update

• At least one of my resolutions is underway: the House of Mirth listening session (an aside to Lily Bart: you are so calculated). I haven't done too badly with saving money, either. Not that I'm saving, just not spending much other than the essentials. Coffee is essential, right? It is with head hung low that I report I had a Diet Coke relapse in July. After three months clean. Anyway, I've been clean since January 1st, so I'm proud of that too. I've been drinking a lot of hot tea -- probably due to the weather here (consistently chilly) and my craving for all things mint (mint gum, dark chocolate and mint Ghirardelli squares, mint tea). In addition to all this, I've been blogging. I guess I shouldn't have started this off by saying "at least."

one thing I've already said before

I (still) love Google Reader.

Now, it's suggesting blogs based on my current subscriptions -- pure genius!

I am guilty, however, of reading blogs and not leaving comments...because I read new posts via the Reader. When they figure out how to work that out for me? Then we'll be cooking with gas.

new york; first night

Grand Central Station:

Near Times Square (yes, B. E. Earl: I should have listened to you -
it was Disney to the 63rd power; didn't stay long):

Bryant Park Skating Rink:


Seated in Bryant Park...I spy the NYPL?!?!

...Slowly I will divulge more photos!

down comforter explosion / soap goober rampage

Accidentally, Jane peed on the bed today. It's a long story. Eight hours long, or nine. (Jane would say eleven, but she exaggerates.)

So we had to wash the down comforter. That unknowingly had a tear in it.

Approximately 88,000 wet feathers were plastered to the inside of the washer when I went out to investigate its early stop.

Add the consistency of wet feathers to the list of things that makes me *gag*. Right after soap goobers*. OHMYGOD I HATE SOAP GOOBERS *GAG* They're friendly boogers, but just so much grosser. EWWWW SOAP GOOBERS. GAG GAG.

*You know, those clumps of soap that sort of hang from the pump? It happens with lotion, too, which is actually just as gross as soap. There is nothing grosser. In the world. Than a soap goober. And I've seen people eat their own scabs, folks.

pro-schnitzel

Last night Steve and I tried a new Lake Worth restaurant, Little Munich.  Yum!  German food is one of my favorites...

 

I forgot to mention that one of my New Year Resolutions is to EAT.  I want to restaurant-hop this year -- which I can blame on two things:

1. my November trip to New York ('nuff said)
2. my December trip to Portland (went out to adorable eateries and bars)

I know Florida is the chain-restaurant capital of the world, but there is actually something satisfying in tracking down a little unexpected joint here -- like we've found treasure.  And that is something I like to do (see Solid Cherry).

spam project

We have to report any spam that makes it past the rigorous county filtering system.  Well, we don't have to - it's a project - therefore optional.  We merely fill out a form that asks for our e-mail address and the subject of the message.  Usually, I don't participate.  Today, I could not resist:

 

subject in question:  Gordon Giant Fuckstick

i've joined the 700 club

It's my 701st post, relax! Jane is.

new year, new you

I think everyone's secret New Year's Resolution list looked something like this:

1. Go to library; get card.  But be an asshole during the whole process. 
2. Try to be a better driver; tailgate 96% of the time. 
3. Be nicer to strangers.  Only on rare occasions.
4. Ask for things politely (January 1st).  Send thankless demanding e-mails January 2nd.
5. Correct people less.  However, do not stand corrected.
6. Control temper.  Punch doors instead of windows.
7. Exercise more.  Play soccer with canteloupe down grocery store aisles.
8. Ask for directions when lost.  Don't forget to explain that North, South, East, and West change depending on mood.

The world is full of assholes.  My god.

first post of '08 (it's great)

Ahh, so alert is my Jane! Is the puppy coming in here? Is the puppy coming in here? I can read her like a book, that Jane.

We're starting the year off cool in So. Fla. Currently 69°; feels a bit cooler than that, though.

And so go the resolutions. Because you'd better not be late to 2008.

This year I resolve to

• fix my bike for real and ride it to the beach because I can
  
• take portraits of my sisters
• bring Steve to Portland
  
• clutter less
• listen to five classic stories on audiobook; shall begin with The House of Mirth
  
• cook more
  
• save money
• buy American made (gosh durn it)
• blog more!
  

It could all happen; it might not. I'm usually anti-New Year but something about this year really has me inspired.