Effing rad.

Cool shit from this lady. As a matter of principle, I'm required to pay this one forward, rules below (and yes, I totally copied and pasted them, cause I'm lazy today, what of it?).


The first three people to leave a comment on this post will be receiving a small gift. Here are the restrictions:

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. Whatcha get is whatcha get.

2. What I create will be just for you, with love.

3. It’ll be done this year (2009). (Erm, no, it will not. I am certainly not going to get things out in the next two days, but I promise it will be done in the next 6 weeks. Take it or leave it.)

4. I will not give you any clue what it’s going to be. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber. It may be weird or beautiful. Or it may be monstrous and annoying. Heck, I might bake something for you and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that’s for sure!

5. I reserve the right to do something strange.

6. In return, all you need to do is post this text on your blog and make 3 things for the first 3 to respond to your blog post.

7. Send your mailing address if you have one of the first three comments, be sure to mention your username in the subject, and leave your email address in your comment if yer brave.


I said I wasn't going to complain...

...but I have a SPEEDBUMP in my hardwood floors downstairs! Don't even ask me to tell the story of how it got there. Pfft.


A good year.

My sister is in South Africa with the baboons and our pup is in a kennel because the airline was being a pain in the a** about letting her fly, but Christmas is good this year. Our week was cut down to three days thanks to the travel-murdering blizzard on the east coast, so we condensed down to the essentials: unbelievably delicious lunch at Chez Panisse with the marvelous occasion of running into an old friend who turned out to be our waiter, brunch at an old favorite spot and a walk on the beach out at Stinson.

This morning we slept in a bit and made coffee before we opened presents. My sister's absense was palpable at that point -- it was always her up at the crack of dawn, frustrated at everyone else's inertia, irrepressibly excited about tearing open that first package. But it was slow and quiet and relaxed. We are enjoying each other's company. For the rest of the day we'll work in the kitchen putting together dinner for tonight. There will be cheese and cocktails before, the meal will be wonderful and we will all eat and drink just a little too much. I am so happy and so lucky.


Better than I could have said it.


The puppy-shaped wrench in the works.

Before you say it, yes, clearly I'm a little impulsive. In the past six months I've gotten married, purchased my first home and moved, you would think that I'd slow down a bit, relax and enjoy some quiet time in my new neighborhood in this time of newlywed bliss, right? But you would be wrong. Apparently I cannot help myself and I needed to make things just a little more complicated, though, with this face, could you have resisted?


Travel by taste.

My husband has only been to my hometown once. We went so he could meet my family and simultaneously announce that we were getting married, nevermind the fact that we had only known each other a few short months. Suffice it to say, the trip was neither inclusive of the "sights" nor relaxing.

Now we're headed back out to the Bay Area for a week over the holidays, and the best way that I can think of to show him my favorite places is by choosing restaurants where I want to eat and then going to see something near them. I think that a really good meal is generally much more memorable and endearing than a tourist destination, right?

(Also I refuse to go anywhere near Fisherman's Wharf.)


Ich bin eine Brooklyner.

We did it. Papers were signed, checks were written and keys exchanged. I have no idea what I agreed to, and for all I know I've just signed legal documents certifying that I am, in fact, a monkey's uncle. None of that matters for the time being as we're just too happy settling into our new space and enjoying ALL THE ROOM!

Now we have two more days to work on unpacking before we're off to a long weekend for a wedding in Texas, and then three more after our return before we host Thanksgiving dinner. I'm hoping that if I strategically place the new bar cart (fully stocked, of course) right by the door no one will notice the boxes shoved under and behind the furniture. Hey, it could work, right?


Nothing to see here.

There's been lots going on, but none of it very interesting to the outsider I'm afraid. We are closing on our very first home* in just under two weeks. I don't know when it will feel real and I will stop feeling a ittle bit protective and superstitious about it, maybe when I have the keys in my hand? Perhaps after we've moved in? When I write the first check for my mortgage payment?

So for the next two and a half weeks we will be in the process of moving -- cleaning out drawers and cabinets and nooks and crannies, (have I mentioned how much of a packrat I am? No? Well, it's bad...) sealing things up with boxes and tape, picking out shiny new things to go in ALL THE EXTRA SPACE**! But I won't post any pictures until it is really, truly ours, so until then, it may be a bit quiet around here. See you on the other side.

* We live in New York, so by "home" I mean apartment, but it is ours nonetheless.
**For the last 14 months the two of us have shared a 250 square foot studio. Our new apartment is a whopping 600 square feet spread out over TWO FLOORS! We may get lost! We may not know if the other is home! It will be enormous!



So I've been taking a little time off from writing, mostly to read other people's blogs. Their lovely words and gorgeous pictures occasionally make me wonder what I'm doing on this great wide web. I worry sometimes that between the full-time day job and the other "life" things that I'm not quite as prolific or witty as others. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things this weekend - to do a bit more around the house, gather some inspirations and take my camera out for a spin. I'll be working offline, but we'll call it a long weekend anyway.


Personal space.

In preparation for our move in six weeks (!!!) I have begun to make lists. Lists of things to do, things to keep, sell, make or buy. And having sorted out what will and won't work in our new home, I'm purging furnature via Craigslist. I find the whole process unsettling on a number of levels. It always seems like someone is getting scammed on one end or the other and the idea of inviting strangers into my apartment to assess my things makes me uncomfortable. Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil as I don't see any other quick and dirty way to part with our (barely used! in like-new condition! lovely antique!) things for a few dollars.



I have a terrible cold. I have no motivation and no ideas. I'm just ready to hibernate until my immune system has kicked this thing.


Signed, sealed, delivered.

It's done. We've signed on the dotted line, and with a few more hoops to jump through in the next 6 weeks we'll be Brooklynites come the middle of November. I have already started to make my fantasy furniture list... now I just have to wrap my mind around the packing.


A chill in the air.

There is something about walking home from the subway at night when there is just a hint of a chill in the air that makes me a little hopeful.

I know that spring is supposed to be the season that evokes that emotion, what with having waited through the long, dark, cold winter to get to it, but it's the idea of cold noses and warm drinks and mittens and eskimo kisses that gets me excited.

Maybe it's because this year I have everything that I could have ever wished for in my dreams. Maybe it's because my favorite clothes are wool and leather and a mishmash of tweeds. Or maybe it's because I know there is something terribly exciting on the horizon.


Choices, choices.

I have been more than a little indecisive lately. My husband likes to say that I'm "periodically obsessive" meaning that I'll fixate on something for a period of time and then move on to another interest that I'll pursue just as voraciously. I think he's learned that if he ignores some of these things for long enough, they'll go away.

This cyclical focus also makes procrastination one of my killer traits. I can ignore something until the point where it is painful and embarrassing to address it and the excuses that I have to make are downright absurd.

I don't know the best way to address this problem as I don't know anyone else that avoids things in quite the extreme way that I do. Does anyone else do this, or am I just nuts?


New beginnings.

After one disappointment a better opportunity arose, and now we are deep in the heady mix of the real estate process -- filling out forms, making copies, sending off packets of the portions of our lives that exist on paper.

I find it a little thrilling, albeit exhausting. Mr. P finds it all a bit terrifying and overwhelming. We have so much on our plates now it's so easy to feel like we're drowning in responsibility and obligation. It will all be incredibly worth it when we come out the other side, with new qualifications, a new neighborhood and on the brighter end of this experience.


Toeing the line.

Where is that magical divide that is the difference between "good things come to those who wait" and "get it before it's gone"? Could someone please tell me? Which is a more admirable quality: decisiveness or patience?


Unseen eye.

I love the idea of mysterious vacation photos from someone else's (talented) hands. How much fun would it be to explore someplace new (or old) through someone else's vision?
Camera from Athens from Up To You Toronto.
Originally posted at shelterrific.



So happy the worst of the heat has broken for today. Though I hear it will be back tomorrow, followed by more rain.


A little deflated.

The New York real estate market is a cutthroat business. We arrived at our appointment on Friday to find that an offer had already been accepted and the agent hadn't told us, today I got an email telling me the contract had been signed. We had already fallen a little bit in love, and are now a tiny bit heartbroken. Next time we'll take the emotions a little slower and make appointments a little quicker.


Today's the day.

Today's the day, today's the day, today's the day...

So excited about seeing this apartment I can hardly stand it. It feels like the beginning of a relationship, that part where you are almost crawling out of your skin with anticipation of the next time you'll meet. Our real estate rendezvous will be followed by dinner out in the neighborhood which should be pretty fantastic too.

Just have to contain myself for a few more hours.


Growing pains

We are trying to buy a house. Not a house really, an apartment. A tiny one.

I'm married, I live all the way across the country from my parents and have for 8 years, but it's this step that's starting to make me feel a bit like an adult. I think it would more so if we didn't need to ask our parents for help with our down payment, but it's New York, and we are not rich.

I'm almost afraid to write about our hunt here. There is a place that we've found. We've fallen in love with it on paper, poring over the photos from the Times. Over the weekend we snuck into the building; so easy when delivery men are being buzzed in right in front of you. We just wanted to take a quick look around, have a few quiet minutes to explore nooks and hallways and staircases without the looming presence of a real estate agent. On Friday we see the actual apartment. I am a little terrified of either outcome; a little worried about the sadness of finding that we don't like it as much in person and shaking slightly at the idea of loving it, signing a piece of paper that indebts us further and the idea that I may have to face the fact that I am a grown-up after all.

Wish us luck.


Seeing double(s)

I have an eye for doppelgangers. I have found the face of a good friend in Sweden and spied a colleague, twenty years in the future, riding the 6 train downtown. My iPhone is my favorite accomplice in secretly documenting the matches that my eye has made, since it's oh-so innocuous to, headphones in ears, lift the phone ever so slightly to snap a picture. Is it stalking if it's only once?