Wrapping it up.

I've been thinking about wrapping things up a lot lately, both literally and figuratively. It's the holidays, so there has been a bit of actual wrapping going on, but I'm mostly thinking about things coming to an end. The year is drawing to a close, and so many things have changed over the last 12 months, I don't know that I've been able to process them all. We've been seeing people move on with their lives and worked on moving on with our own. It is my hope that this next year will be a little calmer, with a bit more time to think all of these changes through and less scrambling from one adjustment to another.

In that vein, I'm confronting my writer's block head on. It's about time that I finish a project that I've been working on for over a year now, and I'd be delighted if any of you who might still be listening would help me out. I have a little survey that I've put together, if you don't mind answering a few questions, that would be wonderful. If you'd be willing to pass it on, even better.

I'll have my head in the sand working on deciphering all of this data and getting through the holidays and then I'll be back, hopefully newly inspired, and ready to work on the next 12 months.



I am utterly confounded by people whom, having no citizenship rights, and therefore no real ability to MAKE MONEY, in their adopted new home, manage to relocate to a new country. Can someone please tell me if a trust fund is the key to a new location in life? Is it simply being creative (and successful enough to make a living out of said creativity) that allows people to work from anywhere in the world? I'd like to know, because sometimes I think I could use a serious change.



On Thursday morning we lost our sweet pup Arlo to a horrible accident. I can't even begin to describe how sad we are or how much we miss her. I don't know where we'll go from here, but I'm just trying to take it day by day.


I woke up this morning...

...and decided that I want to learn to play blues harmonica. Either I've lost my mind or it's brilliant.


This weekend I made:

A zucchini ricotta galette, a french tomato tart, a three-layer carrot cake, a hat, a giant pot of minestrone soup and a total mess.


Get up to get down.

One of my favorite ladies got engaged last night. I helped pick out the ring THREE MONTHS AGO and the secret's been killing me. Now on to the planning -- this is going to be one Motown belting, wine-soaked, crazy stylish wedding. Eff yes.


The Big Chill.

It's going to be over 90 degrees today kicking off another East Coast heatwave. All I want to do is stay inside, watch movies in French and shop for raincoats. I'm ready for fall.

1. concave hooded raincoat - zero + maria cornejo, 2. army style anorak - green envelope, 3. hooded rain jacket - weatherproof, 4. inside out rain jacket - gargyle


Video killed the radio star.

I don't understand people who renounce television. I generally love tv. Lately I've been completely addicted to both Gangland and Who Do You Think You Are? and have watched them for hours on end.



This gave me a good laugh to pull me out of my morning slump. (Thanks Samantha!)


Sometimes sitting in my cubicle at the beginning of the week makes me feel like a trained monkey.

(Sketch by me.)


Fancy girl.

I have a dog named Arlo. She has a raincoat. Arlo is an 18 lb Manchester Terrier. She has long spindly legs and enormous pivoting, telescoping ears that clap behind her head when she yawns. She is not, in fact, a vicious miniature pinscher thankyouverymuchconcernedBrooklynparents.

But she has a raincoat. It's navy with yellow piping and if it didn't mean that we'd match, I'd wish that I had one like it. I swore that I would never be one of those people that dressed their pets in cutesy little outfits, but she won't go out in the rain without it. My dog, fierce appearance and butch name aside, is kind-of a wuss. And I have become that lady, walking past the hipsters smoking outside the bar at 8:30 on a Sunday, with a dog in a jacket.


Saddle up.

I've had a case of writer's block for over a year now. I think the only way to get rid of it is to just start with something, anything to get back in the habit, and to remember that the worst circumstances make for the best songs.


If I were good

I'd post every day, or at least every other. Instead I get sick, move out of and then back into my apartment, have surgery and take weeks to recover, all while neglecting this little vanity project of mine. Oops. I suppose if I were good I'd feel worse about it too.



Eloise can keep the Plaza. After living in a hotel (albeit one of New York's swankier establishments) for over a week all I wanted was the familiarity of home. Room service is effing tiring after a while, you know?

Now we're moved back in. And though everything smells like paint and polyurethane, it's good to be back where I belong.


dear valentine's day,

i kind of think you're full of crap. just wanted to let you know.


Sartorial prediction.

I think monocles are going to be the new ironic mustache.


Stupid question

I have now twice tried, and failed, to get something posted on Apartment Therapy's "Good Question" page. Am I missing something obvious?


Wee people.

Everyone I know is getting pregnant, except me (purposely). I feel a little guilty about the fact that I would rather drink bourbon and eat runny eggs and cheese than make with the babies, but to be honest, that's how it is. I'm hoping for nieces and nephews since I'd like the kind of kids I can spoil and send home to their parents, but I don't think I'm getting any too soon, and I'm not too sad about that either.



I just remembered, and it made me smile that until it is painted over, my name and the mister's are part of the graffiti covering the walls of a hotel elevator in Copenhagen.


In complete darkness, I lose balance.

Sometimes Brooklyn is so full of shadows in the evening that I look up and think I can see a star in the dark night sky, but then I realize... it's a plane.