Monday, September 29, 2008

This is a Test

As a biker, married to a biker, friends with many, many bikers, I have to admit: this ad nails it on the head. Enjoy and share the road.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Friday, September 26, 2008

no time to wait

So, John McCain wants to postpone not only the Presidential debate, but the VP debate, as well.

I totally understand. When I would have to take a test in school that I hadn't studied for, I would fake sick and then get to postpone the taking of the test. Don't underestimate that pair, that McCain and Palin, they know what they're doing.

Some days though, I do wish we could just call back in our favorite 'substitute teacher': Bill Clinton. Given the opportunity to share his wisdom, he says we should have taken all that money given out for (bad) house loans and put it into renewable energy. I'm glad he's finally on Obama's side.
To see more fantastic designs: go to AIGA
and to get some beautiful posters for your own: go to Hyperakt
Let's make this election sing with beauty AND brains!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Summer in a Jar

Sometimes one is lucky enough to have a friend, they can also call family, that writes a blog where they show their wares. In my case, it's Ellen (who is both friend and family, via marriage) who writes a lovely blog that fills me with dreams of good eats. She's a forager of wild foods and a baker and wine maker and on and on and on... and a few weeks ago, she wrote about this gorgeous ratatouille. Once I saw it, I knew I wanted it (actually, I wouldn't mind at least one of everything Ellen makes, as well as being invited to every dinner she famously produces with friends...alas, we're on different coasts now). I guess I left a little comment about maybe getting some...someday... when, lo and behold, days later I received a big ole package in the mail!
One bottle of delicious ratatouille at your service!
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ellen! I owe you one!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


At the same time I try to keep the house clean, neat and organized I also want to create this absolutely comfy, lived-in vibe that exudes from this photo...

and this one....

and this one...a weekend reader's dream...

All images courtesy of the latest issue of Toast: One of the best laid out catalogues around.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


My 20-year high school reunion is coming up next month and it's being run by one of those big dot com companies that are charging us an arm and a leg to get in the door. Not to mention no open bar. Ouch! When our last reunion came around ten years ago, it was put together by a fellow classmate and her husband. They made it a three day affair that cost next to nothing and was held all over town, including our old high school stomping grounds (that was a bit of a coup, as our H.S. had closed the year after we graduated and was now a middle school).

Now, I'm one of those people who loved high school (i know, i know, i'm part of a very small minority) and though I was sort of dreading the reunion, I ended up having the best three day weekend I could imagine. It changed the course of my life moving forward. It put me in touch with people I hadn't seen since graduation, and have happily kept in touch with since then. Interesting people, who travel the world, fly helicopters, make blockbuster movies and music and change the world.

I was really excited about this next one. Imagine how much people have changed in the last ten years! The stories they'll have to tell! The one thing that gives me hesitation is the possible lack of attendence. It's more expensive to fly to LA than any other time, the cost of the tickets for this one night party are astronomical, and maybe people care less as time goes on... it will all remain to be seen. And, of course, if it's as good as the last one, I won't be able to stop talking about it 'til the next one...

(While I'm not crazy about having a company run our reunion, I do have to give them credit for their funny, funny advertising, above. Click on it to see it bigger)

Monday, September 22, 2008

Lucky Us

from a new book, by an author and a blogger...who i love, who i can't identify right now...get back to me on that one...

Thursday, September 18, 2008

if you want to sing out, sing out (deux)

Lately, I've found myself singing out loud around the house. I mean Loudly. Top of my voice kinda singing. Giving it my all. Putting on my Jennifer Holiday best. And it feels so incredibly good. It's like getting the best breaths in, and all the words out, in one fell swoop.

My lungs are smiling (wonder if my neighbors are?).

*photo by Olivia Bee. Please check out her really fantastic photos. I saw them on a blog I love to read. And don't feel badly about yourself when you read that she's only 14.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

When I came out of the box and tried to put on my hat, I could not find my own head."*

Just days ago, I put my name into a hat, it was pulled out, and now I'm going to the opera, with RK, for free. Apparently amazing seats, as well! Center, front row, balcony. I cannot wait. We're going to see La Boheme in November and I already know I'll need to bring lots of tissues. La Boheme contains more than one of my very favorite songs. Songs I consider part of my life soundtrack. Songs that, when played, I tear up no matter where I am.

My first (and only so far, I'm a bit embarrassed to say) opera was Tosca seen at Lincoln Center in 2002. I remember reading that I could get stand-by tickets if I went just before the show. It was to be Pavarotti's final concert. Of course, the crowds were huge when I arrived and myself, along with lots and lots of other strangers, milled around in the outdoor plaza waiting for the news: Would we get a seat? Would we really be the last audience for the great Pavarotti? Suddenly, an announcement came over the crowd: Pavarotti had cancelled, he wouldn't be singing that night, or any other night. He was done. Just like that, tickets became available. There are actually some people who'd rather not go to the opera if Pavarotti isn't singing. I couldn't believe my luck!

I walked to my seat (at the bottom of the theatre, in the very last row) and stood in the aisle just staring at the theatre. I've since been to Lincoln Center to see other shows, but this was my first time seeing a stage set for an Opera. While my mouth hung open and everyone else sat themselves, the man I would be sitting next to kindly helped me through each stage of the evening. When Tosca began, I was on the edge of my seat, with my mouth soon hanging open in a permanent state of rapture. I didn't even realize there were tears streaming down my face until my previously mentioned seat mate handed me tissues. At intermission, when I turned to him and said, "I'd love to know what's actually going on, too!", he alerted me to the little screen attached to the seat in front of me: the subtitles. It was a magical, spectacular night.

The opera being on my mind, it was fun to read a recent New Yorker article about classical concerts of old. Turns out, performances, opera included, used to be one big wild party in the seats! To quote, "in other words, the opera served mainly as a playground for the aristocracy." An orchestra would begin it's first few notes and someone from the audience might chime in with a different request! "Applause usually erupted after movements, and at times during them, if the audience heard something it particularly liked." I love that! It seems that "the passivity of home listening" to recordings and the radio brought the ban on applauding. Sad. I'm sure there will be a few moments, or more, where RK will have to try to contain my overt excitement at the opera this November. Or, conversely, maybe we'll bring back the "rah-rah" to opera!

*A quote describing how an old music master felt after a Beethoven concert in Paris.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dear B,

One of my best friends recently moved to Portland.
I hate that.

Funny how I don't seem to mind if I'm the one doing the moving...but when someone else leaves, I feel a big hole.

Of course, now it gives me a really good reason to visit Portland.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Finding Time

There's something about children being read to that is just magical to watch. Kids that can't sit still for any lesson during the day, turn into jello when story time comes along. Not as if frozen, but like melted butter--some twist and turn their bodies, finding just the right comfort level, others with their tongues hanging out or their long hair stuck in their mouth, as if a lollipop, and many, many of them laying down, chin in their hands, feet in the air, never taking their eyes off the reader. So many of them are just learning to read, others have gone beyond that, but everyone one of them is totally transfixed by listening to the adventures of a make-believe character.

The latest talk at school is about teaching children age-appropriate concepts. One of those concepts is TIME. Children before the age of seven or so, don't really understand the concept of time. I came across a great article in one of my classrooms (one of my head teachers is a relentless pursuer of knowledge in --what seems like--millions of subjects) that retold a story of a little boy who was turning 6 years old. He was blissfully celebrating when his grandmother asked him how many years ago he was born and he responded, "um, I think about ten years ago." It's a bit how I've felt these last couple months: the concept of time, lately, seems a bit unmanageable.

It's everything flying by me so fast. It's someone being born and then someone dying in the same week. It's my niece entering sixth grade. It's my parents getting older. It's friends worrying about wrinkles. And it's just me, feeling like I should hang on to a lamp post, as if time might sweep me up and I want it to swirl by me and I could catch up just a bit later.

That old saying, "youth is wasted on the young", comes to mind a lot. "If I knew then what I know now" is another phrase that rises to the top of my brain often. Watching kids play and grow, I want to take their hand and tell them to enjoy every single second of this. Watching someone older grow weaker, I want to ask them not to go yet.

The passing of time is a real struggle for me, just like those little six year olds.