February 26, 2009

Required Reading


Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food was on my to-read list for quite some time, but I never thought it would have such an intense effect on me.  (Let's just say my mom is cursing the day this book was written.) 

In a nutshell:  Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.

I'm already rather (read: very) health conscious as it is, and do my best to eat well and exercise etc.   Despite my healthy approach, reading this book shed a whole new light on how Americans view food and mealtime.  In short, Pollan emphasizes that nutritionism undermines one of the most natural processes in the world:  eating.  The fact that we are completely dependent on science and government to dictate what is "good for us" - that we need some larger entity to put health claims on our TV dinners and continually bombard us with breaking news about saturated fats and soybeans - goes against our most primal instincts to recognize good, nourishing sustenance.  

Pollan doesn't attempt to push a particular diet or food group, but rather asks us to question our approach to eating.  There is so much goodness in this book that it's not really worth trying to summarize.  (Read:  It is also 11:15 p.m. and I am tired.  And lazy.)  
Honestly though, I think that every person in the country should be required to read this book.  If nothing else, it will force you to examine your eating habits, and hopefully begin to make simple changes that can lead to a healthier (and more satisfying) lifestyle.

Here are Pollan's key rules for eating well.  And just a few (thousand) passages that I found particularly illuminating, and which do a good job of pulling out key facts in the book.  

Or even better, GO TO THE LIBRARY IMMEDIATELY and read it start to finish.

* * * 
The Rules:
  • Don't eat anything your great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.  (And don't eat anything incapable of rotting)
  • Avoid food products containing ingredients at are a) unfamiliar b) unprounceable c) more than five in number, or that include d) high fructose corn syrup.
  • Avoid food products that make health claims.
  • Shop the perifpheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle.
  • Get out of the supermarket whenever possible.
  • Eat mostly plants, especially leaves.
  • You are what what you eat eats too.
  • If you have the space, buy a freezer.
  • Eat well-grown food from healthy soils.
  • Eat wild foods when you can.
  • Be the kind of person who takes supplements.
  • Eat more like the French, or the Italians, or the Japanese, or the Indians, or the Greeks.  
  • Regard nontraditional foods with skepticism.
  • Don't look for the magic bullet in the traditional diet.
  • Pay more, eat less.
  • Eat meals.
  • Do all your eating at a table.  (No, a desk is not a table.)
  • Don't get your fuel from the same place your car does.  (Gas stations have become processed-corn stations: ethanol outside for your car and high-fructose corn syrup inside for you)
  • Try not to eat alone.
  • Consult your gut.
  • Eat slowly. 
  • Cook, and if you can, plant a garden.
* * * 

For while it used to be that food was all you could eat, today there are thousands of other edible foodlike substances in the supermarket.  These novel products of food science often come in packages elaborately festooned with health claims, which brings me to another, somewhat counter intuitive, piece of advice:  If you're concerned about your health, you should probably avoid products that make health claims.  Why?  Because a health claim on a food product is a strong indication it's not really food, and food is what you want to eat. [Page 2]

...it does seem to me a symptom of our present confusion about food that people would feel the need to consult a journalist, or for that matter a nutritionist or doctor or government food pyramid, on so basic a question about the conduct of our everyday lives as humans.  I mean, what other animal needs professional help in deciding what it should eat?  ...for most of human history, humans have navigated the question without expert advice.  To guide us we had, instead, Culture, which, at least when it comes to food, is really just a fancy word for your mother.  [Page 2]

In one experiment, [psychologist, Paul Rozin] showed the words "chocolate cake" to a group of Americans and recorded their associations.  "Guilt" was their top response.  If that strikes you as unexceptional, consider the response of the French eaters to the same prompt:  "celebration."  [Page 79]

We have known for a century now that there is a complex of so-called Western diseases - including obesity, diabetes, cardiovascular disease, hypertension, and a specific set of diet0related cancers - that begin almost invariably to appear soon after a people abandons its traditional diet and way of life.  What we did not know before [Kerin O'Dea conducted an experiment taking Westernized Aborigines] back to the bush...was that some of the most deleterious effects of the Western diet could be so quickly reversed. [Page 87]

[In the early decades of the 20th century, was when] a handful of dauntless European and American medical professionals working with a wide variety of native populations around the world began noticing the almost complete absence of the chronic diseases that had recently become so commonplace in the West... They compiled lists, many of which appeared in medical journals, of the common diseases they'd been hard pressed to find in the native populations they had treated or studied:  little to no heart disease, diabetes, cancer, obesity, hypertension, or stroke; no appendicitis, diverticulitis, malformed dental arches, or tooth decay; no varicose veins, ulcers, or hemorrhoids. [ Page 90-91]

[Canadian dentist Weston A. Price learned] ... that isolated populations eating a wide variety of traditional diets had no need of dentists whatsoever. )Well, almost no need of dentists: The "sturdy mountaineers' of Switzerland, who never met a toothbrush, had teeth covered in a greenish slime - but underneath that Price found perfectly formed teeth virtually free of decay.)  Wherever he found an isolated primitive race that had not yet encountered the "displacing foods of modern commerce" - by which he meant refined flour, sugar, canned and chemically preserved foods, and vegetable oils - he found little or no evidence of "modern degeneration" - by which he meant chronic disease, tooth decay, and malformed dental arches. [Page 96 - 97]

Store food is food designed to be stored and transported over long distances, and the surest way to make food more stable and less vulnerable to pests is to remove the nutrients from it.  In general, calories are much easier to transport - in the form of refined grain or sugar- than nutrients, which are liable to deteriorate or attract the attention of bacteria, insects, and rodents, all keenly interested in nutrients. (More so, apparently, than we are.) [Page 97]

Price identified no single ideal diet - he found populations that thrived on seafood diets, dairy diets, meat diets, and diets in which fruits, vegetables, and grain predominated.  The Masai of Africa consumed virtually no plant foods at all, subsisting on meat, blood, and milk... But the common denominator of good health, he concluded, was to eat a traditional diet consisting of fresh foods from animals and plants grown on soils that were themselves rich in nutrients. [Page 97 - 98]

A diet based on quantity rather than quality has ushered a new creature on to the world stage: the human being who manages to be both overfed and undernourished, two characteristics seldom found in the same body in the long natural history of our species.  In most traditional diets, when calories are adequate, nutrient intake will usually be adequate as well.  Indeed, many traditional diets are nutrient rich and, at least compared to ours, calorie poor.  The Western diet has turned that relationship upside down. [Page 122]

Still, medicalizing the whole problem of the Western diet instead of working to overturn it (whether at the level of the patient or politics) is exactly what you'd expect from a health care community that is sympathetic to nutritionism as a matter of temperament, philosophy, and economics.  You would not expect such a medical community to be sensitive to the cultural or ecological dimensions of the food problem - and it isn't.  We'll know this has changed when doctors kick the fast-food franchises out of the hospitals. [Page 142]

If my explorations of the food chain have taught me anything, it's that it is a food chain, and all the links in it are in fact linked: the health of the soil to the health of the plants and animals we eat to the health of the food culture in which we eat them to the health of the eater, in body as well as mind... Food consists not just in piles of chemicals; it also comprises a set of social and ecological relationships, reaching back to the land and outward to other people. [Page 144]

In order to eat well we need to invest more time, effort, and resources in providing for our sustenance, to dust off a word, than most of us do today.  A hallmark of the Western diet is food that is fast, cheap, and easy... For most people for most of history, gathering and preparing food has been an occupation at the very heart of daily life.  Traditionally people have allocated a far greater proportion of their income to food - as they still do in several of the countries where people eat better than we do and as a consequence are healthier than we are.  Here, then, is one way in which we would do well to go a little native: backward, or perhaps it is forward, to a time and place where the gathering and preparing and enjoying of food were closer to the center of a well-lived life. [Page 145 - 146]

It is no accident that Slow Food has it's roots in Italy, a country much less enamored of the "folly of Fast Life" than the United States, and you have to wonder whether it's realistic to think the American way of eating can be reformed without also reforming the whole American way of life.  Fast food is precisely the way you'd expect a people to eat who put success at the center of life, who work long hours (with two careers per household), get only a couple of weeks vacation each year, and who can't depend on a social safety net to cushion them from life's blows.  But Slow Food's wager is that making time and slowing down to eat, an activity that happens three times a day and ramifies all through a culture, is precisely the wedge that can begin to crack the whole edifice. [Page 195]

PS:  I told you I was obsessed. 

PPS:  Today I made a mind-blowing revelation.  Butter is a REALLY good non-stick cooking tool!  PAM begone!  

PPPS:  I want to burn down the supermarkets.

PPPPS:  Do you think I should buy a cow and some chickens and plant a garden and quit my job so I can live a more native lifestyle?  I do.

February 25, 2009

Daily Closet






The daily fashion posts of a couple of lovely ladies have inspired me to start doing my own little Daily Closet on flickr.

You should know that getting my picture taken (especially while standing alone in my front hallway) makes me extremely uncomfortable and I wavered about whether I should bother doing this whole daily style thing at all.  I finally caved and figured if nothing else it will be a good way to force myself to step out of my box and finally utilize all of the poor little clothing items that have been forgotten in the bottom of my closet. 

I always feel like I have nothing to wear, and yet that is clearly not the case.  My continual need to replenish my hanger supply can attest to that.  It should also be noted that at my job this past summer I went a full 2 months without ever repeating an outfit.  Clearly I DO have things to wear. And I am determined to find them. And apparently share them with strangers.

PS:  I think that third photo suddenly makes blindingly clear why people continually inquire as to whether I am in high school.

PPS:  It also makes me look like a (very young) deer in headlights.

PPPS:  I think these photos also begin to illustrate the difference between a good camera and a GOOD camera.

February 24, 2009

Brian Andreas


I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow.  I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that."

- Brian Andreas

*I've been in love with his work FOREVER and if you haven't been to Storypeople yet, you really should take a look IMMEDIATELY.

Closet Envy


Simply heavenly.

{Photo via The Selby}

Kitchen Envy


This has got to be one of the happiest little kitchens I've ever seen. I love all of the cups and mugs, stacked and dangling to create pops of color.

{Photo via Design Sponge}

Rather Appropriate, Don't You Think?


Though perhaps having utensils hanging from my neck would kind of make me seem like a crazed cannibal.

{Emily Elizabeth utensil trio necklace via Daily Candy}

February 20, 2009

No, I Do Not Have a Hall Pass


So, apparently this whole job thing really gets in the way of blogging.  Bummer.

However, I'm finding working in the front office of a high school beyond fascinating.  The only thing more fascinating than simply working in a high school is working in an office devoted for 50 or so "at risk" kids who have all kinds of issues and problems well beyond my ignorant comprehension.   

Good lawdy, am I getting an education.  I pretty much sit at my desk all day thinking Wow, am I a HUGE NERD or what?  Not breaking news, but it's certainly reinforcing that knowledge.  

This dude's parents are who-knows-where so he needs a place to live, stat.  This one is pregnant and carrying around bags of diapers.  That one is screaming at her boyfriend on her cell phone that he better not even THINK about going to that strip club again or else he doesn't even want to KNOW what she's going to do.

Well.  Who would have thought that all of this drama was unfolding mere moments from my peaceful deer-ridden backyard?

As someone who spent the entirety of her formative years within a delightful, insulated bubble of middle class suburbia and naivete (a bubble which was swiftly and gleefully popped by my new college friends), I cannot in any way shape or form relate to these kids.  They're screaming about how their boyfriends just used them for sex and now are heading to the strip club.  During these very same years I was busily prancing from Student Council to National Honor Society to ballet class, with any spare time spent huddled in the reference section of Border's bookstore next to human-sized stacks of college guides, obsessing about whether I would prefer the predominant architecture of my future university to be comprised primarily of brick or stone.  OH THE STRESS THE UNBEARABLE STRESS!

This whole job is made exponentially more interesting because I'm really not that much older than the students.  And of course, at least 5 times a day someone says there's NO way I look old enough to work here, and asks me how old I am, and then says I look SO young, and WOW.  My boss already warned me not to be offended if I get stopped in the hall and given detention for wandering about during class time.  
But it's good so far.  And I'm really just very thankful to have a job in this dreadful economic state.  Plus, its nice to be in an office with things actually HAPPENING.  And people actually SPEAKING to one another, rather than shooting emails back and forth across the cubicle wall at warp speed.   

I'm also pretty damn excited to finally have the chance to dress up and wear all of my zillions of clothes that are NOT sweatpants. 

February 19, 2009

Book Lust


{Photo via Domino}

February 18, 2009

Wishlist


I would like the patio stripe printed mini dress and the chambray tennis dress please.  Or, you know, pretty much anything and everything from the Built by Wendy collection.  Thanks!

February 17, 2009

So...


...apparently I am NOT starting work on February 24th.  No.  After a phone call from my new boss, apparently I am starting work TOMORROW.  Tomorrow!  As in, the day after today.  Which is fine really.  I need the monies.  And he sounded so desperate for help.  And so excited by the prospect of someone coming in an organize his life and take care of everything that needs taking care of.  So that's fine.  It is.  Although when he called I was so completely thrown off that I stuttered and uhh uhh uhh-ed for five minutes as thoughts like but but but Mama and I were going to go to Short Hills mall tomorrow and have lunch at my favorite restaurants and eat all those glorious bread sticks and walk around and soak up the wealth charged through my addled brain.  But I said "OK!  See you at 10!"  (Do you know how exciting it is to not even have to set an ALARM for work?  To not have to worry about rush hour traffic?  Or crazy psycho train commuters?  Oh man the glory.)  

And then the minute I hung up... panic.

I HAVE NOT GONE TO THE STORE FOR FOOD STUFFS.  I DO NOT KNOW IF THERE IS A REFRIGERATOR.  I DO NOT KNOW IF I HAVE A DRAWER IN WHICH TO STORE ALL OF MY SNACKS.  

I.  HAVE.  NOT.  PREPARED.  MY.  FEEDBAG!

Two for One


I've been feeling  super lazy lately.  I waste all of my time on the Internet looking at clothes and blogs and apartments and other drivel that simply clouds my mind and makes me itch for all types of things I cannot afford.  And even though I LOVE browsing the Internet, and think there's a lot of valuable information and such, somehow I simply can't justify spending my time that way.  I always feel guilty.  I think it's because it's so easy to get lost in the bowels of the Internet.  The fact that one blog inevitably leads you to another to another to another... in an endless stream of blogginess that traps you and simply WILL NOT SET YOU FREE.

I feel much better reading a book.  Or watching a movie.  Or pretty much anything that involves a set end point.  Because that way I have something to show for my time.  I can say "I just spent X hours doing this.  And now I am done."  I have recently come to this revolutionary realization - that I REALLY like tasks with visible end results.  I think that's one of the reasons I had so much trouble with my PR job - I was continually working on ongoing campaigns and never actually felt like I was accomplishing anything because, at the end of the day, I had nothing to show for myself.

SO.  Case in point.  I'm trying to cut back my Internet time.  

(I have currently been on the Internet for 2 hours so, clearly, my plan is working oh so well so far!)

ANYWAY.  My point is, I have been so busy browsing for nonsense that I have been remiss in my little book commentary.  And so I will just give you a very brief glimpse of what I've been spending my non-Internet time on lately.


The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields won the Pulitzer in 1995, and rightly so.  The organization of book itself is very interesting - it's presented as the fictionalized autobiography of Daisy Goodwill Flett.  It paints a very accurate portrayal of a middle-class woman's journey through childhood, love, motherhood, and old age.  So accurate that at times it verges on depressing - sometimes the realism hits a little too close to home.  But Shields' command of the language is absolutely gorgeous (I kind of went on a quoting binge), and the plot is so intricately woven that it makes for a really interesting read.  If you want to get inside a woman's head, to watch her watch her own life from start to finish, this is the way to do it.  And the beautiful diction doesn't hurt.


A bunch of months ago I read Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body, which I was relatively unimpressed by.  But Lighthousekeeping?  AMAZING.  The story itself is kind of bizarre, and seems impossible to accurately describe, so I won't bother.  But honestly, if you're into unique books and an absolutely incredible envy-inspiring use of language, you should read it immediately.  Again, I apologize (kind of) for the quote binge that ensued as a result of this book.  I wanted to quote the entire thing.  Winterson has a very simple, pared down style, and yet every single adjective, pronoun and preposition is so carefully chosen that it results in great things.  Really fabulous.  I can't wait to get my hands on another one of her books.

Loving...


...the new Built by Wendy collection. I keep seeing red tights everywhere.  I love it.  But I don't know if I could pull it off...

{Photo via Refinery 29}

February 16, 2009

Book Lust


{Photo via Design Sponge}

Postman rescues baby otter from country road


When Jared demanded that I give him an otter for his birthday, I think it's safe to say that I thought that law school had finally succeeded in demolishing all of his remaining brain cells responsible for things like, say, sanity.  

Then I watched this video, and I would like to publicly announce that I will gladly take in any stray otters that you might find in a country road.

That is all.

Story of My Life


In the locker room at the gym:

Random middle-aged woman:  I saw you stretching before.  You're in such great shape! 
Me:  [Smile Smile Smile]
Random middle-aged woman:  Ah, but you're young!  How old are you?
Me:  Twenty three.
Random middle-aged woman:  Twenty three!  Ha!  I thought you were like... fifteen!
Me:  Ha. Ha.
Random middle-aged woman:  Oh, well just hope it stays that way. [Chuckle Chuckle Chuckle]
Me:  [Snarl Snarl Snarl]

February 14, 2009

Kitchen Envy



Desire to Inspire - my usual source for kitchen inspiration - just did an ENTIRE POST ON WHITE KITCHENS!  Hello heavenly.

February 13, 2009

In Other News


I got a job.  

I know.  It's a miracle.  And honestly, I just don't know what to do with myself now that I'm not spending six hours a day job hunting.  I just sit here at my computer, staring at all of the links and Web sites that no longer needed to be checked ONE THOUSAND TIMES PER DAY.  And, since I have a completely crazed and obsessive mind that always needs to be focused on "hunting" for something, I've now turned to apartments.  Which I won't be moving into anytime soon.  But, you know, just something to do.  

Since some very sweet inquiring minds have asked what I'll be up to... I've gotten a position as an assistant at a votech high school only 15 minutes from my house.  (Fifteen minutes!  Do you know how CLOSE that is!?  And it doesn't involve $330 in monthly commuting costs!  Or freaky businessmen offering me early morning massages.  I just don't know how I'll handle it.)  Technically the job is only temporary until June - and part-time, from 10-5 - with the hope to become fulltime once they finalize their funding for next year blah blah blah.  I'll be supporting one of the program directors/school assistant principals - working to promote certain school programs, some grantwriting, school newsletters, etc.  

And the biggest shocker of all?  I'm actually excited.  Anyone who knows me - anyone who is acquainted with my impossible job standards - realizes the enormity of this statement.  But I really do think a school environment will be good for me.  I like being surrounded by academia.  Everyone that I've met there so far is super duper nice.  Plus they seem desperate for help so I feel like I'll be well utilized and actually busy and bustling all the time (as opposed to a slovenly minion on the corporate totem pole). 

I'm slated to start the 24th.  So hooray to money and having a life purpose.  

Note:  The school also happens to be across the street from the mall.  Bad things might happen. 

Book Lust


{Photo via Domino}

Page 219


I fell asleep, and dreamed of a door opening.

Doors opening into rooms that opened onto doors that opened into rooms.  We burst through, panelled, baize, flush, glazed, steel, reinforced, safe doors, secret doors, double doors, trap doors.  The forbidden door that can only be opened with a small silver key.  THe door that is no door in Rapunzel's lonely tower.

You are the door in the rock that finally swings free when moonlight shines on it.  You are the door at the top of the stairs that only appears in dreams.  You are the door that sets the prisoner free.  You are the carved low door into the Chapel of the Grail.  You are the door at the edge of the world.  You are the door that opens onto a sea of stars.

Open me.  Wide.  Narrow.  Pass through me, and whatever lies on the other side, could not be reached except by this.  This you.  This now.  This caught moment opening into a lifetime.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Page 214


I was holding your hand while he talked.  There is so little life, and it is fraught with chance.  We meet, we don't meet, we take the wrong turning, and still bump into each other.  We conscientiously choose the 'right road' and it leads nowhere.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Kittens, Inspired by Kittens!

February 12, 2009

Page 196


I unlatched the shutters.  The light was as intense as a love affair.  I was blinded, delighted, not just because it was warm and wonderful, but because nature measures nothing.  Nobody needs this much sunlight.  Nobody needs droughts, volcanoes, monsoons, tornadoes either, but we get them, because our world is as extravagant as a world can be.  We are the ones obsessed by measurement.  THe world just pours it out.  

I went outside, tripping over slabs of sunshine the size of towns.  THe sun was like a crowd of people, it was a party, it was music.  The sun was blaring through the walls of the houses and beating down the steps.  THe sun was drumming time into the stone.  The sun was rhythming the day. 

"Why are you afraid?" I asked myself, because fear is at the bottom of everything, even love usually rests on fear.  "Why are you afraid, when whatever you do will die anyway?"

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Page 195


An obsession with meaning, at the expense of the ordinary shape of life, might be understood as psychosis, yes.

I do not accept that life has an ordinary shape, or that there is anything ordinary about life at all.  We make it ordinary, but it is not.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Alvin Ailey


I watched the documentary "Beyond the Steps" last night and was completely and utterly blown away by the incredible indescribable talent of Alvin Ailey.  I took class at their GORGEOUS studios for a year, but somehow never managed to see them perform.  What a mistake.  They are breathtaking.  And my quads hurt just watching.  

February 11, 2009

Page 166


She stepped out of her dress and uncoiled her hair and kissed me.  She was so free with her body.  Her body, her freedom.  I was afraid of how she made me feel.  You say we are not one, you say truly there are two of us.  Yes, there are two of us, but we were one.  As for myself, I am splintered by great waves.  I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered.  I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.  The reds and greens of her body are the colours of my love for her, the coloured parts of me, not the thick heavy glass of the rest.  

I am a glass man, but there is no light in me that can shine across the sea.  I shall lead no one home, save no lives, not even my own.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Sniffle


Well, now that I no longer have to obsess about finding a job, I can turn the full force of my obsessive nature upon apartments.  That I am not currently in the market for.  That I will not be moving into for who knows how long.  But that won't stop me.  No it won't.  SO. MANY. BEAUTIES. AVAILABLE.  Look at this gorgeous 1860's brownstone!  And this one is literally ON the park (seriously! Google map that baby!)

Hello.  My name is Kathryn and I have an apartment-hunting addiction.

(And yes, that's the 2nd time in less than 24 hrs that I've uttered that phrase)

Page 135


Turn down the daily noise and at first there is the relief of silence.  And then, very quietly, as quiet as light, meaning returns.  Words are the part of silence that can be spoken.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Book Lust

This morning someone mentioned her frantic consumption of Domino's online galleries before they take the site down.  Within moments I was on the Domino Web site maniacally browsing their archives and saving saving saving inspiration to my computer.  Voila.

{Photo via Domino}

Page 133


We're here, there, not here, not there, swirling like specks of dust, claiming for ourselves the rights of the universe.  Being important, being nothing, being caught in lives of our own making that we never wanted.  Breaking out, trying again, wondering why the past comes with us, wondering how to talk about the past at all.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Kitchen Envy


{Photo via Domino}

Page 127


It's better if I think of my life like that - part miracle, part madness.  It's better if I accept that I can't control any of the things that matter.  My life is a trail of shipwrecks and set-sails.  There are no arrivals, no destinations; there are only sandbanks and shipwreck; then another boat, another tide.  

- Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

February 10, 2009

Page 102


...when she slept or when she was alone, when the children were quiet, her mind spread round him like the sea.  He was always present.  He was her navigation point.  He was the coordinate of her position.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Hello There


This article claims that having "experiences" leads to a greater sense of overall happiness than acquiring material objects. 

When conducting this study, I'm pretty sure the researcher had NOT seen this dress.  

Melisa, please stop taunting me with all of your fashion goodness.

I already went on a "bargain shopping" mission at Target today.  Said "bargain shopping" quickly morphed into "let's spend $200 on lots of pretty things!"  

Hello.  My name is Kathryn and I'm a shopaholic.

Page 88


Whenever he saw her he wanted to faint.  He knew it was the sudden rush of blood to his head, and the fact that he forgot to breathe.  He knew it was an ordinary symptom and an ordinary cause, but he knew, too, that whenever he saw her, his desiccated, half-stilled body jerked forward, towards the sun.  Heat and light.  She was heat and light to him, whatever the month.
...
She was a bright disc in him that left him sun-spun.  She was circular, light-turned, equinox-sprung.  She was season and movement, but he had never seen her cold.  In winter, her fire sank from the surface to below the surface, and warmed her great halls like the legend of the king who kept the sun in his hearth.

"Keep me by you," he said.  It was almost a prayer, but like most of us he prayed for one thing, and set his life on course for elsewhere.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Book Lust


{Photo via Design Sponge}

A (one-sided) Gchat Conversation with Jared


As usual, revolving around the demonic actions of the kittens.

Jared:  i pulled the string out of that notre dame hoody
and now the kittens are playing a game with it
i think it is called Kill the Cat with the String
one of them picks it up in their mouth and tries to run off with it
and the other stomps on the end of it
and then the one with the string falls over and fumbles the string
 
Jared:  OH NO
THEY'RE ATTACKING
THEY HAVE DECIDED TO TAKE MY SLIPPER
RIGHT OFF MY FOOT
HELP MEEEE

Jared:  now boo has decided to single handedly destroy the beer glass box
pippi would have none of that
so now they're beating the s*** out of each other
KICK TO THE SNOUT
2 POINT TAKEDOWN BY PIPPI

Jared:  that son of a b****!
he was using the hoody string as a cover to eat my sneaker

This is How I Want to Dress



But I feel like I can never quite get there.

Need:
- To consider heels once in a while
- To start exploring inexpensive options
- Opaque tights
- Short skirts/dresses
- A more daring outlook
- A job 

Note:  She is a fashion designer.  And sews/hems a lot of her own stuff.  And a huge portion of her wardrobe is vintage.

Note:  I am not a fashion designer.  I cannot sew.  I cannot stomach the thought of preworn clothing.

Alas.

{Photos via What I Wore}

Because Sometimes an Early Morning Smile is Enough

{Video via Color Me Katie}

Page 85


Why didn't Babel Dark marry Molly?
He doubted her.  You must never doubt the one you love.
But they might not be telling you the truth.
Never mind that.  You tell them the truth.
What do you mean?
You can't be another person's honesty, child, but you can be your own.
So what should I say?
When?
When I love someone?
You should say it.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

February 9, 2009

Kitchen Envy


{Photo via emmas designblogg}

Book Lust


These Ikea Expedit bookshelves have been all over the web lately, simply serving to solidify the fact that I NEED THEM.  My itty bitty bookcase runneth over.  And I have a couple of very hefty crates of books stowed away in the basement.  Majoring in English and Spanish literature yields many a book, let me tell you.  I need to remedy this situation immediately....  Well, when I am employed....  And have an apartment.... BAH

{Photo via Design Sponge}

Page 54


In his becalmed life, Dark began to taunt his wife, not out of cruelty at first, but to test her, perhaps to find her.  He wanted her secrets and her dreams.  He was not a man of good mornings and good nights.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Page 49


Tell me a story, Pew.
What kind of story, child?
A story with a happy ending.
There's no such thing in all the world.
As a happy ending?
As an ending.

Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Page 23


A beginning, a middle and an end is the proper way to tell a story.  But I have difficulty with that method.

- Lighthousekeeping, Jeanette Winterson

Cavallini Posters




I saw these Cavallini prints on Anne's blog a few months ago, and fell instantly in love.  Mad passionate love.  When I finally live in this apartment, I will buy these pretty (and oh-so-affordable!) prints and frame them and hang them in my bright and sunny kitchen.  Fruit, sweets, and cheese.  My lifeblood.  Touch of Europe makes it even easier by offering all three together.  Love it.

Only in this town...


...can you drive to the gym behind a slow-moving pickup truck piled six-feet high with dead trees - oh, nope - with hundreds of flattened deer carcasses.  Just look at that soft white underbelly fur blowing in the breeze...

Beyond Obsessed


...with Whitney's precious pooch.

{Photo by Darling Dexter}

February 8, 2009

I. Want. It.


This Hoboken apartment is in a virtually perfect location and looks SO SUNNY and so BIG and has a fireplace and it has a WALK THROUGH DRESSING ROOM/WARDROBE and oh my goodness I WANT TO GO TO THERE!!!

Book Lust


{Photo via Apartment Therapy}

February 7, 2009

Page 342


Something has occurred to her - something transparently simple, something she's always known, it seems, but never articulated.  Which is that the moment of death occurs while we're still alive.  Life marches right up to the wall of that final darkness, one extreme state of being butted against the other.  Not even at breath separates them.  Not even a blink of the eye.  A person can go on and on tuned in to the daily music of food and work and weather and speech right up to the last minute, so that not a single thing gets lost.  

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 340


All she's trying to do is keep things straight in her head.  To keep the weight of her memories evenly distributed.  To hold the chapters of her life in order.  She feels a new tenderness growing for certain moments; they're like beads on a string, and the string is wearing out.  At the same time she knows what lies ahead of her must be concluded by the efforts of her imagination and not by the straight-faced recital of a throttled and unlit history.  Words are more and more required.  And the question arises: what is the story of a life?  A chronicle of fact of a skillfully wrought impression?  The bringing together of what she fears?  Or the adding up of what has been off-handedly revealed, those tiny allotted increments of knowledge?  She needs a quiet place in which to think about this immensity.  And she needs someone - anyone - to listen.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 339


The brown leaves had been raked into a pile ready to burn, and she longed to lie down on top of them for just a minute, flat on her back in the rustling leaves, staring upward.  She let herself fall backward, her arms straight out, trustingly, and at once the complications of branches, fences, sheds and houses, so dense and tangled together, burst with a cartoon pop into the spare singularity of sky, the primary abruptness of blue.  That's all there was.  Herself suspended in a glass sphere.  You could go back and back to that true and steadfast picture, hold it in your head for the rest of your life.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 309


Suddenly her body is all that matters.  How it's let her down.  And how fundamentally lonely it is live inside a body year after year and carry it always in a forward direction, and how there is never any relief from the weight of it, even when sleeping, even when joined, briefly, to the body of another.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 297


The larger loneliness of our lives evolves from our unwillingness to spend ourselves, stir ourselves.  We are always damping down our inner weather, permitting ourselves the comforts of postponements, of rehearsals.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 164


Their sleep, Barker Flett likes to think, is made up of softer denser stuff than other people's sleep.  There's something clean about it like scrubbed fleece.  Is this what love is, he wonders, this substance that lies so pressingly between them, so neutral in color yet so palpable it need never be mentioned?  Or is love something less, something slippery and odorless, a transparent gas riding through the world on the back of a breeze, or else - and this is what he more and more believes - just a word trying to remember another word.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 147


How did this happen?  She's caught in a version of her life, pinned there.
A thought comes into her head: that lately she doesn't ask herself what is possible, but rather what possibilities remain.

- The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

Page 121


Men, it seemed to me in those days, were uniquely honored by the stories that erupted in their lives, whereas women were more likely to be smothered by theirs.  Why?  Why should this be?  Why should men be allowed to strut under the privilege of their life adventures, wearing them like a breastful of medals, while women went all gray and silent beneath the weight of theirs?  The stories that happen to women blow themselves up as big as balloons and cover over the day-to-day measure of their lives, swelling and pressing with such fierceness that even the plain and simple separations of time - hours, weeks, months - get lost from view.

The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields

February 6, 2009

Best Blog Ever



This site just saved me $15 in shipping on my glorious boot purchase.  Need I say more?

BRILLIANT!

I LOVE YOU JCREW


There is a super long and involved story of tremendous proportions regarding these boots (all of which just took place over the past hour and a half).  But I will spare you the details, and say that the bottom line is - I ordered them.  Extended calf.  In black.  With a free shipping code.  With 3 gift cards.  Which resulted in me paying FIVE DOLLARS for these boots.  I am hoping and wishing and pleading that they fit.  (But because JCrew is beyond awesome they said if for some reason they did not then I could return them anyway, even though they're final sale)

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Cleverness

Seriously.  Brilliance, no?

{Photo via House Beautiful}

Book Lust


{Photo via Desire to Inspire}

Dilemma


So the boots.  The boots that are designed for We of the Large Calves.

I found them.  Today.  In Lord & Taylor.  They are the perfect style.  PERFECT.  Exactly what I want.  Plain, simple, classy black riding boots.

But the stretchy stuff?  I'm kind of ambivalent.  I mean I already referred to these as the pregnancy pants of the shoe world.  But do I WANT to be voluntarily be wearing pregnancy pants?  Um.  Probably not. 

But truly.  No.  Other.  Boots.  Fit.  Me.  

(Although I have yet to try JCrew extended calf sizes but they're always just so expensive and now they're all sold out anyway and ehhhhhh)

So?  Style mavens?  Are these worth keeping?  Would they look presentable with opaque black tights or black leggings?  Or do they look geriatric?

HELP!

February 5, 2009

The Perfect Wedding


The other night I watched the Sex and the City movie for the first time since seeing it in the theater back in May.  Oh my.  It's just so good.  So freaking good.  I'm slightly SATC obsessed (and why not? I ask.  Why in good heavens not?  Unattainable clothes and apartments and success and shoes?  What is not to ogle happily and enviously?)  

So I only cried, like, twelve times.  It's that freaking Brooklyn Bridge - the minute it zooms into sight I'm a goner.  And from there I start blubbering every few minutes until the end of the movie.  Good times.

Anyway, the more I see it, and the more I contemplate it, the more I believe that Carrie and Big's wedding is literally perfect.  (Once again, somewhat unattainably so.)  A simple City Hall wedding.  Classy white garb and great shoes.  Completely intimate and focused on the act of marriage and not all of the muss and fuss and complete inanity of the wedding hoopla.  And then, celebrating at the diner with your very best friends.  Not the extended family who barely knows the name of your significant other.  Not all of those individuals who warrant an invitation based solely on obligation.  Just the people you really truly love, and who have been there to appreciate your relationship from the very beginning.

End of wedding rant.

{Photo via here}

Danger: Tea-Drinking Impeded


I have become a tea junkie.  A tea-aholic.  A tea freak, if you will.  Every time I head for the kettle Jared raises an eyebrow and calls me an addict.  Oh well.  There are worse addictions no?  Like pears!  And chocolate chip banana muffins!*  

Yesterday I scalded the roof of my mouth on my bagel egg and cheese sandwich.**  The worst.  THE WORST.  I hate burnt mouth!  I hate anything that impedes my eating!  

And now every time I take a sip of tea, it's painful.  I literally shudder.  But I will not stop drinking tea.  No.  No I will not.  I will drink the hot tea and it will scald my burnt mouth over and over again and I will be strong.***

*Definitely already had both of those things before 9 a.m. today.

**I wasn't even satisfied by the bagel egg and cheese.  It had taken me, oh, an hour or so to finally choose something to scrounge up for dinner, and I clearly chose WRONG.  And my incorrect choice was further emphasized by my scalding burn.

***Freak!

{Print by JenniPenni}

Gleeful


My pears finally ripened.  I have finally started basking in their glory.  I was so excited about this moment that I took a picture of us, together, happy and in love.  Do you see how much I love my pear?  Do you see how much my pear loves me back?  (It does.  I promise.)  Harry & David - you complete me.

Note:  Please do not judge me.  I have a pear fetish.  I have a food obsession.  I do not have a job and spend a lot of time in my kitchen staring into pantries, deciding what to eat next.  Indulge me.

PS - That aluminum foil shine in the background is the remnants of an oatmeal brown sugar apple cake that Mama concocted.  Do you see why I spend all of my time staring into pantries?  There are always baked goods to be discovered.  

PPS - My bangs are taking over my face.  Don't worry, I got my haircut the day after I took this picture.  The better to see my pears, my dear.

February 4, 2009

New Mankind Mag!


It's here it's here!  Go on over and download the February issue of Mankind Mag right this second. 

Seriously.  Why are you still here???

 The "Let's Just Be Friends" issue is here just in time for your Valentine's Day consumption.  Jam-packed with 87 pages of art, design, and culture goodness, it's sure to perk you up out of your winter blues.  You can find me rounding up the news, and compiling a few relationship confessions.  Hope you enjoy!

Sweet Treat


I already love browsing the gorgeous photos on Sandra's blog, and now I'm smitten with this sweet little cupcake print!  I think it would be perfect in my (future white cabinet-ed) kitchen.

{Print via Sandra Juto}

February 3, 2009

Annie Dillard


Time is eternity's pale interlinear, as the islands are the seas.  We have less time than we knew and that time buoyant, and cloven, lucent, and missile, and wild.

- Holy the Firm, Annie Dillard

Kitchen Envy


Is This Real Life?


This is what happens when a 7-year old goes to the dentist.  And has a tooth pulled.  And is on a LOT of medication.  It is also quite possibly one of the funniest videos I have ever seen.  And yet at the same time I feel so sad for this poor traumatized doped-up youth.  But I know it's all okay now.  And then I laugh.  A lot.

February 2, 2009

Dear Quads, I Will Miss You. Love, Kathryn


Yesterday I went to a day-long Zumba instructor training workshop.  I've been taking classes at my gym since they started offering the program a few months ago, and after much harassing/pleading/commentary from my instructor and fellow gym-goers (you know, my elderly workout buddies), I got certified to teach.  I figure I spend enough time at the gym - might as well try to get paid for it at some point.  

So, I'd just like to point out that the aforementioned workshop was, oh, you know, nine. hours. long.  And I consider myself a pretty fit individual.  I am slightly addicted to exercise, and nothing makes me crankier than missing a day at the gym (like when the power unexpectedly shuts down) or a walk around the block (stupid snow).  

But good grief.  Yesterday?  My muscles.  They are currently deceased.  RIP quadriceps.  It's been fun.  You've been good to me.  You'll be sorely missed.*

Basically, imagine taking four of the most intense hour-long fitness classes you've ever taken in your life.  And in-between each one, imagine sitting on a hard wooden floor, listening to some lectures.  Imagine all of your crazed, outraged muscles solidifying into stiff frozen clumps.  And at the same time, pretend that you've been yanked out of the shower, soaking wet, and forced to sit on said floor without a towel.  Dripping.  Freezing.  Crying inside.

Oh yes.  That's how I spent my day yesterday.  

And it was fabulous.

What was not fabulous was the 9-hour-long reminder of why too many years of ballet training can sometimes be slightly detrimental.  This booty just don't shake like that.  I spent much of the time standing there in awe as a number of 
Latina ladies (and the former-competitive-ballroom-dancer instructor) shook what my mama simply did not give to me.  Alas.

But really, one of the best things about yesterday was simply all of the MOVING.  I've mentioned before, probably in diatribe-form, my hatred for a sedentary lifestyle.  That's (one of the reasons) why I freaked out everyday when I approached my desk last year - I couldn't stand the thought of facing 9 hours of sitting in front of the computer.  And that's kind of why I eventually left.  

It makes me incredibly sad that Americans are so anti-movement.  Also known as lazy.  That people can't bear to walk a few feet through a parking lot from their cars to a store.  That they will never take the stairs if there's an elevator.  That they won't leave their desk and walk five feet to talk to a colleague rather than calling or emailing.  I actually find it beyond sad.  I find it infuriating.  

So yesterday was glorious.  Because though my quads are still whimpering, at least I was moving and dancing and feeling good all day long.**  And I didn't look at a computer ALL DAY.  I didn't even turn it on.  It was liberating.***

*Ha!  Did you like that pun there?  I did.  I chuckled aloud at my own genius.  (See?  That's what happens when you're bored and surrounded by deer.  The highlight of your day is your own puns.)

**Feeling good, minus some embarrassment regarding my non-booty-shaking abilities.

***Actually kind of sad how proud of myself I was for this accomplishment.

Book Lust

{Photo via Desire to Inspire}

I Want to Go to There

Well, I don't know if Indonesia would really be my first choice (call me close-minded/crazy - actually don't, it hits too close to home) but this little suspended-over-breathtaking-clear-blue-sea-hammock is rather tempting, isn't it?