What Possessed Me

I have a new home!

2009-02-24T18:28:00.011-05:00

Greetings, cupcakes!

Just wanted to let you know that I now have a new home with a much cooler landlord. Visit me here* for the blog-warming party. (And please bring booze. I really need a drink.)

Hope to see you there - it's not a party without you.

*While the URL of the new blog is the same as the URL of the old one (http://www.whatpossessedme.com), it might take a few hours for some of you to see the change. If that is the case, the sure-fire way to reach the new version of What Possessed Me for the next day or so is to go to http://whatpossessedme.typepad.com.

The RSS-feed link for the new version of What Possessed Me is now http://whatpossessedme.typepad.com/wpm/atom.xml.

Image via Suicide Blonde.

And now, a musical interlude.

2009-02-23T01:34:00.005-05:00

I know it's going to take all y'alls about two days to recover from the cuteness explosion above - I bit off and swallowed my own tongue over this one - so I'm going to focus on the migration to Typepad, which means no new posts on this spot until the new site is up. I'll be back in a day or two (max), and for now, I'm disabling comments so I don't lose any of your precious words in the cut over.

In the meantime, I'll miss you! A million thanks for all of your love and support. I have the sweetest, funniest, and most discerning readers in all of blogdom. Lucky girl.

P.S. Fauxhawk says "hi". He's helping me with the migration because he is a v. good boy, and also because he knows it annoys me when he TALKS THROUGH ALL OF THE OSCAR SPEECHES and then eats a candy bar without even offering me any. He also wants you to know that he hasn't smoked in three whole weeks, and despite the extremely odd food cravings (marzipan chased with shrimp cocktail, anyone?), he's doing well. Twitch, twitch.

Photo via Now Voyager.

Department of Broken Records

2009-02-22T13:47:00.009-05:00

With the publishing of this post, I have broken the record for Most Complaining on a Blog in the Insignificant Life Events Category. While all of you are watching the Oscars tonight, I will be collecting my prize, which is - you will be relieved to know - a kick in the ass and a strip of duct tape.

After this post, I'm going to stop complaining about having to spend the next two weeks of my life engaged in the tedious and frustrating task of moving my blog to one service and then transferring it to another service so that I can preserve as much of my content as possible. It sucks the bloggy big one, but it's time to strap one on and get over it.

This is how I know.

In the last few days, I've had more mood swings than Sybil over this effing "objectionable content" issue, and it's taking its toll. After spending last night mired in this excruciation, I lay in bed rigid with frustration. Fauxhawk, bless him, tried to help.

P: I CAN'T SLEEP. THOSE CENSORING MOTHERFUCKERS HAVE FUCKED ME, AND FUCKED ME GOOD.
F: Honey, do you need a Xanax (dart gun)?
P: I NEED A MOTHERFUCKING NEW BLOG.
F: I'll help you! Don't worry about it!
P: I CAN'T SLEEP. I AM TOO FUCKING PISSED OFF. FUUUUUUUUUUCK. (Rude hand gestures in direction of the ceiling).
F: Maybe you should listen to your meditation tapes.
P: Hmmmm. Should I listen to "Think Thin" or "Calm the Fuck Down"?
F: I think "Calm the Fuck Down."

Meanwhile, the cats are acting like the children of a neglectful, mentally ill parent. They alternate between hiding/slinking around and doing inexplicably cute things to please me.

Exhibit A: Look at me! I'm Roy in "The Cute Position"! Doesn't that make you happeeee?

Roy usually doesn't give a fuck. He doesn't do cute for anyone, especially on command - he is way too dignified, and frankly, that kind of obvious behavior is Verne's department. This is how I know something is up.

Exhibit B: I am allowing you to mess with my face because you are mentally ill.

Under normal circumstances, this shit would never go down. Clearly, there is some PTSD at work here.

Exhibit C: You may do "Jazz Hands" with me now, but I will hate you until the end of time.

The killer is that he just sat there completely resigned, knowing that this is his life now, living with a crazy person who needs large doses of animal cuteness to stay even partially hinged.

Before you call the ASPCA, know that I am on the road to recovery, listening to my meditation tapes, breathing deeply, and GETTING SOME MOTHERFUCKING SHIT DONE on the blog transfer.

Over and out, blog babies. (Maybe this week I will go back to posting friendly, uplifting content paired with lovely images. But for now, I leave you with this - a picture of my partner in crazy:)

xox,
P.

Slog

2009-02-21T15:23:00.004-05:00

I have a hard time getting out of bed if there is no compelling reason to - for instance, if there is no coffee in the house or the kitchen is a cesspool or a cat is snoozing comfortably in the crook of my arm. This morning was particularly difficult because I faced an entire day of moving my blog to another provider and all the tricky, daunting mystery nonsense that comes with it.

Lying in bed, I was full of dread. It was my turn to make the coffee, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, because getting up meant the day was about to begin- the day when I would be forced to admit that the DOUCHEBAGS WHO CENSORED AND VANDALIZED MY BLOG WITH THEIR RIDICULOUS, PRUDISH FLAGGING SYSTEM had won.*

But instead of getting up, I lay in bed thinking that I would like to invite the douchebags over to my house for a nice cup of steaming botulism and then tie them together, forcing them to watch Belinda Carlisle videos on repeat. Then I would provide buckets and leave the house.

That amused me for a while, until it became necessary to plague the sleeping Fauxhawk with the "What Would Make This Cuter?" game. It goes something like this:

P: Fauxhawk! Look! Verne (the cat) is sleeping on my chest!
F: Yes, that's very cute. (Closes eyes)
P: But what would make this cuter?
F: Um...if Roy were here too? Shielding his eyes from the sun with his paw?
P: Yes! Very good! Also, a baby hedgehog.
F: And a tiny albino koala?
P: Or a dachshund puppy sleeping around your neck!
F: And maybe if I had a pink baby bonnet on?
P: PERFECT.

This game never fails to neutralize the bile.

And now I must carry on through the Great Blog Slog of 2009. If all goes well with the mystery squiggles you will be able to read WPM in a new spot with all the free, uncensored porn you could ever want.

*Blogger has yet to respond to my requests to remove the flag and I am left without any choice but to transfer the contents of my blog to Wordpress or Typepad. This whole situation is driving me NUT - I won't be at the mercy of prudish, power-hungry imbeciles.

Illustration via Lavender Lines. Does anyone know who did this illustration? I love it.

Back tomorrow, blog babies

2009-02-20T14:22:00.002-05:00

I'm without a computer today (I had to wrestle Fauxhawk's laptop away from him while he was playing a video game from 1992 to write this) but I'll be back tomorrow.

xoxo,
P.

Lunch today

2009-02-19T14:46:00.007-05:00

It's amazing to me:

I am 32 (almost 33).
I wear a suit.
I appear serious and capable.
People think I know what I'm doing.

And yet:

When I sit opposite my mom (who asks the hard questions), I am reduced to a tiny curled up ball of fear and confusion.

(I still can't answer them. It would be nice one day if I could.)

P.S. I've enabled the full post function for feeds for your convenience - I hope you'll still click through and comment. I really love hearing from you.

Images via bfoxxxy and unicornology.

Carrots, gospel, delusions of grandeur, etc.

2009-02-19T10:47:00.006-05:00

After the Great Bare Boobie Debacle of 2009, I left work early. I felt the need to make carrot soup (excellent recipe, but double all the spices), drink two glasses of wine and sing “Ride on, King Jesus” in my best gospel voice at top volume in my kitchen.

Which is exactly what I did.

RIDE ON, KING JE-SUS!

(I sang)

NO MAN, can a-HINder THEE!
RIDE, KING JE-SUS, RIDE ON
No mannnnn can a-hinder theeeeeee...

(repeat at least seventeen times)

After several rounds of this (including a lively scat version), it occurred to me: I am persevering in the face of adversity, just like Jesus! I am a Christ-like figure!

And that totally made me feel better.

Sometimes it’s important to channel Mahalia Jackson and make the neighbors giggle through the kitchen wall.

* * *

I can't thank you all enough for your sweet words of encouragement. I am so touched to hear from so many people, many of whom came out of the shadows to say hello for the first time.

A million thanks and much love from the little beige cubicle,
P.

P.S. Here is a little Mahalia for you:

I don't understand. But I wish to continue.

2009-02-18T13:48:00.004-05:00

The I Understand and Wish to Continue Award profiles fine art blogs that have been censored by Blogger for containing - hold on to your hats now - nudity. These Blogger screens suggest that what lies beyond is scurrilous and profane, discouraging readers from clicking into what is most often serious content.

It infuriates and baffles me that a few reckless people (and I'm certain it takes more than one disgruntled reader) could vandalize my blog in such a way. WPM may not be for everyone - it's not always baby pandas and cupcakes and unicorns and chirpiness (there are plenty of blogs that cover that material, and I read them with great pleasure). The focus of this esteemed online publication - if indeed there is one - is an exploration of what excites me, what ignites me, what grabs hold of my imagination. My greatest hope is that this passion will continue to binds us, as it has in the past. I thank you all for coming here, day after day, to wade hand in hand through the great beauty and imperfections of daily life.

Image from here with thanks.

Triple Ex Teenage Foxes Waiting 4 U

2009-02-18T09:13:00.007-05:00

Let's talk about this Google notice that now shields all of you good people from vice and obscenity:

Some readers of this blog have contacted Google because they believe this blog's content is objectionable. In general, Google does not review nor do we endorse the content of this or any blog. For more information about our content policies, please visit the Blogger Terms of Service.

I guess some of you guys don't like artful photographs of naked baby animals. This disappoints me because I aim to please. On the other hand, I'm tickled that I've finally been recognized for who I really am: the Larry Flynt of the baby animal blogging world.

From now on, I'm only posting pictures of balloons and owls and (clothed) baby deer. GAH.

P.S. If you find this blog objectionable, I'd like to ask you to describe what it is exactly that upset you. I am baffled. Feel free to comment anonymously.

Photo credit: Forgive me, in my flustered state, I've lost the name of the photographer who took this shot. If you know who it is, please let me know and I'll give credit where credit is due.

Oh, hello there.

2009-02-18T07:23:00.000-05:00

I've always wanted to go to The Giraffe Manor outside of Nairobi, where beasties like this one roam free on the grounds of the estate.

He looks hungry. I think I'd pretty much die of pleasure if I got to feed him by hand.

Perfect Moments: Giza

2009-02-17T16:52:00.009-05:00

On Friday mornings we’d meet to go riding at dawn. With a flask of tea under our arms and white tasseled Bedouin scarves around our necks, we’d flag a tin can taxi and direct it to the stables in Giza. There was always a squabble over the fare.

“I am not as some crazy khawaga!” she would say, scoffing at the inflated tourist price. K’s Arabic was fluid, old-fashioned, and oddly theatrical. It’s often said that humor is the most difficult thing to master in any foreign language. In my view, it’s imperiousness – the ability to speak with enough hauteur to talk down a mercenary cab driver. K. had it in spades. Still, we’d tumble out of the taxi before the driver could spit, and walk the rest of the way while the stable boys laughed and whistled.

The stables were a sorry sight – a long line of out-of-the-way, ramshackle establishments catering to tourists that never materialized. Patchy, knob-kneed horses peeked out onto the dirt road, their swatting tails wafting the stench of piss and misery our way. We were careful not to look.

At last, we reached Mohammed, who rented a fine group of handsome Arabian horses by the hour. K’s father was a military vet who treated Mohammed’s horses, accepting only a token payment for his services. As a result of this kindness, K. and I were always greeted warmly at the stable. In his blue galabeya and white turban, Mohamed cut a dashing, immaculate figure. He kept his horses similarly tasseled and shiny and took great pride in the fact that the sentimental, animal-crazy khawaga always chose his stable.

“No good, those horses,” he’d say of his poor knackered neighbors. “No good.” They were an insult to both his innate business sense and his aesthetic sensibilities. “Tourists won’t ride a bag of bones,” he said. “What are they good for? Nothing but attracting flies.”

Finally, he’d whistle and the boys would bring the horses out, saddled up with pretty silver and wool ornaments woven into their manes. They looked so jolly, practically prancing in anticipation of a good romp around the desert. In one elegant movement, our guide, a slight man with a lovely mustache, would swing himself up on his horse and lead us out into the dunes, bareback and barefoot.

K. liked to go fast. She was a self-taught equestrian, having spent part of her childhood in Cairo riding in the desert behind the Pyramids. “Bisra’a!” she’d call out to me, laughing and taking off. “Hurry up!” Clinging desperately to my horse, I’d trail behind her, attempting to avoid the odd camel carcass or half-buried horse skull. There were an alarming number of bones scattered about and bleaching in the sun. The other stable owners rode their horses until they dropped and often left them there to sink into the sand.

From time to time, K. would stop abruptly, jump off her horse, and dig for a moment or two. She had a sixth sense about artifacts, and more often than not, she’d find a piece of broken statuary left over from a looter’s stash. Popping a faience head no bigger than a marble into her pocket, K. hopped back onto her horse and let the guide lead us.

Up and down sand dunes, across the desert we’d ride. Without our guide, we’d surely lose our way – there were no natural markers, just a seemingly endless expanse of sand. But then, always out of nowhere – always as if in a mirage – the Pyramids would appear from behind the crest of a sand dune. Not far from this spot, Napoleon made a similar discovery. “From the heights of these pyramids, forty centuries look down on us,” he once said. Then he used the Sphinx for target practice.

Every time, a thrilling sensation. Though he had seen this scene countless times, our guide would stand beside us in silent reverence, watching the sun rise as the muezzin called the faithful to prayer.

Photographs via Vogue Germany, February 2009 via foto decadent.

Fantasy DIY projects

2009-02-17T14:19:00.007-05:00

This little lamp jobbie from lantliv i stan doesn't look so hard to make, does it?

Extra credit: ReadyMade's bubble chandelier made from CB2 glass bubble balls and globe lightbulbs.

The incredible thing is that there are people who get up on a Saturday morning at, say, 7:30am, eat a nourishing breakfast, and then set about making useful things from the contents of their junk drawers. These people do not, for example, wake up at 11:00am, sniff the milk, accept payment from their boyfriends to fetch coffee from the obnoxiously bright and shiny outside world, and then observe their best laid plans dissolve in the presence of 1000+ posts in Google Reader.

Tupinaire enthusiast, M, 56

2009-02-17T13:00:00.000-05:00

Productivity has come to a screeching halt now that I have been introduced to the London Review of Books Personals. (Thank you, Elly.)

I hate you all. I hate London. I hate books. I hate critics. I hate this magazine, I hate this column and I hate all the goons who appear in it. But if you have large breasts, are younger than 30 and don’t want to talk about the novel you’re ‘writing’ I’ll put all that aside for approximately two hours one Saturday afternoon in January. Man, 33.

I refuse to let my sadomasochistic tendencies and love of koi define who I am, but if our relationship is to progress to any meaningful level then we will be spending an awful lot of time in the Japanese ornamental garden section of Worcester Homebase. Man, 46.

If forced to commit, I’d say I feared geese more than ducks. Man, 47. Fears geese more than ducks.

If a break-up to you means spending most lunchtimes crying over chicken skewers at All Bar One then join me, big-boned F (37), and we can share a World Tapas bundle dish and save ourselves a fortune. Afterwards we can make love, but not before the chocolate fondant dessert. I can be found at the Henrietta Street branch, Wednesdays between 12 and 2, requesting fries with my hoi sin duck quesadilla.

Signs of life

2009-02-17T10:53:00.007-05:00

Signs of life at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

I wanted to hug all the snowdrops and bluebells. I was so happy to see them.

Field trip

2009-02-16T13:16:00.004-05:00

The camellias are blooming at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I'm off to visit them - and to take advantage of a day off in this bright, crystalline sunlight.

See you later, blog babies. xox.

Camellia Japonica by Antonio Costa.

Battling the Uglies, Greek Goddess Style

2009-02-15T13:44:00.008-05:00

It's a commonly known fact on this blog that the months between December and April are a special time of physical deterioration when beauty slowly erodes. Until warm weather once again forces us to expose our flesh, it makes little sense to bother with exercise and prettification. This time of dormancy is called the Uglies - and anything that threatens it (such as a wedding in January, for example) - is greeted with deep suspicion and consternation.

More fuel for the fire: I read recently that men covet women more in winter because (in some deep, dark place) they deem covered flesh more valuable than exposed flesh. Creeptastic! Now I can wallow in The Uglies with impunity, knowing that I am deeply coveted, patchy skin and all!

I learned yesterday, however, that there are limits to my apathy. Maybe it was Valentine's Day - or maybe it was the fact that my hair made a crunching sound when I brushed it. In any event, I pulled myself off the couch and called upon the gods for help. This is what they told me.

Greek Goddess Hair Mask

1/4 cup olive oil (do not be freaked out about putting oil on your face. It's ok, trust me)
Tablespoon of rosemary (fresh or dried)
Generous blob of honey

Heat that shiz up, stirring on a double boiler or in the microwave. Let it cool a bit and strain. While it's still warm, rub the mixture on your palms and rake through damp hair, starting at the ends and working your way up to the scalp. When you've coated your entire head with goo (leaving a small amount unused), cover hair in plastic wrap and blast with a hair dryer. Cover your plastic coated head with a towel, turban-styles, and let it cook for 30 minutes. Rinse thoroughly before shampooing 1-2 times.

Lazy Bastard Face Mask

Massage remaining hair goo into your face while hair is cooking. Rinse in shower.

Dessert on Your Face Mask

1/4 cup of Greek yogurt (full fat)
Tablespoon of honey

Mix, massage into face, wait for 15-30 minutes, and remove with steaming washcloth or in shower.

Special Bonus Indian Princess Mask

1/2 cup full fat yogurt
Pinch of turmeric

Mix, massage into face, wait for 15 minutes, and rinse. Great skin brightener.

*You lucky bastards in warm climates play by different rules. For this reason, you are exempt from the Uglies.

Vampy Lampy

2009-02-14T23:50:00.006-05:00

Not my best post title ever, but how could I resist when these lamps are as sexy as garter belts?

Lace lamps by Kicki Möller via Design Shimmer.

Love, longing and loss in Niagara Falls

2009-02-14T13:41:00.009-05:00

Portraits of love and heartbreak in photographer Alec Soth's series, Niagara. The letters below were shared by people Soth met during his time in Niagara Falls.

via Paul Pincus.

The Day of V.

2009-02-14T10:29:00.003-05:00

Dearest Cupcakes of My Heart,

Whether or not you choose to celebrate the Day of V, I send you a huge hug and much love from New York.

Your devoted P.

P.S. In the spirit of tradition, I've decided to get hideously sick with a cold, sit on the couch, and eat pâté and Fauxhawk's ginger cookies until I pop. Nothing says romance like a soggy, snotty girl with a flair for self-pity.

Illustration by this chicken.

This week's blog stalking

2009-02-13T10:56:00.008-05:00

Hardcore case of the sniffles today. Good thing Friday is the new Saturday!

So many beauties to share with you this week.

The English Muse

gris-bleu (via English Muse)

Ungt blod

Toujours Dimanche

It's Mary Ruffle

The randometer results

2009-02-13T05:13:00.001-05:00

I will interview October12 and Woodrow because the Randometer says so.

Thank you all so much for putting your name in the hat. 10/12 and Woody - I promise I'll go easy on you.

Thorwald Home

2009-02-12T16:45:00.004-05:00

Genevieve from Tell You Today has a new vintage housewares shop on Etsy called Thorwald Home. Look at this dainty and unusual teacup from the 1930s. The inscription inside says, "Many Curious Things I See When Telling Fortunes In Your Tea."

I think that means you have to buy it.

Girls in hats

2009-02-12T16:30:00.000-05:00

Exciting headgear. Not for the fainthearted.

Which one would you wear? I'm afraid it would take very little encouragement for me to rock Lego Head.

Photographs by Armin Morbach via Foto Decadent.

Spring wind

2009-02-12T15:14:00.003-05:00

Beautiful, gusty day today.

Photographs by danske, ennil, and via rainier.

VW tells us how to recreate the look of the slightly deranged woman you sat next to on the train last night

2009-02-12T13:00:00.001-05:00

Dear Vivienne Westwood,

I love you and all, but are times really this tough? Must we wear towels and plastic sheeting? Please advise. Also, thank you for letting me wear my clothes over and over again until they disintegrate. I didn't know this was fashionable.

Love,
P.

Photograph of VW via Woodley Park-Zoo - read a transcript of a wonderful VW interview there.
VW's DIY notes via Gala Darling. Thanks, Emma!

In which I discuss matters of great import.

2009-02-12T10:32:00.005-05:00

I realized that Fashion Toast allows me to live out all of my fashion fantasies while still being a complete schlub with zero interest in shopping. Armchair fashion. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Now I'm oddly obsessed, checking in every day and waiting with baited breath: What will she wear next? How does she get her hair to look like that? Why is she so pretty and thin? Should I stud everything in my wardrobe and wear it backwards? Really, it's endless fun.

P.S. I need a shirt like that.

Your shiny black goat legs are kind of sexy.

2009-02-12T08:35:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of V-Day (seriously, who's PUMPED?), I present you with a love letter to Mr. Tumnus. Inspiration for those of you who are into dudes with cloven hooves.

Via tiger lily and tiny teeth.

Wallpaper meltdown

2009-02-11T16:42:00.006-05:00

This image is so exciting that I nearly bit off my own arm when I saw it on Eye Spy.

Bryonie Porter wallpapers furniture to beautiful effect. Her site is full of beauties.

I love the combination of colors - tangerine, aubergine, and gold (sorry, I've been reading too many J.Crew catalogs). Somehow, the big bold pattern doesn't seem overpowering to me. Can we also discuss those purple-black tulips and the way they're sort of submerged in that vase? And what's going on with the dresser? Are the edges in gold leaf? I die, I die.

I just learned that the wallpaper is Matthew Williamson for Habitat. My sad, empty life will only be complete when Habitat comes to New York.

Spring

2009-02-11T14:06:00.003-05:00

It's spectacular out today - sunny and warm enough for a light jacket.
A gift from the gods.
I feel as though my little internal crocus is pushing up through the earth.
I feel inspired, optimistic, generous toward my fellow man.

I bought some blue hyacinths for my desk - and shared them with my boss.
I ordered bare-root David Austin roses for our balcony. I can't wait to see them bloom.
I'm (almost) ready to start running again.

All I want to do is run home, throw open the windows and smell spring.

Photograph from here with thanks.

Oh yeah. He's got it.

2009-02-10T16:30:00.000-05:00

Most fashiony men have punchable faces. But this one doesn't - he looks like he's ready to rumble.

(for Emma) via The Sartorialist.

More goodies from Abby Try Again

2009-02-10T14:30:00.000-05:00

Abby has updated her shop - go there for a glorious dose of beauty.

Other goodies from Abby posted here.

White paper packages tied up in string...

2009-02-10T11:41:00.005-05:00

It was a very late Christmas present for Fauxhawk. Someone hadn't planned on four to seven weeks for shipping. She had almost forgotten it. When when it finally arrived - the little green slip from the post office - her heart skipped a beat.

A package.
From Uzbekistan, of all places.

Friends, there is nothing like a good package from Tashkent. (The last time she received one, it was covered in grease and white powder, and her whole office shut down because of an anthrax scare. That was pretty exciting, but not as exciting as this package.)

She handled the small, tidy package gingerly, admiring the black seal and white twine that secured it. The last person who touched the inside of this package lives in Tashkent, she thought. She wondered what this person was eating for supper.

She handed the package to Fauxhawk, who also liked beautiful things. When he opened it, he admired two lovely Suzani pillows, made by hand by someone halfway around the world.

And they looked very nice on their couch, which had seen better days.

Decorative Suzani pillows and other affordable delights from Uzbek Craft.

You're here for the bunnies. Admit it.

2009-02-10T07:30:00.002-05:00

Darling Emma over at Old Soul Ink sent me five questions to answer as part of a meme that's making the rounds. Is there a meme I don't like? I don't think there is. The rules are below if you'd like to participate.

1. When and where did your love for baby animals develop?

During particularly disastrous periods at work – when things were really, really bad – I used to crawl under my desk, suck my thumb, and cry. No, that’s a lie - I never sucked my thumb. Instead, I pressed a hedgehog plush toy lovingly to my breast and whimpered. When that didn’t work, I googled things like “baby panda cuteness explosion” and “tiny coyote pup boops nose.” Baby animals are my Xanax. I swear to God, I only got back together with Fauxhawk because he promised me a baby lion. (That shit didn’t happen, by the way. Men and their tricky, tricky ways.)

Anyway, somehow baby animals made their way into this blog. I liked the incongruity. Before long, it turned into all-out warfare: pandas against hedgehogs, bunnies against albino koalas. The readers of WPM are a very discerning bunch - if the baby animal wasn't cute enough, they talked smack. It was a like a full-time job keeping up with their needs - the pressure was immense. I had to take a break from it and now I'm "resting" at a "special facility."

2. On one gorgeous, dreamy night, you are asked out on a date by both Ricky Gervais and Steve Carrell. Trouble is, owing to the scheduling constraints of the rich and hilarious, you can only choose one. Which do you choose? (And for the purposes of this questionnaire, please assume that I would not hunt you down if you chose Mr. Carrell; however, were this actually to happen I think we both understand that he is mine. Ahem.)

Jesus Christ on the cross, you torment me with this question. I have been thinking about it for a solid week and am totally stumped. I have several follow-up questions: Will there be a torrid make-out session involved? Can I ask them to the prom? Which one likes baby lions? I just don’t have enough information to answer this question.

3. If you were forbidden from speaking English for the rest of your days, what language would you choose to adopt? Why?

That would have to be Frenabic. Or Arabench. I figure that between Arabic and French, I could conquer the world – or at least communicate with people in countries that interest me (all of West Africa, North Africa, France, the Middle East). Sadly, my French is rudimentary and my Arabic is only slightly better. Arabic is hard, dawg. Maybe I’ll get on that in 2009.

4. What was your favorite thing to do as a child?

My sole focus during childhood was to avoid being beaten up or psychologically warped by two older brothers. I am only exaggerating slightly when I say that we were total jailbait – constantly scrapping, scheming, and torturing each other. There were also a few animal casualties. Look - that’s what happens when you put three kids aged five, ten and fifteen in a New York City apartment and make them share a bedroom, okay? Some bad shit goes down. Things will get hectic with the neon tetras. As a result of these early “bonding rituals” my brothers and I are pretty close, mostly because I can now beat them up.

5. What's the best/worst thing you've ever said to someone in a business setting?

“Does changing the diaper of your boss’ five-year old son in the back of a car count as loyalty to the firm?” Wait - does this have to be something I said out loud? Because I said it LOUD and PROUD in my mind.

THE INTERVIEW RULES

Leave me a comment saying: "interview me"
All comments will be published (even the filthy ones)
I will e-mail you five questions of my choice
You can then answer the questions on your blog with a link back to my blog
You should also post these rules, along with an offer to interview anyone else who e-mails you wanting to be interviewed
Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog. (OK, let's limit this to two interviews. If more than two people request interviews, I will pick two winners out of a hat - or employ some other scientific method.)
It would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger

Is it me or do these rules seem really bossy?

Eye Break: Bungalow

2009-02-09T15:43:00.008-05:00

Unbelievable bedding, housewares, and paper products from the Danish boutique, Bungalow. The site is such a visual feast, with beautiful photographs of South India, where many of the products are made. I swiped some of the inspiration photos and paired them with a few of Bungalow's bountiful delights...

I am craving India these days. Speaking of which, Courtney featured some of my travel pics from India on her beautiful blog, Style Court. I'm very tickled. Many thanks, Courtney.

Zoltan and the upswinging knife

2009-02-09T14:42:00.005-05:00

Please tell me that this voicemail from a recruiter is a joke. Are you guys drunk-dialing me?

Uh…hello…uh…PuhSTEFahknee*…uh…I’d like to tawk to you about an amazin appahtoonity…I’m uh…calling…uh…in case you ahr inter-rested in an appahtoonity to…uh…grow a business…uh…that is on the…upswing of the knife…please give me a call…uh…this is Zoltan.

Oh Zoltan, you make it all sound so tempting. My future knows no boundaries.

*One of the least original butcherings on my name, Persephone.

Fun fact

2009-02-09T12:21:00.002-05:00

Just stopping by for a moment to pass along this little nugget I learned from my Brazilian sister-in-law last night:

Word for a little girl's "lady parts" in Portuguese: Tangerine
Word for a little girl's "lady parts" in Greek: Evil

This pretty much answers every question I've ever had about my Greek heritage.

Over and out.

Painting by Duane Keiser.

Foxy...laydee.

2009-02-09T10:24:00.004-05:00

Woodland Creatures Letterpress Valentines (with perforated edges! Just like when you were eight!) by DelphineStudio.

Poppets - just getting the hang of this cram-five-days-into-four system we've got going here, so I may be a little quiet today. But I promise to be back in action tomorrow. Had a lovely weekend and feel renewed by spring-like weather and lots of sweet comments from my adorable readers. You guys are the bomb diggity.

My hero

2009-02-06T16:33:00.005-05:00

Just when things start getting really grim - when it becomes abundantly clear that the mold incubator is not going to clean itself - my father calls me.

"What are you doing for lunch?" he asks.

Bless you. Nothing. Save me from this domestic torment.

"Erm...nothing...I'm...uh...home today."

"Meet me at Le Colonial."

My dad's good like that. Not only is he a spiffy dresser, but he's excellent company and likes a nice lunch.

I arrive at Le Colonial and am immediately transported to French Indochina. Arching palms, lazy ceiling fans, black-and-white photographs of colonial Vietnam everywhere. Excuse me, but where is Catherine Deneuve? I won't eat unless I am served by Catherine Deneuve!

My dad orders a gin martini. Again - bless him because it means I can have a gingery cocktail in the middle of the day and not feel guilty. Also, no one else seems put off by the whole French colonialism thing, so I just go with it. It's my day off! I am drinking in the middle of the day! French Colonialism! Yay!

When we leave, I give my dad a big hug. "Thank you for this special treat," I say, but what I really mean is thank you for taking me out of myself. I snap this picture of my dad in all his lunchtime finery. That shy, clever smile is always how I think of him. Isn't he the handsomest?

P.S. Thank you all so much for your incredibly sweet comments this week when I was feeling down. You really made me laugh. I love you guys. xox

Sixes and Sevens

2009-02-06T11:06:00.004-05:00

Well, pretty babies, it hasn't been the most awesome week ever. I'm writing from home because my hours and pay got cut, and after spending last night taking it personally, making recession-friendly popcorn for dinner, and panicking, I feel slightly better. Though it's very odd to be home on a Friday when I'm usually at work trying not to strangle people, I've decided to take advantage of the opportunity to listen to NPR (love of all loves), Radio 4's Woman's Hour (object of my obsession during grad school in London), and drink very, very strong coffee. I suppose I should be doing something improving like LOOKING FOR ANOTHER JOB or TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE or CLEANING THE FUCKING KITCHEN GOD DAMMIT but today, I'm going to take it easy.

Other news:
The cats are licking each other in inappropriate places.
I have the Pussycat Dolls stuck in my head. DONCHA?
There is a Dutch oven full of mold in my refrigerator. I am very afraid.

This blog is going downhill. FAST.

Illustrations via Sete Dias, works and days of Cristiana Couceiro.

Eye Break: Gracia + Louise

2009-02-05T16:41:00.008-05:00

Beautiful collages by Gracia + Louise.

Ooooh! And check out their store! Paper heaven.

Sweet

2009-02-05T15:09:00.004-05:00

Not exactly the message I'd like to send my boss, but cute anyway.

(Peoples, I've been working it this week like the rent is due. Sorry for the infrequent posts.)

via How About Orange.

Fabglamorous chunkage

2009-02-05T06:52:00.000-05:00

These rings would make my life a whole lot more glamorous and exciting. I could be glamorous and exciting even while cleaning the litterbox or scrubbing the toilet. These are definitely toilet-scrubbing rings. Yes.

Love the illustrations on The Selby as well as the interior shots.

Spot of tea

2009-02-04T16:45:00.004-05:00

Is it time to go home and make chai yet? Because if it is, you have just me very, very happy.

Illustration by Hanna Konola.

Love letter

2009-02-04T14:16:00.002-05:00

Dear Miss Bramley (may I call you Pia?):

Your work

is a ray of sunshine

that brightened

my day.

xox,
P.

Small flapping animals make me feel better

2009-02-04T12:44:00.000-05:00

Your sweet comments do too. Thank you.

JR

2009-02-04T11:06:00.006-05:00

From The Wooster Collective:

Exciting news from our friend JR who emailed us just a few moments ago from Kibera, Kenya - one of the largest slums in all of Africa.

Today, after more than a year of planning, 2000 square meters of rooftops have been covered with photos of the eyes and faces of the women of Kibera. The material used is water resistant so that the photo itself will protect the fragile houses in the heavy rain season. The train that passes on this line through Kibera at least twice a day has also been covered with eyes from the women that live below it. With the eyes on the train, the bottom half of the their faces have be pasted on corrugated sheets on the slope that leads down from the tracks to the rooftops. The idea being that for the split second the train passes, their eyes will match their smiles and their faces will be complete.

A beautiful idea - I feel humbled by people who do this kind of work. More amazing JR projects here.

Pity party alert

2009-02-04T08:14:00.005-05:00

Today I feel sad, put-upon and out-of-sorts. I have nothing nice to say, so instead I am posting this picture, which is making me feel moderately less sorry for myself.

SNIFF.

Forgive me for being in a swivet. It will pass. In the meantime, I am reading George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan (one of my favorite plays) online and reminding myself that things could be worse. I could be burned at the stake.

Alone in a world they didn't understand

2009-02-03T15:55:00.004-05:00

Last night, while Fauxhawk stewed in a bath of post-smoking agitation, I watched an incredibly poignant documentary on the hospital at Ellis Island. Once the most venerable public health institution in the world, the Ellis Island Hospital is now abandoned to the elements and has fallen into beautiful decay.

Stephen Wilkes' photographs capture the haunted atmosphere of the hospital - one imagines all the tragic stories of immigrants who, fresh off the boat and mere steps away from citizenship, were separated from their families and denied or detained because of their health status.

More photographs and an interesting narrative here.

Apologies for infrequent posting today - I am a bizzee doing biznass.

xox,
P.

Spring at Bonbon Oiseau

2009-02-03T11:13:00.003-05:00

It's snowing in New York but spring is here - at least at Bonbon Oiseau. Check out Deb's beautiful new spring line of jewelry and hair adornments here.

Deb is even offering a Valentine Recession Special Sale: Any of her bonbons (necklaces, earrings bracelets) with lockets are 30% off until February 10th. Yay!

Hurry up, spring

2009-02-02T17:00:00.001-05:00

Bastard groundhog has effed it up for all of us. I am impatient for spring.

These photographs by Anna Wolf are clearing out the cobwebs.

Love you, my cupcake

2009-02-02T15:30:00.000-05:00

Pam Garrison is slaying me with her cupcake liner V-Day garland.

Kate O'Connor, Psychic Embroidery

2009-02-02T14:00:00.000-05:00

I just saw Kate O'Connor's hilarious embroidery on Lolita and I'm smitten.

It's like Kate O'Connor embroidered the sordid contents of my life on little vintage hankies. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE, I ASK YOU?

He's out.

2009-02-02T11:55:00.004-05:00

Yesterday Fauxhawk smoked his last cigarette. Ever. After twenty-one years of smoking and $60,000 spent on cigarettes, he's done. He's out.

It all started when he bought this book. It must have performed some kind of juju voodoo weirdness on his brain, because suddenly he started saying things like, "I AM MAKING A WONDERFUL DECISION! THIS IS A JOYOUS TIME! I AM KILLING THE TAPEWORM INSIDE ME!" with this beatific smile on his face.

To be honest, this change of heart sort of creeped me out. After all, this is a boy who loves his cigarettes. This is a boy who tried to quit several times by wearing TWO nicotine patches. But something very strange happened between the time he opened the book and the time he closed it - a complete shift in his mindset.

And now he has quit. For life. It's still early days, but I'm very proud of him. Keep him your thoughts, will you? He needs all the help he can get.*

*Also, please keep me in your thoughts, as one of the common side-effects of quitting is "infantile behavior."

Illustration by Marc Johns.

Eye Break: Sarajo Frieden

2009-02-02T07:00:00.001-05:00

Embroidery on paper by Sarajo Frieden.

Cubicle-dweller's Sunday night fantasy

2009-02-01T19:00:00.001-05:00

via &.

"It's your hamster in the box and it's not breathing."

2009-02-01T13:11:00.003-05:00

Susy sent me this and I laughed so hard that I drooled and then had a seizure.

I hope you enjoy this little piece of Sunday inspiration. Promise me that you will look at the slide show as well.

xox,
P.

The gift of Shrigley

2009-01-31T19:33:00.004-05:00

This is the rule:

When Fauxhawk goes to Williamsburg to get his hair cut, it means that he must buy me a present. It doesn't matter what the present is - it's just important that it is an object of supreme giftiness.

I don't remember exactly how the rule started or where it came from, but all I know is that I now look forward to his haircuts as much as I dread my own.

Because look what I got! A postcard by David Shrigley! And a book about folding shit! And a Peppermint Patty!

I love David Shrigley. Apparently, these people do too.

This just made my day.

2009-01-31T17:46:00.001-05:00

I don't know why. It's just SILLY.

via we heart it.

Soup's on!

2009-01-31T15:08:00.004-05:00

Charlotte Rampling preparing for a quiet meal at home.

Helmut Newton photograph available here.

Mad Hat it up this weekend

2009-01-30T16:44:00.004-05:00

Actually, can we not do that? Can everyone stop with the Kooky Hat Attack? Why do perfectly pretty girls do this to themselves? It's a mystery.

I will forgive Lou Doillon for this small misstep because she always looks delightful and because her half-sister is the charming Charlotte Gainsbourg.

I'm sure she is vastly relieved.

Photographs via ffffound and we heart it.

Resolutions: 2009 (late edition)

2009-01-30T16:00:00.004-05:00

Practice lightheartedness.
Avoid predators.
Wing it.
Nest.

image via align.

Hallelujah!

2009-01-30T11:49:00.003-05:00

Oh frabjous day - Maira Kalman is back, this time sharing her impressions of the inauguration.

I love this woman. She makes my heart sing.

Many thanks, Hollister, for the tip!

This week's blog stalking

2009-01-30T10:58:00.007-05:00

Oh, hello. Was I supposed to post in my blog this morning? Was I supposed to...you know...be productive? If I get fired today, I will hold these blogs personally responsible:

dreamhouse

Good Mouse, Bad Mouse

Designer's Brew

Debi van Zyl

Woodley Park-Zoo

Eye Break: Jen Stark

2009-01-29T14:45:00.012-05:00

I love Jen Stark's drawings, but her paper sculptures made from multi-colored card stock are blowing my mind. Really - my head is about to explode. I keep muttering to myself, "But I don't understaaaaaaaaaaand" and rocking back and forth.

OK, not really. But somehow, they do remind me of my second date with Fauxhawk, when he invited me over to "listen to some Joe Frank" (heh heh). Up until that point, things had been very innocent and above board and I was unsure if The 'Hawk even liked me. I was determined to play it safe and not make a move.

It was only after listening to TWO HOURS of Joe Frank and then being subjected to a series of intelligence tests that I got my first kiss. You would not believe the mental gymnastics I had to go through to draw an orange passing through a one-dimensional world. Why had I not studied more physics and multi-variable calculus? Would that have even helped? What subject were we on? Why had I not read more improving books, like A Brief History of Time? These were the thoughts that raced through my mind as the minutes ticked chastely away. By the time I came up with the answer and Fauxhawk went in for the kill, I was ready to a) leave, b) punch him and c) cry.

Later, I asked him what his rationale was for making me wait FIVE EXHAUSTING HOURS OF MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL TORTURE. His answer was simple.

I thought girls liked that.

Ah, men.

Tagtastic

2009-01-29T11:55:00.007-05:00

Lex in the City tagged me for a photo meme, which is good because otherwise I'd be posting YouTube videos of dramatic chipmunks. This is what my life has come to.

The rules of this meme are that you are supposed to go to your fourth picture folder, pick out the fourth picture, and then describe it. Well, I did that and it turned out that the picture was inappropriate. Not inappropriate as in "P. wearing nothing but a vest of sausages" but inappropriate as in "someone's precious baby and who knows what unspeakable things people with baby pictures on the web I've heard some really creepy stories." So I cheated - in the name of decency - and picked the fifth folder and the fifth picture. I hope the internets will forgive me.

Anyway, this is a picture of The Day of the Dead in Oaxaca, during my road trip to Mexico. You can read about our antics by typing "road trip" into the search area above). While Fauxhawk was suffering from an extreme bout of "don't go in there," his friend Loverboy and I visited a series of cemeteries to honor los muertos.

What we thought would be a very grave (forgive the pun) and mournful experience turned out to be something like the best dinner party we've ever been invited to. Everywhere we went, free shots of mezcal (poison), music, flowers, and families eating and chatting happily around the tombs. Here is a not-very-good-bonus-shot to give you an idea:

We both thought that this was a very sensible way to handle death - so unlike my own (Greek) culture, which is all about wailing and wearing black until the end of time.

I hereby tag the following four prestigious online publications to carry out the memeage:

Debi van Zyl
Freckle Farm
popbaroque
Woodley Park-Zoo

P.S. I am adding another blog because that's how I roll: Good Mouse, Bad Mouse. Love this girl.

Tiny armadillo: YES!

2009-01-29T10:27:00.006-05:00

I think we need more tiny armadillo and baby sloth necklaces in our lives. Not to actually wear, mind you, but to know that they exist in the world.

Insanely cute felted animal necklaces by Motley Mutton.

P.S. Last night Fauxhawk gave me a stern talking to about my internet consumption. It seems he doesn't like competing with videos of tiny hamsters eating popcorn on top of a piano. Maybe if he looked more like a tiny hamster I would pay more attention to him. Just a thought.

Love. Hate.

2009-01-28T14:43:00.004-05:00

This is beautiful.

This is vile. Perhaps they should take a leaf from Mister Rob's book.

Papercut by Rob Ryan.

Snow today

2009-01-28T13:38:00.000-05:00

Beautiful snow this morning. Too bad the sleet has set in, tormenting us all by transforming the pristine whiteness into dirty slop. BASTARD SLEET, I ABHOR YOU!

(I love this illustration. Does anyone know whose it is? Found here.)

Spring in your step

2009-01-28T12:00:00.000-05:00

Fantastic.

Via I heart it.

Bailey Doesn't Bark

2009-01-28T05:47:00.001-05:00

Wonderful, witty new designs by the delightful Re Jin Lee (hi RJ!) of Bailey Doesn't Bark.

RJ, thank you for my beautiful spoon!

Eye Break: Ian Carpenter

2009-01-27T16:21:00.007-05:00

Secret and strange new worlds from Ian Carpenter, via The Beholder.

The top one reminds me of this phase I went through at about five or six when I painted rainbows with little villages and trees on top of them. I did a whole series. It was my rainbow period. Anyway, his are TOTALLY better than mine.

(I am now having a pre-humiliation episode in which I imagine myself relaying this asinine anecdote to Ian Carpenter while mopping a wine stain off my left boob at an opening. That's right folks, I can spend valuable minutes agonizing over embarrassing things I haven't even done yet!)

Wanderlust: Cuba

2009-01-27T13:34:00.011-05:00

Andrew Moore is taking me to the faded beauty of Havana.

More here.

Stunning film review

2009-01-27T11:19:00.000-05:00

Right. So I'm late to the party as usual and am only getting around to see the Oscar award winning La Vie En Rose in time for the next batch of winners.

Marion Cotillard - be still my heart. She is so beguiling that I forget that I am a heterosexual woman and idly wonder if Marion would allow me to bear her little French babies and tend them as they grow into lithe, winsome beauties like Marion. I could do the dishes! She could pursue her film career! I think it could work.

I don't have much to say about the film because...well, I'm ashamed to admit I couldn't follow most of it. Fauxhawk, who consented to see the film after being victimized by my dogged powers of persuasion, became increasingly apoplectic as the storyline jumped around.

Fauxhawk: WHAT IS GOING ON. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON.

P: (Staring at screen) I don't really understand either...just watch.

Fauxhawk: (Frantically typing on laptop) THERE IS NO INFORMATION IN WIKIPEDIA. I DON'T UNDERSTAND. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE.

P: (staring at screen) ...

Fauxhawk: IS SHE DYING. WHAT IS GOING ON. WHO IS THAT MAN. IS SHE A DRUG ADDICT.

etc., etc.

But Marion was wonderful. You should watch it and then tell me what happened.

One in Eight Million

2009-01-27T05:30:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite additions to The New York Times is the series of profiles of New Yorkers called One in Eight Million. Every week, a new portrait of a New Yorker is featured, giving readers a tiny peek into the world of a painter-turned-taxidermist, a walking miracle or a corner druggist, their own words paired with beautiful photographs.

What a marvelous job it would be to uncover the beauty of ordinary lives.

Year of the Ox

2009-01-26T23:59:00.000-05:00

Photographs from the New York Times.

How will you help your sister?

2009-01-26T13:30:00.001-05:00

I've already swooned over Kiss the Paper, but I really love what these sisters are doing. The pictures below seek to answer the question, "How will you help your sister achieve her vision for the new year?"

Reading this wonderful blog and the incredibly charming novel The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society has made me long for cheerful correspondence the old fashioned way.

Laters!

2009-01-26T10:34:00.002-05:00

Posts will be few and far between today as I attempt to address my groaning inbox.

I leave you with this image, which reminds me of endless Russian winters and long, dark, tedious nights trapped inside drafty drawing rooms. (Forgive me, I'm reading Chekhov and have turned into a sullen Slav.)

Image from Sarah's oddments.

Crazy papercut lady

2009-01-25T05:16:00.000-05:00

Remember this?

Well, the crazy lady cut up some paper.

It drove me mad but was strangely therapeutic.

Especially since I used office supplies.

Ah, the small rebellions of cubicle life.

I see a white wall and I want to paint it...teal.

2009-01-24T13:15:00.007-05:00

We live in 600 square feet of New York City apartment, ninety percent of which is saturated in color. Our bedroom is a deep teal, our bathroom is fire engine red, and our living room is a color now known as mimosa.

I love color - it makes my heart sing. But every now and then I crave a whitewashed wall splashed with sunlight.

It seems so wonderfully serene.

Photographs from apartmenttherapy, decorology (second and third), and the incredibly beautiful Swedish blog, dreamhouse(last two).

Favela

2009-01-24T12:00:00.000-05:00

Cardboard sculpture inspired by the favelas (shanty towns) of Brazil.

Toykyo via FormFiftyFive.

In which the Hawk attempts to create dramatic tension by withholding treatz but is ultimately swayed by my electronic whimpering

2009-01-23T18:04:00.008-05:00

P (5:57:20 PM): going to meet Liz and PL for dinner at 8pm so I will be back pretty late
Fauxhawk (5:57:36 PM): kewl!
P (5:57:36 PM): if you want to make any TREATS I will not stop you
Fauxhawk (5:57:40 PM): hahaha. okay.
Fauxhawk (5:57:44 PM): we'll SEE. i am not losing any weight; weighed myself today
P (5:57:58 PM): If you want to make some...I don't know...GINGER COOKIES
P (5:58:04 PM): February is for losing weight
P (5:58:18 PM): Can't we have a small batch? PLEEEEEEZ
Fauxhawk (5:58:50 PM): we'll see! maybe we'll get lucky or some shit!
P (5:59:05 PM): what do you mean?
Fauxhawk (5:59:24 PM): maybe treats will be made if we're lucky!
P (5:59:23 PM): like someone else will make the cookies and drop them off at our house in a nice tea towel?
Fauxhawk (5:59:29 PM): YEAH!
P (5:59:39 PM): OMG!
Fauxhawk (6:00:42 PM): but we'll SEE
P (6:00:58 PM): please I am really hoping for treats with all my heart
Fauxhawk (6:01:09 PM): they're not GOOD FOR US THO!!!
P (6:01:16 PM): JUST A SMALL BATCH
Fauxhawk (6:01:29 PM): we'll see
P (6:01:40 PM): ok
P (6:01:43 PM): but I will be sad
P (6:01:49 PM): like roy [the cat] is sad
Fauxhawk (6:02:09 PM): roy is acting sad because his mother left him when he was very small
Fauxhawk (6:01:57 PM): maybe there will be treats or maybe there will not. that way there will be suspense. that will create tension in the movie.
P (6:02:14 PM): TREATS: The movie
P (6:02:29 PM): ok, i'd better go
P (6:02:34 PM): TREATZ
Fauxhawk (6:02:44 PM): love you
P (6:02:56 PM): love you too treats

When I came home, the tension was palpable. Would I get treats? Would there be ginger cookies baking in the oven?

...

(I know you are on pins and needles here)

...

Yes. Because The Hawk is a very nice boy. He has even agreed to share his recipe for crack cookies with you. Trust me, they are reDONK.

Fauxhawk's Ginger Cookies

Ingredients:

3/4 cup margarine at room temperature

1 cup packed dark brown sugar

1 egg, beaten

1/4 cup unsulfured molasses

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoon cinnamon

3 tablespoons fresh minced ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon salt

granulated sugar for dipping the balls of dough

Instrux:

Preheat oven to 375. In a large bowl, cream the margarine with the brown sugar for one minute. Stir in the egg, molasses, and ginger. In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt. Add the flour mixture in four batches to the margarine mixture, blending well with a wooden spoon. Freeze the dough for an hour, or place in the refrigerator overnight.

Roll tablespoons of dough into balls (they should be slightly less than an inch in diameter). Dip one side of each ball into the granulated sugar. Place the balls three inches apart on greased baking sheets, sugared sides up. Bake the cookies in batches in the middle of the oven for 10 to 12 minutes (less time for chewier cookies, more time for crispier cookies). Allow to cool on sheets for five minutes, then transfer to wire cooling racks.

Images from here with thanks.

Overdo it a bit this weekend

2009-01-23T17:30:00.001-05:00

Because it's fun.

P.S. Oh dear.

Photograph by Alessia Campostrini.

Royal Quiet Deluxe

2009-01-23T14:50:00.004-05:00

It's hard to believe that I typed out all of my college applications - essays, forms, and everything - on a typewriter. It was a real clunker from the days when my dad was a young, impoverished associate professor and had to pawn his typewriter every time he wanted to take my mother out on a date. By the time I got around to using it, the e key was a little funky and the ribbon only inked the top half of every letter. The result looked something like cuneiform.

Wish I'd had a typewriter like this to inspire my essay writing. I just ran across one of my old college applications and I blanched from embarrassment. WHAT. A. TOOLBAG. I'm not even going to excerpt from it because it's that bad.

Image via we heart it.

P.S. This one's for you Erica. I just got your fabulous postcard. A million thanks.

An interesting idea

2009-01-23T14:35:00.006-05:00

Or, you might consider the following messages:

"You really should get this dry cleaned."
"Sorry I stretched out the boob area."
"Those pit stains were there already."

Via Unicornology.

Poster love

2009-01-23T12:16:00.005-05:00

I love this poster Sandra designed for a film festival.

You can get one of your very own here.

For Elly, who feels despair about the world.

2009-01-23T10:24:00.003-05:00

This should make you smile.

If it doesn't, there is always lip gloss* and baby lemurs.

*Am I really that shallow? Am I?

T-Mobile clip via swissmiss.

M.I.A.

2009-01-22T16:47:00.006-05:00

I rediscovered British and Sri Lankan songwriter, record producer, vocalist and artist M.I.A. after seeing "Slumdog Millionaire." M.I.A. is all over A.R. Rahman’s excellent Bollywood/hip-hop soundtrack and now I've developed a little (big) female non-sexual crush on her. I mean, look at her! Adorbs, right? Badass, right? (I believe those are her own graffiti-inspired images above.)

I hesitate to send you to her website, as all the flickering lights and flashing colors nearly sent me into a grand mal seizure, but you can check out the playlist for the soundtrack here.

Top image from here, bottom image from here.

Eye break: Essimar Papel

2009-01-22T14:14:00.007-05:00

Feeling a bit frazzled today, and these screenprints by Essimar are providing the necessary salve. Their effect is soothing and invigorating at the same time (if that's possible). I love the color combinations - not to mention the white mantle against that dark and stormy wall.

Thanks miel et cannelle!

So much goodness inside

2009-01-22T11:43:00.003-05:00

Every time I go to Spoonbill & Sugartown in Williamsburg, I shake the sugar down. I cannot leave there without buying something, or at least without furtively looking at all the homoerotic art books. Fauxhawk goes to play with the morbidly obese cat, who has a strange habit of kicking like a jackrabbit when you pet him.

Anyway.

My latest acquisition is Magic Books & Paper Toys: Flip Books, E-Z Pop-Ups & Other Paper Playthings to Amaze & Delight. People, I cannot tell you how many redonkulous things there are to make within the pages of this book. You will have to buy it to see for yourself.

I'm thinking this will keep my nieces occupied when they come over. Perhaps if they are busy folding little bits of paper, they won't notice the cigarette boxes under the couch and the fire raging in the kitchen.

Photograph from Purgatory Pie Press.

Ho knockers

2009-01-22T10:24:00.004-05:00

This picture by Garance makes me so happy. Maybe it's the staging, the yellow stripes, or the silly playfulness between girl and dog, but I suspect it's the ho knockers.

Do you remember ho knockers? Those big hollow gold earrings? The ones I wore in middle school when I tried to be all bodiqua? I miss them. They were kind of great.

Making me smile today

2009-01-21T14:31:00.004-05:00

This picture of Woody Allen, looking all "Heyyyyy...wassup?" with his insane, four-year-old boy butt patches. DIVINE.

Also:

This is (almost) too lowbrow and vulgar for my blog, but it made me laugh because I have a low amusement threshold. Same peeps that did this, I think.

Photograph via We Heart It.

Mystery film

2009-01-21T11:52:00.004-05:00

The other day while sorting through some papers, I found two rolls of mystery film. It seemed odd to me that I had not rushed out to develop them, as I usually did when I used my film camera. After a few moments, I realized that they came from a very, very unhappy time in my life, when I awoke every day feeling heartbroken and baffled.

Part of me wants to develop them, just to see the world as I saw it then. The other part of me thinks I should let them be; that period of my life is (blissfully) over. Would I even recognize the girl? She's now a little tougher, smarter, and...uh...fatter.

What say you? Develop and burn them in an elaborate exorcism ritual, or stick them back in my sock drawer?

Image via We Heart It.

Bright, shiny new day.

2009-01-21T10:26:00.004-05:00

I have to confess that I'm not a bright shiny new day sort of person. I'm more of a wake-up groaning - snooze 45 times - curse the gods for making it morning - put my underwear on backwards - stumble out for coffee type of girl.

I woke up late today, having stayed up to watch the inaugural balls. (I liked her dress. Did you?) I'll admit to crying at least once, when Beyonce teared up after singing to Barack and Michelle Obama for their first dance. I'm sorry, it was touching, okay?? (Yes, I'm a cheeseball. I can't help it. I got swept away in the moment.) Anyway, this morning my head felt like the birth of Athena.

Ouch. It must be a happiness hangover.

Image via dolores on the dotted line.

I'll read what he's reading

2009-01-20T16:18:00.006-05:00

According to this article, Dubya read 95 books in 2006 - a delightfully surprising factoid (though how many of these books actually contained words is unknown).

Obama, on the other hand, appears unabashedly bookish. When asked who his influences are, he cites the following:

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thomas Jefferson
Mark Twain
Abraham Lincoln
James Baldwin
Friedrich Nietzsche
Reinhold Niebuhr
Paul Tillich
E.L. Doctorow
Philip Roth
W. E. B. DuBois’ Souls of Black Folk
Martin Luther King’s Letter From Birmingham Jail
Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon
Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory and The Quiet American
Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook
Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s Cancer Ward
John Steinbeck’s In Dubious Battle
Robert Caro’s Power Broker
Studs Terkel’s Working
Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations and Theory of Moral Sentiments
Robert Penn’s All the King’s Men
Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom The Bell Tolls
Herman Melville’s Moby Dick

Lately, he's been seen reading:

Parting the Waters by Taylor Branch
Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin
Collected Poems 1948-1984 by Derek Walcott
Lincoln: The Biography of a Writer by Fred Kaplan
Derek Walcott’s Collected Poems 1948-1984

Um, does anyone else around here feel the tiniest bit stupid after reading that list? I think I'm going to need to step up my game a bit, since my major life influence, Anne of Green Gables, is probably not going to increase my chances of becoming President.

(Come to think of it, neither are those photographs of me with Joey B., the horrible orange stripper who "showed up" at my 19th birthday party.)

Photographs from The Selby via ??? (I'm sorry - I've forgotten. My mind is a sieve today).

Obama me

2009-01-20T15:17:00.004-05:00

That's me being jazzed about Obama. Or rather, that's my left nostril looking overjoyed.

Make your own iconic Shepard Fairey-esque poster here.

Via how about orange.

My heart leaps

2009-01-20T12:30:00.001-05:00

Look at what we've done!

This is a great day.

Photo credits: Top, unknown (if anyone knows, please tell me and I will give credit where credit is due!), middle, via babydeer, bottom via NYT.

Cheers to more great first dates

2009-01-20T10:00:00.000-05:00

Inauguration Day

2009-01-20T08:00:00.002-05:00

Couldn't have said it better myself.

From the genius mind of Marc Johns.

Recipe for a good day

2009-01-19T17:34:00.001-05:00

Mustachioed man + Peaches + Snow.

via unicornology.

The seagull ain't got nothing on me

2009-01-19T15:00:00.001-05:00

Maybe it's Martin Luther King Day, maybe it's Obama's inauguration tomorrow, but it feels like something wonderful is in the air. Tears well up in my eyes (unfortunately, during a conference call this morning as Fauxhawk mentioned) when I think about the hope and gratitude we all feel for this incredible change in our lives.

This is one of my favorite Nina Simone songs. "I Wish (I Knew How it Would Feel to Be Free)" seems to capture the wistfulness so many of us felt before the election, and now the sense of joyful empowerment that is so palpable as we approach Obama's first day in office.

Happy MLK Day. I think he'd be proud of us.