Pretty Princess!

Our little household recently did an overhaul of the dish situation. We trekked to Ikea and bought a bunch of lightweight white dishes and bowls (which each fit about 3x the amount of Froot Loops!) to streamline our hectic Fiestawear madness. I think we'll continue to go the white route for a bit, so that no matter what we buy, it looks pulled together. And then we'll buy some punchy items to liven things up. Although with the bright green wall, red chairs and teal curtains, I think we're pretty punchy already.

But check out the lovely white pottery above, designed by (the prolific potter and 100 year old) Eva Zeisel. You can get certain Zeisel items from Crate & Barrel, which is easy breezy beautiful Cover Girl, and would help make a pretty princess tea party for me and Mary. Yes?

Fugg You

It's a fun activity to read online debates over Ugg boots. The passion people feel one way or the other is incredible! Frankly, I don't care; I bought a new pair last night and I couldn't be happier. Because honestly? Once you put them on, you don't care if people stop talking to you forever and/or permanently white-out your name in their address books. Your feet feel like marshmallows and life is worth living.

Your Fat

This is awkward! Or maybe hilarious! They should have at least thrown me a dollar or two to post that madness. Sheesh.

Stendig It

I just got my first issue of New York magazine in the mail yesterday, bringing my total received publications with "New York" in the title to two. Sometimes three when I treat myself to the Times, which always makes the day a good one. I'm not even obsessed with NYC, which might be the takeaway from my mailbox. I just can't resist the allure of all that erudite nonsense in a neat, tidy package.

This issue happens to be an extra-fantastic one, all about design and designers and all the pretty things they do. It's got me thinking about my Christmas list and all the things I don't at all need but quite definitely want.

For example, the fantastic, oversized Stendig calendar featured above. Designed by the super couple, Massimo and Lella Vignelli (they also designed the Bloomingdales logo! and the NYC subway map! and those cool Knoll stackable chairs! and I can barely make a cupcake!) in 1966, it says "I'm a liberal city dweller and I'm sophisticated and know some stuff" in addition to "I'm a little bit crazy, but still organized" and yet still getting across that "Mary Tyler Moore is my hero and I wish she'd come over for tea and throw her hat in the air for me."

Up and At 'Em

The summer after my junior year of high school I worked at this coffee shop a half hour's drive away. I'm not sure why I chose this job over working at our local dive, which was closer and would have brought in more cash, but I did. As my good friend Michaela says, I don't know why I do the things I do.

On bad days, I was given the 6-2 shift, ungodly hours that crippled my 17-year-old soul. It meant throwing on my bagel-battered sneakers, leaving my house at 5:30, driving in the dark to crack open hundreds of eggs into individual plastic containers, make many pots of coffee, and haul bags and bags of bagels down the stairs and into bins, all whilst not really sure I was alive.

One morning I got in my car to realize I was nearly out of gas. Common enough for me, but usually at an hour when gas stations were open (or "were awake" as I just typed). After passing many a closed station, I pulled into the dive's parking lot ("If you worked here, you'd be at work now!"), after seeing my friend Caroline's car. I knew her shift was longer than mine, so maybe I could drive her car, leave mine behind and return it without a glitch? Kind of smart? Kind of desperate?

I ran up to the ordering window and tapped on the glass. Caroline hurried over and opened the window, worried.

"Why have you been driving around all night?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well...why else would you be here?"
"Because I'm up early and I'm going to work? And work isn't a strip club?"
"You went to sleep last night and then woke up?"
"Oh my God, yes!"

So blah blah, I went into it and got her car for the day, but it's always stuck with me that it made more sense to her that I would have stayed up all night and was out driving around, than that I was awake and headed to work at an early hour. Thanks!

The Empathizers

Me: "Is it wrong that I came away feeling Alcatraz was sort of cozy?"

Mom: "No. I thought the same thing."

Frooty

My Lunchable kept falling out of my bag on the bus (city, not school) today, quickly followed by my baggie of Froot Loops. I kept pushing them back in, like they were something to hide, until I looked up and saw a distinguished (enough) looking woman, confidently pulling out a baggie of her own Froot Loops! Ka-chow!

Also. Two weeks late to the job, I finally removed my red nail polish. I totally forgot about that crazy pulsing sensation that happens after, where your nail beds are sucking in oxygen like there's no tomorrow and they sort of feel alive? I guess they are? Good talk.

Mr. Amy

Some dude with a ridiculous name I won't advertise on the Interweb, used to have my extension before I worked here. Apparently, before he quit he booked a conference room on the sixth floor for all eternity. We have a serious shortage of such rooms in my office, so everyday is a battle, a constant struggle to usurp the throne of the One Who Had Enough Time on Her Hands to Book a Room Before Five Minutes After the Meeting Started. So people call me all the time trying to steal this room I don't even want, and I answer the phone, and they plunge ahead with their plea as if I were clearly a dude. Even though I'm pretty secure in the girliness of my voice? (Yes? No? Is there something I don't know?) And let's also note, they're usually sitting no more than two cubes down from me and can simultaneously hear my voice both on the phone and in real life, full of despair at the daily trials I must endure.

A Weekend Treat

All he wants for lunch on the weekends is a little delicacy I like to call a Mom Sandwich. It's found down the street at our neighborhood market, made from plain wheat bread, plain old cold cuts and plain yellow mustard. I don't get it. For my dollar, I want a crusty roll and lots of cheese not found in my refrigerator and some sort of terrible fatty meat like salami, things my Mom - queen of plain Cheerios in snack bags and juice in old pickle jars (I love you, Mom!) - never bought when I was little. But nothing makes him happier than a Mom Sandwich and so, I take the short walk down our street and buy one, knowing I should probably just make it myself, but not quite ready to yet.

When You're Always the Last One to Fall Asleep

Don't you miss falling asleep while multiple other people are still awake, shuffling around and eating cookies, making sure anyone bad sneaking in will get punched in the face? I do.

A Play

Act 1, Scene 1: Bus Ride. Tall chai.

Act 1, Scene 2: Client call. Bagel. Cream cheese. Fruit.

Act 1, Scene 3: Talent seminar. Cheese pastry. Orange juice.

Act 2, Scene 4: Team status. Gummi bears. Many.

Act 2, Scene 1: Work at desk. Fettucini alfredo.

Act 2, Scene 2: Meeting. Peanut butter and jelly UnCrustable. Milk.

Act 2, Scene 3: Gossip. Tall cider. 1.5 brownie bites.

Act 2, Scene 4: And then she died of sugar.

Can You Do Less?

During my freshman year in theater school, grades were earned on a scale of how well could I pretend to be fire, how hard could I cry about third grade, how long could I watch the dude I was dating paint his naked body with finger paints without sinking into the floor and dying of shame. On opposite day, I also earned a grade for how well I could do less.

My Alexander Technique class consisted of, what seemed to me, a lot of lying down on the floor and writing my name softly with a pencil. We had this crazy/tall teacher who didn't say much except: "Can you do less?" Which for me meant taking a nap and hoping I didn't get caught. From what I remember, I think I was also supposed to grow an inch by the end of the class? This did not happen.

At the time, it was just one more class squeezed into a busy schedule including "Stage Craft" and "Clowning 101" so it all got jumbled into a pile of nonsense. Now I see how "Can you do less?" is probably the one thing I should have listened to that year. I know I can always stress less, talk less, worry less, and... throw my clothes on the floor less. Which means, conversely, I should probably pick up my clothes more. About that...

The Turkey Family

Once upon a time, there was a crazy family called the Turkey Family. There was a boy, a girl, a man and a woman.

One day, a tiny kid came down the road.

"Wow," said the boy.

That was the way it was here. He saw everything, everyday.

The kid walked downstairs. He went into the boy's room. He climbed on the bed. When he went to bed, the boy got into bed and called: "Mom!"

- Me. Age 6. Confused by pronouns.

And harboring some deeply suspect thoughts.

Sorry I've Been Gone...

it's just that my job can seriously get in the way sometimes.

Some quick updates:

1. After some serious soul-searching, I think might give in and take up leggings. Yeah. I know.

2. I went to my first TV commercial shoot last week. Production assistants scampered around and brought me Starbucks. I wore a headset. It was fantastic.

3. I read Jane Eyre. It bumped a yet-undetermined choice off my Top 5 Swoon-Worthy Books.

4. I'm pulling full-force for Wanye Newton on Dancing with the Stars.

5. Crosswords are my new crack pipe.

6. I learned there are both offensive and defensive teams in football. It all makes so much more sense, people.

7. I tried foie gras. Thumbs down.

8. I'm trying to write fiction. It's hard.

9. I painted my nails red.

10. Custody or not, fatty or not, I still wear her perfume. Cupcakes. Yum.