Maurice Sendak is one of my favorite childhood authors, he combined cleverness, sweetness, and artistry with a slight sense of menace that I think most children feel at least sometimes but isn’t often acknowledged. He also did the creative design for the ONLY version of The Nutcracker worth owning, in my opinion.
The Google homepage is a tribute to him today, check it out and press play. Then sit back and admire appropriately.
“Birthdays are nature’s way of telling you to eat more cake.”
― Jo Brand
Marriage to J. has expanded my birthday wonderfully. Instead of lasting a single day I can sometimes span that sucker out for a week. For example last Saturday we went to pick up my present (a new iPod – since my last one was nearly a decade old. I’m absolutely flabbergasted by how much memory they have now compared to my dinosaur of a nano), and passing back through Nordstrom on the way to the car I saw the last item on my “To Buy Before Moving” list: high quality leather ballet flats on sale. Which have been ludicrously hard to find, hence their being the last entry on said list. And, because it was my birthday, J. told me to get both colors I wanted. Excellent. At some point this weekend I’ll take advantage of the extra perks corporate America gives you for just being born by using a restaurant’s birthday coupon as well. Some people hate getting older, I rather enjoy it.
In any case, I’ve got copy for a contributor piece due this even so here you go. Out the links come, lickety split!
I love bars for entertaining. Granted I go more for ice cream and sandwiches, but here’s a build-your-own-bar of the adult libations variety that might be fun for summer.
Puns? And history? Lead on!
Good idea. True story, I found one of my favorite novels in a tiny hotel in the Cinque Terre of Italy on vacation on the public bookshelf by the front desk, stocked by the leavings of previous guests. I read it nonstop for a day on the beach and hadn’t finished it but couldn’t bear to leave it behind, so I left the book I’d brought myself in exchange.
The winner of headline of the week is…
Late to the party with this one and don’t even care. Savvy, I’m disappointed not to have discovered this from you, it’s straight up your alley.
Public radio. Bad ass since…well, apparently now.
How do you speak? I have an indeterminate accent due to lifelong globe trotting.
So…basically he got caught? Right?
This man sounds like an absolute loon. Also, I really want to read that book. My Amazon.com wishlist is getting epic.
“If you care about what you do and work hard at it, there isn’t anything you can’t do if you want to.”
― Jim Henson
Still working away over here. That long weekend was just what I needed – unfortunately I feel like I need another one now. I’m a terrible ingrate.
Luckily this weekend is my birthday, and I’ll officially be in my late 20’s. Surely that means maturity and wisdom will be descending any day now…right? Here are your links, and have a good weekend. Let me know what you’re up to!
Are your lives insufficiently shiny lately? Never fear. Also, who the hell swims in $75,000 diamonds?
I heartily approve. I’m hoping the trend continues towards women’s fashion as well. I honestly believe that the reason the clothing of yesteryear still appeals to us, aside from the fact that they used better quality materials than the vast majority of “fast fashion” clothes we have these days, is because the clothes fit the wearer. Instead of simply ordering everything in predetermined sizes, you would either make your own clothes or have clothes made for you, your shape, your size. There is nothing like individual tailoring to make a person look put together and even nice, high quality clothing doesn’t benefit you if it doesn’t fit you right. /rant
I’m afraid to share this because J. might insist on a road trip.
Dame Helen Mirren steps in.
So, can I blame the Jazz Age for the fact that my husband parcels the year into very distinct and separate sports seasons? It’s the equivalent of a liturgical calendar to the man!
It might be declasse, but I say rock on, Lady Canarvon. Those estates don’t pay for themselves anymore, now that serfs and farm mechanization have brought them down – the inconveniences of upstart peasants! In the words of another of Julian Fellowes characters, Lady Uckfield (from my favorite guilty pleasure novel Snobs
Is no food safe to eat!?
Stop perpetuating these lies!
For the occasional moment of crushing doubt.
“A passport, as I’m sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between two countries, so that the official can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly.”
― Lemony Snicket
My theme song is whatever the opposite of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore is,” as long as it doesn’t make me sound like a tart.
That photo is not even all of my passports, I’ve got another one filed away at my parents house. And, like unto my notary paperwork, I have to trudge them around with me for the rest of my life. (At least with my notarial stuff my heirs have to trudge it around for all of theirs as well before finally disposing of it.) Why, you ask? Because my passports literally contain my life – and I’m not just talking about sentimental value.
If you want to live a highly traveled life, expect to run smack into paperwork managed by highly precise bureaucracies who will want to know (with justification) why you want into their country and what other countries you’ve finagled your way into. I’ve lived in or traveled to well over 20 countries in my life, that’s a long list. And when you plan on moving to a country you have to be able to supply that whole list to the dour faced border guards who patrol the perimeters. I love my passports and all the stamps in them, I’ve been some seriously cool places and I plan on going to many more – but heavens they do make paperwork more complicated when reporting your life story!
And I find it a bit funny/ridiculous that between two people J. and I have seven passports when I know dozen of people who don’t have single one. My life has been incredibly packed full and fun, but looking at the stack of blue books reminds me that it hasn’t ever been normal. Good.
“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald
Working from a kitchen table or library desk doesn’t spark feelings of summer. I blame fluorescent lighting and too early mornings.
But today J. and I spent the morning in the mountains cheering on my sister-in-law’s extended family in a Memorial Day 5k and 1 mile race event to honor lost family members. Her family (including all five kids) were running in memory of their grandparents and cousin who passed away in a car accident last year. The turnout was great, although we were kept on the sidelines – J. has a busted foot, and I wimped out on training properly. I’m afraid I hate running, though I need to get over it because it will be by far the cheapest health option in the near future.
J. and I then just spent some time driving around the mountains through the farming towns with old settlers houses and rolling alpine fields filled with livestock before ending up in a local resort town, wandering down the main street and grabbing food – a hefty chili cheeseburger for him and a tasty Veggie Benedict for me.
We spent almost the whole day out in the sun (sunglasses and sunscreen included, of course) in shorts and tee shirts. It was glorious, it was summery, and I neglected to take a single picture. If ever I’m asked to prove a number of things (from my daily activities to my marital state) based on photographic evidence alone, I may not be able to do so.
“In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”
-Douglas Adams
Happy towel day, fellow nerds. J. and I are currently scheming about some electronic purchases for our move. We have agreed that if an iPad ever wanders into our midst, it will be immediately inscribed with the words, “Don’t Panic.”
I forced myself to put on real pants to avoid slothfulness as I’m doing a bit of work in the morning, and everybody knows pajama pants are the world’s greatest killer of productivity.
– C.
Terribly busy, sorry. Freelance projects to finish, dinner this evening with Angel and her husband who are back from South Korea and Hawaii, and I’ve got a fit in a shower at some point. Nothing but glamor happening over here, kittens. How are you weekends looking?
GOLDFISH CRACKERS. Sorry…did I just reveal an addiction?
Yes to love, yes to life, yes to staying in more! I’m just over a week away from 27…and I endorse this message.
In the dear dead PD days gone by, I became familiar with creepers. Or did I?
English is a language comprised entirely of exceptions rather than rules.
Nope.
Two please. Also, can we hear it for the girls? A couple of weeks ago a girl who invented an app to hide TV spoilers on Twitter and now this.
I love English, I love its history and the rule exceptions, and just how it sounds. But I am 100% in favor of introducing some of these – “grief bacon” in particular – for precision’s sake.
Love these houses, almost taken straight from Homer’s account of Penelope and Odysseus’ bed.
Ladies swag. Regency/Victorian/Edwardian style.
“Shakespeare – the nearest thing in incarnation to the eye of God.”
– Laurence Olivier
I’m giddy, minions. J. was put in touch with the specific guy who will be handling our immigration paperwork from the business end, to whom we’ve sent copies of our documents to get the ball rolling, and I wrangled the benefits company who managed my 401k and retirement today. Money will soon be coming our way – and thence straight into savings and student loan payments. I also managed to renew my drivers license through the most painless DMV experience of my life yesterday morning, did a ton of research on our travel arrangements, and booked my flight to Virginia. All in between freelance projects.
Incidentally, apart from giddy, I’m also tired.
So J. and I are doing the New York Times crossword, waiting for this to finish loading (…and we’re back to giddy). We’re feeling alternately too old for our ages, and smug and pretentious, but don’t worry. Kettlecorn and sweatpants will put us back in a humble frame of mind straight away. Besides, it’s impossible to be pretentious while watching Shakespeare (at least if you’re doing it correctly). You’re too busy becoming one with all humanity, and we are foible ridden lot.
How are your Tuesday evenings going?
NBC news has compiled a great list of organizations. Please consider.
“In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.”
― Dwight D. Eisenhower
So, Mum got accepted to a classical language program (yay, Mum!) and will be gone for 8 weeks. She’s asked me to stop in and mind things a bit for a few weeks so that Dad can get to work, Buddy can get to the dentist, and Snickers can get to swim practice. And also that this fate may be avoided, which I think we can all agree is a worthy cause.
This is perfect! I get to spend time with my siblings and parents (once Mum’s back) before I skip the country, play with my dog, see all the girls on the East Coast, and boss people about professionally – what is not to like!
And just like that, my summer in the woods is back on! This has been the most roller coaster year…
Also we booked a bunch of plane tickets yesterday and today. Things are happening.
Small Dog Syndrome 