Archive | January, 2012

A while ago, I wrote a blurb on a scrap sheet of paper. I finally added it to an old picture I had of my grandfather and my cousin.

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Today’s post is by my dear friend Angela. She’s guest-blogged for me once before, and since then, she’s had a kid, started freelancing, launched her own site, and hopped around the globe a bit just for good measure (I suspect she spends her free time trying to crack the secrets of massive nutrinos).

Fortunately, Angela has decided to share some of her wisdom with the rest of us slackers. Here are her tips for any traveler who wants to see the world with their little one along for the ride. (And yes, she manages to make it all look easy. She has a sickening knack for that sort of thing.)

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Hear ye, hear ye, all brave parents venturing into the great unknown with offspring in tow! I’ve been there and back … and lived to tell the tale. Here are the convictions I brought home as souvenirs. If you’re a fellow jet-set mom or dad, I humbly offer them up to you.

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The sun is chasing away a few wisps of lingering fog this morning. There is frost on the rooftops that I can see from my office. Downstairs, my husband is still in bed, still recouping from yesterday’s 4:20 am wake-up time, and having to travel to San Francisco and back in a matter of 12 hours.

It is ridiculously quiet. I’m going to go have breakfast and see if my city – and my beloved – wake up in the next half hour. I’m guessing they won’t. While I do that, you enjoy these links:

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My friend Kurtis just started a blog. It’s called Kourteous. It’s absolutely insane … and therein may lie the brilliance.

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Ohio artist Amy Casey’s city scapes are delightfully odd. They’re what you’d expect if 9-year-olds were allowed to be civil engineers and gravity was no obstacle – which, for the record, would be AWESOME.

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Sometimes eating at chain restaurant won't leave you feeling dirty and sad inside. Really.

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In high school, I ate fast food nearly every day.

While my colon now involuntarily spasms at the thought, I lunched at Burger King on Mondays through Fridays for the better part of my junior and senior years. And yet, miraculously, I was far thinner than I am now. It was clearly a superpower of youth, one that I am unable to explain. In the words of Madonna, life is a mystery.

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Rand and I have been home for twenty-three days. Twenty-three. This is the longest stretch of time we’ve both been home together for nearly a year. It’s also the gestation period for a female human (Edit: No, no it’s not. I’m just seeing if you were paying attention.) And it’s roughly the amount of time I need to spend in one place before I start going absolutely bat-shit insane.

Even on a good day, I tend to lean pretty far towards the crazy end of the sanity spectrum. But leave me at home for three weeks, and I start to go a little bonkers. I’ve plotted it all on this chart.

It took me forever to find a picture of Velma from Scooby-Doo that wasn't all porny. I severely am bothered by this.

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On Halloween day, I headed to the Tribeca firestation made famous in Ghostbusters. That night, I channeled Margot Tennenbaum on the streets of midtown, eating stick after stick of candy cigarettes.

The next day, I realized I wasn’t yet done paying pilgrimage to movie locations or obsessing over Wes Anderson.

And so, on the first day of November, which was bright and clear and curiously warm, I left our hotel with a specific goal in mind: I was going to see the house on Archer Ave that Royal Tenenbaum bought in the winter of his thirty-fifth year.

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Last week, I found out there was a trailer for Wes Anderson’s new movie, Moonrise Kingdom. I haven’t watched it yet. Not because I’m not interested – I am. I just like having it there, waiting for me. Knowing I can enjoy it whenever I want. It’s something I occasionally do with cupcakes. I sit and look at them. I enjoy having them there. It’s almost better than actually eating them.

Almost.

Anderson is a polarizing figure for a lot of people. Even I, from my perch of adoring fandom, am able to see he’s not perfect. The sentimentality of The Life Aquatic felt forced. Darjeeling Limited was unnecessarily misogynistic. But most of the time, he strikes the right cord, and makes me believe that life is meant to be full of sepia tones and musical vignettes and narration by Alec Baldwin.

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I’m still at home, and my city is still covered in snow. Supposedly it will all melt today, and we’ll be left with puddles and sopping wet piles of mud, which is perhaps for the best, as that is what we are used to.

Having spent the last few days in pajamas, I’m looking forward to the sartorial challenge of dressing for 100% humidity and 4o degrees. While I look online for rainboots I can’t afford, you enjoy these links (and stay warm and dry, will you?)

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I am completely digging these Movie Posters from an Alternate Timeline. Bonus points to the artist for including the late, great Sal Mineo.

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Dear, lord. Kids today. Tweets from 25 angry kids who couldn’t do their homework because Wikipedia was blacked out. Really? You’re allowed to use WIKIPEDIA for homework nowadays? I … I need a cookie. (via Nomadic Matt)

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