Archive | May, 2012

He leans to kiss me,

But stops; sees my red lipstick,

And leaves me hanging.

-

-

-

I have given up trying to get to Patisserie Valerie, which everyone and their brother tells me is the best bakery/dessert chain in London. Maybe it is. I wouldn’t know. Every time I’ve tried to grab a seat at their shops, I’ve been treated like one of the following:

  • a leper
  • some sort of used turd salesman
  • a suspected dog rapist

I’m sort of guessing. I’ve never encountered any of these folks in real life, so I don’t know how they are treated, but I assume it’s not very good.

(more…)

Words are funny little things.

I know, because I spend most of my days wrestling with them, trying to manipulate them into what I want them to be, often to no avail. Have you ever tried chiseling someone’s likeness in a a hunk of jell-o? It’s something like that.

But I love them, and I can’t rightly abandon them, because my blog would be oh-so-boring without words. It would be nothing more than photos of cupcakes and me making out with my husband. (I realize it’s not much more than that now, but it has the potential to be more, thanks to words. Or so I tell myself.)

(more…)

Our most recent trip to Madrid was our first visit to the city in four years. The last time we were there – in 2008 – Rand and I were still engaged; I’d just been laid off, and idea of starting a blog hadn’t even entered my mind. I finally went through the photos I took from that trip, and starting thing about how much we – and the circumstances around us – had changed in that time.

Apparently, I used to be camera-shy.

(more…)

While walking around Madrid, Rand and I saw this sculptural relief on the facade of the building, done in the classical style (is it ancient Roman in its influences? Let’s say yes, because I know squat about sculpture):

-

And then we saw the same relief, this time rendered with a Cubist slant:

-

And I might have geeked out, because seriously, how cool is that?

I seem to have left my brain somewhere. Not only was I unaware of the month and date, but I also started typing “2005” into the title of this post.

Yeah. Yeah. I know. I should probably go have a cupcake and retrace my steps. I mean, really, there’s only so many places that a brain could be, right? While I go do that, you enjoy these links, courtesy of people who are far more with it than I am:

—————

My friend Mimi took her daughter to Tokyo Disney Sea (yes, this is a real Disney park, and no, I’d never heard of it), where they learned of the existence of a character called Shellie May. It doesn’t make a lot more sense if you read it, but Mimi’s take on the whole thing is pretty darn delightful.

—————

Words cannot express how amazing this is: Jeff Goldblum gets interviewed INSIDE OF A CLOSET  (sent to me by the lovely @gret_herself, to whom I am forever indebted.)

(more…)

There are times when I feel like maybe I’m asking a little too much of the universe (“Give me an awesome husband, the opportunity to travel around the world, and lots of cupcakes, please. Also, I’d like to meet Jeff Goldblum.”) I try to keep it in check, I really do (notice I didn’t ask for a pony).

Like, for example, when we were in Madrid last month – for a grand total of only 24 hours – I did not have a lot of expectations.

I certainly didn’t think that I would have any time to spend with Rand. Or that he would have a whole afternoon free.

-

I'm doing this weird thing with my mouth here, but Rand looks really cute so I'm posting it.

- (more…)

As a kid, I wanted the window seat. Now I prefer the aisle, so I can get up to pee.

-

There are days when I feel far older than my 31 years (Wait, am I 31? What year is it …? No, I’m still 31. Dear god. Losing track of my age is not a problem I used to have). When something happens that makes me realize that I have been on the planet for three long decades, and then some.

Take, for example, the time I had the following exchange (via Google chat) with my brother-in-law, who is 10 years my junior:

 

Me: … it must have been around the time River Phoenix died.

Him: River Phoenix?

Me: Oh, dear god, no. Don’t. Just don’t.

Him: Who’s River Phoenix?

(more…)