Goodness. Where did the day go? Or the week? Or, while we’re at it, the summer? How the heck is it already August, 2012?! Shouldn’t it be, like, June … 1998? Which I don’t entirely have a problem with, except that my hair in June of 1998 was a total disaster. That’s right: I would…
– It’s taken me a while to get around to writing this post. First, I needed to wait until my rage subsided. That took longer than I thought it would.
We stayed at the Harbor Court Hotel during our last trip to San Francisco. Every afternoon they had chocolate chip cookies and popcorn in the foyer. I didn’t really notice much else, because come on – free popcorn and free chocolate chip cookies? I’d sleep in a Ford Pinto and give it five stars if you handed…
There’s an old Cary Grant movie called People Will Talk. If you haven’t seen it, go do so now. I’ll wait. … Wasn’t it amazing? I know. I love it, too. I have a weak spot for Cary Grant. Actually, I have several weak spots for Cary Grant, and they’re all located around my knees, or thereabouts.…
Rand and I were in Palo Alto for work. Well, he had work. I had things to eat and photos to take. Which is the closest thing I do to work. Holy crap. My life rules. Anyway, I digress. We were in Palo Alto, and we carved out some time to stop by the Facebook…
I know I shouldn’t keep complaining about the freezing weather in Seattle, especially when the rest of the country is spontaneously combusting as a result of heat (also, “combusting” is probably not a word). But when I woke up this morning, is was FIFTY-EIGHT DEGREES. FIFTY-EIGHT. Let me tell you, that number has no business…
While wandering around Palo Alto, I spotted this toy hanging from a rack at a grocery store: –
It’s grey in Seattle. And chilly. I’m sitting here in my office, contemplating grabbing a sweater. For the record, I’m already wearing jeans and a t-shirt. But it’s in the high sixties in here, and I have goosebumps. It’s out of sheer stubbornness that I don’t grab a cardigan, because it is July, and that…
– I’m such a sucker for old things. Whether it be grey-haired octogenarians or day-old pastries, I find myself smitten. Sure, they’re sometimes a bit crustier than you’d like them to be, and you can’t help but think of what they were like when fresh, but they’re still fun to nibble on. AND THAT GOES DOUBLE…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Paperback Available March 11th
Also available in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook from these booksellers:
