This is the two hundredth post. Imagine that. Thanks for bearing with me.
Peter Sagal, beloved host of Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me NPR’s quiz show completely loses it and goes OFF on Horton Hears a Who’s treatment of Daughters (Segel has three beautiful ones himself.) As a daughter myself, I applaud Peter.
Reading: Chandler Burr’s The Perfect Scent. Three fun-filled and venom drenched pages are dedicated to the great diss of Proctor and Gamble’s line of Hugo Boss Fragrances. Fantastic.
In the same line of thought…
Wearing: Salt Air., by Demeter. And clothes, thanks for asking.
Next Up: Plucky Fluff’s new book Intertwined; it’s about spinning and using art yarn. She’s brilliant, particularly when she spun an art yarn based on Reganomics.
Stephen Fry is doing podgrams now. As much as I adore him, I have not forgiven him about writing a book about writing poetry while not actually divulging any of own poems. If are a Fry fan and haven’t read Moab is my Washpot, you really are missing out.This week from the oven: homemade pizza bianca. Twice.