these days of leiderhosen

I have spent my Sunday morning at the communal baths and if there is any smutcsh or nastiness left in my pores, I am not responsible for it. I have now perfected the graceful entrance and exit to the cold plunge (50 degrees F, otherwise known as "really oh so fucking cold") which involves folding oneself into the icy water rather than timidly dipping and retreating. And also not going back into the hot pool afterward cause the pins-and-needles sensation all over is much, much worse. The look of pity/amusement on the other bather’s faces can be a bit much, but at least no one is tactless enough to point and laugh outright. The first time I tried this treacherous pool a couple years ago with my friend Mix, I thought I was having a stroke as something in my brain popped and slowed everything w...a...y ...w....a......y d...o...w...n. I think I frightened/horrified her and not just because we were two naked, damp, straight girls either. I am much better at the whole process now...

Darlings: Still no gig (I did find a few thing that are perfect and am waiting to hear back) and the green stuff that goes with it, but I do have a half bottle of Hangar One mandarin vodka in the freezer, a great man who buys the groceries, XM radio and no sense of rhythm or dignity at all. So no argument here. Cheers, darlings. The Stoned and Heavily Medicated Insane Land Lady is now driving with a vengeance. She has insisted that she is an excellent driver, stoned or not (yeah, I had to ask if she drove under pot or her heavy medications). Deep ruts in the neighbors' yard (unearthing the irrigation and obliterating a rather hideous ceramic tortoise) and the parking strip say perhaps another story. She has shaved off one driver's mirror on the gate, loosened the other mirror and pried up the door panel a bit. There are a few mysterious new dents as well. And the car is filthy once again. This week's cooking injury occurred tonight over sautéed pork chops, applesauce (which...

Have you seen this lately? University of Virginia's project to get yet more reading material on the web: The Electronic Text Center . I've just used the Palm Doc Generator on Demand at PoorMojo to generate Stephen Crane's the Open Boat short story into a form I can carry around with me everywhere I take my old Palm Visor Edge, which also contains my yarn database, portable cookbook and italian dictionary. Va benne. Oh NO. Curse the Manhattan User's Guide! Today's post on sales list "Rome for $499: roundtrip airfare and six nights hotel at Go-Today ". Am I tortured by this? Oh yes. Am I having another cup of coffee? Oh yes. (mutter...grumble....curse....) Am I having it on the Piazza di Spangna? Nope. Somebody please go take advange of this and tell me all about it. Look at these cards by Etui. Aren't they lovely? Oo, also take a look at Etsy.com. Brilliant. What I am not doing: Shopping & drinking $3.75 lattes Current favorite breakfast ...

Dearest Darlingiest Readers: Forgive me. I don't feel much like writing when it rains. Or when I am sad. Or making cake. But I am here. I am back, hollering epiphets into the silent void of the internet, wondering how you are and how you spend your days. Wondering why you don't comment. I took Steven over to Berkeley for various errands on Friday and we ended up at the Mecca of food in the East Bay: The Cheeseboard Co-operative Pizza. Serving up only one type of pizza a day, on Friday it was an utterly divine three cheese pizza with garlic and peppers and onions and it was easily the best pizza I have ever eaten, tangy and crispy and hot and so incredibly head-bangingly good, good, good. After negotiations that allowed us to sit on two of the seven patio tables that had been dragged inside out of the rain, the lady at the upright piano in the corner let out with some improvised ragtime accompanied perfectly by the cellist with long grey dreds. More later, crumpets. I gotta go c...

I understand that if we just hold our breath collectively, cross our fingers and wish real hard the whole damn holiday season will be over. This said, I could not resist this photo from gridskipper.com (quite the travel site):

After much Virgo deliberation and research, The Steven has gone and bought a bright orange espresso machine. It's quite lovely and very italian and I must say that the double shot he pulled for me at 3:00 PM this afternoon might have been a mistake to accept on my part (helllllo, night shift!), but oh my it was so good . It is a rather expensive item but lacks the actual weight it requires when installing the handle and espresso pod, so one is forced to wrap a forearm and shoulder into the bargain to get proper purchase. It rather looks like someone attempting to clean a pig's ears by force. Considering the ease and speed that Steven took his first stab at barista-dom, I wonder where he has been practicing. He does say that this addition to the Casa del Grant will allow him to bring me the latte in bed without the tedium of having to get dressed and wander 5 blocks in the rain to bring me one. I reckon I am a lucky girl. Aside from this new item, the only things I did today wer...

Susan Orlean has a new book out! Her previous book The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup was a perfectly enchanting collection of her columns. Mexican Ibarra chocolate is probably the only reason I make it through the winter months. If you are not familiar with the yellow octagonal one pound box, it is worth a try and it's ridulously inexpensive (less than $3.25). Made using raw sugar and the authentic mexican vanillia it has a deeply exotic smell and leaves a residual heavenly sludge on the floor of the cup that must be licked out, one way or another. If you have a stick blender (which I got for Christmas -thanks, Bunny - ) you can avoid this and get it extra frothy, but the sludge is particularly yummy. If you can't find this in your supermarket with the baking chocolate or in the latin section, go check under the hot chocolate beverage section and curse the marketer who shoved it one to very top shelf to promoted some icky hershey product at eye level. To my delight I have fou...