Archive for Blog

Fire-Escape Chic

Blogon September 3rd, 2006No Comments


It might seem dorky, but having a fire escape is one of my favorite things about my apartment. I use it like a little porch — my friends go out there to smoke; I go out with a book or cup of tea and sit in the sun (and the rain, which I ADORE, although it’s probably not smart to be sitting on metal in a thunderstorm … but I digress). When I’m in big cities like NYC, I love looking at the fire escapes winding up the sides of buildings. I think they’re prettier than intentional porches.

I also love this window in general; it makes my kitchen seem bright and airy and just makes me all-around happy.

Freezer Your Assets

Blogon September 3rd, 20062 Comments

It’s magnetic currency! I had a ton of euros, pounds and Canadian coins in my change jar, which was frustrating when I’d go to get laundry money and end up with a picture of the queen. So I decided to put them to good use. Illegal? Probably. Do I care? Not really.


I stuck the magnets on with silicone sealant, and they’ve held up pretty well so far. I have decided to make everything in my household into a magnet before long, so if my next post involves Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. (my rats) hanging from a fridge, don’t be surprised.


Painted Fabric Things

Blogon August 29th, 2006No Comments

I really miss the days of puffy paint and bedazzler, so I’ve decided to reconstruct some things I have to make them more fun. This, of course, goes along with the purchasing moratorium I’ve put upon myself until Sept. 30, an arbitrary date.

I painted this plain Old Navy T-shirt using a Stencil 1 stencil I got at Renegade Craft Fair. The stencils are really cool; they’re laser-cut onto transparency paper.


AND I thought this random Jo-Ann Fabric bag needed a little lift, so I freehanded some nonsense on it with fabric markers.


Obligatory close-up:


Farmers Market

Blogon August 25th, 2006No Comments

Every week, there’s a farmers market down the street from my house, and my friend Raja and I make a point to go there every few weeks. I stocked up on veggies when we went on Saturday and made a great veggie taco soup, which I’m still eating. Nothing is better than homemade soup.





“Velocity” Not Quick Enough

Blogon July 19th, 20062 Comments


I finally finished Dave Eggers’ You Shall Know Our Velocity, and I have to say that I’m confused as to what I think about it.

The book was both charming and fast-paced and slightly boring and slow-moving. I enjoyed reading it, but it still took me about a month to read. I kept getting distracted and would move onto bigger, shinier books, like Sarah Vowell’s Assasination Vacation, which is much lighter and more fun than Velocity. I have to say it’s funny that Vowell, who is a friend of Eggers, was the one to steal my attention, but I digress.

At the same time, I liked it. I once heard Eggers compared to James Joyce, and it rings kind of true. Usually such a comparison would annoy me, being a Bloomsday nerd, but the frantic, racing style and meandering thought processes do strike me as a little Joycelike. It’s not like he’s Heartbreakinga Gertrude Stein, rambing nonsensically; he just follows the common thought-process jumps — in writing.

These thought processes are basically the point of the book, which is about a guy named Will and his best friend, Hand, who take a random trip around the world to distribute money to random people. The entire time, Will can’t get the death of their other best friend, Jack, out of his head, and much of the book is imaginary conversations he has with people and him obsessing over the past. That makes it sound totally nuts, but it really is interesting, the style works, and it made me care about Will.

But with that said, it’s definitely a stereotypical second hit novel, where it just can’t hold a candle to the book that made Eggers big, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which is definitely the one you should check out if you haven’t read anything by him.

Bye, Roger

Blogon July 13th, 20061 Comment


I’ve decided that I should let Roger back into the wild. He started flying circles around the room and sitting sadly by the window.

He’s a wild bird by nature, and I can’t prevent that.

So on Saturday, I let him outside. He sat outside my window on the fire escape, basking in the sun for a while, then began screeching and begging to be let back in. I opened the window, and he flew onto my shoulder. He didn’t let me out of sight for hours, and if I put him down, he’d fly back to my shoulder.

The next day, I tried again.

He did the same thing, playing outside until he begged to be let back in. When I opened the window, he refused to leave my shoulder.

Two nights ago, I tried for a third time. He begged for a bit, but I decided to ignore him and see what happened.

When I came to the window, he was gone. I haven’t seen him since.

It’s like I went through a fast-paced parenthood. Getting up all night to feed him, watching his little feathers and his beak grow, eventually getting tired and slightly annoyed with him, and finally watching him leave to be on his own.

All in three weeks.

Mr. Roger

Blogon June 30th, 20064 Comments

So about a week ago, I found a baby starling in my attic next to its dead mother. I named him Roger and I’ve been taking care of him, getting up at all hours of the night to feed him, taking proud-parent pics every day as I watch his feathers grow in, etc.

He already learned to “fly,” which is more of a hop; perch on my hand; beg for food and mimic some noises I make. Eventually, he’ll be able to talk!

My widdle baby’s growing up. Soon he’ll be in preschool.

Here’s the most recent pic of Roger in his proud warrior pose:

Chillin on the bookshelf. About two minutes after this, he pooped on Samuel Beckett.

He can’t stand on any slippery surfaces, so his legs splay out like a gymnast:

Begging for food from inside his shoebox:

The horrifyingly aromatic mush I feed him, made from damp cat food, applesauce, hard-boiled eggs (ironic, isn’t it?), avian vitamins and tums. I’m never using my blender again.

His favorite pose, sleeping under my “wing”:

Begging for food: