Rocky

I'm at the airport in Denver. So far I've only counted one piece of Obama paraphernalia--I've seen more Mormons. (The girl behind me from DCA was going back to BYU, but she also had a flowery Chanel bag, lots of makeup, and big heels. Am confounded.) There was one guy who might have been a pro basketball player because he was like 7 feet tall. Also, I think the airport's white peaks look more circus-y than Rocky-y.

It has been "x" days since my last confession

I haven't blogged in almost a week, which I think means I have committed a cardinal blogging sin. Um, oh well. Anyway, I don't really have any good reason other than that I've been keeping busy and doing stuff like "eight limb staff pose" (successfully!), eating fries, and remember the formula for the area of a circle (woo, GRE). I haven't even really baked, besides making a Julia Child clafoutis.

My point? Tomorrow I'm going on vacation for two weeks, so I again forgo this site except maybe to post photos of the Pacific Ocean or Multnomah Falls. Vacaaationnn!!

Clothes make the wo-man

Yesterday I walked down Wisconsin Ave. on a mission to find and purchase the cardigan that a friend in PA has. It was not in stock, but lo, I found an interesting stand-in (in person it looks more denim-y and less gray). Anyway, in my mind, the top has this sort of prisoner/artist's smock aesthetic, and given my stature it looks considerably sack-ier on me than that model. But it still has this persona attached to it, in my mind, and I don't know that I'm quite living up to it:

me: i feel like i should be holding paintbrushes and a cigarette while wearing it

Sent at 11:28 AM on Wednesday

Sonia: you aren't?

Mad (Wo)men

I am not really sure why this article about women and online advertising exists, considering it's nothing groundbreaking to expose that women go online and, you know, also buy stuff. My favorite part, though, is the fact that one adman interviewed is named Mr. Draper. His lines might as well be coming from Don himself:

"I love women. Women are more than half the population, and they do most of the shopping," said Tim Draper, the venture firm's co-founder and managing director. "We are constantly looking for more sites that cater to women."

On the street, in Lisner

While walking to work this morning, I saw a man playing a harmonica whilst bicycling. In terms of impressiveness, it beats this sort of multitasking (and the dude didn't even have a holder for it).

Second, a vigilant (and awesommee) friend picked up tickets for Magnetic Fields here in DC in October! Given that we were both excited about the chance to see Stephin Merritt live, the tickets inspired a conversation about people, living or dead, whom we'd want to have coffee or other beverages with. Those named included Virginia Woolf for tea and TE Lawrence for some "tea laced with qat." (Anyone have any they want to add?) It also made me think about the few times when I've seen something I have long, long wanted to, e.g. "The Garden of Earthly Delights" at the Prado.

Postcard from my momma: utube

An email from my mom about this video, subject line "Fw: utube - funny but not funny" :

Can you believe it Kim???!!!!!! I listened to my first utube video !! It is really funny. I had to share. I was "cracking up" watching it, althiough after a bit I felt a little nauseated, and I am a nurse! Tell me what you think.

Strawberries, downfall

Tuesday night, on a whim, I made a strawberry tart. That is just what I do. Forgoing making dinner (I had some grocery store veggie sushi), I whipped up some pastry cream, made a pastry shell, and cut up a lot of berries. I guess the occasion was that the strawberries were buy-one-get-one-free, and I had a new tart pan with a slick removable bottom. The results, below, don't betray the fact that the cream soon went from solid-ish to relentlessly soupy:


The day's other events included lunch at a new Belgian restaurant (bread with good crust!) and my bonking my head on my mat/the floor at yoga while attempting "eight-limb staff pose." I think this photo of the pose, demonstrated by someone who apparently used to teach at my studio, will explain my face-floor collision: