Whii!

I tried out the Wii for the first time last night and it is awesome. Also hard. It kind of feels like gym class, in that I suck at it and feel embarrassed. But unlike gym class, the Wii is something I can get better at.

In yoga class today I did one of the same poses I did in Wii yoga last night. My yoga teacher even looks similar to the Wii yoga teacher, who I called Brad spontaneously. But the similarities end there, because Brad is a little bitch.

Neighbors

My friend Walnut is most likely moving in to a place right up the street from me. I still get to keep Miss Scarlett, but now I can cross Mass Ave and be at her place, with sundry goodies made using Miss Scarlett's mechanical wizardry, in minutes. Also, the apartment has a working fireplace, so there will be burning. Safe, controlled burning.

Walnut is one of my oldest friends. Our "meet-cute" was freshman year of high school, in English class. I think it might have even been first period. Anyhoo, we were told to go partner up with someone as an icebreaker and a lovely lady with long brown hair wearing a long-sleeved shirt and skirt she'd tie-dyed herself came over and said hi.

It was one of my first experiences meeting a peer who was unique, smart, and kind. We were, and are, kindred spirits.

No babies were harmed in the making of this video.

This is Rachel Zoe. She's expanded her empire to the East Coast, where she now styles babies. The part you can't hear in this is where she announces her genius idea to manufacture actual penguin suits in place of tuxedos, which are sometimes called penguin suits.

Ah-mazing.

(Sorry about the sideways thing. Couldn't figure out how to fix it.)

Hippies R Smart

It was the last farmers market in Union Square this past Saturday and I made a bittersweet trip there with a new friend to enjoy my love/hate relationship with community.

Drumlin Farm has a stand there, and they have by far the most spectacularly beautiful and tasty veggies. Plus lots of varieties of things, like this wacky cauliflower. Plus, very good-looking hippies. One of them has been recommending slicing kale into chippish pieces, washing and drying the cps, then very lightly oiling and salting them, and baking them at high heat for five minutes.

I finally tried this yesterday, using what I think is dinosaur kale. And then again today. And my kale supply is rapidly dwindling. Because crunchy salty kale is so delicious! And very low-cal, because you need just a half-teaspoon of olive oil for a good two cups of chopped kale. You just massage the oil into the leaves. The only hassle is that the "chips" need to be in a single layer on the cookie sheet, so it can be a little hard to sate a new-found kale-chip desire fully.

Also? The kale smells like marijuana. It smells a lot like marijuana. Not while it's cooking, just when you slice it. I googled "kale marijuana" but didn't find anything about kale smelling like marijuana or being a good way to cover up the fact that you are growing marijuana, so I'm at a loss to explain the aroma.

Forever 21

Like the Christmas Tree Shop, I find myself wondering why I never realized what a completely awesome store this is. I went there this afternoon, to see what I could find to turn myself into Rachel Zoe for Halloween.

I am not in fact going to a single Halloween party. I am trick-or-treating with tiny children. None of whom have agreed to make it a team costume by dressing up as Rog, Tay-Tay or Brad. But no matter! It is an excuse to wear clackety bangles, leggings and heels, and to do interesting things with my hair.

Frontline, the abusive boyfriend I can't seem to leave

Watched another depressing documentary last night. This one looked at the economy from the perspective of a hair salon on the Upper East Side. It freaked me out. There were all these older folks, mostly in their 50's, who were running out of money, and they were really screwed--aging, with nobody around to help them. One poor fellow went from networking event to networking event, doing his best to do everything "they" say you should. He broke my heart.

I haven't had as much work lately, which scares me. A friend suggested we could trade our skills where she'll help me with the design for a Web site about my business and I'll help her with the writing for a Web site about hers. It seems like a good idea to me. She's recommended trying out Craigslist, not to search for work, but to post that I am available. That's a good idea, too.

Birdie

It's a woodpecker, in the wilds of Somerville. This little fellow is trying to get some treats off the faux bois shingles on the house next door. If he pecks hard enough he might get some drugs, because I'm pretty sure that's what the people who live there do all day.

Yesterday I emailed my sister-in-law to tell her Martha was having a Halloween Pet-tacular. She is a fellow appreciator of Martha's unique charms. The pet-tacular involved a fashion show which MS and Isaac Mizrahi commented on. One of Martha's perfectly-coiffed/dressed/slender minions carried her pet bunny, Mimi, in a monogrammed snugli. OMG. S-i-l e-mailed back that she'd read in a recent issue of Martha's magazine that Martha had installed a "bird cam" at one of her properties.

That's when I realized I have my own version of a blond Polish lady bird cam. Me and Martha, we're two peas in a pod.

Fun with dry ice

Had a busy weekend. Met a friend for breakfast and farmer-marketry, then watched Tom Perrota interview John Hodgman on Saturday. Tried out a new yoga place Sunday. Did not realize it was the super-sweaty kind, but did OK. Then it was off to the third-annual pumpkin party held at my friend Amelia's. The party started when her daughter was 2. It was loud. By age 3, she was attending a Montessori school and there were more kids and it was louder.

But 4? Four is a MUCH quieter age. I like it. Four-year-olds can also hold more of a conversation and I, like most grown-ups I suppose, am amazed at how adult these tiny creatures can act. While making a princess crown for my friend Walnut, the wee girl next to me piped up, unbidden, "I decided to be Pink Girl today." And pink she was: shirt, pants and shoes. I asked her if it was her favorite color. "No. I like blue. I just got up this morning and said to myself 'It's feeling like a pink day today.'"

(The one thing this year's party lacked was other childless grown-ups. You feel much less strange decorating crowns and cookies amongst a group of four-year-olds and their parents if you've got a partner than you do if you're alone. But at least I'm not a man, because that would have moved my status from slightly odd to very creepy.)

After delivering one crown and two decorated kitty-cat sugar cookies to Walnut (and getting a wonderful scarf in return), I went back to snag a couple of leftover pumpkins. When I arrived, Amelia had D and I hang out on the stairs, for a surprise. Check it out.