(Written with Levenger fountain pen & ink in Clairefontaine cloth-bound Basic notebook.)
http://coffeestainedmemos.blogspot.com/
http://www.paperpenalia.com/stationery.html (I have no idea if this person is even still in business, but it’s nice to look.)
http://pennington-on-the-paper.blogspot.com/2010/03/review-moleskine-folio-notebook-a3.html (next purchase!)
(Tools of the Trade, the first.)
The wonderful people over at Image featured Story of a Girl in their most recent email update, and I guarantee you it’s the only place Edith Wharton will be mentioned in the same paragraph as me. It’s actually a really amazing review and makes me feel all warm and literary inside. Funny story: the actual original version of the review that went out in the emails had a typo that made it sound like Deanna’s father was caught having sex with a high school boy. Talk about your problem novel! Read the review here. (Scroll down about halfway.)
I’m getting my hair cut today and I hope to God Anika is not reading this right now because I’m…seeing someone else. This is hard for me. I’m very loyal to Anika but I need a new perspective on my hair and I’ve heard from stylist people that if you want a new look, you have to go to a new person. I feel like I should send Anika some money anyway.
There’s this local radio commercial I’ve been obsessing over lately. The jingle goes something like ”Potato Barn, Potato Barn, the best in furniture, take exit 288, Oh Potato Barn Potato Barn, Furniture.” Every time it comes on, I’m thinking “Why is a furniture store called Potato Barn?” and this thought goes around my mind for the next ten minutes, at least. It could work as a name for a restaurant, except for maybe the “barn” part. Potato Shack, maybe. Or Potato Alley. Potato House, Potatoes Inc., Potato Potato Tomato…but not Potato Barn. Neither is it a suitable name for a furniture store. Has anyone been there? Is there a potato theme? I can’t let this go.
An update on breakfast: we went out this morning to a nearby diner type place where I had the best huevos rancheros ever. Talk about a food rut – if I go anywhere for breakfast that has huevos rancheros on the menu, I have to order it. I have to taste all available h.r. It’s like a compulsion. Or a mission.
I saw The Devil Wears Prada yesterday afternoon. Liked it. I know Meryl Streep is getting a lot of attention, but I thought Anne Hathaway did a great job, too. She’s beautiful without being so beautiful that you’re going, “Okay, no one is that beautiful.” She’s normal beautiful, where when she’s dressed up and made up she looks breathtaking, but when she’s having a bad day she’s just pretty. She also has a kind of physical humor that I like and don’t see very often. I wonder who else was up for that part. I could picture Rory Gilmore. Oh – and I liked that Andy’s apartment looked like a real NY apartment that someone right out of college would be living in. You hardly ever see real apartments in the movies.
So, now I’m on the Project Runway bandwagon. I loooved last night’s premiere. Is it always that good? I think the right person left. I’m really rooting for Vincent (crazy basket-hat guy) because I like second chance and underdog stories. I think my favorite dress was the one that the Barbie doll designer did – it was short and had the red accents and the chain necklace across the top. I have to find someone with Bravo when I get back to Salt Lake. Or a gay bar that airs the show. Something. The only thing was that G. felt betrayed by the lead ins where Tim Gunn tells someone, “I have to ask you to leave” and then it never happened. I think that’s the only reason he watched. He likes to see people get in trouble for breaking rules – it’s the teacher in him.
I like to buy stuff. Drugstores are the best places in the world, because you can buy lots of little stuff for not too much money, they provide the all-important instant gratification, and have just about everything. There is nothing like a clean, brightly-lit Walgreen’s to make my day. (This is one reason I love NYC. There is a Duane Reade everywhere you look.) A recent trip to the Rite-Aid where all the Russian mail-order brides work involved a small can of Clairol Herbal Essences Colorflirt mousse, which is basically temporary hair dye that washes out in 8-12 shampoos. I applied it yesterday morning and though the fact that it looked a lot like a chocolate dessert was a little distracting, I think it turned out well. I asked my husband the question all husbands and boyfriends dread (second only to “Do I look fat in this?”): “Do you notice anything different about my hair?” “Ummmm…it looks…darker?” (Swallowing nervously.) “Or…redder? Err, did you get it…cut?” So the change is subtle, which is good.
On the road trip last week we took the requisite trip to Trader Joe’s, where, along with a stockpile of Thai red curry sauce and tubs of blister peanuts, I got a cute little tin of delicious dark chocolate. It comes in tiny little wedges and is highly yummy, and the small serving size means you can eat like 3 of these things for around 100 calories. Hooray! I always tell myself I’m going to do that with the big bars—break them up into reasonably-sized yet satisfying small servings, but I think we all know how that goes.
Today was one of those magical days when I had time for everything. Somehow I managed to exceed my writing goals, read blogs, go for a walk, do a household project, enjoy a cocktail with my husband, cook dinner, do the dishes and have time leftover to watch ANTM. It’s the American dream!
It’s time for my annual obsession with grits. Grits with butter, grits with bacon, cheese grits, grits with black pepper, plain grits. I had the overwhelming feeling on Monday that I had to have grits and I had to have them soon. I went to the grocery store, but all they had were the little pouches of instant grits, which simply will not do. I went to a different store last night and found the quick grits (my friends Sam and Kate will tell you these are not really grits, either, but it’s the best we can do here in in the West – if none of this makes any sense to you, it’s time for you to see My Cousin Vinny). This morning I got up early and cooked a big breakfast for G-man and me including grits, bacon, and eggs, and we still managed to get out of the house on time. I feel all warm and happy and fortified for the full day of writing I have before me.
