Hi, I am healthy.

For real, though. Whole Food's whole wheat croissants are
high in fiber. (Note: I have already eaten the ends off both sides.)

Say you're sorry.

The Japanese typically apologize far more frequently than Westerners. This probably results from cultural differences between them. Westerners seem reluctant to admit their own failure. Since apologizing means that admitting one's own failure or guilt, it may not be best thing to do if the problem is to be resolved in a court of law.

Apologizing is considered a virtue in Japan. Apologies show that a person takes responsibility and avoids blaming others. When one apologizes and shows one's remorse, the Japanese are more willing to forgive. There are much less court cases in Japan compared to the States. When apologizing the Japanese often bow. The more you you feel sorry, the more deeply you bow.

Here are some expressions used to apologize.

Sumimasen.　すみません｡
It is probably the most common phrase used to apologize. Some people say it as "Suimasen （すいません）". Since "Sumimasen （すみません）" can be used in several different situations (when requesting something, when thanking someone etc.), listen carefully to what the context is. If you are apologizing that something has been done, "Sumimasen deshita （すみませんでした）" can be used.

Moushiwake arimasen.　申し訳ありません｡
Very formal expression. It should be used to superiors. It shows a stronger feeling than "Sumimasen （すみません）". If you are apologizing that something has been done, "Moushiwake arimasen deshita （申し訳ありませんでした）" can be used. Like "Sumimasen （すみません）", "Moushiwake arimasen （申し訳ありません）" is also used to express gratitude.

Shitsurei shimashita.　失礼しました｡
Formal expression, but it doesn't show as strong a feeling as "Moushiwake arimasen （申し訳ありません）".

Gomennasai.　ごめんなさい｡
Common phrase. Unlike "Sumimasen （すみません）," the usage is limited to apologizing. Since it is less formal and has a childish ring to it, it is not appropriate to use to superiors.

Shitsurei.　失礼｡
Casual. It is mostly used by men. It also can be used as "Excuse me".

Doumo.　どうも｡
Casual. It also can be used as "Thanks".

Gomen.　ごめん｡
Very casual. Adding a sentence ending particle, "Gomen ne （ごめんね）" or "Gomen na (ごめんな, male speech) is also used. It should be only used with close friends or family members.

©2006 About, Inc.

Virginia Johnson, I want your job

I found Virginia Johnson's web site this evening while researching the movie "The Pick-up Artist." I am not sure how one led to the other, but I am certainly digging her stuff. Looking at her textiles, I wonder why I am still toiling away as a graphic designer. What ever happened to my plan of designing textiles?! Why are my patterns still stuck on my auxillary Fire Lite drive gathering dust bunnies, and not on bolts of 100% cotton, by now?!

Virginia is an illustrator with the Art Department. In fact, she illustrated Kate Spade's three books on how to be a well rounded person — Manners, Occasions and Style. As well, she is as a clothing designer, a-stuff-for-your-home designer and a textiles designer. Oddly enough, for you Manhattanites, her stuff can only be found in Brooklyn — at Bird and Diane Kane.

Check out her slide show, here
I am totally inspired.

A buckwheat hull pillow makes it all better

Today, I finally am sick. And consequently, have been lying in bed all day, at least thus far. When I woke up (only because someone rang the wrong doorbell, which was annoying), I rolled over and found a new book to read — Julie & Julia — about a 30 year old Brooklyn girl who cooks every single recipe in Mastering the Art of Frech Cooking, over the course of an entire year. There is nothing like snuggling under the covers on a rainy gray day, while feeling headache-y, bone ache-y and with numb extremities, reading about poached eggs in calves' feet aspic gelee.

I also ate a bowl of dry cornflakes. So now, there are some cornflake crumbs in bed with me, as well.

Hung out to dry

Kenny washed my clothes for me today, and since we have no dryer and it was raining, I sort of expected to come home to a stack of moldy-smelling, damp laundry that had been piled on top of laundry hamper. Instead, Kenny ingeniuously created a makeshift laundry line in our bathroom using the twine we package up our newspapers with for recycling. And despite the third world visual, I was so happy to not have to deal with clean laundry that smelled like old gym clothes. Yay!

Hava Nagila...

Aleer (sp?), Adam, Juliana, Russ and Bert

We went to our friends' — Juliana and Eitan's — wedding this afternoon and evening. It was one of the few weddings that I have been to where everyone has a really happy time. Normally, I am sort of ansty and want to leave right after the main course, and the thought of staying until the "Last Dance" song fills me with dread. But tonight, the time flew by. I could not believe it. Perhaps it was because Adam was making us all laugh so hard at dinner. Between his knocking over the water glass and the wine glass (seperate times), the announcement to the entire reception that "We can all eat our steaks now, since Juliana and Eitan cut into theirs," the Korean sound bytes during the toast, the picture taking of the cutie of a mortage broker who shared his same birthday and the ability mixing up the champagne with his red wine, while tossing back sake simultaneously. Seriously, it was a great evening. Juliana looked amazing in her vintage Chanel dress, and Eitan was dashing and eloquent.

And I finally wore the green silk dress from J.Crew that I bought last winter, with the matching green suede heeled sandals. And being that it was cold and rainy, I was able to throw on a green cashmere cardigan that was the exact same shade of emerald. I thought that my Wilma Flintstone amber beads would bring the whole outfit together — and one of the guests commented on my ensemble as being "very Lisa Loeb..." I am assuming that is a compliment, right? I was not sure.

Take two and call me in the morning

Strawberry Mentos are the perfect rememdy to waking up cranky from a nap. That happened to me this afternoon — I woke up from a nap (which is unusual, as I am not a napping sort) and was in a really irritable, crabby mood. I sought out the Mentos that I had purchased on a whim earlier in the day at Pathmark, and popped two of them. Within half an hour, Little Ms. Cranky Pants had magicaly transformed herself into someone a whole lot nicer. Thankfully, for everyone's sake.

What's for dinner?

fresh watermelon + cherry tomatoes + basil + buffalo mozzarella + EVO + fleur de sel

Everybody Loves Adam

Kenny and I had brunch with Adam this afternoon, at Five Point (yes, again). I have not seen Adam for at least ten years — since we graduated from college — making this a definite CMU freshman year reunion week for me.

I am sure some of you — who read my blog that I have never even met — know Adam. This is a guy whose social network is so extensive, he has like 1200 friends on Friendster/MySpace. It's like the entire world is connected via six degrees of seperation through Adam, alone. And if you don't know him, I suggest finding a way to meet him. I promise that you will not be dissappointed — he is an amazing guy. So ask around, ask your friends. Your co-workers. Your family. Someone you know loves Adam.

Fish of the Day: Nigel

I think that people under rate the satisfaction that can arise from being a pet goldfish owner. First of all, goldfish do not bark. They don't pee on the floor. And they do not smell like wet fur...or worse. And watching one's goldfish swim in concentric circles in his bowl is very meditative. Which is why I own a goldfish — not a dog — named Nigel.

(For all of those who do not not know, my previous goldfish, Leon, died last August when I upgraded him to a luxury liner of a tank. Leon had been through some tough times — constipation, near death, white fungus — and was quite a little trooper. Until the bad pH in the new tank caused his fins to quite literally fall off.)

I love my goldfish.

--

Side Note: Adam Gopnik. Who had the chance to read Adam Gopnik's "Death of a Fish" (pg 42) in the July 4, 2005 issue of the The New Yorker? You can read it here. As per usual, Gopnik is brillant. The story will also be available in his forthcoming book (October 10, 2006), Through the Children's Gate. For all of you The New Yorker readers, the book will also have the essay he wrote for the September 30, 2002 issue called, "Bumping into Charlie Ravioli" — which is about his daughter's imaginary friend who, in typical New York fashion, was too busy to play with her. You can read it here.

Stuffed potstickers are vegan

This is why I have no savings. There are way too many ridiculously happy things out there, that I just HAVE to have — for instance, this blushing, stuffed and smiling potsticker. Only $9 a piece on Etsy, and handmade in Hong Kong by a girl named Momo. Perhaps the perfect stocking stuffer for all of those Chinese dumpling-ophiles in your life...

Word of the Day: Tarantism

tar•an•tism \ 'tar-en-tis-em \ n. [NL tarantismus, fr. Taranto, Italy]: an uncontrollable urge to dance

--

For those of you who have the Tiger OSX on your Mac, maybe you use the nifty little word of day thingy in your dashboard. I remember to check it maybe like once every three weeks. Today was the lucky day — I checked my dashboard (to water my Chia Pet, whom I keep letting die due to lack of virtual watering) and this was the word of the day! Who makes up these words? I am going to try to work this into a conversation at LEAST once today. As in, "And like, Oh. My. G-d. I was seized with a sudden onset of tarantism when I heard Oye Mi Canto on La Kalle (Raggaeton y Mas!) — 105.7 — last night."

Super Buzzy saves the day

Super Buzzy is a supremely cute sewing notions and fabric web site. It also happens to sell buttons in the shape of small hedgehogs, in primary colors, for those of you who want hedgehogs climbing up your sweater. These can found under the Notions & Trims menu.

Mr. Melon Head

Hello.

Better than a Gin & Tonic

See...it even looks like heaven.

Big dog in a small deli.

Check out the rubber bands...are those holding the cookies in?

There are days after work when I feel like I need to unwind. Times like those, I usually stop by a neighborhood bodega on my home and wander the aisles, looking for something satisfying. Like green tea powder in a small tin can. Or five more bags of Bionature's whole wheat pasta. Greek yoghurt — because its good for you — despite currently being in a "I dislike the smell of yoghurt" phase. A new brand of organic 85% dark chocolate that I have not seen before. Volvic water with natural lemon flavor added (this is really delicious). There is something so soothing about walking around a small store crammed full of things I might want...

Even when I go on vacation, I love to check out the grocery store in whatever city I am visiting — and while an international city is preferable, I can still get excited about wandering around my mom's Giant Eagle in Cleveland.

Bagpipers piping...on the Cut

Elizabeth and Melissa, on Flatbush Avenue.

I met two close friends from college at Franny's in Prospect Heights, for dinner. Melissa, Elizabeth and I met freshman year at Carnegie Mellon — Melissa was my roommate at Donnor Hall (see pictures below, courtesy of dcheong's Flickr photostream); and she was in the same course as Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's roommate Andrea, was in my course. I have not seen Melissa in at least ten years, I guess. And Elizabeth and I lost touch for a few years, so this evening was definitely a reunion of sorts. The interesting thing is, that despite all that has happened in the intervening years, I felt this immediate connection, like we had just seen one another last week — like no time had elapsed at all! It is like a freshman year of Domino's pizza charged to your Dine Express card, late nights in the first year architecture studio, frat parties, happy hour at Mad Mex and puking in some stranger's sink at an off campus party, amongst many other things, created some sort of unspoken bond between us that will always exist. I had been looking forward to seeing Melissa and Elizabeth all day — I am so happy. And to think that we all had been living within a mile of one another in Brooklyn without knowing it, for like two years.

Donner Hall looks like communist-era public housing.

My shoes are hot. My feet are not.

I am wearing my new shoes from Sacco today. Unfortunately, as you can tell, they had been causing me some distress. Forcing me to resort to using faux-flesh colored moleskin to pad the sides of my feet. However, now they feel amazing! And I cannot wait to wear them to my dance lesson tomorrow. I feel so vintage-1950's Cuban-era; they are begging me to dance salsa, right here at work. However, I will maintain composure, and refrain.

Urban Forestry for Designers

From left to right, top to bottom: Carri Corbet, Jesse Kirsch,
Adams Morioka, Kent Hunter, Veejay Archary and Carin Goldberg.

I saw these banners last Wednesday (8/16) when I was in the diamond district for a client meeting. I tried to take a picture of Kent Hunter's banner, but the lighting was not favorable and it turned out pporly. I then forgot about the project until this morning, when I saw a link to the site — check it out here. Above are some of my favorites from the project. I especially want the Adams Morioka version as a totebag, see below.

--

Design Times Square: The Urban Forest Project brings 185 banners created by the world’s most celebrated designers, artists, photographers and illustrators to New York’s Times Square. Each banner uses the form of the tree, or a metaphor for the tree, to make a powerful visual statement. Together they create a forest of thought-provoking images at one of the world’s busiest, most energetic, and emphatically urban intersections. Following their display, (September 1–October 31, 2006) the banners will be recycled into tote bags and sold at auction, with proceeds going to scholarship and mentoring programs that benefit students of the visual arts. Some banners embody visceral responses to pressing environmental, political and social issues. Others use the evocative power of nature to develop rich patterns and abstract forms that delight the viewer. All contain passion, thought, and energy—qualities that only emerge when the world’s finest creative minds apply themselves to a brief they truly believe in.

My walk to the subway this morning

I look so tall! Check out my legs!

For those of you who do not know this:
Kenny actually is a graffiti artist. I did not even know this myself, until this morning when I saw this by the C train entrance.

Allahu Akbar

On my way to Target (to buy elastic — which they did not have), at eactly 7:51pm, I heard a muezzin مؤذن on Atlantic Avenue (see pictures from June 30, 2006 for eaxact location), call the Muslim community to prayer. I stopped for a moment, and momentarily, I was transported to Wa, a city in Northern Ghana. A place I had visted in 1994, while I was still in college. I had heard the muezzin call people to prayer the moment I stepped of the bus — the moment when I was asking myself, "Where am I?!" And when I left Wa, I was filled with a longing for that mournful sound, which had punctuated my days while I was there. To suddenly hear that sound again while on my way to Target, well, that is why I love New York City.

Reflections on napping at Lincoln Center

Avery Fisher Hall, for those of you who have never been there.

This evening, I went to see Joshua Bell [and friends] perform at Lincoln Center, as part of the Mostly Mozart Festival. I love listening to the violin — and was very excited to hear him perform...I bought the tickets almost three months ago. But for some reason, I also love to fall asleep at these sorts of things (basically anything that involves a velvet covered seat and a darkened theater). During Bell's first piece — Mozart's Piano Quartet in G minor — I found myself nodding off during the Allegro. And the Andante. And also the Rondo. It felt so decadent to go to Avery Fisher Hall and...nap. I loved it. Thankfully, I woke up and was able to enjoy the rest of the performance — awake.

Destination: Queens, New York

This morning, we stopped to buy some gas on Queens Boulevard, on our way to our neice's birthday party in Fresh Meadows. While Kenny was fueling the car, I had the oddest sense of wondering, "Where am I?" I felt like I was in a foreign country. I saw a series of billboards in Spanish. All of the signs along Queens Boulevard are in Korean. Or Chinese. Or Spanish. I felt like I could be in a taxi from the airport to my hotel, in some unknown locale. Even the air felt balmy, sticky and tropical-like. I decided to go along with the feeling, and pretend as if I had never driven along Queens Boulevard before; as if I was somewhere completely new. It was like I was on vacation. I wonder if this is a sign of insanity — pretending that you are vacationing in a foreign country, instead of on your way to your in-laws house for an all day barbeque.

Little Miss Sunshine

I want to see this again, I loved it that much.

Do not pass Go.

I wish I knew the answer to this question — which was
chalked on the sidewalk somewhere in the West Village.

Today, Kenny and I spent his birthday leisurely walking around the city. We had brunch at Five Points (Turkey Club for him, Cheddar Burger for me); got manicures at SpaBelles (no polish for either one of us); saw a movie (Little Miss Sunshine — it was excellent, in a quirky kind of way); Kenny had a reflexology appointment at Angel Feet; we had drinks at The Other Room (we each had a glass of a Grüner Veltliner white); ate dinner at Strip House (the t-bone for him, and the 10oz Filet Mignon for me); and then came home and ate some homemade chocolate cake with ice cream (Haagen Daaz Vanilla).

Sodafine

This is Dana, eating her turkey bacon BLT.

Check out the fat straw on my milkshake.

Tonight, I met Dana after work so we could go to the Butter and Eggs sample sale and then have an egg cream at Soda. I only bought a birthday card at Butter and Eggs, thankfully. Dana suggests these things, and I always end up buying something. Like a pillow I do not need, for like $70. I triumphed this time, and only spent $5.5 on a card — although if that is amortized over the life of the pillow, a $70 pillow is actually more economical than a $5.5 birthday card.

Upon entering, we decided to sit and have dinner at Soda, because the place was just so cute. I went for the meatloaf sandwich with a pistascio milkshake, and Dana opted for the turkey bacon BLT and a mintchip ice cream soda. The pistascio milkshake was sooooooo good — I drank the entire glass, plus the extra in the metal cup. (Yes, I am a pig.)

And then, I within half an hour, I felt deliriously ill. I had to take a cab home (and the driver get lost, causing paroxyms of pain to caroom through my stomach and the mental anguish of: "What if I don't make it home in time?!!") and once home, suffer through something akin to intestinal fisticuffs as the meatloaf and milkshake duked it out in my tummy.

I would say, though, that the pistascio milk shake was worth it.

pixie sticks, sugar babies, nerd ropes and pop rocks

Spotted: Green Schwinn's boyfriend

Kenny sent me this photo he took yesterday evening, of the male counterpart to my dream bike — Ms. Green Schwinn. For some reason, Mr. Green Schwinn was locked up with a red road bike. What was he thinking? Obviously, he's a player.

Hello, Maneki Neko!

Today, I saw this trio of super adorable handmade maneki nekos in the window of a hair salon on West 27th Street. (The maneki neko usually comes in one of two different poses — the left paw up or the right paw up. The left paw invites customers in, while the right paw raised invites good fortune.) I am really loving how the salon made their own cats, instead of buying the usual suspects in Chinatown. These are way cuter. And their whiskers look like Sherlock Holmes' mustache piped in frosting.

Mozart Dances

Helen and I went to go see the Mark Morris Dance Troupe at Lincoln Center, this evening. To celebrate the 250th birthday of Mozart and the 25th birthday of the group, Mark Morris created a completely new piece, set to Mozart. The three parts of the program were broken down into a woman's dance, a man's dance and then a mixed group dance. All three parts had such a delightful irreverence to them, that Helen and I left feeling both so happy and so inspired. Mark Morris managed to take classical dance and turn it on its side in such a cheeky manner, all the while maintaining the utmost respect for the classical part.

Oh, and the costumes were terrific. In the first part, the women wore deconstructured tututs. You could see the women's underclothes underneath the tulle, like swimsuits. In the second part, the men wore burmuda length shorts in gray that were pretty tight. But the male principal dancer wore a very cool Hussein Chalayan-inspired trench coat with openings under the arms, and a gathered back that swirled around in a very pleasing manner. And in the last set, everyone wore white. It looked like everyone was Swedish, for some reason. In fact, the whole performance felt very European to me. The performance was absolutely amazing.

From New York Magazine:
Mark Morris (left): “This is predominantly a women’s dance to the slow movement, the larghetto, of Concerto No. 11—the men make a guest appearance. Manny said that he didn’t understand what was happening for the last hour because I was speaking in a secret language [laughs]. I’ve seen him play a bunch of times but never sitting next to him. It’s wonderful; every time I look over at the keyboard, he’s looking at me like, ‘How’s that?’ and I’m like, ‘Wow, I don’t know, play it again, it sounds so nice!’ I forbade Louis to conduct at all. I wanted the dancing to register on him, and then we’ll do the music bits. And, well, there’s nothing more I can tell you, because I haven’t finished it yet.”

Louis Langrée (center): “The second movement of the eleventh concerto— I wouldn’t have imagined it like that, but it is beautiful. It is like something very distant, probably slower than what I would have done; musically, it will be more vertical, like a Swiss clock. As soon as you start to beat with your arm, you are just leading, but when you are just listening, it’s another part of your brain that’s working. Today is more for me to integrate what I see with what I imagine the sound of the orchestra, the shape, the phrasing.”

Emanuel Ax (right): “Mark is refining things like the cadenzas in the concertos, where I have to get the timing he wants. It’s quite easy because he’s so incredibly musical—just musically logical. Watching the physical expression of pieces you’ve known for a long time is incredibly illuminating. He probably would have been a fabulous conductor if he weren’t a dancer.”

This is what we do all day at work...

...we eat cupcakes, and film it. I ate two — both were yellow cake with chocolate frosting.

Airmail means Hello

I had been wondering all day what my one happy thing might be, today. Was it my brown outift? No. Was it my accomplishments at work? Nope. Wasn't my lunch. (Although Megan's mom did send us each a bag of Publix jelly beans that fueled me through the afternoon.) I forgot my iPod music library and had to listen to sub-par internet radio all afternoon. All in all, today was pretty lame, for the most part.

As a result of the banal-ness, I stopped at Barnes & Noble after my dance lesson. And although I bought three books and 2 cookbooks (the cookbooks are a gift), I only seemed to derive a modicum of pleasure from wandering through the store. This might be because the escalators were broken, and the cookbooks were on the third floor. I paid for the books and left, after only a limited amount of half-hearted browsing.

However, when I came home a letter from Joni was waiting for me on the table. I did not even take off my book bag before I sat down to read it. I was/am so happy to hear from her! This has made my blah day so completely worth it.

See you later, alligator.

I just mailed (well, electronically mailed) off my LAST student loan payment for $348.87! And I would like to point out that I paid off my ten year loan in eight and a half years. Which is pretty surprising, since financial planning is not a strong point of mine — to say the least. So, thanks for everything, Sallie Mae. It's been nice knowing you. However, you are no longer invited to any of my parties. And you are off my Christmas card list.

First Panamanian Drum and Bugle Corps, Brooklyn

Upon leaving the Brooklyn Musuem of Art's Graffiti exhibit this afternoon, we heard some music coming from the direction of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It turned out to be the First Panamanian Drum and Bugle Corps...which was coming from Prospect Park. I am not sure why, but I am always fascinated with percussion bands. Maybe because I was in the school orchestra and we never got to move around while we played our instruments. (Although surely, the tuba must be more cumbersome to heft around than a cello.) I particularly like it when the percussion bands sort of dance around with their instruments, although this group did not do any dancing. In fact, they moved so slowly, you could only tell they were moving after like 10 minutes. But I still liked them anyway.

Panamanian Sno Cones

Today my family and I enjoyed the Panamanian-American festival being held in Prospect Park, giving them a real taste of what Brooklyn was all about. There was a Sno-Cone vendor selling the Panamanian version — Raspados — with freshly shaved ice, which then had a layer of malt powder sandiwched between two cups of ice. Over the top was poured cherry syrup and then a big dollop of condensed milk. It was so delicious. The line took forever, though. The ice shaver was on his cell phone while shaving the ice, and I swear the two guys were operating on island time. There was not really any sense of urgency to move any faster. Depite the huge line. However, the raspados was (were) well worth the wait.

Say [American] Cheese!

We had breakfast this morning at Bubby's in DUMBO. The best thing about Bubby's, other than maybe their pie offerings, is that both branches have a photobooth near their bathrooms. For $3, you can take your picture inside of the little booth. And the pictures are the old school, black and white kind — not the new-fangled, add-Hello-Kitty-faces to the color pictures. I grabbed Brett and hustled him back to the photo booth to commemorate his first trip to New York City.

Bye, Bye Miss American Pie

This is my mom, Lee.

"New Lower Rat"

Today was an absolutely beatiful day, weather-wise. After buying some heirloom tomatoes and fresh baby plums at the farmer's market, I made a tomato salad, a fruit salad and packed some other things to make a picnic for my family in Central Park. I honestly cannot think of a more enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon — eating picnic foods (which means a watermelon, too) with my family, on the lawn of Sheep's Meadow with not a cloud in the sky. Unless you count the skywriter, spelling out messages for Geico Auto Insurance. After stuffing myself, I sprawled out on the grass and wished that I could lay there forever.

This is the baby plum and blueberry salad on the left,
and the heirloom tomato salad on the right.

A little something different

My mom is in town with Andy and Brett this weekend and I thought that a nice family dinner could be found at Junior's Restaurant on Flatbush Avenue. No matter what time of day or year, Junior's never, ever dissappoints — from the complimentary pickled beets, sour pickles, and coleslaw to the ridiculously oversized portions.

I have only ever ordered one thing: the Something Different. This would be beef brisket sandwiched between two potato pancakes and served with a small dish of applesauce. I find this particular item to be oddly satisfying — and vaguely midwestern in its humble hominess and its caloric content. When I ordered it this evening, my server told me that she has never known anyone to order the Something Different, which shocked me. Clearly, this is the best thing on the menu. What is everything one else eating?

Other evening highlights include going to the bathroom and hearing the woman next to me comment that she peed straight alcohol. Noticing a mom, dad and toddler at a table behind me, where the dad wore headphones over his ears through the entire meal. Having no money for the handtowels woman in the bathroom, and offering her my Metrocard, jokingly. (She was not not amused.) Watching Kenny eat an entire fried chicken.

I am done. I brought the rest home for snack.

Cherry, Berry and Cake, too

Tonight we celebrated Helen's birthday a few days early. Because turning 33 is the type of birthday that you want to acknowledge, yet it is no "turning 40" kind of birthday, Sheri and I decided to make Helen a home made gift celebrating 33 things of 3. Which makes 99 things — technically, I guess, we should have done 11 things of 3, to make 33. The book featured all sorts of trio things...such as BLTs, hop/skip/and jumps, and neopolitan ice cream — and was created by both Sheri and I in a very team work oriented manner — when I melted down, Sheri took over and pulled an all nighter.

It was a really special, yet super low key evening, and it makes me so thankful and feel so lucky to know that I have some really terrific friends. Happy birthday, Helen! I hope you have a wonderful year being a prime number...

Person of the Day: Mark

Photograph by Daniela Stallinger, from www.danielastallinger.com

I hope that everyone has a person in their lives with whom they can talk about anything, and it turns into a good idea. For me, one of these people is Mark. Together with my friend Susanna, we had a "working" lunch with him today to talk about a competition that we want to enter. The one hour lunch, + ginger cookie, was the creative highlight of my day. The day is not even over yet, and I am certain that it cannot get any better than this. Not even so much for the ideas that were generated from the meeting — although Mark always has good ideas — it was more about the quality of time spent. I wish I could spend more time thinking in such a collaborative, dynamic way — with Mark — and with those few other people in my life who creatively and thoughtfully inspire me to be a better designer.

Destination: Tokyo, sort of

I wish I was in Tokyo — not on Broadway at 18th Street with a blister on each foot. The thought of being there is nice, at least.