Welcome to Columbus, Ohio!

I find it interesting that I can be driving aimlessly around downtown Columbus, Ohio in a rental car (a Dodge something or other), lost, while my rented GPS woman is yelling at me to  "No, turn at the next right on North 3rd Street! Recalculate!", when the next right is actually Spring Street; and I am frantically looking at my Blackberry where I have also Google-mapped the hotel and still I cannot find "The Lofts," that the team was oh-so super psyched about, and then when I have looped this particular area of downtown Columbus at least three times, I finally have to Google the hotel to get their phone number, all while I am driving, and ask for verbal directions. Oh. Who would have known that The Lofts are actually hidden behind the Max and Erma's restaurant, while sharing the valet service of the Crowne Plaza Hotel?

Do not even get me started on the fact that when I got to my giant room (which is ample enough to host a keg party in here for the entire CMU college campus; in fact, the room is so gigantically oversized, I feel rather Lilliputian-esque and it makes me wish I at least packed socks), I cannot find any light switches, and almost have to use the light on my Blackberry screen to navigate around, until I realize that EVERY single light needs to be turned on by pulling a little string hanging underneath each lampshade; oh, and I cannot figure out how to get the cordless phone to work, necessitating me calling room service on my cell phone.

Thankfully, there is wireless, and I figured out how to use that. (Although, oddly enough when I asked if there was wireless when I checked in, the women shook her head no, and told me regretfully that there was only ethernet connection via a cable. )

And now, I have dropped my baked potato at least four times while eating it like it was a hot dog — i.e. picking it up with my hands like I am a caveman, and biting into without using any cutlery, so that there are little bits of baked potato-ness on the carpet, littered all around me. Perhaps its just me, but it seems like I am having some serious issues coordinating life this evening. 

Oh, and you can just bet that I will be sleeping with all ten lights turned on tonight, because there is absolutely no way I am going to go around the room pulling all of those little strings to turn them all off before I sleep.

I heart Kamah

Can we just expound in detail on the supreme adorableness of Joni's darling baby girl? It pains me that she lives so far away, because I just wish I could hold her and give her big hugs and kisses. Kamah, that is. 

Laundry time

We went to Brighton Beach again this week. As we walked back towards the car, we passed this little Chinese laundry that probably has existed (and with the same sign, it seems) for at least the past 25 years.

This is my life, seriously.

Playing scrabble in bed

Tonight I suggested that we play a nice game of Scrabble before we went to sleep...sort of like having a few digestifs (post prandial tipples), but without the calories or the snoring. 

Scrabble might be the only board game that Kenny and I have played consistently with one another since we first met, excluding a few Christmases where Dick would bring over Scattergories and we would play with him and Becca in an effort to be jolly good fellows. That being said, Kenny and I are incredibly competitive — trash talking ensues almost as soon as the tiles are all turned over; and there have been a few times where I have unceremoniously picked up the game and dumped it, tiles and all, back into the box in rather unsportsmanlike behavior when I was losing pitifully. So, we decided to play for old times' sake. 

Unfortunately, Kenny has a knack for sticking a single letter, like an "A" on an existing word, creating, for example, "awash," when I had put down "wash" a few turns earlier. Somehow, each time, this would give him like 26 points, and I would get all incensed. I mean, that is sort of annoying, you know? I was peevish, but also secretly jealous — I mean, did Kenny just have a better rack than I did? Or was he just smarter?! I mean, that the fuck? I could stick an "A" on there. Couldn't I? Except, none of those opportunities ever arose for me. For the first maybe five turns, I only had consonants. What can I spell with R, X, Q, M, P, and L?

However, I did not get all crabby and dump the board, this time. Even when Kenny was talking trash as if we were playing ball in Rucker Park. I did not win, but the loss was minimal…less than a 20 point difference. And I went to bed feeling way smarter than if I had just read the same paragraph over and over again in Spanish of Pablo Neruda's Ode to the Present, which has been my current nightly reading. At least in Scrabble, I understand the words I was spelling. but maybe next time, we ought to play Spanish words Scrabble.

Damn good frosting

Natalia brought in some cupcakes from Billy's Bakery today to celebrate everyone's birthday who happened to be born in July. The cupcakes appeared right at the most perfect time, when my lunch had worn off and a package of peanut M+Ms were calling my name. 

I randomly picked a red velvet cupcake with chocolate frosting, which is a rather unorthodox pairing — normally red velvet has white frosting. Which means, I had to immediately taste the frosting, because it was not the expected. And wow, it was ridiculously scrumptious. In fact, I licked ALL of the frosting off my cupcake, producing a damp and bald cupcake as the by-product. By which time, I had lost interest in eating the cake part of the cupcake at all, because the frosting totally stole the whole show.

I heart Flexible Love

FlexibleLove™ experimental furniture incorporates an ‘accordion-like, honeycomb’ structure to create durable furniture pieces produced from widely-available, low-cost recycled materials. FlexibleLove™ furniture pieces, such as FlexibleLove 16™, are made wholly from recycled paper and wood products, and are produced using pre-existing manufacturing processes in order to reduce their overall impact on the environment.

The name “FlexibleLove” was derived from the concept of a ‘flexible love-seat’ - seating that could hold from one to as many as sixteen individuals; changing length and shape with a simple pull at each end. A honeycomb structure, used throughtout the entire FlexibleLove line, produces an accordion-like result that allows each piece to be extended and collapsed with ease.

This patent-pending application of a collapsable honeycombed structure can be applied to a variety of furniture types; soon to be released along side FlexibleLove™ 16 and FlexibleLove™ Mini™.

Christmas in July

My friend just sent me this video of all taking pictures of ourselves on Christmas day. Its so funny, because its a VIDEO of us taking group pictures. I never fully understand the need to take videos of this sort of thing, but this is sort of funny.

Legs warmers to match my mood

I  wore a shortish gray skirt today, and knew that I was going to freeze to death in the office if I did not take matters into my own hands. Digging through my desk drawer, I came upon my cozy acrylic knit arm warmers. Despite having much fatter legs than elbows, I blithely ignored reason or even the fashion police, as I pulled on my arm warmers, and up snugly to my knees. And despite looking a bit kooky in a "Square Pegs" kind of way, I was incredibly warm and toasty all day long.

Juliana + Eitan's new baby

Look, its a mini boy version of Juliana!

Japanese packaging

My friend Cherith sent me this link from TreeHugger about clever packaging for tofu, in Japan — the land of creatively packaged products, where usually even the package is in a package.

Most minimal:

Tofu packed in balloons; when you pierce it with a toothpick only a tiny bit of plastic remains...

Over packaging at its most lovely:

Pudding packaged in real egg shells, which are nestled in cupcake papers, which are then snugged into an egg carton, which has a foil wrapper resting on top to protect the open pudding tops.

Things I like in Spanish

Today in my Spanish lesson, I learned how to express what I like. This feels very liberating, because now I guess I can also say what I don't like, also. I assume that you just stick a "no" in front of the phrase. Since I know lots of random Spanish words, this means that I can now make some (idiotic) sentences, for instance, Me gustan gomerias, which means, I like tire stores. Or, perhaps more useful and conversationally engaging, would be, Me gusta helado. Which means, I like ice cream.

A perfect little salad

Before I went to the airport I went to the train station nearby my hotel. The plan was to buy some snacks for the airplane ride, since I had no idea what the food offerings were going to be like at the Hamburg Airport. I found some food kiosks and bought what can only be called the most perfect little pre-made salad, amongst other things (I also bought two bars of marzipan, some Haribo, etc.) The salad was not too big, which is important since I technically find salad greens to be rather boring and uninspired. And there were sprouts and corn, and jicama (I LOVE jicama)and it was all around just really freaking delicious. And I am certain that everyone in the Lufthansa lounge was totally jealous of my salad. 

Rubbish bins in Hamburg

I am not the only person who enjoyed the funny sayings on the rubbish bins in Hamburg. Check out this guy's flickr page. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to find any information about the campaign, anywhere online. I think its because I am not searching in German. Bummer.

gut Brot

For breakfast, I bought this great roll of what can only be described as granola bread, from Effenberger, a bakery located in the train station. I am not usually all that into eating bread for breakfast, as it normally just gives me hiccups and leaves me wanting something more satisfying. Like a package of tear and share M&Ms. But this bread was very filling, and incredibly wholesome tasting. I felt like I could taste the freshness of the water and the grains. And it was the most delicious bread I have ever eaten.

Packing your own eggs

In the grocery stores in Germany, you are not forced to take home a carton of eggs that have been packed by unknown hands. Instead, there are giant flats of eggs, many with downy feathers still clinging to their sides, which you can pick through and then pack up yourself into the waiting egg cartons. Nice, right? I wish we had this at Fairway. It makes buying eggs such an intimate experience. Like you are only one step removed from picking the eggs out from underneath the chicken on her nest. Not like I would ever want to touch a live chicken, though.

Kasespaetzle with Markus

Tonight after having drinks in St. Pauli, we walked two doors down to a restaurant called Hatamari, or maybe its Katamari?, for some traditional German food. The restaurant was packed and the way it works in Germany is that you seat yourself whenever a table opens up — meaning you have to be eagle-eyed while also engrossed in chatty conversation. It is tricky and seemed a bit stressful to me. (That shit would never work in New York City, where people would most likely get incredibly catty over who spotted the empty table first, blah blah blah.)

The menu had lots of meat offerings, as per expected. Some schnitzels, some wursts, and some other meat things. And then there was a dish called Kasespaetzle that sounded promising. We each ordered the same dish, the version that came with salat, as opposed to the one that came with sauerkraut. I could not imagine a more cozy tasting meal, even if I had wanted to. Honestly, kasespaetzle is more homey-delicious than macaroni and cheese, because the spaetzle gets a bit crispy and browned from being sauteed. And the cheese is nicely sharp and not overly creamy. It was the kind of dish you wanted to curl up into with some warm wooly socks, and snuggle in front of a crackling fire place on a sheep fur rug.

Destination: Hamburg

The underground tunnel under the Elbe River.

The St. Pauli Landungsbrücken U Bahn station.

The Jungfernstieg U Bahn station.

This is the Rathaus.

I am not sure what this sign is indicating.

Entrance to the U-Bahn.

Mmmm, giant balls of Streuselschnecke. Schnecke means snail in German, so these are technically called, "Streudel Snails." Makes you want to scarf one down, right?

The Nivea Store

The front of the Nivea store.

The nifty vending machine.

While Markus was at work, I decided to walk around the neighborhood and explore a little bit of Hamburg. I happened to stumble upon the Nivea Store; I forgot that Nivea is based out of Hamburg. I have an incredibly fondness for Nivea, as it is the ONLY cream my mother has ever used, for at least 34 years — which is my entire life. The smell, the blue color, the typeface/logo. All of these things just make me feel incredibly delighted because it makes me think of my mom. Inside, the store was pretty much a madhouse...full of tourists like me, I am certain. I refrained from buying a Nivea tee shirt, and instead just bought my mom a giant tub of the classic Nivea cream. And then outside, there was a Nivea vending machine. Dispensing little mini Nivea creams for 50 eurocents (or whatever they are called). The vending machine got me super excited (I love vending machines), and I bought two mini Nivea creams and then ran out of euro change.

Spotted: Felt store!

Oh my. A whole store full of wooly, warm felt. How exciting is this?! I found Filz-Gnoss tucked on Apostelnstraße in Köln, and of course, I could not resist. I went inside and bought about 100 Euros worth of felt circles. Because of course, I need a billion felt circles.

Orla Kiely wonderland

This morning before my focus groups, I ran down the street to the Orla Kiely store. And despite the HORRIBLE exchange rate (the dollar is ruining any sort of shopping fun while traveling. I feel so poor), I bought two handbags, in my usual style. I never tire of Orla bags and they are just so practical that I cannot have enough. Even with the hideous exchange rate, I was like a kid in the candy store. In fact, I bought one bag, a dress and a skirt and then left before I bought anything else. But as I was paying, I spotted a flaming red bag and as I left, I kept thinking about how lovely it was, barely got one block away, and had to come back and buy the red bag, too. 

Raisin scone from Starbucks

I am obsessed with the raisin scone that is available only on Mondays, in most Starbucks in London. I understand that this is incredibly specific, and in fact, maybe even narrow minded when it comes to abundance of baked scones in Great Britain I am certain, but it gives me something to look forward to whenever I have the chance to visit the UK. (Ok, I am not such a loser that this is the only thing I look forward to. There are more things, like Innocent Smoothies; the Habitat store; buying snacks at any Spar convenience store; the list is endless because I thoroughly love London. 

However, the raisin scone from Starbucks is really the feather in London's cap. I know that this might actually be offensive to some Londoners who take tea time very, very seriously…those people who perhaps eat scones with clotted cream and jam on a weekly basis. But since I am not one of those people, and my tea time is limited to dunking a muslin bag of rooibos tea into my Camelbak water bottle which technically should not even hold hot water lest I leach PCBs into my body, I am pretty much a scone ignoramus. And to me, those scones at Starbucks taste really fucking amazing. And forget about trying to find one on a Tuesday. Its not a daily thing, which I only found out about after scouring every Starbucks in the city on a Tuesday, after eating a scone on a Monday, and needing another one for breakfast again the following day.

However, I have already spent an inordinate amount of time expressing my love for this particular scone about a year ago…you can read the thread here. So I will move on to other things, for now.

Chocolate Chip Cookies x 2

This weekend, I went a bit nuts and decided to bake two types of chocolate chip cookies — both were sea salt varieties, because it is in my humble opinion that sea salt sprinkled on just about anything makes it tastes inordinately better. Sort of like it brings out the umami flavor; like MSG without the bad rap. 

This baking venture was actualized when I read Jaques Torres' recipe in the NY Times, for his chocolate chip cookies with sea salt. Of course, I did not follow the recipe exactly, since that would have been way too difficult for me (anyone who knows me knows that I am unable to follow directions perfectly) — hence the bread flour was substituted with regular, albeit organic, all-purpose flour. And some other minor mishaps occurred. But the cookies turned out puffy and soft, and quite frankly one of the best homemade chocolate chip cookies I have ever tasted. Not to pat myself on the back, or anything. 

The second cookie was my standard fare — Pierre Herme's Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookie, which I have been baking in my cookie repertoire (ok, it is my cookie repertoire) ever since the recipe came out in Food + Wine magazine in 2002. This cookie is my gold standard of cookie-ness. It had a nice crumble, without being annoying. It is chocolately without being overly sweet and cloying. The sea salt is perfect. And the chocolate chips melt onto your hands if you hold onto the cookie for too long — which, obviously, you should not be doing. You should eat it immediately.

Listening to Carla Bruni

I am currently obsessed with Carla Bruni's music. After having no idea that she was married to the French prime minister, Nicholas Sarkozy (My neighbor pointed this out, and then I felt like an idiot. I obviously don't keep up with my current affairs. I mean, the guy is new to office in the past year or so, I believe.), I was like, "Have you guys heard of Carla Bruni?!" They were like "yes, Aimee." But whatever. This did not dampen the fact that I LOVE her first album. It's like honey in my ears. Well, that is gross I guess. But you know what I mean. Her voice is luscious.

View of Coney Island

Swimming pool memories

Today as I rode my bike to work, I passed this (new?) swimming pool on Flushing Avenue right next to the Commodore John Barry Park. There were four kids wearing swimming caps, all lined up for a swimming lesson at 8am. You know, right at the time when the water is freezing. It made me reminisce about my summers spent at Thornton Park, when I had to take swimming lessons every day, and then diving lessons when I was older. Days spent eating giant licorice ropes for lunch, and Lender's bagels for breakfast from the snack bar, while cuddled up in my beach towel waiting for the sun to actually get hot.

Person of the Day: Juliana

Juliana has to be one of the most stylish pregnant people I have ever met. We met for dinner this evening at some Japanese-Italian restaurant in Tribeca, and she was wearing a super cute dress and great shoes, of course.

Bike lanes on Ninth Avenue

pictures by AllWaysNY.

The Regal Vegan

Tonight we ordered dinner from the Regal Vegan, a restaurant that Kenny heard about from Rich + Chloe. Apparently they order from there quite often. We had actually planned on ordering for tomorrow night, but the food is delivered the day you order, and you order it online — it is that simple. Somehow, we messed that part up. I actually randomly bumped into the delivery guy at the door, as I was walking in with my perfect coconut. 

Dinner was delicious and I immediately wanted to order it again for tomorrow, but Kenny curtailed that notion. I guess because its expensive. But it was so yummy. As in practically licking the hummus off the plate yummy. I think that I could eat the Regal Vegan every night and never be bored. Which means, meat with legs is so passé.

A perfect coconut

Tonight, I rode my bike home from work and decided to get a coconut — from the coconut guys across the street who cut it open with a cutlass — to quench my thirst. Coconuts are very good for dehydration, you know. Sometimes the coconuts are hit or miss — I've had a few that were not all that sweet. But you, know how it is. Nature is not perfect. For every lame three coconuts there is one perfectly sweet one that makes up for the other losers. And tonight, I hit the coconut jackpot. The water was like drinking coconut syrup — it was extraordinarily sweet and slaked my thirst in a way that no Gatorade could ever hope to do. Everyone needs a coconut vendor in their neighborhood. Seriously.

Kids with Cameras

I am sure many people have watched the fim, "Born into Brothels." It came out a few years ago, and I was immediately and completely taken with with the children in the film. I also bought the sound track to the film, and together with the Juno soundtrack and some select songs from the Babel soundtracks, it is on an endless loop playing forever more on my iPod shuffle.

The film chronicles Zana Briski, a documentary photographer, when she went to Calcutta to photograph prostitutes. While there, she befriended the prostitutes' children and offered to teach the children photography to reciprocate being allowed to photograph their mothers. The children were given cameras so they could learn photography and possibly improve their lives. Much of their work was used in the film, and the filmmakers recorded the classes as well as daily life in the red light district. Briski has since started a non-profit organization to continue this kind of work in other countries, named Kids with Cameras. The program has done similar projects with children from Jerusalem, Cairo and Haiti.

That being said, Ladan came over this afternoon after she and Ali had spent about four hours on the Kids with Cameras website, after just watching the movie. Ladan and I looked at the site together and she showed me where you can read updates about the kids lives (here) — Avijit is going to NYU this fall!! You can donate money towards his tuition here. — and I decided to buy one of his prints in the larger size, for our very unadorned bedroom walls. 

The program is really amazing, and I wish that I could somehow be involved, however they are not looking for any help, other than donations at this time. Which is sort of a big bummer. 

...

Kids with Cameras is a non-profit organization that teaches the art of photography to marginalized children in communities around the world. They use photography to capture the imaginations of children, to empower them, building confidence, self-esteem and hope. By linking with local organizations, they work to strengthen the children's education and general well-being, providing financial support through sales of their prints...

Pase Rocks + Fat Jon

Some music I came across today on You Tube today, from a friend of mine from when I lived in Cincinnati, Ohio for a summer during college. Fat Jon now lives in Berlin, I do believe. Fat Jon, and some of his friends, Kyle and Pase were/are in a group called Five Deez. All of the guys are incredibly talented musicians. I remember the first time I saw their album in Virgin, and I got so excited for them. Like, wow, they are so big time!



And this is a video of Fat Jon, with Pase, dancing around on stage.



and here is another video, where Pase is singing. I think Patrick (Pase) is touring the world, having a series of pretty incredible life experiences, right now. I have not spoken with him in about a year and woke up from a nap on the couch this afternoon, really missing his voice.

A Lazy Saturday Spent with my Neighbors in Brooklyn

Today was an incredibly lazy day; and it did not help that it was really gray and rainy looking outside — completely spoling our plans of going to Robert Moses State Park. For whatever reason, I felt completely hung over, despite not even drinking any alcohol the night before. After a very late breakfast made by the Brothers Attaie, we continued to hang out with our neighbors for the rest of the afternoon, looking at old photos of us all as children. Finally around 5:15pm, we decided that we needed to do something. The plan was to go to Prospect Park Bandshell to listen to William Cepeda. And despite it starting to rain just as we left, we all piled into two cars and drove the half a mile to the park, with our bags full of blankets, peeled fruits in tupperware, and books to read in case we all got bored. 

First of all, Celebrate Brooklyn at Prospect Park is sooo much better than Summer Stage in Central Park. There are no crowds and there are CHAIRS. Second of all, it is such a family orientated place. Grandmothers were there, as were parents with little kids. A quintet of burgeoning adolescent girls sat in front of us, eating ice cream sandwiches and text messaging whomever was not at the park with them. When we decided to leave, it was after William Cepeda had performed, and I was starving. We spent some time being silly on the grass, with Ladan trying to teach Farhad how to dance salsa, while Michelle and I danced together as it got dark.

We packed up the super wooly blankets, the tupperware of fruits and the books, and then went to Song on Fifth Avenue and 2nd Street for Brooklyn-style Thai food. I.e., super hip place, lights down really low, a DJ spinning, and the food which is totally passable in a very satisfying way for quasi Thai food , except that the Som Tam is not at all spicy.

Finally, after 12 straight hours of hanging out with our neighbors, we came home and went to our separate apartments, down the hall from one another. It was a great day.

Happy America!

To celebrate the fourth of July and our neighbor Ali's 36th birthday, we decided to have a cook out, using Kenny's new Big Green Egg grill — an early birthday gift. To test out its prowess, Kenny made special hamburgers, a flank steak, and a butterflied rack of lamb, and I made the things to go with the meat: potato salad, pasta salad and corn on the cob. And a chocolate cake for Ali.

The food and festivities started around 4pm, and continued until 9pm, when we sojourned to the roof to watch the fireworks in the rain. After the fireworks we went over to Ladan and Ali's apartment to continue the house party in another house. Finally around 1:30am, the party wound down and we padded back down the hall to our own apartment, in our socks and bare feet.

I cannot think of a happier Fourth of July that I have ever had, or a better way to celebrate than with our friends and neighbors. 

I heart sunshine

Ladan and I went to Brighton Beach today. She has not started her new job yet, and I was off for my summer Friday. I went grocery shopping in the morning with her so that we would have food for the Fourth of July barbecue that we were planning, and I was a little worried that we would not have time for sunning ourselves at the beach. But somehow, we managed to wedge it in. And the day was perfect beach weather; not too hot, lovely breeze, not crazy dueling radios playing, lots of stuff to look it. It was delightful, and I only wish that summer would last forever. I want summer all year round, making me think that New York is not the best place for me, long term. I need sunshine...I need to be warm at all times.

Birthdays in July are better

The Girls gone wild.

I am one year old.

Tonight, Sheri + Helen took me out to celebrate my birthday belatedly, due to the inability to coordinate schedules before now. We went to the cababanas at the Maritime Hotel for drinks (we were like the ONLY people there) and then headed on to Morimoto (the restaurant owned by the Iron Chef, Masaharu Morimoto) for dinner. It must be noted that the three of us looked pretty damn delicious, due to our self-imposed requirement of cocktail attire.

Helen and I each had a cocktail consisting of 10-Cane rum, ginger and pomegranate juice, and Sheri had a lychee beverage that tasted like an adult version of Hi-C punch. I was instantly drunk just looking at my drink.

We ate way too much, including but not limited to, such things as cheeto-flavored shrimp, fresh tofu cooked in a hot bowl served with lobster stew, and a whole little fried fish whose head I bit off and left on my plate next to his tail. This actually unnerved me so much that I had to cover up his penetrating, body-less gaze with a small bowl left over from the curl of raw toro with scallions.

Our waiter looked like Justin Timberlake, except not that cute, and seemed like perhaps he knew nothing at all about the menu, except that the tuna pizza was one of the signature dishes. (true to Japanese form, it arrived drizzled ALL over with Kewpie mayonnaise.)

The best part, other than spending a truly perfect evening with Sheri and Helen, was the bathroom at Morimoto. When you enter the stall, the toilet seat flips open on its own. And when you sit down on the warmed seat, ambient toilet noise begins to play. And then it automatically flushes as soon as you stand up. And then the lid closes. There was also a dashboard of additional spray options on a side panel. It was totally like using a robotic toilet, and I loved it.

It was a great night.