myGoogle

Last night, I set up my own iGoogle page after secretly sweating my co-worker Richie's iGoogle page for at least four months. What clinched was that I had wanted to see a movie earlier this week,a dn I had found a page on Yahoo! that showed all of the movies playing in my zip code, at all of their respective theaters. Except that it was on Yahoo, and I never even use my Yahoo! account. So I was certain that whatever Yahoo! had, Google had even better. And I was right. Which led me to creating my own iGoogle page. Where you can pick banners designed by all sorts of arts and fashion luminaries and even some regular people like illustrators from Brooklyn or something. I picked the banners by Nigo for myGoogle — for those of you who aren't familiar with him, he is the guy who created A Bathing Ape, and therefore the gorilla camouflage pattern for which it is so known for. So now on my iGoogle page, I have the list of movie listing that I so wanted, a place for all of my RSS feeds (which I don't have added yet), the weather in Brooklyn, Spanish words of the day (today words are: estallar — to blow up, las lentejas — lentils, and inestable — unstable), and the top NY Times stories.

Lunch at the Eldorado Mall food court

Before I headed over to an afternoon of focus groups with bad snacks, I stopped by the Eldorado Mall for some lunch at the food court on the top floor. As picky as I am, ok not picky but snobby, about food, I love to eat at mall food courts in other countries. Not sure why this is so, but I do derive a certain sad thrill from this rather seemingly mundane activity. Today was no exception. With only 30 minutes left before the focus groups started, I found myself in a fast food Japanese kiosk, speedily piling a tray full of tofu mashed with spinach, marinated + pickled cucumbers, shredded burdock root and carrot, and vegetable tempura. All of which I ate in record time, managing to arrive at Iguatemi Espaçao with enough time to spare that I could leisurely quaff some peanut M&Ms for dessert.

Taking a bath

There is a giant bathtub in my hotel room and tonight I decided that I ought to take a bath. Even though I have not taken a bath in a bathtub for more than five years, ever since I was pretending I was in Japan taking a bath at a bath house, and when I became a yude dako (boiled octopus) I then passed out in the tub and hit my head and had to go to the hospital. While I was slightly nervous that the heat might make me pass out again, and I did not want to have to go to the hospital in Brazil, I went and got my new Candace Bushnell book (yeah, chick lit!) and eagerly climbed in. I was totally going to be one of those people who could read for like an hour in the tub and get out feeling totally relaxed and renewed. Instead, after about exactly four minutes, I saw that my dry skin had flaked off into the tub and the particulates were making the water all cloudy. Since I had not taken a shower beforehand, hence the unexfoliated skin, this sort of grossed out me, ruining the zen mood, and I had to get out of the tub. Sigh.

I heart Woodstook

For those of you who grew up in the 70s, perhaps you had a stuffed Snoopy doll, like I did. With a trunk full of clothing that you could dress him in, like a surgeon's outfit, or a cap and gown, an aviator's uniform, or even tennis clothes. I spent hours dressing up and playing with my Snoopy and my beanbag stuffed Woodstock. And while I had a special fondness for Snoopy, it was truly Woodstock whom I loved. Woodstock was always so full of frustration at Snoopy despite him being his best friend, and would spend countless tv specials getting all annoyed at Snoopy for not paying enough attention to him, so then he would go off and do his own thing in the most huffy of manners. And for some reason, I could really relate to many of Woodstock's bizarre characteristics, at even the tender age of four.

Woodstock is the smallest of the Peanuts characters but has a big presence for a little bird. He's a little inept, his flying and logic are erratic, but he can type and take shorthand and usually is game for anything Snoopy wants to do. Woodstock talks birdspeak only, and finds an alphabet made up entirely of exclamation points quite adequate to express such emotions as distress, frustration and a real temper. He also hates being mistaken for the wrong species of bird (though we are never told what species he actually is), and he is reluctant to eat thrown bread crumbs because he doesn't want anyone to think he's on welfare. He's a whiz at playing "trivia" too, and almost always manages to stump Snoopy. For all of Woodstock's mental acumen, however, he is physically a very poor flyer, which has been a character trait since he first appeared. He flitters around in erratic fashion, often upside down, and frequently crashes into things. He usually manages to get where he wants to go, though, as long as he doesn't have to fly too high.

Grenado soap

On my first trip to Brazil last July, I fell in love with Grenado soap — a brand particular to Brazil. It was the soap in my hotel (the Emiliano), and now I buy a bunch of it every time I come to Brazil to stock up because it is not available in the US. Or let me rephrase that. It is available on Amazon.com, but it appears to be temporarily unavailable right now — where another Grenado convert left a review also wanting to buy more. For business, I usually am booked at the São Paulo Hilton, but this time the team booked us rooms at the Grand Hyatt São Paulo. At first, I was a little grumbly about this, especially since they booked me a room with two single beds!, but then I found Grenado soap in the bathroom, and all was ok.

One fish, two fish, red fish...

Can we just talk about the fish on the bottom looks so incredibly excited, he is actually smiling, while his fish friend on the top is like, "Oh no! I am about to get eaten!"

Jasmine out of control

I am not sure what took place while I was in Australia, but I arrived home to a jasmine plant that had grown wild. Usually my jasmine plants bloom few half-hearted times and then give up to a bout of spider mites in the most unheroic manner. But this plant is growing faster than it can keep up with itself. In fact, its arms(?) are so gangly and out of proportion to its body, that I had to enlist the aid of some kitchen skewers, a chopstick and some bakery string for the plant's own good.

Barcelona Chair + Ottoman

I finally have decided that I am going to buy a Barcelona Chair and Ottoman for my apartment. It is a pricey investment and I have to admit, I am contemplating buying a knock off from White on White, for $600 versus the $4300+ for the chair at Design Within Reach. However, I am not sure I completely can pull the trigger on buying a knock off, when I am a designer myself. That is like, totally cheating. I mean, I even buy my music from iTunes and feel guilty that I have installed Limewire on my computer — mind you, it was only to download Grey's Anatomy episodes. That being said, the Barcelona chair and ottoman will be the perfect grown up furniture for my apartment, and what it needs so that I can actually lounge around and read a book or even do my Spanish homework in comfort. There is no room for a couch, so this is the next best thing. Now, I just need to find the money for it.

Zucchini Bread

Tonight, I made some zucchini bread, because baking is the best way to help me relax and I was feeling sort of uptight. Surprise, surprise. I haven't made zucchini bread in a few years, although many times I have bought like six pounds of the squashes and then let them rot in the fridge because I never got around to baking the bread. But I bought the zucchinis this past Saturday at the farmer's market with the sole intention of making bread this week, even if I had to do it at like 3am one night. I have sorely missed my zucchini bread. My recipe is simple, and I am not sure if its from my mom, although I think it must be. However, over the years, I have evolved the recipe to become my own (like, I have added oatmeal to the recipe), and I am still tweaking it. But it is incredibly simple. In fact, I was sort of shocked, because my handwritten recipe card listed all of the ingredients, and the directions were: mix in a bowl and bake at 325ºF for one hour. There was no order to mix the ingredients in or anything. Although, if you have ever baked with me, you know that I never follow the right order anyway. 

The bread is deliciously unadorned, and could be jazzed up with carrots, instead of zucchini, although then you then might want to add raisins and ginger as well. Either way, the addition of some ginger and fresh nutmeg might help elevate it from simple tasting to sublime. Whatever you choose to do, I suggest having a hefty slice for breakfast, with a mug of lemongrass + ginger tea.

The recipe is as follows, and I will give an order to prepare it in so that it sounds more like a real recipe, and not like my usual fly-by-night sort of baking:

Aimee's Zucchini Bread

1. Preheat the oven to 325ºF.

2. Mix 2 cups sugar with 3 (room temperature, if you remember, which I never do) organic eggs, until the mixture is fully combined. Add 1 cup of safflower oil (or other salad oil OR applesauce) to the sugar mixture and mix until creamed. Mix in 2 teaspoons of good quality vanilla. Add in 1 and 1/2 cups of uncooked oatmeal; mix thoroughly. Add 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 2 teaspoons baking powder and 3 cups of flour. Mix until combined, and then add in 3 cups of grated (I suggest using a food processor), raw zucchini. Mix well, so there are not little pockets of flour mixture left at the bottom of the bowl. 

3. Line two loaf pans with parchment paper, length-wise and cross-wise, and then divide the batter evenly between the two pans. 

4. Bake for at least one hour. Depending on your oven, you might need to bake for additional 10 minute intervals past one hour, until a skewer stuck into the middle of the bread comes out cleanly. My bread actually took 1 hour and 30 minutes to bake.

I heart Cafe Bustelo

Cafe Bustelo makes me think of TODA, in the most fondest way.
And I do not even drink coffee.

PLA paper plates + cups

Finally, our New Jersey campus switched over to PLA-based paper plates, cups and take-away containers. After having styrofoam cups forever (who knew styrofoam cups even existed anymore?!, I mean Burger King and McDonald's switched over to paperboard in something like 1990!) But, better late than never. And the new PLA containers are really nice. I mean, they still will end up languishing in a landfill, since I highly doubt that the kitchen staff in the J+J cafeteria are going to actually compost them. And according to the website, PLA containers biodegrade just like regular organic food matter does in a landfill — which is a very diplomatic way of saying, "never." But at least we all will feel better at night, knowing that at least we are throwing more environmentally friendly garbage into a landfill as opposed to toxic crap that will leech poisons into our aquifers.

My Gnome Skirt

Yesterday, Ladan and I went shopping together in Park Slope and she found this very cute skirt that won accolades from me due to the fact that A. it was green, B. it had rick rack trim, C. it was an A-line shape which is my favorite and the most flattering to a girl with a big ass, and D. it had gnomes all over it with an embroidered mushroom patch stuck onto it. I mean, honestly, what was not to like, right? Oh, and it was on sale. I was digging its super kitchiness and it made me feel like I was wearing the movie Amelie, if that is possible. When I woke up today, and knew that it was a day that I was going to be at the Skillman, New Jersey campus, I decided to wear the gnome skirt. You know, as a way to inject some quirkiness into an otherwise corporate-y kind of day. It made me super happy to look down every so often and see that embroidered little mushroom — grounding me into my own reality, as it contrasted quite nicely against the boring gray industrial carpeting, in my peripheral vision.

Checking out Weather Up bar with the girls

The outside, during the day.

The table where we sat. At the other table sat a couple making out the entire time.

Ladan, Michelle and I met for drink this evening at Weather Up, on Vanderbilt Avenue at Dean Street. We totally were loving the interior of the bar (and the exterior, as well), because it is so perfectly bar-like. Too bad the bartender was a little frosty and not the most congenial — oh, and they only accept cash. I am also thinking that it would be even more perfect if they had some small snack-ish kinds of things. Like super special deviled eggs would be perfect in a bar like this. Ladan and I both had a Dark and Stormy, while Michelle had a glass of wine. We sat around for about an hour, talking about our lives, and then it was 9pm and we had to go before turned into pumpkins.

A dim sum moment of clarity

Today I crossed numerous time zones and the went back across the date line, landing in San Francisco BEFORE I technically left Australia, due to the +17 hour time difference between Sydney and San Francisco. 

I had been sort of stressing out about having to collect my luggage and go through customs, recheck my luggage, go through security, and make my connecting flight, all in less than two hours. And because I never remember to request the Asian-vegetarian (meaning, vegetarian with no dairy) in-flight meals, I never can eat anything on the plane, because the lone vegetarian option is ALWAYS, without fail, either a creamy risotto with blue cheese (I love blue cheese and that still sounds disgusting as something to eat on a plane), or stuffed pasta with ricotta in a creamy bechamel sauce. Which means, I needed to eat lunch immediately or else I might just die right there in the San Francisco airport. Peanut M&Ms only can sustain me for so long.

But I was able to breeze through immigration — no one batted an eyelash at my declaration of $600 worth of feminine hygiene products — and I was in the domestic flights terminal food court within an hour. And the options were staggering. I could have soup, and there were eight options — including vegan, vegetarian, fat-free, spicy, etc. options. There was dim sum, and it actually looked pretty tasty, if you overlook the fact that it was being served in an airport. There was Japanese curry, and a diner serving burgers and cheese cake. And a French bistro take-away place. And I was just so overwhelmed with this pure love for my country, (temporarily, I am certain, if Mc Cain gets elected) and I was just ridiculously happy to be back on USA soil. And to therefore be connected to the rest of world again.  

Hungry Jack's

At the mall in North Rhye, I saw this Burger King lookalike, called Hungry Jack's. Everything about was pretty much identical to Burger King, even down the Whopper® on the menu. According to my colleague, when Burger King moved to expand its operations into Australia, it found that its business name was already trademarked by someone else. As a result, Burger King provided the Australian franchisee, Jack Cowin, with a list of possible alternative names derived from pre-existing trademarks already registered by Burger King and its then corporate parent Pillsbury that could be used to name the Australian restaurants. Cowin selected the "Hungry Jack" brand name, a Pillsbury brand pancake mix, and slightly changed the name to a possessive form by adding an apostrophe 's' forming the new name Hungry Jack's. Which I find to be really delightful for some reason.

In addition to the Whopper®, HJ's also features the Aussie Burger, which includes a fried egg, bacon, onion, and beets(!), in addition to the burger itself, and the usual lettuce and tomato.

I heart blood orange juice

I found a fresh juice vendor in the food court at the mall across the street from where our focus groups are being conducted, and they had every kind of fresh juice imaginable. It was a touch choice between fresh mango juice, watermelon-raspberry, or blood orange. Ultimately, the blood orange won out though, because I never have the chance to drink it. Usually, its like $8 a half gallon at Dean and DeLuca and I will only buy it for a special occasion, like if I am hosting a brunch. Which happens very infrequently — as breakfast is not my specialty. So the juice was delicious; tart and tangy, yet sweet at the same time. In the dichotomous way that only blood orange can be.

Australia is making my hair act crazy

I am not sure what the hell is in the water here in Sydney, but its making my hair out of control. I have used copious amounts of conditioner every time I shower and I cannot even drag a comb through my hair, while there is conditioner in it, even! Let alone once I step out of the shower. Where it instantly turns into a straight, yet frizzy, halo of fuzz floating around my head like a giant nimbus cloud. Once it dries, it requires me to re-wet it in an effort to hopefully shape it into something remotely presentable; not like I care what Sidney-siders think of me, but I do have some modesty and would prefer to not look like I am straight from the late 70s. Ugh.

Elan and I stumbled across this splendid little tea shop, T2, in the mall, while I was high on cold medicine (Codral is no joke — maybe because its chockablock full of codiene and ephenephedrine) and he was totally jetlagged. Regardless, we were able to spot a diamond in the rough, and this store was a gem. Crammed full of brightly colored, minimally labeled square boxes of tea in every imaginable flavor, and for those who can't decide, there are sampler sets of tea in little square tins. Albeit, pricey tins. I opted for both the loose leaf and tea bags of both the organic peppermint and the lemongrass + ginger teas. Oh, and I also bought two real tea mugs with loose tea leaf strainer inserts and mug covers to keep the tea warm. I think that I managed to show considerable restraint. But this might be because I had just purchased $600 worth of feminine hygiene products and was concerned that I would not be able to shove it all into my giant duffle bag.

Take a deep breath...catch get the flu.

When I woke up this morning, I decided that I need to go to a yoga class in order to help me feel more grounded. Australia is so far away from anything, and it was something that I keenly felt the moment my plane landed in Sydney. I am feeling very distant and unconnected to the world around me, and its a very disconcerting feeling. As if the world could totally end, and I would still be wandering around Woolloomooloo looking for a decent sandwich shop, completely unaware that anything was at all amiss. Even the internet is slow here, and according to my colleague, its slow throughout the entire country. Apparently the cable connecting Australia to the information superhighway that we know as the world wide web, is really little or something. I mean, how can that be? It's like Australia is plugged into the world with a dinky little two prong cloth electrical cord from 1947, and the rest of the world is plugged in using geeky audiophile monster cables.

That being said, I needed to relax and dispel some of my mounting anxiety, and my general gloom regarding Sydney. So I found an Iyengar yoga school in Surry Hills, called Central Yoga School, run by James Hasemer. Albeit it was a lunchtime class, so James skipped over the requisite ohming and intro and the end ohm was left off as well. I guess that is 1/2 hour right there. But overall, it was really good to get back to the mat...it made me feel calmer and much more at peace with myself and my temporary environment. Unfortunately, I think it made me relax too much, as I now seem to have come down with the flu. Which is probably a combination of stress, traveling for 24 hours, and finally having a moment to relax.

Destination: East Sydney, Australia

Somewhere where Darlinghurst, Surry Hills and Oxford Street all come together.

The Sydney Opera House

The Sydney harbor skyline

Public housing on Forbes Street, Woolloomooloo.

Harry’s Café de Wheels, a late night pie cart, is a quintessential Sydney icon, and an institution within Cowper Wharf Roadway, Woolloomooloo. Initially established during the Depression, this pie cart has served Woolloomooloo and the Naval Dockyard continuously since 1945. Harry’s specialities included pies and peas (a variant of the pie floater known colloquially as a floater — which consists of a meat pie, upside down and floating in a pool of pea soup, topped with lashings of Aussie tomato sauce) and crumbed sausages.

the McElhone Stairs linking Cowper Wharf Road to King's Cross

Someone's front walkway on McElhone Street

making a phone call on Victoria Street

I spent the day exploring the neighborhoods around the Blue Sydney Hotel, where I am staying — Woolloomooloo, Kings Cross, Darlinghurst and Surry Hills. It appears that my hotel is sandwiched right between a block of council houses and the red light district. So I saw a plethora of XXX shops, was eyeballed by some slightly scruffy children playing on a mattress on their front porch, and had a hard time finding a place to have a nice sandwich for lunch at 3pm. 

My initial feelings with regards to Sydney are mixed. It is a very pleasant city, certainly, as there is not really any garbage on the streets, and there is no noise, and no dog shit to contend with, and frankly, there really aren't any people for that matter. Which can be both good and bad. Pretty much, Sydney is eerily quiet. And the shopping, to me, seemed to be rather lackluster. Albeit, perhaps I did not hit up the right spots, which might have involved a car and the first hand knowledge of a local to show me the places where I can get the neat things that Kristy is always sending me (such as, Kristy, where did you find the lovely peppermint soap and the superb salad tongs?!). But on foot, I saw numerous second hand shops, which I usually avoid. I don't like digging through stuff looking for treasures...it is just not the way I enjoy shopping. But there were some great book stores. Published Art on Mary Street, was particularly lovely. And I did enjoy going to the Aesop store on Oxford Street, where I bought a tube of their Aromatique Body Balm in a scent that smells like an orange grove mixed with the sneezy smell of pepper. The cream is glorious and I am sad that I only bought one tube, which is rather uncharacteristic of me and can only be chalked up to my general uncomfortableness, overall.

No apples, please. We're Australian.

The most vigilant quarantine officers in the world stand between you and Australia. "It might not seem like the most welcoming arrival, but it is done for very good reason" said Carson Creagh, spokesman for the Australian Quarantine and Inspection Service.

"We're trying to protect the very things that appeal to people from other countries about Australia — the wildlife, which just doesn't have any resistance to exotic diseases, and the environment, because there are many plant diseases out there that could devastate Australia."

Every aircraft arriving in Australia is sprayed with insecticide disinfectant, and every passenger questioned about their belongings -- no animal, food, plant, or soil is allowed.

Creagh said regular flights from Europe and North America are sprayed before passengers board -- the better to avoid complaints from indignant passengers who object to flight attendants or quarantine officers hand-spraying them on arrival.

It's not just the mosquitoes Australia is after, but also the snacks you've brought along. Fruit, meat, dairy, nuts and eggs -- to name a few -- will be confiscated on arrival.

Taking people's food is a delicate matter, Creagh admits.

"People would often like to bring familiar foods with them. Advertising is partly to blame for this, because Australia is marketed as the last frontier, the home of Crocodile Dundee. And there are many people who come to Australia concerned that they won't be able to buy ordinary food."

It's a blurred line. Chocolate bars are okay, and candy gets a pass. But cereal bars -- which may contain both fruit and nuts -- are not allowed. The nuts in chocolate bars are okay.

Creagh said there are a couple of ways around the rules.

"We've had examples of people who have presented goods for inspection and been told they can't bring them in, so they have elected to eat the whole lot then and there," he said, recalling a South African who consumed "a considerable amount" of beef jerky in front of quarantine officers.

In other cases it is possible to irradiate the food or to heat treat it — though understandably not always the ideal solution. If it is not a food item, it can be fumigated.

And if the salami from grandma slips your mind and goes undeclared, Australia has 31 detector dog teams on hand to jog your memory — a dozen at the Sydney airport alone.

Don't expect snarling German shepherds -— these security canines are the humble beagle made famous by Snoopy.

"The beagles are trained to respond to 32 target odors, these include meat, plant material, fruit, bird eggs, live birds, reptiles, all sorts of things. And they walk around among the passengers in the baggage hall and the baggage carousels and they sniff the luggage," Creagh said.

In the vast majority of cases, Creagh said, undeclared items are an innocent mistake. But if the concealment was deliberate, fines can range from A$55 (US $32) to A$10,000 (US $5,794) — or up to five years imprisonment.

Sake Ikura in Terminal 7

In a moment of brilliant foresight, I ordered the sake ikura don from Gen to take with me to the airport. Knowing how lame and limited the food court is at JFK, I wanted to eat at least one nourishing meal, before I was in transit of the next 24 hours. The car service was due to pick me up at 1:30, and once I settled in, I had the driver swing by Gen so that I could pick up my lunch which I planned to eat when I arrived at the airport. I would have felt distinctly lowbrow stuffing my face full of salmon sashimi in the back of a Lincoln Town Car, despite how potentially highbrow that might sound. 

Hanging my picture

I finally got around to hanging my new picture from Born into Brothels, which I just picked up from the framer shop yesterday. And while I thought that it initially seemed huge, for some reason, it does not look so big once I hung it on my wall. I am still not certain if I want to hang it at the head of my bed, and then put bookshelves on this wall. But for now, it is hung up and I am really pleased with how it looks. Despite the giant black hole in the bottom left corner of the image from where they made it too contrasty and lost all sense of detail in the doorway. Hopefully, it will look even nicer when I actually have a real mattress, as opposed to a 3" thick futon.

My jasmine finally bloomed!

I bought this jasmine plant almost two months ago. When I brought it home, there were no more flowering buds on it...and I was doubtful as to whether I could get it to bloom it again this season. It had been overwatered and in general, needed quite a bit of love. Slowly but surely, the plant has been growing and these buds have taken their very sweet time to finally bloom. This morning when I left my apartment, they were not at all open. But I think the sunshine and the cozy warmth of the apartment stimulated tropical lands where jasmine plants live naturally outside as bushes, and by the time I had arrived home, the plant had finally blossomed with the most enormous blooms I have ever seen. Consequently, I keep finding a reason to walk the three feet across my living area just to sniff how delicious my plant smells.

Couple of the Day: Katiebog + Dougiebog

Tonight was the first time that I have seen my friends Kate and Doug, since Passover. Which was in April. I have no idea where the time flies to, honestly. Anyway, I rode my bike over, and it was so surreal to be visiting our old apartment, and lock my bike to our old gate. And then go upstairs, instead of in through the gate to the garden apartment. Mitzy went nuts, like she remembered me, despite not seeing me for ages. Although perhaps she was trying to ask me where Kenny was, since we all know that he is her most favorite person. Her energy was boundless, which was really happy to see, and she is so fat and cute, and I forgot how much I missed living in the same house as my dear friends, the Bogdanoffs. Only in Brooklyn have I been blessed with such amazing neighbors, I had no idea that these sorts of neighbor friendships could even exist, let alone happen multiple times. I, we, have been very lucky, indeed.

Pistachio tarts from Le Pain Quotidien

I had lunch today with Dane at Le Pain, and on the way out, she got a coffee and I decided to get a pistachio tart for Friday afternoon fika later on in the day. The tart is maybe something like $4 and it is the most yummy, delightful and delicious treat this side of 6th Avenue. I split the entire tart with my colleague, Araba, as we sat in the sunshine gossiping for a few minutes — taking a quick break from conference calling, emailing, designing, and in general, working.

My ruffle neck dress from COS

Today I had to be part of a presentation to senior management. I had lain in bed last night thinking about what I ought to wear that expressed business-like responsibility, but allowed for some element of quirkiness. Before I slept, I still had no idea what to wear, as my clothes are too boring, or too wacky. But this morning when I looked in my closet, my ruffle neck dress that I bought at COS (which stands for "Collection of Style," a new-ish high-end label from H&M) in Hamburg stood to attention. "Pick me!" it seemed to say. Well, ok. The best part about this dress (in addition to the pockets, the great ruffle boatneck collar, the button front-ness, and the fact that its navy) is that it is an a-line shape that is pretty much flattering to anyone who wears it. You look thin, regardless. Or maybe you just look hip, and therefore thin by association. It was so strange, because it seem like a very simple, very easy dress; almost boring. Which just goes to show you that sometimes the more simple something appears, the more appealing it is when you put it on. Sort of like how a white tank top is way more feminine than some crushed silk flouncy necked floral patterned sleeveless blouse from Scoop. The more simple the clothing, the more you can see a person for who they are, I guess. 

Listening to Adam rock with Elizabeth

Elizabeth and I had a date tonight to go see Adam's band(s) play at Fortune Cookie — a dive bar located beneath Lucky Cheng's on First Avenue. The band was a rock band, and I had emailed Adam to see if that meant that they would be playing cover songs of Simon + Garfunkel. His response was to click on the email link to see their videos on You Tube. I assumed that this meant, "yes, and not only Simon + Garfunkel, but also Neil Diamond." For some weird reason, I felt like rock did not exist past the mid 1980s, being surpassed by pop songs by Duran Duran (who I feel was way more "pop-like" than "rockish."). And now, whenever I hear music that does not fit into the categories of alternative, hip-hop, pop, R+B, reggae, dancehall, classical, latin, or punk, I am kind of like, um, what genre is that? But apparently, rock is still going strong, because the music that Adam and his band were playing was definitely none of the above categories, and I guess you can call it rock. But it was so not "Scarborogh Fair," because of that I was startled, and not sure of the appropriate way to listen to it. Did I bob my head? What should I do with my hands? Do I dance? 

Regardless of my inability to know how to move to it, it was great to see Adam playing his music so passionately...it was really nice to see him doing something so earnestly, other than dealing with the usual office IT issues. 

Bloom!

I happened to find this very cute plant pot at a shop on Smith Street in Brooklyn, when I was shopping one day with my friend Jess. There was something very Lara about it, and I knew that if I planted a little succulent in there, it would be perfect for her birthday gift. Loving succulents must be something ingrained in all former Martha Stewart employees — well, actually, I don't know one person who does not like jade plants. I mean, what's not to like? They are friendly looking, require not too much water, and they have such plump little leaves that you can't help but to touch them.

Sunny days in the park

Trying to go for a second beach day in a row, Ladan and I unfortunately did not make it — due to a shopping excursion to CB2 and an unscheduled stop at the pharmacy. Instead, we went to Prospect Park, unrolled our bamboo mats, stripped to our swimsuits, and pretended that we were at the beach. It was actually way better, since its so much more convenient than driving to Brighton Beach. And the parking was free. There was no sandy residue all over our feet when we left, and there was shade for when we got too hot from the sun.