Staying hydrated

"The New York Marathon represents the third-largest annual assemblage of portable toilets in the country, behind the Rose Bowl college football game and parade and the motorcycle rally in Sturgis, S.D. Placed side by side, the 4-foot-wide toilets would stretch 1.7 miles." read more about it, here. — I happened to see some trucks from A Royal Flush dropping off some of the race's portable toilets on Carlton Avenue tonight, where there will be a huge string of them on Sunday morning. 

Meeting Linus

My friend Susanna had a baby a few weeks ago, and tonight I finally had the chance to go and visit her and meet Linus. I had always imagined Susanna and I having children at the same time, for whatever reason. You know how you have some friends where you have so much in common that you seem to hit major life milestones around the same time? I had always felt very connected to Susanna in that way. So that is why her having a baby, and me not even being remotely pregnant, was a little bittersweet. Meeting Linus and having the chance to hold him in my arms was so incredibly moving, as was seeing Susanna as a new mother. She looked amazing. I was overcome with such happiness for her, and there was this welling of emotion in that place where your throat meets your eyes, like I was on the verge of shedding tears of joy the entire evening.  

Diane's Halloween Cookies

Every Friday, the office has a happy hour that usually begins around 5pm or so. Richie is the brilliant mastermind behind our social gathering, and every week, without fail, he goes out to pick up cookies and savory comestibles all to be washed down with sparkling beverages of all kinds. Being that today is Halloween, Diane decided to bake cookies for happy hour. The amazing person that she is, she turned gingerbread people into skeletons, all through the use of skillfully applied frosting. Besides being super cute, the cookies were ridiculously delicious — and since I have willpower, I ate five cookies in about 12 minutes.

Dunkin Donut Hole season...

Vote for hope.

Just a reminder to everyone to don't forget to vote next Tuesday. I personally, have to figure out where I am actually registered to vote, as it could be one of a few different public schools in Brooklyn. Ideally, I figure this out before 6am on Tuesday morning, when I am rushing to get to New Jersey for a huge meeting at 8:30am.

I was reading about the huge cultural phenomenon caused by the Obama "Hope" posters designed by Los Angeles-based street artist, Shepard Fairey on the website, Huffington Post,over lunch today, and it makes me always appreciate even more the role of the graphic designer during election years. Without us, the elections would look so boring.

And one more: De La Soul

When did I get so old? These guys look like adults, which means that I must be old too. Wow, time sure flies.

I heart DJ Qbert

Yesterday, I was going through all of my media — imagery, movies, etc. trying to clean up my external hard drives, so I can begin a new project. You know how it is before starting anything new, first, you got to organize all of your stuff in a giant, self-debilitating effort of procrastination. Needless to say, I came across some gems that I had forgotten all about, namely this DJ QBert video. There was a point in time when I was mildly obsessed with DJ QBert, and my friend had sent me this Apple video to satisfying my craving...where QBert talks all about he uses his Mac for scratching. Keep in mind that this aired back when DJs were just switching over from vinyl to using a Mac instead.

Lunch at Joe's Shanghai, eight years ago

When I used to work at TODA, back when TODA was still located on Lafayette Street, we would almost always celebrate staff birthdays at Joe's Shanghai in Chinatown. Utilizing the lazy susan, the first video is taken before we figured out that everyone's head was being cut off. 



The second video takes into accounts people's heads by placing the camera on a stack of menus. However, you will notice in both videos that I am the only person who is doing something serious looking — I was either ordering, or figuring out the bill; and it was probably my birthday.

Soap

I am currently going through an organic, handmade soap phase, together with an obsession with pancakes. Neither goes with the other, though. And I cannot explain why I am suddenly besieged with thoughts about either thing. That being said, I just ordered some soap from Saipua, a workshop based out of Red Hook, Brooklyn — which is a stone's throw from my apartment. I had initially seen the soap featured in the most recent Design Within Reach catalog, but since the soap people are based in Brooklyn, I decided to order from them directly. I guess I could ride my bike to their shop, but that requires too much actual planning ahead. And I am feeling lazy...I am eating peanut M&Ms as I write this.

From Saipua, I skipped over to Juniper Ridge, a company that makes organic soaps and other stuff from plants growing in the Pacific Northwest. I remember getting a catalog from them at one point a few years ago, and thinking to myself, "Wow, this is really nice!" And then I promptly threw the catalog into the recycling bin. However, their soaps look lovely, with their simple kraft paper labels silk screened with black imagery of the plants: coastal sage, siskiyou cedar, desert piñon, California bay laurel, etc.). There seems to be a theme, here. I am a sucker for handmade soap in very simple, handmade looking wrappers. And I might have to order some for holiday gifts. So everyone, if you suddenly get kraft paper wrapped homemade looking soap for the holidays, this is why.

All of this makes me wonder if online shopping for weird or esoteric items can be tied to hormonal flucuations. I mean, some pregnant women crave pickles or ice cream. And while I am certainly not pregnant, I feel rather like I am on a emotional roller coaster these days. Which might explain the pancakes postings and the organic soap cravings. Pretty much, I am desiring all things reminiscent of coziness. I was perusing a felted hot water bottle cover, and some linen slippers, at one point as well.

I heart dorayaki (どら焼き)

I met Dane this afternoon for a quick snack after my salsa class, and we went to Mozzarelli's on 23rd Street. But to get to Mozzarelli's requires passing by Jas Mart, and I am always a sucker for a quick rice ball. Of which they were all sold out. But I did pick up a package of dorayaki (which are Japanese pancake sandwiches with red bean paste filling. These particular ones also had chestnuts in the red bean paste for an even more yummy treat.) and two jasmine teas for a late night snack later on in the evening. I then came home and looked online for a recipe so that I can make my own dorayaki in the future, in keeping with my current pancake obsession. See below:

Ingredients:
2 Eggs, beaten
80g Sugar
120g All-purpose flour
1 tsp Baking powder
¼ tsp Baking soda
30ml Milk
1 tbsp Honey
100g Red Bean Paste

Ingredients in Japanese:
2个 鸡蛋
80克 砂糖
120克 中筋面粉　
1小勺 泡打粉
1/4小勺 小苏打粉　
30毫升 牛奶 1大勺 蜂蜜
100克 红豆沙

Instructions: / 做法: Whisk together flour, baking powder and baking soda. Sift and set aside. Whip the whole eggs and sugar until creamy and lemon white in colour. Sift the flour mixture into the whipped eggs. Fold to combine. Mix in honey and milk. Cover it with plastic wrap and let rest for 30 minutes. Set a nonstick frying pan over medium heat and swab on some vegetable oil with a paper towel. Drop in about 1-2 tablespoons of the batter. Cook over the low heat until brown and the tiny bubbles appear on the pancake. Flip and cook another side for about 30 seconds. Transfer to a serving plate. Continue the same with the rest of batter. Spread some red bean paste onto a pancake and top with another pancake. Serve with a cup of hot tea.

混合面粉，烤粉和小苏打，过筛备用。鸡蛋和砂糖一起打成淡柠檬色的浓稠蛋液。筛入粉类轻轻拌匀。加入蜂蜜和牛奶拌匀，盖上保鲜膜，静置30分钟。中火烧热不沾锅，抹上少许菜油。取1-2大勺的蛋糊入锅，小火煎到蛋糊表面冒细泡，呈咖啡色。翻面再煎30秒即可。如法煎制其余的蛋糊。取一份煎饼，抹上红豆沙，再盖上一份煎饼即成。随热茶一起食用最佳。

Brooklyn Heights farmer's market apples

Its pumpkin season!

As much as I love summertime and warm weather and all of the things that accompany summer, there is something also incredibly satisfying about fall weather. The air feels crisp when you breathe it into your body. There is a smell of fires burning in fireplaces at night. The leaves are all crispy beneath your feet. And the light is this beautiful golden color that is reminiscent of maple leaves and butternut squashes. And perhaps I love fall because it signals the arrival of pumpkin season. And I absolutely adore all things pumpkin. Pumpkin pie, naturally. But there is pumpkin butter, pumpkin pancakes (see yesterday's post), pumpkin scones and fritters. Pumpkin ice cream. Pumpkin ravioli. Pumpkin soup and pumpkin stew. Pumpkin cookies. Oh, and pumpkin bread. Mmmm, I cannot get enough of pumpkin. And they just look so damn cheerful with their fat, ribbed bodies and little green stems. It is like they are big orange smiley faces growing on vines, just to make me happy.

Van Leeuwen Ice Cream Truck

Tonight I saw the Van Leeuwen Ice Cream Truck on University Place, and I was actually rather sad that this was the first I had seen it all season, and ice cream season is practically over. Since I never hang out in this neighborhood unless I am eating veggie burgers at Stand, I understand, sort of, how I might have missed this amazingness — artesenal ice cream from a truck!! — but still, why had I not even heard of through the grapevine? I must be woefully behind in reading my New York Magazines. Anyway, it looks incredible, I recommend that everyone go check it out. Here is a great review:

The lines in front of the Van Leeuwen Ice Cream truck on University Place the other night were so long that you’d think they were giving out free ice cream. Though it only hit the streets a week ago—spending afternoons in SoHo and evenings near Union Square—Ben Van Leeuwen’s charmingly revamped old postal service truck (refitted with a 1948 grill and chrome bumpers) already has a devoted following.

Van Leeuwen, a 24-year-old former Good Humor truck driver, makes his delicious, rich (18 percent butterfat) ice cream from local, hormone- and antibiotic-free milk and cream (no stabilizers or preservatives), plus other ingredients he culls from around the globe. The superb chocolate is Michel Cluizel; the equally addictive vanilla is made not with extract but with Tahitian beans that a Vancouver company ages in vodka in oak barrels, then grinds. Try a scoop in a float made with Virgil’s Root Beer or Mexican Coke (both sweetened with cane sugar instead of corn syrup, which Van Leeuwen eschews). The nuts in the pistachio ice cream come from a slow-food farm in Sicily; the ones in the hazelnut variety are from Piedmont. All the toppings—caramel and hot-fudge sauces, fresh whipped cream—are homemade and organic.

While Van Leeuwen’s insistence on the best ingredients means the carbon footprint of each scoop isn’t small, he is as fervent about the environment as he is about his ice cream. The biodegradable cups, napkins, spoons, and straws are made from sugar cane and corn husks. One percent of his profits go to protecting the Congo Mountain Gorilla, and he’s even buying carbon offsets to make up for the fuel he burns (about 12 miles a day, he says). 

Small serving $3.50; medium $5.25; large $6.75. Truck locations: Corner of Greene St. and Prince St., 1-7 P.M.; University Pl. between 10th St. and 11th St., 8-10:30 P.M. 

I heart Pancakes

I have never made it to Shopsin's because its always crowded, or just closing whenever I find myself in the neighborhood. That being said, I still want to go because who does not want the chance to eat at a place with 75 different types of pancakes on the menu? Albeit, I am pretty certain that I would freak out and have a serious case of massive indecision, and then massive indigestion once I finally did order. But the New York Times Magazine featured three of his most delicious pancake recipes this past week, which I just stumbled across today while eating lunch. And there is something just so perfectly fitting about it being a beautiful fall day, and I am in a good mood (which is rather rare these days), and its a Friday! (thank goodness), and the idea of pancakes that all goes together perfectly, that I just might have to go home and make some mac n' cheese pancakes for dinner. Hmmm, or maybe the pumpkin ones? Or maybe I just ought to make both.

Mac ’n’ Cheese Pancakes
Ingredients:
Peanut oil, for the griddle Butter, for the griddle and serving 3 cups pancake batter, like Aunt Jemima frozen batter, thawed, or homemade (see here) 1 heaping cup cooked elbow macaroni, tossed with olive oil and warmed 1 1/4 cups shredded cheddar Grade B maple syrup. Directions:
1. Clean the griddle by running an oily cloth over it. If the cloth snags, scrape to remove, then wipe down the griddle with peanut oil. Set the griddle over moderate heat.

2. Pour a thin layer of peanut oil over the griddle. Just before you drop the batter, run cold butter across the area where you are going to cook. When it bubbles, drop the batter in 4-inch circles and immediately raise the heat to medium-high. Cook, adjusting the heat as needed, until bubbles appear, 1 to 3 minutes. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of warm macaroni on each pancake, then 1 tablespoon of cheddar. Using a thin metal spatula, quickly turn the pancakes and gently tap to make them uniform in thickness. Cook until golden, about 2 minutes.

3. Serve, macaroni-side up, with butter and warm maple syrup. Makes about 12.


Pumpkin Pancakes

Ingredients:
3 cups pancake batter, like Aunt Jemima frozen batter, thawed (see note) or homemade (see recipe below)
2/3 cup canned pumpkin purée
2 tablespoons heavy cream, or more as needed
A big pinch pumpkin-pie spice
Peanut oil, for the griddle
Butter, for the griddle and serving
Warm Grade B maple syrup, for serving.

Directions:
1. Stir the batter, pumpkin purée, 1 tablespoon cream and pumpkin-pie spice in a bowl. Add more cream as needed to loosen the batter.

2. Clean the griddle by running an oily cloth over it. If the cloth snags, use a paint scraper or something similar to remove, then wipe down the griddle with peanut oil.

3. Set the griddle over moderate heat. (It's hot enough when a drop of water bounces off the surface.) Pour a thin layer of peanut oil over the griddle. Just before you drop the batter, run cold butter across the area where you are going to cook. When the butter bubbles, drop the batter in 4-inch circles and immediately raise the heat to medium high. Cook, adjusting the heat so as not to burn the pancakes, until bubbles appear all over, 1 to 3 minutes. Using a thin, clean metal spatula, quickly turn the pancakes and gently tap to make them uniform in thickness. Lower the heat and cook until the second side is golden, about 2 minutes more. Serve with warm maple syrup. Makes about 12 4-inch pancakes.


Lemon Ricotta Pancake

Ingredients:
3 cups pancake batter, like Aunt Jemima frozen batter, thawed, or homemade (see here)
Zest of 2 lemons
2/3 cup whole-milk ricotta
Peanut oil, for the griddle
Butter, for the griddle
Grade B maple syrup.

Directions:
1. Stir the batter and lemon zest together. Gently fold in the ricotta.

2. Clean a griddle or heavy-bottomed skillet by running an oily cloth over it. If the cloth snags, scrape to remove, then wipe down the griddle with peanut oil. Set the griddle over moderate heat. (It’s hot enough when a drop of water bounces off the surface.) Pour a thin layer of peanut oil over the griddle. Just before you drop the batter, run cold butter across the area where you are going to cook. When it bubbles, drop the batter in 4-inch circles and immediately raise the heat to medium-high. Cook, adjusting the heat so as not to burn the ricotta, until bubbles appear, 1 to 3 minutes. Using a thin metal spatula, quickly flip and gently tap to make them uniform in thickness. Cook until the second side is golden. If you choose, serve with warm maple syrup. Makes about 12.

Recipes adapted from “Eat Me,” by Kenny Shopsin and Carolynn Carreño.


Pancake Batter

Ingredients:
7 tablespoons butter
1 1/3 cups whole milk
3 large eggs
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon plus
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon plus 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Directions:
1. In a saucepan over medium-low heat, heat the butter and milk until the butter melts. Set aside until lukewarm. Beat the eggs in a medium bowl. Slowly pour 1/2 cup of the warm milk mixture into the eggs while stirring. Stir in the remaining milk mixture.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture, a little at a time, stirring slowly, just until the dry ingredients are moistened. The batter should be lumpy and will start to bubble. Makes about 3 1/2 cups.

Fasting for יוֹם כִּפּוּר

I stayed home from work today in observance of Yom Kippur. For people who not aware of what Yom Kippur is, the name means "Day of Atonement," and that pretty much explains what the holiday is. It is a day set aside to atone for the sins of the past year. This day is, essentially, my last appeal, my last chance to demonstrate my repentance and make amends. But note that Yom Kippur atones only for sins between me and the guy above, not for sins against another person. To atone for those other sins I would have first needed to seek reconciliation with that person, righting the wrongs I committed against them if possible, all before Yom Kippur. (I am pretty certain I failed on many accounts of this, with my typical lack of planning ahead-ness. Maybe because I am only half Jewish, I get an extension?)

For truly observant Jews, of which I am not one, Yom Kippur is a complete Sabbath day; meaning that no work can be performed on that day. In addition to refraining from eating and drinking — it is a complete, 25-hour fast beginning before sunset on the evening before Yom Kippur and ending after nightfall on the day of Yom Kippur. For those people who are way more devout than I am, additional restrictions include things like no washing and bathing, no anointing one's body with cosmetics, deodorants, etc., and no wearing leather shoes, and lastly, no sex — all of which are prohibited on Yom Kippur. The leather shoes thing sort of stumps me, (how Jainist!) and I can only think that on this most holy day, it is a sin to wear shoes made from the skin of a poor little defenseless, and now, dead animal, because it was mean to kill the animal. I am not sure why its okay the day after or the day before to wear leather shoes, but these things are not really meant to be questioned, I have a feeling.

Oh, and traditionally, Yom Kippur is also considered the date on which Moses received the second set of Ten Commandments for those of you who might be history buffs. I can't remember what happened to the first set; but I think Moses broke them accidentally.

That being said, I made it to noon in my effort to fast, before I felt like I might fall over dead. So I raided the fridge and ate a few squares of chocolate that I bought in Spain exactly a year ago. And then I laid down on the sofa and rested in the most reproachable and atonement-kind of way I could think of: by reading a book I had not read in at least two years about bicycle messengers in New York City. But I didn't drink any water, though! Although this is not hard for me, and was the easiest part of Yom Kippur. However, the chocolate gave me enough energy (sorry God, but I have low blood sugar issues) to make it till 5pm, where I literally attacked the rhubarb crumble that I had made to bring to Susanna, and ate a very small sized piece. (sorry, Susanna.) But since neither rhubarb crumble, nor chocolate, are technically REAL foods (hello, they are junk foods!), I am not counting that these really broke my fast. I mean, I ate nothing of real nutritional value.

Finally, after sundown, I made my way over to Amorina in a starving, low blood sugar induced haze and broke my partial, almost fast with a Sicilian pizza (ricotta, fennel, caramelized onion, orange, and mint).

my Hastens bed

So my bed finally arrived today — this is the first mattress that I have ever purchased on my own! — and after almost ten weeks of sleeping on a 3" thick futon, you can surely imagine that this was an eagerly anticipated arrival. Since I was at work when it was delivered, I had asked the doorman to have the delivery guys take the box off and put the mattress on my existing bed frame. So I came home to this enormous bed perched on my little bed platform, and I was instantly reminded of one of those crypts in New Orleans, where they have to bury their dead loved ones above the ground because the water table is so low. Or high. Whatever. Either way, it was not a great mental image for something that I had been waiting for with bated breath.

Basically, the bed is too high for my very compact apartment. It's like it takes up too much cubic footage, and now there is not enough room for me to move about freely. The bed is always in my peripheral vision, which sort of sucks royally. After trying to digest the crypt-factor, I flopped onto the bed to at last try it out, and it was like belly flopping into a jar of Fluff. It is so soft! (not a good thing.) I had specifically requested a firm firm firm mattress on the phone with Rona over at the Hastens showroom in Soho, and she convinced me to get a softer mattress after I told her my stats (height, weight, sleeping patterns). According to her, smaller people need a less firm mattress for whatever stupid reason. Despite the fact that I prefer sleeping on a mattress that is pretty much like a piece of plywood. I like firm. And my new bed, with its 25 year warranty, is definitely NOT firm.

Which means that I might potentially have a marshmallow mattress until way past the time when I go through menopause. Which seems so freaking far away that I am shocked at how long 25 years is. And therefore how long I am stuck with this mattress. Which was custom made, since NO ONE apparently orders a bed in a full size anymore these days. It's queen sized all the way, baby. And then I had to be fussy and request gray checked fabric, instead of the ubiquitous navy check, so that it would match the gray wooden platform. All of which added up to requiring my bed to be made specifically to order, in Sweden nonetheless, and then shipped over to me in Brooklyn. Completely negating the claim that these beds have a "zero carbon footprint," which is pretty much impossible anyway, since as I sit here writing this post, I am making some sort of carbon footprint, I am sure of it.

I need to call Rona and let her know that my bed is pretty much like a gray check Peeps, and I am not sure I can sleep on such poofiness for the next 25 years. And in the meantime, I will be moving the mattress into storage and unfolding my perfectly acceptable 3" thick organic cotton futon from the top of my wardrobe, where I already stowed it, and I will sleep on that in monkish asceticism until I have a place where my bed can co-exist without intruding into my visual space every time I open my eyes.

Sigh…it is like I everything I do requires a do-over at least once, because I always seem to fuck it up the first go round. This is getting frustrating after 34 years.

Madonna on a Tuesday night

As a super surprise, my friend got me a ticket to Madonna's Hard Candy Tour concert at Madison Square Garden for this evening. Now, I had no idea that Madonna was even on tour, let alone in New York. So this goes to show you how out of the loop I am these days. Not that I am a huge Madonna fan anymore, although when I was in sixth grade, I actually had a poster of her on my bedroom door. That I drew myself. I knew all of the words to her first two albums and am certain that I wore out the magnetic-ness on those two cassette tapes. And while I could never pull off the lace socks and bustier look (I mean, I did not even wear a bra in sixth grade), I did wear an arm full of black jelly bracelets in both adoration and wanna-be ness. But I have not kept up and since her Vogue album, I have been rather in the dark as to what Madonna has been up to, other than checking her out every so often on the cover of Us and Star magazines while in the grocery store store check out line.

That being said, I never have the heart to tell someone nope, sorry, when they have told me they have gotten me a surprise, even if its something I truly loathe. And while I am not a huge fan these days of Madonna, I certainly would not object to seeing her in concert. Of course. But I was secretly stressed that she would sing only songs from her new album and I would be totally in the dark. Bopping to songs I did not recognize, feeling left out of the fun. Except that she sang songs totally from my era of Madonna-worship, from seriously, 22 years ago! And of course, I still remember all of the words to "Borderline," "Into the Groove," and of course, "Vogue." I had to leave early, so I missed "Like a Prayer," and "La Isla Bonita," but whatever. "Borderline" is one of my most favorite songs by her. In fact, I remember where I was standing in my bedroom the first time I heard it on my pseudo boom box. The memories just keep coming back. Because now I remember first watching the "Like a Virgin," video on MTV when I went home for lunch one day in elementary school.

The costuming was amazing for the concert, very 80s in a candy-colored kind of way. You can check out my pictures from the concert on Flickr, here. The dancers' bodysuits for Vogue were truly splendid, and I wish I had one. Not sure where I would ever wear it of course, except when perhaps prancing around in my apartment, Swiffering the floor in my stocking feet. And the "Into a Groove," set had the whole stage in striped gym socks up to the their knees, jumping rope double dutch to a background of animated Keith Haring illustrations. Which sounds ridiculously surreal, like you are Alice and fell down a rabbit hole:

Atlantic Antik with Patrick

This is my friend Patrick. We both were wearing silver shoes without planning it — him, a pair of shiny silver Nike Air Max; me, a pair of shiny silver Sven clogs.

No festival is replete without a sausage and corn dog stand.

A cross section of Brooklynites.

Today was the Atlantic Antic, which I have managed to avoid the almost five years I have lived in Brooklyn — mostly because I hate things where there are lots of people (festivals, parades, most parties, pretty much anything social actually, etc.) and because I usually think that festivals are pretty much one and the same here in New York. It does not matter if it is the San Geronimo festival or Chinese New Year festivities in Chinatown, there is always a funnel cake vendor. Without fail. Like no funnel cake guy means that the happiness can't happen or something. Anyway, I digress.

This year, being that I live on Atlantic Avenue, practically, I felt that it was my responsibility as a Brooklynite to represent. So around 5pm, I hauled myself out of that weird inertia that ties one to their apartment on lazy Sunday afternoons, and met my friend Patrick on the corner of Bond Street and Atlantic Avenue, and then we went to get Caribbean food from Brawta Cafe's tent in front of their restaurant on the corner of Hoyt Street. In the meantime, we bumped into some of Patrick's DJ friends, whose names I promptly forgot, but who were incredibly nice, regardless of me forgetting their names.

Purple green beans

This morning I found these purple green beans (hello, oxymoron!) at the farmer's market in Fort Greene. I have never seen purple green beans before, and the interesting thing is that they are only purple on the outside. When you snap them open, they are green on the inside. Which goes to show that green beans will always be green beans no matter what color they are — even if they are purple. And apparently the purple beans turn back to green when you cook them, which is even more intriguing.

Brown Rice Family soap

Michelle and I stopped by the Natty Garden today so that she could get her plants repotted into some new pots by Joel, and I wanted to check out the soap that the Brown Rice Family was selling out front, next to the vegetables and the coconuts. There was about seven different varieties of soap wrapped in simple kraft paper; the soap is completely hand made by Joe and Yuichi. I bought the cedar mint soap ($10) and a peppermint soap ($7), but they also had a Ylang Ylang soap, and Orange soap, hmmm, and a few others which I now cannot remember. I then immediately came home and took a shower to try out my new soap, and if you overlook the little bits of cedar detritus that litter the tub after you use it, the cedar mint soap is truly delicious feeling. It has some sort of exfoliating grittiness that feels incredibly pleasant against your skin, and then scent is a very light scent that smells like you went camping in a forest. But a clean camping smell, not like you just hiked the Appalachian Trail and have stinking feet, but more like you happily rolled around in a patch of moss underneath a beautiful cedar tree.

If you happen to buy the soap directly from Joe + Yuichi, they have a very nice binder detailing the ingredients in each soap and the story behind each one as well. But unfortunately, this is not available on their website yet. However, if you want to buy some of their divine cedar mint soap, please send them an email at soap@brownricefamily.com Seriously, you will love the soap.

I heart homecoming

As in, coming home. Except for instances like this morning where I really have to go to the bathroom because I forgot to go before we landed, and the driver decides to take me from Brooklyn, through Queens, to go back to Brooklyn. When Atlantic Avenue would have been a straight shot, right from JFK. Of course, their is crazy traffic on 495, and there will be on the BQE as well. Because, um, its RUSH HOUR. This is what I get for dozing off for not even five minutes. Sometimes, I'd rather drive myself, instead of being trapped into a route that is not the quickest. Right now I'm passing Lefrak City, next to Queens Mall, when I could be passing Atlantic Mall and be home, sleeping in my bed, in seven minutes. Its so frustrating. Even Airtrain would have been more direct. 

A week of K-Y®

My colleague sent this to me, which is quite funny, given that I have spent the past four days engaged in all K-Y® related WORK appropriate activities. (K-Y® is a brand I work on at Johnson + Johnson.) Two days of focus groups which I can only say, where crazy. Especially when one woman went on and on about her wild sex life, while her husband waited for her outside the focus group room. Every time we went to the bathroom, we had to pass this guy whose crazy sexual proclivities we were now very familiar with.