What happens is that you go apple tasting. Apple tasting! Whoever heard of such a thing! You’re swept away by the novelty of the experience and when you come to you find you’ve purchased a jar of apple butter, a handful of disgusting apple-cinnamon taffy, and a ten-pound bag of the most delicious apples you’ve ever had in your life.
It slowly dawns on you, however, that you can’t eat ten pounds of raw apples, even if they are made of melted halos and sunshine. (more…)
Dear Homeless Folks Who’ll Be Considering Eating the Thanksgiving Pies I Constructed;
First of all, I wasn’t intentionally experimenting on you. I felt sure that the fancy store-bought crust–even though I’d never used it before–would produce a much more beautiful pie crust than anything I could concoct. I had no idea it would shrink when I baked it. I thought all that stuff flopping over the edge was extra, and that I could fold it over and flute it like Mom taught me and there would still be room to pour a quart of pumpkin pie batter into the shell. I hope you like thin, flat pie! It’s probably better that you don’t eat too much, anyway.
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Jackson’s school had Fifties Day a few weeks ago. I still don’t know why. We had Fifties Day when I was a kid because of American Graffiti and we were all addicted to “Happy Days,” plus all these girls’ moms had kept their poodle skirts. It sort of made sense. It made sense going back twenty years because it was like dressing up as your parents. But doing it now is just making your kids dress up like their estranged grandparents in Bakersfield whose house burned down in an oxygen tank fire. I wouldn’t exactly call it a history lesson.
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I spent the whole weekend on the phone with Alice finishing editing book pages and adding images and updating photo credits and such! And then sending the book back to New York via UPS! And now I’m drinking Champagne and I’m not about to try to post anything substantial! So here’s a good one from the archives. My parents’ house in Chicago was robbed in 1955 and apparently this was big enough news to make the Tribune. My dad lost his Heidelberg ring in the robbery.
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Last weekend when we were up in Pismo we stopped in a pet store so that Peewee could try on some winter wear.
Yankees fans are everywhere.
I happily, happily spent the day with designed pages spread out all over the bed, looking for typos and hanging out with Peewee. The book is looking so good. There’s stuff I still want to rewrite but I have to let it go. There are design problems but we’ll get them sorted out. I’m just so happy and proud and stoked, and I hope the book does well but even if it tanks? I’m still so happy with what we did. Can I say happy one more time? I’m happy.
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I stopped eating meat in July. I’d just come back from a yoga weekend of almost-vegan living, and it simply made sense to use the momentum. It wasn’t a reaction to the terrible crimes of industrial farming, nor was it done out of fear of karmic retribution. I just liked the energy it gave me, and I felt like there were a lot of things to eat in the world besides meat so why not expand my definition of lunch? I dug out my Mark Bittman book
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My friend David’s been posting from the South Pole this month, why not go see what he’s up to?
The first year was like a fling with a guy who you didn’t think was your type at all, but you figured: why not? You had some chemistry, and that made it easy to overlook his haircut and his taste in music. You spent every night at his place for a month. When December rolled around, you said, “Hey, I think I need a little break. I’ll call you?” You went back home and slept for a week.
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