visiting boston.

i was meant to take the 6:30 am bus saturday morning. the 6:30 am bus to boston. to spend a day-and-a-half with my mother and brother as my mom made her way back from london via a brief few days in beantown.

at 6:40 i woke up in a panic. what day is it? where am i? what's going on?

i was safely in my bed on 181st street. and the bus was just gone. 

i eventually got there. took a later bus. endured the traffic. was rewarded with twenty-four hours in the land where paul revere and every other great patriot once resided.

it wasn't much time and we were all of us tired. but long walks through the back bay area and south side, dinner at a the french restaurant, gaslight, and getting to see my brother taste ben & jerry's for the very first time made it all worth it. 

of course i didn't get home till 1 am last night and i'm now off to an 8:20 dermatologist's appointment. yes, i too am wondering about my ability to manage time and plan for future events. why did i schedule my time as such? who knows? what made me think i could make that 6:30 bus? oh heck if i know.

happy monday. xo. 

the red solo cup.

when i was younger my family had a like cup.

anytime someone used the word "like" inappropriately ten cents when into that little red solo.

you, like, know what i mean don't you?

my mother gave us each two dimes to start with. a little cushion to ease us into the game. i think i used my two dimes and that was it. (such was my prowess and love of the english language).

however, if i remember correctly--and i usually do (such is my cross)--the game actually bankrupted my brother.

but it was my brother who many years later resurrected that red solo cup. and this time the stakes were raised: a dollar for any unsolicited you should...


it's shocking just how often people say you should, or some variation thereof. often the phrase is silent, like the understood you in english grammar. but silent or not there was a holiday season in our house, long after my brother and i'd both moved out, in which dollar after dollar went into that red cup (and most belonged to my mother).

the you should game was genius. on so many levels.  mostly because it always broke the tension of conversations leading to dangerous territory.

in fact, only good came from the red cup. when all was said and done we'd collect the money and buy ourselves pizza. or take in a movie. together, with our mistakes made manifest in the form of green, we'd take the time to invest in family.

i now think twice before speaking like a valley girl...and in a world where people are getting lazier and lazier with their speech and the words they choose (heaven help us) this can not be valued highly enough. and i certainly think twice about dolling out advice (most especially to my brother).


now i can't stop thinking about the word perfect. what does it mean? and why do we use it?

i looked it up in merriam webster and there are all-together eight definitions, two of them obsolete.

for what follows, let's got with this: being entirely without fault or defect. 


but let's all be very clear here. perfect doesn't exist, right? there is no such thing--it is a false goal, a false god of our culture, no?

it was while babysitting i noticed how often i used it. you've got your shoes on? perfect! you had a sip of milk? perfect! most of the time i used it to usher things along--make them move faster.

and then one day, as i listened to myself tossing it so carelessly to a two-year-old-girl, living in america where the attempt at perfect is practically a national pastime, i stopped myself. because what will come of that day when she asks me what it means? how will i respond? and if it's not me she asks, how will that person respond?

then again, she may never ask. there may be no need to. i've been defining it all along just by my use of it.

i've been defining a thing that doesn't actually exist.

there's this beautiful moment in the book thief where a word is defined as a promise. i love that. imagine: a single word, each and every single word, a promise. powerful.

so here i've been parceling out false promises in the form of this elusive, little word: perfect.

so i stopped using it. and just as i stopped i started noticing how often everyone else did.

all the time. that's what i've learned: we all use it. all. the. time.

you're ready for your table? perfect! ready to go? perfect! you want to sign up for this class with me? perfect. 


ah, the plight of perfect.

i was talking to tom about this. tom and i talk about this kind of thing. he's good, that tom. (tom is my therapist). and he said it's like a cuss word. ubiquitous and without any real meaning. overused and under-understood. tom's good that way. smartest person i know, actually.

so i told tom about my plan.

how when i raise children i want to do so in a household absent of the word. perfect will not be part of our daily vocabulary.

and when we introduce the word we will do it justice. pay homage to it's power, actual definition, and inherent falseness.

so for now i've got a little red solo cup on my desk. and every time i slip, i stick a dollar in.  call it my f*** up fund. (love that alliteration).

even if perfect did exist--even if there was such a thing, i don't want my kids chasing after it. i don't want to chase after it. it's just so darn boring.

and life and all it's miraculous, little imperfections should be fun, no?

i'm talking about more than just concealer today...

for anyone who wants to know what a dork i really am

(or how i do my makeup)

go here: the violet online.

(it's really mostly, entirely about how i do my makeup).

{but if i ever manage to get the video up and running than you'll get to see about the dork part.}

millions and millions of years 
would still not give me half enough time 
to describe that tiny instant of all eternity 
when you put your arms around me
and i put my arms around you.

jacques prevert

eat real food.

i've been thinking a lot about food lately.

i know, i know. surprise, surprise.

but come along with me on the rambling journey that will be this post, won't you?

i was at work yesterday when one of the girls came up and started gabbing about an impending vacation  and needing to lose weight because she'd have to wear a bathing suit and on and on. and everyone started throwing out ideas. what worked for them (and there is value in that) and hadn't she had success in the past with cutting carbs?

two quick thoughts: (1) i want to live each day as though i could slip on a bathing suit at any moment. that's what i want to feel like in my clothes. and yes there's some vanity to that. but it is also the knowledge that my bathing-suit-ready-body is a healthy body--and a healthy mind, to boot--a mind that knows i look good in a bathing suit and that how i look has very little to do with how i actually look, but how i feel. am i making sense? and (2) if cutting carbs worked for this person in the past then why are we back here? having this conversation all over again? doesn't that get tedious at some point? all the losing and gaining, losing and gaining? i tell ya, it sure isn't good for the heart.

i kept both these thoughts to myself. and i walked away. now i know, just walk away. time is too short and i don't know these people well enough to dump all of my (ostensibly condescending and judgemental) ideas on them.

{don't you just love the word ostensible?}

but here's the thing, as i walked away, it hit me! here it is, here's what to do...want to look good in a bathing suit? want to lose weight? want to live in your best body? here's the crux of it:

eat. real. food.

eat real food!

that's it! that's all there is to it.

eat real fruit. eat real vegetables. cut out all that stuff that comes hermetically sealed in plastic wrap. or that might just survive the end of the world. (because take note, hermetically sealed foods and bed bugs will be all that survive).

wine and cheese grow better with age, yes, but most other foods do not. and all that stuff put in there to keep the foods kickin' (for years and years) will age you, exhaust you, deplete your system, and trick your brain into thinking it's delicious. ah, it's all one great monetary conspiracy by a food industry that has no concern for our health! it boils my blood, i tell you. but i'm gonna let that one go. (for today).

i've finished babysitting now. for the most part. that was the job i let go of. for a whole host of reasons. in large part because there was an increasing sense that i was living someone else's happy life. i want to raise children. but my own. and i have some serious work to do (and some serious money to make) before that will be possible. i don't regret any of the time i spent babysitting since college. some of the most vital and important experiences of the last three years were at the hands of two-year-olds. i learned innumerable things (that's a whole post unto itself).

but for now, i will say this: i noticed that some of my worst eating happened while babysitting. one could look at this statement and ruminate on exhaustion and lack of power and where i am in life and many of those thoughts would be true and right, but really it comes down this: processed foods.

it wasn't that the food i was eating was bad or calorie dense, it was that it was in someway unreal. alphabet cookies, big-bird cheese crackers, elmo mac-and-cheese. all good, all tasty, all non-existant in nature. and all this got me thinking. why? why is processed food like this so prevalent and so overwhelming in the youth market? isn't this a dangerous precedent to set? why can we all agree that children need a good and strong education but we can't all agree to feed them the best possible foods? (hey school districts the country over, i'm talking to you).

thank God for people like jaime oliver, no?

of course i could go on and on about eating real foods. how it's also about eating simple foods. about how this way of life demands a little more work and a little more time, a little more effort (and dare i say, experimentation) in the kitchen.

someone recently said to me that new york city is all about convenience. why go to riverside park when central park is a few blocks away? uh, maybe because you want to see the gardens and get a glimpse of the hudson?! if new york is all about convenience maybe that's why i'm often not keen on it. but i think this thought short-changes the city: new york isn't all about convenience, it's all about whatever you'd like it to be about. but for many people the city is in fact about immediacy, ease, and getting what we want as soon as we want it. convenience. i'm really not so keen on this convenience thing. yes, there's a time and a place for it, but if i live my life and it's dictated by this demand--this convenience, i cut myself off from countless experiences. from the subway ride to riverside park on which i might just meet that elusive love of my life.

convenience. an ugly word. one that might just be making america fat. you want something sweet?! and you want it now? go for it, get a snickers, after all their slogan is in fact why wait?

i spent two weeks in mexico, many years ago, living with a family. oh, how reverently i look back on that time. there was a lot of life in those two weeks. the food, oh the food! the high-quality milk and ergo vanilla ice cream! the bags upon bags of bread--and white bread, at that! yes, i remember the ruins of ancient cultures, the classes and car rides in which the musicality of the language both overwhelmed and inspired, but the food, i tell you!

i have spent the subsequent ten years in search of food like that. because apart from its unbelievable taste (unbelievable, i tell you), i actually lost weight there. in mexico. i lost weight eating more food than i've ever eaten in my life. and yes, i was sixteen. and yes, i was quite small to begin with. but puberty had just begun and i was suddenly struggling with the knowledge that i couldn't eat whatever i wanted (bowl upon bowl of pepperidge farm goldfish and real coca-cola) and remain trim.

just the other night i pulled out some corn tortillas, stuck them right on the burner, let them get some good charred spots and then spooned some guacamole right on top. it took all of two minutes. i wasn't expecting much, so you can imagine my surprise when i bit in, and thought for the first time since those formative few weeks in cuernavaca: this is it! i am tasting mexico!


and it was then i realized: the food was good in mexico. and it was pretty simple. high quality, real food, and simple.

and not terribly inconvenient. did you catch that part where i mentioned my guac filled tortillas took all of two minute?


two minutes, simple, and real? no plastic wrap in site? take that convenience! take that america! take that processed foods!

it's possible to eat well here.

after all, the experience is what you make of it.