Blue Velvet Sectional

So, are we all still outraged that a skinny rich lady  tried to live  on The Program Formerly Known as  food stamps  for a week? Gwyneth Paltrow has never been poor.  She's never been close to it.  If her actual family disowned her, she could still turn to  Uncle Morty  for work, or a few bucks, so it's safe to say her parachute is fail safe. I think she's aware of that, folks. Here is a link to some real   Fuck The Poor stuff, laws proposed by an actual Governor.  It's all part of dehumanizing the lower classes, so the rest of us won't mind tripping over them on the street while they beg, I guess. THAT is where this outrage should lie, not at the feet of some privileged but well-meaning actress, who was trying to make a point. I'm hungry right now, as I type this.  It's not real hunger, it's upper middle class hunger.  I thought my appetite was never going to come all the way back, after eating so  little  post-surgery, but boy, has it.  Once aga

Well, I haven't made much progress with the KonMari method and my  books , so I decided to give it a shot in the kitchen.  Although I live in a small space, my kitchen is, or rather was, bursting at the seams. I assume that most people in this condo cook only occasionally.  The stereotype of the downtown girl who keeps shoes in the oven and only eats salads and take-out is probably alive and well around here.  I, on the other hand, have the kitchen of a country grandma/Parisienne boulanger.  I'm overflowing with both food and appliances.  The fact that I worked for years at Williams-Sonoma  surely hasn't helped.  That's why I have French brioche tins, madeleine pans, and cake tins of every conceivable shape and size, including  Giant Cupcake .  I have more pots and pans than burners on my stove, in cast iron, enameled cast iron, stainless steel, and non-stick.  Muffin tins, loaf pans, roasters, casseroles... you get the idea. And then there's the pantry.  At on

I am great at spending money.   If I know I'll wear it and feel pretty in it, I can justify a $40 lipstick.  It's all about perceived value.  $400 for gorgeous boots that I'll wear and be comfortable in?  Absolutely.  More than that for something that I'll put drinks and magazines (and my feet, when no one's around) on?  No, sorry, can't do it.  It's the law of diminishing returns.  Sure, a $500 coffee table is probably nicer than a $50 one, but it's not ten times nicer.  A coffee table can only be so interesting, to me, anyway.  I understand that this is the minority opinion, however. Hence, Ikea.

Made you look... Shut up, Peggy. Actually, I am going to talk about cleavage! Oh, Mad Men, how I've missed you. The first of the last episodes aired last Sunday, and I'd say it was worth the wait if the wait hadn't been so ridiculously long. It's now 1970 in New York.  The skirts are short, the suits are loud, and the moustaches are hideous.  Roger looks like an anorexic Captain Kangaroo or Colonel Sanders, a crying shame, since  John Slattery  is so gorgeous under all that misplaced hair.

It was my birthday last week, and a good friend and I started the celebration at Speakeasy 21 .  I had avoided this place for a while; I find the bars right in the office towers downtown are often just too loud, or filled with, you know, rich idiots (I am trying to write at least one post without using the word douchebag, but perhaps one about the Bay street bar scene isn't the place to start.)

To celebrate Monday being almost over, here's a video my friend shot with my camera on the bus from Anacapri back to Capri in Italy.  This was 2009, I think.  That's my pony-tailed head turning to giggle occasionally. When you live under the Italian sun, this is how happy you can be on a bus: Happy Monday, all!

Peggy is cooler than you and I. Mad Men  starts again tonight, and if anyone offers any spoilers, I will come to your house and toss a glass of Macallan 18 in your face.

The first time I walked into the  Dunmore , I practically squealed with delight.  It's SO PREPPY! I felt like I had gone back to 80s Burlington. It reminded me of everyone's sunroom, but much better, of course. Lunch on the terrace provides one of the best views of the pink sand beach and water, as you can see above.  The food is amazing, and they make particularly good mojitos.

As I mentioned in a previous post , and as it's the season, I am in a purging and organizing mood.  No, I'm not following Marie Kondo's advice as closely as I should be, mostly because it's SO HARD with books, and I have more books than anything else.  I've gone over and over my bookshelves, but I just can't seem to part with any more titles.  The vast majority of my books do spark joy, even if it's just the memory of having read it; I know I'm supposed to get rid of them anyway.  Not sure I can. I have started making piles that I am calling "now or never" books.  One of the bits of advice in The  Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up  is essentially: if you haven't read it yet, you're never going to.  I just can't face that.  In the pile pictured above are some books that I know will be amazing, but for some reason I haven't found the time. I have to read these in the next, let's say, 2 months, or they get donated.  It