seven deadly zins

I've been tagged by the incomparable Pale Gardener for a bit of truth or dare, minus the dare (which I never use to do anyway, because as a general rule I avoid risk-taking and public humiliation).

Seven (7) Things You May or May Not Know About Me

1. I won't sleep with my closet door open. I think this is actually a recent development, as I don't remember any closet-related childhood traumas. It just bothers me when the door is wide open and the mess is on display. Plus, the monsters.
2. I'm running a half marathon in a few weeks. I ran one before with the freckled doctor a few (5) years back. I ran that one really slowly, so I'm thinking I'll go ahead and run this one a little faster. The last few miles of it are on the bike path I've been running on for years and I'm envisioning getting choked up/feeling victorious and nostalgic/humming the Rocky theme in my head as I head toward the finish. Then I would like to have some chocolate milk and maybe some Mexican food. (This also means that for the past many Sundays I've been spending a few solitary hours on long runs that could arguably better be spent sleeping, reading or catching up on past seasons of LOST (see brooding man, below.)
   
3. I bought my first car from my great aunt for a dollar. She lives in Sacramento so my dad and I flew out on Easter weekend when I was 16. We then drove it back home to New York, just narrowly missing a series of blizzards, tornadoes and floods.
4. The boy and I have basically the same first name. People sometimes ask us if we planned it and I pretend to be annoyed by the question, but secretly I am a little tickled by the idea that we could have started going steady many moon ago just because we have almost the same name. That would be ridiculous. But I guess no more ridiculous than a lot of other reasons people fancy one another.
   
5. The past few times I've made chocolate chip cookies... I've... used a mix. Geh, it's so shameful but those little Betty Crocker pouches really do make a nice cookie.
6. I played the trumpet in high school and I always thought that I would study music in college and make it a career. But then I realized, nah I really like reading the newspaper so I majored in Political Science instead and then went on for a Masters degree in Public Policy. I miss the trumpet but I really hated the ring the mouthpiece left on my lips.
   
7. Whenever I get two celebrities mixed up, I scour the internet for pictures and then make a comparison collage to prove that it was an easy mistake to make.
   

I'm not sure if there are any blogging peeps out there that will participate in this. I admit, I also used to pass on such opportunities when they arrived in my 10th grade AOL inbox (anyone still have AOL? Raise your hand). Please feel free to play along on your blog, in the comments below or on your band's MySpace page. Tweet it out if you need to.

(By the way, the title of this post comes from the very clever name of a brand of old vine zinfandel... 7 Deadly Zins... isn't it hysterical? Yes, yes it is.)

toasted

Fall 2009 collection from Toast. Not tickling me like last year's, but there are still some really swoon-worthy photos. Should I get a hot water bottle and then make a hot water bottle cozy? I mean, our place does get a little chilly in the winter.

shake shake shake

Newest obsession: Poladroids. I've been itching to use this fun little tool for awhile but only just got around to downloading it. Download, install and play. You can make any photo you'd like into a Polaroid-esque image and I really freakin' love that, especially since Polaroid has ceased production of instant film (but the kiddos over at The Impossible Project are looking to change that). But from now on, expect that I will be using my fancy schmancy new camera to make pictures that look like they are from a 15 year old plastic instant camera. Logical.

(See also: Save Polaroid.)

mystic pizza and other such delicacies

It's smiling at you.

Nemo, x100

Laid back with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

WTF?!

Sangria in the hotel room, obvi.
"It's called pre-gaming."

Taste of Mystic festival.

Oh this? These are the firetrucks. The firetrucks that came after a late-night fire alarm at our hotel. After finally realizing what the hell was happening and also determining that there were not flames licking at our door, we threw everything we had into our bags and sat in the car in our PJs until it was taken care of. False alarm.
"You forgot the sangria!"

In use.

Another successful Girls Weekend (Spiritual Retreat? Can we call it that?). Thanks Mystic, CT for the food fest, the ocean, the aquarium, the boats (Well, I could be wrong, but I believe diversity is an old, old wooden ship that was used during the Civil War era.) and enough fudge and gummy bears to make a girl sick.

buzzkill

Last week during a Grilled Veggie Sandwich Picnic in the Park and Then On the Stoop with the Pale Gardener and the boys, we discovered that we can buzz people into our apartment. AFTER LIVING THERE FOR OVER A YEAR. And after testing what did appear to be a buzzer numerous times because the idea of saving ourselves a few trips up and down those stairs was very enticing. But alas, it never worked for us so we gave up on the idea and have since spent 14+ months walking down to meet every single guest and walking back up with them. Which is polite, but tiring.

As I said, we were finishing up some delicious corn on the cob when a guest of our neighbor's approached the door, rang their doorbell and then was BUZZED IN. Obviously, we immediately ran up the stairs to try OUR buzzer-- lo and behold, it worked! Magic.

This discovery has brought me immense, immense joy. I didn't think our 19th century brownstone was capable of such wonders.

That's all. Have a nice weekend. I'll be with Mom & Sister for a girls weekend. Hurrah.

"i'm not a fan of the heat" (get it?)

("Electric Fan by Torcan" via RetroReality)

We made it through this summer of 2009 with no air conditioner, in our modest-sized 3rd floor apartment with only western facing windows and no real cross-breezes. That this summer was one of the coolest ever on record for New York State probably helped, but there were definitely a few muggy evenings during which it would have been nice to have some artificially chilly air being created.

A lesson learned though: Our little room, the one that houses my sewing machine, is far too cramped & sweaty for me to want to spend any significant time in there during the summer. No thanks.

("Vintage 1950s Office Fan" via bittersweetdesign)

Now I understand why the powers that be declared September as National Sewing Month. Because it marks a return to non-sweaty, non-muggy, non-smelly sewing. Which, coincidentally, is my favorite type of sewing.

so is it over then?

I know, I shouldn't even say it out loud but this weekend is Labor Day... which I usually think of as the unofficial end of summer. Sorry, but it basically is, right?

Here in the homeland we had a few hot days in April followed by a mainly cool and rainy June and July. August saw less rain, I think, and then a few weeks of summer and then finished out with lovely, but not so summery, mid-70s temps and cool mornings.

I think even with the "eh" summer weather, I've managed to check off the mandatory summer to-dos: lounge by a lake, take a road-trip vacay, ran a lot, camped in the woods and made cut-off shorts. Not a bad season.

Ok so have a nice Labor Day weekend. I hope to be catching a few last freckles and otherwise completely enjoying myself.

(Photo: Lake Champlain, July 2009)

shark attack, on my plate

No recipe, but something to drool over.

Pan-seared SHARK.
Stuffed mushrooms with fresh herbs.
Corn, simple and sweet.
Spinach and parmesan bread, brought to us from a farmers' market in the Catskills.
Garden salad.
Brewsky.