You may notice that I've updated the section over to the right.

No, nevermind the wishlists - take a look at Lifehacker, my favorite new website. It's just so.....useful. I'm not quite sure whether it's a testiment to efficiency or procrastination (perhaps overlapping circles in the Venn diagram), but I adore it.

Post-prandial posting:

The only way to properly follow up a satisfying Thankgiving meal is simply to keep on the same decadent, epicurean path. As we discovered tonight after the symphony, some very good dining can be had at Sotto Sopra. Northern Italian with a hint of French influence. Gorgonzola and lamb risotto to die for. ( I know, I sound like a bad rest. review. I'll do better next time.)

Science rock star Steven Pinker sets the Harvard Committee on General Education straight here. Nice.

Black Friday shopping - I'm so not the type that gets up at 4 am for a discount DVD player. But Belvedere Square had a fun evening event. Before dinner and a bottle of pinot noir at the beautiful but untimately doomed Taste, I found some gorgeous Snow & Graham letterpress holiday cards to send to the very nearest and dearest.

And so it begins.

The sea creatures above are from Egg Press.Very cute, no? All the fab stationery I've been finding lately gives me grandiose ideas of starting up my own teeny tiny sophisticated and particular little design firm. Finding the perfect name is half the battle.

grazia

I am grateful for:

• Healthy pumpkin custard and the chinese five-spice powder that makes it so delicious.
• Good friends, whether in person or through email. My priceless network of laughter and tears and hope.
• A fascinating, challenging, ever-changing job.
• A father who just celebrated his 64th birthday in good health, and is persuing a project that makes him the happiest I've ever seen him.
• A mother who loves me with all her heart, and overlooks our myriad differences.
• A little brother that (I think) is now ready and willing to listen to what I've already lived through.
• Roommates that are wonderful 97.5% of the time, and annoying only 2.5% of the time.
• A city that forces me to be humble.
• An affable mechanic who fixed my car for a fair price.
• Down comforters in drafty houses.
• A pretty kickass farmer's market. And Honeycrisp apples.
• Non-profits I believe in.
• The chance to put the dark blue Japanese sauce cup I didn't care for to a new use: to hold the little bar of Lothantique soap that I fall in love with all over again each shower.
• Turkeys. No, not to eat - the real, live, goofy looking, goofy-sounding thing. They never fail to amuse me.
• The ability to put the past behind me. To acknowledge my regrets without allowing them to paralyze me. To disable the intentions of those who wish me harm.
• The many lessons I've learned, from the many mistakes I've made.
• A future I look forward to.
• The love in my life.

New favorite song is actually an previous favorite that I've now returned to. ...Beirut's Postcards from Italy.

There's just something about it.

Listen to it here.

We were pummeled by rain yesterday in Baltimore. The house was dark and cold, even with the window shades open - that dim, ineffectual light that has a primal resonance to hibernation. I had to stay home from work, because with the combination of driving rains, a very old roof, and a disappointingly lax landlord, there were leaks. After each particularly scary moonsoon blitz, I ran from room to room, listening intently for the drip-drip-drip of damage. Worrying that the roof would simply give up and cave in upon my poor housemate upstairs.

All the while trying not to connect the dots in my head, trying to ignore the fact that my creaky, leaky, potentially-falling-apart place of residence is, at times, a very apt metaphor for my life.

(n.b. - Everyone on my block seemed to stay at home yesterday. Either rowhouse renovations aren't what they're cracked up to be, or my personal hiberation urges struck a chord with the Fells Point crowd.)

How the country was won

Very cool, from the New York Times.

Election 2006 Results

mur·mur
n.
1. A low, indistinct, continuous sound: spoke in a murmur; the murmur of the waves.
2. An indistinct, whispered, or confidential complaint; a mutter.
3. Medicine. An abnormal sound, usually emanating from the heart, that sometimes indicates a diseased condition.