Two mashup vids that have brought me a lot of happiness:


1960's Fosse dance meets "Walk it Out"


Love the Charleston...surprisingly difficult, but a great dance for including a leg kick or two or three or more...

In case you were wondering where the title came from.

on the move

We're waist deep in cardboard chic. Heavy boxes and the heady perfume of primer.

Lime green's last stand. One shade down from pure neon - it had - er, has- to go.

How can we have so much and yet so little?

random quote

"Man is the symbol-using animal, inventor of the negative, separated from our natural condition by instruments of our own making, goaded by the spirit of hierarchy, and rotten with perfection."


-Kenneth Burke

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.

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.)