Sunny Sunday walk

Some things I saw on a late afternoon walk yesterday afternoon around our neighborhood in Ann Arbor. (Okay, so that one above may not technically have been taken on our walk, but if Allie could have come with us, he'd have given up his sunny spot on clean sheets in a heartbeat.)

Turtles seemed to be something of a theme...

...sunning themselves on rocks.

Perhaps this last one's pushing the theme a tad, but it seemed sad to leave it out.

Above is a very cool building near our house, a series of small-scale lofts nestled just off the street. The building used to be some kind of water station pump thingie. I'm big on details.

One of my favorite streets, Mulholland Avenue, with its pretty painted houses.

A bright and cheery mailbox.

A curious yard ornament against a yellow house.

A sunny spot to sit under a tree.

Two silver boxes on a blue sideboard on a porch. Did I mention I love this town, especially on foot? I'll never run out of cool little things to notice.

Things I love: Maira Kalman edition

Oh, I'm sure I've blogged about her before but after spending this sunny Sunday morning curled up with a cup of coffee in a perky orange mug and a copy of Kalman's The Principles of Uncertainty, it all seemed worth repeating, worth expanding upon, worth gushing about.

I confess that I don't recall exactly how I first heard about Maira Kalman -- illustrator, painter, author, thinker-of-things, collector-of-stuff -- but I think it was when I stumbled upon a copy of her Max the dog (and poet! and dreamer!) childrens books in a sale bin. This seems odd to me in retrospect because I don't generally read childrens books; I'm not one of those grown-ups. But there was something about the whimsical but sophisticated style of her drawings that grabbed me -- no doubt because I recognized it, subconsciously at least, from her numerous New Yorker covers. Not to mention the fact that the storylines and the copy are so sweet, so crazy and namecheck a zillion philosophers, musicians, poets, painters and writers and other folk you don't normally find in the pages of childrens books.

But I realize the telling of the beginning of our love story is boring. Suffice it to say I have continued to cultivate a love for all things Kalman, including her illustrated edition of the classic grammar book The Elements of Style (which was given to me by my friend Margaret who didn't even KNOW how much I loved Maira Kalman!!!). I ogle online the textile designs she has produced for Kate Spade and Isaac Mizrahi. I fantasize about owning a print of one of her New Yorker covers.

Right now, as I said, I'm really enjoying reading The Principles of Uncertainty, an illustrated collection of writings that detail a year inside her kooky, sad and beautiful mind. (The writings originally appeared as a New York Times blog and you can still read them online if you don't want to own the book and hug it to you frequently.) There is, I think, living in equal measure with her kookiness, a real sense of sadness and conflict in Kalman's observations about life. There's a wistfulness and a melancholy that coexist with the joy of small, beautiful things and a deep-seated sense of gratitude.

To wit, one of my favorite pages from the book:

Isn't that just beautiful and sad and true?

If I haven't overwhelmed you with all things Kalman by now, you might also want to check out this terrific interview with her over at Media Bistro, conducted following the release of The Elements of Style. A couple of gems from it, if you're uninclined to read the whole thing:

Regarding the comparison of the writing and painting processes:

"I try to paint in a narrative way and I write in a painterly way. I don't' know if one is harder…I think there are different difficulties—no, there's always the same difficulty in finding your voice in whatever you're doing, and being both inspired and natural at the same time, and traveling the lines of extremes, being smart and stupid and happy and tragic."

I love that last part: smart and stupid and happy and tragic. What a goal to strive for in painting and in writing and in life, no?

Also, regarding breaking rules in the creative process (a response which I think applies to all expressions of creativity):

"Well, you can decide what your definition of a rule is, but I think there has to be a moment in the process where you make a leap outside of what is expected. There can't be an original piece of work that isn't conceived outside of some constraint. Even if you're bound to grammar, you're doing something within that context that's inventive or experimental. That's how things change and things progress, and that's why we have new things and things that are inspired. I think it's learning how to have fun, or the sense of play—it's thrilling to be able to do that. And also for the reader, or for the person who's looking at a painting, that there's some kind of fresh spark that's set off in you, how to tell your story in your own way. And not everyone wants to do that or needs to do that."

I think that second line is fascinating: "There can't be an original piece of work that isn't conceived outside of some constraint."

Sigh. So much to think about in this world, isn't there? I'm so grateful that Maira Kalman is out there noticing things, thinking about them and then writing and/or drawing about it. (I also hope that I don't get the pants sued off me for publishing, without permission, the two illustrations above, which I nicked from the New York Times website. I'll just say I conceived the idea outside of their restraint and see where it gets me.)

In-law pride

I married into a pretty amazing family. And I'm not just saying that because my mother-in-law Jean, Jean, the Beauty Queen reads my blog more faithfully than anyone else and actually causes a stir if I don't post in a while. No, the Carey women are remarkable across the board. To wit, last month I posted a link to an interview my sister-in-law Julie Carey (Chris' older sister, for those keeping track) did with Obama preceding the Virginia primaries. Well, while one SIL is busy reporting the news in and around our nation's capital, another is busy making news in the Pacific Northwest. Chris' younger sister Amy Carey lives and works on Vashon Island, a beautiful little oasis just off Seattle where she is, among other things, a passionate environmental activist. She's been featured in her local and regional news quite a bit lately for her work in opposing the expansion of Glacier Northwest's gravel mining operations on teeny Maury Island, Vashon's neighbor. Recently, Amy was interviewed by the Seattle Post-Intelligencer last month and is featured in this clip from Channel Five although in the latter she is, oddly enough, not identified. It doesn't stop her from looking both smart and cappy and being, as is her style, dazzlingly well-informed and articulate. She could have used a little more air time, but I might be biased.

The issue at stake, for those who's curious, is the environmental impact the mine expansion will have on the ecosystems of both Maury and Vashon Islands, which Glacier Northwest and its proponents seem to be brushing off as both minor and temporary. Many residents of the islands feel quite differently, as you can imagine. You can learn more or get involved by visiting the website of Preserve Our Islands, of which Amy is president.

A tale of two concerts

I've been to two concerts at the Michigan Theater in the past week or so. Last weekend, Chris and I joined our friend Fara and her boyfriend Mark to see James Blunt and, while it was a good enough show -- it was basically like watching him perform the albums -- I was nearly driven batty by everyone using their cell phones all throughout the concert. Some people seemed to be calling friends and holding up their phone so they could here. More were either taking pictures or recording video, which always surprises me because the quality of that stuff is always lousy and I wonder who they're showing it to, going, "Look! You see that tiny little blurr of light on the stage there? OH MY GOD THAT'S JAMES BLUNT!" There was even a guy two folks down who kept recording portions of the songs. Copyright and piracy issues aside (especially since I'm not a saint in that department), it was just annoying and distracting -- at times the glow from the phones around me seemed brighter than the stage. It all seemed so contrary to actually being present in the moment, to actually experiencing being at the concert. It had me musing about how this younger generation -- kids today! -- can't seem to just engage with their surroundings without filtering the experience through some kind of gadgetry. It had me, most of all, feeling old.

Then, on Wednesday night, Chris and I went to see Steve Earle . I am not, admittedly, a big Steve Earle fan, but Chris loves him and the tickets were part of his birthday present. This time, we were on the main floor of the theater, rather than the balcony, and the vibe was entirely different. What struck me first and foremost was that, in sharp contrast to the previous concert, the Steve Earle crowd made me look like a spring chicken. I have to admit it was kind of a nice feeling. Somewhere along the lines, I must have gotten used to feeling old, especially in this college town where youth and its indiscretions are impossible to avoid. Save for a sullen teen behind us whose constant complaining suggested her mother had dragged her to the show across the year, I was the youngest person around me by far. Even Chris got into the humor of it, dubbing it "Steve Earle: The Cocoon Tour."

Oh, yes, they were old around us! The couple to our right didn't look like they could stay awake for the whole evening. When a large group entered after the opening act, Chris remarked that the bus from the group home must have been late in arriving. Oh, how we laughed. And then I settled into my seat. I pulled my Icy Hot pain reliever stick from my purse and applied to my neck, a necessary evil for me to sit still for any period of time. And then I pulled my knitting from my purse and Chris and I just looked at each other and laughed. There I was, poking fun at old folk and I'm the only one in the crowd stinking of wintergreen and knitting a friggin' sweater. Irony, you are a cruel, cruel beast.

On a side note, I should mention that I didn't not enjoy the Steve Earle show as much as I thought I would. He's still a tad nasally and twangy for me, although his last Grammy was for folk music and I can get behind some o' that. And I respect his politics (ol' lefty-style) and his recovery from drugs and alcohol (which he's pretty vocal about and committed to.) What I will say is that there were parts of it I truly enjoyed, especially his newer stuff. It was a really pared back show -- mostly him on stage with his guitar or mandolin or what have you. But for some of the songs, he was accompanied by a DJ and what I thought was going to be cheesy -- who plays the banjo to an electronic beat -- was at times really interesting. One might even say enjoyable. Enough so that I even put away my knitting and forgot, at least for a moment or two, to re-apply my pain stick. Kids today!

Things I love: 90's sitcom edition

It's snowing again here. I'm not complaining; I still love the white stuff. It's just that I don't think I've ever lived somewhere with as much snow as we've had this year. I must say it makes me really, really glad for the pair of Merrell Polartech boots I snagged on clearance sometime last year. Expensive? Maybe. Worth. Every. Penny.

And I do love to snuggle up at home on a snowy afternoon or evening and watch hours of mindless TV. Without cable, that's kind of tough. But I've been able to find enough drech (as the Scots say) to watch on Hulu.com, a site that offers a limited number of TV shows with "minimal commercial interruption." I think I've blogged about it here before, but Hulu is to blame for my watching the entire first season of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares back to back over the course of a weekend. Talk about love-hate.

Now, talk about love-love...Hulu just added most (though not all) episodes of one of my all-time favorite TV shows, NewsRadio. It's always strange to watch a show you loved what seems like a lifetime ago and you get this almost nervous-y feeling that it won't hold up. But NewsRadio's been a treat -- still funny, still kooky. Makes me nostalgic for the days when Andy Dick wasn't yet completely drug-addled-mental; when Dave Foley was fresh off The Kids in the Hall, still young, cherubic and funny and not, say, hosting poker shows on Bravo; when Stephen Root had not yet achieved cult status as The Stapler Guy in Office Space; when Joe Rogan was actually mildly entertaining and not yet the grating host of the awful Fear Factor; and, most of all, when comic genius Phil Hartman still walked among us, breathing life and hilarit into the preposterous news anchor Bill McNeal. The latter alone is worth checking out the show, even if the technical quality of the episodes isn't the best.

Things I love: Right chuffed for Falling Slowly

Not only didn't I win an Oscar again this year -- in truth, I'm not sure I was even nominated -- but I didn't get to watch the broadcast. Still, I'm thrilled to bits to learn that Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova won Best Original Song for the gorgeous, melancholy "Falling Slowly" from the lovely, melancholy uber-indy flick Once. I'm such a sucker for the little guy (and gal, in this instance) winning bi and it's really nice to see "real" independent musicians and singer-songwriters triumphing over manufactured Hollywood power ballads and Disney Instant Soundtrack Hints. Although I didn't actually think that the Academy Awards performance of the song was the best (I caught it today on YouTube), with the full orchestra treatment overshadowing the spare ballad's simple beauty, I thought that Glen Hansard's acceptance speech was sweet and genuine. Even classier was John Stewart's bringing Marketa Irglova back after the break to give her acceptance speech after she was cut off by the orchestra. Well played, Stewart. Well played. (Both Hansard and Irglova's acceptance speeches are in this clip from, yep, YouTube.)

Things I love: In my cups

I don't normally buy stuff from Anthropologie. They make beautiful, beautiful things that I love to look at, most of which fit neither me nor my budget. But a couple of week ago, I followed a link to their website sale section and discovered these lovely cups, which are actually just my size and on clearance.

They're such cheery colors -- which is, I admit -- a little unlike me and I love their retro feel. Plus, they stack together beautifully to conserve cupboard space, another plus. And they were a shockingly low $2.95 each. Last I checked, they still had a bunch in stock, so if you dig them, dash on over and grab some. I must say they are making my morning coffee infinitely brighter.

Turning 6

Last weekend, my niece Olivia did just that. And it looks like such fun, doesn't it?

Here she is, on the right, with her little friend Kylie, at Olivia's Chuck E. Cheese birthday party. They hugged and held each other practically the whole day and when they whispered secrets, their noses pressed right up against the other's cheek. Isn't pre-inhibition friendship the sweetest thing on earth?

Building on the sweet theme, a tray of girly-pink cupcakes.

Clearly delicious.

Oh. My. God. SPARKLY DRESS UP SHOES! CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT?????

Back at home, Olivia was kind enough to share the spotlight with her uncle Chris and her sister, Rebecca.

For a brief moment, anyway.

Since Olivia's a wee bit of a ham, it was no trouble talking her into a fashion show featuring the skirts I'd made her for her birthday. First, the girly-pink flowery and hearty one, accompanied by her current favorite "double peace sign" pose.

Then, the one that started as the fabric above. Don't know if you can see it, but it's "Olivia" fabric designed by children's book author Ian Falconer, who pens and illustrates the gorgeous Olivia the pig series.

And wound up as this skirt. Clearly, it works for the model.

Flowers for you

We don't make a particularly big deal out of Valentine's Day in our household, partly because it's such a silly affair full of expectations and pressure -- and partly because it was usurped in our family six years ago this day by the birth of my niece Olivia. Really, a far more important matter to celebrate.

Still, my husband is not fool enough to let today pass without at least a small gesture of a simple bouquet, my favorite kind. And there's something just so clean and perfect, so compact and magnificent, about white tulips that I thought you might like to share them.

Speaking of my niece Olivia, I'm not confirming that the fabric above was purchased specifically with her birthday in mind. I'm just showing it to you, is all. It is, the astute observer will note, based on Ian Falconer's famed and adorable children's books about Olivia the pig. I'm not sure many children are equipped to really appreciate the beautiful simplicity of Falconer's work -- nor do I think my niece has really reconciled with the idea of being associated with such a porcine figurine -- but I just think there's something heart-breakingly sweet about said piggie and her exploits.

We're off to Indianapolis tomorrow for a quick weekend trip, in which we will celebrate Olivia's birthday (belatedly, of course) and Chris' birthday on Sunday. One of them will be celebrating with a Saturday afternoon bash at Chuck E. Cheese's, but I shan't tell you which.

Do u Upromise?

As with most things, I've been meaning to write about this for a while. I really like, as a general proposition, small gestures that can make a big difference in the long run. In that vein, my sister just signed my two youngest nieces up for UPromise accounts and the whole thing seems very cool to me. UPromise lets you save money for college for your relatives or even yourself by allocating a small percentage of purchases made with registered credit or debit cards, using certain grocery or retail store loyalty cards, eating at participating restaurants or shopping online at a vast number of websites. Since I do a fair amount of shopping and eating, I'm already stocking away a little bit here and there. A couple of my favorite restaurants in town will earn me from 4%-8% on my bill. My Kroger rewards card earns me cash when I buy certain items. And when I shop on line, as I am wont to do, I get a little bit of cash into my account. It's not like I'm saving tons at this point, but my sister and other family members are also doing this for my nieces. It adds up and by the time the girls are college age -- they're 6 and 9 now -- I suspect whatever we've socked away will be useful.

Even cooler, you can link the money to 529 savings accounts -- which let you save dough for your kids for college -- and put it in there with the click of a button. I've sent links to my friends with small kids encouraging them to start UPromise accounts and invite their friends and families to participate. As my sister said, her kids have enough crap, so it would be really helpful if, on their birthdays, the money that my family spends on gifts went into their UPromise and/or 529 accounts.

When my sister gets 529 accounts set up for my nieces, I can even make a small, automatic monthly contribution that could add up over time. College is stupid expensive these days, so I can't imagine how much it will cost even for a basic in-state education when my nieces go. (And, yes, if they wind up dropping out and going into food service, you can withdraw the money that wasn't spent on college.)

On matters of politics

As you probably know by now, Barack Obama triumphed over Hillary Clinton in the ever-important Virginia primary. A couple of days before the primary, my sister-in-law Julie Carey -- a veteran reporter for DC-area NBC affiliate Channel Four -- sat down for a one-on-one interview with Obama. You can watch the interview, in two parts, on the NBC4.com website. Sadly, the camera never pans to Julie, but the most important part remains: I'm one degree of separation from Obama now. And lest I get accused of currying favor, I've also been meaning to provide a link to this story, which ran last week on NPR's Day to Day. It's an interview with legendary political activist Robin Morgan, whose 1970 essay "Goodbye to All That" became a famous text in the drive to end politics as usual in this country, particularly where gender issues were concerned. Morgan has since penned a follow-up essay, entitled "Goodbye to All That (#2)," which calls for another look at the double-standard that exists in this campaign between the way women politicians are covered in the media, compared to their male counterparts.

One of the most jarring incidents Morgan points to in the NPR piece is the heckling of Hillary Clinton last night during a speech in the beltway. The senator was disrupted by a man who called out, "Iron my shirt!" As Morgan points out, the incident was covered and repeated -- often with amusement -- in the media in the days that follow. However, Morgan posits that there would have been a vastly different reaction had it been Obama on stage and a heckler cried out, "Shine my shoes!" It's a simple illustration of a really salient point -- that we, as a nation, will tolerate gender discrimination when a similar inicidence of racial discrimination would have caused riots.

As evolved as we like to think we are, Morgan's new essay -- which has been widely circulated via email -- is an important one for our times. It's uncomfortable -- and perhaps especially so for women -- to be reminded of and to acknowledge how far we haven't come in the area of gender and politics. You don't have to be a fan of Hillary Clinton's to appreciate what Morgan's essay has to say -- merely a proponent of equality along gender lines.

Things I love: Arrested Development edition

Okay, it's not quite on par with the possibility of getting to meet one of your writing idols -- and I don't normally post about these things -- but I just read online that there is officially an Arrested Development movie in the works. I'm wary enough to know that TV shows rarely translate well onto the big screen, but if they can retain even a fraction of the smarts, quirk and humor that made AD one of the best TV comedies of all time, then it'll be a rollicking success. Yay!

Bear River Writers Conference

I'm giddy with excitement. This week I sent in my registration for the Bear River Writers' Conference. Normally, I spend a week during the summer at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival but I had mixed feelngs about returning this year. I'm not sure how much I got out of last year's workshop, although the real indulgence is a week spent focused on writing, reading and the discussion thereof. Last year, when I was taking a fiction course in U-M's grad school, our esteemed instructor -- and accomplished author -- Nick Delbanco, pulled me aside and mentioned the Bear River Writers Conference. He thought I might be interested in it because this year's guest is...Amy Hempel. My jaw dropped. I can't really think of another writer who had such a direct and powerful effect on my desire and decision to become a writer.

When I read Amy Hempel's short story, "In The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried" in high school, it was what made me want to be a writer. Up until that point, I knew I loved to write, but I wasn't making an emotional connection to the male-dominated texts we'd been reading for years -- Dickens, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Conrad. That's not to say that I didn't appreciate their work, just that it didn't speak to me on the level that moved me to say, "I want to do that." Amy Hempel did.

During the short story revival of the eighties, Amy Hempel was one of the many young female writers who emerged to well-deserved critical praise. Along with writers like Lorrie Moore and Mona Simpson, she redefined the short story and blazed a path for writers of all ilk, but especially young women. Now "In The Cemetery" has been anthologized to death but still stands, I think, as one of the great short stories of all time -- beautiful, spare, poignant and funny. If you have dealt with loss or grief or, hell, even just thought about it, it will make you laugh and weep and wonder how on earth someone can do all those things without delving into melodrama, without taking it over the top. In other words, if you haven't read it, do.

All of that is my long-winded way of trying to explain why I'm giddy to be spending a week at Bear River in early summer in lieu of going to Iowa this year. The conference takes place in Northern Michigan -- a really beautiful part of the world -- at Camp Michigania, the U-M alumni camp. And while Hempel is not teaching an actual workshop, I'm hoping I can bribe Nick Delbanco to broker a very brief introduction so that I may drool all over her and perhaps have her sign the gorgeous hardcover anthology of her collected stories, which Chris bought me last year.

The fiction workshop leaders for the week are Delbanco and Elizabeth Kostova, the local writer who sky-rocketed to fame and best-seller status with her vampire tale, The Historian. So while I'm not really into fantasy writing, I signed up for Kostova's workshop as my first choice and Delbanco as my second, because I figure the latter has probably seen enough of me and I don't want him to think I'm stalking him. Plus, a different perspective is always good.

Now, how long until May 29?

Pillows 'n stuff

After the rush of getting my MFA application in place in December, January feels positively leisurely. I've had a few work projects to take care of, but I've also had more free time for doin' a little crafting. Here are some of the recent fruits of my labor. The bird coasters above were a gift for my friend Margaret's birthday, using a 'dorable birdy design from Jenny Hart's Sublime Stitching book.

After buying a blue rug for my office, the brown pillow covers on my futon seemed out of place, so I've been plotting their replacement for a few weeks now. I decided to take a stab at free-handing an embroidery design. I doodled an homage to (some might say rip-off of) the beautiful fabric designs of Kristen Doran. I love, love her work but it's a tad out of my price range. It was a pretty fun project, taking me just a couple of hours total for the embroidery and the pillow itself is my first attempt at an envelope-style pillow. Trust me to master putting in zippers (which I'm glad I know how to do) before learning this much easier method.

Then I made the above pillows for my futon, all from clearance fabric I found at JoAnn. My previous pillows were all solid fabric, which is fine and dandy, but I'm really enjoying playing with combining fabrics, colors and textures. And I think the cats, who spend the majority of their time on the futon, really really appreciate the time and effort I put into these things.

I made the above pillow for the Morris chair in the living room and it is, if may say so myself, just perfect.

Aren't these retro fabrics wonderful? I ordered them from Repro Depot, of course. People I know keep having babies and I just love these gender-neutral textiles and the possibilities they offer me. I still don't know what they want to be yet, but I have some ideas and some time.

A close-up of the green fabric, which just might be my favorite. Enjoy.

A few snaps of St. Louis

I'm finally getting around to writing a bit about our trip to St. Louis a couple of weeks ago. In short, we had a grand time during our brief visit to our old stomping grounds a couple of weeks ago. While I love, love our new life in Ann Arbor, I've 17 years worth of friendships built up in St. Louis and there's just no substitute for that. I miss having so many good friends, the kind who know you really well, the ones who have been around you for years and know your back story. So while it was a tad exhausting going from one date to another and playing catch up, it was also really wonderful.

Amanda and I did Free Candy on the Sunday night and it was a blast. I wish I had some photos to share, but my memory card was full and the few Chris got were not, let's say, particularly flattering. (I reserve the right to censor such things so that we hosts can always remain in the most beautious light at all times.) The audience was great -- I can't believe that for nearly four years folks have loyally been coming out to catch this crazy live show that began as a goof in a coffee shop.

The evening was linked to the release of the new issue of 52nd City. I know I keep saying this but it bears repeating: but this St. Louis-based magazine is a thing to behold. If you still don't know it, if you still haven't picked up a copy or, better yet, subscribed, please, please do so. It's a collection of some of St. Louis' best writers musing on art, culture, life, following a specific theme for each of its quarterly issues. This issue's topic is Foreign Exchange and, as if the print edition didn't offer up enough solid reading, there's additional content on the website.

It is a labor of love -- and, yes, sometimes frustration -- for its dedicated editors, Thomas Crone, Stefene Russell and Andrea Avery and I really want to believe, despite history's suggestion otherwise, that St. Louis readers can and will support this kind of effort. Phew. I've said my piece. For now...and I'm not even IN the current issue. Wait until I get on my soap box for an issue I'm in!

Anyhoo, because we were linking Free Candy to 52nd City, we went with a theme that honored St. Louis writers. Thus, instead of a guest band to play "I Want Candy," our theme song, we had Thomas do a dramatic reading of the lyrics. And I must say it was one of those moments when I wished dearly we were not non-broadcast, non-recorded, because it was a funny as hell performance I'd love to toss up on You Tube and watch again and again.

In keeping with our writer's theme, our guests were Debbie Baldwin of The Ladue News and legendary St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Bill MacClellan, who's been musing on behalf of the everyman for three decades now. Debbie was a guest on one of our very first installments of Free Candy and she was just a blast again. Having MacClellan on our show as a real "get." I don't think he knew quite what to make of us but he was a terrific sport and good fun. He's a real throwback to the day of the old write-hard, play-hard school of journos, a dying breed, and there's great comfort to know that a few of these metro columnists are surviving as newspapers "retool" for new readership.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog posting about St. Louis... In addition to visiting old haunts, I also checked out a few new spots. I had tea with Amanda at the London Tea Room on Washington Avenue. Lovely space with tons of tea options and, important for ex-pats like myself, a solid selection of British sweets and foods also for sale.

I also met the aforementioned TC for breakfast on Martin Luther King Day at Rooster, a new spot on Locust. It's a nice place, decorated with a mish-mosh of deco light fixtures and ancient mirrors on the walls. They're known for their crepes, but TC and I both opted for egg sandwiches, which were big as our heads (well, my head, maybe not Thomas') and absolutely delish. Mmmm. In fact, writing this, now I really want one.

We stayed at the Ballpark Hilton again (thank you, Priceline!) and I'll tell you, downtown St. Louis was crazy-deserted. I felt like I was starring in I Am Julia Legend. Granted, it was a holiday weekend, but there's that odd combo of stunning architecture, empty streets and signs everywhere for new loft developments that all kind of baffles me.

So we headed to the Loop where, apparently, we had missed some sort of ice sculpture event. Thus, there were a few sad almost-melted statues in front of shops, but also a gigantic pile of ice next to Blueberry Hill, just waiting for some skate punk to jump on, break his or her neck and sue the pants off the city of University City. It didn't happen while we were watching, but the ruffians were circling and danger seemed imminent.

Speaking of Blueberry Hill, it has a new flashy sign up over its door. Or, at least, it's new to us. It features a nice, white retro couple dancing above a marquee that now flashes upcoming acts on the LED screen. It all seems a little Hollywood for the venue, but what do I know? Maybe Joe Edwards got a buy-one-get-one offer on flashy LED screens when he put up the one at The Pageant.

All in all, a very good trip. Never long enough to see all the people I love, for as much time as I'd like. I leave you with one last shot, the Vintage Vinyl tribute to MLK. I'm many days late and more than a few dollars short, but honor his dream, people. Word.

Our blizzard, my brain

Well, we got our three inches. (That's what she said!) It's frankly more than a tad disappointing, given yesterday's commotion about winter storms, but apparently it's enough to cancel schools. Which seems a bit ridiculous to me. This is Michigan, people. If we can't get our children to school because of three inches of snow, what hope is there? Astute observers will note that I am penning this entry at what is a ridiculously early hour for me. I woke around six this morning with that strange combo where your body is completely exhausted but your brain won't let you fall back to sleep. I think it's part of the Effexor withdrawal, which I haven't written about since my disastrous attempt to come off it a couple of weeks ago. I'll provide a quick update at the risk of boring 99% of my readers in the hope that it might prove useful to that 1% who is having a similar experience.

As I noted, coming off even the smallest available dosage -- 37.5 mg capsules -- was a nightmare I'd prefer not to repeat. So I decided to step down even more slowly, which meant actually opening up the capsules, counting the granules of medication and manually cutting them in half. (For the record, there are an average of 126 grains of Effexor in each capsule.) I've been on that lower dose for over a week and it's been much, much easier. It's not symptom free -- there are the occasional "zaps" and some other stuff -- but it's not terrible.

Today I'm stepping down again to 1/4 of the 37.5 mg capsules and we'll see how that goes. I suspect, as I've read, that the real symptoms kick in when you drop off entirely, but I'm hoping if I do this for a week and then stop, things won't be nearly as bad as before. I'll keep you posted. I know it's riveting.

On the flip side, I think I'm experiencing some pain relief from the new drug I'm on for fibromyalgia, neuronton. (Or, more accurately, the generic version, gabapentin.) It's just hard to tell sometimes if it's real relief or if I'm just in a place in the pain cycle where I feel better. I also have been doing a little research on neurontin withdrawal, in case this doesn't work, and that doesn't seem like a pleasant experience either. That scares me a little. But what should I do? Just live with the pain? Blech. Sometimes I just wish someone would fix me.

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Okay, the sky is not falling. But you might be forgiven for thinking so given the mad crowds I just tackled at Trader Joe's. Here I thought dropping into TJ's mid-morning on a Thursday would be a breeze, but little did I know that there's a winter storm on the way. In the old days, I think that sent people to the grocery store to stock up on bread and milk, but in this town, it sends them to Trader Joe's to stock up on organic pomegranate juice and bags of white cheddar Pirate's Booty. Am I the only one who looks forward to the inches of snow we're expecting -- maybe four tonight and the same again tomorrow? Apparently so. I may also be one of the few who don't actually have to leave their houses during the day and I could see how tackling it could certainly be maddening. Still, I love me some winter storm action. Yeah, yeah. Ask me again after five years in Michigan, but for now, I'll lay in the firewood and enjoy.

Maybe I'll even find time to catch up on the things I haven't posted about here. I've been meaning to upload a handful of pics from our trip to St. Louis, nearly two weeks ago now. Plus there's a handful of projects I've been working on and snapping photos of my FO's (that's craft speak for Finished Objects). And I haven't even commented on what's going on in Britney's life! So much to catch up on. But not now. Now I'm heading out the door to the gym. You know, to stock up on muscle mass before the snow starts.