Month: July 2009

I am once again pondering imponderables. Like “where should I live next” and similar trivial matters.

Though this time, realistic change will ensue. I’m just not gonna tell you what that means.

Remember my favorite, splendid, very dead boots? I stupidly tried to wear them one last time, and Xtina had to find scissors to cut me out of the ensuing drama.

RIP, boots, I did love you. Even though I tossed you in a Finsbury Park dustbin.

The train back to Cambridge was so crowded my hair kept attacking people.

I survived the Ikea shuttle, and Ikea itself, and was excited about the sofa bed I bought for the office (no more crashing on the floor! How civilized!) until I realized I’m the one who has to assemble it.

I am officially crazy happy to be back in swinging London!

Off to the Imperial War Museum. Cause I roll like that. Oh, and did you see this?

Byron & Tauba in Science.

This afternoon I was reminiscing about life in Olympia. While some might recall the fragility of youth, I’m…. still wondering who broke the coffee pot.

If I kept track of the anniversaries of random hookups I would now be contemplating mid-90’s misadventures at the ladies rugby house on 4th Ave. But I don’t, so I won’t.

Seventeen years of ferocity, friendship, and fun have accumulated – how astonishing.

Nineteen years ago today an adorable raconteur arrived in the world fist first and facing the wrong direction. She has lived up to that promise in every possible way…. happy birthday to my amazing daughter!

I was informed I can never be a trophy wife because all of my shoes have holes and I wear my laddered tights backwards.

I could think of better reasons.

I write about stuff I actually like, and then only rarely.

This means I will never promote music, products, publications, services, etc., at the suggestion of a PR rep.

So, to be succinct, if you are one? Leave. Me. Alone!

I was thwarted in plans to dash to London.

Leaving me in a university town on graduation day – ugh! The debauchery has not started yet and I am already annoyed.

Freshly minted doctorates, dark matter, stolen journals, and textorcisms – just another day in Cambridge!

Today on the towpath some yobs were thinking of messing with me, but one said to the other in an emphatic and awed voice: SHE HAS A TATTOO.

The trouble vanished instantly.

After five years here, today provided my virgin experience of lurking in M&S foyer waiting for a storm to pass.

I never hid from rain in the NW – I’ve lost my Puget Sound pluck!

The only thing worse than rampaging groups of Italian teenagers? Hordes of the peppy American variety.

It is always difficult to accomplish anything in the crowded city centre, more so during tourist season, and I am intrinsically unable to countenance any additional barriers while trying to purchase milk.

When the charity bullies jump in front of me and say “can I ask you a question?”  my anger reaches incandescent range. But I just say “no” (they are flummoxed) and walk on.