Blog: Fail

It was recently brought to my attention that I've been failing to amuse my friends and readers. I'm hard pressed to believe that I haven't been offering my self-indulgent hi-jinx to the hoi polloi for almost one full month! You poor things.

It's not for wont of activity, I'll tell you that much. While I may not have been keeping up to speed on the restaurants (The Walrus and The Carpenter, Staple and Fancy and Moshi Moshi, to name a few), or the four year anniversary dinner at Canlis, or the weekend holiday in Cannon Beach — I've still been writing more than ever before. Have I talked about my job lately?

I often say that father time is not on my side, and as of late this has been more true than ever. I've been the same old whirling dervish of activity that I've always been, but now I took on a third job. I think I may be trying to drive myself insane — Brett is convinced that I need Ritalin. I have given up all my spare time so that I might dress fancily and hock wine. I say this without the tiniest hint of bitterness, because I do love what I'm doing....I just wish there were more hours in the day.

There are oodles of photographs I hope to post, and loads of stories I long to tell. But in the mean time, read a few of the juicy fruits of my labour:

Music From The Vampire Diaries Episode 2.2, "Brave New World"

OMG Quote: Chace Crawford Wants His Girlfriend to Touch Him Where?

First Look: The Cast of Glee Gets Simpsons-ized

That should be self-indulgent enough for the time being.

a mouse in our house!

Okay, so there wasn't really a mouse IN our house per se, but the little guy was in our condo complex. Before you start thinking that we live in destitution, allow me to explain the situation.

The condo next to ours was recently turned into a model unit for prospective buyers to peruse. Upon returning home at 11pm the night before heading to Cannon Beach for our mini-break, we discovered that the door to this unit had been left ajar. Naturally, we wandered in to investigate the situation further. Music issued forth from surround speakers, the table was set for a fake dinner, and a cool breeze flowed in from the open windows and sliding glass door. Considering the fact that we are only on the second floor and there are a handful of drunken sailors wandering about Ballard, the open invitation to our building was not cool. After procuring a bottle of wine from the fridge (our fee for closing up shop for the agent), Brett closed all the windows and shut everything down.

The night resumed uneventfully. We drank the aforementioned pilfered wine and caught up on some DVR before I hit the hay around 2am. Since our place turns into a greenhouse during the day (what with our western exposure and requisite lack of air conditioning), Brett decided to open our doors and get some air circulating. As soon as he opened the front door, however, he noticed what he thought was a shoe. In actuality, it was the little guy above. He snapped this pic and then told me we had a rat in our hallway.

I immediately bounded out of bed and my first instinct was to show our kitties. Brett strongly advised against this because the probability that all hell would break loose was pretty high. Instead, in a surgeon-like tone I demanded he get me the yellow kitchen gloves as it was now my duty above all else to emancipate the poor critter. "What if one of our neighbor sees him and just kills him?" I cried to Brett.

A Benny Hill-style pursuit ensued in which I was bent over and scurrying up and down the hallway chasing after a mouse that was frantically trying to climb the walls. Brett played guard and energetically waved his arms and legs at the mouse in order to herd the frightened little guy my way.

Moments later I had an ahah moment and grabbed an empty box from which a new pair of earrings had arrived earlier that day. I was able to wrangle Senor Mouse into the box and insisted Brett follow me down the stairs so I could release the mouse in a processionary way.

He slid out of the box and began spinning in circles — obviously disoriented and horrified. I turned to Brett and beamed "Aren't you glad I shop?! Not sure what we would have done without that box." Sad to say, I don't think that he agreed.

wednesday's winning style

*Please note: I recognize that there's a certain amount of vanity associated with this post. For that, I apologize.

Back in the day when my mind idled away in Issaquah, I used to amuse myself by naming my "looks" and giving myself an appropriately corresponding name. For instance, if I looked Swedish (wore a lot of colour and Marikmekko style prints) then I would call myself Lotta. It's a habit that I kind of miss and want to get back into.

I loved my outfit today. Honestly, I love my outfit every day...but this little number had me feeling like a princess: I paired a bronze sequin skirt with a mustard bejeweled wool tank, pretty Kate Spade baubles and handmade Quoddy boots. If I channel my aforementioned habits, I would say that I look like a bohemian glam art dealer who lives in Soho. My name would probably be Ariella or Luciella or something equally as fancy sounding.

Let it be known that while sequined skirts are absolutely darling, they itch like hell and should be avoided at all costs. Unless you're like me and insist on playing dress-up every single day. And really like sparkly accoutrement.

One of the things I love about fashion is that it tells a story. It says how I feel, how I want to portray myself, what I like and what I want to be. Even though today I didn't want to feel quite so itchy.

an evening with tristan und isolde

As much as I adore opera, I can't subscribe to the complete and utter German-ness of Wagner. I guess as for as refined as I like to think I am, I'm just not that appreciative of discordant, post-modern, and painfully boring performances. Tristan UND Isolde is the third opera I've left before the show was through. (The first was another Wagner and the second was a ridiculously awful modern-day opera called Amelia. Really, "Finish your breakfast" should not be a line in an opera. Any opera. But I digress.)

Despite the general awfulness of Wagner, Jo and I had a fabulous time drinking wine, hob-nobbing and criticizing fashion faux-pas. We're in Seattle, remember. So there were quite a few.

pinot grigio at purple

Lately co-workers have been whirring up pina coladas at around 5pm in my office. Either that or people crack open bottles of beer. The New York folks were in our office this week and brought a parting gift of Limoncello for us to enjoy, too. Have I mentioned how much I love my job? And also — how stressed we all are lately?


Feeling festive and over-worked, my friend (and co-worker) Jager and I sauntered up to Purple on Fourth to enjoy a bottle of wine and some apps. We gossiped the night away and behaved as though we were Gael Green and Gail Simmons. It was good fun.

A helpful hint: If you're looking for an inexpensive bottle of wine and the sommelier is standing over your shoulder — be sure to run your finger down the list of wine names, not prices. Even if you are a bonne vivante on a budget, it's better not to spell it out.

frontier cafe for lunch

Vietnamese and BBQ fusion doesn't really make sense to me. But sure enough, those are the options available at 3rd and Cherry's Frontier Cafe. Well, Vietnamese sandwiches, BBQ, and odd ultra-greasy breakfast sandwiches. Nonetheless, my Bahn Mi was phenomenally delicious. For a mere $6, I had a hearty cup of red beans and rice (not necessarily what I would think to pair with my sammy) and an amazingly fresh tofu Bahn Mi (Vietnamese Sandwich). It was so healthy and tasty I actually think I'm going to go back right now.

il fornaio in the afternoon

Since I had to work a whopping (cumulative, between two jobs) 13 hours yesterday, Brett met me for a drink (by which I naturally mean snack) before I went to fold clothing for a couple hours. I thought it was quite sweet that he wanted to see me for at least one waking hour. The breadsticks were a bit in the way, unfortch.