Potatoes in the Mist

Shortly after I posted my last entry, I got some good news. A literary agent (I won't name names, but she was the agent for a famous series) wants to see our whole manuscript (the one a friend and I wrote). THE WHOLE THING. Blew our minds. Of course she could still say no. But it just feels so flattering, and good, that she wanted to read the whole thing, instead of just saying no to the query letter or offering to read a couple of chapters. We both actually felt a bit sick. I walked in the rambles today and calmed down. (That's an area in Central Park with a lake and lots of little boats. Very picturesque.)

It's funny how music is often associated with something  - a certain person or phase in your life. For me Carole King's Tapestry was associated with nausea - I used to lie in bed when I was really nauseous, pregnant with E, listening to it. Now finally the association has worn off; I'm able to listen to that CD while Z plays little tunes on E's 4-key Fisher Price piano. She's so interested in these toys already; this morning she was fiddling with E's toy camera and Sesame Street remote control. I ordered her some blocks and stacking cups.

I got a new iPhone. I can see why it's so popular - sleek and cute, and the interface is charming and simple. Except, except: 1) How do you send a photo to Facebook? It isn't even listed as an option on my phone yet. When I click "send email" on a photo, it gives me the option to tweet, etc. - but not send it to Facebook. A friend helped me on FB - you have to go in through the FB app.  2) How do you un-set an image for your home screen, after you have already set it? I took a photo of Z in her chair before giving her some sweet potato and used the image on my home screen - then realized I only want it on my lock screen. Otherwise there are icons all over her little face. I figured this one out - you go in through Settings. I finished the Anne Lamott book ( Some Assembly Required ) and now officially love her nonfiction (everyone says her fiction isn't all that, though I like the title of her latest novel, Imperfect Birds ). So now I am reading Operating Ins...

Can I just say...I don't really understand the appeal of The Hunger Games ? Almost everyone I know (aside from me and D) seems to be into it. I tried reading the first book twice (once from the library, once on my Kindle). I just don't get it. I think part of it is, I don't like violence, and especially violence concerning teenagers, hunger and death. The whole thing just seems in massively bad taste to me. I finished reading Gossip , which I loved (except for an ending that seemed out of place, but that wasn't enough to mar my enjoyment), and started reading Some Assembly Required (Anne Lamott's nonfiction account of her 19-year-old son and his newborn). This can definitely go in the "brutally honest" category. I guess all her family members (and her son's girlfriend) are used to scathingly honest writing? Nonetheless, an interesting read.

So I bit the bullet and bought a box of L'Oreal Sublime Mousse...basically you just mix the dye, put it into a little bottle with a pump, and rub it through your hair. It seems foolproof. Also, I just need to let it set for 30 minutes (as opposed to 40 at the salon). It doesn't smell as bad and it doesn't burn my scalp. And it's a lot cheaper ($9.99 as opposed to $65 at the salon). We'll see how it looks...

I know this is a recurring theme on my blog...but here goes. I had to start coloring my hair in 2008. I've never used a box. Someone, I think my mother, told me if you're going to get your hair colored, you should go to a salon. (Which is funny, because I remember her dyeing her own when I was growing up - the Miss Clairol boxes, the gloves, the purplish-black dye which was actually brown in practice.) Anyway, my hairdresser has left her salon in a rage and gone to a rather inconvenient one. I am checking out a new one recommended by someone else, but it is more expensive and they might frown on me bringing a baby. So I am considering the last frontier: box dye. It seems kind of difficult and messy, but all I really have to do is my roots. The rest of my hair is still a pleasant, non-grey brown. How hard can dyeing my roots be? What are your experiences with box dye?

I know I already mentioned this on Facebook, but I have to mention it again. I love the book I'm reading - Gossip by Beth Gutcheon. She was on my list of okay authors before, but this book really outshines what she's written before. It's one of those books you can say is "delicious."

Sometimes I really just don't know what time it is. I thought Z had awoken at some obscene hour but it turned out to be 6 am-ish. So I decided to do some writing - here initially, then on my new project - book about a middle-aged romance (with some complications of course) and a flight to Brazil. I got a Lonely Planet Rio de Janeiro guide so I could get a feel for the place. Yesterday I took Z for a walk around the reservoir in Central Park. It's a decent walk, I forget how long, but not a trifle. I hadn't done it in several years. Embarrassingly, I was not able to finish - well, I could have if someone was chasing me with a gun - but in the absence of duress, I gave up about 3/4 of the way through. I don't know if it was old age or the fact that Z was in the carrier. As Mick Jagger says, "What a drag it is getting old."

So today I tried a little place called Lucy's Whey. They sell artisanal cheese, some of which smells a little bad, but interesting. They make grilled cheese panini with cheddar and fig, and they sell exotic bits like quince paste and strawberry rose jam. I like trying new things. I have to make a point of remembering to do that. On the way back I saw some brightly colored birdhouses in the trees.

I saw some ad on Facebook or something that said, "You only have a baby for a year!" The idea was, after that you have a toddler. It's something I've been keenly aware of with Z. With E, the whole task of taking care of a baby, while often joyful, was sometimes overwhelming. This time, being the second time around, I'm more aware of how fast everything will go by, and more in a frame of mind to "enjoy every moment" (or, if not every moment, to be aware of how fleeting it is). It's funny how everything you do can already be tinged with nostalgia. However, I might be getting ahead of myself...she doesn't even have hair yet :) I'm really looking forward to seeing it when it comes, and seeing if it's curly or not (E has a head of wild curls). It's also interesting how your perspective can change with more information. Unfortunately I have to be vague here because you never know who's reading. This involves two other people (not me)....

This is kind of gross, but I always procrastinate about washing my hair. What do you procrastinate about? I also imagine cutting my hair short, but it would never, ever work. It would turn into a fro.

I am not always a big Margaret Atwood fan (she can be a bit too Brave New World for me), but I'm enjoying her new Kindle single, I'm Starved for You . It's slightly sci fi and twisted but not too much so (more Robber Bride than Oryx and Crake ). Anyway, if you are looking for something to read, and you have a Kindle, I recommend it.

A few interesting things happened today. My friend T came into the city and we went to Angelica Kitchen, a very peaceful vegetarian eatery. We were sitting next to a middle-aged man who was reading the paper. Another man said, "Can I have that when you're done?" The man nodded. About ten minutes later, the man who wanted the paper came back. "I'm done waiting!" he yelled, and tore off a piece of the paper aggressively. A waiter kicked him out of the restaurant and they comped the remaining guy's meal. Later, a friend of mine changed her relationship status on Facebook to "married." (I find out a lot of juicy things through Facebook. T was saying how she found out about her brother's move through Facebook.) Anyway, the suddenly married friend, who has been missing/in L.A. for a while, emailed me asking for my current cellphone number and asking what would be a good time to call. So she will probably give me the dirt.

So there is a miserable woman who lives in our building. She routinely tortures everyone, to the point that I won't get into the elevator with her. (Nor is she mentally ill, just mean.) Anyway, another woman from the neighborhood was in our lobby with her harmless Welsh corgi. Miserable Woman: Get out of the lobby! Dogs are not allowed in the lobby! I turned to the woman with the dog and said, "She's wrong. Dogs are allowed in the building, so they're allowed in the lobby." (Note: I wouldn't have intervened if it was a rabid pit bull, but this dog is harmless and it is true that dogs are allowed in the building.) Amazingly, Miserable Woman shut up. So I went on walking and she started badgering the woman again. So I turned around and said, "Don't listen to her, she's a miserable person." THIS FELT AMAZINGLY GOOD.