Rembering Warmer Times

It snowed last night. It's not even November. I was asleep when it all happened, and all that was left of it this morning on the walk to school was ice bunched up on the windshield wipers or parked cars, and a chill in the air.

Last night on the way home it was dark and dreary, but not snowy yet. It's that time of year, I guess. I stopped by for the necessities: eggs, yogurt, bread and toilet paper. My bag was full of the days accessories, so the toilet paper had to be carried out in the open. I stuck it under my arm, like a important package -- which, I guess, it was. I don't think I will ever get old enough not to be embarrassed by carrying toilet paper in public. I actually kept cracking a smile in a private joke with myself about it which must have looked even more strange. A bundled up lady, carrying a bag and a bunch of toilet paper, laughing to herself.

The last warm day here looked like this. At least from Primrose Park, overlooking the city.


Ali, Frederik the Swede, and I bought lunches and picniced.

I couldn't get enough of his socks...


In fact, I followed him undercover for a couple minutes trying to get a walking shot with the right amount of peeping sock.



There wasn't much wind, but this little one tried anyway.

I guess I'll have to wait until December in California to get some summertime skin again.

London brings on Bouts of Rockstardom

Or, just crazy, asymetrical haircuts. I can even do a fauxhawk. Let the hair experimentation begin!

Buda Buda Buda Buda Rockin' all the Way

It's not so much that smiling isn't allowed in Hungary, it's just that it isn't really encouraged either. So, Ali and I had a rule during our 4 days in Budapest ... No smiling in photos. No smiling in windswept, bedraggled, end of the day desperate attempts to save some warmth by using your scarf as a babushka moments.


No smiling while posing, America's Next Top Model style, in the falling Fall leaves and sleeping branches.

No smiling on a bus tour. Especially not when the earphones they provided you look like they were recycled from the free ones they used to give you on flights in the 90's.


And, no smiling when you realize that you spent 40 bucks to go to a classical concert because that's the kind of thing "adults do" to experience the culture of another country, and realize that no matter how many times you try to be an adult, you just spent 40 bucks to be bored and uncomfortable.



Oh, oh! Except for the part of the concert where one woman right in front of Ali and I fainted and slid out of her chair. Those around her reacted silently and immediately, disturbing almost noone. Ali and I just watched. To our amazement, one woman in front of the Fainter had ACTUAL smelling salts in her purse. After a few moments of laying down (you can see her laying down in the video, right before Ali and I, and on the other side of the woman in the purple shirt) she was back to normal which led Ali and I to determine that the reason for the whole thing was the careless wearing of too-tight pants. Said pants cut off her circulation while sitting, and thus the faint. Let that be a lesson to all of us... It's not just the muffin-top you risk by squeezing into pants that don't fit.

We did have a couple of lucky, beautiful nights. We stumbled into this panoramic view of Parliment, the Danube River and a full moon through the precipice of Buda Castle on the other side of the river. We were the only people there, enjoying the violin and base guitar music of a couple gypsies posted up near by.

The view from the bridge at our hotel, across the river to Gellert Hill in Buda. We also went to a bathhouse close to here for some truly classic naked, rear-slapping, Eastern Euro massages.


From Buda Castle, over Buda. 80 percent of the city was actually destroyed in WWII, so most of the construction is relatively new, but made to look like it was old.


And, finally, condiments. Daddy, the Majonez is for you.

Self-Indulgence

I've started taking photos of things I like, simply because I like them. It's a nice sort of freedom really. Instead of buying something in order to enjoy it, I simply snap a copyright-infringing photo and post it on my blog and I've satiated my need for new. Uh, kind of.

These houses on my street are painted in Easter eggshell colors. In the morning, when it's still clear and cold, they look especially pretty.

Big bowls at a little cafe in Chelsea hold large peeled grapefruits and oranges, celery, carrots and many other juice-able items ready for the juicing.

Alice and Astrid is about 150 yards from my house. Astrud was there last time I was perusing and upsold me on this charming pink number below, and the little lavender filled bird on the hanger. Astrud designs her own fabrics and aspires to three core elements: cosy, glamorous and beach. She was calling my name.


I haven't worn this little silk thing yet cause it's 50 fricken degrees outside, so I've just left it out and hanging in hopes of a warming future, or at least one where I don't have to wear wool or feathers to keep warm.

And finally, this chair made of a tree truck. It looks cosy, like a bean bag. In my mind I see myself curled up in it, looking fabulous and drinking tea. Then, I remember it's wood, and is closer kin to an aggressive church pew than a bean bag. Whatever. A girl's gotta have a dream.

The Queens Face is on the Money (literally, and in this picture)

I generally think internet forwards are not worth the time or energy, but given my current study of all things British, I thought that this showed a distinctly "real" side of the Royal Family. And, it's actually funny even though it does reference bathroom humor.

The heading of this particular email was, "Did Phillip Fart?"




This progression kills me.

Harry reminds me of Brother Bear here. However, if this was actually BB, he would undoubtedly be the culprit and would simply be blaming it on someone else.