There's a book rec in here, maybe that will interest you

I have this really fun game I play every morning where I try to do as many items from my day's to-do list as I can from memory without looking at it. Then, when the guest bed is stripped, the laundry is in and the dishwasher is running and I've wrapped a couple presents and updated our house guide on airbnb, I let myself open Evernote and CLICK CLICK CLICK on the boxes with satisfaction. NAILING IT. No dementia here, only productivity.

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Sidebar:
I saw a Kindle book credit in my email and it made me so happy I was instantly derailed and I just spent the last half hour comparing my goodreads wishlist to the kindle library and finally I settled on Her Body and Other Parties, which my friend Ceebs recommended, and now I can't wait to finish the other two books I've got going so I can start it. She said it was - wait, let me find her exact words - "like, modern women-centric short stories that have kinds of fairy tale dark magic throughout. And the most beautiful writing . . . definitely one of the best books I've ever read. Read it read it read it." If there's one thing I'm a sucker for, it's Ceebs' hyperbole, so it will be done.
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Today, after I get done with the follow-on to-do items that the first items create (hanging the wash, putting away the dishes, unwrapping the presents) I'm going to splurge on a shower and then meet Al for a lunch date in the city. We're going to Blacklock because it's our last Christmas burger and while Byron's Fromagemas does look hilarious, we gotta end it right.

I'm off to finish this manuscript now, wish me luck! Hope your days are great.

Blog Post - CHECK.

Insert Blog Title Here

Well. To the surprise of no one, it turns out going into a loud music venue to socialise with friends is the exact OPPOSITE of what a sore throat needs, and now my voice has kicked it. Heeding some good advice, I shall be nurturing what is left and communicating all weekend using a combination of charades and overly-zealous hand gestures. I apologise now if I blacken your eye telling you the story of my most recent Christmas burger.

I am currently reheating soup that has very clear instructions not to reheat it and I'm feeling a frisson of danger. If this is how it feels to be a stuntman, what a rush.

I have one of my book clubs tonight and I haven't finished the book yet. I think it's because I enjoyed this book a decade ago so reading it now feels indulgent, like a comfortable blanket, and when I have a to-do list as long as my arm, I don't feel like I've earned it. Then there's also the risk that my rose-coloured memories of it won't hold up to the scrutiny of an older me. Not that I'm much more discerning now - in fact, there are times I think I'm actually regressing - but still, the concern is there.

Either way, if I can achieve my proofreading target early today, I'm going to draw a hot bath, douse the water with menthol oil, and see what progress can be made. WORDS WORDS WORDS.

And because every post needs a picture: look at our nice lumpy Christmas tree. 

I hope your days are going well so far and you're staying warm. Until tomorrow,

Big hugs to all, 

Essss

On bookstores, harnessing the sun, and face-stuffing

HEYYOUGUYS. Guess how many blog posts I planned to write but never did and now they're likely never to see the light of day? The rest of my Christmas burgers - I had 16 in total, shout out to Chick 'n Sours for the best one - our trip to the Ice Hotel in January - in which the northern lights flipped us the bird but we still basked in the glow of permanent snow-twilight while snowmobiling and dogsledding - and last month's trip to Sicily. (Though that one may still make it in at some point, probably when I'm feeling moody at the endless London grey and want to pretend it's okay because you can leave it so easily.)

Instead of all those topics that come with built-in photographs and adventures, I will tell you all about my day of nothing yesterday. Extra fun, because I have no pics or actual story. Good to get the practice in if I'm going to do an additional MyBloWriMo in June this year (jury's still out on that one). 

Al and I are very good at spending our weekends lazily and yesterday was no exception. We booked a nice lunch, then spent the afternoon wandering through bookstores on our way to a nice dinner. These activities encompassed two of our favourite past-times: eating, and reading, and eating some more.

The first bookstore we hit was Persephone, notable as both a publisher and bookseller of out-of-print works by female authors. It was teeny tiny and quaint and crowded and sweet and the overall environment made me want to buy every book in the house, even though I knew I probably wouldn't make it to the end of half of them (all that old timey wordsmithing, innit). I did get this one, though, because it was flipping hilarious:

 

Here are the first two pages that sold me:

I think we all know Lady B.

After that we hit Skoob - MY NEW FAVOURITE BOOKSTORE EVER, like the green apple of London - which has - according to le googles - over 55,000 used books. The ceiling was low, the shop was dark and underground and full of nooks, and books were stacked EVERYwhere. After tripping over a half dozen piled haphazardly on the floor, I was in love. I couldn't stop myself from buying a handful of crime novels on our way out. 

We also hit Judd's used books, which was no Skoob but had - randomly and weirdly - an excellent vegetarian cookbook selection - before wandering to Treadwell's. NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT TREADWELL'S. This came as a recommendation from my favourite darkest magik friends as an 'occult bookshop,' which is - as one pointed out - 'two of the best words to hear in sequence in the English language.' And the shop was LOVELY. Warm and incensey with Celtic font everywhere, including on the signs to the Hindu and Biblical sections. I couldn't resist buying two aroma oils - frankincense and sage - which - per the shopkeeper - apparently have planetary alignments (the Sun and Jupiter, respectively) that would bring me wellbeing (the former) and success (the latter). To think I just thought they smelled nice! Embarrassing. Needless to say, I blended the two before bed and smeared them all over my face. 

Then we headed to the Waterstones on Gower which - while being a chain - still exists, so gets props for surviving in an Amazon-era. This one is extra lovely because it's got red carpet and mini-levels. We headed straight for the basement to see an art exhibit - recommended by KT - of The Quiet Medusa, who sculpts/stitches/creates doll-like female effigies - that relate to works of literature and also her life. It was powerful and intimate stuff. Do go to see it if you're in the area.

And then we ate some more and then went home and read some more. It was a thrilling day, I tell you. 

I hope to see you again in June - post- our next trip Stateside - and until then,

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss

It was no Good Wife, that's for sure.

UGH YOUGUYS. I just finished my book club reading for our meeting tomorrow and it was a big, fat pile of whyyyyyy. The chosen book was The Girls (the one based on Charles Manson's cult, so that part intrigued me, yay violence!) but the main character was just so . . . unpleasant. And the book itself (as I said to a couple friends around the 24% mark) is page after page of gross, overwritten pubescence. Her mom is weak, her crush is a loser, her friends are fat, she's obsessed with sex, and what beauty in the grotesque! The intimacy of popping pimples on the best friend's back, the 60's free-lovers with their long, split hair and scrawny, ashy knees and mosquito-scabbed ankles over bare feet splashing in algae-ridden ponds and isn't it looooovely her freckled shoulders spinning carelessly through the dust motes in the shimmer of the cracked kitchen window? Let's talk about her loose breasts and brittle fingernails again. Make it more visceral this time. Surely there's a blackhead on her sweaty neck that was missed the first go-round! HIPPIE-PROSE AND I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR IT.

I was recently part of a wonderful literary radio chat show - subject matter 'The Unlikeable Female Protagonist' and how difficult that was for Certain Genders - and one of the points of the discussion was how relatable the protagonist (male or female) had to be for enjoyment of the book to take place. I was all over the place on this matter, though I veered toward needing them not to be a-holes. I couldn't stand Jules in The Interestings and that tainted the book for me (why is she so DULL!) but somehow Humbert Humbert was okay. Holden Caulfield is absolutely intolerable to adult-me, but was adored - highlighted, dog-eared - by adolescent-me. So this is a moving target. But The Girls was basically:

Though it did make me understand how murder could happen. 

And in other news: only two days until MyBloWriMo wraps up! We all thought we wouldn't get there, but here the date fast approaches. What fortitude you've shown to THIS Unlikeable Female Protagonist. 

I hope your Mondays were slightly-more-than-decent (let's not raise the bar too high, it IS Monday, after all), and I look forward to tomorrow!

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

On San Telmo and culture and stuff

"You can be sincere and still be stupid." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

OMGYOUGUYS. I have had internet for, like, an entire 24 hours so far. I don't want to get too excited - last time it revived, it was for a short half-day - but IT IS REALLY HARD. I AM SO EXCITED. I am way behind on my huffpoeing buzzfeeding redditing jezebelling. WHAT HAS HAPPENED THIS MONTH?! Point me to the memes!

Speaking of being behind: THIS BLOG. My (internal, unspoken) goal of two posts a week was hopelessly derailed. Blogblogblogblogblogblogblog.

I've had coffee today for the first time this week and I feel high as a kite.

BUENOS AIRES! I swear this is my last post about that magnificent city before dragging youguys into guacho country.

Want to hear a fun fact about BA? THERE ARE BOOKSTORES EVERYWHERE. Really. EVERYWHERE. Like, entire STREETS of them. ANOTHER fun fact: Amazon dot com isn’t in Argentina.

I’ll leave you to interpret that as you will.

This particular good news became very relevant when my Kindle broke on Day 4. My treasured, ancient, six-year-old-full-keyboarded Kindle just decided to give up the ghost. At the beginning of a three week holiday in a foreign country. I thought we were better friends than that, but there we are. As a result, I found myself spending an entire morning scurrying into various bookstores, frantically looking for anything – anything! – written in the English language. I finally found luck at a small bookstore/café/bar in Palermo called Crack Up. Here is a map for you:

You're welcome.

Also, they had FOOD. And COFFEE. And TORRONTES. If you're into that. (Not me, Grampa!) How sweet is this place? Someone! Open one in London-town. Except with English books. It will be a hit.

Now for THE LUNCH. After our blinding success getting books at Crack Up, we made our way to Freud y Fahler NC for lunch, where apparently the menu was designed by Kyle. I appreciated the illustrations of each dish, because how else would we know what we were ordering?

This totally clears it up.

Uncanny likeness, right? Well-drawn, friends! Also, you can tell we were eating nerdy-early, US/UK-style, since we were the first people there. This happened every night at dinner-time, too, when we showed up at 9 p.m. (when the restaurants opened) and ate in the emptiness until people started arriving around 10:30. Who ARE these people, and when do they sleep?! Even the kids! Families! 10:30 p.m. dinner time! MIND.BLOWN. Love and admiration here. I mean, I thought I was old-hand at these sort of cultural differences, having done the Europe-late-long-dinner-thing, but this was a whole new ballgame.

THE TANGO. Okay, so everyone says You Have to See the Tango when you're in Buenos Aires. Now, as far as I can tell, there are two ways to do this: go to the San Telmo square and watch the couples spin around for the tourists, or go to a tango club. We opted for the latter, BUT (see above note being about nerdy-early) things don't kick off until midnight or later. We got to Cathedral of Tango at ten (feeling VERY wild, I don't mind saying), and it was rocking out like this:

Out of control! 

We had a great table right up front (because practically first ones there), but knowing we'd have to wait at least three hours for the club to turn into Super Tango was just a recipe for napping under the table. It probably didn't help that this was also a Tuesday night, and who on earth tangos on a Tuesday night? Go there on a Thursday or Friday, youguys. Or head to San Telmo if going out at midnight isn't your jam. I will say this, though: we got to see some terrific dancers and an exciting part of Argentina culture in a venue that was cutting-edge. Also - and most importantly - eat more fugazzetta pizza.

Wednesday!

THE RIVER. Can I tell you what I love about cities with rivers in them? Pedestrian-only, modern-design bridges, and old-as boats. London's got this, too. It's just too much. Does Chicago have this? I should know since I've been there a kazillion three times. But I spent most of my time with the bean, because #goodtouring.

Sidebar: bottom left is the pink governor's casa where Eva Peron did her Eva Peron thing. Cropped out: loads of scaffolding and construction works, which are apparently as permanent a fixture as the building itself. SEXY! Bottom right: if you want to know what this building is, why don't YOU be the tourist. (And then tell me what it is.)

THE PROTEST. Youguys. Apparently outside the governor's casa there is always a protest happening. Isn't that awesome? MAKE NOISE, HUMANS! This one is about Someone lying to Someone if that banner is any indication:

I felt like a photo-journalist capturing Change in a war-torn country. Except safe. And not endangered. And ignorant of the issues. I can see why people do this. What a high!

LUNCH! Okay, so originally we tried to go to Hierbabuena or La Casera for lunch, but the power was out on the entire street. Because That's Just What Happens Sometimes and Maybe It's Planned But We're Not Sure Quit Asking Questions Go Away.

That said: they could still sell bread and produce from their side market! WIN!

So rustic and millennial and organic and perfect I wanted to punch myself in the face. Also, buy everything and put a cross-process filter on it.

Having given up on the perfect lunch, we decided to take our chances at Any Random Place in San Telmo, because obviously it has a square lined with cafes boasting identical menus in three translations so clearly it'd be impossible to go wrong*. We crossed the street, prepared to walk the five blocks over to the square in the stifling mid-day heat, and BOOM. We spot this place. Bacan! Youguys. I know I'm easily woo'd by open shelving, chalkboard, and black-and-white tiling, but this place was good stuff. If you ever find yourself shut out of Hierbabuena or Casera, go here: 

 I'm pretty sure this is also where the mob hangs out.

SAN TELMO. We wandered around there after lunch. Because old and historical and stuff.

Old. 

Historical.

Um. Culture. Colonial. Jazz. 

Doppelganger. Awesome bar. Totally for everyone. Culture. Unpretentiously Hip. Jazz.

Dinner at Aramburu. Two of about twelve courses. Designer food. Eating art. Jazz.

And we've done it! Buenos Aires is a WRAP.

SIDEBAR: just now the doorbell rang and it was an Amazon** delivery guy and I totally didn't remember ordering anything on Amazon so right away I'm excited and then I opened it and it was a book I had ordered centuries ago that was out of stock and apparently it came back in stock because there I was holding it and anyway, it has made my day because it feels like a gift, like when you find money in the pocket of something you haven't worn in forever. DAY WON!

We're off to France tomorrow to start knocking down walls and seeing what's under them! We're also hoping to get some wifi hooked up, but that could be a drama for another day. P.S. Anybody who speaks French fluently is invited down with us anytime. ANY.TIME.***

Big hugs and lots of love,
Esss

*Uh.
**Don't judge me! I shopped at a bookstore in Argentina!
***No, seriously. PLEASE COME WITH US. 

On brain pickings, high art, and much much lower neurosis

Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. - Anne Lamott

OMGYOUGUYS. Have you discovered Brain Pickings yet? If you have, don't judge me, I'm a little late to the game on this one. (And I owe it to Kyle that I came across it at all.) Don't think for a second of following that link unless you're prepared to lose the next hour(s) of your life, because each link leads to ten more interesting links, and those to ten more, and next thing you know, the sun's gone down, you're fumbling for your glasses, and you feel a strange urge to go to a poetry reading and hug people.

My latest foray into BP was when I followed a link to Anne Lamott on Grief, which then led me to an article on how we keep ourselves small by people-pleasing, and then WHAM, there's Jorge Luis on writing, F. Scott on love stories, and Dani Shapiro on the Creative Life. It's all just too much, youguys. Get in there. When you're done, you'll want to create something wonderful. Or messy. Or anything. Because as Neil Gaiman will tell you, it doesn't matter, just do it.

I really like this stuff because while I'm not a producer of art, I really love people who are. I find what they do impossibly impossible.

Speaking of Jorge and Vik, Argentina is fast approaching! FRIDAY, youguys. That's how fast. FRIDAY. That is, like, three days from now. I have about a book's worth of google maps and flight confirmations and driving instructions and STILL I have the sneaking sensation that I am forgetting something. I lie in bed at night, mentally packing my bag. Virtual sandals, check. Virtual passport, check. Virtual camera--CAMERA! Tripod! BATTERY CHARGER! Where is the last place I saw the battery charger?? The living room socket behind the speaker?? WHERE IS THAT THING! WRITEITDOWNSOMEWHEREBEFOREIFORGET! I lunge for Evernote in the dark hours, tip-tapping away at a thousand lists, syncing and re-syncing, determined to start packing, like, yesterday.  I'll be so exhausted by the time I arrive, I'll probably sleep through the entire holiday.

I CAN'T WAIT.

Big hugs and lots of love,
Essss

On hot sauce, yet more veg, and what are you reading?

Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life. - Terry Pratchett

OMGYOUGUYS. I just made hot sauce with all those chilis I had to pluck from my dead chili plants. Well, I *think* I made hot sauce. I whacked them all into a pot with some vinegar and garlic and salt and in about half an hour I'm going to whizz it up and hope for the best. I didn't even bother deseeding them because who has got that kind of TIME and also what's the worst that can happen? It sets my stomach on fire? LET'S DO THIS CHILI THROW-DOWN.

Speaking of food, look at this gargantuan beetroot I got in this week's veg box. Isn't this ABSURD? I can barely palm it, which is a far cry from the ping-pongs I usually get:

Don't even get me started on the carrot. I almost photographed that instead, but I felt mildly uncomfortable just HOLDing it. 

And how is this for authentic? I actually washed off most of the dirt before taking this photo. I swear they put dirt IN the box, just to make me dig for my vegetables. Like an added bonus, a Look! You're a Farmer! experience, as you root around with your trowel, hands growing rough, hoping for a bountiful harvest.

My beets and carrots were pretty bountiful, alright. 

And now we've got the brussels sprouts. SOMEONE. TELL ME WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THESE BRUSSELS SPROUTS. I was going to make this flatbread pizza to get away from my usual method of FRYWITHBACONBACONBACON but if anybody has any better ideas, let me know. There are enough here to last me a MONTH.

Stop looking so innocent and baby-like. I know what you're about.

In other good news, NPR's Book Concierge for 2014 is out! I can't even handle it. There are so many books in there I want to eat. I love stuff like this, because my usual method of looking for books is either finding out what Cassandra's reading, or going to the library and hoping they've got ANYthing published after 1978. Speaking of, I was there yesterday getting some travel guides to Argentina, and since  'ANG' follows 'ARG' and my library has an impeccable cataloguing system, this book was right there. I couldn't resist it, immediately dropping all the Time Out Buenos Aires Guides that I knew I wouldn't read anyway. Any book involving prostitution and drugs in San Francisco is a day's win!

Some things just make you nostalgic.

Now if you'll excuse me, I clearly have a busy day ahead. Plus tonight is the Annual Dinner for the British Guild of Beer Writers* and it's supposed to be QUITE the fancy pants affair. I have even heard mention of SPARKLES, and that from the MEN. I've got to get to work - these sweatpants aren't going to bedazzle themselves!

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss

*Of COURSE I'm in the guild! Look at all this beer I blog about! I'm also a Young Furniture Maker in the Worshipful Company of Furniture Makers, because OBVIOUSLY.

It is our responsibilities, not ourselves, that we should take seriously. - Peter Ustinov

Do you guys know the number one google search that directs people to my blog? It's the source of a TON of traffic. An ALARMING ton, because it's - are you ready for this? - ZOO PORN. I KNOW. I don't even know WHAT* those people are hoping to find, but imagine how disappointed they must be when they arrive on this post and there's only, like, some post-coital zebras smoking cigarettes.

In other news, look what we found sitting on the bed when we landed at Frank and Betty's yesterday: these cookbooks from Alan's sister Marie! They're a housewarming gift for the French house because MARIE KNOWS.** They fill me with warm fuzzies because it is exactly these sorts of additions that will turn it from a nice getaway into a real home-away-from-home. Check this out:

Do you love Floyd as much as I do? I'm already glad I have this, because I never knew one should do their cooking in a tux in France and I could have really embarrassed myself. 

Okay, off we go! A wedding in three hours and this bathrobe is going to look ridiculous if I don't at least add a flower.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*I mean, I can guess, but I DON'T WANT TO.
**The best places for heart-stabbing.

Democratic societies are unfit for the publication of such thunderous revelations as I am in the habit of making. - Salvador Dali

OMGYOUGUYS. Gone Girl. Have you seen it? Even having read the book, WHOA. Rosamund Pike, the actress who played Amy, WAS SO SO SCARY. Brilliantly evil. I had to close my eyes during pretty much every scene she was in, even when it wasn't warranted, because DON'T LOOK AT ME, AMY. And then there was the rest of the movie, which was funny. So there you go.

I don't know why I'm not a professional movie reviewer. This is good stuff here.

Speaking of movie reviewers, I just read Attachments by Rainbow Rowell and it was just as cute and full of charming dialogue as everything else she writes, so that was a win.

I also don't know why I'm not a professional book critic.

HEY! I took a photo.

This is from Marrakech, nearly a year ago. Marrakech is way different from Lake Garda. 

Maybe I should consider being a travel writer.

Next on my reading list: Amy Poehler's memoir, and also that one that Jessica put on Facebook last night by the Indian guy that was on the Daily Show. 

On that note! Today's Nothing well and truly satisfied.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. – TS Eliot

Last night I fell asleep at 8:30 after a nightcap of painkillers and woke at seven this morning with the same pounding of the temples, ba dum ba dum ba dum. What cruel injustice was this? It wasn't until another hour passed that I remembered the prescription my doctor gave me for migraines, the forgetting of which would've caused self-flagellation were my head not already doing the honors. Within the hour of taking, what sweet release is this? I could barely feel my toes, let alone my head. Lovely Sunday, how are you doing. We will be friends today.

It was in the nick of time, too: we had a coveted brunch reservation at Foxlow, Hawksmoor's little sister in Farringdon, and they do NOT mess around:

The All Day Breakfast Burger. I KNOW.

Now we're back home and the day is just getting better - I have a new book to proofread and it is a good one: funny and adventurous, and what more could one ask for? I am enjoying it immensely. So this is what I'll be doing the rest of the day, reading and marking and reading some more, curled up on the couch under my cuddliest of blankets, wearing my squidgiest of socks. The rain can pour as much as it likes outside the windows: there is quiet all around.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss