tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57321612011-06-06T22:53:12.794-05:00As here so elsewhere. <br><br>All the cool kids are <a href="mailto:bravergirl@hotmail.com">emailing me</a>.Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comBlogger1821100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1134954810052362162005-12-18T18:59:00.000-06:002005-12-18T19:13:30.063-06:00

I'm starting to enjoy it, actually. Plus, I finally watched March of the Penguins last night and realized my winter would be their tropical rainforest. Nothing to complain about at all.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1134953947079238712005-12-18T18:57:00.000-06:002005-12-18T18:59:07.080-06:00

When I blew out the candles on my cake(s?), I didn't -- for the first time in I can't remember how long -- wish for thinness. I wished for happiness. I know it sounds cheesy and chick lit-y, but I'm over self-hate. I just want to love myself as I am right now. It's so much harder than I thought.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1134953724636515482005-12-18T18:47:00.000-06:002005-12-18T18:55:24.646-06:00

Wednesday I thought would be all "Woe is me." Ryan had to work that night, my dad had some doctor-y thing he couldn't get out of, so I planned to have a mellow dinner with my mom and sister. Ryan sent me The Most Amazing Flowers Ever at work, which helped. And then I went to meet Erica and my mom for dinner, and Erica was sitting at a table for...12? I was like, "Why did they put you here?" She

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1131336436034452132005-11-06T22:03:00.000-06:002005-11-06T22:08:32.416-06:00

Me, with Applejack, the non-lap dog, on my lap, and Harry, the lap dog, off to the side. (Applejack belongs to the lovely Kelly Sue.)

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1131336212515627962005-11-06T22:00:00.000-06:002005-11-06T22:03:32.516-06:00

Last night I had a dream that Larry David was my personal trainer. And it wasn't one of those we-went-to-my-house-but-I-lived-inside-my-high-school switches either. He was Larry David, and he was my personal trainer. At one point, he was telling me about how he'd signed some endorsement deal with Adidas, and I was like, "But Larry, you only wear New Balance." His response? "Yeah, but for seven

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1131335931888928452005-11-06T21:41:00.000-06:002005-11-06T22:00:20.086-06:00

So one day I'm sweating at Wilco and now I'm freezing my ass off. I've been in Harveyville, Kansas knitting up a storm with a bunch of girls who know this one.(Note the photo of me looking cheery here.)My mom I went to Detroit to walk a half-marathon. Lesson learned in the cold? Next time, we run. (It was so cold!)Ryan: Brownie of the year. Two totally awesome concerts I've seen in the past week:

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1127411866702319152005-09-22T12:50:00.000-05:002005-09-22T12:59:11.433-05:00

I admire the people who come to shows and bring signs. I didn't get a picture, but there was a duo holding a set that read "Rock 'n' Roll" and "Lives." Rad. We hit Sparky's for some ice cream and headed back home.(It looks like Erica's eating something in this photo, I know, but she's not. It's just the shadow from my camera.)

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1127411187120017542005-09-22T12:34:00.000-05:002005-09-22T12:49:07.016-05:00

They'd blocked off Ninth Street for the show, and on the second floor of one of the buildings, you could barely make out the band before they came outside and onstage. You could also see teeny Tweedy, one of Jeff's sons. During the show, he watched from the windows with his mom, sometimes bobbing his head along. I started wondering what it must be like to be married to the band. Do you get sick

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1127410266840983022005-09-22T12:17:00.000-05:002005-09-22T12:31:06.846-05:00

Check it out: Erica got a cute haircut.We journeyed to Columbia last night for Wilco's street party show to celebrate The Blue Note's anniversary. Despite our shared love of Wilco, this was the first time either of us had seen them. We'll blame that on once living in cities where Wilco shows sold out in a matter of minutes. This show sold out in hours, I think, but tickets were $15 (feel free to

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125092780099096372005-09-09T14:35:00.000-05:002005-09-09T14:36:15.703-05:00

After deciding not to go to Brian Wilson because it was too damn expensive, I managed to score a pair of tickets from work. Ryan and I went a few Thursdays ago, after several days of rain threatened to soak us to the bone at the outdoor venue. During a week that felt like everyone and everything was out to get me, nature, thankfully, cooperated. I fretted that the evening would be a little too '

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1126293373610904022005-09-09T14:12:00.000-05:002005-09-09T14:16:13.620-05:00

I love everything he does, design-wise. I can't wait to see his new movie. There's an interview with him on Salon that I must post:On some level, I still have this mythology about independent directors -- you know, you have to suffer and starve for your art. But people like you and Spike Jonze and Jonathan Glazer and Michel Gondry are coming out of making TV commercials, getting paid serious

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125071931939627252005-08-26T10:58:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:58:51.946-05:00

harry art shot Originally uploaded by bravergirl. How our tiny happy dog can manage to look so soulful so often is a complete mystery to me. It's as if he's sitting there, thinking, "Life, so full of pain of suffering...oh look, they have filled my water bowl." Or maybe it's more like, "Food, food, food, I want food, too tired to get up, lady bring me food, food, food."We're going to have

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125071256469006902005-08-26T10:47:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:47:36.473-05:00

harry responds to a new animal in kind Originally uploaded by bravergirl. Harry wouldn't pose for a picture in the needlepoint jungle. Instead, he did what dogs do. Oh, Harry...(By the way, the other day, Hippo and Harry were on the couch, and Harry jumped off with Hippo in his little teeth and ran around with him -- not okay.)

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125071068931466902005-08-26T10:44:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:44:28.936-05:00

giraffe and hippo hang out in the wild Originally uploaded by bravergirl. "You will have fun in Boston," promised Hippo."But I will miss you so much!" said Giraffe."Sometimes, best friends must be separated," explained Hippo.Giraffe understood.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125070979186682722005-08-26T10:42:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:42:59.193-05:00

closeup giraffe portrait Originally uploaded by bravergirl. I needlepointed this giraffe for Judy's 30th birthday after she tried to steal my beloved needlepoint hippo. The giraffe was sad to leave the wild, but I know Judy will give him a good home.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1125069977306088942005-08-26T10:26:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:26:17.363-05:00

harry is a supermodel Originally uploaded by bravergirl. I know there's something a little too Paris Hilton about putting clothes on your dog, but Harry seems to be quite fond of his little polo shirt. Is he not the most handsome little man?Ryan has suggested that our son (please don't comment on the weirdness of referring to our dog as our child; he is our child, okay?) needs to get a

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1124743071592804932005-08-22T15:33:00.000-05:002005-08-22T15:37:51.593-05:00

1. Saturday morning, Ryan walked into our downstairs office to find the carpet totally soaked. We then moved all the furniture out so we could pull up the carpet and remove the quickly mildewing pad. Thanks, rain.2. Sunday morning, I'm half-awake and Harry, out of nowhere, pukes in my hair. 3. Then he hops off the bed to pee on the floor.4. My computer, after a few months of good behavior, has

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1124742375633390552005-08-22T15:24:00.000-05:002005-08-22T15:32:42.960-05:00

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I get the Other Music updates, and there’s some re-release, and the writer talks about how, yes, this collection of ´70s Ethiopian girl groups is really rare, so rare that their copy was almost stolen by DJ Shadow, but hey! It’s now on CD for the rest of us to enjoy. Every so often, I actually own the item that’s been re-released. So hurrah for the weirdos Olivia

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1124204150731741312005-08-16T09:48:00.000-05:002005-08-16T09:55:50.733-05:00

Despite the loss of Air America (why? why? why?), Sirius has again been rocking my world with the addition of Radio 1. Now geeksmack Anglophiles like myself can listen to the station that brought the world John Peel. Life is good. I should mention that all weekend was some sort of Ibiza fest, yet I could not turn off the crappy Ibiza anthem shows. Because I love British people that much. (Okay,

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1124203664264239352005-08-16T09:40:00.000-05:002005-08-16T09:47:44.273-05:00

Okay, who the hell gets a vanity plate reading "GRENDEL"? Who? The guy who passed me at the on ramp to 35 this morning, that's who. That pissed me off, but then thinking about it, the "Ooh, look at me and my Middle English public wankfest" just chapped my hide a little bit more, to the point that I felt I really had to pass this guy. Um, road rage much?My plan failed, due to 35's construction

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1123882843960872142005-08-15T14:37:00.000-05:002005-08-15T14:37:26.423-05:00

Dear Dr. Agatston:Okay, so I've been on the Beach for a week now. Listen, I realize you've tried to make this as easy as possible, and I can't really complain. Wednesday's cookie? A weak moment. Saturday's bridal shower? Hey, it was homemade Thai food, and it was really good. But Sunday? Oh, Sunday...another cookie. And today, well, all hell's broken loose. So here's my idea: Could we work

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1123859498897436462005-08-12T10:09:00.000-05:002005-08-12T10:11:38.903-05:00

Faithful Bravermundo! reader (and longtime homeboy) Matty enters the blogging fold with the OUP blog. Nerdy, yet strangely groovy.Day 5 of the Beach. Things are not quite so bleak.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1123709629925352562005-08-10T16:31:00.000-05:002005-08-10T16:33:49.926-05:00

The running isn't so bad--I think I'm getting stronger, and when it's not a gazillion degrees out (ie, when it's before 7am), I can see the appeal. But my knees are fighting me. Knees, why? I know you're pissed, but this isn't the thing to be mad about. C'mon now. Also? That cookie I just mentioned? Giving me a headache, making me feel like there is a rock in my stomach. Sugar kills.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1123709190530962042005-08-10T16:19:00.000-05:002005-08-10T16:26:30.533-05:00

Old ladies do too go out. Last week, I managed to make it to Tuesday's Le Tigre show, Wednesday's MC Chris spectacular (a birthday gift for Ryan; by far the nerdiest crowd I've ever seen, but MC Chris wins the "Best Banter" award for yelling, at one point, "Can I get a 'maybe'?" Ha.) Thursday was the music showcase--for once, a totally decent time in Westport. I was feeling so boisterous I agreed

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1123708548390513262005-08-10T16:12:00.000-05:002005-08-10T16:15:48.396-05:00

I thought I deserved a pat on the back this morning after managing to eat a South Beach-friendly meal out (my first voyage into a restaurant). "You are so awesome!" I thought. I just caved, though, and ate a cookie. It was a really good cookie, but still. Has my Phase 1 Cleanse-your-body period been ruined forever? Oy. These are the things one worries about on the Beach. And it's only Day 3. This

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1122676047540307572005-07-29T17:21:00.000-05:002005-07-29T17:27:27.546-05:00

I disappear and then I'm all, "Hey?"In short:My sweet and amazing boyfriend is thirty today. Go on over to his site and say hi.I've taken up running. Why? Because it's only the hottest summer I can recall and I really like to sweat. I’m willing to give post-Monster REM another chance. Have I procured any of their post-Monster work? No. But it took me a long time to get to this point.Our air

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1120499946191860162005-07-04T12:59:00.000-05:002005-07-04T12:59:06.230-05:00

bad-ass ladyfinger cake Originally uploaded by bravergirl. Ryan made some rad ribs Saturday for our Scott Party (two Scotts and my sister). I rocked out with this Mexican chocolate icebox cake. It was so good! We also made watermelon and feta salad, a tomato and olive salad, white bean pesto dip and these awesome grilled tofu lettuce wraps. Yum.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1120072293759167332005-06-29T13:58:00.000-05:002005-06-29T14:11:33.796-05:00

It's very hard to be all detachment and all materialistic simultaneously, but could someone tell me what the hell I was thinking when I left my amazing Philip Treacy hat in New York because I couldn't figure out how to transport it? Or what crack rock I was smoking when I left behind those navy blue vintage platform sandals with the perforated leather straps? (Hello, those were the only vintage

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1120063780147285372005-06-29T11:35:00.000-05:002005-06-29T11:49:40.176-05:00

From climbing up and down off of my high horse, of course. Ryan reminded me yesterday that I'd made some vow to post weekly ("It's Bravermundo! Tuesday," he said) and I promptly forgot about it. But then, this morning, eating my yogurt and granola with Harry at my feet, I got the itch. I was reading the fat nonfiction anthology, Scoot Over, Skinny, and I read recovering anorexic Lori Gottlieb's

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1119390007056922872005-06-21T16:30:00.000-05:002005-06-21T16:40:18.310-05:00

I have Rhino's Beg Scream & Shout: The Big Ol' Box of '60s Soul and love it. I didn't think much of this until my music-wise coworker informed me that it's now out of print and fetching hefty sums on ye olde ebay. I'm watching one auction that's already up to $158. Dang. Unfortunately, I'm way too in love with the packaging of this set to part with it anytime soon.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1118768106328618772005-06-14T11:43:00.000-05:002005-06-14T11:55:06.336-05:00

Now that Ryan and I finally have Seasons 1 and 2 of NewsRadio on DVD, Mike reminds me of another much-loved show I can now own: The Adventures of Pete and Pete. There's a great article about the show's proto-indie-ness over here with more Mike love. (And I mean Mike love, not Mike Love.)

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1118767172711789222005-06-14T11:25:00.000-05:002005-06-14T11:39:32.730-05:00

Last night, Erica and I went out to see Spoon (btw, I had to sacrifice the Aloha/Ted Leo/Oranges Band show Saturday night so as to to save up my dwindling energy supply--so sad). A really weird thing happened when they played "The Way We Get By." Everyone at the Granada--and it was a sold-out show--sang along as if it was the song that defined our generation. I'm all for singing along, for

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1118338956339780702005-06-09T12:39:00.000-05:002005-06-09T12:42:47.586-05:00

And then I'll shut up. But Cathy Horyn wrote an interesting piece in today's Times about working in fashion and being fat. And then she lost weight. I'm not a huge fan of her fashion criticism, but of all the pieces that she's written, one for Bazaar about her mother and weight and fashion has always stuck with me. I wonder what else she has to say when not sitting in the front row.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1118338691077661122005-06-09T12:26:00.000-05:002005-06-09T12:39:04.806-05:00

I picked up the new SM after hearing a few decent songs on Sirius' Left of Center. They were not as prog, not as not-trying-to-be-Pavement as the first two solo efforts. And it's pretty good. I've been hearing a lot of Mike Doughty's new album on Left of Center, too, and I'm really starting to love him. I always liked Soul Coughing (and they were one of the few non-indie-sounding bands that all

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1118337970710777812005-06-09T11:56:00.000-05:002005-06-09T12:26:10.750-05:00

Here's an idea for Google: don't give me access to finding out information about people who drive me crazy (or, in this circumstance, have driven me crazy). I don't need to know what they're up to, who they're writing for, or, fuck, that they now have a stupidly named blog in which not only do they provide you with all these recently written articles, but also the capacity to make your blood boil

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1117125807871250092005-05-26T11:33:00.000-05:002005-05-26T11:44:43.546-05:00

Better Blogger Boyfriend (whew!) Ryan done good and posted our New York trip photos. He's nice like that. Our city trip was way too short, but how fantastic was it to see all of my incredibly good-looking and too-smart friends at one table? Beyond words, I tell you. I also got to meet a new baby, Ella, the product of my friends Amanda and Patrick (she's amazing!) Adi and I shopped responsibly,

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1117125158105010322005-05-26T11:23:00.000-05:002005-05-26T11:32:38.113-05:00

So it's been almost a month and I have a lot to say, but first, a word from lovely Columbia, who keep sending me requests such as this gem: The Columbia College Board of Visitors will match every $1 young alumni send in to support this year's unrestricted Annual Fund with $2 of their own! For example, if you send a gift of $100, they will send in an additional $200, for $500 they will send an

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114723520949845152005-04-28T16:23:00.000-05:002005-04-28T16:25:20.950-05:00

Oops, forgot to give LM a little shout-out for getting a book deal! Yay!Also, a little shout-out for myself: I got up at 5:30am this morning (thanks to my supportive boyfriend) and went to a 6:15am yoga class. I'm yawning now, but it was worth it.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114723382751250232005-04-28T15:33:00.000-05:002005-04-28T16:23:02.753-05:00

One of the hardest parts of starting a new job is making new jobfriends. Oh, life is hard in a new office without jobfriends. Back in the crazy days of My First Job (aka Working at a Bridal Mag Is a Good Way to Scare Off Potential Dates), we were a pretty close-knit bunch. When Lisa Marie arrived, I thought she was, at first, a bit kooky because all our EIC had told us was that she was really

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114720147271089412005-04-28T15:11:00.000-05:002005-04-28T15:29:07.273-05:00

Because I'm feeling all I-love-trees due to plans next week to go camping (yes, you read that right), I felt it only right to post this utterly depressing article. Look, the Braverkids were not jocks, nor were we especially enthusiastic about many pursuits that didn't involve Barbies or books. But we managed to spend a good chunk of our childhoods frolicking outside. Isn't that part of being a

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114718527323837762005-04-28T14:53:00.000-05:002005-04-28T15:02:07.323-05:00

No, not mine. Over at Gimpysoft, the virtual home of my better half, he's celebrating five years. Dude, that's older than some babies I know! I suppose I should go buy one of Fort Awesome's many computers a present now.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114614940530808762005-04-27T10:02:00.000-05:002005-04-27T10:15:40.533-05:00

Prepping for my upcoming New York visit has me back on the sea of indecision. I talked to one of my belovedest friends last week and just wept a few hours later. Hormones? I don't know. I think some of it is missing the way friendships were in my early twenties--when we stayed out all night smoking, drinking and dancing, then hit San Loco and ate greasy nachos. When everyone was every part of

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114120018808929212005-04-21T16:26:00.000-05:002005-04-21T22:06:12.010-05:00

Setting up my freaking del.icio.us page was becoming an exercise in frustration (I'll spare you the wannabe nerd ramblings), due in part to my million and a half bookmarks. It's almost like thumbing through the pages of your ancient journal, coming across people and places that you thought you'd need someday and then turning up dead pages right and left, then discovering that Momus of all people

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1114022670125721112005-04-20T13:28:00.000-05:002005-04-21T22:05:34.456-05:00

There was a time when I would've read the first few lines of Bill Cunningham muse Marilyn Kirschner's "discovery" of Nine West and snorted in agreement. People would buy shoes for under $100? "Quelle horreur!" is probably what I would've said, but hell, you move to the middle of America and you realize 100 clams is a heckuva lot of money. For shoes--or anything else for that matter. Does that

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1113600295808937442005-04-15T15:44:00.000-05:002005-04-15T16:24:55.810-05:00

Harry's in love with doggie daycare. I am in love with doggie daycare. Harry comes home so mellow! (I wonder if this is the guilt that parents feel after putting their hyper kids on Ritalin?) This morning I opened the door to the garage and he ran into my car, sat there waiting for me, and then started barking when I went inside to grab my keys. When we walked in to daycare, he lept out of my

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1113597839787131872005-04-15T15:43:00.000-05:002005-04-15T15:43:59.786-05:00

Oh, tee hee. Boris writes about his erstwhile obsession with Tori Amos. Let's just say I was there during the nascent stages of that phase, and hoo boy.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1113422824241135592005-04-13T14:57:00.000-05:002005-04-13T15:07:04.246-05:00

So I'm gainfully employed again. And not by someone who is related to me. It's all very exciting, but that first week of work is so freaking weird. You don't have much to do, but everyone around you is very important and industrious and working on late-breaking stories, and you, well, you're trying to set up your del.icio.us page and look busy. Also, late last week I went into job fashion crisis

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1112558892482171992005-04-03T15:08:00.000-05:002005-04-03T15:08:12.483-05:00

conepup Originally uploaded by bravergirl. After an exciting weekend away, Harry came back to an unpleasant surprise: neutering. He seems to have a compulsive licking problem, so the vet gave him the cone so as to not disturb his stitches. On our way home, we stopped for Thai food and a little girl in the parking lot pointed at Harry and said, "Daddy, why does that dog have a cone on his

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1112558673369709372005-04-03T15:04:00.000-05:002005-04-03T15:04:33.370-05:00

me and festive harry Originally uploaded by bravergirl. Nothing says Easter like a dog in an Easter bandanna! Harry had a big trip to the groomer in anticipation of his voyage to Ryan's parent's house for Easter. As some sort of Holiday promotion, he was washed with marshmallow-scented shampoo. He smelled great for maybe 24 hours. Then it was back to puppy smell. Which isn't so bad. Just

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1112558432351065182005-04-03T15:00:00.000-05:002005-04-03T15:00:32.350-05:00

ryan with eggs Originally uploaded by bravergirl. The theme of Easter weekend was pretty much "Eat Everything in Sight Until You Are Convinced That You Will Die." Fun! Note the pile of jelly beans and assorted treats next to the eggs. I think I ate all of that in one sitting. You think I'm kidding.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1112558249017101962005-04-03T14:57:00.000-05:002005-04-03T14:57:29.016-05:00

me and jason Originally uploaded by bravergirl. The score bunny, aka Jason posed for a pre-Easter photo with me at the last Roller Warriors game. Dig his Unabomber vibe!

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1111183695812365852005-03-18T16:00:00.000-06:002005-03-18T16:08:15.813-06:00

I've discovered Backspin, the old-school rap station. Kurtis Blow hosts one of the shows and I'm pretty much ready to rock the shell-toes every time I flip through stations and land here.Also found: they've been playing a lot of the new Brendan Benson single (new album next week, yay!) and "Sunny Road" by Emiliana Torrini, which I completely fell in love with the first time I heard it. She sang "

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1111182847663637962005-03-18T15:34:00.000-06:002005-03-18T15:59:43.056-06:00

I like the Kings of Convenience on record just fine, but they never blew me away until I heard Versus, their remix album. It's just like me to need excessive production to appreciate the minimalism, but after that I was hooked. Erik and I saw them play a lovely show at Angel Orensanz Foundation many moons ago, so I had to see them when they rolled into the Bottleneck a few nights ago. Firstly,

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1110517393597998932005-03-10T22:51:00.000-06:002005-03-10T23:03:13.600-06:00

In a world of fresh unemployment, frequent migraines, a sore neck and weird hair, it is time to give thanks that Murray's will reopen next week after a few too many months of the "Gone Fishing" sign hung in the window. Friday, March 18: I will love you. Other bright spots: Padmini has sent pictures of her teensy Indian grandbaby. Isaac Mizrahi has a home line at Target (earlier tonight, while on

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1110228589332034562005-03-07T14:23:00.000-06:002005-03-07T14:49:49.336-06:00

Faithful reader Matty points out that I am very close to becoming a pet blogger (actually, I think he flat out called me one), so let's discuss another one of my favorite topics, shall we? You know it's music of the early and mid-'80s up through the mid-'90s, natch!So I got a new car last week (love it) and one of the many perks of new car (who, sadly, remains nameless right now) is that it came

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1109557641595589592005-02-27T20:27:00.000-06:002005-02-27T20:29:38.886-06:00

Le chien and le moi Seriously, I'm like the slowest blogger ever, but check this out. It's Harry and me, being arty (Yeah, I know, all you tweens with LJ's, you've been taking photos like this and posting them to your blogs since you were seven or whatever, but I don't need your sass right now. Also, please get off my lawn. Unless you're going to pick up the dog poop that I keep forgetting

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1109557086879596432005-02-27T20:18:00.000-06:002005-02-27T20:23:22.420-06:00

Um, Harry is!

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1109555467215503802005-02-27T19:31:00.000-06:002005-02-27T20:05:23.163-06:00

I love Matthew Sweet, but I always forget about him. I picked up his Japan-fan release last week and I'm totally in love again. Dig the Nara cover art!Speaking of long-lost friends, the ever-rad Gail (I miss you!) put a new chickfactor online recently. It's full of all the good stuff, as usual, and if you dig extra-deep, you'll find my answers to some of her poll questions. I finished The Secret

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1109553887870006602005-02-27T19:09:00.000-06:002005-02-27T19:54:01.183-06:00

Yes, I post ferociously when I have a deadline breathing down my neck (like, um, now) so I thought I'd take a chance to point you to some of my recent discoveries on the interweb. Firstly, a hearty hurrah to all the great sites out there about shopping and shoes (also, the reason for the title of this post: Duh, Bex, duh): I heart you all! Manolo's Shoe Blog is basically the Best Blog Ever, while

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1108509890178074372005-02-15T16:56:00.000-06:002005-02-15T17:25:11.613-06:00

If you're in a band, I encourage you to add in a light show to your live act. I know it's a little late-'70s, but trust me. Ryan took me to Sound Tribe Sector Nine last week and I was quite taken with them. And their light show. It made the whole dreadlocked crowd thing go down a little easier. The next evening, I braved snow for Interpol and it brought me back to a show of theirs I caught before

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1106259478594409752005-01-20T16:17:00.000-06:002005-01-20T16:23:37.756-06:00

He is so snuggly and good-natured and fun, but this barking-once-he's-in-the-crate thing is wearing us out. And makes us feel like child abusers. If less than a week's worth of separation anxiety is tearing us up, what the hell would we do with kids? Speaking of small folk, Leela, my three-year-old homegirl, laughed when I told her that Harry was, in fact, hairy. I said that we'd considered

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1106003530820151082005-01-17T16:52:00.000-06:002005-01-17T17:18:24.746-06:00

Before I get caught up in Puppy Hysteria, a bit more: When we were in Columbia for New Year's, we stopped for ice cream at Sparky's Homemade Ice Cream, this joint that boasts Ghiradelli chocolate chunks, organic vanilla and no artificial flavors or colors. (I found out about them over at Giant Robot, weirdly.) Not Murray's good, but still pretty dang good. Also ate the Best Hash Browns Ever at

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1106001313843793312005-01-17T16:33:00.000-06:002005-01-17T16:35:13.843-06:00

Harry is here! He is so cute! I love puppies! I'll post a picture soon! Once he stops licking himself long enough to look at me! I love Harry!

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1105458299139192092005-01-11T09:32:00.000-06:002005-01-11T09:44:59.140-06:00

A little bit of information has trickled in about Chennai and the safety of the people I know there. The mandiram is okay, and I was wondering about Padmini and her family, and I was avoiding emailing her, not because I didn't want to, but because the thought of a response being anything other than "We're all okay" was terrifying. I know that sounds like a hide-under-a-rock sort of approach. I

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1105017382019297032005-01-11T09:29:00.000-06:002005-01-11T09:53:38.616-06:00

I'm a wee bit overdue on the 2004 wrap-up. Here's the list of musical experiences that made my year: A new Mascott album! I worried that recording would somehow alter the quality of these gorgeous songs, but this production, full and luscious, does them justice.The Wrens. How did I make it this far without hearing them before? No matter. If the world seeks a concept album about post-college

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1103749813523949432004-12-22T14:48:00.000-06:002004-12-22T15:14:37.563-06:00

Aw, yeah: my piece on the Men of Playgirl can be read on the web. The aforelinked sponsored a blog party last week. Ryan wears the blog pants in our family, so I just introduced myself as his gf, but then eventually 'fessed up to a rarely updated blog of my own, because, well, I wanted the cool kids to like me. Lots of interesting local blogs to read. Sorta exciting, no? Side note: Ryan got me

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1103152899721115422004-12-15T17:15:00.000-06:002004-12-15T17:21:39.720-06:00

I often say that the only thing worse than a PT Cruiser is a PT Cruiser with a vanity plate ("PCCRUZN," "MYCRUZR" etc.) but yesterday I saw something that beats them both: a stretch PT Cruiser. I wish I were lying. Today on the way home, I was stopped at a light next to a cobalt blue RAV4 with the license plate "VIJAY." Longtime readers may remember Vijay, my first driver in India. Not that I

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1103152549618822622004-12-15T17:08:00.000-06:002004-12-15T17:15:49.620-06:00

How cute is Ryan? Soooo cute. Here, a short list: 1. He's posted a review of last night's meal. 2. He refers to Stephen Malkmus as "Johnny Pavement" (ie, "I know you'd leave me for Johnny Pavement.") 3. The other night, I felt something down at the foot of the bed. He reached down for it, found it was a t-shirt, then clutched it to his chest and said, "Shirt!" That's cute. 4. In the morning he

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1103120925932288062004-12-15T08:18:00.000-06:002004-12-15T08:28:45.933-06:00

Hello, 29! Yesterday was pretty much perfection. Ryan and I went to 1924 Main for my birthday dinner, and it was So Fantastic. Lovely atmosphere, superb food. I was going to run away with the gingersnap ice cream that accompanied my cranberry and walnut tart, but our waiter brought me a glass of port that I could drink for the rest of my life, no question.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1102958831781442592004-12-13T11:24:00.000-06:002004-12-13T11:27:20.126-06:00

Um, I interviewed one of the Men of Playgirl (the male revue) last week. Elaborating really wouldn't do the experience justice, but I'll definitely link once it's up.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1102958615694448162004-12-13T11:19:00.000-06:002004-12-13T11:23:35.693-06:00

Ryan and I haven't run into any epic problems combining our respective belongings, thank god, but we'd also left the long and painful task of unpacking my CD collection until deciding to tackle it a few weekends ago. Ryan laughed when his Dave Matthews CDs touched Death Cab for Cutie, but thankfully Miles Davis interceded and kept the peace. Who needs duplicate Tortoise and Beck stuff?

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1102958373344575772004-12-13T11:12:00.000-06:002004-12-13T11:19:33.346-06:00

I know you're not supposed to start referring to your early onset senility and inability to stay up past sunset until you're like over the hill (and, no, 30 doesn't count), but I was only able to see our friends In the Pines last week after getting 15 hours of sleep the night before. (No, I don't usually sleep that much; I had this insane migraine that knocked me out at 5pm and then I was pretty

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1101679919397972462004-11-28T16:03:00.000-06:002004-11-28T16:11:59.396-06:00

Ryan and I were put on cranberry duty for this year's "widows and orphans" thanksgiving, hosted by my dad's friend Lee. I made some adjustments to the recipe and it was amazingly good. Even Lee said afterwards that no one ever eats the cranberries, and our dish was licked dry. (Well, it wasn't licked, but I'm sure someone tried). Anyway, in the spirit of giving and all that, here's the recipe for

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1101679424817122252004-11-28T15:51:00.000-06:002004-11-28T16:14:14.916-06:00

Boris gets lit bloggers upset on everyone's favorite topic: The National Book Awards. I didn't read the books written by any of this year's nominees (quite honestly, all I seem to read these days centers on pilates, yoga or anatomy) but I did attend the awards as Boris' guest in 2001 (aka "The Year Franzen Broke") and acted like a complete and total doof when JF squeezed by us to hit the paté. To

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1101678417624246752004-11-28T15:24:00.000-06:002004-11-28T15:46:57.626-06:00

I swore off sulfates (read: detergent) in my hair products and shower gel a while ago, which wasn't all that hard, and most of the products available at Whole Foods fit the bill for a less chemical cleansing experience. (I'm especially fond of most of the Avalon stuff; surprisingly, Aveda, for all of their save-the-planet rhetoric, still jams a bunch of chemicals in their products). But here's

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1100579482336793322004-11-15T22:14:00.000-06:002004-11-15T22:34:35.653-06:00

Right before Labor Day weekend, the contents of my storage locker arrived. Oh man. Part of me was like, "Oh, my sweet babies" as I unpacked head vases and forgotten bags and all of my music; the other part of me was like, "I am moving to the mountains and getting rid of everything." Zines, old mix tapes, back issues of Bust that led me to a crisis with the recycling bin that started with "Will

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1100578454713728742004-11-15T22:05:00.000-06:002004-11-15T22:14:14.713-06:00

I really really wanted to post after the election, but I've been a busy bumblebee and I've been keeping some sort of half-assed blog in my notepad, collecting the thoughts and then I find them several weeks later and I think, "Oh shit, this happened like two weeks ago" and I don't post and well, it's a vicious cycle. So yeah. Here's a pretty bitchin' summary that I didn't have to write.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1094698916317449022004-09-08T21:45:00.000-05:002004-09-08T22:03:58.280-05:00

Garden State deserves my adoration for two huge reasons: A blankie. The Shins. Zach Braff. Oh, that's three. I found an old photo of me (circa '80? '81?) in which I am wearing a pair of kelly green pants. I must have a pair of kelly green pants. Must. I have been in love with Maggie Cheung for a while, but her eyeliner in Hero? Hello, amazing. Home Depot with a doorman? So there.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1094697928180060562004-09-08T21:23:00.000-05:002004-09-08T21:45:28.180-05:00

I love birthdays. Despite having dropped the ball on, um, pretty much everyone's birthday this summer (except you, Ryan, so feel special), I get really mad if anyone forgets my birthday. Cake, flowers, balloons, a built-in excuse to do, say or buy just about anything I want: all these things rock. So you can imagine how much like an assass (an aside: I thought this was something Judy and I came

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1093296179209088552004-08-23T15:36:00.000-05:002004-08-23T16:23:22.690-05:00

There's nothing like taking a trip through the passageway that connects your office building to the hospital and discovering piles of towels to mop up the mess created by said passageway's leaky skylights. Um, risk management, people! The whole reason for this journey was to procure some chocolately snacks (this, despite already ingesting more than my fair share of both sweet and savory items

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1092236180672034202004-08-11T09:20:00.000-05:002004-08-11T09:56:20.673-05:00

Calvin Klein's streamlined, minimalist, monochromatic thing is so not me, but I appreciate what the man's done in the history of American fashion regardless. Back in my editrix days, I dealt with his PR lackeys on occasion, and if you ever want to feel ungroomed and completely out of style, I urge you to call them up some time. They're all like some John Pawson version of the Stepford Wives,

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091745071741093472004-08-05T17:05:00.000-05:002004-08-05T17:32:38.780-05:00

Lucky girl that I am, I somehow made it onto Mr. METY's email list, so I get these hella long-winded missives from him every once in a while that range from ruminations on existence to poems in honor of Buddha's birthday. Today's email (titled "Insight into our madness") ended on this chipper note: There is only one tragedy in this world...it is the reason that the world goes on as it does: and

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091743368727090032004-08-05T16:45:00.000-05:002004-08-05T17:02:48.726-05:00

Rad Brian and his sweet bf are busy moving to the Starbucks-free wilds of New Hampshire, so imagine my delight at discovering a mention of us, back in the day, seeing Ash. Yes, Ash. I wish I had a copy of "Kung Fu" (it's back in the storage locker we refer to as My Second Home) so instead I'm making do with singing the Ohohohohohohoh! chorus to myself. (If you have no idea what I'm talking

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091742221625060382004-08-05T16:02:00.000-05:002004-08-05T16:43:41.626-05:00

The great thing about quitting smoking while afflicted with a sicky sore throat? The desire for a cigarette is so minimal that the nicotine withdrawal you've become accustomed to with each quitting phase doesn't faze you at all. Of course, I find myself rubbing the patch throughout the day as if it's somehow transmitting an extra kick of nicotine to my system. I realize it's probably not

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091650512668480702004-08-04T15:09:00.000-05:002004-08-04T15:21:36.630-05:00

Not that I thought that I was the only one, but this one tied the knot in last week's "Vows." (While we're on the topic of my name, I've been reading Haven Kimmel's The Solace of Leaving Early solely because the protagonist's name is Langston Braverman. There are worse reasons to read a book.)

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091650001312380652004-08-04T15:04:00.000-05:002004-08-04T15:08:10.786-05:00

The Show-Me State (aka Where I Currently Live) votes to amend the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage. The horror is all mine.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1091632200120921812004-08-04T10:07:00.000-05:002004-08-04T10:13:36.196-05:00

Saturday night, Sonic Youth played at The Blue Note (was the last show I saw there actually Yo La Tengo?) so Erica and Ryan and I headed out to Columbia. I haven't seen SY in years (well, unless you count me tailing Kim Gordon along Houston Street as she toted a Marc Jacobs shopping bag a few years back) so I was pretty psyched. About 45 minutes into the set, a few songs after "Sister" (oh sweet

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1089642901438913092004-07-12T09:23:00.000-05:002004-07-12T09:35:01.436-05:00

That's one of the ads for Eclipse gum currently on the sides of Chicago buses. I love it! So, where else have I been? Avoiding packing by driving to Chicago to move Little Vlad back home for the summer. Some findings from the road: rest stops in Iowa have wireless access; I ate at a Country Kitchen that included these two bumper sticker gems on two different cars: "What Would Dr. Laura Say?" and

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1089642192957063312004-07-12T09:18:00.000-05:002004-07-12T09:23:12.956-05:00

Another post I should've made last month: Boris, stand-up fella that he is, escorted me to a wedding in charming Cape Cod, where we ate lobster rolls and saw the Kennedy compound (about which I was very dorkily excited) and walked on the beach and rocked the dancefloor like the fools we are. Check out his Jonathan Ames piece in last week's New York mag. He's a genius! (Boris, I mean, not

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1089641842359231512004-07-12T09:07:00.000-05:002004-07-12T09:17:22.360-05:00

Nothing, as far as I'm concerned, but I've been meaning to post about last month's Thomas Frank reading for a while, and you know how time slips away from me. When did monthly posting become such a struggle? That's neither here nor there, but Thomas Frank is a fellow Shawnee Mission East alum (Go Lancers!) and managed to draw one of the more passionate crowds I've seen at a Rainy Day Books event.

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1086734122591923562004-06-08T17:28:00.000-05:002004-06-08T17:35:22.590-05:00

Erica and I are forever talking about how great it would be if someone would pimpify the Goldifox, and we've found what we want: driving downtown one day, an old white boat of a car was next to us, with gold rims, and every square inch was covered in the Louis Vuitton logo. Could there be anything better? Sadly, neither of us had our cameras. We heard Mascott at our local punk-rock Starbucks,

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1086733689914017112004-06-08T17:15:00.000-05:002004-06-08T17:28:09.913-05:00

For Mother's Day weekend, the Momlet and I drove down to Fayetteville, Arkansas to see Desikachar's son, Kausthub, who was doing a workshop on cakras and nadis. India came rushing back to me: there was a Mr. METY type (Sanskrit showoff!), and Todd, one of the yoga groupies who I met at KYM, was traveling with Kausthub as his, well, I don't know, facilitator? A ringer for the GWLE kept saying

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1086732904855138332004-06-08T17:11:00.000-05:002004-06-08T17:15:04.856-05:00

A few crappy weeks in a row and I lost my mojo. Bigtime. Erica offered me reassurance with "I have a smoking room and the new British Elle and Vogue," which, when it comes to cheering me up, does the trick, but doesn't deal with the nagging issues. And I fell down the stairs and sprained my wrist, and had several Big Conversations that only resulted in making me alternate between sad and angry. I

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1083254613559665642004-04-29T10:57:00.000-05:002004-04-29T11:08:05.466-05:00

Okay, it's a much longer story than you or I really have time for, but something struck me while reading a review of Lucinda Rosenfeld's latest, Why She Went Home. (I would link to the Times review, but I think it's from more than a few weeks ago, and I've been carrying around this torn-out paragraph since:) In the movies, the malaise-stricken can get by on little more than a colorful setting

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1081458558220921472004-04-08T16:09:00.000-05:002004-04-08T16:12:03.610-05:00

Who wants to buy me a Kate Spade Barbie?

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1081456305052079372004-04-08T15:31:00.000-05:002004-04-08T16:14:51.966-05:00

I can't seem to get the hang of this whole updating thing. But here I go again with an attempt. (By the way, thanks to Matty for wondering where I am). Firstly, the ever-rad Kendall has a blog of her very own now. Go, check it out! Now, where were we? Oh yes...Judy graced KC with her presence, which meant she and I did a lot of driving and talking and singing camp songs at the top of our lungs

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1077994951270433322004-02-28T12:49:00.000-06:002004-02-28T13:04:36.640-06:00

For the past week or so, I've been jonesing for India like crazy. I think it all started when Judy and I were talking about signs and such, and I was driving behind a car that had a license plate that had the universal disabled symbol--stick figure in a wheelchair--and the rest of the plate was "2 KYM" and I was like, "Oh! It's a sign! GO TO KYM!" and then I thought, "Hm, where would this money

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1077994117066040642004-02-28T12:37:00.000-06:002004-02-28T13:06:11.216-06:00

Swears. It's just that I just read two pretty great books: The Mammoth Cheese and The Time of Our Singing (actually, this is beyond great, it's amazing), and I feel a reading hangover. Like whatever I read next won't be as good, so why bother? (Actually, back when I drank, that never kept me from drinking again, so maybe this isn't a great metaphor). I do have the newest Optic Nerve and somehow

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1077993391566020762004-02-28T11:49:00.000-06:002004-02-28T13:10:06.186-06:00

I went on a bit of an insound binge, and thus far, I can happily recommend the long-awaited Mascott album as well as The Wrens and Jason Collett. Should you come into a large sum of money and decide that you'd like to take me on a wee trip, may I suggest that we follow my boyfriend Joe Pernice and local faves The Belles around Europe? Just a thought. When Erica was here a few weekends ago, we

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5732161.post-1077989481924390362004-02-28T11:19:00.000-06:002004-02-28T11:33:26.826-06:00

Don't be offended if you never got a Valentine's Day card from me; I, true to form, never got around to making any. Easter cards seem like an attainable goal these days, but what does a half-Jew have to say on Easter? Oh wait, I know! I'll send Happy Passover/Easter cards, so you can get a peek at what my childhood was like. "Why is this night different from all other nights...Hey, where's my

Rebeccanoreply@blogger.com