Frost

It's amazing. I can't stop staring at it and watching it glitter and crunching it with my toe.

This weekend has been good to me (besides the waking up in the afternoon, which infuriates me but I continue to do).

Yesterday I headed over to a book launch party for one of our cookbooks, Flying Apron's Gluten-Free & Vegan Baking Book. The Flying Apron Bakery is an adorable bakery in the Fremont neighborhood. Owner (and author) Jennifer Katzinger is one of the sweetest and most genuine people I've ever met. Here she is signing books.

I met Andrea there (she isn't supposed to eat gluten, loves the bakery, and bakes all the time, so I'd told her about the baking book when when we were living together last summer).

Next door, we discovered an amazing used bookshop, complete with a winding staircase underground and two shop cats.

Afterward, I bought some coffee and strolled along the Fremont bridge.

Looking West

And East, to the Aurora Bridge.

I also discovered an amazing (and relatively cheap) antique shop that's only open a few days a week. Unfortunately they were closing when I got there, but now I know where I can find old matchbooks/photos/greeting cards/teapots/Playboys/tea towels/vintage clothing/typewriter ribbon.

My treasure-hunting continued at Goodwill, where I got two vintage skirts, a book, and a polaroid camera for $11. Now, my love affair with Goodwill is a whole other entry that you will read about soon.

But first I have to go to my book club and somehow figure out how to turn off the heat in my apartment. Finally turning it on was a huge mistake because now it refuses to go away and I hate the thought of the energy being wasted when I'm not here. Plus, it's 40 degrees outside and I'm sweating. That's not right.

Why do I even bother trying to be friends with guys anymore? Rich or poor, hot or ugly, every guy I meet seems to think he's God's gift to the world. I'm really flabbergasted at the audacity of some of the things that come out of their mouths. Everyone's an expert at EVERYTHING. Mothers, why are we raising our boys to think they can do no wrong? A healthy bit of self-esteem never hurt anyone, but this is ridiculous. I've always countered with some mild teasing, but not anymore. Done, done, done.

Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants.

Could I pull off Marilyn Monroe's glasses in "How to Marry a Millionaire"?

I must urge you to check out Maira Kalman's artsy blog for The Times. Her most recent entry is all about slow food and eating locally. She talks to Alice Waters and Michael Pollan, but it's her description of a Berkeley school class that makes me feel optimistic for the future. Her single entry made more of an impression on me than anything else I've seen or read on the matter. And most of all, it makes me happy.

Halloween Day 2009

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

George Eliot

I wanted to post photos of the apartment I've lived in for almost three months, but the cord that lets me upload photos from my camera to my computer has been missing for some time. Instead, here are some of my cell phone photos from the last few months. Way overdue.

Moving day:

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Bumpershoot:

And some randoms:

The last photo is a HUGE Lite Brite at Bumpershoot.

Also, please tell me something that will make me smile. I'm having a bit of a down night. Thanks.

When I tell you the story of the adorable boy riding a bicycle built for two back and forth down the rainblack street while I was walking home tonight, you hope that I'll say I called out, "Hey, you need someone else for that bike?" or even "Hi;" or that he pulled alongside the sidewalk and without a word I jumped on and we swerved off through the golden islands of streetlamp light. But what happened is this: I watched him ride past me four or five times as I walked, and stopped in the middle of the street to let him pass without a glance in my direction. I hope he has someone to ride that bike with him.