Category — personal life

We’re moving. After nearly 10 yrs in one house. We weren’t necessarily planning to do this. I have been wanting to move for quite some time. We live in a suburb and I’m just not a suburb type person. So we’d been looking casually for maybe 3 years. (!!)

I was hoping for something more citified. A loft perhaps. Situated in a place that had a sense of community. Bohemian-y. Nothing trendy or glam.

Everything we looked at was either too small, too expensive, or too cheesy. Then I stumbled upon this 2200 sq ft loft in our price range in a converted factory building that had once been restricted to artists. The building has its own gallery and seems to still have a large population of painters and photographers. There are 155 units in two buildings with a beautiful courtyard in between. Our unit opens on to the courtyard and is situated in a single-story ell–so there is no unit above and there are giant skylights.

We made an offer. They said yes. We said, wha?! There had been no expectation they would accept it but they did and here we go.

Big renovation plans: taking down walls, new kitchen, floors, etc.

Big money terrors.

Big, rough marital terrain.

Bring it on.

Pictures here.

Makes me inordinately happy. Will return to posting more deeply meaningful things soon… Once I get that new rug…

Office redecoration underway. This weekend, I repainted. Should be done by tonight. To egg me on, Duncan cooked an amazing dinner last night: corn, tomato, parsley salad &  scallops in coconut milk with pineapple, scallions, and red chiles. For dessert, caramelized bananas. Unbelievable.

How was my week? I’ll tell you how my week was. Look at my office. Look at it!! Does this look like the space of a super on top of things person??

Starting to paint and redecorate office this weekend. Very exciting. Going with Benjamin Moore “Clear Skies.” Cheers to the whole concept of clear skies.

I have so much faith in change to reinvigorate and inspire. I really do. This is a chance to start fresh in all things work-related. Which is basically almost everything.

Been away for 2 weeks and looking forward to getting back to blogging (more). Book tour is actually starting to come together. Have an interview today with Body & Soul for possible Jan/Feb piece about the new book. Going to give 3 talks pre-publication in Austin (Oct 16), San Francisco (Oct 20), and Boulder (Oct 22).  I’m getting excited and nervous.

But first, some humor. The Kanye West apology generator is pretty awesome.

And some pics from vacation in Maine! Which was heavenly.

Harbor near the house

Acadia State Park

Young Duncan on porch

Hike up to top of Blue Hill

Evening light

Dinner table

The Duncans

With completely redoing my office. It’s a small room and it’s driving me crazy. I’m pining for elegance, order, and total upliftedness.

Here is what I have:

Here is what I long for:

This would be OK too:

Or this:

Nothing wrong with this:

This is how fun…

My 6-year old neice explains advances in modern dentistry.

Don’t ask me why, but I was asked to spend an hour in a coffee shop and write something that made you feel that you were there with me, drinking an espresso. For some reason, it came to me to write it in a noir style…

Paris. It’s never Springtime in Paris. No matter what the songbooks tell you, it’s always rain, straight, with a rain chaser. Not exactly a place to warm the cockles of your heart, or the cockles of anything for that matter.

The first time I walked into Café Les Deux Magots on Boulevard Saint-Germain, I wasn’t sure whether to order a hot cup of joe or an exterminator. But I was on the run and it was cold outside baby, as cold as the sound of the backdoor slamming the morning after, so without looking at the menu or the garcon, I ordered a café, s’il vous plait, make it noir, and make it snappy.

I loosened my coat, brushed the rain from my shoulders, and took a look around. A couple of teenagers necking in the corner. Old men reading old newspapers. Some mutton dressed as lamb standing at the bar, looking hopeful. The hiss and moisture of espresso being made in the city of a thousand espressos. As I waited, I knew there was only one thing I had to avoid, although to do so was as impossible as it was for rice to avoid white: the letter in my pocket, the one I knew contained the big kiss-off.

I had my hand on the corner of the letter when le garcon delivered my drink. It came in a heavy porcelain demi-tasse cup in a tiny saucer with burgundy red piping around the rim. The lip of the cup was as thick as a plate. With one hand in my pocket still gripping the edge of the letter, I lifted the cup to my mouth with the other and realized that if dark had a smell, this would be it. If dark had a taste, this would be it: heavy, hot, bitter, strangely beautiful, and palatable only in the smallest amounts. This espresso had gravitas and bore as much resemblance to Starbucks as Joe Biden did to Sarah Palin in the Vice Presidential debate. I drank it down and signaled to garcon that I needed another one, this time make it a double.

I let the letter drop back into my pocket. I realized that no matter what it said, this pain was mine to bear and I’d better get used to the cold. At a time like this, in a place like this, there was only one thing on the menu: noir. Café noir.