The Sign

New York Magazine has a great column, Nostalgia Fact-Check, that revisits old pop culture "classics" to see if they stand the test of time. I just read all of them in one go.

On Ace of Base's "The Sign":

Once we rocked out to it, in various living rooms and bedrooms and, yep, religiously affiliated coming-of-age ceremonies. And then, quickly, we developed pop-music consciousness, and felt shame. Years later, we got over our hang-ups, and started taking pop music seriously. And now we can all look back and realize, with a deep sigh of relief, that we appreciate “The Sign,” and are nostalgic for it, unironically.

So true. That song is dope. The rest of the album, eh. Like, "All That She Wants":

I distinctly recall thinking this song was about a woman who wanted “another baby,” as in a human baby, and was planning on stealing it from the narrator. It’s been at least a few years since I realized this is actually about a woman looking for a "baby," as in a romantic partner, but that ominous original interpretation hangs heavily.

Good god, me too.

I also recommend the bits on Ally McBeal (holy shit, I am now the age that she was when the show first started), Heathers, and Adam Sandler.

Gah.

Last weekend was a biggie! Dear dear Boof got married, and it was a fun, emotional, beautiful, bad ass wedding. I've just started to go through my photos, which is going to take forever, but here are just a few.

Bethy gets ready.

The wedding party bus to the ceremony.

Mike and I got gussied up.

Our bouquets were stunning.

And so were the bride and groom. Who did not seem the least bit nervous.

The bridesmaids didn't look too shabby either.

The setting was divine.

The beer that Mike and I brewed for the ceremony turned out to be delicious.

The bride got to enjoy it, as well as the braggit (a traditional wedding beer) that her brothers made.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Dogs are awesome

Check it here.

Tidbits

The Atlantic has some really impressive photos of the Tour de France. It's split into two photo essays - here and here - and shows the guts, glory, and gnarliness of the thing.

Also, this is the state of the web right now. Spot on.

Plank

Today is the day of noun/verb monosyllabic blog post titles.

So. However you feel about planking, I feel like you have to admit that this is the best.

So my theory on planking, if you will allow me to do some comedic analysis for a moment, is that the funniest part is NOT the ludicrous or awkward location, though it can put a plank over the top (see photo above - the pony is EATING!). The funniest part is the head, which must be in line with the spine and therefore force the face downwards in a position that otherwise doesn't really happen in life. Unless maybe you are dead and have undergone rigor mortis, in which case you're not in life anyway, so my theory holds.

The arms are funny too.

Dance

Dancing might be the best thing humans do. I wish I was a dancer. Coco, my elderly German BFF from Amanda and Joschi's wedding, thinks I should be a professional dancer. She repeatedly told me I have heart, which she demonstrated by poking me in the boob while saying, "You dance from there." She may have been right, because I definitely don't dance from my head, where presumably a sense of rhythm would be stored. I mostly dance like a crazy person.

Anyway. This video is rad, and lovely, and evocative. Thumb's up.

I discovered it on the Wellesley Underground blog, which you should read even if you did not go to Wellesley. It's run by former and current students, and it largely covers feminist news and commentary, with some inexplicable items like reader-submitted armpit photos thrown in. Also thumb's up. To the blog, not the armpits. It will give you a satisfying sense of rage that will hopefully make you take on current power structures within your daily life. At least, that is what I am hoping it will do for me.

Run

I had such an interesting run yesterday! It was a short one around the neighborhood, but packed with action. I ran past a house on fire, as firefighters stormed in and smoke billowed from the roof and the top floor windows. The smoke followed me for blocks, so I veered south and ran into the Castro farmer's market, which had absolutely gorgeous bags of salad greens with nasturtium flowers scattered throughout. I would have taken a photo if I had not been so sweat-addled.

I then busted uphill and stumbled into Healthy Spirits, which is possibly the finest small beer store I 've seen. I awkwardly explained to the clerk that I am a beer nerd and couldn't believe I had never been in before, and he gave me a quick tour. All the beers I drank in Belgium: they had them. A local nano-brew that I need to get my hands on: they had it. All my future moneys: they have them.

All this is why I don't run in a gym.

Tunis

If you are interested in what expat life is like in Tunisia, you should read Ashley Hartz's new blog about her recent move to Tunis. It's fab. It's also very focused on dessert.

Bon Bonn

So many things to be excited about these days. Mike's little sister gets into town today, which means lots of baking and eating good things and not going to bars (she's 19), which is a welcome change from our generally lush-ious lifestyle. It's also gorgeous out, and we have no firm plans for this weekend. Hallelujah! Then Beth and Goof get married next weekend, holy cannoli, which will mean all kinds of celebrating. All kinds.

But. Since I had promised more photos, I had better follow through. Here are just a few from Amanda's wedding in Bonn.

And I leave you with the Wellesley ladies with all their demon eyes.

My new baby

So pretty, so sexy.

Not actually mine, but as close as I'm going to get without paying for it. Thank you, O Holy Employer. The timing couldn't have been better, as my IBM laptop was giving off the PC equivalent of a tubercular cough all weekend.

Dutch babies

This weekend San Francisco and I bro'd down, so I am no longer super sad to not be in Paris anymore. I mean, if I could teleport back there for a bit I definitely would, but it is also nice to be home. We had guests in town, which meant Fly Bar on a Friday night. But first Mike took his brother disc golfing in Golden Gate Park, and I jogged the three miles out to meet them after I finished work for the day. SF really is ace for outdoor exercise, especially when there's a bit of a breeze and even some fog to sprinkle my sweaty face. Now that I'm used to it, running when it's over 65 degrees causes me to melt.

Saturday we ate brunch at a sidewalk table in the Mission, which is about as close to the experience of a Paris cafe as I'm going to get. We had friends over for dinner, ordered an embarrassing amount of Thai food (Modern Thai on Polk, get on it), and then I slept like baby. Sunday I made delicious delicious Dutch Babies, which we ate on the porch until a last-minute crowd came over for the women's World Cup soccer game. Oh, the excitement! Oh, the heartbreak! It was up and down and up and down, and then just down. Oh well. The day redeemed itself via gardening, a long walk/run through the park, and "homemade" pizza, all ingredients supplied by Lucca's. Divine.

And yet, and yet. This morning was tough, for no one reason I can put my finger on. Maybe because it felt a bit - only a bit - like a warm summer morning, something I pine for every foggy San Francisco "summer" day. Maybe because work is overwhelming when you get back from vacation, and the to-do list is long. And maybe - just maybe - because I'd rather be wandering around the Marais, drinking coffee and eating these.

But don't worry about me! Really, don't. I know you were concerned that I am wasting away from having had too much fun on vacation. There are all kinds of excitements coming up in the next few weeks, including the imminent arrival of another Mike sibling, and then the chance to throw myself into the role of Bridesmaid.

Paris

Just a few...

Home again home again

I'm back from Europe! I managed to sleep for most of the two flights, and then crash as soon as I got home, so I'm feeling pretty sprightly for having traveled for 24 hours. I had an absolutely fabulous time, and I would really love to be back in Paris right now, sitting in front of the cafe in our neighborhood, drinking wine and nibbling delicious foods.

Instead I am in chilly San Francisco, where at least my now-constant need for excitement is being fed by a stream of visitors for the next month. I'll be posting photos from my trip soon, but if you'd like to see them now, friend me on Google+, where I pretty much documented my trip in real time.

Ah. Ah. Ah.

I leave in two days for Paris, I have a terrifying amount to get done, and I kicked off my day with a series of early-morning video conferences with Dublin, London, Paris, and Sao Paulo. What the people on the other end did not know what that while I had on dangly earrings and a nice top, I was actually wearing very little in the way of pants.

While I am frazzled out of mind, I did take the time to get my hairs did, and I am blonder than ever. My hair dude is the best hair dude. Paris, look out!

Housewarming

I am incapable of really enjoying my own parties, I think. I guess that's makes some sense - I'm busy, there's stuff to do, I'm always sure that no one is having nearly as good a time as I want them to - but I just keep throwing parties anyway. And I like hosting. I just don't enjoy it.

To backtrack a bit: Friday I had a stuffed-up head and a serious urge to take to my bed, but instead we went to a Giants game. It was Korean heritage night, our friend brought us Korean flags to wave, and the weather was even warm....ish.

I only made it to the seventh inning before begging Mike to take me home to rest, but it was our good fortune to get picked up by a stretch limo after searching fruitlessly for a free cab. It was a super 80's limo, dented and dinged, with upholstery that I tried to touch as little as possible. For the price of a cab ride we got a circuitous tour of the city, and when I got out to pay, the driver had a tiny fluffy white dog sitting on his lap. So that was good.

We had our housewarming on Saturday. It was an interesting crowd - lots of good friends showed up, but many couldn't make it because it was Pride weekend. In their stead came a whole lot of people I didn't really know. And it was fun! Well, I mean, through my frenzy and chugging of red wine, it looked like everyone else was having fun. One guy wrote us afterward to say it was the best housewarming he'd ever been to! So that was gratifying.

Also, I made some kickass food (a spicy slaw and a cool slaw, potato salad, my mom's cucumber salad) and the lady and gent on meatstuffs duty served me an absolutely stellar burger.

My red wine-sparkling lemonade cocktail (called Tinto de Verano) was an unlikely hit - or maybe I just drank it all myself - and, of course, we finished the keg of homebrew amber ale. We got the firepit going when the fog rolled in, and I even fought through my headcold to make it out to another party later in the evening.

Sunday we did a ton of work in our garden - a gardenwarming of sorts. Mike got bit by a rose bush,

but it was worth it. For me, at least. It turns out I love weeding. It's so satisfying to clear an area of little grasses and evil snails, and then - soon - we put in all our veggies and flowers. And then, oh man, THEN I will throw parties where I relax, because I will refuse to leave my garden. You will see me waving goodbye to my guests from my tent staked near the rose bushes, grabbing fistfuls of herbs to smell them and refusing to head to my bed, even though it is only 100 feet away.

Soon.