I'd like a side of tumblr with my order of blog

"Isn't this the best part of breaking up? Finding someone else you can't get enough of?" Liz Phair.

I'm taking a break from blogspot to pursue a hot, young thing called tumblr. http://darlingmermaiddarlings.tumblr.com/

I will probably continue posting personal-ish blogs on this blog, but I'd like to try my hand at random, ADD-inducing, light-hearted posts on my tumblr. Now if I can just figure out how tumblr works...

Squeezing a little summertime in

My face smells like a grapefruit. It's wonderful and tingly feeling. I bought a new pink grapefruit face wash today, and I was so tempted to try tasting a little squirt. I declined, as I have been trying to follow the eating rules of "Women, Food, and Good." Or at least the few rules I gleaned from skimming the book instead of reading it cover to cover. Somehow, I think eating my face wash would be frowned upon and relate back to an emotional crisis from my childhood.

Not that I haven't been eating, because I have been eating, praying, and loving like nobody's business. Well, a little stingy on the romantic loving, but behold the fruits of my labor:


This is Martha Stewart's recipe for raspberry almond blondies, before going into the oven.


These are said blondies after baking alongside brown butter toffee blondies.


Pie before baking. I saw an MS recipe for blueberry pie with stars for the crust, but I thought my family would prefer cherry, and I couldn't find the star cookie cutter.


The finished product.

I've been working my way through Martha Stewart's baking books, reading over each recipe. I found making pie dough from scratch to be a lot simpler than I'd imagined. I think I'll experiment more with pie dough in the future. I'd like to add a cinnamon sugar mixture to the dough for an apple pie or even a bit of Gruyere cheese (and homeopathic mood enhancers) to the crust like in "Pushing Daisies."

Maybe baking while dieting is contradictory, but that's how I roll. Oops. Did I say "dieting"? I meant "ending my war on food."

I've also been reading any book that strikes my fancy before I buckle down with the scholarly stuff for grad school.

My Name is Memory by Ann Brashares was a great escape through time and places, while one guy recalls all of his past lives as he continuously searches for the same girl. I hope there is a sequel in the works, because the ending left much to be desired.

Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. I don't know how many times I have picked up this book only to put it back down again. I ravenously read Lullaby and Diary. But this... oh this one should have been scrapped, I'm afraid. I'd still like to finish it before I move on to his other stuff like Pygmy, Snuff, Choke or Tell All. I just don't think I like his female narrators. They are like men with boobs.

Self Help by Lorrie Moore. This collection of short stories makes me want to write like I did when I was a kid. No limitations. Just my imagination and characters roaming the great blank page. Her story "How to be a Writer" is flawless.

I Like You by Amy Sedaris. The coffee table book of choice.

The Babysitters Club: The Summer Before. The newly released prequel to the beloved series for every girl growing up in the '90s. I really, REALLY want to be part of a grown-woman BSC book club. Just putting that out there.

Uncharted Territori by Tori Spelling. Celebrity memoirs are my literary vice.

Next up: The Lonely Polygamist, Generation A, Sex and the City, and Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Oh, and Martha Stewart's book on cupcakes. I think there is just enough time left of summer to see what the rich, old bird is going to teach me about cupcakes.

Because, you know, I was just getting too much sleep as it is...

If you're reading this, you should also be reading this http://letters2lindsaylohan.blogspot.com/ my new blog project.

Dear Diary

NPR is collecting diary entries for their Flickr project "The Hidden Lives of Girls." I love this idea (and not just because I thought of doing a similar project, but was beaten to the punchline). I've kept a diary regularly since I was 11, and sporadically before then (my older brother would steal my plastic diary with the generic lock-and-key that could be opened with any narrow object, and read it aloud to the boy-next-door. So I waited to keep a diary regularly until I was a little older before all my secrets like "Nick is so cut" [sic] were revealed).

Being young and female is a strange experience when old men have all the power, or at least most of it still. My past entries vary in topic from day-to-day life, personal milestones, theology, political commentary, my appearance, crushes on boys, and mostly just how I felt. Trust me, I felt a lot of emotions deeply.

So I pulled out a couple of old diaries tonight to read a few snippets. It's so strange how I can read about an event that I otherwise would have forgotten about entirely. Like, one New Year's Eve a group of girls and I decided to buy cupcakes so we could pretend to kiss the boys at midnight, but at the last second reneged and shoved the cupcakes in their faces. Even back then I was toting the line of girl power and boy liking.

And it is with great self-deprecating humor, I give you an entry from October 5, 2000; age 15. Let me preface with the fact that a lot of diary entries from 2000ish had some link to pop culture. Like, in one entry I wished Ava Phillipe a happy birthday (you know, in case Reese or Ryan were reading), or in another I wrote I was eating Cap'n Crunch and watching a show on Hollywood homes instead of doing my geometry homework. Or just the sheer number of entries signed with "Timberlake" after my name. In this particular entry, I had been watching a "Friends" episode with Monica and Chandler getting engaged. That spawned my thoughts on marriage...



Yeah, I know. Reading some of these young teen diaries make me ask out loud, "Who IS this person?!" My how a decade can change a person. Oh, and yes, my hand is covering the last line where I write a boy's full name, then "I LOVE YOU!" Yikes.

Women and War

I was thinking last night about women and war. Mostly, I was thinking about how great of a general I would be. Well, I would have been a good general during the 1700s or the 1800s or even the early 1900s. Not now. All romantic wars are over because we have too much technology now. Today, the world is too small for war. But I digress. I know I would have been a cunning victor because as a woman, I know how to manipulate. I am always thinking three steps ahead of any man.

I question whether there are innate differences between men and women or whether gender is solely something we preform. You wear the blue hat. I'll wear the pink hat. From what I can tell, the core difference in gender behavior is immediacy. A guy has an itch. He scratches it. A guy feels hunger. He eats. A guy thinks a thought. He says it. This is not how most women operate. How a woman responds to any given situation is far more complicated.

Imagine my surprise when I saw this editorial on CNN's website this morning. To summarize, some guy with a few fancy schmancy history credentials thinks men are wired for war. He treads carefully, any blatant sexism will make his editorial too sensational, and commends women for being capable of fighting. But when it comes down to it, men have always needed to test themselves through war. I imagine him saying this with a wink, a deep elbow nudge to the ribs and a lighting of his pipe.

I would be very interested to know what relationships the author has with women, if any. It's painfully obvious that he doesn't understand women.

He writes: Indeed, women may respond to the test of their essential identity in a less macho fashion then men.

What he means to say, and doesn't know it, is that few women feel the need to shoot an elephant (reference George Orwell's short story Shooting an Elephant). Women cannot be emasculated because we cannot earn masculinity. The worst thing a man can be is feminine, and men have used war as a life-time certificate of authentic manhood. Congratulations.

Women start wars because we want something. Maybe not always wars with guns, bombs and tanks. But we are combative too. If a woman wants something badly enough, she will find a way to get it. If a man wants to win a war out of pride, then a woman wants to win a war out of possession. Being "wired for war" is human nature. I'm sorry a man with so many accolades doesn't know that.

Whimsical Art

My favorite artist is Maira Kalman. She keeps a visual blog for the New York Times. Or at least, she did until the end of 2009. Now she's working on her new book (I think; we have yet to become pen pals). Here's the link to her blog: The Pursuit of Happiness

I love her style because of its simple whimsy, idealistic portrayals, and vivid color.

Her style reminds me of that one quote... "Sometimes there's more truth in how you feel than in what actually happened." I believe that quote is from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Try not to judge me too harshly.

I've found a couple of artists on etsy who emulate a similar style. I don't know if there's an official name for it... or if it's even some sort of modern movement. I'm not an art history major or a hipster.

But these inspire me:

Golly

and

Vivienne

I'm sure I'll come across more as I click my way through etsy, but for now it's time for dinner.

Just keep swimming... just keep swimming

Usually I don't like photos with dark or light edges around the shot. Something about it screams tacky- like Sears portraits with fake forest backgrounds. But I had to add this in order to get rid of the TV in the background. I mean, yeah, I did take an intensive photoshop course in college, but all that photoshopping takes time. I only photoshop pictures of myself to remove blemishes, or arm fat or whiten teeth, etc. The important uses.

Anyway, I've recently re-discovered my love of sunflowers. I think it has something with growing up in the '90s. Remember when sunflowers were everywhere? Like those big floppy hats Blossom would wear? I owned a pair of white overalls with sunflowers all over them. One of my favorite outfits, might I add.

But enough, Ferdinand, with smelling the flowers. We have more important ground to cover. Like, Kristin, how's your mystery diagnosis going? Well, since you asked, it's going pretty well I think. I stopped taking the painkillers today and I feel okay. I only took one nausea pill today. But I feel pretty nauseated right now (note: did you know that you are not supposed to say that you feel nauseous? only nauseated can pertain to how you feel. don't ask me to explain; I'm heavily medicated). If it is a kidney stone, then I'm still waiting its arrival. I named my first kidney stone Rocky. He'd be six years old today if I hadn't flushed him down the toilet. If this potential new stone ever passes then I shall call her Roxanna.

At least I have gotten a lot of sleep these past two days. I can will myself to sleep for long periods of time. It's pretty awesome. Oddly, I still feel tired and shaky. I'm going to attempt work tomorrow. I'm hoping I can run on my treadmill by Friday. "Hoping" being the key word.