Big Announcement Time

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Little Lady

I found this little lady in our bedroom today. I opened the window, and put her on the fire escape. As soon as she was free, she started to climb up the wall towards the window. I think she loves us.

Leland Tea Company

Over the weekend, we went to Leleand Tea Company in our neighborhood. Melissa and Erik had been bragging about how good it was, so we all went for a tea service. The owner kept the name of the original building, and quite a few of the original fixtures. He was very excited to tell us about things, and seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He also pointed out that the compass floor piece at the entrance is made entirely out of recycled magazines. We all drank delicious steaming pots of tea, and the guys ordered a full tea service. It's a lot of food, but all delicious. I sampled a few things, but was most interested in my 'Pepperminty Chamomile'. This was a combination of 2 of my favorite 3 teas. There were real chamomile flowers in the blend, and I poured in a packet of honey granules. This is something I'd never seen before, and it added a mild sweet flavor to the brew. (Pics here)

Afterwards, we came out sweating from all the good, hot tea, and walked to the movies to watch Over the Hedge. This was excellent. Very funny, smart and beautifully drawn. Animation just keeps getting better, and more 'real' each year. Favorite line was the squirrel asking the raccoon if he wanted to help him find his nuts.

Giant Octopus

When my alarm went off this morning I was dreaming.

It had been predicted that a giant octopus would be coming, and that it would bring huge changes. Everyone was preparing for the unannounced arrival, but because they were so busy with that, they weren't even aware when it finally did. I saw it shoot up from the darkest, deepest parts of the ocean, as it sped out of the water. It's dull, purple body was so soft and delicate as it raced through the water and broke from the surface. As it did, it's body stiffened and all the tentacles shot out behind it - like one long straight line. As it sprang from the water, the moonlight showed it's now bright pink color, and it soared far above the ocean into the sky. And then just as suddenly, it plummeted back into the waters and was gone. Nobody even saw. And as I was wondering whether it was be coming back, my alarm went off.

Vegan Feast

With Max out of town at a conference, Melissa and Erik invited me to dinner last night. Erik decided to take on the challenge of my horribly restricted diet, and cook a inner with no dairy, sugar or wheat. As is clear to anyone who reads this blog with any regularity, Erik is a master chef at the best of times, and last night was no exception. The dinner was a top notch meal, leaving me satisfied and very happy, and it does not go unappreciated that I have special people like them in my life.

First course:
Asparagus Soup with gray salt and chive oil

Main Course:
Grilled tofu with carrot/parsnip mash, sauteed mushrooms and watercress.


Dessert:
Vanilla soy frozen yogurt with pureed strawberries and honey.

I heart Augusten

Melissa joined me a few nights ago, and we went to hear Augusten Burroughs do a reading from his new book. As soon as I started reading his books last year, I was instantly sad I hadn’t read them sooner. It was one of those ‘where have you been all my life’ type of moments. He is funny, smart and very sarcastic. All qualities I love in a writer. That and romantic, depressing and inventive. Running was Scissors had the same effect that Naked did, but this seemed closer to home. He had grown up in Amherst and North Hampton, and having gone to college there, I could visualize so many of the stories firsthand.

When we walked into the bookstore, it was packed, and one of the employees was kind enough to lend me a stool. Without this, I would have seen nothing. Between the lights shining on us and the podium and all the body heat - it was hot in there. Melissa hates to be hot. She disrobed to the point that shoes were off, and she was just wearing a thin tank top. She actually went and asked if they could turn some of the lighting off. Can you tell we’re high maintenance? Our poor husbands!

Augusten is tall. And I know this because we walked right by him! I had to hold myself back from screaming ‘I love you Augusten!!!!’. And when he read from the new book, he was funny and very entertaining. During Q&A he mentioned some awesome accounts of his brother (who has Asperger Syndrome); and genuinely seemed pleased to have such a devoted audience. He explained that booksellers have told him that his readers are smarter than most. Of course we are.

After the hour was up, everyone got in line to get their book signed. I estimate that line would have taken at least 1 hour to get through. I needed to go home and finish editing a video, so we split. I heard him speak, and saw him in person — this I will remember always.

This is where the real serendipitous moment happened.

We hailed a cab and hopped in. The driver asked who was speaking and we told him. “That is too weird - I’m listening to him right now!” He turned up his car radio, and sure enough it was Augusten reading Dry. That was truly magical.

I need them to care more

Over the weekend I was invited to create some new aura portraits at the Southern Exposure Auction. After I was done, I spoke with a woman who introduced herself to me, and asked if I'd read the NYTimes article about the woman in New York asking people for secrets.

I've now read this article, and I'm sad to say that I think the project is pretty lame. I can't understand why the journalist wasn't more critical of the project, and I think these artists show performance art in a way that just leaves me feeling icky. I don't think they showed any care or attention to those countless people who have participated in their project. In fact, it doesn't sound like many of the people even know how far their participation goes. As far as some of they know, they write their secret and dispense things in a bucket and that's it. But as soon as they walk away, someone gets the envelope and gives it to the artist, who then opens the letter and pastes it into a storefront window! I am really interested in sneaky art, I've even employed sneaky tactics in the past. But this just seems irresponsible. When asked about what they did with a secret that revealed someone had been murdered, they answered as follows: "I take it in, and for me as an artist, after listening to all this, it can be extremely draining. I'm like a blank slate, with open pores. But do I go to the police? No." Can you say LAME 2006?

I think it boils down to the fact that I feel there's very little 'heart' in this project. There's no dialogue about the motives or intentions, and there doesn't seem to be any discussion of how they feel the 'secret spillers' are being informed (or not) about this project becomes once they walk away.

Here are two projects that I think are much smarter and more interesting that deal with confessionals and secret telling.

Artists Display Confessions of Passers-by on a 44th Street Storefront
By KATHRYN SHATTUCK

The woman in the storefront crooked her finger and silently beckoned.

"What, me?" a man on the other side of the glass asked nervously, glancing over his shoulder. "I have nothing to tell."

The woman, dressed in white like a 19th-century washerwoman, put her fingers to her lips and, with a wooden clothespin, underlined the words stenciled on the glass: "Air Your Dirty Laundry. 100% Confidential. Anonymous. Free!"

With that, the man picked up a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper and an envelope stamped "secret," and began to write. After a few seconds, he sealed his words — about a fleeting folly, perhaps? A mean-spirited act that had tormented him for decades? — and placed it in a bucket on the sidewalk. Only when he was well out of sight did the woman open the envelope (delivered to her by an unseen assistant), read the message and then tape it to a window full of secrets for the world to see.

Such exhibitionism is all part of "Inside/Out," a performance piece that opened on Thursday in a storefront at 112 West 44th Street in Manhattan. The two performing artists, Laura Barnett and Sandra Spannan, invite anyone and everyone to plumb their darkest recesses, and share.

As Ms. Barnett posted the anonymous missives, Ms. Spannan — her hair in a turban, a "third eye" pasted on her forehead and a pair of wings on her back — painted portraits from a storefront perch.

"Inside/Out" will be on view through Thursday in the window, one of several performance spaces operated by the nonprofit arts group Chashama.

It's hard to resist the temptation to compare sins.

On the first evening, there was this:

"I am dating a married man & getting financial compensation in exchange for the guilt. I'm 25 & he's a millionaire. It pays to be young."

And this:

"I make fun of this 1 friend behind her back all the time. She just enrages me! But I get freaked out when I think of what she might say about me ... I worry this means we're not really friends? Human relationships are infinitely confusing!"

The written secrets piled up, along with their odd punctuation and misspellings:

"My girlfriend & I both think Osama Bin Laden has a sweet-looking face."

"I like to be tied at my bed."

"The hermit crab was still alive when I threw it down the trash shoot."

"I haven't slept with my husband in a year & I am about to start an affair with ..."

"I want to see S.U.V.'s explode. Those people are so selfish."

"I haven't yet visited my dead parent's grave."

"New York make me feel lonely."

Ms. Spannan and Ms. Barnett began their individual halves of the project five years ago but have worked together since last June, first in a trial run at Chashama's former West 42nd Street gallery and then in Berlin, where Ms. Spannan grew up.

"The Germans were so dark," said Ms. Barnett, who was born in Manhattan. "It was like they had been waiting for us to come."

Though they arrived at their collaboration from separate points, they shared a goal.

"From Germany, I came to New York because of the diversity, and I used to sit on the subway and wonder who these people were," said Ms. Spannan, 35, who supports herself as a decorative painter for clients like Chanel.

"For me, that really was an important point," said Ms. Barnett, 41, who works as a casting director and producer, and teaches theater at St. Ann's School in Brooklyn. "I used to ride the subway and think: What if everyone had a cartoon bubble coming out of their head? What would their thoughts be?"

In search of answers, Ms. Spannan took her easel to the city's streets and painted portraits of whoever caught her attention. After Sept. 11, she set up shop across from ground zero and captured indelible grief.

"All these posters everywhere said 'Missing' and 'Wanted,' " she recalled. "My angle was to make people obsessed with images of people who are alive and that are sitting next to you, and you're ignoring."

Ms. Barnett decided to collect secrets by offering a makeshift confessional to anyone who might happen by.

"My goal was to have people reveal their innermost thoughts and in a way that is entirely confidential," she said. "What I found through this project is that no matter how much corporate culture tries to homogenize its citizens, people to the core try to reveal themselves on a basic level."

Ms. Barnett, too, gathered secrets at the World Trade Center, and in the rapidly changing Dumbo section of Brooklyn.

"There was a lot of questioning of identity, or impostor terror, a lot of anxiety about real estate, and super-duper amounts of bisexuality," she said. "There were major amounts of guilt in Dumbo, I'd say."

On West 42nd Street, "you got the feeling there were a lot of stories that went untold," Ms. Barnett said.

Clearly, that has changed. In the last five years each woman has collected thousands upon thousands of portraits and secrets, archiving every last one.

Some are obvious, pertaining to sexual infidelities, the workplace, AIDS, death. Others, not so: a fantasy about glass figurines and Arabian horse etchings. And body parts, especially feet.

"Some children's secrets really go under the skin," Ms. Spannan said, adding that some people write of having been sexually abused in their youth. "It's a way of feeling, 'I'm not alone,' " she said.

Then there was the person who said he had killed a man in 1957.

What did they do?

"I'm glad you asked that," Ms. Barnett said. "I take it in, and for me as an artist, after listening to all this, it can be extremely draining. I'm like a blank slate, with open pores. But do I go to the police? No."

Not that the women aren't often overwhelmed.

"Every single day," Ms. Barnett said firmly. "Because we go there, and the window is empty, and we're wearing all white. And at the end, the window is full and we're covered with paint. It's exhausting."

"Some of those things are really, really sad," she said, finally. "And afterwards, I need to take a bath."

It is possible

For the last six months I have been eating a very restricted diet without wheat, sugar or dairy. This was done to assist in the reduction of some crippling migraines that I couldn't seem to kick. In the beginning it was a big adjustment, but it is now my preferred way of eating, and the migraines are almost non-existent.

I am terrible in the kitchen, but this way of eating has made cooking a much more pleasant experience. While Max and I eat our diners together, it is rarely the same food. This is a dish I made a few weeks ago, and I love it and eat it regularly. I am sharing the general recipe below for anyone who wants to try it. I know, it's weird for me to be sharing any kitchen knowledge, but I really like this dish.

Sautee chopped tofu and scallions in grapeseed oil. Once the tofu is brown add tamari and simmer for 5 minutes. Add chopped ginger and fresh vegetables (zucchini, yellow squash, bell peppers, broccoli). Cook until vegetables are tender. Add some indian spices for a kick and flavor and simmer for 3 more minutes. Serve with carrot/beet puree.

Like sleeping on a cloud

When there is sickness at home, the bed seems to take on a different vibe. It becomes a place you want to avoid, and so often the couch turns into a place of rest. Why is that? With all the food poisoning drama at home, the couch has definitely become an island. A place to eat, sleep, watch movies and write email. Sort of like a small country more than an island, when I think about it.

I remember years ago when reading Tuesdays with Morrie, he said, "When you're in bed, you're dead." I have always thought of this, and how it's never made sense to me. If anything, our lives are so busy, I feel like I don't get enough time in my bed. And it's a really nice bed people -- one of the Heavenly Beds that the Hyatt uses. We rarely allow ourselves to sleep late or sleep in anymore, instead rushing to do errands, take care of projects or spend time out in the world. I cherish my time in bed, and would be happy to have more of it.

That being said, things just became a little more enticing. Max finally agreed to my request of a new duvet, one that actually fits our enormous Cal King mattress. One that gently falls over both sides of the mattress, nearly reaching the floor, instead of just making it to the edges on top. I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is very unimportant, but it's small gestures like this that make me feel better. (can you say OCD?)

My parents sent us new sheets as a gift, and Max ordered a duvet cover, since our old ones wouldn't fit. And everything arrived yesterday. So last night we slept on all these new high thread-count linens. And this morning I practically had to drag Max out of bed by his feet. It was that snuggly. In fact, I would go so far as to say it was like a religious experience. I had amazing dreams, and slept like a baby.

And as I sat on the couch to pull on my socks and shoes, Max yelled from the shower that this could be the demise of his professional academic career.

Death to Sushi

This weekend our little family came to a complete halt, as I watched Max suffer through e-coli food poisoning. We ate sushi on Friday night at a place we've eaten dozens of times before, and by Saturday noon time, I was suffering in the bathroom. It passed through my system very quickly, and as I lay in bed afterwards recovering, Max started to suffer. It was terrible. Because he never gets sick, I feel it was even more difficult to witness his discomfort. And for the same reason, it scared the shit out of me when he asked me to call 911.

I will say that maybe 2 minutes after my call, there were 8 people in our bedroom assessing the situation, but beyond that they were useless. The main guy told Max he just had stomach flu, and would need to wait it out for 24 hours. And as quickly as they arrived, they were gone. I then spent the night awake watching Max suffer through waves of pain and discomfort. And by morning, I took him to the Emergency Room.

He was so dehydrated they gave him 3 bags of saline through an IV, and put him on a dose of heavy antibiotics. For the next few days he was only able to keep down gatorade and some jello, and then finally some chicken broth. And then yesterday he finally ate some toast and a small bowl of rice.

I take probiotics every night before going to bed, and I believe this is why things passed through my system so quickly. It's scary when you realize how fragile our bodies are. One false move and the scales are tipped way out of favor. It affirms even more, that we are far better off trying to remain as healthy as possible, in order to fight off these things when they attack our system.

And I just don’t know if I will ever eat sushi again.