Science question of the day

What is it about nutmeg that makes the froth of a cappuccino disappear? The two are simply incompatible.

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Year in Review

Yes, I’ve been very bad about keeping up with my blog. I’ll add it to my list of “growth” areas for 2009.
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These past few months I’ve kept myself busy with various writing projects and with yoga. The studio at which I teach, Yoga to the People (a by-donation studio with locations on St. Marks Place in New York and in Berkeley, CA), has been getting a lot of media attention of late. It’s been written up in Vogue, Yoga Journal and New York Magazine. Just recently Time Out New York declared YTTP a good place to meet singles. In January we’ll be opening up a hot yoga studio in Midtown. Exciting.
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I’ve been back in Minnesota for about a week now. As soon as I got home from the airport, Cassandra and I launched our gingerbread project, thereby ensuring that Christmas would indeed happen. Gingerbread men sort of embody everything I love about life: ginger, happiness, anthropomorphized food. Like Paris, yogurt and Marias novels, we were made for each other.
Not my gingerbread men.

Not my gingerbread men.

There is something weirdly satisfying about being in a place that takes winter so seriously, where for about three solid months the mercury rarely creeps above freezing. I had a wonderful Minneapolis day yesterday, complete with a trip to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts and mock duck rolls at Jasmine Deli. There are so many perfect days to be had here. (The same is true for New York, of course, but the scarcity of my time here makes those days so much more poignant.)
The Frank Lloyd Wright area of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts

The Frank Lloyd Wright area of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts

Random observation: There’s more crepuscular purple in Minneapolis’s sky than in New York’s. Minneapolis often purples. Par exemple:

Purple Minneapolis

Purple Minneapolis

I feel like the sky often looks like this. Or perhaps that’s just how I like to remember it.

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Filed under cookies, Javier Marias, Minneapolis, New York, Uncategorized, yoga

Molly’s Madeleine

I really will write a longer blog post soon but in the meantime, I wanted to draw your attention to this New York Times article written by my friend Molly. (Molly, who was planning on becoming a chef, lost her sense of smell when she was hit by a car. She writes about her gradual recovery of the sense. For more, check out the link to her blog on the right-hand side of this page.)

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Second best panhandler sign…

“Obama isn’t the only one who wants change.”

–on St. Marks Place, September 17th, 2008

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Weather Report

I’m back in New York, where the weather really seems to have taken Memorial Day to heart. Suddenly, as of Monday, it is summer–I mean, it really feels like summer–and I am elated. I sort of die inside during the winter, when my wont to wander and drink outside is stifled by the cold… Winter antagonizes street life and, frankly, I live to see things like golden retrievers shaved like lions (Prospect Park) and grown men constructing diaromas (Washington Square Park). There’s a Balzac quote that I love which says that the counter of a cafĂ© is the parliment of the people. In which case, I would say that the sidewalks are the theatres.

I should add that spring in Park Slope was beautiful: the neighborhood’s flowering cherry blossoms made me think of pink frosted cupcakes… (Oddly, I only like frosting visually.) April and May were delicious months for me. There’s so much to love about this neighborhood…

I just got in from an abrupt rainstorm. Walking only half a block from the 7th Avenue Duane Reade to my apartment was enough to get me drenched. It was a refreshing (if unanticipated) shower, actually, and I learned something: a dress is the ideal garment for getting caught in the rain. (I never hate pants so much as when it’s raining…pants become bifurcated tyrants. A pox on them!!) One would think that I would have had this meteoro-sartorial epiphany during rainy season in Guadeloupe mais non–I’m just realizing it now.

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The List

There are times when having an engineer for a father provides entertainment that other kids can only dream of: a velcro GPS holder on our car’s steering wheel, water bottle yokes fashioned out of rope, geocaching. (To be fair, this latter one was suggested by my sister.) As I have written before, my father is a man of adorable quirks.

As per tradition, my dad cooks for me whenever I am back in Minnesota; he is an artful griller. Last night we decided to have lemon-infused salmon and asparagus with a bottle of Vouvray–every bit as good as it sounds. When my dad walked in on my mom drawing up a grocery list he interjected dramatically: “No!! We have to pull up The List!”

The List?

“Oooh, you’re going to love The List,” my mom assured me.

They walk me over to the computer and proudly show me a spreadsheet that my dad has created to streamline grocery shopping. The List includes every item my parents would possibly want from our local grocery store. In a column next to the desired item (English Muffins, for example) is its location (Aisle 4). There’s also a column for them to write down the quantity. Once my parents go through selecting which items they want, they print off their list, which is reduced down to only the groceries they selected.

I am told that this has shaved minutes off their grocery runs. My dad marvels at how inefficient and haphazard my mom’s approach to grocery shopping once was. She was a real maverick with the grocery cart, let me tell you. I didn’t think anyone could tame her wild wanderings through the aisles of Cub Foods…

It’s nice to be home with my mild-mannered eccentrics.

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Overheard at Whole Foods:

A child throwing a tantrum in the check-out line because he wanted Vitamin Water. Not candy, ice cream or soda. VITAMIN WATER.

Conclusion: New York kids are weird.

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