It’s been a quiet week here at the blog. I only got one post up, despite having several more in the pipeline. I literally couldn’t be bothered to hit “publish” with all the craziness of this week, and I figured most of you are already in gingerbread-induced comas, and probably don’t have time to read what…
I am not an art critic. Don’t get me wrong: I’m massively critical. Of like, everything. And I love visiting galleries and museums. But art critic? That sounds like nearly as douchey a profession as music critic. Perhaps more so, because, for the most part, music is supposed to be enjoyable. Art doesn’t necessarily have…
Folks, I am rejoicing, because my Christmas/Hanukkah shopping is DONE (ignore how long ago Hanukkah was). I now am devoting my time to other things I can panic about, like how I’m going to pack/ship all of these gifts to their intended destinations in time. While I go navigate the sixth circle of hell that…
Hello. My name is Geraldine, and I am a drama geek. It’s been nearly a month since my last play. I’m handling it okay, but I really, really want to see a show. I’ll take whatever you’ve got: off-off-off-broadway, improv, even a secular “winter concert” at an elementary school. SOMETHING. Anything. Over the years, I’m…
I thought I’d continue with my U.K.-lovefest and present 10 photos from our last trip to London, in which we roamed around, ate dessert, and made juvenile jokes about the human anatomy. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, isn’t all that different from what we do at home. Long-necked giraffe, Giraffe Cafe, London.– – Checking…
Dear San Francisco, I love you. I really do. Despite the fact that, at different times over the course of my visits to you, your residents have robbed me blind, pressed me for money, nearly spat on me, and expressed their dementia through screaming in my general direction, I still find you endearing. Your parks…
I should warn you right now: I am feeling miserably sentimental. Seriously – my brain is a squishy pile of emotional goo right now. I can’t quite identify the source. But going through my photos from our London trip, I am finding myself with the overwhelming desire to pack up my bag and hop on…
The rich are different from you and I. They have more art. (They also have smaller dogs, but this is a post about art). When Rand’s grandparents made us an appointment to visit the Barnes Museum outside of Philadelphia few months back, I had a vision in my head of walking into a crazy person’s…
Perhaps I’ve been to one-too-many museums, and that’s the reason why this next group of photos is a weensy bit artsy. Not artistic mind you, but artsy. The difference? One rhymes with fartsy. Rockerfeller Center (I think. I sometimes don’t pay proper attention to these things). Wardrobe malfunction, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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