He leans to kiss me, But stops; sees my red lipstick, And leaves me hanging. – –
– I have given up trying to get to Patisserie Valerie, which everyone and their brother tells me is the best bakery/dessert chain in London. Maybe it is. I wouldn’t know. Every time I’ve tried to grab a seat at their shops, I’ve been treated like one of the following: a leper some sort of…
Words are funny little things. I know, because I spend most of my days wrestling with them, trying to manipulate them into what I want them to be, often to no avail. Have you ever tried chiseling someone’s likeness in a a hunk of jell-o? It’s something like that. But I love them, and I…
Our most recent trip to Madrid was our first visit to the city in four years. The last time we were there – in 2008 – Rand and I were still engaged; I’d just been laid off, and idea of starting a blog hadn’t even entered my mind. I finally went through the photos I…
While walking around Madrid, Rand and I saw this sculptural relief on the facade of the building, done in the classical style (is it ancient Roman in its influences? Let’s say yes, because I know squat about sculpture): – And then we saw the same relief, this time rendered with a Cubist slant: – And…
I seem to have left my brain somewhere. Not only was I unaware of the month and date, but I also started typing “2005” into the title of this post. Yeah. Yeah. I know. I should probably go have a cupcake and retrace my steps. I mean, really, there’s only so many places that a…
There are times when I feel like maybe I’m asking a little too much of the universe (“Give me an awesome husband, the opportunity to travel around the world, and lots of cupcakes, please. Also, I’d like to meet Jeff Goldblum.”) I try to keep it in check, I really do (notice I didn’t ask…
– There are days when I feel far older than my 31 years (Wait, am I 31? What year is it …? No, I’m still 31. Dear god. Losing track of my age is not a problem I used to have). When something happens that makes me realize that I have been on the planet…
Look, London, I don’t ask for much (“Yeah, right.” – my husband). I expect my tea to be served warm, with a bit of milk and sugar. I expect it to rain at least half of the time I’m in the city. I expect cab drivers to call me “love” or “miss” instead of the…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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