For years, The British Museum in London was like a book I’ve cracked open a dozen times, but was never able to get passed the first chapter. I knew its beginning pages almost by heart. The crowds in front of the Rosetta Stone are mentioned in the dedication. This little one-eyed bird made an appearance in…
Folks, I have some sad news. This will be my third and final post about Gaudi’s architectural feats in Barcelona. (In case you missed it, here’s Part One on La Pedrera and Part Two on Casa Batllo.) I know, I know. You’re devastated, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re joyfully skipping around…
– Remember Fraggle Rock? I positively loved that show (I’d really like to see a “Where Are They Now?” feature on the Fraggles. I hope Wembly finally got into rehab). The beginning always scared me, though. Something about the baseline, and the dingy house, and the tiny mouse hole into which the Fraggles ran gave…
– I am occasionally faced with a temptation that I, fortunately, have yet to act upon. My husband delicately describes it as “socially unfeasible.” I simply think it’s madness. Delicious, delicious madness. The temptation is this: I want to eat food that doesn’t belong to me. Now, before you start telling me that everyone feels…
I tend to miss things. Street signs. Major themes in books and film (I watched Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and was woefully confused because I kept getting distracted by Benedict Cumberbatch’s hair). And often, when I travel, I tend to miss precisely what it was I set out to see on that day. This past…
– On Halloween day, I headed to the Tribeca firestation made famous in Ghostbusters. That night, I channeled Margot Tennenbaum on the streets of midtown, eating stick after stick of candy cigarettes. The next day, I realized I wasn’t yet done paying pilgrimage to movie locations or obsessing over Wes Anderson. And so, on the…
It’s rare that I have direction when I travel, in any sense of the word. I usually roam around the city, using my blessedly-large nose to seek out and follow the smell of baked goods, often to a happy end. But during my trip to New York last October, I had, for one of the…
I am easily scared. The first time I saw The Sixth Sense, even though I knew the twist thanks to a big-mouthed teacher of mine, I nearly peed my pants. Thankfully, as far as you know, I did not. And once, years ago, Rand and I spent the night at a hotel near the Oregon…
– My husband occasionally has moments of brilliance. He has moments of utmost stupidity, too, but since I love him more than Seattle on a sunny day (a rare phenomenon that I can see outside my office window as I type this) I’d like to focus on the brilliance. At the end of our trip…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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