Now I just need to find the right coffee table for it.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Sweet book
Charlotte just sent me a link to this book she has, and I SOOO want it. It is called Building Diplomacy: The Architecture of American Embassies, and it is a coffee-table book filled with photographs of U.S. embassies around the world.
Now I just need to find the right coffee table for it.
Now I just need to find the right coffee table for it.
Sad and anxious few days
Thanks, New York Times: Bangladesh, a Muslim-majority nation of 140 million, is among the world’s poorest countries and is prone to disasters, natural and man-made. That sounds soooo positive.
I am really glad things have been winding down here... but sad to see how many people died. It is kind of horrifying that so many deaths could be caused so quickly. Sometimes the violence felt very far away (it's not, really, but traffic in Dhaka means that it takes 45 minutes to an hour to get to the area where this took place, which is probably about four miles away), but then other times it was brought closer to home by the American Center and Embassy staff whose friends and relatives died.
Sad.
In cheerier news, I hereby congratulate myself on my 215th post (since I forgot to do so on the occasion of my 200th). Go me!
I am really glad things have been winding down here... but sad to see how many people died. It is kind of horrifying that so many deaths could be caused so quickly. Sometimes the violence felt very far away (it's not, really, but traffic in Dhaka means that it takes 45 minutes to an hour to get to the area where this took place, which is probably about four miles away), but then other times it was brought closer to home by the American Center and Embassy staff whose friends and relatives died.
Sad.
In cheerier news, I hereby congratulate myself on my 215th post (since I forgot to do so on the occasion of my 200th). Go me!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Hitting the world stage...
Here we go--the first New York Times article written about Bangladesh since before I arrived.
In other news, a new reason not to go to the gym: every time I go, a plane crashes. Or maybe I should just work out more often since the last plane crash was like two weeks ago? Or maybe I should just stop and let the people fly in peace.
In other news, a new reason not to go to the gym: every time I go, a plane crashes. Or maybe I should just work out more often since the last plane crash was like two weeks ago? Or maybe I should just stop and let the people fly in peace.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Things I have been doing lately
1. Watching all six hour of the Pride & Prejudice BBC miniseries. The sick sick person who created that thing was clearly trying to sap women of their productive capacity by making it so addictive that they're tempted to watch all six hours of it at least twice a week.
2. Listening to Jai Ho on loop.
3. Eating muffins. Too many muffins. These are yummy though.
4. Reading Suite Francaise. It is growing on me--it is sort of like Le Silence de la Mer, but way less boring because the characters actually speak to one another.
5. Not getting enough sleep for NO apparent reason. I am going to remedy that now, as I have to write a cable tomorrow, and that will throw me into an insane cranky fit if I am tired.
2. Listening to Jai Ho on loop.
3. Eating muffins. Too many muffins. These are yummy though.
4. Reading Suite Francaise. It is growing on me--it is sort of like Le Silence de la Mer, but way less boring because the characters actually speak to one another.
5. Not getting enough sleep for NO apparent reason. I am going to remedy that now, as I have to write a cable tomorrow, and that will throw me into an insane cranky fit if I am tired.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Whiny McWhinerson
Things I do NOT get: Twitter. Maybe I am just too wordy, but I am terrible about being interesting or amusing in one line. I have enough trouble with facebook status updates--I usually have to rewrite ten times to make sure it doesn't sound too whiny. (Today I considered "Katie has a headache," "Katie doesn't want to go to work tomorrow," "Katie is lazy," and "Katie is tired, bored, and has a headache" before just giving up.) Anyone want to explain the phenomenon to me?
Speaking of audience participation, help me choose my upholstery fabric! I want to slipcover the garish green-and-gold gov't-issued couches. Here are some samples I picked up today:
I feel like the green floral pattern has a certain retro chic to it, but I feel like the gold and cream stripes are both classy and versatile. Disregard the second from the right--in hindsight, that is just hideous. Thoughts?
Speaking of audience participation, help me choose my upholstery fabric! I want to slipcover the garish green-and-gold gov't-issued couches. Here are some samples I picked up today:
I feel like the green floral pattern has a certain retro chic to it, but I feel like the gold and cream stripes are both classy and versatile. Disregard the second from the right--in hindsight, that is just hideous. Thoughts?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Quote
If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
—Virginia Woolf
(1882-1941)
I feel like blogs, as a medium, do not encourage the telling of truth. Not real truth at least. I feel like I should do something about that.
—Virginia Woolf
(1882-1941)
I feel like blogs, as a medium, do not encourage the telling of truth. Not real truth at least. I feel like I should do something about that.
I don't care if people think I'm crazy--I like chuckling to myself.
Another lazy Friday of sleeping through tennis sign-ups... oops.
What have I been up to lately? Last weekend Charlotte and I went to New Market. It was kind of a bust. We did each get a sari at Pride, but the store has a branch much closer in Banani. And we weren't in the mood for any Meat Balls Fast Food:
People selling vegetables always look picturesque, though:
During the week, I worked and played tennis and didn't do much else. Last night, though, I did make it out for dinner at a place with a seriously hilarious menu:
It featured such clear winners as "Cold Cheese Pasta," promising, "The only place it's going is right in your belly." This made me nervous about the other menu items--were they more likely to get up and do a rumba right off the table, thus not ending up right in my belly?
Ughhhhhh... I am being so lazy, it sort of literally hurts.
What have I been up to lately? Last weekend Charlotte and I went to New Market. It was kind of a bust. We did each get a sari at Pride, but the store has a branch much closer in Banani. And we weren't in the mood for any Meat Balls Fast Food:
People selling vegetables always look picturesque, though:
During the week, I worked and played tennis and didn't do much else. Last night, though, I did make it out for dinner at a place with a seriously hilarious menu:
It featured such clear winners as "Cold Cheese Pasta," promising, "The only place it's going is right in your belly." This made me nervous about the other menu items--were they more likely to get up and do a rumba right off the table, thus not ending up right in my belly?
Ughhhhhh... I am being so lazy, it sort of literally hurts.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Lean mean killing machine
Thank goodness for China. What would I do if I couldn't buy the mosquito racket (actually, they refer to it as a "Multiple Function Can Lighting Electric Mosquito Zapper"--just trips off the tongue, really) for the excellent price of $5?
This thing is shaped like a tennis racket, and when you switch it on, it electrifies. You then can use it to swat and kill mosquitoes.
So for an implement whose purpose is to kill, I have to say I find its smile pretty frickin' creepy:
I'm watching you, racket.
Bonus instructions hilarity: "Kill mosquito method: push the electrical source switch to ON or ON LAMP direction, press the middle button switch, the working direction light lighting, and the middle web have high voltage. Flap and touch mosquito, mosquito will be shoot down. Loosen button switch, working indicator light go out, the web without electricity."
This thing is shaped like a tennis racket, and when you switch it on, it electrifies. You then can use it to swat and kill mosquitoes.
So for an implement whose purpose is to kill, I have to say I find its smile pretty frickin' creepy:
I'm watching you, racket.
Bonus instructions hilarity: "Kill mosquito method: push the electrical source switch to ON or ON LAMP direction, press the middle button switch, the working direction light lighting, and the middle web have high voltage. Flap and touch mosquito, mosquito will be shoot down. Loosen button switch, working indicator light go out, the web without electricity."
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Oh goodness
Today I was chatting with Justly, my driver (the most important person in my life right now), on the way home. I employ Justly and my friend Charlotte employs his wife, and it's a little weird to think that the two of us, both a couple years out of college and on our first tour, share responsibility for supporting a family (thankfully, not our own families yet, but still--too much responsibility!).
Anyway, I asked Justly who takes care of his daughter when he and his wife are working. He tells me his mother-in-law--and, he says, they employ an ayah [nanny]. "Small one," he says, "Twelve years."
AAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Justly, spare my dainty Western ears!
Really, I didn't need to know you were employing a child to look after your child. Don't you know that your job description includes knowing the route to every diplomatic-area supermarket that stocks brie, waiting patiently outside the American Club, and NOT DAMAGING MY DELICATE EX-PAT SENSIBILITIES?!?!
Anyway, I asked Justly who takes care of his daughter when he and his wife are working. He tells me his mother-in-law--and, he says, they employ an ayah [nanny]. "Small one," he says, "Twelve years."
AAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Justly, spare my dainty Western ears!
Really, I didn't need to know you were employing a child to look after your child. Don't you know that your job description includes knowing the route to every diplomatic-area supermarket that stocks brie, waiting patiently outside the American Club, and NOT DAMAGING MY DELICATE EX-PAT SENSIBILITIES?!?!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Um, really?
For those with a sense of humor, Bangladesh can really be a treasure trove of hilarity. And not that I consider myself an arbiter of Dhaka humor, but ten out of ten people agree that it is frickin' hilarious that someone thought it was a good idea to turn a crashed airplane into a restaurant.
According to Wikipedia: 8 October 2004: Flight BG601 (DAC-ZYL) landed far down the 9,000 feet (2,700 m) runway at Osmani International Airport in heavy rain and overshot the end by 150 feet (46 m), coming to rest in a ditch 15 feet (4.6 m) deep. The Fokker F28's forward fuselage was heavily damaged and the plane was written off. All 79 passengers (including a number of VIPs from the Bangladesh government) escaped with minor injuries except the captain, Shahana Begum, who broke an arm. The body of the damaged plane was sold by Biman for Tk 11 lakh to Western Grill Air Corporation, which converted it into a restaurant sited at Ashulia, Dhaka.
It was dark when we went, so I didn't get any outside photos, but inside, you can see that it very much looks like a plane (an old, old plane I can't believe they flew until 2004), turned into a restaurant:
Really, there are times when I have no words.
According to Wikipedia: 8 October 2004: Flight BG601 (DAC-ZYL) landed far down the 9,000 feet (2,700 m) runway at Osmani International Airport in heavy rain and overshot the end by 150 feet (46 m), coming to rest in a ditch 15 feet (4.6 m) deep. The Fokker F28's forward fuselage was heavily damaged and the plane was written off. All 79 passengers (including a number of VIPs from the Bangladesh government) escaped with minor injuries except the captain, Shahana Begum, who broke an arm. The body of the damaged plane was sold by Biman for Tk 11 lakh to Western Grill Air Corporation, which converted it into a restaurant sited at Ashulia, Dhaka.
It was dark when we went, so I didn't get any outside photos, but inside, you can see that it very much looks like a plane (an old, old plane I can't believe they flew until 2004), turned into a restaurant:
Really, there are times when I have no words.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Having a ball, dahling
It's been far too long without a ball, so thankfully we hit the Black and White Ball, a fundraiser for ICDDR,B, last night. In my life, it was notable as my first experience with fake eyelashes (I let my Bangladeshi hairdresser do my makeup... don't ask). The verdict: they itch, and make your eyes feel permanently crusty. Not so fun. You can get a good look at them (and how they aren't pointing the right direction...) in this picture of Andrea and me:
This ball was much like other balls, though it did have a fashion show filled with very sparkly, hot-pink things:
And, as usual, our table did it up right:
This is a three-day weekend--woohoo! I have never had so many long weekends in my whole life as I have since living here--thank goodness for celebrating both American and Bangladeshi holidays.
This ball was much like other balls, though it did have a fashion show filled with very sparkly, hot-pink things:
And, as usual, our table did it up right:
This is a three-day weekend--woohoo! I have never had so many long weekends in my whole life as I have since living here--thank goodness for celebrating both American and Bangladeshi holidays.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Get back in there
Does anyone else read this headline a bit differently than intended?
"Sensors Help Keep the Elderly at Home" is about sensor systems that can tell if an old person has fallen, is having a heart attack, etc. These allow people to live alone because if something happens, the sensor alerts people.
Of course, I read this headline to mean that people are putting sensors around old people's houses to make sure they don't get out. Because, you know, those sneaky old people...
"Sensors Help Keep the Elderly at Home" is about sensor systems that can tell if an old person has fallen, is having a heart attack, etc. These allow people to live alone because if something happens, the sensor alerts people.
Of course, I read this headline to mean that people are putting sensors around old people's houses to make sure they don't get out. Because, you know, those sneaky old people...
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Silent dangers
Anyone (yeah, I talk about it to that many people) who knows me in Bangladesh pretty much knows that my single biggest issue with life here is dirty bathrooms.
Traffic? A good chance to read the NYTimes.com on my Blackberry. Cows that run out into traffic, causing a lot of brake-slamming? Aww... cows. (Actually, goats are the cutest street livestock, but we can get into that another time.) Arsenic in the water and lead in the air? Who needed those few extra years of life lost anyway?
But seriously, I swear, I am pretty zen about life here--by my standards, anyway. This from the person who inspires other ex-pats' jaws to drop by explaining she doesn't care for the cheap massages so abundant here because she can't really sit still that long.
Yup, zen is my middle name.
Anyway, back to the bathrooms. No matter how clean a Bangladeshi bathroom is (and I mean real Bangladeshi bathrooms, which means pretty much anything in Gulshan doesn't count), there is always a spider. Usually with part of his web preserved intact. So it's like, sure, let's make this bathroom sparkling clean so that the spider feels nice and comfy!
I hate spiders. They are devious little eight-legged enemies. So of course, the whole time I am in there, I am watching him. You can't really leave the door open, too. So I feel like I am trapped and unable to make a quick escape in case the spider pulls a fast one on me.
Maybe this is too much information? Sometimes, though, I just need people to understand the true hazards of life here. Is the 30% hardship differential enough compensation?
You tell me, spider. I am watching you.
NOTE: Trish informs me that the reason spiders and webs remain in otherwise spotless bathrooms is due to Muslims not liking to harm spiders because the Prophet liked them. Good to know--if given a choice between bathrooms, I'll try to check on the religion of the people who clean them first.
Traffic? A good chance to read the NYTimes.com on my Blackberry. Cows that run out into traffic, causing a lot of brake-slamming? Aww... cows. (Actually, goats are the cutest street livestock, but we can get into that another time.) Arsenic in the water and lead in the air? Who needed those few extra years of life lost anyway?
But seriously, I swear, I am pretty zen about life here--by my standards, anyway. This from the person who inspires other ex-pats' jaws to drop by explaining she doesn't care for the cheap massages so abundant here because she can't really sit still that long.
Yup, zen is my middle name.
Anyway, back to the bathrooms. No matter how clean a Bangladeshi bathroom is (and I mean real Bangladeshi bathrooms, which means pretty much anything in Gulshan doesn't count), there is always a spider. Usually with part of his web preserved intact. So it's like, sure, let's make this bathroom sparkling clean so that the spider feels nice and comfy!
I hate spiders. They are devious little eight-legged enemies. So of course, the whole time I am in there, I am watching him. You can't really leave the door open, too. So I feel like I am trapped and unable to make a quick escape in case the spider pulls a fast one on me.
Maybe this is too much information? Sometimes, though, I just need people to understand the true hazards of life here. Is the 30% hardship differential enough compensation?
You tell me, spider. I am watching you.
NOTE: Trish informs me that the reason spiders and webs remain in otherwise spotless bathrooms is due to Muslims not liking to harm spiders because the Prophet liked them. Good to know--if given a choice between bathrooms, I'll try to check on the religion of the people who clean them first.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Family ties
I won't say that I am really into genealogy. I mean, I'm not. I don't do research to find out who my ancestors were. But I still have an incredible fascination with them--who they were, what they did, where they lived. I think part of that is the whole thing with being American--our ancestors can, and do, come from anywhere, and yet here we are. Bangladeshis are fascinated by the story of President Obama's background--but they assume because I'm white, my family must have been diplomats and such for generations.
Not so much, in reality. Just going back to my grandparents, who were factory workers, janitors, brick masons, and school lunch ladies--and all immigrants or children of immigrants--it really hits home for me that, cheesy as it sounds, the American Dream I peddle every day is real for many people.
So anyway, Ellisisland.org completely plays to my fascination with all of this. You can find information on immigrants who passed through there, including whole ship manifests. This allows me to find my favorite entry, one that is a veritable bonanza of stupid details that seem meaningful to me.
Manifest of the SS Republic, sailing from Naples to New York, arriving May 2, 1906
Name in full: Romeo Monticchio (aka my great-grandfather)
Age: 21
Married or Single: Single
Calling or Occupation: Farm laborer
Able to-- Read. Write.: Yes
Nationality: Italy
Race or People: Italian South
Last residence: Ottaviano
Final destination: Brooklyn, NY
Whether having a ticket to such final destination: Yes
By whom was passage paid?: Himself
Whether in possession of $50, and if less, how much?: 10
Whether ever before in the United States: No
Whether going to join a relative or friend, and if so, what relative or friend, and his name and complete address: Friend [illegible], 682 Liberty Ave., Brooklyn, NY
$10. Wow. That would currently have the buying power of $234.78. Can you imagine the leap of faith required to move to a new country with just over $200 as all your money in the world? He went somewhere in the City Line area of Brooklyn, a neighborhood gentification still hasn't hit. He was a farm laborer. A farm laborer!
Okay, I am dorking out now. It just fascinates me... would we have a thing in common if we met? Would we share anything real? Why should it matter so much to me? Would he like me, or would he just be bewildered or annoyed at my inability to understand anything about him?
Maybe he wouldn't care at all. He would probably like my cousins better, as my grandmother (his daughter-in-law) already does--after all, I live in a country whose name she can't remember and essentially inhabit a world she can't understand.
We probably look alike. I look like my father's side of the family, despite my light coloring. We could probably look at each other and trace out the shape of our faces, or noses, or browlines. Would it matter more then?
Not so much, in reality. Just going back to my grandparents, who were factory workers, janitors, brick masons, and school lunch ladies--and all immigrants or children of immigrants--it really hits home for me that, cheesy as it sounds, the American Dream I peddle every day is real for many people.
So anyway, Ellisisland.org completely plays to my fascination with all of this. You can find information on immigrants who passed through there, including whole ship manifests. This allows me to find my favorite entry, one that is a veritable bonanza of stupid details that seem meaningful to me.
Manifest of the SS Republic, sailing from Naples to New York, arriving May 2, 1906
Name in full: Romeo Monticchio (aka my great-grandfather)
Age: 21
Married or Single: Single
Calling or Occupation: Farm laborer
Able to-- Read. Write.: Yes
Nationality: Italy
Race or People: Italian South
Last residence: Ottaviano
Final destination: Brooklyn, NY
Whether having a ticket to such final destination: Yes
By whom was passage paid?: Himself
Whether in possession of $50, and if less, how much?: 10
Whether ever before in the United States: No
Whether going to join a relative or friend, and if so, what relative or friend, and his name and complete address: Friend [illegible], 682 Liberty Ave., Brooklyn, NY
$10. Wow. That would currently have the buying power of $234.78. Can you imagine the leap of faith required to move to a new country with just over $200 as all your money in the world? He went somewhere in the City Line area of Brooklyn, a neighborhood gentification still hasn't hit. He was a farm laborer. A farm laborer!
Okay, I am dorking out now. It just fascinates me... would we have a thing in common if we met? Would we share anything real? Why should it matter so much to me? Would he like me, or would he just be bewildered or annoyed at my inability to understand anything about him?
Maybe he wouldn't care at all. He would probably like my cousins better, as my grandmother (his daughter-in-law) already does--after all, I live in a country whose name she can't remember and essentially inhabit a world she can't understand.
We probably look alike. I look like my father's side of the family, despite my light coloring. We could probably look at each other and trace out the shape of our faces, or noses, or browlines. Would it matter more then?
Dinner disaster
I just had a Bridget Jones moment and managed to make my pasta sauce purple. Completely and utterly purple. Note: red wine + white roux-based cheese sauce = purple.
And it tasted horrible. The mix of sharp blue cheese and red wine came out so acidic as to be inedible. Oops. I am still recovering.
I rarely fail so completely... I must not have thought this one through so well.
And it tasted horrible. The mix of sharp blue cheese and red wine came out so acidic as to be inedible. Oops. I am still recovering.
I rarely fail so completely... I must not have thought this one through so well.
I am so cruel
Just a few photos to make people who aren't enjoying an 80-degree sunny day right now jealous...
First off, the area in front of my building:
Secondly, the American Club has been looking quite nice since flowers have been in season:
Charlotte shows us how pretty things look:
Mwahahaha. Is anyone ready to come visit yet??? I am yelling at everyone except Alex, my one stalwart in the visiting of Bangladesh arena.
First off, the area in front of my building:
Secondly, the American Club has been looking quite nice since flowers have been in season:
Charlotte shows us how pretty things look:
Mwahahaha. Is anyone ready to come visit yet??? I am yelling at everyone except Alex, my one stalwart in the visiting of Bangladesh arena.
Waste of space = me on the weekend
I have been a bad, no-good, living-in-a-diplomatic-bubble kind of ex-pat lately. I haven't done anything in the last several days that I couldn't have done in New York. (Would I have done them? That remains unclear. I didn't really go out of my way for mediocre hotel bars in my past life, for instance.)
Last night a bunch of Embassy people hit the new bar at the Lake Shore Hotel. It looks like an ordinary mid-range hotel bar--which, in Bangladesh, is quite an accomplishment and required four years of struggling to get a liquor license.
Tonight I visited Bukhara restaurant in Banani with friends--it is one of the better of the many restaurants peddling the Bangla-Indian-Thai mix that is so standard here.
I started Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise a few days ago. I am not sure what I was expecting, but so far it is... very French. I actually have an extremely strong aversion to all French literature except Flaubert, who really should have been born British. And to me, Nemirovsky's writing lacks sublety, which is my number one problem with French literature in general. But so far, the book is engrossing enough, and the circumstances under which it was written make it fascinating and horrifying all at once.
Gosh, I sound negative, don't I? I just reread this and realized I sounded very negative. Well, I suppose an entire Friday of being a completely unproductive human being who can't even wake up in time to make it for noon tennis sign-ups will do that to you.
Last night a bunch of Embassy people hit the new bar at the Lake Shore Hotel. It looks like an ordinary mid-range hotel bar--which, in Bangladesh, is quite an accomplishment and required four years of struggling to get a liquor license.
Tonight I visited Bukhara restaurant in Banani with friends--it is one of the better of the many restaurants peddling the Bangla-Indian-Thai mix that is so standard here.
I started Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise a few days ago. I am not sure what I was expecting, but so far it is... very French. I actually have an extremely strong aversion to all French literature except Flaubert, who really should have been born British. And to me, Nemirovsky's writing lacks sublety, which is my number one problem with French literature in general. But so far, the book is engrossing enough, and the circumstances under which it was written make it fascinating and horrifying all at once.
Gosh, I sound negative, don't I? I just reread this and realized I sounded very negative. Well, I suppose an entire Friday of being a completely unproductive human being who can't even wake up in time to make it for noon tennis sign-ups will do that to you.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
My worlds colliding
Apparently Dr. Muhammed Yunus just spoke at Harvard Book Store to a sold-out audience. Cool. Though probably not as cool as that time he said hi to me.
Things I enjoy
I am blatantly stealing this picture from my friend Jeannette's facebook album, but here is a shot from America Week of children with one of the characters from Sisimpur, the Bangladesh version of Sesame Street:
I love the tiger! I desperately wanted to go give him a hug, but the goshdarned children kept getting in the way. Seriously, those kids were so into that tiger that I feared for the poor tiger's safety. They were about to squish him into orange and black pulp. It's good they didn't--there probably would have been tears if the tiger died.
I love the tiger! I desperately wanted to go give him a hug, but the goshdarned children kept getting in the way. Seriously, those kids were so into that tiger that I feared for the poor tiger's safety. They were about to squish him into orange and black pulp. It's good they didn't--there probably would have been tears if the tiger died.
Monday, February 2, 2009
The round-up
So I am back to normal after Barisal... sort of. I have a lot going on these next few weeks, so it doesn't feel like I am slowing down at all. In fact, I know what I am doing at work every day from now through the 18th. I am very tightly scheduled right at this moment!
Yesterday, however, I purposely didn't let anyone schedule meetings for me since I knew I would need to catch up on email and other useful things like that after being out of the office all week. And catch up I did, until 6:30pm, when I realized I had a tennis lesson in 15 mins that I had totally forgotten about. It was too late to make it, and for some reason this threw me into a total shit-fit, if you'll excuse the language. I was just not handling the forgetting of the tennis very well.
Being exhibit A of an extrovert, not in the sense of being outgoing but in the sense of desperately needing people around at all times, I called some friends to get dinner to help me out of my fit-iness. We went to Bella Italia for pizza, which was totally good! The owner lived in Rome and worked in Italian pizzerias for a long time before returning to Bangladesh. Of course, we brought some red wine, and between that and the checkered tablecloths, it was like being back in Jersey, eating pizza at a greasy booth across the room from some guy with a mob nickname.
And today I am prepping appetizers like a fiend. I am having a few people over to say goodbye to my friend Katy, who got here around when I did but whose rotation is up at the end of this week. We are going to miss her... but hey, at least it's an excuse to cook again. And of course, her leaving has a silver lining because she is going to start A-100 in March, so naturally that means I'll get the fun of harrassing her every day to find out what she's bidding on.
Not sure what I'm reading now... every few years I attempt to read Kafka's The Trial before getting incredibly angry that the paragraphs go on for more than a page, leaving pages that are totally unbroken and thus really intimidating and visually repellent. Thanks, Kafka. Anyway, that's where I'm at.
Yesterday, however, I purposely didn't let anyone schedule meetings for me since I knew I would need to catch up on email and other useful things like that after being out of the office all week. And catch up I did, until 6:30pm, when I realized I had a tennis lesson in 15 mins that I had totally forgotten about. It was too late to make it, and for some reason this threw me into a total shit-fit, if you'll excuse the language. I was just not handling the forgetting of the tennis very well.
Being exhibit A of an extrovert, not in the sense of being outgoing but in the sense of desperately needing people around at all times, I called some friends to get dinner to help me out of my fit-iness. We went to Bella Italia for pizza, which was totally good! The owner lived in Rome and worked in Italian pizzerias for a long time before returning to Bangladesh. Of course, we brought some red wine, and between that and the checkered tablecloths, it was like being back in Jersey, eating pizza at a greasy booth across the room from some guy with a mob nickname.
And today I am prepping appetizers like a fiend. I am having a few people over to say goodbye to my friend Katy, who got here around when I did but whose rotation is up at the end of this week. We are going to miss her... but hey, at least it's an excuse to cook again. And of course, her leaving has a silver lining because she is going to start A-100 in March, so naturally that means I'll get the fun of harrassing her every day to find out what she's bidding on.
Not sure what I'm reading now... every few years I attempt to read Kafka's The Trial before getting incredibly angry that the paragraphs go on for more than a page, leaving pages that are totally unbroken and thus really intimidating and visually repellent. Thanks, Kafka. Anyway, that's where I'm at.
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