Father and Daughter (Michael Dudok de Wit)

(From NYMag.com)

"With the holiday season almost upon us, the Picture Palace is in a familial, touchy-feely mood. Also, we thought it’d be kind of cool to turn you into a shivering puddle of tears. And so we present to you Michael Dudok de Wit’s Father and Daughter. It won the 2000 Best Animated Short Oscar, along with a whole crapload of other awards. There’s a reason for all those accolades: This wordless, minimalist, beautifully animated eight-minute fable, about a girl who watches her father leave and continues to wait for him, is one of the most powerful things we’ve ever seen. It’s also been a cult item among animation buffs for a long time now. Luckily, it’s being distributed on DVD (PAL only) by the Netherlands Institute for Animated Film, where you can find all sorts of similarly awesome films and filmmakers. In the meantime, you might need a Kleenex."

Le Beaujolais Nouveau Est Arrivé!

So, about a week ago the new Bojo arrived. In his sweet red wine suit. Midnight on November 19th to be exact (or historically the third Thursday of November). Not really that big of a deal but it's said that this year's vintage ain't so bad. At 87 points from Wine Spectator it's probably one of the better ones in recent memory.


I've never been that much of a fan of this wine or the gamay grape from which it is made...a little too fruity for my palate but I am all about anything that turns a day into a celebratory nod of toasting our French friends. Best served around 50°-57° F.

For thirteen bucks, maybe an hour in the fridge, and a taste for the fruity type of wine it's not a bad way to kick-off a pre-cursor to our traditional American Thanksgiving feast.

Toolin' around with colors....likey or me no likey?

Night Falls.....

Autumn is done. Autumn ended last week with temperate weather, wet leaves, and wind. Winter reared it's chilly head this week with wind chills hovering around 11°, frost on the window, and red cheeks. And on top of the onslaught of coldness, darkness falls around 4pm. The days are short and getting shorter. Which means the cold is colder and the winter is wintery-er.

However, once I've accepted this fact of the change of seasons, I get right into cozy mode.


You know those uber-cheap tin-can votives? They burn for maybe 4 hours, they don't leak, and they are the perfect addition to a fire in the fireplace.


The Swedes, or likely all Northern Europeans when the sun barely rises during the winter months, get it right with votives galore.



Sprinkled all over the room, table, counter....instant cozy, cavelike atmosphere. Just like some European wine cellar, tavern bar.....



Suddenly winter ain't so bad.

The Plan

by Jack Handey November 24, 2008

ILLUSTRATION: MICHAEL KUPPERMAN

The plan isn’t foolproof.

For it to work, certain things must happen:

—The door to the vault must have accidentally been left open by the cleaning woman.

—The guard must bend over to tie his shoes and somehow he gets all the shoelaces tied together. He can’t get them apart, so he takes out his gun and shoots all his bullets at the knot. But he misses. Then he just lies down on the floor and goes to sleep.

—Most of the customers in the bank must happen to be wearing Nixon masks, so when we come in wearing our Nixon masks it doesn’t alarm anyone.

—There must be an empty parking space right out in front. If it has a meter, there must be time left on it, because our outfits don’t have pockets for change.

—The monkeys must grab the bags of money and not just shriek and go running all over the place, like they did in the practice run.

—The security cameras must be the early, old-timey kind that don’t actually take pictures.

—When the big clock in the lobby strikes two, everyone must stop and stare at it for at least ten minutes.

—The bank alarm must have mistakenly been set to “Quiet.” Or “Ebb tide.”

—The gold bars must be made out of a lighter kind of gold that’s just as valuable but easier to carry.

—If somebody runs out of the bank and yells, “Help! The bank is being robbed!,” he must be a neighborhood crazy person who people just laugh at.

—If the police come, they don’t notice that the historical mural on the wall is actually us, holding still.

—The bank’s lost-and-found department must have a gun that fires a suction cup with a wire attached to it. Also a chainsaw and a hang glider.

—When we spray the lobby with knockout gas, for some reason the gas doesn’t work on us.

—After the suction cup is stuck to the ceiling, it must hold long enough for Leon to pull himself up the wire while carrying the bags of money, the gold bars, and the hang glider. When he reaches the ceiling, he must be able to cut through it with the chainsaw and climb out.

—Any fingerprints we leave must be erased by the monkeys.

—Once on the roof, Leon must be able to hold on to the hang glider with one hand and the money and the gold bars with the other and launch himself off the roof. Then glide the twenty miles to the rendezvous point.

—When we exit the bank, there must be a parade going by, so our getaway car, which is decorated to look like a float, can blend right in.

—During the parade, our car must not win a prize for best float, because then we’ll have to have our picture taken with the award.

—At the rendezvous point, there must be an empty parking space with a meter that takes hundred-dollar bills.

—The robbery is blamed on the monkeys. ♦

My Boy and Playdoh, Part 2

"Hey Colb, you need to pick up all those army guys in your room....they're everywhere."

"Colb. Now."

"And Colb - the brown playdoh? for the army guys? Can you pick all that up too, please."

"That's not playdoh, Mommy."

"Whatever. Just pick up all the stuff on your floor. And where'd you get the brown playdoh, anyway?"

"It's not playdoh. It's a poop ball. And it just fell out."

37 Days and Counting.....

I've just realized that it's November. And it's not just November but it's past mid-November. Which means Thanksgiving is basically tomorrow and Christmas is next Tuesday.

Since pulling my head out the Halloween bag of candy, I've also realized that I need to get a little organized. There's the annual holiday card frenzy, the ubiquitous year-end teacher gifts, the entertaining hullabaloo, and some home-baked creations that we leave for our neighbors because we're constantly thundering over their heads (or next door or across the street or......).

And while I delight in giving I also tend to work myself into a lather with some sorta UNIQUE! ORIGINAL! ONE OF A KIND! PERFECT FOR THE RECIPIENT! expectation.

And today, I returned to an old favorite just to take a gander at the mountain of possibilities......


For the brother-in-law that has really just about every personal electronic device that's humanly possible.....

Mix Tape USB Flash Drive and Memory Stick

Smaller than an 8-track, yet just as cool.

For that same brother-in-law that has given you and your family
iPods and iPhones and Nanos...maybe he doesn't have the proper sound system?
Maybe he needs:

Retro Lego block iPod Speaker

Or maybe for your own brother living in Brooklyn.
He might be yearning for a fire in the fire place:

A Fantastic Instant Fireplace DVD

Or in case your nephews (that belong to your brother)
don't understand how Santa might deliver gifts
through the roaring fire playing on the TV, my brother could use:

A Cardboard Fireplace

For your lilliputian of a sister-in-law that loves all thing tiny and small:

A box of Micro Mini Sweets

Just because Micro Mini Sweets and fake fried dough are so......NEAT!

or maybe something for your Star Wars obsessed 7 year old son that
really would like to have R2D2 on his back for the day:

An R2D2 Backpack
or maybe for a little sumthin' for your in-laws
that really don't believe in global warming:

"How to Reduce Your Carbon Footprint"



Your 10 year old daughter has been jonzin' for her own phone.
Who says it has to be a cell phone, why not....
her own Hot Lips Phone.


And for a friend that has mastered the art of simple brownies and
knows well enough to save the corners for herself:

A Baker's Edge Brownie Pan


Or your other sister-in-law, that graphic design sister-in-law
in Brooklyn that might enjoy a trip down history mail-order lane:

Catalog: History of Mail Order

or maybe something for your own self. Your jokester self.

A banana Cell Phone Holder

It's all here, one big bowl of cleverness at Fred Flare. And be sure to check out the podcast.

Freebie ?

I love when the free sample at Barneys turns out to be a crazy-good new product that you're actually interested in.....and then you find you would need over $500 to purchase the normal size.

You fill up my senses.....

Yeah, I could so easily wax on and on about how we'd like to bask in the glow of November 4th but I've got so many other things on my mind.

Like: My olfactory system.

Yup. Yesterday, while killing some time in a yucky department store (of the Macy's ilk) I walked past the perfume counter. And I stopped. Because right there, on the platter of testers, was a bottle of Chloe perfume.
This was my perfume of choice from 9th grade, 1979, until I graduated from high school in 1982.

When everyone was wearing Charlie, I was not.

My dad gave a bottle to me, as a gift from one of his trips to Montreal.

I pronounced the name of the perfume "shloe". For years. Shloe.

"Wow, Karen, what's the scent?" "Oh, it's shloe. From Montreal." Yes. That's what I would say, even after two years of French class.

When I graduated from high school, my aunt and uncle gave me a bottle of Chanel No. 5.

I could never wear it. Or I never knew how to wear it because the few times I tried, it was like I smelled like one big walking, alcohol dripping Jasmine flower. Little did I know the significance of CoCo's favorite number and scent.

And then, off to college I went and was surrounded by.......

and.......

and......

and.....

or just a mass variety of Crabtree&Evelyn musky, dusty, rosie, lavender-y, powder roomy stuff. Blick. Just the combination of cigarette smoke and over powering Lauren? Makes my face spasm into wrinkles and creases.

Then, in the mid-80's, I was 'exploring' my more grounded roots of bucking trends. A time that was all about hairy legs, super-fitness, voicing contrarian opinions, and boycotting any company or institution that supported apartheid, including the University of Kansas, where I was attending.

My scent of choice was not patchouli. No. It was Nutragena's Sesame Body Oil.
Maybe because it doubled nicely as a tanning oil? Maybe because I was swimming a lot and the oil was the best medicine for that crazy chlorine itch? Either way, I still use this and love the smell. Brings back good memories. Although, I'm so over the 'exploration' point in my life now.

So, now 20 million years later, I have my three go-to's.

1. For an ol'fave, mostly because I get loads of compliments when I wear it, I'll wear this:
Yeah, it's a little 1995. And I hate the name. So, when I get the question: "Karen, you smell so nice...", I'll say, "Thanks, it's Es Cape'."

2. My other fave that I discovered at Pod this summer is a non-alcoholic perfume from sensory master, Christopher Brosius, from 1966 At The Beach. Hints of salt, sea, the ever essential Coppertone, as described from IHatePerfume.com:

The prime note in this scent is Coppertone 1967 blended with a new accord I created especially for this perfume – North Atlantic. The base of the scent contains a bit of Wet Sand, Seashell, Driftwood and just a hint of Boardwalk. The effect when you wear At The Beach 1966 is as if you’ve been swimming all day in the ocean.

Imagine it’s about 4 o’clock on a golden summer afternoon and you’ve been at the beach all day rubbing yourself with Coppertone suntan lotion – but Coppertone as it existed in the 60’s, not quite as it is now... You walk into the surf as the waves break on the shore and, bending down to touch the surf, you notice the smell of your warm skin and of the salt water that seems so cold by comparison. It has just the faintest hint of watermelon rind…

.3 And finally, now, during the colder months, I steal into my daughter's room and swipe a squirt from her own private stash of Au The Blanc by Bvlgari.

Who knows if it smells any good on me. I guess that's not really the point of why I wear it.

It reminds me of Brussels, the kids, Maia's head. It's like I've got a square of my kid's clothing near me at all times.

Just in case you wanna watch again.....

An impassioned day.

I stood in line for maybe an hour but it seemed like 30 seconds. I watched an elderly volunteer walk up and down the line offering people water and reading glasses (just "in case you can't see read that damn small print on the ballot"). I got choked up standing behind this line of diverse people, an African-American couple that were easily 75 years or older, while I thought about what this day must also mean to them.

And I looked up at the crystal blue sky and took a long, deep breath. I. took. it. all. in.

Pax.