Music That Will Vibrate Your Hammers, Anvils, And Stirrups In A Pleasing and Delightful Way

You must go forth and acquire these wonderful albums right away. If you know the artists, these albums are even better than their previous work. If you do not know these artists, you will soon like them very much.

Share This Place (Mirah and Spectratone International)

Make Sure They See My Face (Kenna)

Back In Black. And Red. With A Smattering Of Iron-On Tiger Patches.

Watch out, world. I am now a red belt. Mess with me and I will show you my hop-step hook kick. You will see it up close because I now have permission to kick to the head. And while I am standing so close to you (ha!), take the moment before you black out to admire the Korean flag, American flag, Kukkiwon, and matching tiger head patches on my uniform. Yeah, you know you’re jealous that you turned in your Star Cards for plastic trophies instead of waiting for the good stuff.

Translators Are Literary Celebrities, Too

In the past few months, I’ve rediscovered books.  (Imagine that–an English major reading!)  After mowing through the pile of books I’d purchased over the years but never cracked open, I began asking friends for recommendations, going out and buying those books, and then actually reading them (…not just starting and abandoning them).

In the past few weeks, I got it into my head that I should read War and Peace.  I somehow managed to get through high school and then college without being required to read many of the “great classics.”  No Faulkner, no Tolstoy, no Dostoevsky, no Joyce.  Now, with no small amount of guilt, I plan to make up for this oversight.  Having read good things (in both The New York Times and Time magazine) about the brand new translation of War of Peace, I trekked down to The Strand last night in order to pick up a copy, along with as many other “must reads” as I could carry home.  (Which, obviously, was not very many.  War and Peace is, shall we say, “hefty.”)

What luck, though!  It turns out that the translators–Larissa Volokhonsky and Richard Pevear–were actually at the bookstore giving a lecture, and I was only a little late!  Not only did I get the book I came for, but I got it signed and personalized!  And, of course, caught the tail end of a discussion about the challenges of translating such a dense and canonical text.  I am very excited.  Although I do realize that only hardcore nerds get excited about standing in line to get a couple of translators to autograph a 1,000+ page book.

Maybe It’s Time To Unplug The Air Conditioner

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my radiator hissing.  Winter is coming.

C-C-C-Cinnamon Buns And Candy Kisses, On My Tongue. Fun!

As much as I’m looking forward to the snow, I’m excited that we’re actually getting a season between summer and winter this year.  Today was a perfectly crisp and slightly breezy fall day; just the right kind of day for baking.

I’d been thinking about cinnamon buns ever since I went to Ikea over a week ago, so I finally decided to do something about my craving.  I wanted a very specific kind of cinnamon bun: extra soft and loaded with cinnamon, sweet enough that it didn’t need icing, and more of a roll, really; not some firm hunk of bread coated in sticky glop.

I’m not completely satisfied with the recipe I found, but with some tweaking, it could be a winner.  I would recommend adding somewhere between 2 teaspoons and 4 Tablespoons of cinnamon–the former is far too little, and the latter is a bit extreme (but delicious, if you’re also the kind of person who eats cinnamon straight from the container).  By following the instructions to the letter, I ended up with adorable miniature buns, but I think next time I’ll be making them much larger.

You Learn Something Every Day

Master Jerry has taken to asking me after every taekwondo class if I had a good time. Seeing as 1) I’ve been taking lessons at the dojang for a year and a half, and 2) “fun,” “laughing,” “smiling,” and “talking” are admonished on a near-daily basis (the class is comprised mainly of high schoolers), I’m not entirely sure whether my happiness is relevent. In any case, I love taekwondo and enjoy the classes when I am not breaking or spraining myself.

I did use the opportunity, however, to explain that I was going to be switching jobs soon. Because it’s practically impossible to explain media planning, particularly to someone whose first language is not English and has little knowledge of how the NYC advertising world works, I basically just said I would be working for Procter & Gamble now. Suddenly, Master Jerry was very concerned.

“You have heard what the President, the CEO of Procter & Gamble, said on the radio?” I thought for a minute, trying to think of major P&G-related news I’d heard recently.

“Um, something about a monopoly, maybe?” Every time P&G buys anything, monopoly concerns are raised.

“No, no. I heard on the radio–he said something about ‘a deal with the devil.’” At this point I almost crack up. Master Jerry is extremely religious. And extremely literal.

“Oh, that’s just an expression! He was trying to make a joke about how how the company became so successful and large.” He looked relieved. It was as if half the packaged goods in the United States had been instantly exorcised. Gain, Duracell, Febreze, and Dawn no longer bore the mark of Satan.

As for me, I learned yesterday that the spicy green empanada sauce that I like so much is called Aji. And that “ariquipe” means caramel. (And that empanadas con ariquipe y queso are delicious, and should be a standard part of every order at Papa’s.)

How Does Your Garden Grow? With Silver Bells And, Um, Arid Spells.

Disaster-in-a-Bag Update: I forgot to water the chive garden for two days in a row now.  I hope I remember to give it some lovin’ from the tap once I get home, or those are going to be some very dry chive sprouts. 

Just Because You Aced An IQ Test Doesn’t Mean You Know How To Write Or Make Art

Dear Mensa,

Your newsletter has gotten even worse.  For the love of intellect, STOP PUBLISHING IT.  I don’t usually get up-in-arms about paper use, but the issuance of this horrendous magazine is even more wasteful than me printing out duplicate color copies of backdated media flowcharts at work.  Please.  Stop.

I feel ashamed that this month’s worthless rag was allowed to reside (however briefly) in the same mailbox that so graciously accepts my beloved monthly copy of Gourmet.

Sincerely (No, really),

Sara

Swedish Shopping Adventure (Bork Bork Bork)

It turns out that the free bus from the Port Authority to the Elizabeth Ikea is not just a legend, but really exists, and whisks you directly from 42nd St. to the Cave of Swedish Wonders. I decided to go there on a whim today, after a curiously productive morning. (I installed the second bamboo window blind so that my apartment will be sufficiently dark at night, had the super come to fix my leaky sink, and washed the floor… all before breakfast.)

I was not disappointed with my random jaunt into New Jersey. Okay, maybe with some parts, like the 30 minute ride past reclaimed swampland and landfills, but definitely not the shopping part. While I did not find grapefruit spoons, which was my shaky pretense for going in the first place, I did find a much-needed 17-piece plastic container set, a silicone-coated spatula, a bunch of water glasses (for $2! Thank you Sweden!), a pair of adorable little handblown rocks glasses, and that sheepskin mat (you may know it as “Rens”) I’d been ogling for a while now. And, of course, there was the requisite break for meatballs with lingonberries, a cinnamon bun, and a little cup of coffee that was so potent that it kept me charged until well after nightfall.

The most triumphant moment of the day was when I returned my apartment, bags in hand, and realized that I managed to cart well over a dozen pieces of glassware from the bus to the subway to another bus…without breaking anything. This may be a first.