Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Tom and I decided to go hiking in Scotland this summer. The Island of Skye. The Highlands. It’s all very romantic and mystical.  photo credit: Planetware.com But we were seriously busy flexing our lip synching muscles in preparation for the biggest most contentious lip synching championship ever. So we phoned in the travel planning and just booked a trip with a sort of glamping outfit. Except it’s more like gled & breakfasting. As I understand it, we roll up to some kind of bucolic country inn, roll our suitcases up to our lovely duvet covered bed and hike out the next morning with tiny little daypacks to investigate castles and the moors while someone hauls our luggage to the next stop. A place where I could eat some eggs. photo credit: faerie magazine Deposit. Plane Tickets. Done. Back to trying to figure out how to construct a portable 60 square foot screen for our audio-visual lip synching dust up. Except I kept getting emails in increasing amou

I don’t cook often, but when I do, I make sure to start from a recipe. Which I use for general inspiration. Following directions has never been one of my core skills. I like to do things in bolder strokes. Follow my lead, renegades: 1) Get the lentils and dump them in a pot. Turn on the stove and let the pot boil over 5-7 times.  2) Throw some oil in a pan and fry up this onion they mention in the recipe. But since you found it on top of the fridge and it was kind of old, add some scallions. Also add a stalk of celery just because it seems like a good idea. Then notice the garlic in the recipe, so toss in a little of that. 3) Locate that bag of My Mother's Lentil Spice you bought on 29th street, even though you only went into the store to escape the pouring rain last time you were in midtown with nice hair and no umbrella. You think the My Mother's is in the cabinet somewhere. Hunt around. Remember it’s in the other room. Don’t worry about the things smoulderin