Yes, I know I have glitter on my face.

My mother, the IDL (Irish Dragon Lady), when asked where she wanted to go for dinner, replied, "To the place with the white bowls." Me: What place with the white bowls? IDL: The place with the white bowls. Me: Do you know what was in the bowls? IDL: The stuff. Me: Do you know what kind of cuisine was in the white bowls? IDL: No. You know, the white bowls. Me: Mom, I really don't know what you are talking about. IDL: The place with the white bowls on the side. Me: Oh! The Japanese place that has salads in the white bowls? IDL: Yes. That's what I said.

Me to my cousin G on the afternoon of my uncle's death: We need to start the novena tonight. G: What? Me: We need to start the novena. Tonight. G: The what? Me: The praying, the rosary... G: Oh! But I don't have a rosary with me... G [to her sister L]: Hey, we need to start the praying tonight. L: What? G: The praying, you know the rosary... L: Oh. I don't have a rosary with me. Me: It's OK. I do. And I'm sure Auntie and the praying ladies will. L: Oh God, do we have to do it for 15 years??? My grandmother died 15 years ago and we're still doing it. Me: No, nine nights. Novena. Nine. That's it. Later, after we've set up an altar and chairs in the front of the living room... G: Do you think God thinks it's a sin if I drink beer during the novena? Me: As long as you're not hurting yourself or anyone else, God doesn't care what you do. But you're gonna have to sit in back if you're gonna drink during the praying.

Course schedule: Monday: Physical Education / Portuguese Tuesday: Private Investigator certification Thursday: Art Weekend: Cooking

Setting: LA Times Food and Wine Festival. Paramount Studios lot. Mid-80's sunny, light breeze, clear. Perfect, perfect So. Cal. day. I have an eating disorder. I love food. I'm not a skinny girl, either, which really sucks. When is food tasting going to evolve like wine-tasting, where were get the essence of the flavors and textures in our mouths, then spit it out oh so politely into a stainless steel bucket. I'm not sure why it's the only time it's polite to spit into a stainless steel bucket. I don't spit, by the way; I swallow. Don't judge me. I heard Michael Voltaggio and Jon and Vinny from Animal at a panel today. Let's get it over with--yes, Michael Voltaggio is smokin' hot. OK. I knew that going in. What I didn't expect was how articulate he was about his philosophy of food. He said he wants to make fine dining more accessible. He talked about how when he worked at a fancy restaurant people would come in and tell him that they were te...

I love the way your eyes shine just for me...the way your smile flashes against your dusky skin when you see me...the way you make me feel cherished as a woman...the way that you take care of me and let me take care of you...the strength of your arms and of your will... Until that moment when possibility passes and we have spiraled into just friends...when you see me as your confidant but not your lover...when I am your solace but not your passion...when you love me but are not in love with me... So stop trying to mark me as yours...stop trying to keep me for yourself...stop wrapping me in your inky jealous black auras... Until you decide that you want to be my confidant and my lover...my solace and my passion...when you love me and are in love with me...

Current mood: thankful My pilgrimage to the land of Frida is now over...so glad I went! It was absolutely worth it. We went to the Frida exhibit at Bellas Artes yesterday--the largest exhibit of Frida's work ever. The line when we got there went down the stairs (the exhibit was on the very high 2nd floor). By the time we left, it was out the door and halfway to the street. It was the first time I had ever seen any of Frida's paintings in person. I've always considered myself more a fan of Frida the person than Frida the artist. Of course, I admired her talent, just not as much as I admired her spirit. The paintings blew me away. The prints just don't do them justice. They are brighter and more detailed that they seem in books. I love the ones from New York especially, where Frida shows how different New York is from Mexico City. They almost look like collages, with symbolic objects in random places. We started our morning at breakfast on the roof of...