This blog HAS MOVED!

After a good amount of experimentation while working on a site for my kids (KidsBookyBubbles), my eyes were opened to the joys of owning your own URL!  So I looked into purchasing the logical URL for this blog -- which would be intellimuse.com -- but SOMEONE OWNS IT!  I was shocked. It was kind a word I made up, and I didn't even really love it, but it was what I could cobble together in the mental state I had with two children under the age of three.

Alas, my mental state is no better nowadays, and any other name I could think of was already taken.  And so my new title is just that:  All the Good Blog Names are Taken . I was very much at risk of what happened to Dillon Edwards Investments on Saturday Night Live.

So all this to say that if you want to keep subscribing, please visit  All the Good Blog Names are Taken.
If you subscribe via RSS, if I've done things correctly (50% chance) your feed should have already been updated.  If you subscribe by email, please go to the new website and click on the email icon in the upper right hand corner to sign up for updates.  Happy holidays everyone!!!

Figs by Moonlight

Food is the best.  I went to a farmer's market today and the food was so good that I just had to give the picture more space than usual.  One of the happiest days of my life was when a friend made roasted figs filled with goat cheese.  I think figs should grow on trees.  Wait, maybe they do.

Last week there was a blackout all over San Diego.  At first, I was annoyed because I couldn't work.  But then, gradually, I became glad, because I couldn't work.  I took the kids to the pool and the pool manager told me he heard the power wasn't going to come back on until sometime the next day.  I felt a little giddy.  This was as close to camping as I would ever want to get.  I'm the type of person who, born in a different era, would be dead by now.  I would have been naturally selected out and consumed by tigers because of my poor eyesight.  If required to hunt rabbits for survival as a result of the power outage, I wouldn't make it (should I hunt with a spatula or a collander?).

But I survived the power outage.  I cooked -- on my gas grill (no, can't make fire with twigs either).  I quenched my thirst with beer (which was made of hops and barley that someone planted).  And the most startling thing happened that night.  I discovered...moonlight.  I'd heard that word before -- and I've certainly seen the moon -- but I didn't get it until I saw it in the absence of other light that the moon actually provides light.  And that night, a lot of it.  So much of it that it actually kept awake up as I was lying on the floor in an attempt to keep cool (weakness #4: cannot withstand temperature fluctuations of +/- 3 degrees).  [Full disclosure:  I am the person who once walked in a field behind my childhood home and ran as if doing a jig because grasshoppers were touching me.  Observing me, a friend of my brother's asked, "Has your sister ever been outdoors?"]

But, moonlight!  I've seen it.  It only took me 40 years to experience it.  Now I get it.  Moonlight.

Acupuncture and Chinese Medicine

This morning, a few days before my 40th birthday, I put two contact lenses into one eye.  Who says 40 is the new 30?

Photo to the right was taken on a recent whale watching trip.  This was about 10 minutes before I got too seasick to care about whales.  And actually I think these are dolphins. 

So recently, I've started going to an acupuncturist.  Combination of not wanting to be heavily medicated and hearing the tales of others, including some friends in the medical profession, talk about the merits of acupuncture (one friend, a 43-year-old physician, has had numerous surgeries and procedures in an effort to get pregnant; enter acupuncture -- she's 4 months along now).  Of this I am convinced:  it certainly does something.  The first time I had it done, about 10 minutes in, alone in the room, I started laughing uncontrollably.  Nothing was funny.  Although I wouldn't rule out mental illness, it seemed to be a strange response to the acupuncture.  Apparently this isn't uncommon.  And after my first session, I felt the best I've felt since I was probably two.  It's what I imagine nirvana is meant to be like.  And best of all, I slept that night, which hasn't happened much lately.

Last time I went, the acupuncturist checked my pulse and said that my lungs sounded weaker than normal.  I had felt that day that I was coming down with something, and had just started feeling slightly headachy, with some sinus pressure, and that overall run-down feeling.  She prescribed me some herbs to take -- apparently these are very effective if you can catch something at its onset -- and within a few hours, I felt a lot better.  By the next day, I felt fine.

So I'm a convert.  I was always skeptical of Chinese medicine, but I've realized that having a Chinese mother who randomly instructs you to ingest herbs is not the same as having someone who has actually studied Chinese medicine prescribe you herbs.  And I can't explain the acupuncture, except to say that it works.  

In case you're wondering, and you're probably not, if there's an earthquake you're allowed to pull all the needles out.  And then run outside in your glamorous paper robe.

Entitlement, China and Other Things

You know you're getting on in years when you hear yourself talking about "young people these days" and their sense of entitlement -- as someone who's recruited and worked with people now in their 20s (and to be fair, as with all generalizations, there are some very clear exceptions), I think there's something there.  I once had someone suggest that in a self-review that they should get an exceptional rating because they showed up for work every day (imagine the rating if they had actually worked while they were there!).  There are so many philosophies out there nowadays on child rearing, from Tiger Moms to the coddlers;  here is a great article about trends that a psychologist is seeing in young people today.  Where is the pain of growing up of yore, where you could actually not get a trophy because you sucked at sports and didn't deserve one?  Where is the humility and sense of reality you get from the experience of losing?  Raising Self-Reliant Children in a Self-Indulgent World: Seven Building Blocks for Developing Capable Young People is one of the best books I've read on how not to raise a brat.  Unfortunately, my enforcement of its principles is probably weak.

I've recently started reading Mao's Last Dancer, Li Cunxin's autobiography of how we went from a poor (and I mean, poor) peasant boy in rural China to being selected for the prestigious national ballet school.  I'm only halfway through the book (but based on the movie previews I know that love and defection ensue), but what really stood out to me about his description of his childhood was that despite being part of a loving family (without being coddled), and perhaps even because of his poverty, he had his head screwed on right.  Anytime you want to recalibrate your view of hardship, pick up a book about living in Mao's China.  

Of course, this book has nothing to do with child-rearing.  I've just twisted it here to fit my topic of choice.  It does give a good picture into the mindset and environment of communist China, and actually reminds me a bit of some companies at which I've worked.

On the topic of China (yes, this post is going to ramble), I also recently ready Peony in Love: A Novel.  Let me just say that it wasn't at all what I expected, but like all Lisa See's works of historical fiction, was an enjoyable read while painlessly educating you on various events, customs and philosophies (in this case, of dead people).  

Recently I started reading Louisa May Alcott's Little Women with my daughters.  I think I last read it when I must have been 8 or 9.  But I was struck each time the mother (who, I strangely didn't recall, they call "Marmee") spoke, at how she addressed my own sense of entitlement.  A lot to learn from that old Mrs. March, there is.

Liquid Breakfasts

I love breakfast.  I love eating, and breakfast is the first thing you get to eat every day.  I love bacon. Eggs.  Butter.  During the week, though, breakfast is a lot less fun.  For me, it's a rushed time, and with my new job I am usually on a call with an international group of people at an ungodly hour.  I need to be able to prepare something that can be done in increments as I hit the mute button periodically, and it needs to be quickly consumed.  But it also needs not to be disgusting.  I'm a snob like that.

So here's a little meal that my friend Patricia suggested.  It's actually surprisingly good.  You'll need (the stuff I took an ugly photo of with my cell phone):

• Almond milk (about a cup or so...though I don't usually measure so you might have to experiment here); I've tried unflavored as well as vanilla and they both work fine
• 1 Banana
• 1 Avocado
• Whey (I don't really know what this is except that Little Miss Muffet ate them with curds in a nursery rhyme) -- but at Patricia's suggestion I got MRM brand 100% all natural whey in Rich Vanilla
• (optional) Flax oil

All you do is slice up the banana and avocado, add in about a cup of the almond milk, a squirt of flax oil and a scoop of whey, and blend (I have a handy little Braun hand blender that makes this easy).  You can add in ice if you want it to be more smoothie-like, but I'm happy with it so long as everything else is cold.  The whey protein makes it filling -- unlike with smoothies, this one tides me over til lunch. There you have it -- healthy liquid breakfast!

Bumble & Bumble Dry Shampoo

If you're wondering why I haven't written for a few months, which you're probably not unless you're me, the person who reads this blog, then I will tell you.  Somehow, weeks after I left my last job, I ended up at a venture-backed company.  That means that I am no stranger to the 16-hour workday.  And better yet, I can start my day as early as 3:45 AM.  Needless to say, this has shifted my priorities a bit.  I am now willing to pay 40x what I was previously willing to pay to save myself a minute or two. 

So I know I am the person who said that the best dry shampoo I found was the $1.99 corn starch from the grocery store.  And that was true back then -- but it does take some work, especially when you have black hair (though perhaps I won't for long -- in the past few months I've seen a frightening emergency of gray -- very wiry, gravity-resisting grays), to make it disappear.  Enter the Bumble & Bumble hair powder (pictured here in black, but I actually got the white, imagining that after a harrowing day at the office I would have worked a black-colored powder all over my face by the end).  It smells like nothing (all the others I tried smelled revolting once put on my hair).  It sprays a really fine mist so you don't end up looking like Wolfgang Amadaeus Mozart.  And yes, it costs about $40 from my local salon, but you can get it on Amazon for cheaper.  Totally worth it to me for the extra few seconds it buys me in the morning.  I've started running too (which warrants a separate post -- those of you who know me will now also know that hell has frozen over and pigs do fly), and this is a great post-run time-saver.  And so far, no clogging of the nozzle which was a real problem with the Oscar Blandi dry shampoo.  Thank you Bumble & Bumble for letting me sleep in until 3:46 AM!

Rancho Valencia

A couple of months ago, I had the Best.  Day. Ever.  Me and four of my friends spent the day at Rancho Valencia , in Rancho Santa Fe (California).  Despite the picture on the spa website, rest assured that there is no requirement to stand in an outside shower half-naked.  To the right is another picture of the resort, right outside the relaxation room.  I didn't take that picture.  In fact, woman in the picture isn't even one of the friends I was with that day.  The woman in the picture is my friend Alice, who went to Rancho Valencia on a totally different day, and who has no idea that I've nabbed her Facebook photo for my own selfish purposes.

From what I hear all the Auberge resorts are to die for, and the service is spectactular.  Rancho Valencia in particular has a seasonal "quench", which is a service that varies by season that's 60 minutes long and costs $100.  It's great value when you consider that you have access to the resort grounds, which includes a huge, gorgeous relaxation room with a big fireplace and silk tea bags, yoga classes, pool and hot tub, and cabanas for lunching poolside.  Even though the place was only minutes from where we live, we felt that we had escaped to a serene paradise where our sanity could once again be restored.

Next on my wish list?  Solage Calistoga, which is affiliated with Auberge.  Best saved for when I'm making money again, but I am pretty sure from looking at the website that I should be living there. 

Ippolita Wonderland Party Ring

Recently, I was up in San Francisco, and was shocked at how little plastic surgery I saw.  Living in SoCal I had largely forgotten that most people are not actually blond and that the average 50-year-old woman doesn't naturally have the full, perky breasts of a Barbie doll.  I saw people with...brown hair.  Boobs that didn't resemble globes.  Facial expressions.  And they were eating food.  Really good food.

While we were in SF I celebrated another birthday...one that is precariously close to a rather large number.  I started realizing that I had outgrown certain things.  One of those is the hope that someday I'd be perfect. I'm appreciating that being flat-chested means I can sleep on my stomach.  That my stick-straight hair can only really successfully be stick straight.  That my inability to do just one thing at a time enables me to, well, do more than one thing at a time.  And I've come to know that I'm officially too old for some of the clothes in the catalogs I still get, and no matter what anyone says it's ridiculous for a woman of my age to be wearing a micro-mini.

One thing for which you can never be too old, thankfully, is jewelry.  While the world most likely no longer appreciate viewing a large swath of my thigh anymore, they'd surely enjoy a well-positioned delicacy made of semi-precious stones, something that says "maybe I can't wear short skirts and over-the-knee boots anymore but I can afford better costume jewelry now".  I saw this Ippolita Wonderland Party Ring in the Bloomingdales catalog, juxtaposed to a stack of a dozen or so rock-candy bangles with gorgeous hammered workmanship and thought, yeah, that still works.  At $795 a pop you'd hope to be going to a lot of cocktail parties to get your money's worth, but nice work, Ippolita -- the online photo doesn't do it justice.

Custom Drapes

I was unhappy today.  I took three days off since the kids start school next week and my plan was to spend time with them.  Which so far has involved letting them watch DVDs, play on the iPad or otherwise independently eradicate the house of any semblance of decency (did I teach these people that it was ok to throw used tissues on the ground when you're done blowing your nose?).  Partially because I must not be a very good mom.  And partially because there was stuff going on at work and my boss called me and I had to look at spreadsheets and think and write emails.  But really I just wanted to think about custom drapes.

A few weeks ago I went over to my friend Stacy's house and was struck by how adult her house looked.  She has a kid, but I didn't see any puke or juice on her sofas, nor did I find any booby traps made of string on the way to the kitchen -- her house was completely pulled together, with her furniture going with her decorative accents and most importantly, seeming to belong in her house.  When I got home I felt like my house was really juvenile (and not just because of the artwork made by the juveniles in my household, haphazardly taped onto walls with scotch tape, which I only occasionally find in places like under the bathroom sink or on top of a Build-A-Bear).  I've given up on having nice furniture for now -- at least until my kids stop walking on the sofas and the youngest of their friends becomes older than three.  But the drapes -- the drapes I can do!  So I've been looking into designers, stalking their websites, and learning about the differences between custom and ready-made drapes.  And custom drapes done right (that would be, not the way I've made them in the past) look full, have good heft, and look really great.  But I've also seen some bad custom drapes -- so I've chosen to go the designer route to get a referral to a good workroom.

The other thing I've learned about custom drapes is that they're expensive.  Will my life be way better once I have them?  One can hope.

Melaleuca and My New Non-Toxic Life

After a couple of months of dry-heaving from stress, I've started to re-examine my life and have decided that I should really focus on the living part.  One thing that's helped me feel a little more sane is de-cluttering and streamlining.

Enter Melaleuca, The Wellness Company.  A co-worker of mine recently introduced me to the products.  They're non-toxic, concentrated (and thus space-saving: I took back four ginormous bottles of toxic cleaners like Cascade and Jet Dry that I could barely carry -- and a single normal-sized bottle of Melaleuca's Diamond Brite did the job far better), effective (who knew natural products could be even better than harsh chemicals?) and economical (much, much less expensive than buying non-toxic products through regular retail channels).  A lot of the products serve multiple purposes, like the Tough & Tender all-purpose cleaner, which is also a fruit and veggie spray, or their toothpaste, which can also be used to polish silver.  Their vitamins are far superior to grocery store brands -- I started getting up early to do yoga in the mornings -- and my husband asked that I buy him some of these vitamins because he's never seen me with this much energy!  No more headache-inducing fumes after the cleaners come, no more giant Costco containers that don't fit on my shelves, and no more paying extra for companies' advertising and distribution costs (Melaleuca is customer-referral-only, so you get better value).

I've still got a long way to go before I'm as streamlined as Jay Shafer, who is apparently making it all work in a 89 square foot home -- and I'm pretty sure I'll never get there (where would I put all my handbags?).   But this is a pretty good start. 

Method Dish Liquid and Alice.com

My least favorite kind of stress is the kind that makes you randomly gag and wretch during the day, struggle to retain composure, and makes people wonder if you're trying to hide a pregnancy. I'll save the details for the novel that will render my financial success a foregone conclusion (please, magic book deal people, I'm sure I can think of something you'd want to publish!), but I found myself craving something very comforting...and yet very cheap.

Two weeks ago I was up in San Francisco visiting my brother and sister-in-law, who live the lifestyle of the people you'd imagine live in the spaces shown in the CB2 catalog. They had this Method Dish Liquid in the kitchen and I strangely found myself finding excuses to do the dishes. The pink grapefruit scent is perfect -- calming, soothing, not quite as sharply citrus and energizing as lemon but somehow spirit-lifting and happiness-inducing all the same. I also bought the all-purpose cleaner and have been cleaning a lot more...for fun! Equally non-toxic as my home-made cleaning agents, they smell a million times better than my vinegar-y concoctions. And they made me feel...better! Like, a lot less stressed...and just by washing dishes!

You can buy it pretty much anywhere nowadays, but one easy way is via Alice.com. Alice's prices are very competitive, and best of all, shipping is free AND you don't have to leave your home. Alice, your online domestic helper, will send you reminders to refill certain things at intervals that you specify. It's a great idea -- and once Alice gets a critical mass of inventory so that I can take care of all my household shopping online -- I will gladly fully outsource all of that to Alice. Worth trying out -- the more people that try it, the more leverage they'll have to get products.

Mastering the Art of Cooking (so that you can master the art of eating)

I'm taking this week between Christmas and New Year's off from work, and I am very, very happy. I think that one of the things that contributes most to one's quality of life is the ability to sleep until one naturally wakes up, as well as not having to scream at people to brush their teeth and comb their hair and eat breakfast while packing their lunches in order to get them sent off to two different schools. It's times like these that I fantasize about moving to a cozy mountain cabin, free of television, where we'd subsist on the land and the land alone. With my stamina for physical labor we'd surely starve, but what is food when you have love? (As a side note, for Christmas my very kind husband (who apparently does read my blog after all) surprised me with the LV Tivoli PM...spectacular! So even though the mountain life might be quiet, the deer probably couldn't fully appreciate the Louis, so maybe we're better off being part of society after all.)

This week I've been thinking that although I wouldn't make a very good stay-at-home mom, I would indeed make quite a good stay at home person. There would be thousands of activities I could explore, none of which need to be revenue-generating: I could paint movie sets, knit hats and experiment with butter all to my heart's content. This week, I did something that I never usually get to do: watched movies. I watched The Devil Wears Prada (I told you, it's been a long time since I've watched a movie), which was basically like my experience on Wall Street but with more attractive people and nicer clothes, and Julie and Julia, which I really didn't think I'd like but which I found quite entertaining. I love to cook. And even more, I love to eat. But lately I'd been feeling like all the new cookbooks I'd seen were recycled variations on everything I've already tried. The best go-to cookbook I have is The New Best Recipe from Cook's Illustrated, which, aside from providing the best recipe for cooking well-known recipes, gives you scientific detail, and results of kitchen testing, resulting in a fascinating course on cooking. For entertaining, I love Charlie Trotter Cooks at Home from which all my dinner party greatest hits are spawned. But after watching Julie and Julia, being properly and overtly influenced by the media, I flipped through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking and it's far flung from the cookbooks of today -- no pictures, just recipes. But in looking through it, it did pique my interest -- Julia (and Simone and Lisette) did do her own kitchen testing a la America's Test Kitchen, and it can't hurt to have the classics. She also provides helpful and effective substitutes for French ingredients that can be found in American grocery stores. I've linked above to Amazon, which currently has a great deal going -- a 2-volume set, hardcover, for $39.98 (56% off list price). So at that price, the risk is pretty low, and should pay for itself with a single use (think at least $100 for a party of two to dine on anything close), so go ahead -- follow my lead --and buy lots of butter.

Skinny Jeans

I have discovered one thing more humiliating than trying one swimwear. And that would be shopping for a pair of skinny jeans. Not only painful, but physically exhausting as I breathed irregularly and wrestled myself into these vacuum-sealed contraptions. You can see at right what they're supposed to look like. Cute with pumps and boots, right? Totally not cute on me. Today I tried on some Paige Petites (which I was sure would fit me but didn't), some J Brands, and a number of others I can't recall, all of which resulted in an unsightly bunched-at-the-knees and horizontal lines on the back-of-the-thigh-look. It did not look like the picture to the right nor like the woman who was helping at the school morning drop-off who had the perfect skinnies with gorgeous boots, who inspired me to start this painful quest. I can't quite figure out the problem -- is my butt too small or too big? Do I need to have bigger hips? Thanks to my friend Nina, I have been on a handbag-leggings-skinny jeans rampage. The bags always work; the leggings look fine, but the skinnies -- can't seem to get them to work. Are they really that different from leggings anyway -- and will my life be incomplete without them?

I was with my 4-year-old daughter, who accompanied me to the Komen Race for the Cure this morning (and we Sat in the Park and Ate Cookies for the Cure because we had to park so far away that she was spent by the time we got to our team tent), and she was able to pick out 6 outfits, all of which looked good on her, even with the Princess Leia double-buns she had requested as a hairstyle this morning. She even did a 3/4 pivot while checking herself out in the mirror for full effect. So maybe I should give up on the skinnies and just focus my energies on clothing my kids.

Handbag Emergency

Yesterday my friend Nina called me with a handbag emergency. With YSL Downtown Tote in hand, should her next purchase be a Bottega Veneta hobo, YSL The Muse, or a Valentino Nappa 360 Hobo?

It's only in dire times sometimes that we take time to assess our priorities. What is the right portfolio of handbags right now? Which best hedges against drastic changes in the fashion climate, and is best suited to protect the interests of you and your family? I'm giving that some hard thought.

I was pretty committed to the LV Tivoli as a classic addition to my portfolio, but I'm having second thoughts. First of all, when have I ever been a classic kind of person? Second, am I adding an LV just because I feel I should have one in the portfolio -- and would it be equally effective to add, say, a Valentino Petale Satchel to the collection? Third, won't I eventually bore of it anyway -- eliminating the point of being classic?

In addition to the Tivoli, which is still in the running despite being a canvas bag for $1,000, are the above: from left to right: Valentino Rose Vertigo Hobo ($2,395), Coach New Annie ($798), J. Crew Campo ($298). If we assume the Tivoli goes into the portfolio, the likely complements would be the lower-priced Annie or Campo. Annie has the advantage of over-the-shoulder-carryability, but overweights my portfolio on metallic bags; Campo is a practical, functional bag with a classic appearance and an over-the-arm portability, but makes less of a statement. Valentinos are certainly statement bags, and for the price point, would trump the Tivoli in the blue chip spot. I also really like the Valentino Petale Satchel which has been controversial in the handbag addict circles -- but I think the leather petals are gorgeous.

Another option would be to forego the Tivoli, and fill the LV void instead with the LV Vernis wallet (in the deep aubergine shade I love). Anchor then with a Valentino, supplement with an Annie or a Campo, and revisit the Botkier selection (I am clearly overweighted on Botkiers, despite having sold a red Bianca this season).

Portfolio strategy. It ain't for the faint of heart.

Louis Vuitton Tivoli PM and No I Don't Have a Brain Tumor

To your right is the Louis Vuitton Tivoli PM bag. It will be the next handbag I purchase, especially since I apparently missed the boat already on the Kooba bag that was specially designed for an HSN segment co-promoted by Lucky magazine. The TV event starts on Friday but it looks like it's already sold out online...(sigh) if only everyone else had bad taste.

Speaking of bad taste, I noticed today that everything I ate today left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth (Cheerios -- bitter. Strawberries -- bitter.). I was getting worried since I recall hearing (from a marketing person, not a doctor) that one sign of brain tumor is altered taste perception (although I think she said something like you could taste colors, or maybe she was talking about a different experience altogether). Anyway, I went to my Primary Care Physician (the Internet), and found a forum where people posted about the same symptom -- and they had all eaten large quantities of pine nuts! Flashback to Monday night -- my daughter and I chowed down on a bag of Costco brand pine nuts after dinner, squirrel-style. Apparently this can last for days -- like possibly five or so days.

Back to the Tivoli. I actually went to the LV store to try it on, and I LOVE it (especially after my friends were selling me on how practical it is -- "I spilled a Tall Latte on it and it wiped right off" or "Your kids can drop an ice cream cone on it and it comes right off") except that you can't put it over your shoulder. Well, here's the screwy part: I LOVE how bags look when you can't put them over your shoulder, because I like the look of satchels, but I always try to put a bag over my shoulder (two kids), so I fear its impracticality. However, I tried on the GM version which you can put over the shoulder, and it's not quite as cute and is a tiny bit too ginormous for me. This is why I don't yet own a Tivoli. Or do I need both?

Angry Little Girls

Now that summer's officially over, I'm dealing with the new two-kids-at-two-different-schools-that-start-at-the-same-time-but-are-20-minutes-apart-oh-and-my-husband-is-out-of-town-all-the-time-lifestyle. Add to that having to get people to do homework (as well as dealing with my own homework, which is of course work I take home), doing the cooking, cleaning and general herding of children, and it's all enough to make me an Angry Little Asian Girl. As if she knew, my friend Sandra got me some Angry Little Asian Girl (ALAG) spirit gear, my favorite of which is pictured at the right: it happens to be a great little wallet, with lots of practical zippered compartments and enough slots to hold my incredible number of credit cards, and it also has one of my favorite comics on it:

Kim (Angry Little Asian Girl): I got you a gift.
Mom: Why you waste money?!?

My favorite part is the mom, who has what my friend so aptly named AMH (Asian Mom Hair) -- the short hair with a perm. It's probably the most unnatural state for Asian hair but strangely the most common configuration for Asian moms. I have on several instances begged my mom not to get a perm.

I also received a tote bag, which is well made and has really good compartments, including one of which all sensible Asian moms would approve: a hidden zippered compartment for your wallet! It really is hidden -- you can't even see it from the inside of your bag. Perfect for the paranoid, and a good fit for those who avoid being blown by the wind at all times (if you have an Asian mom you'll know what I mean).

But Lela Lee, the creator of the ALAG, doesn't stop with angry Asians. She's got a whole slew of angry little girls, one to suit every haircolor and personality type. Check out the online store -- plenty of cute things to be had. Be forewarned on the T-shirts though -- they run REALLY small. I usually wear a small in most things and had to move up to a large in the ALAG shirts.

Tea Collection

Today is my birthday (the best 26th birthday ever...this is, like, the twelvth one...?) , and I've really noticed a change this year. For one, if I'm ever seen without makeup, people ask me if I'm feeling okay (actually, people have been doing that now for about ten years). In pictures, I exhibit a trademark appearance of perpetual exhaustion (I also learned this year not to be photographed with your reports at work who are 10-15 years your junior with long blond hair, perfect teeth and skin) . I observe a sort of conservation-of-beauty-effect: I watch my daughters blossom while my own looks fade. I'm focusing on the parts that are still good: I still have pretty decent fingernails and my calves are still bearable in public. Palms of hands also still acceptable. Brain still mostly functioning.

As I think about youth, I find myself more and more wishing I could fit into my kids' clothes -- or at the very least that they made clothes like that in my size. One of my favorite purveyors of childrens' fine clothing is Tea Collection, a San-Francisco-based line with global influence. My daughter has a purple tank-and-capri combo that is just to die for. They change their international theme seasonally, which keeps the collection interesting, and the clothes are really well-made: high quality materials, elegant cuts with simple but sophisticated drape. If you hurry , they're having a Tea Collection sale on Gilt today. Tea offers kids' sizes up to 8, so my children only have a few more years to enjoy this experience. As they say, youth is wasted on the young.

The Followers Gadget

Third day of school for my kids, and thus I'm reminded of the social anarchy involved at the beginning of the school year -- where, like a group of betta fish who've been introduced into a new tank with some new fish, the social pecking order (or in their case, fin-ripping and attacking order) needs to be re-established. My oldest daughter just started first grade at a new school, and I've been observing this hierarchical process. Suffice it to say that I am not looking forward to another fourteen years of reliving through my kids the pain and humiliation involved in growing up. I just hope they're better at kickball than I was.

In solidarity to the kids and public humiliation, I've added the Followers gadget on my page (see left-hand side of the page, just below the Subscribe To My Blog Via Reader gadget). From what I can tell, its primary purpose is to prove to site visitors that other people like me. It doesn't even mean that they read the blog. Worse yet, the subscribers I currently have (thank you, those of you who subscribe via email or feed, so that I'm not talking to myself 100% of the time) don't show up, so the prominently centered copy proclaiming "There are no followers yet. Be the first!" cheerfully alerts the public that no one, NOT ONE person, is following this blog, in case you were wondering. It's actually worse than having no Facebook friends -- usually that only happens if you're new -- but based on the dates and volume of posts I've produced, I'm clearly not new.

So why do this? I'm really not sure. I think it's related to the fact that I have generally put in 50-75% more than that for what I'm paid; call it need for approval, or stupidity. Or maybe I just really want the profile of some guy in a black turtleneck with black-rimmed glasses laughing like he's having a blast at a poetry reading to show up in one of those little cubes. Or maybe it's curiosity on what this social experiment might produce. In any case, if you find it in your heart, appease me, and follow.

Marukai and the Magic Mandoline

Should I move to Japan?

I finally made it over to Marukai Daiso on the way back from dropping my parents off a the airport today. The Marukai complex has three shops: Marukai Market, a Japanese grocery store which I discovered has the most amazing instant udon noodles in a bowl for 87 cents; Marukai Living, which is sort of like Target; and Marukai Daiso, which is like the best dollar store in the entire world (my daughter came away with a Barbie like doll, with higher quality hair than the spider-web like material used in the Mattel Barbies, for $1.65. And they had bowls and other tableware that looked suspiciously Crate-and-Barrel-like for, yes, $1.65.). I hyperlink Daiso only because it is really worth making a trip if you have party favor needs for a birthday party, need plastic storage containers, or happen to be in the market for an afro wig. They pretty much have everything, addressing needs ranging from fake nail appliques to Hello Kitty toilet seat covers.

But the real score I got today was from Marukai Living. I used to have the MIU Stainless-Steel Professional Mandoline Slicer, which, despite its fancy name, carrying case and price tag (retail value: $119.99), delivered only on being stainless steel. It included a set of instructions warning me to be careful of the ultra-sharp blade, but in reality, I would have been at greater risk with a butter knife. Needless to say, it did a poor job of making perfectly even slices, and required quite a bit of elbow grease to get things cut. It didn't handle things with tougher outer skins like bell peppers, eggplant or tomatoes well at all.

Cue "Dreamweaver" music. I spotted at Marukai Living the simple plastic mandoline pictured here. No fancy carrying case, but clearly a very sharp blade. On the back, and adjustable knob that allows you to vary the thickness of the slices. I recalled reading reviews of slicers and hearing that the simple Japanese varieties were the best. Eager to test it, I went home and tried a variety of veggies: cabbage -- no problem. Red bell pepper -- it sliced so easily I wasn't even sure the slicing was happening. Then I tried making paper-thin slices of scallion. I used a back-and-forth motion, akin to the type you would use if you were gently painting a watercolor onto paper -- and with equal (non) effort. Unbelievable. With no effort, beautiful even slices were flying off of the blade. I was consciously careful to avoid adding even slices of fingertip to the salad.

So run out to an Asian market and find yourself a Japanese mandoline slicer. $16 bucks later you'll want to chuck out all the expensive stuff you registered for at Williams-Sonoma.

Marc Jacobs Totally Turnlock

Will someone please talk me down from the ledge? After subscribing to a most dangerous service, which I'll write about some other time (it emails you things that are on sale, in your size, from designers you like, daily), I came up on this gorgeous bag: the Marc by Marc Jacobs Totally Turnlock Tobo bag. I do love most things Marc Jacobs, but this bag crept up on me like the Botkiers of yesteryear. With its perfect puffiness, casually latched top and part-hobo, part tote presentation, I felt like it was an old friend. Or a baby. I got the feeling I imagine some women have when they see a baby -- that irresistible urge to want to hold it. The simplicity of the design and the versatility of the white (I happen to believe in winter white) pushed me over the edge -- the elements that make this bag appealing are the same ones that make Hello Kitty universally cute -- not so much what is there but what isn't. I also have a weakness for buttery-soft leathers, and this one looks like it measures up pretty well.

I've heard that Jacobs bags weigh a ton. Would that be a deterrent for me? Or could I argue that carrying the bag would be the only exercise that I get -- and then perhaps that I should get two?