out with it already | paris

I woke up needing to say this: Je voudrais habiter en France.  LA est pas mal, mais j’adore Paris.

I used to dream in french.  It weirded me out, but I liked it.  I was sixteen.  I want to dream in french, again.


mmmm the 70s | music

I don’t know if I needed a little aural palate cleansing or if it’s just nostalgia running away with me but, I LOVE digging through the iTunes Essentials 70s crate.  I know it’s a little NOW cdish.  Whatever.  When’s the last time you heard Eddie Money’s “Baby Hold On To Me?”  Hi, Kinda Badass.  Good to see ya.  Of the 72 songs in 1978, I think I draw a complete blank on 5 or 6.

For a few seconds, I tried to figure out why I knew such disparate songs and genres when we used to be fed the idea that certain people liked certain music and not other types of music.  Some people do stay in their corners of the world, I guess I was raised by folks who just listened and let me be curious.

Listening to the O’Jays, burning some incense.  Mmmm, the 70s.



(I think I need the Best of Eddie Money. For REAL)

In pursuit of… the perfect hand cream

I’ve got a problem.  I’ve found the perfect hand cream.  I happened upon it almost five years ago on a grocery store shelf.  Avg Grocery Store + Lotion = Perfection???? I know, right?  How could I find such bliss at the grocery, when dept stores and cosmetic boutiques usually benefit from the whispered promises of a supple non-greasy ash-free existence?  Luckily, I was embarrassingly dry and seconds from trying to lick it away.

Frequently overcome by product-induced disappointment, I couldn’t help but be surprised and giddy the first time I used it.  It was substantial without feeling heavy.  Lightly scented and left no residue.  Quickly absorbed and lasted ages without reapplication.  The back of my hand was as soft and dewy as my Gramma Dessie’s face.

It was so right.  What could go wrong?  That grocery store, the one with the perfect hand cream, is in Paris.  And because it’s not high-end “let’s sell ne plus ultra luxury” French, but “let me pick up something quick in the store while I’m getting the yogurt” French, it’s hard to find/buy from here.  I keep an almost-empty bottle of Mixa Crème Mains Protectrice on my vanity to remind me that perfection is possible.

So while I wait and beg for any easier way to get it, I’ll look for other options.

Nikki ♥
*Is anyone going to France anytime soon? Can you stop by the supermarchè? Merci!

mixa small

i did tell you, right? last days of gourmet

i tear up a lot. apparently.

today.  before 9am.  pacific.  i was looking at the images from Last Days of Gourmet.

Last Days of Gourmet by Kevin DeMaria
Kevin DeMaria's Last Days of Gourmet

I didn’t subscribe.  I have loads of food blogs and mags bookmarked.  The thing is, Gourmet was my standard for web design of print properties.  I quite loved the look of Gourmet.  Clean and sleek.  Full of content and type without feeling overwrought, over-designed or cold.  It was/is simply, gorgeous.

So, to see the faces and emptying spaces overcome with sadness got me a little emotional this morning.  Kevin DeMaria’s melancholic images are beautifully evocative of a loss of identity that comes with job loss.  But, also, they are defiant.  As the last issue disappears from the stands and web content migrates, the people and space that created Gourmet won’t be forgotten, reduced to numbers on a balance sheet or even a series of sumptuous covers chronicling the history of the magazine.  As everyone moves on to their next chapters, Kevin left some humanity for the rest of us to see at the end of Gourmet‘s long story.

(via thekitchn)

tearing up. again.


please, say that again…

“I am convinced that the only way to regenerate love in our world is for people to come to understand the meaning of their own lives, of the life of the universe and of the relation between the two kinds of life. This is true because it is possible to show understanding of the lives of other beings only when one has an understanding of one’s own life.”
daisaku ikeda