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  • Wayfinder's Quest Post #114: What happens when I treasure myself?

    One thing that happens when I treaure myself is I don't postpone Beach Day...

    Coincidences (and Spontaneous Unsolicited Upgrades) (aka signs of Forming)

    Several things have coincided over the past couple weeks, a number of them literary. Here are some:

    • Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. My respected friend Isaac dreamt I wrote something very like it. So I will start it again, although I found the first chapter, which involves a bathroom-stall theft, very distressing. (An earlier Egan work, The Keep, is my all-time favorite gothic novel. Recommended!)
    • Two people encouraged me strongly to pick up Richard Russo. Why has it taken so long? I will start with Nobody's Fool, Havi's pick, though Mr Jones is very absorbed in Empire Falls, everyone's seeming favorite.
    • Also, the novel Eeeee Eee Eeee by Tao Lin, which some people call "the best book about Domino's Pizza ever written" - I mean, there's Snowcrash, but ok - and which others say makes an excellent bedtime story for kids. It features dolphins who speak human language but use the sound "eeeee eee eeee" to express strong emotion. I love novels about communication with dolphins. Obvs a Must Read.
    • And Ferdinand the Bull. Deathless genius.

    In the realm of Spontaneous Unasked-for Upgrades, I had been thinking about doing the School of Womanly Arts's Virtual Pleasure Boot Camp, but had decided not to spend the money (nearly $1,000), and instead look forward to doing horse work with the Rowdies at Martha's ranch in October and Miami with Mama Gena in November. The day after I decided this, the School of Womanly Arts sent me a free membership. Thank you! I'm dancing!

    What is this Wayfinding?

    It's a search for something more compelling than chocolate, more satisfying than sausage, and at least as delicious as pizza.

    Clearly, we are talking about magic. 

    And I continue to discover buried treasure in a box of perfumes that my friend Amelia Joy's mom gave me last year. Most recently, I pulled out a sample of L'Instant de Guerlain. I think of Guerlain as very heavy-handed, old-lady scents. Like, perfumes that are sad on a woman of a certain age. Maybe also just dated.

    (Note to Antonia: Not Mitsouko! That is fabulous, especially on you.)

    L'Instant is different. To me, it's darkish but not sultry. It's got gravity but not it's not so heavy as to club you over the head and drag you into a cave, which Shalimar does. I looked up reviews to see what other people were saying - always amusing; perfume people are so synesthaetic in their perceptions and descriptions and half the time I can't understand how they could be talking about the same perfume I have in front of me, like, This is so the sunny hillsides of Corsica, and the lavender honey they make there, and also white horses tra la, and I'm like What NO. This is like coffee and toast in the fog at the far end of Ocean Beach in late summer and your boyfriend's 5am shadow, but anyway, this one reviewer, a self-described 20-year-old wild partying Aussie said, "L'Instant is a scent for tea parties and reading a book in bed." In other words, old old-lady. 

    And apparently perfect for me, as I intend to spray myself and Take to My Bed with some Literature later, namely Gone Girl, which I can't believe I JUDGED BY ITS COVER. Omigod you guys this is such a devious little masterpiece.

    Imagining what treasuring myself looks like. Exactly.

    Last week I was in Portland, spending a lot of time writing at a desk under a sign Havi had made that said "What happens when I treasure myself?" 

    I know for sure that's a question worth asking, but even before I can ask that, I have been wondering What does it mean to treasure myself? What does treasuring myself look like, precisely? How can I treasure myself right now?

    Do you think this might be different from ordinary self care? I think it might be. Or maybe not. I don't know. I mean, I know we are talking about more than pedicures here, obviously, but of course we are not not talking about pedicures, either. (FYI, current shade Samba-dy Loves Purple. Hmmmm. Maybe Chez Wayfinder's Quest Post we are never not talking about pedicures.)

    Anyway, I went to Cannon Beach while in Oregon. (Left, extremely underdressed for a 50° beach day.) That felt like treasuring myself, especially sandwiching the rainy day with writing and coffee at the Sleepy Monk and a convivial supper-with-strangers at the Irish Table.  

    Updates on Past Experiments

    So this one time about ten years ago my sister and her then-boyfriend were visiting from Santa Cruz. We took a walk around Area 4, the only nameless neighborhood in Cambridge (sample others: Huron Village, Alewife, Harvard Square, Kendall; it's not like we're all Areas 1, 2, etc.) where I lived then - ugh! ugh! ugh! - and saw that the public school (styled "Academy," perhaps to make up for "Area 4") had gotten a huge new rope gym put in, and we started climbing it. As one does, right? My brother-in-law had got to the top when a woman walking by saw him and yelled at him to come down. Not for his own safety, but because he was an adult, without a right in her mind to be on playground equipment (weekend, by the way), and in danger of destroying it. You know, by being on it at 200 pounds or whatever.

    The woman was extremely loud, and fairly spitting with fury at our presumption, which perhaps she thought was based on assumed white privelege. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! GET DOWN OFF THAT NOW! Etc.

    Well, we simply obeyed her. Without question, hesitation, or sneering. We wondered at this later, and said to each other, Would you want your kid climbing on playground equipment that could break under adult weight? And, Would you ever consider it your right to order another adult off public property?

    A decade later, it remains a bit upsetting to me that we responded to her bullying fury with instant compliance and left silently. I don't wish I'd yelled back. But I do wish I could have regarded her mildly and carried on.

    Ten years later...

    So this weekend when I was out paddling the Charles, I got a courteous warning from a woman on the bank that there was a race on, and I should keep an eye out for my own safety. Which I assured her I would, and I followed her directions about where the rowers were heading and how far the course went. 

    When I was ready to head home, I crossed the river, making sure no rowers were about to start. I started going downstream, hugging the shore like an overly eager-to-please gold-star-for-conduct little river-sharer - oh and can we just pause here for a Golden Retrospective Moment of Dear Heaven FUCK. THAT - when the elderly race official picked up his bullhorn to yell across the water: PADDLEBOARDER, YOU NEED TO GO UPSTREAM! NOW!!!

    Oh, hahahaha, like HELL, I did not respond. Instead I said, Actually, I need to go downstream now. And I kept paddling. 

    He became furious and crossed the river on his little wakeless coach boat to yell at me up close. Still on his bullhorn. There is a race on! You want to go upstream!

    I so wish I had said Actually, I am going downstream for multiple valid reasons I will not be sharing with you. And you didn't tell me about your race, or I would've stayed off the river, unlike all the pleasure boats whose wakes I have had to negotiate today. I also did not add, And you didn't rent the river, or you'd be able to make me stay off it. Ain't yer river, Mac.

    But I said, Actually, I will be going downstream, because that's where I live, and I can't carry this board three miles. 

    So he said, angrily, Well you better be careful because you could get run over!

    (Um, so how 'bout don't run me over.)

    I will hug the shore, I said mildly. And I was not entirely calm, but I carried on. As a taxpayer who would not be instantly dismissed from public property. Possibly, as a person who has learnt, if not everything about treasuring herself, at least not to automatically place her value below that of anyone with a megaphone. Because, man, are there ever a lot of people with megaphones out there.

    So there! Progress on Not Being Good.

    Destination: Date night

    What has happened? I went to Toro Bravo on my own, because Mr Jones couldn't join me in Portland, so I was a bit forlorn, and almost turned back when they told me the wait would be about two hours. But the host pointed me to a little standing table near the door that I shared with a couple having their 22d (I know, rite?!) anniversary. We had the loveliest conversation and then were all seated miraculously soon. I had, of course, the Squid Ink "pad thai," because I wanted to compare Toro Bravo's with their cookbook's.

    No comparison! I have never achieved anything like this following their recipe.

    When questioned closely, the waitress mentioned that I might need to find anchovy syrup. Well I might. It took months to find Red Boat fish sauce, which the cookbook calls for, but this dish is worth the tinkering and the searching and the eating again and again. And while Red Boat is my new jam, anchovy syrup it is not.

    For my birthday, we went to No. 9 Park, one of the two fancier Barbara Lynch Gruppo joints. (To me that is so hilarious and baller, to call your restaurant group a "gruppo." I love Barbara Lynch so much.) The food was fantastic, especially my foie gras, which I don't know how they did this, but it tasted like the best bacon I've ever had times a million, and a gorgeous Division Bell, which Mr Jones gives me a hard time about asking for because he seems to think it's a very esoteric drink, but they had it right on the menu, and it came in a beautiful and dramatic shade of Key-West-sunset orange.

    But it was a bit of a bloodless, Boston brahmin style room and feeling, and it made me hungry for the elbow-jostling, tattoo-covered, big-deep-red feeling of Sportello. Which apparently I never tire of.

    1. Alden & Harlow
    2. Alinea (Chicago)
    3. Area Four
    4. Asta
    5. Battersby (Brooklyn)
    6. Beast (Portland)
    7. Belly Wine Bar
    8. Bondir
    9. Brine
    10. Clio
    11. Coppa
    12. Franny's (Brooklyn)
    13. Hartwood
    14. L'Aquitaine
    15. L'Espalier
    16. Myers & Chang
    17. No. 9 Park
    18. O-Ya
    19. Pok Pok Noi (Portland)
    20. Ribelle
    21. Roberta's (Brooklyn)
    22. Sarma
    23. Scampo
    24. Shojo
    25. Toro
    26. Toro Bravo (Portland)
    27. West Bridge

    That should keep us busy for a while, but please feel free to suggest additions.

    Do comment!

    What are you experimenting with? What have you noticed about treasuring yourself? You can also just say Hi. Right here.

    You might also enjoy

    Wayfinder's Quest Post #113: Summerscarfprincessmagic

    Believe nothing, question everything, don't take anything personally.

    Wayfinder's Quest Post #110: Adding Operation Johanna Mason
     

  • What it means to eat for now

    Oui, madame! Of course the meal must be perfect.

    In which I figure out that eating to make up for past disappointments, food-related and not, doesn't actually work

    We've been looking this summer at staying current, and telling the truth by allowing ourselves to know it now, feel it now, wear it now. Today I am thinking about eating for now.

    Most weight and eating gurus will tell you to eat for the moment, not for later, not if you live in the Western world and you're within a few miles of a supermarket. This is not bad advice, and unless you're in a very low-wage, low-autonomy job (and if you are, I can coach you on that), you can probably manage eating when you're hungry, and not before.

    A little hex of visibility on one of my most cherished eating behaviors...

    (Although my manicurist told me recently that she works eight hours without a break, and couldn't eat at all. Every day. If that's legal, it shouldn't be.)

    Anyway, I hope most of you don't work this way, and can take a break at times your body needs it. If you are eating before you're hungry, because you're afraid of getting hungry, even though you do control your schedule, and food is available, leave a comment, and we'll talk here about some things you can do for that.

    Because eating for future hunger, by definition, keeps us too full.

    And I only started thinking about this, but it turns out it's not so helpful to eat for the past, either.

    I used to do that all the time. Eat to feed Sad Past Me who didn't get enough or the right kind of food. In fact, I was doing this up until a few weeks ago. If I had some kind of substandard meal somewhere, I would make sure the very next time I ate, it would be a meal of uncompromising top quality. Or uncompromisingly poor quality, and exactly my kind of junk. Naturally, as the Zen folks say, I was always on the lookout for "something wrong / not enough."

    I was telling my therapist about one of these instances when ...

    (SIDE NOTE: Yes, I am a coach and I see a therapist. (From time to time.)

    I also coach a lot of therapists, actually, which I love doing. It's pretty unusual for a coach to have a lot of therapist clients, but I think it might be because I have more appreciation for therapy than coaches typically do.)

    … so yeah I was telling my therapist about some meal of heartbreak and disappointment I'd had and she asked what I did about it. I said, I ate it, and then I made a little entry in my mental book of Broken Shit That Needs to Be Set Right ASAP!, and the very next opportunity I had, I went out of my way for a much better meal of the exact right specifications.

    She was, I want to say, kinda surprised. Really?! she said.You would need to do that?

    I was like, well, um, yeah. Is that weird? (We talk a lot about that, actually. It's one of my central issues. How WEIRD am I, precisely? Weird enough to be considered crazy? If you want to respond Of course not ya big weirdo!, feel free.)

    So I didn't think it was weird before, but her question kinda wrecked me. I started wondering if I really needed to keep a meal scorecard. For every sub-fabulous meal, a do-over. It's not much different from the scorecard that dieters and bingers keep - for every binge, a fast. For every time they're "good," an indulgence.

    Of course, my therapist wasn't suggesting I was weird so much as acting from, oh how shall we say, a not fully grownup place. And she was right. And, as I say, the discussion kinda put a little hex of visibility on that behavior. I can't not see it now. And when I see it and ask, Hey hon! Is it actually helpful to eat now for a past deficit? the answer is Of course not.

    There's also no reason not to have the best meal possible at every opportunity. I still aim for that. I'm just trying to feed my today body, not Sad Past Me, who, by the way, usually needs a whole different kind of attention.

    Discuss

    Leave a comment! I would love to know what you think.

    You might also enjoy other the posts in this series

    Wear it now

    When is it time to tell the truth?

    Know it now

    Mechanical tools and practical magic 

  • Wear it now

    Waiting is hard. Let's go shopping now.

    If we've been hanging around each other for a while, you've probably heard me talk about shopping before. (Once or twice.)

    This is because shopping is an astoundingly effective magic spell for weight loss, if you do it the right way.

    Weight-loss gold, this is.

    But it's not one of those proverbial "Big If's." Shopping is not that hard, and I will tell you exactly how to do it.

    1. Remove everything from your closet that doesn't
      • fit you right now
      • flip your feel-good switch to ON*

    2. Put those reject items anywhere you want. This is the step that organizers and declutterers spend 90% of their time on, but please don't make that mistake. We do not care. (See prior rule from some other blog post: No elaborate disposal strategies.) This is about feeling good in your clothing, and nothing else. Decisions are overwhelming when you're in a feel-bad space, so looking at a closetful of feel-bad clothes is a great way to paralyze yourself. When you've been feeling good for a while, you'll be able to make near instaneous decisions about what to toss and where to toss it. So for now, a box in the back of your kid's closet is fine. Save the "good stuff" for "when you've lost weight" if you want to, but don't let it give you stink eye every morning. Get it out of sight.

    3. Make a list of what's missing, which, if you're built like me - party in the back - will probably include hot skivvies, trend-appropriate jeans and a nice dress. (I have all the sexy cocktail tops and pump-me heels I need, which fit at any weight.)

    4. Go get the things on your list and don't stint. This is the most important step. Let your body know that you care enough about it to lavish it with quality garments. If you cheap out, you will know it, and the spell won't work.

    5. Only buy things that fit right now. Get the right size, whatever it is. (This is our Tell the Truth Moment of the Week, and the other most important step.) You want to feel luscious and look fabulous every single day right now, not 5 pounds from now.


    This is possible, and many of the world's women manage it, even on a budget. One thing that feels amaze will set you up 1,000x better than your choice of 20 outfits that make you feel "less than."

    I did this a couple weeks ago when I had to admit the weight I'd gained following my Frognado loss of appetite (Inevitable Yet Still Surprising Backlash #863) wasn't leaving in time for me to cover my behind, which is a legal requirement where I live. Yeah, they make you hide your skin in New England, and when I did that with denim, it pinched. I was feeling crappy every day.

    So I swallowed my pride and the suspicion that I was going to have to tell all o' y'all about this, and I went down to Newbury Street, and I forked over the big bucks for jeans in size, dear God, 30.**

    Ouch. One whole inch bigger than 29. <- Painful Truth. And unacceptable to my ego! But you know what? To my body, they felt AMAZE, as promised.

    (In fact they felt so good I went back and got a second pair of a different type, for laundry day. In size... 28. Which I do not normally wear even at my so-called "normal" weight.

    So there. Proof for you that sizes don't even mean anything.)

    So that's the right way to perform this magic spell. Spend the $$$ to get what feels and looks good now, and be prepared to get rid of it before it's worn out, because feeling good now is not only an end in itself, it really helps the weight fall off. It just does.

    * If you need help with this, I think you would find my Into the Closet class very pleasurable.

    ** When I sent this post out to my email list - which, by the way, is a little different from the blog in that it sometimes has nice things like discounts on classes and first dibs on coaching slots, so you might want to get on it by clicking here  - I got some feedback. "Cry me a river" was one comment and I geddit but you know what? LYCRA. People, if you have not tried on jeans even in the past six months, you really must. It's a whole new world.

    Have thoughts?

    Leave a comment! I would love to know what you think. "I'm with 'Cry me a river' Gal" is fine.

    You might also enjoy other posts in this series

    When is it time to tell the truth?

    Know it now

    Mechanical tools and practical magic 

  • Mechanical tools and practical magic

    When I see my hand in a shop trying on a bracelet...*

    Mechanical tools and practical magic and a class that combines them to leave you lighter than you were

    Here's what I've been thinking about lately: mechanical tools and practical magic. As a person with an obsessive, possibly addictive, or possibly entirely normal kind of brain, I'm very grateful for all the tools I've been given over the years. A few of them, like Mama Gena's "spring cleaning" and bragging, Zen meditation, pranayama, and Havi's "Wells," are things I depend on every day.

    For you: A class on dieting and metabolism and the sick, destructive relationship between them

    Some of the more mechanical tools are things I've been working with and teaching for quite a while, and those are tools I'm starting to be a bit disenchanted with. Magic is more what's enchanting me lately.

    Magical Tool No. 1 (for you to try!)

    For example, I like this little sort-of magical hypnotic suggestion tool of the sight of my hand. I use it this way: I might tell myself "When I see my hand on the doorknob, I'll remember to get X and take it straight to Y's house." Saves me tediously programming reminders in my phone, and it's more fun. I've used it for years and find it very reliable.

    Magical Tool No. 2 (for you to try)

    And here's a magical tool I made up in the middle of the night recently. I woke up thinking about something complex I had to do, but I didn't want to take notes at 2am, and I didn't want my brain to think anymore about it. I wanted to go back to sleep. So I built a library in my mind, and put a beautiful trestle table in the center of the room, and put a soft leather folio on the tabletop.

    Then I created a librarian and directed him to collect everything I need, and put it all within the folio. I told myself, "When I see my hands open that folio, everything I need will flow out of it, into my conscious mind, and down my arms to my keyboard."

    This is a brand-new magical tool, but so far I'm finding it very useful indeed. Try it out, if you like.

    Body Mind Magic

    Now, on the more flat-footed, mechanical side, I have a class on dieting and metabolism and the sick, destructive relationship between them. Why it never works out the way you want it to. And why your diet is not an exception.

    If you would like to get a doctor's excuse to get you out of dieting, definitively and for all time, please join me for 90 minutes of solid science in plain English with plenty of time for questions and coaching.

    (I predict the latter will be the magical part.)

    Tuesday July 1 is your last chance to sign upGet your doctor's excuse and details here.

    Body Mind Book Club

    The book club that Cookie Rosenblum and I are hosting met for the third time last week. We read and discussed The Slight Edge, a book about tortoisey strategies for winning the long race. We liked it. You can listen to the audio of our meeting here.

    *Addendum

    I posted that picture of me trying on that $235 bracelet on Instagram. A friend saw it, and offered to teach me how to make one. We went and bought matierals today, for a fraction of the price, and got a good start on a bracelet for each of us. Magic!

    Have thoughts?

    Leave a comment! I would love to know what you think.

    You might also enjoy

    When is it time to tell the truth?

    Know it now

    Me and Stress: We are never, ever, EVER getting back together 

  • Wayfinder's Quest Post #113: Summerscarfprincessmagic

    Can you spot the edge of the other Union Jack?

    What is this Wayfinding?

    It's a search for something more compelling than chocolate, more satisfying than sausage, and at least as delicious as pizza.

    Clearly, we are talking about magic. 

    Coincidences (aka Spontaneous Unsolicited Upgrades, aka signs of Forming)

    Last time I mentioned our inner Self-Doubt Assassin. I stole that from someone, a sister Mama Gena person, who uses "Self-Doubt Assassin" as her spy name / Goddess name. I hadn't met her or anything; I just wanted to steal her name for my own purposes.

    Then I signed up for a coaching session that one of my Sister Goddesses was offering, which I had yesterday, and it turned out to be her! The Self-Doubt Assassin Herself.

    It was in fact killer.

    Also, I am turning 54 in July. Today the July issue of Oprah arrived, with this top cover story: Upgrade Your Life! 54 easy ways to live better - without spending a penny more. Why thank you for thinking of me, Oprah! If that isn't the uber-meta Spontaneous Unsolicited Free Upgrade, I don't know what is.

    And I ran into the witchy Cory Halaby in New York, on the High Line. "No way!" she screamed. I know that voice!, I thought before I saw her.

    Imagining

    Still thinking about what I wrote last time, this tension between desire and having and spirituality and Being Good.

    Then a conversation with my friend Simone, the Marquise of Manhattan, reminded me how exhausting that tension is for me. And how irritating. I might just want to drop it altogether. 

    It's been a long time since I had any conscious, deliberate allegiance to Being Good. If there was ever anything in it for me, it was in school. I'm repulsively proud of how well I did in school, and I'm not proud of how proud I am, if you know what I mean. I've written before that I was an insufferable little grade-grubber, and trying to do it differently explains why I took a gap decade instead of a gap year.

    Anyway, as I have said to myself a thousand times since leaving Wellesley (where I was pretty happy, mind), "I am never going back to school." 

    Then I went to Mama Gena's School of Womanly Arts, about which more later. Being Good in this school is so profoundly beside the point. I think it may have wrecked Being Good for me forever. 

    Mama Gena gave me a lot of permission to enjoy the parts of me that I have always been told are difficult: the selfish and the materialistic. The truth is, I am a person that appreciates display, pageantry and spectacle. I love a parade! (If by "parade" we mean +[glitter] -[nationalism].) I glory in the sparkle and color and touch of the phenomenal world. 

    (And of course, another truth is that when someone calls you "selfish" it almost always means "You aren't doing what I want you to do, and I have no idea how selfish I am being right now." It is not surprising to me that I have heard this all my life. Most of us do.)

    So, yeah: Mama Gena. A proud swinger of a hammer that nails shut the coffin of Puritanism. 

    Which leads me - again - to mantles.

    Updates on past experiments

    About three years ago I had the luck of assisting Jen Louden at a workshop (She-ro's Journey) she did at Kripalu. I've written before that I've assisted at many such events, but this was the first time I was ever able to participate fully, because Jen deliberately set that up for me. (I will always be grateful - thank you Jen!)

    One of the things we did was make a collage of things we needed for our journey. Obviously, a very common thing to do at a women's retreat, and duh, I've made collages before, but I never had such a powerful experience cutting pictures out of magazines to equip myself for a journey. We were to do it, naturally, without thinking too much beyond "Yes, that," so I was a little surprised to see, when I was done collecting, that every single image I cut out depicted an unusual coat or cloak. I understood that somehow they represented a kind of ceremonial mantle, while at the same time standing for provisions altogether. 

    And ever since I've been thinking about provisioning for my journey(s). I never used to do that, and I would often arrive somewhere having already discovered that I was missing several important things just for the journey, never mind the main body of the trip.

    Now I have Evernote checklists for every kind of trip I go on: to the beach, to the dentist, to the salon, to New York, to Portland, to San Diego, to New Mexico. This works for me.

    But for whatever reason I also really, really need the mantle. Every day, not just while on journeys.

    For the winter, I have a lovely Norwegian puffer I got in Boulder this year when it was -20°F at high noon every day, and I had only brought my elderly 3oz Patagucci down sweater. (WTF? How did I do that?! Not OK! New Evernote entry!) 

    And in the summer, I find I still need a mantle. I'm just ... uncomfortable now without one. So where once it would have seemed ludicrous and oh, sooooo precious and princessy and even attention-seeking to put a scarf on in the summer, I now simply must.

    (Possibly because it is princessy. What would be wrong with that? It's not Good, of course. So that might be enough to make it good.

    Maybe one day I'll feel like it's more important to have a crown or a scepter. I don't know. Right now, the mantle, the cloak of protection and especially provision, that's what feels important.)

    A while ago, during the time I was clearing my closet of its 70s vibe, Mr Jones was on his way to London, and asked what I might like from there. Since Whole Foods is stocked with Neals Yard cheeses, I said: A scarf from Liberty. He asked What color? And I said Blue. Maybe some pink. Anything but orange, brown, or green. Those are right out.

    But somehow all he heard was "orange, brown, pink." And that's what he came back with. And it's actually quite a nice scarf, and I've worn it, but at that time I had nothing blue and was really hankering for it and dear Lord, he was right in Liberty, which is scarf Heaven, so it was kinda heartbreaking.

    So when he went to Miami recently, and didn't ask about bringing anything home, I was thrilled to get a really, really good scarf, the blue all-over snakes one. He had picked it out, second-guessed his pick because snakes, bought something with hot-air balloons on it (a weird theme for a scarf, and weirdly, I already have one of these little Hermes twillys in a hot-air balloon pattern), got almost to the airport, had the urge to turn around and go halfway across the city back to the shop where the snakes were and exchange the scarf before making his flight.

    And I really liked this scarf, and I was so happy to get something from him that really fit me, so I kinda had to find a way to get over my guilt about having multiple summer scarves. 

    Which apparently I did, because now I have a whole summer scarf wardrobe, fit for a princess. Or a Kardashian. It is like a scarf pageant up in my closet.

    Destination: Date night

    What has happened? Mr Jones and I had the best weekend in New York I have ever had there. In fact, it was just about the best weekend of my life. Lots of walking, dancing, friends, food, drink - sadly no shopping - and an especially good meal at Fung Tu, whose chef used to cook at Per Se. That is the closest I have gotten to Thomas Keller apart from his cookbooks. It was a complete pink cloud weekend.

    1. Alden & Harlow
    2. Area Four
    3. Asta
    4. Battersby (Brooklyn)
    5. Belly Wine Bar
    6. Bondir
    7. Brine
    8. Clio
    9. Coppa
    10. Franny's (Brooklyn)
    11. Hartwood
    12. L'Espalier
    13. Myers & Chang
    14. No. 9 Park
    15. O-Ya
    16. Ribelle
    17. Roberta's (Brooklyn)
    18. Sarma
    19. Scampo
    20. Shojo
    21. Toro
    22. West Bridge

    That should keep us busy for a while, but please feel free to suggest additions.

    Have a comment?

    Let me know what you think! You can report on your own Wayfinding experiments, or tell me about your interest or lack therof in Being Good. Or just say Hi.

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MBI Books & Resources

shaman sessions

Into the Closet class

Body Mind Book Club with Max & Cookie