Let’s talk about something different.


Let’s talk about my legs.

And how they are covered with disgusting, itchy eczema.

Let’s talk about the soles of my feet, and the psoriasis. How it wakes me up at night. How I’m too embarrassed to get pedicures, and how I pre-emptively apologize to anyone who might have the misfortune of removing my sandals.

So when I was in the Bin this last time I was talking to one of the girls about it, and describing how awful and gross it was to have eczema on your legs AND psoriasis on the soles of your feet. She was on the verge of asking me to show it when a nurse interrupted.

“Coconut oil!” she crowed, over the din. She repeated herself for good measure. “It works wonders,” she promised, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

So last week, in the spirit of self-soothing, I went out and bought myself a jar.



It’s hot as anything in here, so it’s all melted now. But before the Wave of Unbearable Heat, it had a consistency like cool butter and melted perfectly as I rubbed it into my skin. It was freakin’ AMAZING. Pretty soon I’m reading all about it, how it’s good for all SORTS of things. Great for your skin, great for shaving, GREAT for your hair, apparently – especially if it generally hovers somewhere between “frizzy” and “wavy” even on a cold winter day (hello, check). Some people use it as face wash, if you can believe that! And wow, suddenly I’m slathering this stuff on my legs, rubbing it on my feet, dipping my fingers in the jar like holy water, and practically SPOONING it over my hair, where it then sat for 2 hours, wrapped up in a bun. Don’t worry, I washed it out.

Liquid gold?

But you know what? For all the hype? My legs are even MORE red and itchy than before, the soles of my feet are doing… a little better, which is not to say that they aren’t still completely disgusting / awful, and my hair still hasn’t dried from this morning. On the plus side, I smell like a tropical island ALLTHETIME and B! felt compelled to make Mai Tais tonight. I’d like to take some measure of credit for that.

Roughing it:


So last Friday night I stayed over at a friend’s house. It was later on in the evening when I got there – 8:30, maybe – and she and I had a great time eating delicious food, drinking delicious wine, paraffin waxing our hands, and dancing to music on her iPod. She passed out around 11 or 12, but I, ever the night owl, decided to stay up and do some work.

And finish the wine.


After about an hour or so of Lightroom and Pinot Noir, I decided to go outside for a cigarette. And you know that feeling you have, sometimes, right before something goes completely wrong? Like, that moment where you catch your breath and realize a mistake is in the works, JUST AFTER it becomes too late to stop the pendulum from swinging braggishly toward disaster? It’s a little hiccup, a certain slowing of time, before everything clicks back into place and you realize you’ve just locked yourself out of the condo.

Locked. Out.

The doorbell was no use – my dear friend, it seems, is a very sound sleeper – and anyway the buzzer is two floors down from her bedroom. To make matters worse, I could SEE her cell phone on the granite countertop just inside the door. My options were limited.

Inside the condo were my purse, license, cash, credit cards, laptop, hair elastics, and the rest of the wine. Outside, I had my car keys, a pack and a half of Camels, my iPhone, and a case of Diet Coke. Also a bottle of vodka and a jar of tomato sauce. But I didn’t see how those last two things were helpful.  I retreated to the car to think things through.

My parents lived nearby, but it was almost 2am. And I was kind of drunk. Plus I didn’t have my license. For the same reasons, driving home to Revere wasn’t a viable option. As if to concretize the situation, I turned on the Yaris and realized I was running on fumes – the gas light blinked eyelessly from the dash as my phone buzzed it’s 20% battery warning. I lit another smoke and contemplated my fate. I’d done this before, I thought, that time in the hospital, with less battery life and certainly less Diet Coke. People bivouac on the sides of mountaintops. Come on, we’re just in the suburbs here. We can do this. It’s like a vision quest, but without the peyote.

After a moment of rummaging I came up with an iPhone charging cable and my trusty DC converter with dual USB out, but the gas situation was problematic and it was really, really cold. Plus, I figured I wouldn’t be able to get inside until at least 6am. I browsed idly through my apps, trying to find something to occupy my mind for the next 4-6 hours. Music would be nice, I thought.

And then, it happened. I downloaded Spotify. And somehow, by some miracle, I got a free upgrade to a premium account. For the uninitiated, this basically means that not only did I have “some music”, I had *ALL THE MUSIC*. I mean, almost all the music. But still, SO MUCH MUSIC. Feverishly, I began to search. I found a Bassnectar remix of Underworld’s “Rez“, which led me through both their entire catalogues, which somehow led me to my old favorite Akufen, which brought me to a multi-disc mix called Up All Night, which brought me back to Bassnectar. And then, dear friends, then it was sunrise.

The snow was falling gently as I clomped through the drifts up to my friend’s doorstep. I rang the bell, firmly, once every three seconds until finally I heard her start to stumble down the stairs.

“What the – ”

I grinned like a moron, shaking snowflakes out of my hair.

“How long have you BEEN out there?”

Best night ever? MAYBE.

(Not) Getting a Cab in Austin: Part 1


So I just got back from SXSW, which it’s actually difficult for me to type without a hashtag, and I had like, an 85% great time.

Only 85%? But SXSW (#) is supposed to be, like, Geek Mecca! Nirvana for the nerd set! Hipster heaven!

And it was all that – and more! It was awesome like a music festival, minus the sleeping outside and the mud, and it was inspiring like church (if you’re into that sort of thing). Late nights, early mornings, and a wealth of information it’ll take me weeks to sort through. But I can break that other 15% down for you in four simple words: The cabs there? SUCK.

The first day was fine, actually. Totally cool. I went online and ordered a cab for 8:45am, and, at about 9am one showed up. Perfect! That night, I booked a cab for 8:30, just to be safe, and drifted to sleep thinking how convenient the whole thing had been.

At 9:15 the following morning, I was not finding it so very convenient. My friend’s husband, roused from bed by his groggy wife for the purpose of driving me to the convention, was not finding it very convenient either.

I’d called the cab company at 8:45 to inquire as to the status of my cab, and was told, in a slow Texas drawl, that there were no cabs avaliable.

“But I booked online!” I said, my heart rate accelerating. “You HAVE to have a cab for me!” I’d been so nervous about this very thing – the cab just never coming, being late to my first session – and here it was, happening! The power of negative thinking? SHUT UP.

“Ma’am, I don’t know what you want me to do,” answered the dispatcher.

“What do I want you to do? What do I want you to DO?” Practically shrieking, for sure: “I WANT YOU TO GET ME A CAB IS WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO!”

“I am doing my best, ma’am, but there are no cabs available.”

And that’s about when my head exploded. By the time got to the 9:30 session “The State of Social Marketing“, there was a full house and a line out the door for seats. But, bonus, the session I wound up going to instead had mimosas. That didn’t really make up for it, though. I’d really been looking forward to the social marketing session.

TBC dudes –

Carpe Diem?


From this article, which trumpets the value of morning time.

Savor Something.Whether you like a big breakfast omelet or prefer toast and tea, eating food you enjoy can’t help but affect your mood for the better. Stock up on the ingredients you need to create your favorite breakfast, so they’re always in your cupboard first thing to lift your mood. But more important, take a few minutes to really experience and savor breakfast, even if it’s just a glass of juice. Allowing yourself to be absorbed in something you enjoy is a wonderful way to begin the day.

And I just had to think: would drinking wine count? I enjoy that QUITE a bit.

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