I saw Sweeney Todd and liked it. Even though it was bloody as hell, and some of the CGI was total crap. TA didn't like it at all—he thought it was too gory and disturbing (he's sensitive that way.)

We are going to some friends' house for New Year's Eve and I'm really looking forward to it. "Looking forward" is the right term to use since it feels like this next chapter of our lives will be rife with change: we live in a new state, a new city, a new apartment. We have future ideas for work and art-making, a renewed optimism about opportunities, growth and success, and a (perhaps blind) faith that 2008 is going to be great.

One of my resolutions for 2008 is to re-assess my wardrobe and actually do something about it. I don't want to say that there will be some sort of dramatic transformation à la Tim Gunn's Guide to Style (although I do agree with his insistence on decent foundation garments, and classic pieces) but by this time next year, I hope to have built a refreshed wardrobe that suits me and my aspirations. Moving triggered a lot of purging (how many bands t-shirts do I need? How old am I again?) and I hope to keep it going. For now, the only item of clothing I can in good conscience acquire is a new bra (or two) since, like Liz Lemon on 30Rock, my go-to one is practically held together with tape (Episode 508.)

I made these as the amuse-bouches for Christmas: they are an adaption of Clotilde's recipe for blue cheese, pear and walnut madeleines. I tweaked it so mine ended up being parmesan, pear and toasted pecan (that's what I had on hand,) baked in mini muffin tins. Served warm from the oven, they were delicious with the chilled Sofia that our guests brought. We also bought some olives at a nearby deli (where the entire counter staff was made up of ex-cons covered in tattoos that looked creepily like those covering Viggo in Eastern Promises, but I digress.)

Anyway. The amuse would have looked better had they been baked into a prettier shape. Mini-muffins are so down-market and overplayed; it kind of injures my sensibilities a little bit.

The piece de resistance for dinner was fondue. Not exactly a traditional holiday meal, but it's easy to prepare and fun to eat. Who doesn't like melted cheese? Ours was a combination of Emmentaler and Gruyere (if I had found Vacherin Fribourgeois I would have thrown that in as well,) white wine, a little kirsch and some gratings of fresh nutmeg. There were baskets of cubed day-old bread, little pots of mustard and fleur de sel, dishes of cornichons and TA's pickled pearl onions, and platters of cured meats. There were two platters, actually: one with the porky things (fennel salami, jambon de Paris,) one with non-treif things (smoked turkey, bresaola.) The meats were delicious! Never underestimate the advantages of living in an Italian-American neighborhood—they love their cured meats (even if they do mispronounce the names of most of them, a pet peeve of mine.)

Dessert was a lime mousse that was nearly a disaster. Thanks to two different Silver Palate recipes (one from the first book with 6 steps and no emulsifying binders, one from New Basics with 9 steps and binders) we managed to salvage what was a first a runny, separating sludge of eggs, sugar, lime zest and juice. I should really light a candle to the scientists who came up with corn starch and gelatin, because if it hadn't been for those two ingredients, the mixture never would have reached the custard stage, and I never would have been able to fold in whipped cream and serve such a sunny and ethereal cloud. It was absolutely delicious and I will definitely make it again, especially now that I have the Ultimate recipe.

For dessert we also had a moist, yummy almond cake baked by this cooking savant. It's kind of a long story, but suffice it to say that she's got the skillz to pay the billz. She is reviled by the snarky gossip sites , and I have laughed plenty at her expense, but no more. It was really sweet for her to give our friend the cake (and for him to share it with us,) and it was a lovely gesture, and who can sneer at that? I hope I can work these connections to get the recipe. It was that good.

On Christmas eve, we went to Rockefeller Center to look at the tree and the lights and the ice skaters. It was complete insanity, but a nice Christmas shock to our grinchy systems.

We also looked at the shop windows, and I decided that Barneys' were the best. They carried their Green Holiday message into the displays, and there were some really inventive re-contextualizing of bottles and cans and paper. Some constructions were very modern, some hinted at latinamerican stamped tin art. Very cool.

I have more photos to upload. Stay tuned.

Today I became a New Yorker: I waited in an interminable line.

2 good celebrity sightings:
- on Thursday I saw Parker Posey in Chelsea
- today, I saw Lili Taylor in Cobble Hill
Mr Bingo came over for dinner last night. We made boeuf bouguignon which we served with boiled yukon gold potatoes that had been tossed with a little butter and chopped parsley. I also roasted some beets and served them, diced, over butter lettuce with crumbles of chevre, chopped parsley and a shallot vinaigrette. Somehow we managed to leave room for dessert, and it was actually pretty simple: store-bought coconut sorbet accompanied by homemade cardamom spice cookies. I knew we wouldn't want anything too heavy after the rib-sticking stew.

He was such a lovely guest. He cleaned his plate (twice!), drank a lot, talked a lot and brought us housewarming presents! He gave us a yummy bottle of port, and some groovy salad tongs that I immediately used for the salad. We gossiped about publishing and other nonsense, and it was great. I'm so glad he only lives a 20 mn walk away!

We are having friends over for fondue on Christmas. We've done a lot of the shopping, but are leaving the bread and alcohol purchases for the 24th (bread has to be stale, and we're undecided on which white to serve, or whether we should start with champagne and move into some light reds.) The other thing we have to do is pick which movie we want to see in the morning, since that has been our tradition for last 6 or 7 years. Persepolis? Something weepy like Atonement? When does the new Gondry open?

I have a cold so all I want to do is drink tea, eat cookies, watch movies and nap. And I just may do that today.

Of course, I did well at the interview. I coupled my new technique of No Expectations with Letting Pauses Follow The Interlocutor's Statements. This makes it seem like I'm listening, when really I'm mostly scanning the person's face for clues, and the room for evidence.

The whole point of my going to the interview was to meet the head of the company with whom I'd be working most closely. In a 45 mn meeting, I spoke with him for maybe 3. I knew what he looked like (I'd done my homework) so when I walked into the office, I saw him immediately but played it off. He saw me too and did the same. Then while I waited, I watched how he interacted with the worker bees. He definitely walked around like he owns the joint.

Of the questions he asked me, none were related to the job or my work.
1. How long have you been in New York? (answer: one month)
2. Where were you before? (answer: Los Angeles. Ok, I fibbed. I didn't want to say Connecticut.)
3. Why did you decide to move here? (answer: I was tired of the sun)

All of the above conducted in French. His questions caught me a bit off-guard, but they were simple enough. I am especially proud of my slangy response to the "Why did you decide to move here" question because I feel the tone of my answer was the right one to strike. (J'en avais marre du soleil.)

The office is gorgeous, on the 18th fl. with a knock-out view of the Hudson and the city. Spectacular as it is, I don't think the view can make up for what seemed to me a rather joyless atmosphere... I almost can't believe such beautiful books spring from there! The office was a morgue, quiet beyond belief. The conference table was in the middle of a big open space, and with the ambient noise and weird editorial lady's barely-above-whisper voice, it's a wonder I was able to hear anything at all.

And then the desperation, which I had seen in Editorial lady's eyes, materialized right in front of me. It took shape as we discussed technical aspects of book production, but then it became a giant gorilla at the table by the time she was wrapping things up.

1. "What does your schedule look like?" (answer: I have some ongoing projects, as well as a few that might ramp up in January, but I'm still waiting to hear from my clients)
2. "Could you come in, like, 2-3 days a week? Next week?" (answer: well with the holidays I won't be available until after the 1st)
3. "Maybe you could email me your availability? And your day rate?" (answer: ok)

I so don't want to work there, no matter how prestigious it might be (prestige means nothing to me if it's solely based on outward perception.) And now I have to craft a rejection that balances politesse with professionalism, and doesn't lead them on.

Interview is at 4:45 this afternoon. My portfolio has 7 books in it, and it weighs 75 lbs so TA is accompanying me. Can you imagine showing up to an interview with one arm longer than the other by about 5 feet?

Picking and choosing what to put in the portfolio was easy. They want to see books, they don't want to see logos or branding or packaging (although books, to me, are packaging) or corporate brochures. Too bad they don't want to see the other stuff—it's lighter!

Anyway I was talking to a friend yesterday and she was telling me not to stress about the interview. "You're just going to talk to them! Big deal!" To which I replied, "Well, worse case scenario, they offer me the job; best case, I get freelance work and a peek into their offices." It's pretty good when the worse case scenario is the job offer. This is the place we should all be operating from.

And it reminds me of an aphorism from one of my favorite graphic designers, Stefan Sagmeister: "Low expectations are a good strategy." I'm really beginning to think that he's right. I mean, isn't this the same philosophy that keeps the Danes happy?

I spoke to my pseudo little brother in London today. You all remember that I have a non-biological brother that I call my brother because our families were so close growing up.? Or have I not mentioned it? Anyway, he's coming to town in February because his work will be part of an exhibition at MOMA. I'm so excited for him, for the opening, I'm thrilled to see his mother whom I love and miss like crazy, and I especially can't wait to toast his growing stardom.

Crazy publishing lady emailed me this morning to ask me if I was available either today or tomorrow to meet with the publishing company owner. Ack!

Edited 1:08 pm: I still haven't heard from crazy publishing lady, but in the interim I've had an email exchange with someone I know at a different publishing house who used to work for the crazy lady's place and all of my suspicions have been confirmed. This connection of mine is going to put me in touch with someone who recently freelanced for the crazy publisher so I can get the up-to-the-minute (or should I say à la minute) scoop.

Meanwhile, we're supposed to be in New Haven, sanding and painting. This job is already getting in the way of my life, and I haven't even been interviewed!!!

On Friday, I met TA in the West Village and we had a cup of coffee here. Then we walked here so I could see these in real life. They are as gorgeous in real life as in pictures. And they are crazy expensive.

It was getting colder as we dipped south of Houston, so we stopped at Fanelli's for a whiskey. It was perfect.

After that we checked out the new MUJI store (totally disappointing if you've ever shopped at a real MUJI store, like the one around the corner from our apartment in Paris) and the CB2 one (more disappointing still.) We got lost in Chinatown, then made it home in time to freshen up for a dinner invitation.

Dinner was fantastic: the food was perfect (roast chicken, penne puttanesca, salad), and our friends' apartment is cozy and cool, just like them. They totally inspired us to unpack our artwork and start hanging things. The best part is that they only live 4 blocks away from us, and I'm hoping this means we'll get to see a lot of them since I really do like them. Oh, and they had a fluffy cat who looked like she was wearing pantaloons!

Yesterday, we unpacked more boxes, cleaned up and moved some furniture around. Our place looks so much better as a result. We still have a ways to go before everything looks just right, but it really is starting to feel more and more like our little nest.

Anyway, in the afternoon some other friends dropped by, and we had lunch together. They were heading to the Fairway Market in Red Hook so we tagged along to stock up on a few things. It was fun, except that now I feel like I have a cold coming on, and I need to nip it in the bud.

I met an LA friend for coffee at 10:45 this morning. We were going to walk to DUMBO to some cute café she likes, but the weather was so foul, I suggested this place which was a lot closer. I mean, it was hailing and snowing and freezing-raining and she was wearing really cute boots that I didn't want her to ruin. As it was, my MJ majorette boots got soaked (they're old but I still love them.)

It was nice catching up, and especially nice not to have to get on a train for 2 hours just to see a friend. Much better to walk for a brisk (and wet) 20 minutes.

Anyway, the weather is still foul and because it is, all I want to do is make cookies. Or bake a coffee cake... maybe I should?

edited 5:35 pm: instead of a sweet, I opted to just start making boeuf bouguignon since it takes forever. The whole house is starting to smell delicious... Oh and the weather is still crap...

Every year except for one, my best friend's husband has sent me an email around Christmas-time claiming he is bereft of ideas for gifts for her. Sometimes this happens around her birthday as well.

Every year this makes me sad. But every year I help him out because he's practically my brother-in-law and I can't have him giving my best friend a bad gift!

The thing is, she is insanely easy to shop for. When I'm out, I see hundreds of things she'd like. I know that if I like it, she will too. It's that kind of easy. She's all about vintage things, crafty things, cute things, saucy groovy things.

Each time, he wants to get her something that screams either "I have no idea who you are" or "I'd prefer it if you were more like this." Anyway, this year he asked me what I thought about it, and I said, "get her an iPhone. Everybody wants one, and she'd never buy one for herself." He was all, "Yeah, that's a good one but I was thinking maybe she'd want a designer handbag."

Noooooooo!

It's almost as bad as the time he wanted to get her a locket. What is she? Twelve? And un-ironically obsessed with The Preppy Handbook?

She is decidedly anti-high fashion, anti-expensive status handbags. It's so not her. In the designer way, she is unlike me, someone who has bookmarked these and these.

So I made a bunch of really awesome suggestions (if I do say so myself) and he came around. Disaster averted!

I have more to write but I am preparing dinner for us and Mr Bingo. We are headed to his little jewel of an apartment for an evening of wine and Project Runway! Hooray!

A month or so ago, I renewed my subscription to Blueprint magazine, and now I find out that it's folding. Bah! And not only is it folding, it's being folded into Martha Stewart Weddings. Double bah! You know how much I LOATHE and DESPISE anything wedding or wedding-related.

I'm irked that I'm going to have to cancel, although on second thought it might be nice to take that cash and use it for something else?

Like yoga?

There's a place around the corner from my house that offers classes, and I am going to investigate. I was actually going to attend a class tonight, but called to double check and found out it's been cancelled. So that will have to wait. I am still considering deepening my practice with an immersion or a teacher training, and there is one being offered in February but it's expensive and I'll have to see how our finances shake out.

We are still surrounded by boxes. This is because I've been really busy with work, and TA has been busy with work-related stuff. And the boxes are not being emptied, and those that have been emptied are still sitting on the floor waiting to be flattened and recycled. The other night TA volunteered for $30/hour to help out some architects with a project of theirs. He worked from 8 pm until 6 am, soldering tiny wires together. Coming home, he surprised me with warm cinnamon rolls from the bakery around the corner and it was so adorable, I made him get back into bed with me for a few minutes so he could get warm, and then I got up and made the espresso. It was really fun. Like, way better and lovelier than anything we could have dreamed up in New Haven. It helps that neither one of us has a 9-to-5 job and can spend that kind of time together.

There are so many large and small ways that New York shows itself to be superior to other American cities, but it's the teensy little ways that get to me. And these teensy ways are essentially things that remind me of Paris. Like the smell of the cold weather and diesel truck exhaust is exactly like Paris in the winter. And the smell of warm bread mixed with dead leaves and ozone from a fresh rain is exactly like Paris in the fall. The fact that we've actually got a neighborhood bakery that churns out fresh bread and pastries all day long is enough to make me never want to move back to California (unless I could live around the corner from BreadBar in LA, or Tartine or the other boulangeries in SF.) The ones around here may be Italian, and not French, but it's still an essential part of having a nice life. At least to me. And I didn't realize how much I missed it.

Around 11:30 this morning I got a one line email from crazy publishing lady:

"Please call me today" (with her number clearly typed in there.)

I was surprised that she'd continue her torture, but whatever. I can't spend time figuring out how other peoples' brains work. Anyway, after I'd made some headway in my translation (I was up until 2:30 in the morning working at that damned thing) I called and left her a message.

My message was light but professional.

Cue 4 hours later, and still no call from her. So I send an email that says:

"I left you a message earlier today. If there's an optimal time to call, please let me know."

Eventually she calls me an hour or so later, and the conversation is suprisingly pleasant and informative. She seems harried but mostly normal, and explains that the reason they're conducting phone interviews is that they have so many respondents and they'd like to narrow the group down to a manageable number. Makes sense to me. I go into more detail about my background, and ask questions about their seasons, how many books per, who would be reporting to me (one junior designer,) who I'd be reporting to (the company owner/creative director) etc. I was engaged, engaging and super calm and professional. I think it helped to have psychologically written off the whole thing. I was tolerably blasé and it was awesome!

Then came the part about money, which, if you've worked in publishing, you know is the laughable portion of the conversation. Crazy publishing lady said that in the past, she'd always asked for a salary history to accompany the resumes, but she never got them so she gave up asking. So I said, "Yes, it's one of those areas where people are very cagey, since we've all been trained to wait for the other person to name a number..."

Me: "That said, given the skills you're looking for, the level of job responsibility and the fact that I'd be reporting directly to the company owner, I'd expect to be making upwards of xx." I knew my number would be insane by publishing standards, but what the hell? I had nothing to lose, right?

She said something about how that was above what they were offering, but that given my experience and suitability for the position, she'd bring it up to the company owner. "You'd be such great fit here."

So it was a really good interview, I had zero to below zero expectations so I was totally relaxed, and I excelled. Also, in closing, I mentioned something about a line of books they had done years ago that I'd bought in France and brought back to the US, that I loved because they were so beautiful. And I wasn't kissing their ass, I was being honest.

Anyway, I am adopting the Danish attitude of Low Expectations and will wait to see what lovely, possibly exciting, thing might occur.

The other serendipitously happy that happened recently is that while sitting at my computer, I looked out the window to the big tree outside our building and saw a bright red male cardinal hopping about on one of the tree's branches. I love cardinals and their silly little beep-beep-beep song! I decided that he was a good omen, that things in New York will be ok.

And the other day, TA found a crisp new dollar on our sidewalk! Another good omen.

Lunch with Miss Gingeryette was super fun yesterday! My first New York lunch date, and I can't wait for more.

I'm sure you're all dying to know what is going on with that crazy publisher. So here's the Readers Digest version: on Tuesday evening, right before we were to leave for New Haven, I saw a listing online for an AD position at a French publisher's NY office. I totally fit the description, including the "French-speaking a plus" part, so I immediately dispatched my resume with an email quickly outlining why I'd be a great candidate.

Then I go to New Haven, wake up the next day, have a client meeting at 10:30, go to yoga at 12:15, work and clean the apartment and finally check my email using an intermittent wifi connection around 8:30 pm. I had actually gotten a response from the publisher! An email message sent on Wednesday morning, approx. 13 hours later. It said:

"I would like to talk with you more about the position. Do you have time to talk on the phone sometime between 4-5 today?"

Needless to say, I missed the 4-5 time by, oh, 3 and some odd hours. So I fire off an email that says:

"I am sorry that I was not able to get back to you today. I am currently out of town, but will return Thursday. Would it be possible to talk on Friday? Please let me know your availability.
Looking forward to talking with you."

I knew that my credentials would spark the publishers' interest, but I had no inkling that they would get in contact with me so quickly. It's nice to feel wanted, but the speed with which things were moving left me feeling a bit unsettled.

So the publishing contact emails me the next morning at 9am, from her Blackberry, saying:

"Friday doesn't work. Anytime today?"

To which I reply:

"How about this afternoon around 3? I have my mobile (xxx xxx xxxx) with me, and can make myself available."

She never responds so I clear the decks for a 3 o'clock phone call. And the phone never rings. And I'm confused because I am expecting her to call because she's the one conducting the search, and I have no contact info for her other than her email address. At 3:30 pm, I go back to work.

At 5:45 pm, I get this email:

"Never heard from you. Pls confirm if you are on fact interested in this position, as we have many other candidates and it is very time consuming and hard to connect with you! Thanks!!"

Obviously, I was floored. And pissed off. And irritated beyond the beyond that someone who could not distinguish between "on fact" and "in fact" would be calling my professionalism and interest into question. That weird feeling I had gotten in my stomach after the first email came back like a rushing tide of Terrible. I wanted to smash this person's face in, but instead replied:

"There must have been a miscommunication: I emailed you my number, and since I didn't have yours, I assumed you would be calling me. I apologize if this was unclear.
I don't have any contact info for you other than your email address so if you would prefer that I call you, please email it to me along with the best times to reach you.
Thank you for your patience."

WTF, right? I have no heard anything from this person. And I deliberately did not try reaching her on Friday since she said that was a not a good time for her (I considered just calling the office main number and asking for her by name but decided to honor her schedule.) I've been debating whether or not I should try reaching her on Monday, but I'm torn. TA says I need to listen to the little man inside me that is screaming "Run as far away from that place as possible!" and I am thinking he's probably right. Do I really want to work for a company like that? I can't ignore that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I sent the email volley to a friend of mine who added: "she is definitely a tight-ass who rushes through everything and comes to judgments too quickly. I think that the way she is going about her talent search is going to alienate a lot of people."

And it just reminded me that when you're being interviewed by a company, you should also be interviewing them.

We went back to CT to clean the apt, patch holes and paint. It was bittersweet.
Now we're back in NY and we still have a ton of organizing and unpacking to do. Oh, and work: a website to design, another postcard to finish, the film translation to complete... and a psycho bitch from a publisher's office to deal with.

It's a long story, and it may even deserve a copy-and-paste from our email volley but I'm too tired and upset about the whole thing to even touch it right now.

Instead, I will focus on the Happy: lunch with Miss Gingeryette today!

Well, we moved. We're now Brooklyn residents. Even though we are surrounded by boxes and newspaper and cardboard, and the apartment is starting to feel like our own, it kinda also feels like we're on vacation, pretending to live in New York?