Digging for Diamonds at the Bottom of the Sea

I disappeared to Florida for a bit around the holidays.

Read by the pool and bundled up in the sand. Music for Torching is more sad now than satirical (10 years ago I thought the opposite), and Super Sad True Love Story was neither super sad nor super true, though certainly a story that might or might not have been about love (I loved some of Miranda July’s stories, specifically “Something That Needs Nothing,” and after initial hesitation, I’m falling into tentative love with Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad).





Florida: Land of Little Boxes Made of Ticky Tacky.



On a day too cool for bikinis even with sweats and scarves, we took a Teddy Bear Picnic (actually, a Lion Country Safari).





Since returning to the frozen tundra, it’s been the usual staying-warm tactics: Kelly’s Manhattans, Silky’s draft Newcastles, Tram’s pho, D’s veggie dogs with extra sport peppers, jalapenos and cayenne, Taj Mahal’s supper buffet. Tiny Furniture at the Regent Square Theater (looking forward to Made in Dagenham soon), and Sarah McLachlan with the big sister at Heinz Hall. A truly beautiful show that I’ve been waiting to get around to for at least a decade and a half. For all my indie-ish musical leanings, the two albums that always soothe whatever ails remain: Sarah’s Afterglow and Norah Jones’ Come Away with Me.