Upon review, the last post might have been misleading regarding my position on Birkenstocks. Let me be clear: I love them wholeheartedly, and I am covetous of them every time I see them (talking to you, Nancy, Anke, Katharina, untold others.) I do not have any not because I don’t want them but because the Gizehs I had just after college were so utterly perfect that a lifetime of Gizeh-less summers is the only true punishment for having left them behind in Santa Barbara when I skipped town in 1999 after my boyfriend dumped up with me. How many of the exact same $100 sandals is it ok to buy if you only barely used the first ones? None. That’s how many.

Don’t cry for me, though, because yesterday I got to go to a Power Yoga class where the teacher told us to breathe like a dragon through the left nostril, and then later I got to go to Talib Kweli show where I danced like a … hmmm… let’s say I danced like someone who cooly arrived at the show as it was beginning rather than someone who arrived at the show two full hours early. Yeah, I was the third person there. I drank like 5 cranberry-and-sodas and had plenty of time to stretch out a little and practice blowing dragon fire out of my other nostril.


ps. Anyone seen the movie Obvious Child yet? I’ve watched the trailer (that’s where the idea of being dumped up with comes from,) and it looks terrific.

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