After a walk to campus with Buster and half hour or so with A Tree Grown In Brooklyn (which is amazing), found myself three cookies deep into a freshly-baked batch of fantastic chocolate chip cookies. I added walnuts to half the batch, which probably adds some flavor but mostly gives them a fabulous "rustic" texture. After purchasing an array of cookie scoops in various sizes, I've decided I don't actually want them all perfect circles. I miss the organic, lumpy, made-from-dough look.

Brian's insistance I try Crisco paid off, though. The cookies are super soft with a mysteriously airbrushed-looking yellow creaminess. Am still disturbed to have a vat of solid white fat sitting warm in the cupboard, but I can overlook the greatest weirdness for a good cookie.

It was a happy, leisurey Friday evening, after leaving work a little early and discovering the sun even hotter than it had been at noon when I met Caitie for lunch on the Ave. She talked about the GRE and getting her nipples pierced; I talked about professional pet portraits for Buster. If we hadn't come to our standard conclusion that mom is a crazy lady, we'd have been very unlikely to appear sisters at all.

My weekend calendar filled quickly with food-oriented social plans: Cafe Campagne, birthday barbecue, dim sum, and Brouwer's. Sarah also hopes I stop by the Fremont parade where she'll be standing enthusiastically at a Cease Fire table. I hope the weather hold so I can wear new summer clothes instead of the same four sweaters I've been wearing since October.

In her NY Times' blog, Judith Warner writes on sexually-charged manifestations of patriarchy in the US and abroad.

The premise: the connection between hymen-restoration trend in France, driven by the cultural need for unmarried women to remain (or re-become) virgins, and similar efforts in the US -- particularly, fathers who lead their teenage daughters to chastity balls and assert that it is their duty to protect their purity.

Warner also brings up rape and incest as more extreme examples of patriarchy -- and while they do not equate, she says,"there is nonetheless a kind of horror to their [fathers'] obsession with their daughters’ sexuality. ... And there is even greater danger to the fact that this particular aspect of the nationwide “abstinence movement” has not been broadly denounced as the form of emotional violence against girls that it indisputably is."

Indeed.

And an interesting counterpoint to arguments against the over-sexualization of young women. I personally find this paternal obsession with virginity about as creepy and inappropriate as Billy Ray's audience to Miley's sexually-charged Liebowitz photos.

While it's definitely uncomfortable for bratty, ridiculous teenagers and awkward parents to have 'the talk,' it is entirely possible for normal families to address sexuality in a normal, healthy, non-creepy way. No need to venture into territory that causes bloggers to revolt nationwide!

No one tried very hard to protect my virginity, and I don't recall ever being afraid of losing it too early or keeping it too long. I'm sure there was some kind of mental turmoil over it, and my parents were not thrilled when it went the way of YM magazine and shopping in the juniors section. But I'm fairly certain fears were over pregnancy, primarily, and not purity.

New new blog look.

Edited again. The off-center alignment was haunting me.

New blog look.

Not sure if I'm in love, but I erased the HTML for the old template so that's the end of that.

May play with this this weekend, clean it up, and make it a little more interesting. Also would like it centered -- am not a fan web pages pushed to one side of the browser.

Meat

I get excited just seeing Mark Bittman's name on the Times' front page -- it means some new and exciting commentary of food and how to eat it. Today, eating less meat.

I love that he discusses how less can be good rather than why it is. The recommendations are practical and interesting. I think I will precook those beans that have been in the pantry since Januaryish.

But reading, I must wonder who's eating so much meat. I've certainly never made an effort to eat less meat (aside from that vegan month freshman year), and I definitely don't feel deprived eating meat at dinner only. I could go days without meat and not notice. But meat for breakfast and lunch and dinner, too? Do people really eat breakfast meat on a daily basis? OK, maybe people in Texas, but do people I know do this? Are there people in my office eating meat three times per day? I never even considered this a possibility. I do love a good piece of meatiness, am no more grossed out by it than by dairy or eggs. So what is so different in my life, my upbringing or values or health or cravings, that my habit would be the aim of others' efforts?

Likely, I am just a carb and fruit addict. It's killing me not having gone to Costco for bushels of apples and spinach last weekend. I eagerly await the weekend, not for sleeping in or early summer barbecue, but in the hopes that asparagus will be on sale.

Showers, showers, few showers, partly cloudy. I left my umbrella at Thaiger Room last week,
and I can't figure out what to wear for this weather. Is it spring? Can I wear florals when my flowers have yet to bloom? Can I wear skirts bare-legged in this weather? Long pants dragging in puddles are as bad as open toes in this drizzle, and I'm sick of tights. I'm ready for weather that makes me forget what it feels like so overcast and chilly.

Bill Cunningham discusses vests on NYTimes.com. Not just any vests, or all vests, but traditional three-piece-suit style vests (and a waistcoat or two) layered by young people over jeans and tees, blouses, and untucked dress shirts. I'm a big fan of the look -- it takes otherwise-bland outfits to a very current, urban, sharp place. The structure adds almost gravitas to Gap basics, but the trendiness keeps a dress shirt and slacks from looking like Ross on Friends. I love almost every single one of these looks ... everything except the "interesting" look on the woman at :55 -- who's looking at the vest when her underwear is rising 6 inches out of such hideous jeans?