"our" gals in turin
snarky self-reflexive racism?

Just goes to show you all, in case of doubt, that I'm as usual and characteristically out of touch with the interests of the/my people. While I busy myself with David Shipler's excellent (if a tad bit outdated) Arab and Jew, the vigilant Jew-trackers of the internet says that all the top women on the ice are indeed Members of the Tribe. Middle East politics: out. Jewish figure skaters: in! And you thought we were 'ice princesses' in only a metaphorical sense.

In other consumption news: here is my recommendation for a very cold evening when the wild winds have raged at you all the way up walnut from 4th to 49th, especially on the bridge, where speeding Town Cars nearly clip you and the new Peugeot racing bike whips around wobbly whenever you try to slow down or turn: get Leslie to bake brownies, and then eat three giant fudgy slabs and drink a foaming mug of soy milk.

This is a preliminary investigation of my current theory that it is better to take moderation in moderation. Arising from a conversation with Angela and her nine-year-old friend Lark Ann, I realized that I don't eat ice cream for breakfast (ick) or waffles for dinner (mm) nearly often enough. There is thus an experiment in the works: a greater segregation of the functional and the indulgent. I'm going to practice asceticism and practicality, until it's time to break out. Then I'll eat panfuls of brownies.

From the Department of Why, Lord, Why: nuts for trucks. Please: why??