What Would Happen?

(London tunnel. Photograph by Moby.)

I listened to "Destroyed", Moby's latest album, all weekend. Have you ever heard a song that within moments fills you with strength and comfort and resonates down to the core of your being? Well, that's how I felt the first time I heard "Lie Down in Darkness"...and I'm betting you will too.

(LA at night. Photograph by Moby.)

It's poetic.

It's impassioned.

It's quasi-hymnal.

But more than anything, it's completely and totally inspiring.

It made me spend my Sunday creating this for you:

(If you're reading this via email subscription, click HERE)

P. S. Moby has created a fascinating website to accompany his album. Click HERE.

Director's Thanks:

I would like to give a special shout-out to the shelled creature I discovered in my garden who so tirelessly performed take after take for me until the afternoon light was just right. There's nothing like a Hollywood stunt snail.

Paper Fixation

I have fallen head over heels for the Off Duty section of the weekend Wall Street Journal.

(Coffee + Off Duty Section = A Perfect Moment.)

It's only been a few months, but the symptoms of love are all too familiar.

1. When I open my eyes on Saturday mornings, I feel an instant rush, thinking of it laying on my front path in its little cerise wrapper. This is immediately replaced by tender concern. Is it safe? Is there a teeny perforation in the plastic again? Did the sprinklers drench it?

2. My concentration is shot. By the time Thursday rolls around, I find myself unable to think about anything else.

"David Netto (a dad at my son's school) mentioned going on some crazy train trip with his family. I wonder if his article's coming out this weekend? Oh crap. I just burned the pizza."

(Photo by Jessica Haye and Clark Hsaio. Article HERE.)

2. Every vapid little thought that flits through my head leads directly back to it.

"Whoa, this sink could do with a good scrub. Oh swoon. Remember when Rita Konig wrote about kitchens with character?"

(Photo by Staffan Johansson. Article HERE.)

"Now where did I just put my book? Oh, who cares? How about that article Sara Ruffin Costello wrote about the well-stocked library?"

(Photo by James Merrell. Article HERE.)

3. When I am holding the Off Duty section in my hot little hands, all else pales into insignificance.

"Yes, Luca, I will help you look for your soccer cleats -- just as soon as I learn how to wear a scarf like Jackie Onassis in Capri."

(Photo by Settimo Garritano. Article HERE.)

"Piero, I would give you a hand with all those grocery bags, but I'm feeling light-headed. You see...The. Off. Duty. Fall. List Is. Here."

(Gloriously all HERE.)

4. At random moments, I find myself thinking about all the beautiful times we have shared together. Of course, we'll always have Paris (HERE, HERE and HERE), but the memories go far beyond that.

There was that time we travelled to English decorator Nicky Haslam's eccentric country house.

(Photo by Simon Upton. Article HERE.)

And got giddy over Alice Water's crazy simple Stone-Fruit Salad with Sugared Berries.

(Photo by Justin Walker. Article HERE.)

And felt that adrenaline surge for Ahmad Sardar-Afkhami's hand-embroidered wool rugs.

(Photo via WSJ Weekend. Article HERE.)

Oh, the list goes on and on. I have special feelings for you, Off Duty section. You are eccentric and fascinating and erudite and approachable. You are a romantic rainstorm on a boring sunny day. You make me want to be the best possible version of myself.

* * * * *

And now, if you people will kindly excuse me, I desperately need to get back to Jeffrey Bilhuber (HERE.)

(Photo by LBG.)

Have an inspiring week, everyone.

x/lisa

UPDATE: A commenter alerted me to the fact that Deborah Needleman, ex-editor of Domino, is the creative force behind the Off Duty section. Of course she is and how oblivious of me not to mention that. Thank you Deborah, for the miracles you have wrought!

A Novel Idea For Food

Did you know food tastes more delicious when you create a backstory for it?

Introducing "Mrs. Arbuthnot's Repast."

(My snack this afternoon.)

(Ingredients: flax and fiber sandwich thins, good butter,

raspberry and key lime jam, sliced nectarines, almond slivers)

I'm calling it that after the character in Elizabeth Von Arnim's "The Enchanted April." Succulent fruit on thin bread with a bracing crunch of almond seems an appropriate nibble for an unhappy Englishwoman longing for a fresh new start in life.

Why stop there?

After looking through my computer files, I've taken a stab at renaming some of the meals I've eaten since starting this blog. Can you guess which novel they're inspired by?

(Answers are at the bottom.)

1.

Old name: Cioppino

New name: "Dickie Greenleaf's Harbor Stew"

2.

Old name: Tomato soup with grilled cheese soldiers

New name: "A Small Measure of Count Rostov's Liquidity"

3.

Old name: Fig marzipan tart

New name: "Dick Diver's Taste of Midnight Galette"

4.

Old name: Mussels in white wine sauce

New name: "Mr. Peggotty's Seaside Savory"

5.

Old name: Roasted kombucha squash with parsley-vinaigrette salad and toasted pepitas

New name: "Friday's Foodstuffs For the Purpose of Quelling Famishment"

6.

Old name: Meyer lemon pound cake

New name: "Mrs. Bennett's Lip-Pursing Pleasure For Headstrong Young Ladies"

7.

Old name: Open-face sandwich with Marmite, butter, Jarlsberg cheese and cherry tomatoes

New name: "Causabon's Key to Health"

I know your brains are exploding with "novel food" pairings that are much more clever than mine. Unleash them in my comments section. :)

* * * * *

Answers:

1. The Talented Mr. Ripley/ Patricia Highsmith

Dickie Greenleaf meets a fishy end in the waters of San Remo. Enough said.

2. Tender is the Night/F. Scott Fitzgerald

Dick Diver likes to stay up late and have a good time. Enough said.

3. War and Peace/Leo Tolstoy

Count Rostov was loaded with dependents but very little money.

4. David Copperfield/Charles Dickens

Mr. Peggotty is a fisherman and lives in a beached houseboat by the ocean.

5. Robinson Crusoe/Daniel Defoe

Friday was the shipwrecked Crusoe's trusty companion.

6. Pride and Prejudice/Jane Austen

A reference to Mrs. Bennett and her daughters, especially Elizabeth.

7. Middlemarch/George Eliot

Causabon was obsessed with writing a book called "The Key to all Mythologies."

My Independence Day

Today feels like my birthday, July 4th and New Year's Eve, all rolled into one.

Why?

Because at exactly 9am this morning, 4th grade began.

(Between you and me, the kid is still in shock. "But it's August," he kept saying in the car.)

And how do I feel?

Oh, you know.

There were a couple moments of "Wow, wasn't he just in kindergarten...?" and "They grow up so fast..." Sniffly-sniff.

(First edition, Mercantile Library Collection, Cincinnati. May 2011.)

But that quickly gave way to exhilaration.

(Backstage at the Go Go's. 8/17/11, Hollywood.)

And the desire to throw one of these.

(My bookshelf, 2011.)

I have so many plans for Fall 2011, you see.

(I had them for Summer 2011 too, but I'm not quite sure what happened. Oh yeah. I forgot.)

Strange arcane esoteric things, like:

1. Exercising.

(Visualizing your way to a better body does not work. I have tried.)

2. Eating right.

(This will involve moving my favorite new cookbooks (HERE, HERE and HERE) from the night table by my bed down to the kitchen...you know, so I can actually cook from them.)

3. Regaining control of the closets in my house.

(They're starting to look like a horror scene from a Guillermo del Toro movie.)

(Did you ever see the original? It still haunts me.)

4. Turning -- even just a few -- of the theoretical projects in my head into reality.

(See below.)

My scarf idea for Winter 2010...

...sadly, still theoretical.

Also still theoretical.

5. And a million other mundane things that I couldn't possibly bore you with here.

(writing/editing/reupholstering/repainting/volunteering/cleaning/

polishing/gardening/re-writing/tailoring/hemming/de-cluttering...

Blah-bitty blah blah.)

So.

In an effort to harness the power within and jumpstart my way to a more empowered 4G version of myself, I'm attending the premiere of this movie tomorrow night (because when I practice yoga, I really do become my best self).

(Information HERE.)

Quick now.

What are your top goals for fall?

Should we pledge to accomplishing them together?

I'm in if you are.

(Me in India, 2007.)

Why Vacations Are Important, Part Two

VENTURING OUT:

Mill Valley, California

We hiked down to the ocean. The fog clung to the ground like it was icing on a cake.

(Steep Ravine trail, California)

I wanted to see the famous cabins at Steep Ravine...and there they were, clustered on the edge of a rocky bluff overlooking the ocean. Built in the 1930's by a rich industrialist and originally leased to privileged families craving an escape from the clamor of San Francisco, these days they rent for an egalitarian $100/night (and are booked seven months in advance).

(Steep Ravine Camp, Rocky Point, California)

Primitive they were and primitive they remain: even today, there is no electricity or running water (although an outdoor faucet with spring water is steps away). Vacationing here is an interlude in Emersonian simplicity. Bring beeswax candles, firewood, a journal/book/art project and a nice bottle of vintage Port.

Dorothea Lange slept here. In fact, she and her family rented the above cottage for almost a decade. So inspired was she by the sense of liberation she felt at Steep Ravine that she published a book of photographs about it (available HERE).

"I began to wonder what it was that made us all feel,

the minute we went over the brow of that hill,

a sense of -- not peace, particularly, or enjoyment -- freedom."

~Dorothea Lange (1895-1965), about Steep Ravine

* * * * *

To become warm after I've been cold is, to me, one of life's greatest joys.

(Pelican Inn, Muir Beach, California)

And to undergo this transformation in a tavern that's the spitting image of one from a Charles Dickens novel makes me pretty much delirious.

(Pelican Inn, Muir Beach, California)

Of course we ordered pints of Guinness all 'round. Hello. For strength, obviously.

I pinky swear that was Mr. Pickwick sitting next to me -- he just dashed off to pee with a degree of speed and urgency highly inconsistent with the gravity of his demeanor.

(Pelican Inn, Muir Beach, California)

Awash in the convivial charms of the Pelican Inn, I bought this book later that afternoon.

Why "Humphrey Clinker", you ask?

Well, my friend, I'll tell you why...

One.

Because Dickens always cited Tobias Smollett as one of his biggest childhood influences.

Two.

Because Thackaray's blurb on the back cover hails it as "the most laughable story that has ever been written since the goodly art of novel-writing began."

And three.

Because who with even a token interest in human nature could pass up a gossipy romp around England and Scotland with characters like "a gouty country squire", "a husband hunter" and "an illiterate but racy lady's maid"? Not me.

Editor's Note: "Clinker" is going straight to Pole Position Four on my 32-book reading stack, outranked only by Amor Towles "Rules of Civility", "Ignore Everybody" by Hugh McLeod and Patti Smith's "Just Kids".

* * * * *

There is a mental "gathering" that happens the last day of a vacation. You know what I mean by this.

(Stinson Beach, California)

Oh sure, you carry down your navy-and-canvas LL Bean tote heaving with books, old magazine articles, and a day planner stuffed with obligations.

(Stinson Beach, California)

But the books don't get cracked, the magazine articles don't get read and the planner stays unorganized. No. You just lie there, body immobile in the sand, eyes closed, preparing your mind for "re-entry."

(Stinson Beach, California)

"Be calm" is what the approaching tide whispers. "As it is now, so can it be again."

(Stinson Beach, California)

Really? Do you promise? Because I want to bottle this feeling and take it back home with me to Hollywood. I'm at peace here, on this strange beach, just watching the waves roll slowly in, one after the other, with endless consistency. They just keep going, don't they, those waves. They stick to the plan. They're patient. They persevere. They have conviction. And isn't conviction just another word for "hopefulness"? Kinda makes you think, right?

(Stinson Beach, California)

And that is why vacations are important.

(All photographs taken August 2011 by Lisa Borgnes Giramonti.)

Why Vacations Are Important

If you ask me, travelling has very little to do with the destination. It's much more about the transformation that happens inside: shedding the stress, recharging your soul and discovering who you are.

(Camden, Maine, August 2011)

We all want to live a simple life. Most of us do not (myself included). But if we're lucky, we can visit places that remind us to keep striving for one.

* * * * *

Stage One: Letting Go

(Camden, Maine)

The lake was called Megunticook, the hideaway was called Crane Island and there was just one cottage on it, accessible by boat during daylight hours. When our friends invited us to come stay with them, there was only one possible answer.

(Crane Island, Maine. August 2011)

It was a strong-minded house, built of wood and stone, nestled in a thicket of pointed firs and positioned on the bow of the island like a figurehead on a ship.

Inside, the sofas were plaid, the rugs were braided and the walls were knotty. So delightfully quaint did it feel that if Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney had suddenly tripped into the room mid-song, no one would have batted an eye.

Every day was a reminder of how little you needed to be happy.

Water + fake mustaches = "Mom, that was the best day ever."

There was a long dock that could be used as -- take your pick -- a departure point for adventure or a meditation platform for lazing and gazing.

On our last night, we ate dinner cross-legged on the dock and talked until the sky became thoughtful with clouds.

The sun sank behind the trees, there was time for one final swim...

...and then the stars blinked on, illuminating the night with possibility.

Up next...

Stage Two: Venturing Out (Mill Valley, California)

(All photos by Lisa Borgnes Giramonti.)