* In one of those odd coincidences, I turned on Alton Brown the night I made the epic mac & cheese and he was making fromage fort, which is basically what I was making, mit starch. That man really gets up my nose, between the breathless faux extemporaneous delivery and the fact that he says "timperature" instead of "temperature." Among other gripes. Anyhow. The mac & cheese is still hanging in. It can be a fun game, thinking of ways to use up what you have: making smoothies with the dregs of juice bottles and sorbet containers and seltzer, throwing things in marinades, whatever. At least, so I'm telling myself. Success last week: defrosted flank steak in a lime juice/soy marinade and served cold in a salad with more lime juice vinaigrette. Oh and with mac and cheese on the side NO WAY.

* Shopping for shoes at Zappos seems to be (unless I'm missing a workaround) an extremely gender normative experience. Some people's feet are just ping pong paddles, okay? Not male, not female.

* Hand to my heart, it appears a bagpipe player has moved into my apartment building. A bagpipe player who practices. I like saying this because it's ridiculous, but honestly I enjoy the sound. And it's better than the rumbling shudder of idling buses out on my street belching exhaust for hours and hours.

* Cat #1 fucked up Cat #2 in a knock-down ultimate cat fight challenge over the weekend. Tears were shed, yelps were yelped, Cat #1 ended up in cat jail and #2 had to be wooed out, paws bloodied and spirit cowed (and cranky, since she's a cat). All seems to be fine now, but cripes.