Superstition

There's something about giving up the ghost, about letting go of superstition, about letting yourself unplug from the heavy pull of universal push and try, just try, to let the energies that abound know you know that what will happen will happen no matter how much you try to curate, cultivate, coerce the standings. There's something simply terrifying in the attempt, something as scary as it is necessary and as urgent as it is daunting.

Yesterday, my grandmother told me something I've always known about her - that she would rather pretend that nothing is wrong and just hope whatever it isn't goes away. For most of my life, my reading on this attitude focused on the inherent denial, the refusal to accept reality. But after reprimanding her and demanding she get over it and start facing the facts, little lady, I realized this duck and cover mechanism seems to stem more from superstition than just simple general delusion. If you admit to yourself, and thus the universe (or god, if you must), that something is wrong - then it has to be, right? And if you just ignore it and pretend like there's no red-eyed furball staring at you from your messy closet, then there simply must not be. Right?

Wrong, I guess, although there is something to say for revering the nag of the something we all feel but is intrinsically undefined. My approach to superstition is often the opposite of Lois'. I figure, the more I worry about it, the more declarative energy I put out there - very clearly letting the imps know I am not interested, thank you very much but no thank you, can't you see just thinking about this is making me sweat, just imagining the possibility is making my stomach churn, my armpits are starting to get itchy, for pete's sake please, let me be - the less likely that nasty unwanted thing is to take place. I practice this method of superstition in the way I take my probiotic in the morning and hope it helps my stomach the next day - as a preventative measure. It helps, although one must wonder how necessary that magic pill would be if I could just let go of the incessant defense and pretend that whatever goes on it that little hamster-ball brain of mine doesn't affect the universal grip on my existence what-so-ever.

I'm thinking about all of this as I ride a greyhound down the pike, to route 85, to Union Station, which is located approximately .5 miles from Saint Francis Hospital, where my Grammy, Lois Reiner, 82, is spending day three and is currently awaiting a visit to the O.R. This is a huge inconvenience for her, as she is a tremendously busy woman - often while hearing the recap of her days, I find myself laying down on the sidewalk while subconsciously listing all the ways I spend my time in hopes of calming myself off the 'I am a complete sedentary loser' precipice. My grammy is tremendous and is the epitome of style - well dressed, perfectly accentuated, alluring in her expectations, fantastically witty, a woman who clearly has seen the world and keeps pieces of it in her pocket just for fun. But this is no eulogy - she will be fine, because honestly, what's a pacemaker or a couple of defribulators to a Ahskenazi like Lois? Bupkis, nothing, nothing, just a bother, an inconvenience, and certainly nothing to travel for, so really don't worry, there's nothing you can do, it's boring, we're fine. Well, Grams, I'm not quite fine, and you're just going to have to deal with it.

Sometimes I feel like if I let my guard down for even one minute, if I let up on the worry and forget about the potential for utter disaster and difficulty, I feel like what I've staved off for so long with my mental vampire stake will come for me with a force triple that which I expended in neurotic behavior. But then, sometimes, when the world reminds me how strong the will of a mind can be, how that which sustains us is so much more than mechanisms of the aortic valve and firing synapses, the worrying must cease. This is when the glittery, pulsating, Lisa Frank heart that I swear is just under my forehead skin opens up and starts transforming superstitious energies into love and compassion for suffering - and the rainbow of healing sometimes dually connects to my heart while crossing astral planes to get to the heart that matters.

Grammy is insistent we make no fuss over this little incident, but that didn't stop me from booking myself and my brother bus tickets late last night, and it certainly didn't bolster my legs as my chest flattened and the feeling of a swift swack to the back forced me to stop walking up the hill, figurative and literal, many times in the last few days. But her refusal to sit with the potential for severity has left me with more than a sad duty to do so myself - it has left me wondering how I might best carry out that very terrifying task. If her refusal to weigh reality is based in fear of the universal acceptance that couples with personal acceptance, how dare I dishonor that? If superstition has worked for her this long - and really, it's worked well - who am I to force a change of pretense?

My therapist is always reminding me of what she dubs Realities - the spaces we carve out for ourselves in which our subjective experience is the one that truly matters, and it's in this spectrum that I'm giving up the ghost. I want more than anything in this moment for my grandmother to live, for her to come out of this quibble with the universal quo unscathed, no different than she came in. But I have to let myself at least nibble the wafer or corporeal reality and accept that this may not be the case - and let myself acknowledge that the acknowledgment of mortality is not itself the unleashing of a grim. It can't be. I need to see my grandmother, and I need to see her now, and simply put, You, You Universe that may or may not give a shit about my presumed existential understandings and my highly neurotic attempts to control my own little world, You will just have to sit back and let me try this whole face-forward-and-stop-fretting-that-just-because-I-noticed-the-crack-on-the-wall-the-wall-is-going-to-crumble thing.

Let me sustain the illusion of being untethered from the fetters of fate, comfort me without any pressing omens or falling objects, would you? I've fed you fears for a lifetime, might you grant me the temporary relief of no imbued meaning, of no gentle serendipity. Let me walk on the plane in which I can be scared, be worried, cry, get on a bus, ride that bus, sit in the hospital, say I love you, wonder what the consequences may be, sit with the potential for this to be the last time, without taking any cues from me and cashing in a check I truly never meant to pen. Let me live in my fear without letting it fill your gills, please. Let me pretend like I don't know what it's like to worry about something only to have it happen - remind me that I don't make much of a difference when it comes to which way the wind decides to blow.

Brittle Holiday

Oh, hello! Thought I forgot about you, dear blog? Thought I fell off the earth, out of a kitchen, far far away from pens and paper and crafts and all manner of fun distraction? No no, dear friend, I have been cooking, making, crafting. I've just been... busy? Lazy? Distracted? All of the above. Anyways, welcome me back, will you?

It's that time of the year, and I'm loving every second of it, particularly now that we're finally in New England December - following a tepid, unforgiving, long, long fall. The temperatures are dropping, the air is becoming crisp again, and bus seats are shrinking as puffy Northface's sop up at least two inches between each passenger. It's wonderful.

I've been invited to what will prove to be a lovely Christmas holiday at the Carr/Parkes manse. In return for being hosted Christmas Eve through the day (slumber party!), I wanted to give Robert and David something sweet, something warm, and something fun. I've decided a gift basket of homemade goodies was just the thing, and I'm going to fill it with peanut cashew brittle, dry scone mix, cocoa mix, and a fruit filled chutney. I hope to make a post for each of these projects - so keep an eye out, they have to be done this week!

Yesterday, I made the brittle. After a lot of recipe reading and taste remembering, the Internet taught me that brittle of most any kind can properly be made in the microwave. Yes, the microwave. I know - it's weird, and I feel bad about it. But more on that in a minute. My intention was to make one batch on the stove and one in the microwave, but after making the quick-version first, and seeing how successfully easy it was, I couldn't imagine making it on the stove.

Back to the guilt. I feel it, hard. I feel like I've cheated. Like I've cut a corner that one just doesn't cut. I took the process out of something that seems so dependent upon process, something that surely tastes, in part, as good as it does because it was so belabored for. But let me tell you - making this shit in the microwave was so incredibly simple, pain free, and with equally delicious results, that I just don't see why you wouldn't do it. Especially when you've got to make a lot, and you don't have much (if any!) time. I still feel bad, but I think my guilt is foolish. But then again, (gulp) I've been making almost all of my bread dough in the Cuisinart for the past two years, and I still feel bad about it - so perhaps it's a guilt I'll just have to swallow.

Anyways, here's how you commit the delicious, absolutely fantastic travesty.

Cashew Peanut Brittle, Microwave:

1C sugar

1tsp salt, or so

1/2C light corn syrup

1tsp butter

1tsp vanilla

1C chopped and partially whole nuts

1tsp baking soda

Combine sugar, salt and corn syrup in microwave safe bowl. Mix well.

Microwave for 3min 15sec, stir well. Add vanilla and butter, combining well.

Microwave for 2min.

Mix in nuts. Combine well.

Gently mix in baking soda until sort of foamy.

Pour onto non-stick flat surface.

Try to pour evenly (unlike pictured), avoiding clumps along the way.

The brittle doesn't seem to like being spread, although it doesn't exactly

ruin it either. But I'd say, if you can pour and leave it, that'd be best.

Let set for 30min or so (mine took much less time, but it was a dry day...),

then break away! Try not to eat it all - it's a surefire route to a rumbly tummbly.

Honey Cashew Peanut Brittle, Microwave:

I also tried it with some honey, rather than all corn syrup. It worked, although it didn't set as well as the first batch. It set more than well enough to crack, but when chewed it gets soft instead of retaining its crunch through and through. I have a feeling this may just be a quality of the honey. After attending the Science and Cooking lectures at Harvard the past few months, I wish I knew the science behind how this all works! I bet it has something to do with the water molecules in honey vs those in sugar, but I'd love to get a microscope in my kitchen and watch it unfold in front of my eyes! If only Harold McGee was my bestie/dad/uncle/downstairs neighbor/anything really. Despite the science quandaries and lack of crunch, though, this brittle sure is tasty.

For this batch, I used:

1C sugar

1/2C honey/light corn syrup (about 4:1)

1tsp salt, or so

1tsp butter

1tsp vanilla

1tsp cognac

a dash of bitters

1tsp baking soda

1C chopped and partially whole nuts

Combine sugar, salt, honey and corn syrup well, microwave for 4min. Stir well and add nuts. Microwave for 3min. Add butter, vanilla, cognac, and bitters mixing well. Microwave 1min. Gently stir in baking soda. Pour onto nonstick flat surface and let set. Crack and enjoy!

Truly an awesome and easy candy making experience. Will do, again and again and again. I'll let you know how long it holds its tooth for - I'm suspicious that it mightn't fall soft before it's due to be gifted this weekend. But so far, so good! (Sooo soooo gooooood).

And stay tuned, folks! I'm feeling ambitious after being granted a part-time lecturer position for Tuft's Experimental College next semester, teaching Changing Tastes in Place: Sensory Ethnography in Boston's Foodscapes, alongside the lovely Selena Ahmed . And who knows, maybe this burst of sharing energy will turn into a steady presence... (don't hold your breath, though).

Until next time, may all your days be merry, your nights be bright, your gifts be clever, and your wrapping be tight!

Beets please!

Made some pickled beets today. Yum.

Thinly sliced red onions in scalded jars

Layering looks nice and evenly distributes flavors!

Boiling beets if you're me is inevitably messy

But also pretty!

Once softish, beets are removed from water and run

under cold water to remove skins. Slice evenly to match

the onions, and then layer into the jar

Ready to be pickled!

A mixture of about (per 1 lb of beets) 1c apple cider vinegar,

1/4c honey (heated to dissolve with a bit of vinegar),

a few full cloves and a little water is poured into the jars.

Ready to eat in a few hours, refrigerate immediately!

Look, ma, I built some shelves!

As September 1st nears, and Anna packs her belongings to move downstairs, I am faced with all of the projects around the house I hoped to do when we moved in a year ago but never found the time or energy to do. One of the continual problems of my home-life is trying to find space for all the books I inevitably take home almost every day... anyone who knows me knows I have a book habit. After weeding my library a few months ago and getting rid of four bags of books, I found myself with two piles of renegades that couldn't quite fit on the shelves around my house, either because I wanted to keep a subject collected or because they didn't fit into any of the collections hogging the shelves already. Decorative bindings, literature, art books - the sort of stuff that the scholarly and craft books populating my space don't take too kindly to.

Lounging in the living room the other day, I started to think about what I had been telling all perspective roommates I interviewed while looking for someone to move into Anna's room - "I'm open to building shelves anywhere, making the most of our many walls and high ceilings". I looked long and hard at the slanted wall ahead of me and realized it had to be do be done. Enough thinking, plotting, contemplating, wanting - it was time to build. And so last Wednesday I spent a few hours designing the unit, accepted Anna's gracious offer for a ride to Home Depot, and put up these beauties.

I wanted the unit to utilize the high ceiling and the shelves to vary in size as to give me freedom to display books of various size and shape - everything from oversized art books to small 12mo fiction. I wanted it to be sleek and simple but have some design aspect to it - unlike the pine shelves we've hung elsewhere in the house with just white wall brackets. And I wanted it to be cheap and quick - I had a $100 budget for the project and one day off during which to do it. I ended up spending about $120 and about 6 hours (from design, shopping, to hanging). The materials I ended up using are as follows:

- Three 8' solid pine planks, one 12" deep, one 10" deep, one 8" deep (which is to say, 11.25", 9.25", 7.25" in non Home Depot measurements) - each cut in half to make 4' planks

- Two black coated metal vertical tracks, 8' tall, fitted with double slats for double prong brackets

- Twelve double pronged, flat top shelving brackets - the kind that allow the shelf to sit atop the bracket, rather than fit into a predetermined length, and allow screws to secure the shelf

- Sandpaper to round the front facing edges and corners of the shelves

- Various screws, molly screws, and a stud finder (the stud finder put me over my budget by $10, but was worth it)

- Beer (in this case, Sierra Nevada. An out of budget necessity for any sort of home improvement day-off projects)

Some pics of the process:

Blank, empty wall, with track waiting to be hung

Messy room, shelves waiting to be hung

The first molly screw in the wall. Fuck these things.*

The first track up!

(Note my awesome, crucial magnetic level)

Both tracks up! Screwdriver was just as crucial as my small power-screwdriver

Sanding while listening to mamba, salsa, and spanish pop music

Proud chiquita post sanding six gorgeous pine shelves to perfection

HUNG!

Yes, I used a stool instead of a ladder.

Yes, they're all perfectly level.

YES they're GORGEOUS!!! And sort of adjustable!

Shelves increase in depth as they go down, with 12" depth on the bottom.

In progress.

(Note the Harry Callahan monograph, the melodica,

the Cinderella round tunnel book, various amigurumis,

and my Humument collection)

*Why I can never remember to buy metal rather than plastic molly screws will never cease to blow my mind. I tried to get molly's in because I'm terrified of ripping down a wall, but after many failed attempts - this was my only successful molly - I listened to my stud finder, my wall knocks, the effort needed to get a screw into the wall, and my gut, and accepted I was actually screwing into studs in walls I swore were made of dust.

I have so much more to put on these lovely shelves but am still trying to figure out what should go there, what should stay in my room, in my studio, in the kitchen, etc etc. I know I want to leave space on the shelves for knick-knacks and front facing display books, and that I want to keep from filling them up right away.

I love the living room bookshelf conundrum, and totally buy into the notion that the books you choose to display say something about who you are and how you wish to be seen. So, what do I put out here? Scholarly books that are of interesting subject matter - the stuff I collect to study reality TV, fame, and digital realities? Ethnomusicology books? Festival/performance studies stuff? Fiction, and if so, my favorite authors or the stuff I've yet to read? Art books, and if so, which ones - photography, drawing, weird stuff, folk art? Ethnobotany/food culture books? Comic books and graphic novels? Poetry, and if so, just my favorites or all of it? A rotating selection of my favorite books from varying subjects? I like the idea of curating specimens from various subject matters, but I also HATE breaking up groups - I mean, how well are Geertz, Russell, Springsteen, Taylor-Wood and H.S. Thompson going to all get along?

I know I want to keep my craft books there, as I do most of my non-desk craft work in the living room. I know I want to keep the books I'll be using for the class I'll be teaching in the spring. I know I want to keep my special first editions and decorative bindings there. And I know I want to have bric-a-brac all over the place. But other than that, I'm still trying to figure out what goes where. It's a fun process for sure, and I have to be ever cognizant of the books that will continue to come back home with me in the months to come...

Hopefully the first in a series of apartment improvement based posts! So stay tuned.

My First Amigurumi!!

Finally! I figured out how to crochet and made this little ghost as my first attempt at making these sweet little toys!!


I wish I didn't have to go to bed :( I want to make more!

Mass Market Summer '10

I'm doing Mass Market again this summer - I'm not sure how many of these I've done so far but it's been a handful. I started when I first moved to Boston participating in the PRFM's and then kept going when it became Mass Market. I did the winter Mass Market last year and financially it was a bust, so I'm hoping that this one will be a little more lucrative (especially since they keep bumping up the table fee...). I'm planning on switching up my table this time around, making it a little more refined. I used to have just a mish-mash of stuff for sale, lots of blank books (all different cover papers, so I'd have to display lots at a time), lots of different greeting cards (again, many different kinds, so I'd have to display many at a time), some jewelry, some junk, some knitted stuff, some kitsch, etc etc etc. Last time around I tried to clear the clutter a bit, and this time I'm going even further.

I'm going to stop making pattern-covered notebooks and start making notebooks with images on the front. Hopefully I'll have about ten or so different images to choose from, so there will only be ten notebooks on display. I'll have a small box for the pattern-notebooks, for people to flip through instead of having them laid out on the table. I'm going to stick with the display set up I rigged for greeting cards - and have about 10 different styles to choose from. I hope to have a few amigurumi creatures/food cuties, as well as a few pairs of baby booties. Beyond that, I may have a few hardbound books, but I'm going to devote a good portion of my table to... FOOD. Oh yeah, food. I'm going to have bagels. I'm going to have cupcakes. I'm going to have loaves of bread. I may even can some spreads and sauces and pickles. I'm going to have samples. And I'm going to make money like all the other bakers do (because I watch, I see, they sell out).

So come one come all, and buy a book with your bagels. Or some bagels with your books. Either way, come out and enjoy. Mass Market is always a good time, regardless of whether or not I make money or you find anything to spend your money on. It's a great time for people watching (the creme de la creme of awful/wonderful/ridiculous hipsters/art students/nogoodnicks plus norms/hip families/grandparents on parade) and if you've got dough to spend there's a lot of really worthy crafters and artists overly eager to relieve you of that caysh.

Bagels, bagels, getchr bagels!

I love bagels, and so I made some. Thanks cuisinart for making it so easy that I made two batches in one evening! Also, excuse the white balance/color of the photos, my camera sucks and I can't deal with getting a new one right now/editing the photos. Sorry!








Some sesame, plain, salted, onion - some everything. Afterwards I made another batch with the roasted tomato/pepper spread I made tonight in the dough - it was my dad's brilliant idea. The spread itself is delicious, and totally perfect for bagel smearing.

Oh, hey, you're still here?

Apparently.


I'm bad at this. I've been bad at blogging ever since I stopped being an angsty teen who sorted her life out through her livejournal. Regardless, I want to try to make more of an effort to update this thing. I'm still making work, I'm still cooking, still baking, still creating, and I need to document it all somehow. I'm an absent minded archivist, which, just so you understand - means I'm a forgetful person who needs to archive her life in order to remember it. So, I'll try again. Maybe harder this time.

Recently I was generously gifted a cuisinart. I feel as though I've wanted my own cuisinart my whole life - and now I have one. No more, "oh I wish I could puree this", "oh, this sauce would be so amazing if I could really get it smooth", no more trying to force lumpy messes through tight-knit strainers in hopes of achieving velvet. No, now, I can dice, chop, slice, puree, and mix all I want - and without spending hours doing so.

Since receiving this piece of kitchen consumer magic, I have been stocking my fridge with sunchokes - that big grocery store full of 'whole' foods down the street has had them in constant supply as of late - and I've been using them to make a really wonderful soup that is just as delicious hot as it is cold (or at least I think so, which could very likely be heavily disputed because I think most people don't appreciate thick smooth cold things that aren't, like, milkshakes).

I don't have a real recipe written up, but I'm going to do my best to share with you what I've been doing so that maybe you can make some yourself. You could do this with a blender too (and honestly, I guess you could get serious and do it with a mouli, but that'd be tough and messy) - but it definitely needs to be processed.

Ingredients (only makes about 2 or 3 good sized servings):

- About a pound of sunchokes
- Three to five potatoes of your liking - I've been using yukon golds but I have also done it with a mix of red bliss and yukon. I would use something with a bit more flavor and creamy consistency than plain old idaho's.
- About 4C broth (I haven't had any homemade broth recently, and instead have used store bought - chicken/veggie broth leaves the soup with a less altered taste and color; mushroom broth gives the soup a deeper flavor and color, and is really quite good. A mix of two of the three would also be fantastic - clearly, use veggie/mushroom to make soup vegan)
- 1 medium sized shallot
- 5 or so good sized garlic cloves (because I love garlic)
- spices (i like to use bay leaf, fresh thyme, pepper and kosher salt, curry, paprika)
- butter (i use soy butter, but you use what you want)

For topping:

arugula
garlic
bacon/proscuitto

Preparation:
Peel the sunchokes and potatoes. Submerge the sunchokes in cold water until ready to use.
Dice garlic and shallot.
Cube the sunchokes and potatoes into manageable cubes.


Sweat garlic and shallot in butter over med-low heat, in large deep walled sauce pan, until fragrant. Don't allow the garlic and shallot to color. Add the cubed sunchokes and potatoes, increase heat slightly. Add about a tbsp of fresh thyme. Add salt and pepper to taste, (if desired) one whole bay leaf, as well as paprika and curry to taste - probably about a 1/2tsp of paprika and curry, although you can do more or less as you please. Stir well and pour broth over it all - the broth should just about cover all the business in the pan. Still well again, making sure to scrape the bottom of the pan well - there shouldn't be anything stuck to the bottom but you want to make sure all the yum is incorporated well into the broth. Cover and bring to boil. Lower heat and summer until sunchokes and potatoes are soft - sunchokes may get soft before potatoes but as far I can tell it doesn't make too much difference for this recipe if they 'over cook'.

Once everything is soft (not mushy though - soft like for mashed potatoes), and ladle into processor (be sure to remove bay leaf). Process in small quantities as to not overwhelm machine. Pour into bowl. Once everything is pureed, strain soup through fine strainer - a chinois is ideal (wish i had one!). Soup is ready and delicious - eat immediately or store in the fridge for a few days.

The soup is delicious on it's own but I like topping it with well diced pan fried bacon (if I was rich I'd use prosciutto) and lightly sauteed arugula with garlic. Don't over sautee arugula, and if you are using bacon sautee the arugula and garlic in some of the leftover bacon grease for an extra delicious treat. In the picture below I also added some grated monterey jack cheese (cabot, lactose free).

This recipe can be made to be vegan by using soy butter, veggie/mushroom broth, and obviously not topping it with bacon/sauteing the arugula in bacon fat.



When I make this soup, things are good. It satisfies my craving for dense, creamy soups that almost always have cream or milk in them - while being entirely dairy free yet fantastically thick and smooth. Beyond that, it keeps me grounded and steady in moving on, in mending this broken heart.

For me, cooking is a time to stop and think about nothing and everything at the same time - while my mind may wander occasionally (and often some of my most incredible thoughts come while in the kitchen), for the most part my mind is set on the task at hand and I am liberated and relieved through the meticulous processes of preparation, cooking, and cleaning. Since that heavy magic was lost, though, I have found that my kitchen brain has changed in someways - as our love was so heavily tied to our time in the kitchen, I am reminded constantly of everything I had, and subsequently lost, when I cook. But at the same time, certain things I now incorporate into my kitchen time - the way I now dice shallots, understanding the chemistry behind my dough, having the confidence to make that which i once bought - are constant reminders of the gift that came despite the loss along with it.

I learned about sunchokes and turning them into soup in his kitchen, and making this dish is especially emotional for me - while the sadness and nostalgia are there, entirely present, so is the gratitude for all that you taught me. Thank you for that.

Sonic Experience

Walking around Urban today I had one of those moments where the music on the stereo is playing and the lighting in the store is right, yellow, warm and its almost like you're transported, standing there in this endlessly perfect pair of cotton boots, singing along until you realize what you're listening to. I've been inundating myself with El Perro del Mar lately, unable to get nearly enough of her voice, of the dreamy soundscape, of the way I feel light and spring time as the speakers blow out the ethereal melodies. Let Me In starts playing on the stereo and I am humming along, unaware of why I am feeling so warm and why these boots fit so perfectly, why I like the reflection I see so much. I realize that it's her and I am happy, and as the song ends I start humming along to the next song, once again blissfully unaware of why it is I know that song, why it is I automatically start to hum along. It's Jonathan Richman's Abdul and Cleopatra, a song that I've only heard a handful of times in my life, and an artist that I have had very little contact with. As I start to think to myself - why do I know this song? - I remember: when I younger, 14 maybe, an internet beau of mine sent me a mixtape that had that song on it. I would play the tape over and over again, confused by and not fully in love with the songs he had taped, but strung along regardless, unable to close my ears to any sort of even slightly-well crafted indie pop. I remember fast forwarding over that song sometimes, finding it annoying and not appreciating the message implied by its inclusion on the tape; other times, sitting on the living room floor (at that point I was still too young to have a tape deck in my room), listening to the song and finding something charming about his faltering voice, about the obnoxiously sappy lyrics, imaging what sort of meager four-eyed boy could have been singing.

Sometimes We Draw Comics

It's been a long time. Sorry. I have pictures from my review board and more to share but im too busy living life to keep a steady blog, I guess.

Sometimes Peter and I draw comics together. On our way to pho the other night, we saw some kid playing a game of exquisite corpse. We had brought note cards and pens with us to draw anyways, and so we ended up playing three rounds. Our food came so quick that night this was all we got to do! Anyways, the pho was delicious and these are awesome: