A few weeks ago when I was having some vague organizational thoughts re: this blog, it occurred to me that I’d been tending to post food-y, recipe-ish stuff on Tuesdays. Brilliant! thought I. Tuesday will be Eat Here Feel Good Day on kitchendoor, and I will be well on my way  to running the kind of immaculately designed, pristinely executed blog where all the days are themed and awesome and you don’t rattle on about the new Gaga song (ALEJANDRO, oh my God) in the middle of talking about the cobbler you made last night.

photo: the weblicist

Of course, today is Tuesday, and I have done absolutely no cooking in the last week save the grilled cheese I made for Jackie on Saturday afternoon (which she did pronounce excellent, probably because I used about half a brick of cheddar). So, no recipes today. I did, however, do some serious eating while I was in New York, including a most delicious tomato-mozzarella-pesto number from Cafe Lalo (yes! That Cafe Lalo, of You’ve Got Mail fame. I nearly died of glee) and a caramelized apple/brie/bacon omelette from Deluxe that was made even more delightful by the fact that I ate it while smashed into a corner booth with three most excellent brunch companions and a giant mug of coffee. Topics covered: where we are going to find a rich old lady to finance our farm, Gerard Butler: zero or hero?, the fact that I am going to have to break down and read something by (groan) David Foster Wallace. But mostly we stuffed our faces.

In other food news, I’d like to try and feed both my boyfriend and myself something more than tuna from a can at some point this week, which considering what my datebook is looking like is probably impossible, but what can I say, sometimes a guy just wants the impossible (You’ve Got Mail quote!! See what I did there?). Am thinking about grilling, Barefoot in Paris, experimenting with the bread book I got for Christmas, and something special for Lost tonight.

Tell me what you’re eating.

Every morning on the bus I pass this sign that says, “Cash for your Warhol! Call this number!” and every morning I wonder who these people are that think the riders of the Number 9 bus out of Southie of all places have these Warhols just lying around that they’re dying to unload to some sketchy person that put up a sign.

Unless by “Warhol” they actually mean “crack”. Then I would understand it.

Weekend was smashing. Pictures to come.

1. Am off to New York for the weekend to see a gaggle of my best soul sisters, biological and not. Am posting on the Bolt Bus via Ye Olde WordPress iPhone App. How nifty.

2. Tom is so on board with the Spring Cure, it’s hilarious. We spent an hour and a half at Ikea last night, coming away with a bunch of deck stuff and some storage solutions for the bathroom that will hopefully make it look less like it belongs to a bunch of frat boys (also he offered to buy me a hot dog, but I respectfully declined). Plus we keep yelling “SPRING CURE” everytime we throw something away, which made it sort of fun to clean out the fridge.

3. The first line of the story I’m working on: “Three weeks after Lee has emergency surgery at Mass General to amputate both his legs above the knee, Erin starts calling him and hanging up.” You’d want to publish that story if you were the editor of some snooty journal, right? Um. Right?

4. Having finally made the switch to google reader. What a thing of beauty that is.

5. I think there may be a record player in my immediate future. Must find a place to put it. SPRING CURE!

* Jennie turned me onto the Spring Cure over at apartmenttherapy, and while I can tell you we are not about to paint all our furniture white and fill the house with soothing river rocks, it’s awfully nice to think about chucking some of the garbage and cleaning up a bit. Feeling inspired, I cycloned through the rooms last night while I waited for Tom to get home and tossed no fewer than six different items, including a winter coat that had seen much better days, two cheapie scarves that looked more like cleaning rags, some sweet but seldom-used dessert plates that are off to a brand new home, and two giant tubs of protein powder that expired in 2008. I…don’t even want to talk about that last thing. I’m lucky they hadn’t gotten up and walked across the room.

* What I would love to know: why, when they spent all that money to redo the Copley T station, they made the doors too heavy for me to open without a) looking like a total spaz or b) help.

* Also! Am looking for some cool graphic posters for my kitchen: three of them, in fact, about 11×18 inches each. Have been trolling etsy and am so far am liking these, these, these, and these, but am not in desperate love with any of them and am open to suggestions. Thoughts? Anybody? Also…somebody tell me how you store your cookbooks.

*Because I know Erin, at least, is watching Lost along with me: Richard Alpert! On a horse! With flowing locks!

* Am back on paperbackswap with a vengeance. Listed 13 books last night. Am more than a little thrilled.

* Finished Mere Christianity, which was surprisingly lovely. Fell asleep during Angels and Demons, which was unsurprisingly dull.

* Tonight: chicken! Ikea! Netflix!

Things that were effing AMAZING about this weekend:

health care (you guys, I checked the Times website like fifty times on Sunday and I was walking down the street when I saw that it had passed and I literally fist pumped alone in the middle of the road [the second fist pump of the week, the first having occurred the moment Josh Holloway showed up shirtless on Lost last Tuesday]). Dear President Obama, I LIKE YOUR STYLE; the idea that at some point in time, Lady Gaga explained her idea for the “Telephone” video to Beyonce and Beyonce was like, “hell to the yeah, that’s flipping AWESOME, I would love to dress in a unitard made entirely of breakfast food and poison a diner full of awful men”; the fact that I ate BACON JAM with peanut butter and it was like a giant mouthful of heaven; that I saw a drunk man throw a chicken leg across a subway car; the conversations Tom and I have when he gets home from work early in the morning and I have fallen asleep in front of Roseanne and how they always include me accusing him of  trying to bully me into taking my contact lenses out. also that he said the following sentence to me, and it was true: “Only you would show up at a bar with a purse full of pork butt”; being in the middle of writing three different stories; learning about animal husbandry at book group (I told you I would mention it); being halfway through Mere Christianity and thinking, I wish we had read this in Catholic school; it’s springtime. it’s monday. things are good.

I’ve been looking for big deep cereal bowls forever, since the ones that came with the dishes I filched from my mom are wicked shallow and I, being an enthusiastic consumer of cereals both hot and cold, tend to spill.  I found these babies at Goodwill on Tuesday for a buck apiece. Aren’t they festive? I bought two giant boxes of Kellogg’s to celebrate.

At Target, though. Not at Goodwill.

Also thrifted: Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies, and a brand new copy of Starring Sally J. Friedman as Herself that may or may not have made it into somebody’s Pay it Forward package. Because who doesn’t love a little Judy Blume in the springtime?

Am the slightest bit washed out today, almost certainly the result of the interminable rain that’s been soaking the Commonwealth the last few days. All I want to do is sleep all the time. Still, the weekend was a sweet little whirlwind of brunches and coffees and white trash cheese dip at Bukowski’s with the perpetually delightful book club girls. Also I made some banana bread, the most excellent soup I have ever tasted (big reveal tomorrow), and wrote a feisty letter of complaint to a Catholic priest in Boulder, Colorado (I’m engaging with my faith! That’s…good, right?). Plus Jennie sent me this awesome article today, which you should all check out while I go take a nap.