<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:49:10.575-08:00</updated><category term='grosgrain ribbon'/><category term='Nanaimo'/><category term='hot yoga'/><category term='Macau'/><category term='David Beckham'/><category term='zombies'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='tattoos'/><category term='boys'/><category term='cream cheese'/><category term='Ami James'/><category term='Death Cab for Cutie'/><category term='studio apartments'/><category term='Times Square'/><category term='bicycles'/><category term='jump starts'/><category term='Tom Cruise'/><category term='girl crush'/><category term='travel'/><category term='Honolulu'/><category term='deodorant'/><category term='profiles'/><category term='Brooklyn'/><category term='Zooey Deschanel'/><category term='online dating'/><category term='rice'/><category term='Lake Louise'/><category term='buttons'/><category term='iron'/><category term='New York'/><category term='afternoon tea'/><category term='Flight of the Conchords'/><category term='seafood'/><category term='scones'/><category term='Venetian Hotel'/><category term='accessories'/><category term='parties'/><category term='feathers'/><category term='Queens'/><category term='Earth Day'/><category term='apartment'/><category term='TGIF'/><category term='Lebanese food'/><category term='bargains'/><category term='craft project'/><category term='pork dumplings'/><category term='Wolfgang Puck'/><category term='plasticine'/><category term='So You Think You Can Dance'/><category term='Edmonton'/><category term='egg tarts'/><category term='lessons'/><category term='Hong Kong'/><category term='Glee'/><category term='bangs'/><category term='bagels'/><category term='La Shish'/><category term='art project'/><category term='photos'/><category term='Filipino food'/><category term='ramen'/><category term='yoga'/><category term='Las Vegas'/><category term='Manhattan'/><category term='McDonald&apos;s'/><category term='Japanese food'/><category term='sushi'/><category term='NY Ink'/><category term='starbucks'/><category term='Ucluelet'/><category term='Tofino'/><category term='driving'/><category term='sandwiches'/><category term='bows'/><category term='upgrades'/><category term='small feet'/><category term='Shanghai'/><category term='taro'/><category term='sequins'/><category term='bike riding'/><category term='hoarders'/><category term='zebra print bikini'/><category term='Cebu'/><category term='shoes'/><category term='oysters'/><category term='Paris Hotel'/><category term='Hawaii'/><category term='Cat Deely'/><category term='Alberta'/><category term='ironing'/><category term='jobs'/><category term='Friday'/><category term='duck confit'/><category term='food'/><category term='baked goods'/><category term='Vancouver Island'/><category term='Birthdays'/><category term='headbands'/><category term='hair accessories'/><category term='car batteries'/><category term='Hello Kitty'/><title type='text'>Adventures of Mimi</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-1412689034343289116</id><published>2012-01-31T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T21:07:57.204-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bangs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Death Cab for Cutie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zooey Deschanel'/><title type='text'>New Girl Crush</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7MI6yJ6gCKY/TyjGje1nD_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/t23Jfp9JhMU/s1600/zooey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7MI6yJ6gCKY/TyjGje1nD_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/t23Jfp9JhMU/s320/zooey.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704027240940376050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when my girl crush was &lt;a href="http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-love-cats.html"&gt;Cat Deeley&lt;/a&gt;. Well move over Miss SYTYCD, &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0221046/"&gt;Zooey Deschanel&lt;/a&gt; is my new girl crush!  Get it, new girl, her tv show is called &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/new-girl/"&gt;New Girl&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've always liked Zooey and liked her even more when she married &lt;a href="http://www.deathcabforcutie.com/"&gt;Death Cab for Cutie&lt;/a&gt; front man, Ben Gibbard.  They were the perfect Indie It Couple.  So cute, so hipster but in a good way.  Shame they split up.  But then I guess it's for the better. Zooey can fulfill my love for cuteness, ribbons and j'adore her awkwardness.  Ben can go back to writing songs about heartache and woe.  Death Cab happy just didn't work so much for me. Sorry Ben!  Love you more when you're down.  I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you not love her?  She's so pretty with her giant blue eyes, her Rimmel mascara'd eyelashes and her perfectly cool bangs.  I wish I had bangs like Zooey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kisses,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-1412689034343289116?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/1412689034343289116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2012/01/new-girl-crush.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1412689034343289116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1412689034343289116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2012/01/new-girl-crush.html' title='New Girl Crush'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7MI6yJ6gCKY/TyjGje1nD_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/t23Jfp9JhMU/s72-c/zooey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6539358752351493434</id><published>2012-01-04T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T19:26:20.604-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='online dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='profiles'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><title type='text'>New Year's Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRN8ZLAQtRU/TwVJCpbP5tI/AAAAAAAAANg/EblxohY3lPg/s1600/couples.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 192px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRN8ZLAQtRU/TwVJCpbP5tI/AAAAAAAAANg/EblxohY3lPg/s200/couples.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694037613708568274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year mes amies!  Best wishes for a very exciting and fabulous 2012.  I prefer confessions to resolutions.  Let’s face it, they are more fun and can’t be broken.  So here we go, let’s start off the year with my dirty little secret:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murray and I met over the internet in the secret seedy world of online dating sites.  *gasp* I know!  It was 2006 and I was unemployed and single. Damned funny and no place to go. So why not online dating?!  It was perfect since it can be very time consuming being fabulous all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my dear ladies, here are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;My Top 10 Online Dating Website tips:  Filter out the toads to find your Prince or not and just have fun with it&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;1. Don’t be fooled by sites that you have to pay to use.  Pay sites do not guarantee better quality or better caliber men.  Creeps have money too.  Case in point, I met Murray on one of those free websites.  My guy roommate at the time, mocked me relentlessly for being cheap all the while he was using a pay site.  He wasn't really a creep per se, but I used to message girls for him!  They loved him/me!!  He still remains single and looking, bless.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;2. All men are interested in an “Intimate Encounter” just as much as a meaningful relationship.  So don’t be fooled by the dudes looking for “Long Term” relationships. They all want booty and if you’re willing to give it, then all power to ya, but don’t expect a ring on your finger the next day.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;3. For those boys that list “Hang Out” – NEXT!  Please, if you don’t even have enough balls to pick “Intimate Encounter”…don’t waste time on someone with commitment issues.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;4. Height - I found men lie about their height like women will lie about their weight.  If a man is genuinely 6’0” and taller, they are honest.  If they are not, it’s always off by 2 inches.  Interesting non, what else are they exaggerating by 2 inches…HMMMM???&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;5. Profile pictures – Here are just a few red flags:&lt;br /&gt;• Ball caps and sunglasses = balding and hiding something.  &lt;br /&gt;• Bathroom mirror poses with camera in the photo = douchebag that never gets laid and doesn’t want to tell anyone he’s doing this.&lt;br /&gt;• Bathroom mirror poses with no shirt on and camera in the photo = bigger douchebag that is a bad lay and doesn’t want to tell anyone he’s doing this.&lt;br /&gt;• Photos taken on webcam = a) too lazy to get up, get the camera and upload the damn picture, b) no friends and/or social life to have an existing collection of photos to indicate his ability to retain friendship or interact successfully in social situations, c) all of the above.&lt;br /&gt;• Photos with many other guys, and no singular photos of themselves = fucking stupid.  How am I supposed to know which one you are, dumbass?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;6. Never email or message someone first!  Always let them come to you.  Yes, call me old fashioned.  A gentleman always calls on the lady.&lt;/blockquote&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;7. Be weary of being trolled.  Some men will literally send messages to everyone, using a stupid “intro” email (ex/ “Your pretty cute and your profile looks really intresting.  I’d love to chat more to find out more about you.”), then cut and paste it hoping for a “bite”.  If he doesn’t have enough time to write a proper, personalized email, then don’t even bother responding.  Doesn’t matter how much he loves Indian food and traveling like you do, it’s all gonna be lies, lies I tell you!  And did you notice the example??  Which leads to the next tip:&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;8. Spelling and grammatical errors.  At least pay attention to the red squiggly line under the misspelling, dude.  Not only did you get trolled but it’s not even correct!!  The horror!  NEXT!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;9. Listing hobby/interests that are not really hobby/interests but it’s their way of trying to be clever and witty.  If a man’s interest is beer and bongs, then you probably shouldn’t be all that intrigued. The danger there is, it could genuinely be his interests and that’s just plain sad.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;10. Not stating their job or career.  You’ll see things like “if you want to know, just ask”.  Why don’t you stop being passive-aggressive and tell me you’re a plumber.  No shame in that idiot, trades are great!  Be a proud plumber!  You so missed your chance with me, NEXT!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in all fairness your own profile and photos should be a proper reflection of you without red flags of your own.  Remember men are pigs and they like boobies and ass.  If you post a bikini picture because you are trying to convey yourself as a world traveler that prefers sunny locales, think again.  And for the love of all that is good and pure, don’t post a photos of yourself at your skinniest.  Much like boys lying about their height, they’re gonna figure it out when you meet in person.  And if you are unemployed like I was, you can either be clever and try to get away with stating your occupation as “Independently Wealthy” or just post what your job was before you quit or got fired. You can choose to disclose the real story when you meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay now that you’ve spent a few weeks looking around online and maybe you’ve made a couple of email/messaging connections, you can decide whether they are worth meeting in person.  At first I was very picky and only wanted to meet men that were perfect on paper, had great photos, and emailed/messaged well.  After a while, it was pretty much one email and let’s meet!  Court me in person, emailing is just the planning part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suggest something non-serious, non-pretentious and somewhere halfway in distance between the both of you that you will get to on your own.  Remember, we still have not determined if he’s an axe murderer/serial rapist/stalker.  Last thing you want to do is be careless and let him know where you live and how much Gucci you own!&lt;br /&gt;My bff and I worked a buddy system - date, time, location, what we were going to wear (not just for wardrobe approval, but as “last seen” info for the authorities!) and since we used the same site, we’d even send each other their profile info.  Hey, you never know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within the first few minutes of a date, I’d tell the guy that I’m expecting a check-in text and I was going to answer.  I found that all my dates respected that I was cautious but not crazy, and they agreed it was a good idea to be safe.  So I highly recommend telling someone else that you are online dating and have them help you.  It’s great moral support too without appearing too needy and pathetic about meeting new people.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and always offer to pay for your share at the end of the date – and I mean pull out your wallet and try to insist at least once.  Almost every time, my date paid, but it was a good way to see if they wanted to see you again, because you can graciously put your wallet away and say the next one is on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Online dating has its ups and downs.  One moment you are super popular and feel attractive, interesting, happy. Then you can feel down and pathetic because all you get are messages from creeps wanting to do inappropriate things or inviting you to join him and his wife!  (I suppose that’s only depressing if you’re not into that kind of thing, otherwise, good for you!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If all else fails and you find it’s not your thing, you will have some fabu stories about the time you went out on a date with Harry Potter’s fat brother that was a strip club DJ, or Firefighter guy that lied about wanting a Long Term relationship and was really looking for Intimate Encounters and was a bad lay, or Sweatshirt guy who didn’t even bother to wash his face when he met you for coffee, or I’m in a Band guy who you meet 1 year later at your new job and just never talk about how you went on a date once, or Insurance Adjuster guy who called 2 years later and thought you were someone else, or the Outdoorsy guy you almost didn’t go out with because he stood you up the first time but you gave him a second chance and the date was an epic 8 hours that still doesn’t seem to end.  None of those things happened to me though, I’ve just heard stories...all the best to you, mes belle filles and have fun!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kisses,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6539358752351493434?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/6539358752351493434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2012/01/new-years-confession.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6539358752351493434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6539358752351493434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2012/01/new-years-confession.html' title='New Year&apos;s Confession'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRN8ZLAQtRU/TwVJCpbP5tI/AAAAAAAAANg/EblxohY3lPg/s72-c/couples.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-77232777750560270</id><published>2011-10-03T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T21:44:40.423-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bagels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food Porn is Back!</title><content type='html'>Oh mon dieu mes amies.  Where has the time gone?  The summer was a blur, as it didn’t feel much like summer this year.  My newly acquired homeowner responsibilities leave me yearning for a vacay that I could not have this year.  Instead I reminisce about about my last vacances d'été - June 2010, New York City.  Poppy and I ate and shopped to our hearts content (and our Murrays were content with staying home!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This trip marked my 9th trip to NYC since my first visit in 1999. It still ceases to amaze me.  The city has changed so much over the years, yet always excites me in new ways.  Perhaps if I didn’t wish I was born in France, I would wish to grow up a New Yorker.  Even better - a French immigrant to New York City!! How divine!  I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as promised my dear loyal friends – the return of &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Food Porn&lt;/span&gt;, this time with a New York attitude!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poppy and I touched down after a red-eye flight on our beloved &lt;a href="http://www.cathaypacific.com/cpa/en_US/homepage?CX_FCN=CXHOME0_CountryChange"&gt;Cathay Pacific&lt;/a&gt;.  Thank you Cathay your good service and good food.  Who still serves salmon on a flight?  Cathay does! And surprisingly tasty for airline food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_U0123Y4Fo/ToobGc9lTlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/PBUPkK-xv7Y/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BCX.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_U0123Y4Fo/ToobGc9lTlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/PBUPkK-xv7Y/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BCX.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659365679412104786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight lands at a dreadfully early hour so what better to do than head straight to the &lt;a href="http://www.tangeroutlet.com/riverhead"&gt;outlet mall&lt;/a&gt;!  My other dear cousin, Suzette graciously puts us up every time.  You think I can &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; afford such glamorous trips for the past 11 years?  Mais non!  It’s free accommodations on futons and sofas, mes amies!!  After a few hours of power-shopping, true outleters must stop and refuel – what better with, a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich topped with mac n cheese!  (When in Rome, my friends.  We are in Long Island after all.  Love you Long Island!!  Kiss kiss!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XypsWkLXpms/ToobismgIcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/74Bu3ts97kU/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BPhilly%2BMac.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 115px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XypsWkLXpms/ToobismgIcI/AAAAAAAAAJo/74Bu3ts97kU/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BPhilly%2BMac.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659366164646601154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed something about Poppy this trip – she eats much much healthier than I do!!  You’ll see the contrast of our food options as this progresses.  Exhibit A:  my outlet refuel is a heart attack topped with cheesy heart attack, washed down with a bottle of diabetes.  Hers is a turkey wrap, hold the dressing, and a refreshing hot green tea, s'il vous plaît!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0KZx6tH5YM/ToocHH2Q27I/AAAAAAAAAJw/B3yf2fbbZhw/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BPhilly%2BMac%2Bopposite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0KZx6tH5YM/ToocHH2Q27I/AAAAAAAAAJw/B3yf2fbbZhw/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BPhilly%2BMac%2Bopposite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659366790435756978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do recall it was difficult to find healthy food, and sadly, the good stuff was much pricier than “regular” food.  So alas, sometimes Poppy was left to order artery clogging food like moi.  Oh well, all the walking and sweating in the summer heat probably worked some of those calories off for both of us!!  C’mon, lift those H&amp;M shopping bags, one more, two more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our guilty indulgences – hey we’re on vacation!&lt;br /&gt;Bagels with cream cheese – I’ll say it again,  bagels in NY are like none other in the world.  Simply delish!  (Although I will agree with Poppy on the health factor – we could have done with a lot less than the pound of cream cheese smeared on both our orders.  It was 9am for goodness sake!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8ItEYNEywk/ToocbXhNNsI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/2_f-ETc4nrw/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BBagels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 146px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8ItEYNEywk/ToocbXhNNsI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/2_f-ETc4nrw/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BBagels.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659367138239788738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whoopie_pie"&gt;Whoopie pies&lt;/a&gt;!  We had heard of these chocolatey creatures but have not been able to find the elusive beast except in its native environment of the East Coast of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ked8DUzihCY/ToodIIzeygI/AAAAAAAAAKA/sNaImNnVtbA/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BWhoopie%2BPie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ked8DUzihCY/ToodIIzeygI/AAAAAAAAAKA/sNaImNnVtbA/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BWhoopie%2BPie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659367907384019458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not quite a French macaron, but I can see its appeal.  Very chocolatey and so good you don’t care how bad it is for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Street food!  The traditional NYC food cart – shawarmas.  Yum.  Now this can probably be found anywhere, however, nothing beats leaving the &lt;a href="http://www.moma.org/visit/plan/index#hours"&gt;MoMa&lt;/a&gt; to stop for a $5 bite on “free admission” night, then return to the museum fully re-fuelled with special entrance pass in hand and beating the freebie line up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aW8CaR9RsPA/ToooDfFpWsI/AAAAAAAAALA/eivOq9OhR44/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2Bstreet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 197px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aW8CaR9RsPA/ToooDfFpWsI/AAAAAAAAALA/eivOq9OhR44/s200/NYC%2B2010%2Bstreet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659379922094348994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how could we stay in New York and not have a slice of pizza?  And what better place to indulge?  At MY pizza joint!  Okay it’s obviously not mine, but wouldn’t that be fantastic? – if I were born in NYC, my family would open a pizza place back in the day, Daddy would name it after me, and eventually I would take over the business and just live off the earnings since Dad was always good with real estate investment and knew to buy in the Upper West side when it was still rather dumpy…see, up there in the window with the lamp? That’s my office where I’m writing to you now! I digress.  Instead of any of that really happening, we just enjoyed a slice.  Guess which one is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mFq-D3NOA4c/TqY9KhewC2I/AAAAAAAAALg/O4bqZWL26es/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BMimi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 164px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mFq-D3NOA4c/TqY9KhewC2I/AAAAAAAAALg/O4bqZWL26es/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BMimi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667284432087681890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Om8TM6nqnhE/TqY9dIfYxpI/AAAAAAAAALs/qn2NI_HVsNA/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2Bpizza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Om8TM6nqnhE/TqY9dIfYxpI/AAAAAAAAALs/qn2NI_HVsNA/s200/NYC%2B2010%2Bpizza.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667284751796979346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poppy and I did finally agree on one food order – Met Museum Café – chicken sandwich.  Surprisingly good for museum cafeteria food and a perfect break from our day long stroll in one of my favourite &lt;a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/"&gt;museums&lt;/a&gt; in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ronZ9Blwwx4/TqY9zcBevmI/AAAAAAAAAL4/lqizFcBx7cM/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BMet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ronZ9Blwwx4/TqY9zcBevmI/AAAAAAAAAL4/lqizFcBx7cM/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BMet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667285134997372514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our last opposite food choice to end another great trip to my beloved city that never sleeps.  Guess which one is mine?  Hint:  Remember I'm the glutton for punishment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvS1j3Aw65U/TqY-FwpQtnI/AAAAAAAAAME/18opGR15W6g/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BAirport%2Bopposite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 159px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvS1j3Aw65U/TqY-FwpQtnI/AAAAAAAAAME/18opGR15W6g/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BAirport%2Bopposite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667285449770579570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it my friends, all the best food we had in New York in 2010.  &lt;br /&gt;As always merci to my dear Poppy for being a wonderful travel companion and extra special thanks for being the sole photographer this time as my camera died upon landing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and just to prove we did do other things – Poppy and I wanted to show our Murrays that we were in touch with not only clothes but nature!  Our footsies in the Hudson River in Brooklyn.  Luckily we returned home with all toes intact!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jY64pJu4P0c/TqY-ZP5pdEI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/kYKt3tavYHo/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2BHudson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jY64pJu4P0c/TqY-ZP5pdEI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/kYKt3tavYHo/s200/NYC%2B2010%2BHudson.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667285784578323522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is what I bought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EnbSJRYSUuA/TqY-mHBrpDI/AAAAAAAAAMc/dXQhqBPkA3s/s1600/NYC%2B2010%2Bshop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 164px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EnbSJRYSUuA/TqY-mHBrpDI/AAAAAAAAAMc/dXQhqBPkA3s/s200/NYC%2B2010%2Bshop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667286005534401586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please forgive the fuzzy photo, this was taken on my phone when I returned home.  Yes, I brought bagels home in my suitcase, you-gottta-problem-wit-dat?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s all she wrote mes amies, thanks for waiting.  The adventures continue, I promise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;double xx and oo&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-77232777750560270?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/77232777750560270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/10/food-porn-is-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/77232777750560270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/77232777750560270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/10/food-porn-is-back.html' title='Food Porn is Back!'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_U0123Y4Fo/ToobGc9lTlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/PBUPkK-xv7Y/s72-c/NYC%2B2010%2BCX.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-5039626569805283505</id><published>2011-07-28T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T22:06:02.865-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TGIF'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jobs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zombies'/><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>Does everyone have a soul-sucking day job like I do?  Seriously, I think I can hear it leaving my body every day I show up for work.  For those of you (4 people) reading who love their jobs, you can suck it.  Not because I hate you, because I am jealous.  J'adore all 4 of you, please keep reading!  Mwah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I disliked my job more than I ever have for a variety of reasons.  Some old and tired reasons, some new and enlightening ones.  How thrilling is that?  Finding new reasons to dislike my only source of income.  Oh joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* Maybe I've just been at it for too long.  I see others around me and they still seem to have their souls in tact.  Or perhaps they have been completely turned into zombies disguised as happy human workers, or they just go home and cry themselves to sleep. Or,OR dare I suppose, there are some people that actually enjoy what they do for a living.  I don't think I do.  I know I don't.  But I guess I haven't quite figured out what I want to be when I grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead of wanting to jump into oncoming traffic, or call in sick everyday, I should look at the bright side.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; is in our midst.  I can almost touch it, enjoy it, taste it, get drunk with it, sleep in after with it !  Oh Friday my dear, why must you be so cruel and leave me so quickly just to return and toy with my feelings for one day??  Why?  But I'm so glad you're here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a happy Friday mes amies and enjoy your weekend!&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-5039626569805283505?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/5039626569805283505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/tgif.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5039626569805283505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5039626569805283505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-2892829107912420499</id><published>2011-07-13T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T23:55:39.750-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girl crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='So You Think You Can Dance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cat Deely'/><title type='text'>I love Cats</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WLYVDQfPUI/Th6QbTysKQI/AAAAAAAAAJY/qc8Lmk3J0-A/s1600/Cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WLYVDQfPUI/Th6QbTysKQI/AAAAAAAAAJY/qc8Lmk3J0-A/s200/Cat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629095383103449346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have a secret girl-crush (well, not so secret after I hit "publish").  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat_Deeley"&gt;Cat Deely&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/dance/recaps/season-8/episode-10"&gt;So You Think You Can Dance&lt;/a&gt;.  She's rather mesmerizing, non?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her shiny hair that's always a different style, her willowy stature that I could only dream of.  Don't pretend like you've never gawked at her lovely legs.  They are so awesome and I wish I could buy them and plant them on myself.  And even if she's styled and doesn't choose her own clothes, she wears everything so well.  Did I mention her shiny lovely hair and how willowly wonderful she is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best of all - the fact she's British automatically makes her so much more attractive to the gauche North American ear.  She could cuss you out til the cows come home, and yet, you'd still love her.  She's the best thing on reality television right now.  *swoon*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shout it from the rooftops, I LOVE CAT DEELY.  She's so dreamy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-2892829107912420499?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/2892829107912420499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-love-cats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2892829107912420499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2892829107912420499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-love-cats.html' title='I love Cats'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WLYVDQfPUI/Th6QbTysKQI/AAAAAAAAAJY/qc8Lmk3J0-A/s72-c/Cat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-7489321099118103947</id><published>2011-07-04T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T22:10:10.864-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tom Cruise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='upgrades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parties'/><title type='text'>I agree to Terms and Conditions of my upgrade</title><content type='html'>Happy Belated Birthday – to moi!!  In real life, I actually share my birthday with a few friends.  In non-real life, I share my birthday with good old creepy Thomas Cruise Mapother IV aka Tom Cruise and now I’ve discovered Julian Assange – Wikileaks founder.  How scandalous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don’t know how they feel about their birthday being on July 3rd.  Okay maybe Mr. Assagne doesn’t care because he didn’t grow up in North America and Mr. Cruise is rich enough to buy a birthday every day for himself if he really wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have my opinions (but of course!!).  Stuck between Canada’s birthday (July 01) and American Independence (July 04), I can’t say it’s always been a party about me!  &lt;br /&gt;As a child, the parties were almost non-existent since school was out.  All I ever wanted was a party at McDonald’s in the train caboose parked outside the restaurant.  Sounds stupid now, but time’s were simpler then *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As an adult, I looked forward to making up for those lost pinata smackin’, donkey tail pinnin’, cake eatin’ extravaganzas.  “Oh sorry Mimi, we are going away for the long weekend.  Happy Birthday anyway!”  Boo on you people and your long weekend holidays.  It’s my fuckin' birthday damnit, my present better be in the mail! (ooh did I say that out loud??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Not so) many years ago, Poppy started to refer to her birthdays as version upgrades of herself.  Version 2.0 turned to 2.1 and legal drinking in the US, V2.8 to V2.9 put us another year closer to the major upgrade to 3.0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday was just another scheduled upgrade (and I’m still not gonna tell you what version I am at!).  And over the years, the urge to smack a pinata and do jello shots has waned.  I now look forward to a perfectly chosen and  eloquently written birthday card in the post from my dear Poppy, my texts and calls from Pea and other friends.  And now a fancy night out with Murray…it’s all good.  Joyeux Anniversaire à moi!  Your upgrade has been successful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-7489321099118103947?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/7489321099118103947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-agree-to-terms-and-conditions-of-my.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7489321099118103947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7489321099118103947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-agree-to-terms-and-conditions-of-my.html' title='I agree to Terms and Conditions of my upgrade'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-1252548668837421670</id><published>2011-06-08T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T22:06:42.008-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ami James'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tattoos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NY Ink'/><title type='text'>To tattoo or not to tattoo</title><content type='html'>I haven't watched reality television in a long time.  I used to love watching Miami Ink on TLC.  Ooh that &lt;a href="http://ami-james.com/blog/"&gt;Ami James&lt;/a&gt; is a lovely, lovely man.  &lt;br /&gt;Now there's a new show &lt;a href="http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/tv/ny-ink"&gt;NY Ink&lt;/a&gt;.  And I'm watching the first episode.  I can't be bothered with the drama that's created with all the "characters" on the show, but I do like all the tattooing that they actually do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about getting a tattoo.  Not because of watching these shows, but for other reasons.  I've been thinking about it for about 4 years now.  Still not sure though - I'm still coming to terms with how much it's going to hurt, the fact it'll still be there when I'm 80, the pain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could apply to get it done on the show actually. And I think I would die if Ami was the one to do the tattoo. But he is one of the best and it would be in NYC, so that wouldn't be so bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do, mes amies?  Lil ol Mimi here, low tolerance for pain, a bit of a commitment-phobe...would you do it?  (And no, it's not a butterfly on my stomach, or a dolphin on my ankle, or a Celtic knot on my lower back, or the Chinese character for Love on my shoulder!  Please!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-1252548668837421670?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/1252548668837421670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-tattoo-or-not-to-tattoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1252548668837421670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1252548668837421670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/06/to-tattoo-or-not-to-tattoo.html' title='To tattoo or not to tattoo'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-9085646303713597371</id><published>2011-05-25T22:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T23:06:31.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgive me mes amies, I have a confession to make...</title><content type='html'>I've been watching &lt;a href="http://www.americanidol.com/"&gt;American Idol&lt;/a&gt; all season.  I haven't watched this in years!!  But this season was quite addictive.  And I also confess that I was rooting for Scotty McCreery.  What a cutie!  It's a little disturbing actually.  I think I may very well be old enough to be his mother!  Oh mon dieu!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm very happy he won because I think he deserved it, and I can't believe how many people voted - 122 million last night.  If they could only use their power for good...rather than the evils of over-sponsored entertainment.  But damn, was it some good ol' television programmin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let us all pray that sweet lil' Scotty doesn't become a douchebag with too much fame and too little life experience behind him.  I'm sure he'll do juuussst fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow starts &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/dance/"&gt;So You Think You Can Dance&lt;/a&gt;.  Another guilty pleasure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-9085646303713597371?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/9085646303713597371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/05/forgive-me-mes-amies-i-have-confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9085646303713597371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9085646303713597371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/05/forgive-me-mes-amies-i-have-confession.html' title='Forgive me mes amies, I have a confession to make...'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-7796905038516911393</id><published>2011-04-23T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T13:05:30.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Minimum Wage sucks, and I totally respect you</title><content type='html'>Hello mes amies,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Murray commented this morning that he had read my post about my small feet.  I usually don't share with him prior to posting, and like to think that I'm my own great Editor.  He did make a valid comment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You shouldn't make fun of people who make minimum wage like that."  Very true mon petite chou, very true.  I wasn't making fun of the entire work force.  In fact, I used to be one of those minimum wage, retail people.  I paid my dues for 10 years actually and totally respect the work and bullshit you often have to put up with.  But in all my 10 years, I don't think I made such a comment to a customer.  So that's why I thought what I did.  You might not like a customer, but no reason to make such comments.  So please my friends, do not take offense.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-7796905038516911393?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/7796905038516911393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/minimum-wage-sucks-and-i-totally.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7796905038516911393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7796905038516911393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/minimum-wage-sucks-and-i-totally.html' title='Minimum Wage sucks, and I totally respect you'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-2134921291520101947</id><published>2011-04-23T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T12:57:51.297-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ironing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='apartment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iron'/><title type='text'>My Favourite Things</title><content type='html'>I recently purchased my very first apartment.  It was exhilarating and the most stressful experience of my life to date.  Mostly because I bought the first one I saw.  I know, incroyable!  More like ridiculous on my part.  I spend more time shoe shopping than I did for this massively expensive thing that isn’t going to go on sale, and there are no refunds.  Yikes!  But I did it and now the bank owns me until 2045.  Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purchase has finally made me an adult, I think.  And shit, things are expensive!  Luckily, I had already hoarded enough major pieces of furniture and knick-knacks that I'm not living in an empty box with a plastic lawn chair and upside down box in the living room.  But there are some things that I now have to find and buy new.  As I always love a new project, I’d like to share with you a few of my (new) favourite things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This first fave thing stems from one of my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;least&lt;/span&gt; favourite things:  Ironing.  I’m still on the fence about which chore I dislike more – ironing or washing dishes.  Thankfully, my place has a dishwasher so it makes the choice less painful now.  However, there is no automatic machine thingy that you just throw your clothes in and they come out pressed.  (Well, I suppose there is the drycleaners, but I’m house-poor now, so no services like that for me!)  The alternative – &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;a kick-ass new iron&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="175" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdqV9AJbjts/TbIAzE1JO-I/AAAAAAAAAJE/fEzEfETs8yw/s1600/Iron.jpg"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s cordless.  That’s all I have to say about it (well that, and it has its own cover!)  I highly recommend you invest in one.  This &lt;a href="https://panasonic.ca/english/appliance/irons/NIL70SR.asp"&gt;model&lt;/a&gt; was not cheap but so far, well worth the money.  I even found myself trying to find things to iron.  Yes, it’s that good.  Tough call now – which chore do I like more? – ironing or unloading the dishwasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-2134921291520101947?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/2134921291520101947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-favourite-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2134921291520101947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2134921291520101947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-favourite-things.html' title='My Favourite Things'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdqV9AJbjts/TbIAzE1JO-I/AAAAAAAAAJE/fEzEfETs8yw/s72-c/Iron.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-4713567821477539662</id><published>2011-04-22T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T00:03:49.282-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Earth Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='plasticine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art project'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craft project'/><title type='text'>Plasticine and Miss Pea</title><content type='html'>I haven’t connected with my friend Pea in quite some time.  She’s becoming a primary school teacher and has been very busy being “Miss Pea the Student Teacher”.  In honour of Earth Day, she recruited me to test her kids’ craft project.  I am never one to say no to a craft project.  But she didn’t mention it consisted of plasticine.  I didn’t know it was still legal to produce it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our gossip catch-up over yummy sushi and desserts, we got into our eco-friendly-recycle-the-crap-in-your-house project.  Testing the project for the kiddies was a good idea.  We timed it.  We critiqued it.  We modified it.  And then we streamlined it.  We really got into it!!  It’s what Pea and I do.  We organize things – even kids' art projects!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our one hour time limit was up, so went our art on the wall.  Miss Pea gave us an A+!!  So on this Earth Day, how about turning off the lights, lighting some candles and reuse your 90s cd cases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsKXB_3Ky6M/TbEjCyNslLI/AAAAAAAAAI0/vGJUJ_9bs_A/s1600/Earth%2BDay%2Bproject%2B001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsKXB_3Ky6M/TbEjCyNslLI/AAAAAAAAAI0/vGJUJ_9bs_A/s200/Earth%2BDay%2Bproject%2B001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598294342544168114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2BrFtGqXq6U/TbEjQKnJfuI/AAAAAAAAAI8/rXA0W22MkrE/s1600/Earth%2BDay%2Bproject%2B002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px&lt;br /&gt;px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2BrFtGqXq6U/TbEjQKnJfuI/AAAAAAAAAI8/rXA0W22MkrE/s200/Earth%2BDay%2Bproject%2B002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598294572431671010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Earth Day mes amies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx,&lt;br /&gt;mimi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-4713567821477539662?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/4713567821477539662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/plasticine-and-miss-pea.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4713567821477539662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4713567821477539662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/plasticine-and-miss-pea.html' title='Plasticine and Miss Pea'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsKXB_3Ky6M/TbEjCyNslLI/AAAAAAAAAI0/vGJUJ_9bs_A/s72-c/Earth%2BDay%2Bproject%2B001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-9054360864119499776</id><published>2011-04-03T23:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T23:47:48.267-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bargains'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shoes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small feet'/><title type='text'>"How do you not fall over?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UR5lgQOs82k/TZlgGZKen2I/AAAAAAAAAIs/rbZLDdJy_C4/s1600/IMG_1333a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UR5lgQOs82k/TZlgGZKen2I/AAAAAAAAAIs/rbZLDdJy_C4/s200/IMG_1333a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591606075307499362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mes amies!  Oh how I have missed you so.  Bad Mimi!  Please forgive!  I'm working on so many things right now, I don't know where to start!  So how about we start...at the bottom?  My feet!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I am 5’8” tall.  My shoe size is 5 (Euro size 35, Asian size 24).  Freakishly small, the bane of my fashion existence.  I used to wear a size 6.5 shoe.  I wonder, are my feet shrinking, or has the shoe industry started to re-label sizes to console the ego of the…ahem…large masses?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless, it’s still the bane of my shopping existence.  If I'm lucky that a brand even makes shoes that start in a 5, the one available is usually the one on display.  *sigh* The one where the mate has been lying alone in a box in the back while its mate has been tossed and abused by the fondling, not-a-size-5-but-I'll-shove-my-giant-foot-in-it-anyway public.  Ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is by far my favourite shoe-fitting experience: &lt;br /&gt;MH: "May I try this shoe in a size 5, s'il vous pla&amp;icirc;t?" &lt;br /&gt;Store:  "You are a size 5??  How do you not fall over when you walk?"  &lt;br /&gt;MH:  "Probably something to do with physical equilibrium and your inner ear.  Now take your minimum wage ass to the back and get me the damn shoes!"&lt;br /&gt;Oops did I say that out loud?  Mais non!  A lady would never.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you, shoe shopping has become a tragedy of constant rejection.  It's not even like I'm picky!  I'm a shoe whore.  I will wear anything.  As long as you have it in a size 5, please and thank you.  I have a coveted pair of Ferragamo pumps that I scored for 90% off.  And the main reason I bought them (besides the incredible deal), they fit like a charm.  A size 4.5 charm.  Yes!  I said Quatre.demi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned I love a bargain too?  I don’t remember the last time I paid retail.  Pshht.  Retail is insulting.  I know you are going to mark it down in a few weeks, and honestly, I might be precious, but I’m too cheap to be the first in town to own something.  And besides, the hunt of a bargain is the best part.  It’s exhilarating.  &lt;br /&gt;Murray once asked me:  "Mimi, why do you like shopping so much?"  &lt;br /&gt;In order for his man-brain to understand the full spectrum of my bargain shopping fondness, I chose this analogy:  "Murray, it’s like how you like to go fishing.  Casting the rod thingy, waiting/looking for the bite, and then reeling it into the net thingy and you’re so happy when it’s a big one…"&lt;br /&gt;He nodded.  I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desperate shoe shopping calls for desperate measures and tactics.  The shoes in the photo are my Converse All-Stars.  Children's size 3.  More than half off the price of adult size shoes and a perfect fit.  What more could I ask for?  A bargain AND a perfect fit!  And that’s my secret – the kids’ department. Move over 8 year old, I believe I see a Stuart Weitzman Kids sandal in my size.  No really, they are a perfect fit and just in time for summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx,&lt;br /&gt;mh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-9054360864119499776?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/9054360864119499776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-do-you-not-fall-over.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9054360864119499776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9054360864119499776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-do-you-not-fall-over.html' title='&quot;How do you not fall over?&quot;'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UR5lgQOs82k/TZlgGZKen2I/AAAAAAAAAIs/rbZLDdJy_C4/s72-c/IMG_1333a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6765877803861128833</id><published>2010-09-13T00:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T00:43:33.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Peanuts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TI3U7DeoVBI/AAAAAAAAAIc/HWHmIBEjJqk/s1600/nuts-peanuts-blanched-ns.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TI3U7DeoVBI/AAAAAAAAAIc/HWHmIBEjJqk/s200/nuts-peanuts-blanched-ns.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516299229609874450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pea and I went out for dinner to celebrate her belated birthday.  As sometimes we like to think we are so about town and fancy - er, we don't really get out that much.  Well, maybe not so much anymore.  Nonetheless, we both intuitively decided that this time, we should get a little dressed up for a change.  And let me tell you, when we get dressed up, we get noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man in the street offered us a handful of peanuts.  Yeah that's right, I told you we get noticed, didn't I?  And not only noticed, but we get offered snacks!  Obviously we did not stop or even hesitate.  We just continued along our way.  I did thank him for the offer.  And he responded by asking us again, like he was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; we declined the offer in the first place.  I mean sure, to him it was such a great offer that no one should pass up.  To us, well first of all, Pea is allergic, and second, he didn't even offer them out of the package, but out of his bare hand.  That's just unsanitary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next year, we might just order take-out instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6765877803861128833?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/6765877803861128833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/09/random-peanuts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6765877803861128833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6765877803861128833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/09/random-peanuts.html' title='Random Peanuts'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TI3U7DeoVBI/AAAAAAAAAIc/HWHmIBEjJqk/s72-c/nuts-peanuts-blanched-ns.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-7845636937823413119</id><published>2010-08-11T22:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:27:01.750-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='headbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sequins'/><title type='text'>Mimi Luxe pt 4</title><content type='html'>I promise to figure out how to post properly!  Last but not least - SHINEY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paillette:&lt;br /&gt;Sequined appliques on elastic headbands - when you need to go to the grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOCjIceedI/AAAAAAAAAIE/tvh7N-sz3ec/s1600/Luxe+003a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOCjIceedI/AAAAAAAAAIE/tvh7N-sz3ec/s200/Luxe+003a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504386709650831826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOC6wmB2WI/AAAAAAAAAIM/2Zcefquzc-I/s1600/Luxe+008a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOC6wmB2WI/AAAAAAAAAIM/2Zcefquzc-I/s200/Luxe+008a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504387115565308258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-7845636937823413119?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/7845636937823413119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7845636937823413119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/7845636937823413119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-4.html' title='Mimi Luxe pt 4'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOCjIceedI/AAAAAAAAAIE/tvh7N-sz3ec/s72-c/Luxe+003a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-3039288643753999417</id><published>2010-08-11T22:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:21:33.794-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair accessories'/><title type='text'>Mimi Luxe pt 3</title><content type='html'>Isn't this more fun, mes amies?  Here's another one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luxe Deluxe:&lt;br /&gt;Pea was instantly drawn to this one.  I think it's the secret vampire/Twihard in her.  If she had a goth wedding, this would be her tiara!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4lUFT_wI/AAAAAAAAAHU/idOFLuWr_84/s1600/Luxe+6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4lUFT_wI/AAAAAAAAAHU/idOFLuWr_84/s200/Luxe+6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504375752018362114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-3039288643753999417?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/3039288643753999417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/3039288643753999417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/3039288643753999417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-3.html' title='Mimi Luxe pt 3'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4lUFT_wI/AAAAAAAAAHU/idOFLuWr_84/s72-c/Luxe+6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6789424094638020757</id><published>2010-08-11T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:19:43.260-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair accessories'/><title type='text'>Mimi Luxe pt 2</title><content type='html'>Forgive me!  I still don't know how to post pics and text properly.  So here's more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pivoine Noir:&lt;br /&gt;Flower pins made of black sheer fabric.  I'm a bit of a magpie, so I like to bedazzle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOBxSyvA6I/AAAAAAAAAH8/bDHxZ4nH9HI/s1600/Luxe+028a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOBxSyvA6I/AAAAAAAAAH8/bDHxZ4nH9HI/s200/Luxe+028a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504385853435085730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6789424094638020757?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/6789424094638020757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6789424094638020757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6789424094638020757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe-pt-2.html' title='Mimi Luxe pt 2'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGOBxSyvA6I/AAAAAAAAAH8/bDHxZ4nH9HI/s72-c/Luxe+028a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-4578477531931274390</id><published>2010-08-11T21:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:22:10.434-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='headbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sequins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feathers'/><title type='text'>Mimi Luxe</title><content type='html'>Bonjour mes amies!  I hope you enjoyed my line of Poppy Harvey accessories.  Cute, non?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It actually all began with my own namesake last winter.  And since this is my blog and I can do whatever I want, I'm going to shamelessly blab about MY stuff!  So here's a postview of my Holiday/Hiver collection from 2009.  It's so last year, I know.  But here goes nothing, hope you enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LUXE headbands:&lt;br /&gt;Feathered creations for all your fancy dress parties.  Or wear it doing the dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN3QG_Y9rI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VoU-cS_ATIA/s1600/Luxe+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN3QG_Y9rI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VoU-cS_ATIA/s200/Luxe+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504374288214980274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN3g_GZ1eI/AAAAAAAAAG0/AGWk7NS_dvo/s1600/Luxe+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN3g_GZ1eI/AAAAAAAAAG0/AGWk7NS_dvo/s200/Luxe+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504374578154690018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN319guzgI/AAAAAAAAAG8/GUcLPZFnW3w/s1600/Luxe+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN319guzgI/AAAAAAAAAG8/GUcLPZFnW3w/s200/Luxe+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504374938505498114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4Oy0HLNI/AAAAAAAAAHE/DJ7jykgc6X4/s1600/Luxe+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4Oy0HLNI/AAAAAAAAAHE/DJ7jykgc6X4/s200/Luxe+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504375365130726610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4bE5FgXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/g-qT7WoWitk/s1600/Luxe+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4bE5FgXI/AAAAAAAAAHM/g-qT7WoWitk/s200/Luxe+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504375576141857138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN424O19AI/AAAAAAAAAHc/J1VXCf2OFpQ/s1600/Luxe+7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN424O19AI/AAAAAAAAAHc/J1VXCf2OFpQ/s200/Luxe+7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504376053779788802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4_ioGG_I/AAAAAAAAAHk/wF8o_gR-byA/s1600/Luxe+8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN4_ioGG_I/AAAAAAAAAHk/wF8o_gR-byA/s200/Luxe+8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504376202598947826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-4578477531931274390?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/4578477531931274390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4578477531931274390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4578477531931274390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/mimi-luxe.html' title='Mimi Luxe'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TGN3QG_Y9rI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VoU-cS_ATIA/s72-c/Luxe+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6644877905984264963</id><published>2010-08-04T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T22:21:37.856-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baked goods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starbucks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scones'/><title type='text'>Call me a scone purist</title><content type='html'>I was chatting with a colleague about baked goods today.  Mmm. Baked goods.  She thinks it's odd that I don't like pumpkin pie.  It's true - I think it's gross.  But to each their own, non?  So we went down a list of baked goods that we love and love more.  And then we got to scones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've declared myself a scone purist.  None of this bullshit drowned in icing sugar, dried up, too big, mega flavoured crap stores dare call a scone and charge you $3.95.  Scones are made of white flour, butter and milk - therefore based on ethical business practices alone, whatever you pay is too much.  It should never cost the price of a jug of milk or a pound of butter. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Second, it should not be cookie cutter cut into the size of a door stop.  Scones should be 2-bite sized, delicate and fluffy enough that you can break it in half without the use of utensils.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but never least, it should NOT be bludgeoned to death with artery clogging, palate raping icing sugar!!!!  Blagh.  Sound familiar?  Yeah you out there, you probably love it come October when that dreaded Starbux comes out with their beloved pumpkin spiced icing door stop scone!!  Sacrilege!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Join the scone revolution.  Eat plain ones with butter or if you really want to be fancy - indulge in some devon cream and raspberry jam.  You'll be a much better person for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*steps off baked goods soap box*&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;br /&gt;mimi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6644877905984264963?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/6644877905984264963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/call-me-scone-purist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6644877905984264963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6644877905984264963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/08/call-me-scone-purist.html' title='Call me a scone purist'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-2239659679597452075</id><published>2010-07-29T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T23:11:52.566-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='headbands'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair accessories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grosgrain ribbon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buttons'/><title type='text'>Absence Makes the ♥ Grow Fonder</title><content type='html'>My darling mes amies!  Oh how I've missed you so.  It feels like an eternity since we were last together.  Please forgive my absence.  I must tell you about my NYC mini-break with Poppy but that will have to wait a little longer.  Patience, my love, patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime I've been busy with other things - crafty things.  Have I mentioned before my fondness for crafts?  Since I was a jeune fille.  My collection of notions, fabric, buttons, ribbons, beads, sequins, you name it, has consumed an entire room chez moi.  So now I've decided to give them a life and create some fun things for all to enjoy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Introducing my line of accessories - &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;poppy harvey&lt;/span&gt;.  Yes, that's ma cousine.  I named it after her because it represents her bright spirit and joyful personality.  Allow me to introduce you to les mademoiselles:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elodie:  Cute and sweet, hand-made bows from various ribbons and lace on snappy hairclips or alligator clips that match the ribbon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJLll_diZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/tRQEwiVwHOs/s1600/poppy+July+2010+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 128px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJLll_diZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/tRQEwiVwHOs/s200/poppy+July+2010+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499541204198328722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cerise:  Fabric rosettes with vintage button centers.  They are from my grandmother's collection that she's left behind.  I only have a limited amount of fabric, so I plan to only make 12.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJMSBT7YOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ZXmj8x1IQVU/s1600/poppy+July+2010+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJMSBT7YOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ZXmj8x1IQVU/s200/poppy+July+2010+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499541967446171874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rosalie:  Linen fabric in soft pink sewn into peony-like flowers to pin onto just about anything.  I kept them frayed, much like peony petals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJM7WFA87I/AAAAAAAAAF0/yoduWJEavcM/s1600/poppy+July+2010+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJM7WFA87I/AAAAAAAAAF0/yoduWJEavcM/s200/poppy+July+2010+015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499542677395403698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vivienne:  (No, not named after Brangelina spawn.)  Hairpins with baby rosettes hand-sewn on, with a looped leaf to finish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJNbzyebEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/bLu09fpDbJ8/s1600/poppy+July+2010+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJNbzyebEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/bLu09fpDbJ8/s200/poppy+July+2010+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499543235126520898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Garance:  Yes, this one is an ode to &lt;a href="http://www.garancedore.fr/en/"&gt;Garance Dor&amp;eacute;&lt;/a&gt;.  Not that she would ever wear one, I don't think.  But I like the name and it seems to reflect what they are.  Metal headbands, brightly coloured with grosgrain ribbon bows and felt flower centers.  I &amp;hearts; grosgrain ribbon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJOk3V2UsI/AAAAAAAAAGE/lKq0cvw6QuE/s1600/poppy+July+2010+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJOk3V2UsI/AAAAAAAAAGE/lKq0cvw6QuE/s200/poppy+July+2010+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499544490210644674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJPO9wbNRI/AAAAAAAAAGM/hWLtlwXgeQM/s1600/poppy+July+2010+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJPO9wbNRI/AAAAAAAAAGM/hWLtlwXgeQM/s200/poppy+July+2010+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499545213487232274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isabelle:&lt;br /&gt;The softer version of Garance with pastel coloured metal headbands and softer grosgrain ribbon.  My grandmother left this ribbon behind for me too, they don't make it like they used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJPt1BjfSI/AAAAAAAAAGU/IhzbrNGO_4A/s1600/poppy+July+2010+028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJPt1BjfSI/AAAAAAAAAGU/IhzbrNGO_4A/s200/poppy+July+2010+028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499545743719103778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least - meet Paulette:&lt;br /&gt;From my own crafty collection of ribbon - I've searched high and low since, and will probably never see this again.  There was only so much of it - I could only make 6 of the blue ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJQPnVTOZI/AAAAAAAAAGc/PAe0uzpIOzE/s1600/poppy+July+2010+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJQPnVTOZI/AAAAAAAAAGc/PAe0uzpIOzE/s200/poppy+July+2010+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499546324159379858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJQpBEOwfI/AAAAAAAAAGk/fgeRqwfAHFI/s1600/poppy+July+2010+029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJQpBEOwfI/AAAAAAAAAGk/fgeRqwfAHFI/s200/poppy+July+2010+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499546760563835378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there they are.  Hope you enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;xx mimi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-2239659679597452075?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/2239659679597452075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/07/absence-makes-grow-fonder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2239659679597452075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2239659679597452075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/07/absence-makes-grow-fonder.html' title='Absence Makes the &amp;hearts; Grow Fonder'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TFJLll_diZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/tRQEwiVwHOs/s72-c/poppy+July+2010+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-8394276117487377996</id><published>2010-06-11T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T20:21:24.751-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Filipino food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cebu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oysters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Macau'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='egg tarts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hong Kong'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food Porn:  Hong Kong ' 09 continued</title><content type='html'>Did you have a good lunch?  Now back to work and back to my list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1baavNU6I/AAAAAAAAAFE/1q3a9GdJY-U/s1600/HK+2009+186.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1baavNU6I/AAAAAAAAAFE/1q3a9GdJY-U/s320/HK+2009+186.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480136830991815586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#6&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.openrice.com/english/restaurant/sr1.htm?inputcategory=&amp;inputstrrest=ANA+Oyster+%26+Grill&amp;ST=1&amp;region=0"&gt;ANA Oyster and Grill&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hong Kong&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Pea and I met up with some of her friends and had a feast!  The locale is nothing I've ever been to.  The resto is located on the 4th floor of a non-descrip building stacked with other business and offices.  We had a patio/garden table.  It was surrounded on 3 sides by other skyscrapers and the view was only straight up - dinner under the stars.  To start - raw oysters and clams, from all around the world.  I came all the way to Hong Kong to have an oyster from the Pacific USA.  And it tasted like it was caught the same day.  DEE-LISH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1e0CCegzI/AAAAAAAAAFM/4tE7sPmIMzE/s1600/HK+2009+278.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1e0CCegzI/AAAAAAAAAFM/4tE7sPmIMzE/s320/HK+2009+278.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480140569573229362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#7 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.macau.com/index.php?option=com_restaurants&amp;Itemid=231&amp;task=show_details&amp;id=150"&gt;Margaret's Caf&amp;eacute; e Nata&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Macau&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;It was time for our day-trip to Macau.  When we first arrived, we asked the tourism booth where was the best Portuguese egg tart.  By the end of the day, the heat had drained us of our culinary vigor, and it was soon time to leave this wonderful place.  We were just about to give up on the tart when we took one last turn and found it!  Did you know when these tarts first arrived in Taipei bakeries years ago, people rioted when there was a purchase limit imposed?  It was ugly.  But I can see why a tart would start a riot.  Like buttah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1h_jN-6UI/AAAAAAAAAFU/xJWyTPTgL6A/s1600/HK+2009+286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1h_jN-6UI/AAAAAAAAAFU/xJWyTPTgL6A/s320/HK+2009+286.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480144065993304386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#8&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.hongkongairport.com/eng/shopping/dining/all/fastf/kinw.html"&gt; King's Palace Congee and Noodle&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hong Kong Int'l Airport, Terminal 1&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;We had been immersed in a busy week and a half of shopping, sight-seeing, partying, spa-pampering, lunching, more shopping...  I dunno how the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;tai-tais&lt;/span&gt; (ladies of leisure) do it all the time.  We knew it was definitely time to escape for a weekend mini-break in &lt;a href="http://www.cebu.gov.ph/"&gt;Cebu&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Philippines&lt;/span&gt;.  No time for brekky at home, so we ate at the airport.  I was very impressed with the selection in each terminal.  North American airports should really take notes.  Starbucks does NOT serve real food people!  Now this was a real meal with built-in friendly caution.  And I didn't have to eat it out of a pastry bag or on styrofoam.  So civilized even when you're leaving!!!  I &amp;hearts; HK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1mrI6aUBI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wpieiKHwO5Y/s1600/HK+2009+306.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1mrI6aUBI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wpieiKHwO5Y/s320/HK+2009+306.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480149212892647442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#9 In-room dining&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.bluewater.com.ph/maribago/home.php"&gt;Maribago Bluewater Beach Resort&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Cebu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Philippines&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;Pea and I lazed by the pool, sunned, swam, jet-skied, ate, and ate some more.   It was an exhausting mini-break!  Grilled squid stuffed with fresh veggies and lemon butter sauce eaten on the bed, in front of the telly.  Lovely.  It was such a change from the hustle of Hong Kong yet only a couple of hours away.  *sigh*  What a great end to wonderful visit with my mon amie.  Thanks Pea, for showing me Hong Kong and beyond!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, what are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; gonna have for dinner?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-8394276117487377996?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/8394276117487377996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-hong-kong-09-continued.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/8394276117487377996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/8394276117487377996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-hong-kong-09-continued.html' title='Food Porn:  Hong Kong &apos; 09 continued'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TA1baavNU6I/AAAAAAAAAFE/1q3a9GdJY-U/s72-c/HK+2009+186.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-4981608857518136216</id><published>2010-06-11T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T20:20:34.571-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='afternoon tea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pork dumplings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hong Kong'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sushi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='McDonald&apos;s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food Porn:  Almost time for more</title><content type='html'>Poppy and I set off on the red-eye tonight and will be in NYC tomorrow - at an ungodly morning hour.  But we are shopping/eating/photo-taking machines and plan to go straight to the outlet mall the moment we touch down.  This might be a mini-break for us, but time is of the essence and shopping is no joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continue my &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2009&lt;/span&gt; island hopping tour today, but not quite what you might think.  I found myself on some different islands after my trip with Murray.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hong Kong&lt;/span&gt; (with a taste of the &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Philippines&lt;/span&gt;, and a dash of &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Macau&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so incredibly amazing, I can barely describe it.  Hong Kong has the best of everything I could ask for as a traveller.  The wonders of Asia with just the right amount of international, especially British influence.  Everything seemed to be so extra civilized and posh.  I don't think I had one disappointing meal and wanted to showcase them all, but I chose nine of my best.  Get ready mes amies - you might want to make sure your boss is on lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyc8SiZSuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N2Gs1Ryl-Xc/s1600/HK+2009+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyc8SiZSuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N2Gs1Ryl-Xc/s320/HK+2009+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479927406185237218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#1 &lt;a href="http://www.mcdonalds.com.hk/english/index.htm"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/a&gt;- Delivered to your door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the great pleasure of visiting my dear friend Pea while she was working abroad in Hong Kong. Remember, sleeping on couches, no shame, great locations...would you say no?  I hadn't been in Asia for more than 2 hours when I found myself sitting in her apartment, waiting for the delivery guy.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;This&lt;/span&gt; is civilized.  And look, they have corn in a cup and spicy chicken wings!  I think I may have appeared to be a bit of a food snob before, but I don't think I am.  Hey, I can keep it real and inhale a Filet-O-Fish with the best of them.  And fuck, it was DELIVERED.  Who would refuse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyhzr6SUYI/AAAAAAAAAEk/al0tH-vTGjI/s1600/HK+2009+049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyhzr6SUYI/AAAAAAAAAEk/al0tH-vTGjI/s320/HK+2009+049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479932755935646082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#2 Afternoon Tea&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.peninsula.com/Peninsula_Hotels/en/default.aspx#/Hong_Kong/en/"&gt;The Peninsula&lt;/a&gt; hotel, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kowloon&lt;/span&gt;.  Perhaps indulging in &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; tradition is snobby, but I don't care.  I love little cucumber sandwiches, scones with devon cream and fruit preserve...and who could ignore the petite fours and little chocolate goodies on the top?!  Look at how cute everything is!  Don't pretend, you like it too.  &lt;br /&gt;Now I have had the luxury of experiencing many afternoon teas in many different cities, and this by far, was the best.  Maybe part of it was watching the actual hotel guests stroll (or maybe it was sauntering) through somehow made me feel more posh.  I could have sworn I saw little flower girls precede the guests, making a path out of cash for them to walk on.  It made even a poor, little couch-surfing girl like me, feel like a million bucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAymOyGZiCI/AAAAAAAAAEs/H8xoAwwlCqc/s1600/HK+2009+055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAymOyGZiCI/AAAAAAAAAEs/H8xoAwwlCqc/s320/HK+2009+055.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479937619500042274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#3 Street food&lt;/span&gt; I love Asia because it has the nerve to expect you to eat food that is made on the street.  How dare us silly North Americans cage our food in boxes called restaurants?  How dare we think it can only be limited to funnel cakes and corn dogs at carnival/rodeo midways?  Sheesh.  Where there is electricity and pedestrians, there is food in Hong Kong. And you have to eat it IN the street where you bought it, damn it!  Now pick a meat on a stick already!  &lt;br /&gt;We chose many from this stand - the usual curried fish balls, marinated squid (as pictured here), etc.  But the top one was a mystery - it was white when we pointed to it, but the lady magically dunked it in a deep fryer and it was presented to us in all its crispy on the outside, molten-lava hot on the inside gloriousness.  We're not entirely sure what it was, but it was filled with some sort of crab and scallop mixture.  Divine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyszUlxhiI/AAAAAAAAAE0/EKNdodJuUj8/s1600/HK+2009+071.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyszUlxhiI/AAAAAAAAAE0/EKNdodJuUj8/s320/HK+2009+071.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479944844303500834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#4 Sushi at &lt;a href="http://koisushi.com.hk/"&gt;Koi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  This'll probably be as close in proximity to Japan as I'll be until I find someone who lives in Tokyo and has enough space for guests.  Hong Kong had not disappointed me yet, so why not have a little sushi?  It was very fresh and the presentation was great.  The ambiance was quaint and there seemed to be a lot of Japanese patrons, so we were maybe doing something right, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyurAWqXFI/AAAAAAAAAE8/YjWTKb2Uj8I/s1600/HK+2009+098.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyurAWqXFI/AAAAAAAAAE8/YjWTKb2Uj8I/s320/HK+2009+098.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479946900455709778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;#5 Taiwanese/Shanghainese&lt;/span&gt; lunch at &lt;a href="http://www.dintaifung.com.tw/en/index.asp"&gt;Din Tai Fung&lt;/a&gt;.  There were little amusing laminated cards at each table which gave you detailed and cartoon instructions on how to eat a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;xiao long bao&lt;/span&gt; (steamed pork dumplings).  I asked for a copy of the instructions to take home to my North American friends.  Strangely, they refused.  As if I'd go and copy the thing and open my own resto!  I should have known better and just took a pic of the card.  But now they were watching us.  Damn.  Well, there seems to be many locations worldwide, even one in California, so I'm sure you'll be able to see for yourself what I wanted to bring home.  &lt;br /&gt;I've had many &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;xiao long bao&lt;/span&gt;, but I have never met a steamed mashed taro bun.  Where have you been all my life, my love?  At first sight, you're thinking they are going to be bland and boring.  Au contraire!  Somehow they have sweetened the taro just enough and the texture of the bun is a perfect fluffiness.  If it weren't for the fact that we were already stuffed full of goodness, I would have ordered another six, for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough for now.  Get back to work.  Go check your FB.  Tweet about how hungry you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-4981608857518136216?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/4981608857518136216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-almost-time-for-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4981608857518136216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4981608857518136216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-almost-time-for-more.html' title='Food Porn:  Almost time for more'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyc8SiZSuI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N2Gs1Ryl-Xc/s72-c/HK+2009+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-841266174816803418</id><published>2010-06-10T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T20:00:21.676-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vancouver Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tofino'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ucluelet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sandwiches'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nanaimo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food Porn:  Island fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2009&lt;/span&gt; was a tour of many islands.  I took a mini-vacay with my Murray to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Vancouver Island, &lt;a href="http://www.hellobc.com/"&gt;British Columbia&lt;/a&gt;, Canada&lt;/span&gt;.  It's always a little worrisome to travel with your beau for the first time.  But the food made up for it!  No, no it was a lovely time spent with mon petite chou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyIvpMI7DI/AAAAAAAAAD8/FWRZOLhE6UQ/s1600/VI+2009+084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyIvpMI7DI/AAAAAAAAAD8/FWRZOLhE6UQ/s320/VI+2009+084.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479905198695050290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blackrockresort.com/index.html"&gt;Black Rock Resort&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ucluelet, British Columbia&lt;/span&gt;, Fetch Restaurant:&lt;br /&gt;We didn't stay here since it had newly opened and we didn't know about it before planning our trip.  Too bad, because it looked very luxe.  Locals had suggested we check it out.  I suppose in a town of less than 1700 people, a new resort and its resto is a big deal.  And it did not disappoint.  We had also visited &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Tofino&lt;/span&gt; which must be considered the more popular sister of the two towns, but I think Ucluelet had its own wonderful charm, even without the fancy hotel on the water.  &lt;br /&gt;Murray thought it was silly of me to think that the halibut on my bun was just caught out of the ocean that we were looking out at.  A girl can dream, right?  You should have seen the view. I don't think I've seen the Pacific Ocean quite like that.  Mesmerizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyQOMs7nOI/AAAAAAAAAEM/2YgBQC1fEiU/s1600/VI+2009+265.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyQOMs7nOI/AAAAAAAAAEM/2YgBQC1fEiU/s320/VI+2009+265.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479913420205300962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There were so many stops on this island and not enough time spent there.  We had to say goodbye and make it back to the mainland (Vancouver) via &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Nanaimo&lt;/span&gt;.  You'd think there would be a bridge since it is quite close, but instead there's a ferry - that we missed.  The ferry terminal food selection made a good effort, but it was nothing to write home about (or take pictures of).  So we ventured out.  We arrived upon a small marina and two pub/restos.  One was decked out with loud music, some sort of sporting event was on the big screen tvs, and lots of neon beer signs to lure you in.  A parking lot over, the other choice looked to have surrendered to the neon.  &lt;br /&gt;We chose the quiet, appropriately lit one.  It was a bit of a dive, and the menu looked like your average pub fare with some emphasis on seafood given the location.  "Would you like to substitute your fries for a caesar salad for $1 more?"  I always feel bad when they ask because I'm sure most, like me, decline.  Murray was getting fries with his oyster burger, so I thought I'd pretend to look healthy and said yes this time.  I've never been so glad I splurged.  Oh yes, and how could I forget - the most delicious shrimp sandwich that was paired with the salad.  It was like there was a yet-to-be-discovered Michelin star chef in the back of this pub in the middle of nowhere, just dying to work at The French Laundry.  Okay, I've never been to The French Laundry and I don't know exactly what the creme de la creme really is, but this was a damn good meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing we missed that ferry - it was a delightful end to a great trip with Murray.  This is a definite return vacay for me.  Especially if I can have that sandwich and salad again.  Oh, and I guess Murray can come too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-841266174816803418?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/feeds/841266174816803418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-island-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/841266174816803418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/841266174816803418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-island-fun.html' title='Food Porn:  Island fun'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAyIvpMI7DI/AAAAAAAAAD8/FWRZOLhE6UQ/s72-c/VI+2009+084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-2390080515086501819</id><published>2010-06-09T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T19:04:00.173-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ramen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Honolulu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Japanese food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hawaii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seafood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food porn:  Okay, I am a bit of a tease</title><content type='html'>Darling, I'll have you know that I lie sometimes.  But it's not about bad things, just little things.  But I'm happy you're still here, which must mean you'll forgive me.  Forgiveness is key to a strong relationship.  I'm glad we're working through this together.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two big trips in &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2008&lt;/span&gt; but I didn't want to get you too excited all at once.  So to continue, please find yourself in &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Honolulu, Hawaii, United States of Amurica&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sunny Christmas family vacay was in order.  It was the first time in Hawaii for us. Two years on and I still talk about it with great fondness.  I just loved it so.  Visiting in December probably added to the love.  Our departure to paradise was slammed with a horrendous snow-storm and after a 12-hour delay (and that was considered short), it was so glorious to be welcomed at the open-air airport with warm sweet air.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Aloha&lt;/span&gt;.  We were finally parka-free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXZgVk_LEI/AAAAAAAAADs/QOiLN43_-YI/s1600/Hawaii+2008+325.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 0px 0px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXZgVk_LEI/AAAAAAAAADs/QOiLN43_-YI/s320/Hawaii+2008+325.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478023671337397314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;December 26 - there was some serious after-Christmas shopping to conquer at the outlet mall.  Meh, I've had better shopping conquests, so we packed it in late afternoon.  Round Two was the Ala Moana Mall, but first, it was time to refuel.  Not to pre-judge a place, but parts of Honolulu seem a little sketchy.  It became painfully obvious that we only had three dinner choices:  &lt;a href="http://honoluluweekly.com/restaurants/2006/07/not-just-noodles/"&gt;Taiyo Ramen&lt;/a&gt;, the mall food court, or Blockbuster Video.  Never judge a ramen by its ugly plastic bowl.  It was the best ramen I've had in ages.  Refuelled and refreshed, we were ready for mall battle.&lt;br /&gt;As I stood contemplating a very cute, yet classic trench at Banana Republic, with a happy belly full of ramen, the lights went out.  Good thing we picked sketchy locale over mall burger and fries.  There was an island-wide power outage by dinnertime (that lasted until the next afternoon).  You couldn't even buy food at the ABC store!  I never went back for the trench, but I'd definitely go back for the ramen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXmYyykE5I/AAAAAAAAAD0/tMxVK59Gkmk/s1600/Hawaii+2008+364.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 0px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXmYyykE5I/AAAAAAAAAD0/tMxVK59Gkmk/s320/Hawaii+2008+364.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478037835391177618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As our stay in paradise neared its end and our flight back to the Arctic Circle that our home had become loomed, we enjoyed our final meal - out of an old converted school bus, parked in an abandoned parking lot.  Like we had discovered before it all went dark, sketchiness lay within paradise.  But like Taiyo, we had found paradise.  I think this platter is meant for 4-6 people, but I could have easily polished off the whole thing myself.  This could quite possibly go down on my list of Top Ten Best Foods I've Ever Had.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ono&lt;/span&gt;.  Delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-2390080515086501819?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2390080515086501819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2390080515086501819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-okay-i-am-bit-of-tease.html' title='Food porn:  Okay, I am a bit of a tease'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXZgVk_LEI/AAAAAAAAADs/QOiLN43_-YI/s72-c/Hawaii+2008+325.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-2168982022362723126</id><published>2010-06-08T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T19:12:22.502-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bagels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manhattan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Queens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cream cheese'/><title type='text'>Food porn: The fantasy continues</title><content type='html'>So you're back for more, non?  I knew you'd like it.  Well, I am never one to be a tease, so let's get to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year, another memory card full of food porn.  I don't think I would ever take so many photos if it were the days of 35mm film.  Sometimes I think it's a little out of control, when I look back at my travel photos and there are more photos of food than anything else.  But I can't help it, so you better love me for who I am!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2008&lt;/span&gt;, back to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;New York City, New York, United States of Amurica&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASbu1WSMRI/AAAAAAAAADU/9FfzkM2QnJk/s1600/NYC+2008+223.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:10px 10px 0px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASbu1WSMRI/AAAAAAAAADU/9FfzkM2QnJk/s320/NYC+2008+223.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477674275686199570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Technically, my fam live in Queens, because who are we kidding, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; people don't live in Manhattan.  There are lots of great little known restos in their neighbourhood.  My travel companion this time was mon amie, Fifi.  After a long day of shopping and bankrupting ourselves, we stumbled upon a new Asian resto.  For the life of me, I'm afraid I can not remember the name of it.  But honestly, the competition is so fierce, the place is probably closed now.  This was Fifi's choice dish (and choice aerial shot) - chicken with cashews and fresh yummy snow peas.  We were smitten over the heart shaped rice with cherry on top.  And the real cherry on top was the total bill for less than $30!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASeJrQ9uyI/AAAAAAAAADc/fgY374T5Plg/s1600/NYC+2008+195.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 5px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASeJrQ9uyI/AAAAAAAAADc/fgY374T5Plg/s320/NYC+2008+195.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477676935859256098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course you can't visit NYC without experiencing The Bagel.  I'd be hard pressed to say no to a bagel even though I know it's the equivalent to eating four slices of bread and some evil force decided to tell the world that four slices of bread will somehow be the death of you.  I don't care, make me fat, and let me die young in your arms, I love you, dear bagel, take me as I am!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is quite the art form to ordering a bagel in NY.  I couldn't even decide which flavour I wanted, let alone how I want the cream cheese.  I overheard the woman in front of me, clearly a master of bagels, ordering with strong command.  "Bagel.  Plain.  Easy toasted.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Scooped&lt;/span&gt;.  Cream cheese.  Plain."  Scooped? I understood the rest of it, but what is being scooped?  OMG.  Then the deli guy started to scoop - a trench in the bagel was created to allow for the ribbon of cream cheese to lie perfectly in its newly created cradle.  I think I heard angels sing.  When it was my turn, I chickened out and just ordered it like a tourist:  "Everything bagel, toasted, plain cream cheese, please."  But it was still heavenly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-2168982022362723126?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2168982022362723126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/2168982022362723126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-fantasy-continues.html' title='Food porn: The fantasy continues'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASbu1WSMRI/AAAAAAAAADU/9FfzkM2QnJk/s72-c/NYC+2008+223.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6463054955896988378</id><published>2010-06-07T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T12:46:14.169-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wolfgang Puck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='duck confit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Las Vegas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paris Hotel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Venetian Hotel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food porn:  I know you want some more</title><content type='html'>Four more days to until we set off on our mini-break!  I'm drooling with anticipation.  Fresh, new, food porn.  To satisfy us both until then, let's skip the foreplay and get right down and dirrtay:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2007&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Las Vegas, Nevada, United States of Amurica&lt;/span&gt;.  You read it right - this is what Amuuurrica is all about.  Vegas spoiler alert - I've been to Paris, and the Paris Hotel is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; Paris.  I've been to Venice, and The Venetian &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; ain't Italy.  But when there's food to be eaten, there are photos to be taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Venetian Hotel&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.wolfgangpuck.com/restaurants/fine-dining/3821"&gt;Postrio Bar and Grill&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAB5kYh0mCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IHo0wJdQgrk/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+139.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:5px 0px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 163px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAB5kYh0mCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IHo0wJdQgrk/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+139.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476510812849084450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAKmTXQxEVI/AAAAAAAAACc/aYrgnJvkyVk/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+143.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:5px 0px 10px 0; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 163px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAKmTXQxEVI/AAAAAAAAACc/aYrgnJvkyVk/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+143.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477122948428009810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*ah* Don't you just love Venice?  San Marco Square, the Grand Canal, eating a yummy meal al fresco by the moonlight?  Hey, what time is it anyway?  Nine o'clock?!  How come it still looks like it's noon around here?  Where are the pigeons?  How come no one is speaking Italian? (*insert sound of record scratching/wheels screeching to a halt*) This isn't my beloved Venezia!  Just a bizillion dollar hotel made to look (remarkably) like Venice.  *sigh*.  I guess it'll have to do.  It's amazing how they made the ceiling/sky change ever so slightly but never get dark so you would stay in there forever like I did.  It's not too late for pie, is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAKtTCD0TDI/AAAAAAAAACs/TGd1RcnGIBc/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+144.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; margin:10px 0 0 0;cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAKtTCD0TDI/AAAAAAAAACs/TGd1RcnGIBc/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+144.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477130639317945394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We jetted over to Paris - &lt;a href="http://www.parislasvegas.com/casinos/paris-las-vegas/hotel-casino/property-home.shtml"&gt;Paris Hotel Las Vegas&lt;/a&gt; that is.  How could I go to Vegas and not eat at a buffet?  I'm not usually a fan of buffets.  I don't like the idea of having to line up for food that I'm paying good money for.  Is it wrong to ask for someone to bring it to me?  Is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also don't like watching other people ahead in line, shoveling large amounts of food that they will most likely not even eat onto their plates, all the while there are little starving children in the world who will never know how delicious duck confit is.  Mmm all you can eat duck confit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The line up was LONG.  This had better be worth it.  It's bad enough you have to line up to plate your own food, but to add more insult, you are forced to stand in a winding Disney-style line with no end in sight.  That velvet rope does &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; make me feel VIP!  I want to make my own crêpe damn it!  I get a little cranky when I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Et voilà!  My self-serviced plates of delicious frenchness.  Mind the blurry images.  I get a little hypoglycemic when I have to stand in line for food.  For all those starving children in the world - that's duck confit on the first plate, below the carrot.  I even got to make my own damn crêpe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASAI9AO5xI/AAAAAAAAAC0/P1RthMwmTQE/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+223.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left;  margin:10px 12.5px 10px 0px;cursor:pointer;cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 163px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASAI9AO5xI/AAAAAAAAAC0/P1RthMwmTQE/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+223.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477643938092214034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASHM_M23PI/AAAAAAAAAC8/sHWe7NXXeX8/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+222.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:10px 10px 15px 0px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 163px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASHM_M23PI/AAAAAAAAAC8/sHWe7NXXeX8/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+222.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477651703982906610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASHYugJgOI/AAAAAAAAADE/iSAk5yvuIAo/s1600/Las+Vegas+2007+226.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:10px 0px 15px 0px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 163px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TASHYugJgOI/AAAAAAAAADE/iSAk5yvuIAo/s200/Las+Vegas+2007+226.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477651905658847458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6463054955896988378?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6463054955896988378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6463054955896988378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-i-know-you-want-some-more.html' title='Food porn:  I know you want some more'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAB5kYh0mCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IHo0wJdQgrk/s72-c/Las+Vegas+2007+139.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-9212397455421891267</id><published>2010-06-06T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T16:03:37.460-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Filipino food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lake Louise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='La Shish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Edmonton'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shanghai'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lebanese food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alberta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food porn:  A Retrospective</title><content type='html'>Poppy and I will be in New York City next weekend.  I ♥ NY.  Who doesn't?  I have the luxury of having family who live there, so I visit as much as I can.  I have no shame in only visiting places where I have a free place to stay.  Thankfully, I have friends and fam that (sometimes) live in fancy places!  But hell, if they lived in Idaho, I'd be sharing my hot pics of potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honour of our mini-break, I begin my food and travel retrospective (well you saw the first one yesterday):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2006&lt;/font&gt; - *ah* it was good year for travel and food.  Poppy and I took an impromptu trip to &lt;a href="http://www.travelalberta.com/en-ab/Pages/default.aspx?mrkt=Alberta"&gt;Alberta&lt;/a&gt;.  Don't ask.  We've never been, why not?  Nous allons!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first stop, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.fairmont.com/lakelouise/"&gt;The Fairmont Lake Louise&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAjpYqvcpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/KfDn-yHAE-g/s1600/2006+121a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: center; margin: 15px 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAjpYqvcpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/KfDn-yHAE-g/s320/2006+121a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476416340785853074" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny because the lasagna and Shepard's pie we ordered are no longer on the menu.  C'est bien dommage.  Lake Louise has clearly moved on to more shi-shi menu items like salmon on naan bread and nasi goreng.  But what we had was super yummy.  During our stay, Poppy and I felt like JLo (when she was still relevant).  So in JLo style, we ordered room service and ate it wearing our plush hotel bathrobes.  And in JLo style, we paid mega bucks for it!  But when in Rome...or er, the mountains of Alberta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also ended up in &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Edmonton, Alberta, Canada&lt;/span&gt; - again shameless visits to family with free couches to sleep on:  This is take-out from &lt;a href="http://www.edmontonplus.ca/edmonton/venues/la-shish-taouk-inc"&gt;La Shish&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAmFmXbJfI/AAAAAAAAABE/Tc-sfzJlud8/s1600/2006+057a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 15px 10px 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAmFmXbJfI/AAAAAAAAABE/Tc-sfzJlud8/s320/2006+057a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476419024522520050" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Don't let all the bad reviews fool you - yes agreed, the Jasper Avenue location is better than the dine-in location.  But who cares, you're not there for the bloody romance.  You ♥ the fucking garlic sauce on roasted potatoes! (top right)  Sheesh, people can be so finicky. This styrofoam-encased-full-of-Lebanese-love is the platter - bursting with delicious chicken, beef, rice, tabouli salad, tomato and cucumber salad, pickled somethings, pita bread, hummus, more garlic sauce, and you can eat it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;for days&lt;/span&gt;.  I often ask for it to be flown in when my Edmontonian visits chez moi.  Yeah that's right, JLo style...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also went international and visited &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Shanghai, China&lt;/span&gt;.  There was so much eating going on at so many places during this trip, but I loved this &lt;a href="http://www.superbrandmall.com/index/index_en.asp"&gt;cafe&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAA_sHiX93I/AAAAAAAAABM/ZfY4T_yPkDA/s1600/shanghai_2006+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAA_sHiX93I/AAAAAAAAABM/ZfY4T_yPkDA/s320/shanghai_2006+021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476447174052542322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can't remember exactly the name of the cafe (mainly because I was bummed to discover that the grand opening of the Shanghai Flagship &lt;a href="http://www.uniqlo.com/us/"&gt;Uniqlo&lt;/a&gt; was not ready for my arrival) but it was surprisingly luscious - enoki mushrooms wrapped in fatty beef, just begging to be dunked into a juicy, spicy, curried paper hot pot to cook.  Who knew that mall food could be so good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-9212397455421891267?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9212397455421891267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/9212397455421891267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-retrospective.html' title='Food porn:  A Retrospective'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAjpYqvcpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/KfDn-yHAE-g/s72-c/2006+121a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-5649447064604228596</id><published>2010-06-05T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T23:42:08.094-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brooklyn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Times Square'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food porn:  The Beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAZpgFl36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/QIwIPHO-emI/s1600/IMG_1103.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAZpgFl36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/QIwIPHO-emI/s320/IMG_1103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476405347661242274" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is how it all started - lunchtime, Times Square NYC, 2005.  Mon amie/ma cousine, Poppy and I  were immersed with all that The City had to offer and forgot to eat.   So we ended up in a strange "Japanese" fast food joint.  Hey, desperate times, call for desperate measures.  Teriyaki chicken bowls with "California" rice - Tokyo this was not.  But Poppy insisted  we photograph this meal, this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought her request was strange, but the look on her face suggested I wasn't allowed to eat until I obliged (and I was starving, even for this bowl of runny rice) so I didn't object.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the trip it dawned on me - whenever I travel, I'm busy taking pictures of stupid buildings and posing in front of monuments.  What about the food??  Why not remember a delicious meal by honouring it with a photo as well?  I'm sure the chef would appreciate it.  He or she has been perfecting their craft for years with no photographic adoration.  So began my love of food photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years,  I've recruited whomever I travel with to indulge me and my food porn shoots.  They have often become the set director, artistic designer, and know to get their arm, hand, or boobs out of the shot.  Their patience is profound, because usually on vacay, you're ravenous by the time you figure out where and what you want to eat, but we still take that first moment to set up the shot.  I have good friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I have a vast collection of food porn that I would like to share with everyone (or the 3 people who are reading this and who have probably traveled with me, so really, you've already seen these pics...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh just to add, by the end of that NYC trip, we discovered better places to eat and enjoyed a trés fantastique brunch in Brooklyn @ &lt;a href="http://www.jolierestaurant.com/"&gt;Jolie Restaurant&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TABdK6uGxTI/AAAAAAAAABk/kK5_UHy9ikI/s1600/IMG_1301a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TABdK6uGxTI/AAAAAAAAABk/kK5_UHy9ikI/s320/IMG_1301a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476479589025236274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The ambiance was sweet and endearing, and it didn't feel like you were in New York anymore.  But God bless America - the &lt;font style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eggs Jolie&lt;/font&gt; comes with fries.  Or &lt;font style="font-style: italic;"&gt;frites&lt;/font&gt; as they say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Disclaimer:  I have not and do not receive any endorsements from any of the establishments mentioned in my posts.  They just happen to be places that I've been and if you like them, maybe you'll want to go one day too.  But no one better sue me over it!*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-5649447064604228596?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5649447064604228596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5649447064604228596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-porn-beginning.html' title='Food porn:  The Beginning'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAAZpgFl36I/AAAAAAAAAAs/QIwIPHO-emI/s72-c/IMG_1103.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-112608789133853547</id><published>2010-06-01T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T20:59:18.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gyozilla</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXSwUi1sTI/AAAAAAAAADk/oLmhbOTNNk8/s1600/Gyozilla+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:25px 10px 0px 5px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXSwUi1sTI/AAAAAAAAADk/oLmhbOTNNk8/s320/Gyozilla+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478016249356464434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nearest and dearest amie (et ma cousine) Poppy and I constantly joke about ourselves never getting married, enjoying our spinsterdom in a house on the hill with 40 cats and a pool boy.  Our cats would be named after our ex-boyfriends – Insensitive, Loser, Broke-Ass, Selfish, Tiny...  Pea was going to be our mortgage helper and have her own basement suite.  We would curse the world from our doorstep, wearing cute twin sets and brooches, pumping our fists in the air.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All bets are off now - Poppy recently got engaged.  I’m more than thrilled for her.  Truly I am.  (Her fiancé is called Murray too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poppy and I seem to live on either ends of the universe sometimes, so we email each other almost everyday.  People might think that’s strange – why don’t you just call her?  Why don’t you Skype?  No, we like it old skool – we like to type!  I think we know each other well enough that our written word won’t be misinterpreted.  So that’s how she told me about her engagement.  WTF? - I can hear y’all gasping.  Settle down.  I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.  I did make a special request in my email reply - that just this once, she has to tell me in person, all the romantic details, as I hold her hand, beaming over her gorgeous diamond ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we do often live in opposite worlds, it takes an event or well planned day for us to see one another in person.  For weeks we had been emailing about her homemade gyoza.  Who makes anything from scratch anymore??  Apparently “engaged ladies” do.  She warns they aren’t regulation size.  I’ve dubbed them Gyozillas because she uses double the amount of filling and combines two wrappers together.  (Can you tell which one is the store-bought, regulation size one?)  Can we say, YUM?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poppy gave me permission to share her recipe but I’ve discovered that recipe writing is not easy!   Maybe I’ll make a video of it one day…We did succeed in making almost 75 Gyozillas and in between batches, she told me all the romantic details of how her Murray proposed.  I didn’t hold her hand though because we had been touching gyoza-raw-meat filling and somehow it didn’t seem very sanitary for either of us.  I digress…*sniff*  It couldn’t have been more perfect for the two of them, and to her joy, it did not involve a Jumbotron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations Poppy and Murray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-112608789133853547?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/112608789133853547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/112608789133853547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/06/gyozilla.html' title='Gyozilla'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TAXSwUi1sTI/AAAAAAAAADk/oLmhbOTNNk8/s72-c/Gyozilla+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-5214582103768111413</id><published>2010-05-26T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T16:55:43.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Filipino food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flight of the Conchords'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Glee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot yoga'/><title type='text'>I'd rather stay home and watch Glee.</title><content type='html'>My two week introductory pass to hot yoga expires this week.  I've gone a total of - ONE time.  Probably the most expensive yoga class I'll ever attend.  And it will go down in my exercise history as the worst time ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My darling friend Pea and I planned another session just so I wouldn't spend $30 on one class.  (Good friends don't make their friends waste their money.)  We planned it for last night.  I was so stressed at the thought of going that I texted her to ask if it was bad of me to skip it entirely and forget trying to make my intro pass cost-effective.  She said she'd be happy to stay home and watch &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/glee/"&gt;Glee&lt;/a&gt;.  I agreed.  It was Lady Gaga night!  It was decided.  Glee vs. hot yoga.  Glee won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf came over instead and he had leftovers I had made for dinner.  I made a fab dish I learned from a Filipino lady I work with.  Kalabasa at Sitaw sa Gata = long beans and squash in divine and lovely coconut milk.  I added the divine and lovely.  You can add whatever meat you like, if you like.  I added mushrooms and prawns.  Drench over rice. Yum.  Google the recipe yourself because this one I'm not going to share (it's super easy anyway and not actually a secret).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sort-of complained that we never watch "television programs" together.  I laughed and said that I liked it when he talks like an old man.  So we watched Glee and then he wanted to watch his newly-discovered fav show:  &lt;a href="http://flightoftheconchords.co.nz/"&gt;Flight of the Conchords&lt;/a&gt;.  Fucking hilarious.  I &amp;hearts; Bret.  I like his floppy hair.  My bf is jealous because he does not have floppy hair.  He's thinking of growing it.  I think he's like Murray.  So I'll refer to him as Murray from now on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lessons learned today - Coconut milk makes me happy, watching television programs with your Murray is quite nice, I'm pretty lazy when it comes to yoga.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-5214582103768111413?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5214582103768111413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/5214582103768111413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/05/id-rather-stay-home-and-watch-glee.html' title='I&apos;d rather stay home and watch Glee.'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-1859627032394586879</id><published>2010-05-16T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T14:21:31.844-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bike riding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bicycles'/><title type='text'>Damn that Vigor</title><content type='html'>I have a confession.  I do not know how to ride a bike.  I know.  I'm not sure what happened during my childhood, I guess I was busy with other things - mud pies in the backyard, making bolero jackets from scraps of leather for Barbie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vaguely recall a banana seated bicycle with its intimidating red paint and the 2 inch thick tires mocking me to balance on.  I managed to ignore this childhood milestone.  The only time I couldn't ignore my inability was during elementary school Sports Days when there was the bicycle parade.  But in retrospect, I think I was more interested in the decorations, not the bicycle or cycling around. That part just seemed pointless.  I envied the pink and white crepe paper and shiny steamers that were on the bikes more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I knew it, the bicycle that mocked me had rusted into silence and was sent off to charity.  And the pink and white crepe paper parades were over.  And I turned 16.  So I learned how to drive first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my adult life now, obviously I'm very much a driver and I like my car.  I arrive at destinations on my terms and time schedule, and I can wear whatever I want.  I like having that sense of control.  No one tells me when I have to leave my house or else have to wait for another ride!  No one!  And if it's raining, I don't have to wear that dreaded Gortex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I met Murray.  He's outdoorsy and talks about nature and fresh air all the time.  He's drags me up and down mountains and forces me to take deep breaths when we are in the woods.  He likes to go for bike rides and swim in lakes.  Don't ask me how we ended up together, but we are.  And I'm grateful for him, taking me out of the mall and into the woods (sort of, sometimes).  So for us to continue to enjoy a variety of activities together (riding our bikes to the mall perhaps?), it's about time I learn how to ride a damn bike.  Now where does a grasshopper find a master?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Nej is the most avid cyclist I know.  She does not own a car, she often reaches vacation destinations by bicycle.  I envy Nej.  She has options.  This past Winter, we started discussing bike riding lessons.  It gave me enough emotional preparedness time to be ready for Spring and my first lesson - today.  *gulp*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Master Nej thought of everything.  She borrowed a bike and helmet (good friends don't let friends waste money), scouted out a location, prepared a lesson plan.  I knew I was in good hands.  It was my own lack of center of gravity that I was worried about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started with bike pedals removed and I was instructed to "ride" around pushing off the pavement with my feet.  Master Nej kept shouting "Vigor!, Vigor! Pedal with vigor!" Damn that vigor - it was due to lack of leg muscles.  I thought that was evident when we started.  I think she was a little perplexed.  How could someone be unable to push themselves around on a bike with no pedals?  Um, right here, right now.  C'est moi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a couple of hours of scuttling around, trying to find my balance, getting over my fear of speed, working on my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;vigor&lt;/span&gt;, Master Nej thought I was ready for pedals.  Great, just when I figured out how &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; to fall off, she's adding things that stick out and I have to put my feet on &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;without&lt;/span&gt; looking down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally figured it all out, I was...well, hard to explain how I felt.  I could only perversely equate the feeling to having sex for the first time.  You know, that moment when the deed is finally happening and you think “what the fuck is going on?” but you just keep going and it’s exhilarating and scary all at the same time.  Er, maybe that's just how I felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After almost 5 hours, Master Nej declared that I could ride a bike.  I wasn't as confident as she made it sound, but I was more than thrilled to accept her declaration.  Murray and I can ride to the mall now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned today - I know how to ride a bike!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-1859627032394586879?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1859627032394586879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/1859627032394586879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/05/damn-that-vigor.html' title='Damn that Vigor'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-6286000592806723567</id><published>2010-05-15T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T16:54:17.534-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hoarders'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hello Kitty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='studio apartments'/><title type='text'>It's about what it could become.</title><content type='html'>I was watching a show about hoarding and the woman with the problem was shopping in a craft store. She gushed about how cute something was and was tempted to buy it.  All the while, back at her house, she was dying under the load of crap she had been hoarding for years.  She said “it’s not about actually making the craft, it’s about buying the supplies, and I finished the last line with her – &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;it’s about what it could become.&lt;/span&gt;”  I actually gasped when I heard her echo.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never move from where I am.  I have an entire bedroom filled with craft supplies.  Instead of a bed, it has a dining room table that seats 12.  I admit, I might be a few things shy of being that lady on tv.   But the difference between her lunacy and mine is that I’m just more organized.  I’d prefer to think of my stuff as an &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;investment&lt;/span&gt; and my organization as a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;personal asset&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bf has realized that my organizational skills can be applied not only to my own crap, but to his crap too!  Aw, he noticed.  He’s recently moved into an apartment downtown.  Too bad all he could afford in his dream location was less than 450 sq feet.  Not bad actually, considering the real estate market here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it’s definitely not a hell of a lot of space, but it was a wonderful challenge.  I was exhilarated when he gave me free reign of his furniture and space.  After ordering him around to move stuff, slowly but surely the place was taking form and becoming a home he can enjoy, and one I don’t feel gross visiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of such little space makes me nervous.  What would I have to get rid of?  Where would I put my shoes?  Hell, where would I put my craft investments??  It made me seriously start to think about what I have acquired over the years.  I won’t get into my Hello Kitty phase.  I have probably bought enough Hello Kitty stuff to buy a car, put a down payment on a house, AND feed a small third world country.  I digress.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m an emotional hoarder.  I remember where, when, how much, what I was wearing, who I was with when I look at all the things I’ve bought over the years.  I know it has to stop, and I’ve been very good and not buying things lately.  It’s very difficult though.  There’s so much cute useless crap out there!!  So I'm giving my crap a new life and turning them into cute accessories.  It's a slow process with a lot of interruptions (my damn day-job, spending time with a bf, friends, family, exercising, eating, sleeping, my damn day-job...) but I love it when I do get into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lessons learned today - one can actually live quite nicely in less than 450 sq feet.  I have a lot of crap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-6286000592806723567?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6286000592806723567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/6286000592806723567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-all-about-what-it-could-become.html' title='It&apos;s about what it could become.'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-4690992569750297289</id><published>2010-05-14T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T17:30:06.317-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deodorant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zebra print bikini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='David Beckham'/><title type='text'>Excuse me sir, could you pass the zebra print?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TABaPI6RxbI/AAAAAAAAABc/yJgY1VXr9_4/s1600/david_beckham_armani_underwear.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 164px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TABaPI6RxbI/AAAAAAAAABc/yJgY1VXr9_4/s200/david_beckham_armani_underwear.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476476363018978738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a hot date Friday night.  Literally.  Sorry, bad joke.  Finally Pea and I went to hot yoga.  I didn’t mention it before, but the night the car died, we were first in the studio making phone calls to find someone to help with my car.  I couldn’t help notice a guy inside the yoga room who was stretching before the class (the one we were supposed to be attending).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the record state that I am very fond and attracted to my bf.  I was only checking out this guy because he was wearing very little clothing.  Don’t get excited now.  What he was wearing made me wonder - what the fuck goes on in a person’s head sometimes?!  Zebra print bikini.  Not a word of a lie.  He was serious about this &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ensemble&lt;/span&gt;.  It had neon in the print.  Fucking PANTIES and not a hint of irony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t mention him before because it was only for a moment and it was not a good moment!  But now, as I lay on my mat before class, who do I see but the SAME guy.  Keep in mind I actually never saw the guy’s face the last time.  Only his non-ironic panties.  Dare I be presumptuous to assume this was the same guy?  Oh I dared.  There can’t possibly be TWO lunatics who go to yoga at the same studio who choose to wear the same ridiculous panties.  How embarrassing would that be?  The two wackos show up at the same yoga class wearing the SAME zebra print panties?  Oh the horror.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about panties guy.  I will mention that he sweated so profusely that he left a pond on the floor and it confirmed he was wearing actual underwear.  After all that sweat, he left absolutely nothing to the imagination.  Have a little respect for your fellow warrior posers, buddy. Go out and buy yourself a pair of respectable and exercise-appropriate SHORTS.  Because the last thing I need to see is your SWEATY JUNK.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;*Om*.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;And just to add – I would have forgiven the whole thing if Zebra Panties resembled David Beckham in that Armani underwear ad.  But he didn’t.  And yes, it IS a cruel world solely based on looks.  So put some proper pants on for fuck sake!  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;*OM!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how was the actual yoga class?  It started out okay.  I think I only participated 50% of the time. The rest of the time I sat/laid there hoping it would be over soon.  The heat was bad enough, but the woman next me with her body odour did not help with the calm breathing I was supposed to be doing.  All that could get me through it was thinking about how I could write about this experience and warn all others how horrible it is. Save yourselves!  (Okay, all you haters that LOVE it, do what you like.  I just didn’t like it.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also to pass the time, I decided that hot yoga would be a perfect path to world peace.  Get the bad guys in a hot yoga room, and I don’t think there would be any war or crime ever again.  Needless to say, it was not a good experience. I actually cried at one point.  The crying actually felt better than anything else I was doing at that moment.  But I survived and now I can mock it all I want because I’ve tried it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lessons learned today – deodorant is more important than you think.  Silky underpants are definitely not acceptable in public.  Think about your fellow human. They see/smell more than you’ll ever know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-4690992569750297289?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4690992569750297289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/4690992569750297289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/05/excuse-me-sir-could-you-pass-on-zebra.html' title='Excuse me sir, could you pass the zebra print?'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DRnjB5Gyofk/TABaPI6RxbI/AAAAAAAAABc/yJgY1VXr9_4/s72-c/david_beckham_armani_underwear.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519259915400610013.post-3843221601519777899</id><published>2010-05-10T23:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T21:49:28.530-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jump starts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car batteries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot yoga'/><title type='text'>It's all about The Yoga</title><content type='html'>Everyone is all about The Yoga.  It’s not a typo; I’ve made it a proper name.  Where I live, if you aren’t joined up with some Yoga class, don’t own $500 worth of Yoga gear, haven’t gone through 2 Yoga mats, you just aren’t a citizen of The United Zen of Yoga.  Whatever.  I pay my taxes; I’m not an illegal immigrant!  I just don’t get The Yoga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not one to mock it until I try it.  So, I’ve tried it and I didn’t like it.  My yoga instructor couldn’t believe that someone my age was not flexible.  She said this to me when we were in the Impossible Pretzel pose (yes that’s the proper name for it).  Yeah because that’s &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; natural to everyone in my age group!  I can’t help it.  I’m not bendy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fast forward a few years later and now I’m still just as unbendy as the day I was failing the Impossible Pretzel pose.  However, after much encouragement (read: harassment), I’ve decide to give it a go again.  This time, I’ve decided to try Hot Yoga.  Apparently, it’s a new thing for all those poseurs who couldn’t get enough of regular room-temperature yoga.  Well, my acupuncturist said the heat would make me more flexible.  Talk about poseur, yeah, I said I have an acupuncturist.  So there all you Lululemon lemmings!  I have a guy, what do you have?  Expensive pants??  I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve recruited my dear friend Pea, and we have started our hot yoga routine (sans Lulu outfits).  So how’s it going you ask?  Er, I have the introductory pass in hand and know where the studio is.  The Yoga cosmos must be seriously out of line because I have attempted to attend twice now with no success!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Pea and I have major scheduling issues.  Pea has the luxury of no day job right now and has been enthralled in the life of a university student.  We finally picked a date and time.  She calls me 10 minutes before the class to say she is stuck in traffic.  She doesn’t understand what rush-hour is anymore.  I forgive her.  Besides, it’s not like I was dying to namaste my ass into gear for 1.5 hours in a 40 degree room with 90 of my closest, sweaty, poseur friends.  So no big deal, we try again the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second attempt and we were more prepared.  We even carpooled – how eco &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; zen of us!  I stopped for gas and when we were on our way to nirvana – the car wouldn’t start.  The dials in my car made these flicky, poltergeist-possessed motions that prompted us to immediately jump out of the car and go for help.  Hello, not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lovely clerk in the gas station was nice enough to have a look and determined we just needed a jump-start.  Now I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, even though we’ve just met, but I don’t know the first thing about cars.  Well, I know how to operate one, put gas in it when it says to, and take it to the mechanic when they send me that cute notice in the mail.  My equally diva-princess friend Pea, on the other hand was surprisingly all over the jumper cables and popping the hood and all that stuff!  Love her more now!  She claims all that info is in the car’s manual.  I have no idea where my manual is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newly pumped with electricity, the car takes us on our way to yoga.  By the time we get to the parking lot, the car DIES while it’s running.  Now I said I knew nothing about cars, but that much I know is bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ditched another attempt at yoga to focus on getting home with my dead car.  Pea was kind enough to flag down strangers in the parking lot, asking for a jump-start.  Meanwhile, I was on the phone trying to get a hold of a friend in the neighbourhood.  She returned from her mission in deep despair.  “Everyone said no!  They actually refused!”  Duh, secretly I already knew that no one would help, so that’s why I didn’t bother.  Poor Pea, her rose-coloured view of life thought people would be nice and rush to our distress.  Hellz no, that’s why I was on the phone with someone I knew wouldn’t say no!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend wasn’t really available, so my bf came to the rescue.  I think it makes him feel good when I don’t know what I’m talking about and he gets to be the man and fix things with a wrench and bang on things that I’m worried he’s going to break and he gets to tell me how silly I’m being and he knows what he’s doing.  We eventually made it all home safe and sound (well, except my car that has a dead battery).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lessons learned today – always have jumper cables stored in your car (they don’t come standard), strangers aren’t always helpful, so make sure you have available friends on speed dial.  And three times a charm for my road to bendiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/519259915400610013-3843221601519777899?l=mimiharvey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/3843221601519777899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/519259915400610013/posts/default/3843221601519777899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mimiharvey.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-all-about-yoga_10.html' title='It&apos;s all about The Yoga'/><author><name>mimi harvey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10271516620212909756</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
