Pooing fabric.

As discussion of one cultural zeitgeist came to an end last night--it was our last "What is Modernism?" class through the UT Odyssey program, and I must disappointingly admit that I walked out of the door with exactly zero new insights on modernism--a new cultural zeitgeist was born. Or rather, renewed.

Project Runway, welcome back to my life.

Welcome back Tim, who is wonderful and sincere; Michael, who is slightly less orange-looking; Nina, sour and underwhelmed as ever; and Heidi, not pregnant for the first time since season 1. The gang's all here. Here's who I love so far: the tall skinny blond guy and the fat guy. I mostly love the fat guy because, despite the editors' best efforts to make him the "Boing! This guy doesn't belong!" character, he turned out a really stunning dress. You go, guy who makes salad-themed dresses sometimes!


In other, non-fabric-related news, today is my parents' anniversary. They were married less than three months when they found out they were preggers with me. It kinda wrapped up a hell of a whirlwind year for them: met in the spring, married in the fall, pregnant the next spring. It was the 70s, so maybe that was de rigour, though it strikes me, of the post-Mary Tyler Moore generation, as pretty quick. Anyway, those quirky kids have been married for 32 years; they've been married longer than they were single. Weird when you can start to balance your life like that.