Karl Lagerfeld reflecting on why he doesn’t keep pets

“They die so I don’t like them. The drama is I had two I really liked and after they died I don’t want another one. That’s too depressing.”

The cut

Garrison Keillor remembering Sinclair Lewis on Lewis’s Birthday, February 7th

“….Lewis walked up to Mencken and Nathan, put his arms around their shoulders and tightly around their necks, and began yelling at the top of his voice that he was the best writer in the country and that he’d just written the best book in the country, to be published in a week — and being critics, the two of them should duly take note of this. He went on like this at high volume for about half an hour, and when Mencken and Nathan finally escaped, they went to a pub to decompress and concluded that he was an idiot. But Mencken read the book anyway, and was bowled over by it.

The book was Main Street (1920), about a fictional small town in Minnesota called Gopher Prairie, a place inhabited by “a savorless people, gulping tasteless food, and sitting afterward, coatless and thoughtless, in rocking-chairs prickly with inane decorations, listening to mechanical music, saying mechanical things about the excellence of Ford automobiles, and viewing themselves as the greatest race in the world.”

The writers almanac

Diane von Furstenberg at the CFDA’s Health and Wellness panel on the modeling industry encouraging young girls to be models in the first place:

“Not everybody can be a model. It doesn’t matter how skinny you are,” she said. “I think [agents] should be honest and say, ‘You are beautiful and everything, but you will never be a model.’ You know? And it’s okay. You can be something else rather than,  ‘If you starve you’ll become a model.’”

the cut

and on a personal note..My dear friend Jill talking me down after a bruising day with the Conrad

“You know what that asshole-ness means? That you are such a good mom that he feels so secure and so loved he can be a total dick to you.”

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 8th, 2012 at 10:05 pm and is filed under Random acts of mothering. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.