*economic futility.

This week's Things That Appeal To My Bizarre and Often Questionable Sense of Gadgetry and Knickknackery comes a day late and so, so many dollars short. This week has been unquestionably marked, carrying with it a pall of disappointment and fear.

Good news:

1. STILL EMPLOYED.
2. Finally hopped on board the Twitter train, allowing me to indulge in even more voyeuristic time-killing activities (suck on it, Facebook).
3. STILL EMPLOYED.
4. J has, due to non-use of heat on the Woodside, been ridiculously snuggly.

Bad news:

1. Formerly brilliant red/orange/yellow-green fallness outside my window has deteriorated to sagging brown levels.
2. Meeting with New York Honcho who decides our magazine's fate was peppered with "I really can't tell you" and "I can't promise you anything" and "[XYZ] is your title? What [the fuck] is that?" Luckily, my job didn't seem to stump him, though my attempt to deliver it confidently and without stuttering? FAIL. And I wasn't even intimidated by this joker. Just forced to be coherent before 10:27 am.
3. Co-pays go up 50% next year.
4. JLB is in the emergency room in New York and I'm worried for her. Nothing life-threatening, but we need to get her home, stat.

On balance, that puts my mood firmly hovering somewhere between "Meh. Whatever," and "Ooh! I found a quarter!"

I'd love to sneak into Online Editor's office for peanut-butter-cup pilfering, but maybe I should just get some of these.



The election collection is timely, but those itty bitty Thanksgiving birds are just too cute. I won't be eating any pea-brain poultry this holiday, but I can make an exception for truffled turkeys.

But with the death of 2008 comes the need to add to my list of resolutions I have no intention of keeping. And though my attempts at "healthy eating" are more along the lines of remembering that an entire sleeve of Thin Mints tastes a lot better than it feels, I think this could help.



I love Heidi's recipes, in part because they're sneaky. They manage to sound and look delicious, whilst containing old childhood enemies like butternut squash. Only she could get me to eat pumpkin seeds AND LIKE IT.

I also like this.



A lot. I would kill that green green grass before you can spell "pesticide personified," and I'm pretty sure J would (ahem) make it his own, but I appreciate the concept of a snooty umbrella stand getting a modern comeuppance.

Speaking of snobbishness, were I a person of either style or substance, I would have to have this.



It's called the "editor's suitcase," which I believe qualifies it as having my name written all over it.

As do these.



I can see loads of them filling up L Sis's china cabinet. Because her favorite color is red and her cabinet is Danishly Modern, not because she's a lush. Sheesh.

Why did no one tell me this happened?



The second I married myself to the notion of the Dijon Le Creuset, they went and made a set in that incredible cadet blue/gray. Of course, now that I think about it, a mixed bunch would be DIVINE. All right then, it's decided. I'll take both.

I want both of these, too.



I tend to think salt-and-pepper shakers trend too much toward silly and/or boring, but I like that these are low-profile and fun.

Unlike this, which is gilt and lovely and girly.



Regardless of my penchant for leaving dishes in the sink for a period of time usually reserved for elephant gestation, I think I need more plates. Especially when they're delicate and free-form and Tiffany blue.

But let's be frank. I am not, in fact, girly. I am wearing a dress and sitting Indian style right now, like a kindergartner. And because I have been on a hunt for the perfect lunchbox, I was overjoyed to discover this.



It's so "I superglued my hard hat to this here steel beam," don't you think?

I'm grateful to have a place to bring my lunch every day. A place that continues to supply me with mortgage payments, at least for now. And you can help. BUY PRINT.

Then put it in here.



Because if you're going to do a good deed, you deserve to buy yourself something pretty.