No High Heels, Please

Nicole's article about noisy neighbors finally saw the light of day at the SF Chronicle, and it's better than even we remember it, whenever the heck that was. Our fact-checkers and librarians are off for the holiday so we can't be sure, but careful readers will find a clue that it has been at least 5 months since this baby was submitted.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, as the case may be) this particular problem is timeless, so the Chron could have waited until next New Year's Eve to print it. Even as the lives which play out in apartments change the apartments themselves remain unaltered windows -- make that sound tunnels -- to other people's worlds.

I once lived in a tiny SoHo apartment, an illegal sublet, which made me even more self-conscious about rousting neighbors who may have been in a position to scotch my sweet deal. And in a perverse reversal of the power dynamic Nicole beautifully describes, it was my downstairs neighbor who held sway.

I was religious in my aversion to making noise. I listened to no music. I watched TV from about 2 feet away (it was a small apartmet, anyway). I never wore shoes indoors and, unlike Nicole, didn't have to make any compromises about not even wearing high heels. I had no pets. For a long time, it was me and only me who lived there.

All was well, for months. But I worked late often and often stayed out even later and one night I came home to find in the stairwell (it was a 6-storey walkup) the daughter of the apartment below making out with a guy from the hood. It was about 3 a.m. Days later I ran into mom, who excoriated me for making noise all the time. I was dumbfounded (more than usual), inviting her by default to elaborate. Her daughter couldn't sleep and was missing school (or work, I forget) because of all of my damn noise keeping her up.

Still dumbfounded, we parted with me mumbling something about being sorry and not making noise anymore (remember, I was there on borrowed time). Then it dawned on me: daughter was staying out late, making out with guys, and mom knew nothing about it. When cornered about not being able to wake up in the morning, lack of sleep from the noisy upstairs neighbor became a convenient and believable explanation, assuming (as I did) mom was a heavy sleeper or hard of hearing (remember, she complained on behalf of her daughter, never herself).

We managed an uneasy truce, me and the old lady downstairs (I usually kill with old ladies), but she exacted some evil revenge on the day I moved out. She reported it to the landlord, who then was able to confront the legitimate tenant from whom I was subletting, blowing his cover.

Wait -- this wasn't all about Nicole? My bad.

I Know What You Did Last Summer, Finally

Huge backlog over at the Chron must be the reason they are only now printing Nicole's 2007 summer essay about cooking in her brother's tiny Greek apartment. Hell, even he's not there anymore -- rumor has it Kurt is all salty dog up in Maine which, come to think of it, may not be that far from Greece after all.

Anyway, we love the bit about cooking in the sink. Yes, the sink.

Happy St. Basil's Day

There's the author herself, with dad, bro and mom (r-l).

For the Director's Cut, check out cucinanicolina.

You Think You Have It Tough

Just in time for Thanksgiving, Nicole has revealed her secrets to throwing a dinner party for 15 people in a 6 x 8 room with a table that seats six and chairs for only seven. For her next trick ...

It's a bit of a departure for her Home & Garden column in The Chron (it tops the "Home" section) because not all of the advice is entirely serious.

Consider moving: While we're on the subject of dishes, it's perfectly acceptable to move to a new apartment solely on the basis of its having a dishwasher.

I've always thought that, but have never had the guts to say it out loud.

Make sure there's enough wine: This is most important, as it ensures you'll laugh off any kitchen disasters and that you'll sail through the cleanup without a care at the end of the evening.

That is downright Galloping Gourmet.

Prepare for last-minute RSVPs: If your beautiful wooden dining table is large enough to sit six, perhaps it would be wise to ask just six, rather than 10, guests to the feast.

And even if they all do show up, you have all that wine to sail through finding them all plates without a care.

Anyway, I think our hostess is playing a support role this year, so you won't find her in the kitchen quite as much. But I'm sure there will be plenty of wine.

Pets with a Purpose

You want worms. Red ones. Lots of them. Trust me.

Nicole's latest Chronicle column answers the question that loomed large when she wrote two months ago about gardening in your apartment: where you gonna get all that rich dirt you need to grow tomatoes on your window sill?

The answer is worms. About 1,000 will do.

They don't take up much space, you don't have to clean up after them (that is kind of the point) and they subsist on a diet of vegan scraps that, in San Francisco, would otherwise become part of the three tons of used food collected every day and processed at a commercial compost facility outside Vacaville (love the sound of that town's name).

If you are in Bay area check out the the print version of Nicole's article, which is framable, we hear -- it takes up the whole back page of the House and Garden section, on page on F - 8.

Nicole, Redesigned

Well, her site is anyway. No reason to tamper with perfection.

After a long period of contemplation and the press of higher priorities nicolespiridakis.com has undergone a complete makeover (no way was I going to use that word in the headline.)

Gone is the iconic picture in the borrowed shirt, replaced with a graceful headshot (used here without permission, as usual).

Speaking of photos, the landing page is a nicely staged shot of one of Nicole's many SF Chron articles -- you know she has a monthly column there called "Common Walls?"

But our favorite page is "clips." There are lots and lots of them, and room for more. Get on it, girl!

If You Want Her, She'll Be In The Closet

We wonder if Nicole needs to phone ahead for reservations anymore, or if Barry Bonds wants to be photographed with her, or if it's starting to get a little creepy for Gavin Newsome to keep dropping by because "I just happened to be in the neighborhood?"

Not that we think she should stop writing. And neither does the Chron, which today publishes Nicole's latest column about life as a renter in San Francisco. We can't get enough of these. So keep it up. And just tell the mayor when he drunk dials you that you can't hear the doorbell in your closet. Office.

Apparently You Can Go Home Again

peepsNet did not see this one coming, which makes it an extra delicious treat.

How better than to start off a new month than a little Nicole read?

It's A Good Thing

She's at it again.

No, not squandering her feminist inheritance (well, maybe a little -- but it's worth it) but spreading a bit of renter wisdom in the pages of the Chron and its site.

We are looking forward to tear-inducing prose when Nicole goes to Greece later this month. Really. Expectations are high. Really high. And pictures -- we'll want lots of pictures.

A Pattern Starts to Form

It will never get boring but it is nice to have Nicole's byline appearing in the San Francisco Chronicle becoming routine.

Spring is in the Air! Finally!

Nicole's second article for the San Francisco Chronicle is in today's Home & Garden section.

The story behind the story is pretty interesting: Nic wrote this last Autumn.

Like a fine wine, The Chron will serve no story before its time.

Today, H&G -- Tomorrow ... ?

This is where she'll be

Yeah, Iraq is disintegrating, the White House is leaking memos like there is no tomorrow (see: Iraq is disintegrating), people that outwardly seem to have no mental defects are already running for president and there was this story on the TV tonight about rats figuring out how to eat their way into FEMA trailers parked in Jefferson Parish.

We're not interested in small stuff like that on peepsNet.

Nicole has been offered a monthly column by the Home and Garden editor at the San Francisco Chronicle. Her beat will be the trials and tribulations of the renter in San Francisco.

Regular readers of peepsNet know that Nicole has already been published in the Chron. She has also pitched two other pieces that were accepted but haven't yet run and has generally been making a nuisance of herself -- you know what I'm talking about -- that the folks there must have thought well, she isn't going away so we better give her what she wants.

Smart move, Chronicle. Where do I subscribe?

Nicole, on a Roll

The Chronicle's Home & Garden section has greenlighted another story by Nicole, on rooftop gardens in San Francisco.

No word yet on her deadline or when it will appear in print.

Nicole Spiridakis, Special to The Chronicle

Nicole has an article in the San Francisco Chronicle! (We in the business call it The Cron. Oh yeah.)

She's been pitching them story ideas like a utility daily reliever and hit with a piece on upsizing from a studio to a one-bedroom, and negotiating the straits of decorating for two.

The Chron sent a photographer and the piece is adorned by four pictures. She is in two of them and looks happy in both. Michael is in the same two and looks happy in only one. Of course, in the one where he looks a little distressed she is lighting some very unmanly lavender candles. (Hang tough there, Michael: next thing you know there will be purple towels in the bathroom and "no room" for your New Guinea art.)

This is the second article about Nicole in a major metropolitan newspaper. Shortly before she left DC the Washington Times profiled Nicole's legendary hostess talents in an article headlined "Elbowroom," about entertaining in small spaces. She didn't write that one, and it shows.

We expect the new expanses at Nicole's disposal will only enhance her ability to make guests feel warm and welcome and sorry to leave.

On a housekeeping note: unless the rest of you guys start getting a lot more interesting this space is going to turn into the Nicole Spiridakis News Service.