Dank U, Sinterklaasje!

There are a lot of perqs to being married to a Dutch man. One of them is traveling to the Netherlands to visit family and friends. One of them is eating a lot of black licorice. And one of them is ushering in the holiday season by celebrating St. Nicholas' Day in early December. Yesterday we had a houseful of family and close friends enjoying tasty food and surprises from Sinterklaas.

In Holland, Sinterklaas is a children's holiday. Parents write poems and prepare specially-wrapped surprises (pronounced the Dutch way, sur-PREE-suhs) for the good little children, who have spent weeks anticipating St. Nicholas's arrival. One of J's favorite childhood surprises was a large facsimile of an American half-dollar coin made out of cardboard, given to him on the last Sinterklaas before his family moved to the United States. He still has it, more than 30 years later.

Eleven Eleven

I am not going to go into the reasons why, but 11/11 is a special day for J and me and so 11/11/11 could not be allowed to pass without something special to mark the day. We decided to go up to Portland to visit with friends and family members and take care of some errands as well.

It was such a fun day, filled with so many different experiences that it would be impossible to pick a favorite. We had lunch with my brother's family (minus my brother) and found it difficult to leave the cozy and welcoming atmosphere of their home. We visited both Rejuvenation and Hippo Hardware in search of a doorbell. I know Rejuvenation does lovely work and gets a ton of national press, but a visit to Hippo Hardware is an adventure in itself. By late afternoon we found our chilled and slightly damp selves ensconced at the bar of Huber's, warming up with the help of their Spanish coffee. This is something we never, ever do -- hang out at a bar, chatting and bothering the bartender -- but it was just the right thing that afternoon. If you like Spanish coffee (or any combination of coffee and booze) and you haven't been to Huber's, you are missing out.

Speaking of Distractions...

This may be the best apple pie I have made in my life. And I have made a lot of pie.



Why was it so good, you ask? Well, let me tell you.

I'm Ba-ack!

So the first thing that distracted me from the interwebs was our two-week trip to the Netherlands, 'way back in June. We (J, his mother, and I) were invited to celebrate an aunt's milestone birthday so we seized the opportunity to spend time with family members and friends, some of whom we hadn't seen since our last trip to NL. Which was... last century.

Here's J with just a few of his beautiful cousins. See the family resemblance?

And here's J's mom (second from right) with her sisters:

















We also visited with J's "second mom," a close family friend who aided and abetted their move to the USA in 1979. Thanks, Jolien!

















We walked around a number of fortified cities, including Gorinchem, Middelburgh, Heusden, and Zaltbommel. We crossed big rivers on little ferries.

















We ate. A lot. Including my first herring (gross!).







































It was cold and rainy almost the whole time, but it cleared up enough one day for a leisurely bike ride through the countryside.


















We spent the last three days in Haarlem, where we attended an organ concert at the cathedral and discovered the Teyler Museum. Most wonderful.







































And did I mention? There were a lot of lovely shoes.

See What Happens?

You give the blog a cutesy, winter-y name, and then you have to stick it in the closet when the weather warms up...

Travel Wardrobe

Spring weather has finally arrived and it's time to start looking forward to our summer travels. This year we are taking a spontaneous trip to the Netherlands to visit J's extended family and childhood friends, in honor of his aunt's birthday. (I won't say how old she is, because J's mom will be the next in her family to reach this milestone. But it's a big one).

The first time I visited my husband's native country I was a new bride on my first-ever trip to Europe. The year was 1992. My wardrobe included tapered black jeans, baggy sweatshirts, white leather sneakers, and a puffy winter coat to brave the icy winds off the North Sea. Photographic evidence suggests that on the night of the family party I dressed up in a red wool sweater (size XL, no doubt) and a pair of pleated khakis, plus Birkenstocks. I remember feeling very much the odd girl out among J's stylish, sylph-like cousines, who laughed over their discovery that the American word for braid (as in "French braid") resembled the Dutch word for "fat." Ha... ha?

My next visit to the Netherlands was altogether different. By August of 1998 I had been living abroad for several years. I had learned three new languages and my colloquial Dutch had improved to the point where I could follow a conversation. Alas, my wardrobe had not improved at all. Although I don't recall a single item of clothing I wore on that particular trip, I know that my closet at the time contained elastic-waist knit pants and bleached jeans, shapeless jumpers, and a lot of Habitat for Humanity t-shirts in size XL. Oh, plus Birkenstocks.

Our upcoming trip is our longest visit yet, and the challenge will be to pack all of the necessisities in a carry-on bag. In addition to family gatherings there will be bicycle rides, museum visits, and meals with friends. If spring in the Netherlands is anything like spring in Oregon, I will need to be able to layer up for warmth and wet weather.

I'm already ahead of the curve this time, a grown woman with a wardrobe of clothing that both fits and flatters me. Dark jeans: check. Cardigan: check. Cute summer dress: check. Birkenstocks: nope -- I don't own a single pair.

Mothers & the Archives

Having just typed the last edits into my last project of the semester, I am suddenly  free of obligations for the moment. Of course, the apartment needs to be cleaned, and I have meetings to plan for...but I feel like completing my first year of graduate school merits a few minutes of unrepentant reflection. I thought I would share a story from work earlier this week. It was one of those moments that reminded my why I'm in graduate school, why I want to be an archivist, and how sometimes it only takes a little effort to make a stranger's day brighter.

On Monday morning, I was on the reference desk, as I typically am. It was a slightly busy, but not overwhelming morning. I was beginning to feel the cold that hit me later in the week, but the sun was shining and it definitely felt like spring. A woman, who I might estimate to be in her 60s (though I am notoriously bad at estimating age), approached the desk in the tentative manner of a first-time visitor. She started to tell me what records she was interested in seeing, and while she was talking, her eyes began to tear. I opened my mouth to ask if she was okay, and she said she was sorry-- her mother had been a member of the group whose records she was requesting....and her mother had died last month. I know how this lady felt. I have stood in her shoes many times-- trying to complete a routine task, being reminded of my mother, and turning into a quivering mess of tears in front of a stranger. 

I told her it was okay and that I understood because I too had lost a mother a long time ago. This is a personal detail I would never usually share behind the reference desk, and am sure that I have not even told my colleagues at work. I think sometimes, though, we have to be generous with our grief if it will allow us to connect with another person. I managed to determine which records she wanted to see, she was hoping to find traces of her mothers name in the group's activities. A few minutes after she started reviewing the first carton, she came out of the reading room to get me. What she showed me were minutes taken at a group meeting in the 1950s-- they were written in her mother's handwriting. It was such an unexpected find, and she was both excited and teary. I made a photocopy of the minutes for her to take to her mother's memorial service. She told me that her mother had Alzheimer's for the last ten years of her life. Now that her mother was gone, she was hoping to become re-acquainted with the brilliant woman she knew that her mother once was. She will be back during the summer to look for more evidence of her mother in the records.

I thoroughly enjoy my job, and it is rewarding to be able to help researchers on a daily basis. But the experience I had on Monday morning was different. It was a reminder that the records archivists so carefully arrange and preserve are not just historical documents, but they are records of individual lives. Maybe I am overly sentimental, but there was something magical about this lady finding her mother's handwriting in a carton at the archives. Traces of our loved ones are everywhere, even at the archives.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, a day I will studiously avoid by going to meetings, cleaning the apartment, and grocery shopping. But, when the strands of my heart begin to tighten, as they inevitably will, I can remember that my mother is much closer than she seems. I can also remember the lady I met on Monday morning, who will celebrate her first Mother's Day without her mother. But, perhaps her pain will be tempered by reading the words her mother wrote a lifetime ago.

Alterations

I just spent half an hour altering the sleeves on my husband's bathrobe.

We bought this robe for him during the holiday sales, to replace one he had inherited from me several years ago. The average consumer might not realize that men's bathrobes tend to be vast, one-size-fits-all garments that most decidedly do NOT fit a 38 regular. To be fair, I would guess that the larger end of the spectrum is similarly marginalized. This microfiber robe was the best fit we could find for him without spending more than $50 on a bathrobe. Or picking another one from the women's department. (I would not have hesitated, but they were all pink or red and/or leopard print this past year).

From the time of the purchase, my husband has politely asked if I could alter the voluminous sleeves of this robe. Since he usually asks while he's making my morning latte I know that the sleeves wreak havoc, getting caught on cabinet knobs and sweeping small spoons off the kitchen counter.

It's not as if I am a stranger to alterations. I have sewn countless garments for myself and others, and have lengthened (or shortened) my fair share of hems. But I have dragged my feet for months; it's sort of a "stirring the peanut butter" thing for me. I knew it would be messy because of the fuzzy fibers. I worried that I would make a mistake, and somehow ruin this inexpensive, ill-fitting bathrobe.

He asked again this past Saturday, so today I cleared off the sewing table and sat down to do it. It was messy, that's for sure; I felt like I was doing surgery on a teddy bear. I had to drag out the vacuum cleaner -- for the second time in a week! -- to clean up the fibers. And it isn't perfect. The fabric was so bulky it messed up the tension on the sewing machine, and I could point out the loose stitches if you wanted to see them.

But he won't notice them. He might not even realize that the deed is done until next Saturday, when those sleeves don't get in the way of our coffee.

What to Wear for the Royal Wedding?

Pajamas. Yes, I am sleeping through this one, 100% convinced that anything I might gain from watching the wedding will be just as valid in the replay as it is in the live version.

If it's any consolation, they're my dressiest pajamas.

Something Out of Nothing

Our book group recently read The Faith Club, a collaboration between an Islamic woman, a Jewish woman, and a Christian woman who were searching for answers within their faiths after the events of September 11th, 2001. The women met regularly and worked through their stereotypes and misconceptions of their own and each others' faiths while exploring the common links between these major world religions.

I lost interest in the book fairly early on, when it became clear to me that none of these women had taken the time to study and explore her own faith tradition. This lack of knowledge enabled them to embrace the "feel good" portions of their religions while discarding anything that made them uncomfortable. Since I sort of think that the whole point of religion is to make you uncomfortable, I was hoping for more from them and from the book.

The positive result of reading this book is that it made me curious to learn more about the culture of Islam. With a minor in religious studies, I am vaguely familiar with the basics of Islamic doctrine, but I have never heard much of the stories and music of the Muslim world. It helped that a couple of local women have written engaging books on the subject.

The first book I read was Shadow Spinner by Susan Fletcher, a young adult novel which takes the famous tale of Shahrazade and embroiders it with the engaging characters and vivid scenery of ancient Persia. Everyone has heard Shahrazade's famous tales of Aladdin and Ali Baba, but who has paused to wonder how the young herione of 1,001 Arabian Nights learned all of those stories in the first place? Although the plot sort of falls apart at the end of the novel, it's a quick and rewarding read.

The second book I read was Crescent by Diana Abu-Jaber. Set in turn-of-the-(21st)-century Los Angeles, the story focuses on Sirine, the daughter of an Iraqi father and an American mother. Sirine's parents were aid workers who died when she was a child; since then she has lived with her bachelor-professor uncle and inhabited his world of Middle Eastern academics while making a living cooking at a Lebanese cafe. Perhaps inevitably, Sirine falls for Hanif, an Iraqi exile who teaches Arabic literature at UCLA. Their love story is observed and complicated by a plethora of characters including Sirine's co-workers at the restaurant and Hanif's students and fellow faculty members.

My favorite part of this book was the interwoven tale narrated by Sirine's uncle, following the fantastical exploits of one Abdelrahman Salahadin as he falls under the spell of a mermaid, is pursued by his mother, and ends up... well, I don't want to give it away. Let's just say that my favorite movie unexpectedly plays a minor role in the story.

Based on these two very engaging books, I am looking forward to seeking out more literature that focuses on Middle Eastern culture.

Archivist Fashion in Providence, RI

Yesterday was the spring meeting for the New England Archivists (NEA) in Providence, Rhode Island. Three of my friends and I took the train to Providence on Friday evening. We went to a cute restaurant near Brown University (the meeting site), and then spent all day Saturday at the meeting. The program was excellent, and we looked fabulous.

In fact, the weekend turned out remarkably well considering that, as an April Fool's joke from Mother Nature, it snowed in Boston on Friday. It did not snow a lot, but any snow is too much snow for April. I must say that I was not prepared for the snow. I wore flats, and my umbrella broke. By the time I arrived at the train station on Friday to meet the girls, I was looking (and feeling) rather bedraggled.

I managed to pull myself together on Saturday (which was a beautiful, sunny day) and wore one of my new Ann Taylor blouses (one of two that I purchased on extra clearance). It is a long-sleeved, button up, navy blue blouse with ruffle detail along the neck and buttons. A gorgeous material, cotton-silk blend, was both comfortable and warm for the day. I paired the blouse with a khaki skirt and my gray suede pumps. A small gold necklace with tiny flowers (my sixteenth birthday present from Aunt Sue) was the finishing touch.

One of the best things about archivist meetings are the vendor tables where they have all kinds of goodies. I managed to snag a gold pencil and a silver pencil as well as two miniature boxes: one that would be used for moving books or manuscript collections, and an archival Hollinger box. Score!

Although the girls and I were exhausted by the end of the day, we learned a lot, met some interesting people, and were able to relax. A quick pizza dinner in Providence, and we caught the evening train home to Boston where Pablo and George (husband and cat) were waiting with hugs.


Since we hadn't seen each other all day Friday or Saturday, Pablo and I went for an ice cream date this afternoon. He had coconut chip ice cream in a waffle cone, and I had strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone. Even though it is a bit windy outside, the day is sunny and fairly warm. We sat on a bench in Brookline, held hands, and ate our ice cream. All in all, a lovely weekend.


Happy April, welcome spring... and the here I go for the last month of school!

A Monday Evening Respite: Breakfast at Tiffany's

First of all, let me begin by apologizing for my prolonged absence from writing. This semester has been hectic, to say the least. But, rest assured, I still insist on carrying my overly-full book bag and my polka dot lunch bag while wearing two inch heels. This is a sure sign that I still have things relatively under control.

Last Monday evening, Pablo and I took a much-needed respite from our overbooked schedules to see the 50th Anniversary screening of Breakfast at Tiffany's at the Coolidge Corner Theater in Brookline. This is an independent movie theater run by a non-profit organization. It was originally built as a church in 1906 and was "re-designed as an art deco movie palace in 1933." I cannot think of a more appropriate venue to see Audrey on the big screen.

If there was ever any doubt about Audrey's star-quality, seeing her on the big screen would surely erase these doubts. She was stunning in every scene. One of my favorite scenes is the last scene of the movie when she is sitting in the taxi by herself looking at the prize ring from the Cracker Jack box that she and George Peppard had engraved at Tiffany's. It is pouring rain, and Audrey runs out of the taxi to look for her "poor, no name cat." She finds the cat and turns to look at George Peppard... and they kiss in the pouring rain.

During the movie, I laughed, I cried, and I had a wonderful time. Even Pablo, who is not quite as big of an Audrey fan as I am, thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Can you believe that I almost decided to study instead of going?

Uninspired

What is is about the end of February that makes it so difficult to get excited about style (or anything)? Even though we haven't had such a hard winter over here on the Left Coast, I am longing for the sun and tired of wearing the same winter wardrobe day after day. Brown pants, black pants, denim skirt with tights... *yawn*. On one hand, I am pleased to have a reasonably sized selection of clothing. On the other hand, I am so ready for a change.

The only moderately interesting fashion choice I've had to make recently revolves around the fund-raising auctions that seem to crop up at this time of year. We have already been to two of these events -- including one last Saturday -- and there's a third on the horizon this weekend, a benefit for the non-profit where I work. Attending two charity events on back-to-back weekends in the same smallish town presents a unique fashion challenge. I know that I will see many of the same people at both events, and I also need to look fabulous at both events, for different reasons.

Last Friday, the day before the Habitat dinner, I totally scored a little black dress from the clearance rack at Target. Voila!

I wore this to the dinner with black stockings, black heels, and a velvet trimmed grey cardigan from H&M. While I wasn't as warm as I might have liked, I felt great about how I looked -- for the first time in ages. Because it's so simple the dress is very versatile and can be styled to wear to work later on (with red shoes?).

Best of all, by wearing this little number, I was able to save the distinctive dress I bought a few weeks ago for the event this coming Saturday. I can't find a photo of it online, but I'll post one this weekend.

To Catalog or to Bake? A Libray School Dilemma

I was celebrating having President's Day off by working my cataloging homework. Sometime later, while agonizing about whether or not a certain author has an OCLC authority record and how to punctuate publication information, my brain said, "wouldn't you rather be baking?" What was I to do?

Abandon the computer and make chocolate chip cookies of course!

I only had half a bag of chocolate chips left from my chocolate chip banana bread, but I also had half a bag of white baking chips left over from my Christmas peppermint bark. Feeling adventurous after abandoning my punctuation dilemma (hmm... forward slash or semicolon?), I decided to make dark & white chocolate chip cookies. Walnuts are my go-to nut for cookies, but with only a teensy-weensy supply, it hardly seemed worth the effort of chopping. I dug through the cabinet a bit more (I am sans step stool, so this process involves me perching on the counter on my knees and burying my head in the cabinet) and found a bag of pecans. Perfect! The first batch just came out of the oven...delicious.

Dark and White Chocolate Chip Cookies with Pecans

2 ¼ cups all purpose, unbleached flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup softened butter (unsalted)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 eggs
6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips
6 oz. white baking chips (see this note about choosing white chocolate)
1 cup chopped pecans (I broke the pecans into small pieces, which worked just as well).

Pre-heat oven to 375°. Sift together flour, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl and set aside. Combine brown sugar, granulated sugar, softened butter, and vanilla; beat until smooth and creamy. Add eggs and beat until mixture becomes lightly colored and fluffy. Add dry ingredients and mix well. Stir in semi-sweet and white chocolate chips and nuts. Drop dough by rounded teaspoonfuls onto non-greased cookie sheets. Bake 8-10 minutes. Refrigerate remaining dough while cookies bake. Yield approximately 2 dozen cookies.

After the first batch of cookies is ready, put the electric tea kettle to boil (you don't want to scald your tongue on melted chocolate). Enjoy a cookie with your choice of tea. I chose Trader Joe's Dutchess Grey.

Stylish Lunch Bags for a Girl-on-the-Go

I have high expectations for my lunch bags. They must be both cute and durable. I tried using those gift bags you receive when shopping, but my water bottle inevitably spilled or my fork punched a hole in the bottom. Either way, the result was a ruined lunch bag.

Several Christmases ago, my Aunt Lynne gave me a wonderful lunch bag. She purchased it at the British Museum gift shop, and it has an Egyptian motif. I have carried it almost every day since. It folds flat for storage, it can be washed with a damp sponge, and it is easy to carry. In short, an almost perfect match for the 'cute and durable' criteria, especially because it carries my water bottle and tea cup and still leaves room for lunch.

Being so well-loved, this poor lunch bag is being to wear around the edges, and I fear for its eventual demise. Also, it is not insulated, and I am only in one place long enough to refrigerate my lunch perhaps twice a week. For Valentine's Day, Pablo surprised me with a new, insulated, polka dot,  lunch bag that he picked out himself. I'm a lucky lady! It would not be a stretch to say that I adore everything about this lunch bag. It has a zipper, it is a great color, it has polka dots, it is insulated, and did I mention that it has polka dots...

I will still use my Egyptian lunch bag on certain days, especially if I need to fold it up and store it in my tote bag. There are some situations for which it is not appropriate to arrive lunch-bag-in-hand, even if you are but a harried graduate student.  But, for the every-day-dash, I will use my new polka dot bag. Like the Egyptian lunch bag, my water bottle and tea cup fit nicely, and now I can enjoy my string cheese as if it were fresh from the refrigerator. Life is good!

History of a Baguette, in three acts

Our household could survive on bread and cheese, with some fruit thrown in for nutritional purposes. This past week is a case in point.

On Monday I bought a baguette as part of our favorite Valentine's Day dinner: cheese fondue. Several years ago we decided that, instead of participating in the consumerist side of this Hallmark holiday, we would stay at home and enjoy each other's company at our own dining table. I received a fondue pot as a birthday gift from my sister and our menu has been set since then: a rich fondue of Emmenthaler cheese accompanied by blanched vegetables, apple chunks, and two kinds of bread. We drank a dry white wine (that also went into the fondue) and had salad on the side and lemon mousse for dessert.

Sorry, there aren't any pictures -- when the fondue is ready, you just dive in!

The problem with a baguette is that there's too much bread for two people. We never finish one before it gets hard and dry. This week I have been determined not to let that happen. So we had a nice light dinner on Wednesday evening: our favorite tomato soup along with a cheese plate featuring brie and pepper cheese (from Costco) and leftover Swiss from the fondue piled onto baguette slices.

No pictures of that, either, although J is a veritable master of the cheese plate.

Of course there was still some bread left over on Thursday, including about two cups of cubed baguette that hadn't made it into the fondue. I also had leftover veggies and cheese from earlier in the week. After a little web surfing I decided to combine them all into a savory bread pudding, cobbling a recipe together from a number of sources.

For the two of us, I put about four cups of bread cubes into a 1.5 quart casserole. I steamed the broccoli and cauliflower and put them on top of the bread. I made a custard of four beaten eggs, half a cup of milk, and half a cup of plain yogurt, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little Dijon mustard. I stirred about half a cup of shredded Swiss cheese into the egg mixture, then poured it over the bread and veggies. Then, since I had a little time, I covered the casserole with a small plate, weighted it down (with the peanut butter jar, if you must know) and let the ingredients get to know each other for about 20 minutes. I baked the dish, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 35 minutes. The key was to let it sit for a few minutes after it came out of the oven to give the custard a chance to firm up. I think it could have used more time in the oven, but it was very tasty as it was, and we had a lecture to get to.

If one didn't happen to have a refrigerator full of leftover fondue ingredients, I imagine this recipe would be just as tasty with any leftover vegetable and any type of cheese. It might even be better if one had some bacon to go in there. Next time we have a baguette...

Stirring the Peanut Butter

I have been putting it off for more than a week, but I finally pulled myself together and stirred the peanut butter this morning.

You know how it is: there's something you have to do, and you know it's going to be a good thing in the end, but the process itself is kind of a pain and so you put it off, and then it somehow becomes more intimidating and more daunting to follow through on the project.

Stirring the peanut butter is just one example. We prefer all-natural chunky peanut butter and we buy it at Costco in the giganto size, which makes it very affordable. However, as any connoisseur of natural peanut butter knows, the peanut oil separates from the peanut solids in storage, and must be re-incorporated before the peanut butter can be used.

When you are dealing with a veritable vat of peanut butter, this process is more complicated. First, before I stir I like to pour off most of the excess peanut oil. The shape of the container makes it almost impossible to do this without getting peanut oil everywhere. Then again, it is difficult to find an implement that is long enough to reach the bottom of the vat, and is just wide enough to displace the peanut butter for effective stirring. If you choose the wrong tool you can end up with peanut butter all over the place; worse yet, you could find dense, unspreadable clumps of ground-up peanut at the bottom of the container at the end of the month. (Or however long it takes you to get through a vat of peanut butter).

So I put it off, and J puts it off, because nobody wants to be responsible for peanut clumps. And then you wake up on a Friday morning wanting a bagel for breakfast, and you had cream cheese on your bagel last Friday because you didn't want to stir the peanut butter, and you finally get all Nike all over the place and Just Do It. And seven minutes later, as you are enjoying your bagel with crunchy peanut butter, you wonder why on earth you have been denying yourself peanut butter for all this time.

As I stirred the peanut butter this morning, I was thinking about the other things that I have been putting off. We have had several bags of castoffs waiting to be donated; I must have moved those bags from room to room half a dozen times in the past two months. I finally took ten minutes to make an itemized list for tax purposes, and dropped them off at the mission yesterday. Likewise, I just got around to seasoning the lovely crepe pan I received as a Christmas gift. It wasn't difficult, but I was supposed to fry up some potato peelings in a little oil and God forbid I should peel a potato for the purpose! We had mashed potatoes for dinner the other night so I saved a few of the peels and seasoned the pan right then and there -- it took all of ten minutes. Guess what? We had crepes for dinner yesterday. And they were very good!

I am really good at the "Wouldn't-it-be-nice-if?" part of life and not so great at the "Let's-make-it-happen" part. Even when I can overcome my chronic indecisiveness to get something started, my desire for a perfect outcome makes it difficult for me to enjoy the process. After all, what if I were to ruin the crepe pan in my attempt to season it?

This year, my resolution is to follow through with good ideas and the resolutions I have made in the past. Starting this weblog with Amanda S. is one part of that follow through, a commitment to myself to spend more time writing. Tackling my long-unfinished sewing projects is another. I want to be able to give myself an "A" for effort, and to enjoy the process regardless of the outcome.

Although there had better not be any clumps in the peanut butter...

Dreaming of Spring

If you live in the Midwest or the Northeast, then you understand what this winter has been like. If not, let me paint a picture for you. Six blizzards in as many weeks (fingers crossed- it looks like we get a reprieve this week). Snowdrifts are taller than I am, and the slightly warmer weather of yesterday and today has resulted in melting. Melting is good, you might say...but you would be mistaken. Now there are deep puddles of doom everywhere. Unlike normal puddles, the bottom of these puddles is sheer ice. Winter in Boston has been quite an adventure, and I am at the point where any temperature over 35° seems warm.

Now, I don't want to make it seem like the weather has been entirely bad. The fresh snow is beautiful, and the public transportation runs (mostly) smoothly even during the worst of the storms. I have snuggled with Pablo and George (husband and cat respectively) and drank endless mugs of hot chocolate. I have been resigned to winter's hold, because I am in Boston after all! But, I've broken in my snow boots and turned the calendar page from January to February. In my mind, the heart of winter, deep winter, as a colleague described it, is gone. Yesterday and today, I even felt a hint of spring warmth in the cold. So, I am closing my eyes and ignoring the snow drifts.

Instead, I am dreaming of spring in all of its glory. A spring with...

cherry blossoms (hopefully there are cherry blossoms in Boston too!)

From Sally's Garden in Bush Park, Salem, Oregon

and tulips

From the tulip beds in front of the Bush House, Salem, Oregon

 

If the sun was shining, and the flowers were blooming, I would stroll down the street in a flowery skirt and strappy, kitten-heeled, peep-toed shoes.

Instead, I'll pour another cup of Jasmine Green Tea, wrap my shawl a little tighter, and dream of spring, which is right around the corner.

Favorite Things: Quilting

As I take a moment to extract myself from the pile of books and notebooks that I have been submerged in since early this morning, I am thinking about what makes me happy. The list is long, for my life is overflowing with goodness.

What I am specifically thinking about are the small things, my "favorite things" like Julie Andrews' song. One of these things is quilting. My mother was a quilter, SaraHS is a quilter, my friend Erin from library school is a quilter, and I even incorporated quilts into my undergraduate theses. There is something about the colors and patterns that makes me feel cozy. From the time I was very small, I have been surrounded by fabric and thread. I remember visiting the fabric store and dipping my entire arm into the bucket of buttons. They made the most wonderful sound when I would twirl my arms in the bucket.

Quilting is now something that is peripheral to my life. My arms are dipped in books and manuscript collections instead of buckets of buttons. Practically speaking, I do not have the time or physical space to start a project. But, I miss quilts and fabric stores with a gentle ache, like when you miss a sunny summer day in your favorite childhood tree. My question is: How can I make quilting a part of my life again? I think I have found the perfect solution.

Last week,  through the wonderful world of Twitter, I discovered a blog called The Happiness Project. One of the blog's features is the Toolbox that allows users to create journals, lists, and inspiration boards (to name a few). I am going to create a virtual quilting inspiration board. It will be a place where I can gather my ideas and invite quilting back into my life. When I graduate and get a 'real job,' I will have the time and space to start quilting again. By then, I will have a treasure chest of inspiration.

The first addition to my inspiration board is this darling embroidery pattern from wee folk art.

On a final note, I thought I would share on of my favorite quilts that my mother made. I have hung it next to my bed since she finished it in 1995 (well, now it hangs over the table- but in a studio apartment, that is practically next to the bed).

Cooking: Smitten Kitchen's Crazy Delicious Baked Potato Soup

So we're wrapping up this vegetarian month experiment, and I was looking for a recipe to use up the leeks that I had left over from another meal. Lo and behold, this recipe for baked potato soup -- with two leeks! -- showed up on Smitten Kitchen last week.

I don't often make savory recipes from Smitten, because they tend to be too fussy for me. Needless to say, I don't mind the fuss if the result is a great dessert! But I already had the leeks and potatoes, and I thought this soup would be a good way to start the week. I whipped it up this past Monday, following the directions exactly as written, for once.


Oh. My. Goodness. The ingredients for the soup are pretty basic, but the final result is more than the sum of its parts. I'm guessing it's because of the head of garlic that gets simmered in vegetable broth with the leeks long before the potatoes are introduced.

I love that this recipe uses ingredients I almost always have on hand -- I'd guess one could sub onions for leeks in an emergency. I love that the recipe is finished with a modest amount of (light) sour cream rather than a load of half and half. And while there are no actual baked potatoes in the soup, it's fun to pile on toppings like shredded cheese and chopped scallions. You can bet there will be bacon there too, after next week.

First Week of Classes: What to wear?

The "what to wear" question has always haunted me. Even as a little girl, I would spend a bit (cough) a lot of time trying to decide what skirt looked best with my sparkly-pink, fringed cowboy boots. (I refused to wear pants. I had a firm skirts only rule that lasted until I was almost 10). The years have gone by, I outgrew my pink cowboy boots, and yet am still unable to blithely breeze into my closet and pick out an outfit. I have built the 'outfit picking' exercise into my day's ritual, so that before bed, I know exactly what I will put on in the morning.

This week, I find my ritual complicated by two factors: It is very cold in Boston right now, and it's the first week of classes (good impressions must be made!). If I were to write a want ad for this week's outfits, it would go something like this:

"Eager archives/history graduate student seeks stylish, warm, and functional outfits. Must be compatible with snow boots. Also seeking indoor footwear that fits into tote bag along with books, notebooks, and pens."

Want ad in hand, I dove into my closet and picked the following three outfits:

Vintage houndstooth pencil skirt with red cashmere turtleneck, black fleece-lined tights, and black patent flats.

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Gray trousers with blue ribbed v-neck sweater, vintage scarf, and gray suede pumps.

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Silver-gray skirt with black drape-necked sweater, black fleece-lined tights, and red plaid pumps.

With these three outfits hanging in my closet (one for each day of class), I can concentrate on other important pre-class exercises such as note-taking.

Comfort Food: Chocolate Chip Banana Bread

Someone pointed out to me yesterday that the forecasted high for Boston on Monday is 12° Fahrenheit, and the forecasted high for Moscow, Russia on Monday is 13° Fahrenheit. Knowing that Boston will be colder than Moscow (even if only by a degree) gives me the irresistible urge to bake some comfort food. Having just baked a double chocolate layer cake for my friend Em's birthday, I do not want to bake something that is entirely made of chocolate. One of my go-to recipes is banana bread. I keep a stash of overripe bananas in the freezer specifically for this purpose (my college roommate Emily M. taught me this trick). You can either peel the bananas and put them in a gallon freezer ziplock or put them in the freezer, skins and all. To peel the frozen bananas, simply run them under hot water and the peels slip right off.

Instead of making my usual recipe, I am going to try adding chocolate chips, for a slightly sweeter and decidedly more decadent treat that will help Pablo and me forget about how cold it is outside.

I am going to adapt Molly Wizenberg's recipe for "Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger" from A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from my Kitchen Table.  

Today is not a crystallized ginger day, so I will save those tidbits for another time. Here is my ingredient list (I've increased the chocolate chips, eliminated crystallized ginger, added walnuts and an extra banana for good measure).

6 tablespoons of unsalted butter               
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour         
3/4 cup sugar                                          
3/4 teaspoon baking soda                        
1/2 teaspoon salt                                 
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts
2 large eggs
2 cups mashed banana (from about 4 large ripe bananas)
1/4 cup plain yogurt (I'm using low-fat instead of whole)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Baking Instructions (also modified to suit my purposes):

Preheat the oven to 350° and grease a 9 by 5 inch loaf pan with butter.

Melt the butter over low heat and set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt). Add the chocolate chips and walnuts and stir until combined. Set aside.

In a medium bowl (or the bowl of your fabulous red Kitchen Aid mixer) lightly beat the eggs. Add the mashed banana, yogurt, melted butter, and vanilla and stir to mix well. (This recipe really can be made entirely by hand, but it is more fun to use the Kitchen Aid).

Pour the banana mixture into the dry ingredients and stir gently. Be sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl. As with all banana breads, be sure that all of the ingredients are combined, but do not overmix.

Pour the batter into the prepared bread pan and make sure it is evenly distributed.

Bake until the bread is a beautiful shade of golden brown and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean (tester will likely be covered in melted chocolately goodness). The bread should bake for 50 minutes to an hour, depending on your oven. Molly Wizenberg adds that if the loaf is browning too quickly, you can tent the pan with aluminum foil.

Run a knife along the edges of the bread to separate it from the pan. Cool the loaf on a wire rack for 5 minutes, and then take the bread out of the pan and cool just until the chocolate won't burn your tongue on the first bite.

Pour a cup of tea, turn up the furnace, and enjoy.

*In a leap of faith, I'm writing this post before actually baking this recipe. Should anything go wrong, I will let you know. I anticipate that it will be delicious.

Cooking: Peanut Sauce

We are experimenting with vegetarian cuisine for the month of January, an idea we hatched while we were in SoCal during the holidays. In part, it's a response to the (delightful) excesses of the season, and in part it's a challenge to approach food from a different perspective. We sat down and made a long list of vegetarian recipes that could carry us through the month. So far we have enjoyed the experiment, though I would be lying if I said we weren't missing bacon.

It is always difficult for me to think about making dinner on Friday nights, when I find myself out of creative energy. Last night we were low on supplies and I didn't want to go to the grocery store, and thinking in terms of no meat was especially challenging. We had already eaten a roasted vegetable soup and a cheese-based pasta dish during the week. Looking over our list of recipes, I was reminded of this amazing peanut sauce. It was introduced to us as part of a delicious chicken-broccoli stir fry recipe that J's housemate Jim made while I was still a college student. Over the years we have recreated the original dish many times, but we have also used the peanut sauce in different applications.

Here's the recipe for the sauce:
1/2 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup water
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon packed brown sugar

Blend these ingredients together in a small glass bowl. (I always find it easier to blend them if I warm them up in the microwave first).

So last night I cut up half an onion and two celery ribs into good-sized chunks, and I shredded 3/4 of a head of green cabbage. I heated some canola oil and sesame oil with crushed red pepper flakes in my big skillet, then stir-fried the veggies in the flavored oil. When everything was still a bit crisp, I poured a half-recipe of the peanut sauce into the center of the pan, warmed it up, and mixed it into the vegetables. We ate this over white rice and it was excellent. It also took less than 20 minutes from start to finish.

The beauty of the sauce is that it's so versatile. You can use it with any type of vegetable that you would stir-fry, alone or in combination. In addition to cabbage and broccoli, carrots and bell peppers are especially nice in there. And you can eat it over rice or noodles. One of our favorite variations combines the peanut sauce with steamed broccoli florets and whole wheat spaghetti or vermicelli. You can mix in tofu, shrimp, or chicken for added protein.

Two notes: First, I find the recipe as it is written makes a very thick sauce. I like to mix up half of the peanut butter, soy sauce, and brown sugar with the full amount of water. Or you can always make the full recipe and add water in the pan to thin it out. Second, I think the sauce testes best when there is some heat in it. I used crushed red pepper flakes last night, but you could also add hot pepper sauce directly to the mix, to suit your own taste.

Enjoy!

Shoe Coup

I am a taller than average woman with longer than average feet. For many years as I was growing up my shoe size matched my age: I wore size eight when I was eight years old, size nine when I was nine, and size ten when I was ten. These are adult women's sizes we're talking about here. By the time I was thirteen my feet had reached their full length at size 11, which made it a challenge to find cute shoes to wear for my graduation from 8th grade.

Having longer than average feet in a large and -- shall we say -- frugal family meant that my standards for shoes were very, very low. For many years my shoe buying criteria were: 1) Do they fit? and 2) Are they affordable? Cute was simply not an option. As a result, I spent a lot of my youth wearing ugly oxfords and athletic shoes purchased at a deep discount. The lone bright spot was a pair of preppy penny loafers I bought in high school and decorated with a couple of lire coins my brother brought from Italy.

With few exceptions, this situation persisted through college and grad school and into my working life. I hated buying shoes and did so rarely. My mother, who continues to feel guilty for her genetic contribution to my lengthy feet, would check the clearance racks and occasionally find a pair of shoes she thought I might like. I shuffled through my 30s in beaten-up Birkenstocks worn with or without socks.

Then I met Amanda S with her adorable shoe collection and I knew I had to raise my game. Thanks to her influence and the wonders of the internet my shoe wardrobe has quadrupled since the spring of 2008, and now includes (at least) two pairs of red shoes, sparkly high-heeled sandals (bought to wear at Amanda's wedding), black boots, brown boots, patent leather slingbacks, and metallic flats. I have a lot of cute shoes.

This past fall I decided to replace my sad old brown boots. I don't have an image of these boots but you can probably picture them in your mind: square toe, ankle height, with a low and clunky heel. They were a gift from my mother several years ago and they have been well-worn, with gratitude if not with enthusiasm. Last winter they were my go-to shoes with jeans or brown trousers.

I wanted to find a pair of low boots with a pointier toe and a well-shaped heel that I could wear to work or on weekends. A couple of weeks before Christmas I ordered these shoes (Partridge, by Clarks) from DSW:
And they were too big! Even with insoles my heels slipped out the backs of the shoes. I sadly packed them back into their box and left town for the holidays.

This past weekend we were in the Portland area and made a pilgrimage to the DSW store in Tualatin to return these shoes and look for others.

I approached the clearance rack.

The clouds parted. Angels sang.
Imagine this shoe (Muesli, by Franco Sarto) in chocolate brown leather. Although it's about the same height as the Clarks, the shoe looks much taller and lighter because of the elegant heel. The high vamp gives them the look of boots when worn with jeans, but they're also versatile enough to go with tights and a skirt.

Okay, and the best part? Thanks to DSW's generous rewards program, I paid $4.97 for them. That's a clearance shoe I can live with.

Winter Reading: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

As the snow enthusiastically covered Boston on Wednesday, I devoured The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. This book is not one I would normally have chosen to buy and read, but my graduate program just started a book club. One of my favorite things about book clubs is that I end up reading books that I would not have picked on my own. Sometimes this is good (like ‘Henrietta Lacks’) and sometimes this is bad (like ‘Julie & Julia’ -sorry SaraHS). But, as my mother used to say, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Image taken from LibraryThing Catalog

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is one of those books that leaves a niggling sensation in your stomach after you turn the last page. It sticks in the corner of your brain and hours after reading it, while staring out the window at a snow-scaped paradise, you wonder about the story and the characters. It is as if they come alive in a world halfway between reality and history. They jump off of the pages and into your life, and it is only as you turn your gaze away from the snow that you remember that they belong in a story.

What has lingered in my mind goes beyond the provocative questions about medical ethics and racial injustices that this book so deftly raises. These questions certainly deserve more thought, but the ‘something else’ that lingers started with this quote (placed just before the prologue of the book):

“We must not see any person as an abstraction. Instead, we must see in every person a universe with its own secrets, with its own treasures, with its own sources of anguish, and with some measure of triumph.” 

-Elie Wiesel from The Nazi Doctors and the Nuremberg Code.

The infamous HeLa cells that were taken from Henrietta Lacks became her identity. Once her soul departed and her body was laid to rest, her name and her dreams, faded into oblivion. She became an abstraction, a person who had never quite lived. Her cells, tiny pieces of herself that she unknowingly left behind, were to assume an identity of their own. 

We too unwittingly leave pieces of ourselves behind every day, like a trail of breadcrumbs that follows our footsteps. What becomes of the pieces that we leave strewn behind us? A lost glove in the supermarket, a digital footprint in cyberspace, cells in a doctor’s office. 

As we turn our gaze to the world around us, to strangers passing us on the street, we begin to see them as pieces. They become another tired face on a busy commute; a dropped coffee cup, now half-covered in ice. 

Perhaps we do not have enough room in our minds and hearts to see the universe that resides within every person. But, it would behoove us to reflect, now and again, on the pieces we leave behind us. For, if we see others as pieces, how must they see us?

--

Reading is a joy, a delectable pleasure. Not only do books, fiction and non-fiction alike, create new worlds for us to explore, but, at times, they cause us to rub our eyes and view our own world differently. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks has assumed its place on the bookshelf, to be re-read at a later date, and I am already opening the pages of another.

Film Fashion: Bringing Up Baby, 1938

Last week we went to see the movie "Bringing Up Baby" on the big screen at our local historic theater. Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in a screwball comedy on a rainy winter weeknight? Count me in!

I have always been a fan of vintage fashions, but the costumes in this movie were nothing short of fantastic. I almost think the script was written to provide Ms. Hepburn with an unbelievable number of costume changes. And Mr. Grant... well, we'll get to his big scene.


This publicity photo does not do justice to the dramatic dress (and veil!) that Ms. Hepburn, as Susan, wears in one of the movie's early scenes. Words cannot describe how perfectly the gown suits the actress, highlighting her tiny waist and her long legs. Imagine how extraordinarily attractive Cary Grant's David is in a white tie and tails, and then let me tell you that I barely noticed him next to this dress. Unfortunately there is a major wardrobe malfunction, and the dress... well, you'll just have to watch the movie for yourself.

The next time we see Susan she is wearing this --


-- this absolute confection of a gown. That's a floor-length white nightgown under a transparent chiffon robe, with a large polka-dot pattern and deep ruffles at the wrists and neck. It is difficult to imagine any contemporary actress who could pull off this look.

The leopard, of course, is Baby.

As for David, the plot requires him to clean up after helping a farmer with a load of chickens and Susan... well, it's difficult to explain. Let's just get right to Cary Grant in a marabou-trimmed robe:


Seriously, just see the movie. The plot wraps up with a very long evening involving David and Susan, Aunt Elizabeth, a jilted fiancee, an intercostal clavicle, a dog, two leopards, and a million dollars. And while Susan's costume is not so fabulous for this portion of the movie, I was reminded of the point once made about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers: she did everything he did, backwards, while wearing heels. At one point Susan breaks off a heel, and spends the rest of the scene bobbing up and down comically from foot to foot.

Of course David and Susan fall in love, and (spoiler alert) the museum gets the million dollars. I just love a happy ending.