Knock Knock

Just waiting around for this baby girl: three days past due and three pretty good false alarms in. I'm handling the wait much better this time around, trying to enjoy myself and my time. Yesterday we saw "Dope" at 2 in the afternoon because why not? And today we took the little one to see "Inside Out" at 3. Her first movie. Trying to get in as much quality family-of-three time as possible while the fourth takes her time.

About halfway through the movie I started getting contractions, about 5 minutes apart. Without thinking too hard about it, I really thought that was it! When we got home I put my phone charger in my bag, packed my toiletries, started timing my contractions on the app on my phone... And that's the kiss of death. I should really never do that again. I know that if I'm really going into labor I will know because the contractions will get more and more intense. But I can't help myself. Technology! It's a temptress.

Tomorrow morning is first day of gymnastics lessons. Then maybe some free time as the kiddo hangs out with her gram. What to do, what to do? I feel like I've gotten almost everything done that I can conceive of. Maybe I'll finish my book (The Lighthouse by P.D. James), go pick up an Ergo baby carrier at Babies'R'Us (aka the worst store), wash the curtains in P's room, see another movie?!!!
There's a new "Terminator" out!

MDW

Happy Memorial Day from the Jersey Shore. We're not quite at the beach yet but it feels like we'll get there soon.

Brought my first mixed berry pie (blueberry/blackberry/strawberry) to Lobsterfest. Stole the pie crust star topper from Martha Stewart. It's a crowd pleaser and you'll be seeing it again on the 4th of July, no doubt.

Speaking of tarts (badum ching) I finally started reading Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch. It's extremely long but after 150 pages I can say that so far it is living up to the hype.

I'm currently blogging from under the umbrella on my deck while Lil SP naps on the couch inside. She's all tuckered out from a visit to the Mount Mitchell Scenic Overlook and lunch in Atlantic Highlands. It's a perfect day and I can't wait to read some more of my book before heading to my mom's for lobster rolls. 

This is what I thought motherhood was going to be like before it happened to me - easy breezy afternoons spent satisfying my spiritual and intellectual needs, waiting for my angelic baby to wake up and coo. It may be slightly different in actuality.

Oh, and if you're a Masterpiece Mystery person like myself, Mrs. Fisher's Mysteries is the new hot property on Netflix. 

Enjoy!

January News

January, folks! A few things.

I got my hair cut like the Campbell Soup girl!

I have also gotten Keira Knightley (?) and Amelie. I hadn't thought of that, but I'll take it.

I'm using the YouCurl (a recommendation from a friend with great hair) to give my new 'do a little something and I can't believe I'm actually using a "styling tool" to do my hair. It's a new year, people!

Also, we had an amazing birthday party for my mom. Unbelievably, she turns 70 this year. My brother hosted the party at his new house, an old beauty built while we were still under British occupation. All her favorite people were there and it was an amazing feeling to, as her three kids, be able to throw her a party with everything and everyone she loves. As she said, "Most people have to die to get something like this."

And, if you are keeping track of my birthday resolutions, I told a story in tribute to my mom at the party and it brought the house down. So that's one point for storytelling.

I ordered three novels that I am committed to reading this year! I read a great New Yorker profile on "chick-lit" author Jennifer Weiner, who is railing against sexism in the literary sphere. I still wouldn't want to read her novels, as I'm kind of a literary snob (really, I just enjoy good writing enough to get mad at cliched writing) but I appreciated her wit, snappiness, and ballsiness. The article mentioned two novels about female protagonists by female writers that have gotten "mad respect" as the kids like to say, so I ordered them both, and one more to boot, and that's something I'll be doing in 2014.

How Should A Person Be, by Sheila Heti

The Flamethrowers, by Rachel Kushner

Telex from Cuba, by Rachel Kushner

Inspired By...

...their honesty, creativity, ingenuity, courage to live and work outside the mainstream.


I get really into stuff, and sometimes I think the people in my life tire of my unsolicited, overly enthusiastic, proselytizing emails. And then I remember, that's why I have a blog.


Chuck Close, painter. 

The guy went paralyzed half way through his career, which forced him to come up with new ways to physically paint, resulting in (I think) his best work. Unbelievable. I saw a documentary about him on PBS when I was in college and have loved him ever since. His studio is only a couple blocks away from my office, and one day I walked by him sitting outside. I walked around the corner and spent about 5 minutes facing a brickwall trying to convince myself to go back and talk to him. When I finally worked up the courage he had gone back inside. I'll get him next time.

Mindy Kaling, writer. 

She kills me. It's like she has a portal to my brain and knows my innermost thoughts.

I think a lot of women my age feel the same way, but I still feel special.

John Cage, composer, artist, all around amazing guy. 

He is so much more than the guy who composed a piece of silent music. He was a contemporary of Buckminster Fuller, Merce Cunningham, and that whole crew of crazy forward thinking guys. Joyful Zen is what I take away from him. 

Pablo Picasso, painter.

You know who he is. I am not cool for loving him. I wrote an essay about my early obsession with him -- maybe one day i'll share it on the blog in serial form. I wrote it to submit to This American Life until one of their old producers told me it wasn't universal enough. I freely admit that ever since that experience my love of TAL has dimmed. But I think it just happened to coincide with my love for it burning too brightly: it could not be sustained. Now I tend to find their unassuming, casual narration style somewhat rote and grating. But who am I kidding, I still listen.

Marc Maron, comic & podcaster.

The only way I survive my commute is by listening to podcasts which pre-maternity leave had been limited to shows that air on NPR; the only way I survived the last 3 weeks of my pregnancy was by discovering Kevin Pollack's Chat Show on iTunes. Because I could not listen to Terry Gross or the Planet Money team talk about economic doom while my whole life was all about bringing a human being into the world. So I took hour long walks around my neighborhood once or twice a day and amused myself by listening to Kevin's long form interviews with actors. It was fluffy and funny. Only a week or two ago did I finally download some of Marc Maron's WTF podcasts -- long form interviews with comics, writers, and actors. It was kind of like graduating from high school (KPCS) and going to college where everyone smokes cigarettes and talks philosophy. But it's still funny. In fact it's about ten times funnier, so I've turned into the girl who walks around Port Authority grinning inexplicably. And I like that. Marc Maron, I think I love you.

E.E. Cummings, poet.

Yeah, everybody loves his cute punctuation, his love poems, blah blah blah, but until you read "i: six non-lectures" you have no idea what a mindblowingly compelling thinker he was. There is so much more to him than writing in all lowercase. The book may have taken me about a decade to read and understand cover to cover, but it is the most special book I own, and it was passed down from my mother. And it goes without saying that "if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have one."

Pema Chodron, Buddhist monk.

I was first introduced to her work through Stephanie, my amazing old yoga teacher in Brooklyn. One time she read a passage from her book in class and I started crying. That yoga really can really sneak up on you sometimes. I always turn to her books "When Things Fall Apart" and "Start Where You Are" when things fall apart, which they inevitably do every couple years. You don't have to be a meditating Buddhist to take away some real pearls of wisdom.

Maira Kalman, illustrator.

You knew this already. 

Uncle Jim, my mom's brother.

My love and respect for him has been chronicled on this blog before. He is half of the dynamic duo we are always going to Maine to see. Let's be honest: we love the state of Maine, but we really love our relatives who live there. Otherwise all those evergreens could start to look the same.

Another Wizarding Accessory

I forgot to mention a crucial piece of the Harry Potter loving puzzle in my last post -- my Constellation Baggu. It is the Baggu to end all Baggus.

For those of you unfamiliar with Baggus, they are the originator of the reusable nylon grocery bag. It's the same shape as a plastic grocery bag, but holds 3 times the amount of weight. When you're not using it, you scrunch it up into a little pouch that it comes with and throw it back into your purse or car. Not only does it help the environment out, it helps you contain the beast that is the exploding mountain of shopping bags under your sink. It's also helpful for disguising presents during Christmastime. Speaking of which, three ladies in my life received Baggus this year as part of their Christmas presents. To the naked eye they might not seem so exciting, but once you start using them their awesomeness is fully evident.

Arry Potta

That's Harry Potter to you. It's been hard to blog about anything when I've had my nose in Harry Potter books since Christmas. Well actually, right after Christmas I read The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest on my new Nook Color. It was so great, I even brought it to the gym with me so I could swipe pages while I ran on the treadmill, which worked beautifully. 


Unfortunately you can't get any of the seven Harry Potter books on the Nook, so it's been paperbacks all the way. I am almost finished with the fourth book, The Goblet of Fire. I know what you're wondering, have I seen the movies? Yes I have, all seven of them. (The final movie comes out this summer.) I've even seen most of them in the last month. This hasn't ruined anything for me though. I don't mind not being surprised. I actually think it helps me manage my excitement, because I get to enjoy everything more as it's happening, instead of just hypothesizing about what's going to happen. Also, I as I get deeper into the series and the books get longer, there are more and more differences between the books and the movies, which have been simplified and changed for the screen. 


I find myself wanting to wear purply dresses with tiny gold stars. And cook soups in cauldrons. Just kidding. But I do enjoy the new JillEllen Designs Aubrey necklace that my sister-in-law got me for my birthday. I feel like it is my magical amulet that still passes for a chic accessory. I've got everyone fooled. 

"Isn't it pretty to think so?"*

I printed the American Book Review's PDF of the 100 Best Last Lines from Novels for miscellaneous reference. There is nothing more beautiful than the perfect last sentence. My favorite part of writing is wrapping it up. 


A few of my favorites:

One day I will read Ulysses. Friends have told me it's not that overwhelming if you just let it wash over you and don't stress out about all the references you're not getting. This last sentence sounds like it could have come from an E.E. Cummings poem. He loves yes's and flowers.


More from books I've never read...

I know the finale of The Great Gatsby is well-known and loved, but I believe my favorite passage trumps it, I think it's the best sentence in all of literature. And I know that's a bold statement. This is as Gatsby is in the pool, before (spoiler alert) George Wilson comes to shoot him.


"...he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about... like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees."


*Also one of my favorites, from The Sun Also Rises, a book I have infact read.

Library Sketches

When I tell you how hard it was to draw this stack of books you will never believe me. I think maybe it's because everyone knows what a stack of books looks like. There were just too many angles for this Quick Draw McGraw, and my scanner is not helping my cause. It looks more decent in person. 


Since I'm such a rookie, I will distract you by telling you that I went to the library for the first time in a great while. Picked up a paperback Flannery O'Connor collection (Flannery's a Southern lady, for those not in the know, in case you ever need to use a pronoun to refer to her) and The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon. It was in the Mysteries section, and I was sold. 


Librarians and patrons alike were aghast at our new governor's cutbacks: no more inter-municipal lending. But no one could remember the governor's name. "Chris Christie," I said, on my way out. Who can forget a name like that? 


No one admitted voting for him.

Anyway, here's to free books!

What's For Lunch?*

Some big changes are afoot in the SevPrez household. Mr. SevPrez is embarking upon the road to another career and going to grad school in September. As such we are switching gears from a couple of bon vivants to a hungry student and a starving artist. Only I don't think we'll actually be all that hungry or starving, because we have been cooking up all sorts of great meals at home in lieu of dining out. Our spirits will be hungry and starving, not our appetites. I'm looking forward to the change.


I've started bringing my lunch to work instead of dining at fine establishments in lower Manhattan. This affords me more time to do other stuff on my lunch break (which I still get, and take.) Lots of walking, park-sitting, reading, sun bathing of the shins (a fruitless endeavor, for sure), taking pictures, and drawing.


These last bits have been inspired by my purchase of the Maira Kalman retrospective book, Maira Kalman: Various Illuminations (of a Crazy World). I got over my grief of narrowly missing her exhibit at the ICA in Philadelphia enough to carry the book from the shelf to the register of McNally Jackson. The book is a gigantic reminder of the things I should be doing with my life: things I will be happy to have done on the day I die. Lucky for me, these things don't require that I quit my job and start over. All I have to do is work on a little something every day.


I've been reading lots of good, inspiring things and trying stuff that I don't think I'm all that great at in the hopes that one day I will be better. Mainly I am searching for ways to call forth my life. The resulting pursuit is quite enjoyable, magical even. 


This is all a preamble to my request, dear readers. Please bear with me as I post some of the proverbial fruits of my lunch breaks. You may follow the blog for other reasons, or not enjoy the first drafts of my artistic endeavors, but it's helpful for me to share, and sharing is why I have a blog in the first place. Nobody likes a miser.

It has to be stated that I drew this Vaseline jar from memory, since I could have googled the label on my Blackberry when I wanted to remember it better. I had to draw it after I read a rant by Dave Eggers and got that old Flaming Lips song stuck in head. 


*PB&J on whole wheat. Ate it at 11:30 and it hit the spot in a big way!

Swedish Fit

I need to go to Sweden. First I was really feeling their interior decor, then I ordered a new pair of Sven clogs,  and finally I devoured The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Now I feel I need to decamp to a one room cabin in a Swedish fishing village and drink coffee and eat open faced sandwiches all day. 


But since I won't be moving any time soon, the next best thing would be ripping up my carpet (it's been on the list anyway) and bleaching my hardwood floors. The hallmark of many Swedish homes is there whiteness -- with those long nights and long winters, you could see why the Swedes would want their homes to glow. White is clean and simple, a good backdrop for the clean lines of Swedish design. Take a look...

via KML design.

via designfragment.

This home's in Brooklyn, not Sweden, but still. 
via DesignSponge.

via Skoden Hem.



I'm asking myself why I didn't paint the back room floor white when I had the chance. Or light grey. It had occurred to me but I was shamed out of it again and went with dark grey. I do remember reading something about the floor bleaching process in Martha Stewart Living and thinking it sounded really involved and expensive. Still, I can dream. 


For more Swedish inspiration, check out these blogs and websites. 
http://designfragment.blogspot.com/

http://dosfamily.com/

http://www.kmldesign.dk/

http://finelittleday.blogspot.com/

http://www.skonahem.com/

Cupcakes For a V.I.P.

I'm sorry, did I say cupcakes? I meant PUPCAKES!

Today is my niece's 11th birthday and in honor of her I cracked open the Hello, Cupcake! book that she and her sister gave me for Christmas and tried my hand at one of the elaborate decoration techniques. 


Hello, Cupcake, by Karen Tack and Alan Richardson is not a recipe book, like Cupcakes! by Elinor Klivans, which features all sorts of delicious fillings, icings and flavors. It's the definitive guide on how to tranform regular cupcakes into penguins, panda bears, corn on the cob, spaghetti and meatballs, and dogs using no more than cake, icing, and candy. 


My niece is pretty obsessed with puppies, and my parents' schnoodle, Bebop, who all of my nieces just love love love, looks a little like the grey dog* on the cover, wouldn't you say? 

I dispensed with the mini cupcakes that the book called for and used the regular sized cupcake for the head. This meant that I had to use regular size mashmallows instead of mini-marshmallows to build the ears and snout. I was a little nervous about adjusting the proportions, but I turned out great. You can see here how the diced marshmallows are applied to the cake with a little icing, to be covered with piped-on icing "fur." Pink or red sugar is applied to the sticky side of the marshmallow ears to disguise the marshmallow. 

My Stop-And-Shop didn't have chocolate covered sunflower seeds for the eyes and nose, so I just used black gel icing. And I nixed the pink tongues made of Starburst because, well, I just don't have that much time on my hands or the desire to bring a bag of Starburst into my house.


The book describes great, low cost ways to turn Ziplock bags into piping bags with different tips (to make fur, leaves, petals, etc.) Once I really got going, the whole endeavor was pretty easy, (little precision required, just some finesse) and I'm really pleased with the results. Can't wait to bring them to the birthday party and watch everyone dig in! It's our little secret that underneath all the fur they are actually vegan chocolate cupcakes! Don't tell the 11-year-old!

*I didn't make a grey dog, because I couldn't figure out how to make grey icing from yellow, green, red, and blue food coloring. I didn't want to end up with purple dogs.

A Creepy Read for Mischief Night!

If you are really in the Halloween spirit and ready to be creeped out by a book, I highly recommend Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane. It's a compelling read, suspenseful without causing nightmares, with a great ending.

To boot, Scorcese made a movie based on the novel starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, and Ben Kingsley. It's coming out February 19th. You can watch the trailer here.

Lehane also wrote the novels Mystic River and Gone, Baby, Gone. Both were great movies, but I'm bummed I didn't read the books first, now that I know what Lehane has to offer.

On a side note, don't forget to park your cars in your driveway tonight to lessen the chance that they'll get creamed!

Boo!

A Couple Of Things

I know, I know, it's been silent around here. I've been busy with a lot of different things, which doesn't always stop me, but then my camera broke. Then a couple other things broke too. I threw a pity party, which I'm only now leaving -- and no goody bag.

But there have been a few things I've been meaning to tell you, especially referring to this lovely time of year.

1. Katy Elliot's coverage of pumpkin-adorned homes in New England was particularly inspiring to me.

 I don't have any amazing doorways or cornices, though, so i just bought 4 petite pumpkins and placed them on the railing of my white wood front stoop. They've been making me quite happy.

2. Butternut squash soup is still amazing. Check out this very healthy, cream-free recipe from the Times, but add curry.

3. Remodelista.com is a cool home design resource. Check out their coverage of kitchen sinks, for instance.

4. Martha Stewart Living's November Issue included a piece on purple toned table tops and floral arrangements. I knew I was onto something.

5. I have fallen in love with a man who's not my husband. For more of an explanation, look up Paul Chek and the C.H.E.K. Institute. This Christmas, everyone in my family is getting How To Eat, Move, and Be Healthy whether they want one or not!

6. On the spur of the moment, I did a sprint duathlon (run-bike-run) and was the second place female to cross the tape. It was more fun than any running race I've ever done. I'm in this photo. If you can spot me, you win a prize!

On The Topic Of Heydays

Those who know me well can attest to my use of the term "heyday." I find it an apt description of many kinds of happiness and/or periods of time in which the universe conspires in your favor. In a recent text message exchange, my friend on the West Coast and I were contrasting our heydays -- his entailed seeing Phish on their reunion tour, mine meant having friends over for grilled food and pie on the deck. He wrote, "All paths, whatever they be, lead to Hey." Well said.

My love of "Hey" springs from my second favorite children's book of all time, Marie Louise's Heyday. It's an odd little out of print book, but I still love it to this day.

I found an excellent summary on the web to fill you in on why you should care about this overburdened mongoose and her quest to eat a banana.

On this Labor Day weekend, I wish for you a Day of Hey.

That's Entertainment

I officially gave up on Midnights Children when it was due back to the library after 3 renewals. That's six weeks, people. One day I will finish it, when I no longer have to lug my reading material around in my purse, thereby foreseeing my future of scoliosis with every gratuitous word. Rushdie is not shy with his words.

When browsing the library for some new material, I saught refuge in an old companion, Ian Rankin, and his reliable Inspector Rebus. I think this is my forth or fifth of these books since the summer. They are good, quick, engrossing reads. Well-written, and most importantly, Scottish. : )

But I felt that leaving the library with Rankin alone would have been a defeat. So I browsed the aisles, hoping to find something I've always been meaning to read. Admittedly, not the most efficient way to go about this, but it worked! With scoliosis on the brain, I found a very tiny book to suit all my needs -- Breakfast at Tiffany's and other stories, by Truman Capote.  And what a captivating story it was. I had no idea. I was expected something entirely different. A 1950s fairy tale, or something. The movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" was added to my Netflix queue, right after "Capote." Looking forward to seeing both.

Then, on Sunday, I had the good fortune to acquire The Namesake, which also has also been made into a movie, and quite a good one at that, I hear. 

Any literature-cinema set recommendations you can recommend? Let me know! I'm all over it.

My Brother the Bread Baker

Recently I have come to believe that my brother is secretly developing a show for the Food Network. I've started looking for the hidden camera in his kitchen. What else would explain the fact that he has taken his love of hosting and cooking to the next level and started baking his own bread? What else could explain the fact that he hosted a Bread Taste-Off on Saturday? 

The competitors? None other than my brother and his father-in-law. 

To some, this may sound like the set up for a painfully embarrassing Ben Stiller movie, but lucky for everyone involved, my family's got great in-laws -- the best.  So it was just a little friendly competition and all of us judges had a good time toying with the emotions of the bakers as their fate hung in the balance of our taste buds.

Both bread-bakers swear by the No-Knead Bread recipe that appeared in the New York Times in 2006. The full write-up was penned by my favorite food writer, Mark Bittman, author of How to Cook Everything. He got the recipe from the man who owns the Sullivan Street Bakery. If you don't know about this establishment, it provides some of the best restaurants in New York with dark, luscious, drool-worthy, extra crusty bread. (Their gigantic brown bags are prominently featured at Frankie's 457 on Court Street, where you should go if you are in the neighborhood.)

As the bread rose in the oven, my brother explained the genius of the recipe. Basically, making good bread is very simple, but you have to know one secret. The thing that stops the home cook from getting the crust that all carbophiles lust after is nothing but a little steam. Professional bakers work with steam injected ovens, but we amateurs don't have access to such pricey hardware. A pastry chef turned architect I know once told me his way around the problem: put a cookie tin in the bottom of the oven, throw water on this hot sheet of metal as you put the bread in, and -- quickly! -- shut the door. 

Simple enough, but for the uninitiated, a little scary, right? I might feel comfortable trying that method if I knew my oven warranty was up to date and I was wearing a HazMat suit. Well the chef at the Sullivan Street Bakery has solved this problem with one simple, beautiful kitchen accessory: a dutch oven. That's all you need. If you are still intrigued, I urge you to read the article and try it yourself.

Back to the bake-off. I will tell you that Bread A was made with bread flour, and Bread B was made with regular flour. Both loaves were delicious, but A eeked out a victory due to its extra crunchy crust. I will not reveal who cooked what, but I will leave with this photo, of the men and their bread. Bravo to both! I will eat your bread any time, and I am always available for food judging!

Queen of Tarts

My all time favorite dessert -- and that's really saying something -- is the Lemon Tart from Patois, a now defunct restaurant in Brooklyn where I just so happen to have gotten engaged. Their lemon tart is revelatory: a graham cracker crust with a very lemony but just the right amount of sweet filling, and a dollop of creme fraiche on top. (Full discloser: I only know what creme fraiche is from watching "Top Chef.")

I always made sure to save room for this Queen of Desserts (there are no kings in the land of sweets, afterall). In fact, just after ordering drinks at our last visit, I asked with anxious eyes if it was still on the menu. It was, to my great relief and excitement, and about an hour later it arrived at our table. I dug in, allowing the husband only a bite here or there. He knows better than to come between me and my tart at this point, and has even convinced himself that he doesn't like it all that much anyway. Self-preserving delusion, so I don't argue it. : )

Inbetween bites I could always be heard exclaiming how delicious and perfect this sweet masterpiece was, and after about every fourth bite I'd declare that I neeeeded to learn how to make it.

Well folks, yesterday was the big day. After extensive scouring of cookbooks and internets to find a recipe that would mimic Patois's version of the lemon tart, I settled on Ina Garten's version. You may know her as the Barefoot Contessa of Food Network fame. I recently acquired her Back to Basics cookbook, and having realized how obsessed she is with squeezing fresh lemon on almost everything she makes before serving, I figured she could be trusted to make tart filling that was pucker-worthy. 

For the crust I used a generic graham cracker crust recipe, but it was a bit of an adventure. I'd never made it before (in my experience, when you carry on the familial flaky pie crust torch for a third generation, you tend not to branch out), and I'd definitely never made it in a tart tin whose bottom slides around by about a centimeter. Add to that the fact that Bed Bath & Beyond only had 11-inch tart tins (who has ever heard of such a thing!?), forcing me to ad-lib the proportions of the recipe. Plus my hand-me-down Cuisinart was dead. Let's just say the crust caused me a bit of hand-cramping consternation.

But, low and behold, my tart turned out great. The crust was not as well done as Patois, and maybe they have a little bit more pucker on me, and I skipped the creme fraiche due to my lactose problem...  But here are the photos, you can judge for yourself. Hubby said mine was better, but then he knows that flattery gets him everywhere!

From Patois, which has better mood lighting...

From my kitchen... Which, by the way, never smelled better while making this tart. Zesting four lemons will change your olfactory life forever!