Last weekend was full.
Ruth and I hit another SoulCycle class Saturday morning, and as it was to celebrate the opening of the new 14th St. studio, there were fresh Ted’s Bulletin poptarts and cupcakes awaiting us post workout. The only thing I love better than a good workout, is completely undoing it with tasty baked goods. I would like to say that I was better at SoulCycle, this being my second time and all. But that would be a lie. It was a delightfully painful 45 minutes of me flopping around on my bike and struggling with my tiny weights while a the instructor yelled inspirational things like “lean into it with your courage” and kept writing “14TH STREET” in the steamed up windows behind him. A perfect Saturday morning.
A lot of the rest of Saturday was spent frantically working on my dissertation prospectus draft, but somewhere in there a nap was had and massive breakfast sandwiches were made. I was in my pajamas with wet hair until approximately 10 minutes before we threw open our doors for the 5th Annual Homemade Donut Making Extravaganza, and then there was a VERY INTENSE FLURRY OF ACTIVITY. If you are someone who manages to throw parties without said last minute dash, shoving piles of laundry into closets and stashing things wherever there is a place — please, don’t tell me. I like to think my weaknesses are universal.
The donut party was as it always is, which is to say that we had too many people, ate too many donuts, and made too big of a mess to clean up before bed. Basically a perfect party. We upped our class game with a great hand-lettered sign from Anna, I did the smart thing and bought caramel and chocolate sauces from Trader Joes, and I actually had the forethought to cover the topping table with paper. But not much else was different, which is how I like it.
There was a moment before the party started, as there always is, where I marched around grumbling Why do we bother throwing these things? Even something uniform like donut night involves planning, shopping, cooking, cleaning — a whole myriad of decision making and time. And then of course, in the last minute flurry to get ready I start thinking about all that we need to be doing instead, the laundry folding, paper grading, paper writing, relaxing, and I wonder if it’s worth it. Is it worth it to spend so much time doing this, when we have so many other things that need to get done?
But in the aftermath of the party, at the end of the weekend when we were munching on leftover donuts and looking back, I am reminded that it is worth it, it’s always worth it. All the other things that fill our time are good and necessary. I’m glad that I spent a big chunk of the weekend doing productive things or restful things. But I’m also glad that we enjoyed the enjoyable inconvenience of hosting people because those are the responsibilities that make life fun, that invest in the community that we love here in DC. In a world where young adults are apparently deciding that hospitality is more trouble than it’s worth —
–Let’s bring out the donuts.
One of my most consistent annoyances when trolling the internet is the misuse/overuse of the word “simple.” People, not everything is simple, and simple is not inherently always better. Usually, simple means “expensive” and “well-curated.” Whereas simple should mean eating pizza in your pajamas on a Friday night, it is often attributed to images of children in pristine and minimalist clothing playing with upscale wooden toys. Anyone who has ever tried to keep a child clean AND occupied can testify to the radical non-simplicity of the task.
On the other end of the spectrum, let us not confuse simple with “easy.” I see this misrepresentation most commonly in two domains. The first is cloth diapering. Obviously, I do not have children, nor do I have much (any?) experience with cloth diapering. So if my mom friends feel passionately called to correct me, just save us all some time, label me ignorant, and move along. But every time I read a blog post or Facebook thread about the subject (which happens more than I should admit, as I have a strange fascination with how people spend their time), moms start by praising cloth diapers as simple and amazing… and then continue to detail lots of steps that, while perhaps easy, are legion, and involve way too much energy. Multiple washes, “strippings,” strange cocktails of all natural cleaning products? Not simple.
I have a similar critique of a certain bread recipe I always see floating around Pinterest. It comes in all shapes and forms, but it is some sort of amazing country French bread recipe that you don’t knead, cooks in a dutch oven, etc. The catch? It takes like 24 hours to make. Thus, while the steps might be easy…. who in their right mind gets a craving for bread and then spends 24 hours making it? By that time you could have easily walked to Panera six times and come back with as many loaves. 
But then again, a hearty loaf of homemade bread really is the tastiest treat. My college roommate Jenny used to make big loaves of crusty French bread for us to enjoy on cold Michigan nights and I was shocked when she shared the recipe. Five ingredients. Five minutes of hands-on time. An hour and a half total. Bread perfection. So simple. Simple, in preparation and components. But simple too in the final product. Bread that is nothing special, but makes you feel that special coziness all through your being when you eat it. 
I make these loaves frequently, sometimes messing up the recipe entirely, but it always (miraculously) turns out. We eat it most during the winter months, using it to soak up bowls of hearty soup. Somewhere throughout the years that it has graced our DC table we started calling it soup bread, the perfect vehicle for thick sauces and creamy soups. But it is equally good slathered in butter and honey to start a chilly morning. Yesterday I just had to have some, and with everything on hand, I made myself a simple loaf of bread in the midst of a complicated world.
The Art in Life 