A couple resolutions

I have written before about how incredibly awful I am at maintaining resolutions, thus my annual renewing of my vow to floss daily. But this year I decided to try to at least make a couple resolutions beyond my yearly re-commitment to increased dental hygiene. Call it ambition, or optimism about the coming year, but I am feeling up to making a few resolutions (even if a month late). I think there are two major types of New Year’s Resolutions.  First, the “New You” resolutions. These are the weight loss goals, the organic eating goals, the spend-less, sleep more, exercise more, etc. goals. I personally find these very hard to keep, as they are generally unpleasant to accomplish. Second, there are what I think of as the “Better You” resolutions. These are about spending more time with family, reading better books, finally travelling to new places, etc.

This year, I am making some resolutions of the second variety, because I think that improving the quality of our life in general, not just our person, is a good goal for every year. So here is my short list.

  1. Read Brothers Karamozov. Pretty sure that that I have made this goal about 5 times before, but I never get so far as buying the book. I feel that possession of the resolution tool will make all the difference. It was the key in ultimately getting me to floss.
  2. Go to New York. Never been. Always wanted to go.
  3. Find the best French bakery in DC.  This is slightly in conflict with my “New Me” resolution of trying the primal blueprint, but exceptions must be made.
  4. Spend lots of quality time with my family this summer.
  5. Get to know DC better.

That last resolution is one of the biggest. Before I moved out here, I did lots of fun DC stuff when I visited James. But since moving out here I have let grad school consume my life and I take advantage of little that this city has to offer beyond pretty runs through Eastern Market and the occasional dinner out. These past two weekends I have started out on this new resolution. Last weekend I trekked out to Georgetown to visit a wonderful little French bakery with my friend Kim before heading in to the National Portraiture Gallery. I spent the middle part of the day sketching. Here are two of the quick sketches.

Yesterday Liz and James and I took advantage of some Groupons to go see the Newseum. (While I am horrible about getting out and doing fun things in the city, Liz is pretty much a pro, so I am hoping to benefit from her expertise.)  If you told me that I got to go to a museum about the news and look at lots of old papers, I would not exactly appear thrilled. But the Newseum was truly amazing, with historic front pages, amazing exhibits about the presidential personal photographers, 9/11, Berlin wall, and Pulitzer prize winning photographs.  It was moving actually, seeing some of the stories and images that have occupied our public fascination over the years. And it convicted me of the need to soak in all that I can as long as I am blessed to be here.

On the terrace of the Newseum.

James, disgruntled at the construction that is marring the Mall.

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Le toit: the roof

During the year that I lived in Paris, I found a very special refuge. The first couple of days were overwhelming, but somewhere in the first week of my job, I was given a key to the crows nest high on top of the building where I nannied.  The roof was large and flat, and as I crawled out of the window that very first time, I knew that I had found a place that be important for that year. It was a place of solitude and socialaztion, reflection and retreat, inspiration and beauty.

I think that approximately 1/10 of my Paris blog posts included a shot of the beautiful vista from my roof or window, but I had always intended to make a collage of the people who were drawn (or dragged . . . over 8 flights of stairs) to the roof. That didn’t happen. But now, over a year and a half later, I am finally doing it.

First, there were the family and friends who visited . . . some whom I knew, and a few who I got to know better when I learned they were passing through Paris and invited them up for the best view of the city.

But the roof also drew my Parisian friends, few of whom take the time on a regular basis to revel in the city that they are blessed to call home. The roof offered us a location for the occasional picnic, tea-time, even a game or two. It offered a site for watching the fireworks on July 14th, or a backdrop for the Soirée Robes Rouges photo shoot.It now seems very far away, that portal that I spent a year passing through continually, and inviting others as well. When I think back on that year, I can’t imagine it without the roof.  It offered a respite from the bad days, a place of deliverance where I could be above the city and gain perspective. But it provided as well a backdrop for some of the happiest days, the ones spent with the people I had loved before going to Paris, and the ones I learned to love along the way.

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Eric and Katherine

Right before I went home for Christmas break, I was able to take engagement photos for Eric and Katherine, whom I met at college. They got engaged over Thanksgiving break, and we took advantage of them passing through DC to get some pictures around Dupont Circle and the Mall.  Here are some of my favorites, a little later than I anticipated!


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Thoughts on Feminism

Before Christmas, I went wedding dress shopping for the first time and I decided that I wanted the first day of shopping to be with these two ladies, my mother and grandmother.  I have thought a lot about being a woman this semester, as it seems like every class in grad school ultimately comes back to women’s issues.  Before this semester I lived in ignorant bliss, but now I am thoroughly aware of the many ways that the male establishment has been keeping me down.  And with this revelation, I have been thinking about what feminism means, as I have never classified myself as a feminist of any sort, given my affinity for the hearth and kitchen.  Yet when I think about two of the most prominent women in my life, I can’t help but wonder if the mainstream feminist view is robbing women more than any male institution by denying us the right to be content with traditional places, roles, and feminine strength.  My grandmother has always been a “homemaker,” but that title does little to reflect the instrumental role she has played in my grandfather’s success as an author, teacher, evangelist, and jetsetter. It doesn’t reflect the hundreds of people who have furnished their homes through her bargain shopping and second hand innovation, or the surrogate grandmother and mother that she has been to many international students, seminary wives, and new mothers. And my mother has always been full time homemaker, and part time nurse practitioner, which once again doesn’t come close to describing what she does every day. In between treating patients at work (or talking them through illnesses in the Wal-Mart parking lot, Kroger check out line, dry cleaner’s, on the phone as she gardens, etc.) she has also turned 10 swampy thorny acres into a lovely home, trained the world’s worse horse, thrown the best parties, and petitioned for numerous political causes. Moreover, she has instilled in me all that a lady should know like setting a table correctly, hostessing with grace, changing out of “work clothes” into  “house clothes,” writing thank you notes on lovely stationary, getting stains out of things, and talking to people you don’t like with politeness and southern charm.  Both my mother and grandmother have embraced being a woman, a very feminine one, a traditional one, and that has made them no less strong and in control of who they are, a key distinction that I feel many feminists overlook.

There is no experience more appealing to all that is feminine than wedding dress shopping.  These stores are designed to make you feel like a princess, and thus overlook the grotesque amount that you are spending on a piece of clothing.  The salesladies force you into dresses, using all sorts of unnatural means to suck in, pull over, smooth, expand, etc, these dresses into some semblance of fitting. Then they toss on a veil, praise you into silence, march you in front of gilded mirrors, and have you step up on a pedestal. And then, if you are like myself, you cry, and you know that you have found the right dress, and then your mother cries and seals the deal.  Shopping for wedding gowns turns every woman into a babbling pile of satin and girl, feminist or not.

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Love at Christmas

Christmas is the season for love. To be more accurate, the holiday season of Thanksgiving-New Years is the high point of love and proposals for the year. One of the bridal stores my mother and I went to last week told us that the “Bridal Christmas” starts right after New Years, as all the holiday brides rush out to find dresses and then start diets.

Other than my own engagement, I was perhaps most excited about this one, between my dear friend from Paris Marilyne, and the man of her dreams, Ismaël. I met Marilyne at my beloved Parisian church, which I originally went to because the pastor’s wife (her mother) grew up with my mother in Wilmore before moving to Paris over 30 years ago.  After falling in love with Ismaël last year, the two decided to come spend the fall in America with friends and family before settling into jobs back in France. When they came through DC in November, Ismaël announced his plans for a Christmas Eve proposal with the ring that he made himself.

Christmas Eve morning, I asked Marilyne if she would go out to look at High Bridge pavilion with me, one of the places James and I are considering for a reception spot. Marilyne’s uncle took her to High Bridge frequently as a child, and the spot holds sentimental value, beyond being exceedingly beautiful.  On the drive over, Marilyne told me all about how in love they were, and how positive she was that they would soon get engaged after returning to France. She assured me that there was NO CHANCE of an American proposal.

We got to High Bridge where I took some pictures so I could “email them to James’ family” and in the one above you can actually see Ismaël behind her in the pavilion. We turned to walk up to look in and we were almost in before Marilyne saw the trail of flowers and candles, and the man waiting for her inside. Then there were tears, and I retreated to take some pictures from a distance.After they had a while alone, we took a couple engagement photos on the overlook before I quietly left, not to be missed very much, I’m sure. 

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Merry Christmas

I love Christmas for many reasons, one of which is that it is a chance for those of us who HATE change to force everyone to join us. We insist on doing things exactly as they have always been done and drape our stubbornness in the honorable cloak of tradition. Christmas is not the time for innovation, and this Christmas was no exception. The whole family submitted their traditional Christmas lists about a month ago (Dad wants a plane, mom just wants everyone to be together, and very specific kitchen ware for which she attaches coupons, Lyman wants strange items and unheard of books, Zach wants stylish old man academic clothes), and then we generally get people nothing from their list. It is more of a creative way of delivering a yearly update.  On Christmas Eve we eat the same things at the same party with the same group of dear friends. We stay up late singing through the same green carol books, trudging our way through all 5 verses of “Good King Wenceslaus,”  (because it is a story, and stopping early is just disappointing), multiple singings of “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”, and we end the evening with the lighting of the final long awaited candle on the advent wreath and singing “Silent Night.”  And I wouldn’t really want it to change, because the miracle of Christ’s birth requires no embellishing or renovation to render it more special.

This year my Christmas list included “Family photo shoot with no one complaining,” and I did actually get it.  

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La Carte de Tendre: The Map of Love

I would like to say that I have spent the last week giggling blissfully about being engaged and starting to plan my wedding. Ok, so actually that would be true. Unfortunately, what I should have been doing ALL last weekend and this past week was writing and editing my final papers. And sadly, I did actually devote most of my past week to that, regretfully telling James that now that we were going to be together forever, I actually had to write papers. I think my professors would object to papers about my ring, dress options, decoration decisions, and photography comparisons. And so, a very exciting list of what has consumed my past week:

1. I spent a lot of time writing about this series of shots from Chronique d’un été, which I highly recommend if you want an artsy evening with beautiful cinematography and very little story.

2. My final paper for my class about female literary iniators in France led me to spend lots of time reading  and writing about these two books. Yes, one of them is a children’s book.  Grad school is about making the simple things very hard.

3. And finally, I have been spending considerable time with La Princesse de Clèves, which led me to this, La Carte de Tendre – The Map of Love, created in the 17th century to chart the path towards a woman’s heart.

Maybe it was because I had been writing all week and my brain was mush, or maybe it is just that I am giggly about anything having to do with love these days, but whatever the case, I could not stop laughing over this map and trying to plot the relationships of everyone I know on it.  You start in the city of New Friendship, and the travel up the River of Inclination, passing through the cities of Pretty Phrases, Love Letters, Feats to Impress, etc. before arriving at the City of Love (Tenderness, on the old French one).  Yet travel cautiously. If you go to fast you will shoot pass the city and tumble into the Dangerous Sea of passion, or you might get derailed on your course and sink into the Lake of Indifference. Even worse, you might be doomed from the beginning and drown in the Ocean of Hostility! Of course the French would think of this. I would also like to point out that I think there needs to be a Swamp of Depressing Endings and Suicide, because in my own French literature experience, this is indeed where most love stories end.

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The Best Nutcracker Ever

I have attended the Nutcracker every Christmas since I can remember. I actually performed in it several times as a child (snowflake and party guest in case you were interested) and then started going with my mom, best friend Hannah, and her mother. The very first year I dropped my clipboard on the conductor by accident, as we were sitting in the first row of the orchestra section, dead center. Thankfully, my Nutcracker experiences have matured. I was able to go both Christmases I was in Paris, although the first year the ballet went on strike and I then had to resort to waiting in line in the freezing cold for hours before scoring a 5 Euro standing place. The second time, we got the discount seats so high up and on the side that we couldn’t actually see the scene or the back portion of dancers. It didn’t really affect me, as, let’s be honest, it’s always kind of the same. And then several years I have attended the Lexington performance of the Nutcracker with my grandma, during which I always hope for one of the cute little kids to mess up and make us all laugh.

But this year’s Nutcracker was the best, even though I didn’t actually make it to see the show.

Because instead of Liz waiting for me on the terrace on the top of the Kennedy center with our two tickets that she “won” at work, was James, who was supposedly and very convincingly on a work trip. And instead of tickets, he had a little box, a perfect ring, and a very important question.

Much better than the waltz of the flowers. 

Thanks to Suze who finished our magical engagement weekend with some pictures around Eastern Market and Capital Hill.

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“Le coucher du soleil romantique”

Fair is the sun when first he flames above,
Flinging his joy down in a happy beam;
And happy he who can salute with love
The sunset far more glorious than a dream.

Flower, stream, and furrow! — I have seen them all
In the sun’s eye swoon like one trembling heart —
Though it be late let us with speed depart
To catch at least one ray ere it fall!

But I pursue the fading god in vain,
For conquering Night makes firm her dark domain,
Mist and gloom fall, and terrors glide between,

And graveyard odours in the shadow swim,
And my faint footsteps on the marsh’s rim
Bruise the cold snail and crawling toad unseen.

-Baudelaire

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Pumpkin Doughnuts

I love vegetables, fancy food, delicate dinners, and refined cuisine. But I also have a deep abiding weakness for Totinos pizza, burgers, and doughnuts. James and I are slowly trying out all of the burger dives in DC and I will eventually share the results of our most scientific research. Because he loves me and thus is trying to speak my foodie love language, he is also helping me compile a list of one of a kind doughnut shops for us to explore. I think my doughnut love began in high school when I worked in a coffee shop with my friend Sarah and I had this really odd obsession with selling out of doughnuts. It was my personal quest to blaze through all the doughnuts, so I all but forced them on customers, occasionally resorting to “inadvertently” smashing ones in the process so I could eat them.

Lately there have been lots of doughnuts on Pinterest. (Oh wait, you aren’t on Pinterest yet? Whatever are you doing with your time? How are you surviving without being bombarded by images of things to buy, eat, or do? How are you blissfully unaware of your inferiority because you have yet to be confronted with a world of DIY that can never be accomplished by mere mortals?)  And I, ever a slave of impulse, have been obsessed with trying to make them.  After several thwarted attempts, I finally got around to making them the other night, with the help of my roommates and James.  Contrary to what the website says, we found them even better the next day. We also preferred the glazed ones, although some made it in both glaze and sugar. Life is short.

Pumpkin Doughnuts (From Annie’s Eats)

Yield: about 16 doughnuts and doughnut holes

Ingredients:

For the doughnuts:

3½ cups all-purpose flour

4 tsp. baking powder

½ tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tsp. ground ginger

½ tsp. ground nutmeg

¼ tsp. ground cloves

1 cup sugar

3 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 large egg

2 large egg yolks

1 tsp. vanilla extract

½ cup buttermilk

1 cup pumpkin puree

Canola oil or peanut oil, for frying

For the cinnamon-sugar:
½ cup sugar
2 tsp. ground cinnamon, dashes of other spices used in doughnuts

For the spiced glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar,
¼ tsp. ground cinnamon,
dash of ground nutmeg,
dash of ground ginger,
dash of ground cloves,
2 tbsp. milk

Directions: 

1. To make the dough, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices in a medium bowl.  Whisk to blend, and set aside.  In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the sugar and butter and beat until well blended.  Stir in the egg, then the egg yolks, and then the vanilla until incorporated.  Combine the buttermilk and pumpkin in a liquid measuring cup and whisk together.  With the mixer on low speed, add in the dry ingredients in three additions alternating with the pumpkin mixture, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients.  Once the dough is mixed, cover and chill for at least 3 hours or until firm. You can put it in the freezer  briefly if it is too soft.

2. On a well-floured work surface, roll or pat out the dough to a ½-inch thick round.  Sprinkle the surface of the dough with flour.  Using a 2½ to 3-inch round biscuit cutter, cut out rounds of dough.  Use a smaller cutter (or a wide pastry tip) to cut a hole out of the center.  Reroll and cut the dough scraps as necessary.

3. Add oil to a large saucepan or Dutch oven to a depth of about 2-3 inches.  Attach athermometer to the side of the pan and heat the oil to 365-370˚ F.  Add the rings of dough to the hot oil so that they are in a single layer and not touching.  Fry, turning once, until both sides are golden brown and doughnuts are cooked through, about 3-4 minutes total.  Use a skimmer/strainer to remove from the oil and transfer to a paper towel-lined rack.  Bring the oil temperature back up to the target range before repeating with the next batch of doughnuts.  Use the same process for the doughnut holes, frying for a shorter time.

4. To make the cinnamon-sugar, combine the sugar and cinnamon in a shallow dish and whisk to blend.  When the doughnuts are just cool enough to handle, dip half of them in the cinnamon-sugar to coat completely, shaking off the excess.

5. To make the spiced glaze, combine the powdered sugar and spices in a small bowl.  Add the milk and whisk to combine, until a thick glaze is formed.  If necessary, add a bit more milk to thin the glaze out.  Dip the remaining half of the doughnuts in the glaze.  Allow the glaze to set before serving.

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