“Comment ça va?”

I wish to correct a potential misconception. If you were innocently reading this blog, you might think that my life in DC is wandering starry eyed though monuments, taking pretty pictures, eating overpriced delicacies, and generally living life up. Let me correct you, Oh Innocent Reader.  I do homework.  I read lots of articles that I frequently don’t understand, study books in which the characters usually die, and teach French to college students that are way too serious to appreciate my fantastic sense of humor and amazingly witty memory devices.

I love school, really I do. But after two years of giving the grades, getting them is a little abrasive. And going back on the college-esque do-homework-all-the-time-and-feel-guilty-for-doing-fun-things is not fun. But I appreciate the education I am getting, even if it interupts the life of leisure that I perfected this past summer.  One constant from last year is that I still love teaching. College students may not be as endearing as high schoolers, but they are so studious and responsible that it has some perks.  UMD is big into technology so I have been adjusting to teaching with power points. I try to mix up the images from the book with some creative ones.

And so, I present to you a very helpful lesson to teach you the appropriate responses to the question: “Comment ça va?” (“How are you doing?)

“Je suis en forme!”

“Je suis très occupé(e)!”

“Je suis malade!”

“Je suis stressé(e)!”

“Je suis fatigué(e)!”



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2 Things I Love

There are many things that I love about living in DC. I would like to share one of my favorite things with you here and it is this drink of perfection, the toasted marshmallow  milkshake from Good Stuff Eatery. Do I love it because I love marshmallows? No. Do I love it for its perfect texture, delicious dollop of whip cream, or topping of actual toasted marshmallows? No. I love it because it actually tastes like its name.  And I like things that fully take on the taste of their namesake. Come to this city, drink this shake.

Second thing I love. And yes, he did make that wonderful pink cake himself for my birthday. And he allows me to whine about the things I hate about DC. By things, I pretty much mean thing, ie, trying to drive in and out of the city and inevitably missing my exit every time and thus being forced to basically drive all the way to Baltimore just to turn around. But I digress.

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Georgetown Cupcakes

There are many things that baffle me about the world we live in today.  Google+, hipsters, the fact that everything is crossbred with a poodle, and why anyone would want to read a book on a computer screen, just to name a few.  But what is truly interesting is the variety of television programs offered. By this variety, I mean the gross number of programs on the production of cupcakes. You can watch their formation into impossible structures, see them become vehicles of competition, and consider vomiting as dessert becomes a vehicle for olives, mushrooms, and other things that do not go with frosting.

Apparently DC, or more particularly Georgetown, is the center of these sugary sensations. Georgetown Cupcakes is the site of one of the first cupcake-following TV shows.  I had wanted to go before, but the line always deterred me as it usually wraps halfway down the block.  But this last weekend, I treated myself to waiting inline and getting a cupcake for my birthday. I am generally not impressed by cupcakes, finding them a tease and ending way to soon to bear the noble name of cake.

But there is a reason why Georgetown Cupcake is the epicenter of all cupcake making. And that reason is delicious.

After waiting in line much less time than anticipated (only 30 minutes) I then had to let multiple people pass me as I stood in awe of cake.  I finally did select a perfect cupcake and I am here to testify that I too would dedicate a TV series to that. But only one. And I would only allow it to run for one or two seasons. Moderation is key.

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Something in the human spirit

Last weekend Rachel came to visit.  Because I had only just started classes, I was partially able to pretend like I could go around and have fun instead of studying all weekend. Plus, I have to take advantage of weekends without natural disasters. I haven’t had as much time to explore DC as I would have liked, but I do enjoy running through my area and as I end every run I pass this restaurant and it always looks so lovely. Rachel and I stopped in for beignets.

We also took advantage of a glorious Saturday to visit the new Martin Luther King memorial and then walked back down the mall stopping at the World War II memorial.  I think that it is my favorite memorial. What is it about water flowing through these memorials that seems so appropriate? I have two favorite parts of the memorial. First, I am always struck by the reflecting pool, where every star and its reflection pays tribute to 100 lives lost in the war. Below the pool is engraved “Here we count the cost of freedom.” As Rachel and I sat beside the fountains, we noticed an elderly couple working their way through the memorial. He was the age to have fought in the war, and maybe I jumped to conclusions, but as he stood beside the pool and removed his hat I couldn’t help but think that some of those stars made him think of names, of faces.

I also love the eloquence of this memorial, particularly this quote that is written on one end of the circle:

“Even against that the greatest of odds, there is something in the human spirit – a magic blend of skill, faith, and valor – that can life men from certain defeat to incredible victory.”

–Walter Lord Author

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Gluten Free Baking: Deep Dark Chocolate Cookies

When someone in your life is gluten intolerant, you start becoming obsessed with finding things that are gluten-free. Or maybe that is just me.  And every time you stumble upon a gluten-free object, you have to excitedly send a text to the effect of “ WHOA-GLUTEN FREE DONUTS??????” Sadly, many of these gluten-free discoveries are disgusting. Life lesson: a donut should have gluten in it. End of discussion. Or, the item purged of gluten might taste delicious, but a close reading of the nutrition facts will alert you to the really bad for you things that they had to put in it to make it deceptively delicious.  Thus, in my own attempts at gluten-free baking (which are not terribly extensive) I have taken the route of just hunting for recipes that naturally occur in a gluten-free format, i.e., the flourless chocolate cake and her many cousins/siblings/offspring.

I recently made these cookies that fall in the above category and was surprised by how delicious they were, not to mention lovely.  They also include that culinary magic dust, aka, cornstarch, which miraculously turns a liquid into an almost solid.  If you are blessed enough to have a KitchenAid stand mixer, this would be a good time to use it. Alas, it seems like only those who get married out of college get one of those and the rest of us remain mixer-less. Using your handheld mixer, the beating times will be about doubled and you will probably make a much bigger mess.

Deep Dark Chocolate Cookies (Yes, I love how the title implies a journey into a dark cavern of cookie)- Recipe from Divine Baking

Nonstick vegetable oil spray

1 1/2 cups bittersweet chocolate chips (about 9 ounces), divided

3 large egg whites, room temperature

2 1/2 cups powdered sugar, divided (I used 2 cups)

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray 2 large baking sheets with nonstick spray. Melt 1 cup chocolate chips in glass bowl in microwave, stirring twice, about 2 minutes. Cool slightly.

2. Using electric mixer, beat whites in large bowl to soft peaks. Gradually beat in 1 cup sugar. Continue beating until mixture resembles soft marshmallow cream.

3.Whisk 1 cup sugar, cocoa, cornstarch, and salt in medium bowl to blend. On low speed, beat dry ingredients into meringue.

4. Stir in lukewarm chocolate and 1/2 cup chocolate chips, dough will become very stiff. (At this point, my dough was not doughy enough to roll so I added extra cornstarch.)

5. Place 1/2 cup sugar in bowl. Roll 1 rounded tablespoon dough into ball; roll in sugar, coating thickly. Place on prepared sheet. Repeat with remaining dough, spacing 2 inches apart.

6. Bake until puffed and tops crack, about 10 minutes. Cool on sheets on rack 10 minutes. Transfer to rack; cool.

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Orientation

I started classes on Wednesday after a week of orientation at University of Maryland. Returning to being the one getting grades rather than giving them is daunting after 2 years away. I am teaching one class (French 103) and taking 4, so it should be a busy semester.  Hillsdale set an interesting standard for higher education orientation. The small school environment meant that most of our technical and logistic questions had been answered before even arriving on campus.  Students were coddled, protected, and cherished even. Or so I now feel in comparison.  Orientation was a time of inspiration, rather than education. We attended lectures on the “higher things,” heard talks about the noble world of academia into which we were entering. We were inspired, edified, ennobled.

My orientation this past week has been the opposite, which is not to say that it wasn’t useful. For a week I sat in meetings about grading, technology in the classroom, how to effectively teach a foreign language, and how to provide a welcoming classroom environment for students of alternative lifestyles.  Yes, these were all good skills to acquire. But by the end of orientation, I just needed someone to remind me about the noble world of academia, about the joy of learning.

And then, on the last day, a professor got up to speak about why we pursue graduate studies. The goal, she reminded us, is to add something new to the world of knowledge and study. To appropriately explain the terrifying joy that this task is, she read us the end of this poem. At last, an orientation that I understand.

The water seems suspended

above the rounded gray and blue-gray stones.

I have seen it over and over, the same sea, the same,

slightly, indifferently swinging above the stones,

icily free above the stones,

above the stones and then the world.

If you should dip your hand in,

your wrist would ache immediately,

your bones would begin to ache and your hand would burn

as if the water were a transmutation of fire

that feeds on stones and burns with a dark gray flame.

If you tasted it, it would first taste bitter,

then briny, then surely burn your tongue.

It is like what we imagine knowledge to be:

dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free,

drawn from the cold hard mouth

of the world, derived from the rocky breasts

forever, flowing and drawn, and since

our knowledge is historical, flowing, and flown.

-“At the Fishhouses,” Elizabeth Bishop

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Falling Books and Abandoned Undergarments: A Week of Natural Disasters

I decided today to join the ranks of many others out here in the east coast in eagerly recounting my own harrowing tales of the natural disasters of the past week. I would like to pause and recognize anyone reading this from the west coast, where tremors like what rocked us are a common occurrence, or the southern coast, where hurricanes are a seasonal truth. Yes, you are superior and may judge for our extreme response.  But it is our response all the same.

I like to think that I am not totally helpless in the face of scary weather. Snowstorms I know (begrudgingly) and tornadoes were a part of life growing up. Many a night as kids my dad woke us up and I collected my favorite plastic horses and American Girl dolls to wait out the storm in the basement. Naturally, if all was destroyed, these objects would prove vital in rebuilding a community. But despite the fact that we occasionally did earthquake drills in school, none of us took it seriously. Thus when my living room started shaking last week I was wholly unprepared. My thought process went quickly through the following three scenarios:

  1. We didn’t vent the dryer properly and now it has blown up the basement and the house is caving in.
  2. The men doing construction behind our house backed into the foundation and are shaking the house.
  3. EARTHQUAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At this point, my head knew what to do: find a doorframe to stand in. But did I do that? No. My first response, because it seemed natural, try to run outside. But I couldn’t get the door open so I instead resorted to jumping up and down in the living room shrieking. I think that my extreme movement during the earth’s shifting might have heightened my sensation that EVERYTHING WAS FALLING APART! Later, I finally got ahold of James who had been evacuated with all the rest of the congressional staff and not allowed to re-enter. Apparently ground shaking in this city instantly means terrorism to most people. I have much to learn.

We didn’t have any damage, just some fallen things to pick up. However, when I toured University of Maryland’s library today I learned that about 30,000 books fell to the floors during the shaking and several whole sliding shelves toppled. Here are some pictures from the library’s flickr.

After recovering from the earthquake, we were then met with Hurricane Irene. For this, my housemates and I were prepared, though I can’t take much credit. I finally filled up my gas tank at James’ insistence, but other than that my preparations consisted of baking pie and feeling deeply thankful that if we did lose power for several days, I had at least mastered Big Southern Hair sans electricity.  The storm was due to hit in the evening, and when I went out for a run late morning the city was eerily quiet. I suppose the reminder of nature’s force via the earthquake had left everyone taking heed of the media.  Liz (one of my housemates) is a journalist, and spent the day responding to my texts asking for weather updates. James and I had planned on going to Fairfax that night to have dinner with friends but as the evening went on the rain and wind did seem to indicate that driving through a hurricane for some tortilla soup and board games might be ill advised.

But it was so gloomy, and tortilla soup eaten with dear friends so appealing, that we finally decided to take the metro out. Our rational was that if the metro was running, it was probably safe to be doing so. Few other people thought like us and we enjoyed a private, quiet, wind buffeted ride out to Fairfax.  We made it back safely, although James was appalled when he stepped off the metro into an empty station sometime after midnight and there was a pair of underwear lying alone in silent tribute to the chaos of Irene.  We ended up not losing power, for which I am thankful, though it means that my tales of surviving two natural disasters are far less glamorous than they might have been. Still, their anticlimactic ending is what now allows my to sit safely in my undamaged house and write blithely of my past week. And for that, I am thankful.

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Kevin and Genevieve

Do you remember my wonderful second family with whom I went to Arizona? Several weeks ago Genevieve, the youngest daughter got engaged. I happened to be up visiting them the weekend it happened and I was thrilled when Gen asked if I would come back and do engagement photos. Several years ago I took photos of Gen and Kevin for fun and they have remained among my favorites. We were originally waiting for them to pick out a ring before doing the photos but then it looked like the ring (which they are designing) wouldn’t be done until after I had moved to DC. We decided to go ahead and do the photos sans ring because as Gen put it, even with out a ring they are still “very much engaged, very happy, and worthy of photos.” And so they are.

Being artistic and fun and up for something more interesting, Gen thought of doing 4 different sections of our shoot, with 4 very distinct feels. I know that I am posting way too many photos, but I loved too many to narrow it down any more! (Apologies . . . sort of.)  First, a tribute to the bookish intellectuels that Gen and Kevin are, and the many books they have read together.

Next was a garden party look, very Great Gatsby-ish, in my opinion.

Afterwards, we shifted to a shoot featuring their lovely vintage car. (Speaking of vintage car engagement photos, you should see THESE!)

Lastly, we went back to the place where Kevin proposed: an idyllic creek that is a good hike off the beaten path. This place, beyond being the site of his proposal, is a place where they have spent hours talking, dreaming, and generally falling in love. It seemed a perfect place to end our pictures.

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An American Capital

My new house has been cleaned, drilled, decorated, and filled. When the Stone clan moves a child it is very reminiscent of one of those intense home design shows where people attack a space and it emerges totally transformed two days later. We do not do the gradual move-in plan, instead opting for box carrying brigades, multiple trips to Home Depot, and quick decisions on design and layout. But the result is that two days after arriving it looks rather like a home. I promise to get pictures up soon.

After our blitzkrieg of my house, we took two days to sightsee before my parents headed back to Kentucky. Washington D.C. is an interesting capital because unlike other countries where the capital is just the biggest or most important city, America picked a totally unimportant place and forced it into prominence by making it the seat of our government.  Instead of castles, theatres, and churches built over hundreds of years, we have monuments that speak of the things that have happened all across America.  It is a shrine to American greatness more than a site of it occurring.

It seems like everyone is blaming Washington these days for every ill that faces America. Even the president and congress, not to mention every GOP candidate consistently comment on how the problem with America is Washington. But I’m not so sure. As we toured the Capitol building and wandered through the museums on Saturday, I started thinking that this city reflects so much of what is right in the city. The national museums are free because in theory they belong to all of us. We let people walk on the grass, enter the Capitol freely and unannounced because this is our city. As I walked through the Capitol itself, I was struck by how the entire building is a testament, not to a government on the brink of collapsing because it can’t balance its budget, but to one founded on liberty and freedom, the best of western thought and tradition and history.  Even the fact that the President isn’t allowed to step into the Capitol building unless invited touched me. Everything about our capital points to America establishing itself as a new nation, aware of her European roots and traditions, but wanting to establish herself as a different entity, and a great one.

So even though I now live in a city that has mandatory recycling and fines for discarding cans, gluten free booths at the major league ball park, exceedingly overpriced groceries, and endless waiting at the very inefficient metro, I am proud to be here.

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Thoughts on Home

The fact that I am moving to D.C. in the morning necessitates an entire post in tribute of Kentucky, which is truly the greatest state. Recently Lyman and I went to Friday lunch at Beaumont Inn with our grandparents and I was overwhelmed once again by how beautiful Kentucky is. I love the rolling hills with long ribbons of roads or rivers winding through them. I love the pastures dotted with foals and the swaying green fields of tobacco.  I love that my town mayor has been mayor longer than I have been alive and that the sign welcoming you to Wilmore says “Welcome to Wilmore: Jesus Loves You.”  I love growing up around the places where both my grandparents, and my parents, met and fell in love. This is home.

Over the past 6 years, lots of other places have been home too, but this is the one that has roots, that isn’t just the people.  Yes, home is wherever the people you love are, but when I think about the town where I have grown up, I realize that home is also this very physical plot of land, shaped by the people I love.

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