Narcissism at its finest

As promised, here are some shots from my photoshoot the other day!

Teaser

I let the extremely talented Caryn at Magnifica Photography take some photos of me this weekend. I’m still working on the editing, but stay tuned for my very brief and likely never to happen again stint as a model.

What I’m Making

5 years ago I couldn’t cook a single thing. I was known for setting my kitchen on fire and burning and/or dropping my dinner on a weekly (if not nightly) basis. Gradually, I took an interest in cooking and eating organic and now, it’s almost an obsession.  I make all my own bread, rolls and pizza dough from scratch. I make my own pasta sauce. I shop organically and meal plan. What a difference a 1/2 a decade makes!

Tonight’s attempt: Granola! I didn’t make mine into bars, and used craisins instead of raisins, but that’s the beauty of granola, you can use what you got!

Emeril’s Homemade Granola Bars

Ingredients:

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup slivered almonds
1/2 cup honey
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup chopped dates
1/2 cup golden raisins
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon almond or vanilla extract

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease an 8- or 9- inch square baking pan and line with parchment. Lightly grease the parchment and set aside.

Place the oats and almonds on a large baking sheet and bake, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and reduce the temperature to 300 degrees F.

While the oats are toasting, combine honey and butter in a small saucepan and heat until butter is melted and honey is hot.

When oats come out of the oven, transfer to a large bowl and add hot honey, dates, raisins, brown sugar, salt, and almond extract and stir to thoroughly combine. Transfer mixture to the prepared baking pan.

Cut a piece of wax paper and place on top of the granola mixture. Using your hands, press the granola mixture very firmly into the pan. Remove wax paper and discard.

Bake the granola for 20 minutes, or until lightly golden around the edges. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool completely. Remove from the pan by pulling up on the edges of the parchment. Using a sharp knife, cut into 10 (or desired number) even bars.

Wrap in plastic wrap until ready to serve.

Yield: 10 to 20 servings, depending on the size of the bars

A Perfect Black Skirt is Priceless

I have this skirt from the Gap I bought YEARS ago. Black, perfect fabric that doesn’t wrinkle in a suitcase, perfect length, figure flattering. But when I bought it, it was a smidge too big and now that I’ve lost (and kept off) some weight, it falls right off me.

I put it in my Goodwill pile with a heavy hand and tried to forget about my perfect skirt, but when I finally made my trip last week to the donation bin, I couldn’t bear to part with it and decided to see if I could have my perfect cheap skirt altered.

I was TERRIBLY embarrassed to take it to my fancy NYC tailor for fear of the mocking I would pay so much to get such a cheap piece of clothing taken in, but perfect black skirts are hard to find so I bit the bullet and took it in.

He listened careful to what I wanted done and inspected the label. He said in his heavy Eastern European accent “umm…this is like $18″. I apologized for bringing in such cheap piece and started in on a lengthy explanation of how it was the perfect skirt and how I’d searched for years to find a replacement and couldn’t and he patiently listened while glancing at the cashier with a “what is this chick talking about” look. When I finally finished he says to me “No, Miss. I mean the ALTERATIONS will be $18.”

I thanked him, took my receipt and got out of there as fast as I could.

Old Chatty Coffee Men

For those of you who don’t know me in real life, I have a bit of a reputation for being….shall we say less than pleasant before I’ve had my morning coffee. At work, people have been known to cancel meetings with me if the coffee maker is broken. Most people know not to try to engage me in conversation before noon.

There is one exception to this rule. No matter what time of the morning I go to Starbucks on Sundays, I ALWAYS seem to end up in line next to an chipper, chatty old man who wants to engage me in coffee nostalgia. “When I was young, we didn’t have all these highfalutin choices!” “What’s wrong with just a plain ole cup of joe” “What do we need all these fancy high tech machinery just for makin’ coffee”.  It takes everything I have to just smile and nod.

Until I hear the barrista take his order: “A skinny vanilla latte, no foam extra hot”.

Regular cup of Joe indeed.

Legacy

I went back to Illinois this past weekend to attend a celebration of life service for a former theatre lighting teacher, turned friend, Shelley, who recently passed away. Held on a theatre stage, with her beloved dog in attendance and a slideshow of photos from pieces of her life, it truly was an honor to her memory. As I sat there listening to everyone who spoke about her I thought a lot about the legacy one leaves after they are gone.

We all come into this world and from breath number one we have a legacy handed to us. Our parents instill their dreams of parenting a future doctor, lawyer or mother or wish for us to take on the family business. As we grow, a societal legacy is born. The one that tells us to earn a certain monetary amount, to stay within an unattainable weight range and to partner up in order to be societally accepted.

We spend a lot of time fighting these forced legacies and thinking that we don’t measure up or fit into this life, but in death, none of those legacies mattered. People spoke of remembering Shelley’s spirit, her sometimes strict teaching methods that now go on through her students as they now teach others and her incredible love for animals. The University dedicated a room in the building where she worked and instituted a scholarship in her name. Those will be her legacies. A life lived, not a life dreamed.

The Power of One

When I received the invitation to my friend’s memorial and saw the date, a mere 5 days after my return from the Netherlands Antilles, I thought I would have to miss it. As time went on, I found myself looking at plane tickets for the dates, “just to see” and realized that not going wasn’t an option for me. I had a strong desire to go back to the place where we met and honor her service to my alma mater, the University of Illinois. Since making that decision I have learned I wasn’t the only one. Students she taught and mentored are coming from all over the country, San Francisco, New York, Massachusetts, Kentucky, we are gathering together on a weekend in May to remember together a time that’s past.

It it humbling to witness the power of 1 person to bring us all together from all walks and places of life for a part memorial, part reunion, part celebration, sure to be full of laughter, tears and love.

Rest in peace, Shelley. While you watch, we will all be celebrating your all too brief time on this planet. I know it’s cliche, but thanks for the memories.

The Single Life – International Version

“What’s a girl doing walking along the beach alone”

“You have to admit, most people don’t travel to beach locations by themselves”

I am a 30 year old, single woman. I deserve relaxation in the form of my own personal poolside cabana or feeling the sand between my toes while I listen to the waves of the ocean crash against the shore.  I can not spend my life waiting for a man who will carry my beachbag for me.  I’ve thought a lot about the single life while on this trip and about whether or not I truly want to be in a relationship. The truth is, I do feel a pull to be a girlfriend and eventual mother, but I feel an equal pull to be a selfish single girl who can sleep in and travel at the drop of a hat. I am truly fine with either path.

I get too caught up in what society (and my mother) tells me to want. I get lost in the sea of “you should do…..” “you should be….”. I don’t feel lonely because I’m single, I feel lonely because people mock my choice/circumstance and push me out of the socially accepted circle. The absence of male purchased jewelry on my left hand should not make me a pariah.

I am going to keep traveling, keep wandering, keep writing whether or not I have someone alongside me. A hand to hold on the beach would be nice, but having the whole hotel bed to myself is equally appealing.

I do, however, wish I had someone around to put sunblock on those hard to reach places.  I guess that’s why people don’t go to beach locations by themselves.

A burnt back is a small price to pay I suppose, for self-acceptance.

The Single Life: Getting to know someone takes CONVERSATION

In my lifetime of singledom, I have met men in a variety of places. On the train, at work, through friends, even at bars. The older I get, the more slim the pickings seem to be, and that is most evident in the meat market called “The Internet”.

I have dipped my toes in the online dating pool and have come to realize that there are a number of things I do not understand about men and dating. There are profiles with bullet point lists of qualifications that a Yale educated supermodel wouldn’t meet, there are profiles with elaborate descriptions of intimate acts I’ve never even heard of, and my personal favorite, profiles that say nothing except “contact me”. And don’t even get me started on the pictures. Am I to find photos of men carousing with a variety of scantily clad women while fondling a beer bottle enticing? Is a faceless photo of a minute male body part supposed to make me swoon? Do these men really get responses? I can’t help but channel Dr. Phil and ask “How’s that workin’ for ya?”

I can’t help but wonder if conversation over coffee is a lofty expectation in this sea of men who think the foreplay is over after the barrista takes your order.

Looking Back Looking Ahead

Today is my 30^th birthday.

My 30 years have been full.  I’ve snowboarded. I’ve loved. I’ve done dumb things like helped a friend carry a 9 foot palm tree on the subway. I survived a car accident. I walked the streets of London, relaxed on the beaches of Mexico and been many places in between. I started my own business. I lived in 3 different states. I watched too much TV. I got obsessed with a Presidential election. I’ve been curious.  I wrote letters to soldiers in the war. I’ve been on a motorcycle (sorry Mom). I’ve read Shakespeare and understood what he was saying. I learned to cook. I stood up for myself. I stood up for others when nobody else did. I’ve wandered and I’ve wondered.

I wish to help others more. I wish to find love. I wish to find the path to my best life. I wish to feel beautiful. I wish to know more. I wish to hold on to hope when I feel hopeless. I wish for possibility.

Happy Birthday to me.