verbatim

Whiskers on Kittens

A few more of my favorite things (most of which I already shared on Twitter—are you still not following me?): 

1. You know those reusable shopping bags we all schlep to and from the market? Well, unless yours are washable—and you wash them—they're disgusting. All kinds of life forms can be found within: bacteria, mold, yeast, you name it. So, a while back I got a Groupon for 4 reusable and washable Envirosax bags. They have a million cute patterns, fold up to the size of your fist, and hold up to 44 lbs. each. The only thing I don't love about them is that there isn't a rigid bottom, so they do tend to kind of flop when you put them in the trunk of the car. 

2. Check out these Then and Now photos of rock stars. 

3. David Rees, Artisanal Pencil Sharpener, was in town yesterday and I missed him! Speaking of pencils, yes, I got these mechanical colored pencils, and yes, I am calling them a business expense.

4. I hope everyone has heard about the release of millions—yes, millions—of photos of New York going back to the mid-1800s. They're all available here, but since that site has, not surprisingly, been deluged with visitors, you might have trouble getting in, so here's a taste of some of what's there. I love the one of the painters working on the Brooklyn Bridge.

5. Werner Herzog's note to his cleaning lady.

6. People who don't know how to spell "cologne."

7. Lines from The Princess Bride that double as comments on freshman composition papers.

8. Kurt Vonnegut's response to the news that a high school planned to ban Slaughterhouse-Five.

Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Take Me In

The girls and I are back from a whirlwind weekend in New York! We had all been invited to a cousin's Bat Mitzvah, but Andy (well, Andy's knee) definitely did not feel up for the long ride, so he and Pete stayed home and "bached it." (That doesn't look right, but it can't be "batched," right?)

After studying all of the possibilities, we decided that the the best idea of all was for me to not have to drive at all. So we got up very early on Saturday morning and hitched a ride down with Lauren and Gary. We played word games for nearly 4 hours, stopping only once for a bathroom break. We got a little lost heading into Brooklyn, but it turned out that the turn we had missed would have led us to a major traffic jam—Mom and Dad did make the proper turn and ended up late to the service because of it! 

The Bat Mitzvah was held at the Church of Gethsemane, which hosts the Kolot Chayeinu congregation, and we lucked out and found street parking a couple of blocks over. Gary just had to knot his tie and slip on his jacket, but we 4 had to change into our dresses in the back seat. I am here to report that it is just barely possible to wriggle into Spanx under those conditions.

The service was lovely, and we were relieved when Mom and Dad finally showed up. From there, we drove a mile or so to the party, which was held at Deity Lounge (only in Brooklyn would you have a Bat Mitzvah service in a church and the party in a converted synagogue, amiright?). The parking gods were definitely being kind to us—this time we got street parking directly in front of the building. Deity is a very cool place, and ideal for such an event: The grownups were upstairs and the kids (and their loud music and crazy dancing—yes, I'm that old) were downstairs. It was so nice to connect with relatives I haven't seen in years—one cousin I had last seen when I was pregnant with Steph in 1996! Steph and Julie had a ball, coming upstairs every now and then to check in. I made it downstairs at one point and did the photo booth thing with them:

The food was delicious, and the dessert was rows and rows of high-end bakery versions of childhood favorites like Ring Dings and Twinkies! Yum! We were among the last to leave the party—why make that long trip if you're not going to milk it for all it's worth, right? Lauren and Gary graciously offered to drive us to our hotel, and we did manage to get lost again thanks to my maps app, which sent us ridiculously off-course. They then left to go stay overnight with friends in New Jersey.

We got settled in our room and then went out to find dinner. It turns out that there are bazillions of restaurants on 5th Avenue in Park Slope just a couple of blocks from our hotel; we walked up and down and finally chose a cute little Italian place called Campo de' Fiori. Julie declared it the best pizza she'd ever eaten, mainly because of the sauce.

The next morning we had continental breakfast in the hotel, checked out, and off we went! I knew we didn't have enough time to actually do anything, but we planned to see as much as possible. Julie really wanted to take a cab because she'd never ridden in one and because if we took the subway she wouldn't be able to see the Brooklyn Bridge. So we took a cab to the Staten Island Ferry, which was a surprisingly great take. The terminal is clean and nicely organized; you board the ferry and get a 20-minute ride across the harbor. We were told to stand on the right, so we got a great view of the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Then we got off in Staten Island, turned right around, and got onto a different ferry for the same ride back (standing on the left this time, of course). The whole thing took just under an hour—and was free! It didn't hurt that the weather was magnificent.

We asked a ferry guy for directions to Ground Zero, but he wasn't too sure. We then asked two different police officers, who were also a little unclear. I was shocked—it ended up being about a 10-minute walk, and they didn't know how to tell us to get there! We started walking, saw the Wall Street Bull, and then finally saw a few signs. We didn't go into the WTC Memorial, but we did see the site where the old buildings went down and the new buildings are going up.

I'm red-faced to admit this, but it had never occurred to me that "downtown" means "down" as in heading south and "uptown" means "up" as in heading north. Duh! (Well, to be fair to myself, we don't use the term "uptown" in Boston.) That was a revelation in terms of navigating. So I knew we had to start heading uptown in order to eventually catch our 2:30 Bolt Bus at 34th and 8th. We went down into the first subway stop we saw and said, "Driver, take us to Times Square!" Well, actually, we bought our tickets and hopped on the next train that came. It was just a few stops, and then I watched the girls' faces as we emerged to street level in Times Square! This is what they wanted: crowds, noise, lights, skyscrapers, excitement, and that feeling that everything in the world is happening right around you at that moment. We walked around, bought junky souvenirs, gawked at the pricey stuff in the M&M World store, people-watched, and spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to find public bathrooms. We ate a quick and yummy lunch at Pax Wholesome Foods. (Meanwhile, did you know that in New York, all restaurants have a sign posted in the window for their grade in sanitation? Are there reasons that someone might choose to eat in a restaurant that didn't earn an A? Ick?)

Then, with the girls still starry-eyed and me still dragging our suitcase behind us, we continued heading uptown. We wanted to get something to bring with us to eat on the bus ride, but we again ended up spending most of our time trying to find a bathroom. We were stunned that there wasn't one at Starbucks! When we were just about desperate, at last a sympathetic cleaning lady at a Burger King let us use theirs without waiting in the mile-long line to buy something first. (I would've been happy to buy something, but the line was moving so slowly.) We ended up just buying a bunch of Luna and Cliff bars at a little market. We didn't want to tempt ourselves with too much water, because we knew that the bus was going to make only one stop for a bathroom break, so we had just one bottle with us.

We finally made it to the bus stop outside the Tick Tock Diner, which is in view of the Empire State Building. Our driver apologized to us because instead of one of those sleek, fancy Bolt buses, we had a dumpy old Peter Pan bus that did not have electrical outlets as we'd been promised! My iPhone was just about out of charge, so that was a big bummer. He thought we would have wifi, but we didn't have that either. My iPad had plenty of charge, so I ponied up the $20 for a month of 3G in order to catch up on two days' worth of Scrabble and Words With Friends games, to text Andy, to see all the Bat Mitzvah photos my cousins had already posted on Facebook, and to check my email. The good news was that this bus did have a toilet in back! This was a huge relief to the girls, who had been very concerned about waiting until we stopped at a rest area.

The bus ride was uneventful, and we ended up not stopping since we had the use of the bathroom. The girls were glad that the driver decided to avoid the traffic on 95, because that meant that they got to add New Jersey to the list of states they've been in. We arrived at South Station just before 7pm and were very happy to see Andy and Pete and to get home.

As you know, I am very much a Nervous Nellie, so I am pretty proud of myself for having done this weekend excursion on my own. The girls really enjoyed their first taste of New York. Next time we will do it at a more leisurely pace.

Book Group

We met last night to discuss The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht. I didn't know what to expect, because the book has been met with such fanfare in the press, particularly for a young author's debut, but then I had heard a lot of people who didn't like it at all. I ended up really enjoying it, although I would stop short of calling it one of the best books of the year.

The story takes place somewhere in the Balkans. It seems clear that it's the former Yugoslavia (where Obreht is from), but specifics aren't given. The main character, Natalia, is a doctor, and her grandfather was also a doctor. He shared with Natalia his stories about a tiger that had escaped from a zoo and terrorized his childhood village, and about the "deathless man" he met at several key points in his life. After his death, Natalia wants to find out more about her grandfather and about the characters in these stories, including the woman who became known as the tiger's wife. 

And that's all I'll tell you. The writing was gorgeous. Nearly every page had a sentence that struck me with its elegance or interesting way of describing something. 

The group was split—several people didn't like the book much or at all, but a few of us did. I initially attributed that to the fact that some people just don't like magical realism, but some of these people do like it—a lot—but just didn't like this one. So I don't know. I happen to love magical stories, and in any event you could read this book quite literally and just accept the magical parts as stories that aren't meant to be real, as tricks that people in all cultures have for comforting ourselves and explaining the world. Some call it religion, some call it myth, and some just allow it to be woven into their lives without calling it anything.

Next month we're doing Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese. I thought I was the last person on the planet to read it, but apparently not.

Half a Century

So far being 50 means nonstop eating.

My birthday celebration began last night when Andy and I went out for a wonderful dinner at Mistral, which always feels special. I started with the Maine Lobster and Mascarpone Tortellini with English Peas, which had me quite literally mopping up the sauce with scraps of bread so as not to lose a single drop. For my entrée, I went with the Pan-Roasted Atlantic Halibut with Rock Shrimp Risotto. Yum, yum, yum. Oh, and we had a delicious Malbec/Cab blend (Malbec is our new fave). For dessert, we shared the warm chocolate torte with vanilla ice cream and sauce anglaise. Stuffed to the gills isn’t even the word.

This morning I got breakfast in bed and lots of presents! Beautiful earrings and an equally beautiful bracelet, plus fancy chocolates that I will not share. Oh, and flowers and pretty desk accessories and more.

And the most exciting thing of all, a Lytro! It’s a new kind of camera that is like something from the future. “Unlike a conventional camera that captures a single plane of light, the Lytro camera captures the entire light field, which is all the light traveling in every direction in every point in space.” Whatever that means to people who understand such things, to me it means that I can take a photo and then focus after the fact on whatever part of it I want! And you can too! Here, for instance, is a photo I took today:

If you click on the flower, it comes into focus and Steph recedes into the background; if you click on Steph, she sharpens up and the flower goes blurry! And you can double-click anywhere to zoom in. I am really just getting the hang of it, but you can see many more cool examples here.

We then had brunch at the Biltmore. Julie and Pete got the French toast, which is like no other French toast you can imagine: thick-sliced cinnamon-swirl babka coated with Cap’n Crunch and corn flakes, drizzled with vanilla icing, and served with warm apple butter. Be still, my heart.

When we got home, Julie had made a scavenger hunt that took me all over the house following her clever clues. My treasure was a clay cat that she made.

And then, because we hadn’t eaten enough yet, we went out for Chinese food with Andy’s parents, since Jerry’s birthday was last week. And then came home to a decadent chocolate cake from Que Brada. I’m never eating again. 

Throughout the day I got loads of phone calls and emails and Facebook messages and tweets all wishing me a happy 50th! Julie’s soccer coach reminded me of what Gloria Steinem said when someone told her she didn’t look 50: “This is what 50 looks like.” Indeed! 

Getting Ready to Celebrate

Pete turned 13 yesterday! And that means that he's a teenager, on his way to becoming a man! It also means that his Bar Mitzvah is fast approaching.

EEK!

The nice thing about having been through this once already is that I don't have to start from nothing. Number 1 on the To Do list was to get the same caterer, Linda at La Bonne Maison, because once she was locked in I knew that all would be well. Because, really, once the dance music starts and Pete and his friends are happily cavorting about, all I'm interested in is serving the most amazing food to my adult guests. I don't care about fancy invitations or a videographer or any of that, but the food has to be spectacular.

Linda had to postpone our meeting for a few weeks because she was empaneled on a jury—murder in the second degree!—but we finally sat down last week. I was tempted to go with the exact same menu as last time, because every bite was to-die-for. But Linda reminded me that there are other things to eat out there, and also that a June menu should be different from a February menu. She's right. So we are still trying to figure all that out. The sample menus she provided are already covered in drool, and I know that whatever we choose will be splendid.

I had sort of thought that Pete could just wear a jacket and tie (well, you know what I mean—and pants and a shirt), but "everyone" is saying he needs a full-fledged suit, so I will probably cave and get him one. (That he'll wear once and then outgrow.) As for me, I've decided to wear the dress I got for Steve and Cliff's wedding last year and never got to wear again. I can wear the cardigan during the services and then whip it off when it's time to party. I tried it on last night and still feel happy in it. The girls will need new dresses, though.

Pete's Torah tutoring is going along fine, and he will meet with the rabbi next week to start work on his D'var (teaching), the speech he makes in which he talks about his Torah portion and why it's meaningful to him. Andy and I also have to give a speech, about why Pete is so awesome, and we haven't set down so much as one word of that yet. And there are a million other details, but I know from Steph's big day that nothing else really matters once you see your kid up there and look around at the sanctuary filled with friends and family there to celebrate with you. Well, that and the Petit Filet Mignon with Herb Butter hors d'oeuvres.

You Can Say You Knew Me When

What would you do if you got an email purporting to be from a very well-known and well-respected person, inquiring about hiring you? You'd assume it was a scam, right? So did I. And I was wrong.

The other day I got an email from one Michael Ruhlman, who very interestingly has the same name as that famous writer/chef who gave us The Elements of Cooking, Ratio, Ruhlman's Twenty, and more  (oh, and for those who prefer to explore the world of cooking via TV, who was also a judge on Cooking Under Fire, Next Iron Chef, and Iron Chef America). The Michael Ruhlman in the email said that he was looking for a cookbook copyeditor for a new project, and would I be interested? Ha Ha Ha. Like I was born yesterday! Why don't I just send you my bank account PIN right now?

But then I looked at the return email address, and it was the same one that the real Michael Ruhlman uses at his website.

Gulp.

So I replied, tentatively. How did you find me? And it turns out that he Googled "cookbook copyeditor," and lo and behold! The first thing that came up is this interview with me for the Copyediting blog! My email isn't there, but my blog URL is, and from there he found my email address.

Here's the deal: Michael wrote a short, single-subject* cookbook, and his wife (and food photographer extraordinaire) Donna convinced him to self-publish it to the Kindle, as a kind of experiment. But for that he would need to find a copyeditor on his own ... and that's where I come in! Yes, after some emailing back and forth to get to know one another and discuss the project, it's a go! Really! I'm downright giddy.

*I've been sworn to secrecy. No, I won't tell. I said NO.

Raindrops on Roses

These are a few of my favorite things:

1. I'm the only one in the house who likes guacamole, and I really like it. Still, I'm not likely to eat a whole recipe's worth (or purchased tub) in one setting, and it doesn't keep well. (Yes, I've tried squirting lime juice all over the surface, and pressing plastic wrap down over it, and leaving the pit in—invariably there's a part that turns brown and I get grossed out and toss the whole thing.) So I was delighted to discover that Wholly Guacamole makes these adorable little 2-ounce packs that can keep in the freezer! They defrost in no time. So now I can get my guac fix whenever I need it.

2.a. Several people posted this on Facebook: To pass the time during long flights, artist Nina Katchadourian goes to the lavatory, adorns herself in tissue paper costume, and creates hilarious self-portrait photos in the style of Flemish Renaissance paintings. 

2.b. Steve sent me this link to a Sorted Books project, also by Nina Katchadourian (what are the odds that I had never heard of this person and then I find her twice in one week?). Awesome. And then I came upon this collection of Book Spine Poetry—I would like to try this on my own bookshelves!

3. I don't watch American Idol, but even I am aware of at least three instances when Simon Cowell sneered at and ridiculed a contestant for being unattractive and overweight and then was blown away by the person's performance. First, of course, was Susan Boyle, then came that cell phone salesman, and now this teenager. If you tell me you don't have tears streaming down your face watching this, I won't believe you.

4. Here's a letter Keif Richards wrote to his aunt when he was 18 and had just run into his old schoolmate Mick Jagger.

5. Check out this funny list of fake Massachusetts towns. (Hint for non-Massachusettsians: The last one is real!) Twitter pal ken_homer added Scrotham to the list.

6. After all these years, I only just discovered that I could download the entire Red Sox schedule to my iPhone! It's easy.

7. Re the title and opening line of this post, somehow Julie had never seen "The Sound of Music" until last week. She couldn't believe I knew every single word to every single song. 

Sewage

You should be grateful that I've spared you the details of our latest sewer line woes. Well, until now, that is, so I guess you can stop being grateful. You know how we're always having sewer backups in the basement? (You might recall that the most recent one was late at night while Andy was in the hospital. Good times.) So it happened again a few weeks ago, and I called Big Famous Drain Cleaning Company as usual. After the cleanout, the guy suggested I have another guy come out the next day with his snaky camera thing to do a colonoscopy on my house, so I did.

"Oh, lady, you got trouble!" was the gist of that experience. I could see on the screen as the camera ended up submerged in, um, let's just call it "water" well before it even reached the street. The guy told me that I needed them to dig a hole in my yard to "jet" the blockage out toward the street, but oh no! Turns out our sewer line is 14 feet underground, which is more than double the usual depth. So "That's gonna cost ya!" to the tune of something like $10,000. And they hoped it would do the trick, because if it didn't, I'd be in for more than twice that to dig up all the way to the street. And they also strongly suggested I not use any water until I did this.

Fortunately, a cooler head (Andy's) prevailed; he called the city DPW, who sent their own cameraman out for a repeat colonoscopy. (In the meantime, we flushed as little as possible, did the dishes in a pot and then dumped the dirty water behind the garage, went to the laundromat, and showered elsewhere or not all.) The city has no axe to grind because they are not in the plumbing business. This time the camera did not end up submerged, although we saw lots and lots of tree roots. (It's those darn roots that the cleanout guys are always getting at—we don't flush anything besides toilet paper.) Our quaint old main sewer line is made up of two-foot-long sections of clay pipe, and at every seam all of those quaint old trees outside send their roots in to wreak havoc. The city guy said that a good cleaner-outer guy should be able to get the roots. So we called a local plumbing company who came and did it. Then the city cameraman came again and got the camera all the way to the street without getting stuck on anything. All of this took more than a week.

The upshot: We need to get cleaned out prophylactically at least twice a year, not just when the basement toilet starts gurling. And we should consider replacing the main sewer line at some point with PVC. Or we can look into lining the current pipes with PVC, although ours are so bendy that I don't know whether it's feasible.

Also: I am so angry with the guys from Big Famous Drain Cleaning Company. They called me every day that week to say, "Karen, I'm really worried! It's going to rain tomorrow and then we won't be able to dig, and you can't wait any longer or you going to have a basement full of sewage!" And they were wrong, wrong, wrong. It used to be that they were the only ones who would come on a weekend or at night (which seems to be when all of our sewer backups occur), but that's no longer the case, so I will never call them again.

Bee Season

Today was one of those days that just plain sucked. The worst part was that my Internet was down, and I had a deadline to meet. I tried to work at Starbucks, but for some reason my old MacBook Pro wouldn't get online. I'm sure my client understands (well, I hope so, anyhow!), but I just don't do missed deadlines. Well, it turned out that the modem was dead, so I'm back online. (No idea what's wrong with the MacBook, but I rarely use it anyhow.)

Yesterday was a much better day, because that was when Julie came in second in the all-city spelling bee! She got out on the word INAUGURATE, which I think is a very hard word for a fourth grader (and for many adults, as I discovered when asking around today). She got plenty of other hard words, like TOBOGGAN and TENDENCY and FRIGID and RENEWAL. And now it's just two weeks until the school spelling bee!

As Good As Hametz

I made these chocolate cookies for Passover, and my kids have deemed them worthy of year-round eating. They are delicious but extremely rich and dense, so one is plenty.

Chocolate Passover Cookies

½ stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup packed light-brown sugar
2 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, melted
½ cup matzo meal
¼ teaspoon coarse salt
4 large egg whites
8 ounces semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°. Beat butter and sugar with a mixer on medium-high speed until fluffy. Beat in egg yolks and vanilla. Add melted chocolate, matzo meal, and salt. Beat until mixture just comes together. (It should be thick.)

In a clean bowl (I have only one bowl for my KitchenAid, so I had to wash it out to reuse it) and with a whisk attachment, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Gently fold into chocolate mixture. (There was no way this was "folding." The chocolate mixture was like cement, so I really had to mix hard to get the egg whites incorporated. But it still worked out fine.) Add chocolate chips, and stir. Let stand 15 minutes.

Scoop 2-inch balls onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. (It said that a single batch would be 14 cookies, but I made a double batch and got 36 cookies.) Bake until set, 10–12 minutes. Let cool on sheet on a wire rack for 2 minutes. Transfer cookies to rack, and let cool completely.

Three Things

1. When I was listing things I wouldn't be doing on my 50th birthday, I forgot to mention another one: Just as I was about to click "BUY" for tickets to see my beloved Avett Brothers a few days after my birthday, I checked the calendar one more time and realized that it's the same night as Julie's spelling bee. Which I missed last year because Pete and I had a meeting with the rabbi about his Bar Mitzvah. And which she won even though I wasn't there to see her! So, no, I can't miss the spelling bee, but apparently I can miss the Avett Brothers concert. Wah!

2. Grace has been very lonely (read: meowy) ever since we had to put Mr. Jones down, so we are in the market for a couple of kittens to keep her company! Unfortunately, the shelter doesn't have any now. The woman there told me that they rarely get them at this time of year, but from June to October they get 10–15 a day! So we will have to wait a little longer.

3. A few weeks ago I had a minor parenting dilemma involving Steph. I normally pay for all her "necessary" clothes, shoes, etc., as well as plenty of not-so-necessary items. But certain things I am not willing to buy, usually because they are either too junky or too expensive, and those have to come out of her own pocket. So she wanted these shoes that I deemed totally frivolous—they're pricey, flimsy, and covered in glitter that you just know is going to fall off (all over the house...). She decided that she really, really wanted them, so she saved up and bought them. The next day she wore them to school, locked them up in her gym locker, came back from gym, and found that they'd been stolen! She could see that the rest of her stuff had been rifled through, but nothing else was missing. She was devastated. And I was in a quandary. She hadn't been irresponsible in any way, so it was not her fault that they were gone (we still don't know how someone got into her locked locker, but it's not the first time we've heard of this). But on the other hand, I had already told her that there was no way I was paying $50 for sparkly slip-ons in the first place. What to do? I waited a week while she talked about saving up her money again for a new pair, and then I caved and told her I'd replace them for her. What would you have done?

49.9

So next month I will have a birthday. A really, really big birthday. No, not that one, the really big one after that. Yeah.

Some years ago a friend hit that same milestone and threw herself a party. She made the guest list, chose the food and drink, even hired a pianist for her living room piano. It was exactly the kind of party she wanted because she made it so. I decided then that I would do the same thing for myself when the time came. But then a few months ago it dawned on me that my birthday falls just about 6 weeks before Pete's Bar Mitzvah, which means that (a) we will be sitting in the dark eating beans out of a can while the bills roll in, and (b) I will have long since reached mental and emotional capacity in terms of party planning. So there went that idea.

I know lots of women who have planned fun weekend getaways with a group of friends to a spa or New York City or even Wine Country, but I don't have a group of friends like that. Also, see part (a) above.

I briefly considered combining work with pleasure and sending myself to the ACES conference in New Orleans. I've never gone (to either the conference or New Orleans), I know several editors who are going (and would get a chance to meet more while there), and who knows—maybe I could learn a thing or two about my profession in between the beignets and jambalaya. But it's during the week and I have the kids to cart around to school and activities, as well as some of my own commitments already on the calendar. If I really want to go some year, I should do it when I can think about it in advance and make all the appropriate arrangements.

So that leaves me with no real plans for my big birthday, other than spending the day with the kids and having dinner out with Andy. Which will be nice, but somehow doesn't smack of "half a century." Any ideas?

Interviewees

Last week both Steph and Pete had their first experience being interviewed, and both did great!

Pete was applying to the Counselor-in-Training program at the summer camp where he has gone since he was 4. The 13- to 15-year-olds can participate in the CIT program, which is not a real job but more of a transition from camper to counselor. (To wit: Not only does Pete not get paid, but we pay for him to go!) Anyhow, the CITs always seem to be having a blast—they spend most of their time with the younger kids, developing their leadership skills, but they also have some fun CIT-only day trips and overnights. 

Pete had to fill out a pretty challenging application form, complete with essay questions about "significant life experiences" and such, and get two non-family personal references. He worked really hard on the application and I was very proud of him. 

After the application process came the personal interview, which must have gone well because he was told that he was "in" as soon as it was over! (In truth, when I scheduled the interview, the person I spoke to on the phone said that based on his application and the fact that they've known him for nearly 10 years, short of his announcing "I secretly hate kids" during the interview, he was a shoo-in.) 

As for Steph, one good thing that has come out of her hospitalizations is that she discovered the Child Life Specialist position and thinks that might be something she'd like to do when she grows up. She mentioned it to her guidance counselor, who suggested she look into volunteer opportunities at the hospital so she can get a feel for what it's like to work there—and get some relevant experience. What a great idea! 

Steph also had to provide references and fill out an application, although hers didn't have any tricky essay questions. Like Pete, she was told she got in right on the spot after her interview! She knew she would be unable to work on the pediatric ward because you have to be 16 years old, so she will be working once a week on a regular ward and once a week in the gift ship. That cracked me up, because I should've known I could count on Steph to find a way to volunteer at a hospital and end up getting to arrange jewelry and balloons and flowers and stuffed animals! She has her orientation and training this week, so we don't know exactly what her responsibilities will be on the ward, but I think it will be things like helping patients order their meals, getting them pillows or magazines, telling the nurse if they have a problem, and so on. 

When Pete had his interview, I told him he couldn't just wear any old Nike T-shirt, but the only other kind of shirt he has is a button-down oxford, and it was about 70° that day. So we borrowed a polo shirt from a friend, and Steph laughed because she knows he doesn't like polos. Well ... come to find out that her uniform for the hospital is tan pants and a black polo! So off we went to L.L. Bean yesterday to buy the least fashionable items in her wardrobe. Pete got the last laugh there, I think.

I am really proud of my kids and eager to see how they do in their new endeavors.

Link Dump!

If you follow me on Twitter, you've probably seen most of these: 

Here is every social media site perfectly summarized.

The user manual for this Samsung phone is so clever!

I'd seen some but not all of these photos of famous people you might or might not have ever expected to see together. Look at Paul Newman and Clint Eastwood! So young!

Finally! Cats as fonts.

Hu's on first? A modernization of the classic Abbott & Costello bit.

Seems everyone's had one of those "What ___ Really Do" created for them, and at last here's one for editors. (And here's one for cats.)

If you enjoy this Chaucer/Old Spice mashup, I think we would get along swell.

Here's a tricky quiz: See if you can tell whether these famous logos are facing the right way or not. I scored 70%.

You must watch this year's winner of the Oscar for best animated short film (it's only 15 minutes): The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore

And, while we're at it, watch this brief (3 minutes) video about those famous "Keep Calm and Carry On" posters in England—and at the end see what is perhaps the most wonderful bookstore anywhere.

And one last video: Totally awesome footage of beachgoers in Brazil who help about 30 beached dolphins get back out to sea. I was clapping and almost crying at the end.

Dear President Obama: I'm Sorry

OMG! Pantone tarts!

I only just discovered Better World Books, thanks to an Eversave voucher. They sell new and used books. For every book they sell, they donate one to someone in need. They ship for free (although you're given the option of contributing toward a carbon offset—for my order it was $0.19). I goofed on something while I was checking out, and the live chat customer service rep was helpful and pleasant. I will definitely be back.

Free Reading

Guess what? I did not work this weekend—not even one minute! I played lots of games with Julie and took her to the library, I cooked actual meals, and I read a few months' worth of New York Times Book Reviews. Ahhh!

And, believe it or not, I read a book that was not required reading for my book group! (Remember when that was a weekly occurrence, and not something that called for any fanfare? Sigh.) I was delighted to discover that there was an Ann Patchett novel that I hadn't read—her first, in fact, The Patron Saint of Liars. The reason it took me so long to realize this was that I had mixed up the title with one by Maile Meloy called Liars and Saints, which I did read. So whenever someone asked if I'd read Patron Saint of Liars, I thought I had. Wrong! Yay!

No surprise, I loved this book. I just adore the way Patchett creates characters and stories and uses language. Although this was her first novel, it didn't feel debut-ish at all—indeed, if I'd read it when it first came out, I'd have been dying for her to write another (as I always am now).

This is the story of a home for unwed mothers in Kentucky back in the '60s. It's housed in an old hotel and run by a bunch of nuns, some nice and some not so much. Rose drives all the way from California in her husband's Dodge, not having told him that she was pregnant or that she was leaving. She's that way. And that is all I'll tell you, except that the story is told from three different characters' points of view, so you get a different perspective on things with each section. It's a wonderful read.

The ending was not tidy enough for me, but endings rarely are. I was left wondering a lot, but that allows me to imagine what I hope will happen and then assume that it will.

Anyone else out there read this? What did you think?

Kickstart the Arts!

Kickstarter is one of those things that, for me, went from "What? Never heard of it!" to "It's everywhere I look now!" in the space of about a week. In case you are still in the former group, it's a tool that lets people fund their arts projects online, little by little. Imagine a street busker accepting change and bills in his violin case from passersby; this is the cyber version.

Here's how it works: A person or group wants to start a particular arts (music, film, design, whatever) project but needs some financial backing. They initiate a Kickstarter project and spread the word via email, Twitter, Facebook, etc. Every Kickstarter project has a goal (a certain amount of money) and a deadline. If the goal isn't met by the deadline, no money changes hands at all. If the goal is met, the money from all of the pledgers goes to the person or group so they can make their dream project a reality! You can pledge as little as or as much as you want. Each level of pledge comes with some sort of project-related incentive—for instance, a free copy of the forthcoming book, a thank-you in the liner notes of the CD, and so on.

The first project I pledged to support was a literary magazine dreamed up by Twitter pal Brian White (whom I actually met in person at a tweet-up), an editor at the Boston Globe. He had noticed that there aren't any all-fiction magazines out there anymore, and he wanted to do something about it. I can't wait for the first issue!

The second project was from Ze Frank, who, much to my delight, has decided to resurrect "The Show," which he did for a full year back in 2006. I loved-loved-loved it and have missed it ever since. So yay, it's coming back! Not surprisingly, since I am hardly the only fan, Ze is doing really well with the fund-raising; he says that if he makes it to $1 billion he will buy Greece and carpet the entire country.

And the third project I helped fund was from old friend Scott Feldstein, who is not only a major tech geek and an awesome photographer, but it turns out he also plays a mean bass. He joined up with the "trip-hop" duo Endless Blue and they are hoping to put out a CD of cover songs—and this will allow them to pay the licensing fees involved. (Watch the video to hear some of their music.)

So, now that I've mentioned Kickstarter to you, I bet you'll start seeing it around too. Or you can go browse the site and see what people are cooking up in art, food, publishing, fashion, and more—you can even search geographically if you'd prefer to fund something in your neck of the woods.

Book Group

Book group convened chez moi the other night to discuss Just Kids, Patti Smith's memoir of her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe in the early '70s. I should say from the outset that I'm not a fan of Patti Smith, never was, and I can't say I know all that much about poetry or photography or really any of the art that Patti and Robert were pursuing in those days. However, I did very much enjoy the window into that world—the Chelsea Hotel, Max's Kansas City, and chance encounters with the likes of Alan Ginsberg, Jimi Hendrix, and so on.

I certainly didn't think the book was well-written enough to have earned it a National Book Award. In fact, I found the writing downright pedestrian. But I still enjoyed the story and was able to tolerate all the name-dropping and not-entirely-believable scenarios. The reactions in our group ranged from really enjoying it to just tolerating it enough to finish it.

I was fascinated by some of Smith's stories, although I felt that she was at times coyly holding back and at other times perhaps emebellishing a bit. I loved hearing about Sam Shepard and Janis Joplin and all the others, back when the New York artsy scene was an intimate place that seemingly welcomed all. It reminded me of Jacques Pépin's story of arriving in New York in the early '60s and within a few months meeting Julia Child, James Beard, and Craig Claiborne—the three luminaries of the entire food world at the time—because that was how small and accessible it was at the time. In Patti and Robert's day, you could show up in New York without a dime to your name and find your place.

I can't really imagine anyone all that much older or younger than I am enjoying this book, because it does seem to be a tiny slice of life from that era. I remember seeing Patti Smith on Saturday Night Live; I remember when Robert Mapplethorpe's name first became known outside of New York art circles. I loved looking at the photos of them when they were indeed "just kids."

Next month we will meet to discuss The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht.

Marching Right Along

I used to beat up on myself if I missed a single day of blogging, and now I've gotten to the point where I blogged only twice in all of February. I've noticed that a lot of my favorite blogs are showing up in my Google Reader less frequently, so maybe it is indeed the case, as some have said, that blogs are on the way out—or at least personal blogs. The only blogs I can think of that still show up daily (or nearly so) are those that are focused on a particular topic.

Anyhow, for those of you who are still out there, here's a bit of this and that from my life.

It finally snowed! But only about an inch or two, and now it's just raining. The reason I knew it would snow is that I finally returned Pete's still-unworn snow boots. You see, Pete now has man-size feet, so his shoes and boots are really expensive, but he's still growing so they don't even fit him for very long! So every time I looked at that big box of big boots, still with their tags on, I got annoyed. On Monday I finally went back to the store with my receipt. They weren't happy about it ("If we had to take back all the boots we sold just because it didn't snow, we'd be out of business!") but they did give me a merchandise credit. And that is why it snowed: because Pete has no boots to wear. You see, I am in charge of the Weather Department at Murphy's Law Headquarters.

Speaking of Pete, have I even told you that his Bar Mitzvah is this June? I am not nearly as on the ball with this one as I was with Steph's. I just ordered invitations, though, so I can cross that off my list.

Thank you to everyone who has asked about Andy's recovery. He is still using a cane and still in a fair amount of pain, but I do think that progress is being made. At every appointment the surgeon has said that he is pleased and that Andy is exactly where he expected him to be considering all the complicating factors involved in that stupid knee. So he's continuing with the physical therapy and we're hoping he will turn the corner one of these days.

Oh, this just in: I signed up for three sessions of mindfulness meditation in an attempt to cure (or at least alleviate) my Busy Brain Syndrome. I've tried this sort of thing before with no luck, but perhaps this particular instructor will guide me to a way that works for me. I am eager to find peace.

I hope you are all well. I do love to hear from you via comments, emails, and tweets if you are so inclined.

Heaven in a Frying Pan

A few weeks ago, when the latest Bon Appétit magazine arrived, Andy and I stared lustfully at each other the cover photo of a perfectly fried drumstick and knew what we had to do. We picked a night when Steph was not home—since she was somehow not born with the family gene that reveres nothing so much as perfect fried chicken (well, except perhaps bacon, and she most certainly got that gene). And off to the frying pan we went. True to its word, "This is the only fried chicken recipe you’ll ever need." And, no surprise, cold leftovers the next day were stupendous.

Skillet-Fried Chicken

2 tablespoons kosher salt, divided use
2 teaspoons plus 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
1½ teaspoons paprika
¾ teaspoon cayenne pepper
½ teaspoon garlic powder
½ teaspoon onion powder|
1 3- to 4-lb. chicken (not kosher), cut into 10 pieces, backbone and wing tips removed
1 cup buttermilk
1 large egg
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon cornstarch
Peanut oil (for frying)

Whisk 1 Tbsp. salt, 2 tsp. black pepper, paprika, cayenne, garlic powder, and onion powder in a small bowl. Season chicken with spices. Place chicken in a medium bowl, cover, and chill overnight.

Let chicken stand covered at room temperature for 1 hour. Whisk buttermilk, egg, and ½ cup water in a medium bowl. Whisk flour, cornstarch, remaining 1 Tbsp. salt, and remaining 1 Tbsp. pepper in a 9x13x2" baking dish.

Pour oil into a 10"–12" cast-iron skillet to a depth of ¾". Prop deep-fry thermometer in oil so bulb is submerged. Heat over medium-high heat until thermometer registers 350°. Meanwhile, set a wire rack inside a large rimmed baking sheet.

Working with 1 piece at a time (use one hand for wet ingredients and the other for dry ingredients), dip chicken in buttermilk mixture, allowing excess to drip back into bowl. Dredge in flour mixture; tap against bowl to shake off excess. Place 5 pieces of chicken in skillet. Fry chicken, turning with tongs every 1–2 minutes and adjusting heat to maintain a steady temperature of 300°–325°, until skin is deep golden brown and an instant-read thermometer inserted into thickest part of chicken registers 165°, about 10 minutes for wings and 12 minutes for thighs, legs, and breasts.

Using tongs, remove chicken from skillet, allowing excess oil to drip back into skillet; transfer chicken to prepared rack.

Repeat with remaining chicken pieces; let cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.

We Interrupt This Dormant Blog for an Actual Post

I'm still burning the candle at both ends, which is somehow meant to explain my absence here. I get into bed every night and tick off the list of things I never got around to during the day, and blogging is always one of them. I would love to pull a Samantha Stevens nose-twitch and get the whole world to freeze for a day so I could catch up on my life. Actually, I could use one of those days every week.

So, I'm working a little too much, but I'm about to have a bit of a (relative) breather, since I finished up one project. It was a forensic science text, which was at once fascinating and disgusting. I know way more than I ever wanted to about corpses (including the life cycle of the maggot, which is sometimes how you can tell how long a body has been there), autopsies ("and then you peel back the scalp..."), and the different things that happen to your body whether you die of asphyxiation, poisoning, exsanguination (bleeding to death), drowning, or what-have-you. The ballistics stuff was cool, as was the fingerprinting and DNA matching stuff. But now I'm back to my safe and tame cookbooks. Oh, and a text about physical therapy for children, which is mostly heart-breaking. Most people are lucky enough to need PT for their kids only if they break a leg skiing or something like that. But the majority of this book is about treating kids who were born with really debilitating conditions. The photos make me want to cry.

Let's see, what else.... Oh, we watched another movie last weekend. It was "Up in the Air," starring the even-more-swoon-worthy-than-usual George Clooney. I loved this movie. Clooney plays a guy whose job is to fly around the country to different companies who need him to fire employees for them. He should've been despicable, but he was very appealing. I had a big complaint with the ending, though. Without giving anything away to those who haven't seen it yet, a certain female character seemed really out of character at a certain climactic moment. But I still thought it was a terrific flick.

I forgot to mention that I've had several lunches out this winter. (I can't remember the last time I ate dinner in a restaurant, but a quick local bite at noon seems doable—and necessary for my sanity.)

1. B Street, where I had a cup of roasted chicken and barley soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It was very good, but not out of this world. I did a Groupon Now thing where I paid $10 for $20 there, then came outside to find that I'd gotten a $15 parking ticket. D'oh! (You do know about Groupon Now, right? You don't have to buy anything in advance; you just do it on the spur of the moment! Very handy.)

2. The Fireplace, where I'd been for dinner years ago but has a lovely lunch menu too. I had a delicious beef and barley soup and a lovely salad: Fried Vermont Goat Cheese with Heirloom Beets, Candied Cashews, Baby Spinach & Local Maple Vinaigrette. YUM.

3. Petit Robert Bistro, where I had an excellent quiche lorraine. The service was slow (actually, I think it was the kitchen that was slow), but the food was good.

4. The Deluxe Station Diner, where I'd once been with Andy and the kids. There I had a turkey club sandwich (or was it the turkey avocado club?) with fries. Very good sandwich (with nice, thick bacon), but the fries weren't crisp, even though I asked for them to be crisp.

And that is my belated post about a bunch of nothings in particular. Thanks to those of you who still have the patience to come by.

Belated Book Group Update

A couple of weeks ago our book group met to discuss the long-awaited new novel from Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot. I liked the book, but I didn't love it. I think two things were going on:

1. I might have liked it better if it had been written by someone else—or even if it had been written by Eugenides under a pseudonym. I guess I saw his name on the cover and thought, "It's going to be another Middlesex!" which of course it wasn't. Middlesex was easily one of the top ten books I've ever read, so I was bound to be disappointed if he couldn't pull that off again.

2. On the other hand, I might have liked it less if it had in fact been written by someone else. I was willing myself to like it because it was Eugenides, but perhaps if it had been some no-name debut novel, I wouldn't have even enjoyed it at all.

So. The three main characters are almost exactly my age, and their college and post-grad experiences and angst was quite similar in some ways to my own. Eugenides totally nailed everything about the early 1980s—trust me, it was all exactly like that. But, well, I just didn't like them all that much. Madeleine wasn't interesting to me at all, and in fact I wanted to shake her at more than one point because she was so annoying. Leonard isn't developed enough as a person; he becomes merely That Messed-Up Guy. And Mitchell, well, I guess I liked Mitchell pretty well, although I'm generally impatient when forced to be privy to someone else's spiritual quest for understanding and fulfillment.

The writing is also neither here nor there: A whole lot better than most of what's out there, but not nearly as mind-expanding and heart-twisting and breath-taking as Eugenides is capable of.

I don't know. I guess I'll say don't run out this minute to get your hands on this, but if you end up with a copy to read, you could do a lot worse.

Next up: Just Kids by Patti Smith.

Friday Links

I am swamped with work but experiencing attention-span issues today, so I decided to take a minute to share some links with you (in case you need a break from work, too).

My Pantone delights continue, with this awesome Pantone Rubik's cube (via Catherine) and this entire Pantone Hotel! Fly me to Brussels, stat!

For those of you who love Jacques Pépin as much as I do, watch this wonderful interview he did with Charlie Rose. And yes, of course I have his big new book, but no, I haven't cooked from it yet, or even had a chance to watch the accompanying DVD.

These are the most painfully obvious spelling mistakes ever seen in tattoos.

What if recent films had been made decades earlier?

If you feel like blowing a few minutes (or hours) on fun/interesting videos but don't know where to start, go directly to Devour.

And speaking of videos:

Yes, most of the "Shit [So-and-So] Says" videos are dumb, but I like this one: Shit Nobody Says

10 Misconceptions Debunked

What Happens in a Bookstore After Hours

Pickin' & Trimmin' is a lovely short film about an old-time barbershop in North Carolina where they also happen to play a lot of bluegrass music.

Every Presentation Ever Made (via Fritinancy)

And the one that I turn to every time I need a pick-me-up is of course our Prez crooning like Al Green.

 

 

Black

Twice in December I totally shocked an African person by guessing what country he was from. The first time I was at the mall with Steph, which means that I was miserable and off-kilter. They have all these people manning kiosks in the middle of the walkway, and I am notoriously incapable of denying them my money. (I was once persuaded to buy a fancy-shmancy nail care kit. Yes, me. In other news, if you ever hear of someone who cares less about how her nails look, please let me know. Or, better yet, if you hear of someone who does care about her nails, I have a completely unused fancy-shmancy nail care kit to sell her. Real cheap.)

So when this handsome and charming man approached and asked if I wanted my hair straightened, I shouted, "No! I like my curls!" and when he asked whether I wanted even curlier curls, I shouted, "No! I like my curls exactly as curly as they are right now!" Then I turned defiantly to storm away and the next thing I knew Steph had one side of her hair perfectly straight and the other side perfectly curly and she was looking at me with a very dangerous, dreamy expression. So as I pulled out my wallet, I hissed at her, "This [the fancy-shmancy hair straightener and hair curler all in one) is not a Hanukkah present! It is too big for a Hanukkah present! It will be an early birthday present." The handsome and charming man said to me, as he swiped my VISA card, "Oh, you celebrate Hanukkah? I'm Jewish too!" He was black and had a hint of an African accent, so I took a guess and said, "Oh, you must be from Ethiopia!" at which point he just about dropped his magnificent white teeth.

I had detected an African lilt to his accent, and the only African Jews I've ever heard of are the Falasha Jews of Ethiopia, so I took a gamble. He was impressed. Then he pocketed my money.

A week later, on Christmas day, our TV died. It was a big ol' Sony Trinitron, which in its day cost about twice what a plasma-screen TV would cost now. Off we went to Best Buy, where we bought the largest flat-screen TV that would fit in our old-fashioned TV cabinet. Then we brought it home and found that we couldn't get it to work. We called Comcast, and they sent a guy over. Who was black and had an accent.

And who was also awesome. He worked so hard and for so long and finally figured out our problem. But then, when it was finally working, we noticed that the picture wasn't that great—certainly nothing like it was in the store—which he said was because it's an HD TV but we don't have HD cable service. So we signed up for that extra service and the picture looked gorgeous immediately. (And when our other big ol' Sony Trinitron in the basement dies, we will have to replace that one with a flat-screen TV—but I promised Pete a biggish one that hangs on the wall, because it will be in the basement where I won't have to see it—and subscribe to HD for that TV too. Such a scam.)

But anyway, we asked our Comcast guy for his name so we could call Comcast and say how awesome he was. He wrote it down, and it ended with "–bbe," so I thought of the Israeli rescue at Entebbe and said, "You must be from Uganda!" Again, bright white African teeth fell at my feet. I should have my own Jeopardy! category.

Speaking of black people from Africa, you may notice that I did not refer to either of these men as African American, because I don't know whether they are American. (If you saw a black person while you were on vacation in London or Paris or Toronto, you wouldn't refer to them as "African American," would you?) By the same token, I have known black Americans who don't refer to themselves as African Americans for various reasons. I used to work with a guy who could trace back through many generations of his family in the Bahamas, so he was more inclined to refer to himself as Bahamian than African, although Africa is likely where his ancestors originated. Indeed, Africa is likely where all of our ancestors originated, according to scientists and anthropologists.

My point being: A black person seen in America is not necessarily American, nor is he necessarily most interested in focusing on his African heritage. If you need to describe someone who is black (as in, "Officer, I saw the blue van go through the red light and hit both the black man on his bicycle and the white man who was walking his dog"), say that he is black, because that is something you know. You don't know if he is American or if he identifies as African.

Complaining and Cooking

Yes, I'm still sick! I went to the doctor today and begged him to find something wrong with me that could be treated with antibiotics, but he was all "It's clearly viral...." so I left prescriptionless and still sneezing and coughing. Last night, for the first time in my whole life, I took Nyquil. It allowed me an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep in between bouts of furiously wiping my nose. I will take it again tonight.

Speaking of wiping my nose, I am a big fan of Kleenex Ultra-Soft tissues. I do like the ones that have lotion, but they aren't as all-purpose as these (for instance, don't even think about wiping your glasses with the gooey ones!). But curiosity got the better of me and I had to try a box of the new Kleenex Cool-Touch tissues. It's very strange, but they are indeed cool to the touch—but not in the menthol-y way I was expecting! They are actually cool temperature-wise. Very strange. And they have lotion. Although they are labeled "unscented," I could detect a hint of something, and I can't stand that. Plus the coolness was more weird than soothing, so back to Ultra-Soft I go.

And ... this was supposed to be a post about what I made for dinner, but I got sidetracked by my own intro. What could be a better way to introduce a recipe than to discuss my endlessly runny nose and what I use to wipe it? Sigh. So go away and come back in 5 minutes and start reading again.

*  *  *  *  *

Hi! Tonight for dinner I made a cheater's lasagna where you use frozen ricotta-filled ravioli instead of a tub of ricotta and slippery sheets of freshly cooked lasagna noodles. I've done this before, long ago, but had kind of forgotten about it. I think of this recipe as just a general guideline; you could vary it any way you please. Enjoy!

Ravioli Lasagna 

1¼ lb. bulk Italian pork sausage (I used garlic-herb chicken sausages, casings removed.)
1 jar (26 to 28 oz.) tomato sauce
1 package (25 to 27½ oz.) frozen cheese-filled ravioli (I used spinach-ricotta ravioli, which worked out great.)
2½ cups shredded mozzarella cheese (10 oz.), divided use
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

In a 10-inch skillet, cook the sausage over medium heat, stirring occasionally to break up the meat, until no longer pink; drain on paper towels. (If, like me, you are using a chicken or turkey sausage, you'll need to start with some oil in the pan.)

Spread about ½ cup of the sauce in the bottom of an ungreased 13x9" glass baking dish. Arrange the still-frozen ravioli in a single layer, then evenly pour about 1 cup of sauce over the ravioli. Sprinkle evenly with half of the cooked sausage and 1 cup of the mozzarella cheese. Repeat with another layer of ravioli, sauce, and sausage.

Cover tightly with foil; refrigerate at least 8 hours but no longer than 24 hours. (This is kind of tricky timing, because you have to do it either before breakfast or after dinner the night before. I did it at 10am, so it didn't stay in the fridge for the full 8 hours, but I don't think it suffered any.)

Heat the oven to 350°. Bake the lasagna, covered, for 45 minutes. Remove the foil; sprinkle the lasagna with the remaining 1½ cups mozzarella and the Parmesan cheese. Bake about 15 minutes longer or until the cheese is melted and the lasagna is hot in the center. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting.

Flicks

We have been sick. Sick, sick, sick. Pete started off the sickest, and Julie ended up the sickest (so far, anyhow). I think we have used up more Kleenex in the last 3 weeks than in the whole last year.

But we have been watching movies too. Remember movies, those things I used to watch all the time and review for you here? Yeah, those.

So first was Open Range, which Netflix had mailed to me last April and I just got around to now. It's like Lonesome Dove, but not as good, although it does have Robert Duvall, who is wonderful as always. But instead of Tommy Lee Jones, it has Kevin Costner, who is lackluster as always. Oh, and Annette Bening too, who I especially like to look at. If you like Westerns, you'll like this well enough.

Next up was The Fighter, which we'd been wanting to see for a long time. It is set in the Boston area and stars Mark Wahlberg, who of course knows how to do a Boston accent. Christian Bale is as creepy as ever, and his Boston accent wasn't bad either, especially for a Brit. It tells the true story of the boxer Micky Ward and his half-brother Dicky Eklund. Melissa Leo is outstanding as their mother. Almost as good as the movie was the "making of" documentary that was included with the special features on the DVD. It was really interesting to watch Wahlberg and Bale interacting with the real Micky and Dicky on and off the set. Both Leo and Bale won Oscars for their roles, and I think deservedly so.

Then came Inception, which is a sci-fi thriller starring Leo DiCaprio. It makes very little sense if you try to put all the pieces together but works if you allow most of it to just be inscrutable. Pete watched this one with us and was very confused and frustrated, but I told him to just accept without understanding that these people can enter your dreams and that there can be dreams within dreams, and "levels" of reality, and then he could enjoy it.

Gran Torino is a very formulaic story of a grouchy, racist old guy (Clint Eastwood, at his grouchiest) who forms an unlikely friendship with the teenage kids of the Hmong family next door. Nothing surprising happens at all, but it was still enjoyable.

Finally, yesterday we watched Crazy Heart, starring Jeff Bridges as an aging, overweight, alcoholic country singer who's nearing the end of his career, while the singer he mentored, played by Colin Farrell, is becoming the new big star. Maggie Gylenhaal plays the love interest. This story's been told a million times before, but it's really Bridges who makes it worthwhile seeing again (and he won the Oscar for it too). There were many moments when the plot was less than believable (I won't give details in case there's anyone left out there who hasn't seen it), but watching Bridges makes up for it. Oh, and Robert Duvall is in this one too, yay!

Let's see, what else ... oh, right, on Christmas we actually went to the cinema. The girls saw The Muppet Movie and loved it; I considered going with them but was more in the mood for a big-screen action movie, so I accompanied the boys to the latest Mission Impossible movie. This one was even better than the last one, although my comments there apply here too. (To wit, Cruise is still a douchebag, and I still would prefer to hate him, and he looks even more like a douchebag when he's running, but he was good in this.)

These last two don't really count, but I saw the last part of Thor when Pete and Andy were watching it On Demand. They liked it. I also saw the last part of Tropic Thunder when Pete was watching it by himself, and it seemed outrageously funny, with yummy Robert Downey playing an Australian actor who is so into method acting that he has a "controversial" medical procedure to change his skin color to play an African-American in his latest movie. And guess what, Jack Black plays a fat funny guy! Oh, and Ben Stiller doing his Ben Stiller thing.

Now you are all caught up.

Out with the Old

Hey, where have you all been for 10 days? Oh wait, I'm the one who's been missing. Well, chez Verbatim we decided to ring out the old year by getting sick, serially. We are all finally at the tail end of whatever it was that got us, but we decided not to head north for the weekend anyhow, what with all the sneezing and coughing that's still going on. I wasn't sure Andy could stand the long round-trip car ride yet anyhow.

Speaking of Andy, he is coming along, slowly but surely. In the space of less than 6 weeks, he's gone from bedridden to a walker to two crutches to one crutch to a cane—and even occasionally (carefully) walking across a room on his own. He still has a lot of pain and his sleep is still disrupted, but his mobility and strength are measurably improved. Still no hint that the nerve issues have begun to resolve (and they very well might not), but he is doing his physical therapy and hoping for the best.

This year refuses to go out with a whimper. Yesterday I got a flat tire—and discovered I had a flat spare too! The day before came an estimate of $8000 to repair our chimney/roof issue. Just a few more hours and we can start fresh. I'll drink to that!

You know I'm not one to make resolutions, but I do have some goals, both personal and professional, that I'd like to pay some attention to. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I wish everyone out there a happy, healthy, and peaceful new year.

Celebrating

Last night was the first night of Hanukkah, and we were invited to a big party! We usually do it at home, so this was a new experience for us. It was lovely. There were probably close to 100 people there, and each family was asked to bring a menorah from home. We lit them all together—about 20 at once! It was really nice, and the latkes were delicious.

We got Steph some nice earrings (nice = not junky), Julie a set of Bucky Balls that she'd been dying for, and Pete a really cool remote-controlled helicopter that is suprisingly easy to maneuver and sturdy enough to withstand crashes. Everyone was happy.

And today was Steph's 15th birthday! How can that be? She is now a decade and a half old but still a cheap date: Once again she chose Bill's Pizza for her birthday dinner. Her big gift was that I finally caved and am letting her get another hole pierced in each ear. Oy.

Hot Tip: Make Friends with a Potter

How great is it when you get a text message from a faraway friend that says, "I sent you a package, and it was left at your front door this morning!" Downstairs I ran to find a big box containing this magnificent handmade work of art:

It was from Steve, who made me this other gorgeous piece of pottery, which I use all the time. Yes, that Steve.

He enclosed a description of the specific process he used on this piece, called raku, which is a Japanese technique in which you fire the pottery until it reaches 1700 degrees, which is what gives the glaze its characteristic metallic sheen. The top part was covered with wax so it wouldn't get glazed, but rather "smoked," hence the dark color. It is so beautiful, and once again I am fretting that I'm not a good enough photographer to do it justice. The Hebrew inscription going around translates to "GRATITUDE - LOVE - LIFE."

OK, I'm off to go cry again.

Get Ready to Waste Some Time

Thanks so much for all of your emails and tweets asking about Andy. He is slowly but surely getting up and around, but he still has a long road ahead of him. This week will be the last that the physical therapist comes to the house; next week he'll start going to his old PT place. He's been going to work for a couple of hours at a time a few times a week, but he's really too tired to do much else. The PT is practically a full-time job in and of itself, and he's still having trouble sleeping because of the pain.

But ... I owe you a little something more interesting than all that, right? How about a bunch of links I've been collecting over the past few weeks? Some of them are old (particularly if you follow me on Twitter—and if you don't, why not?) but may be new to you.

Everyone knows to send me their Pantone sightings! I've recently seen Pantone jewelry and Pantone storage tins (via @califmom) and Pantone VISA cards (via @MsRedPen)!

For some reason, @sethlipkin immediately thought of me when he read an article that featured both tampons and vodka. Speaking of tampons, I think I'll move to Canada so my beloved can sing to me of my beloved discontinued o.b. ultras (via @mir).

This is the perfect family Christmas card to send when you love your iPhone more than your family.

Someone in my Torah class passed along this link to a TED talk about being grateful for the gift of today. I made it sound sappy, but it's not—and only 10 minutes, so go watch.

You have to see Jimmy Fallon doing Jim Morrison singing the theme from "Reading Rainbow."

Here are some reviews of pepper spray from the clever folks at Amazon.com.

I got a kick out of these bar jokes involving grammar and punctuation (via @grammar_girl). And, oh, look—punctuation floor lamps!

I think I actually LOL'd at "When Used Books Attack: Banana Edition" (via @lkblackburne).

Check out these classic album covers featuring kitties. I'm particularly fond of "Londong Calling."

What would it be like if Cormac McCarthy posted on Yelp?

Finally, Merriam-Webster presents some words that spiked in their search engine stats according to their use in various news stories throughout the year.

Cranapple

In mid-October, I spotted a recipe in the Globe for cranberry applesauce, and I thought it would be great for Thanksgiving. Then, when Andy's surgery was scheduled, I realized that I would have to delegate more than usual, so I asked my sister to make it. It had a magnificent color and wonderful flavor—we all gobbled it up. We served it cold, as a refreshing counterpoint to all that heavy turkey, stuffing, and gravy.

My sister used a wooden spoon, so it came out nice and chunky; if you prefer a smooth texture, then use a food mill (in which case there's no need to peel the apples ahead of time, and the color will be even more vibrant). The recipe headnote suggests using a combination of apple varieties for a "complex and well-rounded flavor." So, here's the recipe; I know I will be making it myself soon:

Cranberry Applesauce

4½ pounds red apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 1½-inch chunks
¼ cup dark brown sugar (or more, to taste)
¼ tsp salt
1¼ cups cranberries
¾ cup water

Toss all ingredients in a large, heavy saucepan set over medium heat. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until apples and cranberries break down, about 20 minutes. With a wooden spoon, crush apple chunks and cranberries against the side of the pot (or process the mixture through a food mill). Taste and adjust the seasoning and texture with brown sugar or water, if necessary. Serve warm, at room temperature, or chilled. (Can be refrigerated for up to 5 days.)

Tooting My Own Horn

Every year at this time Susan Chang lists her favorite cookbooks of the year on NPR. For 2011, two that made her short list were cookbooks that I edited! Yes, really!

One was yet another wonderful cocktail collection from A. J. Rathbun, called Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz. It highlights all those interesting but mysterious liqueurs that we see on the shelves but don't quite know what to do with. It was a blast to work on, because A. J. is a poet and a humorist as well as a mixologist.

The other was The Bonne Femme Cookbook, by Wini Moranville, which is all about how the "good wife" cooks in the 21st century—that is, the French woman who works and also runs a home but still wants to prepare delicious, healthy food without breaking the bank. You might as well just buy it now, because if you take it out of the library, you will end up needing to photocopy every page. Yes, it's that good.

I am so pleased, because I truly loved working on both of these books and am thrilled that they've been recognized as the cream of the crop.

Thankful

I am positively wiped out, but so happy that we had Thanksgiving here. I'm not sure Andy could've made it to someone else's house, and I do get such a nice, warm feeling when my house is full of people and food.

This year I am thankful, as always, that I have enough to eat and enough to share. I am thankful that my family comes from near (Newton! Natick!) and far (London! Florida!) to be together. I am thankful that I live in peace and comfort, and surrounded by love.

I hope, very soon, to report that I am thankful for Andy to be up and around, but at this point I am just thankful that he is home and that the doctor says his recovery is going as expected. And I hope that next week will be easier than this past week was for him pain-wise.

I am so very thankful to all of my friends, both virtual and in-the-flesh, for your support during these tough couple of weeks. Your words of encouragement and concern (via phone call, text, email, or tweet), your pans full of lasagna, your offers to drive my kids around, and your prayers for Andy's recovery are all appreciated more than I can say.

To all of you—family members and friends and cyber-pals and readers and lurkers—I wish many reasons of your own to be thankful.

In Other News

It's possible that I forgot to mention that I'm hosting Thanksgiving tomorrow despite Andy's surgery! I've been a good girl and have fought the urge to do it all myself; I'm doing only the turkeys, gravy, stuffing, and roasted root veggies. My guests will bring squash, green beans, pumpkin bread, cranberry applesauce, cranberry jello mold, cookies, brownies, pie, and fruit. I've already made 6 pans of stuffing, 1 turkey, and 1 batch of veggies. I'll make the other turkey and the rest of the veggies tomorrow. We will have 23 people—including Jo, in from London for the first time on Thanksgiving!

Despite the work involved, I'm glad to be hosting because I'm not sure Andy would have been able to go to anyone's house. This way he can socialize as much as he wants to or feels able to, then go up to bed to rest if necessary.

Andy has had a tough week. The pain is just unrelenting. The physical therapist works him pretty hard, but he's in terrible pain even when he does his exercises himself. The leg itself looks like a special effect from a horror movie. I can't describe how swollen, bruised, and just plain gruesome it is, including all those staples.

Yesterday a nurse called from the hospital for a one-week check-in to see how he was doing. We described the pain and the appearance of the knee, and she said she was going to email a report to the surgeon. We were surprised this morning when the surgeon called to speak to Andy! And even more surprised when he said, "I'd like to see your knee before I leave for the long weekend, so I'll come to your house in about an hour." Yes, really! Have you ever heard of such a thing? We were flabbergasted.

And come to our house he did. What a relief for him to look at the knee and say, "Yes, this is what I'd expect to see after what you've been through, including all your other complicating factors." We had no way of knowing if what we were seeing was normal, so it was extremely reassuring to hear him confirm that it was. He said that Andy's recovery is going to be slower and harder than most people's after a knee replacement, because the structure of his knee is just plain different thanks to all the slicing and dicing that had gone on before, and thus the way they had to install the new joint.

Live long enough and you'll see everything—even an orthopedic surgeon who makes house calls.

Back Home

Andy finally came home from the hospital yesterday. He would've been allowed to come home Friday, but he'd had a fever off and on since the surgery, and they were worried that it could be a sign of infection. His white count remained normal, though, and the fever was pretty low, so they did finally spring him on Saturday. They said that some people just get a fever after surgery for no particular reason. As much as I appreciated all the care he was getting at the hospital, the drive in every day (sometimes twice) was killing me. Once it took me 45 minutes to go those 9 miles! I was also tired of looking at the parentheses on this sign near the elevators every day:

(Sorry, I couldn't resist!)(Just be glad I did resist sharing the photo of Andy's incisions instead....)

This hospital stay unfortunately coincided with the tail end of an important project I had agreed to take long before the surgery was scheduled, so I've been burning the candle at both ends all week—taking care of the kids and house, visiting Andy, and scrambling to finish this project. In the middle of it all, I had to go get a new wheel on my car and then, the icing on the cake: a sewer backup in the basement! I should put Roto-Rooter on speed dial.

Anyhow, so now that he's home, it's obviously much easier to "visit" him and bring him what he needs, but it's hard for him because of the stairs, the non-hospital bed, and so on. He's quite good with the crutches, but he's still in terrible, terrible pain. The meds help only a little. He's not the type to complain much, but this is putting him over the edge. Today the physical therapist came to the house and tortured him further. Everyone told us that a knee replacement is the worst post-op recovery there is, but I still don't think he imagined it would be this bad.

[Update 2/8/12: I'm getting a ton of spam here lately, so I'm closing off comments on this post. Feel free to email me if you have something non-spammy to add!]

Post-Op

First, a little back (and knee) story: When I met Andy, he'd already had a couple of surgeries to completely reconstruct the torn ACLs in his knees (sports injuries). He'd also had numerous arthroscopies and occasionally wore knee braces. Shortly after we got married (almost as soon he went on my health insurance), he blew out his knee again and had yet another reconstruction. He has scars up and down both legs from the incisions to remove strips of muscle to create a new ACL and then install them in place. As the years went on, he also developed a fair amount of arthritis and had various screws removed and replaced. A mess, really, but he was always a diligent gym-rat and took it to heart when his surgeon told him that the best "brace" for a bad knee is a set of strong leg muscles.

Fast forward a few decades. His left knee, which has seen more surgical action, is a constant source of pain. There's no longer anything in there to prevent the bone-on-bone contact, so every step is agony. But the surgeons all tell him that he's too young to get a total knee replacement. A typical new knee lasts 10 to 15 years, depending on the person's activity level, and if it needs to be re-done at that time, the procedure is a nightmare—and the product is not a good one. (I asked whether they might have developed a new technique by then, but he said no, there's nothing in the R&D pipeline that will be ready in our lifetime.) That's why most people get knee replacement surgery when they're in their 70s or so. Since orthopedic surgeons are notoriously scalpel-happy, we really listened when he was the one telling us to hold on. He said, "Wait until you really can't stand the pain one more minute." Well, that day came in the spring of 2010. We scheduled the knee replacement for the fall (why ruin the summer with rehab?) and started to get used to the idea.

Then, two weeks before the surgery, Andy ruptured a disc in his spine. You can read about that wonderful situation here. After the surgery to remove the rupture, the feeling in his leg still wouldn't come back. Subsequent MRIs showed a perfectly intact S1 nerve, so the neurologist said that it was just taking a long time for the nerve to "wake up." We were told that it would most likely wake up gradually, but that after 18 months, that would be as good as it would ever get. So we waited. And waited. And here we are, 13 months later, and still nothing. Well, I shouldn't say nothing. The physical therapist notices some improvement, but it's nothing Andy can feel. He still can't even flex his calf muscle. He has to wear a foot brace to keep his foot from flapping on the ground, in addition to his knee brace. The surgeon had recommended that we put off the knee replacement since the pain wasn't so bad anymore, but now, after a year of walking around on a useless leg, his back is a mess, his opposite foot is killing him, and his leg is even worse. He no longer gets the normal pain signals about how to limp properly, so his knee points out at a bizarre angle and the leg itself is bowed and shortened.

So, a few weeks ago, we decided that enough was enough and scheduled the knee replacement. The physical therapist and the neurologist both suggested that perhaps once he can exercise fully again, maybe that will jump-start the nerve. In any event, he won't be in constant pain and will be able to go for a walk (leaving the cane at home) or ride a bike.

And the surgery was today. It was anything but a straightforward knee replacement because his knee is such a mess. They had to go in through his old scars, use a different bionic joint than than usual (I spoke to the surgeon for only a minute, so I don't know the details yet), plus remove all the old hardware in there. Ewwww!

After what seemed like an eternity this morning, the surgeon finally called to tell me that it was over and that it went "great." I took the kids in to see Andy later, and we were all surprised that he was fairly alert, if slightly nauseous and dizzy, thoroughly exhausted, and drugged up.

He has a very long road ahead of him with the rehab. Even people who have no complicating factors say that it's extremely painful. In addition, there's no telling how Andy's will go because of the nerve problem. At this point we don't even know when he'll be coming home, but we do know that a physical therapist will be coming to the house at that point.

I'm just glad he woke up from the anesthesia. First things first.

[Update 1/10/12: For some reason, this post is attracting more spam comments than usual, so I'm closing off comments. If you have something non-spammy to share, feel free to email me!]

Goal!

Soccer season is finally over, just as it was getting too darn cold to stand around on the sidelines anyhow. Pete and Julie had a very busy season.

This was Julie's first time playing on a city travel team, and she loved it. She didn't know anyone on the team going in, but now she of course does. They'll all be together again in the spring, with the same coach, so that's a comfort. They went nearly the whole season winless, until the second-to-last game (last week). Yay! They were so excited! The week before, Julie's coach had sent us all this lovely, lovely video, which is a good reminder of what really matters with the young ones.

As mentioned earlier, Pete also played on a travel team, as well as the middle school team. Luckily, his heel problem went away as soon as we got some orthotics from the podiatrist. Our chiro had said that about 60% of cases of Sever's Disease are treatable with orthotics, so we are definitely one of the lucky ones. It was like night and day. He wears them all the time now. Pete's travel team won most of their games this season but lost a couple and tied a couple more. And his middle school team was ... undefeated! It was hugely exciting. They played against the other three city middle schools as well as a few neighboring towns. The best was the day that Pete scored his first goal for that team, which happened to be at the big fancy stadium at Catholic Memorial, under the lights and everything. And even better, the next morning his name got announced over the PA at school. I can only imagine the grin that crossed his face.

The interesting thing about these two teams was that for the travel team, Pete was one of the best players on the team (according to Andy, who knows such things). It was thrilling to watch him be "the man," as Andy put it. On the other hand, he was most definitely not one of the best on the middle school team, which is mostly kids a year older than him anyway and just happens to include some really terrific players. With those guys, he really had to rise to the challenge, which is of course how you get better. So he had the best of both worlds with the two teams: one where he got to be one of the stars and one where he got to learn from and try to keep up with the stars. He'll be with his travel team and coach again in the spring, but there's no spring soccer for the middle school team.

And yesterday he went straight from his last game to ... his first basketball practice of the season. Cleats off, high-tops on. We're ready.

[Update 2/7/12: For some reason, this post is attracting the spambots big time, so I'm closing off comments. If you have something non-spammy to tell me, feel free to send me an email!]

Nourishing My Soul

I am at a point in my life where I do very little for me, and that's (mostly) OK. I recognize that this big chunk of my life is devoted almost entirely to raising these three little beings I created and getting ready to launch them into the universe on their own. For the most part I don't resent the fact that I spend the majority of my time parenting, because I know that it's a great and important thing that I'm doing. That being said, I'm only human, and I occasionally feel a void—in between the school volunteering, the carpooling, the laundry, the endless errands, and the work.

The work. I need to point out that I do feel blessed to have a livelihood that gives me such satisfaction. When I'm not actively parenting and am instead actively working, I do feel fulfilled. I know I'm one of the lucky ones—to get paid for what I love to do. However, I have been known to take on too many projects at once, or to take on projects that provide little personal reward, and then I feel stressed out or frustrated rather than contentedly humming along like a little editing motor. Sometimes these things happen to me through no fault of my own—a project I agreed to ends up coming in late and crashes into another project I had also agreed to, or a project is not at all what I was led to believe it was and I must press on until the damn thing is done. So, as much as I love my work, I do at times suffer under the great pressure of deadlines or the tedium of a boring manuscript. But when it's all going well, it can feel a little like "me time."

But as for real "me time," which has nothing to do with earning a living or meeting a deadline or doing things because I'm supposed to ... well, there's not much time for it, and I don't even know what it would consist of. I despise exercise of any kind (I know, I know...), so don't tell me to go for a run. I don't enjoy shopping anymore, I don't know how to garden, and every now and then it's somehow not my turn in any of the 20 or 30 (eek!) online Scrabble or Words With Friends games I'm playing. Yes, of course I read, and I even occasionally make it to my book group; I cook when I can, although lately there haven't been too many big blocks of time I can devote to that either. A few weeks ago I had great plans to take myself to an early movie, but the only day when I didn't need to get Julie at school turned out to be a day when I had a work crisis that needed my attention.

So. Believe it or not, I have joined a Torah study group called "Maintaining Hope." It is held at my temple but is led by a wonderful, dynamic rabbi who doesn't have a congregation—he just roams the earth discussing Torah everywhere he goes. The program consists of fifteen 90-minute meetings that began last week and go through May. The way this came about is kind of interesting. Last spring Pete and I went to one of his Hebrew school classes where they were preparing the kids to think about their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and the little "lesson" they'd be presenting about their Torah portions. As an example, they had all of us think about and discuss the story of Noah and the ark. Lots of questions came up, from the big ones (How did God pick Noah? Was it OK to let everyone else die?) to the small ones (How did they get two of each fish and bird? Why didn't the big animals eat all the small animals?). I mentioned to another mom there (one of my old camp friends) how much I enjoyed both the picking apart of the words (which reminded me of my literary analysis days in college) and the search for connections and deeper meaning in life. She said, "That's what I've been telling you about this group I go to! Join us!" And she was right; she had indeed encouraged me to join a while back, but I didn't think it would be for me. I was wrong.

There are about 20 of us, some who have been studying with this rabbi for decades and some, like me, who are brand new to this little community. I've known two of the women since the early '70s at camp, I've met a few others over the last few years at temple, and the rest are all new to me. Some know so much Hebrew that they can get to the root of every word, and others know very little. Most were brought up Jewish but a few converted as adults. Everyone seems really, really smart.

Right away I learned that "Torah" means "teaching," and that "to teach" means to throw or shoot an object toward a target, so "teaching" is really an idea moving through space and time toward a target—and is thus eternal. Cool, huh?

We've so far met twice, and it is just wonderful. We started off talking about Isaiah 58, and every time I think about the lines "Then shall your light burst through like the dawn/And your healing spring up quickly," I get woozy. After the first meeting, I left with such a welling-up of emotion that I had a good cry when I got home, and then I felt positively buoyant. I can tell that this is going to be something I look forward to with each passing week, on many levels. It feels very much like a good way to start filling in that void.

Cheater's Chicken Soup

Last weekend, before the big snowstorm, I wanted to make a big pot of chicken soup to tide us over, but I didn't have the time. Instead, I tried this shortcut method, which worked out great. We ate it all weekend, with saltine crackers and challah.

Quick & Hearty Chicken Noodle Soup

2 quarts chicken broth plus 1 quart water
1 store-bought roast chicken
2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 large onions, cut into medium dice
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into rounds or half rounds, depending on size
2 large celery stalks, sliced 1/4-inch thick
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves—I used an herb-roasted rotisserie chicken, so I didn't need additional thyme.
3 cups egg noodles—Cooked or dry? I cooked wide noodles separately.
1 cup (5 ounces) frozen green peas—Peas in chicken soup? I don't think so.
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley—I didn't bother with this either.
Salt and ground black pepper—Unnecessary, because the rotisserie chicken was already so highly seasoned.

Bring broth and water to a simmer over medium-high heat in a large pot. Meanwhile, pick all the chicken meat off the bones and skin and set aside. Add the bones and skin to the simmering broth. Reduce the heat to low, partially cover, and simmer until the bones release their flavor, 20 to 30 minutes. Strain the broth into another big pot; reserve the broth and discard the bones and skin. (From force of habit of making pasta all the time, I almost dumped the broth right through my colander and down the drain! Remember, in this case you want the liquid, not the solids!)

Return the empty pot to a burner set on medium-high. Add the oil, then the onions, carrots, and celery. Sauté until soft, 8 to 10 minutes. Add the thyme, chicken meat and broth and bring to a simmer. (I poured the broth through a fine sieve this time to strain out all the little bits of extraneous stuff.)

Add the noodles; simmer until all ingredients are tender, 10 to 15 minutes. Stir in peas and parsley and adjust seasoning, including salt and pepper to taste. Serve.

Get Well, Chef!

As far as I'm concerned, there are all the chefs ("celebrity" or otherwise) in the world, and then there's Jacques Pépin. He is not only a genius, but he is also a real person who just "gets" food. His love of food and people and life in general comes shining through in all of his cookbooks and TV appearances. (If you haven't read his memoir, The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen, you are in for a real treat. And here's a great article about him that appeared in the Times last week.) Oh, and did I mention that many of his recipes are hands-down favorites around here?

Years ago, I went to an evening event at Boston University, where he demonstrated kitchen "basics," such as boning a chicken, to a rapt classroom. Just being in his orbit would have been enough; watching him in action was a true thrill. So I jumped at the chance to see him again when I learned of an event being held tonight, again at BU (he and Julia Child co-founded BU's Master of Liberal Arts program in Gastronomy and Certificate Program in the Culinary Arts). This time, to celebrate his latest book, Essential Pépin: More Than 700 All-Time Favorites from My Life in Food, a couple dozen chefs from around Boston were coming to prepare recipes from the book, and then we'd all get a signed copy of the book and get to meet the master himself. (The event website is here, although I don't know how much longer it will be up.)

So Andy and I got tickets, even though it was pricey and on a school night, no less. Then on Tuesday we were informed that Jacques had had to undergo emergency hip surgery and wouldn't be able to attend! The event would still go on, but without him. We were given the option to get a refund on our tickets, and after some thought, we decided to do just that. As much as we would probably enjoy sampling all the different foods, the main attraction had always been to see Jacques. Andy is hobbling about himself these days (more about that coming soon), so we decided not to go. What a huge disappointment!

KQED is collecting Get Well wishes to Jacques (including mine) under the hashtag #getwelljacques—you can see all of them here.

Unseasonable

Yesterday was supposed to be the day that Julie painted a Halloween scene on the window of J.P. Licks (our favorite ice cream parlor in the world—how lucky is that?!), but in case you hadn't heard, we had a bit of weather in these parts yesterday, so they extended the festivities until today. (The festivities being the annual Halloween Window Painting Contest, in which kids in grades 3–8 paint Halloween scenes on local merchants' windows. It is so. freaking. cute.) Today was still cold, but we were in direct sun and it was downright pleasant.

Here's my little Rembrandt hard at work:

And here's the finished product:

Yes, of course she got an ice cream for her efforts!

Yesterday was Soccer in Inclement Weather Day, which Andy celebrated without me. I was never so happy to stay home and edit a nursing manual. I did brave the elements for Date Night, though, of course.

I'm an Interviewee

Well, this is exciting: I was interviewed on the Copyediting blog! Dawn, one of my editor pals on Twitter, asked if I'd be willing to be interviewed via email (which is much less painful than a telephone interview, as far as I can imagine), and the result is here! Go read it and then come back.

We also tossed around other possible interview questions, one of which was what else I could imagine myself doing besides editing. While I do think that I have found the perfect job for myself, I think I would have made a top-notch librarian—and enjoyed it too. As I've mentioned before, I'm the library coordinator at the elementary school this year, which means that I work there for about an hour a day. I like an organizational framework that makes sense, and you sure get that with the Dewey Decimal System. The other day a boy came up to me and said he had looked up a book he wanted on the computer and it said "74.1 WAT." I said, "I bet you mean 741.5 WAT, which would be a Calvin & Hobbes book by Bill Watterson." "Yup!" he replied, and I led him over to the appropriate shelf and found the book for him. The (real) librarian was watching with a big grin.

But I think I am even better suited to be a copyeditor, and I really do love my work, especially when I'm editing cookbooks. I just received the manuscript for an entire book of donut recipes! What's not to love?

Coming Home

I hardly ever get invited to parties, but every fall I get an evite to a "reunion" of sorts, a gathering of people who were campers/counselors at my beloved summer camp in the '70s and '80s (me? 1973–1982). The amazing thing about this annual party—in addition to the fact that my friend Natan offers to host it every single year—is that there might be anywhere from 15 to 50 people there, and it doesn't really matter who shows up. There's a large group of people I've known for these nearly-40 years, and I feel a bond with all of them that I can't describe. I went this past Saturday night, and I felt lame telling someone recently that it "feels like coming home," but that's the closest I can come to explaining it.

We spend a lot of time at these parties reminiscing about camp, of course—someone always brings a pile of photos and yearbooks for us to pore over and laugh about—but we also catch up on one another's current lives. Where are your kids at school? How are your parents? Whatever became of ...? We share a past, but we also care about one another's present.

Without fail, I come home (usually fairly late) and lie in bed unable to sleep. I'm buzzing with the excitement I always get from connecting with this group. I simultaneously feel very young and very old, and that brings me to tears—but they're mostly the good kind.

Stuff I've Been Tweeting

Robert Reich on the Seven Biggest Economic Lies

A really moving ad from Switzerland

Go the fuck to the library!

The folks at Rethink Breast Cancer are aware that sex sells. (Ladies, be sure to wait for the "credits" to roll....)

I haven't tried this yet: How to peel a head of garlic in less than 10 seconds.

Very funny: The Clinton Foundation Celebrity Division

Apparently "adult" movies are often set in classroooms; this site analyzes the mathematical equations shown on the blackboards.

Newly hatched baby sea turtles!

There are many Bad Lip Reading gems; I got a kick out of this one. (No, I won't type her name on my blog and attract any Google hits here.)

I love this reunion photo of the cast members of The Princess Bride. (Peter Falk and André the Giant are gone, so they appear only in framed photos, and "Fred Savage didn’t show up, probably because he’s a dick.")

David Foster Wallace tells his Harper's editor a thing or two.

And, finally, a reminder that I'm giving away my Blockbuster Express movie codes—I've had very little response thus far, so you're almost guaranteed to win.

Field Trip!

Today I chaperoned Julie's class field trip to the Black Heritage Trail, which runs through Boston's Beacon Hill. I had never done this trip (yes, there are a few I missed along the way!), so I was really eager to go. We were supposed to go on Wednesday, but when the weather forecast called for 100% chance of rain, it was postponed to today. And today was one of those magnificent fall days when you are reminded why you live in Boston in the first place—sunny, breezy, and mild.

I learned so much on this trip! Each child was assigned to research an African American who had lived in this area during the 1800s. Some were abolitionists, some sheltered fugitive slaves, and some fought in the Civil War. As we walked along the brick sidewalks, our National Park Service guide explained where we were and would occasionally stop at a building that had once been the home of one of the historical figures the kids had studied. That kid would step up with a sign and tell us a little bit about him or her. Julie was assigned Charles Lenox Remond, who was best friends with Frederick Douglass:

Afterward, we stopped at the Museum of African American History and watched a short film, then boarded the bus to head back to school. It was a great take—I recommend the guided tour to anyone, regardless of whether you have a couple dozen fourth-graders in tow!

Wanna See a Movie?

Speaking of deals, last winter I purchased a Groupon for 5 overnight DVD rentals from any Blockbuster Express kiosk (like Redbox). Almost immediately, the only Blockbuster Express kiosk in my fair city vanished, and the nearest ones are apparently not near enough for me to ever actually go to them two days in a row (to pick up a DVD and then to return it the next day). So ... I'm offering them to you!

Here's how it works: You can either go straight to a kiosk (go here to see if there's one near you) and pick a DVD there, then input the magic code I will give you; or you can use the magic code to reserve a particular DVD online ahead of time and then just grab it when you get there.

Note that this promotion does not include Blu-Ray or "Hot List" DVDs, nor is it good at Blockbuster stores (are there even any left?). I'm pretty sure you will have to provide your credit card info in case you don't bring the DVD back, or bring it back late (there's a late fee). And maybe tax? I have no idea. More fine print here, and some general info. Oh, and the code will expire on May 1, 2013.

To win, please leave a comment below telling me what was the last movie you saw (whether at the cinema or on DVD) and what you thought of it. You will need to leave a valid email address so I can contact you with the promo code. I will accept comments through midnight my time on Tuesday, October 25, then I will pick 5 names at random and send each person a unique promo code. If I get fewer than 5 comments, you could even win twice!

Such a Deal!

So I mentioned yesterday that Andy and I went out to dinner with a voucher and also got the kids their pizza on a voucher. Yes, we are all about the vouchers in this house! Every day I get an email from several different outfits, all of whom are just dying to save me some money. Some are better than others. Here are my favorites:

1. Groupon: The grand-daddy of 'em all. If you want to get in on the action, use my code (I think I get a bonus if you do) or, if you prefer, just join on your own. I call all types of vouchers from all companies "Groupons," sort of like how "Scotch tape" and "Kleenex" have become generic terms. There's also Groupon NOW, which is a smartphone app that lets you in on lots of last-minute deals based on your location. How cool is that?

2. Eversave: Another biggy. Lotsa good stuff here too. Again, my code is here, or you can fly solo.

3. Living Social. Same deal, except that if three people buy a deal that I just bought, I get it for free. And so on. Join here. BuyWithMe works the same way.

4. LevelUp: This one's a little different. First you download an app to your smartphone. Then, when it's time to pay, you just flash your personal QR code, and BEEP! The transaction is done—fast! We use this regularly at The Local (our local), and we've already twice hit the $25 bonus. Sweet. Join with me (we'll each get $5!) or on your own.

5. Others! I recently got one from Amazon of all places (the aforementioned pizza), and there's more, though I haven't bought from anyone else yet.

Oh, and if you don't use a voucher before its expiration date, have no fear! Your voucher will still be worth the amount you paid for it. (That is, if you bought a $20 voucher for $10 and then let it expire, you can still redeem it for $10. Phew.) Well, at least that's how it works in Massachusetts; your mileage may vary.

Now let's get out there and save some money while having fun, shall we?

A Happy Anniversary

Twenty-three years ago today Andy and I tied the knot! To celebrate, last night we went out to dinner—a rarity these days, so it felt extra-special. We tried Sibling Rivalry in the South End. It is a very bustling, South-End-y feeling place (in the good way). The menu gimmick there is that the two chef-owners are brothers, and each presents a different take on a particular dish. It might say, for instance, BEEF, and each one will do a different beef preparation. Or it might say CHILIES and they each prepare an entree featuring chilies. Or SOUTH AMERICAN or FIN FISH or what have you.

The menu is pretty limited (it wasn't the same as the one currently shown on the website, for some reason), though, and we both could imagine not being able to find anything exactly to our liking. Andy started with some sort of Vietnamese squid appetizer, and I had a roasted beet and arugula salad with goat cheese, which was delicious. Andy's was a little skimpy and mine was quite generous. For entrees, usually Andy gets steak, but this time I did. It was a sirloin steak that came with a lot of nice little sides (a few fried onion strings, a small mound of mashed potatoes, some creamy corn, some steamed veggies). Every bite was delicious. Andy got the duck, which he said was also delicious, but it was a rather small portion, and there were only a few veggies and a few slices of fruit, plus a small pool of parsnip puree. In truth, we should have swapped, because he could have eaten more, and I stuffed myself. We also enjoyed a lovely Malbec (our new fave). Andy was definitely in the mood for a little dessert to cap it all off, but there wasn't anything on the dessert menu that appealed to him! So that was a bit of a downer (although this morning he could be self-righteous about not indulging too much).

So ... the atmosphere was fun and upscale, the service was great, and the food was really, really good, but there just wasn't a huge variety, nor large portions. I would certainly recommend it, though, and would go again.

The reason we thought to try it in the first place was that I had bought a voucher for $20 that was worth $40—such a deal! And we left the kids with a couple of take-out pizzas that we had bought with a voucher that cost $10 and was worth $20. I am all about these daily-deal sites, and we really do make use of them. This was the first year that we ever went out on our anniversary without hiring a sitter, so we saved on that too.

Double Digits

My baby is 10! How could it be? She had a great day—even if she did have to go to school. Her class sang "Happy Birthday" to her and she got to wear the Birthday Necklace all day. She got some nice gifts and lots of cards and phone calls from family.

She and Andy worked very hard on Monday to make and frost a three-layer yellow cake. And because their favorite show is "Cake Boss," they felt compelled to add a layer of fondant and then decorate on top of that. Here's how it turned out:

Happy Birthday, Julie!

RIP, Steve

I knew Steve Jobs was sick for a long time, but I was truly shocked to learn that he had died last night. And I'm surprised at how hard that news hit me.

No doubt, some of this emotion is coming from the fact that he was only a few years older than me, so there was the "reality check" factor involved. But I think most of it was just what he represented to me, even if I wasn't really aware of it on a day-to-day basis.

There are many who never liked Steve, who wouldn't buy an i-product if their life depended on it, and who can't think of a single nice thing to say about Apple. However, I doubt there is anyone who can claim to believe that Steve didn't change the world. I also doubt that we'll ever see his like in terms of true vision and drive and just plain love of what he was doing. The term "visionary" is thrown around quite a bit, but I think it fit Steve perfectly. He imagined things that didn't exist and made them! He said "What if?" and then "Why not?" and then "Here you go!" I have been a loyal Apple user since my first SE, and I still gleefully use my iMac, iPhone, and iPad.

Twitter nearly crashed last night with all the activity. Everyone seemed to be coming out of the woodwork to express their shock and sadness. So many creative and talented people attribute their success—and even a good deal of their happiness—to what they could do with all these toys Steve invented. He somehow turned nerdiness into hipness, but always with an eye toward what could be even cooler. Steve's best quotations are all over the Internet now; I like this one: "Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me.... Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful ... that’s what matters to me." I hope he went to bed most nights feeling that way.

And, finally, to quote our prez: "There may be no greater tribute to Steve’s success than the fact that much of the world learned of his passing on a device he invented." I know I did.

Rest in peace, Steve, and many thanks for the zillions of hours of joy and productivity your vision brought to me. I hope that Apple has many of your projects still in the pipeline, because I don't think anyone will ever be able to match your imagination.

The Aforementioned Kids

(Photos taken yesterday at my sister's house after Rosh Hashanah feast.)