Me, circa 2004
November 13, 2009 at 9:58 am | In celebrity obsession, wine | Leave a CommentTags: Coldplay, Chris Martin
I found this venn diagram today, here. How brilliant — because how true. (In fact, see my prior post on why drinking wine while listening to Coldplay is maybe not a good idea…) Oh, how this sums up a good two-year period of my life! My sisters will confirm that they almost staged a Coldplay intervention, almost flung all CDs out of my home and car. But Chris Martin, you felt my pain. I know you did. I can laugh now at the cliché I must have been, driving around in my old green stick-shift Accord for hours, with Coldplay in the CD player, or huddled in my cold living room with a bottle of wine, the song “Amsterdam” on repeat.
Decor!
November 12, 2009 at 9:22 am | In decor | Leave a CommentI wish I could redo our entire house tomorrow, even though I know I’d want to change things in a few years — because then I could just redecorate all over again! As you might know, I am a bit obsessed with interior design. I hope we’ll be here for years — decades — however, so I’m forcing myself to take my time. Tim would like to hang all the pictures and just pick some chairs for the family room tomorrow, but I want to live here for a bit and slowly consider what will work for spaces, both color-wise and practically for a house that will have small children in it for awhile (the day my sister took a purple paint pen to my mother’s newly upholstered x-stools is seared into my memory).
My sister is the artist in the family: she has an inherent sense of color and scope and scale (and degrees in studio art, art history, and graphic design…) But over the year or so I’ve been obsessed with my design blogs, I’ve learned a few things: what resonates with me (white and wood, orange and pink); design techniques (symmetry, piping), brands (Madeline Weinrib, Jonathan Adler, Ruby Green), and even “famous” designers. I know how I want our home to feel: a mix of casual and formal that is, most important, exquisitely inviting. When I come home I want to feel as I do when I go home to my mother’s — a sense of calmness and ease, but with delights to the eye and senses.
I have inherited some beautiful pieces of furniture from my mother and aunt: a marble console for the living room, a needlepoint rug for the bedroom, a dining set, a perfectly proportioned couch. some gorgeous lamps (this is not an exhaustive list, Mom!). I also have purchased a few things I really love: my turquoise Robert Abbey lamps, my West Elm kitchen chairs, my Parsons desk. And now the fun part is putting them all together, slowly choosing the palette and filling in the gaps.
Here is my first big purchase for the house, being installed even as I post: a runner for the front stairs.
The sample
The inspiration
When the previous owners added on to the house, they added a “back stairs,” which really are the main stairs in the house now. So my thinking is that when you do pass these less-traveled front stairs, or happen to actually use them, the print will be an unexpected, stylish surprise. I’m so thrilled about this — I’ll post some pictures of the installation tomorrow!
I’m also pondering:
- These chairs for the living room.
Note that the walls are not staying red!
The living room is very narrow, so the furniture has to be proportional. I have always loved slipper chairs. These are a bit more formal and substantial, in that the backs are higher than normal slipper chairs (see the white chairs with much lower backs flanking the fireplace in the inspiration photo, below?)
The fabric is a gorgeous pink mohair. Not sure if the fabric will work with the overall color scheme (not to mention, is pink mohair practical for a home with kids? I could have them recovered, but as is I can get them very very inexpensively — if I reupholster, it will sort of negate the economic argument buying them in the first place — they’re on loan for now). My idea is to arrange the room like the one above.
- This wallpaper for my office.
The office is the smallest “bedroom” — there is no closet, so it really isn’t a true bedroom. My white Parsons desk will be in here, and I’m planning to get some white bookcases from Ikea. I want my office to be a place I want to be in, so that when I have to work from home, working in my office will make me happy (is that too idealistic?). I just fell in love with this print — the color, the scale. But is it too overwhelming for the room? Will it be inspiring or distracting? My gut says that it will be perfect. But this sample is going to sit on my wall for awhile.
What do you think? Stay tuned for updates…
What don’t you do?
November 11, 2009 at 8:56 am | In read this | 2 CommentsTwo friends whose blogs I read regularly recently wondered what would happen if the oft-asked, “What do you do?” were turned on its head. (See here and here; they were musing on a question initially posted here.) Instead of the cliche, what if your cocktail party introductions started with “What don’t you do?”
The universal premise, I suppose, is that asking someone “What do you do?” is an inadequate way to start a conversation. Certainly, it can make the person being asked feel inadequate when responding (indeed, I’ve been there — see below). Putting myself in the position of the asker, however, I actually don’t find the “What do you do?” question particularly loaded. If I ask people this, I do it with a journalist’s hard-wired and genuine curiosity. Oh, you’re a landscape architect? Commercial or residential? Oh, you’re a physician? What’s your specialty? My sister is in medical school and is loving her E.R. rotation. You’re a personal trainer? Who are your typical clients? How did you get into that field? Are you, like, super athletic? Oh, you stay at home with your kids? You know what? I’m kind of jealous. Let’s talk some more about our children and our choices and what your favorite part of the day is.
I see the question as a way to connect with people. Whatever we “do,” we do for 80% of our waking hours, and I’m truly interested in that which fills most of your days. If what you “do” is not representative of who you are or think you are or would like to be, I’m also interested that. Let’s talk about it. What are your avocations and the books you read and your dreams? Maybe I need to be more imaginative about how to get to that deeper level, but asking, “What do you do?” seems a direct and logical place to begin. I promise I will maintain a journalist’s objectivity and will not rush to judgment without asking a foll0w-up or two.
On the other hand, for most of my life, if you had invited me to your cocktail party and asked me “What do you do?” I likely would have (a) hightailed it to the bar; (b) started to cry; (c) left; or (d) all of the above, in that order. Today, I’d take a hard-won delight in telling you that: I’m a lawyer and married and a mother (and I admit that at a cocktail party I’d probably answer in that order). And I’m a writer (or, used to be. Or, am still? Depends on the day). I might even get around to telling you that I’m a daughter and friend and niece (and oenophile and yogi and pop culture junkie). Though my answer to your question may be cocktail-party minimalist, it is — however surface-skimming — true and clear, and this is a relief. There’s more to me, to be sure (much more than you probably want to know) but having fought to the surface, I’m just happy to rest there for awhile.
Still, I’m surprisingly intrigued — to the extent I’ve spent the past few days actively thinking about it — by the “What don’t you do?” question because I find it more difficult to answer. Not because I’m particularly self-confident, but, rather, as a (hopefully reforming?) perfectionist, it’s disturbingly easy for me to turn this question around into “What should you be doing that you don’t do?”, and, thus, an opportunity for even more self-improvement. (Because if you don’t do something, that’s a character flaw that must be corrected, right?) For example, here is what immediately sprang to mind: I don’t lift weights; I don’t volunteer enough; I don’t thank people or actively connect with them as much as I’d like on the phone or email; I don’t think before I speak sometimes; etc; etc. The “enoughs” and the “as I’d likes” and the “sometimes” slip in much too quickly. It is difficult to own up to not doing something without trying to right it.
So I’ll try again: As an inherent part of my personality — attaching no judgments or negative connotations or resolutions to change — what are things I just don’t do, period?
I don’t:
- Go to the movies
- Deal with the car (oil changes, car wash)
- Open my mail until there is a significantly unavoidable pile on the hall table
- Put the toilet paper on the roll
- Count calories
- Throw out the plastic tab on the milk or orange juice cartons after I open a new one
- Assemble things
- Close the cabinet doors or dresser drawers
- Take constructive criticism very well
- Make photo albums or baby books
- Confront people
- Eat chicken in restaurants, or pork, duck, or game anywhere
- Buy my child toys (not out of principle; I just don’t have time/think to do it)
- Drink hard alcohol
- Do crafts
I actually don’t care about “righting” any of these things, to the extent they are things to be righted (e.g., closing the dresser drawers or opening my mail). As it turns out, this admission is liberating. For a time, my mother read a lot of self-help books. I remember one was called something like, I’m OK, You’re OK. What do you do? What don’t you do? I’m OK, you’re OK.
Weekend
November 8, 2009 at 7:02 pm | In Starbucks, little bug, the 'burbs, weekend | Leave a CommentTags: condo for sale Milton
Saturday
First stop: haircut.
The before shot:
The after shot:
Haircut was followed by breakfast at our “old” Starbucks on Newbury St.:
Afterwards, we strolled a few blocks to visit our “old” playground:
Being at CSP made me a bit nostalgic. I logged a lot of hours at this playground. As we walked down Commonwealth Ave. towards Clarendon, Little Bug got so excited when she realized where we were going.
Sunday
Four families, six children for brunch. Kara, Lindsey, and I were close friends/roommates in college. Tennessee and Emily are married. Kara’s brother and Tennessee were roommates in college. I went to Columbia J-school with Tennessee. Lindsey and Emily met when they were 7-years-old and went to middle school together in Cambridge. Emily used to be a lawyer at my firm. Lots of connections.
This is exactly why we bought a house with a swingset in the suburbs.
Riding the wave of my kitchen ambition, I made two casseroles to freeze, one for Thursday or Friday night and one for another week. Ingredients: sauteed onion, spinach, browned turkey, penne, Classico sauce, gruyere, parmesan and mozzarella cheeses. I just made this recipe up. Nothing fancy (and I feel almost embarrassed divulging it knowing sarabclever will be reading it…), but on a Friday night it is absolutely delicious. (For brunch, by the way, I made this strada and banana bread from a Martha Stewart recipe.)
Buggy’s little 9-year-old “friends” came over. There are a half dozen fourth- or fifth-grade girls in the neighborhood, and they absolutely adore her. I think they think of her like a pet. They knock on the door and give her big hugs and play with her for a bit but then clearly grow a bit bored of a barely literate 2-year-old and eventually send her on her way. Buggy, however, worships them. “There are my friends!” she cries happily whenever she sees them out on the sidewalk rollerblading or drawing with chalk.
Finally, we went to our condo to take some pictures for our upcoming all-out marketing blitz. Someday, if I’m completely devoid of inspiration, I’ll tell the long tale of the condo that we thought we sold and so therefore contracted to buy our new house, but the buyer backed out and now we have two mortgages (hello, mortgage interest deduction!) If you, or anyone you know, wants a new construction two-bedroom, two-bath next to the red line in Milton, MA, with a water view, let me know… I couldn’t be more serious.
See how nice the view is?
Swine flu update: update
November 6, 2009 at 9:57 am | In Uncategorized | 4 CommentsTags: H1N1 vaccine, Harvard Vanguard, swine flu vaccine, Thimerisol in vaccines
Mission accomplished. I procured a swine flu vaccine, no thanks to Harvard Vanguard. I’m sure it’s not really their fault. But here is what is their fault: misinformation. The nurse at my ob’s finally — after 15 minutes on the phone during which I implored her to explore some options with me — told me about a clinic being offered to pregnant women today at the Brigham, but then recommended I not get the vaccine there because it was not Thimerisol free. “But the CDC recommends that pregnant women get this vaccine regardless, and says that the vaccines are safe,” I pointed out. “Well, we just don’t know what the effects are,” she said. I pointed out that we also don’t know the effects of Tamiflu on the unborn child. “You’d rather I risk getting swine flu than risk the vaccine?” I asked. “I think you should wait until we receive the Thimerisol free vaccine,” she said. Since Harvard Vanguard apparently has not received any vaccines yet for their high-risk patients — while Wall Street bankers and lawyers are being vaccinated in their offices — you’ll understand why I was no longer prepared to be patient.
Moreover, I think her advice was misinformed and incorrect. I consulted with my cadre of “private physicians” — i.e., three very good doctor-friends whose expertise and medical advice I trust completely. One of them told me that the amount of mercury in the flu vaccine was less than what is in a tuna sandwich. In addition, the concern about preservatives in vaccines stems from a time when there was thought to possibly be a connection between the mercury and autism — something that has not been at all substantiated by research. (For the record, my sister and brother-in-law’s dear nephew is autistic, so this is not something any of us take lightly.)
People can and will have their own opinions on this, and I respect them. Your health decisions are up to you (which is why I am so pro-choice). But I also think this is a scenario in which anxiety and rumors can get and have gotten out of hand. (I’m not immune: I admit I became somewhat all-consumed with my inability to get vaccinated.) In the end, I did my own research: I read the CDC website, and I consulted with other doctors. But, ultimately, I do have faith in Western medicine. A clinic held specifically for pregnant women — at one of the best hospitals in the country, no less — just would not offer a vaccine that would be unsafe. As it turns out, the shot I received this morning was the “low dose” vaccine — completely mercury-free vaccines are not widely available at this time. This particular one had one participle/milligram (whatever the measurement they used was) of preservative as opposed to 20 participles/milligrams.
Anyway, I’m relieved. It only took three or four phone calls a day (to both branches of my obstetrician’s office, my primary care physician, my pediatrician, various departments of public health), three days a week, for six weeks or so, plus 45 minutes on Tuesday chasing down this flu clinic lead (emailed to me by many people who had read my blog – thank you!), two hours yesterday driving to the Brigham during rush hour so that I could register as a patient in order to attend the clinic, a 45-minute drive in rush hour this morning and a 30 minute wait (I was sixth in line — a bit bummed that I was not actually first, as had been my intent!)
Ambition in the kitchen
November 5, 2009 at 2:06 pm | In gastronomy | 3 CommentsTags: Barefoot Contessa, gestational diabetes, glucose screen, weeknight meal planning
I’m not sure what came over me*, but I got super inspired/organized on Sunday and sat down with some cookbooks and came up with a menu for the week and went shopping and prepped all the food and put it in Tupperware and in the fridge (like a walking advertisement for a women’s magazine!). This week’s menu:
Monday: Barefoot Contessa Indonesian ginger chicken with roasted sweet potato and squash and brown rice (mostly for Tim — see footnote). Verdict: I made the marinade Sunday and let the chicken sit in it overnight. Melting the honey, soy sauce, ginger, and garlic wasn’t really any different from marinating in Soy Vey with some extra fresh ginger, which would have been much easier. Also, this is the problem I have with baking chicken: by the time I’m satisfied that it’s fully cooked, it’s rather dry. The roasted sweet potatoes were delicious though — just tossed in salt and pepper, roasted at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.
Tuesday: Turkey chili. On Sunday I sauteed onions and the chili spices, browned the ground turkey, and diced red and yellow peppers. In the morning, it all went into the crockpot with two cans of crushed tomatoes. I ended up working late, so nearly 12 hours later I served it over the left over brown rice from Monday. Verdict: Delish delish delish. I used the Barefoot Contessa chicken chili recipe (halved the onion and replaced the baked chicken with the ground turkey). To make it a little less healthy, I topped it with sour cream and shredded cheddar, of course.
Wednesday: Tim was out, so I had left over mac and cheese that Janet had made for Buggy (with chopped broccoli, so it’s healthy! Right?) and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from last Friday. (Cookies not helping the blood sugar — see the footnote, below…)
Thursday: Sunday’s dinner was Barefoot Contessa’s butternut squash apple soup (I also added to her recipe some fresh ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon). I put two Tupperware’s full in the fridge for tonight, and three in the freezer for future dinner emergencies. I’ll serve it with leftover refrigerated French bread, warmed in the oven with some Fontina cheese. Actually, I’ll probably be working late tonight, so Tim can heat up his little Tupperware whenever, and I’ll have nuke mine when I get home. The perfect who-knows-what-time-you’ll-be-home meal
Proof (aside: I don’ t know why this picture is so huge!)
Friday: Costco whole wheat raviolis, which I will pluck from the freezer, and steamed broccoli, which I had cut up Sunday night. This obviously will not be an earth-shattering culinary experience, but at least I didn’t have to chop the broccoli, something I hate doing so much that it keeps me from eating broccoli (which, generally, I like) more frequently.
*I do know what came over me. Two things: (1) Ellen and Wildon came to dinner on Saturday night, and I made the Barefoot Contessa’s roast chicken with lemon. We were talking about the movie Julie and Julia, and Ellen said she would have to find herself a cookbook to make her way through. I have most of the BC’s cookbooks — she really can do nothing wrong — and so I decided to just dive in to those instead of getting myself overwhelmed on Epicurious. (2) I have my glucose test next week. I had gestational diabetes during my first pregnancy, and was on a restrictive no-carbs/no-sugar diet. This time, I was really good during my first trimester with my carb/sugar intake, but once the doctor told me how good I was doing I immediately got lazy and started baking cookies every week and resorting too often to our weeknight standard: pasta with Classico sauce. I’m not a big meat-eater and so don’t often think to cook it, but really do need to eat more protein and less carbs if I want to avoid gestational diabetes again. So while we’ll have rice with the chicken and the chili, it will mostly be for Tim (I can have like 1/3 of a cup per meal…)
Overall verdict:
- It took a bit of work on Sunday to get this all organized. We didn’t really have anything else going on (it was rainy, we were all still tired from Halloween on Saturday night), so I’m not sure it’s realistic to do this every week. In addition, I’m not yet sure all the effort was balanced by the end result, although it may end up being so once/if I become more efficient at planning and prepping.
- But it is nice that I have some chili and soup in the freezer.
Swine flu update (or, the miraculous neti pot)
November 4, 2009 at 11:20 am | In little bug | 6 CommentsTags: Ayurvedic remedies, H1N1 vaccine, Harvard Vanguard, neti pot, netti pot, old wives' tales and the flu, swine flu vaccine
Little Buggy and I are both considered high risk for the H1N1 virus. Tuesday morning, she was vaccinated. We were the first ones in line – at 9:10 a.m. – for the 10 a.m. flu clinic, and were out the door again by 9:30, before all the sick kids and impatient parents arrived en masse. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment when the nurse stuck her with a needle, but she got her Tweety Bird band-aid and a princess sticker and was fine.
I am not fine. I am a paranoid wreck about this flu. Every other pregnant woman I know – literally, I am not exaggerating here *– has received the vaccine from her ob. Mine – yes, I’m calling you out Harvard Vanguard – claims not to have it yet. They claim this every time I call, which is three times a week. I’m seeing practitioners at two different offices, too (alternating appointments between my regular ob at one location and a midwife at another, closer to work), so I call both offices. How can Harvard Vanguard, one of the biggest practices in the state, not have the vaccine for their pregnant patients? I just don’t believe what they are telling me over the phone. “If you get sick, we’ll give you Tamiflu,” they try to appease me. I don’t want Tamiflu, the effects of which are unknown on the fetus. I want the vaccine, and I don’t care if it has trace amounts of mercury or whatever.
Lindsey had it; Pax Arcana had it, and they lived to tell the tale. And I’m so relieved that Little Bug has been vaccinated. I just don’t want to put myself or my unborn child in danger. A partner at my firm, with whom I work often, is greatly concerned for my well being. “Have you had the shot yet?” he asks, every time we meet. “Maybe you should stay home until you get it.” Agreed. Although impractical. Instead, I am following the old wives’ tales on how to keep the flu away by gargling twice a day with salt water (although I use Listerine, since I’ve also read that that works too) and using a netti pot to flush my nasal passages and sinuses with saline.
What is a neti pot, you ask? I’m so glad you did. In short: it’s a miracle. If you know me, you know that I have allergies. And I sniffle. All. The. Time. And even this is an understatement. I wake up in the middle of the night with a stuffy nose and itchy ears and throat. It takes about 10 minutes every morning for my sinuses to drain and clear. My husband often turns to me in bed and says, “This sniffling. Must. Stop. Now.”
This is not me, by the way.
A neti pot (or netti pot) is like a little tea pot. I’ve been aware of it for years – it’s a common Ayurvedic remedy (I used to be really into Ayurvedic remedies) – but have never tried it myself because the concept seemed so strange. You fill it with lukewarm water and salt. You pour it in one nostril and tilt your head down and to the side until the solution comes out the other nostril. It feels really weird and uncomfortable at first, like when you are in the ocean and get hit with a wave that goes right up your nose. I’ve been using it twice a day, and by day two my endemic, low-grade sniffles were gone. FOR REAL. Let me re-emphasize: I do not sniffle anymore. I don’t wake up in the night with a stuffy nose and itchy throat and ears. I don’t sniffle in the morning, nor all day long at my desk. I am a new person, truly. And if you are familiar with my sniffling (and for that, a lifetime of apologies), you know what a big deal this is for me. Hopefully this will keep the pesky flu away, to boot.
*Update: Okay, I might have been exaggerating a bit, as it was just brought to my attention that two pregnant friends — physicians, no less — have not yet been vaccinated (pregnant doctors? Are you kidding me? One of them is an infectious disease specialist, too!). And more absurd than that is news that a friend in Ohio has had her whole family vaccinated, including her non-high risk husband. Not that I don’t want him to get the vaccine, of course, but what is up with the geographical distribution so that there’s plenty of vaccine in Ohio but not enough in Masschusetts for pregnant infectious disease doctors?
Happy Halloween: Weekend in the ‘burbs
November 2, 2009 at 9:14 am | In little bug, the 'burbs, weekend | 1 Comment
I loved Halloween in Back Bay — the big party at Clarendon Street Playground (complete with hayrides), the spooky front yards, and the kids running up and down the brownstone steps. Halloween in the suburbs proved to be very similar to the Halloweens of my childhood — jack’o'lanterns, dads herding kids up and down the street while moms stay home to pass out candy, and the two waves of trick-or-treaters — the little kids shortly after dark, the older kids showing up after you thought you were done for the night (with questionable effort put into their costumes — a t-shirt and mask just doesn’t cut it, kids…)
Little Bug — little ladybug! — wasn’t so sure of the whole routine at first. “I want to go to my home,” she said at one point. But then we ran into our neighbors Kate and May (two other two-year-old girls) and their parents and hit a couple of houses with them, and she started to get into it. As we were walking home, finally, her pumpkin bucket full of candy that she’d never eat, she said, happily, “I’m in Halloween!”
Fortunately, what she remembered about Halloween night was the costumes (she woke up this morning saying, “I want to be a witch! I want to be a scarecrow!”), and, so far, not the candy.
This weekend also was spent raking and jumping in leaves. Tim raked the whole yard on Saturday, only to have to re-rake Sunday after Saturday’s wind and late-night rain. Buggy is a big help.
SAHM for a Day
November 1, 2009 at 8:02 pm | In Starbucks, little bug | 1 Comment
At the last minute, I decided to take a vacation day on Friday. Initially I thought to have our babysitter come for a few hours in the morning anyway so that I could “get stuff done,” but then I realized that since I was taking an actual vacation day I wouldn’t feel as tied to my Blackberry, and also — I really didn’t have much I had to “get done.” So Janet got the day off and Friday was just the Little Bug and me. And it was great.
Breakfast of champions at Starbucks.
Playdate with our friend Ella.
We also went to the grocery store, ate lunch together, and made cookies with Ella and her mom, Egan (my coworker — and neighbor! — who is home on Fridays). While Buggy napped I made chili for dinner and did laundry. Would every day be this nice were I home full-time? Probably not. I would have “stuff to do,” and would not, of course, be able to be so totally focused on her. Would I like to work four days a week? Undoubtedly (and, I’m sure Tim would like it, as well, as he came home to a dinner of chicken chili and fresh cookies). But I have a ton of vacation days to use up before the end of the year, and hopefully we’ll have a few more mommy-daughter days before Little Buggy’s little brother arrives and turns things upside down again!
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