So many times in my career, both as a teacher and a student, I have seen teachers give up on students. Often they will judge students before they walk through the door. My younger brother is a perfect example. I always excelled academically, but it did not come as easily for him. He struggled with ADHD as a child which caused him to act out in class. As you educated readers already know, ADHD can be accompanied with severe depression. While I am not defending my brother for behaving badly in class, I am even more appalled by how many of teachers just gave up on him. Most of them judged him before they even walked in the door.
This kind of teacher behavior makes my blood boil. And I know some of you have been there. "Oh, you're Jackie Sutton's brother?" His teachers would say? And then they would be surprised that he was not instantaneously an all-star student. And so many of them would just....give up. Instead of trying to work with him, they would just throw their hands up in the air. Nothing changed when my parents put us in separate schools. Teachers still just judged him. Oh, that one. He's a loser. He'll never amount to anything.
Well, I am happy to tell you all that my brother is far from a loser. He has grown up to be one of the most amazing men I have ever known. He is an extremely hard worker. But unfortunately, many of his teachers didn't see that. And because of what the teachers said, it also took my brother a long time to realize that they were wrong.
I had one of the most difficult classes of my life today. Because a student called me racist. He also exploded in my face, and humiliated me in front of the class. I left the room in tears (which I have never done before), and I had a colleague excuse the class for the day.
Yes, I am white, I know. I can't change the color of my skin. But when you have color in your own family tree, you know a thing or two about racial relations. You get the confused looks when you introduce your Jamaican-Chinese-Scottish-Irish-English BLOOD cousin to someone and they scan you both trying to figure it out. You are cousins?! How does that work? Well, my aunt and uncle had a baby, that's how.
Those of you that know me know that I have spent my entire academic career studying the sources of injustice and inequality. For better or for worse, I am particularly interested in racial inequality. This is my chosen field of study, but yet I am white and I was born into a privileged family. I went to an Ivy League School and have taught at only private schools. Tough life right? WRONG.
Since I teach history, and there are many examples of racial inequality injustice from the past, this is a common discussion point in my classes. I have taught many students of color, many of whom who were awarded prestigious scholarships and grants to pay their tuition. I know how difficult it is to talk about race in a history class. I know that students and adults alike are uncomfortable talking about it. However, it is my fundamental belief that the only way we can overcome this kind of injustice is to talk about it. Calmly and rationally figure it out.
Anyway, I am ranting. This student doesn't really think I am racist. We will calm down and sort out our differences. The problem was, the student who yelled at me was one that I have taught for a few years. This is a student that I have worked with for hours cramming for the AP exam, going over his essays, helping him improve his handwriting, and the like. Sure, he and I have different backgrounds, but in some ways, I think of him like my little brother. Many of his teachers have given up on him. But I just can't. Call me crazy, but HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF A TEACHER IF YOU GIVE UP ON CHILDREN? Would you kick your own child out of your house?
I don't have kids. These are my kids. I refuse to give up.
It looks like a snow day for us tomorrow, so at least I get a day to screw my head back on properly. But then Thursday I am going to get my ass out of bed and sort this out.
Grandpa Sutton (I miss you) -- you never gave up on any of your kids. And I won't either. Because I know you are watching me. I have your framed photo in my classroom, so you watch over me every day. And I will never give up, Grandpa. I promise.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Ms. Sutton's SPORTS! Um, I mean, politics.
For extra credit, choose ONE of the activities below (you can do all three, but you can not earn EXTRA EXTRA credit, if you know what I mean):
1. Watch the State of the Union (SOTU) on three different channels (i.e. flip back and forth while you are watching):
note: follow specific instructions on live streaming from the news channel's home page.
- Fox News: http://www.foxnews.com/
- CNN: http://www.cnn.com/
- MSNBC: http://www.msnbc.com/
Ok, you probably know my agenda. There's bias, right? But seriously, what do you see? Are there advertisements on the web page that lean in a certain direction? Is there a live streaming chat feed that you can follow from the channel? So what makes these networks biased? Do people turn to their channel of preference to hear what they already want to hear?
OR
2. Watch the SOTU tonight (on any channel--see above!) and Obama's first SOTU from 2010 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTMrs9vpoqg). What has changed? Sure, the obvious stuff, like boy, Obama sure has more grey hair, but also what ELSE is different? Consider the topic of his speech, his tone, his attitude? Consider even how the audience has changed--are they clapping more, less, or just as much? Are people sleeping (sad, but it does happen!)? Other thoughts?
Disclaimer:
I know, I know. Time is money, and you have a lot of work to do. You do not need to watch the entire speech to get credit. Watch 15-20 minutes (enough so that you can make an educated comment), and then of course, get back to your less-fun homework assignments :)
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Silent Teaching
Yesterday was the first day I participated in the Day of Silence--a day to recognize bullying against the LGBT community--and the often passive silence that occurs around it. I have known about this day since I began teaching seven years ago, but I never thought that I would be able to actually participate and still teach. This year, I decided to try, and I found my experience was one of the most valuable thus far in my teaching career. I thought I would resurrect my blog from its long hiatus to share three of the major things that I learned:
1. Silence can often generate a more meaningful discussion in the classroom. I never realized how much I talked--until I forced myself to be quiet. Suddenly, rather than answer my own questions because of the frustration associated with hearing crickets, I just waited for someone to say something. And the results were quite surprising. Sure, some of my more vocal students still generated more comments than others, but many of my shyer students were much more active. As a teacher, I know how important it is for students to process information, but now I am even more aware of how much I need to sometimes just stop and allow students to think.
2. Showing can often mean much more than explaining. Let me make this clear--I did not choose to be silent so that I could "just push play" (read: screen a documentary). I taught all but one of my classes that day--the one exception was a class that already had a test scheduled. So, clearly, I needed to get creative with the way that I presented the material. I am fortunate that I have a projector in my classroom as well as a huge whiteboard with many different colored markers. So I had them look at things--maps, charts, photos, etc. And I communicated by writing. I still allowed myself to write on the board or type on the projector.* I noticed that when I showed things rather than explain them verbally, there were many more nods of comprehension throughout the classroom.
3. If you actually want to listen, be quiet. While it is so often tempting to chime in to a conversation stressing similarities ("well, I have three brothers too..." -- you know what I mean), I got so much more out of just listening to those around me. I knew that remaining silent during lunch would be difficult, because lunch is a time when faculty members usually sit and chat together. Since everyone around me knew I was silent, I did not have to explain myself. If I really wanted to say something, I had a pad of paper and a pencil to communicate. Since writing something down takes much more effort than just saying it, I limited my comments much more than I ordinarily would. Perhaps if I ever have a day where I am suffering from "foot-in-mouth" syndrome, I can remember this strategy...
Clearly, I could go on...but I think that three main themes that articulate my experience will suffice. I encourage my fellow teachers to be more open to possibly participating in this event in the future, and seeing how valuable of an experience it can be. I know that I will continue to implement some silent teaching tactics in the future, solely because they worked so well yesterday.
So thank you to those of you that humored me yesterday and allowed me to do this. I know that for some, it was probably frustrating to interact with me, but I promise to only do this once a year. Until then, I will continue to observe rather than simply comment on my experiences, both at work and at home.
*While some would argue that this is not absolute silence, this was very necessary to be able to teach that day.
1. Silence can often generate a more meaningful discussion in the classroom. I never realized how much I talked--until I forced myself to be quiet. Suddenly, rather than answer my own questions because of the frustration associated with hearing crickets, I just waited for someone to say something. And the results were quite surprising. Sure, some of my more vocal students still generated more comments than others, but many of my shyer students were much more active. As a teacher, I know how important it is for students to process information, but now I am even more aware of how much I need to sometimes just stop and allow students to think.
2. Showing can often mean much more than explaining. Let me make this clear--I did not choose to be silent so that I could "just push play" (read: screen a documentary). I taught all but one of my classes that day--the one exception was a class that already had a test scheduled. So, clearly, I needed to get creative with the way that I presented the material. I am fortunate that I have a projector in my classroom as well as a huge whiteboard with many different colored markers. So I had them look at things--maps, charts, photos, etc. And I communicated by writing. I still allowed myself to write on the board or type on the projector.* I noticed that when I showed things rather than explain them verbally, there were many more nods of comprehension throughout the classroom.
3. If you actually want to listen, be quiet. While it is so often tempting to chime in to a conversation stressing similarities ("well, I have three brothers too..." -- you know what I mean), I got so much more out of just listening to those around me. I knew that remaining silent during lunch would be difficult, because lunch is a time when faculty members usually sit and chat together. Since everyone around me knew I was silent, I did not have to explain myself. If I really wanted to say something, I had a pad of paper and a pencil to communicate. Since writing something down takes much more effort than just saying it, I limited my comments much more than I ordinarily would. Perhaps if I ever have a day where I am suffering from "foot-in-mouth" syndrome, I can remember this strategy...
Clearly, I could go on...but I think that three main themes that articulate my experience will suffice. I encourage my fellow teachers to be more open to possibly participating in this event in the future, and seeing how valuable of an experience it can be. I know that I will continue to implement some silent teaching tactics in the future, solely because they worked so well yesterday.
So thank you to those of you that humored me yesterday and allowed me to do this. I know that for some, it was probably frustrating to interact with me, but I promise to only do this once a year. Until then, I will continue to observe rather than simply comment on my experiences, both at work and at home.
*While some would argue that this is not absolute silence, this was very necessary to be able to teach that day.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Green Adventures
Nothing says "I'm a grown up!" like planting my own herb garden. Well, I suppose there are many other things, but I suppose my connection between homegrown herbs and adulthood involves my spacious apartment with private outdoor space.
I ventured off to Home Depot today with no intention of buying seeds, but there they were next to the self-checkout, just dying for me to plant them. So, let's see how it goes with Cilantro, Parsley, Oregano, and Basil. Perhaps tomatoes will join the fun after the frost ends.
So here goes: Jackie's herbs, summer of 2011:
Here's hoping there will be some green in the next photo!
I ventured off to Home Depot today with no intention of buying seeds, but there they were next to the self-checkout, just dying for me to plant them. So, let's see how it goes with Cilantro, Parsley, Oregano, and Basil. Perhaps tomatoes will join the fun after the frost ends.
So here goes: Jackie's herbs, summer of 2011:
Here's hoping there will be some green in the next photo!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Spring Break Catch Up!
Ahh, Spring Break. Something that adults never get, right? Well, that is one of the wonderful things about being an academic. Sure, I will never make any money, but I can't complain about the time off.
Yes, I realize I am coming back from yet another blogging hiatus. I am still in shock that 7 weeks of class have already passed. I actually worry about what the warm weather will do to me, because I already feel that my motivation level has declined since the beginning of the semester. Either that, or I have made the glorious realization that in grad school, you really don't need to do all of the reading. It has improved my sanity, plus it frees up the time to do the finer things in life, which for me right now are yoga, running, and cooking.
The cooking has been ongoing since my last blog, but I just haven't bothered to post anything about it. I did muster up a photo of a risotto I made a week or so ago--lemony shrimp with asparagus. Yum.
So, this has been a rather crazy start to the semester, to say the least. I decided to try to hunt for some sort of summer job to start to put a dent in my school loan debt. Its crazy how much I miss teaching after just a few months off. Of course, I miss the good things--the great moments in class, joking around in the department office, coaching (awww coaching...tear), and I never think about all the times I spent writing comments, sitting through faculty meetings, enduring a track meet in the freezing cold/rain. If I understand parenthood from my friends and family with kids, it seems as though I am suffering from a similar kind of amnesia. You forget all the pain and suffering and only think about the good times. Seriously though, to get mushy for a second, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anyway, all that nostalgia aside, I decided that teaching over the summer was the best way to go. I sent resumes to private schools in the area, and instead of finding a temporary job, I ended up landing a full-time job teaching history again next year. Best part of the position? I am going right back to coaching cross country and track. So that was a surprising development to say the least. It means I will finish up my MA coursework this summer and write my thesis over the course of the school year. Let more insanity commence!
Just the day after the interview, my boyfriend's niece was born--Lucy Therese. She is a wiggle worm and a pumpkin all rolled into one:
The weather has FINALLY been getting warmer, so I am running again, thank goodness! I am weaning my way back into it, since I took a good 6 weeks off when there was snow all over the ground/sidewalk/everywhere. Since I ran a half marathon this fall, it is hard to go back to running just 5 or 6 miles at a time, but the weather is still cool enough that I don't want to be out much more than that anyway. I also feel like a hypocrite because my shoes have definitely seen better days, and I am waiting on my tax refund to buy a new pair. I used to always lecture my athletes about keeping their shoes up to date, and here I am, totally not practicing what I preach.
Ok, so back to cooking. I feel like I had to give you all some sort of update since it has been a while, and a new job/new bundle of joy is certainly news to share. I am not going anywhere for spring break this year. The fact that I won't even fork up the cash for a new pair of running shoes should indicate my current financial situation. So alas, no vacay. Honestly, though, Spring Break at NYU is only a week long, and I have plenty of school work I should be doing, so I'm pretty ok with sticking around. Plus, it frees up some time for culinary experiments.
I took a stab at making my own gnocchi, and it actually turned out pretty well. My only regret is that I made them a little too big, but I was surprised at how easy it was. Time consuming, and creates a lot of dishes, but easy. Don't believe me? Boom:
Homemade Potato Gnocchi
Adapted from Epicurious
Ingredients
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, scrubbed
1 cup all purpose flour
1 large egg yolk, beaten to blend
1 teaspoon course kosher salt
large pinch of ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon olive oil
Preparation
Preheat oven to 400°F. Pierce potatoes in several places and bake until soft, about 1 hour. Cool slightly. Cut potatoes in half. Working in batches, scoop hot flesh into potato ricer or food mill. Rice potatoes onto rimmed baking sheet; spread out and cool to room temperature. If you don't have a food mill or potato ricer, just mash them--they will turn out fine!
Line large baking sheet with parchment paper. Transfer potatoes to large bowl. Add 1 cup flour; toss to coat. Form well in center of potato mixture. Add egg yolk, coarse salt, and nutmeg; stir with fork until mixture is evenly moistened (mixture will look shaggy). Turn mixture out onto lightly floured work surface. Knead until dough comes together, sprinkling dough with flour very lightly only if dough is very sticky. Form dough into ball; divide into 4 pieces. Roll each piece between hands and work surface into 3/4-inch-thick rope. Cut each rope into 3/4-inch pieces. Place gnocchi on prepared baking sheet.
Working in batches, cook gnocchi in large pot of boiling salted water until gnocchi rise to surface of water. Continue to simmer gnocchi until cooked through and tender, stirring occasionally, about 4 minutes. Using slotted spoon, carefully transfer gnocchi to bowl. Drizzle gnocchi with olive oil and toss to coat. Gnocchi can be made up to 2 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate.
Voila!
Yes, they look like giant dough balls rather than the gnocchi you order at a fancy Italian restaurant, but trust me, they taste really good! For now, I will serve with a simple tomato sauce, but I am off to the store later to find the fixins for a tasty sauce.
That is enough procrastinating for now, I am afraid. This apartment will not clean itself. I wish a roomba could not only vacuum, but also organize your filing cabinet...
Yes, I realize I am coming back from yet another blogging hiatus. I am still in shock that 7 weeks of class have already passed. I actually worry about what the warm weather will do to me, because I already feel that my motivation level has declined since the beginning of the semester. Either that, or I have made the glorious realization that in grad school, you really don't need to do all of the reading. It has improved my sanity, plus it frees up the time to do the finer things in life, which for me right now are yoga, running, and cooking.
The cooking has been ongoing since my last blog, but I just haven't bothered to post anything about it. I did muster up a photo of a risotto I made a week or so ago--lemony shrimp with asparagus. Yum.
So, this has been a rather crazy start to the semester, to say the least. I decided to try to hunt for some sort of summer job to start to put a dent in my school loan debt. Its crazy how much I miss teaching after just a few months off. Of course, I miss the good things--the great moments in class, joking around in the department office, coaching (awww coaching...tear), and I never think about all the times I spent writing comments, sitting through faculty meetings, enduring a track meet in the freezing cold/rain. If I understand parenthood from my friends and family with kids, it seems as though I am suffering from a similar kind of amnesia. You forget all the pain and suffering and only think about the good times. Seriously though, to get mushy for a second, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anyway, all that nostalgia aside, I decided that teaching over the summer was the best way to go. I sent resumes to private schools in the area, and instead of finding a temporary job, I ended up landing a full-time job teaching history again next year. Best part of the position? I am going right back to coaching cross country and track. So that was a surprising development to say the least. It means I will finish up my MA coursework this summer and write my thesis over the course of the school year. Let more insanity commence!
Just the day after the interview, my boyfriend's niece was born--Lucy Therese. She is a wiggle worm and a pumpkin all rolled into one:
The weather has FINALLY been getting warmer, so I am running again, thank goodness! I am weaning my way back into it, since I took a good 6 weeks off when there was snow all over the ground/sidewalk/everywhere. Since I ran a half marathon this fall, it is hard to go back to running just 5 or 6 miles at a time, but the weather is still cool enough that I don't want to be out much more than that anyway. I also feel like a hypocrite because my shoes have definitely seen better days, and I am waiting on my tax refund to buy a new pair. I used to always lecture my athletes about keeping their shoes up to date, and here I am, totally not practicing what I preach.
Ok, so back to cooking. I feel like I had to give you all some sort of update since it has been a while, and a new job/new bundle of joy is certainly news to share. I am not going anywhere for spring break this year. The fact that I won't even fork up the cash for a new pair of running shoes should indicate my current financial situation. So alas, no vacay. Honestly, though, Spring Break at NYU is only a week long, and I have plenty of school work I should be doing, so I'm pretty ok with sticking around. Plus, it frees up some time for culinary experiments.
I took a stab at making my own gnocchi, and it actually turned out pretty well. My only regret is that I made them a little too big, but I was surprised at how easy it was. Time consuming, and creates a lot of dishes, but easy. Don't believe me? Boom:
Homemade Potato Gnocchi
Adapted from Epicurious
Ingredients
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, scrubbed
1 cup all purpose flour
1 large egg yolk, beaten to blend
1 teaspoon course kosher salt
large pinch of ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon olive oil
Preparation
Preheat oven to 400°F. Pierce potatoes in several places and bake until soft, about 1 hour. Cool slightly. Cut potatoes in half. Working in batches, scoop hot flesh into potato ricer or food mill. Rice potatoes onto rimmed baking sheet; spread out and cool to room temperature. If you don't have a food mill or potato ricer, just mash them--they will turn out fine!
Line large baking sheet with parchment paper. Transfer potatoes to large bowl. Add 1 cup flour; toss to coat. Form well in center of potato mixture. Add egg yolk, coarse salt, and nutmeg; stir with fork until mixture is evenly moistened (mixture will look shaggy). Turn mixture out onto lightly floured work surface. Knead until dough comes together, sprinkling dough with flour very lightly only if dough is very sticky. Form dough into ball; divide into 4 pieces. Roll each piece between hands and work surface into 3/4-inch-thick rope. Cut each rope into 3/4-inch pieces. Place gnocchi on prepared baking sheet.
Working in batches, cook gnocchi in large pot of boiling salted water until gnocchi rise to surface of water. Continue to simmer gnocchi until cooked through and tender, stirring occasionally, about 4 minutes. Using slotted spoon, carefully transfer gnocchi to bowl. Drizzle gnocchi with olive oil and toss to coat. Gnocchi can be made up to 2 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate.
Voila!
Yes, they look like giant dough balls rather than the gnocchi you order at a fancy Italian restaurant, but trust me, they taste really good! For now, I will serve with a simple tomato sauce, but I am off to the store later to find the fixins for a tasty sauce.
That is enough procrastinating for now, I am afraid. This apartment will not clean itself. I wish a roomba could not only vacuum, but also organize your filing cabinet...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Yoga is philosophy, right?
Oh, if I could do this all day instead of reading philosophy that makes NO sense.
This series gave me a couple ooos and ahhhs at a recent yoga class, I'm still working on it though--notice the slight foot slippage when I am coming back into crow from tripod headstand.
Other than that, this is a pretty self explanatory sequence.
Crow (Bakasana)
Shoot back Chaturanga
Vinyasa
Bakasana
Tripod headstand
Bakasana
Shoot back Chaturanga.
Oh, how I love yoga. Emmanuel Levinas? Not so much--he took up too much of my weekend and still left me confused and unfulfilled.
This series gave me a couple ooos and ahhhs at a recent yoga class, I'm still working on it though--notice the slight foot slippage when I am coming back into crow from tripod headstand.
Other than that, this is a pretty self explanatory sequence.
Crow (Bakasana)
Shoot back Chaturanga
Vinyasa
Bakasana
Tripod headstand
Bakasana
Shoot back Chaturanga.
Oh, how I love yoga. Emmanuel Levinas? Not so much--he took up too much of my weekend and still left me confused and unfulfilled.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Carrying my own weight...and making tasty things.
I may or may not have looked like this the other day on the way home from the grocery store:
Ok, yes, I am extremely stubborn, and I park a few blocks away from my house, and the idea of making two trips to bring in my groceries was just more than I could handle. So I slowly walked around the corner and trudged up to my third floor walk-up. If memory serves me right, I had three reusable grocery bags on each arm and I was carrying a 12 pack of toilet paper in front of me. Oh, and I also picked up a pair of knee-high boots from the cobbler, and somehow I was carrying those too. Don't ask how I got them up there--in retrospect I kind of wish I had a picture. Silly me.
I think this stubbornness dates back to my days working at Hotchkiss where I lived in a 4th floor walk-up. I must admit, the one-trip goal would fall apart whenever I purchased a giant tub of kitty litter.
As I walked towards my house, I noticed no one walking in the neighborhood offering to help--which is fine, because I would have refused it anyway. Partly because there can be sketchy-types around here...and I don't want them to run off with my hot commodities from Trader Joe's! Also because I am trying to prove a point. People often look at me and my slight frame and automatically think that I am weak. That is where I love to prove them wrong. And that is where yoga is so wonderful--in the sense that it allows me to be aware of my body weight and be able to support it, plus a whole lot of groceries, a small child, a 16 pound cat--well, you get the idea.
The other lovely thing about these groceries (after I got them up the stairs, of course) is that I continued my culinary adventures. First, there was a 44 cloves of garlic soup--I regret I did not photograph the finished product (probably because I ate it all), but I did snap some roasted garlic cloves. Word to the wise: you can never have too much garlic:
Just look at that and TELL me you are not hungry. Seriously.
Next--I and I am practically drooling just writing about this one--was a tomato and italian sausage risotto. Behold, the before picture:
SUCH a simple recipe, and mainly made from ingredients I already had. It was so ridiculously creamy, I definitely had seconds on this one. I already can't wait to have company or weekend visitors so I can whip this one up again (are you reading this, mom?) Oh wait, I am speaking with the benefit of hindsight because I actually ate it. You want to see the end result? Well, if you must...voila:
Just seeing the wilted spinach again made me wish that I hadn't already eaten lunch!
I am writing this blog on Sunday, January 23rd, otherwise known as my last day of freedom. I get the sense that this semester will be busy...I am taking on part-time work, and of course, for those of you that know me, there is the lovely 4 hour round-trip commute to class. But I love it, I really do, and I am truly looking forward to going back.
I am getting ahead of myself. Sunday--day before the first day of class. This translates into scone baking day! There is something about a scone that just warms me...I don't care about the mess I make in the kitchen (well, maybe Pat cares, but we'll disregard that), because the end result was all worth it. This time I whipped up some oatmeal raspberry scones. Again, SO easy. Don't believe me? Ask my mom...I literally went from not using my oven once last year in New Jersey to now, where I am seriously contemplating putting a mixer on my next birthday wish list. Right, on to the pictures.
I rustled up these guys--I think the only ingredients I didn't already have were the raspberries (I used frozen and they were fine), and the oats--definitely old fashioned are best. After adding the raspberries, I may or may not have resembled Lady Macbeth when I crafted these with my bare hands--
They were so gooey and pretty that I almost felt bad putting them in the oven. The end result may not look as vivid, but believe me, it certainly makes up for lack of bright colors in its taste:
Let's hope that this semester won't completely thwart my cooking adventures. Maybe if my professors followed this blog, they would sympathize. One can dream, right?
Oh, what's that? You want recipes? Be my guest...
44 Clove Garlic Soup -- Smitten Kitchen
Tomato and Sausage Risotto -- Smitten Kitchen
Oatmeal Raspberry Scones -- Joy the Baker
Ok, yes, I am extremely stubborn, and I park a few blocks away from my house, and the idea of making two trips to bring in my groceries was just more than I could handle. So I slowly walked around the corner and trudged up to my third floor walk-up. If memory serves me right, I had three reusable grocery bags on each arm and I was carrying a 12 pack of toilet paper in front of me. Oh, and I also picked up a pair of knee-high boots from the cobbler, and somehow I was carrying those too. Don't ask how I got them up there--in retrospect I kind of wish I had a picture. Silly me.
I think this stubbornness dates back to my days working at Hotchkiss where I lived in a 4th floor walk-up. I must admit, the one-trip goal would fall apart whenever I purchased a giant tub of kitty litter.
As I walked towards my house, I noticed no one walking in the neighborhood offering to help--which is fine, because I would have refused it anyway. Partly because there can be sketchy-types around here...and I don't want them to run off with my hot commodities from Trader Joe's! Also because I am trying to prove a point. People often look at me and my slight frame and automatically think that I am weak. That is where I love to prove them wrong. And that is where yoga is so wonderful--in the sense that it allows me to be aware of my body weight and be able to support it, plus a whole lot of groceries, a small child, a 16 pound cat--well, you get the idea.
The other lovely thing about these groceries (after I got them up the stairs, of course) is that I continued my culinary adventures. First, there was a 44 cloves of garlic soup--I regret I did not photograph the finished product (probably because I ate it all), but I did snap some roasted garlic cloves. Word to the wise: you can never have too much garlic:
Just look at that and TELL me you are not hungry. Seriously.
Next--I and I am practically drooling just writing about this one--was a tomato and italian sausage risotto. Behold, the before picture:
SUCH a simple recipe, and mainly made from ingredients I already had. It was so ridiculously creamy, I definitely had seconds on this one. I already can't wait to have company or weekend visitors so I can whip this one up again (are you reading this, mom?) Oh wait, I am speaking with the benefit of hindsight because I actually ate it. You want to see the end result? Well, if you must...voila:
Just seeing the wilted spinach again made me wish that I hadn't already eaten lunch!
I am writing this blog on Sunday, January 23rd, otherwise known as my last day of freedom. I get the sense that this semester will be busy...I am taking on part-time work, and of course, for those of you that know me, there is the lovely 4 hour round-trip commute to class. But I love it, I really do, and I am truly looking forward to going back.
I am getting ahead of myself. Sunday--day before the first day of class. This translates into scone baking day! There is something about a scone that just warms me...I don't care about the mess I make in the kitchen (well, maybe Pat cares, but we'll disregard that), because the end result was all worth it. This time I whipped up some oatmeal raspberry scones. Again, SO easy. Don't believe me? Ask my mom...I literally went from not using my oven once last year in New Jersey to now, where I am seriously contemplating putting a mixer on my next birthday wish list. Right, on to the pictures.
I rustled up these guys--I think the only ingredients I didn't already have were the raspberries (I used frozen and they were fine), and the oats--definitely old fashioned are best. After adding the raspberries, I may or may not have resembled Lady Macbeth when I crafted these with my bare hands--
They were so gooey and pretty that I almost felt bad putting them in the oven. The end result may not look as vivid, but believe me, it certainly makes up for lack of bright colors in its taste:
Let's hope that this semester won't completely thwart my cooking adventures. Maybe if my professors followed this blog, they would sympathize. One can dream, right?
Oh, what's that? You want recipes? Be my guest...
44 Clove Garlic Soup -- Smitten Kitchen
Tomato and Sausage Risotto -- Smitten Kitchen
Oatmeal Raspberry Scones -- Joy the Baker
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Winter Break Mission: Become Julia Child
In late August, I wrote about my adventures in baking. Sadly, my school work caught up with me as the semester progressed, which makes winter break all the more exciting. Over two feet of snow on the ground leaves me with the excuse to stay inside and to to take refuge in my kitchen.
It started with a leftover bottle of Coca Cola from New Year's Eve. I am not much of a soda drinker, but I also didn't like the idea of pouring it down the drain. The soda led me to Coca Cola Chili, which I neglected to photograph, nor was there a picture online (boohoo). Take my word for it--tasty cold weather goodness. It was spicier than I expected, but for those of you who know me, (and my tendency to order extra chilis at Thai restaurants), it was just right. Well, except the lack of starch, which prompted my next mission: jalapeno pepper jack scones--
Photo Courtesy of Joy the Baker
Lovely. I forgot the gloriousness of chili and a warm scone when it is cold outside. Plus, it was cheap to make, which is good for my grad student budget (never mind all the money I spent at Lululemon this week.
A few nights later, we were out of ice cream. What's a girl to do but to make homemade almond-vanilla rice pudding?
Thank you to Smitten Kitchen.
Quite possibly one of the most quick and easy recipes for an irresistible dessert. I say irresistible because I may or may not have snuck spoonfuls of it from the fridge until it was empty.
As if I hadn't had enough sweets; my next recipe was Meyer Lemon and Cranberry Scones, also from Smitten Kitchen. My rationale was to make something that Pat could take to work every day, like I did in my Grad Student or Domestic blog back in August. But it was also because the jalapeno pepper jack scones were so good, and I needed some sweet to balance the savory.
Voilà .
Another Smitten Kitchen Creation.
Now, as I mentioned earlier, I am on a perpetual budget, or at least I will be until I pay off my student loans (ahem, which may never happen...), so I never want to let anything go to waste. I still had leftover cola. Which brought me to the soda jerk beans I that I made today:
Yum. Thanks, Epicurious .
So here I am...two feet of snow on the ground, and with leftover Coke, Sprite, and now Ham. Clearly I will have to find a solution to this predicament with an upcoming Trader Joe's run.
Weekend mission: Make and consume Mushroom Bourguignon. And begin photographing my own food.
Smitten Kitchen does it again.
And maybe some thesis research. Hmm...
It started with a leftover bottle of Coca Cola from New Year's Eve. I am not much of a soda drinker, but I also didn't like the idea of pouring it down the drain. The soda led me to Coca Cola Chili, which I neglected to photograph, nor was there a picture online (boohoo). Take my word for it--tasty cold weather goodness. It was spicier than I expected, but for those of you who know me, (and my tendency to order extra chilis at Thai restaurants), it was just right. Well, except the lack of starch, which prompted my next mission: jalapeno pepper jack scones--
Photo Courtesy of Joy the Baker
Lovely. I forgot the gloriousness of chili and a warm scone when it is cold outside. Plus, it was cheap to make, which is good for my grad student budget (never mind all the money I spent at Lululemon this week.
A few nights later, we were out of ice cream. What's a girl to do but to make homemade almond-vanilla rice pudding?
Thank you to Smitten Kitchen.
Quite possibly one of the most quick and easy recipes for an irresistible dessert. I say irresistible because I may or may not have snuck spoonfuls of it from the fridge until it was empty.
As if I hadn't had enough sweets; my next recipe was Meyer Lemon and Cranberry Scones, also from Smitten Kitchen. My rationale was to make something that Pat could take to work every day, like I did in my Grad Student or Domestic blog back in August. But it was also because the jalapeno pepper jack scones were so good, and I needed some sweet to balance the savory.
Voilà .
Another Smitten Kitchen Creation.
Now, as I mentioned earlier, I am on a perpetual budget, or at least I will be until I pay off my student loans (ahem, which may never happen...), so I never want to let anything go to waste. I still had leftover cola. Which brought me to the soda jerk beans I that I made today:
Yum. Thanks, Epicurious .So here I am...two feet of snow on the ground, and with leftover Coke, Sprite, and now Ham. Clearly I will have to find a solution to this predicament with an upcoming Trader Joe's run.
Weekend mission: Make and consume Mushroom Bourguignon. And begin photographing my own food.
Smitten Kitchen does it again.
And maybe some thesis research. Hmm...
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Anti New Year's Resolution
Alright, I know what you're thinking. I have no right to be complaining about anything when I go on a blogging hiatus for several months. Yeah, about that. I guess reading a thousand pages a week kept me distracted for a while. But I am still alive--if anyone is even following this blog anymore.
On to my first point. I get irrationally angry at all the New Havenites who drive their cars around like this:
Seriously? How lazy can you get? Ok, fine, I stole this photo from Google images, and we definitely didn't get this much snow last night...but come on, people! And I know this is a habit not exclusive to my neck of the woods. I remember doing my commute to high school (almost 10 years ago, good GOD), and panicking when I saw a sheet of ice flying towards my windshield.
The sad thing is, I am no longer surprised by the laziness. People look at me like I'm crazy when I want to walk up an escalator. When I see people just automatically stop when they walk on to those blasted people movers I just think of the shapeless blobs on motorized carts in Wall-E. Or those people that take the elevator up ONE floor? Why?!
Yes, yes, I am a bit of a fitness freak, but I just don't understand why people don't want to use their bodies. My boyfriend has an elderly relative in a nursing home, and every time we visit her, I think to myself, I want to use this body now, while I still can.
Fine, maybe I was Jillian Michaels in a past life. Either that or those years of coaching high school track have rubbed off on me. I know this is the time for new year's resolutions, but I frankly don't believe in those. If you want to make a change, you should do it at any point in the year rather than waiting for January. This blog is more preachy than most--I know--but I mean it with love. Get off your butts, people! You only get one body! Wouldn't you rather be doing this?
Or this?
I got carried away. Maybe you should start smaller than that, but you get the point. If my dad with one leg can get a killer workout at the gym, so can you...no excuses!
I promise that my next blog will not be preachy...remind me if I wait 3 months to post again :o)
On to my first point. I get irrationally angry at all the New Havenites who drive their cars around like this:
Seriously? How lazy can you get? Ok, fine, I stole this photo from Google images, and we definitely didn't get this much snow last night...but come on, people! And I know this is a habit not exclusive to my neck of the woods. I remember doing my commute to high school (almost 10 years ago, good GOD), and panicking when I saw a sheet of ice flying towards my windshield.
The sad thing is, I am no longer surprised by the laziness. People look at me like I'm crazy when I want to walk up an escalator. When I see people just automatically stop when they walk on to those blasted people movers I just think of the shapeless blobs on motorized carts in Wall-E. Or those people that take the elevator up ONE floor? Why?!
Yes, yes, I am a bit of a fitness freak, but I just don't understand why people don't want to use their bodies. My boyfriend has an elderly relative in a nursing home, and every time we visit her, I think to myself, I want to use this body now, while I still can.
Fine, maybe I was Jillian Michaels in a past life. Either that or those years of coaching high school track have rubbed off on me. I know this is the time for new year's resolutions, but I frankly don't believe in those. If you want to make a change, you should do it at any point in the year rather than waiting for January. This blog is more preachy than most--I know--but I mean it with love. Get off your butts, people! You only get one body! Wouldn't you rather be doing this?
Or this?
I got carried away. Maybe you should start smaller than that, but you get the point. If my dad with one leg can get a killer workout at the gym, so can you...no excuses!
I promise that my next blog will not be preachy...remind me if I wait 3 months to post again :o)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Coming up for air...
I was on a blogging hiatus for the past couple weeks. I could point to a number of causes--one is that my new MacBook Pro is in intensive care (read: do not drink water near electronic devices). Another could be that I just started classes and along with them came many meetings and parties and such. In other words, I was in New York City 4 out of 5 days last week. It was fun, don't get me wrong, but I spent many hours on the train, or with my nose stuck in a book, desperately trying to finish it all, and to actually understand what the heck I was reading--oh, and to not sound like an idiot in seminar.
It's not like I think I'm stupid, well, maybe I do for spilling water on my laptop, but other than that... It's that I have spent the past four years mainly discussing history with teenagers. I am not trying to discredit them--many of them were very bright and offered insights that I never would have imagined. Oh, and others would try to explain to me that they didn't write their papers because their "printers were broken" and would complain about having 30 pages of reading. The world isn't perfect of course. What I am trying to say (and digressing as usual in the process) is that there is a theoretical language that I acquired when studying history, and I don't think I am fluent in it anymore. I think that is the intellectual handicap I am presently suffering from; and the only way I know how to conquer it is to work my little behind off.
That brings me to the other cause of my hiatus: half marathon training. Essentially any moment that I was not reading, I was running--or maybe sleeping. Some of you might say that I could not have picked a worse time to do this. I thought I had a lot of work as a teacher and coach, but I was quickly shaken from that assumption when classes began. I am happy to do the work, and for the most part it is very fulfilling. It is not that I did not enjoy teaching, but I found that I was mainly working for others, and now I am again working for myself (well, I'd better be, because I am paying a LOT of money for it!). But this quest for intellectual fulfillment, nerdy as it may sound, can weigh down on me after hours reading Michel Foucault or Raymond Williams, or after listening to inane conversations on the train while trying to read said theorists. So, I know that I need this physical outlet. Also, if I remember anything from my undergrad days, I would turn to food as a distraction from reading/paper writing, so if I want to succeed as a grad student, and fit into my pants, running (and the occasional hot yoga session) is the only way to go as far as I see it!
Of course, this blog post is a form of procrastination in itself, as I should be writing a paper right now. And yes, I can feel my influence from Foucault as I am proofreading this and observing the run-on sentences and stream of consciousness. I would prefer my paper to be polished than this blog, so sadly, you will have to take this as is. A blog was in order though, if anything, to prove that I have not dropped off the face of the earth.
Ok, now to make sense of Paul Gilroy...
Friday, August 27, 2010
I need an apron...
As I live and breathe, I never thought I would utter that phrase. And yet, as I am preparing for a get together I am baking three different types of cookies. Below are the Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies that just came out of the oven.
HEAVEN. Next up are the Chocolate Chip Toffee Almond; although those are kind of a cop out, because I am making them from a mix my student gave me.
What is happening to me? Someone who literally did not use her oven ONCE in the two years she lived in New Jersey is now baking multitudes of cookies, muffins, cupcakes, ohhhh man. Thank goodness for my half marathon, or I would need to pull out the big girl pants again.
My domesticity is a bit frightening. I suppose quite a bit of it is brought on by my frugal nature. Why buy cookies when you can bake them yourself? But whatever is inspiring me to fire up my oven every other day also probes me to remind my friends and family that I have a birthday coming up. What better present than an apron to keep me from getting flour all over my royal blue dress?
Let's see how the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Craisins turn out...
HEAVEN. Next up are the Chocolate Chip Toffee Almond; although those are kind of a cop out, because I am making them from a mix my student gave me.
What is happening to me? Someone who literally did not use her oven ONCE in the two years she lived in New Jersey is now baking multitudes of cookies, muffins, cupcakes, ohhhh man. Thank goodness for my half marathon, or I would need to pull out the big girl pants again.
My domesticity is a bit frightening. I suppose quite a bit of it is brought on by my frugal nature. Why buy cookies when you can bake them yourself? But whatever is inspiring me to fire up my oven every other day also probes me to remind my friends and family that I have a birthday coming up. What better present than an apron to keep me from getting flour all over my royal blue dress?
Let's see how the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Craisins turn out...
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Myth of the Evil Alto....Debunked!
Those of you who know me well are aware of my past as a musical theater and a cappella dork. I could be defensive and say it was a stage, but even now I enjoy prancing around my apartment singing along to the Spring Awakening soundtrack. Ok, fine--the Little Mermaid soundtrack is also frequently on my playlist. And since I am so unashamed about my penchant for anything sing-along, it has become overwhelmingly clear that my voice part is shamelessly typecast. Why, just because in my good days I could hit a low E, must my range be devoted solely to people or parts like this:
And of course, this is what the soprano princesses look like:
So maybe, my lack of femininity is thanks to Disney, Broadway, and Fox. My low register consistently relegated me to singing Alto II (read: female bass), and therefore I lacked the ability to be ladylike. It's an interesting theory. Or maybe I need to step away from my Disney soundtracks.
I could see this two ways--one is that altos represent all that is wrong with the female paradigm--they tend to be devious, controlling, or just plain cynical; and they all seem to represent that a man is not necessary for fulfillment. OR, here's theory number two:
Altos do not represent the demise of femininity; rather they are a symbol of progress. We are bold, strong, and let's be honest--badass. And Sop I's--let's be honest; where would you be if you didn't have us to hold down the foundation?
(reader's note/disclaimer: This is a personal blog, and its intent is to make harmless (hopefully at times, witty) commentary. The opinions expressed here represent my own inner monologue, and are not meant to offend outsiders. My fancy-schmansy way of saying that Sopranos are a-OK).
And of course, this is what the soprano princesses look like:
So maybe, my lack of femininity is thanks to Disney, Broadway, and Fox. My low register consistently relegated me to singing Alto II (read: female bass), and therefore I lacked the ability to be ladylike. It's an interesting theory. Or maybe I need to step away from my Disney soundtracks.
I could see this two ways--one is that altos represent all that is wrong with the female paradigm--they tend to be devious, controlling, or just plain cynical; and they all seem to represent that a man is not necessary for fulfillment. OR, here's theory number two:
Altos do not represent the demise of femininity; rather they are a symbol of progress. We are bold, strong, and let's be honest--badass. And Sop I's--let's be honest; where would you be if you didn't have us to hold down the foundation?
(reader's note/disclaimer: This is a personal blog, and its intent is to make harmless (hopefully at times, witty) commentary. The opinions expressed here represent my own inner monologue, and are not meant to offend outsiders. My fancy-schmansy way of saying that Sopranos are a-OK).
Monday, August 16, 2010
Embracing my feminine side, in more ways than one
In one of my recent posts, I addressed how I am becoming more domestic than I could have imagined. Well no, I still detest cleaning, but my cooking abilities are vastly improving. Here's a new question--am I maternal?
Here I am on Sunday night babysitting--Lulu, the sweetest little girl who lives in the apartment downstairs. I think what really got me was how much she reminded me of my niece, Lily, who I never get to see because she is across the country in California. Just like Lily, Lulu is energetic, precocious, and OBSESSED with princesses. A trait that makes me laugh a bit, as I have never been much of a "girly-girl," so to speak.
Lulu woke up a little while ago, and since this is the first time I have sat for her, she was distraught when she found me in the living room, rather than her mother. After a minor meltdown, she picked up her princess wand, which was sitting on the coach, and proceeded to tell me about its uses. I helped her back into bed, and I told her I would hold the magic wand and protect it for her so she could play with it the next day. Then it was back to dreamland for Lulu.
I'm sure some of it is her resemblance to Lily, but at that moment, I felt my maternal instinct kicking in--big time.
No, Mom (if you are reading this), there is no baby any time in the future. HAH, let's wait for the engagement ring first. But man o man, there is a part of me that can't wait to be a mom. And there is another part of me that can't believe I am writing this...
Here I am on Sunday night babysitting--Lulu, the sweetest little girl who lives in the apartment downstairs. I think what really got me was how much she reminded me of my niece, Lily, who I never get to see because she is across the country in California. Just like Lily, Lulu is energetic, precocious, and OBSESSED with princesses. A trait that makes me laugh a bit, as I have never been much of a "girly-girl," so to speak.
Lulu woke up a little while ago, and since this is the first time I have sat for her, she was distraught when she found me in the living room, rather than her mother. After a minor meltdown, she picked up her princess wand, which was sitting on the coach, and proceeded to tell me about its uses. I helped her back into bed, and I told her I would hold the magic wand and protect it for her so she could play with it the next day. Then it was back to dreamland for Lulu.
I'm sure some of it is her resemblance to Lily, but at that moment, I felt my maternal instinct kicking in--big time.
No, Mom (if you are reading this), there is no baby any time in the future. HAH, let's wait for the engagement ring first. But man o man, there is a part of me that can't wait to be a mom. And there is another part of me that can't believe I am writing this...
Friday, August 6, 2010
Oh New Haven, How I Love/Hate You...
In many ways, New Haven is a miniaturized version of Manhattan--or at least that's the image it tries to purvey. Certainly, it is not devoid of fine dining, yoga studios, and hair salons. Okay, maybe they don't have "Doga," but honestly, what is that? When I first heard the description, I pictured myself attending a class with a large breed dog--perhaps a weimaraner or doberman. I really explode into the giggles when I try to imagine getting this dog to sit still for an entire hour, or to try to set this less-than-dainty pup on my belly as I take wheel pose.
....I digress. a) I don't have a weimaraner or doberman. b) As I stated previously, New Haven doesn't have doga, so why am I even debating this?
Right, what I was saying. New Haven has most of the things that a cultured Manhattanite would want in life. We even have a wide selection of art galleries and museums, thanks to Yale. And like many cities, we also have these:
The street sweeper. That awkwardly large, annoyingly loud vehicle that attempts to rid the streets of their litter and grime. (Although my cynical side is inclined to think that the less-than-green New Havenites that live on my side of the tracks probably erase the progress of these trucks in circa 15 minutes). The street sweeper is like a non-fun version of a zamboni--especially because there are no drunken hockey fans present to celebrate its arrival. The other thing that is just lovely about the street sweeper is that it is accompanied by a local towing company, and will promptly remove your car if it is in the way.
If you read up until this point, you are probably correct to assume that I fell victim to the mean and vicious street sweeper/tower duo. It's never fun to start your day to suddenly realize you forgot to move your car, run down the stairs (barely having the time to put on pants--I mean, priorities, people!), only to find that yes, your car is gone.
This situation, at least in my book, was made more comical by the fact that my car still contains my old bedroom dresser, left over from my move. Good thing I gave away my microwave to a neighbor the week before. So, not only was my car MIA; so was the dresser that I adorned with stickers at age 6.
At the end of the day, the car and the dresser were still intact, and after a $77 towing fee and $50 ticket, it was all mine again.
I suppose this is the price I pay to finally be living in a city again after six years. Sure, I had my stint living in the New York City area, albeit on the wrong side of the Hudson (sorry New Jersey-ites, but it's just not the same). I will chalk it up as one of the many war wounds I will surely accumulate as I live here. In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy the pleasures of living in a city that is as rich in culture as it is in crime. That reminds me: I need to buy some Mace.
To be continued....
p.s. The parking sign above is not actually from my street. Ours, I believe, reads no parking every 1st and 3rd Thursday from 7am-3pm. Always a joy.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Grad Student, or Domestic?
Those of you who know me are aware that I have had a whirlwind summer, to say the least. I still remember June 14th--the date of my last faculty meeting--thinking how carefree I would feel for the next three months. Some beach time, some yoga time; clearly a vacation of some sort. Ok, maybe a budget vacation, but still an opportunity to get out of town.
Flash forward five days and I am in Newark, Delaware in the ICU unit of a hospital, staring at my dad hooked up to all kinds of machines. His left foot was amputated just above the ankle, and his face was swollen and practically unrecognizable. A few hours earlier when I got the phone call from my mom, I remember the thoughts rushing through my head. "Your father was hit while riding his motorcycle," she says, and before she even could complete the sentence, I was thinking to myself, oh my god, my dad is dead.
Again, for those of you who know me, you are well aware that my dad is not dead, and in fact, he is recovering nicely. He has been home from the hospital for over two weeks now, and he should be fitted for a prosthesis sometime within the month. In all, life is good--or at least, we are lucky that it's not worse.
Essentially, what this translated into for me was a month where I took a break from my own life and turned into a surrogate mom. I helped her with errands, dog watching, and cooking. Well, let's be honest--out of nowhere, I embraced my inner Julia Child. And of course, there were the daily hospital visits.
I don't know if it's strange, but I actually really enjoyed being a help to them. One moment I remembered in particular was pushing my dad's wheelchair through a corridor at Bryn Mawr rehab. I casually joked to him that I would check to see if there was an adult version of a jogging stroller--I could take him on an 8 mile run in Fairmount Park. He politely refused (I wonder why), but there was something very powerful about feeling like I was behind him, making sure he got to where he needed to go.
Eventually, I needed to return to my own life. I had an apartment in New Jersey that still needed to be vacated, and a new one in New Haven that still very much looks like a storage locker. But my domestic side hasn't left me. Just this morning, I sent Pat to work with a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and coffee to go, jokingly saying, "have fun at school, honey!" I can't help it--despite my cynicism, there is a domestic in me somewhere.
I hope this trend continues when grad school starts. If anything, because we will have to adjust to living on a shoe string budget again; and daily Starbucks breakfasts simply will not do. It's funny though, right? Despite my strong urge to further my career and push my brain to it's limit; I am also just as satisfied with an apron and a spatula (well, I don't have an apron, but you get the idea). Oh, and I just broke out my muffin tin--we'll see where the day takes me...
Monday, July 13, 2009
Maybe this will cure my insomnia...
So this is the second sleepless night I have had in the past few days, and it occurred to me that it would be better to do something at least slightly productive in lieu of the dreaded tossing and turning, why-am-i-not-sleeping routine...
Tomorrow I head back up to Connecticut after my prolonged weekend in DC. I think my lack of sleep is largely in part due to the post-party euphoria that I used to experience so often in college. Like so many day-after epiphanies in the past, I have come to a number of realizations in the past 24 hours.
First, Maryland/DC is amazing. My first onset of glee occurred the moment I stepped onto the Metro escalator to head up the Red Line to Silver Spring. A particularly amicable woman and her son helped me find my way to the station (it is frightening how fast my memory of the city has faded), and we continued chatting on the way to the ticket machines. When I stepped onto the moving staircase, I made the quintessential tourist mistake of standing on the left side, which is where the more precipitate travelers can hurry to the next train. As the woman indicated this unwritten rule, a flood of nostalgia washed over me.
Suddenly, it was four years ago, and I was standing in my cheap, unpaid-intern work clothes en route to the National Archives. I wanted to step into that glorious building, and put my shabby work bag onto the security conveyor belt. I wanted to look at the president's portrait that is displayed on the way to the elevators and see not Bushy, but Barack. I wanted to joke around with the security guards about Dubya. I wanted to take my lunch break at Chipotle and eat my 1200 calorie burrito, and then burn it off at Spinning in the afternoon. I wanted to take a coffee break with Lauren and share the latest crazy roommate stories.
Although my time in the district itself was brief, Maryland brought just as much joy. To begin with, I don't think I can ever recall a get-together that involved my brother, Matt, and my sister-in-law, Sharon, that was not incredible, but this was a particular breath of fresh air. You'd think I would be disgruntled--just recently, I have developed a hip injury that has forestalled my half-marathon training. Walking, however, does not seem to bother me, so I embraced my inner soccer mom and took two nice long strolls over the weekend. At first I thought that it was just the new surroundings that brightened my mood. After all, although I can walk, if I pick up the pace too much, I do feel pain, so when I ate the dust of two old ladies, you'd think I would give up out of frustration.
I realized, though, that not only was it the shady bike path, or the crystal clear stream, but it was the overall cordial nature of the fellow exercisers that made me so happy. In New Jersey and Connecticut, almost everyone seems to avert their eyes from strangers. The hostile nature in Jersey was palpable—particularly due to the fact that I need more than two hands to count the number of times that a motorist has almost killed me.
My weekend bliss was also elevated with the help of Matt, Sharon, and their whole crew. I had met most of their friends earlier—namely at their wedding and numerous other get-togethers. I could not help but think, however, about how much their group of friends resembles the Cornell contingent. They are all so gregarious and kind--going out of their way to make an outsider like me feel welcome. Also, they were so silly and comfortable around each other that it reminded me of those days on Blair Street when Kelly and I would storm up the stairs at 2 am singing our lungs out to Rilo Kiley. Or Doug and me belting the Moldy Peaches. Marissa’s croquet skills. Beaubie-wan-Kenobi…enough said. Giggling in the back row of glee club/chorus rehearsal with Jesse and Doug. And of course, the Key Elements. Stealing trinkets from a frat house with Kajsa, reciting verbatim lines from Best in Show with Cassie. A late night study break with Chris Versfelt to sled down Libe Slope. Alright, I think I need to stop this reminiscence before I begin weeping.
Finally (although I could probably continue until I reach a word limit on this thing), it was great to have a glimpse into the world of home-ownership. Granted, Sharon and Matt poured their hearts, their wallets, and the past two years of weekends into their house, but the end result makes it that much better, doesn’t it? And after renting one crappy apartment after the next on my student/teacher salary, I couldn’t help but feel jealous.
It probably doesn’t help that Pat and I are squeezed into his studio apartment for the summer. Yes, it’s temporary, and yes, it’s amazing that after five years we are finally living together. But the whole concept of sharing 580 square feet in the middle of downtown New Haven is not necessarily idyllic. The best nights are when the New Haven hoochies are out in full adornment Thursday-Saturday nights, and the second the bars close, their screams echo up to our fourth floor window. Yes, I have certainly been a member of that post-last-call mass exodus, but at 25? I can get tired and cranky after that crap. It’s even more fun when someone pukes in the parking garage elevator, or better yet, smashes in my car window in a drug-induced haze.
Of course, I will complain when I move back down to Jersey as well, especially when I have to resume the joy that is long distance dating. Only, I have come to realize that Pat is much more of a city slicker than I will ever be, and I hope that one day I can convince him that the grass is always greener when you actually have a yard. Who knows where I will end up living after the grad school applications are finally finished, but let’s just say this. It had better be at a place where parking is free, where my apartment (maybe one day, a house—dare to dream), is not one of dozens of other units, and where my cats can look out the window and see trees and birds, and not other rooftops.
To be continued?
Tomorrow I head back up to Connecticut after my prolonged weekend in DC. I think my lack of sleep is largely in part due to the post-party euphoria that I used to experience so often in college. Like so many day-after epiphanies in the past, I have come to a number of realizations in the past 24 hours.
First, Maryland/DC is amazing. My first onset of glee occurred the moment I stepped onto the Metro escalator to head up the Red Line to Silver Spring. A particularly amicable woman and her son helped me find my way to the station (it is frightening how fast my memory of the city has faded), and we continued chatting on the way to the ticket machines. When I stepped onto the moving staircase, I made the quintessential tourist mistake of standing on the left side, which is where the more precipitate travelers can hurry to the next train. As the woman indicated this unwritten rule, a flood of nostalgia washed over me.
Suddenly, it was four years ago, and I was standing in my cheap, unpaid-intern work clothes en route to the National Archives. I wanted to step into that glorious building, and put my shabby work bag onto the security conveyor belt. I wanted to look at the president's portrait that is displayed on the way to the elevators and see not Bushy, but Barack. I wanted to joke around with the security guards about Dubya. I wanted to take my lunch break at Chipotle and eat my 1200 calorie burrito, and then burn it off at Spinning in the afternoon. I wanted to take a coffee break with Lauren and share the latest crazy roommate stories.
Although my time in the district itself was brief, Maryland brought just as much joy. To begin with, I don't think I can ever recall a get-together that involved my brother, Matt, and my sister-in-law, Sharon, that was not incredible, but this was a particular breath of fresh air. You'd think I would be disgruntled--just recently, I have developed a hip injury that has forestalled my half-marathon training. Walking, however, does not seem to bother me, so I embraced my inner soccer mom and took two nice long strolls over the weekend. At first I thought that it was just the new surroundings that brightened my mood. After all, although I can walk, if I pick up the pace too much, I do feel pain, so when I ate the dust of two old ladies, you'd think I would give up out of frustration.
I realized, though, that not only was it the shady bike path, or the crystal clear stream, but it was the overall cordial nature of the fellow exercisers that made me so happy. In New Jersey and Connecticut, almost everyone seems to avert their eyes from strangers. The hostile nature in Jersey was palpable—particularly due to the fact that I need more than two hands to count the number of times that a motorist has almost killed me.
My weekend bliss was also elevated with the help of Matt, Sharon, and their whole crew. I had met most of their friends earlier—namely at their wedding and numerous other get-togethers. I could not help but think, however, about how much their group of friends resembles the Cornell contingent. They are all so gregarious and kind--going out of their way to make an outsider like me feel welcome. Also, they were so silly and comfortable around each other that it reminded me of those days on Blair Street when Kelly and I would storm up the stairs at 2 am singing our lungs out to Rilo Kiley. Or Doug and me belting the Moldy Peaches. Marissa’s croquet skills. Beaubie-wan-Kenobi…enough said. Giggling in the back row of glee club/chorus rehearsal with Jesse and Doug. And of course, the Key Elements. Stealing trinkets from a frat house with Kajsa, reciting verbatim lines from Best in Show with Cassie. A late night study break with Chris Versfelt to sled down Libe Slope. Alright, I think I need to stop this reminiscence before I begin weeping.
Finally (although I could probably continue until I reach a word limit on this thing), it was great to have a glimpse into the world of home-ownership. Granted, Sharon and Matt poured their hearts, their wallets, and the past two years of weekends into their house, but the end result makes it that much better, doesn’t it? And after renting one crappy apartment after the next on my student/teacher salary, I couldn’t help but feel jealous.
It probably doesn’t help that Pat and I are squeezed into his studio apartment for the summer. Yes, it’s temporary, and yes, it’s amazing that after five years we are finally living together. But the whole concept of sharing 580 square feet in the middle of downtown New Haven is not necessarily idyllic. The best nights are when the New Haven hoochies are out in full adornment Thursday-Saturday nights, and the second the bars close, their screams echo up to our fourth floor window. Yes, I have certainly been a member of that post-last-call mass exodus, but at 25? I can get tired and cranky after that crap. It’s even more fun when someone pukes in the parking garage elevator, or better yet, smashes in my car window in a drug-induced haze.
Of course, I will complain when I move back down to Jersey as well, especially when I have to resume the joy that is long distance dating. Only, I have come to realize that Pat is much more of a city slicker than I will ever be, and I hope that one day I can convince him that the grass is always greener when you actually have a yard. Who knows where I will end up living after the grad school applications are finally finished, but let’s just say this. It had better be at a place where parking is free, where my apartment (maybe one day, a house—dare to dream), is not one of dozens of other units, and where my cats can look out the window and see trees and birds, and not other rooftops.
To be continued?
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