I Write Poetry — I Don’t Invent; I Listen

I just launched a poetry page! I’ve only got six poems up so far, but I intend to work on that.

Here’s a preview:

The Secret

I’ve never made a friend this way—
got the dirty inside scoop and spilled
all the secrets of the race-striped car,
my apprehension as they retreated—
life interrupted—he and his ex snuck

Cupcake Monster, Bluffin’ With Her Muffin

Did I say monster? As in, I love cupcakes, and I’m going to be one of GaGa’s little monsters on Dec. 27?! Yesssss. Because I’ve never seen one like that before, and I’ll eat your heart! You love this girl. Bluffin’ with her muffin, er cupcake!

Raspberry balsamic dark chocolate.

These cupcakes are a modern marvel. I’ve never made anything this beautiful before. Almost everything I make has to be carefully positioned for photographs because there’s a highly flawed side, a burnt side, something.

Cupcake nirvana. (Show me your teeth!) May I again sing the praises of mixing balsamic vinegar with fruit? Tastes just like glitter mixed with rock ‘n’ roll. Don’t be scared. I’ve done this before, with apples.

Happy Holidays From a Joyous Willow

It’s been a month since I’ve updated. I’m busybusybusy. I had to take a weekend sabbatical to cook, read, write, bake, think, sleep. I’m happy though, very happy. I love DC.

Happy Holidays to everyone everywhere! Light up your Hanukkah bush and roll some snowmen! It’s snowing in Rosslyn.

Here’s an video that pretty much sums up my Thanksgiving:

Besides playing with miniature chicken carcasses,

Citations favorites – Flaubert

Il a commis « le crime d’avoir écrit en français. »

He had  committed “the crime of having written in French.” [In response to Madame Bovary's scandalous reception.]

I’m reading Madame Bovary in French. I have yet to finish the introduction (I usually just read on my metro ride to work). I’m in love with Flaubert’s philosophy of writing. I hope the novel itself will be this good. I know it will. I’m in love with the idea that Emma is a product of the novel itself, as are the best of us.

About time I rent Les Enfants du siècle. And pen another poem, or ten. Dwell on the troubadours.

Sell My Old Car, I’m Off to Heaven, Pt. 2

AKA: How I Lost a Zipcar (the long version)

I love public transit. Love, love, love it. I get to read a book and chillax while someone else drives? I’m not hurting the Earth because this train’s going whether I jump on or not? Hells yes.

I got hooked in Europe, and back in Oxford last semester, I chose not to fight for parking most days, riding the public bus instead.

Sadly, D.C.’s metro system leaves a bit to be desired. It’s expensive (You might pay up to $4.50 for one ride); there are no month passes like every other city in the world; you pay more during “rush hour,” which is loosely defined as before 9:30 a.m. and 3-7 p.m. on weekdays (Paris was €1.10 anywhere in the city, anytime); and you can’t eat, drink (not even water), or sing on board (Loved the random street musicians aboard metro trains in Paris). Luckily, buses are only $1.25 to anywhere, from anywhere, with unlimited on-off and transfer privileges within a three-hour window. How is that just when compared to the metro fees?

Seriously?

So, the system here isn’t great, but it sure beats owning a car and paying insurance.

Young, jobless (and doing it wrong)

I’m sorry you can’t get jobs, Kristy and Katie. I’m there with you. But I can’t seem to figure out why The New York Times found your story so compelling to blast it out into cyberspace on the front page of the Web site.

In a three-page story with video and multiple pictures, 24-year-old twins and Rutgers journalism grads Kristy and Katie talk about how they’ve be jobless in NYC for 17 months. I can’t feel sorry for them. They walk dogs, babysit, bartend and play the sax on the street, but something other than the “Great Recession” seems to be keeping them jobless.

Savory mushroom and chicken pudding

According to Julie and Julia, which I saw last weekend and loved, Julia Child and co-author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking Simone Beck had a running disagreement over whether to measure.

I say no! (Sorry, Julia.) Estimate. Approximate. Guess. Unless you’re baking, of course. Then you’re in tricky territory. I’ve tried many a pancake recipe, but none get close to the “original” pancake recipe in my edition of Irma Rombauer’s The Joy of Cooking. (I believe it’s the 75th anniversary edition.) It all comes down to having the right amount of baking powder!

One of the tastiest things I've ever made.

Getting back to shrooms and savory puddings, don’t measure! You’ll see the amounts in my link to the original recipe, but they’re not all that necessary. Yes, increase eggs and cream if you add tons more bread. But really, this is a season to taste type thing.

Harvard of the South

So, I’ve been really surprised to have people in both my D.C. housing and job search tell me Ole Miss is a good school. Are you confusing us with our football ranking, perhaps? One guy even thought we were larger than Chapel Hill, N.C. We did make No. 1 party school, according to The Princeton Review’s super scientific college comparison survey. Sure, we got the first presidential debate. I’ve seen some important people speak like E.O. Wilson, the king of Jordan and Colin Powell, but we paid them.

Our former (outlawed) mascot, Colonel Rebel.

Essentially, being a good school is due, in part, to having your name out there. Ours is! I just saw us in a preview for The Blind Side. Clearly, our former chancellor Robert Khayat knew that non-racism-related attention of any sort would bolster our image. I had my doubts as to whether hosting a presidential debate could really change our reputation for being a conservative hotbed of good ol’ boy politics, where the “last battle of the Civil War” engulfed our campus in 1962, and the confederate flag has only been off our field since the late ’90s. But it’s true. People know us, and for once it’s for mostly positive reasons. Someday, I pray, we’ll be known for our academics and journalism school.

New life, new digs

So, I visited Boston and D.C. in late July, early August. Enjoyed Boston, knew I could and must make it in D.C.

Aug. 18, I abruptly made the decision to move. A prominent news organization (who shall remain unnamed) said I could drop by and see them – that week. I had a one-way ticket the very next day.

Read on - this plant in my yard may have severely injured one of my housemates. (Edit: this is passion fruit - not dangerous!)

Aug. 26, I came to the city. One week later I accepted an assistant editor position

Tom Collins Intrigue

My drink of choice is the gin and tonic. Simple, refreshing, delicious and hard to mess up. It might be the Tom Collins if anyone knew how to make a decent one. Sour mix and gin does not a Tom Collins make! Au contraire, you need real lemons, simple syrup, gin, maybe a lime, tonic and time. I usually only drink my own since the competition (bar Tom Collinses) are soo bad.