Summer cold, summer hot, summer Olympics

I've spent most of the last four days shut up in my apartment, avoiding the oppressive heat and trying to kick the cold I brought back from Iowa. I took a sick day and everything! Happily, this has coincided with my acquisition of HBO (the better to watch Aaron Sorkin's new show The Newsroom) and, thus, HBO onDemand, so I've watched the entire first seasons of Girls, Veep, and Game of Thrones. But you know what else was on all weekend?

The OLYMPIC TRIALS, that's what. And, well, you know how I feel about the Olympics. It's been exhaustively documented here and here and here and, wow, I really write about this a lot, don't I?

Anyway, the diving and track-and-field trials were this weekend, and the swimming (my favorite!) starts tonight and runs on NBC in primetime all week, with some gymnastics thrown in for good measure. These are particularly important, as I must find a new Olympics boyfriend, since my longtime love Aaron Peirsol has retired. Ryan Lochte is in the running (and I don't yet know whether Pieter van den Hoogenbandenbergenwhatever is competing), but we need to see who else is out there.

Luckily, the first full week of the Olympics is during our family beach week, which means I don't have to worry about it affecting my sleep cycle (and job performance) as much this year.

What about you? Do you prefer the winter games (ski jumping! figure skating!! short-track speed skating!!! biathlon!!!??!) or the summer (swimming! gymnastics! diving! decathlon!)? I can never decide.

Broadway, baby!

So I went to New York last week. Ashley, who was headed there with a friend for a theater trip, had called me just a couple of weeks prior to invite me along. Though I was to be in Pittsburgh for a few days to celebrate my cousin's high school graduation, I decided I could squeeze in a couple of days in the city and a show or two. So, for the second spring in a row, Ash and I started making New York plans.

Unlike last year, however, I was basically crashing Ashley and Dustin's (her friend from St. Louis) trip, so I was pretty much along for the ride. "There will be no sleeping in on this trip. Up and at 'em every morning to stand in lines," she warned me, referring to the lines for the TKTS discount ticket booths. But that was fine, so I bought my BoltBus tickets, and off I went. During the mere 48 hours I was there, we managed to:

• See two plays and a musical:

The Life List: Learn to make Yorkshire Pudding

Of the assorted nationalities that comprise my family tree--French, German (I...think?), Irish, English, who knows what else--I'd say the one that I felt most tied to growing up was English. This was in large part because my great-grandfather, who I remember a little, immigrated from England, and my grandmother still has family there who I have met. Both my grandmother and great aunt, despite having lived in the U.S. their whole lives, still have distinctly British qualities about them--habits, preferences, etc--many of which have rubbed off on me.

Not the least of these is a deep and abiding love of Yorkshire pudding. England is not exactly known for its dazzling cuisine, at least in comparison to the rich traditions of places like France or Italy, but no food says England to me quite like a traditional English Roast: roast beef, roasted veggies, Yorkshire pudding, and gravy.  During my semester abroad, I spent many Sunday mornings exploring the various churches and cathedrals in London, returning home for lunch at our local pub, which--like many pubs--boasted a delicious Sunday roast dinner.

For Christmas this year, we decided to forgo the usual turkey with all the trimmings and, instead, pull out another family favorite: roast beef with Yorkshire pudding.  And since learning to make Yorkshire pudding is on my Life List, it seemed like the perfect time to give it a go.  So I enlisted my father, our resident Yorkshire pudding-making expert, to teach me (with some assistance from the Joy of Cooking). And as it turns out, it's pretty easy to make, so without further ado....


Yorkshire Pudding
Traditionally, Yorkshire pudding was cooked in the same pan as the roast, allowing the drippings to fall into the batter as it cooked.  It was also used as a sort of "filler" course amongst poorer families who couldn't afford much meat.  Nowadays it serves as the starch, alongside the roast, root vegetables, and gravy. We also double the usual recipe, because you can never have too much Yorkshire pudding.  There were five of us at Christmas dinner, and we ate every last crumb of it.

Start with all your ingredients at room temperature.

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks

I've been slow to get into the Christmas season this year, for some reason.  Maybe because it's been one of the warmest D.C. Decembers in recent memory, or because November was so busy, I feel like there should be an extra month left before Christmas. Whatever the reason, it's been a slower to hit me this year, though my tree is decorated, I've attended my annual Nutcracker performance with Jules, watched White Christmas (multiple times), and nearly finished my shopping.
  
Last night, I had left my office and was headed for the Metro station, my mind on the conversation I'd just had with my insurance agent and my grocery list and, oh yeah, must remember to reschedule that dentist appointment. As I trudged up 19th Street, I heard a brass quintet arrangement of "What Child Is This?" faintly wafting from near the station, but I didn't think much of it.  Hearing music isn't unusual in this area, considering the buskers (of varying levels of talent), some of whom play with recorded tracks, and, occasionally, music coming from a loudspeaker somewhere.
  
The closer I got, the more real it seemed. It sounded live, but it was too good, too in tune and in sync to be a group of street musicians. But I got to the station entrance and, lo and behold, there stood a brass quintet--inner city high school students, from what I could tell--playing carols for the commuters.  An instrument case was open in front of them ("TUITION," joked a hastily-scrawled sign), overflowing with bills and change, and numerous people paused to listen before hurrying on their ways.
  
I've never been stopped in my tracks by the music of a street musician before--and I rarely take the time to dig out my wallet for spare bills--but these five young men, cheerfully chit-chatting with interested commuters on a cold December evening and filling the air with the sweet sound of carols, yanked me straight out of my preoccupied haze and into the Christmas spirit.
  
'Tis the season. Finally.

Never too late

Proving that it's never too late in life to have new experiences, my great uncle, who is in his late 70s, attended his first rock concert last weekend. And today, I read this amusing anecdote in The New York Times' Metropolitan Diary section:

Recently, I was at the City Bakery enjoying a bowl of oatmeal. Soon two women of   my vintage (silver-haired, slowish of step, sensibly shod) sat down next to me.

I’m not sure what I expected of their conversation: perhaps an anecdote concerning a grandchild, or the results of a recent bridge game.

Instead, one said to the other, with great enthusiasm, “So how was the Beyoncé concert?” [The New York Times]

I can only hope that when I'm "silver-haired" and "slowish of step" that I'm having conversations like this. 

So this happened...

My sister got married, ya'll.

It was awesome and beautiful and fun. The weather was perfect.

West Virginia State Capitol Building

The Life List: See Dolly Parton in concert.

On Sunday night, two petite blonde superstars performed in/near D.C. One of them was Britney Spears. The other was, in all ways, the anti-Britney.

See Dolly Parton in concert. Check.

As an Appalachian girl, I grew up with an appreciation for the force of nature that is Dolly Parton. I went to Dollywood. I sang "9 to 5" with my high-school girlfriends. I defended her to those who made fun of her hair and, um, unusual physique (not that I need to--she makes plenty of fun of herself). Because the truth is that behind the Botox and under the bleached bouffant is a funny, kind, generous, brilliant woman who has written and sung some amazing songs. Dolly IS east Tennessee, and when you're from there, it's second nature to defend her with everything you have.


I went with three friends, all fellow Appalachia natives, to see her last night at Wolf Trap. We took an old quilt and a picnic. The stars were out, a light breeze kept the hot summer night comfortable, and an incredibly diverse crowd filled every available seat and spot of grass in the 7,000+ capacity venue.


Dolly performed for 2.5 hours. "This sounds like home!" my friend Shelley cried, as the first bars of the first song started. Dolly played all her old favorites, songs from her new album, and some excellent covers. She, rather awesomely, rapped. She played nine, yes nine, instruments (fiddle, guitar, banjo, auto harp, dulcimer, recorder, piano, harmonica, and, to our great surprise, saxophone). She had every last person in the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand.


It was unforgettable. She is unforgettable.



If you can forgive the shakiness, this version of "Coat of Many Colors" was recorded at the show I saw. Song starts at about 0:30.

New York recap: a teaser

Ya'll, I have SO MUCH TO SAY about last weekend's fan-freakin'-tastic New York trip. But I am on deadline this week, so it'll have to wait until the weekend.  But for now, please enjoy the few rather random--and not very good--photos that I took with my Blackberry. They are not particularly representative of the trip as a whole, but they should lend some insight into the variety of shenanigans that we got ourselves into (...."into which we got ourselves"? Hm.)

During the cab ride to the hotel, a Dudamel sighting on the scaffolding
at Carnegie Hall: an auspicious start to the trip

Coffee and chocolate bouchons at Bouchon Bakery

Ashley, the Nutella Ambassador of the Midwest,
finds a lifetime supply of it at Chelsea Market

Trio with bison
(I thought we were doing "weird faces," but apparently not)

"Still Life with Bison"
(A display at West Elm. Bison sold separately.)

Anyway.  More to come!

Here comes trouble

Well, well.  Look who's decided to join Ashley and me in New York next weekend.

She's a little teapot (though is neither short nor stout).

We will probably take lots of nutty photographs like this one, though to my knowledge there is a shortage of Disney-themed shrubbery in New York City.

Anticipation, part 2

I would like to thank Jules for ruining the game for the rest of you, because she correctly guessed all of the photo locations. Either she is very good at Pictionary or she knows me really well.  Honorable mention goes to Aunt Jane, who thought that photo #2 was Russia. I wish.  But points for creativity, Aunt Jane! 

The answers, for those of you who are keeping score, are after the jump:

Things That Are Awesome: NPR's First Listen

One of the great things about working for a performing arts company is that everyone, to a person, loves music.  And not just loves it, but has definite opinions about it, has their own preferences.  We're all reformed band and chorus nerds, vocal performance majors or conservatory graduates, who now work in arts administration.  Our executive assistant is an honest to goodness opera singer who also conducts her church gospel choir.  The production manager is a fan of classic rock, but has, since he began working here, been developing a deep appreciation for great classical music.  (A vocal recital by a famous mezzo-soprano last week utterly floored him.)  You're as likely to hear Strauss symphonies coming from the office of the director of classical programming as The Decemberists.

I spend my days alternating between Pandora, Grooveshark, and D.C.'s local classical station.  But recently, I've become obsessed with the music offerings on NPR's website, notably the Tiny Desk Concerts (best name ever) and First Listen. 

First Listen, for instance, is entirely responsible for my new obsession with Adele and her new album 21, which I listen to daily.  As I type this, I'm streaming the new album by a group called The Low Anthem, who I'd never heard of until this morning.  They played in DC last night and caused my Facebook feed to explode with rapturous posts. And, if you're a regular Tiny Desk Concert watcher/listener, you probably weren't at all surprised at jazz bassist/vocalist Esperanza Spalding's recent Best New Artist win at the Grammys. The music editors over there in the NPR music department clearly have their fingers on the pulse of music scene today--from soul to jazz to punk rock to classical. The program archives are brimming with amazing artists, some you've heard of, some you haven't yet but will soon.

So. Need to bring a little joy to your workday? Check out Tiny Desk Concerts and First Listen series.  There's something for everyone! 

Impulse buys

Picture it: it's late on a Saturday night, and two 20-something women are sitting at home, 900 miles away from each other, each peering anxiously at their respective computer screens and closely monitoring the text messages on their phones.

Some background: in perusing the theater and concert options for a possible trip to New York this spring, I stumbled across this.  I had heard that NPH was doing Company with the New York Philharmonic, but I had not yet seen the rest of the cast listing: Anika Noni Rose, Martha Plimpton, and... the amazing Patti LuPone.

I sent Ashley an email: "Ha ha, we should go to this! You're obsessed with Sondheim, I adore Neil Patrick Harris. Let's do it!" I was mostly kidding, as Ash lives in Missour-ah, and I live in D.C.  And really, who randomly buys concert tickets--to a nearly sold-out show in another part of the country--on a Saturday night with no advance planning?  That's just crazy talk.

Then I left to meet friends for dinner.  But little did I know, somewhere between the crusty bread and the tiramisu, Jason (Ash's husband) caught wind of my hairbrained idea, handed her a credit card, and said, "Go buy the tickets."  Because among Jason's many excellent qualities is that he is an enabler. 

But! Problem: what about Jules? Let's call Jules! No answer. Let's text Jules! No answer. Let's text Jules' HUSBAND, Michael, and have him tell her to call us.  Which is how, by 11pm East Coast time, we wound up staring at our computers, desperately hoping that the handful of remaining tickets remaining in our price category didn't disappear before we had a chance to buy them. Luckily, Jules got our frantic message and called, wondering why we were wigging out at nearly midnight on a weekend.

By midnight, we had the tickets and an inability to sleep due to the excitement. 

So. Yesterday I bought a pair of shoes I don't really need and ungodly expensive tickets to a show in New York. How was YOUR Saturday?

The 50 Books Project

My old high school friend Brian is in town, and last night he came over for chili and Spirited Conversation, which is our specialty. We spent high school firmly entrenched on the opposite ends of the political and theological spectrums and would argue for hours over everything from the 2000 presidential candidates to whether the sky is blue. He is one of my most loyal and awesome friends, and we can talk for hours.  Last night we covered:

• Hockey (If you had to pick, who would you draft, Ovechkin or Crosby?)
• The Harry Potter books (Which is the best and why?)
• Public scandal by famous figures (specifically Ben Roethlisberger, Michael Vick, and the Dixie Chicks)
• The relevance of the British royal family (contemporary vs historical)
• Gustavo Dudamel (What? I can work him in anywhere.)
• Marriage, and regional attitudes toward it
• Oscar-nominated films (Which is more deserving of Best Picture, The King's Speech or The Social Network? Neither of us have seen Black Swan.)
• Books

Which brings me to the point of this post. I'm not much for new year's resolutions, as I generally abandon them two weeks into the year, but this year I set a goal for myself.  After a relatively lazy year of reading in 2010, I've commenced what I've dubbed The 50 Books Project. In 2011, I resolve to read at least 50 books--nearly one a week.  I feel that it's a realistic goal, notwithstanding the fact that one of the books on my to-read pile is--still--the 1,488-page A Suitable Boy. That alone will take me a month at the least.  So I've got work to do.

I'm keeping track of my reading through the very addictive Goodreads, with which I am obsessed, and so far I've read six books this year:

Wolf Hall (Hilary Mantel)
Safe Passage (I. Cook)
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (R. Skloot) -- Fascinating, thought-provoking study on medical ethics and race relations.
Eighteen Acres (N. Wallace)
One Day (D. Nicholls) -- Loved, until three chapters from the end, when I nearly threw it out the window.  But then I loved it again.
The Hunger Games (S. Collins) -- Ya'll.  This book.  I hadn't heard of the Hunger Games trilogy until the third one came out a few months ago and people were like "FINALLY! IT'S HERE!" Clearly I'd missed something.  But oh, this book. I read it in 24 hours.  So, so excellent.

So tell me, everyone, what have you read and loved recently?

Things that happened this weekend

I did my taxes.

I read the entirety of the first Hunger Games book, which was seriously excellent.

The Steelers won the AFC Championship and are going to the Super Bowl, HELL YEAH, leading to a flurry of text messages amongst the family and a discussion with my 18-year-old cousin about the extreme attractiveness of coach Mike Tomlin.

 

My sister got engaged!  That actually happened Friday night, but I wasn't allowed to talk about it. But it's Facebook-official now, so word is out.  No date is set yet, but--combined with the other two weddings already on my calendar--it's gearing up to be The Year of the Wedding: Redux. Stay tuned!

Waiting

It's nearly 6pm. After a day of baking, wrapping, listening to Lessons and Carols from Kings College, Cambridge, and not getting out of pajamas (save for a last-second run to the grocery store--mayday! where are the tomatoes for the minestrone soup?!), we're in the quiet hours before everything begins.

It's our usual Christmas Eve routine. Dad is at the church for the early family service. Mom and G are napping.  In an hour or so, Dad will get home, we'll have our traditional Christmas Eve supper of soup, salad, and bread, and we'll get dressed for the church--my favorite service, my favorite two hours of the whole year.

But for now, it's quiet in the house. The presents are wrapped. The fire is lit. The table is set. We're ready.

Merry Christmas to all of you!

Autumn in New York

So. I literally started this post a month ago. At that point, we had just had SEVEN CONCERTS in EIGHT DAYS for work, oh my aching head, and the week before that I had made a quick getaway to visit Jules and Michael in Ithaca, NY. It was a whirlwind trip, and I had two requests: apples and fall leaves.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did any of you read the old design/lifestyle magazine Blueprint? Or, when it (sadly) went out of print, Domino? Which then folded itself, after only a year or so? Well, I did, and I adooored them. I don't think I looked forward to any other magazine before or since the way I anticipated those. I saved all of them and still pull them off the shelf occasionally --where they are lovingly filed in a magazine box covered carefully with decorative paper (the editors would be so proud!)--when I need inspiration.


But today, this momentous day of days, I found something. that made my heart leap with glee (or "leep," as I first typed it in a delirious fervor of joy):


www.anthologymag.com


It's NEW. It's a PRINT publication. (I love my blogs, but there's just something about that glossy paper....) It looks SO MUCH like it's in the vein of Blueprint and Domino. I could not be more excited. And, yes, it's quarterly and kind of unbelievably expensive for a magazine, but I don't care! I am subscribing straightaway, forthwith, immediately! Or whatever.

100 cats in IKEA (not a metaphor)

Like cats? (Perhaps.) Like IKEA?  (Obviously. Who doesn't like IKEA?)  Then please enjoy this utterly pointless and yet completely awesome video.

The most wonderful time of the year

No, not Christmas, though that's pretty excellent, too. I'm talking about fall. I love fall. Looooovvvvve. For a number of reasons, among them mild days, crisp nights, Tennessee football, scarves and sweaters, pumpkin spice lattes (which, not caring for lattes, I've never actually tried, but they SOUND delicious), and the onset of boot weather. I bought new fall boots three weeks ago, and it's killing me that I can't wear them yet.


But last week, the weather started to turn here in DC. It was over 90 degrees again this week, but instead of the oppression of summer, the humidity remained at bay, and it still felt as though the end was in sight.  Fall is, indeed, imminent.


I've spent the last couple of weeks wrestling my calendar in an attempt to shoehorn a few weekend trips in amongst the work-related symphony concerts, jazz shows, and piano recitals. Among the destinations: home to Tennessee for a football game at my high school alma mater's brand new stadium; a quick trip to upstate New York to glimpse the autumn leaves and perhaps go apple pickin' with Jules; and a solo jaunt to New York City to catch a few shows and maybe see an old high school friend. Last weekend was spent in West Virginia with my sister, featuring a bit of shopping, visiting with my cousin and grandparents, and watching hours and hours of Sports Night episodes and DVD extras.  (However, despite the fact that the US Open was on, we watched NO tennis, much to G's great joy.)


Hopefully all these trips will work out, but if not, I'll be content here in DC.  The summers are brutal, but Washingtonians are rewarded by beautiful, glorious falls. Stay tuned...

Gotta cut loose, footloose

In my first life (or, well, until I turned ten), I was a dancer. Not a particularly good one, mind you, but I did my best.  I no longer harbor dreams of dancing with Baryshnikov on the Metropolitan Opera House stage, but I do still like to shake my tailfeathers now and again, usually within the confines of my living room, and occasionally while watching the "Shake and Shimmy Edition" DVD of Hairspray. (They teach you the choreography! It's awesome!  I'll do "Ladies' Choice" right now, if you want to see it.)


Anyway, if you like dancing and/or dance-related movies, as I do, then I bet you'll like this.







After two viewings I've identified clips from:


Flashdance
Dirty Dancing
White Nights
Footloose
Saturday Night Fever
Singin' in the Rain (and several other Gene Kelly-related clips)
Step Up
Step Up 2: The Streets
Mary Poppins
Kill Bill
West Side Story
Moulin Rouge
Jay and Silent Bob
A movie featuring Jamie Lee Curtis, John Travolta, and terrible 80s leotards, which I've identified as a film called Perfect
American Pie
Grease
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
Billy Elliot
What I think is Titanic
Strictly Ballroom
Phantom of the Opera
Something with Michael Jackson
High School Musical
Happy Feet
Save the Last Dance
Honey
Mamma Mia!
What I think is The Mask of Zorro
Coyote Ugly
Austin Powers
A Knight's Tale


Most surprising? The recent Steve Carell-starring remake of Get Smart.
Most surprising omission: Where the heck is Center Stage?!


There are a number of clips I couldn't identify, but take a look, folks. What did I miss?