Just let it happen.

"Harry, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair, or two cups of good, hot black coffee." --Twin Peaks.

Never seen the movie, but spotted the quote, and I love it. Even when I'm in a bad mood, or super busy, I've been kinder to myself lately, and embracing the things that perk me up or make me really happy. Adding a tiny piece of chocolate to my lunch from Whole Foods. Buying the Sunday New York Times or the latest issue of Vogue. Running to Jamaica Pond. Listening to John Legend's cover of Adele's Rolling in the Deep on repeat upwards of 10 times to get through a Friday at work. Taking advantage of a free afternoon to get a pedicure and bake hamantaschen (substituting nutella for poppy seeds...). Sneaking off with hilarious coworkers to an empty office for a "Finer Things" mid-afternoon meeting--tea and pastries on a paper tablecloth. Buying an insane dress just to wear it as Passover hostess.

Yoga = New Religion?

Too much running lately meant time for yoga tonight. Pound the pavement, then stretch out the tight legs.

I had the same feelings about yoga that I've had almost every time I've ever gone:

• kind of a pain in the ass to go, but must be worth it on some level because I keep going
• seems sort of like a cult
• lots of very different people all in the same place
• why so many $$??

This leads me to believe that somehow, for many people, yoga has taken the place of religion in their lives.

I'm not a religious person in the traditional sense of the word. Religion, at least to me, seems like it's whatever keeps you focused/positive/in touch with yourself or your community. For some people, religion is organized. For some, its very personal. I don't love the God implications of religion, although at this point in time, religion = God in one form or another to most people.

By my definition, my religion is composed of equal parts red wine, gin, running, sunshine/Vitamin D, cynicism, a plane ticket budget, and daily phone calls to my mom.

Yoga seems like a perfect candidate for "religion" status, though. Here are some of the many parallels to lots of organized religion:

• spending time focusing on your "intention" as most yoga teachers say: this is your faith-based effort, if you will.
• chanting = like prayer. ritualistic, often not the original meaning, but pertinent to the routine of practice
• the combination of personal (inner faith, the choice to practice) and community (you could pray or do yoga at home, but instead you show up at a church or a studio)
• Different levels of participation: recent convert (free first yoga class! Lots of attention/adjustment from the teacher and fellow practitioners), regular churchgoer (maybe you have a 10-class punch card), avid participant, member of your church (full year pass to your studio), student of religion (taking classes to be a teacher), religious teacher or leader (yoga teacher), prophet (yoga "guru" as they're called), God (Yoga as a whole?)
• the idea that religion and yoga are both never over--that you're supposed to strive, get to know yourself and your faith/practice, always growing.

I'm a terrible yoga student the way that I joke that I'm a terrible Jew. I don't go that frequently. I'm not that flexible. I spend a good portion of class giggling (shocking to any of you that know me...). I am often afraid to stretch and reach in my practice, in terms of trying the more challenging poses. I end up staring at others in my class--all of the really unique bodies and abilities, as opposed to staying inwardly focused on my "intention". But, when all is said and done, I get out of yoga exactly what I need, usually, the same way I cherrypick culture and the traditions from of my form of Jewish agnosticism.

I get a stretched out body and mind, and 90 minutes away from my cellphone/computer screen, and a chance to ponder deep topics like "Is yoga religion???" "HOW DID SHE DO THAT HANDSTAND" and "I didn't think it was physically possible to sweat this much."

Religion's a tricky word, and if you're religious in a traditional sense, I don't want you to think I'm being flippant in my comparisons. But I think religion should be a flexible (har, har, yoga, get it) concept--however you choose to stretch your mind and body and grow as a person seems to be as beneficial as it gets. Physical endeavors have brought a lot of clarity to me, the same way a lot of personal time and silence have. It's important to figure out what makes you feel like a bigger and finer you. Whether it's a a church service, a martini or a vinyasa class is up to you.

Hereby resolved...

This spring, I've added all my workouts for my half-marathon to a "training" Google calendar, in the hopes that if they're solidly scheduled into my life (and my phone), I have no excuse for missing anything.

The same, as of now, will go for blogging. No promises on continuity of topic, or length of post, but since friends are chugging along on Lenten promises to do all sorts of things, it seems like an appropriate time to add a "Write/Blog" recurring "appointment" on my personal calendar. Care for the body, use the mind, etc, etc.

As I plan for future writing, I'll leave you with some of the things that have been revving up my crazed brain lately.

Commonhealth, the WBUR blog, has become a new favorite as I try to catch up to the levels of expertise of fellow board members over at Boston Young Healthcare Professionals. (Look for news of our launch event coming soon!!). More healthcare-related blogs are on my to-find list--suggestions welcome!

Friends planning weddings or bridal showers keeping sending me new design and decoration sites, and my long-standing obsession with fashion has me subscribing to an embarrassing number of fashion, design and style blogs.

As spring approaches and I plan more weekend trips to Haymarket and my extensive Passover feast menu, cooking blogs like Smitten Kitchen and a recently discovered minimalist blog StoneSoup are making me hungry all day long at work.

I'm renewing my love affair with Slate, and the hard-copy redesign of the Sunday NYTimes Magazine means I've been carrying each issue around for days into the week.

Friends' blogs are among the most inspiring I read lately, whether they make me think or make me laugh or make me want to try new hot spots in Boston or make me realize I definitely need to get out for my next run (to run off all that delicious food...).

At least three weekends of travel in the past 2 months mean I've read the latest issues of Nylon, Vogue, Vanity Fair, GQ, Esquire, the Economist, Self, Wired, Fast Company, and others. (One of the many reasons I carry a sturdy purse...)

I've been playing a little over on Tumblr, but more for short things or sharing. More long-form to come in this venue! (now that's on my calendar to post on a regular basis, I have no excuse!)

in an effort to not scream....

here's a Friday top 5. or 10. It's the sort of week where it's important to remember the good things.

• amazing, amazing girlfriends (and guy friends, too)
  
• good weather for roadtrips
• people that you're willing to tell the truth to
• good hugs
• red wine and gin (not together, per se)
• roommates who are supportive during yelling and meltdowns
  
• having a really wonderful family
  
• snowboots that are actually waterproof
• furry earmuffs
• the thought of going to the gym tomorrow
• yoga breathing

Common Misconceptions

If you're in charge, you must know what you're doing.

If you're not in charge, you don't know what you're doing yet.

If you're single, you're lonely or a wild child or a commitment phobe.

If you're in a relationship, you're lame or domestic or want to have babies soon.

If you look put together, you must have your shit together.

If you're settled down, you're boring.

If you refuse to settle down, you'll never find what you're looking for.

If you're loud, you're confident.

If you're quiet, you're shy.

If you're skinny and pretty, you're happy.

If you're not skinny and pretty, you'll never find love or happiness.

If you're not tired, you shouldn't sleep.

Travel is for the rich.

Resolved.

2010 was the year of physical health. I've lost 1/6 of my body weight. Run 6 races. Dozens of miles. Hiked Mt. Washington. I even have biceps. And triceps. 2010? Great success.

2011 will be the year of emotional health. I don't want to be so cranky at work. I want to see the people I want to see as often as possible. I want to feel more fulfilled in my work life, my love life, and my "extra-curricular" life. I will spend time doing things that make me feel creative or inspired or productive or relaxed or just plain happy, as opposed to frustrated, antsy, or like I'm wasting my time. I will use the Oxford comma in my personal life, just because I can't at work. I will actively seek out new and fulfilling relationships in my life and maintain the ones that have become long-distance. I will sleep. I will continue to work out on a regular basis. I will luxuriate in the great things about Boston and find ways to go all the other places I love and will find out I love. I will eat delicious and healthy things but never begrudge myself a glass of wine with friends. I will focus on the positive, even if that means indulging in a good old-fashioned rant session to clear my head. I will lead the life I want to lead, and not just daydream about it.

To 2011, and a happy year.

Playing with pretty things

Even when business isn't ideal, I love the fact that my dad's jewelry store is usually involved in happy situations. You buy jewelry to mark special occasions, celebrate, honor, surprise, treat yourself or someone else--and the end result is something pretty and positive. Not a duty, a burden, a necessity, but something lovely that enhances your literal view and your figurative mindset. His store, while the back rooms are full of piles of paper that border on "Hoarders", is full of the shiny, the glittery and the fancy. His customers have long personal business histories with him, and he may do engagement rings for multiple generations, and remake a great-grandmother's prized necklace for a high-school graduate. They send thank-you cards and call to share happy proposal stories, and his jewelry plays a minor role in so many lovely times in people's lives. He gets to play with pretty things, and make people happy. Does it get much better than that?

My love for fashion and jewelry and building relationships with people, which I remember every time I go down to his store when I'm in Pittsburgh, leads me back to the recurring conversation I've been having with friends lately. Not to be cliche or dramatic, but plenty of us are in that typical "quarter-life crisis", where, in our early/mid-twenties, we're dissatisfied being entry-level, dreaming dreams of bigger or better or farther away, and/or having a hard time pinpointing just exactly what we should be doing.

New goal? Focus on two main questions.

1) What makes me happy?
2) What am I good at?

Ultimately, I'm seeking the ideal intersection:

What can I do that I am good at that also makes me happy?

(Yes, I'm idealistic enough to believe my work should make me happy, not just provide the means for my existence. No, I'm not currently interested in your argument that I should find a 9-5 that supports me in just doing things I actually love in my free time. But thank you, and best of luck with that in your own life, it just won't cut it for me.)

This currently results in lots of mental or physical post-it notes full of pros, cons, top 5s, lists of things I loathe and detest, cities, classes, things to learn, things I know I'm terrible at, and things I hope other people think I'm good at. No guarantees that I'll figure out anything any time soon, and while I trawl craigslist (JOBS, people, the adult services sections have been shut down....), keeping up hope I'll spot something that hits a nerve, I want to know that I'm not just settling. That I'll find the best way to play with the pretty things, in one way or another.

I refuse to be hoodwinked.

Leif: facebook is single people hell.

Facebook announcements of engagements and marriages, the general public, and inane questions are trying to trick me and a lot of my fellow singletons.

Not in a Halloween, here's a Reese's cup, sorry my Sarah Palin mask scared you, kind of way. But trying to trick me into thinking that at age 23, I should be in a serious relationship, engaged, married, or even on the way to being a mom. 23 can mean a lot of different things, and I sometimes get the sense that the universe is trying to corral me onto a plane of existence I'm not prepared for.

I have the ultimate respect for my friends on these paths. More power to them. They have really nice apartments with their significant others, great cocktail parties, the occasional puppies, and I'm looking forward to the open bars at their weddings in the near(er than I'd predicted) future. The time and energy and commitment they put into the relationships in their lives blow me away, and I hope I have that success some day. But it's not for everyone, not right now.

Take off the scary mask, people and things who make me think I'm not on the right path. I don't like your pointed questions about "how is such a ___, ___, and ____ girl single?", how your facebook pages bombard with me with relationship statuses or your public displays of affections or proposals. You're no legitimate vice-presidential candidate, and I'm just not that "grown-up" yet.

Career change?

After I spilled out myriad suggestions for daydrinking and brunching around Boston on very little notice...

Dana: Oh my God. You should write a book

me: I so would. Quit this job. Eat and drink (and run to keep from getting obese) for a living.

Dana: You should pitch it to the Travel Channel

Dana: You'd be way better than stupid Samantha Brown
me: Loud Jewish girl with a penchant for patios, gin cocktails, and french fries.

You know you'd DVR that. Maybe watch it with the volume kept low? :)

My agenda for tomorrow's sunny Friday forecast--a brunch and drinking adventure around Boston and Cambridge with one visiting Swede. Stay tuned for tweets and mini-blog posts, and maybe brainstorming on a travel show pitch?

Anything Worth Doing....

...is worth doing well. Cliche? True. I don't care whether it's completing a work project on deadline, forging personal relationships, writing a blog post, or baking cookies, I don't really see the point unless you're in it to make something real. Something with impact. And not just doing something to get it done.

If you're going to write a letter, spellcheck it.

If you're going to invest (increasingly rare free) time in a friendship or a relationship, make sure it's not with a toxic or time-wasting person.

Planning an event? Make sure that the invitations arrive on time, that attendees can hear the live band, AND that there aren't any names misspelled on the nametags.

Having downtime? Actually turn your cellphone off, and stop pretending that multi-tasking is relaxing!

Running a business? Figure out the balance between being a good person and being a good businessperson--you won't have customers if you're an asshole, but you also can't pay bills with good will.

It's my continuing obsession with both the big picture and the little details. Seeing the forest, the trees and the leaves. Whatever you want to call it, keep it all in perspective.

writing is good for the soul.

1,179 words down, and I feel less crazy than I did all day at work. Inspired by 21.5.800, I’m going to try to write at least 800 words a day for 21 days. I might not get to the yoga part, because I’ve been more into running and weights lately, but I could definitely use the writing. Not everything I write will be for public consumption, but if you’re interested in reading what I’m writing, let me know. If you’re doing it too, I’d probably like to read whatever you’re up for sharing!

a little perspective

I ultimately want:

• an office where I can wear every ludicrous get-up I can create out of my closet (thank you, September Issue, I still would want to work in fashion some day....)
  
• the freedom to be blunt, honest and forthright as a result of my rank or level of respect
  
• to call all the shots
  

In the end, I need:

• a job that grows with me, challenges me, and gets me to give as much of myself as I can
• to work from 9-5 as often as possible, but have the passion for what I do to keep me liking it even when it temporarily takes over my life
• to work with (for, if I have to) people I respect and trust
  

I currently have:

• the chance to try something new
  
• an opportunity to learn some patience
  
• a path to meet some amazing people
  
• an entree into figuring out what it is that I'm good at AND like to do (the two shouldn't be mutually exclusive.)
• the state of mind where I rememberthat nothing is carved in stone, for better or for worse, and that keeping an open mind is for the best.
  

I'll take it.

What Gets You Over the Hump?

Wednesday = Hump Day.

Halfway to the weekend, far enough away from Monday to maybe diminish some of the pain.

What's getting me through the week:

• An awesome 2 mile run this morning: longest I remember ever running without stopping, and no pain afterwards. longer tomorrow if I can!
• NU Open Classroom series is about global jazz tonight! Meeting up with Sam for class, and maybe Will for a drink.
  
• Tickets to Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers with Dani and A tomorrow! Seen them over half a dozen times, and they're still one of my favorite live acts.
• Leaving for San Francisco next Friday (and spending time until then plotting my adventure). For a real vacation. More than a week long. No babies, weddings, funerals, or other life cycle events, just seeing 4 fabulous boys and not checking my work email! (my brother Jeremy, my cousin Dan, Stivers, and Leif!)
• Delia comes back from Cuba this weekend!
• The rain is stopping? Forecast of sunshine for the weekend and maybe frolicking on the beach?! I almost don't believe it.

Home.

You may not be able to pick your family, but I sure can pick the friends who turn into family. I'd say I know how to pick friends who can hold their red wine too, but judging by the spots on my carpet and floor, I'll take that back.

I barely ever go home to Pittsburgh any more, but the times of the year when I'm family-/homesick are usually the Jewish holidays. I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but holidays to me are all about family, food and comfort. And on Passover, I miss home, my parents and brother, my grandparents, home-cooked food and years of memories and traditions (sorry for the shmaltz). My wallet is way over my frequently booked last minute flights though, so I have to make do.

I haven't been home for Passover in years now, so I figured I'd start my own traditions here, and instead of my blood family, I'd invite the people who are my Boston family. This is the 3rd or 4th year I've hosted my own very non-traditional seder "experience", and I have to say, I'm completely and utterly obsessed with the people in my life for making me feel like I have a family here.

Everyone brought friends and wine--the boys even brought us flowers!!--I had extra hands to peel apples and fry latkes, and people to stay until the wee hours to polish off wine and laugh in the kitchen. Pictures to come, but 25 bottles of wine, as many or more people, pounds and pounds of latkes, and an obscene amount of food (zero leftovers), and a whole day of love and conversation and spilled red wine left me feeling home, and not entirely homesick.

Many thanks and much love, and here's to having home wherever I have friends.

Finding Ada: Badass Women in Technology and Science!

Checking out Finding Ada for more background, but March 24, Ada Lovelace Day, celebrates women in technology and science--two fields where even today, there's a lack of recognition of women leaders, groundbreakers, earthshakers, and general rabblerousers. Ada Lovelace was a pioneer in the world of computing--back in the 1800s. Maybe not on a MacBook, but the woman knew what she was doing, and Ada Lovelace Day now pays tribute to women making an impact in the "nerdier" fields.

Although there are plenty of modern female role models in science and tech, I'd like to do a little throwback. I was a huge bookworm, even as a kid, and I read a ton of biographies. One of my favorites was a big, dusty hardback copy of a biography of Marie Curie. I loved her story, for starters because she was into some revolutionary political activism, and left her home country of Poland because of the political climate. She managed to study at amazing places like the Sorbonne, met a man named Pierre (hot name), and although he died tragically, she succeeded him as a professor of physics--no mean feat for a woman in the early 1900s.

Mme. Curie and her husband discovered polonium and radium, and were integral in researching and applying the therapeutic features of radioactive elements: treating cancer. Mme. Curie wasn't from a lot of money, and she worked hard for her success--no fancy laboratories or cushy existence, but hard work and passion for what has truly become a vital part of the resources for treating cancers (this is starting to sound like some of the language I use for writing thank-you letters at the hospital I work at....). Curie won not one, but two Nobel Prizes for her work--and although some write it off after it was awarded to Obama so quickly, a Nobel Prize is no mean feat, and two is pretty damn impressive.

She died of what was likely the side effects of radiation in a lab without safety precautions, something we know how to prevent today. (Crazy sidenote: the notes and other materials from her lab had to undergo more than two years of decontamination from radiation before they could be put on display for the public. I bet her insides actually glowed.) But her work lives on in the men and women who can now live longer as a result of radiation therapy stemming from her truly awesome work in a shed full of dangerous elements.

Women are still breaking new ground in the world of science, but we owe a lot to women like Curie who came before us--there's not a lot of "first woman to be educated at" statements in current biographies, because generations of women have already knocked down those barriers. The fact that her father enabled her to get a solid education in her early years had a lot to do with her success as well. I'm a firm believer in attacking problems of inequality from the ground up, and education is definitely the first step.

If' you're not familiar with the world of education/public policy, S(cience)T(echnology)E(ngineering)M(athematics) efforts are gaining traction in legislation and practice, ensuring that boys and girls alike have the best access to these vital fields--also important, because professionals in these fields typically make more money. If women are encouraged, alongside their male classmates, to pursue more generally "masculine"fields, they add crucial skills to their already growing arsenal, and can apply what they learn in STEM fields to anything from law to government to education as well as the sciences.

Want to do women a favor? Don't write science and technology off as a boy's world. Do science experiments with little girls if you babysit. Encourage friends to think outside the box or learn a new skill in the sciences if they want to expand their horizons. Don't assume a woman with a nice manicure can't build circuits or examine specimens in a lab. Women like Marie Curie, Gina Trapani, and girls like Jenn Walsh you may not have heard of yet: they're the past, present and future of life as we (may not) know it.

Cities: Always keeping me guessing.

Today's "new place": a soul food spot in the basement of a bookstore. Jway Cafe is down a flight of stairs from Jamaicaway Books, and today, with my pulled pork sandwich, I even got to hear part of a lecture on the Harlem art renaissance. This was not part of the initial plan, but hey, I'll take a bonus! The lecture was given by the woman who served me my sandwich, and was on an old-school slide projector! Totally not what I was expecting, but was both delicious and educational--go figure. I'd go back for sure....and maybe try the sweet potato pie. We obviously also went to Gadgets (of the kitchen sort) and Boing (fantastic toy store). I don't think bouncy balls and weird kitchen utensils will ever lose their appeal to me. I obviously bought random little things at both places--planning on wheat muffins in my nice cheap muffin cups and hours of cubicle fun from the Bucky Balls I'd been dyingggg to buy for ages.

I love that the city has little unexpected things for me, even after 5 and a half years of living here. I always think I have a good handle on it, but then I find new places, meet new people, realize how many jobs and projects are out there that I've never even considered. Boston also continues to be the biggest small world ever for me. Running into NU people, friends of friends, old coworkers--sometimes I like it, sometimes it makes me want to run away, but at least friendly faces are always nice? I don't think I'll be in Boston much longer than 2011 before peacing out (where? Stay tuned, I'm starting to come up with ideas...) but at least I'm never bored here.

On a less people-note--with our apartment's fit kick (Sarah's kicking my ass, but I have biceps now!!) also comes a renewed obsession with walking everywhere. Even when it's raining or snowing. I love somehow always spotting new things on walks I've done a thousand times--tiny colorful houses, signage, storefronts. Great thing I noticed spraypainted on the Harvard St. sidewalk today: the 35' safety boundaries surrounding the space that will soon be a women's health clinic down the street from me. Walking, as opposed to public transportation or the passenger seat of Sarah's car, lets me pet puppies, find out the name of adorable babies, and take detours that the 39 or 66 won't really be in the mood for--and the busses don't drive around Jamaica Pond! Counting down til summer when walks will be accompanied by flipflops, sunglasses, and a towel and book for spontaneous sunning...

New York City in two weeks!
San Francisco in 6 weeks!
Warm weather...can't come soon enough.

Not quite a 365 project, but....

More like a 52 project.

I usually hate New Year's resolutions. There's nothing original to resolve, and everyone poops out on plans to save more money, go to the gym more often, or keep in touch with friends better.

However.

Sam and I came to the conclusion that the best kind of resolution was to just do something that made us happy--we agreed to make our best efforts to visit one new place a week in Boston, every week, for a year. Places could include restaurants, bars, parks, museums, other attractions, but the ultimate goal was to escape the rut and routine of going to the same places over and over again, when we live in a city of so many options!

So far, so good. I'm behind on keeping note, so this post will be a little excessive, but I'm also hoping that updating with a new place a week will galvanize me to write more frequently.

Week 1: Brunch at the Friendly Toast
The Friendly Toast, in Kendall Square, is a new outpost of the original Friendly Toast in Portsmouth, NH. The Boston iteration lacks the 24-hour convenience of the former, but what it lacks in hours it makes up in kitschy charm and delicious toast. Boston needs more 24-hour places, as far as I'm concerned. South Station Diner is great, but its a little remote from most neighborhoods, and it's too tiny to take a whole crowd at 4 am. Anyway.

Sam and I caught up on all the New Year's Eve gossip over basic and delicious eggs/toast/homefries/bacon, and made friends with a great couple sitting next to us. They overheard us bemoaning all of a sudden being grownups, and piped in with some of their expert suggestions: not to worry too much, and to avoid credit cards. I love talking to strangers--I think my mom bred it into me to talk to people in all sorts of environments, and while I know it surprises friends I'm with sometimes, meeting people enhances any experience, even if it's a single-serving experience, a la Fight Club.

Week 2: Dinner at Teranga
Flaking on other plans, I met Sam, Vilvaraja (referred to as V in the future) and Jake at Teranga, a tiny Senegalese restaurant that opened recently at the corner of Washington and Mass Ave, right next door to the fabulous Mike's Diner. We were lucky enough to have the owner as our waitress! I love Ethiopian food, but wasn't sure quite what to expect at Teranga. I ordered a spicy fish dish (I rhyme, fantastic), but wasn't expecting a WHOLE fish, eyes, mouth and all, to end up on my plate. I tried to avoid eye contact, then picked the skeleton clean.

Week 3: Vietnamese Food in Chinatown (can't remember the name of the place!!)
Sam taught English in Vietnam last year, and a friend she met there was in town visiting with his cousin. My friend Will is also Vietnamese, so when we decided to go to Chinatown for authentic Vietnamese food, I dragged him along too. When we got there, the...gringas? is there a similar word for non-Asians? among us boycotted the menu and asked our Vietnamese friends to order us the best of the best. For less than $10 a person, including tip, we feasted on soups, noodles, rolls, and other delicious things I don't know the name of. I'll definitely be going back.

Week 4: Drinks and Snacks at Regal Beagle
Coolidge Corner has some wonderful restaurants, but lacks a true bar scene. Regal Beagle is still more of a restaurant, but Sam and I snagged bar stools in the back, with a good view of both parts of the long, skinny space. I ordered sweet potato fries--which turned out to be whole fried sweet potatoes! Cocktails were strong, but tasty, and named after things from the show Three's Company--a little before my time, but cute concept. We also loved whoever's writing is on the chalkboard detailing the rotating menu line-up. The place is super busy because it just opened recently, but I'm hoping it turns into more of a low-key neighborhood hangout...

Week 5: Publick House for dinner
I cheated a little, I'd been there once before, but Sam and our mutual friend Lisa hadn't. Publick House is famous for three things: beer, mac and cheese and mussels. We skipped the mussels in favor of mac and cheese this time, and gossip over food and beer. One thing I'm loving about our plan to try a new place a week is that it's a great excuse to invite people along. I took classes with Lisa senior year, but don't think I'd seen her since graduation!

Week 6: New Place Jackpot!
Sam and I marked off 3 in one day! (four for Sam!) We headed to Metropolis in the South End for brunch and people-watching, a gallery space for an indoor Valentine's-themed arts market, topped off with South End Buttery for a snack on the way home. I spotted possibly the cutest child I've ever seen in my entire life at the Buttery, so we loitered and watched him run around the coffee shop. Sam went into the Boston Public Library for the first time waiting for me to get to Copley to walk to the South End--I can't believe she'd never been in there! She discovered the wonderful courtyard, and I recommended the Russian section for quiet study space since she's taking night classes.

The quest to try new places continues! We'd love recommendations. A personal favorite, something off the beaten path or in a neighborhood we might not be familiar with, a brand-new spot...and if you want in, just let me know! The more the merrier. Stay tuned...

On Recipes from Jewish Grandmothers

My mother has requested a dish called "osso buco" for her birthday dinner (she's a Christmas baby!). My paternal grandmother made it for her birthday for years, but now Gram lives in South Carolina and we won't be with her until the 26th. I called my grandmother up to try to get the recipe. Disaster ensues.

Precursor: the last time I asked my grandmother for her mandelbrot recipe, she left out crucial ingredients like, oh, I don't know, baking powder. Needless to say, my first attempt at mandelbrot was a little terrible. I have two theories behind this problem:

1) No Jewish grandmother works from written recipes. Recipes live in the mind, and involve measurements like "a little of this", "a handful of that", and "oh, who knows, just taste it til it seems perfect". Because she was working off of a mental recipe, she just plum forgot the baking powder.

2) Through a scheming grandmother complex of never wanting anyone else to make her signature dishes as beautifully as she did, she purposefully left off an ingredient or two, knowing I wouldn't be able to tell, my cooking would turn out a little mediocre, and she would remain queen of Jewish cooking for all time.

You decide.

Anyway. So I call up my grandmother, who at the age of eighty-something, is, to put it kindly, deaf as a fucking doornail unless you're sitting right next to her. My grandfather picks up, and I tell him what I want, warning him of my past recipe strife, and asking him to tell her that I want the WHOLE recipe, no shenanigans. He gives the phone to her. Before I can even get out of my mouth that I want her osso buco recipe, she has handed the phone to my grandfather because she can't understand me. Through multiple phone-passings-off, we are both finally on the same page that I need the recipe. Highlights of the phone conversation are as follows:

Gram: "Then add tomatoes! You know, I used to just pick them out of the garden, back in the day, but a can will do."
Me: "What size can?"
Gram: "A can. One that's big enough. You'll know."

Gram: "Put all those ingredients in a bag. Shake the bag. Shake it hard."

Gram: "Pour in some white wine. I like all kinds. PLENTY of white wine."

Gram: "Just bake it til it tastes good. You'll know."

We get to the end of the recipe-imparting. I rack my brain, trying to see if I remember any other delicious components of the dish. There are always big chunks of carrots. She has not remotely mentioned carrots. I call her out on this.

Gram: "Oh, carrots...of course, carrots. Brown them. Big chunks of carrots. Very important. Did I not say that? Carrots"

I am skeptical. This seems like scheming grandma, not forgetful grandma. I will win. I will make delicious osso buco. I ask if there are any other ingredients. She says no, wishes me luck with the dish, suggests I rob a bank to pay for the expensive veal shank bones that are the base of the dish. This seems like a good idea.

I call my mother, to tell her about scheming grandmother recipe ordeal. One minute in, my grandmother calls through, to tell me I should cross-check her with the Silver Palate recipe for osso buco, because "I'm old, you know". She tells me that I will make it beautifully, that my mother will love it, and that she wishes she could be there to taste it. Sighhhh. Cutest grandmother ever. I fly down to visit her on Saturday!

I love my grandmother, and am now in a quandary over how to gauge future recipes. Does she love me? Does she want me to fail? Are the two mutually exclusive? (I hope not??) Wish me luck on the osso buco journey. I remain wary.

I will be her one day. Never trust my recipes when I am a grandma and have to guard my Jewish culinary renown. Maybe don't even trust me now. But remember, even if I set you up for failure, I love you. It's for your (my?) own good.

What's in your closet? (and why I DO think it matters)

Even if you swear you're "not into fashion", you still get dressed in the morning. Getting dressed requires making choices. Choices about your style. Otherwise you'd go to work in a paper bag, or better (worse?) yet, naked. In other words, everyone has a style. It's more a matter of how you choose to express it.

I follow a bunch of fashion and style blogs, a stack of home and design blogs, and religiously read magazines from Vogue to Nylon to ID to Paper. I love some of it, ignore a lot of it, and wish I was the style editor for a big chunk of it. And yes, I think the pricetags on most of things on the pages are ludicrous. Because they are. Nobody should follow these publications or "experts" blindly, or they would go bankrupt. I use everything from magazines to people on the T to IKEA as inspiration for how I dress myself and the world around me, and can do so for low-brow pennies on the high-street dollar. But I do make style choices, for a variety of different reasons, depending on the day. And so do you. Unless you dress exactly like your roommates or your sister or your girlfriend every day, you have style.

If you think that style doesn't matter, I hate (ok, LOVE) to say that I think you're wrong. When you don't have much to judge people on, appearance ends up being one of the first things we utilize to form our opinions about people. It can be in a good way or a bad way, but the way we look does speak to a few things about us. It can subtly impart that we're trying to impress or follow the rules (slicked back hair, carefully ironed pants, expertly matched accessories) or that we bend the rules (tattoos peeking out from crisp white sleeves, a tasteful nose piercing). Big jewelry or bright colors can hint that we want to be remembered, while simple or dark clothing can indicate a push to blend in and not make a scene. Trendy bag = penchant for labels? Or just a love of that designer's aesthetic. Jacket from your mom's era? Sentimental value, or maybe you just hate the only leather jackets for sale in 2009 don't make you feel badass. Dressing for yourself, or dressing for other people: we make choices about what we wear, where we wear it, and what we want to portray dressed like that. Or we'd show up naked, and not care at all.

(Still think I'm wrong? Look at a picture of yourself when you were 2. And then one age 7. Then 11. 15. 20. Today. Are you wearing the same things? Do you cringe at some photos? Is part of the cringing not at acne or blurry photography, but at what you're wearing? Still wish you could wear pink puffy dresses or Superman pajamas in public, but some part of you says you shouldn't? I'm right. Fashion and style matter. You're welcome.)

(STILL think I'm wrong? Would you wear your bathing suit to a job interview? Would you wear your business suit to the beach? No? Yeah, I'm right. I thought so.)

Don't get me wrong--I'm not saying you have to spaz every time you put on jeans: "What am I saying if I put on boot cut or skinny, acid-washed or dark rinse?!?!" Style and fashion shouldn't be a singular obsession: you can look like Heidi Klum and still be bad at your job or be a terrible person. But don't write it all off, either. Think about how your favorite concert t-shirt or a dangly pair of earrings or a killer cocktail dress can lift your mood. And how uncomfortable you are when you're wearing shoes that hurt, an ugly sweater your mom made you wear, or when you know you're having a bad hair day. We all make style and fashion choices, and you may as well admit it and enjoy it. And if you want to go shopping, give me a call.

Suggestions if you want to open up your mind to the world of style?
The Sartorialist--one of the pre-eminent fashion photographers today, Scott Shuman
Garance Dore (Thank you to Kate!) Scott's girlfriend Garance, a photographer and illustrator
Put This On (thank you to Leif) "how to dress like a grownup" (I will be writing more about this...)
New Brahmin (Boston style) Local fashion and style buffs who work for Boston publications
New York Times Fashion and Style. The eponymous NYTimes.
The Moment (New York Times) NY Times style blog
The Selby amazing photos of interesting people, their style, and their homes

Magazines:
Vogue (British edition highly recommended) Vanity Fair, Nylon, ID, Paper, and many, many more.

Comment with your favorite style and fashion blogs, please!

On the kind of customer service that keeps me from yelling at you

I have worked in customer service for years: retail, food service, secretarial work. Cliche but true, the phrase "the customer is always right" [at least until they're out of earshot] is something to tattoo in a highly visible spot in your brain. While customers shouldn't ignore the humanity of service workers, they are still paying for a service, and expect and deserve polite, respectful, and non-condescending communication. Regardless of age or gender.

Case in point: If you are an MBTA worker, and the trains are running 10 and then 25 minutes late, do NOT berate ME for "cutting it too close" and rudely blame MEfor the fact that I will be horrifically late for work. Instead, apologize for the delays and thank me for my patience. If you do that, I am much more likely to empathize with you also having a stressful morning, surrounded by soggy, late commuters. If, however, you choose to talk down to a 22 year old girl, when I pay the same $60 a month for your services as the rest of your beleaguered customers [only to be late 75% of the time] I will call you out on this in front of said platform of fellow angry riders. I played zero role in making the train late (for the millionth time this year), and therefore, will not accept your Masshole attitude alongside my lack of caffeination and sopping wet shoes.

This same advice goes to sales clerks (how do YOU know that I'm not going to buy anything? I usually do, and if you're a snob, I will tell the cashier that any other salesperson helped me and screw you out of any commission), waitstaff (I tip insanely well), and staff at universities or human resources (I am a student/employee, please don't treat me like a moron).

Do unto others, don't be an jerk, the customer is always right--all synonyms for the same thing. Treat your consumers with at least a modicum of respect. Or beware their early morning rage.