A Big Debut!

We were lucky to be invited to a preview preformance of Shen Yun at the Kennedy Center this week. Three had the brilliant idea that Mr. One and I ought to bring the Princess along, since she just started dance classes and the tickets were free.
It wasn't until we were driving through the snow to the theater that it occured to me that taking a two-year-old to a performance of Chinese ballet might be a little nutty. In retrospect, I'm glad my Crazy-meter is out of whack, because the Princess was a perfect angel, and the evening was divine.**
**Shen Yun means Divine Arts, so I'm making a pun in Chinese.
Dad would be so proud.

My dear friend sent The Princess and Charlotte matching dresses for Christmas. So naturally Charlotte had to come along. I don't know who was better behaved -- which is actually saying a lot for The Princess, since Charlotte is a doll.


Shen Yun is a beautiful and impressive spectacle, but I must confess I missed a lot of the dancing. I was totally mesmerized by Princess H., and her wonder at the entire affair.

This is how we kept her quiet, so I guess we cheated a little....

The night was pure magic, marred only by the untimely demise of the royal pigtails.
Admiring a Matisse at Intermission

Brothers Can Be Cool, Too

*apologies to C, who decided to be lame and not come to a family gathering. He had to
have his head superimposed onto JP's body, and my heart just wasn't in it.
I love my brothers. They're sweet some of the time and can usually be persuaded to take the trash out. What more could a sister ask for?
Along with those virtues, all of my brothers can cook. And I don't mean 'boil water and put the macaroni into it' cook (in fact, S sometimes has trouble with that); they can really cook. The swankiest and most exotic things that I've ever eaten have been served to me by my brothers. From fried artichokes with clarified lemon butter to seasoned eggplant stuffed with garbanzo cream (I know, right?!), their skill and ingenuity in the kitchen never ceases to amaze me. Well, Z realized this. He realized this and decided that he wanted to share his skills with the world. He decided to start a blog.
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN. . . DUN.
Today I am writing to declare a turf war. If my kid brother Z things that he's got what it takes to make it in the blogosphere, he better think again. WAAAATCH YOUR BACK ZEEEEEEEEE!!!

Just kidding (I got you good, didn't I?)! I think it's an awesome idea, and I'm excited that our readers are going have the opportunity to sample some of my brothers' delightful delicacies.

Here's a video to whet your appetite (PUN!)
So go and check out CookingwithZTD.blogspot.com, because it's tight. 

We would make a really attractive boy band


Last summer, the fam spent a week in Duck, NC. As some of you may know, relaxing isn't really our family's thing (I seem to recall a group of us becoming senseless with lethargy when we were shipped off to Hawaii for a month...as an antidote to our boredom we drove the winding Road to Hana at break neck speeds almost everyday). Well, to combat the leisure that enveloped the house on Duck, I decided to turn Five into an awesome boy band. The transformation must have been successful because my grandmother, Mimo, told me on several occasions after the makeover that I "vuld mayke a vereee handsum Hungarian peasant boye." Furthermore, Brother Z said we looked like ZZ Top, so I think we have it made!
I feared proof of Five's tenure as rockin' dreamboats was lost forever, so when I found these treasures, I had to share. 
Aren't we cool? Wouldn't you want to date us? Don't you want to hang a poster of our mustache trimmed mugs over your bed?
I do.

Don't cry for me...


This morning I wept while reading the New York Times. My tears were brought on by eulogy of sorts, though it did not appear in the Obituaries section. This story ran in the Dining portion of the paper, and it memorializes the life and death of the Minimalist column written by Mark Bittman.

Don't tell Dr. P, but I have often felt that Bittman is my culinary soul mate. I love the spirit he brings to the kitchen. He's dynamic, funny, confident, yet totally not cocky. I get his humor, I dig the way he writes recipes, and I deeply appreciate that he is not a respecter of ingredients. I'm completely devoted to his weekly videos, and perhaps too enamored with his amazing 101 Recipes series that comes out 1 or 2 times a year. Add to all of this the fact that the first EVER Minimalist column ran on my 10th birthday, and I think it's safe to say that WE WERE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. *sob, sniffle, sob...*

And now, it's over. Just like that. Last week we were happily making innovative pancakes together, and today... POOF!

The truth is that Mark won't be gone, but things are going to change. He's moved on to a new column in the opinions section, and I just don't know what that's going to mean for us. I guess all I can do now, is remember the good times we had, and try not to be bitter about the way things ended. Love can be so confusing...

Be Inspired


I just wanted to give everyone the opportunity to see that we all can get along.  Even if "wee" happen to be a baby monkey and a pig (the "weee" is for the pig, who is actually a javelina).  Enjoy.

A Cupcake for All Seasons

I helped throw a baby shower this weekend. It was a delightful gathering of happy people and delicious food. Of course, the Bun in The Oven was the star of the show, but I'd put in a Best Supporting Baked Good nomination to the awesome cupcakes. The chocolate buttercream was so heavenly, it inspired a most-welcome flashback, momentarily transporting me to a sunny island in the Chesapeake Bay...


July 31st, 2010, NarBan, (a.k.a. our brother and his new bride), tied the knot, and I had the great pleasure of making 104 mind-blowing cupcakes for the occasion. And since I love you all so much, I am going to share the recipe I used for 52 of those fluted-foil bombs of happiness. I might need to blog about the other 52, and some of the other amzing foodstuffs, once warmer weather arrives. But for now, it's SO not seasonal, it would be cruel. But these puppies are timeless, seasonless, and divine. I hope it brings a little sunshine to you during this cold, cold winter.
NarBan's Nuptial Chocolate-Merlot Cupcakes

1 box devil's food cake mix
1 small box chocolate pudding
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup warm merlot reduction (see below)
4 eggs
1 1/2 cup good semi-sweet chocolate chips, gently melted


one cupcake, two people

First, reduce 1/3 bottle of fruity merlot with 1/2 bag of tart red cherries (I got mine at Trader Joe's -- probably about 1/2-3/4 cup. It's not an exact science...). Reduce it WAY down, so that you have a half cup of liquid, plus a couple extra tablespoons. Strain the liquid through a cheesecloth. Chop the cherries finely and set them aside.
Combine 1/2 cup of the wine reduction with all the other ingredients, except for the chocolate chips. Beat with a stand mixer for 3 minutes. Then, fold in the melted chocolate and reserved cherries. Put into lined cupcake pans and bake at 350 for about 18 minutes, or until a straw comes out clean.


one person, two cupcakes

For the frosting, beat together 1/2 pound neufchatel cheese, 1/2 pound cream cheese and 1/2 pound butter until it is fluffy. Add 2-3 Tbs. of the reserved merlot reduction, and 1/2 tsp vanilla. I also added a bit of food coloring, so that it would look rosey for the wedding, but I wouldn't do that unless you really need a certain shade of pink. Then, slowly beat in 1 pound sifted powdered sugar.

Cheers to love, chocolate, new babies, new sisters, and all the deliciousness of life!!

Thanks to Nancy Ricks Photography for the bee-you-tee-ful pictures! I took the last one. You can tell. Because it is not bee-you-tee-ful....

Rocky Mountain High Five!

There are few things I adore more than my Rocky Mountain home and its rich livestock-rustlin' history. My dad wore cowboy boots with three-piece suits and I've had massive voice-crush on John Denver since before I can remember. A tangible token of my love for the Centennial State is pictured above. It may not look like much, but that jumble of chain and beads is a true, if incomplete, labor of love. I've had some of the scariest and most disturbing experiences of my life acquiring the materials for it (think dead fish. Lots of dead fish), but it has been well worth it. . . as long as I actually finish the dreaded thing (I'd like to take this time apologize to the half-soldered grasshopper stained glass and the novel I started when I was 8). Aaaaanyway, I've included some extra Colorado tidbits after the jump, so head on over!

'Alexander has more passion in his little finger than most people have in their whole lives!'

 To be honest, I've never understood how people can completely obsess over celebrities. You know the video with the three year old crying about Justin Beiber? Yeah, that just creeps me out.
Unlike that little girl, I work to maintain a limited relationship with pop culture. I try to cultivate enough knowledge about music, etc. that my peers don't write me off as completely culturally illiterate, but no more.
Well, I hate to admit it, but if European pop counts, I'm afraid I must relinquish my title as 'Pop Prude Extaordinaire'. It's true. After watching THIS video of Norwegian pop sensation Alexander Rybak, I think I can safely say I've fallen. Hard. Now I'm one of those girls. You know, the ones who are hopelessly in love with that random Belorussian singer.

Yeah.
I love his manic enthusiasm.
I love how he looks like he adores performing.
I love how he's a dorky dancer--and doesn't try to look cool.
His lyrics are asinine, at points he looks completely insane, and he wears those horrid little vests--which I usually detest. But not on him. On him I don't care. I may even find them a teensy bit endearing!

And isn't that what love is really about?
P.S. the embedding on this video isn't working right now. You'll have to click on the link in order to enjoy the delightsome "OAH".

Lord of the Cakes!

I like to think that I'm competent in the kitchen. Actually, that's false modesty. I think I'm a darn good cook, and I'm a pretty good baker to boot. So when Dr. P volunteered to bring King Cake to Friday rounds at the hospital I was ready for the challenge. In fact, I was so ready I didn't even know what the "challenge" entailed. I had no clue what this royal pastry was, let alone how to make it. So I set to googleing, and in a blink of an eye I had answers.

King Cake (it seems), is a garish Mardi Gras delight. A sickeningly sweet freak show of colored sugar, butter, and dough. And for those who are not offended by the mere sight of this grotesque gâteau, snuggled into the madness is a little, bitty, plastic Christ child.


Now, I am sorry, and I mean no offense, as I'm sure there are many folks out there who love and revere the rosca de reyes, but this is not my kind of cake. So, I decided to deviate from the doctrine of the King cake (as I am prone to do), and make it suit my sensibilities.

BIG MISTAKE

The cake God is a jealous one, and when you mess with his business, he will mess with you.

Somehow my beautiful, fluffy dough baked into a hard nasty brick. You might blame it on the recipe, or the oven, or it even might be (heaven forbid) a result of my own folly. But I choose to blame the plasticine Prince of Peace. I think this was retaliation for disliking the whole "mangy manger cake" concept from the start. So I repent, and I promise that I will sacrifice any future king cakes I create in the traditional round/tacky/embedded-imitation-infant manner. And just in case... I'm using THIS new recipe instead :-)





Drama!

Late last week, as Two lay in the hospital in Cleveland suffering with mysterious, *horrible* symptoms, a GIANT semitruck plowed into our little car and pushed me, Tiny and the Princess through 20 or 30 feet of heavy traffic on one of the busiest streets in downtown D.C. (without even realizing we were there). Drama indeed.
But here's where I realize this is a scene from my incredibly blessed life and not some made-for-TV tearjerker on Oxygen: the kiddies and I walked away with nary a scrape, and today Two is doing well, feeling great and -- get this -- performing a big gig in California.
One of my favorite Hungarianisms is "micsoda?*" It is a not-particularly-elegant turn of phrase that translates practically as "what the heck?" But what I love is the literal translation, which is "what miracle?"
The bizarreness and severity of both Two's illness and my accident really deserve a loud and indignant "micsoda?!" And the wondrously un-dramatic resolution of both situations truly demands a quieter, but equally fervent "micsoda!"
Many, many thanks to all who have been so kind and caring and concerned about everything. We're all happy, well and feeling terribly blessed. Miracle indeed.

*Pronounced "me-choda" (rhymes with "free soda")

No Sew Suede Skirt

About a month ago, I happened across instructions for making a no sew suede skirt. The instructions boasted "If you can sew a button, you can make this skirt". What can I say? I was in. 
 With Five's invaluable aid, I bought the material and notions (a solitary button), traced my template, and cut! 
Unfortunately the material wasn't the same color on both sides (my bad!), so I did have to do a little more sewing than I had anticipated. But you shouldn't have that problem if you buy the right kind of suede.
Don't irritate Five when she's holding sharp objects.
I love the scalloped edges!
 The result wasn't perfect, but Five and I were very pleased with the it. Momo--who was the recipient of our craft--seems to like it too. I had hoped to get a picture with Momo wearing the skirt, but she had already left to Cleveland and taken it with her! That's a good sign, right?

Hoo Rah!

it's Dr. P's BIRTHDAY!

Fact: I really like Dr. P's birthday.

It's a strange thing to say, but it's true. I like it because it gives people an excuse to celebrate my wonderful (but modest) man friend. But I really like it because it was also my wonderful Great Grandma D's birthday. Grandma D was born in 1902 and lived with us for 10 years while I was growing up. She was a feisty lady, who lived to see so much of what fills today's history books. She also always had a way of making me feel loved and lovely, even when I was a moody teenager with gold braces and hair that was 3 feet long.

I love that these two people I hold so dear, but who were never able to meet, have this date in common. There are several people in my life who just missed their chance to get to know each other, so it's nice to find these little connections. And you know what? I think Grandma D and Dr. P would have gotten along quite nicely.


Uh Oh!

A few months ago my friend Flo Anito asked if Four, Five and I would be extras in the music video for her song "Uh Oh!". I loved the idea of being in the video with my sisters, especially one for Flo. You see, I view Flo the way I'm sure many people view me, as one of a set of sisters. I was introduced to the Sisters Anito freshman year by the Darling Miss M Anito. Miss M, has always been happy to act as a sister in residence when I am away from my lovies, so it was a real joy to return the favor.

Five and I were employed as extras, and Four was charged with the vital role of "Body Double". Being an extra was long, hot, sweaty work, and we were pretty pooped after the few hours we spent on set at the Capital City Diner (I can only imagine how Flo and her director Francisco Campos-Lopez felt after their 12 hours of filming). While we came away with some pretty awesome pictures, and Flo got a really awesome music video, I'll think twice before I say yes if I'm ever asked to be an extra again... unless it's a zombie movie. I would definitely say yes to being a zombie.






The worst kind of rejection

No one likes to be rejected.  It hurts feelings.  It makes us feel out of place.  It makes us sad.  But it is the worst to be the one rejecting others.  We might not know it when it happens, but years later, it is the rejecting that we will regret.  Why this sudden commentary on rejection?  Have I been rejected?  Have I been rejecting a lot of people?  The answer is "no" to both.  But I am having a doctor's apt. today day and I DON'T want to reject ANYTHING!  So say a little prayer that my body will be nice to my lungs and remember to be nice -- to others and your lungs!

I confess...

I totally forgot about blogging today. I was having too much fun.

We started the day with Princess H's dance class. It only lasts 45 minutes, but I require some time to recover after watching all those two-year-olds prance around in tutus.

The kids and I spent the afternoon preparing for Mimo's annual Yankee Trader Gift Spectacular. I know there's some football game going on, but make no mistake -- tonight, Camp Mimo was The Place To Be.

If You're A Fan of Karma or Fiancées, You'll Love These.

**Disclaimer: the following is either directly or indirectly perjured from matadornetwork.com.**
I possess a deep and abiding love of the English language, but it can sometimes fall short of that encapsulating word that you pine for. Sometimes, other lexicons must be consulted if you hope to capture that perfectly descriptive word. Enter matadornetwork.com. The folks there have compiled a list of epically untranslatable words. Some of my favorites:


1. Toska
Russian – Vladmir Nabokov describes it best: “No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”
How Russian can you get? I mean, seriously.


2. Mamihlapinatapei
Yagan (indigenous language of Tierra del Fuego) – “the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start” (Altalang.com)

3. Jayus
Indonesian – “A joke so poorly told and so unfunny that one cannot help but laugh” (Altalang.com)


          5. Litost
Czech – The closest definition is a state of agony and torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery. 

7. Tartle
Scottish – The act of hestitating while introducing someone because you’ve forgotten their name. (Altalang.com)


11. Schadenfreude
German – refers to the feeling of pleasure derived by seeing another’s misfortune.
Of course it's German. 


15. Tingo
Pascuense (Easter Island) – “the act of taking objects one desires from the house of a friend by gradually borrowing all of them.” (Altalang.com)

 17. L’appel du vide
French – used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places.

Lord have mercy!

It's Four's Birthday!!!


I am so excited that 19 years ago I got a little sister. I thought she was pretty awesome then, but I had no idea how lucky I actually was. Happy Birthday to one of the loveliest ladies I know!

PS I think it's raaawther fitting that this is our 100th post!

Home...

I thought nothing could compare to the original version of this song, but this cover is truly delightful.


Up The Mountain And Down The Hill

So... For Christmas, the Y Man got a ski day.  He was very excited about this.  What I didn't totally realize is that he expected this ski day to be with yours truly.  Now my father was a great skier and he taught me to be an alright skier.  But the last time I went skiing was 7 years ago at Copper Mountain in some of the coldest weather of the season.  I got frost bite and I felt like -- well --- let's just say I felt real' bad.  SO I have not been quite as pumped as Y man about this ski trip.  We have about 30lbs of ski, boot and pole in the back seat of my little camry and despite my reservations, I think we are going.  So say a little prayer for me and I'll try to give you an update and let you know how it goes!

From Tiny and The Princess



We are all excited and forward-looking, but before we close the books on 2010, Princess H and Tiny wanted to share a couple highlights from the year past. Because when you haven't been around very long, a year is a really big deal!

Princess H's Top 5 for 2010

1. Learning to walk, run, jump AND dance! Her first ballet class started today -- hard to believe that just a year ago she was a quadruped!!

2. Skype/video chat. If you haven't chatted with the Princess, and you want to, message me. Seriously.

3. Talking. All the time.

4. Having a little brother! Yes, it took her a while to warm up to the kid, but there is no question that Tiny has become her Favorite Thing in the entire world. It warms my heart.

5. Bunking up at Camp Mimo. Living with Mimo and assorted other familial housemates isn't just the highlight of the Princess' year. I'm pretty sure it's the highlight of her LIFE. She has her chubby little fingers crossed that our house remains in a state of perpetual renovation and we stay here forever.

Tiny's Top 5 (ever)

1. Being born. Obvi.

2. Boobs. Mostly mine, but he'll grab any that are handy.

3. His own feet. He loves them, but only for entertainment.

4. Visiting family in Utah and Colorado, and being incredibly charming to pretty much everyone, everywhere.

5. His big sister. It was a toss-up between Princess H and yogurt, but the Princess won out in the end. Because she is awesome.

All this excitement left the kids quite worn out.


They are celebrating the New Year by falling asleep in unusual places.

Les bons amis du temps passé

I had the delightful good fortune this last week of reconnecting with an old friend. We were in the same grad program at Oxford, and haven't seen each other since. Thanks to the miracle that is Facebook, she looked me up when work brought her to town, and we passed a lovely evening reminiscing and catching up on the last decade. (DECADE!). Apparently we're living parallel lives: I made a couple babies with my dashingly handsome, Republican husband; she made a couple films with her Emmy-winning, Oscar-nominated boyfriend....

It was so very nice to catch up, and also a little bittersweet. During this annual time of introspection, I can't help but reflect on all the people who have been dear to me during different chapters of my life. What an embarrassment of (human) riches! And how sad that I am not great about keeping in touch with all those amazing, inspiring superstars. If any of you are reading this, you should know -- it's not just you. I don't send holiday cards to anyone.

I'm not sure what this New Year will bring, but I hope it includes many more happy reconnections. Cheers!