Sometimes, the best thing is the least interesting one *or* Old is the New New

Last week, I was struck by how long it had been since I'd had made plain old chocolate chip cookies. Salted caramel s'more brandy truffle spritzes, yes, but not chocolate chip cookies.* So I cooked up a batch (of the latter), poured myself a tall glass of milk, and realized why some things become classics while others do not.

{via}

You probably already have it, but here's the recipe anyway. You should probably bake some of these cookies, because they will definitely make you happier. . . or at least make being sad better.

*I actually never made salted caramel s'more brandy truffle spritzes. I was just using them to make a point about needless complexity.

Make way for Goslings

{National Arboretum & Aquatic Gardens}

Marzipan gets a makeover

Pistachios, almonds and pine nuts ground into chewy goodness, dressed in silver, figs, dates and saffron from Liberty's visit to India. They're kind of a revelation. And they are most certainly beautiful.

Did you see the paper?

Well I sure did--we get it in my office, but that's beside the point. Guess whose smiling face was looking up at me as I slurped down my second cup of joe this morning? Our sweet Charity Sunshine of course! Maggie Fard has written a lovely profile on Charity for the paper's Health and Science section. You can read the article, browse the photo gallery, and watch the video they produced for the piece here.

Bringing Up Babies

There are few living beings that I have unconditional love for like my nieces and nephews. They are little wonders and their presence makes me endlessly happy. I take so much joy in their existence and prod my married siblings to have their own babies because I am quite certain I won't. It's not that I don't want kids. It's just that with my medical issues, pregnancy - and even living with the microbial adventures that are children - is at  very least a dangerous prospect and more likely a fatal one. 

Which brings me to my point: I feel in the realm of the reproductive arts, we are lone soles. We're afraid of the stigma of infertility; of people judging us because for whatever reason, our bodies aren't able, ready or willing to have a baby. We're similarly afraid to say that even if we're happily married that we might not feel ready for kids just yet. We're afraid of the tradeoffs of work and life. We're afraid to talk about the reality of a clock -- that not everyone can get pregnant at 35 or 40, even with IVF. We're afraid to bring up the prospect of adoption with friends who are trying. We're afraid we'll never find someone who we want to have a baby with - or who wants to have a baby with us. It's just too personal an issue. There are too many feelings to be hurt - too much damage to be done. 

But our unwillingness to engage our sisters and friends and mothers in a meaningful conversation about babies is stifling our ability to experience happiness and peace. It's blocking primary sources for valuable information and robbing us of the comfort we owe one another. I have seen our inability to communicate let resentments fester and depressions take root. I have also seen the blatant disregard for obvious sensitivities destroy wonderful relationships between families and friends. Finally, from my experience as one of 11, motherhood is often an entirely overwhelming process. It can be lonely and isolating. These beautiful burdens of life should not be borne alone. 

So friends, my question is this: why can't we talk about babies? I'm not saying fertility is something we have to discuss with guests over dinner. But too often, we don't talk to our closest friends and family about it. Is this a topic that we need to endure in silence? Is it better that way? Or is it something which is alright to talk about? If it is, how is it alright? What signs do you send that you want to talk? These aren't rhetorical questions. I'd love to hear your input. I feel a whole lot of women are hurting over this issue and we're not doing much to improve the situation. Because whether you have a dozen babies or two or none and never will, we all have a part to play in shaping a future that is inevitably shaped by what and who we bring into this world.

TeenVogue

I know the 11th commandment is "Thou shalt not brag about thine own family," but I have to. While we  think of ourselves more in the context of food than fashion (as home schoolers, cooking was the closest thing we had to a competitive sport), Glorianna is on Teen Vogue's list of America's Best Dressed College Students. Apparently, a reporter stopped her cross campus last semester, snapped some pictures and was off.  For the record, we think Glorianna's pretty awesome too. 

Doktor Doctor PhD

 High school graduation is the moment a boy/girl becomes an adult. College graduation is the moment an adult becomes a young, job-seeking man/woman. Masters . . . graduation is the moment a liberal arts major becomes employable. And PhD graduation is the moment a person never has to go to school ever again.

It was a good day

Old favorites

As the weather warms, Premal and I have resumed our habit of walking together. We'll return from our offices just as the sun starts to look a bit lazy in the early evening sky and set off for nowhere in particular. We take these treks often, so often that the scenery holds few surprises. Still, tired surprises soon become old favorites. Favorite doors, and yards, and roofs. We watch familiar gardens grow and flourish, and die and wait. Now they're back at it. Same as ever. Ever lovely, ever there. But now we are leaving, and this little neighborhood will continue its cycle without us. And I realize that even neighborhoods don't really stay the same. You see, we're headed back to another place where I once took frequent walks to nowhere in particular. We're going home. But there, things have changed. Friends have left, and angular condos now fill holes where once familiar fields and houses stood. It's fine, and certainly "good for the neighborhood," but it's very different. So, in these last four weeks that we have here in this city that has treated me so very well for the past ten years, I'm looking around at these old favorites extra hard. Filing away their magic and the comfort they bring me. Because who knows, perhaps we'll be back someday, years and years from now. We will  change, and likely the neighborhood will too. Hopefully for the best, but surely it will be very, very  different.

To buy or not to buy? Renting, buying and other real esate questions

As we assemble all of the lovely things we've collected into a cohesive space, it makes a little flat feel a lot like ahome. Flowers on our coffee table; the poles from our chuppah which we're going to making into a bed; a piece of art we bought here along with a second hand directors chair I got here; our favorite craigslist find.

For some time, I have wanted to buy a house. At times, the urge has felt rather desperate. I have seen properties all over the area. We put in an bid earlier this year, only to be beat out by an all cash offer that was more than 100k over the asking price. For a while now, I've had a not so secret crush on a house that I know is a hot mess. It's old and very run down. And while Kimber's home is beautiful, her adventures in home renovation have left me wary of moving anywhere that has more than cosmetic challenges.

But while I continue to search, I actually kind of love mine and Yoni's little house... and by house, I mean apartment. There's gobs of light, lots of storage space and just enough room that me and Yoni don't get in one another's way. It's kind of nice that if there's a problem, I can call the landlord. Since we travel a lot, it's good to know there's someone other than me who has a vested interest in keeping my place safe. And while it's somewhat painful to think of the money we could be investing in a mortgage instead of rent, not owning has seriously simplified my life.

I have a feeling that if Yoni and I want to buy in this market, we have to move before the year's end. Prices have been on a steady march up and soon, we'll be priced out altogether. But for now, I'm pretty happy with apartment life.

Speaking of simple... Try this.

1 cup plain yogurt (I like it with at least 1 to 2% milk fat

Goat yogurt is my favorite right now, but use what you like)

1/2 cup blueberries

1/4 cup hazelnuts, roasted and crushed

1/4 cup rolled oats

1 tsbp pure maple syrup

Try these out too: strawberries, almonds, puffed rice and honey; cashews, coconut, quinoa and agave; pistachios, bananas, macadamia nuts and kashi; raspberries, lemon curd, almonds and oats.  

PS.

I've been in a hole, so when I wrote this initially, I hadn't realized the extent of the damage done by the tornados in Oklahoma. You can help. Click here to donate to the Red Cross. Many churches have some sort of humanitarian aid fund. If you would like, you can ask that your contribution sunday be directed to those hit by the storm. Whatever you can or can't give, we hope our brothers and sisters in Oklahoma know our thoughts and prayers are with them. Home can be in a shelter, in a cellar or a tent, so long as love is there. <3

Black & White & New York City

Have you ever looked at the ceiling of Grand Central Station? It's a star-speckled allegory of manufactured constellations, told in teal and daffodil. It's simple and it's glorious. I'd only just noticed it.

I've never been particularly taken by New York. The city is hectic and loud and pushy -- all things that I prefer not to be. The western interior (more specifically, Denver) has my heart in its courteous, outdoorsy grip -- it won me with its sunshiny dog parks and drivers who only honk in order to prevent an imminent accident. As far as I've always been concerned, NYC could keep its sounds and pretzels and grime and 8 million stories.

But the last time I visited the Big Apple, I found myself gawking around the streets like a ruddy cheeked tourist, awed and enthralled by the diversity and ingenuity omnipresent in the parts which construct it. Even the grimy underbits of the city were filled with lovely little embellishments to "jeepers! do you see that?!" over. It's a city filled with touches -- some premeditated, some serendipitous. 

And it's not just the architecture -- it's the people. Like two shirtless strangers on a park bench in Brooklyn, who both just happened to be named Joe.

I can't say I'm in love with New York, but I respect it more than I used to. I've come to appreciate some of what millions of others have seen in it over the years. It's a city with layers -- with history. It's served as the stage and set pieces to countless little human triumphs and tragedies, and you can see that in the bricks and chrome which compose its oft related streets. I suppose I'm excited to go back.

Bro time

^^^sushi?^^

I love spending time with my brothers. In many ways, "guy time" is my natural habitat. Growing up I was much more likely to be found throwing dirt clots, fighting with sticks, or catching a veritable menagerie of creepy-crawly things than playing with dolls. I wanted to be a webelo, and could tie a bowline faster than all the boys.

And unlike poor Anybodys (the tomboy who desperately wanted to belong) from West Side Story, my brothers never told me to scram. If I was too small to scramble up whatever rock-face we planned to summit that day, Corban was always there to offer a boost and Levi would catch my arms and pull me to safety. 

Well, it seems I'm still at it. I spent Saturday with Shiloh, Levi and Corban and some of our friends fishing. We told bawdy jokes, performed immature pranks, talked about the future, and enjoyed each others company (oh, and caught some huge fish too). Afterward we all headed to Levi's house to cook the day's catch. As we grow, and marry, and move, and do all these adult world things, it's nice to see that things don't really change, they just evolve.

^^^look at those cute ol' brothers!^^^

^^^sometimes it takes a village to catch a fish. thanks for the help Carter!^^^

In other news... I got a pretty drastic haircut (like 16 inches whacked off). I felt ridiculous devoting an entire post to it, but there's a picture after the jump for any interested parties...