The Second Book I Read on My Kindle

I don't know why it took me so long to read Never Let Me Go. Don't make the same mistake I did. This book will break your heart. Just looking at this poster for the movie (out on DVD soon!) makes me want to cry.

Do you like reading about complicated girl friendships? How about boarding schools? Or maybe adolescent relationships? Those are all of my favorite topics, and they are all here, along with some SCIENCE FICTION. That's right, I read science fiction. Okay, that's a lie. Actually I read science fiction in only three circumstances:
1. My boyfriend recommends something.
2. Book club pick.
3. It's not really science fiction.
While there are definitely science fiction elements to this book (in case you don't know anything at all about it, I will refrain from ruining anything for you. The less you know, the better the book will be), and while the plot hinges around a particularly ominous vision of a world not so different from our own, this book is much more about personal relationships. I should warn you that at first this book doesn't seem so sad. Just watch out! At the end, I felt like the emotional force of the book had snuck up behind me and clubbed me on the head.
It also must be noted that Carey Mulligan plays the lead in the film. Beautiful!

Operation Read This

The Winter Blues are some kind of bitch. Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing my seasonal depression to REAL depression. It is not that bad. But it would still be nice if I didn't feel like staying in bed 3+ months out of the year, just watching a marathon of Northern Exposure. I should make a post about Northern Exposure, but right now I'm actually going to talk about a book, since that's kind of the point of this thing. Who wants some more run-on sentences?
Every year, when I'm setting up my New Year's Goals, I set a Reading Goal. Usually it's 50 books, a goal I actually didn't quite meet last year because I got lazy. This year I plan on actually making it, and I read my first book of the year on New Year's Day: How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer.

Amazon says LOOK INSIDE! I say just buy the book, because it's worth it. I read a lot of great books last year, but too many of them were about men. While that's just fine, I start to feel weird if I don't read any books by women for awhile. Enter Julie Orringer: her stories are for and about women. Seriously...ALL of the stories have interesting female characters, most of whom are young teenagers. Clearly young teenage girls are the most interesting subjects to read and write about. These stories deal with cancer, uncomfortable sexual situations, the weirdly passionate friendship dynamic between young girls (my favorite thing to read about), bullying (there are SO MANY straight up bitches in these stories!), and all sorts of awesome lady stuff. One story made me burst into silent sobs while my boyfriend played video games, and when he turned around to see my face streaked with the remains of my Lash Stiletto mascara he freaked out. True and unattractive story!
I can't recommend this book highly enough. Read it!

Unputdownable.

A few months ago, H. and I grabbed lunch at Tommy's in Cleveland. In case you were wondering, I do remember exactly what we got. H had a burger and I had a baba ganoush/falafel pita. FOOD BLOG! But that's not the point...the point is, Tommy's is attached to a little book store, where I found this book:

I picked it up because of the cover, then found out it was a children's book, then convinced H to buy it for me anyway. I just read it this week and I can't recommend it highly enough! It is meant for kids, so if you have a problem with that...then I don't know, you shouldn't be reading this blog. It was completely engaging from beginning to end, and I can't remember the last time I've been so involved in a book. It's surprisingly dark and even a little scary (but I'm very easily frightened). I'm reading the second one now!

Sewing!

The reason for my lack of posting (besides the fact that no one reads this, obvs) is that my life has been taken over by a new obsession: sewing. Basically, much like J.C. Chasez, my life's motto is now ADIDAS, except for me the 'S' stands for sewing (I find that when writing a new blog post after a long while, it's always a good idea to make a reference to a solo album by a former member of N'Sync. It really draws people in!). I really don't want to do anything else but sew lately. Maybe some crocheting, but that's about it.
I've tried many, many other times to learn to sew, but it's never "clicked" for me. For some reason, this time I was serious about it and I've been learning the basics in a slow, methodical way. I started with an apron about a month ago:

Seemingly easy; just a rectangle, right? Well, no! For me, the biggest hurdle (and the reason I could never get into sewing before) was just learning about the machine. Sewing machines can be daunting; they're expensive, heavy, and confusing. It took me an embarrassingly long time just to learn how to wind the bobbin. Even after you learn how to set the machine up, there's the matter of decoding commercial sewing patterns. You'd think they'd be simple, but if you have no idea where to begin, it's like they're written in a different language. I would've given up if I hadn't had my mom around to explain what "baste," "gather," and "blind stitch" meant.
Before I sat down at the machine this go-round, I told myself that this was it. Now or never. I was going to conquer this thing, no ifs, ands, or pouting. My mom walked me through the machine's basic functions and then scurried off to garden or bake a commissioned cake or something. I painstakingly stiched white bias tape onto a pocket. The fabric kept slipping and it was so difficult, but I told myself I couldn't give up. I had to keep doing this even if it killed me, and I was starting to think that it might.
After a tedious hour and a half, my mom came inside and told me I didn't have the presser foot down, which was why my fabric wouldn't stay put. I didn't even know what a presser foot was. Needless to say, I've come a long way in a month.
What I love most about sewing is the deep feeling of connection it gives me not just to the women in my family, but to women throughout history. One of my biggest annoyances in life is people who persist on labeling sewing, knitting, crocheting, or any type of needlework as "anti-feminist" or in some way a step backwards. Debbie Stoller (editor of Bust) effectively counters this in the introduction to her excellent knitting book Stitch 'n Bitch. She explains that domestic arts like embroidery were often the only way stifled women had of expressing themselves; playing with color and pattern were outlets for creativity, not always a necessary chore. In addition to this, she points out that knitting is often looked down upon precisely because it's primarily a hobby for females. Traditional "men's" hobbies (like, for example, fishing) don't have the same stigma. The fact is, many women enjoy these hobbies. We don't need to look at them as trivial ways to pass the time or as a way we allow ourselves to be subjugated. I'm certainly feeling much more powerful just knowing that I'll be able to make several new pieces of clothing.
Here are some of the other things I've made. Definitely nothing spectacular yet, but I'm trying to progress at a natural pace and not attempt anything too difficult before I'm ready. I know how stubborn and easily frustrated I am, and I don't want to burn out.
I made curtains to replace the ugly, dark green lace valances that came with the apartment. I just wish I'd done this sooner.

Also I made this turtle out of a pattern my mom had from the 1970s. I appreciate the attention to anatomical detail.

Last week I completed a pair of PJ pants that I haven't photographed yet, and I'm currently working on a skirt and a quilt (actually, I've been working on this quilt since the SECOND GRADE. Um...yeah). On deck are curtains for my bedroom, another pair of PJ pants, drafting a pattern for PJ shorts, and a really lovely blouse.

Ice Cream Update: Jeni's

You can stop worrying now; I made it back to Jeni's! I know you were like, "Is she ever going to try that Salted Caramel??" This time we went to the Dublin branch (I know I could say "location," but "branch" makes it sound like I was there on official business. Which I was. Official Ice Cream Business.) and it was just as charming, possibly more so, than the location of our previous visit. Downtown Dublin will make you overdose on "quaint." Seriously, it was so cute it was almost too much. This time I got a half scoop of Salted Caramel and a half scoop of Bourbon Butter Pecan. The Salted Caramel had a really wonderful, almost burnt taste. I loved it so much. And the Bourbon Butter Pecan actually tasted like alcohol! Also I'm pretty sure our ice cream scooper was this guy:

Pretty sure.
Perhaps most importantly, this happened:

If I had better/any Photoshop skillz, I would make sure La-duh-loo was sitting right where my purse is. You'll be glad to see that H. is still wearing that hat! He's worn it everywhere for the past two weeks. I'm really not kidding; he's actually worn it every single place we've gone.

Pizza Galore

I made a lot of food for H. this weekend because, clearly, I am the best girlfriend ever.
Saturday night I made a pizza. This was my first attempt at pizza dough and I was pretty nervous, probably more nervous than I should have been, seeing as pizza-dough-making is a relatively small stakes game. But I'm almost as afraid of yeast as I am of drifters, and I spend a LOT of time thinking about drifters. I've never been able to make yeast "work," no matter how many "no-fail" recipes I've tried. I ended up using the recipe from How to Cook Everything, also known as one of my favorite cookbooks ever. It turned out pretty well! This was the pizza before it went in the oven.

H's half is covered in pepperoni, olives, and a cheese substitute called Veggie Shreds, which is made mostly of soy and lots of other things. I was a good sport and ate this on my pizza about a week ago, but in general I don't like to eat anything that isn't made of real ingredients. So, basically anything that's called a "food product" instead of, y'know, food. I can definitely see the benefit of this for people like my boyfriend, though! My half is green peppers, olives, and sliced mozzarella. When I pulled this puppy out of the oven, H said, "It looks like a real pizza!" I'm not sure what he thought I'd been working on; fake pizza? I went ahead and took it as the compliment it might've been intended as. We both really enjoyed this, especially the crust! Mark Bittman was right. He always is.
This morning, I got up early to put together breakfast. You should probably just hire me to come to your house and make breakfast while you sleep, because I am an early riser; I usually wake up a good two hours before H. Today I made pancakes that were unintentionally vegan; I mean, neither of us are vegans, but H doesn't stock dairy products and he didn't have any eggs since he's trying to clear out his fridge before his move. I used this recipe for vegan oatmeal pancakes, and honestly, I didn't expect them to be very good. But, surprise, they basically tasted like regular pancakes! To go along with them, I made some "homefries" that weren't actually fried. I used the "crispy potato" technique discussed in one of my favorite podcasts, Spilled Milk. Basically, you boil the potato chunks awhile, rough 'em up a bit, then put them in the oven with lots of oil (or goose/duck fat, if you happen to have any of that lying around, but H doesn't seem to stock that, either).
Ta-da, breakfast!


I also sautéed some kale to go with mine, but H didn't have any. That boy doesn't eat greens with breakfast. Get outta town.

Ice Cream Obsession: Jeni's

This weekend I "helped" H look for apartments. Mostly this involved me complaining about how ritzy everything was. I just don't like things that look too new, shiny, or uniform. I like character, age, a slight shabbiness, perhaps outdated wood paneling...oh, is that last one just my apartment? Well, the point is I'm not a very useful apartment hunter. But that's okay, because the high point of the day was stopping for food in a cute neighborhood.
I'd wanted to try Jeni's Ice Cream forever. I read about it in magazines, gazed longingly at it in the Dean and Deluca catalog my bosses get in the mail, and pressed my hand forlornly against the freezer case at Whole Foods. Somehow driving, like, 50 miles to get some was out of the question? No longer! I finally had Jeni's ice cream and it was delicious.

Jeni's is famous for flavors like Salted Caramel and Bourbon Butter Pecan, but when it's hot, I need fruit. I wanted to get a scoop of something a little strange and a scoop of something normal that I thought H might try. He refuses to tolerate lactose, but I thought a nice Lemon Blueberry might tempt him. For the wildcard, I chose Wildberry Lavender. The description promised a "complex" flavor. I don't know what that means! It was good, though.

I ate it all. H wouldn't even try it.

I've begun a series of photos of H saying no to dairy. Like this one:

I would highly recommend Jeni's. It's on the pricey side, sure (four dollars for two pretty large half scoops), but they have unusual flavors you can't get anywhere else--Sweet Corn & Black Raspberry, Cayenne Pepper, Pistachio and Honey--and, remember, this is a treat! You don't have ice cream everyday, so when you do you might as well go all out. Don't be like the bitchy lady who exited the store with her four year old and sniped, "Nevermind. We're not getting ice cream. They don't have vanilla. What kind of ice cream shop doesn't have vanilla?" Um, the kind that sells specialty flavors? Also, there was a Coldstone down the street, and I know you can get the Papa Winfrey Special there (vanilla with chocolate chips). I can't wait to go back and get something weirder!