A song for the subway

(To the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues” by Johnny Cash)

“I hear the 2 a-comin’
It’s comin’ down the tracks
It’s going to run over
Five little rats
I’m waiting on the platform
And it smells so bad
When I hear that train a-comin’
I’ll tell the rats goodbye”

It’s only one verse, but it’s based on a true story.

The true story is that last night we watched a group of little rats play on the tracks while we waited for the 2 train. I don’t know if it really ran them over or not, but while we’re on the subject, have you ever noticed that rats don’t die when they touch the third rail? At least, I have never seen it happen. Do you think New York City rats evolved to withstand electric shock?

Last night Devin and I got to watch the rats play in the company of my little cousin Gaby and her best friend Efren. It was special because this was her first trip to New York, and I thought I might not be able to see her. I was also super excited to meet her bff. They’ve been friends for what seems like an eternity, and now they’re both in their first year of college, away from home, all the way on the East Coast! (They’re both from El Paso.) I think it’s so cool that they get to be close to each other.

We had dinner at Umami Burger and all agreed that it was not delicious. Maybe our palates are not refined enough to taste the fifth taste, but everything tasted overly sweet to us, which is not great where burgers are concerned. However, it is open late and does have a great mirror for group photos.

~Visual Umami~
~Visual Umami~

This morning I rushed to New Jersey as fast as I could to see my cousins Vanessa and Josh. They were in town for Thanksgiving and their first baby shower (Josh is my cousin by marriage). I only got to see them for a couple of hours, but it was really fun. I watched them pack all the books they got as gifts for their baby and took a picture of some cool found art.

One of these dolls is not like the others.
“One of these dolls is not like the others.”

I also bought Vanessa a book to read on the plane because she accidentally packed hers, and it seemed a grave injustice that someone who took such care to ensure her progeny would have books to last a lifetime would be denied the joy of reading herself! (If I’m being completely honest, I have to note that she is the best at letting me borrow her books and it was a book I’ve never read, so really it’s an investment. Sometimes she even sends books to me all the way from Phoenix because she loves me that much.)

After that, I took the PATH train back to New York, walked through the West Village, and hopped back on the 2 train—no rats this time.

A song for the subway

A Thanksgiving Recipe: Cranberry Sauce

This morning I got permission to share my favorite Thanksgiving recipe from Nextdoorganics. Nextdoorganics is a local food subscription service that Devin and I get on a weekly basis. Aside from bringing us fresh organic fruits and vegetables from nearby farms (and New York City rooftops!), Nextdoorganics also sends weekly email newsletters with recipes, and maintains social media accounts, like this Pinterest, that make it easy to learn how to make new things. We love it because we can pay by the week and skip weeks when we’re out of town. We could also cancel at any time (but why would we want to?). It’s a great way to support local farmers for people who don’t have the funds or stability to join a CSA program.

Anyway, enough with the testimonial, let’s get to the food! Until last year, I’d never made cranberry sauce, but when we got cranberries in our Nextdoorganics package and I saw the recipe in the newsletter, I decided to give it a try. This year I couldn’t wait to make it again. It’s really easy, but the flavors are beautiful and complex. It’s a fancy food with minimal effort, a.k.a. my favorite kind. I like eating it with my Thanksgiving dinner and using it in sandwiches or as a jam for weeks afterward. It’s good with everything!

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Classic Cranberry Sauce

12 ounces of fresh cranberries
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon orange zest
Juice from 1 orange (about 3 to 4 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1 cinnamon stick
1 star anise

Instructions: Add all of the ingredients to a medium saucepan and place over medium-low heat. Simmer the mixture for 15-20 minutes, until the cranberries have burst and the sauce has reduced slightly. Give it a taste (be careful, it’ll be hot!) and adjust the seasonings. You may want it to be a bit sweeter. Remove the star anise and cinnamon stick and discard. Transfer to the refrigerator to chill. The cranberry sauce will thicken as it cools.

A Thanksgiving Recipe: Cranberry Sauce

FRNDSGVNG MMXIV

On Sunday Devin and I hosted a last-minute Thanksgiving dinner. The food was great, but the best part was how many of our friends came with such short notice.

This is what our kitchen looked like before we started cooking. I think it might be the prettiest part of our apartment.
This is what our kitchen looked like before we started cooking. I think it might be the prettiest part of our apartment.
Our living room, ready for friends.
         Our living room, ready for friends.
Here's all the food that came out of the kitchen.
        Dining room table plus food!

About the food: I know Tofurky is controversial among vegetarians (not to mention everyone else!), but I am really partial to the way Devin makes it. He bastes, seasons, and roasts it with pride and precision. It is a whole production, much like baking a real bird might be, so it feels absolutely festive, and it tastes delicious, too! As for my contributions, I am most proud of helping make these rolls, little butternut squash tarts from a word-of-mouth recipe (not pictured), and my very favorite recipe for beets. I could go on and on about those beets with pomegranate and pistachios. At this point, I think I’ve made them for everyone I love.

And the best part...friends!
   Friends!

Fun fact: we met all but one of the friends pictured above in college, in Portland (Oregon, not Maine). How cool is it that we all live in Brooklyn now? It’s kind of mind-boggling, actually. (Lauren, who we met in New York through Tasha who knows her from high school, might as well be an honorary Portlander because she’s been hanging out with us for three years and counting.)  My advice for making friends when you move to New York is…don’t bother. Just bring all the friends you already have. ; )

In between dinner and dessert, we walked to Prospect Park, played American football by lamplight, and ran into a raccoon.

raccoon
      Can you find the raccoon? S/he’s peeking out at the base of the tree like “Are they gone yet?”

Then, we came home and had the most heavenly babka and pecan pie and many other treats I wish I were eating riiiight now.

The whole day was a good reminder for me that having to change your plans can turn out all right sometimes, especially if you have good friends who don’t mind changing theirs.

FRNDSGVNG MMXIV

Gone Girl

I watched the movie Gone Girl, and it was extremely triggering for me. (This post deals with sexual assault and domestic violence, so you may not want to read it. And of course, don’t read it if you don’t want any movie spoilers.)

I started writing this as soon as I left the movie theater. Since then, I’ve talked to a few friends who urged me to read the book before forming an opinion, but I decided against it. In my opinion, it’s important to consider the movie as a stand-alone piece because many, if not most, of the movie-watchers will never read the book. When I was watching the movie, I also found myself thinking about how it would be perceived by someone who doesn’t know the facts on gendered violence and has never taken a Women’s Studies class. This post is meant to offer cultural context for the movie.

If you saw this movie and walked out thinking, “What a crazy bitch” (as I heard many people say as we left the theater) and found the story even slightly plausible, I urge you to consider the facts.

The scenario portrayed in Gone Girl is extremely unlikely whereas the reverse is not. I know it’s “just a movie,” but movies shape the way we view the world, and I sincerely worry that this piece of popular culture will prompt people to doubt survivors and even keep wimyn from leaving abusive relationships or put them in further danger.

The movie is based on a supremely flawed premise that upholds victim-blaming, abuse-denying individuals who call wimyn brave enough to report sexual assault liars and discredit survivors of abuse by painting them as mentally unstable. The movie even features a womyn getting pregnant in order to control a man. It is like someone took a checklist of all the most awful things people say to cast doubt on wimyn who have endured horrible situations and based a movie on the premise that they were true. Sadly, the assault and abuse of wimyn is very real, and it’s very rare that people lie about it. Consider the following:

Until 1920 it was not illegal for husbands to hit their wives in the United States, and it wasn’t until 1970 that it was treated as a serious crime (source).

Until 1993 it was not a crime for husbands to rape their wives in all 50 states (source).

To date, more American wimyn have been killed by their boyfriends or husbands than Americans have been killed by the attacks on September 11th or in the ensuing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (source).

Major news outlets respond by lamenting the jail time rapists must serve and cast doubt on victims, even when the assault is caught on tape and the rapists are found guilty in court (source).

We live in a culture where some people think it’s funny to dress up as a man who hit his partner until she was unconscious (and was also caught on camera) and drag around a doll for Halloween (source).

As for the trope of wimyn getting pregnant and having kids as a way to control men and “steal their money” for 18 years, do you know hard it is to be pregnant? To give birth? To be responsible for a human being? Do you really think people would choose to parent as revenge? And why is birth control seen as a “wimyn’s issue” anyway? If men are really concerned about this, they should always wear a condom (duh) and invest in male birth control.

We have domestic violence shelters for a reason. We have nail polish to detect “date rape” drugs for a reason. We teach girls that walking alone after dark is dangerous for a reason. My grandmother believed it was essential for wimyn to have a way to escape bad marriages for a reason. My mom made me take a wimyn’s self-defense class the second I got to college for a reason. That class was offered at my college for a reason. The term “rape culture” exists for a reason.

UV_RapeCulture_V4
Source: weareultraviolet.org

Let’s not forget what world we live in as we get caught up in a thriller.

Gone Girl

My first zine

Last night I went to a meetup for Rookie, and it ruled! Everyone was allowed to bring either clothes or a zine to swap, and I took it as the impetus to make my first zine. I’ve wanted to make one since I was 15, but it seemed like something really cool people who are not terrified of X-Acto knives did, so I always put it off––until yesterday when I couldn’t procrastinate any longer and just went for it.

Originally, I had planned on making photocopies, but since I left it until the absolute last minute, all I have are these phone photos that I took at the Au Bon Pain where I made it. I’ve never really eaten there, but I highly recommend it as a public space. In the thirty minutes it took me to make this, I watched a very awkward job interview (“Were you fired from your last job?” “…Yes.” “Did you get along with your co-workers?” “…No.”) and a very speedy break-up (it was dramatic and loud but also so fast).

photo 1

photo 2

photo 3

photo 4

back cover

All of the stories are true. Sorry if it’s hard to read the pages. If you click on the photos individually, they get bigger.

My first zine

One dress, two ways: RBG and Audrey Hepburn

The past two days have been a costume dream come true for me. On Friday I was Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. One of the very best things I’ve read all year is her dissent on the Burwell v. Hobby Lobby Supreme Court decision (highlights here), and I count her as a personal hero. Even though she is so often in the minority on the bench, she always seems to have a smile on her face. I imagine her as someone who has a sense of humor and passion for life as strong as her sense of justice. I really want to be friends with her.

And since we’re talking costumes, I must admit I think her sartorial sensibilities are on point. I have a dream of a designer basing a collection on her style and having the clothes manufactured by awesome worker-owned cooperatives that give employees full health insurance coverage while protecting their right to free speech and ensuring they are not disenfranchised from voting, of course. Every dress would come with a handy pocket U.S. Constitution. Wouldn’t that be rad? Won’t you fund my Kickstarter? ; )

Notorious RBG

Me as RBGThe best part of the day was running into some suffragists at the Village Halloween Parade. We screamed in mutual feminist costume appreciation, and took some pictures together.

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Earlier that day I made a little protest pumpkin to put on my desk.

On Saturday I got to wear a costume based on my favorite movie costume of all time: Audrey Hepburn in How to Steal a Million, and Devin was kind enough to dress up as Peter O’Toole (the romantic lead in the film). I don’t have anything intellectual to say about it except that Devin was very concerned about dressing up as a character from a film he’s never seen, and I had to brief him on the plot on the way to the party, complete with the Wikipedia article because my grasp of the movie was not up to par.

My initial summary was, “Well, the costumes are really beautiful, and they sneak into a museum for some kind of art crime. Maybe fraud? Or one of them is an art thief?”  Devin looked at me with disdain. “You haven’t seen it since 2010, and you fell asleep?! What if someone asks us to explain the ending? We’re supposed to know what we are!”

And I thought, “He is my favorite nerd in all the world.” Let it be known that if Devin had been in charge of costumes, we would have carried around a statue rather than a painting because that is “the piece of art that is central to the plot.”

That eyeshadow, though

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So, there you have it. One dress, two ways. Dreams do come true. Special thanks to my mom for buying me this beautiful dress at a consignment store. She always has the best taste!

One dress, two ways: RBG and Audrey Hepburn

It’s in the wave

Photo from Gothamist.com
Photo from Gothamist.com

I’ve challenged myself to write every day for the month of November, inspired by National Blog Post Month (or NaBloPoMo as all the cool moms on blogspot.com called it back in the day). I don’t know if I’ll post every day because that might lead to ill-advised blog posts like, “Do you ever skip going to the gym because your hair looks too good? Me too. The End,” but I hope to write at least 20 by November 30.

And this is my first one.

Yesterday Devin and I went to the Village Halloween Parade for the first time. It was crowded, and I am short, so I couldn’t see much; but I had a very reliable narrator by my side who told me about all the cool puppets and floats.

Devin: Hey! Miss America and Miss Universe are on that float!

Me: The real ones?

Devin: Yeah!

Me: How do you know?

Devin: (thoughtfully) I think it’s in the way they wave.

Turns out, he was right. Whoopi Goldberg was also at the parade (in fact, she was Grand Marshall), and Devin spotted her, too. It must be tough to be famous on Halloween because skeptical people like me just think you have a really good costume.

In my opinion, the best costume at the parade was donned by the Empire State Building, which shone in seemingly every color before settling on a pumpkin theme.

It’s in the wave

In which my nerdy reputation precedes me and I overuse the word “favorite” with good reason

The other day my friend Anja (co-author of the sweetest dessert blog and creator of my favorite hot cocoa) texted me saying that she had an extra ticket to see her favorite artist ever in conversation with Ira Glass (host of my favorite radio show). She said she thought of all the people she knows who love NPR (the official radio station of U.S. nerds, in my opinion), and I was at the top of the list! I was honored. Flattered. Grateful. I felt like a super-nerd, and it felt great.

The only thing I knew about Maira Kalman prior to the event was that Anja’s wedding cake, which she baked herself like a boss, was inspired by Maira’s illustrations. It’s always nice to learn more about what inspires the people who inspire you, so I was excited to learn more about her, but I was completely unprepared. I haven’t seen much of Maira’s work, and already I love her art.

Hearing Ira and Maira talk to each other and make connections between their work, I was mesmerized. They were there to discuss Maira’s new book My Favorite Things and everything they said was so witty. I kept laughing and laughing and turning to Anja, thinking, “Did you hear that? How can they be so funny and insightful?” Especially Maira.

My favorite part of the night was when Ira introduced her by reading her introduction in the book: “The pieces that I chose were based on one thing only––a gasp of delight. Isn’t that the only way to curate a life? To live among things that make you gasp with delight?”

My jaw dropped when I heard that because that’s exactly what I do when I see something I like. Nobody likes driving with me in the passenger seat because I tend to gasp loudly, and without the context gained by being in my brain, it can sound scary enough to slam the brakes (sorry, Mom). And then I have to explain that no, there was no imminent danger. I just really liked the color of that house. Oops.

It’s nice to know that someone is able to dedicate her life to appreciating things and sharing them with others. (Maybe I’m not a terrible passenger, Mom. Maybe I’m just really good at liking things! I wonder if Maira’s family and friends have gotten used to her gasps? Apparently, she likes going on long walks and maybe that’s why…)

The second best part of the night was when someone in the audience asked Ira and Maira, “What is the last job you had that wasn’t connected to your current profession?”

Maira answered, “A maid in an Irish castle.”

And Ira asked her when.

“Oh, this was just last year.”

In which my nerdy reputation precedes me and I overuse the word “favorite” with good reason

One month ago today

peoplesclimatemarch
I believe this photo is from the Associated Press.

On the 21st of September I marched with over 400,000 people to demand action on climate change as part of the People’s Climate March. I had a hard time deciding who to march with. Devin organized university alumni; our church moved Sunday service so that everyone could march together in bright yellow Unitarian Universalist shirts; my union turned out en masse; and of course there were lots of feminist groups. In the end, I ended up marching with the part of my identity that felt most important that day: I marched as an immigrant. I thought of the way my family got stranded driving home after my wedding because of torrential rain, the pictures of drowned cars in the Chihuahua airport parking lot, and the small but highly unusual earthquake of last year. I am not a climate refugee, but I know if we continue on our current path, people will have to flee Chihuaha––it will simply be too hot to survive––and I know New York City will get smaller and smaller as sea levels rise. It is heart-breaking and overwhelming to think about.

But I felt the exact opposite of heartbreak at the People’s Climate March. What I will always remember is holding a moment of silence followed by a wave of cheers to “sound the alarm on climate change.” I got goosebumps as I heard cheers carry over forty city blocks until the wave reached my section on 82nd Street and Central Park West. Then, we erupted in cheers, yells, whistles, laughs, and I thought, “This is the sound of hope, and it is LOUD.”

I do believe that we can change the world, and I know the first step is just knowing that.

One month ago today

On language in childhood

Sometimes I baby-sit two little boys who don’t know I speak English. The first time I watched them, the older one chose a book for me to read to him. “It’s in English,” he cautioned.

“That’s okay. I’ll just read it in Spanish.”

I translate the words as we go along, and so far he hasn’t asked how I am able to read a book in English, in Spanish.

 

On language in childhood