Before Life Got Weird, I Celebrated Halloween
I mentioned in a previous post that my parents came to visit me, for the holidays. OK, just one holiday, but Halloween is one of the coolest holidays ever so the parental visit during this time of year was very important. (Plus it was nice that they were around when Beirut came calling.)

Anyway, this Halloween with the parental unit (the first since 1996 btw), was a fun one. First off, mom and dad took me to Fairway to fill up my cupboards with tasty food (food that I will not really be eating because I don't have room in my luggage for it all). Afterwards I got the folks on the subway for a delicious meal at the Chip Shop. We went to SoHo so mom could do some birthday shopping at SoHo Patch. We then grabbed a quick bite of dessert at The Bakery. Then we rushed back home to have a quick bite to eat before heading to our Halloween festivities.

The beauty of living in NYC, is that I also live close to the Historic Hudson Valley that has charming Stars Hollow-esque festivals like "Blaze" an amazing jack-o-lantern festival that had been featured in some of Martha Stewart's media.

The festival contains a gazillion pumpkins, most of which have been carved to represent a piece of a whole sculpture, like the above mammoth skeleton.

So, I don't have a very good camera for nighttime shots. (I looked for a night feature on my camera, and it still alludes me.) These are more dinosaurs.

Hatching dinosaurs.

Ok, so it wasn't just dinosaurs. I kind of got tired of taking pictures when so many turned out blurry.

The house below is Van Cortland Manor. It looks kind of eery in this shot.

At the end of the tour o' lanterns, we learned the secret to this festival is that most of the pumpkins are not real. I am sorry to reveal this huge secret, but it's probably the only way anyone would want to recreate the spectacular year after year.

The last pumpkin exhibit was the gift shop (no surprise there), but we gave in to the subtle marketing and bought scone mix...that was packaged in Spokane, WA. How ironic that my parents flew all the way to NYC to purchase scone mix they could have gotten at home.

After the festival, my parents and I participated in a time-honored family tradition of getting lost on the way home. In the past, this tradition was observed only when looking for Christmas trees, but I am glad that our inability to read road signs showed up for Halloween.

Beirut and all the Crazy Details

I am pretty sure you have all been waiting impatiently for the details, and since I officially gave notice at work today I can spill.

A couple of months ago a pastry chef friend moved to Dubai to work at a cupcake/American-style bakery. Being a girl that likes to see the world, I was immediately envious and suggested that he tell his boss about me. After all, I happen to work at an incredibly popular cupcake bakery. As it turns out, this friend told his boss about me, and last Monday I was offered a job in Beirut, Lebanon.

I wasn't exactly expecting that location, and I nearly turned them down. It doesn't sound like a very safe option for a pasty American female. However that little voice inside suggested I hear what the bakery bosses had to say, and my roommates and I immediately began to google Beirut to see if it is really as dangerous as we think.

After two phone interviews, answering questions like "will employees respect me," "what language will be spoken in the bakery," and "what voltage does Lebanon use," I felt ready to accept their offer. Don't worry, I contemplated and prayed about the opportunity. It turns out to be the odd answer to some prayers of frustration in my life. I like to travel, and, thanks to a mission and time in France, I like to live outside of the country. I also wish I spoke more French. So besides being an amazing work opportunity, it fills that need to live hors de mon pais, and use that French degree I acquired.

In Beirut I will do pretty much the same stuff that I do here, but more baking and with more travel. According to the new bosses, I will be able to visit Dubai and Amman, Jordan, as well as other future locations. Many Lebanese are French educated, and thanks to French control after WWI, French is the second most used language in the country. My boss will cover my rent, health insurance, and airfare.

Now to answer some of the questions I have received, and other things I have learned:

1. Yes, I am crazy.

2. I won't be speaking full-time French, but perhaps a nice mix of English, French and Arabic, or EngFreBic.

3. I will not have to dress up a boy to go dancing.

4. I do not have to be veiled in public. Or wear a sari. Indian women wear saris.

5. My church is an officially recognized religion, so I will not risk getting arrested while worshipping. Yes, there is a branch. And I had to contact some important people in Salt Lake to get information about the branch.

6. You better come visit me.

7. No, I will not be visiting Jerusalem. If I do, the Lebanese government would not let me enter the country again.

8. If there is another...ummm...conflict in the country, the bakery will send me to another franchise elsewhere in the Middle East.

OK, that's all I can think of right now. Please let me know if you have any other questions. I will try answer them while I am getting ready to ship out. And I will try to keep the blog posted as much as I can.

So that's the scoop!

Two and a Half Years in New York is Enough. Right?
A funny thing happened on Monday. After spending a fun day in the city with the parental unit, I cam home to find an email offering me a job in a bakery outside of New York City. And after some consideration, I have decided to take the job. I am going to pack up and leave Gotham City for a brand-spanking-new-to-me locale. That is clue #1. I am not going to actually tell you where I am going. I'm going to let you guess with some fun facts about the area, and a few pictures. So, clue #1: I have never been there before. Wait, clue #1 is the satelite image above. Clue #2 is that I have never been there.


Clue #3. There are a lot of cedar trees in the area.

Clue #4: It is often referred to as the "Paris of the East."

Clue#5: In the 19th century, the city thrived on exporting silk.

Clue #6: It is believed that this city had the very first law school. Ever.

Clue #7: Possible candidate for the 2024 Summer Olympic Games.

Clue #8: Birthplace of Keanu Reeves, oddly enough.

Clue #9: Listed as one of Lonely Planet's Top Ten Liveliest Cities.

Clue #10: Hottest month: August, with a whopping average temperature of 85 degrees. The coldest month is January and a "frigid" 50 degrees.

I am not sure if there is going to be a prize if you guess correctly, besides the satisfaction of figuring out my misleading clues. But please note that I will be on my way in about four weeks. It is so crazy how life up and changes like that.

Anyway, in a couple of days I will post the answer and additional details about the newest adventure. And trust me, this is going to be an adventure.

Lessons Learned

I think I may have mentioned once or twice that I am kind of obsessed with the TV show Friday Night Lights. Well the third season has begun, and you would think that I am writing about how awesome the plotlines are, but alas, I haven't seen one single episode. No, my love isn't waning...I just don't have directTV. In January I can finally watch the shows on NBC, but that's a really long time, and lets be honest, I am not that patient. I have a friend that will be getting directTV soon...but I want to watch it now! (Picture my five-year-old self pouting and having a minor tantrum because I am not getting my way...) One evening while doing some blog spying, I discovered that someone I know has been watching the new episodes online. Oh, I googled it but couldn't come up with anything that shouted "Watch FNL Season 3 Here" so I was a little frustrated.

I came upon this acquaintance who has been watching FNL, and asked how he was able to watch the show. He told me that he would tell me how...provided that I have no problems with stealing from the internet. I have no real problem with that. (I may or may not have purchased all the songs in my collection.) He emailed me instructions to ummm....downloading available content....and I swear I followed them to a "T"--even though I think we all know that I have limited computer skills.

I downloaded sites to watch shows; a site to search for available content, the first three 3rd season episodes, and apparently--according to the warning messages from Microsft--spyware, perhaps a Trojan horse, maybe some adult content--and other general bad news. So I also had to download an anti-spyware program.

Did I get to watch the coveted FNL episodes? No. They are actually not fully downloaded. After two hours I only had 60% of the first episode, and with all the warning notices from Bill Gates I gave up. Sad huh? I am not actually sure if my computer is 100% safe. I still get warning messages when I check my email. (And I was just about to be a little more involved with online banking.) I will give my little computer a checkup, and hopefully soon my friend will have directTV.

Moral of the story: Patience is a virtue. And don't steal, er download available stuff off the internet...without assistance from someone with computer skills.

And the Heavens Opened...

My Favorite Band For Life's third album was released today. I had a little dilemma about the choice of buying the physical copy of the CD or downloading the music from iTunes. I felt that as a true fan, I should buy the actual disc, but for $11.99 iTunes offered a deluxe version complete with demo tracks, a documentary and extra songs. I think you all know what I chose. (I will probably put the CD on my Christmas list.)

I previewed the album last week on lastfm.com, and so far I like the album. Two tracks in particular ("Lovers Are Losing" and "Again and Again") were immediately stuck in my head, which I consider a pretty good sign. The album is full of familiar Keane traits like soaring anthems, and intense keyboard synths. (I'm probably just making that word up.) This time the band reaches far into the 80's for some New Wave pop inspirations musically, but the lyrics contain the typical depth that I love about the band. Catchy and profound as usual.

Now I just need to hear about US Tour announcements to make my third album joy complete.

A Tree Grows in Washington Heights
About a year and a half ago I took a fancy to growing a lemon tree. I really like Meyer Lemons, but at $4.50 a pound I realized that buying them would break my bank...so why not grow them? It appears that you can just buy dwarf lemon trees and grow those fruits right in your own home. So of course I wanted one for my birthday, and of course my good parents bought me one. When it finally arrived for my 31st birthday, it didn't look too promising. Please see the above exhibit. That little twig didn't look like it was going to be producing any produce anytime soon. I knew it would take some time to get any actual lemons, and I was a little afraid that my black thumb would interupt any future lemon cultivating. It is so fortunate that I just so happen to have an uncle who just so happens to be the head of the horticulture department at Texas A&M. He intervened with some solid advice like watering and making sure that the tree gets plenty of sun. Good advice. That summer my tree, named Magnus (to inspire lemon greatness), spent its days on my front stoop soaking in the rays and getting all big and strong.

I brought Magnus in once the weather grew colder, as per the advice of my wise, plant-friendly uncle, and in December I noticed its first flowers. I was amazed...I was certain I wouldn't see any signs of plant puberty for another year. After all it was still a young tree. Nonetheless, I was glad to see prospects of my own, home-grown fruit. (Am I a bad inner-city parent or what?) The little flowers turned into little lemons and all of a sudden I had twelve little baby lemons.

Most of them matured quickly and fell off the tree without being a useable citrus, but three stayed on and continued to grow. I swear I took pictures of their progress, but I can't seem to find them. But I watched the progress carefully. The lemons grew, but continued to stay green. My lemon advisor warned me that lemons took a long time to mature, but when September rolled around I became a little concerned. Did lemon gestation last as long as human gestation. Longer, apparently. Two weeks ago--ten months after the flowers blossomed--the lemons started to drop off the tree, indicating that they were finally ripe!!!

Yesterday I juiced them with so much pride. I actually grew those lovely litte lemons! I look forward to using them. I squeezed about 1 1/4 cups of juice. One cup is reserved to make a lemon tart for my parents' visit, and the quarter cup I used today as a remedy for laryngitis. My throat feels better already.

Right now Magnus the Tree looks a little sick. I think it was a little too small to produce three large fruits, and it has lost a lot of leaves. I hope that with a little TLC, it will be back in shape to make me some more fruit.

Ummmm...ew. And You're Fired.

At the Bakery we do not do full wedding cakes, but we do get to do fun wedding cupcakes, like the picture above. Part of my job, besides icing the top cake, is to go to some of the receptions to set up the cupecakes and the cupcake trees.

We have been to some really nice reception places in the city, like The Boathouse for example. This past Saturday, we went to the Most Gorgeous Venue ever: The Cipriani Ballroom down on Wall Street. You know you are going to a fancy-pants reception when you see Rolls Royces parked outside. The inside did not disappoint with its marble columns and domed ceiling. After gazing around with our jaws on the floor, we mentioned that we wished that a) we were dressed better, b) that we earned enough money to afford a reception there and c) that we had brought a camera. Sorry.

We immediately got to work setting up the cupcakes. Halfway through our work a girl cme over, admired all the cupcakes, and then stuck her finger in the frosting of one of the cupcakes to taste the frosting. My coworkers and I stared at her with horrified looks on our faces. (This is a complete health code violation.) She simply shrugged her shoulders and explained, "It's okay, I'm the planner." Oh, really. Well if the bride saw her, she would be FIRED. No way would I hire someone who would do that. What was worse: we didn't have a cupcake to replace the one that she stuck her grubby finger in! So I replied to her, "Well, that is your cupcake, then." OK, that doesn't sound like a snappy comeback now, but at the moment all I could think was "There are no words to describe how horrifed I am and how stupid you are." I guess I should have just said that.

All I know is that I will not hire her, and I will probably ban her from coming into the Bakery and touching all the food.

In NYC, When We Go Out to Pizza, We Go to Connecticut
In returning to my tradition of writing past due posts, it is now time to show a few pictures of my Labor Day activities. Already knowing that I would have that Monday off (per usual), I wanted to do something but I was most likely going to just pretend to clean my room. That is, until our friend decided that we needed to get out of the city and take a little road trip up the coast of Connecticut. The planted seed immediately sprouted and the roommates and I went online to rent a car and look up maps to travel to Mystic, CT. Monday morning arrived and we were rearing to go...except for our friend who suggested the trip. He stayed home. No one complained about that. It's hard to play girlie games like MASH and Soul Mate when a boy is present.

The trip started off on the subway, next a bus, and after that a rental car at LaGuardia Airport. Like so many other road trips this summer, I was the designated driver.

FYI, when you live in NYC and want to rent a car Leave the Island! Rental cars are $100 cheaper in the buroughs. Boroughs. Whatevs.

Growing up in the West Coast...aka the Land of Really Big States, it is really curious that one can drive through three, count 'em, three states in a matter of a few hours. We left our house around eight and arrived in Mystic for lunch. And we took the slow road on Route 1 to see the old, pretty Connecticut homes. (How I miss a well-manicured yard!) We ended the day with a jaunt to Rhode Island for dinner.

Mystic, CT is a historic town, even though many of you may only know about the town thanks to Julia Robert's breakthough film Mystic Pizza. There really is a pizza place called Mystic Pizza, and of course that is where we went to eat lunch.

There was a lengthy discussion about whic pizza toppings to consume because we have a vegetarian (me) and a picky eater to consider. I am not sure why the discussion took so long as the results were pretty clear: plain cheese for the dietary challenged, and mushroom/pepperoni for the others.

This roomy took the most, and best pictures.

After our hearty meal, we checked out the town. It had all the touristy knick-knack shops one could expect for the small sea-sidey town. My favorite store was the one with the shoplady who let me try on the vintage rings. (A tip to future suitors: a vintage ring beats a Tiffany's any day.)

What charming Connecticut town doesn't have a little white church building?

The drawbridge. I don't have much more to say about it...but it did remind me a little of the drawbridge in the U district of Seattle. And the one in the Fremont area.

After Mystic, we hit the road to Old Stonington to play on the beach.

And look for Hermit Crabs.

This beach kicks the beaches in Long Island's trash. Did that make any sense?

The reason we went to Old Stonington was to see the lighthouse.

That is now a museum.

We just had enough time to head to Rhode Island for dinner. We wanted to go to the campus of Brown University, but we spent most of our day in Mystic. After a filling dinner in a 50's themed diner, we hit the road for the four hour trip back to the city. To pass the time, we played those girlies games. I would tell you who I married in MASH...but I just can't remember...

More Than a Hair Toss

I have a magic skirt, but I just realized this power yesterday, and I have had the skirt for a couple of years. Since I am not going to post a picture of the skirt (I don't want envious parties to track it down and steal it), I will just give you a little background on this marvelous piece of fashion...and then I will tell you about its magical properties.

A few years ago I saw a picture of a red toile Anthropologie skirt in an issue of Lucky Magazine. The stores in the Seattle area were sold out, and the nationwide search (literally, the shopgirls searched everywhere for me) proved fruitless so I turned to my mom to help me out. I described the garment, and she produced a worthy replacement. I loved it, even though at the time it's best features lied dormant...until yesterday. (Amazing isn't it...I am writing about something that happened yesterday and not two weeks ago.)

Yesterday my roommate and I ventured down to Union Square for a little bit of girl time and retail therapy with her friend (and wife of the playwrite in July's trip to Massachussets). To get to Union Square we have to take two trains: the 1 and the NRQorW. The trip can take up to 40-45 minutes, so it is key to find a place to sit down. We were successful on the 1, but after waiting a really long time for connection the roomie and I walked into an apparently full train. I really didn't want to stand. Fortunately Roomie spied two seats about ten feet away.

As we skipped to the seats I caught the eye of a tall, dark and dashing gentleman sitting in the seats next to the ones Roomie found. He was wearing sunglasses, but I know he was looking at me because he smiled at me, and watched us sit down. I knew right away that he was foreign. he looked foreign, and he and his friend we were not speaking English. I turned my head to pick out the language and look at the language in the newspaper his friend was holding. I assume it was Italian. The newspaper had recognizable characters and well, there are just a lot of Italians in this city. Because I was spying, not-so-secretively I might add, we exchanged a few coy smiles.

All to. soon his stop came. His friend got up, and hoped hoped hoped that the "Italian" was going to stay on. He moved to get up, leaned over and said, "I like your skirt. It is very beautiful." I thanked him while smiling mildly flirtatiously...and watched him leave the train. Immediately Roomie and I started giggling. We kept our eyes on the still-open door and we saw the "Italians" pass by the door one more time (after obviously having gone the wrong direction off the train). And when they passed, the "Italian" looked over his shoulder and smiled at me one more time.

If I haven't said it before, Mom, thanks for the skirt.

Did I Ever Tell You About My Gambian Family?
At the Bakery I have a friend from Gambia that I like to joke around with at times. He has been an employee at the Bakery for some time, but he pretends that he has never been to the original location on Bleecker Street. When I give him a large baking to-do list, he complains that I am mean to immigrants. (That is probably our biggest running joke. Yes, it is a joke. I am not mean to immigrants.) Before I left for my Seattle vacation to attend a wedding, he told me he was getting married. Since I had never before heard him mention a girlfriend, I didn't believe him. No one else he told believed him either. When I returned from my vacation, he was on hisvacation because he had indeed gotten married. To prove it, he invited me to his wedding party in the Bronx. Yes, the Bronx. I asked him if it was all right for a white girl to go to the Bronx, he reassured me by saying that Italians lived in his building. I was only mildly relieved.
My next question about his party was what he wanted for a wedding gift. The term "registry" was mildly foreign. He used a registry to find a gift for our boss when she got married, but I don't believe he thought that type of technology applied to him. My coworkers and I asked what he wanted, and this is the list he came up with: a new hat, a watch, and light bulbs. I bought him some nice energy saving lightbulbs, but managed to break them.
I wasn't sure what to expect at the party. My friend said that there would be food and music...and that is all the info I got. It wasn't enough, really, as this party was very traditional and totally interesting. When I safely arrived at his apartment (in a neighborhood that was much cleaner than my own), there was only a handful of people: my friend, his friends, our boss and her husband (the only other white person besides myself). Loud African music was playing in the background, and BBC news was on the television. I am not sure why the television was on, I only imagine that they kept it on so that they could find out if Ramadan was going to officially start the next day. After about twenty minutes my boss, her spouse, myself, and a couple of other people were handed plates of food: chicken and spicy rice. The wierd thing about being served the meal: the party hadn't officially begun. Sure, we were told that the festivities commenced at 6:00, but apparently no one was going to show up until 8:30 or 9:00. So we all kind of stared at each other for a while. My boss had to leave around 8:00, and with her she took her spouse, leaving me as the sole white person/native English-speaker/non-Muslim. But that was fine with me.
During my French studies, I took a class in African Literature, and along with reading novels written by leading Senagalese authors we also learned a lot about African culture. Certainly some cultural aspects vary between tribes, but some of the customs are found in many tribes/countries. Thanks to that class, I wasn't totally clueless about the evenings events.

Around 9:00, all the women showed up wearing their traditional colorful dresses and ornate jewelry. I felt completely underdressed. The women had an important role at the party. Traditionally when the bride comes to her grooms house with the griots (tribal elders/poets), his friend's wives barricade the passage demanding money from her before she can pass. This process is very loud as the women demand more money and the griots sing about the goings on.

Here are the backs of the women blocking the way. They were also blocking my vision a little.

Finally she and her family makes it through. For some reason that I couldn't totally figure out money changed hands rather frequently. First the bride gave money, then it looked like people were giving it back to her. (I was concerned that I should have brought some money. I had money, but I was going to use it as emergency taxi money in case the Bronx got dangerous.) here the bride's mother is giving her money. More dowery?

The griots took turns singing; it was incredibly cool even though I had no clue what they were saying. After singing, the griots talked about the gifts, and then I think they asked for money because more women took money out of their handbags. The gifts were more traditional than the ones that my friend asked for. People brought several comforters, dish sets, cannisters--and multiples of each item. (Something they could have avoided if only they registered.)

Here I am with the bride and groom. I think I am the only one aware that a picture was being taken. Boy am I white.

I got to hold a cute little baby that night. She was a sweetheart.

As I left my friend showed his gratitude for my presence at his party, by saying that we are now family. Don't we bear a strong resemblance? If it works, I have attached two videos so you can get a glimpse of what I experienced that night. Enjoy!

As I mentioned, like, a month ago, I was able to go to Seattle for a family wedding. I must say that I have been completely blessed to have grown up with my cousins. So it was a HUGE treat to be there for my cousin's nuptials. She looked beautiful (as usual) and the groom, whom I met during the trip, seems like a stellar fellow. He knows some of my NYC acquaintaqnces so that boosts his coolness quota.
On to the pictures! The above photo is of the happy couple as they exited the Seattle Temple. I must say that the bride chose her gown perfectly. I am a huge fan of the tea-length dress (I aspire to have my own tea-length wedding dress one o' these days), but since the Seattle weather was abnormally scorching, she chose the breeziest option. Plus she looks fabulous. The groom looks quite dapper as well.

This little cutie belongs to another cousin of mine. At two years old, this solid angel is the life of the party. She was born after I moved to NYC, and I was very sad to miss it, and a little sad that she doesn't really know me, but she did warm up to me a little by the end of my visit.

The mother of the cute little tyke above is a fantastically creative person, (well, all my cousins are and I am sometimes envious of their abilities) and she is responsible for the gorgeous design for the reception. While looking at the forthcoming photos you must remember that the event took place at a church.

The reception was held at the first LDS church builidng in Seattle--which fortunately has a lovely courtyard--perfect for mingling.

My friend at the blog "Where Flowers Bloom" (totally tried to add a link, but failed) flew in from SLC to help out with the bouquet and flowers. I loved the combo of the orange and green flowers. It was bold and unexpected.

My talented mom was in charge of the food. She needed a cute apron, and I found this one at Anthropologie. I love that store. The menu included chicken salad on cream puffs, pulled pork sliders on homemade buns, a couscous salad, and a spinach salad. The popular beverage table was filled with fun bottled drinks: key lime soda, root beer, and Mexican Coke (for the cane sugar).

More pictures of flowers. (I could have arranged the pictures a little better, but I hadn't come up with the story flow when I downloaded the images.) Anywhoo. The bouquet. The bride actually had two, one to hold and one to throw. The one she tossed was actually a bundle of smaller bouquets (providing marital luck to several ladies). I even caught one. Stay tuned for news of my wedding! Or perhaps when I go out on a date...

I even loved the boutonierres. I am not sure if I spelled that right. (A B.A. in French, and what good is it?)

The candy bar. I made a few trips to this place. I had forgotten how good malt balls were.

Instead of a traditional white, towering cake, the happy couple chose a few of their favorite cakes to eat: pink champaigne cake, pistachio cake, carrot cake, Australian Lambingtons, and Jacob's Chocolate Cherry Cake. The Lambingtons were my favorite. They are the little square cakes that mildly reminded me of Hostess Snowballs, but a trillion times better. I love snowballs, so you can imagine how much I loved those little guys. The Lambingtons didn't have marshmallow or a creamy center; they were simply a cube of vanilla cake surrounded in chocolate and coated with coconut. So good.

I was actually responsible for making the Chocolate Cherry Cake. I was glad to put some of my skills to work at the celebration.

The last picture I have for you is a close up of the great little oragami lanterns my cousin made. When the sun went down, these tiny cheery little lights added extra ambiance to the already fabulous reception. Good job family! And another Congrats to the Bride and Groom. I swear, your gift will be in the mail soon.