Martha's Latest

The new issue of Martha Stewart Living is out, and while I don't often buy this magazine, I seem to always get it for Halloween and Valentine's Day. I like hearts year-round, so the cute stuff in here is worth the $6 for the magazine. I try not to buy too many magazines these days, but sometimes I splurge. Things I loved from this issue:


The melted chocolate filigree hearts that adorn this otherwise plain cupcake are really sweet and simple. It says to use a parchment bag or a plastic ziplock bag to pipe the filagree, but I tried the plastic bag and it was too hot to handle. It made my drizzles very...abstract in the recipe for peanut butter cookies below. You'll see...

I also loved the article on cake stands. Apparently Martha collects them, and since she's crazy rich she has a gigantic collection:


There were several pages of different kinds, ceramic, glass, milk glass, colored glass, it's amazing the array of choices. I don't have a cake stand, but I've been wanting one. Another "when we move" purchase. As of now, I don't even think I'd have room for a cake stand, so if we downsize in the kitchen by any amount, a cake stand will have nowhere to be! But I like the idea of presenting your food (cake isn't the only thing these babies are for) up on a pedestal.

By far though, the coolest article was about Darcy Miller, who has published books on weddings and is editorial director of Martha Stewart Weddings. As someone big into family history, preserving family history, and museums, this simple yet impactful display really caught my eye.

She has created a display wall in her home with shadowboxes and framed images. Among the regular old family photos are boxes with little keepsakes and photos.


Here's a close up:

One box has a picture from the delivery room, a pic of baby's first sonogram and the hospital ID bracelet. These are things usually kept in drawers and treasured but never really seen by anyone, so I thought this was great. Next to that is a box full of crayons that someone got too old to play with anymore, and another box with a little baby bathing suit! My Little Pony adorns the middle box as well.

Other things from the big wall include: a shadowbox with a bunch of baby sunglasses, with a picture of baby wearing them in the foreground; a picture of a kid in full swim-meet regalia with the winner's ribbon draping the front, a shadow box with tiny dolls in front of a picture of baby playing with them. I don't even have kids and I thought this was awesome! Of course, even the childless among us can do this for other things like concerts that were special, dates or trips where you saved a little souvenir. And the super modern vibe here can be played with as well. You could easily do this with a lot of vintage frames and boxes. Or use cheap wood boxes from Micheal's and glue vintage frames to the front of them to give it some cohesiveness.

This is a cool way to showcase the ephemera or items that are meaningful to you personally, but that nobody would find very meaningful without the juxtaposition of an image or other items for context.

I'm so doing this in the new place!


And now, for the cookie portion of today's post!




It's rainy and windy in Long Beach today, but not so cold that I couldn't walk my dog in flip flops. Either way, it called for matzo ball soup for lunch and home made peanut butter cookies. I used Martha Stewart's recipe, which is amazing. Perfectly soft and not dry like some peanut butter cookies can be. I just jazzed it up with some melted chocolate. Who doesn't love the peanut butter and chocolate combo? Whenever there are mini Reese's peanut butter cups in the house (once a year we get a bag for Halloween and proceed to pretty much eat them ourselves), they don't last long.


I realized that I had some super fine baker's sugar, which I have to use up before we move, so I used that in place of the regular granulated sugar. I don't know if it makes such a big difference in cookies, but the texture of the dough was very smooth. One thing I should probably buy is good vanilla extract. I use the generic brand from the grocery store and I just know the better stuff would add something. Do you use fancy ingredients like that? Is it worth it? Do you really taste the difference?

The Wikipedia entry on peanut butter cookies indicates that pressing the dough is important so that it bakes evenly, but claims that the cross-hatched fork tines way of doing so is not necessary. But then, how would you know it's a peanut butter cookie? It's like sacrilege not to do it, right?


If a cookie happens to break on the way from the cookie sheet to the cooling rack, that's not really my fault, but as the cook, I'm obligated to eat it. It's a safety thing, I think.


My addition is the swizzles of melted chocolate. I just melted semi-sweet chocolate chips and did some drizzling. The recipe says it makes two dozen, but I counted about 4 more cookies than that. I don't like giant cookies though, so maybe that's where me and Martha differ.

Dudes get their own "Cosmo style" list of crap you have to do to be a person

Tom Chiarella has written quite an interesting article on manhood for Esquire that I am totally reprinting here with my hysterical nerdy notes:

A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him -- woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good to watch on television. A man makes things -- a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds -- engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. A man is good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not his career. His job. It doesn't matter what his job is, because if a man doesn't like his job, he gets a new one.

The thing about this list, first of all, is I think I'm 3/4 of a man already. And I really, really believe that kung fu lives deep inside me. Years of Xena and Buffy have prepared me. I will rise to the occasion when necessary.

#1. The Communication Style of Man

A man can speak to dogs.

A man listens, and that's how he argues. He crafts opinions. He can pound the table, take the floor. It's not that he must. It's that he can.

A man can look you up and down and figure some things out. Before you say a word, he makes you. From your suitcase, from your watch, from your posture. A man infers.

This is where Chiarello kind of loses me, because traditionally women are trained (via magazines, advice, television) to infer, to read between the lines. To not take things at face value. Are men trained in this as well? I can't really see it. Most guy magazines are about "getting chicks in the sack" and using whatever tricks you have in your arsenal. So is this about what every man would like to be or what real men (whatever that means) are like in the real world? Ponder that!

#2. Man's Ability to Handle Mistakes

A man owns up. That's why Mark McGwire is not a man. A man grasps his mistakes. He lays claim to who he is, and what he was, whether he likes them or not.

I personally would not antagonize Mark McGwire. He's like a giant muscle man with roid rage. Props to Chiarello for taking his life in his own hands, like a man. A suicidal man.

Some mistakes, though, he lets pass if no one notices. Like dropping the steak in the dirt.

A man can tell you he was wrong. That he did wrong. That he planned to. He can tell you when he is lost. He can apologize, even if sometimes it's just to put an end to the bickering.

#3. Man's Basic Instincts

A man does not wither at the thought of dancing. But it is generally to be avoided.

Style -- a man has that. No matter how eccentric that style is, it is uncontrived. It's a set of rules.

Can something be both "uncontrived" and "a set of rules"?

A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale bosom, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the flesh. He is thrilled by the wrist and the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee.

Apparently a man is always straight. Go figure.

Maybe he never has, and maybe he never will, but a man figures he can knock someone, somewhere, on his bottom.

Note that he refrained from using "ass" and went for the cutesy "bottom."

A man doesn't point out that he did the dishes.

A man knows how to ridicule.

A man gets the door. Without thinking.

He stops traffic when he must.

A man knows how to lose an afternoon. Playing Grand Theft Auto, driving aimlessly, shooting pool.

He knows how to lose a month, also.

If you replace "playing GTA" with "watching HGTV," "driving aimlessly" with "wandering around a book store" and "shooting pool" with "playing video poker" then I am totally a man.

A man welcomes the coming of age. It frees him. It allows him to assume the upper hand and teaches him when to step aside.

Well yeah! Of course men should welcome the coming of age! It's not like you lose your value in society or become associated with the words "crone" "hag" or at best "cougar."

He understands the basic mechanics of the planet. Or he can close one eye, look up at the sun, and tell you what time of day it is. Or where north is. He can tell you where you might find something to eat or where the fish run. He understands electricity or the internal-combustion engine, the mechanics of flight or how to figure a pitcher's ERA.

I'll maybe give you the "figure a pitcher's ERA" but all the other ones I call bullshit on. 9 times out of 10 you're going to get an answer if you ask someone those questions, but those answers are going to be straight-up lies!

A man does not know everything. He doesn't try. He likes what other men know.

A man knows his tools and how to use them -- just the ones he needs. Knows which saw is for what, how to find the stud, when to use galvanized nails.

A miter saw, incidentally, is the kind that sits on a table, has a circular blade, and is used for cutting at precise angles. Very satisfying saw.

A miter saw is one of my dream purchases. Sigh. So satisfying!

#4. The Paradox of Man

He does not rely on rationalizations or explanations. He doesn't winnow, winnow, winnow until truths can be humbly categorized, or intellectualized, until behavior can be written off with an explanation. He doesn't see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand sweep. That's the liberal thread; it's why men won't line up as liberals.

Oh my god, I think men may have invented this, so whatever.

A man resists formulations, questions belief, embraces ambiguity without making a fetish out of it. A man revisits his beliefs. Continually. That's why men won't forever line up with conservatives, either.

#5. Man the Island

A man is comfortable being alone. Loves being alone, actually. He sleeps.

Or he stands watch. He interrupts trouble. This is the state policeman. This is the poet. Men, both of them.

Just blech. That's all I have for this one.

A man loves driving alone most of all.

Driving alone is something everyone should do. For long stretches. It's meditation in a fast-paced world. Seriously. Drive alone without the radio or music and just relax. Or think. Work out your stuff.

A man watches. Sometimes he goes and sits at an auction knowing he won't spend a dime, witnessing the temptation and the maneuvering of others. Sometimes he stands on the street corner watching stuff. This is not about quietude so much as collection. It is not about meditation so much as considering. A man refracts his vision and gains acuity. This serves him in every way. No one taught him this -- to be quiet, to cipher, to watch. In this way, in these moments, the man is like a zoo animal: both captive and free. You cannot take your eyes off a man when he is like that. You shouldn't. Who knows what he is thinking, who he is, or what he will do next.

I have always hated zoos. What does that say about my feelings towards men, Mr. Chiarella?

Star Cover

This cover of the most recent Star tabloid made me sad on a number of levels. I saw it in the grocery store and laughed instantly. Then felt all grey and cloudy inside.


My close analysis:

• If they are bugging Suri's dolls to find out what secrets she tells them, I don't want to live here anymore.
• Who counted the dolls? What intern was charged with such a menial task? What disgruntled nanny tossed off such a statistic to her Star contact? You know they turned in some made up shit, because nobody has exactly 200 of anything.
• I like how "nannies and maids" aren't people. At least not enough, as apparently she spent those days "alone."
• "Lindsey Relapse: Cocaine and Cutting!" has an over-excited exclamation mark at the end. Like they are happy about it. You are showing your hand, Star editors. It's kind of gross seeing the predatory instinct so pronounced.
  
• "Where's Daddy" paired with that picture makes it seem like Brad Pitt is not only a deserter for leaving his rich, nanny-assisted wife with their children, but also possibly a crazy person who may hack them to pieces a la The Shining

My final analysis? The cover story titles for the Star are not about celebrities at all. Really, they are the editor-in-chief's cry for help. Candace Trunzo is the one with the "Lonely Life"

My supporting data? A taste of past cover story titles:

"You're So Pathetic"

"I'm Scared"

"Nicole in Tears"

"Tiresome..."

and finally

"Insane"

Poor, sad Candace. Get help dear.

Nerd Summer

If summer of 2001 was my Fat Summer/Drunk Summer, this is for sure my Nerd Summer. Not that any other summer is not filled with tons of nerdiness (or fatness or drunkeness for that matter), but I am full into my nerdiness here. I have read tons of stuff for the dissertation, but that isn't even what I'm talking about. I read a vampire book series for teens, friggin' Harry Potter, and I started subscribing to the Buffy and Angel comic book series, even though I won't subscribe to my favorite magazine and yet buy it EVERY month (BUST, if you are wondering). Oh, and did I mention that my must see summer movie-list would make a 15 year-old comic-con fan swoon? Sex and the City not included.

Plus the blogging. I should get a merit badge.



Ok, so I took a break today from being frustrated with my writing to see the new X-Files movie. Totally different than expected--less mytharc, more MOTW--but good. I miss these characters so much I would have watched them do paperwork (which, interestingly, they never seem to do despite the mass amounts of it they should have to do to complete their missions). So nice to see Mulder and Scully together again, hanging out with psychics, looking for craziness in the middle of nowhere. It was also nice to see a movie completely set in the snowy snowy east in the middle of the hot, humid summer here in Long Beach. Spoiler ahead
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They totally do it. We don't see it, but it is acknowledged. As is Scully's being "in love" with Mulder and their building of a "home together." It seemed like about time for these people. All the cageyness gone, just real conversations. Some grown up shit. I missed the after-the-credits scene, which sucks. How was I supposed to know? They should tell you on the ticket dammit.
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M.'s parents just left for home, and I can finally relax. I had a great time with them, as well as my other visitors, but there was a lot of crap going on. So tonight I celebrated my "Rancho Relaxo" time by getting several of my favorite magazines and hanging out in front of the televised Olympics (M.'s doing, not mine) while reading them over and over. ReadyMade, Bust, Lucky, a good combo. Ahh....

Now tomorrow, back to work..