Generosity

Well, friends, 'tis the season and all that. The weather here in the NYC has been unseasonably warm, and yesterday while lunching in a Murry Hill diner, I found it a bit disconcerting to hear Christmas muzak. Thanksgiving (a.k.a. Turkey Day in the US of A - I almost died the first time I heard someone unironically wish someone else, "Happy Turkey Day!" because, hilarious) is on Thursday, and Christmas just a month after that and there's all kinds of consumerism to be had between now and then.

I've been diligently tagging gift ideas on the internets but so far the only thing I've purchased is DLang's Xmas non-surprise present (tickets to the Bills game, in Buffalo, on Christmas Eve, because I'm totally the best wife ever, right babe?). I'm hoping that once it snows I'll feel more spendy and maybe even get inspired to make something awesome for my friends. A couple of years ago I gave people homemade spice rubs, which were really fun and easy to make. The year I had knee surgery I knit a lot of scarves, and hand-made winter accessories are still an option, especially for the toddlers on my list (at least, the ones living in the North). My brother's ex-girlfriend has themes for her Christmas gifts - one year it was cuddling, and she gave us all blankets and hot chocolate, which I think is really awesome.

Anyway. In all this thinking about giving and generosity it occurred to me that all of us have gifts for people around us that don't cost us anything. This week, I'm going to challenge myself to give something every day in the form of a sincere compliment, preferably to a stranger.

Want to join me?

Dear Internet: I am not cool.

Dear Internet,

Today I took a class to learn to make pop-up greeting cards. On Thursday night I excitedly shopped for supplies (like the baking supply place, I really shouldn't be allowed to walk into a stationery store without adult supervision). $75 later, I was equipped with, among other things, a self-healing cutting mat, an X-Acto knife, and a bone folder. W00t!

I arrived at the class bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to cut-and-paste my way to awe-inspiring greeting cards. The first thing the teacher did was show us how to use a roller rubber stamp. Yes. A rubber stamp. Now, here's where I'm going to sound like a big snob and probably offend someone you know (but bear with me, OK? Because I swear I'll redeem myself). I'm, well, not crazy about stamping. It's one of those things that I look at when I'm at Michael's and think, "Hm, those are cute," and then go look at supplies for whatever legitimate craft I'm shopping for.

Anyway, the instructor presented us with the rubber stamp and told us how to roll it on the first piece of cardstock as the first step in making a simple "step" pop-up card. Cutting, folding, colouring-in, and pasting ensued, and within half an hour, voilà! One pop-up greeting card, replete with hand-coloured farm animals.

Despite the first card's creation requiring liberal use of rubber stamps, I assumed that, you know, not *all* of the rest of the cards would employ stamps. I was wrong. Each and every card not only employed rubber stampage, many required the use of several stamps in a set. These stamping sets are sold in catalogues, and if one is so inclined, one can host a "stamping party" (à la Tupperware party) with kickbacks (free stamp sets!) for the hostess, etc.

I haven't redeemded myself yet, have I?

OK, Internet, I admit it, I really enjoyed the class. The pop-up techniques are smart and easy and yield really cool results (you'll see!). I'm still not going to run out and buy a bunch of rubber stamps (although I admit that I've had my eye on a few at Paper-Source, like this one and this one, in case you're Christmas shopping). I definitely underestimated the popularity of stamping as a hobby, and the skill of the people who are really good at it!

After the class, I left L a message to tell her what I'd been up to, including a warning that she better not tell anyone because it's totally not cool. She called me back and crazily coincidentally, she'd been out buying stamps for her Christmas cards! (I don't think hers are quite as, um, cute as the ones we used today.) I then stopped by DLang's office to show him and Dr. Funstuff the fruits of my labours. They were surprisingly impressed, and DLang even seemed OK with the knowledge that his wife is now 32 going on 50.

Love,
Gillian

P.S. I didn't just realize that I'm not cool. I've known it for a while.

P.P.S. I still don't think "scrapbook" should be used as a verb.

Finally Fall

Today is dark and smells like rain and feels like fall.

Finally.

I Heart NY

After a 4 year hiatus, I returned to California this year. Twice. The first time was for a short visit in the Spring. I played in the Pacific Ocean (literally - on that visit, I surfed for the first time). I marveled over the green, which is indescribably different from the green anywhere else I've been. I talked tech with my friends and laughed at all their geeky jokes (especially the ones involving regular expressions). I inhaled fresh eucalyptus and jasmine and swooned over citrus trees (which are magical to me).I even brought back a suitcase full of Meyer Lemons, which are yellower and juicier and sweeter than regular lemons, and made marmalade from them when I got home.

The second visit was this Fall for the marathon, and that trip included stops at the Santa Cruz Monarch Butterfly Preserve and the Monterey Aquarium, and the most amazing walks on the beach I've ever experienced.

And now I'm back in New York, and after all that romanticizing about the West Coast, I've decided to remind myself why I fell in love with this city in the first place.

I love the New York City subway system, aka the MTA. I love that you can go anywhere in the whole city (and all the boroughs!) for only $2, and not only do you not need a car because the subway is so awesome, it would really be a pain in the ass to have one.

I love Time Out NY. The Get Naked 2006 Sex Poll results published in this week's issue had me laughing out loud. And I wasn't just laughing because Jamie Bufalino is hilarious, but because NY is full of freaks, and I love them, too. (In finding those links I just discovered that TONY has a blog! Sage, meet TONY blog. TONY blog, meet Sage.)

I love New York Cake Supplies. It costs me $60 just to walk into this place. I used to work only 4 blocks away, which was much more dangerous. Rest assured, I'll be making a special pre-Christmas-cookie-baking trip.

Want to take a class? On anything AT ALL? NY has one. This Saturday, I'm attending a class about how to make pop-up greeting cards. (Yes, that does mean I'm upping the ante for your next birthday card.)

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon Inflation - I'm there. (A few years ago DLang and I went to the parade itself, and it must have been the coldest Thanksgiving Day Parade EVER, and he is a really good sport.)

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Sing-Along - I'm extra there.

New York City is the culmination of your wildest fantasies: available 24/7; wearing whatever you want, whenever you want; willing to keep you up all night for whatever amount you can afford to spend. It will feed you any type of cuisine at any time, day or night. It will show you energy beyond what you thought possible from a city.

And, it will inspire you.

P.S.

After half a dozen attempts to write an entry about inspiration, I'm going to just admit to feeling uninspired and instead write a P.S. to the other entries I've written so far this month. Inpsiration will be here any day now! Check back early and often.

P.S. Brianna is my sister-wife.

P.S. You're all invited.

P.S. Despite the block, I managed to eke out three full paragraphs!

P.S. Folding all that butter into the dough was really, really fun.

P.S. I froze a few croissants and they're even awesome reheated.

P.S. My Christmas shopping is going to be way more fun this year, too.

P.S. The next Yoga Journal article I received was about Personal Dharma, and, Hi Yoga Journal! I know you can see me right now!

P.S. I also failed to post on November 8, which means I failed the challenge (but I'm still going to update daily for as long as I can, even if it's with filler (like this entry)).

P.S. Target.

P.S. The Nike and Dove "real women" ads are awesome.

P.S. Pretty good list, eh?

P.S. Feelings are irrational, too.

Luck

A few weeks ago, I broke a mirror. I was getting out of the shower, and I knocked the hand mirror in the bathroom off of its little hook. Smash.

I was a little bummed. I'm not terribly superstitious, and will deliberately walk under a ladder now and then to tempt fate a little, but the mirror thing doesn't happen very often. That was on a Thursday. The following week, I was a disaster.

On Monday morning, I was carrying my yoga bag, a coffee, my backpack, and the newspaper when I stepped on the subway. When the train started, I dropped and grabbed for everything in the most comical way possible. The newspaper (tucked under my arm) slipped, so I reached for it with my coffee-hand, in the process dropping my coffee (which miraculously didn't spill!). I reached for the coffee with the arm holding my yoga bag, which I then also dropped. I burst out laughing, and honestly I'm not sure how my fellow F-trainers kept a straight face, because I felt like a Looney Tunes cartoon.

Tuesday, I went to the deli next door to purvey supplies for Waffle Wednesday (a monthly tradition wherein we eat waffles for breakfast at work - I highly recommend it). As I crouched down to stash the maple syrup in a low cupboard in the kitchen, the seat of my brand new pants tore neatly - about 4", right along the seam. I managed to make it back to my desk undetected and wrap a sweater around my waist until I could slip into the ladies' room to change into my running clothes (luckily, it was a training night).

Wednesday I attended a job fair in my hometown. After the event ended, my co-worker and I were happily driving along when a police officer appeared in front of the car, waving a radar gun. That's right, I got a speeding ticket. The officer said, "Unfortunately for you, we're in the middle of an anti-speeding campaign." Right. The ticket cost more than my return flight from NY to Toronto. I'm not even exaggerating.

The next morning, exactly one week after a little piece of shattered glass cost me $243, a pair of pants, and my dignity, I found a four-leaf clover on the way to work, and my luck has been on an upswing ever since.

Wikipedia defines superstition as "the irrational belief that future events are influenced by specific behaviors, without having a causal relationship." Irrational? Maybe. Also irrational, but worth considering: If we believe we're lucky, might that make it true?

Canadianisms

Brianna's recent post about Local Language reminded me of a few Canadianisms worth noting:

Point Form Use: "Instead of writing in paragraphs, just do the outline in point form." Point form is kind of like a bulleted list, although I remember having been taught that it definitely used complete sentences (just not necessarily paragraphs). Surprisingly, Wikipedia doesn't have an entry for point form, but a Google search yielded one decent example of point form in action.

Soaker Use: "When I stepped off the curb into that puddle, I got a real soaker!" Synonym: a wet foot.

Double-double Use: "Large coffee, double-double please." Meaning: double-cream, double-sugar. Most commonly heard at Tim Horton's.

Hard Done By Use: "I know, the girl at Tim Horton's forgot to put sugar in your coffee even though you ordered double-double, then you stepped in the puddle and got a soaker. You're so hard done by." The intarweb found an accurate definition of this one: "If you feel hard done-by, you feel you have been treated unfairly." Also a really great Tragically Hip song from their 1995 album "Day for Night."

Also worth noting are these Canadian-American translations:

Physiotherapy (Can.) == Physical Therapy (U.S.)
Tensor Bandage (Can.) == Ace Bandage (U.S.)
Kraft Dinner (Can.) == Kraft Macaroni & Cheese (U.S.)
Polysporin (Can.) == Neosporin (U.S.)
Neo Citran (Can.) == TheraFlu (U.S.)
Two-four (Can.) == Case of beer (24 bottles) (U.S.)
Mickey (Can.) == Fifth (of alcohol) (U.S.)
University (Can.) == College (U.S.)
Timbits (Can.) == No equivalent. Sorry.*


*Pronounced "soary," and used liberally.

Body Image

The other night I tried on a pair of Gap jeans that I bought 2 years ago. I remember buying these particular jeans just before going to Wisconsin for my godson's welcoming ceremony. When I tried them on recently, I found that they fit about as well as they did when I bought them. Makes sense: At that point, I'd just finished the triathlon and I weighed about what I do now.

There is one major difference to these jeans now versus when I bought them in 2004. Back then, I thought they kind of made me look - sing it with me, girls! - fat. Now, I think they look awesome. Obviously, my ass is the same size as it was 2 years ago. I was in pretty good shape then, as I am now. So what gives?

I have a whole bunch of theories and speculation about this, and most of it is better said by someone like Naomi Wolf than by me - plus, there are about a whole bunch of really good blogs that you could read on the topics of body image and weight loss and exercise. The one thing that I keep coming back to for myself is this:

I ran a marathon.

I had absolutely no idea how empowering it would feel to have run a marathon. (I know that if my friend A reads this, he'll laugh his head off and will call me to tell me how ridiculous I sound, and mock the whole idea of grrl power, but, dude, call me after YOU run a marathon and then we'll compare notes, OK?) I felt like this a little bit after the triathlon, but definitely not to the same degree. I'm sure the difference in scope of the two events themselves was a contributing factor - Nike puts on a pretty good show! - but it was more than that. The training was more difficult, and often lonelier. I had to dig deeper and look for inspiration more often, both during training and during the race itself. A few minutes after I crossed the finish line, I started crying, because I felt overwhelmed by the achievement - and then I looked around and saw the 15,000 other runners who'd just accomplished the same thing, and my heart swelled and my pride expanded to include all of us. We rock.

The marathon was 3 weeks ago. Since then I've run only once, in a 5 mile race. I've bought a new pair of jeans that I thought looked pretty good, but that I might return, since I've rediscovered this pair from the Gap. I've eaten too much Hallowe'en candy and slept 'til noon and basically committed all of the 7 deadly sins that I could remember. And since the marathon, when I pass a plate glass window and my eyes immediately go to my thighs and I think, ugh, I quickly remember that I ran like a girl for 26.2 miles BECAUSE of those thighs, and I quietly thank my body and instead look up to see if I'm having a bad hair day.

Whiskers on Kittens

A few of my favourite things:

1. Memphis. She's big, orange, amazingly soft, loves people, plays with ribbons, and purrs almost constantly. The only exception to her perfectness is her habit of waking us up at 6:30am to be fed, which DLang usually handles (thanks babe!) so I can't even complain too much about that.


2. The United States Postal Service. I *heart* USPS. From self-adhesive postage stamps to Saturday mail to online label printing, items related to the USPS dominated my USA-list when I was deciding whether to move to the States. Sorry Canada Post. USPS #1!


3. Geeks. Geek stuff. I still haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm definitely happiest when I'm around people who make jokes using regular expressions. W00t! (Last summer I spent a lot of time hanging out with chefs, and I might be equally enamoured with people who make jokes about truffles.)


4. Awesome stationery. Yesterday I saw these Christmas cards in a store window, and even though I have about 16 boxes of holiday cards at home that I bought on sale last year, these are the absolute most perfect Christmas cards I've ever seen and I'm totally buying them, and now that you've seen them, too, your little fingers will be aquiver with excitement when you receive your card from me this year.


5. Photoshop. Just look what this amazing piece of software can do.


6. Web 2.0.


7. Cookies. All things cookies, really: Baking them, eating them, looking at them, reading about them.


8. Scrabble. Also: Winning at Scrabble.


9. Things that are orange.


10. Cheering. I'm pretty sure that if we as a population cheered for each other more, we'd all be a lot happier. I would also like to see the use of theme songs at work. My idea is, you'd select a theme song, and when you arrive to work in the morning, your Bluetooth-enabled device would cue-up an MP3 player. When you get off the elevator at your floor, your song is playing either until you login to your computer, or until the next person arrives - whichever happens first.


11. Laughing out loud. Reference: This Onion article.


12. Glue sticks.


13. Answering the phone. Really. I love that it's a surprise. For this very reason, I won't get Caller ID. Call me!

Failure

Last night I went out for a drink with my friend L. In addition to being a brilliant and successful businesswoman, L is also very competitive. We were talking about failure, and she told me about an experience she had in college doing a ropes course. She and her partner were doing really well, and were one of the few teams to make it to the most challenging high course. As is her nature, L was determined that they would make it across. They were almost at the end when they slipped and fell, and were caught in their safety harnesses. Her reaction to the failure surprised her. "It was great!" she said. "It was actually really fun. I couldn't believe that *that* was what I'd been afraid of!"

Another friend speculates that we procrastinate to avoid failure. She writes, "the reason most procrastinators procrastinate is that, oddly, they're perfectionists -- they want whatever they do to come out perfectly, so they put off starting, because if they don't start, they can't mess up or do a less-than-flawless job" -- in other words, they can't fail.

s/they/we/ -- I'm a pretty good procrastinator myself, and as much as I hate to admit it, at least some of my procrastination stems from fear of failure.

The problem with not starting equalling not having to worry about failure is that not starting also means not having a shot at success. Admittedly, I try a lot of stuff, but lately I tend to choose the stuff at which I have a pretty good shot at success. I've been thinking lately that I'd like to get better at, or at least more accepting of, failing. (I mentioned this idea to a friend who asked, "If you try to fail on purpose, and fail, aren't you succeeding?" Heh, good point.)

In thinking about this topic, I realized that I've had a few failures that really deserve to be celebrated. In the interest of baring my soul to the intarweb (and also in an effort to complete this entry before midnight), here goes nothing.

1. I was fired. I worked for a hobby/craft store (that Google can't locate, so it must not exist anymore) in Conestoga Mall. The whole boyfriend thing was new, and I talked to him on the phone a lot, and, you know, the model airplane boxes weren't all lined up at the end of my shift - definitely deserved. I don't know if my mom even knows about that one. (Hi, Mom!)

2. I was fired. No, that isn't a typo. The second time was from Kinko's, for making fake ID. I've only recently started telling people about this one, because, well, it's embarassing to be fired from a company that practically prides itself on poor customer service, and also because my Photoshop skills were seriously lacking at the time and the ID was ghetto.

3. I was kicked out of school. Oh my God, I can't believe I'm going to publish this information. I know at least 2 and maybe 3 people from work read this blog, and I'm hoping that my reputation of awesomeness is strong enough to survive this confession, so here goes. I'd had a rather difficult term at school (OK, a rather difficult 4 years) and I was working for the summer at Corel when I received a call from the registrar's office. The woman told me, without much preamble, that I'd failed 2 courses in the semester I'd just completed, which put me over the Math faculty's sucking threshold of only allowing 4 failures. She said the faculty had asked that I "not return" in the Fall. I was mortified. (The good news was that I had earned enough credits to get a degree anyway, just not an honours degree and I didn't quite finish my minor.)

It's liberating and even a little bit fun to recount these tales -- is that all I was afraid of? We all fail in big ways and small ways, and a lot of life is about shots on goal and taking chances and making spaghetti -- throw it against the wall to see if it sticks. And it helps to be proud of the failures along with the successes: Your failure might be the permission someone needs to try something at which he or she will be a roaring success.

Agency

agency. plural agencies /-siz/

1. The faculty of acting or of exerting power; the state of being in action; action; instrumentality.

I recently took an online personality test and was particularly interested in one of the results: Agency. At first I didn't even know what "agency" meant. The site describes it as "How much you believe you determine your own outcomes. High means you believe that you have control over your life. Low means you believe that other factors--such as chance, fate, and powerful others--influence your life." I am not fatalistic. I have always believed that I have control over the choices I make, and that these choices determine my outcomes. Until recently, I've been very sure of these beliefs.

In June of this year I completed a 9-month yoga teacher training. A big part of yoga is acceptance: Acceptance of the body, mind, and spirit in the present moment. One of my teachers stated it best when she told us that "yoga is non-judgmental self-awareness." Increasing my awareness (and acceptance) has made me start to realize that choice isn't always part of the equation. For example, in my yoga practice, one day I might be able to go into the full expression of trikonasana, while the next, I might only be able to bring my supporting hand down to my shin or even my thigh. In that moment, I can't make a choice that will change the outcome. In practicing yoga I am asked to let go of my desire to control my body in the posture. I am asked to accept the posture as my body is capable, in this moment. Here's where it gets tricky: The idea isn't really to try to accept, because trying implies effort. Instead, I allow myself to surrender to the moment.

It's easier said than done.

Last night I discussed the choice vs. chance conundrum with my therapist. "What I don't understand," I asked him, "is how much of life is choice, and how much is chance?"

"Well," he said. "What if it's 60-40?"

I laughed. What difference does it make?

Last week, a Yoga Journal article about change serendipitously appeared in my inbox. (As an aside, sometimes these articles are so scarily applicable to whatever is going on in my life that I'm sure the editors are spying on me.) The article talks about "accepting [one's] utter lack of control," and as I read that, and learn more about Buddhism, I struggle with the concept of "utter lack of control." The article continues: "If you stop grasping for control of the uncontrollable, you can learn to breathe through it all." But what's uncontrollable? Where do my choices come into play?

I suddenly realize that I've been confusing choice with control. Choices are important. Even more important is recognizing what choices to make, and when to make them. Again, this is easier said than done, and I come back to that non-judgmental self-awareness as a means to identify and act on the right choices. Meditation can lead to acceptance and surrender, and in turn to clarity in making choices. It's not about passivity or inaction, but about recognizing that sometimes (often!) our plans, choices, and actions aren't going to yield exactly the results we'd envisioned, and rolling with it anyway. (That same wonderful yoga teacher also told us that, "planning is priceless; plans are useless.") As I write this entry, I am reminded of the Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

As for the personality test, I scored 50/100 for Agency, which, at this point in my life, seems about right.

Community

A geek-friend of mine forwarded me this email that he'd sent to some other friends on a recent Saturday night while exploring del.icio.us for the first time:

oh my god

tag clouds are so cool when you start playing with friends. j, v, your tag clouds require, like, a lot of scrolling, dudes. this is so neat. j, you gonna lay some midi beats on us, or what?

dude, i'm like surf'n tag clouds on a saturday night. this ain't your parents world no more

d, can I call you v - that's got flooow... sorry, i'm a dork...

i've invited a few more friends to come play...

I know exactly how he feels, and I haven't even smoked anything.

I've heard about Web 2.0 for a while now, but I didn't get it. I guessed (partially correctly) that it was the regrowth of the technology market after the bubble burst in the early 00's. I thought maybe it was about a set of new and hot programming languages about which I didn't concern myself too much since I'm now in management and have gotten soft about these things (but that's another post).

I was partially right, but mostly wrong.

It's only in the last one or two months that I've skimmed the surface of Web 2.0. I have had a Flickr account since May, and set up my 43 Things page in August. I started using del.icio.us about a month ago, and I'm still getting used to it. I feel like a late adopter, and partly (and probably unfairly) I blame NY, because when I lived in California I was so immersed in All Things Geek that I'm sure that if I still lived there, I'd have been a much earlier adopter of these tools.

But here I am, and these tools are probably better-honed than they were two years ago, and I feel incredibly fortunate to know about them now.

The idea of community is very appealing to me. One of the things I find difficult about living in NY is that, because I (and I think many of my fellow New Yorkers) are physically so close to other people all the time, I tend to retreat whenever I have the chance. The constant physical proximity usually doesn't result in a personal connection, and the tendency to look for personal space can result in missed opportunities to connect with people on a deeper level. This phenomenon is hard to describe accurately, because for the most part I'm pretty social. To put it another way: Because personal space is hard to come by, I tend to choose it over a social activity whenever I can. My experience of living in the suburbs was kind of the opposite: Because I spent so much time alone (in my car, for example), I took more advantage of social events.

Enter Web 2.0. Enter folksonomies and tag clouds and The Long Tail.

I'm infatuated with these ideas. I'm infatuated with the idea that, with the right infrastructure, millions of people can contribute to each other's individual and collective experiences. When I set up my 43 Things page, the first goal I wrote was make croissants from scratch. To my surprise, only one other person had listed that as a goal. On a whim, I sent her email commenting about our shared goal, and found out that she's my age and lives in Australia, and that we have a bunch of other things in common as well. (We've corresponded briefly by email; I plan to send her a link to the croissant-making recap.) I've been inspired by other people's goals on the site and added them as my own. Since setting up my page, I've completed two of my goals, written about other things that I've done, and been just a little more conscious of how I spend my free time.

Is all of this attributable to Web 2.0? Maybe, maybe not. But my use of these collaborative sites has certainly increased the amount that I share and connect with other people.

As for The Long Tail, the gist of it is that most of the content (movies, music, books, etc.) that's been available in the past was the so-called blockbuster hits, but with the proliferation of the ability to create content cheaply, to review and recommend content, and to make the content available, we can now find content that is more suited to our tastes. And we can find that content more quickly. If nothing else, reading The Long Tail made me aware that my web-surfing of late is more focused and productive; that is, the sites and articles I find are more relevant to my specific interests than what I found a few years ago.

And so the community grows, one goal, photo, place, tag, person at a time. As my friend says, this ain't your parents' world no more.

Croissants Part 2

Last night before bed I reviewed the instructions for Part 2 of Gillian's Adventures in Croissant-Making. I wanted to make sure that waking up at 5:30am would give me sufficient time for the rolling, cutting, shaping, rising, baking, and eating I'd need to do before going to watch the marathon. I confirmed that it would. I also confirmed that I am too immature to bake croissants, as the following instructions made me snicker: "Holding short side (side opposite tip) of 1 triangle in one hand, stretch dough, tugging and sliding with other hand toward tip to elongate by about 50 percent." Heh. (I read it to DLang who naturally thought I was trying to seduce him.) (Hi Mom. Sorry.)

I hauled myself out of bed at 5:50 to begin the festivities. First, I cut the dough in half and put half back in the fridge to make the princess ring. Next, I rolled the dough into a 12"x16" rectangle, and cut that in half. I cut each half into thirds, and then cut the thirds diagonally to make triangles.

After elongating (hee hee) the triangles, I rolled them up just like Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (and hoped fervently that they'd taste better than their tubed cousins). After tucking the baking sheets into a couple of garbage bags to allow the croissants to rise, I tucked myself back into bed for a couple more hours of sleep.

Around 8:45, I woke up again to bake the croissants. The recipe called for them to bake at 400°F for 10 minutes, then at 375°F for another 10 minutes. They looked pretty done after the first 10 minutes, so I cut the second baking time short by about 5 minutes.

I am honestly amazed at the results. They turned out perfectly! They are buttery and flakey and delicious, and DLang and I both ate 2 right out of the oven. (I had another one this afternoon, following DLang's reasoning that since it was the first time I made croissants and it worked, I could eat as many as I wanted.)

Every time I attempt something like this and it works, I'm just a little bit surprised, even though I've done things like successfully bake a wedding cake for 200 people.

A brief photo history of Gillian's Adventures in Croissants can be found on Flickr.



Note: Since I'm definitely a baker in one of my alternate lives, this weekend's entries are in keeping with the month's theme!

Croissants Part 1

Recently, I decided it is one of my goals to make croissants from scratch. A few months ago I found a recipe, which calls for another recipe - both of which looked to be long and tedious and require a not-insignificant time commitment.

Training for the marathon precluded any such commitments, so I postponed the endeavour - until now.

Earlier this week, I stocked up on the ingredients, including a pound of European butter.

This afternoon before I started, I geeked out and created a spreadsheet that shows each step in making the dough and its duration, so that I'd be able to very efficiently calculate when the dough would be finished. The dough needs to rest for at least 8 but no more than 18 hours before baking, which would be a manageable window if I didn't have plans to cheer myself hoarse at the marathon for most of tomorrow morning.

I started with warm milk and brown sugar in the bowl of my stand mixer (which, to this day, best $250 I've spent in the kitchen!). I mixed in the yeast and 5 minutes later, voilà, it was foamy. (Seriously, no matter how many times I bake with yeast, the foaminess/rising properties never cease to amaze me.)


Hooray! Next step: Adding the flour and salt. Then the dough hook made dough. (The mixer kind of amazes me, too - like with buttercream, the mixer just magically makes everything look exactly how the recipe has described. Usually, anyway.)


Next, I kneaded the dough for a couple of minutes. (Aside: I *love* kneading dough.) After the all-too-short dough-kneading, I shaped the dough into a rectangle, wrapped it in Saran wrap, and put it in the fridge.


Next: "Pound butter with a rolling pin." Awesome. DLang was napping on the couch, so I leaned over gently and said, "Oh, hey. The next part is going to be a little noisy. Sorry about that." Heh.



The flattened butter went in the fridge for some chillin' and the dough came out for some rollin'. I was quite delighted to see that it had risen slightly (science schmience, rising dough is definitely magic). Rolling croissant dough is more fun than for other things because it involves rolling to a very specific size (16"x10"). I then laid the rectangular butter in the center of the rectangular dough and folded each end of dough over. (The instructions in the recipe for this part are very good, so I won't rewrite them here.) I didn't take any pictures at this point because yellow on beige doesn't photograph very well.

At 7pm I finished the last of 4 folds for the dough. Elapsed time: 5 hours.

The dough is now refrigerating until tomorrow morning, when I'll get up at some ungodly hour to roll and cut the dough, which then has to rise for another 2 hours before the croissants can be baked. Since the recipe makes 24 croissants and can't be halved, I'm going to make a dozen croissants and a princess ring (mostly because it's called a "princess ring" and that just seems too precious not to make).

Writer's Block

My high school writing teacher, Mr. Tell, was the perfect writing teacher. He was distinguished in every possible way. He had grey hair, and a well-manicured beard. He wore tweed! He probably smoked a pipe. In his class, I wrote the one short story that I'm really proud of (and for which I even won an award later in University).

And, Mr. Tell used to tell us, "Write what you know."

Smart man, that Mr. Tell. I sat down tonight to write about another alternate reality, and not knowing anywhere near as much about that life as I do about all the wonderfulness that is California, I suffered from total and complete writer's block. I guess that's the allure of science fiction - you can totally shoot from the hip and there's nothing against which to measure the accuracy, because you're writing about something that doesn't exist.

All that said, I'm going to give a little more thought to the topic I had in mind, but this might be my only entry for today. I'm going to dig up a creative writing workshoppy book to see if I can't unblock a little, because I really enjoyed writing yesterday's entry.

Commune

In one of my lives, I live in a commune in Santa Cruz (or Monterey or San Luis Obispo or Santa Barbara) with the most amazing people in my life, and the most amazing people in their lives. We're not hippies, exactly - I mean, some of us are vegetarian, and some of us eat hamburgers and watch Monday Night Football, and some of us play - and create! - video games and love our iPods. Some of us are writing the Great American Novel, and some of us are making croissants from scratch. We play on the beach. We surf. We drink coffee and good red wine and have a henhouse so that we can have fresh fresh eggs and giggle at the chickens. We have dogs and cats and babies and maybe even a chinchilla or a Guinea Pig named Crystal. We create: Software, paintings, words, buildings, stories, cupcakes, ideas, Haiku. We Photoshop. We laugh. We cry. We eat ice cream and play guitar and sing. We love each other for our strengths and vulnerabilities and we ebb and flow together and crash gloriously against the rocks like the waves: forceful and calm, dangerous and comforting. We run marathons and do martial arts and practice yoga and experiment with buttercream, and every single day we fall in love with the world just a little bit more.

What I Want

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what I want, and thought that perhaps that would be a good topic to explore in 30 days of writing. My idea was that for each day this month, I'll write about a life I might want if I had 30 different lives to live. Then on the way home tonight, I was reading a book about Buddhism that talks a lot about not wanting stuff. Meh, I'm going with the topic anyway, because I think it could be interesting. I'll let my readership of 3 decide.

Benevolent Inventor

I am a Benevolent Inventor

NaBlo... huh?

Challenge

My sister wife told me tonight about some challenge akin to NaNoWriMo, wherein one posts to one's blog every day in the month of November. This is my ultra lame first post, but it's 11:56pm and I am nothing if not an excellent procrastinator.