I haven't written anything in this thing in a really long time now, but these pics were too good not to put together into a cohesive little post. I've put them individually on Facebook, but I think that together they're just fantastic. Enjoy!
I'm not sure why this keeps happening, but I keep finding food left in strange places. Perhaps it's because people are so distracted these days, not really being in the moment and actually paying attention to what they're doing, but I think this is really strange and slightly hilarious. Here's a tour of what I've seen:
Can't find your peanut butter sandwich? You left it on the cement pole at a Chevron in Alpharetta. Obviously.
Oh, and I found your cookies neatly stacked and still in the ruffly, paper wrapper on the floor of the elevator in the Dekalb County Courthouse. The one furthest to the right.
And last but not least, Cheetos stashed with the bathroom scales. Forget buyers remorse, someone felt bad just carrying them around and this display just pushed them over the edge. So here they sit. And I'm willing to bet that it's NOT the guy that I saw a month or so ago at L.A. Fitness with the open bag of Doritos propped up on his treadmill.
So, keep your eyes out and perhaps you, too, can find a little snack hiding where you least expect it.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Matching Breakfast Strawberries.
Today, while studying for my music history test next Wednesday (aka, not studying for my music history test), I found this picture on FB and decided that I love it. We were at the beach in Gulf Shores last summer, and this was taken during breakfast one morning. We're all sunburned and looking quite lovely, but I'm particularly happy with how we all have strawberries on our forks, posed exactly the same way.
For some reason, this picture made me really happy today.
When Fridays act like Mondays...
...we watch Friends bloopers on the computers in the music library.
(and sometimes we laugh out loud by accident and people look at us, but we feel better anyway...)
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Quite worth sharing
I read this just now on my very favorite blog dooce.com, and it was the first thing today to make me smile. Well, the thing other than the instructor in my yoga class this morning telling us, groaning in pain with our legs hovering 6 inches above our mats, stomach muscles convulsing in strain, that we were stronger than the women's Division One team because we didn't cheat when she turned around. "Yes, you can now all take everyone on the IU Women's Golf Team." At least there's something.
I digress. Out of context, I think this is even better. Enjoy, and then probably go read the whole blog.
"So we sang those [lyrics] instead. And the church lesson to take away from all of this, obviously, is hey kids! BUCK THE FUCK UP! Life is hard and mostly sucks, and when Daddy dies from frostbite and Mama has to marry another man who already has three other wives? What do we do? SING!"
Now, off to work.
(Buck the fuck up. Hahahaha... I'm going to have to remember that.)
I digress. Out of context, I think this is even better. Enjoy, and then probably go read the whole blog.
"So we sang those [lyrics] instead. And the church lesson to take away from all of this, obviously, is hey kids! BUCK THE FUCK UP! Life is hard and mostly sucks, and when Daddy dies from frostbite and Mama has to marry another man who already has three other wives? What do we do? SING!"
Now, off to work.
(Buck the fuck up. Hahahaha... I'm going to have to remember that.)
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wonderful weekends followed by shitty Mondays.
Seeing as it's Sunday night, I need to take a minute to explain how much I hate Mondays. I know, I know, everybody hates Mondays. But I *really* hate Mondays. Here's what tomorrow looks like for me:
5:30-- Alarm
6:00-- Make coffee/shower/pack school stuff/drink coffee
7:10-- Walk outside to catch 7:15 bus
7:30-- Hour of warm-up, long tones, finger exercises, breathing exercises, etc
9:05-- History II Review for Grad Students (aka, you weren't smart enough to pass the test)
10:00-- Practice: recital rep, etudes, scales, etc
11:00-- Lesson (aka, be happy, smile, and pretend that I'm excited about sucking while trying desperately not to suck *again*)
12:00-- Library to study history, read textbook, drill listening examples for next Wed's test
1:00-- Dr. appt
2:00-- Get ready for rehearsal
2:30-- Wind Ensemble Rehearsal
4:00-- Continue studying history, trying to learn material for test; research for Pedagogy class; start (for real this time) putting together comps material
6:00-- More practicing.
7:00-- Masterclass (aka, sit and listen to what you'll never become)
9:00-- Masterclass is over, try not to fall asleep while waiting for the bus
9:45-- Take bus home
10:00-- Collapse.
I know, I asked for this. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. Sort of. I shouldn't be bitter about it. I have no right. It's selfish.
Except.
This is how I feel and this is what's real for me. It's like reliving the same experience as the entrance exams and auditions, but every. single. Monday. I need a tshirt that says, "Welcome to Indiana University, where your best is never good enough and you're even dumber than you thought."
So now, I'm home from my yoga class (<3), which is so good to look forward to but such a let down when I get in my car on the way home. I'm contemplating going to sleep right now, lame as that is. If I start a project now I won't get to sleep until after midnight, and I'm so tired already... (I must be getting old). My yoga class this morning totally kicked my butt to the point that it was a challenge to hold my arms up long enough to wash my hair in the shower when I came home. But it was wonderful. I was hot and sweaty and exhausted and I loved every second of it. When I know that's the first thing on my agenda for the day, I get up happily, looking forward to being awake. And then having it close my day, too, makes everything bearable. But tomorrow? No yoga. Say a prayer for me.
Bring it, Monday.
5:30-- Alarm
6:00-- Make coffee/shower/pack school stuff/drink coffee
7:10-- Walk outside to catch 7:15 bus
7:30-- Hour of warm-up, long tones, finger exercises, breathing exercises, etc
9:05-- History II Review for Grad Students (aka, you weren't smart enough to pass the test)
10:00-- Practice: recital rep, etudes, scales, etc
11:00-- Lesson (aka, be happy, smile, and pretend that I'm excited about sucking while trying desperately not to suck *again*)
12:00-- Library to study history, read textbook, drill listening examples for next Wed's test
1:00-- Dr. appt
2:00-- Get ready for rehearsal
2:30-- Wind Ensemble Rehearsal
4:00-- Continue studying history, trying to learn material for test; research for Pedagogy class; start (for real this time) putting together comps material
6:00-- More practicing.
7:00-- Masterclass (aka, sit and listen to what you'll never become)
9:00-- Masterclass is over, try not to fall asleep while waiting for the bus
9:45-- Take bus home
10:00-- Collapse.
I know, I asked for this. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. Sort of. I shouldn't be bitter about it. I have no right. It's selfish.
Except.
This is how I feel and this is what's real for me. It's like reliving the same experience as the entrance exams and auditions, but every. single. Monday. I need a tshirt that says, "Welcome to Indiana University, where your best is never good enough and you're even dumber than you thought."
So now, I'm home from my yoga class (<3), which is so good to look forward to but such a let down when I get in my car on the way home. I'm contemplating going to sleep right now, lame as that is. If I start a project now I won't get to sleep until after midnight, and I'm so tired already... (I must be getting old). My yoga class this morning totally kicked my butt to the point that it was a challenge to hold my arms up long enough to wash my hair in the shower when I came home. But it was wonderful. I was hot and sweaty and exhausted and I loved every second of it. When I know that's the first thing on my agenda for the day, I get up happily, looking forward to being awake. And then having it close my day, too, makes everything bearable. But tomorrow? No yoga. Say a prayer for me.
Bring it, Monday.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
If I had all the time in the world...
...these are the books I would read. I have a bad habit of going into the library, either here in the music library or the public library down the street, and picking more books than I could ever read in my sparse amount of spare time. When I first found the Music Psychology section in the library here, I nearly wet myself. So many books about stuff that I'm actually *interested* in, shelves and shelves of them. And then on Friday, I found the Music Therapy section. Let's just say I was nearly late to class. And nobody could sit in the seat next to me because that's where my books were sitting. (I prefer not to sit next to anyone, anyway). I managed to show a little restraint and only check out what I knew I could get home on the bus, so at least there's that. I am so incredibly interested in the processes and interactions of music and emotions. I know they're linked. Music wouldn't be music without the emotions that they evoke. I have a whole host of hypotheses that I want to research and work with someday regarding the ideas, but these books are all I can do for now.
This is the stack of books I'd like to read, currently residing under an end table.
(keep in mind, some of these are for my comps research-- you'll be able to tell which ones)
The titles include:
The Mozart Companion, H. C. Robbins Landon, Donald Mitchell;
The Art of Possibility, Benjamin Zander
Secrets of Musical Confidence, Andy Evans
The Inner Game of Music, Barry Green
The Social Psychology of Music, David Hargreaves and Adrian North
Music and the Mind in Everyday Life, Eric Clarke
Emotional Response to Music, Wayne Goins
Music, Thought, and Feeling: Understanding the Psychology of Music, William Forde Thompson
Dynamics of Music in Psychotherapy, Kenneth E. Bruscia
Listening to Music in Psychotherapy, Mary Butterton
Tao of Music, John Oritz
The Highly Sensitive Person, Elaine N. Aron
A Beginner's Guide to Zen Buddhism, Jean Smith
The Dance Most of All, Jack Gilbert
Gifted Grownups, Marylou Kelly Streznewski
The Exquisite Risk, Mark Nepo
Meditations from the Mat: Daily Reflections on the Path of Yoga, Katrina Kenison and Rolf Gates
Perhaps if I read enough I'll be able to figure out what I *should* be doing. But really, I'm trying not to think about the fact that none of these books that I'm so excited about have anything to do with this degree I'm going thousands of dollars into debt to get. I don't really have time for a full out nervous breakdown right now.
A Note on Bread
I can't tell you exactly when this new pastime of mine began, but I can tell you that I don't see it ending any time soon. It started with one considerably awful loaf of white bread that more resembled a brick than edible food, and a loaf after that in which I forgot to add the yeast. But the process, oh my goodness, it was so wonderful. I like bread, don't get me wrong. In fact, I'd eat nothing but carbs if given the option. But I think that I bake bread for the process of baking, not for the eating (which is a nice outcome, though).
The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes. I've been needing, clamoring for, really, some way to feel connected, grounded, like a living member of humanity and not just a fixture of the music library or a lone existence in my tiny, soundproof practice room. Think about it. What is more natural than baking bread? People have been doing this for centuries, probably thousands of years. It's changed, sure, but bread has been around nearly as long as people. It seems almost congruent with life.
And it's so, so simple. Flour, water, yeast. Some time in a hot oven. It's beautiful. And delicious! For some reason, I find it so incredibly comforting that here in 2010, I'm doing something so normal and human. And the kneading requires time, effort, and, depending on the kind of bread, you really have to put your weight into it. As you knead, it starts as a bowl of flour and water, crumbly in places, sticky and gooey in others, and within 10 or 15 minutes of rhythmic breathing, folding, pressing and turning, it turns into this cohesive thing, this cool, elastic ball of silky dough. And it rises! That's my favorite part, when I go check on it and find that it's doubled in size and is filled with big air holes from the yeast feeding. And then you punch it down, the air forced out as you push, and then it rises all over again. Another thing that I really love about this is how lovely it makes my house smell! If there was a way to put a scent on this blog, you'd want to move in with me. Which brings me to another thing I love about this-- I get to give it away. I don't have a lot of time or money these days, but I don't know of anyone who doesn't appreciate a loaf of hand-made bread. I don't know a whole lot of people in this city, but to those I do, it feels nice to give something away, something I've made by hand. I've always been a fan of hand-made cards and presents and I like that I have an excuse to do that kind of thing for no reason at all. Plus, there's no way I can eat it all. As I'm trying to perfect these recipes, I'm making more loaves than I can possibly ever eat myself, and I don't want them to go to waste :)
It's sort of like the edible version of knitting. Doing something mindless, something that doesn't require my brain to short out or my eyes to water, but a way for me to use my hands for something productive and with a tangible outcome.
So here's a pictorial view of how this works. This is sourdough bread, start to finish:
This is sourdough starter. I used natural yeast out of the air, which means that I let my flour and water mixture sit covered with a tea cloth and waited for some of the yeast to land and start feeding and multiplying. The initial process took about two weeks for the starter to be ready to use and it went through some interesting stages of looks and smells before it finally settled on a foamy texture and the smell of fermentation and bread. It almost smells like beer! Every couple days I dump a little out and replace it with equal parts flour and water so the yeast can continue to feed and ferment.
Next, before I go to bed one night, I make what's called the sponge. This is half of the flour and water for the actual dough recipe, plus a ladle of the starter. It sits covered in a warm place overnight.
As you can see, this looks like a sponge-- hence the name. It has huge air holes but is not solid like dough. The next morning (or, after I get home from my morning classes) you add the rest of the flour and make the dough, kneading for approximately 10 minutes. Not too little time or the gluten won't form correctly and it won't rise, and not too much time, either, as it will be too hard and solid.
The dough rests in my "dough incubator" in my laundry room. This is sort of ghetto-rigged, but I think it works just fine. The dough sits in a glass bowl (never metal as that reacts with and kills the yeast) inside a big (unused) plastic garbage bag. I also sit my space heater on the washer to make the room nice and warm-- perfect rising environment!
Once your dough has doubled in size, you dump it onto the counter and gently deflate it, pressing out all the air. This is a gentle process, not as vigorous as kneading. Form it again into a round and put it back in the bowl in the bag in the laundry room. Do this up to 4 or 5 times, depending on the time you have. With my sourdough, I've found it takes about an hour or so for each rise. This creates for a long process and lots of waiting time.
So what do I do in the interim of punching down and rising? Practice!
After the dough has risen between 2 and 5 times (I usually get antsy and go for 3 or 4 rises), you use a sharp knife and split it into the number of loaves you want. Then they are formed into rounds and sit on a (clean) tea towel with (fresh) flour or cornmeal so that they don't stick to the towel and that the bottoms are coated when they go into the oven. This process is called Proofing, and the balls of dough proof for between 15 and 30 minutes, just enough to get used to their new shape and to puff up a little before baking.
Last step! Baking. They rise a good deal more in the oven, so they need ample room on the sheets. I slit the tops with a sharp knife to give the bread room to rise, otherwise they can crack. Sometimes they crack anyway. I haven't figured out how to make pretty *looking* loaves yet. But soon.
All finished! They're crazy hot to touch when they come out of the oven (you'd think I'd stop feeling the need to touch them straight out of the oven, but I keep burning my fingers), so be careful and use a pot holder to remove them. Let them sit for a little while, then enjoy!
I know this is a crazy process to go through all the time, but I love it. Next on my list of things to try are Naan, bagels, and English Crumpets (for Judith!)
The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes. I've been needing, clamoring for, really, some way to feel connected, grounded, like a living member of humanity and not just a fixture of the music library or a lone existence in my tiny, soundproof practice room. Think about it. What is more natural than baking bread? People have been doing this for centuries, probably thousands of years. It's changed, sure, but bread has been around nearly as long as people. It seems almost congruent with life.
And it's so, so simple. Flour, water, yeast. Some time in a hot oven. It's beautiful. And delicious! For some reason, I find it so incredibly comforting that here in 2010, I'm doing something so normal and human. And the kneading requires time, effort, and, depending on the kind of bread, you really have to put your weight into it. As you knead, it starts as a bowl of flour and water, crumbly in places, sticky and gooey in others, and within 10 or 15 minutes of rhythmic breathing, folding, pressing and turning, it turns into this cohesive thing, this cool, elastic ball of silky dough. And it rises! That's my favorite part, when I go check on it and find that it's doubled in size and is filled with big air holes from the yeast feeding. And then you punch it down, the air forced out as you push, and then it rises all over again. Another thing that I really love about this is how lovely it makes my house smell! If there was a way to put a scent on this blog, you'd want to move in with me. Which brings me to another thing I love about this-- I get to give it away. I don't have a lot of time or money these days, but I don't know of anyone who doesn't appreciate a loaf of hand-made bread. I don't know a whole lot of people in this city, but to those I do, it feels nice to give something away, something I've made by hand. I've always been a fan of hand-made cards and presents and I like that I have an excuse to do that kind of thing for no reason at all. Plus, there's no way I can eat it all. As I'm trying to perfect these recipes, I'm making more loaves than I can possibly ever eat myself, and I don't want them to go to waste :)
It's sort of like the edible version of knitting. Doing something mindless, something that doesn't require my brain to short out or my eyes to water, but a way for me to use my hands for something productive and with a tangible outcome.
So here's a pictorial view of how this works. This is sourdough bread, start to finish:
Sourdough Starter
This is sourdough starter. I used natural yeast out of the air, which means that I let my flour and water mixture sit covered with a tea cloth and waited for some of the yeast to land and start feeding and multiplying. The initial process took about two weeks for the starter to be ready to use and it went through some interesting stages of looks and smells before it finally settled on a foamy texture and the smell of fermentation and bread. It almost smells like beer! Every couple days I dump a little out and replace it with equal parts flour and water so the yeast can continue to feed and ferment.
Sponge- flour, water, and starter
Next, before I go to bed one night, I make what's called the sponge. This is half of the flour and water for the actual dough recipe, plus a ladle of the starter. It sits covered in a warm place overnight.
Sponge after sitting all night
As you can see, this looks like a sponge-- hence the name. It has huge air holes but is not solid like dough. The next morning (or, after I get home from my morning classes) you add the rest of the flour and make the dough, kneading for approximately 10 minutes. Not too little time or the gluten won't form correctly and it won't rise, and not too much time, either, as it will be too hard and solid.
Rising.
The dough rests in my "dough incubator" in my laundry room. This is sort of ghetto-rigged, but I think it works just fine. The dough sits in a glass bowl (never metal as that reacts with and kills the yeast) inside a big (unused) plastic garbage bag. I also sit my space heater on the washer to make the room nice and warm-- perfect rising environment!
Sourdough and Whole Wheat/Corn Meal/Hazelnut bread before 1st rise
Once your dough has doubled in size, you dump it onto the counter and gently deflate it, pressing out all the air. This is a gentle process, not as vigorous as kneading. Form it again into a round and put it back in the bowl in the bag in the laundry room. Do this up to 4 or 5 times, depending on the time you have. With my sourdough, I've found it takes about an hour or so for each rise. This creates for a long process and lots of waiting time.
Punched down and ready to rise again!
So what do I do in the interim of punching down and rising? Practice!
Practice area all set up and cluttered.
After the dough has risen between 2 and 5 times (I usually get antsy and go for 3 or 4 rises), you use a sharp knife and split it into the number of loaves you want. Then they are formed into rounds and sit on a (clean) tea towel with (fresh) flour or cornmeal so that they don't stick to the towel and that the bottoms are coated when they go into the oven. This process is called Proofing, and the balls of dough proof for between 15 and 30 minutes, just enough to get used to their new shape and to puff up a little before baking.
Proofing.
Last step! Baking. They rise a good deal more in the oven, so they need ample room on the sheets. I slit the tops with a sharp knife to give the bread room to rise, otherwise they can crack. Sometimes they crack anyway. I haven't figured out how to make pretty *looking* loaves yet. But soon.
Finished loaves
All finished! They're crazy hot to touch when they come out of the oven (you'd think I'd stop feeling the need to touch them straight out of the oven, but I keep burning my fingers), so be careful and use a pot holder to remove them. Let them sit for a little while, then enjoy!
I know this is a crazy process to go through all the time, but I love it. Next on my list of things to try are Naan, bagels, and English Crumpets (for Judith!)



