Onyx and Alabaster

Snaps

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 03:39:00 +0000

I'm trying to be more active with my iPhone camera, so here are some recent favorites I took. Some are very obviously doctored with instagram filters...

Oopsies.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 15:28:00 +0000

I guess someone (lots of someones) forgot to secure their precious sailboats before hurricane Irene graced us with her destructive presence.

We lost power for about 12 hours, but remained generally unscathed, besides the trauma induced by a lack of internet access, no television, and an overall feeling of being shit on, since we were the ONLY NEIGHBORHOOD IN WALTHAM TO LOSE ELECTRICITY. For realz; we drove around and checked.

To flip to my new-found optimistic side, it was actually peaceful to have all the windows open and to hear crickets instead of road-rage-fueled traffic incidents and to see stars instead of streetlights. I felt like I was in some parallel, pastoral universe. Or at my parents' house. Plus, Irene brought some greatly appreciated cooler weather and unbelievably blue skies.

Mine.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 20:49:00 +0000

Ann Taylor announced their new arrivals today, and the minute I saw these, all the breath escaped from my lungs in less than one second:

Peony Peeptoe Heel, from Ann Taylor

I will admit, I'm somewhat materialistic, even though I would care to believe otherwise. There are many, many inanimate objects that make me gasp out loud, or do a little dance in my chair, but these, by far, take the cake. I get grabby hands over these shoes, and want to doodle hearts around their picture in my math notebook.

As many (probably all) of you know, I am completely obsessed with stripes. I could probably wear striped shirts for at least a month, I have so many of them, and black and white stripes are my ultimate weakness. Needless to say, these will be entering my closet in the near future, because even though I'm trying *so* hard to be more responsible with my spending (and have been doing a decent job of it thus far), I've been looking for a pair of shoes like these for two years now. For Realz. So, I won't feel the least bit guilty, even if I pay full price for them (which I won't).

That is all.

Happy Friday!

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 20:32:00 +0000

I took this photograph last week, when I was in a really bad mood and bought myself flowers to help me push the "cloud" away. I sometimes think I may have Reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, because I can become really sad when spring approaches, for no apparent reason. Flowers typically help, and this bright bouquet I put together with flowers from Whole Foods instantly lifted my spirits. I may never be able to predict when my serotonin levels will drop, but at least I know there are a few things that will help bring me out of the slump.

Hope everyone has a happy weekend, as I'm sure I will, because my husband has Saturday night off and we will be spending it together!

The Candied Orange Peel Experiment.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 21:02:00 +0000

The combination of orange and chocolate is one of my favorites. Every Christmas, my mom used to put one of those foil-wrapped chocolate oranges in the bottom of our stockings, and I remember that I always tried to make it last, but inevitably ended up consuming it before New Year's Eve. Maybe it was my favorite because I got to whack the crap out of it before consuming, but I'm almost positive that the reason I went for it first was because of that amazing combination of flavors. James has come to realize that a package of Orange Milano cookies placates the infamous "funks" that occasionally consume me, so whenever he starts to see the initial warning signs (moodiness, apathy, general unpleasantness), he knows to pick up a package at the store.

I'm the type of person that obsessively researches something once I get it into my head that I'm going to try it. So, when, during a recent visit to a local restaurant, a few friends and I ordered a dessert which consisted of shaved chocolate, whipped cream, and candied orange peel, I was immediately infatuated, and had a nagging urge to make candied orange peel. I found various different recipes (and consulted with James's fancy Professional Pastry Chef book, which intimidates the bejesus out of me because it's all professional and measures things by weight instead of volume), and finally came up with a "recipe" that I felt comfortable trying.

Candied Orange Peel dipped in Dark Chocolate

(I referred frequently to David Lebovitz's recipe for candied ginger, but basically came up with this one on my own, through trial and error)

Ingredients:

4 oranges, unsprayed or thoroughly washed
2 c water
1 c granulated sugar, plus more for coating
Dark chocolate chips (or bars, coarsely chopped)

1. Using a vegetable peeler (I prefer using the Swiss kind because it scrapes a minimal amount of skin from my knuckles), remove the peel of the oranges in strips (unsprayed/organic oranges are preferred because of the pesticides used on conventionally grown fruit, but if you can't find any, or just don't want to pay the exorbitant prices for organic fruit, then just wash them thoroughly with vinegar and water).

2. Using a butter knife, remove any of the white pith that remains on the peels. The pith is very bitter and will make your candy taste the same if it isn't removed. (Pictured below, the peel on the left has been scraped and the peel on the right still has some pith attached.)

3. Add the scraped peels to a pot of cold water and bring to a boil. Boil the peels for 5 minutes, drain, rinse in cold water, then repeat two more times with fresh, cold water. Using a non-reactive pan is best when dealing with citrus, because the acid in the citrus fruits (especially lemons) reacts with aluminum to produce a metallic taste in whatever you're making. I found this out the hard way when making lemon curd for the first time.

4. Bring 2 c water and 1 c sugar to a boil. Add the blanched orange peels to the boiling sugar solution and simmer on low approximately 30-45 minutes, until the peels are translucent. You're going to want to keep an eye on these, because the sugar-water will reduce to a syrup and will eventually cook until burned (I've also had the unfortunate experience of dealing with this when I neglected a poached pear syrup).

5. Remove the peels from the syrup when the bubbles start to become bigger. Turn off the heat and remove each peel, one-by-one, with a pair of tongs and coat in granulated sugar. The peels will be covered in molten sugar syrup, so don't try to eat them or get any on your fingers, as molten sugar is like napalm (rinse immediately with cold water if you do get it on you). Shake off excess sugar, and try to avoid lumps of sugar sticking to the peels by brushing them off as they form. Transfer the sugar-coated peels to a baking sheet covered with parchment or wax paper to dry for approximately 1 hour (or overnight if you're not coating in chocolate). The syrup can be reserved for use in other recipes, and I'm sure it would make a lovely iced tea sweetener. If you decide to dispose of it, as I did, do NOT dump it down your kitchen sink, unless, of course, you'd like to spend some quality time with your plumber in the near future.

6. Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add the chocolate chips to a heat-proof bowl and place over the boiling water to melt the chips. Stir occasionally to help the chocolate melt faster.

note that if you're planning to use a stainless steel bowl like I did, use an oven mitt, because the bowl will become HOT – no joke

7. When the chocolate is melted, turn off the heat and begin to dip the sugar-coated orange peels in the chocolate. Return each dipped piece to the parchment/wax paper and when all the pieces are dipped, transfer to the refrigerator to set for about 20 minutes.

Candied orange peels will last up to a week when dipped in chocolate and should be stored in an airtight container at room temperature. Without the chocolate, they will last a few months in an airtight container.

These are sure to please and impress. The resulting peels are very sweet and have a texture reminiscent of chewy gummy-candy, with a rich complement of dark chocolate. While not exactly a cinch to whip up in the kitchen, they're definitely a recipe that can be successfully completed by most, with a little love and patience, and would make a great gift.

The Big Wave.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 20:53:00 +0000

I remember reading the story The Big Wave, by Pearl S. Buck, when I was in the fourth grade. Upon hearing the news of the earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan this past Friday, my thoughts, after immediately worrying about my coworkers and the people of Japan, went to the book.

Essentially, the book is about two boys who are friends, one a mountainside farmer, the other a fisherman. A tsunami hits the fishing village and wipes away one boy's family, who is then adopted by the farming family and tries to assume a new life with his adopted family. In the end, when the fishing boy comes of age, he decides to return to the life of a fisherman, against the warning of his mountain-dwelling friend, and poignantly verbalizes the moral of the story: that it is only in the face of danger that one finds bravery and the appreciation of how wonderful life is.

When I begin to think about people who live in "disaster prone areas," like the Pacific Ring of Fire, or next to volcanoes (et al.), I can't help but think that I wouldn't be able to handle living in constant fear of something bad happening. I would worry incessantly (more than I already do, if you can believe it). I feel like I have a very good grasp on the concept of mortality and the fleeting nature of life, but I can't say that I would ever be able to stand in the face of danger, like these people do on a daily basis, and be ok.

Regardless, my heart is so, very heavy with all the terrible news coming from Japan, and while my words can offer little solace in their current situation, I can say, undoubtedly, that they are much braver than I will ever be.

:::::: American Red Cross Support Efforts ::::::

::::::::::::::::::: The Citizen Effect :::::::::::::::::::

:::::::: Other Earthquake Relief Options ::::::::

::::::::: Lady Gaga Japan Relief Bracelet :::::::::

I have been in the process of compiling a post about candied orange peel, but just can't bear to finish writing about something so frivolous at the moment. It will come in time, however.

Difficult Conversations.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 03:41:00 +0000

This past week has been National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. I've been struggling with the idea of posting something on this topic, but realize that if people don't begin having healthy conversations, little progress will ever be made...

Eating disorders have had an indirect and profound effect on my life, since a family member was diagnosed with one nine years ago. Previously, I had no real idea how dangerous and difficult these disorders could be. It was easy to joke around about "throwing up lunch to lose a few pounds," obsessing over our looks and how much weight we needed to lose to be "perfect," and even easier to look down our noses at girls who were rumored to be anorexic. It was especially easy to be an outsider to this disease, until it took a direct hit on my family. Since the first time I realized that an eating disorder had infiltrated someone I care deeply about, my thoughts and understanding about the disease and its victims have changed drastically.

At first, it was something that needed to be kept a secret. Eating disorders are, after all, "dirty little secrets." They are considered taboo, even though there are more people in the United States with eating disorders than there are those with Alzheimers (source). For some reason, society has kept this disease hidden in the underbelly of psychiatric medicine, giving it less attention, insurance coverage(!), and medical funding than schizophrenia, and allowing it to cause more premature deaths than any other psychiatric disorder (source). Eating disorders are much more than a few facts, however. They affect real people and real families, and they are not just about "food." There is a very intricate and little understood network of factors and conditions that lead to the development of eating disorders, and while I've been involved for nine years, I still don't fully understand their complexities.

One thing I've learned from being a family member of a person with an eating disorder, is that society is completely unaware of the effects that negativity and unhealthy self-images have on the people around them. I can't tell you how many times I've overheard someone joking about overeating by saying, "I'll just take a minute to throw it up in the bathroom," someone being critical of their own or someone else's weight, or someone obsessing over each and every pound and clothing size dropped; things that I, myself, discussed and joked about before an eating disorder was holding my loved one hostage.

Comments like these now cut me to the bone. I take them very personally, which is a fault of my own, but after having to see someone I love struggle so severely with a disease that has essentially been influenced by society's embrace of a need to be thin and superficially beautiful, it's difficult to let these comments go. It would be no different than someone jesting about cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's, or any other disease. I think it's difficult for people to realize that there's anything wrong with joking about eating disorders, because it is such a secretive illness, and many people think it's not a real disease.

It took a very long time for our family to be able to admit to people that there was a problem, and to this day, it's still difficult. Bringing my involvement with eating disorders into this public arena is difficult for me, but I felt that I should participate in NEDA Week and bring more awareness to the cause, since eating disorders affect my life every single day of every week.

If you're reading this, and care about this cause, please go to the National Eating Disorders Awareness website and do some research on eating disorders. Read some of the personal stories about people who have recovered from eating disorders and family members who have had loved ones with this disease. Even if you don't research the illness, please be mindful of the comments and images you're putting out into society. You may not be personally affected by such negative comments or the narrow definitions of beauty that are so commonly embraced, but some people are, and you could potentially save someone's life by refraining from the negativity and embracing your own beauty.

"Life is messy. Life is imperfect. Life is about progress, not perfection."

~ Elizabeth Showers, as quoted on Alicia's blog, Alicia B. Designs.

image above from the National Eating Disorder Awareness Website

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 16:06:00 +0000

I feel so ridiculous posting song lyrics as post titles, but I've been so melodramatic lately, that it just seems to fit...

We've had an absolutely obscene amount of snow here in the past few weeks. It's causing roofs to collapse, the roads aren't being plowed properly, and there's talk of taking away vacation days from kids who've hit the jackpot in snow days.

I don't mind, of course, because I love winter. I love the snow, the cold, the smell of the air. I woke up on my birthday, with a fresh coating of pure white, and was in complete heaven. We haven't had this much snow since I was twelve, and it's making me a bit nostalgic when I look at the plowed snow banks that skyrocketed above my 5'2" height weeks ago. As a student at UMaine, one of my favorite things was walking to class in the freezing cold with a few feet of snow on the ground. I don't know what it is, but it just gives me a sense of complete peace and calm, and I feel at ease with myself and my surroundings. I still love being outside first thing in the morning after a snow storm; even the small act of walking to my car puts me instantly in a good mood. Call me crazy...

My camera has been staring at me for the past few weeks, increasing the amount of guilt I've been feeling for not uploading photos from its memory card, so I wanted to post these pics I took during one of the storms, when I trekked down to the Gore Estate, a historic mansion down the street from our apartment. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the snow was the type that sticks to everything. I'm still (embarassingly enough) working on figuring out the settings on my camera, so these were edited in Picnik, which I've found to be a lifesaver for fixing my amateur photos.

A Farewell to Peaches.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 15:29:00 +0000

image from here.

A couple of months ago, while reading an issue of House Beautiful Magazine, I came across a cookbook review for Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights: Recipes for Every Season, Mood and Appetite, by Sophie Dahl. I was intrigued by the interview, but what really convinced me to go purchase the book that day, was her recipe for Cinnamon Roast Peaches. This recipe is easy. And Delicious (with a capital D). I've been making it throughout the summer, and am sad to say that I think that this past weekend will have been my last foray with this recipe for a while, as peaches are past peak. (Although, I couldn't resist buying some more peaches on sale at Whole Foods this weekend, so I guess I'll make the recipe at least once more!)
I don't follow the recipe exactly, but since it's pretty loosey-goosey to begin with, it's difficult to screw these up. I once tried substituting nectarines, because, quite frankly, fuzzy peach skins sometimes enliven my gag reflex, but the substitution really wasn't as good as the peaches. I think that this recipe could be great with apple wedges or pear halves in the fall/winter, when peaches are no longer in season, but don't take my word for it.

Cinnamon Roast Peaches
adapted from Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights

2 peaches, ripe but firm
Cinnamon
Brown Sugar
Butter

Greek Yogurt (I prefer Vanilla)
Honey, optional

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Halve the peaches, removing the pits, but keeping the halves generally intact. Place peaches in a roasting pan, and sprinkle each half with cinnamon and brown sugar, then top with a small dab of butter. Roast in the oven 10 minutes, or until the peaches are soft and the butter has melted. Serve warm with a dollop (or two) of yogurt. Alternatively, you could sweeten the yogurt with a drizzle of honey, but I prefer the contrast of the tangy yogurt with the sweet peaches.

Gearing up for Fall.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 19:57:00 +0000

It's probably no surprise to anyone by now that my favorite season is fall. I love everything about it: the crisp, cool air; the smell of damp, decaying leaves and wood stoves; the comfort in wearing cozy sweaters and scarves; school supplies, including bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils; and especially piping hot chai tea and pumpkin spice lattes.

After hurricane Earl this weekend, we got our first taste of fall-ish air here in New England, and I'm longing for the days to become permanently cooler and the leaves to begin turning beautiful shades of gold and orange. Summer was brutally hot and humid up here. I'm not a fan of the heat and humidity, but it was definitely better than the previous summer, which consisted mainly of rain.

Fall mornings have a specific smell up here that's difficult to describe. It's not earthy and damp like spring, not dry and frozen like winter, and not clean and dewy like summer, but more of a crisp, smoky smell. Fall is complete sensory overload. I love the flavors that are accompanied by the cooler weather and, even though it may sound crazy, I love the transition from the long, lanky days of summer to the shorter, brisker days of winter. For me, there's something so exciting about the sun setting earlier with that special slant that only comes about between September and October. I love stepping outside on a cool, fall evening and looking up at the stars, seeing Orion approaching for the winter.

One of my all time favorite books, Salem's Lot, by Stephen King has the best description of fall in New England that couldn't better describe my feelings:

When fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass ... it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.

...

In the fall, night comes like this... The sun loses its thin grip on the air first, turning it cold, making it remember that winter is coming and winter will be long. Thin clouds form, and the shadows lengthen out. They have no breadth, as summer shadows have; there are no leaves on the trees or fat clouds in the sky to make them thick. They are gaunt, mean shadows that bite the ground like teeth.

There's something so comforting about fall (well, maybe not the whole biting shadows part in that quote). The clothing, the food, the cultural significance of the harvest. I really have to laugh at myself, though, because my favorite season, the season during which I feel the most mentally at peace with myself and others, is the season associated with impending death and decay. Go figure!

I have a lot of good intentions for this fall, but most of all, I'm going to make sure that I enjoy every last minute of it, because for the past few years, time has seemed to be flying by and I haven't had a chance to appreciate my surroundings as much as I often wish I could. The thermostat is still reading a warm 80 degrees this afternoon, which makes writing this post even more difficult and nagging. Dear Fall, I'm waiting...

Oh, you...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 18:25:00 +0000

Dear J. Crew,

I have to say that I'm a bit flabbergasted by your proposal that I pay $248 for a pair of oh so beautiful flats:

WTF?

You see, they're just my style, and I feel that they would look perfect on my 7.5 sized feet this fall.

However...

I refuse to pay $248 for a pair of ballet flats, since I'm sure that there are more important things that I could purchase that would give me a much greater value for my dollar. Even if they are leopard. Boo to you, J. Crew and your ridiculous price points. Boooooo.

I sincerely hope that we can work through our differences in the near future.

Best,
Ally

A long overdue thank you.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 02:17:00 +0000

While I've been taking an unintentional break from blogging, I haven't been doing absolutely nothing...

I finally got around to photographing and posting these in the shop... This was a bitch of a design, and while I love the final result, it will probably be awhile before I do something like it again, because trying to align the two screens perfectly was a pain in the ass... I have a profound respect for all the letterpress and gocco printers who have mastered the art of registration, because it's difficult!!

The summer has been rather blah, I'm afraid to say. The break from blogging was an unconscious decision due to a lack of inspiration, a lack of ideas, a lack of things to talk about... Well, I should say a lack of positive things to discuss. See, I really dislike whining and bitching on my blog, so I try to refrain. Unfortunately, there are many times when the only thoughts running through my brain are negative and not worthy of posting, because I don't like poisoning someone else's brain with negativity. So, for anyone still reading...

I truly appreciate all of you friends, both that I know and have yet to meet, that read this, and hope that you will stick with me during my transition back to "happy thoughts."

Where I've been...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 04:17:00 +0000

I just got back from an amazing trip to Rangeley, Maine. My entire family from my dad's side flew up from Virginia, and we spent the better part of the week in a lake house with this view from our dock.

I'm going to be better about posting more regularly... I'm turning over a new leaf and will tell you all more soon! Until then, I'm going to enjoy my last 24 hours of vacation! :)

It's Complicated... but not really.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 13:30:00 +0000

This past Sunday, I spent the day catching up on movies I've been wanting to see for a while. It was an A+ movie day for me, as I couldn't have asked for better movies that were selected on a whim. I love searching through our Netflix queue and picking movies of which I've never heard, but look and sound like something I'd love. Of course, one of Netflix's greatest assests, is that they recommend movies to you based on your ratings of other movies, so I guess I wasn't just picking them blindly. The movie I had heard mixed reviews about but ended up loving was It's Complicated.

It was funny and romantic and a little bit sad all at the same time, but not too overpowering in any way. There were a few scenes that had me laughing hysterically, and others that really left me with a little twang in my heart. It's what I guess you could call a romantic dramedy. If any of you have seen Something's Gotta Give, it's very similar in style (since they were both written and directed by Nancy Meyers), but better (in my opinion). Don't get me wrong; I love Diane Keaton and especially Jack Nicholson, but the screen chemistry between Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin (and even John Krasinski who sometimes annoys me) was surprisingly fantastic. If any of you have seen previews, you already know that it's about a love triangle between Meryl, Steve, and Alec. Without a doubt, Meryl steals the screen, but Alec Baldwin comes through with a really emotional and vulnerable side that is irresistible, and Steve Martin is the perfect foil to Alec Baldwin. I'm seriously considering purchasing the DVD to add to my collection.

The thing that struck me the most about the movie was the set decor. I absolutely fell in love with Meryl Streep's kitchen and garden (and her bakery, not pictured here, isn't too shabby either):

images from here and here

While the garden is gorgeous, but completely impossible for even the most skilled gardener to accomplish single-handedly, the kitchen could easily be reproduced with some money and the correct location (good lighting is of the essence here). What I love most about the kitchen are the marble island in the middle, the great window with room for small, potted herbs, and the display of assorted plates and cake stands. It's a realistic design for a kitchen owned by someone who loves to cook or bake, as all the necessary tools and equipment are visible, within easy reach, and well organized.

From around the web, I've found a couple of things that would easily reproduce the look of this kitchen, but to my own taste (obv.):

French Kitchen Island, Crate & Barrel

Harmon Pendant, Restoration Hardware

Emma Dinnerware in white, Pottery Barn

Scalloped Cake Stands, Williams Sonoma

Mauviel Copper Sautee Pan, Williams Sonoma

Of course, in an ideal world, these items would all be in the "low to cheap as dirt" price range, but as is usually my forte, I have chosen items that are on the more expensive end of the spectrum. *le sigh*

Oh well. It's nice to dream, right? On second thought, I will have a kitchen that I absolutely love someday. I will. Even if it takes me years and years of saving pennies.

Anyway, I highly recommend the film to anyone looking for a good movie to watch on a lazy afternoon (and James even liked it, so it's not just a chick flick), as well as 84 Charing Cross Rd. (Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins!!), and Dear Zachary: A Letter to A Son About his Father (really, really sad, but so powerful).

I feel bad shortchanging the other two movies, because I can't stress how fabulous they are as well... Seriously, A+ movie day.

Rainy Days and Mondays...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 17:52:00 +0000

my balcony "garden"

... are the two types of days that have the potential for putting me in a bad mood. Yesterday was just one of those days. It was rainy and I was cranky. On my way home from work, a flurry of pet peeves went flying through my brain at an astronomical rate, so that when I actually got home, I was teetering on the precipice between wrath and aggravation. For your reading pleasure, a few of my most nagging pet peeves that were particularly bothersome yesterday:

I've been met with traffic jams on the highway every day on my way home for the past two weeks. I've been driving the same route home from work five days a week for the past three years and have never seen this much traffic. I hope it's just a coincidence.

I despise the people who put those ridiculous "Baby on Board" plaques on their car. What are they thinking? That people are obviously driving like morons on purpose and that everyone on the roads are out there with the sole intent to hurt their precious bundle of joy? Please. Accidents are called accidents for a reason. Don't worry jerks, now that you've so cleverly pointed out that you have a baby on board, I'm going to pay special attention that I don't hit your car, not for the sole purpose of keeping myself out of danger, but because of your child. I'll also be sure not to flip you off, since that plaque seems gives you the right to drive like an incompetent twit, lest I expose your little genius to some off-putting hand gestures. Assholes.

Why does Panera Bread always run out of bread? You'd think that if you were going to put the word "bread" in your business name that you would kind of make sure that you'd have a plentiful supply of it. I would, at least, but that's probably why I do not own a bread company. They probably shouldn't either.

Who are the people that go into Starbucks and order their drinks a specific temperature? "I'd like a non-fat, sugar free, extra dry, 140 degree latte, with your left kidney on the side in a to-go tray. K, thanx." Do they realize how pretentious that is?

I don't mean to send my annoyances out into the void that is the internet, but sometimes it just helps. They are all minor and trivial, but the summation of them becomes so overwhelming that I'll realize that I've just driven half of the 17 miles home from work without actually "seeing" where I was going, because I was so lost in angry thought. Scary. So, sorry if I've gotten anyone all up and arms, or contributed to your bad day, but I just need to get them out of my head.

When I got home yesterday, I grabbed my camera and took some photos of my rainy garden balcony. It's pretty small and humble, but it makes me happy, and I guess that's all that really counts on days like this. I've started a small herb garden and have my gardenias and hibiscus (below) that are still hanging in there despite my almost killing each of them at least once. The gardenia in the green pot is new (which is why it looks the healthiest) and was in full bloom last week, which was perfection. I took full advantage of the blooms and had them all over my apartment and desk at work.

Sometimes, in a sea of annoyances and frustrations, it's little things like a fragrant flower blossom, a favorite song that had been buried in my itunes playlist and recently rediscovered, or a good movie that keep me out of the loony bin. Thank goodness for the little things.

* by the way, said good movie was The Young Victoria.

Curtain Convert

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 27 May 2010 14:12:00 +0000

As a teenager, I couldn't wait for my mother to take down my bedroom curtains. They were white and frilly, with pastel tulips on the fabric, and had equally frilly tiebacks. I don't know why I hated them so much, but I always preferred the streamlined look of bare windows as opposed to my mom's masses of ruffles.

In our apartment, we have really gross windows. The kind of windows that are wide and slide open, with no paned glass. I hate them even more than I hated my mom's curtains. It never occurred to me, however, that curtains were an important design element. Recently, on a trip to Ikea, I picked up some curtain panels and rods and decided to give it a go. I have to say that I'm completely in love with the way the curtains have transformed our bedroom. Completely.

It's amazing how they diffuse the light to make the room all "glowy." We used the Lill curtains as the sheer layer and Matilda as the top layer, which is also a bit sheer.

A green(ish) thumb.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 20 May 2010 15:51:00 +0000

I've always been intrigued by gardening. Ever since reading The Secret Garden when I was in the second grade, I've always wanted my own "bit of earth," as Mary called it. When I was nine years old, my parents gave my sister and me our own bits of earth. We went to the local farm stand down the street and picked out the plants we wanted, and went home to plant them. I chose a beautiful purple dwarf iris, some snap dragons, and catnip for our cat. After that summer had passed, my garden quickly became the responsibility of my father. I grew tired of watering it every night in the summer, wanting instead to enjoy every last minute of daylight playing with the neighborhood kids. I still enjoyed seeing it bloom each year, watching how the plants grew heartier with each growing season, but I abandoned thoughts of adding new plants or weeding the existing ones.

Currently, the garden has fallen by the wayside and nobody really cares for it. My catnip is long gone (as is my cat, God rest his little soul), and the petite, purple dwarf iris that I had planted over a century ago has now taken over the whole garden, mutating into something that I never would have expected. (Incidentally, my parents tried to uproot it one year and broke their shovel on the root structure; it's like Little Shop of Horrors.) The other day, I was excited to see that between the stalky leaves of the iris were growing sweet lily of the valley. I don't know where they came from, since I've never seen it growing naturally in my yard, but I was thrilled to discover it, and I hope they will survive and return next year. Even though I abandoned the garden of my youth, I still love having plants around.

Since moving to the city, I've started a very modest container garden that consists of a gardenia that I've coaxed blooms out of once and a hibiscus that has seen better days after I left it out one night during an early frost. I've always wanted to grow my own herbs and vegetables, and although it's a bit late in the season, I think I may give it a whirl this year. I've been inspired by these zinc window box planters from Crate & Barrel, and I think that I'll go after work and pick some up and start growing something in them this weekend.

photos from here

I have no idea what I'll plant in them, but hopefully I won't lose interest before the weekend is over...

An Organized Library

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Wed, 12 May 2010 17:43:00 +0000

Kathleen from Twig & Thistle posted the greatest idea/project I've seen in a very long time: A diy library kit.

The templates are colored with brown, but I'm pretty sure that if you printed it in black & white that it would look pretty as well (I'm not a huge fan of brown -- I've always been a b&w girl, myself).

She has graciously provided pdf files with very detailed directions on how to do this project yourself. I think I'm definitely going to have to do this for my library. I've been wanting to make some bookplates for a very long time, but I like the idea of the library cards much better!

I'm going to assume that folding all those little card holders is going to be pretty tedious, but luckily my library is relatively small!

10 Random Things...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 10 May 2010 14:31:00 +0000

Erin tagged me on one of these things, which I don't normally do, but since I obviously can barely keep up with interesting posts as it is, here's some more useless information about me that you may or may not have wanted to know:

1. When I was a little girl, my sister and I tried to catch a Leprechaun by using the old "Shoebox Propped up with a Stick" trap. I think I used a cupcake as bait... We didn't catch one.

2. I took piano lessons when I was a little girl and still play a little bit, although I can't read music. My teacher used to yell at me when I would play, because she would realize that I had just memorized the whole song instead of learning to read the notes. Then I quit piano to play soccer.

3. I have extremely vivid dreams on a regular basis. This has been the case my entire life. As a child, I used to have really strange, reoccurring nightmares about stepping off cliffs and people breaking into my house. Once, I had a dream that I had a pet kangaroo and a poacher was chasing us, trying to kill it. Right before I woke up, the poacher actually killed my kangaroo, and I cried all morning, even though I knew it was a dream, and was depressed for a week afterward. I was eight.

4. I talk in my sleep. A lot. It's usually nonsensical, and James thinks it's hilarious. For example, as we were going to sleep the other night, we were looking through the channels trying to find something to watch. We were discussing the main character in Gran Torino, which was coming on next, who we thought was called Art. Twenty minutes into the movie (I had fallen asleep before the movie actually came on), I sat up and said, quite defiantly, "His name is Walt." I think my sleep talking is a consequence of #3, and as a result of both of these, I usually have very dark circles under my eyes, because I don't get a lot of sleep.

5. I never had a detention in school, because I was a goody-two-shoes who never got into trouble.

6. I have a tendency to become obsessed with and watch movies over and over again. My roommate in college, Ashley, can attest to the fact that I watched Pirates of the Caribbean every night for three months during my sophomore year. (Sorry Ash! You were such a good sport about it!)

7. I lose socks like it's my job. I tend to take them off in strange places (like my car) and they just never make it to the laundry basket.

8. Confession: I am a terrible cook/baker. I have to try most recipes at least three times in order to come up with something edible, and that's not even a guarantee. My biggest pet peeve is trying to replicate a dish my dad makes, because he breaks all the "culinary rules" and never follows recipes, but his food always tastes ten times better than mine, and I follow recipes to a t.

9. I have extreme social anxiety when it comes to being in bars and clubs (which is why I don't go to those places anymore). I don't like to dance, so I get really uncomfortable when I'm by myself. On a few occasions, I've actually had to leave because the "friends" who dragged me out to these places left me alone and I completely freaked out.

10. My musical tastes have run the gamut of genres. I can usually find something I like in every genre (except country and opera, although I was a Shania Twain fan for a while). My musical phases went something like this: Pop (Mariah Carey, Gloria Estefan, Amy Grant, En Vogue, Whitney Houston); Hip Hop (TLC, Salt 'N Pepa); Alternative (Alanis Morrisette, The Cranberries, Live, Dave Matthews Band, The Goo Goo Dolls); Grunge/Rock (Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin); Rap/Hip Hop (Jay-Z, Tupac, DMX), Piano Pop/Alt (Ben Folds Five, Ben Folds, Coldplay, Fiona Apple, Tori Amos); and my current musical interests which run more on the indie side, but include most of the above plus some classics like Simon & Garfunkel, The Beatles, and Van Morrison. Music has always been so important to me and it's one of the things that has kept me operating on [borderline] socially acceptable levels of sanity my entire life.

I'm not going to tag anyone (because my list of people I could tag is painfully short and embarrassing), but if you'd like to do this, just let me know with a link to the post, or simply post some random facts about you in the comments. Don't be shy! :)

DeCordova Museum

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 06 May 2010 14:44:00 +0000

Do you ever have days where you don't want to get out of bed, or you just want to putz around in your pajamas all day? I do. I start to get especially withdrawn when I have a lot of stress or anxiety in my life. It's not healthy, but I've always found that it's easier (on everyone) if I just hunker down and let it pass. Two weeks ago, I made plans to spend the day with a friend over the weekend. We've been wanting to meet up for a "photography date," in order to just walk around taking photographs of whatever struck us as interesting. The week had been rough for me, so I was already feeling like I wanted to just stay in all weekend and mope, regardless of the fact that it was going to be the first beautiful weekend in weeks. As we were discussing our plans Friday evening, I could feel that little voice in my head nagging me to call it off and postpone for another week. I didn't want to cancel, because I haven't actually seen my friend since Christmas, so I decided to suck it up and weather the storm outside in the sunshine instead of cooped up in my bed, watching dvr'ed episodes of Gossip Girl. I'm glad I did, because it was a really therapeutic afternoon! It's good to have people to talk to that understand the things you're going through, and I'm so grateful for the friends I do have that I can talk to on a regular basis when life gets a little too heavy.

The DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA is a modern/contemporary art museum in a beautiful area, near Walden Pond and historic Concord. The museum itself was closed for the day, but it didn't really matter, because the sculpture park is huge. We spent a few hours walking "the grounds" and barely covered everything. Below are some of my favorite sculptures and photos from the day:

It was really sunny out, so the photos weren't as great as I would have liked, but it really is an interesting place if you ever get a chance to visit.

Letterpress Love

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 18:41:00 +0000

letterpress week at oh,hello friend!
image by: letteria

I'm a bit behind the eight ball with this one...

(oh, hello friend.) has been running a week centered around letterpress printing and it's fabulous (<--- understatement). As many of you know, I'm obsessed with letterpress printing and hope to one day own my own press. Danni has organized posts from so many really amazing printers and the posts really give you an inside look into the industry. It's comforting to know that so many people are still interested in a printing technique that has survived thousands(!)* of years and continues to grow stronger. While the week is almost over, you can still catch up on everything that has happened and still enter the give-aways she has set up over the past week.

photo by me.

Click here for a direct link to all the letterpress week posts.

*That Gutenberg was a genius.

Rain, Rain, Go Away... again.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 17:00:00 +0000

I took this photo at The DeCordova Sculpture Park. It's not a sculpture, just a pretty blooming tree. I wish it was still sunny like this, because I could surely use it right about now...

More about the visit to come...

In a Semi-Perfect World...

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 20:55:00 +0000

I would have a home office that wasn't serving as a guest bedroom, office, closet, storage, multi-purpose room. I would have this:

image from pottery barn, obv.

Except maybe with more comfortable seating. And I wouldn't have to do my craft work on my living room coffee table. I think that Pottery Barn is trying to taunt me with keeping this Bedford Project Table in their sale section for an inexplicably long time... Note to Pottery Barn: If you would like to send it to me for about 1/4 of it's current sale price, I'd gladly take one off your hands. I wouldn't even discriminate over color. Promise.

A date with Monet.

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Sat, 17 Apr 2010 12:00:00 +0000

This past weekend, a few friends and I ventured down to NYC to visit the Monet Water Lilies Exhibit at MoMA. Since taking a class on Modernism and Postmodernism in college, I've been fascinated with Modern and Postmodern art (well, that sounds rather redundant). I've found that it's difficult to appreciate some of the pieces unless you actually know a bit about this specific art movement, so my parents didn't really understand my appreciation of this:

One: Number 31, 1950

Jackson Pollock

(photo by me, after people actually stopped walking in front of my lens)

I love Pollock's work. While I'm especially fond of his drip paintings, my research for a term paper left me baffled by the fact that his earlier work looked completely different. I love studying artists' lives and how the events going on with the artist influence their artwork. I have a special spot in my heart for artists (and anyone, for that matter) that have suffered from depression, as Pollock did. I guess it's a way of relating to the art and artist, and even empathizing, on a completely different level that a lot of people can't understand (and I hope that they never do, because depression is not a fun thing). I digress...

The trip was absolutely fabulous. We started out at MoMA, visited the top three floors, had lunch in their fabulous Cafe 2 (although I didn't think their seating strategy was all too wonderful), then viewed the galleries on the second floor, as well as the sculpture garden. It was pretty crowded, so there was an overabundance of people walking in front of you as you were trying to look at a painting. My favorites were the older ladies who either a) wandered in front of you while viewing a painting and stopped altogether, forcing you to move, or b) tried to push up against you as close as humanly possible (which is absolutely not socially acceptable) so that you'd move away from the glass case displaying rare sketches by Picasso. I found myself locked in a battle with a pushy lady who may or may not have had a cane and was placing her grubby hands all over the glass. I could tell that she was expecting me to do "the right thing" and move aside so she wouldn't have to *gasp* walk two steps to the left to pass me. I was there first, and she was totally going against traffic! She was pretty desperate to see how Picasso's deconstruction of a Minotaur screwing a young lady was progressing (oh, that's not the real title of the sketch series, by the way), so maybe I should have yielded to her nagging persistence, but... I was there first! I stood staring at the same sketch for at least ten minutes before she huffed her way past me and let me get to the last piece in the series. Whatevs, you old bag. Again, I digress.

I was really impressed by how many famous paintings and sculptures they had in the museum. At one point, I entered a gallery room and saw a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye. I thought to myself, "Is that what I think it is?" I turned, and it was this:

Isn't it perfect with its golden frame?
My flash totally went off as I was taking this picture and I almost died as the guard gave me a stern look.
At least he could tell that I was mortified and on the verge of becoming physically ill from my stupidity.

There's something so surreal about looking at an original painting by an artist you love. It's very difficult to verbalize, so I'm not going to attempt it. I can't even imagine how it must feel to be in a place like Rome or Florence.

Before I get to the Monet, one of the most interesting parts of the day was the special exhibit of performance artist Marina Abramović. We first encountered her in the atrium, where she was sitting at a table, staring blankly ahead of her. Audience members could actually go and sit across from her and have a "staring contest" or, more artistically speaking, a meditative moment of connection with the artist. I toyed with the idea, but chickened out, as usual. We then found the exhibit dedicated to her lengthy career and were met with warning signs about nudity, no photography, and no children. At first, I was really uncomfortable, because there were lots of nude performers, but once I got over that initial discomfort and realized that everyone else was looking at naked people too, I became more relaxed. One of the things that relaxed me the most, was when I noticed a really pervy looking man creeping closer and closer to one of the nude performers. As he did so, I could see security inching their way in, ready to pounce. I thought that was kind of hilarious. (Although, this article just came out yesterday which makes me cringe a little for the performers.)

I didn't understand the meaning behind a lot of the work, and I will admit that I didn't really read a lot of the plaques that were positioned around the exhibit, partly because I was a little uncomfortable lingering. In retrospect, I realize that they probably would have given me more insight into some of the performances, which included a naked woman suspended on the wall, sitting on a bicycle seat, another naked woman lying underneath a skeleton, two people with their hair tied together, and two more nude people standing in a small doorway, forcing people to squeeze between them (I decided to walk around to the other side of the gallery to avoid this installation in particular). The exhibit contained actual video footage of many of her previous performances. Some of her performances were utterly disturbing, like the one in which she's repeatedly walking into a wall, the sickening sound of her naked body hitting it again and again (with force), as well as the one where she's standing nude, with a skull clutched in her hands and her hair brushed forward over her face like Cousin It, repeatedly slamming the skull into her chest (again, with force). Upon reading more about her life, performances, and the meaning behind them, I grew a greater appreciation for the exhibit as a whole, and really wish I had read more about it before going... (If you're interested, a quick google search brings up tons of info.)

The Monet exhibit was a lot smaller than I thought it would be. The collection consisted of six paintings, two of which were enormous, wall-size paintings. I took the most photos in this gallery for some reason, and I was pretty pleased with the way that most of them turned out. One thing I will say is that the gallery lights were horrible to the colors of the paintings in the photos, so I bumped them up a bit with an editing program to give a better representation of what they looked like in real life.

All photographs by me.

not to toot my own horn, but I'm super in love with this last photograph. I love how you can see the cracked paint and brush strokes. (click on it to enlarge!)

I think that the photos speak for themselves, but it was a really amazing exhibit. It's unbelievable when you stop and actually think about the fact that he created these masterpieces with debilitating cataracts impeding his vision and color perception.

There was also a really good Picasso exhibit showcasing his printmaking skills and creative process of deconstructing things on paper (the one in which I had the stand-off with "the old bag"). This was one of my two favorite pieces from the exhibit:

Head of a Woman No. 5. Dora Maar.

Pablo Picasso, 1939

All in all, it was one of the best days I've had in a very long time. There's something about art that just relaxes me completely and gives me that "everything is going to be ok" feeling. Plus, it really helped that I was there with some very good friends. Very therapeutic.

We ended the day with some shopping at Rockefeller Center and a carriage ride around Central Park. Perfection.

While art is different for everyone, I highly recommend MoMA to anyone who is remotely interested in modern art. It's definitely worth a visit.

And, Central Park in spring is just lovely...

sorry for the long post. i toyed with the idea of chopping it in two, but could bear splitting anything up... i guess this makes up for my month-long silence, right?

Random Facts About Me: #2

noreply@blogger.com (Ally) — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 18:57:00 +0000

I was a hopelessly gullible child. I'd like to think that I'm not as gullible now, being an overtly analytical adult, but I assume that there are still some things that I will believe with all of my heart until someone bursts my little bubble...

For example:

One Christmas Eve day, when I was seven (or so) years old, my younger sister and I went up to the attic, where all things were stored, to find our Christmas Stockings. My brilliant idea had been that everything would move along faster if we had our stockings. Ideally, the finding of the stockings would be the catalyst for our traditional Christmas Eve festivities to begin: we would go to church, eat a dinner consisting of a traditional seafood stew, watch A Christmas Carol (the one with George C. Scott), hang our stockings by the fireplace, read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement C. Moore, then try to sleep between the sugar plum fairies and sounds of little hooves on the roof interrupting our dreams.

While we were in the attic, instead of stockings, we found a treasure trove of toys. A giant pink dollhouse with all the furnishings, a jungle of stuffed animals, Go Go My Walking Pup, and other toys that I can't remember right now... Of course, being the sweet, innocent children we were, we went to my parents and told them what we had found. We were met with looks of horror. That's when we knew we were in trouble. My mom quickly locked herself in the bathroom with the phone, while my Aunt Kathy tried to console us as we sat at the kitchen table, wringing our hands with worry. Would Santa still come after we had just committed the end all be all of things that would put one on the Naughty List?

As my mom reemerged from the bathroom, I could feel my heart beating rapidly, and sweat forming on the palms of my hands. She looked at us, and said, "I just spoke with the North Pole. Apparently, Santa uses various houses as a warehouse for other kids' toys, so he won't have to carry them all on his sleigh. Don't worry. Santa's still coming, he's just using our attic to store other toys." Thrilled that we hadn't ruined Christmas, we jumped up and danced around the kitchen with glee. Christmas Eve was as magical as ever, and soon, the troubles of the day had vanished into thin air.

On Christmas morning, as my sister and I tore through the wrapping paper like wild animals, I stopped for a minute, surveyed our newly acquired treasures and looked at my sister. I stopped her and said, "Loren, isn't it kind of amazing that somewhere in the world Santa brought some lucky kids the exact same presents as us?"

this photo of me and my sister was taken on Easter, but still gives the same effect, because I also believed that a giant rabbit left us candy and colored eggs....

I wish that this story was a work of fiction, but alas, it really happened this way. I really was that gullible, and definitely believed in Santa until I was twelve years old. Yup, that's right. Twelve. For Reals.