Why I’m Not In Advertising

Over the years I’ve thought, off and on, about a career in advertising. Or at least branching off into the more strict marketing territory. The pace, the creativity, the vibe, writing on such a condensed scale with high-impact demands…it interests me.

But for various and sundry reasons, I always naturally drift back to what I know and love…communications.

A friend with a similar mind-set sent me this link today and now I know, whenever the marketing bug hits, I’ll have no trouble squashing it.  This is the stuff nightmares are made of…except it’s funny, and therefore kinda worse than your average nightmare if you consider that this is actually some people’s day-to-day existence.

Check it out on “Creativity Bites Back.”

Shake Speare

Again…another off-topic post. But I think that’s what comes of trying to buy a house–all regularly scheduled activities fall to the wayside whilst you navigate the anxiety-ridden world of mortgages, contract negotiations and home inspections.

But, in lieu of my usual playtime, here is a little piece of creativity I made for my husband’s stage combat business. He did the conceptualizing; I did the fiddling.

There's bloody good fun to be had in Casey's Shakespeare stage combat classes.

OT Post: A Kitten Needs A Home

This is completely off topic for me, but I wanted to get the word out about a very sweet little kitten that *needs a home.

She has showed up on the doorstep with a sweet disposition and a surprisingly brave constitution. She’s probably 5 weeks old or so. She comes when you whistle for her…lopes right on up to you with a little meow. Plays a bit, but mostly just likes to be cuddled. We haven’t taken her to the vet yet, but will likely do that next week just to get her checked out. If you think you might want to *adopt her, contact me.

*I will only give this kitten to people I know personally. If you read this blog but you’re not a “real life” friend or family member, I simply can’t entertain the idea. Not all people in this world look at animals the same way I do. Thanks for your understanding.

For scale…kitten v. foot; kitten v. hand.

So cute!

Hit Dupont Circle for Morning Music

This is just a quick-dash post to let anyone riding the DC metro this morning know that there’s a fantastic violin and electric bass duo playing at the south exit of the Dupont Circle metro stop. To hear “If I Were A Rich Man” trilling along and unscored by the bom-bom-bom of the bass as I accended on the steep escalator was a trippy way to start a Friday. Wish I had a camera!

Scurry over if you’re nearby this morning!

Posts to come: Wine Camp!

Putting the “Mmm” in Mistakes

Lately everything I bake has been turning out all goofy-footed. It always ends up tasting great, but it’s never without its surprises. And I think I can blame it on the somewhat lax attitude I’ve taken to following directions these days — a completely un-Jen mindset that’s producing mixed results across the board.

The other week I tried my hand at a Nigella recipe — her Sour Cream Chocolate Cake from “How To Be a Domestic Goddess,” p. 169. My intent was to vary the recipe only enough to add the zest of a whole orange and substitute triple sec for vanilla. Oh…and since I only had fat-free sour cream, to substitute that for the full-fat version. Um…and since that was far thicker than the full-fat version, to make is a little thinner with some milk. Ah yes…and I didn’t have 8″ pans avilable, so I used my trusted 9″ers.

Sigh…

And I wonder why baking occasionally gives me such conniptions.

It didn’t rise. Not a lick. Each layer was less than an inch high. The interior of the cake was terrifically moist and the orange came through beautifully, but there truly wasn’t a bit of height in the whole thing. So I manufactured height. I filled the middle with a basic cream cheese icing spiked with more Triple Sec and orange zest, then piled a whole pint of whipped heavy cream on top and grated zest and chocolate shavings over that. Tad-da! Chocolate-Orange Cream Cake!

It was a hit at the party I took it to. Now, if only I could keep myself from confessing each baking blunder…

Hapless Party-goer: Mmmm, this is good!

Me: Oh, well, you see I completely screwed it up, so I’m shocked it tastes good, let me tell you all about it, it all started with the sour cream….

Hapless Party-goer: I see a drink with my name on it waaaay over there.

Next up? My adventures with rhubarb — my typically stalwart dessert fruit of choice that is also falling victim to my yummy experimentation.

Heat Rash

We’re pushing record June highs in this Mid-Atlantic heatwave, and the accompanying delirium is setting in. People are stumbling though parking lots, staggering into big-box stores and sucking in the AC like suffocating Hoover uprights.

I yearn for something cooler and sweeter and gentler to take hold and oust this humid mess; send it back into the maw of whatever swampy creature it came from. Give us heat, sure — I understand that it’s summer, after all. But please take away this sweltering blanket of of pollen and must.

I’m daydreaming…daydreaming of an outdoor shower that opens up at the top to the sky, its sides lined in brilliant blue tarp nailed to plywood and two-by-fours, a shower head that shines from above, ready to offer a freezing blast of water on tanned-to-toast skin. It’ll shock and sting at first, but body-heat and water-cold will quickly mix and I’ll sigh long and deep as the tension sluices away with the sweat and dirt, and I’ll think, “How fantastic to be alive.”

What are you wishing for in this heatwave? If you want to play along, post a picture or a story or a song — whatever you like — onto your blog. Link back to this post and let’s see if the collective power of desire can’t cool things down a bit, at least in our imaginations, if nowhere else.

More Graves Mountain Pics

I have a few more pictures from the weekend at the Graves Mountain Festival of Music that I thought I’d throw onto the screen for you. In other music-making news, I’m working on “the chop” and lamenting that I did not inherit my mother’s long fingers.

These folks had the right idea. The stream ran right past the stage and the most clever of the bunch just put their chairs right into the water, while the rest of us baked on the lawn.

Graves Mounatin Breakdown

I turn to my friend in the lawn chair beside me, give him a blissed-out smile that is equal parts sunburn and warm wine, and with my generally dormant mountain accent turned up to thick and dripping, sigh, “Lord, I love the smell of honeysuckle on the night air.”

And, in agreement, the band on stage at Graves Mountain Festival of Music sings back to me across the packed lawn that they, too, know there’s nothing quite like honeysuckle on a summer night.

Simpatico.

That about sums up my experience at my first bluegrass festival. One big, musical call-and-response of affirmation and peacefulness.

Mom’s Dolmades Recipe

My Mom and Dad just had their 31st wedding anniversary, and she said she might make these for my dad as his present. If she does, I’ll post the picture. Until then, here’s her recipe from her Greek cookbook, which, oddly enough, does not include olive oil. Hmmm…

Dolmathes Avgolemono Me Kima (Stuffed Grape Leaves with Chopped Meat)

Scones: Ginger-Lime-Orange; Chocolate-Butterscotch

 

The best thing about being a baking addict? When I travel to see friends, they want to bake with me! This is excellent since most of my baking happens between me and my KitchenAid (which I have to name, I think, as she…or maybe he…has become such a trusted companion). But otherwise, I’m generally alone. The Husband is wise and stays in the other room — especially when I’m ruining yet another batch of buttercream.

So it was with much delight that my friend Lisa in St. Louis announced upon my arrival that we were going to 1) shop, 2) bake, and 3) play music. Trifecta of Happiness!

What did we bake? Scones courtesy of the goddess that is Julia Child. I believe Lisa used her basic Buttermilk Scone recipe from Baking With Julia. Lisa, can you confirm this? It was dietetically criminal how easy they were to make. Just a little hand-mixing and patting together of the scones in a lumpy kind of scone-shape. The end product was far less dense than scones of my past; more like a heavy biscuit. But, oh, they were divine.

We made two batches: ginger-lime-orange for me and Lisa, and chocolate-butterscotch for Lisa’s chocoholic-studying-for-med-school-exams-and-therefore-should-get-whatever-he-wants-husband Jim. I much preferred the ginger variety. We used candied ginger chopped rough, and zest from a few limes and an orange to flavor the batch. I apologize in advance that we have no “finished” pictures. They simply didn’t last long enough for me to remember to pull the camera out.

See that butter? That’s gonna go on top. The sugar, too. Ohhhh yeahhhh.

The Jim-Scones

Two batches of British love.