The Big Fat Lie

My daughter lost a tooth a couple of weeks ago which resulted in an unfortunate discussion about “the truth”.   As she stomped her little foot in the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest yelling “Tell me the truth! Is there a tooth fairy?  Or an Easter Bunny?  You tell me the truth, IS SANTA REAL?”  The sick, twisted part of my brain wanted to yell back in my best Jack Nicholson impression, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH”, but instead we had a very emotional discussion about the fact that there is no Santa Claus.  She is 11, so I feel pretty good about making it this far and my son believed until he was 12.   If it weren’t for the darn tooth fairy, I think I could have pulled off another year.  For some reason, an overweight bearded man flying in a sleigh filled with toys for 100,000,000 children around the world seems more plausible than a diminutive fairy that takes teeth and leaves cash.  The Santa façade I created is certainly an extensive one, and in hindsight, I should have planned better so that maintaining the appearance of Santa did not involve quite so much time and props and well, fairly elaborate lies.  Some people I know have Santa bring the stocking; others have Santa deliver only one present per child.  For us, Santa hauls the whole wad with a few presents sprinkled in from “mom and dad.”  Not a wise move if one plans to keep the story going for ten years.

Perhaps the high hoops through which I jump stem from my childhood experience with Santa.  I have always loved Christmas and everything that goes with it:  the lights, colors, music, decorations and excitement.  I still feel like a child this time of year, and I start decorating my home in late November so that I get the full month of December to celebrate the season.  My mother was wonderful at creating this charming atmosphere during the holidays and I am thankful for that.  However, my mom was not quite as good about preserving the Santa veneer.   When I was a wee child of just seven years old, I must have heard some grumblings on the bus, or saw a strange commercial, or perhaps even had some fit of pragmatism that prompted me to ask if there was a Santa Claus.  I thought I asked my mother, but the response I got was from George Washington.  “I cannot tell a lie, Kristie – there is no Santa Claus.”  

“What?”  For god’s sake, I was 7!  I didn’t ask if she cut down a flipping cherry tree, I asked about Chris Cringle.  I didn’t really want to know there wasn’t a Santa.  I wanted reassurance from a parental figure that magic does exist, that reindeer (despite their four legs and lack of wings) do fly!  I didn’t want to be thrust into the world of doubters and jaded non-believers.  I was shocked, saddened, and thoroughly disappointed that my mom was such a shitty liar.  From then on, I worked doubly hard to keep the illusion going for my brother.  Whenever he expressed any sort of uncertainty, I quickly assured him of Santa’s magical powers of flight, omniscience, appetite and stealth.  “And whatever you do, don’t ask mom!”  

When my son was born, I couldn’t wait to thrust my enthusiasm for Christmas upon him.  I remember shoving the stocking knit by my grandmother with his name on it in his fat little hands when he was just four months old as the two of us sat near the tree early on Christmas morning.  I did a pretty good job too, by the age of 3 he had memorized ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ and he could decorate a tree like a professional. 

Of course, both my kids have asked about Santa repeatedly through the years, and while I am a really terrible liar (genetic), I can pull it together for this particular question.

  

“Of course there is a Santa, I would never get you a blow dart gun!”   

“Mommy and Daddy could never in a million years wrap all those presents!”

“Since we don’t have a chimney this year, we will just leave the door unlocked.”   

“I have no idea why Santa put lacy thong underwear in Mommy’s stocking.” 

My husband does not share my enthusiasm for the holidays.  I think perhaps men in general fall into this category.  In the naiveté of my youth, I pictured us drinking wine, smiling and lovingly wrapping presents for the kids together on Christmas Eve.  This has in fact, never happened (while my mom was exposing me to the less than cheerful facts about the holidays, she could have alerted me to this little tidbit).  One Christmas Eve he totally lost it; as we were frantically wrapping presents in our closet (so we could get to bed before 2 am in the hopes of getting 4 hours of sleep) he reached for the wrong paper. 

 “You can’t use that paper, that gift is from Santa, you have to use the red polka-dotted paper,” I told him. 

 “Jesus Christ! (His only recognition of Jesus’ involvement in Christmas), you make this so goddamn complicated.  The kids are not going to know which paper is from Santa and which is from us!” he yelled.  

The next morning when my daughter pointed out that Santa used the same snowflake tape that I did; he was adequately put in his place. He has also not participated in the merriment of Christmas Eve wrapping since.   He does, however, drop 20+ f-bombs while we put up our monstrous xmas tree.   He dutifully chomps on the carrots left in the yard for the reindeer, and is capable of gobbling his share of Santa’s cookies and milk without complaint. 

To some extent, I can sympathize with my mother.  Like any good magician – there is certainly a lot of work behind the scenes to create the perfect illusion (particularly without an assistant).  But the absolute wonder and joy on their faces on Christmas morning is worth it to me. How often do we have excitement, brilliance, and awe in our lives?  Let them believe.  In this case, it is ok to tell a lie.

Mac and his Christmas Stocking

   

Recipes February 29th

Flank Steak with Chimichurri Sauce (from Pam Anderson one dish meals, not Pamela Anderson the Baywatch babe that Borat pines for throughout the movie)


4 garlic cloves
2 cups fresh parsley leaves
1 cup fresh cilantro leaves
1 jalapeño, stemmed and seeded
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tbs. lemon juice
2 Tbs. rice wine vinegar, divided
2 tsps. each dried oregano, ground cumin
Salt and ground black pepper


Put all of the above in a food processor and serve with the grilled flank steak.  Serve with a green salad and wild rice.


Steamed Mussels from Cooking Light
http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/steamed-mussels-garlic-shallots-10000000223664/


Serve with roasted small red potatoes and green beans.


Barefoot Contessa Butternut Squash Soup


http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/butternut-squash-and-apple-soup-recipe/index.html


Instead of the apple cider in the soup, I use chicken broth.  It was too sweet for my taste.  Serve with Red Bicycle Bread from The Market in Park City and a chopped salad. 


 I had the following chopped salad at Trio in Salt Lake City, I tried to re-create it as best I could...


Mixed Greens
Finely chopped cucumbers
Chopped cooked red beets
Feta cheese, crumbled
Chopped Pistachios


Top with a citrus vinaigrette (olive oil, lemon/orange juice, dijon mustard).

Grammie

My grandmother mounts her own private rebellion against healthy living by feeding her cats heavy cream.  They have, of course, blown up like balloons and can barely move, but she seems content in the knowledge that someone can enjoy a high fat diet.  Cats have nine lives after all.

Unlike many older people I know who fear germs, my Grammie seems to seek out situations where they fester.  She reads to first graders each week in the public school system.  She allows the obese felines to walk on the tables and feeds them on the counter tops. 

“Cats are always cleaning themselves,” she informs me.

“Yes, with the same tongues that just licked that dead bird outside,” I point out. 

She doesn’t appreciate my sarcasm or newfound appreciation for cleanliness (apparently I wasn’t like this as a child – I could go a whole week without a shower “it’s good dirt!”).  She insists on putting her vegetable peels and other compost materials into an empty juice box next to the sink to put out in the garden at some undefined point in the future.  Many of these habits which may appear harmless in your sixties manifest themselves as much more dangerous activities in your eighties and nineties.  A compost box that used to get emptied daily (back when composting was not trendy) can now sit for weeks generating penicillin.  Cookies that were lovingly hand made in 1995 and stored in that lively place called the freezer, find their way innocently to the dessert buffet at family Christmas gatherings. I think she figures she has made it this far, through much worse things than mold, and so be it.

I was blessed to have the most picturesque, Norman Rockwell grandmother.  She could create a mouth-watering pot roast, accompanied by homemade applesauce from the apples in her orchard.  She served dessert after every dinner, and she ALWAYS had homemade cookies around.  She sent them to me for holiday treats well into her 80’s.  She and my grandfather maintained a huge garden and orchard with abundant fruits and vegetables that we joyfully picked for healthy summer meals.  And when summer ended, we still enjoyed those veggies and fruits because she canned them herself.  All of this while she worked as a nurse until she was 70!  She thought that bathing (at least for us kids) was highly overrated and instead we would hose down at the end of a long day playing in the yard.  She also thought that apple pie (which she made from scratch of course) was a perfectly suitable breakfast food.  In essence, she was the perfect grandmother, who created the quintessential grandchild environment.

With all of this care and fine living, I had one question that kept nagging at me.  How could my mother have emerged from the loins of this wonder woman?  Were they even related?  My mother struggled to make spaghetti (and I do mean spaghetti, no venturing into the creative likes of rotini or farfelle) a few nights a week.  She also came up with the preposterous idea that carob was a treat comparable to chocolate, but better because it wouldn’t turn my brother and I into “candy monsters”.  My mother couldn’t grow grass in our yard, let alone a juicy apple or crunchy ear of corn.  We were surrounded by half dead plants that she was attempting to “revive”.  My grandmother was largely un-phased by our childhood naughtiness.  My mother practically had a heart attack when I ripped my jeans or spilled juice on the couch.

My mother, as all good mothers do, dressed me in dresses and skirts when I was a toddler.  I stayed with my grandparents while my parents went to the hospital to have my brother.  I am told that two appalling events took place during their absence:  1) I fell down the stairs (my grandmother dusted me off and declared that “I would live”) and 2) my grandmother dressed me, in all things, OVERALLS.

My grandmother grew up on a farm in Western Connecticut.  She had three younger brothers, horses, chickens, and assorted other stray animals.  She was quite a tomboy and lived to run and play with her siblings. The house where she grew up had a secret room in the attic where they hid slaves who were escaping from the south along the underground railroad.  I always found it fascinating that my family participated in such good-intentioned yet risky behavior.  My great- great grandmother was one of the first women doctors in CT and my great grandmother, grandmother, and mother were all nurses.  I never had the Nightingale calling.

I uncovered these exciting facts through long talks with my grandmother, and many summer days spent rummaging in the attic, sweat dripping down my hairline.  I could spend countless hours in the attic, comfortable in the company of my deceased ancestors and their relics.  Which leads me to the concept of The Yankee Clutter Mentality.  After coming to the new world, but before slaughtering the Indians, desperate times were among the puritans.  They learned to scrimp and save every bit of food, wood, water, tinfoil, and threadbare sock imaginable.  The penny saving ways never left the stodgy New Englander.  Eventually, after they got what they needed from the Indians and killed them, they learned to build bigger houses, but closed ¾ of them off to save heat.  Just as they started to feel more confident in their crops, there was a war, and then another.  Darn life was unpredictable!  Better keep a full pantry, re-use tin foil and plastic bags, and store water in old jugs in the basement in case of emergency.

And so the legacy of clutter began in my family (see related Blog -”A Girl and Her Mother”).  This is a trait I am trying to bring to a suitable close in my family history.  I have to fight the urge to save everything as generations of pile-makers course through my veins.  Occasionally I fret that I won’t leave any antiquities for my children and grandchildren to sort through, but then I am sated to know that my mom and grandmother have collected enough “heirlooms” to satisfy centuries of historical curiosity.

View of the Canyons from the Trail in Quarry Mtn

Recipes Feb 22 Salmon, Pasta, and Chick Pea soup

This week's recipes originate from my time on the treadmill during Giada's "weeknight meals show".

Balsamic Glazed Salmon

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/balsamic-glazed-salmon-recipe/index.html

This was super easy and tasty.  I was too lazy to cook the vegetables to go underneath the salmon so I just served steamed edamame on the side.  I also served it with quinoa, which I made according to package directions but then added the following:  I heated some olive oil and added chopped garlic and finely chopped fresh rosemary and heated just until fragrant.  I mixed the oil mixture into the quinoa and added freshly grated parmesan cheese, salt and pepper.  Yummy.  You can use the remaining fresh rosemary for the next dish...

Pureed Chick Pea Soup from Anne Burrell

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/anne-burrell/pureed-chickpea-soup--passato-di-ceci-recipe/index.html

This is easy to make, thick and hardy, it just takes a while to cook, but you can be doing other things around the house while it is cooking away.  Or make it ahead.  I added a few springs of fresh rosemary to the soup while it was simmering in addition to the thyme.  Serve with a green salad.

Fusilli with Romano, Spinach and Black Pepper

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/fusilli-with-pecorino-romano-and-black-pepper-recipe/index.html

I toned down the pepper so my kids would eat it.  Very fast and tasty.  You could add some chopped fresh basil as well.  Serve with a caprese salad.

Be Like Barbie

Since I can’t afford plastic surgery, I’ve come up with my own inexpensive and highly effective recipe for an anti-aging mask. 

Are you ready to write this down?  I have brewed up a formula for a mask called CHRONIC NON-EXPRESSION.  It would be far simpler to whip up some egg yolks and avocado.  However, this recipe calls for a rare mix of dedication, composure and feigned nonchalance.  Remaining inexpressive is extremely difficult for me.  As I’ve been told multiple times, I have a “very active” forehead.  This is a beauty euphemism for the fact that I raise my eyebrows when I’m excited or telling a story, I squint in the sunlight, and I frown when concentrating or reading.  

Consequently, I have vowed to be a stone face.  Don’t react to any situation.  (I might add that this particular beauty tactic overlaps nicely with my teenage parenting strategy – keep calm, don’t overreact) 

“Mom, I backed the car into a snowbank and dented the fender.”   

“Mom, I have no clean clothes, I’m late and it’s all your fault!”  

Instead of using hundreds of fragile facial muscles to exercise my displeasure and probably create an unnecessary scene at home, I simply take a deep breath, relax my face and say,

 “That is unfortunate, please take the car to the body shop and determine how much this accident is going to cost you.”   or

“I am sorry that you are late and that you have to go to school naked, please get in the car at your earliest convenience so you don’t get a tardy slip.”  

Of course, if I didn’t have a teenager and a tween, I probably wouldn’t need the mask or the plastic surgery.

I blame most of my image issues (as you can tell, there are many) on time spent with Barbie when I was young.  Oh how I loved Barbie and her many wardrobe changes.  I was especially enamored with the Barbie airplane and the Barbie dream house that my neighbors owned and about which, I could only fantasize.  We spent hours dressing and undressing Barbie, making her kiss and dry hump Ken, and creating a variety of edgy hair styles using nail scissors.   I didn’t realize that throughout this seemingly benign play, I was secretly internalizing the perky, hard breasts, narrow hips, toothpick legs, one-inch waist, cancer-causing tan, long blonde extensions, and generating an impossible icon of perfection in my mind that I would strive to achieve for the rest of my life.  Come to think of it - I’m quite sure that Barbie’s single smiling expression contributed to her flawless, wrinkle free - almost plastic looking skin.

They do have a new Barbie feature that I spied in the toy store last week that might just suit my 40ish needs - Swapping Heads Barbie!  If you’ve had a crappy night’s sleep and bags under your eyes, just swap heads with another Barbie!  Get a bad haircut?  Choose a Barbie head with refreshed locks!   Botox gone wrong?  Simply choose a younger Barbie head!  I knew that Barbie would solve all of my problems one day. 

   

Kristie's Choice for February

The Bauble Bar
Unique, reasonably priced costume jewelry (or as my Parisian friend calls it Bijoux Fantasy - everything sounds more seductive in French)  that has been featured in a few magazines.  http://baublebar.com/

Wen Sweet Almond Mint Cleansing Conditioner
Ironically, my husband first requested this product and now I've adopted it.  It doesn't contain sulfates, so there is no lather which is a paradigm shift that you will have to get used to, and you have to leave it on for about 5 minutes for it to work, but it does seem to be a healthy alternative to every day washing.  In the directions, it says to use "16-20 pumps for medium length hair" - which is simply ridiculous.  I use 5-7 pumps for my hair.  If your hair is really greasy, it probably won't give it a proper cleansing.  And don't expect your hair to look like the girls in the commercials - clearly they have had the benefit of a professional blow-out from "Chaz", but I do feel like my hair is softer and less frizzy.
http://www.wenhaircare.com/  Available on Amazon, like everything else in the world.

Greens First
A powdered version of greens that you can mix into your smoothies or whatever you prefer.  Most greens supplements that I sampled make me feel like a horse trying to choke down a bunch of hay.  These go down relatively smoothly and have a pleasant minty flavor.
http://www.greensfirst.com/index_2011.asp?node=2  You can also get this on Amazon.

Frozen Blueberries
These are tasty late afternoon snack when you really want to eat a bag of pirate booty, a box of thin mints,  jar of peanut butter, etc.  They are crunchy, satisfying and healthy and you can buy a GIANT bag (shocking I know) at Costco.


Organic Girl Super Greens
For some reason, these greens taste really great to me and they seem to last longer than other greens.  Available at Whole Foods

Mother Denim
These are the most comfortable, soft jeans.  They are pictured here in red, but they are available in other colors.  You can find them at Fred Segal, Neiman Marcus, and Bergdorf Goodman.  Sometimes they have them at JMR at the Gateway in Salt Lake City.

SkinMedica Tri-Retinol Complex
I have pretty sensitive skin and usually can't use Retin-A, but this retinol cream is perfect.  I use it every other night in the winter, and every night in the summer.  Apply a light moisturizer over the retinol once it has dried (see past blog "middle aged beauty routine" for further info).  http://www.dermstore.com/long_100155-300109.htm?s_kwcid=TC%7C5319%7Cskin%20medica%20creams%7C%7CS%7Cb%7C9802861989&gclid=CMD8zrKgoa4CFQ5_hwodkgz8SQ

Pass the Popcorn board game
If your brain is filled with useless movie knowledge like mine, you will enjoy this game.  My kids think I am both brilliant and cool when we play this game together (a rare occasion indeed).  Good family fun, because I always win.

Ginger Ale and Vodka
My friend Amanda turned me onto this drink.  Yummy and a refreshing break from the boring vodka/club soda combo.  Whole Foods carries this brand of "superior" ginger ale.

Cucumbers
My friend Heidi sent me this info.  Personally, I love cucumbers but always wrote them off as having no nutritional value.  It seems I was wrong, "cucumbers contain Vitamin B1, Vitamin B2, Vitamin B3, B5, B6, Folic Acid, Vitamin C, Calcium, Iron, Magnesium, Phosphorus, Potassium and Zinc."  They can do everything from alleviate a hangover, to clear off a foggy mirror, to polish your shoes, to fix a squeaky hinge, and perhaps most importantly - rub away cellulite!  Read on... http://boards.weddingbee.com/topic/cucumbers-who-knew

Love Padlocks on a Paris Bridge

Love in Paris, November 2010

Recipes February 15th - One Pot Meals

Beef Bourguignon From Barefoot Contessa
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/beef-bourguignon-recipe/index.html
This takes a little longer than 30 minutes, but it can definitely be made ahead and then put in the crock pot to cook for a crowd.  This is fantastic on a cold winter night after skiing served over mashed or roasted potatoes.  Easier than Julia Child, but just as exceptional.

Roasted Chicken (also known as Engagement Chicken) from Contessa
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/perfect-roast-chicken-recipe/index.html
Preparation for this takes only 30 minutes, but it does take a couple of hours to cook.  Use the leftovers to make a chicken soup later in the week.

Fusilli with Sausage and Artichoke Hearts from Giada
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/fusilli-with-sausage-artichokes-and-sun-dried-tomatoes-recipe/index.html
Easy and appetizing.

Yoga: Stress or Finesse?

Do you remember when yoga was a relaxing experience with maybe 12-15 people in a good size space with low lighting and room temperature heating?  We did power moves to generate our own heat.  The class was two hours long, 15 minutes of which was devoted to shavasana (corpse pose).  We worked hard, but felt relaxed and fully stretched afterward.  The instructor had time to give each of us a little cranial massage while we shavasana-ed.

Like every other sport in the world it seems, yoga has gone the way of extremity.  It might be the next candidate for the X-games.  I was first introduced to Bikram yoga 8 years ago during a visit to Salt Lake.  My mother-in-law told me about this “new workout” in Sugarhouse and so we ventured out, mats and towels in hand (the $10 bed and bath kind, not the $50 slip resistant, super absorbent kind from LuLu).  We entered a medium sized room and performed pose after pose for an hour and a half in 98 degree heat.  I was in agony, longing to exit the room after 30 minutes.  I couldn’t imagine how my mother-in-law, who was probably in the throws of menopause, was surviving the class.  After a literally suffocating 90 minutes, we were finally set free.  My mother-in-law proceeded straight to the locker room and stepped in the cold shower fully clothed.  My menopause theory was confirmed.  I thought I would never go back to hot yoga.  She ended up hurting her back doing yoga and also never went back.  (See the NY Times article “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body” http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/08/magazine/how-yoga-can-wreck-your-body.html?pagewanted=all)

Today, yoga barely resembles the activity I once enjoyed back in the early part of the millennium.  On my last trip to the yoga studio in Park City, we did power yoga in a bikram-esque environment.  The temperature was 91 degrees and humidity was hovering at 66%.  Usually in those conditions I would be sitting under an umbrella reading a book and sipping a margarita, but today I will be doing power jumps, push ups, lunges and binds.  Not to mention that there are 55 lulu-lemon clad people in a space with a maximum occupancy of 47 and trust me, 47 is a stretch.  As they instruct us in their mellifluous yoga voices to move our mats closer together and touch our neighbor (who is already sweating profusely and is only sporting his compression shorts) in order to make room for more neighbors, I start to panic.  I count.  There were never this many neighbors in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood.  Even Mr. Rogers could not stay calm and peaceful surrounded by sweat, germs, heat and half-naked neighbors. 

 “Excuse me, the sign says that maximum occupancy is 47 and there are 50 people in here.”  

“Be quiet you are embarrassing me!” my husband shushes me.

The class should have started by now, but they keep letting people in. Now there is someone blocking the door on their mat.

“That is a violation of the fire code,” I point out.  

“Oh my god, stop!” my husband says.  “Just relax.”

I know that I should be clearing my mind and sending breath into my stiff areas (I don’t think anyone has enough breath to limber up my lack of flexibility - I even try to borrow breath from my neighbor).   Instead I am panting heavily and my mind flits back and forth on the following items:

• If there is a fire, there will be a mass stampede from all of these tree huggers and I won’t get out in time.  Maybe there is enough sweat to put out the fire.  
• How much oxygen is available for 55 people in a small, 91 degree room?  Especially when we are all breathing heavily into every pained muscle?
• OMG my face looks old and red in the mirror.
• Couldn’t that man wear something over his compression shorts?
• What is that terrible sweaty ball smell?
• Please open the door for fresh air, I will OMMMM more loudly if you open the door right now.
• The skin that used to be my boob is creeping out of my sports bra and into my armpit.  Probably because it is not LLL.
• The dog must have used this towel before me, I have dog hair in my mouth.
• My, how LuLu Lemon has profited greatly from this new-found torture, I should have bought stock.

After crow, side crow, ten rounds of warrior-type stances, 5 rounds of full wheel, hand stands and head stands and shoulder stands, 7 pounds of sweat, and way too much contact with my neighbor, we are finally allowed to do the only position that comes naturally to me in such heat - being a corpse.   The teacher reads some enlightening tidbit about tolerance and compassion - especially for - you guessed it - our neighbor.

I have a plan for the next time yoga class is over-crowded, I will get into a “full moon” posture and clear out the room.

Pender Island, British Columbia Sunset in July

Sundance, For Better or For Worse

Sundance can be potentially divisive in Park City.  Some get annoyed and complain and others embrace it; I fall into the latter category.  Yes, there is tons of traffic and it is hard to get around.  Yes, people in fur coats and even furrier boots clog up Whole Foods (Smith’s is fairly safe though).  But when else does a film festival come to your hometown bringing amazing films from around the world and you can be among the first to see them? 

Our first year living in Park City my kids were young and their grandparents took them to Salt Lake for the whole first weekend of the festival.  We had a house full of guests (also without kids) and we went from movie to movie (waiting in line for leftover tickets), out to lunch at Zoom where we saw Robert Redford, crashed random parties and walked all over Main Street.   It was like we were visitors in our own town.  I always have fun at Sundance, but nothing equals that first year and the freedom and novelty of it all.  My girlfriend has proposed that we rent a hotel room in town for the weekend, get our husbands to baby sit their own children and "do Sundance" like true film aficionados (who seemingly have no responsibilities). However, in the middle of school and ski season, this is a difficult proposition.

One thing I love about Sundance is how it transforms Park City from a “small resort ski town” into a puffy-coated-quasi-Hollywood experience for 10 days.  Stores that typically house lame t-shirts, nature photos or ski clothes suddenly transform into hip bars, music cafes, dance clubs, “pop-up stores” with trendy clothes, or computer labs showcasing the latest film technology.   For instance, I tried to see David Gray perform at one of the music cafes.  I was late (I had to drop my daughter off somewhere after school - those damn responsibilities can really get in the way!) and the line was too long when I arrived, so I didn’t get in.  I heard him through the door and he sounded awesome.  I waited for about 30 minutes and concluded that my chances of gaining entry legally before his set was over were 10% at best.  Just then, two guys approach our forlorn line (with our ears pathetically pressed to the door) handing out passes to another music café with a live guitarist.  I venture up to that venue (replete with a see-thru bar and modern bar furniture) and happily listen to acoustic music (not as good as David, but still enjoyable) while sipping a heart-warming hot chocolate made with real milk, topped with homemade whipped cream and marshmallows AND chocolate sprinkles.   Later, I walk into a gallery and I’m offered a hot mulled pomegranate cider with rum and homemade turtle brownies (hmm I see an alarming trend here that is not supporting my new year’s vow to abstain from sugar).  The friendly gallery owner shows me a unique exhibit from an artist that uses old books and resin to create art (pictures, coffee tables, etc.)  Did I mention that earlier in the week I went to a One Republic concert?  Did I mention that said concert was only 3 miles from my house?

And of course, there are the thought-provoking films that are featured at the festival.  Some of them can be offbeat (or downright bizarre), but for the most part I have loved everything I’ve ever viewed.  I think part of my benevolent feelings stem from the audience energy at the festival.  People cheer, laugh and give standing ovations.  It is not like seeing Dolphin Tale at the dollar theatre.  The documentaries are usually the best.  I walk out of these films saddened about the world, or happy to the point of tears, in some cases cued to take action on a pressing environmental issue, but always realize how much there is to learn in the world and how thankful I am that someone has taken the time to educate the rest of us. 

This year I saw a film called “Liberal Arts” written, directed and starring Josh Radnor (who I now have a huge crush on).  It was an outstanding movie about a 35 year-old college admissions administrator (Jessie) who returns to his Alma mater and ends up in a relationship with a 19 year-old student.  There were many quotable quotes that I wish I could remember, and significant messages about mentoring, relationships and life.  My favorite part of the movie is when the student (played by Elizabeth Olsen, who is a talented young actress) gives Jessie (played by Radnor) a CD of classical music.  As he listens to the play list back in NYC, his whole view of the city changes and it skillfully illustrates how music facilitates transcendence. Allison Janney also has a brief but hilarious performance in the film, and Richard Jenkins is fabulous as a retiring professor.  I have tried multiple avenues to obtain the classical play list, but so far I have zero clout in Hollywood so I haven’t gotten very far (even after I informed Josh’s publicist that I had a blog with 7 followers!).
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1872818/

Embracing something typically requires some leap of faith.  Either you are going to see Bradley Cooper walking down Main St, or you are not.  You might get in to a movie after waiting in line, or you might not.  The film might be amazing, or it might be an oddball.  All the actors might be at the Q&A, or just the producer.  If you maintain an open heart and mind, you never know what might happen.   That’s why I dress up for movie premieres; it is feasible that Josh Radnor might jump down off the Q&A stage, pick me up in his arms and sweep me off to LA with him on his private jet.  You have to be prepared; anything is possible at Sundance.

P.S. I'm sure all would be well with Josh until he read my blog and discovered it takes me an hour to get ready for bed.  I think I would have to lose the sticker and the retainer for our relationship to move to the next level.

Recipes and Leftovers Feb 3

This week I'm trying something new with the recipes.  Being more frugal and using leftovers in creative ways.

Monday 
I roasted chicken breasts with the skin on via barefoot contessa's instructions and proceeded to make her perfect Chicken Pot pie (I used Pillsbury pie crusts, Ina's are quite grand, but not worth the extra effort on a week night).  I roasted two extra chicken breasts that I used for chicken salad in the kids' lunches on Tuesday and in the southwest chipolte lettuce wraps for dinner the following night.
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/chicken-pot-pie-recipe/index.html

Tuesday
Southwestern Chicken Lettuce Wraps from Cooking Light
http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/chicken-lettuce-wraps-50400000104699/
I thought lettuce wraps were only for those watching their weight, but it seems that kids are a fan of anything that allows them to shun the use of silverware during consumption.
I used the leftover black beans and rice to make bean rice and cheese burritos for the kids' school lunches.

Wednesday
I had a grand plan to make a healthy fish dish, but due to an abundance of extra curricular activities, I had to react on the fly and came up with Giada's crepes.  Instead of peanut butter and jelly, we filled them with nutella, bananas, strawberries and whipped cream.  So it wasn't the healthiest of dinners, but it was a huge hit and they didn't need dessert!  The great thing about crepes is that you usually have the ingredients in the fridge/pantry so they do not necessitate a trip to the grocery store.
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/pb-and-j-crepes-recipe/index.html

Thursday
Tacos - whatever your family likes (beef, taco seasoning, tortillas, lettuce, tomatoes, shredded cheese and salsa), but since they don't take much time, I also made lasagna for Friday's dinner using the recipe below.  You could also cook up a double batch of ground beef and separate it before you add the taco seasoning and use it later in the week for your lasagna.

Friday
Lasagna from my mother-in-law's friend Diana Webb.

10 lasagna noodles (uncooked regular, not the no-cooking required kind)
1 jar of marinara sauce
3/4 pound ground beef (can substitute ground turkey, turkey sausage)
3/4 pound of ground sausage
1 onion chopped
2 cloves of garlic chopped
16 oz container of cottage cheese
1/2 cup of grated parmesan
1/4 cup of chopped fresh parsley
1 egg
8 oz shredded mozzarella cheese (or more if you like it cheesier)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees
Cook the onions in olive oil for 4 minutes, add the garlic, beef and sausage and continue to cook until brown.  Add the whole jar of sauce and another 1/2 cup of water and bring to a simmer.  Remove from heat.  In a small bowl, mix together the cottage cheese, parmesan cheese, parsley and egg.
Assemble the lasagna as follows in a 9x13 pan:  base layer is the half the ground beef mixture, then layer 5 lasagna noodles slightly overlapping, spread the cottage cheese mixture over the first layer of noodles, then add another layer of 5 noodles, sprinkle the mozzarella cheese directly over the dry noodles and finish with the rest of the ground beef mixture (at this point you can store it in the fridge for a day or so).  Cover with foil and cook for 1 hour.  Instead of beef/sausage I have also used a variety of vegetables that I saute or roast (broccoli, mushrooms, asparagus, etc.) to make a veggie lasagna.