Whither, Gravy?

Over the past week, in preparation for the big food day, I've made 4 or 5 grocery store trips.

Never in all the years that I've been cooking Thanksgiving have I had as much trouble getting my hands on a few jars of Heinz Turkey Gravy. (There's chicken flavor, sure, but just because it's poultry doesn't mean it's the same.)

And before you start, yes, I use gravy from a jar, I admit it. And yes, and I know how easy it is to make gravy, but with so many people under foot on that day, with many things cooking at the last minute at the same time, a very few gravy fans, I've found it's best to just pop the top and plop it into a dish to zap in the microwave so everything is piping hot and ready to go.

Seems like everyone else has been scarfing up the gravy in my neighborhood, thinking the same thing.

So if you need me, I'll be at store number 6, looking for turkey gravy (or maybe even store #7, but let's hope it doesn't come to that).

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

What's It For?

is for fabulous. Which is what a very kind coworker of mine is. Fresh from a trip to Italy, she stopped by my office to give me a really lovely package of Venetian beads she picked out in Venice! It was such a lovely thoughtful gesture, that I was just stunned. I will be making something with them for sure this weekend, so I'm thinking about what to make.

Gifted

Yesterday, our entire yard was blanketed with leaves. The chilly November air causing more to tumble down with each passing minute, the leaves click-clacking like ticks and tocks of a clock.

Raking took hours, sweeping into piles, then lugging tarpfuls to the curb. Back and forth, back and forth. By the end, my back ached, but not too badly. Just enough to know it was time to stop.

Went to bed early (9:30, on a Saturday!?), exhausted, arms and legs jittery from overuse.

Slept a solid 9 hours, restorative and deep.

This morning, I tackled indoor chores. It was hard to keep going, but thanks to Mr. Spandrel's help, we got through it.

By lunchtime, we were ready for a break and ventured outside. It was beautiful; 65 degrees that felt like 75 compared with yesterday's cooler temps.

We headed to a new place nearby for lunch, thrilled - and surprised - to see that their outdoor seating area was fairly empty.

After lunch, languidly enjoying the last of a black currant iced tea, I shuddered at what a wonderful weekend it had been.

Tons accomplished:

1. A solid night's sleep.

2. A gorgeous day.

3. Yard work plowed through.

4. A bit of household organization.

5. Time spent with my favorite person.

They say each day is a gift. Some days, I'd rather return in the box it came in, get my money back - especially lately.

But this one? Priceless.

Grace issue 56

During a long slog of a day, you get something done right and well, you get credit for bringing a solid idea to fruition, and a hearty
thank you to top it all off - the trifecta of project management.

Too often, we move too fast to appreciate our own daily accomplishments, however small. Gotta savor those moments as they happen!

Grace: Issue 55

1. Full moon light through the leafless trees.


2. Cool fall air, unmarred by the snap of winter's chill.


3. Roasted chicken picked up on the way home.


4. The key turning in the lock, arriving home after a long day.


5. Going to sleep early.

Unexpected Elegance

The Diana Exhibit at Philadelphia's National Constitution Center is really a surprisingly sweet look back on the former princess's life and fashion.

The piece de resistance, her iconic wedding dress, was there in all its glory, flanked by video of the wedding day. I remember as a teenager, watching this wedding unfold like a fairy tale on television, enthralled by all the pomp and the yards and yards of silk. Today, more than 25 years later, the dress seems fussy and a little too-cute in parts, embellished with puffs and bows and volume. But it was still a thrill to see it up close.

Diana's later fashion choices, from the beaded evening gowns to the boxy day dresses that were all the rage in the 80s -- my God, why did anyone think all that shoulder paddage was necessary? -- evolved into the fluidly draped silk dresses with intricate beading that caught the light as she made her entrance on every red carpet, elegantly exiting the limousine ever-ready to shake the hand of whomever was greeting her.

It is impossible to imagine living life enduring such scrutiny.

I'm no Anglophile, but it was still interesting to view some of the dresses that have appeared in photos over the years -- in all, a lovely way to spend a fall Sunday afternoon.

Step 2: Decide What You Want

When you spend all day, every day, focused on getting things done as part of a team where one person is relying on you to toss something their way at a specified time, it's hard to get out of that mindset.

Paralyzed by indecision, with wide-open space of unscheduled time, I sometimes find that answering the question, "What do I want to do now?" can be challenging.

There are the default, dreamy, pie-in-the-sky answers that always lurk in my back pocket: Go to Paris. Take up residence at the beach. And on some days, find a way to become queen of the world where everything I say, goes. (OK, we've entered the realm of fantasy with that one, but everyone needs one, right?)

But then there are the smaller ones, infinitely more achievable. And maybe? More fun in the end...

Like, dance with someone I love.

Crunch through a perfect Gala apple.

Turn off all the gadgetry and page through an engrossing book.

Impose a little order on this one-square-foot area of my desk. (I don't want to add to the frustration!)

Have cereal for dinner.

Call a friend who always makes me laugh.

Cross off something from my personal to-do list, the list that nobody pays me to complete.

Take a walk.

Decide to tackle things differently.

Make a list of experiences that have enriched my life.

Ah, that's the one... see you later.

Step 1: Slow the Pace

Things have been really fast and furious at work as of late. To-do lists have been jammed to overflowing. Each day is maximized until I trudge back to my car, exhausted and unable to focus on a computer screen.

As Marcus Buckingham says, you need to find the joy in the hard work you do. Getting through the work so you can go home and relish a little joy is no way to get through a work life. The passion and joy needs to be present for you to feel fulfilled. And they need to be finely woven into your day.

(Ideally, that is.)

Every workday has its drudgery - I agree with that, too. But much is in the attitude, so change is a-coming.

On Monday, I'm going to make some changes.

First task is to calm things down by slowing the pace enough so think rather than simply react. I will face the day, determined to find the bits of joy that can be had with a few small steps.

Really devote some thought to the projects I'm especially keen to contribute to and to make my own.

Appreciate the humor of the many people I work with each day.

Hang up a piece of artwork I really cherish so I see it 8 hours a day instead of hiding it behind a door.

What things can you do to make your workday more enjoyable?

Grace: Issue Whatever the Hell We're Up To

1. Easing into fall.
2. Falling (all over again) in love.
3. Loving someone's smile.
4. Smiling at unexpected creativity.
5. Creating something you're proud of.

The September Issue

When I got out of college, I landed at a magazine that covered the graphic arts industry.

Specifically, how all manner of printed products actually were produced and printed. The technologies used, the innovative papers and foils and hits of glosses that banded together to bring a printed piece to life, whether it was an annual report, a car brochure, a direct mail piece, an art book or a magazine.

I was in heaven--as an obsessive reader, I came to appreciate the heft of books and particularly magazines. How the pages gleamed and the images sprang from the pages in a visual marathon. While in college, I interned at a magazine and learned how the editorial side built an issue piece by piece, fact by fact, racing against the deadline that awaited every month.

So getting a documentarian's view of the production of Vogue's annual masterpiece of a September issue--the requisite shenanigans that play out behind the scenes, the fluttering of assistants and the rolling of racks and the racing of heartbeats as blood pressure boils over and defeat sets in amongst some of the most creative minds in the industry--was a startlingly good time.

When it ended, just like my friend seated beside me, I wanted more, more, more. We saw flickers of The Devil Wears Prada personality peeking out, but largely that kind of behavior was tamped down or largely kept from view and instead a carefully constructed Anna Wintour veneer was on display. For the sake of reality, I suppose, we saw her from time to time with her lipstick gnawed-off, or tired eyes caught on film for all to see.

But it was Grace Coddington whom I admired all the more in the end, for trying new creative approaches to telling the stories of those clothes each month. Clearly, she is the dreamer behind the visual driver's seat, assembling tableaus of models and props that take you to another world, whether Anna thinks she can charge her overpriced admission to go there or not. I understand she has a magazine to sell ads for, that it's a business that requires coverage of some and not others and that the who's in and who's out changes like the wind.

But while she clearly seems unafraid to be direct and even brusque with those beneath her, her peers bring out her insecurity. And we were treated to an example of how passive-aggressive bosses (who leave for a trip and ask an underling to deliver bad news once she's left the building) can just chip away at a team's desire to work hard.

Given the glimpses of Grace's chutzpah and keen intellect, I was hoping she'd grab the cell of one of the myriad assistants to call an unsuspecting Anna in her limo to give her what for. But she also strikes me as too shrewd to do that on camera, and probably too well-mannered, being British, after all.

If you've ever cracked open one of the heftier issues of Vogue and wondered what it takes to make it happen, or felt yourself transported to another time or simply pined over the clothes while paging through its fashion spreads, go see this movie. It is well worth your time.

Achievement on a Holiday Weekend

The day's barbeque had been eaten and enjoyed, and dessert had been served (fruit tart for the grownups; cookie pie topped with M&Ms and toasted marshmallows -- courtesy of my Mom -- for the niece and nephew, although everyone else sneaked a sliver, too).

My sports-obsessed nephew had been tossing a football around all afternoon with various family members, when I -- known as the least likely football player of the group -- picked up the pigskin and asked him to show me to throw a spiral.

(Remember, it's on my list? Yeah, I'd forgotten, too.)

When he heard it had been a goal of mine, he caught my eye, not believing what he'd heard, and we headed into the yard.

My nephew's normal 13-year-old impatience gave way to a forthright, gentle coaching. Laughably, he stood the same distance he uses when throwing to his five-years-younger sister (it's been a looooong time since I'd thrown anything).

We tossed the ball back and forth as he commented on form (follow through with throwing arm down and across body, other arm flows back in same direction to help body twist for power), and made suggestions for a variety of changes and subtle adjustments.

Eventually, I threw one!

Not far, and not easily duplicated, but we even had a witness: My niece, as cheerleader, stood nearby and let out a squeal when it finally happened.

It was a relaxing, and unexpectedly fun and satisfying way to end the day.

Julia Child Dinner

Spent Friday night ushering in the long Labor Day weekend with 4 girlfriends who gathered for a Julia Child-inspired dinner at the house of a friend who is a talented cook.

The hostess had prepared chicken with a white wine and mushroom sauce and a smidgen of cream. Sliced potatoes roasted in the oven with Swiss cheese and cream. Tangy ratatouille to cut the richness of the rest of the dishes.

Others had brought appetizers, wine and breads to round out the evening.

After work, I'd rushed home to finish my contribution -- a tarte tatin for dessert. While it took me 35 minutes to slice into 1/8-inch thicknesses the 9 or 10 apples I'd peeled and cored, it was a very zen experience. Counting each slice until I had eight kept me focused on maintaining even slices.

It hadn't caramelized, as Julia had predicted. (But since this was the only dessert on the menu, I opted not to follow the fix of smothering it with confectioner's sugar and broiling it, which seemed a recipe for disaster given my oven's quirky nature.) The resulting sweet and buttery, cinnamon-scented apples were delicious nonetheless.

And in the end, surrounded by apple peels and droplets of juice scattered everywhere in my kitchen, I felt I'd achieved something -- some small aspect of French cooking. I vowed to make more and I could see why Julie Powell set the goal of cooking every recipe in the book as goal.

The comfort from seeing a pile of ingredients come together into something that's satisfying and true can't be beat.

As one of my friends said when raising a toast at the start of our shared meal, Bon Appetit!

Grace: Issue 54

1. Looking up, and realizing it's Thursday and - holy cow! - where'd the week go?


2. Getting sucked into a surprisingly great book (Curtis Sittenfeld's American Wife.)


3. Finding a few new beads at a show, then spending the week stringing and restringing, and just staring at the pretty colors every once in a while.


4. Making incremental progress on a big-big-big project at work.


5. Instigating plans with my best girlfriends that will result in a Friday night Julia Child foodfest to usher in Labor Day weekend. (Considering making madeleines to accompany the tea that will inevitably end the evening - unless I dig up something more manageable and healthy [wishful thinking] in my mother-in-law's copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.)

Grace: Issue 53

1. Still feeling some residual, vacation-oriented bliss, even with the first day back to work over and done and realizing some perspective was gained by being away from everything.
2. The calm that is derived from a morning walk.
3. Polishing off a bar of Green and Black's Chocolate--before dinner.
4. Salmon with onions, capers and lemon over couscous, alongside sauteed spinach.
5. Genuinely feeling happy to be home.

Grace: Issue 52

1. A softly broken-in pair of khaki shorts on deep, end-of-summer sale.
2. Plans to attend a bead show in a few weeks, where my fave lampwork artist will appear.
3. Clean laundry, fresh from the line.
4. Meeting a friend's tow-headed little toddler for the first time.
5. The restorative powers of the only Frappuccino of summer during a mini-heatwave.

Enchanté

When I was around four years old or so, my favorite television shows included The Electric Company, Family Affair, That Girl... and The French Chef.

Back then, while in the kitchen one afternoon, I found myself describing my actions, just as Julia did, in a sing-songy voice, providing detailed instructions to an imagined television audience on making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (my palate wasn't that refined, as a kid).

It was very important -- I admonished my imagined audience -- to spread the peanut butter to the very edges of the bread, without sliding out over the crust.

And the jelly? On that, one mustn't skimp.

When I'd stumbled upon Julie Powell's blog, The Julie/Julia Project, back in 2002, I was enthralled by the concept of this former Texan working her way through Julia Child's cookbook. But even more so, I was taken in by her writing. Julie would weave in thoughts about her day, the frustrations she dealt with at work, the challenges the recipes gave her at the end of a long day. And observations on the progress of her project.

It was like life -- full of triumphs and tears, challenges and surprises. With a supportive husband who popped TUMs like after-dinner mints.

And when Powell's book came out in 2005, I opened the box from Amazon with all the excitement of Christmas morning. I devoured the book, and felt, disappointed.

She'd aligned her blog entries alongside vignettes of Paul and Julia Childs' life together, imagining conversations that seemed to me contrived and drippy with nostalgia. Honestly? I sped through those parts, hungrily seizing on Powell's observations about aspic and omelettes instead.

Last night, a friend and I went to see the movie Julie & Julia, and I was surprised at having the opposite experience. The scenes with Julie, aside from the obviously soul-crushing days at the Lower Manhattan Development Project, were thin and uninteresting. But those where you see how Julia came into her own as a chef and relish her relationship with her lovely husband Paul -- those scenes were magical.

Now, maybe that's because Nora Ephron knows how to throw pixie dust onto relationships and capture those moments on film in a heart-stirring way.

It might be Meryl Streep's superb embodiment of Julia. From the physical aspects of Julia's game and gangly enthusiasm, to the bleats and huffs of speech that inflated Julia's body, caused her arms to flap and body to collapse on a couch with gusto.

Or it could have something to do with Stanley Tucci's sublime performance as Paul, a man who is beyond smitten by Julia. He obviously worships her, craves and appreciates the art found in and made from life, relishes performance and flourish. As an actor, he is just amazing -- or maybe like Streep, he found a character he could inhabit, rather than play.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm making a list of ingredients for sole meuniere.

Grace Issue 51

1. Seeing the flood waters have receded, and with it, a much-welcomed break in the humidity.
2. Getting buds together to see Julie & Julia on Friday (I read every post of her blog, back in the day!).
3. Finding a pair of Havaianas on sale in a cute gold color.
4. Leaving work at a reasonable hour after weeks of not.
5. Making some decisions I know I'll not regret.

Grace: Issue 50

1. Confirming it was a false alarm.
2. Getting a good night's sleep after a lack thereof.
3. Realizing you're still very glad to be friends with someone, even more than 20 years later.
4. Feeling wiser as well as older.
5. Butterfly-shaped anything.
6. Hearing "I love you" before going to sleep.
7. Waking up when the sunlight fills the room.
8. Knowing my in-laws are great people.
9. Taking a deep, cleansing breath.
10. Accomplishing more than I'd set out to.
11. Having friends who worry about you.
12. Holding hands while you take a walk.
13. Taking it easy.
14. Walking through the neighborhood as a way to greet the day.
15. Watching a goldfinch eat lavender buds outside the window.
16. Tidying up the coupons.
17. Clearing out excess paper.
18. Taking stock.
19. Finding a deal on sumptuous towels.
20. Revisiting a favorite book.

Girls' Day Perfection

This past week or two it's been pretty difficult to shut things off at night mentally when I need to sleep. I wake up at 3 or 4, toss and turn, get up to write things down, stay in bed and not write things down. (I've tried both; either way, it doesn't seem to help.)

For me, the best prescription for when I can't sleep, because all my to-do lists are crowding up my mind, overlapping each other, piling up and demanding attention?

Walk around a very large place that stimulates other parts of my brain. Walk, walk, walk, preferably with a good friend who helps you remember what's important.

Which is how I spent my Saturday in New York City.

But as we walked, I took it all in: seeing things and people and designs and colors and shapes that just pushed aside those endless stacks of to-dos and worries and frets and such.

In SoHo, we feasted on tartines - open-faced turkey, avocado and sprouts; prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella with pesto and tomatoes - at my friend's her favorite lunch place (she's moved out of the country, so she was reconnecting, too).

We stopped at a bread bakery I love to stock up, shopped a little, then headed to the Museum of Modern Art to enjoy the Picassos, Rousseaus and Van Goghs. The Starry Night is like the ocean for me - I could stare at that painting for ever, with its swirls of blues and greens that turn this way and that.

But most of all, the two of us gabbed and caught up and relaxed -- which was the perfect way to clear the over-crowded slate.

Before taking the train back from the city, we suddenly realized we were famished. So we made our way to Burger Joint and devoured the best burgers I've had in a long time.

Thick, juicy, laden with cheese and loaded with lettuce, tomato and ketchup, our orders ready by the time we handed over the cash.

The place has the look and feel of a dive - the menu at the register scribbled in sharpie on corrugated cardboard; your fries tossed into a plain brown paper bag and your burger's wrapped in stiff, white butcher paper). And while the burgers aren't cheap, they were worth every buck.

Riding home on the train, I couldn't remember the last time I felt so relaxed and ready for a good night's sleep. The day totally delivered.

Busy Busy Bee, Buzz-Buzz-Buzz

All the gotta-dos and forgot-abouts and the hurry-ups. Sparking my brain at 2:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 4:00 a.m. ... [sigh!]


Make the buzzing stop!


There's just way too much going on. Last night, I had to shut down the computer just to get a little rest.


And so I zonked on the couch, watching a rerun of the Fashion Show, Isaac Mizrahi's also-ran, me-too, cheap knockoff of Project Runway. The episode in which design competitor Johnny got cut loose by Mr. Mizrahi for the fashion sin of... creating a knockoff.

Oh, All Right. Grace: Issue 49

1. Unseasonably cool and dry weather that feels like San Diego.
2. Taking a walk that calms me down during an uber-stressful time.
3. Knowing last week is behind us.
4. Being comforted by Mr Spandrel.
5. The refreshingly restorative powers of Junior Mints.

Creative Struggle

They sit right above my head, over my desk, mocking me. Boxes of beads, in colors chosen solely by my whims. Gorgeous findings that I've amassed from trips to bead stores now long gone.

But I just can't create.

Part of it is that I know it will just open the door to wanting more.

"This necklace would be just perfect if I could intersperse some bronze bicones here. But I only have copper, which would ruin it. Maybe I'll go to that store while I'm doing errands..."

And the next thing you know, I've spent way more than I've intended.

Sure, I've challenged myself to make something -- anything -- out of just the materials I have on hand.

But that nagging voice in the back of my head often wins out: "Just another five little 6 mm silver Bali cubes, and this could be awesome!"

Made with Love

Today, I bought a scarf. On sale, at a chain store. With a coupon. Plus an added discount. A genuine bargain.

The store clerk carefully matched up each edge, smoothing it down into a neat square, before sheathing it in a sheet of tissue paper into which he'd folded a smart pleat down the center.

"Thank you for wrapping that so nicely!" I said, as he slipped it into the mini shopping bag.

"Well, it's silk, it deserves a little love," he replied.

Don't a lot of things?

In France, I'd marveled at the array of packets and parcels into which the store clerks arranged my purchases--both large and small. There was value in taking care.

Aren't most work-related tasks worth doing with at least a little love?

Over lunch one day, a friend looked down at his sandwich ruefully, the smoked turkey flapping half-outside the whole grain bread, more lettuce scattered on the tray than on the bread.

"Some days, they're made with love, some days they aren't," he summed up.

This from a guy who readily admitted that most days, food was little more than fuel for his high-octane workouts.

But people do notice these things. And it all goes into what makes a shopping or eating experience worthwhile.

Care is what sets great companies--and star workers--apart from the rest.

Traveling Light

It's been a while since I traveled for work regularly. But when I did, I invested in a TravelPro wheel-aboard bag. Those things wear like iron, but they look like everything else: black cordura, blah-blah-blah.

I'll be breaking out the bag soon for an upcoming trip, with three days of business casualwear in that single bag, with laptop on the side. It'll be an exercise in squishtastic packing, but I think I can do it.

Check a bag? Pfft. No.

Not after sitting for two days of a three-day conference beside a bevvy of belles whose luggage took a trip to chillier climes (Chicago) while they cooled their heels in Atlanta, trying to make jeans and jogging suits look quasi-professional with the help of the jewelry they'd stowed in their carry-ons.

Lesson learned: pack light and take your luggage on board. And if you can't, make sure the outfit you're wearing on the flight is comfortable while minimally passing as professional.

Admittedly, I wear way too many pairs of shoes when away -- out of necessity. Plus, I normally schlep along a serious hair dryer whenever I travel because hotel models are seldom adequate. Oh, and did I mention my obsession with hair products?

This is going to take a while.

Take Eames

You know, that Eames couple was onto something. There's much to be said for remaining true to oneself in one's work.

Another idea I admire is giving yourself the freedom to experiment, but make it good. Don't settle for just "OK" because that's not part of who you are. (That requires really knowing who you are. Which you should. But that's another whole post.)

In the meantime, don't lose sight of the forest while you're busy picking bark off the trees, as it were.

Having a point of view helps one's judgment. Because you can say "no, that's not right," with authority and rigor.

To me, all these attributes result from flow--that rare instance when mind, body and spirit are in perfect harmony with what one is doing. Where you are doing exactly what you should be doing at a given moment.

At points when I'm creating something I'm really proud of, I totally experience this.

What about you?