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February 28, 2006

Derek: Charlie Brown or Fashionista?

And now, as part of a new Blue Sage feature, I present you with an example of Derek's impeccable fashion sense.

(I don't think he has a modeling career ahead of him.)

I get a kick out of this sweater every time he wears it. It's cute on him, but I end up calling him Charlie Brown all day.

Posted by csageday at 10:13 PM | Comments (2)

February 25, 2006

The Usual, Jeeves. Thank You.

Since my stress level has been slightly elevated lately, I've been having cravings for quick drinks at the end of the day and the phrase "something to take the edge off" suddenly makes much more sense (don't worry, I still hardly ever drink so I'm hardly at risk for alcoholism). The problem is, I'm not a big drinker and I don't have a favorite drink. I've dabbled in fruity cocktails like cranberry and vodka or Sex on the Beach, but those seem sort of wimpy and more appropriate for college-aged kids. Derek and I both love Malibu rum and pineapple juice, but that's kind of like a pina colada -- you just can't have it every day. It's also a one- or two-season drink, like a mojito -- it's great in the summer but it doesn't seem quite right in the winter. I spent last summer drinking gin and tonics, and I had a serious affair with Bailey's while in Barcelona in high school, but neither regularly appeals to me. As for beer, I'll drink Magic Hat #9, but I can never seem to finish a pint before everyone else has finished two.

More sophisticated drinks, like good scotch or a martini, involve too much alcohol for my taste (and I don't really like whiskey, try as I might). Wine is great, but sometimes I feel like something different, and the wine in bars isn't usually worth the expense. I need something classy that I can order in some swanky, time-honored institution. Something I'll enjoy drinking. I feel like this sort of thing comes with adulthood but I must have missed that part of my 20s. I obviously didn't drink enough.

My parents both have signature drinks: Dad a bloody mary and mom a rum and tonic. My grandmother drank vodka and water right into her 90s. Friends of ours love whiskey and drink it straight. Other friends own an ice crusher, keep martini glasses in the freezer, and have mastered a whole host of classic cocktail recipes. And most people we know just seem much more familiar with cocktail names -- over the holidays a group of us were matching people up with the drinks they most resembled (I think I was something rather simple, bordering on a Shirley Temple, which I still resent), and someone was a sidecar. I like the name and it matched the person, but what the hell's a sidecar? I've never had one. And what's a Rob Roy? Or a Tom Collins? Dad just mentioned a "Singapore Sling" and a "Boiler Maker". Clearly his time at debutante balls during the 50s educated him well in this area. He's talking now about how coal miners in Pennsylvania drink Boiler Makers (a beer with a shot of whiskey dropped in, which you drink quickly) and chase it with pickled eggs. "They're probably all dead," he says (I'm writing this in the car as we're driving home from a cousin's 80th birthday in MA. We're heading to NJ to celebrate Dad's 70th tomorrow -- Happy Birthday Dad!). But I digress.

Last summer, I tried to catch up by mixing my own concoctions -- the recipes in books always seem so simple. It's harder than it looks, though -- my drinks were pretty awful. I would spend 15 minutes in the kitchen mashing up lime and other fruit and randomly combining fruit juices and sodas and alcohols and the result would always be completely unimpressive. Derek wouldn't even drink them. I don't seem to have any talent for it.

I think there must be some rite of passage involved in selecting a signature drink. The drinker probably has to go through a particularly difficult time or, alternatively, spend a summer working as a bartender. Since I'm not really up for either option, I'm thinking of a Julie-Jullia project, only with alcohol. I recently bought our whiskey-drinking friend a book called "Mr. Boston", which seemed to be a definitive collection of standard cocktail recipes. I wonder if my liver could survive a drink from that book each evening? If I try every recipe I have to find something, right? Or maybe I just bring the book to Commonwealth, randomly flip open the book and hand it to the bartender. I'm thinking Derek's not going to be too enthusiastic about this plan, since neither of us can really handle any sort of drinking on weeknights anymore. But this is a predicament, no? Not having a signature drink? We have to do something!

Posted by csageday at 07:48 PM | Comments (0)

Ice Dancing = Horrendous Costumes and Jerry Springer-Style Commentary

Sorry for the sparse blog posting. It's not for lack of bloggable subjects -- I just don't have the time with my new schedule. I can't promise that it'll pick up, but I'll try not to let this completely fall apart.

Did anyone follow the various sagas in the winter Olympic figure skating events? We watched a good deal of the ice dancing, which seems to be an odd sport, but which we were admirably prepared for after watching the ridiculous (but addictive) 90s flick The Cutting Edge in fits and starts while it played 100 times on NBC over the previous weekend.

The Italian ice dancing couple gave the (exceedingly annoying) announcers something to gush about. The couple came out of retirement (the announcers says this with great seriousness: "they came OUT OF RETIREMENT to be here today") to compete in their home country (sob), and they skated, well, so-so the first time around, I thought. The judges thought they skated GREAT, though, and gave them a great score. This would suggest a little bit of Italian-style corruption, no? But what do I know about judging figure skating. The next night, if I'm remembering right, was the night of the DISASTER. The man -- the "weaker skater" (the announcers will also CRUSH less-than-perfect skaters at the first opportunity they see) DROPs his partner. He "can't get the job done", and she stumbles down from a lift. Italian diva that she is, she finishes the program and storms off, furious. The feud lasts all the way to the following day, when they're scheduled to skate the next program. The TV crews love the soap opera-style fight, filming them refusing to look at each other in the locker room, filming him sulking, filming her fuming (stand-off photos here). The announcers have great fun referring to her as "icy", "frosty" and waiting for things to "thaw". Finally, they skate out on the ice, still not speaking, and skate their program without any major mistakes. When it's over she gives him a hug and smiles. The announcers say something like "he's back in the big house" or whatever. Saga over.

Can you see how the stupid announcers would drive you nuts? We had to mute the sound during programs just so we could watch. The female announcer will disparage every skater, no matter how accomplished (these are the best in the world, no? Can we give them a break?). She'll say, "only a double" if anyone doesn't do a triple toe loop, and talk about a skater "reeeeally struggling here" when he/she seems just fine. When she's not doing that, she's making over-arching statements like "She's not just playing Juliet here. She IS Juliet." She said that in reference to the doomed-to-win-silver Sasha Cohen. What does that even mean? Is Sahsa dating someone from Russia? Is she suicidal? Ugh.

Back to the ice dancing, though. I was aghast at the parade of completely tasteless costumes we saw one night. It seemed like there was some kind of outlandish costume contest going on. I know there's a history here, because even in "The Cutting Edge" there are some questionably shiny, oddly-cut get ups. Solo figure skaters seem to have some fashion sense, but many ice dancing couples looked like they were dressed for Halloween. One American woman had on a mostly sheer outfit with little florets of white popping up all over her chest and arms. She looked diseased, like she might have eaten a poisonous mushroom and subsequently developed a violent fungus infection. Did nobody else realize this before she decided to wear the outfit in front of millions of people? Then, and I think this might have been the dueling Italian couple, there was a couple that looked like they had just climbed out of a swamp. They had green and brown ugly flowing things on. Another man's outfit had this completely pointless, long light blue piece of satiny fabric sewn to the back of an otherwise acceptable outfit. It matched his partner's dress -- maybe they had some fabric left over and decided to just sew it on? Ugh. There were a few decent, even nice and tasteful costumes, but for a while I had more fun making fun of the costumes than watching the skating, which doesn't seem quite right. I've just noticed an article on NBC's site about this same issue, so maybe someone will do the skaters a favor and tell them to stop designing their own costumes.

Update: Have the unitard-wearing skaters not realized that they all look like Seven of Nine?

Posted by csageday at 02:08 AM | Comments (0)

February 24, 2006

Scary

This is appalling. Approved legislation that prescribes five years in jail for performing an abortion. Last I heard, the majority of Americans believe in a woman's right to choose. It's a personal, private right I hold dear -- why should a religious, vocal minority have a say over my reporductive rights? Why should teenagers be forced to have children they can't properly care for?

However, for whatever single-minded, short-sighted reason, half the country voted for a president who has no respect for these values (or, really, any human rights -- see this week's New Yorker article on U.S. torture policy). People I've spoken with who voted for Bush seem to think that the abortion rights issue wasn't at stake. What were they thinking? There's so much fear and ignorance in this country. People voted out of fear and now we have two conservative judges in the Supreme Court who won't find anything wrong with this backwards, damaging legislation.

Posted by csageday at 05:36 PM | Comments (0)

February 18, 2006

Update

Oops. It's been a while. Obviously there's way too much going on if I missed nearly a month of blogging. I did actually write a few blog entries, but I never got around to posting them. I'm posting them now with the dates I wrote them -- see below.

I can't guarantee that it'll be much better soon, either, although the long weekend may yield better results. Work is great, but time-consuming, and since I'm throwing a lot of energy into that now I don't have as much left over for blogging. I think this is good for me, but maybe not so good for people who previously enjoyed the blog (sorry!). Hopefully I'll be able to work out a schedule that involves photography and blogging a bit more.

Posted by csageday at 03:47 PM | Comments (0)

February 15, 2006

Valentine's Day

We decided against reservations for Valentine's Day dinner and did it ourselves. We kept it simple: asparagus and artichokes with hollandaise, wine, and some good bread and cheese. With candlelight and flowers and good music, this feels really cozy and special. I highly recommend it.

The only down side was that once I've made hollandaise, I can't leave the room without finishing every last drop of it, so I felt a little quesy later on. The hollandaise recipe we use is the "quick" one in the New York Times Cookbook -- Mom has been using if for years (most notably for the eggs benedict we have for Christmas brunch). It's very easy and quite good -- put a melted stick of butter, salt, juice of half a lemon, and three egg yolks in a blender and blend. That's it. It's on the lemony side, which we like. It is nothing like the yellow muck you tend to get in restaurants.

Personally, while I really like it on asparagus, I think I'll stick to melted butter for the artichokes. I like their flavor too much as is. I don't think my body can handle that much hollandaise, anyway.

Posted by csageday at 04:02 PM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2006

The "Blizzard"

We sat inside and watched the snow like everyone else for most of the day, chuckling at the breathy "Blizzard of '06" coverage on the local networks. It was hardly worthy of blizzard status -- the ones we've had over the past decade have been much more impressive as far as snow build-up and heavy snowfall. This felt more like a windy regular snowfall. The mood of a snowy Sunday is great nonetheless -- you feel you can curl up inside and drink hot cocoa or knit or cook because how can you really be expected to go outside and get things done? Snow days are awesome. For some reason, the reprieve from responsibility to get things done spurred me to go to the gym for the first time in months. My mind works this way -- take away the pressure and things get done immediately.

Posted by csageday at 03:59 PM | Comments (0)

February 08, 2006

Boston and Cambridge

Since I was in Boston for conference activities Friday, Monday, and Tuesday, Derek took the Chinatown bus to join me for the Saturday and Sunday in between. We stayed with friends and jealously coveted their extra non-New-York apartment space (it's like they have 2 kitchens! And by New York real estate standards I'm sure a broker would sell their place as a 4 bedroom instead of a 2).

We ate lots of good food (Oceana in Cambridge had a great vegetarian tasting menu) and walked around Beacon Hill and Copley Place in Boston and Harvard in Cambridge. I had been to Boston a bunch of times but didn't really remember it well, and Derek had never been to anything other than South Station. Beacon Hill seems so colonial and upscale in a quieter, more elegant way than upscale New York neighborhoods. It's an old, landmarked neighborhood of beautiful townhouses (wider and bigger than Brooklyn ones) and cobblestones and carriage houses. It's a bit like Brooklyn Heights but with more gravitas and swankier (I guess there's more detail?). Other (nice) Boston neighborhoods seemed this way too -- there is some lovely, traditional stone and brick architecture there that always appeals to me (think nineteenth century details and endless rows of large townhouses with those parlor floor bay windows).

Posted by csageday at 04:00 PM | Comments (0)

February 07, 2006

The Suit

I wore a suit jacket for the third time in my life today. The first time was for a rather embarrassing interview with Goldman Sachs, in which I revealed an utter lack of knowledge of financial markets (the career center people told me to apply for the job in my senior year, I don’t know why). The second day was yesterday. I felt I needed to give my attire a slight professional boost for the conference I just attended, since I’m in a different role at work now and wouldn’t it be nice if people took me seriously? It’s pretty cool. I’m not sure it matters tremendously, but I’m very happy with the gray jacket I got and I’m psyched that I don’t look like an insurance salesperson in it. I spent three weeknights last week desperately searching for jackets and finally found two at, of all places, Macy’s. I know you know how I feel about Macy’s, but it was a last resort. And there was some kind of sale so I saved scads of money. I also, gulp, opened a Macy’s account to get an extra discount. I feel like I’ve gone over to the dark side, both from the jacket-wearing point of view and the Macy’s credit-card point of view. I’m doing things that people do when they’re pushing thirty. Just wait, soon I’ll be driving the kids around in a minivan.

Posted by csageday at 03:57 PM | Comments (0)

The Acela

I’m currently zooming down the east coast of Rhode Island on the Acela. I absolutely love this train. It’s fast and comfortable and productivity-boosting. I sit in the quiet car and do work, knit, eat, or read. It just feels so civilized. Why anyone would take a taxi to an airport an hour early and suffer through the indignities of bag searches and airport mazes instead is beyond me. Granted, I did have a bit of trouble catching the right train in Penn, but that’s because Penn is the most awful, ugly, impossible-to-navigate train station in the world. I just passed a marina, and the ocean actually looks blue. I got to the train station, which was across the street from my hotel in Boston, about 10 minutes before the train left. This feels like such a luxury.

Posted by csageday at 03:55 PM | Comments (0)

February 02, 2006

Penn Station is Ugly and Impossible to Navigate and I Hate It

Can I share my little nightmare-at-Penn-Station scenario? I was looking forward to a nice quiet train ride to Boston on Thursday. I had a ticket for the 6 p.m. train and I got to stinky slimy Penn with a half hour to spare. I looked at the board to see where to get on my train and no gate had been assigned to it or any other train in the next 20 minutes. So I figured I had time to go shopping. I browsed in the airport-style bookstore and as usual, became paralyzed by indecision. I was anxious about catching the train, but typically, I felt the stress might yield better shopping results, so I continued to browse. And it worked! I found a good gift for a friend. I also found a Boston map.

Then, since my nervous energy was bubbling up in my chest, I checked the time. 5:36. Time to check the board. I check the board, but at first glace it seems the same. I roll my eyes, look again. No, wait, it's not the same, there's one train boarding and it's mine. Shit. Gate 9E. Where the hell are the gates? I see a sign and start walking in that direction. I get to the huge NJ Transit area and see tons of people waiting around. I see signs for gates 1-5 and 10-11, but no 9. There are two huge stairways in the middle of the waiting area. I look for signs. There isn't a fucking sign anywhere about where they lead to, but everyone's going down them and I figure it's worth a try. Bad move. I go down, see only NJ trains, and have to lug my luggage back up again. I look around wildly now, hoping there's someone official-looking I can ask for help. No. Then I spot a little sign saying gates 9-10. Someone is checking tickets. Yes! I get in line, a guy checks my ticket, and I go down the escalator. I get on the train under the 9E sign, and start walking through each car looking for seats. There are only double seats, and it seems like poor etiquette to sit directly next to someone, so I look for my own row. It takes me the length of the train to find a place, but finally I do. I'm sweaty and tired. I haul my suitcase up to the luggage rack and collapse into my seat.

Seconds later, the conductor starts the departure announcement: "Train 2320 is about to depart. If you are not traveling on this train, please get off. This train will make stops at Newark..." Newark? That's an odd stop for a train going to Boston. "...Baltimore..." Okay, now I'm freaked out and I start to grab my stuff. Thinking that I followed the rules, though, I ask someone where the train's ending up -- she can't hear me. I say it again, loud. "D.C." It must be almost 6 now. There are people standing up in the aisle, just standing there, so I have to fight my way off, bumping and shoving and explaining myself. Once on the platform, there are no stairs or conductors in sight at first. Then I see one stepping off the train, so I yell, "Where's the Boston train?" He looks confused and says, “Uh, about two platforms over?”

I'm completely fucking panicked now. I hate Penn station. How the hell to they make getting on to a god damned train so difficult? Grand Central handles it beautifully. There is a sense of calm, and the architecture lends historical perspective to your trip. The ceiling is beautiful and the main hall is majestic. If you miss your train, you can go to the oyster bar and drown your sorrows with a Bloody Mary and some clam chowder. There are classy stores where successful business people can buy gourmet food and educational wooden toys from Holland. At Penn, everyone exudes disgust. It's like the station froze in time in 1979, when the city was dirty and ugly and people hated each other. The lighting is depressing, it's crowded to the point of feeling like a rush hour train in some spots, and everything is gray. There are airport-type chain stores lining the halls. Bad neon signage makes thing look sad and impersonal. The layout makes no sense -- there's some sort of huge column right in the middle of the place that you have to walk around. Depressed, frustrated people mill about. There are lines. It feels like a maze, or a rat cage. People gather around the announcement board waiting to be assigned a gate, their heads tilted back, staring.

So, on the wrong platform, I run toward anything that might be a stairway. I find an escalator going the wrong way. I feel like I'm losing precious time. Finally, I find stairs. I pick up my luggage, which is now starting to feel extremely heavy, and heave myself upstairs. At the top, again, there are NO signs indicating anything useful. I find a TV with departures, though, and stare at it hard. Boston. 5E. I want to make sure this time. Boston... 5E. Okay. I'm at 11 now. I see no 5. I run the other way. I see "Gates 4-5" in a small sign, not like the others. But the entrance under the sign has an escalator going the WRONG WAY. I briefly consider running down it, but think that with luggage that might be a bad idea. I'm in some sort of underground nightmare scenario. I move to the other side of the tunnel and find another 4-5 sign, thankfully with stairs. I run down it like a maniac and ask the train people, breathlessly, "Boston?" They say yes. I'm a complete mess. I can barely get on the damn thing. My face must be beet red. Such a close call. Once on the train I ask a passenger again, just to make sure, if this is indeed the Boston train. She nods. I find a seat and spend approximately the first 30 minutes of the train ride recovering, hoping my next-door-neighbors don't think I'm an idiot because I'm red and sweaty and seem to be coughing a little too often for comfort. Oy.

Next time, I am not, under any circumstance, to go shopping, and I'm going to ask the conductor where the train is going before I get on.

Posted by csageday at 03:53 PM | Comments (0)

Spanish Comfort Food

This is awesome: a gourmet food store devoted entirely to Spanish food. All my favorite things are there. Despaña Brand Foods

Posted by csageday at 10:25 AM | Comments (0)