A few updates: Journey and other “books”

Posted on January 16, 2012
Filed Under Daily, In Connecticut, Journey | 20 Comments

Oh, sigh. Where to begin. So, I’ve been working on two books. One of which you guys have seen being Weblished incrementally in this space since 2009. It’s called The Journey Within, and I’ve published 10 parts here already. The other book I’m writing…wait a second. Do I need to use quotes every time I say book? As in, I’m writing a “book?” Because technically it’s not a book until it’s published, which means my “book” is a “book” until it becomes a book.

For those of you who have been following this site for a while, then you might remember that the tagline of this blog used to be, “A Novel I’ll Never Get Around to Writing.” And then sometime in 2009, I pulled that tagline from the banners on this site because I finally decided I was going to write an actual “book” that would hopefully someday become a book.

I’ve been dreaming this dream since I was in the second grade, and I woke up one day and realized that my dream will remain a dream until I actually start writing with fervor and purpose. My final push to get going came from The Boss and my friend, Stephanie. The Boss told me I was talented and funny* and that I should lift the pressure off giving myself constant deadlines. Instead, his advice was that I should utilize every day the best I could, accomplish little goals one at a time and if God willed this for me, and I worked hard, something great would happen.

*He didn’t actually say I was funny, I just threw that in for effect.

Stephanie, on the other hand, said something along the lines of, “What? Of course you’ll get published! Have you seen how much CRAP is on book shelves right now? If those idiots could find publishers, so can you!”

God, I love my friends.

So I started writing. With somewhat of a clear goal in mind. As I saw it, I had three stories to tell: humorous essays about my views on life, a memoir about my childhood, and the raw and detailed and sometimes funny tale of my rebirth into faith, which started coming to life through the Journey series.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S NOT CLEAR?

So I wrote, and I deleted, and I published portions of my life here. And then I imagined getting published in paperback. And then I imagined you guys getting my book. And then I imagined you guys reading my book. And then I imagined you guys being disappointed. And then I stopped writing for a while.

As a journalist/writer, I feel a lot of pressure to be good with words because after all, that’s what I’m paid to be good at. But I’m a person who’s had to buy multiple birthday and thank you and get well cards for people in the past because I get so nervous writing in them I mess up and tear the cards in half (true story), which is essentially like setting a $5 bill on fire.

If you’ve ever gotten a card from The Boss and me, it’s probably in The Boss’s handwriting. Why? Because I’m in the bathroom trying to use nail polish to turn “FLINK!” into another flower petal on your daughter’s birthday card because I meant to write “YAY!” or “HAPPY!” or something that somehow turned into “FLINK!” because I couldn’t handle the pressure; I’m like the writer version of an accountant who can’t balance his own checkbook.

I’ve already heard back from a few literary agents I pitched who weren’t interested in my voice or my stories, but that’s not the reason I’ve decided to stop publishing Journey on this site. I’ve decided to stop publishing it here because I don’t want to be a “blogger that wrote a book based on her blog.” Yes, I blog, but I’m a journalist by profession and I think sometimes, in the midst of all this “personal sharing,” who I am as a professional gets lost in the shuffle. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been asked how “that thing” I do “on the computer” is going. It makes me want to channel Sabrina circa 2002. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

I want what I publish to be fresh and new and make you laugh and cry and possibly even ignore your babies because you just can’t put my book down until you’ve made it to the end of the chapter. Oh, I’m only kidding about letting your kid cry until you reach the end of the chapter. I totally wouldn’t be offended if you let your kid cry until you got to the end of the page.

I don’t want to write a book that you pick up one day and say, “Uh, I’ve already read half of this on Slice of Lemon,” and my biggest fear is that-that could happen if I don’t make different choices this year. I’ll continue to write Journey (along with my other “books”) on my laptop, on Post-it Notes, in my journals and in my head until they’re finished. Until one day, they’re bound and beautiful and you won’t feel like you wasted your time by reading what I have to say.

What all this means for Slice of Lemon in terms of a change in format isn’t really all that much. I’ll still publish in this space, but I’ll be holding on to a lot of stories for a future day. For a day when I’ll have a full-circle moment. For a day when that little girl who ran her fingers across “Where The While Things Are” in the Fox Mill Elementary School library and thought, “I’m going to write a book someday and win a medal for it” will finally get to see her dream realized.

Until then, FLINK! Anybody have $5 I could borrow?

What are your fashion resolutions for 2012?

Posted on January 15, 2012
Filed Under BlogHer, Daily | Leave a Comment

When The Boss and I moved from Los Angeles to Southern Connecticut one year ago, I gained 10 pounds. Wow. I never thought I’d say that on the Internet. Not because I’m embarrassed (yes, actually I’m incredibly embarrassed) but more so because I’m not fat, and it’s a social taboo for a “normal” woman to talk about her weight. I’ve been an athlete my whole life so my weight was never an issue. At my yearly physicals, the doctor would prop me up on the scale, tell me the number, and I’d hop off. And the impact of those numbers had the same effect on me as the impact that the existence of squirrels has on me. They exist. So what?

But the fact that I’m not fat makes writing this even more personal and frightening. Because when you are fat, or a little chubby, or could stand to loose a few pounds, you can self-deprecate and make jokes about how many times you failed Weight Watchers. Because that takes you from “overweight woman” to “confident woman who loves her curves.” You can turn your weight into a 10-minute stand-up on national television, a blog post, or even an entire book. But when you’re “normal” like me, talking about your weight is taboo because DON’T I KNOW THAT YOU’VE HAD WEIGHT PROBLEMS YOUR WHOLE LIFE?! And WHAT KIND OF MESSAGE AM I SENDING TO MY YOUNG FEMALE READERS ABOUT BODY IMAGE WHEN I’M PROBABLY A SIZE ZERO?!

Uh, zero? Not by a long shot. And definitely not a goal that I’ve ever had or ever want to have for myself.

When a relatively nice-figured woman talks about her weight, she’s shunned from all her female companions. She’s a disgrace to a well-mannered culture of women where SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER than to talk about her now-27-inch waist (GASP!) while her best friend is still trying to jog off those last 8 pounds of baby weight from her now 2-year-old son. Now having said that, there’s a time and place to talk about weight loss. Obviously, you shouldn’t discuss your mild to moderate “fatness” in front of someone who’s morbidly obese, and if you’re wrists are the same size as your biceps, no one wants to hear that you “feel bloated, ugh.”

Now that we’ve cleared that up.

I say, I’m not fat because I’m not, but the body I have at this very moment isn’t the best body I have had or could have, and I know that because I know myself. I know what I’m capable of, and I know where I’ve been slacking.

I could make excuses about how the Northeast turned into a tundra last year when we moved here, therefore hindering my daily runs. I could say that there wasn’t enough space in our car for my workout mats when we drove across the country and that made my at-home workouts too difficult to engage in. But the truth? Well, it’s plain, and simple, and stupid. I was looking for work and trying to get people at big organizations to notice my writing. I sat at my computer for way too long and ate too much because nothing can soothe the soul of an unemployed journalist sending out six resumes a day while trying to write a book like a giant chocolate donut can. Or a dozen.

I think all women should make exercise a daily part of their lives no matter how big or small they are. But what’s more, is that I truly believe that every woman needs to understand how to dress her body in order to feel like the most beautiful version of herself. You could be a size 2 or a size 12, but when your clothes fit, you will look amazing.

For the last 3 years, I’ve worked mostly from home – with the exception of a few part-time jobs I’ve picked up transitionally – and so my dress requirements for work have been incredibly slack. I had a few interviews and important meetings in 2011 for which I had to pull out my “good clothes” and when I did, I practically held my breath during meetings. It wasn’t until those moments did I realize (uh, admit?) how many fat inches I’d actually expanded by.

I’m a big believer in spending more on less. I’d rather spend $200 on jeans that I’ll have for five years than buy a pair for $19.99 that I’ll keep for one season. So in a former life when I actually had a clothing budget, I bought fairly expensive clothes. Dress pants and slacks from Ann Taylor (Loft, let’s not get carried away now) and BCBG Max Azria; knit tops, dress clothes and shoes from Bloomigdale’s and Nordstrom, casual clothes and accessories from Cusp, and my all time favorite jeans: Joe’s.

But between catering my wardrobe more and more toward the requirements of my religion and my constantly evolving style plus weight gain, I’ve donated bagfuls of clothes to Goodwill, and have hangers with items that just don’t fit anymore. So, basic logic would suggest I pack up those items and toss them in the closest Salvation Army bin, right?

WRONG.

Since last summer, I’ve contemplated finally getting rid of those clothes but couldn’t bring myself to do it for several reasons.

1) They feel too new to give away just yet

2) I spent a lot of money on these high-quality items I wore often and plan to wear again

3) They used!!! to!!! fit!!! me!!!

4) If I give these clothes away and I have a job interview or an important meeting then I won’t have any formal wear because my budget for clothes has all of EIGHT CENTS in it.

5) Eventually, this pity-party (hosted and attended by me) will be over; I’ll get off the computer and pull my hand out of that bag of Lay’s and get back in shape!

Look, I’m not pining away after some jeans I wore back when I was 15. I’m 28 years old. I don’t want the body I had when I was 15. But what I do want is the body I’ve has since I was 24 or 25. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, or a goal that’s too far out of my reach. But recently, I was doing some learning about women’s metabolism and found out more about the times in a woman’s life when her metabolism resets. Then I met a trainer/mother of four/triathlete/ who said she’s been the same weight (give or take a few pounds) most of her adult life and has been every size from a 6 to a 12. So what does all this mean? It means that I’m at a place in my life where my metabolism is resetting, and I should honor and welcome that change with continued exercise, healthy eating, a positive attitude, and a trip to Goodwill.

My 2012 fashion resolution to look and feel good is to say goodbye to those ill-fitting wares and just pinch my pennies until I can afford some new threads. And if I have a job interview? Well, I’ll just tuck in the tags and return it the next day. Only kidding. I’ll return it over the weekend.

I love my body. I truly do. And I credit my parents for developing my self-confidence by instilling in me a love of learning and achievement. They taught me to value a never-quit attitude and apply it in all aspects of my life over the number on a scale and the size of my little black dress. And I don’t want to dishonor them by turning into a woman who’s holding on to a handful of size 2 work pants because they used!!! to!!! fit!!! My mom and dad would want to know they raised me better than that. Because they did.

Share what you’re 2012 fashion resolutions are in the comments section of Maegan’s post and if you read other resolutions you love, make sure to share those links! And then enter the Kindle Fire/Amazon Gift Card Sweepstakes!

Here’s to healthy and happy fashion that fits in 2012!

Weekend Snapshots

Posted on January 15, 2012
Filed Under Photos, Weekend Snapshots | 2 Comments

Dinner with The Boss and family.
Cumin India Restaurant (has a full halal munu), Hamden, Ct.

Love,
Me <3

Winter’s drink up north

Posted on January 13, 2012
Filed Under Daily, Photos | 1 Comment

I grew up in Northern Virginia, and the cultural drink of choice come winter weather was always, without fail, hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. But it wasn’t until I met The Boss and his family did I learn that not all families welcome the chill with the beverage that my family, friends and I did. In New England apple cider was the drink of choice, and to be quite blunt, I thought it was kind of nasty. It tasted like hyper-sweetened apple juice that had been sitting in the fridge a few days passed its expiration date. But every time I’d go to The Boss’s parents house they’d be all excited about their New England beverage and want me to share in the joy of drinking a glass. If I could, I’d avoid moments like those, but when I couldn’t, I’d take a deep breath and throw back a small glass to be polite.

The weather here in Southern Connecticut started getting cold a few weeks ago, and The Boss mentioned that he was craving apple cider — at the exact time I was craving hot cocoa topped with marshmallows. So I swung by the grocery store looking for cider that The Boss might enjoy and I found a bottle or organic apple cider from a locally owned farm. And to my surprise, I really enjoyed it. A few weeks ago I decided that I wanted to try my hand at homemade apple cider since all it’s really made of is: apples, citrus flavor and cinnamon if you want the extra flavor.

I browsed online for recipes and then sort of branched off onto my own. Give this a try!

- Juice 20 green apples (I got Granny Smith) and set aside

- Heat a large pot (like something you’d cook spaghetti in) on low and throw in some orange and lemon peels and a couple of cinnamon sticks

- When the peels and cinnamon become aromatic, add in your juiced apples and simmer over low to medium heat until you get the consistency you like.

Some recipes call for maple syrup but I think that makes the cider too sweet. What I ended up making was more of a cinnamon apple cider, but it came out pretty good and The Boss was totes impressed, you guys! Oh, and I should tell you that the longer you cook your cider, the thicker it gets so if you happen to cook too long, you can dilute it with some water and enjoy!

And now a virtual raising of the winter beverage glasses.
(The cider was good, but I’m sticking with hot chocolate).

CLINK!

Indian parathas: the easiest recipe ever

Posted on January 10, 2012
Filed Under Daily, In Connecticut, Let's Cook!, Videos | 17 Comments

When I was growing up, parathas (say: par-ought-ahs), a type of Indian “roti” or bread, were made on a regular basis. My mom would spend hours in the kitchen mixing and kneading, and rolling, and perfecting those delicious flat breads that could be eaten at every meal. But parathas aren’t easy to make. They take time and skill, and as my mom always says, “nothing tastes good unless you make it with love.”

When The Boss and I lived in Los Angeles, we shared a car. And by “shared” I mean I didn’t even know what our license plate number was. The only way I knew which car was ours (when it wasn’t parked in the assigned spot at our apartment) was because of the Connecticut plates. And then we moved to Connecticut and I was that idiot roaming the parking lots aimlessly clicking the remote on the keys trying to follow the beeps because I couldn’t remember if our car was black, or green, or dark blue. Maybe it was gray? AND WHY DOES EVERYONE ELSE’S LICENSE PLATES HAVE CLOUDS ON THEM?

Oh, that’s because WE’RE IN CONNECTICUT NOW.

BEEP! BEEP!

I walked all over the city when we moved L.A. and the people at the local grocery store, farmer’s market and Indian and halal stores and I became very well acquainted. I’d take all the reusable grocery bags we had and my hiking backpack to the grocery store, pile on 30 pounds of groceries/cleaning supplies/other necessities and walk a mile back to our apartment. A lot of the local grocers had seen me do this, and would randomly give me discounts on my groceries; I think they thought I was my husband’s slave.

Dude goes to work, and this little girl who looks like a boy walks 2 miles to get groceries and probably slaves over the hot stove all day. Poor thing.

Hey, I’m all about misconceptions if it means I’m going to get a 20 percent discount!

WORKS FOR ME!

One afternoon at the Indian foods store, I stopped at the shelves lined with “atta,” durum wheat used for baking a variety of Indian breads. I looked through all the varieties for a while (I’m the person you never want to be in line behind at a vending machine) and decided that I was going to try my hand at parathas. I’d seen my mom and aunts make these breads my whole life so I felt confident in my ability to recall their recipes from my childhood.

I got a 10-pound bag of atta, which retailed for $12, but I got it for $6. The old man at the counter asked me where my mom was and when I said, “Northern Virginia” he goes, “I give it to you six dollar.”

WORKS FOR ME!

All the paratha recipes I know include a lot of “extras.” Like I mentioned in the video, some of you may make these breads with butter, shortening, oil and salt. I ended up playing with my own paratha recipe. I added salt then I didn’t. Then I added oil, then I didn’t. And then I read what “shortening” was and I almost puked. In the end, I decided that “clean” was the way to go, and I started making my parathas with three simple ingredients: atta, water and love.

The first several times I made parathas I made a lot of mistakes. My back and wrists were in massive amounts of pain; the smoke from cooking was suffocating. It would fill our 330 square-foot apartment causing the smoke alarm to go off every six minutes. I’d often half-slip on little oil drippings on the kitchen tile and hurt my lower back or hip flexer. In the beginning, I opted to pull my hair back in a high, messy bun and wear sweat pants, neither of which were good ideas. And when I froze the parathas I used paper towels aluminum foil and plastic bags. Again, not ideal. But I’ve discovered that there is an exact science to make this whole process seamless. Two years ago it took me 6 hours to make 30 parathas. And yesterday it took 1 hour and 2 minutes to make 49.

Now, the break down.

Attire: Shorts and a t-shirt or tank top are ideal. Wear comfortable…ahem…undergarments. Picking wedgies and adjusting straps will only result in dry, crusty dough stuck to your clothes (in awkward places) forever.

Shoes: Everyone needs a pair of these. They’re perfect house shoes for cold weather and do great in the kitchen.

Hair: If your hair is long enough for a ponytail, pull it back and slide on a no-slip grip flat soft hairband (I’m a big fan of scünci) so you’re not trying to push back fly-aways while you cook. If your hair won’t pull back into a ponytail, you can still use one of those headbands to keep the shorter hairs out of your face. I also use these for working out.

Ventilation: Open windows in separate areas of your house and turn the exhaust fan in your kitchen to high.

Avoiding soreness: Stand only to knead the flour. Keep feet hip distance apart and tuck your tailbone in slightly to protect your lower back. When you start making the tiny balls, alternate sitting and standing with equal weight distribution on both feet. You can do calf raises while you stand. In my mind that cancels out the carbs! To avoid elbow and wrist soreness, keep your elbows slightly bent and don’t let your wrists get floppy while you use the rolling pin.

Tools and shortcuts: Traditionally, rolling pins are made of wood, but I’ve learned over the years that they’re the hardest to clean. So this year I bought a non-stick rolling pin (Betty Crocker at Bed Bath & Beyond for $9.99). I use all four burners at once, but if you have small children or pets, you might have to make an adjustment here.

Storage: Divvy your parathas into groups of 10. Wrap in aluminum foil and seal in 1 gallon Ziploc Double-Zipper Freezer Bags. Yes, the brand matters here. And don’t use paper towels because they’ll stick to food when frozen.

Serving after freezing: Heat parathas for about 1 minute in a 350 degree oven. They should be soft like a tortilla and warm through the middle.

Sometimes “simple” can be interpreted as “lazy” or “tasteless,” but I’ve never met someone who ate my parathas and said, “Hmm, this needs animal fat,” or “I don’t really like whole wheat.” I was really lucky to find a high quality atta that I’ve been loyal to for almost 3 years and I’m totally convinced that my happy thoughts add to the great taste!

Oh, and if you’re a man reading this,  unless you have a fade or a shaved head, you should probably borrow a headband from that special lady in your life.

Okay, now on to cooking details.

Ingredients:

SWARNA Chaki Fresh Atta 100% stone ground whole wheat
Warm water
Salt (optional)
Cooking oil. A variety will change texture (and in some cases flavor) or your parathas so experiment!
Happy thoughts and love

Directions:

Note: 6 cups flour yields approximately 50 parathas so calculate according to your needs.

Mix 3 to 5 cups of atta with 1 to 2 cups of water. Play around with this ratio. Consistency should be that of a new container of Play-Doh. Put the dough in a bowl and cover with damp paper towels. Let rise for 1 hour.

After dough has risen, transfer to an open work station. Knead well for 1 minute. Pull off small handfuls of dough and knead into small flat rounds. (You can add oil, shortening, butter or a drop of water to each ball before you roll it into a paratha).

Cook parathas for about 1-2 minutes on each side. Cooking time may vary based on stove and pan. Transfer parathas onto a plate covered with a paper towel to soak up excess oil. Eat right away, or let cool for about an hour and then transfer to freezer.

Please rise

Posted on January 6, 2012
Filed Under Daily, In Connecticut, Teaching | Leave a Comment

The holiday weekends have passed, and like many of you I went back to a normal work week last Monday. I like teaching part-time, but anyone who works with kids knows how incredibly exhausting it can be. Every so often I have those days when I feel like I can conquer the part of my world that involves at least a dozen 4 and 5 year olds. I wake up with happy thoughts; I have the patience of Mama Duggar, and I’m able to handle nose-picking and non-stop questions with the ease and grace with which a young ballet dancer can regurgitate her afternoon snack.

Of course there’s a flip side to that sort of teaching utopia. It’s those days when I cannot possibly fathom how I’m going to function for an entire day. Every student I work with has suddenly forgot their letters and is speaking in SLUGOSH (that language they never taught you in middle school because IT’S NOT A REAL) and at least two of my tots have jammed me in the wrist with a blue marker (pigment side up) resulting in added color variations to my brand new sweater because those tiny little hands just…can’t…get…the…cap…off.

Last week was one of those weeks.

When I first started teaching early last year, I remember calling my mom less than a week in and saying, “I don’t know how you do it.” My mom has been an educator for most of my life, and while home for a quick visit when I was living in L.A. I met her at work so we could have lunch together. I snuck into her classroom of about 18 fourth graders before they were dismissed for lunch and I remember thinking what a rock star my mom was. She was fielding questions and monitoring behavior while explaining to her Languages Arts class when the apostrophe comes before the ‘s’ and when it comes after.

Working moms and stay-at-home moms and work-from-home moms (or dads in any of those scenarios) each face their own challenges. But watching my mom maneuver herself through all those spunky and curious kids made me realize, for the first time, how incredibly challenging it must have been for her to work as a teacher full-time and also raise two daughters since motherhood and teaching have such a major overlap.

As a teacher, you’re also a caretaker. And as a parent, you’re constantly teaching. I was in my mom’s classroom for less than 30 minutes, but I knew that this was how every moment of her day for the last two decades had been. And I was suddenly taken back in time 20 years trying to wrap my head around how my mom worked at school all day and then came home to my sister’s and my non-stop stories from elementary school, our middle school “problems” and our high school attitudes. But not a single memory from my childhood includes even a moment when I felt like my mom was overwhelmed, or unhappy — either as a teacher or a mother — even when she incurred most (if not all) the “womanly” domestic duties of our household since she arrived home each week day a few hours before my dad.

Last week was incredibly draining for me, but it was also a good reminder to reflect on the work that career teachers do. No, not me, but the men and women who have chosen this path for the long haul. The ones that wake up every single day and go to work ready and eager to change lives no matter what their school’s resources and no matter what their students’ challenges.

On Friday I went to the kindergarten classroom to pick up one of my students for his phonics session and I had a moment to engage in an adult conversation with a veteran teacher at our center. Moments like this are always a nice refresher before I go back to letters and sounds and blends and journals and OH MY GOD JUST PULL THE CAP OFF!

The teacher and I were chatting about teaching in general and how it can often creep into your life outside the classroom when she said, “Sabrina, you’re not going to believe this, but the other day I reached down and tied my husband’s shoe!”

The overlap is INSANE. And I think we can all agree that every career teacher on our planet deserves a standing ovation right about now.

Quick to confess

Posted on January 6, 2012
Filed Under Daily, In Connecticut, Teaching | Leave a Comment

Me: Oakley, why are your cheeks all red?

Oakley: Oh, my cheeks. Yeah, I got punched in da face!

Me: What? No you didn’t.

Oakley: Yes, Miz Dabrina, a robot PUNCHED ME IN DA FACE!

Me: Oakley, your cheeks are red like you got a rash, or were outside in the cold too long. It doesn’t look like a robot punched you in the face.

Oakley: Oh yes, Miz Dabrina. It was the robot, OPTIMUS PRIME! And he PUNCHED(!!!) me in da face!

Me: Oakley, are you making up stories?

Oakley: Oh. Sawwy.

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