cha no ma-ri

One of the things I hate about freelancing is those stretches of time where nothing is happening. After making numerous calls, sending tons of emails, sending project proposals out last week and earlier this week, I wondered if my last job was that: my last job. I hate to ‘fess up to that, but I often walk around with that thought. Will I ever work again? What on earth am I doing?

Late yesterday, a few messages trickled in. A couple of offers are on the table. Goodness. I might be able to eat something better than a few stalks of celery. Happiness is getting hired. Happy happiness is getting hired to write.

I was so hoping that the walking tour I scripted and mentioned last week would be up and available for listening by now but I guess there was a bit of a delay. Harumf. This is one of the most frustrating aspects of building a portfolio: I’m at the mercy of other people’s schedules. In addition to being very excited about showing you some of my more recent work, it also makes it difficult to bid for similar jobs because I don’t have those newer additions to present to prospective clients. Although I have been able to successfully convince people to hire me without some work samples, it does make the hustle, the sell and the closing of the deal that much harder.

A friend asked me what I do when it’s dead silent - when, after I’ve done everything I possibly can do to get my next gig and have no choice but to sit and wait for responses - and how I keep from going crazy. It’s a good question. I used to slip into a mixture of depression, worry and anxiety, things that are just not that helpful. These days I take the time to do things that I know I won’t be able to do once I’m busy again, like paint, sketch designs for my next cookie, and read a few good thrillers. After seeing the French film “Tell No One,” which I think was one of the best thrillers I’ve seen in a while and which is based on a Harlan Coben novel, I checked out Coben’s latest work, Hold Tight. Couldn’t put it down. Read it in a few days and am hungry for another mystery, maybe Chris Mooney’s The Missing. But first I promised myself I’d read Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, and then a Siri Hustvedt novel. Oh, and I’m studying photography, and…

What are you doing this weekend?

Have a good one.

My friend Brooke has been working on a documentary about her father, Alan Keesling, a lighting artist and the owner of a marvelous little model train store called the Roundhouse. In early 2007, she wanted to film some interviews with her father and his band of eclectic coworkers, so Wolf and I and our sound expert Brian Sorbo spent the afternoon interviewing Alan, his crew, and several model train collectors, some of whom we suspect have been divorced because their spouses couldn’t compete with the train sets. Although Brooke has told me repeatedly she’s in no hurry to finish her film, I can’t wait to see how she puts the many hours of footage together and combines it with her animated artistry.

On several occasions I’ve included miniature figures of people in the pictures I take with my cookies. I bought all of the little figures, some of which are a mere quarter-inch in size, at The Roundhouse. Any time is a good time to go to the Roundhouse, but I think it’s best to go on the last Saturday of the month. Why? Well, check the slideshow.

(photos in this slide show were taken on several different occasions)

For more information on the Roundhouse and model train collecting, click on any of these links:

• The Roundhouse
• Los Angeles Times story on Allied Model Train store closing down
• Business Week Debate: Mom and Pop Stores
• DIY Network: Basics of Building a Digital HO Scale Model Train Set
• Modern Railroader Magazine

Have you ever opened your mouth only to realize you’ve totally forgotten what you were going to say?

Years ago, when I was a full-time reporter, I went to a press conference where I had to cover the latest developments on bilateral trade negotiations between the U.S. and Japan that were going very, very badly. As the U.S. team entered the room, it was clear they did not get the agreement they wanted. They looked angry, disappointed, tired. And reluctant to face reporters. But how they felt was not my concern. It was my job to ask questions and report the news.

When the lead U.S. official opened the floor to questions, I was the first to stand up and raise my hand. I jumped up like one of those goody-two-shoes kids in school, the kind who has always done her homework and is always too ready to answer the teacher’s questions. There was no way I was not going to be first to fire.

And that’s when one of my worst nightmares happened: I drew a blank. The room fell silent. All eyes were on me. Sweat burst from every pore on my body. Especially on my upper lip. Oh. My. God. I could not for the life of me remember what I wanted to ask. The official was not amused. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. My question. My question. What was it? Oh no. This can’t be happening! With my arm still sticking up in the air, I looked him straight in the eye and nearly hollered: “Sir, I’m so sorry. I forgot my question!”

The room erupted into laughter. I felt so humiliated. I sat back into my chair and dropped my head. I’m such a dork, I thought. I’m going to be fired. Eventually I regained my composure, and the official must have noticed, because he did point back at me, and I managed to crank out some follow-up questions. When it was over, I couldn’t run out of the room fast enough…

This cookie is not a new design. I’ve decided that when I draw a blank in the weekly design process, this cookie, or a similar one with a question mark will reappear. Thank goodness I have a large portfolio! But I hope I will not rehash stories. Now that would just be silly.

Have an unforgettable week.

I thought I had published this post on Monday. I must have really been out of it. You know, drawn blank again. Because I saw this in my “Drafts” folder…Anyway, here’s Monday’s (non) cookie.

Because I telecommute to work, I rarely use my car, so the recent spike in gas prices hasn’t hit me nearly as hard as friends and neighbors who have to travel to an office everyday. Still, filling up the tank on my tiny little Honda has become quite the eye-popping trip. Whereas I used to pay as little as $20.00 for eleven gallons, I’m now ponying up 50 bucks for the same amount. Yeesh. The last time I filled up at the gas station, I held my receipt for an extra moment and thought, I guess we’re eating noodles for the rest of the month.

Yet I feel strange whining about high gas prices. Look at this! Wolf took this picture in early July when he was visiting Norway. The price is kroners per liter (those stubborn Norwegians refuse to join the E.U.), but if converted into dollars per gallon, it comes out to about $10.10. Diesel is significantly more. If you visit the land of Vikings, don’t be surprised to see many tall people squishing into tiny cars. They don’t have much choice.

(By the way, thank you for your emails the past few days regarding the California earthquake. The house shook a little, but nothing more).

There seems to be this grand debate about whether the U.S. economy is in a recession. Economists say that in order for the ‘r’ word to be official, the economy has to have undergone two consecutive quarters of decline. Apparently, that has not happened. And this morning, I read in the Wall Street Journal that the government is about to release a report stating that the economy actually expanded by a whopping 1% last quarter.

The economy might have expanded. By one percent. Oh, break out the champagne!

Yesterday, when I was thinking of what I’d do for a cookie design, I initially drew a blank. We’ve been talking about seeing the latest Batman film, so I thought I’d make something with a bat theme. But we haven’t seen the film yet because Wolf insists on seeing it in an IMAX theater, and each time we’ve looked up the showtimes, there was no way we could have possibly made the show. So, the bat theme will have to wait. As I rattled the pea in my head (that would be my excuse for a brain, folks), I found my creative thoughts were constantly interrupted by worries about money, work, and the economy.

Then it hit me: a piggy bank!

As I finished this cookie and photographed it, I thought of all the things I’ve done over the years to save money so that I could invest it, maybe have a little something when I’m old and brittle. Among some of my habits are:

• not buying coffee at Starbucks or similar joints;
• borrowing books, CDs and DVDs from the library instead of buying them
• using the air conditioning only when absolutely necessary
• walking instead of driving, if possible
• mooching off of rich friends
• forcing my husband to support me so I don’t have to work
• stealing the neighbor’s newspaper instead of subscribing

Okay, I actually don’t do the last three, although my wealthier friends do treat me well, my husband for some still unknown reason never complains that he has to support me while I try to build my freelance career, and last week, I swear, the neighbor’s paper blew into our front yard (I walked it over to them).

So I’m curious. What do you do to save money?

The economic outlook might be bleak. Doesn’t mean you have to be.

Have a better than bleak week.

I’m putting together another audio slide show for next week, this time about this charming man and some model trains.

A script for a walking tour I wrote was recorded yesterday, and I’m just barely managing to contain my excitement about it. This has been one of the more interesting and rewarding projects I’ve worked on this year, and because I can’t give any more details at the moment, I feel like a little kid with a big secret trying hard to keep her mouth shut. The downloadable tour should be available around August 1st, at which time I’ll tell you where to go so you can hear what I’ve written.

Otherwise, putting together and sending out project proposals for jobs I would like to have. There are some juicy gigs out there. It would be nice if the stars align and I get a handful of the ones I really want.

By the way, thank you for your kind comments following my previous post. Last week was tres crappy. This week is a vast improvement.

I have found the best recipe for Chocolate Chip cookies: Maida Heatter’s Positively-The-Absolute-
Best-Chocolate-Chip Cookies. Dame Heatter couldn’t have called it anything else. One bite into these lovelies. And fuggedaboudit.

The first time I heard of Maida Heatter was when I discovered Cathy’s blog about two years ago. I had just put my first site (minus blog) on the web, and while searching for other individual bakers, came across one of her regular “Mondays with Maida” posts. Mondays with Maida? What on earth was that? It turns out that Cathy was in the process of trying every recipe in one of Maida’s cookie books. Three years, a ton of sugar, butter, chocolate and a whole lotta love later, Cathy completed her goal of trying every Maida recipe. When she reached the last one, I remember feeling kind of…lost. You know that feeling? I had grown so accustomed to waking up every Monday morning and reading about Cathy’s latest Maida recipe, that when she reached the end I really thought, “What now?”

Cathy is the only blogger I have met in person. (Actually, that’s not true. I’ve met others, just been too timid about introducing myself). I interviewed her with the intention of publishing our discussion here in my blog, but as I got busy trying to build my freelancing portfolio, my plans for all these great interviews and other features were put aside. Hence the kind of lack of direction this l’il blog has taken…No matter. Cathy was eventually featured in the Wall Street Journal for her Maida Mondays!

When I asked Cathy why she chose Maida Heatter’s book, she told me that it was a natural, even logical choice. Maida’s recipes made her feel like Maida was right there in the kitchen with her, making the process of measuring the ingredients, mixing the dough, cutting and baking it all the more fun.

It’s a good way of describing Heatter’s style. Because baking requires so much precision, it can be intimidating to some, but Heatter takes that part out of the process. This is a woman who named one section of her Brand-New Book of Great Cookies, “Cookies that are Dropped and Rolled Between Your Hands.” Her witty and friendly voice makes reading her books fun, as if she’s giving you a friendly little nudge to try even the more complex recipes. And that it’s okay to make a hurricane-level mess while you’re at it.

Why only a partial view of this week’s latest design? I’m a guest blogger tomorrow over here and I designed a group of cookies for the occasion. You’ll get the full Monty then.

The past week was a very trying week for me, both personally and professionally. It happens. I’m getting past it. I’m hoping this week will bring better things…

Have a good-looking week.

Years ago, before Oprah became the deity OPRAH, she told her audience that one way of really knowing how your friends are doing is to peek into their linen closet. She said something to the effect of, if their linens are fraying and thinning, you know things aren’t going as well as they seem. Personally, I’m not so sure of that theory. One of my good friends from college is insanely wealthy, and the last time I checked her linen closet it was stacked with stuff which I am positive dates back to the early 80s. Clean but shabby, it didn’t indicate much except that my friend either doesn’t care about her linens or, she’s too damn cheap to buy new ones. I think it’s a combination of both.

So, if the linen closets aren’t where the secrets are, where are they? I say the garbage cans.

I don’t go snooping around the neighborhood trying to get a glimpse of what my neighbors are up to. But when you have to walk a dog twice a day everyday, you notice things. On a recent stroll, I glimpsed into the blue recyclables can in the front of a neighbor’s house. At the top of the pile? A box that used to contain edible underwear. The couple residing there never struck me as the kind who put underwear on their plates for dinner, but okay. To each his own. A few blocks later, I saw a cannister filled with used latex gloves. I soon learned that the house where the gloves were dumped is a home for Alzheimer’s patients. And so on. See, Madame O, I think there are stories in people’s garbage. Lots of stories.

And so I’m revealing to you what’s in mine this week. It tells the story of a housewife who, left alone for two weeks while her husband was away, decided that she would not cook. Part of it was the heat which makes being in the kitchen unbearable. Part of it was this silly idea I had that I was temporarily single again, and could do anything I wanted to. Like pop things in the oven or toaster and minutes later eat it on the couch while watching junk TV. It was a two-week junk spree. (And Nupur, despite learning so much about Indian food from you, I bought some instant Palak Paneer at Trader Joe’s. For shame!)

As good as some of these Bachelorette foods are, I tired of them quickly. Well, I confess, I did inhale the jar of Nutella in just two days. And after eating those waffles three times a day, just looking at the package made me feel a bit ill. There’s something about the mass-manufactured taste of all that stuff that tired my taste buds. But you know what was the worst? After a while, eating that food just made me feel…lonely. None of it was anything I’d offer to guests or share with friends. Maybe that’s why my mother-in-law calls instant food “Bachelor Food.” There’s something very singular about it…

Thank goodness, the Wolf returns tonight. He has told me that because his dear mother is not a good cook (and it’s true, she’s not. Lovely and gifted in many things, just not in the kitchen), he’s looking forward to coming home and having something very fresh and Californian. I’m thinking grilled salmon and a simple green salad.

I’m so glad tomorrow is garbage day. Adieu to Bachelorette food!!!

I dare to ask: what’s in your garbage can?

I feel like I’ve been under the weather for the past few days. I’ve been busy. And eating a lot of instant food. Stuff my mother-in-law calls Bachelor food. Since my husband has been away for the past two weeks, I call it Bachelorette food. I’ll tell you more about this stuff tomorrow. Why? Because I don’t want you to feel as crappy as I do.

Now, to the matter at hand. Happy Bastille Day! When I was growing up in France, I thought July was the greatest month. First we celebrated the Fourth of July. The U.S. embassy where my father worked put on a big shindig where we somehow reminded ourselves that we were American. When you grow up the child of a U.S. diplomat, you are constantly told by someone - your parents, your teachers, your friends - that you’re American, but because you’re overseas, you don’t really know, or rather, feel, what that means.

Ten days later, it was Bastille Day. France shut down and Hooray! Another big party. Independence Day seemed like a distant memory. I was very young and very tiny back then, and I still remember my father hoisting me onto his shoulders as we watched the fireworks go off all over the city. If I had a picture of the fireworks flying over L’Arc de Triomphe, I’d slap it up here, but my father wasn’t very good in the camera department, and in all fairness, taking photos at night is not a task for the average Joe picture-taker.

Anyway, July 14th. In France it’s usually called the Fete Nationale, or simply le Quatorze Juillet. Two-hundred-nineteen years ago, the French, fed up with their mean king, the naughty and nasty Louis XVI, stormed the Bastille Prison and a new nation was born. Okay, that’s a short and corny manner of putting it, but that’s basically what happened. Sometimes I feel like it’s been 200 years since I was last in France, and Wolf and I often talk about stopping there on our way to Norway or on our way back whenever we visit the in-laws. We haven’t done it yet. Maybe next year?

About the cookie: this is actually a 2006 creation. All details were hand-piped onto chocolate cookies. The gold stars were painted with gold lustre dust.

Have a joyous week.

Did you watch the men’s Wimbledon final between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal? What a cliffhanger. I don’t remember watching such an amazing match ever. And I barely know the rules of tennis. Some of the shots those guys made were superhuman. Unbelievable.

It didn’t occur to me to make the trophy a cookie design until late last night. Without a new idea for a design, I was on the verge of rehashing an oldie but goodie from my portfolio until bada-bing! The image of a trophy popped into my head. It was a bit hard photographing this in the grass; ants kept climbing on it…

About the cookie: I put a base layer of white icing down first. Once dry, I piped the trophy image by hand, waited for it to dry, then painted it with gold lustre dust (a mix of natural lemon extract and lustre dust in “Old Gold.”)

This week is supposed to be another really hot one in California. If anyone in the midwest would like to ship me a truck of water, please don’t hesitate.

Have a triumphant week.