Persepolis

There’s something so romantic and mysterious about the Middle East, isn’t there? Perhaps that’s a naïve statement. With all of the ongoing conflicts – destined to persist for centuries more – I suppose it’s really the idea of the Middle East that’s romantic. The spices, minarets, calls to prayer, the burkas, caftans and hijabs that are at once so demure and alluring.

Jordan has been on my list for years. I dream of seeing Petra, the Rose-Red City, recently named one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. Several of Brad’s customers live in Jordan, and two of them have invited us to visit and stay at their homes. I’d love to take them up on the offers; if not this year, next.

Yesterday, I finally saw Persepolis, a gorgeously animated feature (c. 2007) following a young Iranian girl’s evolution – and that of her country – from the late 1970s through the early 1990s. Hilarious, tragic, thought provoking, and a true feast for the eyes. Not to mention it was in French. Swoon, indeed.

The movie is based on Marjane Satrapi’s autobiographical graphic novel. I learned a lot about the Iran-Iraq War from the movie. It's also worth mentioning that the film taught me icing my breasts for 10 minutes a day will keep them round well into my old age.

A few images are below.

Baking and New Beginnings

what would life be like if we had no courage to attempt anything?

vincent van gogh

Inspirational quote + a tie to my beloved discipline of art? Double whammy.

Alison, queen of giving good advice, throwing surprise parties, making Excel spreadsheets, choosing greeting cards, and other valuable skills, imparted these words via a killer Hallmark as I was packing up and leaving my first "grown-up" job two weeks ago. I didn't expect to cry, but...

A truly wonderful opportunity with a medical device company came my way, and I had to take it, leaving behind my good friends at the PR agency. (Or, as Alison says, not really leaving... just turning work friends into friend-friends.)

I showed my appreciation for all that I had learned during my years at the agency through one of my love languages, giving. Baking, to be exact, three days out of my last five in the office. Only thing is, it was one of my crazier weeks, what with school, leaving a job, preparing to travel out of town to start a new job the next Monday, going away happy hours and the like. So I committed a cardinal baking sin (for baking snobs like me, who, like Ina Garten, insist on using only good ingredients... "good olive oil," "good cocoa powder," "good vanilla" -- you get the picture): I used mixes. For every. single. baked good.

And they were really just as good as the from-scratch stuff that takes three times as long. (gasp)

* Sorry the format of the recipes isn't pretty. Blogger's formatting capes are, let's say, limited.

** All food photos are from my phone. The photos above are from Brad's "new job" present to me, a nice, new digital SLR. :)

*** Final caveat, I promise. I've been computerless and Photoshop-less for 2.5 weeks, but soon I promise you whimsical photo montages. Soon, friends.

Day 1: Mini Banana Muffin Cakes

Here's the thing about these muffin cakes (muffiny cupcakes). I sort of winged it. I adapted a recipe I picked up a long time ago that I break out whenever I have overripe bananas, and the freezer already has a loaf of banana bread. So here is generally what I did.

Muffin cakes:

1 pkg yellow cake mix

3 overripe bananas

1 cu. sour cream (reduced fat is fine)

1-1/2 t. baking soda

1/2 to 1 t. cinnamon, depending on your preference

1/4 t. nutmeg

Cream cheese frosting:

2 8 oz. pkg cream cheese (I use 1/3-less fat)

1 stick (1/2 cu.) butter

2 cu. confectioners' sugar

1 - 2 t. vanilla extract (depending on your preference... I tend toward more vanilla)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prepare cake mix according to package directions (sub out the oil for applesauce if you want). Stir in mashed bananas, sour cream, baking soda, and spices. Spoon 1 T. of mixture into greased mini-muffin tins. (It makes a ton of mini muffins, but you could make regular muffins or even a cake if you wanted. You just have to adjust the baking times.)Bake for eight minutes or until they are puffed and just barely golden on top. Wait for them to cool completely before frosting.

To prepare frosting, beat together cream cheese and butter. Mix in the confectioners' sugar by hand (unless you want it all over your kitchen), and once it is mostly incorporated, turn the beater back on until it's a light texture, maybe 3-5 minutes. Right when you think it's ready, add the vanilla extract.

I used a Wilton cake decorator to make pretty blobs of frosting on top of the cooled cakes. I followed this template for the cupcake flags, found via How About Orange.

Day 2: Buttery Garlic Cheese Biscuits

You may recognize this recipe from a chain seafood restaurant.

Biscuits:
4 cu. Bisquick
6 oz. Cheddar cheese, shredded (I like sharp Cheddar)
1-1/3 cu. water

1 t. garlic powder

1/4 t. onion powder

1/4 t. dried parsley

1/8 t. Old Bay Seasoning (check the spice section or the seafood section of your grocery store)
... Plus a little flour.

Butter mixture:
1/2 cu. melted butter
2 t. garlic powder
1/4 t. salt
1/2 t. onion powder
1/4 t. dried parsley

1/4 t. Old Bay Seasoning

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Combine the baking mix, cheese, water and spices. Mix until dough is firm but sticky.

On a lightly floured surface (I use a cutting board), spread dough out to about 1/2-inch thickness. Flour the top of the dough a little bit too.

Use a biscuit cutter (I use the end of a champagne flute) to cut out rounds of dough. Bake for 8 to 12 minutes, until golden brown.
Combine the melted butter and spices/herbs. Brush over baked biscuits immediately upon removing from oven.

I served them with brown sugar baked ham, horseradish mayo (prepared horseradish + mayo) and Dijon mustard for mini sandwiches (I was into "mini" that week, it appears).

Day 3: Toffee Nut Brownie Bites AND Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars

Toffee Nut Brownie Bites

These really could not be easier (Thanks, Virginia and Destiny, for the recipe!). I won't even bother typing it out in recipe format, because it's just this simple.

Take a box of plain brownie mix. No fancy stuff. I used Duncan Hines original mix. Prepare according to package directions. Pour half of the batter into pan lined inside with aluminum foil (size and preparation whatever is prescribed by the box). Layer toffee and almond Symphony bars over the top of that layer. Pour the rest of the batter over the top, covering the bars. Bake according to package directions. When COMPLETELY cooled (you really have to wait or the Symphony layer gets messy), pop the aluminum foil out of the pan, brownies and all. On a flat surface, cut into squares or tiny rounds (again, I used a champagne flute and froze the leftover scraps for a future ice cream recipe).

Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars

Technically I didn't use a mix, but I did use a prepared item, Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. So deliciously bad for you. I think these would be delicious with a layer of fruit... fresh strawberries or blueberry preserves. Mmm.

2 8 oz. cans Crescent Rolls
2 8 oz. packages cream cheese
1 cu. white sugar

1 t. cinnamon
1 t. vanilla extract
1/2 cu. butter, melted
1/4 cu. sugar
1 t. cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9x13 in. pan.
Press one can of the crescent rolls into the bottom of the prepared pan.

In a medium bowl, mix together the cream cheese, 1 cup of sugar, cinnamon and vanilla until smooth and creamy. Spread over the crescent layer.

Unroll the second can of crescent rolls and lay them on top of the cream cheese layer.

Pour the melted butter over the entire pan. Combine the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over the top.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the top is crisp and golden.

Cool on a counter, then chill overnight.

Cut into triangles (first cut into squares, then cut those diagonally).

Look for more bloggy updates from me soon. I'm resolving in my new routine to build in healthy habits, like exercising, reading regularly and BLOGGING. I have lots of ideas for posts, so stick with me. :)

Francophilia

I have a serious problem.

A France problem.

A typical French cafe-bar, via Rita Crane's Flickr photostream (with beautiful, thoughtful descriptions)

Most of you know about my love affair with La Belle France, which began in 2006 when I studied abroad in Paris. Click here to read my Paris blog, which is pretty amazing if I can say that about my own writing. I returned from the City of Light and shortly after began dating the man I would marry, but I never forgot my first love. Never.

Moi in front of... well, you know. 2006.

Sometimes I miss Paris so much my heart. literally. hurts. It's a little sick, actually. Whenever I hear about someone else* loving Paris, I become extremely indignant, like I have some sense of ownership over the city. I feel like a jealous lover who has discovered some awful adultery. "You can't love France. She was mine first." ::: clench jaw and fists ::: No really, I recognize that this is not normal behavior.

*Disclaimer: These feelings do not apply to Stephanie, who discovered Paris with me, and Abby, who also studied abroad in France and whose love for the motherland is pure and sincere.

I have shed tears over the fact that I’m losing my grasp on the French language, in which I was conversational – even near fluent – just a short three years ago (“Il y a trois ans,” as I tell fellow Francophiles who ask me when I was last in France).

Well the sickness is worsening, and I have SMU to blame.

I mentioned in my last blog that I was beginning a contemporary art history course this summer. We’re barely out of Realism and I can feel my heart simultaneously breaking and bursting with joy each night I’m in class. I’ll catch myself in the middle of the lecture, sitting on the second row, my chin cupped in both hands, elbows on the table, grinning and looking cow-eyed at mon professeur as she romances me with words like “Courbet,” “Daumier,” “Musée d’Orsay,” and “Déjeuner sur l’herbe.”

Déjeuner sur l’herbe, oil on canvas, 1863

Last night she said, “Those of you who know Paris well know that the book- and print-sellers even line the streets of the city.”

It was all I could do to keep myself from exclaiming, “Oui, je les connais! Les bouquinistes!”

Le sighhhh…

My second trip to Paris, 2006... Making a fool of myself in front of the Louvre.

I’m craving all things French. Carambars, le Métro, watching American movies with French subtitles in St.-Germain-des-Pres, drinking wine out of a baby bottle at Le Refuge des Fondues in Montmartre… I even tried to French braid my hair this morning, with less than spectacular results.

A classmate and I are pondering Monet's genius at his home of Giverny.

Brad’s company is treating us to a Mediterranean cruise in October, and we plan to stay an extra week to explore Morocco, which I have never visited before, or Paris, which has my heart. Morocco sounds sexy and exotic, and I would love to add Africa to the list of continents I have visited… but today I’m leaning toward Paris.

Cinque Pommes, or Apples and a Dish Rag on a Table

I've had three blissful weeks off of school, and this week will mark my return to SMU. "Le Sigh," as fellow Mustang Steffy Lou would say.

Really, I'm excited to go back. I'm taking a contemporary art course, a deep dive on the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and a class on a single painting -- Manet's Bar at the Folies-Bergère. Scintillating (I'm serious!)!!!

Édouard Manet's Bar at the Folies-Bergère, c. 1882, oil on canvas

But I really have loved this little break. I read (for leisure!) till my eye muscles were tired, enjoyed happy hours with girlfriends, figured out what this thing they call "Thursday night TV" was, and painted!

That's right, I painted.

Ohhh, what a release! Those of you who know me well know how much I love art, but it seems that finding the time to do it is rare. Even when I'm not in classes, it seems there has been some practical consideration (work, wedding planning, work, moving, WORK) to stifle the creative juices. So I decided that in order to feel like I had really made the most of this three week hiatus, I needed to do something really artistic. (Brad was DELIGHTED to come home from school and see me painting. He is a huge encourager and tells me frequently that I shouldn't waste my gifts because of "busyness." He's right. It's too easy to make excuses.)

My preferred medium is pencil -- love the detail that I can achieve. I always shy away from color because I don't feel like I have a great grasp of it. But in studying Michelangelo last semester, I grew to really admire his facility and imagination when it came to colors.

Until the Sistine Chapel's restoration was complete in 1994, art historians thought the Renaissance master painted in browns, greys, and tans because he was primarily a sculptor and thus wanted to render in stony-looking figures and scenes.

One of Michelangelo's Sistine frescoes before restoration

But as experts worked to remove centuries of smoke and grime from the ceiling, they uncovered lemon yellows, cherry reds, tangerine oranges, and lime greens. He was not only a colorist, but one of the premier colorists of his time! Imagine how shocked art history students of the 1970s and before must have been to realize everything that was printed in their books and taught in their lectures was based on a giant misconception about Michelangelo's vision.

One of Michelangelo's frescoes of a sybil on the Sistine ceiling, post-restoration

But I digress. Seeking to challenge myself, I chose the most brightly colored green apples (Golden Delicious, to be exact) apples the grocery store offered and arranged them on my dining room table. I love that they are mottled with hints of red and orange too. I added a little dish rag to provide depth and visual interest -- though let's be honest, how interesting are apples on a table?

Here's the finished work:

I've been toying with a name for this painting (about 16" x 20", oil on canvas). Anything from the uber artsy, like Cinque, Cinque Pommes, or Charis -- Greek for "grace," which the number five symbolizes; to the obvious, Apples and a Dish Rag on a Table; to the playful, like 'Dem Apples. I think it shall just remain unnamed. :)

I will readily admit it's not inventive or daring, but it was a fantastic exercise for me as I get outside my artistic comfort zone. All in all, the investment was some yellow and green oil paints (I had the other colors), a canvas, a Saturday morning, and two evenings after work. The thing about working with oils, it seems, is that you have to wait for them to set a bit if you want to do a lot of layering. Not a happy reality for this impatient girl.

Meanwhile, my fellow artsy kindred spirit was painting this streetscape in Portland (one of my top five favorite cities in the world):

Stephanie painted this as a Mother's Day gift for her sweet mom, Carol. Please pray for Stephanie's dad, who was in a terrible car accident on Saturday, May 23, and is recovering. The Wanderlusters have put their wanderlusting on hold and are in San Antonio until Andy is able to make significant progress.

I'm envious of how personal and painterly it is. You can really see her hand in it, and the way she has interpreted the shadows, reflections, and the depth of the clouds just wows me! And of course as kindred spirits we WOULD be doing paintings at the same time -- unbeknownst to each other.

Here's thanking the Creator for art and lovers of art everywhere!

To the Lady in NorthPark Whose Whimsical Outfit Made Me Happy

Based on a True Story

Like a jellyfish billowing near the top of the blue water, with light finding its way through diaphanous folds, your skirt flounced in slow motion, a beat behind each purposeful step. You walked like a Parisienne parading a Standard Poodle through Les Tuileries – or even like the poodle herself – each footstep abrupt but delicate; intentional.

From the buttery leather of your brown booties to the grandmotherly chignon that betrayed your Carrie Bradshaw-like aesthetic, you were on a mission.

Perhaps you had just come from a consultation at Barney’s where you were commissioned to create some new artwork, a thankless backdrop for unreasonably expensive designer garments. The clipboard tucked tightly under your left arm may have itself clung to your sketches, lines on paper destined to become your next forgotten oeuvre.

You didn’t even carry a purse.

A man with tattooed fingers held a heavy glass door open, and you were off. You likely slid into a stuffy Mercedes or Lexus SUV and set off to pick up your stepchildren from private school, but I’d like to believe you sped away on a Capri Blue Vespa, skirt be damned, bound for your studio where yards of empty canvas await fat tubes of unctuous gesso and pigment.

Restlessness (Warning: Long Post)

I’ve had this unsettled feeling in my heart now for several months. Like I want to move to Seattle, or maybe just Dallas’ Bishop Arts District; or go to grad school (more on that later); or start discipling middle school girls; or dye my hair fuchsia. Or buy a 9 mm and take concealed-carry classes (Oh wait, I’m already doing that. No seriously, I am.). Or maybe come home one day with my body all painted in henna paint à la Indian weddings.


So I think about all of these things but I still have this RESTLESS spirit, so much so that when I think about it my heart literally hurts. Like an aching for someone or something that I can’t identify. Like I'm grieving for something, really. It's not a depression, just a sense of loss over something I don't even understand. Talk about a state of confusion.

So I’ve prayed. Praying without knowing what you're asking for is hard, and even harder when you think you’re not hearing anything back. I have felt like the woman in Song of Solomon who searches for her lover but can’t find him.

I opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. (SoS 5:6)

And it occurred to me… I’m not serving. I feel most alive in Christ when I’m serving him, and my top spiritual gifts are service and pastor/ shepherding. Maybe my lack of service is what’s causing this weird friction in my spirit. But what to do with this knowledge?

I sought godly counsel from an awesome, life-loving, astoundingly wise friend, who by the grace of God is also family. We’ll call her “Martha.” So Martha, irreverent as she may be, sat down with me over yummy, thin crust, European-style pizza yesterday in Southlake, and we cussed (a little :-), laughed about smoking on the sly, talked about motherhood (her) and future motherhood (me), and generally just had a mini heart-to-heart. Then I came out with it. “Martha,” I said. “What’s going on with me?” I gave her the back story, and she was blunt, as I hoped she would be (I’m paraphrasing):

“Hello? Did you ever think that this restlessness could be the way God is speaking to you, that he's trying to tell you to act on those sneaking suspicions?”

O-M-Goodness. No. Really, no. How could I not have realized that I wasn't just feeling crazy for the sake of crazy... He may be making me feel that way because I'm still not acting on his promptings. I didn’t consider that the Lord was trying to get my attention or affirm the longings of my heart by this aching feeling. But that makes SO much sense. ::: slaps forehead ::: Doh.

She had a lot more truth to speak to me, and I’m not giving her enough credit for her invaluable counseling abilities and insight, but I left feeling really validated – not only validated, but justified – over some of the nutty ideas that have been swirling. My heart and my head are still having a cage match with each other, and I have a lot of thinking to do, but today I really do feel a little bit better. I need to be in the Word for a while, and let some things marinate, but I think I can tell you more later.

I’m deeply grateful for Martha.

And for Brad, who encouraged me to apply for grad school, which I’ll be starting Jan. 22! It’s a professional program (code language for “I’m not quitting my job to go to school, don’t worry”), and I expect to go two nights a week. It’s funny how God works… in the middle of this season of spiritual frustration, I had to register for classes. I’m in a Master of Liberal Studies program, which will allow me to focus on art, French and writing (or as I call them, The Holy Trinity of Katie). But for this first semester, I wanted to have the same schedule as Brad so that we can carpool and spend an extra hour together a day during a time when we otherwise might not see each other a lot.

Well, I had to take a couple of required courses for my first semester, and the only other class that fit with the schedule wasn’t anything that fell into the aforementioned Trinity; it was a theology class.

Theology? Okay. I love Jesus, but theology is really Brad’s thing. I like Beth Moore and Max Lucado and John Piper… but theology?! But I clicked “register” and I’m in. And I have to wonder if God isn’t planning on teaching me something really significant through this course, which is called “The Spiritual Vision of Jesus.”

Think service might be a part of that vision?

Distractions and Creativity

We’re near the end of summer, and I find myself taking stock of my life and my day-to-day. Fall is undoubtedly my favorite time of year – and summer my least favorite. I’m happy to be moving on to a happier season.

Through my seasonal self-assessment, I have realized that in my “settling down,” I’ve become a little lazy. I’ve never liked to exercise. And I’ve always loved TV (I’m one of the few people I know who will admit that I really do love TV). Law and Order, anything on Food Network, Project Runway, news, House Hunters… I can usually find something on the tube that I don’t mind vegging out to.

But I’m starting to think it’s gone a little too far.

I wrote in my journal four years ago a list of life goals. The list goes on and on, with plenty of dos and don’ts to last several pages – some trivial and some profound. One of the items on the list was this:

Never lose the art of conversation. Don’t spend your married nights in front of the TV.

Sadly, I think I’m headed that direction. Brad doesn’t really enjoy sitting still, especially to watch television. But he does like spending time with me. So after a crazy day, I’ll arrive home and my head will be spinning, and all I want to do is make a quick dinner, eat it in front of the TV, watch a few shows and go to sleep. And Brad, being a sweet husband, will sit with me while I do nothing.

Anyway, I’m trying an experiment. For the past couple of weeks, after a hectic and/or frustrating day (and there have been several of those lately), I come home, eat dinner with my husband at the dinner table – TV off – and then do something productive. I may do some housework, do something artistic, read a magazine or a book, pull weeds in the backyard, ride the stationary bike (ugh!), talk to a friend on the phone…

This is a good exercise for me. Brad started his MBA program this past Thursday, so I ought to be spending a little more time alone as he goes to class and study groups.

I painted a watercolor of a eucalyptus tree line the other night. It came out all right, but it was missing something. So I stuck it in the oven and baked it:



Ha! I discovered this technique after my last move. I had painted a little watercolor of a Tuscan villa, and I really liked it. But I didn’t take great care of it. In my haste to pack everything up, somehow this little watercolor got stuck to the back of a baking sheet. I didn’t know what had happened until I was baking cookies one night and smelled something smoky… Sure enough, I had baked my little landscape!

It yields some interesting lighting effects. Stay tuned for more “baked art.” And I’ll let you know if I come up with anything interesting in my quest for productivity and creativity.