New Year, New Me...Maybe...Probably Not, But Perhaps

I'd probably be the first one to tell you how stupid New Year's Resolutions are. They're self-indulgent and honestly, pretty likely to fail. I mean, seriously, how many times have you heard someone say, "You know, if it weren't for that New Year's Resolution, I'd never have turned out this skinny/rich/cultured/stylish/exquisite/happy/etc!" (If you know someone who has uttered this phrase, please leave me a comment! I will need to interview said person, because it's probably the only time in history that this has occurred.)

Okay, so, it's true. It doesn't usually work like that. But they are well-intentioned thoughts, and maybe sending out those favorable intentions into the universe does have its merits. And while I don't necessarily believe in their effectiveness, I none-the-less have my own New Years Resolutions:

1. Duh. Lose weight. Get healthy. Blah blah blah.
2. Read more. Watch TV less. -- This is a two-fer-one deal! There are just so many good books gathering dust on my bookshelves, begging to be read or re-read. I know someone who read one-hundred books in 2011. WOW! I initially thought I wanted to mimic that in 2012, but then I pulled my head out of the clouds, and thought that fifty would be a good jumping off point. So, that's the goal. Fifty books in 2012.
3. Bake and cook more. -- But, more importantly...
4. Figure out how to not let #3 affect #1. -- This is probably the hardest one to incorporate, but let me tell you why it's important. I LOVE to cook and bake. I LOVE to be in the kitchen. I truly believe that I'm happiest when I'm there, making delicious things for my family and friends. And I love blogging about food. I love food photography and I love the idea that more time spent in the kitchen means better cooking, shooting, and blogging. 
5. Photograph more. And care less about what I capture. -- To be perfectly honest, I needed a break from photography. And I'm glad that I had an opportunity to take that break, but I do miss it. And I want to start shooting again. I also feel like school instilled a desire in me for "the perfect shot" all of the time. I was never given the chance to shoot just for the hell of it, I was always shooting to capture something specific. But now, I just want to be able to shoot without critiquing myself as I go. To shoot just to shoot. 
6. Become more financial stable. -- i.e. bring home more bacon.

It may not make any difference to have these resolutions, but I figure it can't hurt to hope. Last time I checked, a little hope never hurt anything. 

What are your New Year's Resolutions?

How My Insides Feel

Photo credits: 
1. Aëla Labbé
2. Amamak Photography
3. Amber Ortolano

In the Day

Restart My Heart - such a delightful blog with lots of beautiful photography and inspiration. Go check it out.

Candied Orange Peels

After I got home from work this afternoon, I was pumped up to start some holiday baking. I'm off tomorrow, a day that I am officially claiming as entirely my own, to do with what I want, and I want to spend it entirely in the kitchen.

Tonight, as a pre-baking-marathon exercise (a warm-up, if you will) I decided to try my hand at candied orange peel. I mean, why not?

Oranges? Check.
Sugar? Check.
Water? Check.

Here's what I came up with:

Some thoughts on this recipe (which can be found here, at Sophistimom.com):

• I started this venture at approximately 11pm. Granted, not exactly an early start. However, it took until around approximately 3am for me to finish. With all of the tedious boiling and draining rubbish, this took entirely too much time for something that essentially ended up tasting a lot like an orange slice. No, not that kind. This kind:

• Five oranges seemed like a lot of peel at the beginning. But in the end, I probably only got about 2 cups worth of candied peel out of the batch.
• I initially intended to dip these babies in white or semi-sweet chocolate after finishing and packaging them up as holiday gifts, but I'll certainly pass now. I've already put far too much energy into, essentially, sugared fruit.
• One unexpected delight that came out of this recipe was the orange simple syrup that resulted from boiling the orange peels in sugar and water. I couldn't bear to throw it away, so I poured that sweet, syrupy goodness into a squeeze bottle and stuck it in the fridge. If you're looking for cozy, you can find it in a hot cup of tea with a shot of that delish, orange-infused simple syrup.
• I think that this recipe would be well suited for a very large batch of "left-overs" from oranges over time. A great way to utilize something you'd otherwise just throw away. Perhaps, in the future, I'll save up my orange peels (you can just throw those puppies in the freezer until you're ready to use them) and try again. Or rather, to be honest...most likely not.

All-in-all, I love the idea. I certainly think an application of these peels in some way is the way to go (i.e. the dipping in chocolate or dicing them for "chocolate pops") because if I had to do it all over again just for the peels, I'd have much rather headed to the gas station to grab two-for-a-dollar bags of those wretchedly delicious orange-like candies.

Occupy This

At this point, I think that it's probably safe to say that most Americans are familiar with the "Occupy Wall Street" movement that's been going on. What I think is a little more difficult to determine is exactly how to define the "Occupy" movement's motives or ultimate goals (and believe me, I've read their "list of demands").

 

I think that it's also safe for me to say that I don't know nearly enough about this protest. I don't completely understand the whole 99% business, or who exactly is at fault in their eyes (the government? big business? banks? war? religion?). And that is most certainly a lacking on my part to do proper research. 

I basically say all of this to preface the fact that I want to talk about a very specific observation made that I feel is entirely indicative of a much larger-scale problem. A problem that is affecting this very public, very political outcry and is almost solely the reason for its ultimate failure. 

Extremism. Extremism is why this movement will fail. I believe that extremism is why most political disputes fail, on either side.  It's a problem of "bad eggs," so to speak. About one person ruining it for all of the others. For example, Christianity, as a whole, is good. The basic teachings, the beliefs, the commands. But then extremism comes along with a couple of self-professing Christians who persecute, judge, and condemn others, and it's ruined. Christianity gets a bad rap because of a few "bad eggs." Now, when someone wants to attack Christianity, they cite those few bad eggs and it kills an otherwise quality rebuttal.

This is the same issue plaguing "Occupy Wall Street." Their quality argument is that the majority of them aren't mooches. They don't feel entitled. They aren't looking for a hand-out. They are simply tired of busting their asses at menial jobs (if they are lucky enough to have one) for menial pay, only to continue to accrue more debt and live more fearfully; fearful over the well-being of their families, over the loss of their homes, over their bank accounts. They are tired of feeling like, even after all of their hard work, if it's still barely enough to stay afloat, instead of their government stepping into to give them a boost, they are funneling money to the already wealthy.

Here is where the problem lies: the few who are mooches. The few who do feel entitled. The few who are looking for a hand-out. The few who expect a hand-out. The few who don't work hard, have no intentions of working hard, and who gladly, without a drop of remorse, nor gratitude, lean on the system. Take advantage. Expect others to pick up their slack. Expect to be rewarded simply because they have a little and you have a lot, and it's only fair if you share. Ironically enough, they create the flaw in their own argument.

The 1%ers don't feel any obligation to "share" with these few. And who would? If person "X" works hard their entire life (or even doesn't work hard, say their family worked hard and it's been inherited) to accrue a reasonable/unreasonable amount of wealth, why would person "X" feel obligated to give it to person "Y," someone who doesn't work hard, wouldn't appreciate it, and is indeed repulsed by the very notion that you don't just automatically know that it should be given them. There truly and genuinely are people out there who think like this. Who do have this inflated sense of entitlement. Who use and abuse and take advantage of any amount of generosity that there is in the world. And they do so ungratefully and shamelessly. They kill everyone's sense of altruism and good-will-among-men rhetoric. They are the "bad eggs" that ruin it for everyone. 

This is the basic principle for why welfare recipients in certain states are being drug tested now. The majority are most likely struggling small families who need that money to survive, and it's barely enough to do that. Families that most likely work hard for a measly paycheck. But there is also a minority that abuses that system. That receives welfare and blows it on drugs or alcohol. That chooses to feed their habit rather than their children. And they instantly ruin it for everyone else. Make it more difficult for the people who really need it, to get it.

And unfortunately, this is why "Occupy Wall Street" will fail, as well. It's impossible not to include the moochers in with the 99%, and they are the first citation for opposing arguments. And how can you defeat those citations? When alas, they are but sadly, sadly true.

Always Reaching

Someone told me the other day that I reminded them of Twiggy. I think that that was one of the nicest compliments I've ever received (incidentally, the nicest compliment was when an elderly gentleman approached me at Publix and whispered to me, "If my old lady looked as good as you, I'd keep her locked up at home.").

Twiggy is stunning, even today. But Twiggy circa 1960's is a goddess.

 Mia Farrow circa 1960's is exquisite, as well. 

There is something about big eyes and short hair that is breathtaking. I aspire to be even a quarter as beautiful as these women.

How Blessed Am I?!

I think it's about time that I tell you a little bit about the first man that I ever loved. A man whose kindness and caring are insurmountable. A man who has never failed to impress or amaze.

His name is Dad.

This was my dad before he was my dad. Could he have ever guessed at this point in his life just how much a little girl would eventually love and adore him?

It was love at first sight. Regardless of the fact that I was just being born and can't quite recall precisely how I felt at the time, I can tell you that 100%, without a doubt, I loved my father and he loved me. Unconditionally.

The above picture is my absolute favorite. It's so 70's and techie and adorable. He and I have had a few discussions about this before, but I still couldn't even begin to tell you what purpose those instruments serve. Something to do with physics or radiation or something...maybe? My father works for a nuclear plant, and since you can't exactly pop in for a visit, I feel like I've always had an extremely skewed vision of what he does there. In my head, it's somewhere between Homer's job at the Springfield nuclear plant on the Simpsons, and some sort of top-secret, highly-dangerous laboratory that is forever teetering on the edge of destroying us all.

This is what my dad's office looks like in my head.

While that picture of him is definitely one of my favorites, this photograph is the epitome of my father:

If I had to give you a singular image of how I view my dad, this would be the one. This photograph just screams so much of him to me. It tells so much. It reminds me of every little part of him. From the blue "Bingo" grill plate on the wall--which reminds me of his past, and how much of a bad-ass he was growing up, all the way down to the poor, dismantled Teddy Ruxpin--which reminds me of where I get my twisted sense of humor. Not to mention the obvious, which is that my father can build or fix ANYTHING. He has a tool for every need. He is incredible.

I write all of this because I am constantly reminded of how blessed and lucky I am. Reminded of how much this man means to me and just how much he loves me. This past Sunday, my dad drove up to Atlanta to take care of some things in my condo for me. It was his only day off.

Among some of the things that he installed/repaired/fixed/adjusted were: starting the pilot light on my fireplace, fixing my backdoor so that it actually closes now, reversing the hot/cold on my shower so that the correct temperature is now associated with the correct handle position, purchasing and installing two beautiful light fixtures (and there would have been a third if he had an appropriate ladder), installing a towel-bar in my half-bathroom, and installing a TP holder in my bathroom. 

Just look at that handy work! Did I mention that my father is amazing? Incredible? It's honestly the truth. And I don't mean to keep bragging, it's just that he's the greatest and he's mine.

When he does things like this, coming up to fix and install all of the stuff that I'm too stupid to figure out, it always reminds me of an episode of Boy Meets World. Just watch the first minute-and-a-half of this video, because it captures, in a nutshell, just how I feel about my daddy.

"You work all day, then you come and work some more. And then you do my work. You're hogging all the work!"

 

"It's like he's Superman. Superman's my dad."