Stormy Weather

Lately I sort of feel like one of those cartoon characters that has a rain cloud over his/her head. I flew out of New York on a drizzly Friday a few days ago, headed for Barcelona. While folks back home enjoyed a spectacularly sunny weekend, I dodged sheets of rain and hail in Spain. Returning from the airport last night, I was hosed down along with my luggage in another downpour as I walked home from the subway station. The internet tells me that the weather in Barcelona is beautiful today. Here in New York, I have this to look forward to:

We had a nice, mild winter, but we're paying for it with the lamest spring I can remember.

Ann Patchett Does an Impression of a Seal

I was both excited and nervous to go hear Ann Patchett speak at Symphony Space last night. I've been a fan of hers ever since I read her gripping novel, Bel Canto, and in anticipation of this talk I had started to read her latest, State of Wonder. I was only halfway through, however, and had heard that the ending was quite sensational. Would she dish out spoilers? I decided the risk was worth it.

 Patchett was one of Time's 100 most influential people of the year, not because of her books, but because of her bookstore, Parnassus. Both bookstores in Nashville, Patchett's home, closed, and as a believer in brick-and-mortar book purveyors she was distressed that residents had only Amazon to rely on. So she opened a small store with a partner, which apparently is doing well. She has written both fiction and non-fiction, and was once the editor of the annual Best American Short Stories collection. She is best known for Bel Canto about a hostage situation in South America and opera (trust me, it all fits together seamlessly in the book) which won both the Orange Prize for great fiction by women and the PEN/Faulkner Award for one of the best works of fiction by a living American author. Her protagonists are almost always women and her readership is generally female, so Ed was pretty outnumbered as we found our seats. "I've spotted at least three other men," I said helpfully. Ed grunted.

Patchett

The presentation kicked off with a reading from State of Wonder by actress Marin Ireland. I'd read the scene the day before and enjoyed hearing it, particularly because Ireland made me realize that parts of it were pretty funny, something I hadn't noticed buried under the tension of the scene. Then Jane Hamilton, author of The Book of Ruth among other books, led Patchett through a conversation. Hamilton wore a loose brown dress and Chaco sandals. Her long hair, streaked with white, looked as though she'd let it air dry, and she didn't appear to be wearing any make-up. She had the kind of sensible, utilitarian style one does not often see in New York. Patchett had her hair back in a simple bun and also did not appear to be wearing any make-up, though her patterned dress, ballet flats, and pink scarf made her appear slightly more stylish. The women are good friends, apparently, and they spoke together with an ease that made me forget sometimes that this was supposed to be an interview. Evidently Patchett read State of Wonder aloud to Hamilton (in its entirety) for feedback before it was published, though Hamilton swears she offered only one or two pieces of criticism and that everything else was already perfect. Alas, within the first five minutes of the talk, Hamilton brought up the ending of the book, and after a bit of hesitation, Patchett launched into an extremely detailed description of exactly what happens and how she decided on these events. Rats. It certainly is sensational, so much so that although the surprise is ruined, I look forward to reading it for myself to see how she gets there.

Hamilton

This was one of the most entertaining author talks I've attended. Not that they are ever dull (well, Michael Ondantje toed the line...), but Patchett is a character. She was almost over-the-top wacky. She was so pleased with Hamilton's questions, each of which she answered with a long, usually hilarious story, that at one point she said, "I feel like you're just throwing me fish. It's like I'm a seal and you're just lobbing me fish after fish." Then she proceeded to sit up in her chair and do a few seal-like barks. During a conversation about chewing on tree bark - trust me, critical in the book - she began to gnaw on the microphone, then pulled away suddenly, muttering that who really knew where the mic had been. Hamilton, for her part, hooted with laughter throughout the hour, and gesticulated so enthusiastically with both hands that sometimes the mic would be suspended several feet away from her mouth as she earnestly waved her hands to make her point. Ann's stories about wanting desperately to be infected with malaria as book research, visiting hospitals and fainting during a c-section she watched, trying to ditch the college students who kept inviting her for drinks when she taught college, interacting with the people of Nashville, and growing up in Texas were hysterical. 

The Q and A was pretty interesting as well. Unlike many authors who talk about characters as though they are real people ("I realized after I'd been writing for a while that James wasn't going to marry Miranda after all, because that just wasn't the kind of person he was, and that he wanted to pull me in another direction), Patchett was very blunt about her process. She outlines the entire plot from start to finish in her head before beginning to write. Once she sits down to type the first sentence, she does not deviate from her original plan. Ever. If she writes a scene that doesn't work, she says she cannot move forward, rather like a
model train that will fall off the track if you don't lay it down just right. Nor is Patchett the type who forces herself to sit at the computer for a set number of hours a day to make writing a routine. She said that in the beginning of a book, 10 or 15 minutes a day are all she can stomach. Gradually, as she picks up steam, she is able to write for longer and longer periods until by the end she's putting in eight hours a day to get it done. She described herself as "a horse that sees the barn...a strong finisher." Regarding inspiration, she does not take notes about interesting things she sees and hears in case she may want to use them in a novel someday. She described herself as a compost heap, in which interesting names, ideas, stories, and faces all go to decompose and mix together, and then books grows out of the mess. I thought this was a pretty great analogy.

One of the most interesting parts of the talk was her explanation about names in the book. She invents a tribe that lives in the jungles of Brazil called the Lakashi, named, of course, for her favorite breakfast cereal (Kashi). She also told the story about the names for some of her characters. Mr Fox, for example, is her lawyer, and Martin Rapp is his partner. The story of Jackie and Barbara Bovender is slightly more involved. Patchett is very involved in the library system in Nashville, and as a one-time-only incentive for donations, she vowed to put the name of the highest bidder into a book (making no promises about the type of character who would be given that name). At the fundraising event, John Irving was sitting on the stage, having just finished speaking to the audience, when the library's speaker reviewed all of the items up for auction. Hearing of Patchett's offer, Irving apparently leapt to his feet, crying, "Don't do it, Ann!" He went on to tell about a time when he did something similar for charity. Family friends of his were the highest bidders and they submitted the name of their 14-year-old daughter, whom Irving had known all his life and adored. He reluctantly named a character for her, but then the character got away from him and, before he knew it, had become a woman of extraordinarily loose morals and a murderess to boot. Apparently the family was not pleased and has not spoken to him since. Patchett's offer was out there, however, and the bidding ended up being locked between Steve and Judy Turner and Jack and Barbara Bovender. Patchett, distressed at the idea of a character named something as dull as Judy Turner, crossed her fingers and sure enough, the Bovenders took the prize. Apparently they are middle aged, short, and round, and so in the book Patchett made them statuesque bohemian surfers from Australia. They were apparently quite pleased.

At the end of the talk, Patchett gave us strict instructions about how to proceed during the book signing. If we wanted her to write simply her signature and the date we were to join the express line, which moved at lightning speed. If we wanted a copy signed for our aunt's birthday, or to tell her a story that would make her cry, or knew her in high school, or wanted to bond with her in any other way, we were to join the standard line. Ed and I were hungry and I did not know Patchett in high school, so we got into the express line and sure enough we were out in five minutes. Patchett smiled at me, made very brief small talk, and then it was over. I get so star-struck when faced with famous people I admire that I never can think of much to stammer at them anyway, so I rather liked the express line option.

I look forward to finishing State of Wonder, even though now I know how it ends, and to visiting Patchett's bookstore Parnassus next time I am in Nashville. I'll read some of her other books, too, while I'm at it, though I'll feel guilty if they end up coming from Amazon.

Presidential Roadblock

As I was walking to work yesterday morning, I was surprised to see much of 7th Avenue lined with metal barriers. I figured they were going to shoot a movie along the street and wanted to control the flow of traffic, which often happens. I was wrong, however, as I discovered on the walk home. President Obama visited Barnard to give their commencement speech (read the transcript of his speech here; I thought it was quite good) and his motorcade was scheduled to go along 7th. By the time I got to the area at around 5:20, he had just gone by moments before and the policemen who stood several deep on every corner were beginning to shift the barriers to let people through.

This is the third or fourth time I've encountered the presidential motorcade (if this counts as an encounter). For those who haven't seen it, it's an interesting sight to behold. It's preceded by three motorcycles in a triangle formation. Then there are several black SUVs with tinted windows and then two identical, black armored limousines with small American flags flapping away desperately on either side of the hood come by. There are two so that you can't tell which one the president is riding in, just in case you harbor him any ill will. They are followed by more black SUVs. Any cross traffic, be it pedestrian, bicycle, or vehicle, is blocked off along his projected path ahead of time so the whole procession goes whizzing by at about 40 MPH without ever having to stop or even slow down. It's a rare thing to see any cars going that fast for that long in New York (except along 2nd Ave, where someone did a masterful job of syncing the stoplights so you can get in 25 blocks in a single stretch).

Preparing for all of this is a feat of coordination. Hundreds of cops participate across the city in lining the streets with barriers and helping with crowd control. They are generally stoic at best and rude at worst when this happens. Usually, when word is transmitted via walkie-talkie that the president will be on the move soon, cops block off intersections about 15 minutes before he is expected to pass. Everyone pulls out camera phones and strains to see the street. Then, as the novelty begins to wear off and the impatient New Yorker in everyone takes over, the griping begins. Everyone is annoyed that they can't just be on their way already. No one wants to take an alternate route to their destination by walking over a block; they're already here, thank you very much, and they see no reason why anyone should be so special that he would interrupt their agendas. Just as people start to get really annoyed, the hum of distant motors is heard, heads whip around, and camera phones flash and click to try to capture the oncoming vehicles. In a flash, it's over, the barriers are shifted, and people go on their way as though nothing had happened.

"All this for one guy," I heard one woman muttering to herself after the crowds had been released. She was leaning over some fencing that lined the gutter, photographing the length of the still-empty street. It does seem like an awful lot of hoopla for one guy, but protecting this one guy is a pretty big deal.

This experience really made me think. The prospect of having the streets cleared for me, so I'd never have to wait in traffic or at stoplights, is good enough to persuade me that I'd like to be president someday.

Spring Training

I haven't started my "official" marathon training yet, but I'm working on building a solid base so that I'll already be off to a good start in July. Part of my training includes doing New York Road Runner races on weekends. I've run four so far this year - two over this past weekend - which means that I'm almost halfway to the number I need to qualify for the 2013 marathon. I'm registered to run three more so far over the course of the summer. I view them as fun speed workouts. Most are between 4 and 6 miles long. If I run from my apartment to the starting line, which I did on Sunday, I can add an extra three miles to the race distance, and if I run home after the race I can add an extra six. This results in slower race times, but I don't mind. Though I don't love the cool spring we've had here in New York, it has been perfect running weather.

I've also really been enjoying my new gym. Chelsea Piers is between a five- and ten-minute jog from my apartment (depending on whether I have to stop at all the intersections or not) and it has all the facilities I could possibly want. My old gym was very crowded, and I had to ride a train 25 minutes to get to a shallow, cloudy pool that often had no available space for swimming anyway. They did a decent job of keeping things clean, but the locker room was hardly a joy to hang out in, and the machines or weights I wanted to use were often already occupied. Chelsea Piers is new and spotless. Not only does it have a pool with plenty of lanes (which, alas, are only 25 meters long, but at least the water is clean), it also has a regulation-sized indoor track, a sand volleyball court, a boxing ring, a huge indoor climbing gym, and a concessions area featuring juice and sushi bars. There are also a spa and two sun decks, though I have yet to visit them. It is airy and open and has views of the Hudson River. It's never very crowded, particularly in the mornings, which is when I've been going for the most part.

My complaints are few. One of the big ones is that most of the yoga classes I'm interested in are scheduled for crazy times like 10:00 A.M., which is hardly convenient for someone with a work schedule. Still, I like the variety of classes, and there's always the pool, the track, or stationary bikes to use if there isn't a class offered during a time I want to go. Below are some pictures of my new hang-out:

Rock wall. Now if only I could remember where I put my climbing harness and shoes. I unpacked them and stored them....somewhere.

Three out of the four sides of this pool have windows that look out on the Hudson and the harbor (which isn't that cool when your face is in the water, but it's nice to know they're out there). There's a hot tub in the corner for a post-workout soak if one is so inclined.

The track with the boxing ring and basketball courts in the background. The track is 400 meters long, but it has a smaller loop that is only 200 - great for intervals. 

Sand volleyball court. I never really liked volleyball and so didn't think I'd be using this court much, though the instructor of a training class I attended recently had us running through the sand holding heavy medicine balls above our heads...

Nerdy Splendor in Austin

I was remiss about my blogging duties in Austin over the weekend and took not a single picture. Thankfully, Facebook has come to the rescue, though not with the most high-quality or relevant shots; beggars, however, have little choice. It was, as you can imagine, a packed weekend, but I'll do my best to give a rundown of the highlights:

Ed and I stayed in the "hospitality suite" along with Ed's friend and his date. This meant a great set-up in a huge, multi-room suite, but also lots of people constantly coming in and out to check on tuxedos, raid the bar or the snack table (both of which were replenished daily), or just kill a few minutes between events. Still, I enjoyed being in the middle of things, if nothing else because it meant I wasn't going to miss or be late for any events I was supposed to attend.

One of the things I enjoyed most about the weekend was meeting Ed's childhood friends. Since he and his brother are twins, they had many of the same friends growing up and a good number of them were invited to the wedding. They are a fantastic bunch of people, and it was great to associate names with faces. Ed also has some good friends from when he used to live in Reno who are photographers, and his brother and sister-in-law to-be ended up choosing them to take their wedding shots. Riley and Eliot are fantastic, as are their girlfriends Erin and Ethel. (Ed and I will be going on a trip this summer with Eliot and Ethel - an elite tri-athelete and a spunky Irish girl, respectively - and I can hardly wait to get to know them better!)

Ed's mother arranged to have a manicurist, hair stylist, and make-up artist on hand to make sure the bridal party was looking their best, and she very generously made appointments for me with all of them, too! Since I was a tad nervous about making good impressions on everyone, not having to worry about how I would look was a huge relief. I got to be "styled" for both the rehearsal dinner and for the wedding itself, which was a luxurious treat!

They did a pretty good job!

The rehearsal dinner was at a great restaurant with fantastic, innovative cocktails and delicious food. My favorites were the caprese salad sticks (sounds bizarre, but picture balls of fresh mozzerella, cherry tomatoes, and basil leaves on skewers drizzled with pesto and balsamic and tell me your mouth doesn't start watering), smoked salmon on cucumber rounds, and buttery scallops on beds of sauteed spinach. Mmmm. Ed and I both sucked down quite a few spicy Texas Mules, a Moscow Mule with jalepeno-infused vodka.

The next morning kicked off with a brunch hosted by family friends of Ed's. He had the responsibility of escorting his brother to the restaurant after he was sure the bride-to-be had left (they weren't supposed to see each other on the day of the wedding according to the domineering and not-to-be-recommended-to-anyone-else-ever wedding planner), and I helped. Then everyone seemed to be exhausted - perhaps it was a combination of a large brunch  and the heat - so we all took naps before the wedding ceremony that evening. While being made-up in Ed's mother's suite, I was both horrified and amused to learn that the bride's and bridesmaids' dresses were MIA. Half an hour before the wedding, after a number of increasingly agitated phone calls from Ed's mom, they were found. I was given very strict instructions to sit three chairs from the center aisle in the front row for the wedding, and I chatted with Ed's awesome cousin and admired the spectacular flower arrangements while I waited for things to kick off.

And kick off they did. Ed's brother is somewhat famous in the world of geek culture, and the ceremony was very fitting. It was officiated by one of the bride and groom's friends and lasted no more than ten minutes. She walked down the aisle to the theme song from Dragon's Blood (or some other fantasy movie with a similar name) and there were readings from The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Love and Death. Then they exchanged vows from Star Wars ("I love you." "I know.") and walked back out to the theme song from Jurassic Park. Ed came up with the idea of doing a dinosaur impression and chasing the maid of honor down the aisle, and the other groomsmen followed suit one by one. Making this all the more entertaining was the incredible formality of the setting. I have never seen a man in tails do a dinosaur impression, and I'm not sure when I will again. The food, flowers, music, and decor at the reception were second to no wedding I've ever been to. Particularly arresting were the cakes. I can't describe them, so I'll let them speak for themselves.

Bride's cake: vanilla with layers of caramel.

Groom's cake, featuring the bride and groom atop the Frost Tower (a building that dominates the Austin skyline), holding samurai swords to fend off the ascending ninjas. Inside were layers of vanilla and chocolate.

I had no idea that each the bride and the groom were supposed to have their own cakes at a reception, but it's a southern tradition I immediately decided to support because it meant I got to try two kinds.

Our flight back arrived in New York late, and I was pretty tired on Monday. But a fun weekend in a cool town with some great people was worth the price.

Keeping Up With the Texans

Ed's brother is getting married in Austin on Saturday. Although I've met his immediate family several times and even most of his extended family (there aren't many of them), I'm still a bit nervous showing up as The Girlfriend. Of course, this event is hardly about me, but I feel obligated to make a good impression friends and family I haven't yet met, and even the ones I've met but I don't yet know well. What's a girl to do to improve her chances of unanimous approval? Well, for one thing, folks in Texas are fans of bronzing, and I was determined not to show up looking as lily white as usual, particularly given that the dress I'll be wearing shows lots of arms and back. So I decided to try something I've always been curious about and booked a session at a spray tanning place. Ed decided to tag along, more out of curiousity than anything.

I found a place that was very highly rated and in our neighborhood, and last night we showed up for our appointment. The whole place consisted of a waiting room and one spraying room, and that was it. A friendly woman named April let us in and chatted to us while her previous client was "drying" behind a closed door in the other room. Then it was my turn. April directed me to stand on a sheet in front of a folding screen, handed me a skimpy pair of disposable underwear and a shower cap, and directed me to take everything off, including jewelry. She returned a few minutes later to find me, almost naked as the day I was born, decked out in decidedly strange looking garb. The application of the pigment took a little more than five minutes. I had to move my arms and legs around and hold various positions while she sprayed brown mist and lots of cold air all over me. Apparently this place uses its own all-natural formula, containing beets and sugar and I'm not sure what all else. When I was browned, she told me to keep my arms out and stand in front of a few fans. I rotated so that I'd dry all over, and read a list of don'ts. I was not to let any part of me get wet, apply lotion, or get a manicure/pedicure that involved soaking of hands or feet until 8 hours had passed. I was also not to sweat profusely for the duration of my "tan" (usually 5-7 days according to the poster) or do much swimming, or it would fade faster. After a few minutes, April told me I was done, so I dressed in the loose-fitting, dark dress I'd brought (sans bra, as directed by April) and went to wait for Ed.

The results were interesting. Initially, it seemed quite dark, though after this morning's shower (which was to be water only with no soap, and to last until the water stopped being brown and ran clear) it seems better and I'm actually quite pleased with it. I'm not sure it'll last quite as long as I'd hoped. Ed's skin seems to be holding on to the color better than mine is, though there was a very large orangey-brown stain on his pillowcase. I'm definitely darker than I was, though, and I like it. This morning I jogged to the gym and lifted weights, trying to keep the sweating at a minimum, though it's tough to do that and get in much of a workout. I'm not sure that I would do this again. It was expensive for only 5-7 days' worth of color, and I'm not going to be able to go that long without sweating profusely or avoiding the pool in the future; I'd miss my exercise routine too much. I think that if I'm feeling the need to tone down the pale, I'll go back to good old Jergens self-tanning lotion. It takes a bit more effort, but it gets the job done.

Without further ado, the results:

Can you guess which one the "before" shot and which is the "after"? (Note: It is MUCH less orange in person than it appears in this picture. The color my chest appears here is an accurate representation of how it looks all over.)

The experience was not without mishaps. I put my watch back on after being sprayed last night, and this morning woke up with a darker brown line where my watchband sits. Guess I'll be wearing lots of bracelets this weekend...