Let the Wild Rumpus Start.

I'm staring down the barrel of my 26th birthday. I've always maintained that May 5th is the best day for birthdays, since everyone celebrates with me - even more so since I'm right to next to Kentucky, and the Derby always falls right around (or last year, on!) the date. So bring on the juleps, the margaritas, pinatas and rat racing. It's party time!

sometimes I sing in a bar.

I'm asking you, friends and voracious, beautiful readers, for a birthday present this year. I'm in a choir- the Young Professional's Choral Collective - a really incredible group of people that used to sing in college and high school (okay, there are a few that are musically employed) and wanted an outlet to sing together.

We practice in bars and perform in parks, and it's an amazing experience that weaves us into the OTR neighborhood in a significant way. The directors do this on top of their other jobs, and it's very inexpensive for us singers to participate - but we need funds to keep producing music and concerts (paying for music rights, sound equipment and lights, and compensating the people at the top who keep the whole caboodle going.)

We're holding an indiegogo campaign to raise money for next season. We're not a nonprofit, and we only hold a few concerts a year - many of them free for audiences.

Instead of buying me a drink this weekend, could you chip in $5 (or more maybe) to YP/CC instead?

I know you enjoyed the video clips (including one of me looking like a doofus because I'm an overly expressive singer. THANKS SHOW CHOIR.).

We're holding a concert on May 4th. If YOU want to come sing with us for a day, we'll be doing that on May 11. We'll also be singing in Washington Park on May 17th and at the Go OTR Celebration on May 18th. The arts in Cincinnati help contribute to our sense of place and establish great neighborhoods. Thanks for your help.

Donate Please!

Cincinnati vs. the upper Northwest.

I recently got to go out to the Pacific Northwest for the first time ever. The combination of newfound freedoms and an intensely good deal on a roundtrip ticket were the main motivations; the opportunity to meet up with long-time friends sealed the deal.

It was my first trip planned and executed mostly solo, which ended up being a lot of fun. Seattle in springtime is beautiful. The results of people invested in their neighborhoods and a rainy, temperate climate is flowers. Everywhere, beautiful, incredible amounts of flowers. Flowering trees, tulips, even the grass exploded with tiny white, purple and yellow blossoms. The sun came out for a bit while I was there and I got to soak the beauty of a blossoming landscape married with blue sky, water, and distant mountains.


I feel like Cincinnati is the kid brother to post-pubescent Seattle and Portland. These cities have a good 20 years on us in terms of people investing heavily in the small businesses in their community. The result is a positive swirl of tons of businesses open because people only shop there because there are amazing businesses that customers want and are in turn supported... you see what I'm saying. The infrastructure is there. The culture is there. The energy is palpable, and it's easy to get swept up with awe of so many interesting places to eat, drink, shop and try. There's art everywhere. It's beautiful. It's easy to get around.

And in 10 years, Cincy will be there, too. We're in our awkward phase - promising starts, complete with braces and figuring out what we want to be when we grow up - but imitating our elders as best we can. It's easy to look at the city with a bemused smile, hopeful with the potential of what will mature and become of us with the right training and investment. We're so close, you can taste it. (and a city being impossibly close to maturity and amazingness tastes like waffles, beer, and a sense of community)

Everything I experienced in Seattle and Portland reaffirmed my commitment to Cincinnati. By seeing what IS in other cities, I only get more and more excited as I see the starts and shoots of our community finally growing up into its own skin. In the next few years our OTR, Walnut Hills, Price Hill, Clifton will grow into the richness of Capitol Hill, Queen Anne, Fremont, Bell District.

Our progess, however, will be even better and more beautiful- Cincinnati has history, architecture, and diversity that the upper Northwest can only dream about. But the development and progress will be significantly hindered if the streetcar project gets canceled or delayed any longer. Plus, we're way nicer. Seriously. No one in Seattle says hi or acknowledges each other on the street, which really threw me off.

Why is this project STILL an issue? If we're going to dream big, if we want to get noticed - and it's clear from the development that's happened thus far that our leaders, business people, and citizens like the positive attention we're getting - we must move forward with this project. Rail is necessary for our forward motion, and we must continue. To stop it in its tracks will drag us back.

Our citizens deserve the opportunity to live without being tied to a car. We deserve the development that occurs around permanent transit. It's past time for us to step up and accept that we are growing into something great - that the naysayers are rendered irrelevant, and the only way out is up.

I am SO TIRED of having this argument. But I will step up, one last time. Monday, April 29 at City Hall. Please come at 5:30 pm to support the Cincinnati Streetcar project, and show City Council that this city deserves the progress it's capable of completing. See you there. Sign up to speak. I'll have stickers, buttons, and t-shirts for those who want to visually show they're a supporter. If you're looking for some great perspective on the project from a cool guy running for council, check here.

In the meantime, check out my pics from my trip... and be reminded of Cincinnati's potential.

Korma Points

Despite the temperatures outside, I've decided spring is here, and am acting accordingly. Lots of changes made my world topsy-turvy lately, and yesterday I spent the better part of six hours cleaning and reorganizing my apartment in an effort to restore some concrete order to my world.

Declutter. Throw away the trash and debris accumulated from too much junkmail and time spent rushing place to place. Get as much furniture as possible off the wood floors. Shake out the rugs. Sweep the floors. Mop the floors. Old English out the scratches. Dust the surfaces. Vacuum the carpets. Roller brush the upholstery in a vain attempt to remove cat hair. Put everything back. Wipe down the counters. Do the dishes. Now what?

pretty, right?

I was on a domestic streak and didn't want to break it. The only next step was to cook dinner. A delicious, comforting, quasi-healthy dish whose scent would linger and remind me that I am, indeed, capable of great things. This dish hits the spot. Creamy, a little sweet, definitely spicy, and chock full of delicious goodies - I used chicken, sweet potatoes, peas, red pepper, and a liberal amount of golden raisins and cashews. A treasure trove in every bite. 

This recipe marks one of the first times I've ever used the cooking technique of mise-en-place - you know, chopping all my stuff up into cute little bowls BEFORE throwing it in the pan, preventing the usual scramble of chopping and tossing and general mayhem that generally happens in my kitchen experiments. I used a bowl to hold my veggie scraps too, which worked wonders in keeping my counters less cluttered. 

Organization, cleanliness, following a recipe (okay, I smashed two together, but still!)... am I growing up?

 

Curried Coconut Massaman Chicken Korma Thing

(adapted from this recipe and this recipe)

M-i-P bowl 1:

Mince:

4 cloves garlic

1 large shallot

3 TBSP minced ginger

Melt 2-3 TBSP ghee in a large saucepan with tall edges. 

Add the ingredients from bowl 1 and saute over med-high heat for 3 minutes or so. 

M-i-P bowl 2:

Approx 1 tsp each:

Cayenne pepper

Curry powder (I added a little more)

Tumeric

Cardamom (1/8 tsp)

Garam Masala

Cumin

3 bay leaves

Add your bowl of spices to the pan. Saute 1-2 minutes to release the flavors. 

Stir in 1/2 cup chicken or veggie stock, squeeze of lime juice, 2 TBSP fish sauce and 1 TBSP brown sugar, and let it come to a boil in the pan. 

M-i-P bowl 3:

Dice into uniform cubes:

1 red pepper

1 medium sweet potato (the smaller the cubes, the faster it will cook)

2 ripe roma tomatoes

1/2 cup frozen peas (more if you like more peas, I guess)

Add bowl 3 and turn heat to med-low. Let mixture come to a simmer, then add 1 can tomato paste (the tiny one) and 1 can coconut milk (14 oz). Cook, stirring occasionally, until chicken and vegetables are cooked through and sauce is thickened. Add as many cashews and golden raisins as you want. 

Serve over rice or couscous. 

Makes enough probably for 4-6 at one go, or if you're me and my roommate, at least three meals. 

Bockfest is coming!

There are two weekends in Cincinnati you just can't miss. The first is MidPoint Music Festival, at the end of September. The second is Bockfest - a 21 year old weekend festival ushering the first signs of spring with goats, monks, and delicious beer -- and it's THIS weekend! (March 1-3!) --  Watch out for the girl in the captain's hat causing a ruckus - that will be me.

To get in the spirit, I'm sharing an infographic I created last year as a fun demonstration of skills for my previous employer. Get the facts on beer in the Queen City!

The Climb- a short story

The cold wind mussed our hair, causing jackets to be zipped closer, hats pulled down tighter. Standing in a lopsided circle on damp ground in the back woods of southern Ohio, the 56 of us looked quizzically at each other and towards the wooden monstrosity waiting some 50 yards away.

The picture doesn't do this terror justice, but you get the idea.

"Welcome to the Alpine Tower," shouted the genial, bearded dude, decked out in climbing harness and carabinered water bottle. Randall explained the process, describing how several dozen of us were going to scale the 65-foot tall structure, outfitted with dangling ladders, precariously placed footholds, ropes and metal jiggers holding the thing together like a giant's game of Jenga.

I cracked a smile to the girl standing next to me. Tanja and I had walked the trail up to the Tower, comparing notes on big-sisterhood and growing up in tough situations. We promised each other it would be no big deal, that despite our mutual trepidation of heights, we'd both scale the tower and have a great time doing it.

The entire day at Camp Joy was comprised of a variety of team building exercises and facilitated conversations on vulnerability and leadership for the group of us- C-Change, Class 8. I'd participated in weekend retreats in a similar fashion, but never as an adult. I'd broken down some of my barriers and already learned a ton about changing my attitudes and opening up as a way to lead from behind. I had no idea how vulnerable I'd make myself in the next hour.

I adjusted my helmet and watched as 4, 6, 10 of my new colleagues sauntered up the poles. Connected to ropes with a dedicated belay team, there was no possible way anyone would hurt themselves. Those of us at the bottom shouted encouragement and advice to our friends who were trying to make their way up the tower. After some careful observation, and with a sinking feeling in my chest, I cheerfully volunteered to be the next to ascend the structure. Fake it til you make it, right?

I don't do heights. Being on the edge of bridges makes me dizzy, and while I enjoy roller coasters, it's only because I do so completely encased in a metal cage. My friend Jamie's trapeze birthday was an exercise in courage, and it was only 30 feet or so up in the air. Yet, here I was. The only way out was up.

I slowly clambered up the first telephone pole, making it about 25 feet in the air, and then froze. The ground was too far away, and I was completely unfamiliar with the rock climbing hand and footholds that were my only access to moving up the thing. They seemed too small, too unwieldy to support me. I clung to the wood like an overgrown koala and tried to breathe without crying. There was no way I was going to make it.

An actual few minutes spent clinging to the base, debating my options, considering giving up, felt like hours. My new classmates were shouting encouragement to me, and I felt like a failure. One voice, I don't know whose, floated up to me: "Keep looking up! Keep going!" I awkwardly flung a leg over a connecting piece of the puzzle, and began the climb again.

It was ridiculous, really. I stopped and started no fewer than five more times before reaching the top, flinging colorful curse words and unbridled shrieks of terror to the wind whenever I felt I'd made a mistake. The team on the ground never gave up on me. I was sure they were laughing at the absurd spectacle I was making of myself - I was perfectly safe; there was no reason for fear. But taming my inner lizard-brain was incredibly difficult.

I don't remember exactly how I ascended to the final platform - it was some combination of my anxious beached-whale kicking and the patient climb instructor hauling on my harness. But the yawp I released -full of triumph, fear, joy, adrenaline- could be heard the next county over; that, I remember. I warmed my frozen fingers with my breath, waiting on the platform with new friends comparing notes, and flung myself voluntarily over the edge of the precipice to zipline to the ground below.

Other challenges that lie before me are comparatively, cake. Bring 'em on.

The Truth about Diner-en-Blanc

Unless you were under a social media rock last Saturday, you saw various outlets explode with tweets and pictures about this Dinur and Blank thing.

I went.

I saw.

I managed not to get tomato sauce on my borrowed white dress.

You want to know the truth behind the flash-mob paid picnic craze that's sweeping the world?

It's a giant pain in the ass. How French!

A very pretty, fun, champagne-floaty bother in the rear end. But my, the people watching was exquisite. And you know I can't resist a chance to a) do something unique b) that might be kind of exclusive and c) requires dressing up where d) I'll get to talk about it afterwards.
And so here I am, talking bout it.

Judging from my fellow picnickers (and come on, everyone was judging each other), attendees fell into three categories (note: none of these are bad or wrong, just my snarky assessment!):

1) Older Couples - older men and women who have things like wedding china, fold up tables, and rolling carts already in their possession. White linen pants? Check. Fancy silver? Check. Pay the registry fee, stop by Fresh Market, and wham bam thank you mam - they were ready for a picnic.

2) Younger Socialites - The "In" Crowd was able to go out and buy all the things they needed for an exquisite picnic on the lawn. Designer dresses, catered dinners, elaborate table setups - no worries. If you have the cash, your picnic evening was a multi-champagne-bottle, $100 Orchid picnic basket breeze.

We fall under #3 - borrowed dresses, pants on clearance, and accessories from Cappel's

3) The Rest of Us Who Like Weird Hard Things To Do Because It's Fun: after days of thrift store and outlet scrounging (white pants after Labor Day?!), borrowing furniture from three sets of relatives (thank you Aunt Karla, Liz's mom, and Ali's grandma), my roommate, boyfriend, and other friend scraped together a quasi-acceptable get up. We made our own, very French dinner... totally oblivious to the fact that our courses were all tomato based until after we arrived to the picnic. (No one spilled, amazingly.)

That afternoon we scrambled to get everything packed and ready, adjusted our white accoutrements, and set off to hoof it down from 14th Street to the meeting point at 3rd Street - not a far jaunt until you're trying to juggle folding tables, chairs, still-drying spray painted plastic animals, and a 60 pound dolly with leaky chicken tangine and squished linens and flowers. In heels.

this got turned into

this (Horatio, Polonius, Demetrius and Vernon)

Luckily for us my dear friend Lauren happened to be driving by and took pity on us. She helped us transport most of the stuff in her car, chuckling at us being all stressed out about a picnic.

Once we were settled in, unpacked, eating (AND DRINKING), the night was exquisite. After feasting on our delicious dinner, naming our silver plastic animals (Horatio, Demetrius, Polonius, and Vernon), and splitting a few bottles of bubbly, the effects of the night set in. We were surrounded by hundreds of others dressed in white. The candlelight flickered softly, the French music was in the air, and everyone was laughing, drinking, eating, and eventually dancing.

Liz and Ali and our lovely table

We saw lots of friends, and at the end of the evening, lighting sparklers and releasing white balloons in the air was a beautiful, unique experience (I was tipsy enough to not let the thought of hundreds of balloons ruining the environment bother me). The DJ at the end of the evening was killer, and we all got our dance on.

all's well that ends very well

Would I do it again? Yeah, probably.
With one under my belt, I'm feeling a little better prepared. Next year can only be even better!


For much better photography (and food) check out 513{eats}.

Tips for Diner-En-Blanc:

* Share food with friends.
* Make sure your food is not soupy or red.
* Bring lots of champagne.
* Travel most of the way in a car if you can.
* Simple is easier
* Enjoy!

Reaching new heights

My dear friend Jamie wanted to try something new for her birthday. This past Sunday, we did a trapeze class with Cincinnati Circus Company. They set up a net and trapeze system in Burnet Woods right across from DAAP, so hundreds of people drove by while we got harnessed in and climbed thirty feet in the air to swing from our arms.

not me

Jamie, Lauren, and Kristin all fearlessly climbed to the top and swung upside down from their knees, doing flips, and even swinging by another's hands - circus style!

I am not inclined to be upside down. At all. I can't do a cartwheel. I never signed me up for cheerleading or gymnastics. I got to be the comic relief in our group, managing to ascend the ladder and swing awkwardly by my arms all while praying not to be killed in the myriad of ways that were mentioned in the release form we signed. Someone had to do it.

more my speed

"Go ahead and get your knees up!" called the spotter from the ground. "No freaking way!" was my reply.

I faced my fears, and tried something new. Whatever keeps you fresh!

ouch!