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Baked French Toast

April 17, 2014

Food
I love having people over for brunch. It’s early in the day (but not too early) and there’s no sense of rush, particularly if there are young children invited. One of my absolute favorite recipes is baked French Toast, which you prepare the night before, then pop in the oven the morning of the brunch. It’s an incredibly sweet concoction, basically a combination of buttery brown sugar goodness that melts in your mouth.
- 2 cups light brown sugar
- 1 stick butter or margarine
- 4 tablespoons flavoring of choice: vanilla, hazelnut, almond, etc.
- 4 eggs
- 1 3/4 cups milk
- 1 loaf Italian or French Bread cut into 1 inch thick slices (I actually prefer Challah)
- Cinnamon
Place brown sugar into 13 x 8 inch baking dish. Melt butter or margarine in microwave. Blend brown sugar, melted butter and 2 tablespoons flavoring until its makes a glaze in bottom of baking dish. Whisk eggs, milk and remaining flavoring in a shallow bowl until well blended. Dip each bread slice into egg mixture, thoroughly soaking both sides. Lay bread on top of sugar mixture in baking dish. Kind of push the slices into the sugar mixture and pack in the slices so that they are touching. Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon. Refrigerate overnight. Bake 20-25 minutes or until golden brown in a 375 degree oven. Flip each slice of bread over so glazed side is up. Serve hot. Serves 6.
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Sixteen

April 16, 2014

Travel

The Daily Post prompt for today says, “Tell us all about the person you were when you were sixteen. If you haven’t yet hit sixteen, tell us about the person you want to be at sixteen.”

I was sixteen and incredibly insecure. I somehow fit the template of “popular” but never felt like I fit in. I was a cheerleader, I got good grades, I hung out with the “cool” kids, but I felt ridiculously awkward in my own skin. I wanted to fit in more than anything. But I didn’t. I didn’t agree with a lot of the things around me, and I didn’t have the courage to assert my beliefs. I didn’t think I believed in God, but I was in church multiple times a week. It seemed so acceptable, so normal, to everyone else; I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have faith that seemed to come so naturally to everyone else. There was an interracial couple at our high school. I hated the way that people gossiped about them, and I hated myself more that I stayed silent. I hated when people jokingly called someone “gay” or “faggot” and I hated it more that I never protested.

I took a trip that summer to Europe. Our Word History class sold cheese (yes, cheese) to finance our trip. I loved being on an airplane. I loved being in another country, another way of life. I loved buying fresh produce at a local market (this was before farmer’s markets were the common thing they are now) and eating bread, cheese, and cherries for dinner. I loved wandering museums, lost among artists. I loved seeing people live lives that were so different from what I lived in North Carolina. I loved that the French (at the time) seemed to hate Americans, but had no qualms about interracial relationships. I loved experiencing a different way of life.

Sixteen was the year I decided that somehow, my life would extend beyond what it currently was. I didn’t know how that would happen, or even if it was possible, but that was the year that I decided that I would do whatever I could to see more of the world, and that I would do whatever I needed to do to have the courage to speak my mind.

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Momentum

April 15, 2014

Uncategorized

For some reason (which I can’t remember now) I decided I wouldn’t use Chrome when it first came out. Maybe it was all the complaining I heard from co-workers and friends when they installed it. I’m not sure.

Recently, a co-worker, Cami, convinced me to install Chrome (some security bug prevented me from using Safari) and introduced me to a plugin called Momentum. It is a small thing that makes me so happy each day. Momentum is a plug-in for Chrome. Once installed, when you open a new tab, you see a stunning landscape (natural or urban) and can enter your main focus for the day. The same landscape appears over a 24 hour period. There are certain landscapes that are my favorites: storm clouds looming over the mountains, a crystal clear blue lagoon, waterfalls among the rainforest. I never know what I’ll get when I open a new tab, and I love the element of surprise for the day. Often, I’ll open a new tab and just keep it open (not visit any other sites) in order to always be able to reference that beauty throughout the day.

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My Type of Gal!

April 14, 2014

Travel

Last year at an Ecology Project International fundraiser, I was the lucky winner of an auction for a seven-day cruise for two to the Galapagos. The Galapagos! Islands of exotic animals! Swimming with sea turtles!

I asked my partner in crime, Emily, if she’d like to go with me. She was ecstatic. She had lived in Ecuador as a student, but at the time couldn’t afford to go to the Galapagos. We looked at our calendars and picked a few dates in May that we wanted to book.

I called the boat tour company in January and asked for our first choice of dates. Nope, they were booked. I asked for our second choice. Booked then, too. Before I could ask for a third choice of dates, the tour operator told me the first available tours were in August. August?!?! Eight months away? I guess other people like to plan in advance. We booked a tour for late August.

Emily and I talked about booking plane tickets to Ecuador, but never really got around to it. We were planning to get together this weekend and I said, “Come over! Let’s book our plane tickets!” We figured out how many days we wanted to spend in Quito before going to the islands and what days we wanted to travel. We booked our flights from San Francisco to Quito and return. From Quito, however, we needed to get to the Galapagos Islands. There are a few airlines that fly that route: TAME, Avianca, and Lan Ecuador. We chose Avianca since it’s part of Star Alliance. Unfortunately, you can’t book Avianca domestic flights online. Emily called the airline, and I listened as they conversed in Spanish, “…talk, talk, talk, numbers, numbers, dates…” Silence. “Solomente? En Augusto?” She turned to me. “There’s just one flight left with seats available, at 6:30 am.” “Really? For August?” She nodded. “Book it!” She talked some more, arranging the internal domestic flights. When she hung up, again, I was somewhat flustered. Who plans this far in advance?

We decided since we were in a planning mode, we would book our accommodation for our three nights in Quito. We perused several residences on Airbnb, finally settling on one that was centrally located and decorated with brightly colored rugs. We sent a message to the host, checking availability for August. This morning, she replied that she doesn’t make reservations more than two months in advance.

Finally! My type of gal!

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Unexpected Pleasures

April 13, 2014

Tales of San Francisco
I moved into my new place almost seven months ago. Whenever I see friends, they ask, “Do you still love your new place?” I always answer a resounding, “Yes!” Recently, though, someone asked me, “What is something unexpected that you love about your new place?”

I thought for a moment. I thought about the known things, those things I anticipated I would love: having a washer and dryer in my apartment (I have never experienced so much joy from doing laundry), having beautiful colors on the walls, living in a neighborhood I love. However, three things came to mind that I didn’t anticipate I would love when I bought this place:
- I never realized how happy having so much sunshine in my apartment would make me feel. My apartment is a corner unit, facing south and east, and I get sunshine almost all day long. Bonus, I’m never cold anymore.
- I never realized how happy I would be in a place that I could actually clean, and get clean. Each of the homes that I’ve lived in for the past twenty years have been over 100 years old. That’s a lot of built up dust that just doesn’t come clean no matter how much bleach you use. Here, I sweep my floors and they are clean. Clean!
- I never realized how happy it would make me to look outside my window at various times of the day and see the sun rising over the San Francisco skyline, the sky a delicate pink; or the sun shining brightly at midday, making all the windows of the skyline sparkle like diamonds; or the darkness late at night, when the lights of the nearby buildings shine like urban stars.
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In the Name of Science

April 12, 2014

Tales of San Francisco

A couple of afternoons a week, I walk to our Lounge in downtown San Francisco to co-work with other Bay Area Automatticians or visitors who happen to be passing through town. I love catching up with co-workers and we usually have some fairly engaging conversations.

A few weeks ago someone brought up the topic of oil pulling, a practice which has been in the news lately because various celebrities are trying it. There was a surprisingly heated debate among us. I had heard of oil pulling (basically, swishing coconut oil around in your mouth for 20 minutes first thing in the morning, which is supposed to whiten your teeth and eliminate toxins from your body), but didn’t have a strong opinion about it. I listened to Meredith claim that it was ridiculous, and there was only one scientific study to support the practice, claiming oil pulling was about as effective as mouthwash for oral hygiene.

Since I wasn’t pro- or anti- oil pulling, I volunteered to do a test and try it out. My regular routine includes brushing my teeth and flossing in the morning and evening. I don’t, however, use mouthwash.

For the first week (March 30 – April 5) I would brush and floss as usual, and also use mouthwash. The second week (April 6 – 12) would be the control week, to allow my mouth to return to normal. The third week (April 13 – 19) I would do oil pulling each morning on an empty stomach as recommended, rinse with salt water, then brush and floss as usual. After the three weeks were up, I would write up my observations.

I bought the coconut oil last week during an excursion to Trader Joe’s. It’s been sitting on my counter ever since. Tomorrow is day one of oil pulling week. On the eve of the start of the experiment, I have to admit, it’s not super appetizing to think that I’ll be swishing oil for 20 minutes as the first thing I do when I wake up tomorrow. But I’m keeping an open mind, in the name of science!

Getting ready for oil pulling

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India Always Wins

April 11, 2014

Uncategorized

I had dinner with a former colleague that I worked with from Room to Read. We met each other, hugged, and commiserated that it had been a hard work week for each of us, for different reasons. He said that he had just gotten off a call with his team in India. We looked at each other, and at the same time, said, “India always wins.” We laughed for a moment, then debated who coined that phrase. He thought he did; I thought I did. Nevertheless, we each had our experience where India, no matter the circumstances, always won. Always.

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Fighting the Power, One Frozen Yogurt at a Time

April 10, 2014

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One summer while still in college, I worked at a frozen yogurt shop. At the end of the night, we emptied the yogurt machines and were allowed to take home any frozen yogurt that was left over from the day. My roommate loved that we had large Styrofoam cups of various flavors of frozen yogurt in the freezer at all times. Even though I served it all day long, I kind of loved it too.

It was a small yogurt shop owned by a local Chapel Hill resident. There were only three or four of us that worked in the shop, and usually only one or two people at a time. In addition to emptying the yogurt machines at the end of the night, there was also the usual cleaning: putting away the candy toppings, wiping down counters, putting chairs on tables, and mopping the floors. The clean up process usually took about half an hour to forty-five minutes, at which time we put a cassette tape on (it was a long time ago) and listened to music.

One evening while we were cleaning up, we were playing music (I believe it was Duran Duran, or perhaps The Rolling Stones) and the owner came in. He walked through the door, stopped for a moment, stormed to the back room, and turned off the music, shouting, “Who is playing this devil music? If there is music to be played in here, it will be God-fearing Christian music, do you understand?”

I thought about this for a moment. To me, this seemed a little fanatical. Not only the declaration that only God-fearing Christian music should be played, but the anger with which he proclaimed it. I stood, in my shorts and apron, leaning against my mop handle, contemplating what had just happened. He snapped at me, “Get to work!”

I blinked, brought back to reality from my thoughts, and slowly returned the mop to the utility closet and took off my apron. He watched me. I folded my apron and put it on the counter. “Thank you, but I don’t think this is where I want to work anymore.” That was my small step towards fighting the power and taking a stand against the man.

For the rest of the summer, my Jewish roommate and I lazed by the pool, enjoying the stockpile of frozen yogurt from our freezer.

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Sink or Swim

April 9, 2014

Tales of San Francisco

“When was the last time you had a swim lesson?” he asked. I started laughing. “Probably when I was 7 or 8? A pretty long time ago…”

I know how to swim, and thoroughly enjoy it. I swim like I run, slowly. Being in the water puts me completely at ease and I leave the pool tired, but so relaxed and so genuinely happy. I’ve signed up to do a triathlon in June in North Carolina with a good friend. As I’ve started swimming more often, I’ve felt as though I could be better at it. Hence the swimming lesson.

An aside, swim instructors are the nicest people on earth. At least the two that I’ve taken lessons from. So patient, and incredibly friendly. The world needs more swim instructors.

The first part of the lesson involved me swimming and him observing. After a couple of laps, he told me, “Your form looks good. There are a few minor things we can work on, but overall you’re doing fine.” Part of me was disappointed. I kind of wanted to hear, “You’re doing it all wrong. Let me show you how to swim!” And then I would learn the magic secrets of swimminghood and turn into a dolphin. That didn’t happen.

First we worked on my kick. I was kicking from my knees, instead of from my hips, and keeping my feet too far below the water. I practiced on the side of the pool (as I had when I was 7), and felt the difference. I swam a few laps, focusing on staying more horizontal, and not letting my feet dip too far beneath the water. Whoa! I felt more of a burn in my legs, and I was moving much more quickly through the water. Score!

Next we worked on breathing. He said I was lifting my head too far out of the water when I was breathing, breaking that horizontal plane I wanted to maintain. He suggested keeping one goggle eye in the water and only lifting half of my head out to breathe. This resulted in many full mouthfuls of water and uncontrollable sputtering. After a few laps, he suggested we move on to my stroke. I agreed that would be a good thing.

He showed me how to hold my hands (like Michael Phelps, nonetheless), and use the most force in the first quarter of the stroke. I practiced this standing still, and felt like I had the hang of it, though I felt a little like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I swam a few laps, and realized I was trying to focus on too many things – kick from the hips, horizontal plane, head in the water, don’t guzzle water when breathing, hold hands perpendicular, strong stroke at first – and I ended up flailing. Or simply rolling over on my back, mid-lap, and just floating.

After the lesson, I stayed at the pool to practice on my own. I tackled one aspect at a time. Incremental progress is hard. I was exhausted when I left the pool. I haven’t mastered the tips we covered tonight, but at least I didn’t sink.

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It’s Not So Simple…

April 8, 2014

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We launched an employee engagement survey at work today, our first one ever, and a project that I am really excited about. What better way to learn about what is important to our employees other than to survey them confidentially? To collect hard data to learn what projects we should prioritize? To prioritize those things that will have the biggest impact? Over the past couple of weeks I’ve worked directly with the wonderful people at Culture Amp who have been so patient with me. I’ve asked endless questions about how to set up the survey, how to enter demographics, how to analyze the data. Which culminated in today’s launch.

I had some conversations with employees, mostly revolving around whether the data could be tracked back to them individually. I assured them that no, the data was confidential, and wouldn’t be reported for any demographic that had fewer than five data points. I encouraged people to be candid and honest. That the only way we could improve was to know what was working, and what wasn’t. Be honest!

In the quiet of my home this evening, I clicked on my own survey link to submit my thoughts about working at Automattic. I answered the first few questions, then came to a statement that I didn’t agree with. That I had critical feedback for.

And what happened next surprised me.

I paused before answering. Should I be completely honest? Or should I go for a more neutral answer? It’s kind of my job to make Automattic a great place to work. What did that mean if there were things that *I* wasn’t happy with? What if somehow the leaders in the company figured out what my answers were? Would that reflect poorly on me?

Let’s dissect this. I set up the survey. I *know* that answers can’t be tracked back to an individual. I’ve told this to multiple other people. And yet, there was a nagging fear that something bad would happen if I gave critical feedback (this is probably fodder for at least a few sessions with a psychiatrist). After the voices in my head debated for a while, I eventually gave honest feedback, and felt confident about my decision. But that moment of pause gave me a much greater appreciation of what we’re asking our employees to do.

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