Alter ego

Alter Ego, by photojournalist Robbie Cooper, has been floating around on several different blogs.  Its premise is a side-by-side comparison of people and their avatars.  These fabricated online identities offer insight into each person's self.  Some illustrate actual qualities - physical features and perceived personality traits exaggerated to sometimes comedic cartoonish effect.  Others pretty clearly represent desired characteristics.

It's fascinating, revealing, and, in some cases, heartbreaking to see these juxtaposed images.  The fact that Cooper's book includes detailed profiles of each of the pairs reminds me a lot of another coffee table book that I really enjoy: The Oxford Project.  Similar to Alter Ego, this collection of photos by Peter Feldstein compares images of the residents of a small midwestern town, taken 20 years apart.  Each person was given the opportunity to talk a little bit about his or her life, proud accomplishments and weighty disappointments alike.  Though I suppose it's possible that I'm just projecting the contents of the text onto the images, I swear you can see these emotions reflected subtly in some of the photos.

I think each piece is a fantastic expression of the human spirit, as well as a testament to the power of photography as an art form.  Kudos to the authors for a couple of very creative, thought-provking ideas.  The image below (copyright Robbie Cooper) is one of my favorites that was posted online.

Next time with mashed potatoes

As I made dinner last week, I tried to brainstorm things to do with leftover mashed potatoes.  It seemed like I had a lot of extra, especially with meatloaf and broccoli also on the menu.  Shepherd's pie includes mashed potatoes, I think, but my cookbook didn't have a recipe for that.  The only thing in the index under "Pies, savory" that involved this ingredient was chicken pot pie with a mashed potato crust.

Salivating at the thought of crusty, oven-browned potatoes, I decided to tackle a homemade pot pie the next night.  Unfortunately, there were fewer leftover potatoes than I had thought there would be, so we went the route of a traditional crust.  Still, it came out pretty well and was actually not very difficult.

Steve and I merged recipes from two different cookbooks and added a few of our own touches.  Here's my best approximation of what we did.  And, next time, we are going to try it with the potatoes.

1. Cook 3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts in boiling water.  Remove, let cool, shred into pieces, and set aside.
2. Simmer 4 c. chicken broth (or cooking liquid + bouillon) until reduced by about half for about 2 cups.
3. Meanwhile, sautee diced vegetables in oil: 1 large onion, 3-4 carrots, 3-4 celery stalks, 4 cloves garlic.  Season with salt and pepper.
4. Once vegetables begin to soften, add 1/3 c. flour and reduce heat, stirring frequently to avoid burning.  Cook for a few minutes until mixture turns tan.
5. Add broth and 2/3 cup milk (or half and half), heating until just barely boiling.  Stir constantly.  Mixture will thicken.
6. Remove from heat and adjust seasoning.  Stir in chicken pieces and frozen peas and/or thawed frozen green beans.
7. In ungreased oblong baking dish, layer store-bought (like Pillsbury) pie crust on the bottom (optional - can just use one crust on top).  Brush lightly with beaten egg.
8. Add filling and top with a second pie crust, brushing top with beaten egg.  (If using mashed potatoes, top the filling with a layer and omit the egg.  Use the same baking time).
9. Bake, uncovered, at 425 for about 35 - 40 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbly.

If I could fly, like birds on high

Seemingly immediately after writing about how much I liked snow despite myself, we were hit with our second huge blizzard of the winter, followed a few days after by our third.  People have been calling it by all kinds of corny names like "snowpocalypse" and "snowmageddon."

This onslaught of snow has, at once, marooned us in the house, transformed Safeway into a mob scene, made street parking a cutthroat battle with the neighbors, and turned deadlines at work completely upside down.  It has been inconvenient and annoying and, particularly considering of tomorrow's potentially snowy forecast, I do not really want any more this season.  Yet I stand by my previous post.  Snow is almost magical in its ability to beautify the dreary winter cityscape and engender a sense of adventure and camaraderie amongst friends and strangers alike.  And, for that, I am grateful.

In between watching a marathon of old Lost episodes with Steve and shoveling lots and lots of snow, I've been listening to this song.  It's majestic sounding, yet slightly whimsical, and it fits my mood this past week or so pretty well.  The lyrics are in French, but they pay homage to the fickle, entrancing characteristics of the sea (and are completely different than those of the English version featured in lounge singers' repertoires and in the end credits of the movie Finding Nemo).

Winter in the capital

I don't think I posted a series of winter photos last year.  The cold, dreary days of January and February, with their lifeless trees and frigid sunlight do not inspire particularly alluring pictures and, further, make roaming around outside with a camera especially unappealing.  But there is something magical about about fresh snow - and we have had plenty of that this year.

Although it mangles my commute and schedule and, here in D.C., quickly turns a dull shade of grayish brown, I still have trouble disliking snow.  Maybe it's a remnant of my childhood - excitedly watching big flakes fall from the sky, hoping the ground was cold enough for them to stick and cancel school.  Or maybe, despite all of the annoyances, I still like snow because it brightens an otherwise depressing season with its unpredictable, breathtaking beauty.

Hello, world

So I bought a computer the other day, which means I am now able to do things that I haven't been able to do (easily, at least) in a long time: look at facebook, sit on my bed and check my email, organize my pictures/music/thoughts, and, of course, keep up with this blog.  So I am going to be better about that.

There are a lot of exciting things to play with on this new computer.  What background will I choose?  When will I get to try out the video chat plug-in I just downloaded?  How long will it take to sort all of my photos and restore my music collection?  Also: the letters on the keyboard light up.  Very, very cool.

Time to watch the state of the union address.  I'm hoping it'll make me feel better about politics, but I doubt it.

Update - Just finished watching.  I shouldn't have doubted Obama's ability to deliver an uplifting speech.  There is a lot that is still upsetting about the political atmosphere, but it helps to be reminded once in awhile of some of the just, worthwhile things that this administration has accomplished and that, at heart, our country represents.

Carl Kasell is my press secretary

Earlier today at 11, the venerable Carl Kasell delivered his final top-of-the-hour newscast for NPR's Morning Edition.  Although he'll still serve as scorekeeper on Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me and will travel the country fundraising for local affiliate stations, I cannot express enough how much I'll miss him as part of my morning commute.

Hearing Kasell read the news lent every story a sense of dignified gravity.  It's not that Jean Cochran or Paul Brown or Lakshmi Singh deliver the news poorly.  To the contrary, I really like the split-second of anticipation that precedes the start of a news update, wondering who among the large cast of characters will be reading the headlines.  I appreciate the different styles, the range of vocal tones, and, of course, the subtly varied ways of saying "From NPR News in Washington..."

But, at the same time, this diversity only serves to underscore the greatness of Carl Kasell.  I treat his unflappable composure and deep, rich baritones as the gold standard of radio newscasts.  As consistently excellent as the rest of the field is, no one can match this.  Beginning my morning without Kasell's calming, authoritative voice is going to take a lot of getting used to.

I'm sure I'll eventually become familiar with hearing someone else.  I've only been a daily NPR listener for about a year and a half, and I can remember feeling similiarly saddened by the departure of Marketplace Morning Report's Scott Jagow only to become accustomed to Steve Chiotakis relatively quickly.  But replacing a 30 year institution is no easy task, and, even as I integrate a new voice into my morning routine, I doubt I will soon forget the pleasure of listening to Carl Kasell.

I had grand plans of sneaking out of work to catch the 11:01 am newscast in my car this morning.  Unfortunately, when I glanced at my clock it was already 11:09.  Though I felt deflated at first, I was able to download the audio of the newscast from NPR's website.  It was mostly flawless, but the audio technician flubbed one of the recorded segments.  Naturally, Kasell took it all in stride and then, with a swift "this is NPR News," he signed off.  Carl, you will be sorely missed.

Now a related aside that absolutely made my day: Mark Memmott spent the morning live-blogging the final newscast and the following party for npr.org.  In addition to learning that a huge crowd gathered to watch and celebrate and that Steve Inskeep was enjoying a piece of white frosted cake with strawberries while laughing with Carl, Mark also mentioned that everyone was sporting "Carl Kasell is My Press Secretary" buttons.

I have wanted one of these buttons since I knew they existed (which, unfortunately, came after the period of time that they were available as a free promotion connected to the 2008 election season).  After scouring ebay and craigslist without success, I even resorted to asking Santa Claus to find me one.  So this morning, when Mark mentioned the buttons, I submitted a question asking if there was anywhere that we could purchase them online.  He said he would look into it and then, moments later, said that he had grabbed a couple of free ones and would mail one to me, along with any other interested Kasell-fans.

Our subsequent email exchange went something like this:

Me: Thanks so much for doing this, here's my address.  Can I pay you for postage?
Mark: You're welcome.  Don't worry about the postage.  It's my gift to Carl.
Me: My gift to Carl is going to be a fatter-than-usual donation to WAMU when I renew my membership this February.  Thanks again.

The point of this tangent, I suppose, is that Mark Memmott is cooler than Santa Claus.  I was not kidding about the donation, though.  NPR continually wows me with the quality of its programming (and its newscasters), but this small, fleeting act of personalized attention impresses me even more.  Perhaps, judging by my level of excitement over a lapel pin, my loyalty is easily purchased.  But I'd prefer to think that this experience says more about NPR than about me; that an organizational culture of treating people well begets donations, just as well-produced, informative radio lures listeners and likeable, long-tenured newscasters breed fans eager to wear kitschy buttons.

Yet another reason I love outer space

Google-hosted blogs have recently been blocked at work, which has more or less canceled my ability to write postings for the past two months.  I'm hoping to get a computer at home soon, so I'll be able to write more frequently.  In the meantime, check out this exhilarating article about SETI and the shifting views on the societal and scientific value of the search for extraterrestrial life.

I've said it many times, but I truly believe that dreaming about the possibilities of outer space inherently inspires a profound sense of unity for humankind that we could sorely use here on Earth.

A year later, feeling a little blue (and green)

Today marks one year ago that, choked up and tingling, I went to the polls and exultantly watched Barack Obama seize the presidency. At the time, and in the months that followed, I was filled with idealism and hope. Progress and reasonable compromise seemed to be on the way.

Ten months of reality has somewhat dampened that feeling within me. Though I have been largely happy with Obama’s performance so far, I’m discouraged by the success that the shrieking opposition on the right has had in vilifying the president and his agenda. I can understand not agreeing with the principles of something like healthcare reform. In fact, I too very much worry about the effectiveness of allowing the inefficiencies of bureaucracy to encroach on the healthcare system. But a big part of what appealed so much to me about Obama’s candidacy was the prospect of embracing pragmatism in favor of partisan bickering, and this has not been the case. I don’t doubt that Republican political calculations are largely to blame, but this is disappointing nonetheless.

Now, following decisive Republican victories in the Virginia and New Jersey governor races, I cannot help but feel a little glum about Democrats’ chances in next year’s midterm elections, when many more seats will be at stake. Though I strongly agree that the punditry is overstating the predictive value of these results and that, more than anything, the suffering economy is to blame for the anti-incumbent mood of the electorate, this is still a lousy day to be a liberal.

Perhaps most demoralizing was Maine’s rebuke of a law that legalized same sex marriage in the state. As I’ve stated before, I can’t understand how reasonable people can justify opposition to marriage equality. It’s truly an issue of facilitating the happiness of people who love each other. Nothing more. Though feeling crushed, Andrew Sullivan helps to put this in perspective:

I am heart-broken tonight by Maine, and I'd be lying if I said otherwise.

Somehow losing by this tiny margin is brutalizing. And because this is a vote on my dignity as a human being, it is hard not to take it personally or emotionally. But I also know that the history of civil rights movements has many steps backward as forward, and some of those reversals actually catalyze the convictions that lead to victories. A decade ago, the marriage issue was toxic. Now it divides evenly. Soon, it will win everywhere.

I know for many younger gays and lesbians, this process can seem bewildering and hurtful. But I'm old enough now to be able to look back and see the hill we have climbed in such a short amount of time, and the minds and hearts we have changed. Including our own.

Finally, today also marks the 30th anniversary of the start of the Iranian hostage crisis. Though I’ve meant to several times, I’ve never quite gotten around to writing about last spring’s election in Iran. The ongoing unrest there suggests that something powerful has been ignited within the populace. As they protest their repressive government and organize around what they believe is right, I’m struck by the parallels to Obama’s rise. The circumstances are, of course, completely different, but the unifying sense of empowerment is the same. While it’s impossible to predict the ultimate outcome of this movement, as a young Democrat feeling somewhat jaded by current events, it is heartening to be reminded of the ability of hope to change the world.