Adios, Au Revoir, Aloha, Audi 5000

Is 2016 the worst year ever? Is it really the actual dumpster fire I've come to think of it as? A year that kicked off with the death of David Bowie, is ending with a series of sad celebrity deaths (Carrie Fisher, George Michael, Debbie Reynolds) in quick succession not to mention all the garbage things that happened in the middle. Even NPR chimed in on the argument this week. While I appreciate their use of a dumpster fire GIF in the article, it also ends up being a pretty solid discussion on whether it's the year or the way in which we consume news and information in the modern age. Twitter can suck it...apparently.

To  add a little more fuel to the dumpster fire, a friend of mine recently posted an article on Facebook (purveyor of all the news you need to survive 2016, fake or otherwise) that posited that 2016 is not killing people; their poor choices over the years are what is to blame. It goes on to say we need to get over blaming the actual year for things that would inevitably happen. That these deaths all happened in 2016 is just the way life and the aging process work. The recent deaths of George Michael and Carrie Fisher were pointed to as examples of people who abused drugs throughout or at some point in their lives so we shouldn't be surprised they suffered from heart attacks and died relatively young (53 and 60 respectively). I get where the writer was going but I also felt like it was a lazy argument. She could have gone further and started with David Bowie had she really wanted to make the argument stick. Bowie spent much of the 1970s in a coke-filled haze; I've always been surprised that he made it out of that decade alive. And then went on to make the most ridiculous video ever: a cover of "Dancing in the Streets" with Mick Jagger. Is he wearing a jumpsuit? I don't know.

Yes, people die all the time. Famous people, not famous people, infamous people - it literally happens everyday. I understand that; most people understand that. Celebrity deaths are different because we're not actually involved in their lives but we are at the same time. Celebrities are celebrities because fans exist so they need us for that whole being famous thing and we need them for that whole "being inspired by their art" thing. I didn't personally know David Bowie or Prince or Abe Vigoda or Carrie Fisher but I knew them. I cried when heard David Bowie died (as I did when Lou Reed died a few years ago). It wasn't because I knew him but because he was a part of my life. His music is the music of growing up and figuring out your life as I wrote right after his death. The same thing is true of Carrie Fisher. She inspired so many young women to be the fighter and the princess at the same time because you can. She also worked hard for mental health issues and was honest about her own struggles. She was inspiring, she was a warrior. Even if 2016 is not to blame for their deaths, we're still allowed to be sad about their passing whether their previous poor life choices contributed or not. Grief is grief; you don't get to control or to judge others while they experience it. And we can blame 2016 if we want to especially if it helps us grieve.

We've all been calling 2016 the worst year since it started. There's even a meme called "Me at the Beginning of 2016 vs. Me at the End of 2016" that's sad and funny all at the same time. It wasn't only the volume of celebrity deaths that made this year a true dumpster fire. There was the horrible election cycle, catastrophic storms and hurricanes, the horrors of Aleppo, the unnecessary deaths of so many by police around the US, mass shootings. I could go on but I won't. We've had to deal with some heavy shit this year and we all deal with it in our own ways. I have friends who are still walking around in a daze because the Trump is going to be our next president. I've had to tell them several times to snap out of it. It's time to do the work of making sure his hate-filled, crazy pants agenda doesn't actually happen. You can't do that if you look like you haven't slept in months. I'm sure my "snap out of it" attitude is not helping but seriously, it's time to snap out of it.

I admit I haven't wanted a year to end more since 2005 but I still don't know that I'd call this the worst year. We can sit here and discuss every terrible thing that happened but will that actually solve? What will we accomplish by doing that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What we do now is figure out how to make 2017 a better year. I want everyone to waltz (literally or figuratively) into 2017 feeling empowered, emboldened, and energized for what's coming next. It's time to figure out how you want to make your life and the world a better place. I don't make New Year's resolutions; I prefer to set some goals for myself. Goals are better.

This year, I have a slightly longer list than last year but I think it's totally manageable. Here's what I'm focusing on this time around:

• Finishing Transient Suburbia - this was a goal in 2016 and I'm almost done but not quite. I don't consider this a failure because I made a ton of progress and have one more section to write. This novel will be done in 2017 and it will find a home somewhere in the world.
• Participate in the Women's March on Washington - Let me know if you'll be there on January 21st!
• Donate time/money to organizations that will need more help given the new administration. I'm focusing on Planned Parenthood, The Trevor Project, and a local group that I'm still researching.
• Get more involved in local and state politics. There are lots of ways to do this: writing my representatives, going to city/county meetings, voting (I always vote but you know what I mean). The saying "If you don't vote, you can't complain" should be expanded to "If you don't participate, you can't complain." 
• Continue my gym going and make some decisions as to whether yoga is where I should spend my time. How should I celebrate hitting 10 million steps? It's going to happen very soon.
• Complete at least two certifications or courses for work. Haven't decided what I'll focus on yet but I have time and lots of ideas.
• Help my parents shift through the nightmare that is their basement - this will happen in 2017. Mark my words.
• Get out there and enjoy 2017 - I've got a road trip planned, concerts to consider, and a new apartment to look forward to. Let's do this 2017. 

Did 2016 suck? Yes. Was it the worst year ever? I don't think so but it was certainly up there on the list of years that needed to end swiftly. Will 2017 be better? I hope so. Remember, dear Island readers, rebellions are built on hope.

I'll leave you with a little song from Green Day off their new album Revolution Radio. It's one of my favorite songs off this album and a fitting way to end a dumpster fire year. Enjoy!

Happy New Year from the Island of Misfit Toys! As I remind you every year, please enjoy your celebrations responsibly. I'll see you in 2017!!

The Christmas Cake

I just finished reading Judith Fertig's novel The Cake Therapist. It's been on my to read list for awhile. I finally decided to treat myself to a used paperback copy rather than spending over $3 for the Kindle version. I have a $3 and below rule on Kindle. I feel like if I'm going to pay more than that I should just buy the actual book. Or maybe I'm cheap. You can decide.

Anyway, in addition to being a very colorful, pretty book (it's worth the paperback just for the color it adds to my bookcase), it's also a delightful story. The novel follows a baker who moves back to her hometown in Ohio as her marriage is ending and her opportunities in New York are dwindling. She decides to open a bakery and it just so happens that her hometown has become a destination for brides and weddings. Her talent isn't just making exquisite cakes and pastries; it's knowing the exact flavor the person she's baking for wants most. Her ability to match the flavor and the person crates the perfect taste for the customer. This serves her well in the wedding cake world. I would like to tell you that I savored the book and lingered over it for a few days but that would be a lie. I read it in one day and had to order the sequel Memory of Lemon this week.

There's a quote early-ish in the novel that I particularly love. It perfectly encapsulates the way I feel about baking something.

"As I cracked each egg into the bowl and added the sugar while the mixer did its work, I wondered whether I was the only person who found the whir of a stand mixer oddly comforting. For me, it was the sound of something good about to happen." (page 63)

Baking, as I've written before, has always been a form of therapy for me. The process of making something, of following a recipe, measuring ingredients, prepping pans is soothing and calming. The process is great for working through an issue, problem solving something, or just ruminating on an idea for a bit. It can also be a completely blank moment where my mind focuses solely on what I'm doing and not my to-do list or stress at work or getting my move organized or whatever else is happening in my world. I love my stand mixer, Stanny (yes, it has a name) and I know the whir Neely, the baker in the book, is talking about. It's the whir that makes marshmallows out of water, gelatin, and sugar or brings together the perfect balance of ingredients for pumpkin cookies or apple cinnamon cake. It's a sound that's not too loud but certainly not quiet. It's a sound that is all about making something delicious happen.

Around the holidays, everyone I know seems to go into beast baking mode. Instagram and Facebook are full of tables full of cookies and candy and whatever else people have decided their family and friends need to truly enjoy the holidays. Some recipes are passed down generation to generation and it wouldn't be the holidays without them. This year, our cookie options include snowballs (a perennial favorite), coconut macaroons, and maybe chocolate chip. I made some fudge and my dad made chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, and cranberry bread. Did I mention there are only four of us?

We also have a newer tradition that I will be adding to this year: the Christmas Cake. It started before I really got into backing. My dad would make a rum torte as our Christmas dessert - did I not mention every of my family members bakes? My dad and brother both make great pies and my dad kills it at banana bread; I get that from him. My mom is an all-around baker; I learned how to make snowballs, cakes, and brownies from her. Anyway, I don't like rum or rum flavored things but the rum torte was always good. As I got more into baking, my dad and I would trade off on making the Christmas Cake. We started varying it up but almost always selecting a cake from Southern Living's Christmas issue. I don't know if you're familiar with the Christmas issue of Southern Living but there's always a beautiful cake on the cover and a section of creative, festive, and sometimes super complicated cakes to adorn your holiday table.

We can thank Southern Living for the Christmas present cake; it's shaped like a present and you use Fruit by the Foot to make pretty ribbon and is also fun for birthdays (and really the first complicated cake I made by myself), the caramel cake debacle of 2013, and my uncle's favorite cake, the Italian Orange Cake. I only make this last one every ten years. To do it right takes three days since it's the type of cake that gets better as it sits. The flavors come together over time so it's better to do each step over the course of several days. I like all of these cakes despite being a bit more complicated from a process standpoint than say, a regular chocolate cake. I want a holiday dessert to be special and more whimsical than my everyday baked goods. That's part of the fun of holiday baking;

Both my parents and I subscribe to Southern Living. I'm sure that seems excessive to some people but it's the way life works. My subscription was a gift from a friend who knows I like baking and reading about cities I love so I accept my dual copy each month with love and sass. The cake on the cover this year is a coconut rum cake with rum filling and ermine frosting. Wondering what ermine frosting is? It's also known as "poor man's frosting," boiled milk frosting, or butter roux frosting. It's a type of buttercream frosting that uses flour instead of eggs for the emulsion factor. I've never made it before but apparently from what I've read, ermine frosting was what was traditionally used on red velvet cake until the 1970s when cream cheese frosting became all the rage. Who knew?

As I mentioned earlier, I don't like rum flavored things so I told my family I'd make one of the other cakes in the holiday extravaganza issue, Peppermint Cake with Seven Minute Frosting.This cake requires me to buy disco dust. Don't know what disco dust is? Well, friends, it's edible glitter. Apparently, it gives the cake a little sparkle. Who doesn't want their holiday cake to sparkle?

There is one major thing about this recipe that makes it the best cake in the world: two different frostings! Peppermint buttercream frosting and Seven Minute Frosting! The cake itself is a pretty standard yellow cake but two frostings make it extra special and holiday worthy. If you've ever made anything with peppermint extract, you know that a little goes a long way. I made peppermint marshmallows once that tasted like toothpaste despite using the small amount of extract the recipe called for (they melted well in hot chocolate - that's a win). The peppermint buttercream looks so pretty in the picture; I would have made the buttercream for myself if my family had declined the cake. Bonus: I've never made Seven Minutes Frosting before so this cake also represents adding another item to my repertoire and I love adding baking things to my repertoire. (Reality: Seven Minute Frosting is basically marshmallow fluff that you whisk for seven minutes. Not nearly as much fun as I wanted it to be.)

You know what else is great about this cake? Smashing peppermint candies with a meat tenderizer. My arms are going to hurt tomorrow between this and the whisking for the Seven Minute Frosting, but it will be worth it. The peppermint extract isn't enough peppermint-y flavor so I have crushed up peppermint candy as instructed to add to the buttercream. I also crushed additional peppermints and added the disco dust (pearl dust according to Wilton) so the cake will really sparkle when it's decorated. I feel so Christmas-y I can't stand it.

I can't tell you how the cake tastes since it's for tomorrow but I can say that the buttercream is delicious, as I knew it would be. The Seven Minute Frosting is basically glorified marshmallow fluff. And the finished, uncut version? Looks like a sparkly winter wonderland. That's exactly what I wanted to accomplish with this cake. Something good happened over the whir of an electric mixer.

Happy Holidays from the Island!

Southern Living cover

If it's not color coded, I don't want to hear about it

I've lived in an apartment of some kind since the summer after my first year in college. Getting that first apartment was a big deal; my roommate and I took it over from a friend who was graduating so it was like the apartment was staying in the family. It wasn't the greatest apartment ever but it was my first apartment; I still think of it fondly nineteen years later (yikes, I'm old). Back then, moving into a new apartment was exciting and new. It felt like an adventure. I recall that we would overspend at Wal-Mart (Target wasn't really a thing yet) and maybe the thrift store if we were feeling up for it. We needed new things for our new space despite the fact that we didn't have much money and what we bought normally didn't last very long. Inherited furniture was the norm and none of us thought about it for a minute (free is free when you're in college). I remember having dinner parties in this apartment and experiencing those glimmers of adulthood we all have at nineteen. This was what it was like to be on your own and have friends and entertain. I roasted a chicken like a boss back then. One of my favorite photos from that period is from Halloween; we had everyone over before people went their separate ways. One of my friends was dressed in drag as Super Doppler 6000 (people who lived in New Orleans in the late 1990s know what this is) and another friend is sitting in the background with no expression on his face about the costume. It was glorious and weird and exactly what is perfect about college.

This is what happens when I move now.

In the history of my apartments, I've only truly hated one place I lived (I had to break my lease it was so bad) and have loved three of my apartments so much that I often find myself daydreaming about living in them once again. For the record those apartments would be: the Broadway house, my second apartment in Alameda, and my lovely studio on Bordeaux Street. Two of these apartments are in New Orleans; this probably means something.

When I moved back to Virginia four-ish years ago, I had a crappy time finding an apartment. For anyone not familiar with the DMV, real estate in this area is ridiculously priced (overpriced I would say). If I want to pay a reasonable amount of rent, I'd have to live an hour away from work (at least) which is probably more like a 2-3 hour commute each way. I don't hate myself so this is not an option. Paying for proximity makes me rage-ful but it's the way it works here. I knew this going into my search when I moved back, however, I didn't prepare myself to be wildly disappointed by how not worth the money most of these places are. Curious what a junior one bedroom is like? That's just a fancy way of saying "studio apartment with no washer and dryer." Affordable housing in the DMV is a huge and I can only imagine what families face when going through this. I have the luxury of just needing a place for me and the great Pumpkin but that doesn't mean it's any less disappointing when you look at what you pay versus what you actually get. Of course, leasing companies know this and they see us all coming.

I've never been interested in owning a home; owning a home in this area wouldn't necessarily be any better for me. I assume my disinterest in home ownership is because I grew up in the military; we moved every few years. I don't have a childhood home per se. The houses I grew up in are probably still there but my parents don't live in any of them. They moved into their current house in the early 2000s; I lived there for about four months during Hurricane Katrina. It's a lovely house but not my house. I don't really know if not having a childhood home has anything to do with not wanting to own a home but I'm sure it's a contributing factor. I see houses I like all the time; I just have no inclination to buy one. Maybe I fancy myself a vagabond and buying a house would go directly against that idea.

I'm moving to a new apartment the first weekend of January. I don't really have to move but I'm feeling restless and this was the easiest way to cure my restlessness. Unlike 99.9% of the population, I enjoy moving. Moving appeals to the organizer in me; it's a system with processes and I like systems with processes. I like to think of moving in different phases: search phase, purge/donation phase, pre-packing phase, final packing phase, and unpacking phase. The search phase is the phase I like the least; I'm impulsive when it comes to apartment shopping. I get frustrated easy and have little patience for listening to the same leasing office spiel over and over. This means I either rent the first place I see or I look at a million places before making a decision while simultaneously complaining to everyone and needing a drink after each visit. I only looked at three places this time around and it was definitely enough.

My favorite phases are the purge/donation phase and the unpacking phase. I love getting rid of things; I don't do it often enough. There's something satisfying about throwing shit away. I can still be sentimental about people and memories without having all the freaking clutter. Why did I keep all of this stuff I haven't looked at since 2000? Do I really need these Christmas lights I haven't used since I moved into this apartment? For this particular move, I did something I've never done before: I tried on all of my clothes. It's sounds bananas but it was awesome. I went through my closest, my chest of drawers, and the two bins of stuff under my bed. The donation pile is huge and it makes me feel good about my life. I got rid of things that don't fit (mostly too big - score!), things I've only worn once or twice, and a few things I've never worn and feel bad about wasting money on. I went through all my shoes and pared that mess down too. It feels good to shed the unnecessary. I, like many other women, have kept clothes thinking I'd wear them when I was a little skinnier or whatever but seriously, it's not worth it. I'd rather keep clothes I love and enjoy wearing than clothes that make me feel bad about myself or have some unrealized purpose associated with them. I have zero fucks to give about unrealized purpose and clothing. It's all about being comfortable and fashionable - I can. scratch that, I am both.

The other thing I did in this phase, and I know I'll do more of when I get to the new place, is evaluate my baking equipment. I have amassed a lot of baking accoutrements over the years. I'm not even sure where some of it came from since I don't recall buying several of the items that were in my hall closet but I also don't recall receiving them as gifts. Where did these mystery baking pans come from? Anyway, after getting over my shock of having mystery pans, I was able to cull down my collection and add the others to the donation pile. They're all in really good shape so there's that.

I'm looking forward to the unpacking phase. It takes me back to the excitement I used to feel whenever we'd move when I was younger and the adventure of my first apartment in college. I see unpacking as opportunity - how will I design my new space? Do I keep my books organized by color because it's nice to look at despite being hard to find things or do I revert back to alphabetical order? Alphabetical order is boring so I have a feeling I'll keep my color organization going. I mean, look at how visually appealing that is. It's like my books are saying, "Welcome home, Erin!"

What about my CDs and records? Should I entertain the grand reorganization style of 2002 when I organized my CDs autobiographically? This takes forever to figure out and I need to invest in a new storage system for them. Autobiographical organization is based on the time in life that you purchased the album. So it's like an episode of "This is Your Life" as told through CDs. Or maybe "Behind the Music" without the drug addiction, car crashes, and poor life choices. How should I arrange my art? What goes where in my closet (organized by color and clothing type because that's the only way to organize a closet)? What about my shoes? Don't even get me started on my kitchen. There are so many possibilities when you move into a new space. Organization is an art form; I'm looking forward to working in my greatest medium. 

You know who's not going to be happy about the move? Pumpkin. Despite her love of jumping in boxes, she's really going to miss her heater.

You can't stop the beat

Hairspray is my favorite John Waters movie. I don't recall the first time I saw it but I remember loving every thing about it. It was my John Waters gateway movie; after Hairspray, I went back and watched all the earlier films and have been a fan ever since. Released in 1988, Hairspray told the story of Tracy Turnblad (Ricki Lake) a "pleasantly plump" teen in 1962 Baltimore. She dreams of being on a local dance show, The Corny Collins Show, and going steady with the dreamy Link. Her mother, Edna (played by the divine Divine), is basically an agoraphobic who takes in laundry and scolds Tracy for having ratted hair. Running along side this plot is a focus on segregation in the 1960s; the Corny Collins Show show is segregated and Tracy makes it her mission to integrate it. All sorts of famous faces make appearances (Debbie Harry, Pia Zadora, Rik Ocasek, Sonny Bono, Jerry Stiller, and Ruth Brown) and Waters's regulars Mink Stole and Alan J. Wendl round out the cast. Fun fact: Vitamin C plays Amber, Tracy's rival (she's billed under her real name, Colleen Fitzpatrick).

The original film is campy and charming all at the same time. I'm pretty certain that Divine was the first drag performer I consciously recognized as a drag performer. There is something magical about her as Edna; I don't know if it's the Baltimore accent, her sort of soft gruffness, or the fact that she owned every scene she's in (both in and out of drag). There are certain lines that pop into my head in Divine's voice all the time: "Could you turn that racket down? I'm trying to iron in here." or "It's the times. They are a-changin'." Divine is my favorite part of the movie followed closely by Sonny Bono and Debbie Harry as the von Tussles. I believe I learned how to Madison by watching this movie; this is a skill I no longer have and it would never, ever have been useful since I was not alive in 1962.

I was cautiously optimistic when I heard that Hairspray was being made into a Broadway musical. John Waters had given his blessing so I knew it would be safe from what happens when musicals are made from other source materials. And let me tell you, it's a wonderful show. It's fun and joyful and touching and relatable. The music and songs are some of my favorite from more modern musicals; they fit into the show as well as the time period being portrayed. Every now and then, "You Can't Stop the Beat" pops into my head for no reason and refuses to leave...in a totally good way. The musical was nominated for 12 Tonys, winning 8 awards.

The musical was eventually turned into another film starring Nikki Blonksy as Tracy and John Travolta as Edna. It's not my favorite of the versions of Hairspray but it features some amazing performances by Blonsky, Queen Latifah as Motormouth Mabel, James Marsden as Corny Collins, and Elijah Kelley as Seaweed. James Marsden is probably my favorite part of the movie; he captures the wholesomeness and inappropriateness needed to play Corny Collins. I hoped at some point during this season of Westworld, Teddy would break into "Nicest Kids in Town" with the rest of the hosts. That would have made my life. My biggest complaint with the film was Travolta; I thought he was terrible. Harvey Fierstein, who played Edna on Broadway, should have been cast. Thankfully, the recent broadcast of Hairspray Live! rectified this situation; all of America (or at least the parts that watch live musicals on NBC) got to see Fierstein slay the role of Edna as Divine and God intended. I watched the broadcast earlier this week; Fierstein was one of the highlights along with an adorably awkward Ariana Grande as Penny, Martin Short, and Jennifer Hudson showing us all what it means to really live in a song.

Hairspray is about a lot of things but at its heart it's about diversity and acceptance. Tracy Turnblad was about body positivity before it was a thing. As Tracy exclaims in the original movie, "Now all of Baltimore will know... I'm big, blonde and beautiful!"(which is an amazing song in the musical). She didn't think being "pleasantly plump" as a problem; it made her unique and who she was. It didn't change the fact that she was a bad ass dancer or stood up for her friends and what was right (integrating the dance show). She got to dance with the cute boy. She wore dresses that made her feel special and pretty. She used her voice when others around her could not.

It's also about the message of inclusion and accepting diversity as part of the fabric of life. The 1960s were a tumultuous time in our history and Baltimore, like other cities, was front and center in the Civil Rights movement. When you first start to watch any of the versions of Hairspray, you think you're just getting a fluffy teen dance show movie/musical but it's really social commentary. Waters's movies always focus on outsiders and Hairspray captures that in a way that I don't think I thought much about when I was younger but now seems even more important. Listen to the song "I Know Where I've Been" - yes, Jennifer Hudson killed it on Wednesday but I love Queen Latifah in the movie so much that I'm using her version instead:

The lyrics resonate as much today as they would have in 1962. I couldn't help but think about recent protests as I watched the live broadcast on Wednesday. The signs might look different (maybe not entirely) but the sentiment is the same. As I wrote back in November, we have a lot of work to do in this country. We can sit by and let hate and fear take over or we can be like Tracy and her friends and stand up for what's right. Or maybe you prefer to dance for what's right; that's cool with me. I'll be over here pretending I remember how to Madison and singing along with "You Can't Stop the Beat."