Happiness Project brunch, no.1

welcome.

Eight of us gathered at my house this morning to talk about being happy. I alluded to this discussion group in a previous post, but in summary: Throughout 2013 we're partially discussing Gretchen Rubin's book and partially discussing our own happiness projects. Today was the perfect reminder of something I've always known: My friends are amazing human beings. They're smart, funny, creative, thoughtful, and in this case, adventurous. I mixed a few different friend groups to compile the full invitation to 18 people. It's not easy for everyone to discuss something as personal as happiness, habits, and goals when you met some of the people in the room five minutes ago.

You read that I mixed friend groups, right? Well, by way of constant introductions, this happened.

One of Rubin's rules is "Spend Out" - Meaning use your favorite stuff every day, over and over.

Of course I'll never mention anyone by name, and it's not my place to blog specifics of anything outside my own happiness project, but the variety of ideas covered today was fascinating. Rubin's January chapter focused on organization, purging, reclaiming your energy, etc. Collectively our favorite takeaway seemed to be the 60-second rule: Do not procrastinate anything you can do in less than 60 seconds. Tasks that feel daunting because they build up to a lump sum are virtually eliminated if you spend 60 extra seconds doing that one last thing you need to do. For example, why do I have three magazine subscription mailer things sitting on my counter right now? Why have they been sitting there for two months? Two months. That's 60 days, Internet. It would take me less than 60 seconds to renew the subscriptions and move on with my life. Instead I pass them every day and say, "Shoot. Right. Okay, tomorrow." Not tomorrow...do not put off anything you can do in less than 60 seconds. Watch it add up and watch your energy level shift when you don't have little bits of tasks floating around you.


Yes, the glasses say "Happy" and they were actually purchased before I'd ever heard of the book.

We talked about our own successful organizational strategies, but also shared our preliminary individual goals for the month and/or year. On one side of the room I have a friend who translated a year's worth of goals into daily checklists and spreadsheets, and on the other side I have a friend who is currently resisting the idea of anyone telling her what to do (even if that person is herself). I have a friend who has already organized and purged her home room by room, including the dreaded bedroom closet. Another friend joined a writing group and he's working on his memoir. Someone is beginning the process of moving in with a partner, and all the organizational compromise that comes with that, while someone else is settling themselves back into their own home after a long-term partner moved out. The similarities and differences are awesome and I can already tell we're going to learn a lot from each other this year. There were six additional people who couldn't make it to this first brunch for whatever reason, so it will also be interesting to watch the conversations and dynamics shift and different personalities are thrown in the mix.

Conversation starters related to the book, which this particular group did not need at all. 

We left our conversation on the note of "Power Words" -- a single word mantra that will remind you of your overarching goals for the year. A theme word, if you will. Each month may have specific goals, or maybe even a theme, depending on how people laid out their projects; but the power word is a summation of what you want the year to be about. I have an Instagram friend, who I've never met in real life but we're so similar in so many ways, who chose "light" as her power word. Isn't that beautiful? I decided on ABUNDANCE. There are many reasons why I settled on that word, and likely many more reasons I'll discover throughout the year that I don't even realize yet, but that's another blog post entirely. The basic idea is that I want to learn to trust in abundance, demonstrate that trust by taking more risks, and show gratitude for everything I have. Cheers, 2013!

Power Word reminder cards. I hear they're all the rage.

Finally, remember how I don't cook? Well, Dear Reader, that's what potlucks are for. Our spread this morning was particularly awesome. Also, there's one brunchy dish that isn't terribly difficult and I can more or less pull it off. I think it's full of flavor and great for groups. If it's your thing, the recipe is below. Perhaps you might make it and host your own Happiness Project brunch. Spread the love. And the frittatas. 

veg + egg + feta = done


Ingredients (yields about 16, depending on size of muffin pan):

6 large egg
4 large egg whites
1/4 cup water
1/4 tsp table salt
1/4 tsp black pepper, freshly ground
2 cups fresh spinach, baby leaves, coarsely chopped
1 cup canned artichoke hearts, packed in water, cut in chunks 
1 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, packed in water, cut in chunks
1/2 cup uncooked scallions, finely diced
1/4 cup low fat cream cheese, room temperature

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Coat muffin pan(s) with canola oil cooking spray.

2. In a large bowl, beat eggs, egg whites, water, salt, and pepper until blended. Stir in soft cream cheese, then add spinach, artichoke hearts, feta, roasted peppers, and scallions. Mix well.

3. Spoon about 1/4 cup egg/veg mixture into each prepared muffin hole. Bake until set, about 20-25 minutes. Cool in pans on a wire rack for 4 minutes. Remove frittatas with a rubber spatula and cool directly on wire rack for 1 minute before serving. 

(mis)adventures en la cocina

I set a goal for My Happiness Project to tackle one cooking adventure a month. Yes, one. A month.

Listen. Don't judge. I realize I'm a grown professional woman in her 30s. I know this. My schedule and lifestyle just aren't built around the priority of elaborate meal preparations. I don't cook. My relationship with cooking is akin to my relationship with dance. I have season tickets to a number of ballet and modern dance companies in Salt Lake City, but I'm not getting up on that stage. I'm a foodie who enjoys weekend brunch almost more than anything in this world, but I'm not competent in my own kitchen. I'm a patron of the arts, if you will, and cooking is most certainly an art. Perhaps I need to unfollow the posh cooking shows that fill my hulu/netflix queues and stop psyching myself out, but I still maintain that cooking is an art. I can't begin to explain the intimidation.

I mean, seriously. Where the hell do I even start?

Armed with a new cookbook, I accepted my mission: One pot. Surely I can't mess up a single pot of something or other (wait for it). I also armed myself with a cute new pot thing. I was so proud as I headed off to the grocery store with a recipe in hand. Like a real live grownup, with multiple ingredients and everything. I decided on chicken and dumplings because it was the easiest recipe in the dutch oven section of the book. Here's the deal, Reader, I didn't even realize until I was already home with groceries that the cute new pot thing I purchased wasn't even a dutch oven - and - it couldn't actually be used on the stove top. Apparently I'm supposed to bake casseroles inside the oven in my cute new pot. Not my goal. Not relevant to the ingredients I'd just carted home from the grocery store. Great.

Emergency phone call to mom to confirm that stoneware is not meant for stovetops. It's not. Emergency trip to Williams-Sonoma across the street to buy a cooking thing I can actually use for my One Pot Wonder plan. A painful chunk of change later I'm standing in my kitchen trying to focus on the recipe and ignore the un-scripted cash I just dropped. I'm also trying to ignore the fact that most blushing brides simply add Le Creuset to their registry and wait for gramma to pull through. Let it go, let's not add insult to injury. Yet - I felt excited to be chopping veggies and preheating my new fancy cooking pot thing. I was on my way! Look, y'all, I'm cooking!


I used the instructions in the cookbook to know how to chop my veggies propoerly. Yes, I did. 

Once the veggies were chopped I lifted the fancy lid and cried. Cried. Out loud. The little book inside the box told me not to cook anything dry, so I oiled the pot before letting it heat up. The pot was now covered in burnt black weirdness and it was smoking like crazy. In that moment I was like the first cavewoman who ever saw fire: confused and angry and completely out of my depth. I had never seen this one pot cooking process in motion and was convinced I had completely ruined my new toy. Mumblings of "damnit" and "it took all of three minutes to screw up three hundred dollars" and "I should've bought a handbag" and "I knew this was a horrible idea" escaped my lips. I'd been told they were indestructible, but through the haze of burning oil smoke I lost all sense of perspective and logic. I trudged forward and softened my onions.

Burnt mess. 

Once I got rolling I put aside defeatist thoughts of what I assumed was a ruined pot and focused on the experience I set out to have. I then made dumplings for the first time. Which is to say, I whisked flour, salt, baking powder, and parsley together before dropping it in the pot. Oh la la.

Time to make the dumplings...

Thirty minutes later, as I scooped out broth, veggies, chicken breasts, and dumplings, I realized the catastrophically burnt mess was gone. And now masquerading as parsley bits. Oh well. At least I hadn't overreacted like a jackass by crying into my veggies.

ta-da!

My Wanderlist

Fellow Globetrotters, 

If you don't use wanderlists yet, you really should. AFAR (which is my favorite travel magazine of all time) is featuring the wanderslist I created for Prague on their homepage today. Ooooh, so fancy.

Prague...collected by Yours Truly.

What is a wanderlist? Well, the whole concept of AFAR is to travel authentically and locally and off the beaten path. In relation to their online collaborative, travelers post tips on the AFAR website (think tweet-sized advice with a photo and pinpointed city map), then users curate a wanderlist of sights they want to see in that same city. The most genius feature: You can use it when your phone is in offline or in airplane mode, i.e. when you're abroad. Brilliant. 

I should say, about my featured Prague wanderlist, it's not tips that I've posted of my own trip. Not yet. For now, the list they featured is what I curated from all the possible Prague information posted on the AFAR site. They like my curation of the city, in other words. I have a goal to add my own tips for others to put in their wanderlists, I simply haven't had time yet. At any rate, I'm obsessed with AFAR and this was the highlight of my day, for sure. 

Bon Voyage!

sweating

I'm blogging via iPhone app while spinning 115 RPM at the gym. Multi-tasking in such a manner is neither a 2013 resolution nor part of My Happiness Project. Truth be told, my iPod gym mix is stale and the television on the front if the bike is broken. I thus turn to an alternative digital distraction.

Along those lines, I'm soliciting suggestions for my gym mix. All genres are game, so long as they make you sweat. What should I be downloading? Go.

Exploring my Danish roots

expatriate daydreams
I've been obsessed with Denmark for a long time now. It's a combination of liberal politics, collectivist culture, savvy urban planning, history, landscape and climate, tall men, you name it and I'm drawn to it. For those that know me well, take 17 seconds to scroll down the landing page of this website and tell me if every single highlight isn't so perfectly me. It just feels comfortable, like home. And it is home, in a way.

My mom's dad's family is Swedish, full of Malmquists and Bjornbergs from Stockholm. Her mom's line is a common English/Irish/UK mix. My dad's maternal line is Russian and German. My genes go back to Chester A. Arthur - US President No.21, John Williams - advocate of religious freedom, freedom from religion, and founder of Providence, Rhode Island,  a woman my gramma referred to only as "the Jewish gypsy" (love that), and other assorted characters I've yet to learn about.

However, for whatever reason, I feel most drawn to Denmark and to the experiences of my dad's dad, Otto Jessen. He came to the states at age 23 in 1929, from Alslev and then Ravnsbjerg, Denmark.

One of the lingering regrets of my life is that I didn't tune into this passion for Denmark until my grandpa Otto had already passed away in the spring semester of my freshman year at college. I wasted so many vacations in Iowa being a teenager and doing what teenagers do, which is waste time. If I could go back I would record every single story and word out of his mouth, I'd ask so many questions.

Part of My Happiness Project in 2013 is to research my Danish roots. Genealogy has to start somewhere and I'm starting with Otto and working my way back. A secondary reason I'm doing this, in addition to my primary desire to learn all about his life, is to generate energy around my goal to live in Denmark. Not to take a vacation. Not to enroll is whatever PhD will get me over there for a couple years. To live. Live for real. For a long time. I've researched expat websites and yes, even a few grueling doctoral program. I'm unclear for now as to how to make it happen. But again, even that has to start somewhere. In a small way, I feel like the three hours I spent at the Family History Library this weekend moved me in the right direction.

The Great Dane, per his declaration, grandpa Otto.
Here is what I learned so far:

Otto was born 28 September 1905 in Alslev (parish), Skast (district), Ribe (county).

He was child number seven for Kristen Thomsen Jessen and Dorthea Marie Andersen. Older siblings include: Karen Kristine (1891), Niels Paulsen (1896), Ane Katrine (1898), Anton Marinus (1899), Dagmar (1901), and Egner (1904). Herluf came after Otto in 1908.

Dorthea was 42 years old when she had Otto. In 1905. In farmland rural Denmark. And he was child number seven. The woman was not messing around. #vikingstock

Kristen, in some census records spelled Christen, and Dorthea Marie were born and christened (Lutheran) in the same parish of Tistrup (also in Ribe, the same county in which Otto was born). Kristen was a farmer, as was Otto once he made it to Iowa. Kristen was five years older than his wife. He passed away in July 1931, and Dorthea followed in April 1932, a couple years after Otto arrived in the United States.

I found the entire family (minus unborn Herluf) listed in a 1906 census (folketællings) in Alslev, where Otto had just been born in 1905. I found a birth record (fødte kirkebøger (look at me go)) for Herluf in Alslev in 1908, but then the family is not in the 1911 census for that parish. Where does a farmer, tied to the land, take a wife and eight children in 190-something? That's a mystery I get to work on next time.

It's a surreal feeling, to find something like this and actually see it on paper. 

I also found the passenger list for the ship that brought Otto to America. He said he was born in Alslev, but his last residence was in Ravnsbjerg. His travel visa was issued in September 1928, so I tried to find census records from Ravnsbjerg in 1925 (the last record before 1930, when he was already gone). That city doesn't exist in the census records. It's thrown me for a loop and I can't figure out why they wouldn't have done a census there. Google Earth circa 2013 shows all sorts of life and stuff going on in Ravnsbjerg, Denmark; but for some reason, 1925 census workers weren't keen on it. I need to know what county and district it's in (which I couldn't figure out online, but that would help).

At any rate, it was the first time I've ever done any research like this and I'm already looking forward to my next trip to the library. Granted many of the research sites are available to me online (i.e. the statens arkivers  (Danish state archives at Arkivalieronline.dk), but the itty bitty Danish grandmother who works at the Scandinavian research desk does not get to come home with me. She was enthusiastic, excited by the double ss in my last name, and helpful in teaching me all sorts of useful words that will no doubt help me navigate Denmark once I arrive:

kirkebøger: church record
søg: search
opslag: page
folketælling: census
amt: county
sogn: parish
herred: district
landsogn: rural
fødte: birth
døbte: baptism
copulerede: marriage
døde: death
begravede: burials

Oh yeah, I'll be the hit of expat singles mixer. Just you wait, Denmark. Just you wait.

Style Statement | My featured guest post

My friend Miranda hosts a weekly guest feature on her blog, Friday Favorites. She asked me to contribute and my post is live on her site today. I decided to write about interior design, Style Statement, and tuning into what moves you. 


My home sweet home

Her blog is beautiful, her writing is engaging, and we share so many interests and hobbies. I encourage you to not only read my guest post, but also check out the rest of her site

Budapest, part one.

Budapest was the first stop on my recent European vacation. After sprinting through the Paris airport - with a 60 minute connection in which we switched two terminals via train, cleared passport check, and navigated another round of security - we arrived in Hungary. Our luggage did not. Since we knew ahead of time we'd have to sprint in Paris, we packed only purses with iPads and iPods and lip gloss. This did not bode well for what would become four full days without my luggage. You do the math. Then continue to do the laundry in our little cruise ship bathroom sink. Not cool. Enough said.

Dear Air France, Thanks a lot for the elveszett poggyasz.

Thankfully Viking River Cruises arranged our transfer from the airport to the ship, so we avoided this highly dangerous situation...

#lostintranslation

Lost luggage and L'Occitane lemon verbena shampoo scented underwear aside, we were greeted by posh accommodations. The Viking Longships were completed earlier in 2012, so we were sailing pretty in a brand new boat.


...as seen sponsoring PBS Masterpiece Classic, if that gives you any indication as to the situation on board.

Our Viking Odin Longship sitting pretty under Budapest's Chain Bridge.

Internationally recognized as the cardinal rule for beating jetlag: If the locals are awake, so are you. I'm not able to sleep on airplanes, so rounding the corner into my twenty-eigth hour of no sleep meant rules be damned. After a 45 minute power nap, it was off to the Christmas Market with a handful of fellow Viking travelers. Tourists on the move.

Complimentary umbrellas = savvy marketing.

Similar to when I walked out of the metro and saw the Colosseum for the first time, fully realizing I was finally in Rome, this building will always be my first memory of Budapest. It lit up right outside our ship as I groggily sat up from my not-so-powerful jet lag nap. As I climbed the hill from the river to the city, it sank in, I had arrived.

I mean, seriously. Budapest is kind of ugly. #irony

This was my first European Christmas Market. What a charming memory to kick off the season. I was so swamped at work, preparing to be gone for over three weeks, that I hadn't really tuned in to the approaching holidays. This put me in the spirit instantly. It's like a summer arts festival in the states, and it's full of locals eating dinner and socializing over hot wine. I think I expected more artisan than arts and crafts, but to be fair there was a mix of both at this particular market. I was also excited to see how the markets changed in all the different regions, countries, and cities we visited (stay tuned, Blog Reader, stay tuned). 


Christmas Market in the town square.

I google translated this sign. It was oh so useful in telling me it means "Mikulas package"

Trendsters Unite! Mason jars have officially been declared a global movement.

Cute. Edible. And used as Christmas tree ornaments. 

Not cute. Not edible (para mi). Not used as Christmas tree ornaments. 

Local culinary fare.

Hot wine. Hot Hungarian man. Check. Check. 

Locals meeting friends for dinner. I appreciated how not-touristy this market felt. 

And you thought it was only the stuff of shabby chic pinterest weddings in the states. 

A tradition I came to love was the Christmas tree in every town square. Larger cities that have 
multiple town squares had a tree and a market in every neighborhood. I love that. 

By the time I walked back to the ship it was dark outside and the rain made everything impossibly romantic. The journey back looked a bit like this...


Metro, that I didn't need for my short distance, but that I found beautiful.

This couple, however, decided to take the metro. In heels and fur, no less. 

See? Romantic. I need more cobblestones in my life. 

I know, it's postcard perfect. This city is the first of many. Get used to it.

Another favorite memory was the moment we opened our curtains for the first time, gasped, and realized our floor to ceiling glass doors were framing the Chain Bridge. We'd only been in the lounge and not really explored our sense of space on the ship yet. It was decided: We slept with our curtains wide open all night long. Actually, we slept with our curtains open the entire trip. We didn't want to miss the random castles floating past in the night, the fires burning and lights flickering in little villages, the terrifying locks (wait for it). 

Yes, I'm laying on the bed with my feet sticking out the window into the icy night.

Next post coming soon: Hero's Square, and Fisherman's Bastion and Matthias Church on Castle Hill.

Photo Series: Budapest

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Budapest (12-2012), a set on Flickr.
This represents a fairly wholesale upload of all my Budapest photos into a Flickr set. We only had two half days...full of fierce jet lag, lost luggage, and blindingly thick fog. I need to give Budapest another shot. It's a beautiful city and I did what I could to capture it in a trifecta of non-optimal conditions. Enjoy!