http://grown-uplessons.com/

Real Grown-Ups Don't Have Time To Blog

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 22:23:46 -0400

Remember when I told you about my new blogging project, The Little Gourmande? Well, it’s my latest and greatest excuse for the lack of updates here. I’m still posting recipes there, and I really, really think you should have a look. With the rest of my free time (now abundant since I’m only partially employed), I’m working on boosting my CV and pounding the pavement both literally and figuratively. On that note, hire me!

Happy Easter?

Tue, 01 Jun 2010 08:00:00 -0400

Here’s an outfit I wore to work last week:

It’s not my favorite outfit in the world, but on a really, really hot and really, really sunny day, I needed lightweight cotton and a sunhat. I like the idea of mixing patterns that seem like they would normally clash, though I’m not as daring with pattern mixology as many of my fashion blogging idols. Anyway, consider my pairing of pink-and-white and blue-and-white stripes to be a study in patterns that I felt was necessary for the sake of pushing the envelope a bit, even if it looked borderline silly.

“Dapper” is definitely the first word I think of when I look at these pictures, mostly because I tucked the shirt in, which I’ve been liking more and more lately. (Influence of job interviews? Perhaps.) Anyway, I don’t know if it was the pale colors, the kind of dandy/dapper look or my mama’s floppy hat that made a certain celebrity comedian who lives in my town to say to me, as I walked past him that morning, “Happy Easter! Naw, just kidding.” I tried to laugh it off but ended up feeling very silly for the rest of the day. In his defense, he definitely wasn’t trying to make fun of my outfit and we see each other enough around town (his kids go to school with Kai and Amélie) to make such a comment seem lighthearted and friendly. And, in my defense, I think I would have felt just as silly if some other non-famous-and-successful-star-of-television-and-film had made the same comment. So. I probably won’t be wearing this outfit again soon, though I have to say my tactic worked perfectly and I was feeling nice and cool and protected from the sun all day long.

Shirt, Gap; shorts, Forever 21 via Gabriel Brothers; hat, borrowed from Mama’s closet; sunglasses, Franco Sarto via TJ Maxx.

Amélie

Thu, 27 May 2010 22:50:39 -0400

Playing Dress-Up: A Pretty Blue Dress

Tue, 25 May 2010 10:00:00 -0400

I’m gaga for dresses ever since the temperature has assumed its position above the 80 degree mark. Not only do I absolutely refuse to wear constraining clothes when it’s this hot, but dresses are one-piece outfits that require little thought or consideration for coordination (and who has energy to think about such things when it’s this hot outside?). I decided to walk to the park to read yesterday afternoon, and though I almost felt overdressed since most women there wore nothing more than bikinis (something I can’t really understand), I was ultimately happy with my choice.

What I love most about this little blue cotton canvas number is that it has pockets and a double v-neck; what more could a girl want?

Dress, Kimchi & Blue; espadrilles, André; flower hair stick, little Japanese boutique in Bordeaux whose name I can’t remember.

Playing Dress-Up: Reubens and Ice Cream

Mon, 24 May 2010 08:00:00 -0400

Last night I went out to dinner with with my very first and longest standing best friend, Anna. We met on the playground when we were two years old, and even though we haven’t seen or heard from each other much since high school, it’s still remarkable to me that we’ve been friends for two decades… Eek! (Frequent topic of conversation? We’re getting old.) She drove into Columbus from the suburbs and we walked from my apartment over to High Street and grabbed Reubens at a tavern where they dole out potato products like they expect the famine any day now. Naturally we had to stop for ice cream afterward because it’s so warm outside, and we walked with our cones over to the park. I felt so comfortable in this little dress. (What a waste that I shoved a cardigan into my tiny purse before we left because I was positively glistening!*) I admit that I changed from heels to flip-flops when we decided to walk, but this dress transitions amazingly from casual to a bit dressier (or tonight, the opposite). And since the skirt is so billowy, I stayed nice and cool!

*Women don’t sweat. We glisten.

Dress, Silence & Noise; shoes, BCBG Paris; bracelet, gift.

Big Room

Sun, 23 May 2010 21:13:20 -0400

Okay. I moved into my current apartment in March and had numerous requests for pictures. I procrastinated, promising myself I would take some tomorrow, no, tomorrow, no, TOMORROW. Well, I finally decided to just take some here and there and post them as I feel inspired. This afternoon, like most days, the light was streaming through the tall windows in my big room and it looked so pretty and inviting. (I live in a studio apartment so my living room and bedroom are one and the same. To avoid confusing myself, I just call it “the big room.”) So here’s picture #1 of my humble abode, with more to follow in coming posts. I know I didn’t quite catch the whole room, but it just gives me an excuse to post more big room pictures later.

The Little Gourmande

Thu, 20 May 2010 10:43:07 -0400

Okay, my happy blogging news is ready to share! I’ve started a new blog called The Little Gourmande. There I’ll be sharing recipes I create and adapt from other sources, along with the stories that accompany them. I’m a firm believer that everyone - even poor college students (or struggling recent college graduates like me! Woo!) can eat well with the dedication of a little bit of extra time in the kitchen and high quality, natural ingredients. My first post just went up this morning and I’d be very much obliged if you’d hop over there and then tell me what you think. I’m sure that, like Grown-Up Lessons, it will undergo many transformations in the coming months. I’d like those transformations to be inspired by the reader’s needs and desires as much as my own.

First Birthday

Tue, 11 May 2010 08:53:21 -0400

Today marks one year since I started this little blog. Wow! It has served me well over the last year as many changes have taken place in my life. I’m not sure yet exactly what the second year will hold for Grown-Up Lessons since I’m nearly ready to launch a new blogging project, which I cannot wait to share with you, my lovely readers! I really think you’ll love it (I know I do!). Please stay tuned through the dearth of posts on Grown-Up Lessons as I ready my new site for unveiling. And fret not; I’ll continue updating Grown-Up Lessons, though some content may become a bit redundant once you see my new baby blog… You’ll see what I mean soon!

Now You See It, Now You Don't

Wed, 05 May 2010 15:35:00 -0400

I’m going to do something that some of you are bound not to like. Fortunately, I’m the webmistress here so you’ll just have to deal!

I’m going to be doing a bit of blog cleanup over the next few days as I prepare for the biggest and best redesign yet. Soon, thanks to some valuable personal advice from Jessica of What I Wore, a web designer, and my lovely boyfriend, Grown-Up Lessons will be easier to navigate, cleaner, and will hopefully load faster!

In order for me to fully make this transition, some of my prior posts will change a bit, some will lose their DISQUS comments as a move them from one post format to another, and others will disappear entirely. This is a necessary clean-up effort in order to make posts uniform under the new design.

I’m not tearing my hair out worrying about losing valuable information and neither should you. If there’s a grown-up lesson to be learned from this I’ll probably have to learn it the hard way, but the truth is I’m just not that sentimental. I’d just as soon delete terrible bygone content and forget all about it than have an embarrassingly messy archive under later incarnations of Grown-Up Lessons.

In exchange for your understanding of the inconvenience of this redesign (and there will be HTML dust for the next couple of weeks), I promise that I won’t be selectively deleting any content in the future. I’m just trimming the dead branches now so that Grown-Up Lessons can grow into a bigger, more beautiful blog.

Please keep checking back for exciting new changes (and if you know anything about HTML and want to roll up your sleeves and offer your services, I’d welcome it)!

Playing Dress-Up: Ready, Set, Go!

Tue, 04 May 2010 12:41:00 -0400

Okay, so today’s post has absolutely nothing to do with style of any kind, as clearly demonstrated by today’s bland (but practical for being on the go) outfit. What this post is really about is a wonderful new addition to Grown-Up Lessons that will make it easier than ever for me to stay on top of outfit posts. “Psh, Elizabeth! We’ve heard that before!” I know, I know, I’ve been terrible, but my excuses to not putting up outfit posts are dwindling thanks to my now being the proud owner of a tripod. Believe it or not, I’ve made it so far without one, balancing my camera on chairs, tables, fences, etc. or by coercing my little sister/photographer into following me outside into sub-zero temperatures…

Even though I woke up late this morning, sucked down two cups of coffee and threw on a pair of sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes, I just had to post a photo of my I’m-not-a-morning-person-today self, so excited was I that taking this shot with my new tripod took even less time than it did for me to throw on this ratty tee shirt and jeans!

Tee, American Apparel; jeans, JBrand; gladiators, UO; sunglasses, Fred Flare.

Indecisive

Thu, 29 Apr 2010 14:22:00 -0400

If you know me personally and you’ve ever asked me what I’m in the mood to eat/play/do, you may know I’m fond of telling people that I’m not indecisive - I just like everything! (Well, not everything. That’s a downright lie.) I like other people to decide for me sometimes because I end up trying new things that I wouldn’t have necessarily chosen for myself.

Even if you don’t know me personally, you’re sure to have noticed the constant changes in my blog design ever since its inception. I guess it’s time to ‘fess up: I’m really indecisive! I’ve admired lots of other, beautiful blogs but am having so much trouble feeling like this one really represents me. I have lots of design ideas but am not versed enough in HTML to bring them to life. I also really like working on Tumblr but lately am feeling like I can make more of a blog using Blogger.

So just as I’d rather you pick a restaurant for me, please, please, please comment on this post to weigh in on any ideas or inspiration you may be able to offer! I don’t care how random or even uninspired your ideas may feel to you - please share any thoughts you have on color, images, text, content, etc.!

A DISCLAIMER: My longest standing life philosophy is “all by myself” and I am apt to listen to your wonderful words and then do just the opposite of what you suggest. But it doesn’t mean your advice isn’t valuable! On the contrary, sometimes it’s important for me to hear a lot of opposing ideas before I can decide what I really want.

Grown-Up Lessons in the Kitchen: Tarragon Almond Chicken Salad

Mon, 26 Apr 2010 20:05:00 -0400

It’s been drizzly and gray for the past two days, and last night my desire for comfort food got the better of me and I roasted a chicken and some redskin potatoes for my friend Rence and me. We had to wait an hour for it to cook but a bit of red wine, a baguette and some Camembert made it bearable as spitting and crackling noises from inside the oven alluded to the treat to come. Even though my oven has no temperature indicator and I had to resort to counting for how many seconds I could keep my hand in the open oven to judge heat, the chicken was delectable with transparent golden skin revealing whole sprigs of fresh rosemary, which I’d stuffed underneath.

The only problem with roasting a chicken when you live alone is that one person, or even two, can rarely eat a whole chicken. Even after Rence’s help I was left with about a third of the bird, or maybe a little more. Leftovers? A problem? The thing about a perfect roast chicken is that leftovers only remind me of how much better the original meal was, before the grease congealed and the once crispy skin went soft.

I decided then to use the leftover chicken in another recipe, something that would be good of it’s own merit and not because of its suggestion of its former glory. Earlier this weekend I tested out the following recipe for my friend Lela’s baby shower. I spooned the chicken salad onto tiny tea sandwiches and then scraped the bowl clean, so delicious was the outcome. I love both chicken salad and tuna salad but get so weary of their usual ingredients, so this chicken salad recipe was a welcome escape from the normal grapes and walnuts.

If you want to try this recipe but don’t have a roasted chicken on hand, I recommend using two skin-on chicken breasts and poaching them in 3-4 c. of chicken broth or water for 15 minutes, turning them once halfway through. Remove from heat and allow to cool in broth for 20 min. before removing and patting dry.

Ingredients:

Leftover roasted chicken, the equivalent of about two breasts

¼ c. mayonnaise

2 tsp. tarragon, fresh or dry

¼ c. chopped shallot

¼ c. blanched slivered almonds

1 tsp. olive oil

salt and pepper

Directions:

1. Toss the almonds in the olive oil and transfer them to an aluminum foil-lined pan. Salt them and bake at 350°F for 8-10 minutes, or until golden brown.

2. Remove any skin and bones from the chicken. Shred finely with a fork. I had to chop my chicken a bit after shredding it.

3. Combine chicken, mayonnaise, tarragon, shallot and almonds. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve on warm, crusty bread or on a bed of lettuce.

Running Away

Wed, 21 Apr 2010 10:43:00 -0400

I started running five years ago, when I found myself in the middle of the French countryside and charged with the care of three children whose ability to belittle and shame me was admirable considering their age. That they despised me was understandable since their parents converted their cherished playroom into my bedroom and deemed it “interdit aux enfants.” These children, whose efforts to send me paddling back across the Atlantic in a one-woman dinghy I chose to regard as just another of life’s many challenges in order to avoid buying a one-way train ticket to Paris and throwing myself off the top of the Tour Eiffel, managed not to dissuade me from pursuing several subsequent stints as a nanny (though I’ve not lived with any family who employed me since). What they did inspire me to do was to run, as fast and far away as my untrained legs could carry me, which turned out to be about 4 miles, the distance from the 57-person village where I was living to the nearest slightly-bigger-but-still-didn’t-even-have-so-much-as-a-boulangerie village.

Ever since I’ve had what we’ll call a casual running hobby, a couples of miles here or there always feeling like an accomplishment and worthy of a metaphorical pat on the back. Any illusions of earning the right to call myself a runner were occasionally shattered when I adopted a running partner whose endurance put my own to shame, most notably a French guy friend of mine who on a couple of occasions dragged me along on 7-mi. runs, causing me to curse him, his country, and my aching, possibly ruined calves.

Even when I have worked myself into a semi-regular running routine, I repeatedly bail out when faced with the undeniable fact that I dislike the act itself. There, I’ve said it. I hate running!

That I submit myself to the abhorrent activity represents the collective effects of the following truths:

1. Running is good for me and will probably make me live longer.

2. I feel better after I run. How I feel while I am running, however, can only be expressed in language I’d rather not employ here.

3. I look better in a bikini. Or at least the good feeling I get after running convinces me that I do.

4. I subscribe to the “no pain, no gain” philosophy and only run because it’s hard and therefore must be, in some sadistic sense, a good thing.

All things considered, I probably didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I resolved to run a half-marathon this year. On the other hand, ignorance can indeed be bliss and can also make it easier for us to do a lot of things we’d rather not. For three of the past four days, I’ve run just over 3 miles at a pace of about 10 minutes. Silence, serious runners! It’s a tiny accomplishment, I know, but when I manage to drown out the tortured cries of my leg muscles, I feel wonderful! Last night, I even experienced a meager yet persistent sensation of bliss during my run. Dang! I actually felt happy as the balls of my feet pounded the pavement and my breathing, though labored, fell in perfectly with the beat of my stride.

I know that 13.1 miles, the distance of a half-marathon, is a far cry from my measly 3 miles Maybe I’ll make my goal, or maybe, like the majority of my New Year’s resolutions, I’ll fall short, contenting myself with having made any progress at all. In the meantime, I’ll just be running, and having a really good time doing it.

Grown-Up Lessons in the Kitchen: Spring Beans For One

Tue, 20 Apr 2010 12:49:00 -0400

Cooking for one, I had nearly forgotten, is a real challenge. After nearly a year of living with my parents, I’ve managed to escape the tiresome task of preparng meals from scratch in single-person quantities. As I try to relearn the art of making dinner for me and only me, I’m going to try to share more recipes designed to feed one person for a single meal, or things that I cook in advance in large quantities with the intention of saving and reheating.

It’s an exercise in economy, I have decided, and in being truly creative with leftovers. As dinnertime rolled around last night, after completing a 3-mile run, I was in the mood for something light, fresh and healthy, but also had leftover Amy’s organic chunky tomato soup from last night that I felt obligated to use up.

Ingredients:

garlic clove

1 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 c. fresh green beans, washed and trimmed to 1-2 in. pieces

½ tomato purée, tomato sauce, crushed tomatoes, or chunky tomato soup

½ tsp. crushed red pepper

1 tsp. fresh basil, julienne or coarsely chopped

About 5 cherry tomatoes, halved

2 tbsp. Parmesan or Romano cheese (I prefer Pecorino Romano and used that)

salt and pepper

Directions:

1. Finely chop one clove of garlic and sauté with 1 tbsp. of olive oil in a skillet over low heat. Please, please, please don’t let your garlic turn brown! Not even golden brown. As soon as the garlic turns, it bitters.

2. Add the green beans. If you’d like, blanche the beans first; I realize I’m in the minority in my preference for really crunchy green beans. Toss the beans in the garlic and oil and sauté about 4 min. over low heat. Salt and pepper generously.

3. Add tomato puree, tomato sauce, or canned crushed tomatoes. Here’s where my leftovers served me: I used leftover soup. Add crushed red pepper and basil. Set burner to lowest setting and toss ingredients to combine; cover and simmer for 2 min.

4. Uncover and add cherry tomatoes. Let simmer until their peels have just started to prune; transfer to a warm plate and sprinkle with cheese and additional salt and pepper, if desired. Serve with a warm hunk of baguette, perfect for mopping up leftover tomato sauce!

Finger Moustaches

Sun, 18 Apr 2010 17:03:00 -0400

Every Real Grown-Up Should Have...

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 14:29:00 -0400

… a bit of empathy.

Yesterday I was in my first real car accident and it was totally my fault. Three-quarters of a block from a traffic light, in the middle of a crush of rush hour drivers on the busy city avenue where I live, and stupidly fiddling with my car radio instead of noticing that the cars in front of me had stopped as the light changed, I couldn’t stop in time to avoid slamming into the rear end of the car in front of me. Well, maybe “slamming” is a bit of an overstatement, since the accident happened at about 10 m.p.h., but it felt like more of a slam than, say, a bump. I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for the cold metallic sound of bumper on bumper, that crunch that should be reassuring because it means the car is absorbing shock that would be otherwise jarring to the driver but instead sounds more like the ka-ching! of a cash register.

I quickly pulled over to the side of the road, just behind the car I’d hit. I was shaking. It was only a fender bender but my breath was uneven and I had the queasy feeling I usually associate with breaking the rules, which I suppose I had.

“I’m so sorry!” I blurted out as the other driver, a woman in her early to mid-forties, stepped from the damaged Hyundai.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. I apologized again and she repeated herself: “You’ve got to be kidding me.” And then she didn’t say anything for a while as she surveyed the damage to her car. “Yes,” I wanted to say, “I am kidding. Terribly sorry.” And then I would drive away and the accident never would have happened. But I didn’t, because everyone knows a real grown-up takes responsibility for her mistakes.

The aluminum body of my Prius fared worse than her Hyundai, though she didn’t even glance at it. She was just plain mean, in fact, ignoring my repeated apologies and saying coldly, “You just destroyed my brand new car. You did this!” “I’m sorry!” I wanted to scream at her. “Do you want me to kiss your brand new car? It was an accident! Haven’t you ever made a mistake?” Later, when we’d exchanged information, I noticed that her car wasn’t much newer than my own.

I received a crisp stack of business cards a couple of days ago. I gave the first one to the angry Hyundai owner. It made me feel better, like I wasn’t the irresponsible person she tried to make me believe I was. Funny how it’s the little things, like my name printed on a neat rectangle of premium, 100% recycled cardstock, that make a difference. She scribbled her information on a torn scrap of paper. We parted ways without her so much as acknowledging a single one of my dozen or so apologies. She hardly even looked at me. I was just an inconvenience, not a person who might have been hurt.

The police weren’t called, for which I was grateful since I’d have surely been cited. I contacted my insurance agency and everything was sorted with extraordinary ease. When I called my parents to tell them, they were extremely sympathetic. They told me not to worry and were glad I wasn’t hurt. Maybe as a result, Mama said, I’d be more careful in the future and avoid a more serious accident, one in which I could be seriously injured, or even killed. Lessons, she reminded me, are often expensive. She laughed when I told her, at the end of my breathless rendition of events, that it wasn’t fair that I’d had to give my very first real grown-up business card to the woman. Since I’m trying to break into the restaurant business, my card has a photograph of a fork on it. Mama asked me if I regretted it. “No,” I said, and then, referring to the mean driver, “The better to stab you with, my dear!” I giggled daringly. Mama laughed, and in the background I could hear Papa say, “Yeah, fork you, lady!” It was terribly immature and funny, and we all laughed and I felt better.

Ultimately, it’s not such a big deal. I don’t have as much as a sore neck. My car will look awful for a little while, but, as the insurance agent put it, cars heal faster than people. The deductible is money I’d rather spend on clothes or concert tickets or Sunday brunch at my favorite restaurant. Instead, I’ll have to forgo those things for a bit. And that’s about the extent of it.

What really bothers me about the whole incident is how – there’s no better word – mean the other driver was. She was nasty! Nastier than I’ve even made her out to be. She left me feeling deflated, like my word wasn’t good for anything, like I couldn’t possibly be as sorry as I ought to be. But I was! I was so very, very sorry, as much for her as for myself. It reminds me how far a little empathy can go. It’s cliché to say that everything makes mistakes, but most clichés only become so because they are true. I’m going to try especially hard to remember this one next time someone wrongs me, or even rear-ends me. After all, it’s the grown-up thing to do.

Playing Dress-Up: Going Sailing

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 11:35:00 -0400

Yes, I’m still nautically obsessed.

Shirt, thrifted; skirt, NAFNAF Bordeaux; sneakers, DSW; sunglasses, Fred Flare; earrings and satchel bag, Anthropologie.

Playing Dress-Up: Brigitte

Tue, 13 Apr 2010 23:30:00 -0400

I’m back from my blogging dry spell, and I’m dreaming of Brigitte Bardot, Saint Tropez, and absolutely everything sailor-inspired.

Marinière, American Apparel; jeans, Levi; espadrilles, André; leather and gold ring, little shop near my new flat whose name has totally escaped me; earrings, Forever 21; watch, Skagen.

Dilemma du Jour

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 10:36:00 -0400

I am having more inspired ideas for this blog than ever, yet have less time than I’ve ever had. Can you other bloggers relate? Help!

Outfit posts, apartment photos, job updates and more grown-uppy things to come as soon as I can manage! In the meantime, check out these blogs I’ve been particularly enjoying: The Glamourai and Naturally Nina for seasonal inspiration.

Every Real Grown-Up Should Have...

Sun, 28 Mar 2010 22:24:00 -0400

… an enormous sense of responsibility. And believe me, where this blog is concerned I do try to push myself to update regularly and to act all responsible-ish, as everyone knows real grown-up girls do. The problem is that extraordinarily grown-up-like things keep happening to me and distracting me.

As of this past week, for example, I am the proud bearer of a set of keys to my very own apartment. My very own! I’m very excited, but the experience of moving is keeping me very busy (as a very grown-up person such as myself ought to be), which leaves little time for blogging. Sigh.

So far I’ve yet to spend much time in my soon-to-be posh new flat without my hands simply covered in paint, dirt, or sudsy water, but as soon as I do I’ll pick up my camera and take some pictures.

And I promise to try not to be so boring. Oh, you think all grown-ups are boring? Well, I beg to differ, thank you very much.