Snow and Philosophy

You might have heard we had a snowstorm last week.  In the hysteria that led up to the storm, we were told we'd get 10-18 inches here in F'burg.  I waffled a great deal.  This was about our 5th major storm of the season, and not one of them panned out.  I took a poll amongst friends, most of whom were on the side of meteorologists, but when my friend Jennifer's husband Dave, who is a college professor and pretty even tempered guy, suggested that he thought this was going to be The Big One, I did finally pick up a few items for being snowed in.  Leah was convinced we'd get at least 18 feet, which would have meant our house was basically covered, but this did not deter her from her estimate.  The only thing I was really worried about was losing power, and I think I am going to talk to my neighbor the electrician about getting a generator installed.  But mercifully, we only got 9 inches of snow and no power failure.  I was sure we would, in that I recently finally put a digital clock back in my bedroom.  This is mainly because if I look at my iPad for the time, I start thinking I should check my email, despite the fact that it's 2 in the morning.  And I hate it when I get a clock on, and then the power blinks and I have to reset it a whole bunch of times.  Which is exactly what happened not 2 hours after I put the clock back on in my room--I came up the street from picking Leah up and the power company had trucks at the end of the street and I thought, "Oh shit."  Went inside, sure enough, everything was blinking.  ANNOYING.

But I digress.  The storm raged Wednesday night and Thursday.  About halfway through Thursday, it switched from snow to sleet and freezing rain, so there was a hard crust of ice over all the snow. 

Friday dawned clear and bright, and there was a message from Wiggle Worms on Facebook that they'd be opening as usual for the day.  And I sat and looked out the window at my snow covered driveway, and then I looked back at that little message of potential freedom and I considered 5 days in the house with no break for either Leah or me, and I knew I was going to have to shovel that driveway.  I called WW and made Leah a reservation for their Valentine's Day party so I couldn't back out, I dug out my winter coat and boots, got Leah into her snow clothes, and we went out to the shed and got the shovel.  (Yes, I should have done that Tuesday or Wednesday before the snow hit, but I was in denial, even with Dave's prescient advice.)

Leah and Snowy before she got all French Revolution on him

Leah said she wanted to shovel, so I let her go first, but she quickly tired of the activity.  We had gone out and made a snowman on Thursday morning, so she gave me the shovel back, went over and ripped off one of the snowman's arms, and turned him into a pinata and whacked his head clean off. 

My neighbor had been over at some point and dug a little path of about 3 feet from our fence to the driver's side door of my car, and so I started shoveling there.  I stood and looked down the snowy expanse of my driveway and started to think about a lot of things.

When I woke up Friday, I was officially the same age Mike was when he died.  When I woke up Saturday, I was one day older than he ever got to be.  And knowing that those dates were coming gave me some pause to think about what I was going to do with my extra days, however many of them there may be, how I might choose to spend them, how I had spent the preceding ones, who and what had influenced my life and decision making to that point. How far I've come, and how far I still have to go.

I also had thoughts about this house, how much we wanted it, how much we'd put into it, how much work it is.  In the past, one of our neighbors had a small plow attached to a tractor/golf carty type thing and he would come around and plow everyone out.  But that thing apparently died and now he has bad knees, and so he doesn't do it any more.  The neighbors all had to work on Friday, so I was on my own.

And it occurred to me that a year ago, I would have sat inside, snuffling and fuming, and waited for rescue.  But this year, as much as I didn't want to, I was outside with a shovel in my hand.

And so, I began to shovel.  I looked down the driveway, and realized how utterly ridiculous it is that I have an 8 car driveway.  I thought about castigating myself for not parking at the bottom of the driveway so I wouldn't have to shovel so much.  I thought about how out of shape I am and how hard it is to do manual labor of this magnitude.  I thought about shoveling with my mom a few years ago during Snowmageddon and how she's not a part of my life any more and how I'm on my own and what that means.  And for each negative thought I had, I tossed another shovelful of snow to the side.

Leah was cold and asked to go inside, so I got her in and settled with the iPad and a warm drink and went back outside to do some more.  Eventually the negative talk gave way to positive talk.  To thoughts of "I can really do this!  I AM REALLY DOING THIS!" and before I knew it, I was halfway down the driveway.  The county was scraping the roads and had put a nice big snowbank at the end, and I was NOT looking forward to that, but I chose not to allow myself to look that far ahead.  For once, I didn't borrow trouble and get discouraged by obstacles I hadn't faced yet.  I kept moving along.  I thought for a few minutes "I need to get married before next winter so I have a husband to do this" and thought about how when I was married, my husband never did shovel and how it would only be fair to help a partner if ever I choose to have one again.

I chipped away at the snow bank until I finally broke through to the street, and then managed to push aside most of the snow and get it into the drainage ditch so it won't get plowed back onto the driveway and won't cause problems in the street. And then it was done and I was proud of myself.  So very, very proud of myself.


I turned back towards the house each time I was taking a breather and always there was a little face in the window.  Sometimes she would wave to me, sometimes she would just watch, solemnly and silently.  As I neared the end, she banged on the window and cheered me on.

I know that what Leah observed was her mother shoveling snow.  What I hope she saw was that I didn't need help, I didn't wait for rescue, I didn't wait till I was smarter, fitter, prettier, the day was warmer, I felt like it, I was in a good mood, or any of a million other possibilities.  There was a job to be done, and I did it.  I was strong and independent, I didn't give in to doubts or negative self-talk, I took pride in my accomplishment after I finished.  In short, I hope I acted as a competent role model for my beautiful daughter.

An Evening and a Love Affair with Barenaked Ladies

I am friends with music people.  Serious music people.  People who know all kinds of obscure tunes, who post YouTube videos of old music shows and videos I've never heard of.  I have several friends who are DJ's, many who think the best thing to do with their weekends is to go to a show or a festival or a record store.  I admire them all.  I admire their passion for music.  I have discovered a lot of new music through them.  But by and large, to me, music is just more noise in my environment.  I really don't listen to ANYTHING, given much of a chance.  It is the introvert's curse.  I last really paid attention to music in the late 90's, when Savage Garden was still together, Rob Thomas was not yet taking it solo but just chillin' with Matchbox 20, when Train had 1 little hit and called it a day.  About 4 years ago, when we had teenagers in the house, I had no choice but to brush up on more current music, and rediscovered Train, in addition to some other music that I have to say is not half bad, even if it's the most commercial pop available.  I have fond memories of listening to Kelly Clarkson and Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift and Cee Lo Green with Penny.  But by and large, when I left my teens behind, I more or less said Adios! to music beyond what I already liked.  I've kept up with my favorites however, and none more so than my all time favorite band, Barenaked Ladies.

I discovered them in the late 90's when I was working at summer camp after college and, like everyone else, we are all singing If I Had a Million Dollars.  The CD didn't belong to me, it was the camp director's, so I didn't really listen to it all that much as she had other things she wanted to hear.  If I had to fault myself for something musically, it's that when I hear a song I like, I never really go on and listen to anything else the artist does beyond their big hits.  I know exactly one Gotye song.  I know maybe 3 or 4 Lady Gaga songs, yadda yadda.  So I just didn't much bother listening to anything by BNL until a few years later when my sister brought home their "All Their Greatest Hits1991-2001" CD.  And I was totally hooked.  There wasn't a single song on there I didn't love.  If I'm being honest, I think I even stole the CD.

Still, it took a while until I got to see them in concert for the first time.  With the release of Barenaked Ladies Are Me in 2006, they went on tour and came to the Patriot Center in Fairfax, Virginia.  My friend Heather got tickets and 4 of us went, including my sister, and it was my first time seeing BNL in concert.  Steven Page was still with the band and it was magical.  Hearing the songs live, singing them with friends, it all had so much more meaning and just took things to a new level.  We sang for days after that concert.  It was awesome.

In 2011, they came to Celebrate Virginia Live here in Fredericksburg, and I got tickets to that show for me, my sister, Heather, and our new exchange student, Kristin.  Kristin was not terribly impressed, a modern teenager through and through, but for the other three of us it was incredible.  We got "gold level" seating, which at CVL means you can pay to enter into preferred seating and sit anywhere (it cost all of $25!  What a bargain!).  We got second or third row seats, dead center, and it was amazing.  Steven Page had left the band by then and we were all wondering what it would be like without him.  But my friend Emily summed it up succinctly, "Didn't need him."  Although that's probably a bit blunt, and there are times that I do miss his voice on their albums, I have to say, BNL has managed to forge ahead without him as a very strong musical force.

So fast forward to 2013, my life has changed dramatically, and I am really trying to figure some shit out while mainly acting like Brian Wilson (without the drugs and alcohol), and up pops Grinning Streak.  And there seemed to be a lot of songs on the album that spoke to me in the midst of my predicament.  I really took the time to listen to it on my own, and ignored what my friends were saying for the first little bit, formed my own preferences for my favorite songs.  Grinning Streak just came along at the right moment for me.  It was the right album at the right time.

With it came the announcement of the Last Summer on Earth tour.  Initially I didn't see much about DC on there--BNL was going to Columbia, MD (I didn't want to go up there) and then they were going to Virginia Beach, but it was as part of a music festival and I didn't very much feel like doing that either.  So I invited myself to Chicago to see them and in July that's precisely what I did.  It was a significant event in that it was just before the anniversary or Mike's death and the album was really helping me cope with that, but it was also part of re-connecting with Kyle, and he is a music guy, so it was fun to go to the concert with him.  The fans there were awesome--I sat next to a guy for whom this was his 10th BNL concert in a very short amount of time, and every time BNL strummed an opening chord, this guy would throw his arms in the air and scream, no matter what song was playing.  He was really, really nice.  Despite the fact that my feet hurt and it was hot and I didn't especially want to sing and make an idiot of myself in front of Kyle, I just had a blast at that concert.  It was such a great atmosphere (seriously, the midwest is awesome), such a great show, such great music, such great company.  It had been long enough that I hadn't seen BNL in concert that I kind of rediscovered how awesome they were.  They had a British comedian, Boothby Graffoe, open for them, as well as Ben Folds, and that was great.  There was just nothing bad about it.

I got home and I lived off that high for a month or two.  Then I looked at the tour again and discovered Washington DC was added in November.  I called my sister up and asked her if she wanted to go, which of course she did, so I got us tickets and within 3 or 4 days, we were going to see them in DC.  It was one of those serendipitous moments when I happened to catch the tour on time and whatnot, and I started to kind of get into the cult of BNL.  We had dinner at a restaurant across the street from the theater and it was packed to the rafters with BNL fans.  There was one man, maybe 10-15 years older than me, who was really freaking out because the service was slow and he didn't want to miss the show, and we got talking and just really a nice guy despite being a little high strung.  But you kind of find these fellow fans and it all kind of clicks.  I am finding it pretty rare now when I talk to someone for whom it's their first time at a BNL show.  And you listen to people's stories and what the music means to them, and the shows, and it's just incredible.

So that show was great, we called my friend Melissa  in the middle of it because she is a diehard "Odds Are" fan and when they played that song, we recorded it into her voice mail, which made her happy.  And I really thought that would be the end of it.  Somewhere in this time, I started following BNL on Twitter, and although I really, really, REALLY wanted to go over to the UK for their tour there, I didn't.  And then they announced their Canadian tour 2014.  I looked over the list of where they were going to be and spied Kingston.  And it occurred to me that Kingston is not too, too far away from my dad's house.  So I called my dad and said, "Dad!!!  Are you busy the last week in January?  And can we go to Kingston?" and his answer was no and yes respectively, so I told him I wanted to go to the BNL show and he was kind of iffy about it but said he'd go.  They had VIP packages available, so I snapped them up for him, me, Leah, and his girlfriend.  Last week was The Day.  I was so, so so excited.  I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to bring to have autographed, I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to wear, what I wanted to say, how it was going to go...  And I started to pray that no one would wear black.

Because, you see, last summer, we also went backstage to meet Train, my second favorite band, and Leah FREAKED OUT because they were wearing black and she is apparently terrified of people wearing black.  So that was money down the drain!  She climbed up and wrapped herself around my neck so I couldn't breathe or speak, and nothing the band said and nothing I said made any difference.

So, Thursday, we left Dad's around 2:30.  His girlfriend couldn't go due to her chemotherapy schedule and I had been unsuccessful at selling her ticket for the show or even giving it to any number of my friends.  So I just had the thought, "Tonight you can use the extra to make someone's life a little bit better" and I figured the right person would present themselves in some way that I would know to give them a pass.

We got to Kingston and I was on a mission for a while to find some Canadian stuff that I never did manage to find.  We had dinner and headed over to the K Rock Center, and no problem whatsoever--we were in the system, they gave us the passes and we were in.  (This is stark contrast to my experience with LiveNation at the Train concert--I never received my initial email and only with the sheerest of luck did I go over to the concert venue early and discover the meet n greet group, because no one at the venue itself had any idea of what was going on for the VIPs!).  And going to a concert in Canada is a totally different experience, let me also say that.  When I took Leah to see the Fresh Beat Band in November, my bags were searched and I was sent packing with my iPad, and told I couldn't have it with me.  In contrast, the guy manning the door at the KRock center didn't even seem all that concerned that I had a huge tote bag with me full of "stuff", I wasn't searched at all, and they barely glanced at our tickets.  Everyone was unfailingly polite, friendly, and completely unconcerned that I might set off a dirty bomb.  It was eye opening and refreshing.  A reminder of a saner time, it reinforced my growing love affair with Canada.

Me and Leah with Emma from England

So we went over to the VIP area and waited, Dad walked Leah around the center to burn off some energy and at 7 on the dot, we were met by the tour manager and he was prepared to take us 'backstage.'  As we were heading out, I saw a group of 3 ladies next to us and two of them were going backstage and one was not--she said goodbye to her friends and told them to have fun.  I asked her if she didn't have a pass and she did not, so I asked her if she would like one.  She said, "Are you serious?!" and in a perfect little English accent no less.  So I said yes, and I gave her Linda's pass and we walked backstage together.  It turned out she was visiting Orlando, FL from England and had come up to Kingston to visit her friends who were going to the BNL concert.  I asked her if she had seen them before and she said she went to every single show they did in the UK.  I was sure to tell her how totally jealous I was of her.  :)  So it just worked out perfectly that I was able to give her the pass--I got a little English culture and she was a lovely person and it really made me so happy.  She said she would buy me a drink later if I found her, but given that I don't drink, I told her I'd be happy with a photograph for my scrapbook and she happily obliged.  It was just right.  It really was the icing on the cake of my evening.

We were taken to a little area that was cordoned off from the main corridor of the arena.  We were still in the hallway, just behind a beverage cart, sectioned off only by a black curtain.  It was explained to us that the band would come out and stand in front of one section of the curtain, and each "group" would go up and have a group picture taken by the official photographer and then we could break into small groups and the band would come around do autographs and take individual pictures with each of us.  The band came out and everyone applauded, and then my first thought was, "Oh shit."  Because Ed Robertson was wearing a black t-shirt exactly like the one Pat Monahan had been wearing in Charlotte.  Well, there was nothing to do about it, except to wait and see what was going to happen.  On the plus side, I had let Leah bring her stuffed llama with her, which she got as a Christmas present from my dad, so I hoped that might be enough to keep her calm.

So we all formed a queue and each group sure enough got up there and got there picture taken.  When it was our turn, my dad said, "C'mon, Kate, let's get in there."  He was carrying Leah's coat under one arm, and as he stepped forward, Ed said, "You know, sir, if you would just put that little pink coat on, you wouldn't have to carry it."  HAHAHAHA  Then they made the appropriate comments over Leah's llama, which set her at ease, so she wasn't screaming and freaking out and she actually stood for a picture! Hooray!

Now little did I know, my dad had it in his head that BNL was somehow going to offend or insult me or Leah, and he was totally loaded for bear.  You can see he has one arm protectively on my shoulder, totally ready to push Kevin the hell away. But as we walked off, he made the comment, "Hmmm, a nice group of young men." 

So off we went to a different side of the room and after all the groups had their picture taken, sure enough, they split up and came around.  We first met Kevin, and he is easily the quietest so it was a brief encounter.  I had brought a box of Kraft dinner and some boomerangs to have autographed--Boomerang is probably my favorite song on Grinning Streak, and I thought the Kraft dinner and the llama went nicely together.  I was feeling way shy and I didn't have much to say to him and, "My sister's madly in love with you and would probably sell her three children into slavery if you just say yes" didn't seem appropriate.  But Leah, as you can see, picked up the slack nicely :)  And he was very, very nice.  Probably scared of my dad!

Next up was Tyler, and he was awesome too.  I still felt nervous to say much, so I didn't, but he talked to Leah about the llama and signed all our stuff and was really nice and kind.  My dad manned the camera and took actually pretty good shots--we all kept our heads and no one got cut off, so I was very proud of him.  I imagined Tyler would be the easiest to talk to, given that he's so outgoing and a bit crazy on stage, but I was just literally in awe of being around these people, so I just let Leah do the talking.  And she was utterly nonplussed.  See the llama sticking up in the bottom of this picture?  Yeah, she was all about "Look at my llama, mister!"

And then, Ed came over.  Glorious.  I finally had the good sense to ask for a posed photograph with him, and asked him a few things, I don't really remember what.  He asked Leah what her name was, how old she was, and about her llama (and yes, they really do pronounce it lam-uh, not law-muh) and then I asked him for the picture and he was happy to do so, and put his arm right around me, so I put mine around him.  I probably said some crazy shit, I really don't even remember, but I did notice that he sounded kind of sick.  And I was thinking "Well that sucks!" And then it was over.  I thought of a million things I should have said afterwards, but in the heat of the moment, I just froze.  So there you have it.

Finally, Jim came over and him I could actually talk to!!!  Hooray!!!  I always enjoy watching him on stage and told him so, and told him about the other concerts I'd been to in the past few months.  We got talking a bit about Chicago and I said, "remember how it was about 9,000 degrees out there?" and he remembered it very well, but said it was a really fun show to do.  So I asked him for a picture as well and sure enough, he was happy to do it.  And I wished him well on the show and off he went.

It was a really nice backstage experience--15 or 20 minutes, got time with each member of the band, Leah didn't flip out, my dad didn't kill anyone, it was a lot of fun.  So after they all left, we went out and got our seats and listened to Clara Venice and Ladies of the Canyon, the two opening acts, then in fairly short order, the familiar strains of Limits came on and the show started.  The crowd started out pretty tame--a few other people and I jumped out of our seats to dance to Brian Wilson, but they were playing a few slow numbers and Ed did in fact say he had something going on with his throat and he had to take a quick shot of something between each song.  Eventually quite a crowd formed in front of the stage, and unlike Fredericksburg, where we were booted back to our seats, the security there was unimpressed and let us dance to our hearts content, which is what Leah asked me if she could do, so I took her up there.  She was quite a hit!  She was dancing her patoot off, and Jim noticed and played a bit closer to her (she has since declared that he is her favorite.)  Well, she was such a hit in fact that a lady next to us picked her up and tried to put her on stage. This was where security finally drew the line, but they just came over and yelled "no, no, no!" and as soon as Leah's feet were back on the ground, they disappeared again.  And really, Leah wanted NO part of it--she said it scared her.  Still, I don't know too many 4 year olds who can say they were onstage with Train (she was one of the mermaids selected to go onstage during that concert) AND Barenaked Ladies.  :-)

Eventually she wanted to go lay down near my dad, and I had brought ear protectors for her because she cried a lot at the Train concert and I thought she would feel better if she could have peace and quiet.  Sure enough she popped them on and fell asleep.  By the end, everyone was on their feet, even Dad, and cheering and screaming and having a great time.  They did one encore, which Tyler did to preserve Ed's voice, but he has such awesome presence that everyone just went nuts.  It was so much fun!

So what did Dad think?  From his Facebook:

It was a great night for all of us.  We got home around 1AM, even though Dad was so excited he did 80MPH part of the way home.  It was hard to fall asleep, so I checked out the rest of their 2014 tour dates around Canada, but nothing was where it would be terribly easy to get to.  (Not that this is stopping me, mind you!)  The current BNL Twitter statuses are full of scans of Ed's vocal chords, so it's looking like they're taking whatever it is pretty seriously.  Still, I'll keep monitoring the tour listings and I'll just keep on going.  I've been 5 times now, and every single show has been so fun and so different, I can't imagine I won't want to continue.  Meeting fellow fans is as much fun as meeting the band, and I just really, really have enjoyed it, and converting my dad to a fan is an added bonus.  Seeing them in Canada was also really fun!  It was so laid back and cool.  BNL Forever!

Documentary Junkie

When Sicko and Fahrenheit 9/11 came out some years ago, I was introduced to the world of documentaries.  I suppose like many people, I was of the opinion that documentaries were stodgy old pieces of film destined for the History Channel, and all of which had something to do with the Holocaust or wars or something. Over the past year or so, however, with the arrival of Netflix Streaming in my life, I've been going crazy watching a wide variety of wonderful documentaries about all kinds of subjects.  (One of my sister's common refrains was, "Oh God, she's been watching documentaries again.")  I confess that my favorites tend to be about obscure people and 'stuff' or about crime, but I really have enjoyed watching things that I don't even fully understand.  So here's a list of the documentaries I can recommend, some I don't recommend, and information about each.

1.  Dear Zachary: This was the first documentary I watched as I was getting into the documentary genre. It is the story of Dr. Andrew Bagby, who was murdered by his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his son, Zachary.  Andrew's friend Kurt wanted Zachary to know his father as he grew up, but the documentary turned into something more as the story evolved.  It is unbelievably moving, unbelievably tragic, and a true statement of love.

2.  There's Something Wrong With Aunt Diane:  I watched this one very recently. (The link goes directly to the full length movie on Vimeo).  I don't remember it happening, but apparently in 2009, Diane Schuler drove the wrong way on the Taconic State Parkway in New York, causing a fatal crash that killed her, her three nieces, her daughter, and three people in another vehicle. The documentary seeks answers on how an upstanding woman in the community came to be responsible for one of the worst traffic collisions in the history of the area.  The documentary was criticized for being very one-sided, that side being concerned with Diane and her character, as opposed to that of her victims, and I can see that.  Some of the other families did participate, although not the family of her nieces. It was really very interesting.  Not quite as good as Dear Zachary, but compelling nonetheless.

3.  Dreams of a Life:  Joyce Vincent died in her London apartment and no one noticed for 3 years.  For three years, no bills were paid, no rent, her family didn't hear from her, her friends didn't hear from her, she didn't show up for work.  At long last some men were sent to serve her with an eviction notice, battled their way through 3 years worth of accumulated mail, and found her skeleton on the couch in front of the TV which was still on.  How does this happen?  Who was she?  Watch and find out.

4.  The Woman Who Wasn't There:  I've watched this in the last few days since I've been snowed in in Northern New York.  This is the story of Tania Head, a woman who had an absolutely horrific story of survival in the World Trade Center on 9/11.  She went on to be president of a 9/11 survivors' group, organized lots of special events, met with Mayor Giuliani.  But in fact, on 9/11, she was sitting in Barcelona, Spain.  Who she is, why she did it (we'll never know), and how she fooled so many people is a dizzying and riveting film.  It left my shaking my head, wondering why and how?  And it made me angry.

5.  9/11: Loose Change:  Speaking of 9/11, I've got a weird fascination with conspiracy theories and 9/11 conspiracy theories in particular. I know what I experienced on that day, and yet so many people see so many other angles and have so many other ideas about it that I find it compelling viewing.  It took me 3 or 4 tries to get through this, which I think is roundly a piece of crap, but it was interesting to watch in its way.

6.  HH Holmes: America's First Serial Killer:  If you've read Devil in the White City, you've heard of HH Holmes.  I watched this documentary before going to Chicago last year, and frankly, I've never gotten through Devil in the White City, but it's interesting to hear about this guy and what he did in his torture castle in the midst of a major American city.  If you're like me and can't get into the book, watch the documentary.  And be prepared to sleep with the lights on.

7.  Brother's Keeper:  This is the story of 4 brothers in Central New York, not too far from where I am right now.  One morning, three of the four wake up and the fourth is dead.  A murder trial ensued, and one of the brothers was accused of carrying out a mercy killing. This won the audience award at Sundance one year, and it was easy to see why--absolutely compelling as you sift through your own feelings about rural and urban Americans, and those stereotypes.

8.  The Zeitgeist series:  I was first introduced to Zeitgeist by a friend some years ago.  There are three of them now.  The first is easily the most interesting, and I've now seen it a couple of times.  The second is also quite interesting.  The third is not that great.  They are basically conspiracy theory films--the Christ is a myth thing, bankers running the world, and 9/11 conspiracies make up the first of the 3.  Zeitgeist: Addendum and Zeitgeist Moving Forward were the two other additions to the series, and I do admit I find their ideas for an environmentally friendly, strategically planned city to be very interesting.  It's out there but interesting.  You can easily find all 3 on line for free, as well as on Netflix if you have it.

9.  Tent City USA:  This was a documentary about a homeless community which developed under a bridge in Nashville, TN.  The residents had their own rules, they navigated a system that didn't care about them, they were politically active, they attempted to help each other, and the city was populated with a number of very interesting and different people.  Then a flood hit and  wiped out the city, and as you see them being dispersed and how they are treated by virtue of being homeless, it just turns into riveting watching.  I watched this around the holidays when Leah and I volunteered at one of our local soup kitchens and it really made me think a lot about Fredericksburg's considerable homeless population, and our nation's.

10.  Bully:  This is one that made my blood boil.  Not only were the kids who were doing the bullying just ridiculous, but the reaction of administrators was infuriating.  Even when presented with video evidence of how some kids were being physically and emotionally mistreated, administrators continued to deny that anything was wrong.  The parents of children who had committed suicide rather than continue to live through daily harassment at the hands of their classmates were devastating.  I will do whatever I must in the future to prevent that from taking place at the hands of my daughter or to my daughter.  We want a kind society, we make grand speeches about treating everyone the same, but in the end, it doesn't happen, and it starts damned young.

11.  The Queen of Versailles:  Jackie and David Siegel owned the biggest string of timeshares in the United States and they lived lavish lifestyles with the money they'd made from their businesses.  They decided to build the largest, most expensive single family home in the country, just outside Orlando.  But then the economic crisis hit and times got tough.  You can't help but enjoy watching their fall from grace, but also their maneuvering and machinations in their attempt to make it alright again.  This movie is the ultimate in schadenfreude.

12.  Monica and David:  Monica and David are adults with Downs Syndrome who decide to get married.  The story focuses on their drive for independence, the feelings their families have about what is realistic versus what the couple's dreams are, and about their love for each other.  It was very sweet, a really interesting look at Down's Syndrome, and you can't help but root for them.  A wonderful romance.

13.  Shut Up, Little Man!  In 1987, Eddie and Mitch moved into a San Francisco neighborhood occupied by, among others, Peter and Raymond.  Eddie and Mitch began to record cassettes of Peter and Raymond's massive drunken fights and the tapes circulated virally in a pre-internet world.  The film explores who Peter and Raymond are as well as how Eddie and Mitch's cult fame impacted them.

14.  Winnebago Man:  Dubbed "The Angriest Man in the World", Jack Rebney was making a promotional sales video for Winnebago.  The outtakes were somehow retained and shared on VHS, much like Peter and Raymond's audio tapes, and Jack Rebney became a cult hero.  When the video hit YouTube, everything exploded.  The film makers decided to catch up with Jack and find out the whole story.  One of my favorite things I've ever seen.

15.  Resurrect Dead:  Strange tiles have been cropping up around the US and South America bearing messages about Toynbee and Kubrick.  Dubbed "The Toynbee Tiles", and heavily centered in Philadelphia, one filmmaker was determined to find out who was placing them, what they meant, and why.  One of those "truth is stranger than fiction" deals, and just a wonderful documentary.  I'd like to see the DC Toynbee tile if it's still there.  They look to be degrading quickly.

16.  Room 237:  Speaking of Kubrick, take some time to watch this documentary about the many hidden meanings supposedly contained in Stanley Kubrick's The Shining starring Jack Nicholson.  I honestly have no idea what the heck many of these people were talking about, but many, many people have theories about Kubrick's hidden meanings in The Shining.  The theories are as wide ranging as to encompass the genocide of Native Americans, the moon landing, and the Holocaust.  I filed this one under "people have too much damned free time on their hands."

17.  The Achievers:  I have always enjoyed the film The Big Lebowski, although this documentary proves I have nowhere near the passion for it that some do.  This traces the rise of Lebowski Fest and people who are totally devoted to The Big Lebowski.  It made me wish I had such a strong passion for anything, but my passions come and go.

18.  Best Worst Movie:  My friend recommended that I watch this one, a documentary about the enduring love people have for the movie Troll 2, which has a Rotten Tomatoes score of 0 (ZERO).  It focuses on the actors who made it and their experiences, as well as the fans who have continued to love and support the film.  It is a wonderful and fun tribute to anyone who has ever loved a bad movie.  I don't think I'll ever sit through Troll 2 itself, but the documentary was awesome.

19. Waiting for Superman:  A film about how schools are failing our children.  Even remembering this movie makes me so damned depressed I want to scream.  I cried so hard as I watched children who really, really, really WANTED to attend good schools and learn a lot lost out on lotteries.  I felt parents' frustration, and administrators and teachers who didn't have the funds or supplies to do what they could to educate our children.  Our future. It is a ridiculous cycle and while the answers might seem easy, until we put a value on children and education in this country, I don't see that there's going to be any fix.  I recently had a conversation with my daughter's preschool teacher about the possibility of my daughter exhibiting early signs of a learning disability, and although I do sometimes (often) want to move back home, I really don't feel I can leave the school district I'm in, which has excellent resources, until I know for sure what (if anything) my girl is facing.  I think about inner city parents and rural parents who are stuck in circumstances far less ideal who just have nowhere to go and there's not much that can be done.  It's devastating.

20.  An Idiot Abroad:  This isn't so much a documentary as it is a TV series, but it's taking up my every waking moment right now and I didn't want to end on 19, so I'm making it a nice, even 20 with this one.  An Idiot Abroad is a series by Ricky Gervais and his friend Stephen Merchant, whereby they send their friend Karl Pilkington on various journeys around the world in an attempt to broaden his horizons and get him out of England.  I would say Karl is your stereotypical English guy, and his observations are witty, hilarious, and earnest.  I have laughed until I've cried over this.  It is absolutely wonderful.  Karl is lucky in getting to do this travel, but he is so miserable and Ricky and Stephen devise more and more 'side trips' and 'surprises' that really entertain them and infuriate Karl.  So far, I've seen him in China, Mexico, India, Jordan and Israel, and Egypt, and it just delightful.  You MUST watch this.  Seriously.

So I have a few documentaries on my queue for Netflix, including Moving Midway, The Antics Roadshow, The One Percent, and Ken Burns's The Dustbowl.  If you have any suggestions, shoot 'em my way!!!  I would love to hear about them. 

Mike's Birthday

Yesterday, January 21, 2014 would have been Mike's 40th birthday.  At the time of his death, he had been planning his 40th birthday bash for 2 years.  He had a guest list drawn up, a menu selected, there was probably a play list squirreled away for a DJ.  I have no doubt it would have been quite a scene.

Instead, yesterday, we were blanketed with a soft snowstorm.  Leah and I went out in the morning and set off "floating lights" into the sky.  She sent off a pink one and I sent off a green one, our favorite colors.  They went up beautifully and floated away, striking against the gray clouds of the pre-snow morning.

At noon, we ate pepperoni pizza and drank orange soda and after dinner, had a cake and sang Happy Birthday, and Leah blew out a candle.

I spoke to my mother-in-law and father-in-law, who sounded like you'd expect, and Leah gifted them with an actual conversation, which I did not expect, but I think it was pretty great all the way around.  I called my dad, who was aware of the date and the significance, and certain other members of the family were aware of the date and chose to behave badly anyway.  So I had that to deal with, as well as some issues pertaining to completing my master's degree.  I chatted with several friends in the evening, as if there was a conspiracy amongst them to keep me talking, which I so appreciated.  And of course, Epic Mickey demanded some attention--Leah wants to defeat Captain Hook in the worst way, but we are woefully inept gamers.

Those are the facts.  I can't tell you how it felt. The UU had a speaker months ago who said, "If you can put words to something, it loses its truth."  And that's how I feel about all of this.  I write about it, I talk about it, but I can't really put words to all that has happened in any way that gives it meaning for anyone.  I can't say how spending Mike's 40th birthday without him felt. 

I believe the snow was a sign--everyone got a day off due to some cosmic maneuvering on his part and many people celebrated.  Our house was coated in a little blanket from above and we were kept warm and snug.  For once, I didn't mind a snow day.

The Saga of the Dutch Baby

Today's scenario: I decided to make Dutch babies for breakfast (projected recipe time from start making till eating: 20 minutes)...

Leah: I need my stool.
Dot: I don't have a stooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool... And my butt burped.
Me: There is a stool in the basement. And make your butt say excuse me.

Get out needed supplies, everything is good.

Me: Ok, Dot, you are going to whisk the first egg.
Leah (In utter hysteria): BUT I WANNA FRIZZLE AN EGG!
Me: You get to frizzle the second egg, which means you get to frizzle both eggs.
Leah (dries tears, perfectly composed): OK

Then disaster:

Me: Oh, we need eggs. We need to run to the grocery store.

Looking around. No one is dressed.

Me: GET DRESSED, EVERYONE!

Dot puts on dress from Saturday. Leah wears God knows what. We reassemble in the kitchen. No shoes. Dot cannot find her shoes. Leah puts on her shoes. Dot decides to wear a Hello Kitty sneaker and a Mary Jane. I decline to take her out like that and send her upstairs to find her shoes. She picks out one red shoe and one brown shoe.

Me: Eff it.

Elapsed time so far 15 minutes.

Drive to Food Lion.

Dot: CIOCI, I WANT DONUTS. CAN I HAVE DONUTS? I REALLY WANT SOME DONUTS. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Leah: I WANT SPRINKLE DONUTS. ONLY SPRINKLE DONUTS! LET'S GO TO THE DONUT STORE. DONUTS!

Me: Ok, you can get a donut.

Dot grabs a box of Krispy Kremes. A full 12 pack for one kid. Leah freaks out because there are no sprinkle donuts in this store.

Me: Ok, Leah, we will check the bakery in a minute. (Grab nearest dozen eggs I can find, give chase to girls, who are halfway to bakery)

Leah: Nope, no sprinkle donuts. Looks like we're going to the donut store.

Me: We are not going to the donut store. We are making dutch babies.

Leah: BUTIWANNASPRINKLEDONUT.DOTDOTGOTHERDONUTSANDIDIDN'TANDIWANTASPRINKLEDONUTRIGHTNOWORTHEWHOLEDAYWILLBERUINED.

Me: Fine, but we will get you a sprinkle donut at Giant.

Checkout of Food Lion, wrangle both children into the car, drive to Giant. Aren't they re-stocking the damned donuts.

Donut Guy: whistling a merry tune

Me: HALLELUJAH! they have sprinkle donuts!

Buy a sprinkle donut, head home. Get in the house.. (Present elapsed time: 40 minutes)

Dot: We wanna watch SheRa, Cioci, can you put the TV on?

Me (teeth gritted): NO! I am making this Dutch baby. After I finish making it, I will help you out.

Leah: Mama, are you bored waiting for the butter to melt?

ME: No, not really.

Leah: Let's play Chutes and Ladders!!!

Me: OK. As soon as I am done, I will play Chutes and Ladders with you.

Dot: Let's play Jake and the Pirates.

Leah: No, I wanna play Chutes and Ladders.

Dot: let's get out the BounceHouse!

Leah: mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamama, can you get out the bounce house?

Me: OK fine! (Cursing under my breath about permissive parenting, making children happy, this generation)

Get out and set up the bounce house.

Go back to making the Dutch Baby.

A full hour and 10 minutes after we started, did the thing come out of the oven.

Me: You girls want a piece?

Girls: No, we're busy.

Growth

Every morning, Leah comes downstairs, grabs me by the hand and pulls me up, and measures how tall she is against my body.  She falls somewhere between my shoulders and my hips, and seems disturbed by her lack of daily progress.  I want to hug her and tell her not to be in such a hurry, to remind her how she used to fit in my arm just so, how it was all so perfect and how I never put her down, how she didn't walk till she was 16 months old because I carried her everywhere.  And now she has loose teeth, she's getting her hair done, she goes on sleepovers, and I'm registering her for kindergarten this year.  And how a teeny little piece of me curls up and dies with each step towards independence she makes.  I am proud, but it is happening too fast.

But she is not the only one experiencing epic growth in this household.  At the tender age of 38, I am starting to ask my own questions, challenge my own thoughts, and look to my own future.  I wonder if I have the guts to do anything at all.  It has not ever been my situation that I could just do this kind of thing.  But I find myself on the edge of a bunch of different roads, and I'm trying to figure out which way to go.  And there are no maps, signs, or guides that point one direction or another, or give any indication that I will meet with success or failure if I choose that path.

I have been sent and come across many quotes about grief, and one such that recently ambled my way read, "When you lose your parents, you lose your past.  When you lose your spouse, you lose your present.  When you lose your child, you lose your future."  But as a young widow, that isn't true.  In the course of my counseling groups at Hospice, I came to realize that I have lost my future.  Mike and I had a million plans stacked up for "someday".  Vacations, house plans, kids, cars, family issues that would need to be considered and resolved.  I recently came across a folder in Mike's computer with some of those things written down.  Budgets, plans, ideas, schemes. He even had meal plans written out.  It was thoughtful and methodical and planned and measured, in a way only Mike could have done.  And as I read through it all, between the tears, I thought, "None of this has come to matter a bit."

I recently had a phone call with a friend who received our Christmas card.  Upon reading that we had a new car and were putting a new roof on the house, he asked, "So are you putting down roots and planning to stay there?"  And I protested no, no, no, of course not.  But those were words that required some thought.

For most of my adult life, decisions were always made with an eye to what made Mike's life easier.  He was the one who would have a harder time finding a job or independent transportation, so even if I found opportunities for myself that I thought looked interesting, I didn't apply for them, because uprooting from life here in DC would have been incalculably difficult for him.  When we moved here, I was so happy because unlike greater Boston, where we had lived before, things stayed open here, everything was local, and I was actually able to make some friends, something I had not accomplished outside of work in 3 years in Boston.  Mike had friends.  I had acquaintances.


We moved to Fredericksburg in 2005, although we had both pledged never to live on the I95 corridor.  95 was crowded, congested, the worst traffic back ups happened on 95.  But we came to Fredericksburg for our wedding anniversary and fell in love with Old Town, and this just seemed our destiny.  We bought our house with dreams of a big family that never materialized.  We bought a station wagon.  We put in new doors, new windows, new furnace, new air conditioning, new paint.  There were nights, few and far between, when Mike's commute spanned 30 mile (yes, you read that correctly) traffic back ups.  We missed out on plans we had due to traffic.  It would take us 30 minutes to get 5 miles across town.  One memorable night when 95 was jammed and the traffic on Rte 3 collapsed as a result, it took us 45 minutes to get out of the mall parking lot, with a squalling toddler in the backseat.  I was miserable.  I now refuse to leave my neighborhood at certain hours of the day.  It's not worth it.

There are amenities galore here, lots of history, every shop and store you can imagine, a blossoming arts community, wonderful people committed to improve everything from the plight of the local homeless to the deforestation of the city.  There is an outdoor summer concert venue, three movie theaters, the college where I shook hands with future President Obama, and the Children's Museum is opening in 4 months.  The schools are great, the people are fun, the Civil War is still being waged.

"Are you putting down roots?"

No.  It's just not for me.  Greater Washington DC is just not for me.  The more I live here, the more I feel stressed and tired and worn out.  Too much congestion.  Too high a cost of living.  When I weigh the pros and cons, I come to the conclusion that I just don't want to stay here.  I want to go someplace I can take a deep breath and relax every morning, a place I can look forward to whatever's unfolding every day, even if it's mundane.  A place where people aren't overcome by their own importance, where they take some time to appreciate people and nature and not keeping up with the Joneses and the next great vacation where they never totally unplug their phones and computers and tablets, just in case.  I want to live in a world where getting on the interstate every day is not a fact of life. 

I don't know where I want to go.  I know where I do NOT want to go.  New England is not even a remote possibility.  Although I love Mike's family, I could never go back to a place that is so hard to break into.  So impossible to break into.  Going home to Northern New York holds some appeal--it is a great place to raise children, I know people, I understand the way of life.  But I would feel like I had failed in the great big world out there.  The friends with whom I have talked say, "Come here!  Come here!  You will love it here!"  And I might, I really don't know.  I could go to California, Vermont, Illinois, Northern Virginia, Florida, Georgia, and be surrounded by friends who have found their happiness.  But I don't want to live other people's dreams and find out at the end of it that I still haven't done what made me happy.  I could stay here, cocooned in the life I have built, happily surrounded by friends I went out and sought for myself, people who will drop their lives at a moment's notice to go see a movie, eat a meal, let our kids play. 

A few years ago, I went through an Elizabeth Berg phase and happened upon her book "The Year of Pleasures".  In it, she wrote I felt myself trapped in line for a ride I was not nearly ready for, looking back but moving forward in the only direction I could go.  

I didn't ask for this.  But I want it to be an opportunity to change our lives for the better. I am trying to fight off feelings of urgency.  I have nowhere to go, no reason to change at the moment, no promises that life would be better, that the right people are waiting at the end of a geographical rainbow.  There are no promises that I'd get somewhere and love it too.  I wish I could just start driving like Betta Nolan and happen upon the place I'm supposed to be, and the thing I am supposed to do. 

So I will stay here until I come up with a better alternative.  This isn't a giving up or giving in.  I am actively seeking alternatives.  I've begun applying for jobs in farflung locales with exotic names like Waukee and Waikaloa and Seymour.  I dream of the sea . I dream of England.  I dream of adventure.  I dream of peaceful nights and calm days.  I dream of tossing the kid and the cats in the car and moving down the road away from the drama and nonsense that has consumed and fractured my family.  I dream of sending a card that says, "Landed on my feet in Wichita, send the furniture".  I hedge my bets, get more involved in the community here, join, quit, make appointments.  I have some major, major changes coming down the pike in the next 6 months that will make it very difficult to leave just yet. Part of me will hate to leave this house...

What if I wanted to enjoy a memory or a good cry? I wasn't weaned from that yet; I wasn't finished being with him in the only way I had left.

But I know as surely as Leah does that growth is happening, slowly and steadily, and will continue whether I'm ready for it or not.  There is a future out there somewhere and I'm excited for it.  I'm ready for change.  I just need to make a few plans first.

Bakin' A Cake From Scratch

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the four final things on my bucket list was to bake a cake from scratch.  I've made shortcakes and such in the past, but I wanted to bake a layer cake.  A few years ago, there was an episode of Throwdown with Bobby Flay that my friend, Amy, watched--I never saw it myself.  But it was a coconut cake throwdown in Charleston SC.  And coconut cake and coconut pie are my favorites.  (By the by, if you ever find yourself in Chicago when Bang Bang Pie Shop is making its coconut pie, RUN to get a piece, it is to die for.)  Anyway, I don't know much about Bobby Flay, but I decided long ago that if ever I made a coconut cake myself, it was going to be this one, as it is supposed to be the ultimate.  (Having not seen the episode, I don't know if he won or lost the challenge, but the idea is, according to the Food Network website, "Chef Bobby Flay is on a secret mission: to challenge the absolute masters in different kinds of cooking – award-winning BBQers, bakers, pizza makers and more. In each episode, one of these cooks thinks Food Network is shooting their profile for a show. What they don't know is that Bobby is going to drop in for a surprise visit and challenge them to an unexpected cook-off. Since they're in their element and Bobby's out of his, prepare for an exciting, tension-filled competition."

So yesterday was the Downton Abbey premiere, and I decided I would tackle this coconut cake for my traditional little tea party I throw myself each season to celebrate its return to television.  I went to the store Saturday and what I needed (I had to go back on Sunday to get more butter--this recipe needs well over a pound of butter) and after church Sunday, I commenced with making this cake.  Now, prior to starting, I hadn't read the recipe over much other than the ingredient list so I was a little chagrined to find out that it was going to require 6 1/2 hours of my time (I mean, c'mon this is like a 30 minute TV show, and that includes commercials, right!?), especially given that yesterday was Leah's BFF's birthday party.  So I decided to just do what I could before the party and do the rest when we got home, which given that some parts of it required sitting for 4 hours or refrigerating for 2 turned out to be a good choice.  First step was making coconut flavored simple syrup, which was nothing more than boiling a bit of sugar and water and then tossing some coconut in there and letting it sit.  No big deal at all.

I also had to toast some coconut.  The directions were easy, but I was pretty sure I was going to burn it, and that there was no way it was going to work.  But sure enough, it came out just fine.  I even mis-read the directions and left it in the oven an extra 15 minutes and nothing bad happened.

By now, Leah knew something was afoot, so she decided to get involved.  So I included her in making the custard.  Leah LOVES whisking things, and so making custard is right up her alley.  We separated the eggs and then Leah asked if she could do the "frizzling".  I have no idea why on earth she calls whisking frizzling, she even calls a whisk a frizzler, and she happily frizzled away while I heated up the milks.  She also has a great deal more patience than I do, and I swear, when she was done, it was a beautiful thing, so beautifully and thoroughly mixed, I couldn't believe a 4 year old had done it.  I should have taken a picture when it was finished instead of when she started.

My little sous chef

Anyway, there she is sporting the chef hat she got from her grandparents for Christmas.  They sent her a matching apron as well, but she chooses to wear that as a cape and won't wear it for cooking!

We combined our warm milk slowly to temper the eggs and then cooked the whole thing into a beautiful custard.  I was RIGHT on the edge of overcooking it--once it thickened, it thickened quickly.  So if you try this, that is something to beware of.  But by the end of the cooking process, we had a beautiful, yellow custard flecked with vanilla bean seeds.

So then we took a 2 hour break to go to the party and when we came back, we had to bake the actual cake.  This was the part that I was most fixated on, figuring baking a cake would be very challenging.  But really, it was no big deal.  The worst of it was that I mixed up the wet ingredients, and then I was supposed to use the mixer to mix the dry ingredients and butter, but I hadn't read that far ahead. So I had to pour the wet ingredients into a measuring cup, mix up the flour and butter and whatnot, and then slowly add in the wet.  But the batter came together quite easily.  One thing I had to change was that I only used half a vanilla bean, because at $6 per bean, I was only buying one of them.  Half went in the custard and half went in the cake.  So I bumped up the amount of vanilla extract in hopes of compensating.  Secondly, I didn't have 9 inch pans, only 8 inch pans.  So I had to bump up the baking time an extra 10 minutes or so.  I also didn't bother with parchment paper on the pans.  I just greased and floured the hell out of them.  The cakes popped right out.

For some reason, I didn't take a picture of the cakes when they came out of the oven.  I drained the coconut out of the simple syrup and boiled it down some more.  I probably did too much boiling, because by the time I remembered what I was doing, there wasn't too much left, but there was enough for what I needed!

Anyway, after that was done, I had to wash the mixer bowl yet again (my mixer got quite a work out yesterday) and make the filling, which was some of the custard plus heavy cream mixed together.  I probably should have done it a bit longer, as it was pretty loose, but it tasted incredible.  So then I sliced up the cakes in half, smeared the cut sides with the simple syrup, and put custard between the layers for 3 layers in all.

Then I washed the bowl again and made the buttercream.  Unfortunately, although the recipe said the butter should be slightly cold, mine was too cold, and it didn't blend very well with the limited amount of sugar that was called for.  I should have stopped there and let it get a little bit warmer, but I plunged ahead and put the rest of the coconut custard in, and the butter just made wee little butter lumps all through the frosting.  I was not going to make more custard, but I was a little disappointed, so I let it sit out for an hour while I got Leah ready for bed, and then I mixed it again.  The phone rang, it was my dad, and so we chatted, and of course, immediately my friend Andy arrived to watch Downton with me and enjoy tea.  So three things going on at once!  My dad and I agreed to talk the next day, and so Andy and I jabbered while I frosted the cake and pressed the dried coconut onto it.  And voila!  We had coconut cake!

In case you're wondering, I started baking at around 12 noon and finished the cake at 8:45pm.  Interruptions included lunch, birthday party, phone calls, dinner, bedtime for kid.  

So, since the cake had to sit a little while, Andy and I exercised great restraint.  We had our tea first.  I broke out my London mugs, which I'd been waiting for an occasion to use, and I had made curry chicken salad for sandwiches, and caesar salad as a side.  Andy brought fruit.  we set the whole thing up on my daughter's train table to make it extra classy.

It was a lovely meal, although we both admitted to overdoing it on the initial portion, but we bravely soldiered through and ate cake nonetheless.

I got out the good china for the occasion

The cake is a very good cake.  You'll hear no argument from me about that.  Is it the ultimate coconut cake?  I don't know.  Was it worth the time and effort?  I don't know.  Odds are pretty good that I am never going to make it again.  Our local Wegmans makes a delightful coconut cake and in a pinch Pepperidge Farm coconut cake is good too.  So it's a good cake, but it was also very expensive and probably not worth the pay out.  If you have access to a decent coconut cake, skip this and just buy one.

On the other hand, it was a perfect reason to have Andy over and it did match nicely with Downton Abbey and tea. 

It's gotten me thinking about other Food Network recipes.  I think I might try some of the hardest ones listed.  This was really not very difficult.  I imagine maybe someone who isn't totally at ease in the kitchen would have difficulty with tempering the eggs for the custard, but other than that, it was just time consuming, not hard.  One down, three to go.