Monthly Archives: December 2012


In the last few days I’ve basically been hit by shadows of my past. And it is beyond weird.

I was at a holiday party by myself, as Chris decided he wasn’t up for going to his own event. I wasn’t going to miss a chance for good free sushi unless I was ill, and I really wanted to see some people, so I hopped in an Uber by myself, sneakers and all. I didn’t find who I was looking for, but I did run into a former co-worker. We started with the routine of catching up on each others’ lives, then she started talking about the company’s shift to being a non-profit.

Me: “That’s so great that you’ve gone for non-profit status! Are you going to become a special purpose corporation?”
Her, laughing: “I don’t know, I just run the awesome parties.”

I felt like I was speaking another language to her, the dialect of the MPA, all economics and policy and budgets. I’m just not that great yet at speaking this new knowledge in lay terms. Stuff to work on.

(Also, the sushi? Awesome.)

Then I had some friends over, one visiting from out of town and two who live in the area and I don’t see often. (And I know at least one of them reads this blog. Hi!) I listened to their mild sexism and wondered how far back I’d have to go to get them out of that framelock. I was tempted to put on MissRepresentation then and there, but instead I tried to set up some new frames.

I was just amazed that I wasn’t willing to let any of it slide. I used to let it slide. I would have been afraid to cause trouble, or I would have mentally chalked it off to ‘guys being guys.’ That fear of not only being the only woman in a room but having to represent all women at once is numbing, and I am slowly moving past it. With citations.

I simultaneously felt like celebrating and bashing my head against the wall in frustration.

In celebration, I’m eating some beautiful Dick Taylor fleur de sel chocolate. I wish you could have some; it would be great in a chocolate panini. Grilled bread and salt and chocolate is a crunchy, glorious combination of tastes, and one I need to make soon in brioche form.

Instead, you get the basic component: bread.

I spent some quality time with a bread proofer recently, and it’s something I’m now in love with. Our house, with three people who have different concepts of what warm is, rarely stays it warm or cool enough for proofing yeasted things. The proofer, being an adorable air sous-vide, lets us have a measure of baking equality in an otherwise disastrous household.

This weekend, after finals are over and the dust settles, I will probably bake a loaf of bread and ponder how far I’ve come. Then it’s time to think about how far I want to go.