Resolutions in March

Most people tend to make resolutions once a year for New Year’s. But studies show that most people also break these resolutions before February even begins.

Instead, I like to space making resolutions out. I reassess and make resolutions for my birthday in April, the Jewish New Year (which typically falls in September), and the traditional New Year’s Eve.

However, this year, I have been too stressed over suddenly needing to move Home that I just put off the idea of making resolutions.

It’s an adjustment, is my answer to people who ask what it’s like to move back Home as a young professional adult.

Having skipped 2011 NYE resolutions, I’m working to get a head start on my birthday.

These resolutions are much more complicated, being tied to an age. I’ve always been a bit sensitive about my age — but not in the traditional manner.

As a kid, people always commented on how mature I was. The way I explain it, I grew up quickly and took on adult responsibilities and challenges early in life that made me a stronger person. I also worked all through high school and college.

Still, the “you’re just a kid” attitude associated with being in one’s 20s is irksome.

(Well, here’s the deal. In a month, I turn 29, the age when the average woman starts feeling old. And, yes, I may be once again living at Home, but I’m no kid. I’m a capable professional woman.)

And at least I’m not alone in having to move home, according to the New York Times and Times Magazine.

So, I’ve started praying again. And not just because I could really use G-d’s help after a run of difficult challenges, but because I remember being really happy as a kid during morning T’fillot.

(T’fillot means prayer in Hebrew. I went to a Jewish day school and some incredibly fond memories. Once we learned the Hebrew alphabet, our parents presented us with our own prayer books they’d decorated. Parents spent months working on these beautiful covers — I still remember the ballet shoes on my best friend J’s. We were six.)

All this praying gets me thinking about what I really want out of life — my purpose. It’s something I’ve considered a fluid concept before.

And now, as I find myself not where I thought I would be, I start to think about what I want.

The 20s stigma won’t apply much longer, as I’m now a month before my 29th birthday, something not lost on my resolutions. I resolve that I want:

• to design events
• to write books, articles and a personal blog
• to be a wife and a mother 
  (What did you expect? No comment, really? It may not be “PC” to say, but I’m excited to be a wife. I don’t just want to get married for the sake of it. I want to fall in love and marry my best friend, just like every other nice Jewish girl. And then I want to have kids. I’ve got time, but I like to plan ahead.)

Oh yeah, and I don't really want to be living back at Home or be in debt. And I'd like to be healthy and happy.

So, is that too much?

It’s not like I think I can just magic it all into place. I know it’ll take hard work — all of it. I’m working on a plan.

With years of journalism writing experience, I find it more difficult to write about myself. But that’s why I’m committing to by resuming this blog.

In Nosy Parker, I will share my (sometimes turbulent) journey of personal and professional growth, sprinkled with favorite recipes, projects and more.

Emerald Beaut Holiday Surprise

Emerald Beauts -- possibly one of the juiciest, most crisp and delicious summer fruits I've had the pleasure of enjoying. What elevates these green-skinned, late summer plums is that the skin isn't sour! The cool, crunch of juice and sweetness does not suffer the insult of a sour skin, like so many other plums.

My mom and I first discovered these treats on a relaxing jaunt through Truckee's farmers' market while on vacation several summers ago. Returning home, we discovered our new favorite fruit had a very short season and limited availability. A lifelong patron of local Bay Area farmers' markets, I was not dissuaded and have turned it into an annual hunt.

This year, I got a big bag of them and decided to experiment in the kitchen with the goal of creating a lovely surprise for when my mom returned from her extended adventures in Italy. I washed and quartered a huge batch, sprinkled them with a touch of lemon juice and a pinch of sugar and tucked them away in my freezer. I brought the frozen fruit home for Thanksgiving and researched my culinary options. Favorites among the research include a spectacularly colorful "Red Leaf and Basil Salad with Emeral Beaut and Moyer Plums and a Fig-Balsamic Vinaigrette" and the oh-so-comforting "Emerald Beaut Plum Crumble."

These Emerald Beauts had become more than just fruit to me, they were like golden bits of summer brightening my palate. I sought culinary advice from several home cooks I admire (thank you More Diane and Julie!), and ended up making a galette as well as jam so I could fully enjoy the naked flavors. I followed these relatively simple Plum Galette and Plum Jam recipes. Next time I will use finer cornmeal and fruit that has not been frozen, but the end result was just right -- not overly sweet, but a delicious testament to the Emerald Beaut. We gobbled up the galette in no time, but the jam has been lovely on toast!

Where's the Line?

Where do you draw the line? The line between what you share about yourself online and what you keep private.

I believe in the careful communications recommended in a recent U.S. News article; and I also agree that those pictures don’t matter as much as you think. I applaud Penelope Trunk’s bravery in sharing her sometimes-controversial personal life with the world on her blog, Brazen Careerist.

So where do I draw my line? I’m a freelance writer and editor looking for new full-time opportunities. I’m a volunteer and a leader in my community. I’m a single, Jewish woman hoping to find her soul mate and have a family. I grew up in the Bay Area as the only child of a single mother. I have a sweet dog named Abby and I love to cook and play hostess to my friends. These are all important parts of me. Do I share what’s going on in each part of my life or just share bits with you?

My past writing was typically news- or feature-article-based or marketing-driven. My opinion had nothing to do with it. But Nosy Parker. Now that’s different. That’s me – my life, my opinion. So I’m going to be open and honest and share with you what’s on my mind.

When a Puddle Is More Than Just a Puddle. Or Is It?

I often wonder about strange things, usually in a quick succession of questions. As the flow chart unravels itself in my mind, I consider how it is that I think about such weird things. And I wonder if anyone else wonders about these things. I generally conclude that's it's highly unlikely anyone else could possibly have such bizarre thought processes, at least not in the same minute detail that I do. I tried to explain this concern to a friend, who asked for an example. Here's what I told her:

There's this very large puddle on a city corner across the street from The San Francisco Chronicle (where I worked as a writer/editor/project manager when I wrote this).

I pass this puddle rather frequently. Not daily, but frequently. And every time I pass by, there it is. The puddle is there during the rainy season, as expected, but the puddle is also there during the summer, when there is much less rain. I should clarify here that I live in San Francisco and so there is really not all that much rain. This, I guess, is part of the reason that the puddle interests me. It seems to survive despite no clear source. First let me tell you that this is not the sort of puddle you would want to splash around in. On the contrary, this is the sort of stagnant water that you might consider crossing the street just so that you don't have to risk the smell of it infecting your nasal passages. Or G-d forbid, that you should fall into it for any reason.

Anyway, I get to thinking about this puddle and I wonder...

How did the puddle get there? What makes the puddle so large? Why is it so smelly? And such an odd color? What went into? What feeds it? I want to know the source of it, what is the root cause. It is too dirty looking to be just rain and some general street dirt. Plus, there really isn't enough rain. I don't see any obvious drainage from pipes. And wouldn't that be illegal anyway. Has anyone ever inquired about this puddle to some public health official? Does anyone ever walk through it? Or does everyone, myself included, always walk around it? I wonder what it smells like? Worse, what would it taste like? And would it make you sick if you tasted it? What if you were dying of dehydration? Then, would it behoove you to drink from this strange street puddle?

And the random string of thoughts continue. Why? What? Who? Like rapid fire, the morsels of fragmented thought zing through my brain like they're late to get somewhere important.

Happiness is...

Happiness is... a stray flower found in the elevator.