The Underbelly of Cruising

I’ve been on a cruise ship once, for five days for my job and I didn’t love it. Actually I didn’t even really like it. I love the open water – sailing, boating – but my cruise experience felt like I was trapped in some garish movie theater lobby with the same awful lighting found in most casinos and patterned carpets that only Pucci could find calming. The ports we stopped at weren’t much better, littered as they were with Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville, Señor Frogs, McDonald’s, and Hooters restaurants, no thanks.

Often, I stayed onboard working (in my former life as a publicist), but when I wasn’t on the job, I was observing and intrigued. Noticing the life of the Carnival employee and wondering if this was the way out they’d dreamed of.

It’s no secret that the treatment of entry-level cruise ship employees from developing countries are over-worked and underpaid. The slang term in the industry is sweatships. In my research for this piece, I read numerous articles citing that the average cruise ship employee logs 72 hours in just one week – with just one day scheduled off (which usually doesn’t happen). What I saw while afloat reminded me of the film footage of factory workers from the 1920s – below decks hundreds of workers – mostly from Eastern Europe, Asia, and Latin America – live in cramped dormitory-style rooms.
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Summer Swagger

At our house, summer events are in full force, which means our weekends are loaded with travel and good times. From weddings, graduations, baby showers, and engagement parties to less formal functions like barbecues, reunions, and restaurant openings – you name it; our iCal is reminding us to be there.

Whenever I look at the stack of invites, my first thought generally doesn’t go to, “what do we want to attend” but more along the lines of, “what will I wear?” So, here’s some of the cutest stuff I’ve got my eye on. Hopefully, you’ll find something here that’ll work, whatever the occasion.

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We All Scream, Howdy Hazelnut

Summer is the season for ice cream. Since I only recently unearthed my old-fashioned ice-cream maker; I thought I’d start slow this year by making a classic ice cream flavor.

But the online recipes I found with herb (lavender and basil) and heat (jalapeno and ginger) additions were really over the top.  I’m a fairly straight-forward gal when it comes to the cream…not totally plain vanilla by any stretch, but a combo of vanilla and chocolate taken up a notch by something crunchy is my number one choice.

This recipe for French Vanilla with Toasted Hazelnuts & Nutella Ice Cream (or as I like to call it, Howdy Hazelnut) is a sort of rip from the Hazelnut Chip served at the almighty Graeter’s (alas, this flavor is no longer on its seasonal menu). It’s a stretch to say my version even comes close to competing with this Cincy institution’s pint, but, it’ll do on a sweaty, summer day when you’re dying for a cone.

Sweet (cold) dreams.
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My Other Twin

It recently dawned on me that I don’t write much about my marriage. I mean, I feel like at this point, you know quite a bit about my family (brother, sister, twin, mom and dad, and a bit about my extend family on my husband’s side), but not so much about my husband  – our life and marriage – and I want to talk about that.

But, oddly enough, in order to do that, I have to begin with my first twin – my birth twin…my sister, because figuratively, the second twin in my life is my husband, which I’ll get to later.

My mother found out in her seventh month of pregnancy that she was expecting twins; can you imagine learning that you had just T minus two months to prepare for dos bambinos…in addition to the six-year-old and four-year-old already at home and a husband who was often away on business…and all without a housekeeper, nanny or BlackBerry – my, oh my, how did women do it then? They must have been made of stronger stuff than me, I think I would pass out on the spot.

But, mine not only did it, she did it well. We’ve all grown up to become semi-productive members of society – no criminal records, tattoos, illegal addictions – no judgment if you have any of these, but in my family, any of the aforementioned would’ve been a major faux pas and likely cause years of the silent treatment. So, job well done there, I suppose.

One of the most common life questions I get is – what is it like to be a twin? The simple answer is – I love it, but it’s all I know. For all I know, I’m sitting here this whole time thinking that having a twin sister is fabulous, but really it’s horrible and my non-twin friends feel sorry for me (just a thought).  But it just is. I love her and know her likely more than anyone else on this planet (barring her boyfriend). And vice versa.

The more complex answer is that being a twin and having a partner is so ingrained into my identity as a person – one doesn’t go without the other. I’ve never truly been alone in my life because of this. We aren’t geographically close, but I’ve never flown truly solo or felt like I was going at anything without her full support. She keeps me sane, balanced and calls me out when I need to be called out. I’d like to think I do the same.

I equate marriage to twinship. I looked for a partner that would be with me no matter what, and in return, I’d do the same. That said I always knew that my mate for life and love would know me like my twin. And he does.

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What’s Your Road, Man?

An ode to the season of heat…the ultimate road trippin’ summer set playlist loaded with lots of oldies and some new goodies, perfect for parties or long rides on the open highway…

Load up the iPod, gather your friends, get out the map, throw caution and inhibitions into the wind…Jack Kerouac would be so proud.

Safe travels to you and yours this holiday weekend – happy road trippin’.

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Smart Glass

I’ve always been drawn to glass. From my ridiculous collection of wine goblets and barware to blown glass home accessories and sculptures bursting with vivid pops of color. So what better way to nourish my glass obsession than wearing it?

Kathleen Plate may not be a household name, but her work, Smart Glass, is. This remarkable jewelry line was way ahead of its eco time. She’s cutting edge, creative, and yes, very, very smart.

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Thriller Nights – An MJ Tribute

This was a piece originally posted in April, but I find it only fitting to repost. Rest in peace, MJ. And thank you, for one of the greatest nights of my life. xoox, from danapop to the King of Pop.

Growing up, music was always a pretty big deal in our house (um hello Bruce Springsteen garage door). I remember slumber parties my twin and I hosted where we were embarrassed by my father’s wake up call – usually Stevie Wonder or Rod Stewart blaring through the Bose speakers in the living room at 7 am. Not fun after a night spent gossiping about boys and stuffing ourselves with soda and Pizza Hut and definitely not cool either.

Since music was such an enormous part of our life, it’s no surprise that my first concert would have an amazing back-story. The biggest concert of the year, hands down in 1984 was when Michael Jackson toured with his brothers in what was called The Victory Tour. The first stop of the tour was – you guessed it – Kansas City, Missouri and us folks in the Heartland were such big fans that they had to schedule three performances. You must remember this was at the absolute height of Michael’s career; back when MTV actually aired videos and would show Thriller in its half-hour entirety. All us kids were cuckoo for cocoa puffs over Michael Jackson.
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Yellow Journalism

I wonder what William Randolph Hearst would think about the notion of blogging. Would Ernest Hemingway have traded his typewriter for a laptop with a super fast wireless connection to update his loyal readers with his latest musings…

Went to the cellar. Drank three liters of wine. I lost all track of time. Stopped by Sloppy Joe’s. Had a conversation with some guy, called himself Danny. He showed me the contents of his knapsack. They included an elephant tusk, British pounds, swatches of fabric woven from the Incas and a withered photograph of him as a young boy, sitting in the front seat of his father’s Hudson Hornet. After that, I headed home to pet the cats.

I’ve been thinking about journalism a lot lately. I guess you could say that I’ve been a part of the industry since birth – my father was a print journalist – a reporter in the Army and later a public affairs officer. I loved hearing him talk about covering 1967’s Six- Day War or transporting high-profile prisoners to Ft. Leavenworth. I just knew that I would eventually follow suit. And I did. I graduated in 2000 with my B.S. in Broadcast from the William Allen White School of Journalism at the University of Kansas (on the six-year plan).

I remember my father saying how broadcast was the next step in the industry (it sounds archaic to even say less than a decade later). So, in theory, print bred broadcast (TV and radio), which bred online, which bred blogs. And so it goes.

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Orangette

Just before I started danapop, I was working as a publicist, mostly doing press surrounding restaurant openings. In the course of that work, I discovered a fantastic food blog called Orangette – written by Molly Wizenberg – and it got me…the way she writes about food is extraordinary.

And then, I read Ms. Wizenberg’s (a.k.a. Orangette) book A Homemade Life and found out there were quite a few eerie parallels in our lives. We both lost our fathers suddenly while in our early twenties, both got engaged to the loves of our lives after about a year of dating, twins run in her family as they do in mine (her mother is a twin, I’m a twin), she was raised in Oklahoma City – my parents grew up there and met during high school, married and settled there before my dad joined the Army. It’s sort of uncanny.

So I look at the arrival of Orangette in my life as a turning point; the point where I took the jump. And for that I’ll always be grateful to her – for showing me that it could be as simple as just writing what you want and being true to who you are. I got a chance to interview Molly in between her book tour stops. The Q&A follows…

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Vancouver, How I Love Thee

In less than eight months, the world will know what I know – Vancouver is simply, spectacular. After visiting, I’m not all that surprised that it won the bid to host the 2010 winter Olympics. But, I am however, happy that I discovered it before the rest of the world is introduced, courtesy of NBC.

There’s a lot to adore about VC, BC. First off, it’s clean. Like tap water pouring straight in the glass clean and recycling bins sitting next to almost every trash can in the city clean. And just overall clean living – people running, hiking, kayaking, biking all around town, a nice welcome change from the hours of television and video gaming Americans rationalize as hobbies.

Second, you couldn’t meet nicer folks (bar the staff at Honey, more later). Vancouver’s hospitality held it’s own next to my personal barometer – the hospitality I experienced in Ireland – a country long known for its friendly faces and stories easily and readily shared over pints.

This week’s travel, the pop on Vancouver, British Columbia – my, how I love you! And my, how I could move to you!
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