Apparently there aren’t that many corduroy skirts out this autumn. Boden had a few options, more than I wanted to spend, Patagonia had one, Garnet Hill had one. And White House Black Market had one.  Ultimately that’s what I went for, and a week ago I placed the order online.

That’s when it got a little weird. When I got the email, it said my corduroy skirt was backordered, and there’d been no indication of that on the website. In addition, even though it’d been backordered, they’d charged me for it. So I did something I never do: I called them.

This is where the amazing part starts. When I called, I got a woman named Sharon, who, when looking at my order, agreed it sounded odd. She put me on hold, called the warehouse and got nowhere, got back on the line with me where she apologized, said there wasn’t any information, but she’d contact me if there was any change.

All of this is pretty typical, right? I’ve worked customer service before, and that’s what we’d say to get off the phone. Normally we had our hands about as tied as the customer, and finding out information is hard, takes time, and we’re answering the phone all day. I didn’t expect to hear back.

Except I did. On Monday of this week, Sharon called me to let me know that she still hadn’t tracked down the reason for the weirdness, but she’d talked to her supervisor, and she thought the skirt was being quality-checked. Was there anything else she could do for me? I was too surprised to say anything other than no, and thank you.  I definitely thought that would be the last time I’d hear from her.

But no. On Wednesday I got another call from Sharon to let me know that my skirt was being shipped out that day, and I’d get tracking confirmation by the next day via e-mail. (Which I did, and the skirt will be here this weekend or early next week) (and will hopefully be in my mailbox because I hate going to the post office)

This is amazing customer service. No one does this anymore; I didn’t do this when I worked customer service, and more than anything else, no matter how the skirt works out, Sharon is the number one reason I’ll shop at White House Black Market again. That’s marketing you can’t buy.

I’ve lost a lot of weight recently on Weight Watchers – and I’ve still got a little less than 20 pounds to go – but last weekend I got to the point where the old stuff needed to go and new stuff needed to come in. So I made a spreadsheet, I labeled and categorized it, I tried everything on. I got rid of what didn’t fit and wasn’t worth altering (weeding!), I put aside clothes that still fit my style and just needed a few alterations (repair!), and I made a list of what I needed to make it complete (collection development!)

Then I went shopping at Woodbury Commons here in New York. I didn’t get everything on my list, and I got a few things that weren’t on my list (like a really cute burnt orange dress and a pair of Bally high heels that were on sale for a truly ridiculous amount), but nothing I got wouldn’t fit in with everything else.  It all worked with my color story of mostly grays and blacks, magentas, purples, and teals with the occasional orange and green. It all fit in with my lifestyle – although I have to admit I need to practice walking in 4+ inch heels more before the Ballys get too many outings – and none of them were things I can see myself looking at in six months and weeding out.

And yes, I am a total nerd.

For fun, this is what I ended up getting:

• 1 white buttondown shirt, Thomas Pink, $59 (on the list)
• 1 black and ivory striped cowlneck top, Saks Off Fifth, $20 (on the list)
• 1 purple scoopneck cashmere sweater, Barney’s Co-op, $35 (on the list)
• 1 gray pencil skirt, Ann Taylor, $40 (on the list)
• 1 black tweed pencil skirt, Ann Taylor, $40 (on the list)
• 1 burnt orange jersey dress with bell sleeves, Max Studio, $58 (impulse)
• 1 pair black patent high heels with tortoiseshell heels, Bally, $75 (impulse)

I still need: flat shoes that work with my feet, a casual-fabric skirt like denim or corduroy, t-shirts (both embellished and plain, long-sleeve and short), and a suit in gray or navy.  But what I won’t do is willynilly buy things because I desperately need x item, only to get rid of it a few months down the line because it only goes with one or two things.

(I’m not at all surprised that Crowley is still alive; in the weeks since that episode, I’ve come to suspect there was more at work there, because his death was far too efficient, too quick, and it didn’t ring true.  The question I have is when did Castiel and Crowley ally, and who approached whom?)

Back when I watched Heroes, one of my favorite characters was the character initially known as Horn Rimmed Glasses, who was eventually revealed to not only be an agent but Claire’s adoptive father, and HRG’s most important characteristic was his moral grayness. He did bad things, he was ruthless as hell, but that wasn’t all he was, and his intentions were certainly never really evil. He was morally gray, and I think that’s what Castiel has become in this war. He ended season five resurrected and purified by God, completely certain of his path, but by the time season six began, that had already begun to tarnish and darken as he battled for the future of the human and angelic races. He’d already become ruthless – the way he reached in to touch the soul of the boy using the Rod of Moses was just the first indication; that’s just something Cas wouldn’t have been able to do so easily before, even when faced with the apocalypse.

This ruthlessness has just grown as the season’s gone on, and it’s become more obvious since Sam’s soul was restored. Maybe it’s because with the soulless version of Sam exhibiting his own brand of ruthlessness, Castiel’s was easily overlooked, but I think that’s not the case. Instead, I think Cas is starting to crack. His deals and compromises are catching up with him, and he’s taken his moral grayness all the way to charcoal at this point. It’s overwhelming, and he can’t hide anymore.  He’s going to have to face up to the consequences. Bobby and Sam are doubting him, and while Dean won’t allow himself to, the fact that he has to make himself believe that Castiel made a mistake is just as ominous.

It makes me wonder how the season will end for Castiel. Eventually he’s going to compromise so much that his grace might be beyond repair from anyone other than God himself, and he’s going to fall again. It’s just a matter of when, and given the history of cliffhanger season enders in Supernatural, I wouldn’t be surprised if season six ends with Cas’s status left hanging.

This despite the fact that I don’t take pictures of myself and in fact don’t have the ability to do so – no full-length mirror, roommate is still in bed when I leave for work.

So there aren’t going to be daily outfit posts, and there probably won’t be daily posts, but I’ll be posting throughout the month about the challenges of dealing with only 30 items of clothing, and trying to compose 30 different outfits from that.  I don’t think it’s going to be that much of a challenge to live with a smaller wardrobe – I picked out 30 items in 20 minutes last night, and I didn’t really have to think much about it – but where I will be challenged is coming up with 30 different outfits. I repeat stuff a lot; not every week, but there are outfits I wear several times a month.

Here’s what we’re working with:

Dresses:

- Black cap sleeved cowl-neck black shift dress

- Brown sleeveless thick jersey fit-and-flare dress

- Teal wool jersey fit-and-flare dress

Skirts

- Denim pencil skirt

- Brown tweed pencil skirt

- Orange corduroy a-line skirt

- Black and white tweed miniskirt

Pants

- Distressed straight-leg jeans

- Pale gray wide-leg flannel trousers

- Camel herringbone straight-leg wool trousers

Jackets

- Black blazer

- Navy pinstripe blazer

Tops:

- Blue and white striped boyfriend buttondown

- Gray long sleeve tee

- Purple long sleeve tee

- Pink henley tee

- Dark blue heathered v-neck tee

Sweaters

- Magenta short-sleeved cashmere sweater

- Green cowl-neck short-sleeved sweater

- Teal cowl-neck dolman-sleeved sweater

- Cerise turtleneck sweater

- Brown cardigan with black elbow patches

Shoes

- Red patent wedge heels

- Black leather wedge heels with patent details

- Purple Pumas

- Black croco knee boots

- Brown knee boots

- Brown Frye Harness 12R

Accessories – belts, scarves, tights, jewelry, bags – are unlimited, so I’ll be filling out this list of mostly basics with those. I’m hoping that this will help me get rid of some clothes I don’t need, and figure out new ways of wearing the ones I have. Mostly, I’m hoping this will help me buy a few less pounds of disposable clothing and move towards a closet of fewer but better quality clothing. I think I’m pretty wasteful of both my own money and the resources used to produce clothing, and I’d like to become more conscientious about that in the next 30 days. What do I really need, and what do I just want?

I plan to finish February with a better idea of that.

I haven’t been doing a whole lot of baking lately, actually. In July, I went to Ecuador on vacation and in August I moved from New Jersey to Queens with my new roommate. I’ve baked since I got here, but it’s been stuff I’ve posted before – chocolate spice loaf – made the right way this time, cinnamon chip bread, blue cheese scallion biscuits, toffee blondies – so there hasn’t been a reason to post. And also, I’ve just gotten out of the habit. It happens.

But there is one thing I baked that isn’t on this blog, which is a shame, because it’s a classic, classic recipe from my childhood: snickerdoodles. A lot of people have some kind of variation on this cookie, but as my mother says in her completely unbiased way, a lot of them are pretty bad. This one is not – it’s basically the perfect cinnamon-sugar cookie.

They make about six dozen, which is why we just finished them after having them for a full month – I have excellent tupperware – so this is a great cookie to share. If the guys I work with weren’t on perpetual diets, I would have taken a few dozen to them. Alas.

Snickerdoodles

1 C butter
1 ½ C sugar, more for rolling
2 eggs, beaten
2 ¾ C flour
2 t cream of tartar
1 t baking soda
½ t salt

Cinnamon

Cream butter, sugar and eggs. Set aside. Meanwhile, sift together flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt. Mix with cream mixture until thoroughly combined, and cool in the refrigerator overnight.

When ready to bake, mix sugar and cinnamon to taste in a bowl. Roll dough into balls the size of walnuts, and then dredge in cinnamon-sugar mixture. Place on greased cookie sheets, leaving plenty of room – if the kitchen is warm, the dough will spread out more. Place in a moderate oven – 375° and bake for 9-10 minutes, shifting the cookies from the bottom to the top shelves approximately halfway through.

Let cool completely on wax paper, and then store in an airtight container.

Then, last night when on the phone with Mom, I got asked for my meat vote and promptly said ham. Ham will almost certainly win.

It’ll be accompanied by either green bean casserole, scalloped corn, or asparagus casserole, cranberry salad and riced-and-mashed potatoes.  There will be my requested lemon pie, and pumpkin, and possible a blueberry torte or a mince meat. There will be scads of cookies and candy, and on Christmas morning we’ll have cranberry orange muffins out of a University of Illinois Extension “cookbook” printed on pink paper thirty years ago.

It’s all very Illinois, and home, but there is one piece that I’ve always been sort of curious about: the Christmas Eve toutierie.

Toutierie is, as any food blog will tell you, a French-Canadian meat pie made from ground meat, potatoes and onion served traditionally on either Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve. They’ll also tell you that it’s not just Canadian, but that it’s mainly served in the northeastern parts of the country that border French Canada.

Christmas is in Illinois, which isn’t quite smack-dab in the middle of the country, but it’s close. Yet we’ve made this every year for as long as I can remember, and I’m not sure why. It’s traditional, and tradition doesn’t necessary make sense.

Which is exactly what I think every time I see Jesse Eisenberg’s distinctively arrogant geek-hipster expression behind the neon-green GENIUS. PUNK. BILLIONAIRE. (really now?) on one of The Social Network movie posters. Followed closely by: Why is this not a made-for-tv movie on TBS?

Because don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of dramatic tech industry movies. I am, after all, a former Machead who popped popcorn and made a date to watch the Mac vs. PC epic Pirates of the Silicon Valley. But that featured Noah Wyle, Anthony Michael Hall and Bill Gates crashing rental-car Ferraris. As far as I can tell, The Social Network features Harvard underwear, Jesse Eisenberg being intense and full of himself, and Justin Timberlake.

It doesn’t help that I don’t like Facebook – it’s full of account choking games, connects me with people I would prefer to imagine had been vaporized in a hushed-up nuclear accident, and my parents are on it – or that (given that I live in New York) every new media outlet is shrieking with glee over it, but really: this is a tv movie. That they’re showing in theatres. Which means it’s a tv movie with a hilariously overdramatic soundtrack and line readings that make the actors sound like they’ve mistaken Facebook for the cure for cancer.

I’ll rent it. Maybe.

If I’m really bored.

Or just watch Pirates of the Silicon Valley again.

They’re talking about serialized television, and how networks don’t want serialized television anymore – and I think they’re right about that. Networks, in general, don’t want the Lost, or the Dollhouse. They don’t want shows where missing an episode means missing an essential piece of the puzzle – they don’t, in fact, want television where the premise of the show is the puzzle. And the reason for that is because viewers have grown tired of that particular formula – or at least tired of the way it’s dominated in the past several years. It wasn’t that long ago when it seemed like every new show was a serial, a show that was finite and structured like a novel, and as a form, that kind of tv requires a commitment that can get wearying for the casual tv watcher after several years of it.

What really sticks out for me, though, is this quote from Abrams:

“I’m just less personally interested, naturally interested in non-serialized shows,” Abrams said. “I enjoy the investment and the anticipation and the characters and what’s going to happen… To me that’s the thing that always grabs you. I think they want [serialized stories] too — they just don’t know it. When they talk about stories, stories imply time and progress.”

He’s correct, of course. Stories do imply time and progress, but the mistake he’s making is in assuming that the only way for a story to progress is through the serial format, and that’s not the case at all; if it was, no one would write any fiction that wasn’t in the novel form.

I think that Abrams and Whedon have both forgotten about, or are underestimating the episodic format as a vehicle for stories. It’s true that episodic television has a conflict and a resolution in each episode – it could be a case, a relationship dilemma, whatever – but thinking that  this limits progress in a story indicates that the two of them have forgotten that the most engaging, enthralling part of the story is often not the plot. It’s the characters. And it implies that they’ve forgotten that one of the strengths of good episodic television is the ability to carry at least two stories at once: 1) the episode’s conflict and resolution, and 2) the larger arc, the conflict and resolution that will stretch throughout several episodes or even the entire series.

This can be done explicitly, as in the first and best season of Veronica Mars, where Veronica was solving cases on an episodic basis but was also looking for who killed her best friend Lilly. Or in White Collar, where there’s a case of the week, but there’s also the overarching themes of Kate and the music box. Burn Notice, where Michael Westen spends the first several seasons trying to find out who burned him while taking very odd jobs in Miami.

But it can also be done implicitly, and it can be done well implicitly. I’m thinking Criminal Minds here, particularly. The series is about the case, and the case rarely lasts more than one episode – there are exceptions, of course, especially the Foyet arc of last season. At the same time, the cases and the characters’ reactions to the cases provide a vehicle for growth and progress, and it’s shown. Dr. Spencer Reid is far from being the same man we met. Derek Morgan is far from being the same. All of the characters have changed and grown, and even though Criminal Minds is a procedural that practically defines the standard of episodic television, there is a story there, and one that’s grown over the five years they’ve been on the air. The same can be said of shows like NCIS and CSI. These people have changed throughout the shows’ runs, and that makes them their own kind of stories.

It’s fine if these aren’t the stories that JJ and Whedon want to tell – and if movies are better vehicles for what they want to do, then they should focus on movies – but that doesn’t make the form used to tell these stories less valid. It is, after all, the form that stories have taken on television for many years, and it’s one that still has legs.

See, here’s the thing. It’s Pride Month, which means there’s parades and festivals and articles, and this year in particular you have people coming out. Vanessa Carlton told her audience at Nashville Pride Fest that she’s bi. Christina Aguilera has said she’s bisexual. Cameron Diaz said that she’s been attracted to women, and overwhelmingly the reaction that I’ve seen on the blogs has been twofold. First, yeah, you have the people celebrating, and congratulating the celebrity about coming out…and then you have the other half, the ones who define a celebrity coming out as a form of famewhoring. Particularly if they come out as bi. I mean, really. They don’t really like the same sex; they’re just doing it for attention.

Lovely, people, really.

Beyond the celebrity connection, there’s also been a lot of sneering at the idea of girlcrushing (or…boycrushing, I suppose, I’m not a guy, so I’m not sure what they call it) because it’s totally just a play for attention, and they’re just gay lite, or doing it to make the dudes hot, and they’re trivializing the LGBT cause!

No. Actually. They’re not. I’m a bisexual woman. I figured out I was a bisexual woman because I’d girlcrushed on so many actresses that it made me realize I was actually attracted to women.

I’m also a semi-closeted bisexual woman. I’m out on the internet (and getting more out on the internet as we speak) but I haven’t told my family, and I’m not sure how. And stupid or not, every time a female celebrity comes out as bisexual – whether it’s Vanessa Carlton or Christina Aguilera or Anna Paquin – and has a generally positive reaction, it makes me think I could tell my own mom without it being a huge deal.

Bisexuals are not attention whores. Famous bisexuals are not famewhores. Bisexuals are people who happen to be attracted to both males and females, and frankly, it has nothing to do with you.

Anyway, this is the second buttermilk recipe. The original fruit used in this cake was raspberries, which is actually my favorite fruit to bake with, but the grocery store, being lame, had nothing but blueberries. No matter, it worked just as well, though I’m definitely going to try raspberries.

Blueberry Buttermilk Cake

Via Smitten Kitchen

1 cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon (2 grams) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon (2 grams) baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 stick (56 grams) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup (146 grams) plus 1 1/2 tablespoons (22 grams) sugar, divided
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest (optional)
1 large (57 grams) egg
1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1 cup fresh blueberries (about 5 oz)

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch round cake pan.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt and set aside. In a larger bowl, beat butter and 2/3 cup (146 grams) sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about two minutes, then beat in vanilla and zest, if using. Add egg and beat well.

At low speed, mix in flour mixture in three batches, alternating with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour, and mixing until just combined.Spoon batter into cake pan, smoothing top. Scatter blueberries evenly over top and sprinkle with remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons (22 grams) sugar.

Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool in pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool to warm, 10 to 15 minutes more.