Jennifer Jeffrey, Writer & Editor

You Can Find Me in the Dictionary

In the category of "Why didn't I think of this?" is the story of two dudes from the University of Ulster-Belfast who had the brilliant idea of creating an online database of the Oxford English Dictionary and allowing people to buy a word.

The Big Word Project is the result of Paddy + Lee's efforts - a site where you can stake a claim on a word. Any word in the dictionary can be yours for just a buck a letter.

Warning: if you have a word obsession, DON'T GO.

Minutes and hours will slip by as you discover that idiot is linked to this Wikipedia page, while nerd goes to the site of very talented web designer Jenna Roddy (check out her awesome work on Fly & The Great Emotion). You'll find that orgasm goes to BBC Focus, a science and technology monthly, and that return goes to a site created by the Auxilary Markings Club, which tracks esoteric stamps on returned mail.

You'll also find lots of junky links and spam; it's easy enough to avoid those by mousing over the word and looking at the URL so you don't waste time clicking around.

Of course I had to have my own word. A word is the ultimate accessory for a writer, don't you think? I'm Jennifer, and you can find me in the dictionary under X. Slick.

But "the" word, like the perfect shade of lip gloss or a pair of jeans that flatters all the right places, is far more difficult to find than it seems: writer is taken. As is copywriter, by a guy from the UK with a great portfolio. Editor has also been snapped up, but I wasn't too disappointed, because that word is sooo boring.

What is "the one" word that best defines what I do? I tried imagine; it was taken. As was create; ditto for storyteller.

I finally came up with communicator.

Bing! The first line of my resume says: I'm passionate about communication, and I am. At a dinner party a few weeks ago, someone asked me if I felt like it was my duty to "elevate" the dialogue of marketing by using big words. I told him that no, I felt like it was my duty to get the message across by using humor, wit and story, and that I like simple language the best because more people can understand it. He wasn't impressed. Fine.

So I'm a communicator. But: it isn't perfect - I mean, it's not very exciting, right? It's kind of mechanical sounding. It conjures up a vision of a drone behind a keyboard. How-can-the-communicator-help-you-today.

My brain is itching to find a better word, but I can't spend any more time on the Big Word site or I'll never get any work done. The communicator must return to communicating. Ergh, I'm tired of it already.

LINKS:

+ Wired magazine covers the Big Word Project (and notes that Anil Dash is the word "purple."  Hee.)

+ Check the Big Word blog for some fun word play

Hey baby, what's your word?

Obsessions: 20x200, a Jen Bekman Project

ny.07.#34, by Jennifer Sanchez

The farmhouse walls of my childhood were mostly bare, save for a garish painting  made by my mother's cousin Robert that hung above the piano. Against a bright teal background, thick with brush strokes, Robert painted a simple vase, from which protruded the spindly stems of a dozen flowers. The flowers were modeled after a daisy, in colorful shades of red, white and yellow, each oblong petal distinct. At the center of each flower, Robert glued a shiny resin drop - gold, black, or clear - that caught the light and stared back at us, like unseeing eyes.

The painting was so hideous that it was compelling, so ugly that people who walked into the room could scarcely keep their eyes off of it.

It was lucky, I suppose, that we had the painting at all, as my father believed that art was a sign of vaingloriousness at best and the creation of false idols at worst, and thus we were encouraged to decorate the walls with dried flower wreaths instead.

Cousin Robert is no longer with us - bless his heart - and the painting has long since disappeared from the space above the piano. The edict on art at the farmhouse has changed, and now the walls are filled with botanical sketches and family photographs. I asked my mother about Robert's painting when I was home last month, and she vaguely recalled throwing it out at some point. I certainly don't blame her, but I feel an odd longing for another glimpse of its unabashed fugliness.

Which is a very long-winded way of getting to today, and my current obsession with art, and the ways I strive to collect beautiful pieces even though I don't have the cash to become a "real" collector in any sense of the word.

Hemi, by Don Hamerman

Ladies and gentlemen: 20x200, a Jen Bekman Project. Great art for hardly any money. Each week, the project reveals two original prints by an emerging artist: a run of 200 for $20 each, and a run of 20 for $200 each.

20 x 200 isn't news - it has been around since last September - but I wanted to write about it today, because, after following it for months, I love it more than ever. The whole experience - from viewing to purchasing to the pitch-perfect logo - is flawless.

The pieces are fabulous. I don't love them all, thank goodness, but they're always great fun to browse through. The Google Checkout experience is seamless - elegant and more intuitive than PayPal - and makes it easy (too easy?) to buy. Each piece comes packed inside a protective plastic sleeve, in a sturdy envelope, into which is nestled a certificate of authenticity and the edition number.

Every time I purchase one, I feel - well, giddy.

OTHER PLACES I FIND GREAT ART:

Kal Barteski's Tiny Art. I love the way she captures tender thoughts and feelings in these tiny pieces. I bought one a few weeks ago, and what can I say: I love it.

Ork Posters. My current favorite is the grey and yellow San Francisco screen print. Ooh, look - they're making one for Portland later this spring...

Inkdesigner. You never know what you're going to get when you purchase on Etsy - I've had both good experiences and "meh" ones, but that's part of the fun.

Where do you find art online?

Tips for Staying on the Elimination Diet (Day 6 and beyond)

In retrospect, it was a stroke of genius to do this Elimination Diet with other people. There are four of us doing this together, and the group effect has been immeasurably helpful. We stay in touch via e-mail and text messaging, a mixture of hilarity and despair that has kept me on track despite the fat drumsticks of No Caffeine pounding out a deep, gritty rhythm against my temples.

Never underestimate the power of friendly competition to keep you honest. Here’s a random sample of comments from some of the E-Lim-to the-Nation Posse; names have been omitted to protect the innocent. Yo.

Day 2:

I’m really tired and I have the toots and a bad headache. I hope day 3 is better.

Day 4:

I thought about going out tonight. Then I remembered that I can’t drink or eat anything. Boo hoo!

Day 7:

Surviving today. Not sure how. Still on plan.

Day 8:

Holding firm. Potential collapse imminent.

Day 9:

I may have slipped last night…  5 glasses Silverado cab, 2 gorgonzola butter ravioli, 1 slice prime rib, plate of 6 different desserts…

(response) IF YOU GO OUT, GO BIG!

Day 11:

HELL NO I haven’t slipped! I’m an oak.

Day 12:

Two more days! Cakewalk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As you can see, this has been non-stop fun.

My headaches didn’t end until Day 9. Oooh, yeaaaah.

I feel a little sheepish to admit that – wow, caffeine really had one over on me! – but it did. I started feeling more energetic on Day 10, and everything was so much easier and more enjoyable sans the searing pain.

The Elimination Diet, Days 1-5

The human is an amusing creature: as soon as you tell it that it cannot have something, it suddenly discovers that it really, truly, deeply wants that thing. Take this human, for instance. Tell her she cannot have coffee, and watch what happens.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’ve had a once-a-week coffee habit for over three years: one double cappuccino on Monday morning. The rest of the week, I drank tea and loved it.

Until last summer.

It started innocently enough: an iced coffee here or there from the family-owned roastery just minutes from home. They had a drive-through window, so I didn’t have to leave the air-conditioned comfort of my car, and it Tasted. So. Good. One teaspoon of raw sugar, a hint of cream. Yow. As summer turned into fall, I added a cappuccino here and a macchiato there. It amped me up and kept me going, and I cherished every drop.

By December, I was drinking a few shots of espresso every day. I was discovering the joys of Blue Bottle and Phil’z and Ritual.

Whoa, baby.

Did I forget to mention why I switched from coffee to tea in the first place? Coffee puts me on edge; it makes me feel focused and hyper-aware, but also more easily irritated and annoyed. After a few days of successive double shots, my usual mellow nature suddenly feels flinty and explosive, itchy and prone to road rage.

Think that sounds bad? Just try ripping that cup of sweet, hand-roasted goodness out of my bony white hands.

Oh yes, dear reader: THE FIRST FIVE DAYS OF THE ELIMINATION DIET WERE PURE HELL.

Cleanse, Detox, Reset

About once a year, I do some sort of cleanse. I have this notion that it is a good idea to give my digestive system a break from the onslaught of treats that I send its way over the course of a year - from triple cream brie to single vineyard Pinot Noir to Kobe short ribs  - and let it recover a bit.

Every time I do it, I'm so glad I did.  I feel more energetic, healthier, leaner - everything good. Every time I finish a cleanse, I resolve to do it more frequently - every quarter, for instance - but I rarely do. In any case, it has most certainly been a year or longer since I've done a cleanse, and this month seemed like the perfect time. New year, new perspective: time to cleanse. I had plenty of time to think it over in Mexico, while doing backflips in the pool and sipping palomas in the mid-afternoon. By the time I got back, I was ready to go.

Here's what I chose this year: the Elimination Diet. Though it is called a "diet," the main goal is not to lose weight - rather, the idea is to eliminate every known allergen from your body in order to "reset" your system. In theory, you would then begin adding back in one item at a time - dairy, wheat, etc. - in order to see which items your body is sensitive to. I chose the Elimination Diet for a myriad of reasons:  I wanted to follow a couple of my hunches on suspected food sensitivities, but I knew from previous experiences that something too severe would distract me to the point that I wouldn't be able to focus on work. Essentially, I wanted to be able to keep a normal routine and high energy levels throughout while still giving my system a break. This seemed to allow for both.

The parameters of the Elimination Diet are, in summary:

NO:

Dairy
Eggs
Wheat
Soy
Corn
Sugar
Caffeine
Chocolate
Alcohol
Peanuts
Red meat
Processed meats (sausage, etc.)
Shellfish
Sodas or any other soft drinks
Oranges, grapefruits

YES:

Vegetables
Most fruits
Brown rice, quinoa, amaranth, millet
Olive oil, flax oil, almond oil
Nuts & seeds (except for peanuts)
Agave nectar
Organic chicken
Wild caught fish

Doesn't sound terribly hard, does it? After all, I've done cleanses with simply juice, and the mother of all cleanses - The Master Cleanse. This one seemed tame in comparison. I was bummed to give up oranges and grapefruit while they're in season, but it was a loss I could bear.

I decided to do it for a minimum of 14 days, with the option to extend it for longer if I was feeling great.

Ready, set, eliminate!

Next up: this is way harder than it seemed at first.

A Different Look for 2008

I started this blog in January of 2006; two years later, it’s time for a fresh look.

I've always loved painting a room and switching all the artwork around, and it suddenly occurred to me that I could do the same thing with my blog. Why did I wait so long?!

Here are some of the thoughts & inspirations behind the new look:

A fresh take on categories. I’ve decided to organize my content into six categories: people, places, things, methods, experiments and reflections. These categories represent everything that inspires me (people, places and things) and my response to it (methods, experiments and reflections).  I’ll write more about the thoughts behind these categories as the year unfolds.

A fabulous old typewriter. I use this typewriter (in the new banner) as an icon on my business cards and all the collateral I send out to prospective clients; I’ve grown fond of it, and wanted to incorporate it here. I love seeing this old-fashioned hunk of iron and round-topped keys in a digital medium.

Color! For an accent color, I chose Pantone’s “Color of the Year” for 2008, Blue Iris. I have always loved this color. Deep and dramatic, this is the color of a summer sky at midnight; the color of a drapery panel in Marie Antoinette’s bedchamber. In my daydreams, I’m wearing a dress made from yards and yards of inky purple-blue silk, accessorized with an enormous sapphire ring.

Play. This year, I’m giving myself permission to take things less seriously. To explore the world, indulge in bouts of daydreaming and fits of silliness, meander without purpose, seek art in every day, and say “yes” more often. Wanna play?

I have a lot more tweaks to make, and so you'll see little things shifting around over the next few days... oh, and I'll be posting, too. Really & truly.

We, Human Merely Being

I woke up this morning with a tremendous sense of relief.

2007 is over.

I don’t believe that the transition of one year to the next is akin to waving a magic wand, and yet: there is something achingly wonderful about the concept of a New Year. I step out of 2007 as if shedding a skin, stepping across an imaginary threshold and leaving some part of me behind, while something as-yet-undefined begins to take shape.

2008 is a blank book; a bare wall; an empty stage.

Every thought, every word, every action is a stroke in the book, a splash of color on the wall, a blur of movement on the stage. I want to fill this year with intentional acts of generosity and kindness; with unstructured play and exploration; with honesty and courage. To face the unknown with a heart open wide.

I want to believe that this year, everything will be wonderful, and yet I know that it will be filled with both light and shadow. Twelve months from now, some of this year’s pages will be tear-streaked, while some will be spangled with glitter. Some of the acts that grace this stage will be applause-worthy, while others will not. I know. I am often uneasy with the exposed raw nakedness of being human, but this fraught, vulnerable existence becomes more dear to me with each passing year.

There were many hours and days and weeks in 2007 when my heart felt battered and bruised beyond repair, and I thought that I couldn’t bear the sadness of this world, but here I am today: sitting quietly, willing. Still achy and bruised, but turning the page, stepping through the door, opening my palms to the sky.

One of my favorite poems bubbled to the surface of my mind upon waking this morning, and I've been savoring it ever since:

    i thank you god for this most amazing
    day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
    and a blue true dream of sky; for everything
    which is natural which is infinite which is yes

    (i who have died am alive again today
    and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
    day of life and of love and wings; and of the gay
    great happening, illimitably earth)

    how should tasting touching hearing seeing
    breathing any – lifted from the no
    of all nothing – human merely being
    doubt unimaginable you?

    (now the ears of my ears awake and
    the eyes of my eyes are opened)

    - e.e. cummings

Happy {birth} day to 2008, and to you, and to me. Here is to a year full of tasting touching hearing seeing breathing – the joy and the pain, the beauty and the ugly – every bit of it precious beyond belief.

Apples Don’t Pair So Well with Tea

Several weeks ago, staring at my 3-year-old Apple keyboard, I experienced a fit of shame: its formerly gleaming white QWERTY keys were stained by the grime hiding in the swirls that decorate my index and middle and forefinger, the digits that depress the keys hundreds of times each day. Worse, the clear plastic cover that looked so stylish when it was new was now marked with the mundane details of my life: cracker crumbs hiding between the keys, flakes of chocolate nestled down deep, a stray Petra hair – all impervious to the corner of a business card, or a Q-tip, or my fingernail.

This is the life of a writer: tap, tap, tap, translating thoughts into words, ideas into sentences, imagination into paragraphs, one letter at a time.

Dreams and dirt, residing together.

Then I came across this wonderful solution, and one afternoon, I gleefully removed all the keys with the blunt edge of a butter knife, stuck my soiled keyboard into the dishwasher and turned the cycle to ON.

All I Want for Christmas

Friday morning.

The rain is falling in sheets outside my window; car tires make hissing sounds against the pavement as they drive past. I’ve got Moby on the stereo (“If Things Were Perfect” is sooo delicious on a rainy day) and candles flickering on my desk, but there’s no way to escape the to-do list scrawled on a sheet of scrap paper to my left. I’ve been typing away for several hours already this morning (wine label copy, if you must know) and there’s more to do, but I feel grateful that I’m not sitting in traffic.

Indulge me, if you will, in a daydream break.

The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book arrived in the mail yesterday – thick and shiny, with a glossy green cover sporting a gold-embossed butterfly. They’re trying to tempt me to change my zero balance, the sneaky bastards, and for a few moments, I did toy with the notion of dusting off my card and calling the 800-number.

What did I need more: the studded leather trench coat from Burberry (page 21) or the fluffy fur poncho (page 118)? The knee-high Ferragamo boots (page 14) or the sparkly Pucci dress (page 12)? Then common sense prevailed as I remembered that I don’t wear fur, and $11,000 for a trench coat might be a dollar or two more than my budget will allow. But seriously, how many CRAB cookbooks would I need to sell before I could afford those boots?

Then I happened upon page 126, where a picture of an idyllic mountain landscape is superimposed with a tousle-haired man staring broodingly into the camera. “A Slice of Heaven,” the caption read. What are they  selling here, I wondered – a picnic in a grassy meadow with McDreamy?

Feeling Juicy?

Of all the machines and gadgety things I have stashed behind my cupboard doors, this just might be my favorite: a chrome and white Acme SUPREME JUICERator. My mother gave it to me a few years ago; she just happened to have an extra one lying around. That's my mom for you. Look at those red rubber feet! Aren't they adorable?

This is the perfect season for juice; the market is full of the veggies I like best for my favorite juice blend - crisp apples, thick carrots, fat-bottomed beets, dark leafy greens. I've been making juice every day for the past few days; not only is it fast and easy, but it looks and tastes fabulous, and I feel like I'm getting far more nutritional impact than I would from swallowing vitamin tablets or stopping by a juice chain, where the quality of ingredients is questionable, and most of the "smoothies" contain copious amounts of sorbet, ice cream or yogurt, which jacks up the calorie count.

Want to play along? Here's how to do it.

Make Your Own {delicious} Fresh, Organic Juice in 3 Easy Steps

1. Assemble your vegetables. Since this is raw juice, only the best will do. Organic, local, seasonal: you know the drill.

2. Chop them to fit the feeder on your juicer. I don't peel mine; I just give them a good scrub. I want every last molecule of goodness contained in that bowl full of produce, so the skins (and stems, and etc.) go in.