Language is something that fascinates me. I started taking French when I was 11 and then continued all the way through college, spending a combined two years in various francophone countries. Through the process of learning French, I began to learn Latin roots much better than I ever had while learning English–something that helped me greatly with my memorization of the Periodic Table, along with all of those stupid standardized test that require you to know obscure details about the English language and its ridiculous grammar.

More than that, however, learning a second language made me curious about all word origins (aka etymology). It also helped me to be able to express myself even more precisely…at least when speaking to someone who also knows English and French. There are words that in both languages that just can’t be translated perfectly. In French, there are two different forms of the verb “to know” which allow one to be extremely precise when speaking of “knowing” something. In English, we have gerunds…something I greatly miss when I’m speaking French.

I was having a conversation once with someone who speaks both English and French and in the middle of the thought I was sharing in English, I through in the French term chez moi. I then commented on how much I loved that I could use that term knowing he would understand exactly what I meant. Now, I know most of you have seen chez used in restaurant or retail store names at some point in time, and a lot of people know that it means something along the lines of someone’s home. However, in this context, what I was expressing was something akin to “in my skin” or “in my mind”. This was one of those instances where there wasn’t a really good translation for what I was expressing…leading me to comment on my appreciation of the fact that this person spoke both languages.

He then asked me if I knew what the term ideolect meant. From my etymological skills I could derive the word from its parts. Idio- having to do with oneself and -lect having to do with language, but it was a term I had never before heard. The definition of idiolect is “the speech of an individual, considered as a linguistic pattern unique among speakers of his or her language or dialect” and this led us to a conversation about how we all use words to which we attach our own very specific meanings.

Essentially, we each have our own language. Even if you and I both speak English, when I use the word expensive, I don’t necessarily mean the same thing you do when you use the same word. Now, with certain words it’s easy enough to dig deeper and gain a full understanding, but there are some words where it just isn’t. For instance, when I think of the word love, there are so many thoughts and emotions behind that one word and there’s no way for me to transfer all of that knowledge to another person so that he or she can perfectly understand what I mean.

For the most part, this is not incredibly problematic, but at times it can be. Language, after all, is just a medium that allows us to communicate and express ourselves and is in no way perfect. So, when it comes to trivial matters, the precision of our ability to express ourselves is not that important. It’s in the not-so-trivial situations that we really have to be thoughtful about what we say and how we say it.

Yes, I realize that this whole blog post reveals just how nerdy I can be, but really I could spend hours pontificating on the subject, so I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job at keeping this post to a minimum, even though it is rather lengthy and there are no pictures.

Feb. 24 – I love language and communication.

No, this post isn’t about musicals.

For those of you who don’t know about my recent past, I moved to Utah mid-2006 after deciding that I didn’t want to get married to the person I was going to marry. While it was my decision, I was heartbroken and an emotional disaster for various reasons. I was also broke. I don’t know if any of you have been through something like this, but it can leave you quite unsure of yourself, and so the prospect of getting a job after leaving one that I loved so much was daunting.

Enter my darling friend, Debbie. At the time, she was the landlord of two rental properties in SoPro (an area of P-town), and like the smart woman that she is, she included cleaning as part of the rent ensuring that her houses–one of which was occupied by five guys–would get cleaned at least twice a month. She was looking for a cleaning lady and she offered me the job. I took it and enjoyed the four hours a week I spent working out all of my anger on the floors, toilets, and kitchen sink. I only tell you this so that you understand, when I share with you what I am about to share, that I am not incapable of cleaning, nor do I think myself above it.

For the past 3.5 years, I have been living in a very small studio apartment over my dad’s garage. I realize that when I move to New York, the apartment will be no larger in terms of floor space, but without the encroaching roofline, I’m hoping to get much better use of the space. I digress.

Anyway, for whatever reason I have really struggled to keep this place clean. (And by clean I really me uncluttered. My mother instilled the fear of all things holy in me when it comes to germs and such.) I just have so much stuff and not enough places to put it, on top of which, when I try to figure out how to organize anything I become almost paralyzed with fear that the way I decide to hang my clothes or file my papers will not be “the best way.” It’s kind of ridiculous, really, but totally true and completely embarrassing considering I used to clean houses.

Well, a couple of months ago I was having a conversation with a friend who mentioned that she has someone come clean for her. This particular friend is also in grad school, so for whatever reason, it made me feel not so bad about wanting to hire someone to clean my own apartment. Enter my friend Kristan’s younger sister. She is an undergrad here in P-town and was happy to earn some money putting away my clothes and organizing my papers. Of course, it didn’t take very long for the mess to return once I got pneumonia because I just couldn’t be bothered.

Then, last week just before heading to New York, I received the following text message from her: “Chloe, I was wondering if you needed your cleaning lady to come by this week. Let me know!” It was a dream come true. I texted her back and we set up time for her to come over while I was gone. (While the apartment had mostly returned to its previous state, I did manage to keep the closet organized.)

So, when I got back from New York, closet looked like this:

And my apartment almost looked like this (well worth the money spent):

Having been inspired by the progress that my “cleaning lady” made in just 4.5 hours (yes, it was that bad, and I left her dishes to do, as well), I decided to continue the trend and organize (put away and throw away) the piles of papers all over my coffee table. That and I had to find all of my tax stuff…which was actually neatly stacked in one pile ready for me to go.

So, I love food. This is not new information to anyone that knows me. However, I’m not really a big breakfast person, with the exception of a few family recipes, it just doesn’t do a lot for me. And I rarely like breakfast foods for breakfast…most are just so sweet. Not that I can’t eat sweet in the morning (enter cupcakes left over from the night before), but it just seems wrong that you drizzle sugar all over food that early in the morning and it’s okay. I know eating cake for breakfast is not a good thing, so that’s different. (Yes, I have issues with logic.)

Anyway, as I said, there are some exceptions, like my grandma’s Swedish pancakes, or my sister-in-law’s ebelskivers, or my mom’s popovers. And then there’s eggs benedict. This is a treat so rich (not sweet) that I pretty much only eat once a year…Christmas morning. A tradition that was born the year after my mom died (I think). We didn’t have my mom to make Christmas dinner and we didn’t have any little kids around to force us out of bed super early, so we made Christmas brunch and then proceeded to open presents.

Well, this morning my flight left JFK at a time that made lunch impossible and neither Kelly nor I wanted to get up any earlier than necessary, so after some searching online last night, Kelly discovered that Locanda Verde is open early and serves breakfast until 11:00 am. We had been there before for dinner and it was delicious, so we assumed breakfast would be good. We were not mistaken.

I debated between a zucchini frittata and this dish I couldn’t pronounce, uova modenese. I asked the waiter which he’d recommend and he said the latter, stating that it was their take on eggs benedict. Well, with that, I was sold, and I was not disappointed.

This is by far and away the best restaurant breakfast I have had in my entire life to date–and despite the fact that I don’t always love breakfast, most people do, so I’ve had a lot of them. The toast (even though it looks a little charred) was crunchy and chewy and everything that Italian bread should be. The eggs were poached to perfection. The tomato hollandaise was something totally unexpected. And the hash with spinach…it sounded questionable; it was anything but.

If you are ever so lucky as to need to be in TriBeCa in the morning, you must go to Locanda Verde.

Feb. 22 – I love eggs benedict…in all of its varieties.

P.S. Don’t judge my crooked pictures. I’m lucky that I am catching up on my blogging and including pictures…I can’t be expected to find time to edit them! Gosh!

Just across from Kelly’s apartment is a Starbucks (which, by the way, describes like 50% of the apartments in New York…well, a Starbucks and/or a Dunkin’ Doughnut). I explained to Kelly that this would be problematic for me if I lived there because I am a Starbucks junkie.

Now, you might wonder what a nice Mormon girl who doesn’t drink coffee would be doing in a Starbucks on a daily basis. Well, I will tell you. She’s getting a venti nonfat with whip hot chocolate. Or sometimes it’s a venti nonfat with whip tan/marble/zebra/tuxedo hot chocolate (I just learned during my visit to the Starbucks here how many ways there are to describe a hot chocolate that is half white chocolate and half dark chocolate). And sometimes I add peppermint.

In general, I am a hot chocolate fan…because I pretty much love anything chocolate. But Starbucks’ is hands down my favorite. I love how dark and bitter it is. There is seriously nothing that compares. Okay. I retract that statement. I do love Max Brenner’s hot chocolate, but that is a decadent treat that I can’t afford on a regular basis and is not nearly as accessible. In fact, this trip to New York was my first ever without a trip to Max Brenner because it just wasn’t in the plans. However, I managed to get my fill of Starbucks to make up for it. Just ask Kelly.

Feb. 21 – I love Starbucks’ hot chocolate. (And if you really knew me, you’d know that I will always ask them to put the mocha syrup on top, which they are always supposed to do, but often don’t…and no, it contains no coffee in it, it’s just the syrup they use to make mochas.)

There were so many. I remember watching Mary Poppins, West Side Story, Guys and Dolls, Carousel, and my favorite at the time, Meet Me in St. Louis. Then, when I was 12, my mom and dad took us to see Les Miserables in San Francisco. It was such an incredible experience to see a live performance. She also took us to see Starlight Express. (If you’ve never heard of it, you are missing out!!!) Anyway, I fell in love with musical theater. And then, last summer in New York, I went to see a few actual plays (no music) and I realized that I don’t even need music to make me enjoy theater. I just love it all and Broadway is the perfect place to enjoy the wonders of the theater.

So, of course, this trip to New York would not have been complete without a visit to the theater. And in fact, I saw a fabulous play , Time Stands Still with Kelly and Sarah, and then I went to see a new musical, Next to Normal, while Sarah and Kelly went to see In the Heights (two different days). And one of my favorite things about seeing live theater is hanging out after to meet the cast…something I didn’t know was possible until Sarah introduced me to the stage door. The other thing I love about it is the possible celebrity sightings…like when Alec Baldwin basically ran into us as we were entering the theater to see Time Stands Still. Just one more reason to love New York.

Feb. 20 – I love Broadway…which means I have to tolerate Times Square!