Hey There, It's Christa!

To Pinterest or Not to Pinterest, That Is the Question...

While I'm a punctual person, even annoyingly so, when it comes to getting somewhere on time, I'm usually a little late to the party when technology—or TV shows—are involved.

Case in point: My "Downton Abbey" season 1 DVDs are (gasp!) still in the plastic, and my copy of The Hunger Games is absolutely pristine because it  hasn't even been cracked open (and yes, I realize I need to get on both of those—pronto).

Just in case you were worried, though, I have moved beyond the rotary phone and don't churn my butter by hand, so that's something, right?

Anyway...

So after a pretty lengthy holdout, I have finally got around to tweeting fairly regularly, and checking my Facebook has pretty much become an involuntary reflex as much as I wish that wasn't the case. But the whole Pinterest phenomenon? Well, I'm still on the fence about that...

Yes, I love recipes and inspiration and travel and all things beautiful, but what's in it for me? Or the world at large? What's so great about this particular social medium, and what exactly is the allure of "pinning things?"

Anyone? Anyone? (Yes, I'm thinking of Ferris Bueller as I'm typing this)...

An Open Letter to the Academy

Dear Academy,

You'd think after the whole James Franco/Anne Hathaway hosting fiasco of last year that I would've been smart enough to at least DVR the Oscars so I can skip through the boring parts.

But considering a bona fide Oscar veteran, Billy Crystal, was taking the reins this time around, well, I was willing to give the whole shebang another chance.

And while I'm thrilled that last night's ceremony wasn't nearly as cringeworthy as the great Franco meltdown of 2011, I still expected more. In fact, if I may be so bold to ask, I'd like my three hours back (I'd say four, but watching E!'s red carpet coverage was my own fault).

Since you went the whole traditional route with selecting Crystal as the host, I wasn't expecting anything laugh-out-loud funny or even edgy in the manner of say, Ricky Gervais. But I didn't think they'd have that stale, just-fished-out-of-mothballs feel either.

Heck, I probably got the biggest kick out of Sasha Baron Cohen dumping Bisquick baking mix all over Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet, and that was a good hour before the Oscars even began. Once the show started, I laughed exactly twice. The first time was when Chris Rock introduced the Animation category, and later on, the chuckles came courtesy of Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis playing the cymbals (a cowbell would've been funnier, but hey, I'll take what I could get laughs-wise).

The trouble is, the rest of the show show was downright B-O-R-I-N-G, and when you start out with a technical award that most people don't care about, it sets a bad precedent for the rest of the evening. So in the spirit of being helpful, here are a few suggestions (in no particular order) for future Oscar telecasts.

Stop being so stuffy and give comedy its proper due. I know, I know, you threw Bridesmaids a couple of bones. But everyone knew there was no way Melissa McCarthy was taking home a golden statue for "Best Supporting Actress" when she's up against very deserving "serious" competition like Octavia Spencer. Even as much as I loved last night's big winner, The Artist, it might be nice for the films and actors that everyone loves to get a little recognition, too. After all, being funny isn't exactly easy—just ask the majority of today's modern rom-com screenwriters (yes, I'm calling you out, This Means War).

Axe those superfluous film montages. I get it. You want us to feel all warm and fuzzy about the filmgoing experience. But instead of nostalgic, all you're really doing is making us want to watch those movies instead of this long, boring telecast that highlights flicks most people haven't bothered watching yet.

And while you're at it...As much as I'd like to get excited about the "Best Art Direction" and "Best Sound Editing" categories, I just can't, and I'm sure I'm not alone. Why not save these awards for the pre-telecast and save some major minutes?

Fire the stylists. I know the fashion part of the show isn't technically in your jurisdiction, but work with me for a second. How much fun would the Oscars be if these Hollywood folks dressed themselves? Leave them to their own styling, and the show would probably be 1,453% more interesting. Take Meryl Streep for example. There's no way a stylist would let her leave the house in what she wore to the Golden Globes, SAG Awards, even last night when she was channeling Frieda from ABBA. So how much fun would it be if everyone had the same freedom? I'm guessing the outfits would've made for far more exciting watercooler chatter...

Limit the "Best Picture" nominees to 5. Nine is exactly four too many.

I'm sure if I gave it more thought, I could've come up with a few more surefire ways to improve the annual tradition of Hollywood honoring Hollywood, but I'm afraid I'm out of ideas for now. All I can say is, aside from the color of Penelope Cruz's dress and Octavia's teary acceptance speech, there wasn't much that was inspiring about The Oscars.

One can only hope that'll change soon because I promise, I won't be fooled again. No matter who's hosting, I'll be DVRing, Academy, because Sunday nights are a precious commodity.

Sincerely,

Christa Banister, disgrunted entertainment critic

P.S. Could you please send Angelina a sandwich? She looked particularly hungry last night.

 

You'd Think Being Nice During Communion Was a No-Brainer But...

If you're within 100 feet of, say, Gordon Ramsey, it wouldn't exactly be surprising if he barked at you for any number of reasons—justified and otherwise.

But when you're at church taking Communion of all things, you'd expect people, especially church leadership, to have a certain sense of decorum during this most sacred of moments.

Right?

Well, apparently, I was wrong. Big time. We had Communion at church yesterday, and after taking my cracker from the plate passed to me from the right, I passed it left, only to discover that the young woman sitting next to me was already holding a silver plate of her own. Laughing for a second at this funny little coincidence, I decided it was probably best to hold my plate until somebody came by to pick it up.

As I waited for the next step, though, I was quickly—and quite loudly—informed by the Gordon Ramsey of Communion that I needed to PASS THE PLATE immediately. I tried explaining how everyone, to the left and right of me, had already gotten their bread, but he didn't seem to care in the least. Instead, he shot me the look of death, refused to take my plate and probably walked away thinking I was basically the dumbest person on the planet.

Not taking kindly to a complete stranger being so rude to his wife—at CHURCH of all places—my hubby immediately walked to the back to have a word with the guy. But instead of offering a simple "I'm sorry" for the misunderstanding, the Communion dictator was only intent on ending the conversation as soon as possible, lest anyone nearby get wind of it.

For whatever reason, he didn't think he was even remotely out of line because he "has a responsibility to make sure 3,000 people have their Communion elements" and "some people just don't know what to do when the plate is passed."

Yeah, that "someone" is me, apparently, although last time I checked, you didn't need to be a Mensa candidate to know how to properly pass a Communion plate.

If anything, the whole situation just left me cold. While I'll, no doubt, forget about this soon enough, what if I'd never been to church before, and this was my first impression of how Christians in leadership behaved? And really, aren't you missing the point of Communion, and even going to church, if you're freaking out about something as small as a plate not being passed in what you believe is a timely manner?

Plus, if someone thinks you're being rude, isn't the right course of action to say you're sorry, rather than school someone on your "responsibility?" The last time I checked, the mission of anyone working in church leadership is to serve, not reprimand.

These are just the sorts of instances that give Christians, not to mention church, a bad reputation. You'd think being nice during Communion was a no-brainer, but I guess it's not. Really, one can only hope this guy will chill out and get his act together before souring someone else's Sunday morning. Or at least train his staff better so two plates don't (gasp!) end up in the same row.

Grammys 2012: The Good, the Bad, the Truly Bizarre

It's been happening for a while now, but it wasn't until last night that it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks...

I'm getting O-L-D.

If anything stuck out about last night's Grammys, it's that there's now a pretty sizable disparity between what the masses apparently think is cool (Chris Brown and glowsticks, anyone?) and what I happen to enjoy.

In fact, it wasn't long before I was (gasp!) slipping into grumpy ol' mother territory. Not only did I think that Fergie should've been ordered to put an actual dress over the orange see-through lace contraption she was wearing, but that someone (her publicist, stylist, manager, mother, anyone really) should've let Katy Perry know that her promotional obligations for the Smurfs movie were actually over last summer.

Let's just say that I don't think blue's her color, whether it was the sky blue sparkly variety she sported on the red carpet or the hair that looked roughly the shade of anti-freeze when pinned up or like the Cookie monster's rather unfortunate gal pal when it was all bobbed and crimped.

While we're on the subject of the former Mrs. Brand, don't even get me going on that "song" she lip-synced. How she has five #1 singles from Teenage Dream is an absolute head-scratcher—can someone please explain her allure to me? And no, your answer can't include anything about her costumes' bonus features...

While the Perry performance was awkward, however, "awkward" would've been a flattering description of the whole Nicki Minaj performance/exorcism. Who knew that Lady Gaga showing up as an egg last year would seem downright normal in comparison?

What also could be classified as a total Grammy #fail is giving Chris Brown not one, but two performing slots. Seriously, when did beating up your girlfriend suddenly become okay? I'm all for forgiving and forgetting, but shining the spotlight on this guy is just plain uncool. Wait at least a decade, and then we'll talk.

Lest you think I'm a total pop culture kill-joy, in a night chock full of misfires, there was a few moments I thoroughly enjoyed. Seeing Adele (rightfully) win all those trophies and giggle her way through her acceptance speeches, for one. Being treated to not one, but two doses of Foo Fighters was a total bonus, too. Even Coldplay's somewhat pitchy performance made me smile, while I had to leave the room when Jennifer Hudson started belting out "I Will Always Love You" because I knew I'd tear up big time. My suspicions were confirmed in the privacy of my office today when I watched her sing on YouTube. Yep, I totally needed to fix my raccoon eyes.

Perhaps, the nicest surprise of all was seeing Bon Iver score that "Best New Artist" trophy. While he's not a "new artist" in the least (to wit, he's been making music for more than five years now, illustrious Academy), I was thrilled to pieces when the fellow northern Wisconsite won. Bonus points for giving America's Dairyland a shout-out in your acceptance speech, by the way...

All things considered, I'm (mostly) glad I tuned in, and it provided a few stunning and not-so-stunning revelations to boot. I actually enjoyed the Glen Campbell tribute, something I thought I'd never say. Ditto for the Beach Boys. I also thought LL Cool J did a great job of maintaining a respectful tone as the host, given the surprising change of events with Whitney Houston's unexpected passing.

But in what's been a pretty great year for music these past 12 months, I still couldn't help feeling a little disappointed by the lack of diversity. I mean, did we really need the Carrie Underwood/Tony Bennett duet of big band staple "It Had to Be You?" Was anyone's life really changed by that Bruno Mars performance?

Last but certainly not least, let's talk Taylor Swift for a moment. Now as wonderful as I think it is for young girls to have a fully clothed role model, isn't a standing ovation for her glorified hoedown a bit much? Or am I just much too old to see the inherent genius of Taylor channeling someone probably named Daisy Mae?

Discuss please.

The Green Smoothie Experiment

I like smoothies. Always have, especially when mango is involved.

And after my plan for eating healthier officially went out the window when our fridge suddenly decided it was time to visit the appliance afterlife (the fact that it was Super Bowl week certainly didn't help matters either), I've been trying to gravitate toward more healthy fare ever since.

One of things I keep seeing healthy people consistently rave about are green smoothies. Now I'll be honest, whenever I see one, I instantly start thinking about the nasty green gunge that Rene Russo's character always insisted on drinking in The Thomas Crowne Affair, but I like the idea of them in theory. You get your fruit, your veggies all in one place—sort of like V8 without the unpleasant acid reflux that comes with drinking tomato juice.

Armed with the recipe I saw on a friend of mine's Facebook page, I finally womaned up and decided the only way to know if these green smoothies were the secret to my future well-being was to (gasp!) try one myself. So I put in the banana, the peanut butter, the soy milk, the why-in-the-world-is-this-so-thick Greek yogurt, and it looked pretty good until...

Yep, you guessed it, the spinach.

Since I was making a half recipe, I needed two whole cups of the green stuff. But as I started measuring it out, I thought maybe I'd go just a little shy the first time, so I opted for 1 1/2 instead.

Throwing in some ice for good measure since a lukewarm green smoothie basically sounded like the stomach flu in a glass, I whirled and whirled the mixture around in the blender 'til it looked the right consistency, poured it in a glass, briefly contemplated throwing it down the sink and finally, I drank it.

The verdict? It's not soooo bad, considering you're drinking spinach. I mean, peanut butter makes anything better in my opinion, but I doubt these green smoothies will be on my breakfast menu on a regular basis.

So green smoothie fanatics, is there a way to actually enjoy these or do you just suck it up in the name of good health? Also, are there any add-ins that make the experience a little more tolerable? Really, I'm all ears...

Now That January's Almost a Wrap, Here's a Few Observations...

In a mere six days, the first month of 2012 is officially a wrap (!!!), so while I recover from shock (yeah, aside from the weather, it still feels like it should only be January 10th or so), here's a few random—and I do mean random— observations.

*There's a whopping 10 months (!!!) until the presidential election, and I'm already suffering from major political fatigue. For the record, Facebook isn't exactly helping my cause.

*It's seems a little weird that last year's leaves (yeah, we never quite got around to raking) and a few new flower blooms are already peacefully co-existing in our yard. But you won't hear this Northern girl complaining about the decidedly Spring-like temps. I'm a fan.

*Now let's talk entertainment. Was it just me or was Snow Patrol's new album was a major disappointment? I mean I'm all for switching things up, but Fallen Empires sounds like something from an entirely different band. Thankfully, the same can't be said for the latest from Kathleen Edwards. Amazing stuff.

*I also had higher hopes for "Alcatraz," namely that it might help fill the LOST void. But aside from Hurley being part of the action, I was pretty underwhelmed by it all. Funny enough, that's how I expected to feel about The Bachelor, but as it turns out, you still can't look the other way with a total trainwreck like Courtney on the loose. I guess that's why it's the guiltiest of all TV pleasures, right?

*Speaking of what's on TV, I think I actually preferred it when Ricky Gervais was a little meaner. One can only hope the upcoming Oscars will be a little more exciting than the Golden Globes were—especially in the fashion department. Almost everyone belonged on the "Worst Dressed" list in my estimation, save for Viola Davis, Elle Macpherson and Octavia Spencer.

*And from TV to sports, it's been nearly two weeks, and I'm still bummed about the Packers losing to the Giants. I can only imagine how bad the 49ers fans are feelin' this week. Sigh.

*Last, but certainly not least, I've noticed something not all that surprising about New Year's resolutions. When you're not eating out all the time and regularly baking Christmas cookies, it's actually possible to eat healthier (quelle surprise!). Now here's hoping all that chocolate available in February won't derail the good progress in January...

Now that all my ranting and raving is over, I'd love to hear from you—what's gotten the thumbs up or down from you this January?

Book Comment: "Then Again" by Diane Keaton

Truth be told, most celebrity biographies are the literary equivalent of a magazine cover that's been Photoshopped to death.

Instead of tastefully showcasing someone as he/she really is, all the imperfections are buffed and buffed until the subject is rendered virtually unrecognizable (read: barely human).

Thankfully, that's not the approach Diane Keaton chose for autobiography, Then Again. Rather than focusing solely on carefully selected moments of her life and storied career (although there's plenty about that, from Annie Hall to Something's Gotta Give), it's really more of an inside look on how she became the person she is today.

Naturally, her family plays a starring role, and we get to know them very well—especially her Mom, who Diane was close to in health and sickness. And since Diane's mom never had an expansive platform to share her thoughts and feelings with the world around her like her daughter has, Diane showcases her journals, musings and poems in her book, a nice way to honor the woman who not only gave her life, but was one of her biggest supporters through everything.

For those more interested in the never-married actress's love life, Then Again won't let you down in that department either. Without resorting to a Kardashian level of salaciousness,  she tastefully discusses everyone from Woody Allen to Warren Beatty and why gettin' hitched was ultimately never for her.

Last but not least, what's probably my favorite part of the book is when she talks about the two kids she adopted when she was in her (gasp!) 50s. Clearly the true loves of her life, the stories about Duke and Dexter are nothing short of priceless without getting too precious (cue: gag reflex)—the mark of a truly relatable writer.

Rating: *** 1/2 out of 4 stars

Experiencing a Little Bit of Paris in DFW...

You know it's been a good day when you come home and your hair still smells like melted butter.

Yes, I think even the Queen of Butter herself, Paula Deen, would've been a little jealous of me today because every single dish I cooked in my "Fast French" cooking class involved her all-time favorite ingredient.

One of the many, many things I loved about Paris was how liberally they used butter in their everyday cooking. From those flaky chocolate croissants I ate every morning to the sole meuniere that was so delectable that I almost forgot that I hated fish, it was pure and utter bliss.

Since I probably won't be making my way back to Paris again for a while, well, unless one of my clients begged me to travel there on assignment (wouldn't that be grand?), you can only imagine how excited I was when my sister signed me up for the next best thing for my birthday present—a French cooking class at Dallas's Sur La Table.

Yes, along with 14 other butter-lovin' Texans, I happily donned an apron and whipped up some truly scrumptious French bistro fare. For the first course, we made these delightful little phyllo cups filled with caramelized onions, thyme and gruyére cheese—something I could totally imagine serving at a fancy dinner party if I were the fancy dinner party givin' type.

Afer that, we went to work on the main course, chicken with tarragon cream sauce and capers. While the chicken itself was tender and delicious, I think I could've probably enjoyed that sauce with just about anything—spooned over pasta or veggies, even straight from the pan. All in all, it's probably a good thing the tasting portions were so petite. Otherwise, the ol' New Year's resolutions regarding good health and nutrition would've gone right out the window.

Yeah, it was that good...

Perhaps, hoping to balance the richness of the aforementioned chicken, we also made a salad. And while the salad greens themselves were practically calorie-free, I'm guessing the warm bacon viniagrette we made for drizzling was not. Ditto for the egg we poached for the top.

By the way, who knew that poaching an egg was so tricky? I always thought it was one of those basic kitchen skills that anyone could do with ease. But alas, mine wasn't nearly as cute as the one our instructor made. Thankfully, I don't really like eggs that aren't in omelet form anyway, so I didn't even give the finished product much of a chance. Maybe it tasted a whole lot better than it looked...one could only hope, anyway.

And French bistro fare wouldn't be complete without a light and airy crepe to end the meal, right? Naturally, I've always enjoyed eating crepes, but as far as making them goes, they always seemed like a far more tempermental pancake. But if one has the right equipment, which is apparently a small non-stick skillet called a Scanpan, it's a whole, whole lot easier.

For these particular crepes, we made an orange-infused sauce and garnished them with a small scoop of Blue Bell vanilla and orange segements on top, a killer combination for what was quite a meal to remember—butter-scented hair and all.

Incidentally, on my actual birthday, I got another enticing slice of Paris when Will took me to Toulouse for the most delicious brunch I've ever had in DFW. Not only does the restaurant have all the details of French decor mastered (it's a dead ringer for this charming little place called Lou Lou that we dined at in Paris), but the food was insanely delicious to boot.

After all, who wouldn't love a place with New Orleans-style beignets with cappuccino sauce? It was basically like having the most mouthwatering mini-donut and morning coffee in the same bite. If that wasn't enough to tickle our tastebuds, the spinach, onion and gruyére omelet with roasted potatoes and a side of bacon pretty much did the trick.

In fact, if it weren't for the lack of French-speaking waitstaff and fellow diners, I would've thought Will and I were back in grand ol' Paris because the food totally brought us back to that vacation of our dreams—without the nasty jetlag, of course—bonus!

So Long, Farewell, 2011...

In the beginning, I wasn't so sure that 2011 and I were ever going to get along...

While it naturally takes a couple of days to get up to speed with writing the new year on your checks (and yes, I still write checks—sooo old school, I know), I was still using 2010 in June, which might explain why this year felt like it whizzed by so quickly.

But whatever the reason 2011 felt so incredibly short, despite the blistering hot, record-setting summer that I was sure was never going to end, a quick glance through my dayplanner (a New Year's Eve ritual of mine) revealed that it was truly an eventful year—and not just on the work front (although I'm very thankful for how crazy that was, too, given the rather challenging climate for freelance writers these days).

So as we say "so long, farewell" to 2011 (and here's hoping I get onboard with 2012 pronto), I'm so incredibly grateful for so many amazing family memories this past year, for good health and great friends, for such gorgeous glimpses of brand new places (like in the picture on the left) with my illustrious hubby by my side. And most of all, I thankful for new mercies every morning and breath in my lungs. It's truly a wonderful life—and I wish the same to all of you in 2012.

Love, Christa

P.S. Here's hoping that 2012 doesn't end up shaking out like its horrible John Cusack movie namesake. Yikes.

The Art of Writing the Annual Christmas Letter...

Ok, so it's a little late for this year (well, unless you prefer your correspondence to arrive a little closer to New Year's Day), but this article with tips on writing the annual family Christmas letter seriously cracked me up.

Notice how many times "Don't brag" shows up? Yeah, I think that's a pretty great rule of thumb, along with "don't try to get a whole year into a page," "keep it light" and "don't use it as a catalog for a home-based business."