Another tardy blog post, eh? I kicked off 2012 in style. Whoops, did I say "in style"? I meant "in bed". Horrible illness notwithstanding, I managed to spend a little time with family and friends in London before hopping on a plane back to Tangier. Early January in Tangier was exciting, and not just because of the delightful weather. Not one, but two friends, Christopher and Erin, joined me in Morocco for the final week of my vacation. If I described our activities in detail, I would be sitting here on my couch, wasting beautiful Tangier sunshine for the rest of the day. Instead, here is a bulleted list.

I woke up in Wales on Monday morning, looked out the window, and went back to sleep. Here's the thing about working in a school library: whenever a new super-strain of bacteria or virus emerges after circling happily through the kindergartners, it's only a matter of time. Every teacher around you can be hacking and coughing and sneezing and sniffling, but you always think to yourself, "I'll be okay. I wash my hands. I have a giant bottle of hand sanitizer that lives on my desk. If I see a child sneeze on a book, I wipe that book down with germ-killing alcohol. And then spray it with pure ozone. While wearing a biohazard suit. Besides, I have excellent immunity from constant exposure to these things. I eat about ten clementines a day." Well, readers, there comes a point when even the best precautions can no longer protect you from five to ten different versions of the common cold all vying, like tiny gladiators, to battle against your immune system in the grand stadium of your body. One of them is bound to get in.

Tall, dramatic, Lithuanian, and utterly hilarious, Mrs. McGann was everybody's favorite teacher. She made a regular practice of assigning impossibly difficult assignments for the first week of school to weed out those unable or unwilling to work at a rigorous college level. We knew the twelfth grade AP English curriculum, but never could predict how she would deliver each lesson. From choreographed classroom sword fights to riddle-writing, Mrs. McGann kept us on our toes. We adored her.

What's that you say? The holiday season is in full swing and you need something stimulating to work on before you sink into a sick-of-cheesy-songs-in-the-supermarket, blinded-by-tacky-yard-decorations, chocolate-induced seasonal slump? Well then, it's a good thing you're reading my blog. Choose an image from T.S. Eliot's poem "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" and illustrate it through art, audio, video, or any other creative medium.

My last month has been remarkably uneventful and, at times, crushingly boring. Work, work, and then--for good measure--some more work. The weather here has been gorgeous (sunny and warm nearly every day) but sometimes I go several days at a time without feeling the sun on my face for more than five minutes. I arrive at work just after sunrise, and often leave after dark. Go home, eat, fall asleep. Repeat. Haven't written. Haven't drawn. Haven't picked up my mandolin. My camera has been sitting in a desk drawer for three weeks.

On Saturday afternoon I was off to Spain. You might remember from my last post that Eid al-Adha, the Muslim festival which includes sheep sacrifice, was coming up. Well, rather than listen to thousands of dismayed sheep bleating across the city (and smelling them roasting later on) I opted to travel to northern Spain. My goal, San Sebastián, (Donostia in Basque) was only two flights and a three-hour bus ride away. On the first flight I sat next to a young man who had never flown before. Through him, I remembered the wonder of seeing the tops of clouds for the first time. It was great seeing the look in his eyes in the moment when the plane lifted off the runway.

Week fourteen began with Austrians and ended with Germans. I had two delightful Austrian house guests, Sabine and Hans-Peter, who kept me entertained on Monday and Tuesday. Both of them had quit their jobs, bought motorcycles, and embarked on an around-the-world journey. (They took crash courses in motorcycle repair before leaving.) Next up: traveling down the western coast of Africa. Their trip ends, I suppose, when they get tired of traveling and move on to the next thing in their lives. We ate delectable Moroccan food, played with Loki, and had a long, fascinating conversation about the attitude toward the film The Sound of Music in Austria and why most Austrians have never seen it.

I began this post on Sunday morning, sitting in my underwear typing it up. Because, really, being able to lounge around the house in your underwear is one of the nicest perks of living alone. I had woken up an hour earlier, with early-morning sunlight glinting in through my window. Partially because I was rejuvenated from a relaxing weekend in Chefchaouen, and partially because my work week was only four days long, my week started out great. Got lots done in the library, and even managed to begin the planning stages of a new, exciting project in the community.

"The only things they trust are the racing ships Posiedon gave, to sail the deep blue see like white wings in the sky, or a flashing thought." (The Odyssey) One of the perks of working in a school is getting to hear children say all sorts of silly things. Students at AST (especially the kindergartners) are fond of exclaiming, "Oh my God!" at the drop of a hat, for instance. Talking about volcanoes? "Oh my God!" Finding out that a dinosaur in a book is too tall to fit on the page? "Oh my God!" Explaining that a tomato is a fruit? "Oh my God!" I suppose our students just have a flair for the dramatic.

Another slow week, which means a short blog post this time. After a long work day on Monday, I took a spontaneous trip to the school swimming pool with a couple kids in tow. We practiced swimming, splashed, and even had a spirited game of marco polo, then headed to Wafae's house for soup and Moroccan pastries. (I have been specifying the type of pastry every time because I am aware that you, my readers, are extremely discerning and absolutely need to know whether each pastry is Moroccan-style or French-style.)

My tenth week in Morocco was challenging. I had one of those workweeks where the few rewarding moments are swept away in a deluge of minor catastrophes. Despite all of that, this week I put the finishing touches on a school reading contest (with the help of my intrepid student volunteers, of course), fleshed out ideas for a few library fundraisers, and got paid. And, of course, read one of my other favorite childhood books to the kindergarteners, In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak. Loved the amazed faces when Micky flies his dough-y airplane to get milk for the bakers. Still in store for the kindergarteners: Pierre, Just A Dream, Cautionary Tales for Children, The Adventures of Isabel, Amos & Boris, The Paper Bag Princess, Two Bad Ants.

I'm sorry to say, dear readers, that week nine will be a bit of a letdown. One of the downsides of working so much is that by the time I get around to blogging, I've already forgotten everything I did the previous week. Most of my waking hours last week were spent at work, and most of the things I did there are wildly exciting to only a select few people. I supervised the creation of a middle school book club. Made a publication timeline for the student literary journal. Read more books to tiny children. Created a fabulous dinosaur-themed corner in the library, complete with illustrations of various species and a memorable pun.

At the beginning of week eight, I acquired a new roommate. One with spindly legs, abundant whiskers, and a very pink nose. Like the old nursery rhyme, he followed me to school one day. And though it was against the rules, I have to admit that it was difficult to resist scooping him up and installing him in the library. I shouldn't have worried, however, because he was still sitting on the front steps waiting for me when I left school that afternoon. Shortly thereafter, Loki was installed in his own little room in my apartment, complete with armchair, big cushy pillow-bed, and plenty of toys. I'm thoroughly convinced that out of all the kittens in Tangier, I've got the very best one.

This is a special post dedicated to Alyce, the mother of my good friend Alan Levine. Alyce, who passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago, would get up every Sunday morning, bake cookies, and hand them out during the week to anyone who looked like they could use cookie-inspired happiness. A couple of days later, Martha Burtis threw together Cookies for Cogdog, inviting Alan's friends to bake cookies and share them as a tribute to Alyce. So last Saturday I got up early and made an enormous batch of sugar cookies, coating myself, my kitchen, and far too many kitchen implements in flour.

Well, the school year has officially started. As week seven opened, faculty and staff ran around the school, frantically trying to get everything ready for the students' arrival on Wednesday. On Monday, paint was drying on the wall, I had stacks of books scattered around the room, and my desk was in limbo in the center of the library. Two carpets, four plants, four comfy chairs, and several furniture switches later, the library was finally looking great. The children's section had a big couch and carpet, the high school reading area was comfy and inviting, and my desk was back in its corner by the door.

I suppose this post should, logically, be preceded with another titled "How to Cook a Tagine". But you know me- I don't do anything half-assed. I'd never cooked a tagine before, so naturally I made my first one in the woods over twigs and stones. Mustapha and I surprised his sisters by whisking them away last Sunday for a picnic in a forested glen by the ocean. After arriving, we spread out a big carpet to sit on, piled up the containers of ingredients, turned on some music, and got to work.

Week six, week six. As everyone gears up for the start of the school year, it's become increasingly difficult to find that ideal balance between life and work. I spent long hours at school whipping the library into shape, then worked on the aforementioned secret edtech project from home most nights. This was complicated by the fact that Ramadan was followed immediately by Eid, a two-day holiday, on Wednesday and Thursday, so most of the work at school had to be put on hold until Friday. Still, I managed to get away from my books and my PHP code every once in a while, if only out of a sense of responsibility to my readers. If I didn't do interesting things each week, there would be nothing to write about. And definitely no photos.

It's hard to believe I've been here over a month already. Sometimes I feel like I just arrived, and other times I feel as if I've been here for years. A strange feeling, like making a new friend who becomes close so quickly that you forget there was ever a time when you didn't know each other. My workweek was action-packed, and by "action-packed" I mean "hours in front of the computer preparing a pretty exciting edtech project". More on that soon. I mostly remembered to eat food: I made harira again, ate liver by accident for the second time, and probably devoured my weight in homemade Moroccan treats.

I received a request last week to share a little more about work, about religion, and about my sleeping habits. For those of you who don't know, don't care, or just haven't had the time to meticulously stalk me on the internet, I'm working at the American School of Tangier as Educational Technology Specialist/Head Librarian. If you think that sounds like a lot of work, you'd be right. There are advantages and disadvantages to being in charge of a library. Nonetheless, some pretty exciting things are in store for the library and AST's one-woman EdTech department. Hold on to your hats, and stay tuned to my blog for further updates!

This post represents an important landmark: my first experience cooking traditional Moroccan food. After nearly three weeks of walking through my apartment building, surrounded by tantalizing smells, I finally learned how to make harira, one of the most delicious soups I've ever tasted. And lucky you, I'm going to post the recipe! This soup is usually the first thing served during iftar, and it's a Moroccan specialty.

My workdays during week three were filled with reorganizing the library. Moving shelves, sorting out picture books and junior fiction, peeling tape, selecting featured books, and making to-do lists. I also spent a great deal of my week walking and cooking, though not at the same time. I cooked two vegetable curries, pizza for six, meringues, countless fresh fruit smoothies, and tabbouleh with parsley from the Sunday market, picked fresh that morning. I scavenged some beautiful succulents from the edge of a beach and finally found a basil plant, both of which are sitting happily on my balcony. I even found time to argue about Shakespeare.

Week two was a bit more challenging for me, but not because I was having any less fun. I decided to fast for the first week of Ramadan, and gained a new appreciation for those who keep it up the entire month. Yesterday was my last day of fasting, and boy was I glad to start eating breakfast again today! During Ramadan, especially toward the middle of the afternoon, everyone in the city seems drained, crabby, lethargic. I was cautioned against taking unnecessary risks while crossing the road in the evening, have been dressing a bit more conservatively, and now know what it's like to go fourteen or more hours without food or water. I'm glad I did it, but I'm also glad to be getting back into healthier eating habits at the start of my third week.

Two weeks ago, I moved to Morocco. I've been so busy settling in, getting to know the city, and having fantastic adventures that I'm only just now getting to this post. But better late than never! Over the first few days I organized my beautiful apartment, met some co-workers, and even introduced myself (awkwardly) to a couple of neighbors. I went on an unsuccessful quest for basil, oregano, rosemary, and aloe vera plants. I had my first tagine. I explored the oldest parts of the city, enjoyed a sunset on the beach with my toes in the sand, and visited an ancient Phoenician burial site.

I'm aware that there's a good deal of ambiguity in the title of this post. Could this be a chili consisting entirely of beautiful vegetarians? Or maybe after consuming it one acquires irresistibility. Or perhaps it is just an extremely mouth-watering concoction. You may select your favorite interpretation. For those of you not "in the know", as well as those of you who haven't yet deemed it necessary to sneak GPS tracking chips onto my person, I moved to Morocco two weeks ago. In an effort to experience the culture here more fully, I have been fasting for the first week of Ramadan.

Last week my camera and I took a trip into the rural Montana and the mountains of Glacier National Park. A storm rolled in as we walked down the country road. But cleared up in time for a great sunset. We hiked through a forest of dead trees. Surprised a marmot. And watched a second sunset over snow.

I've been behind by a day throughout this trip, and it looks like I might finally catch up if I can knock this one out before I fall asleep. Today was our long-awaited Chinatown day. We strolled down Stockton Street and found ourselves in the midst of a bustling food market that extended several blocks in each direction. Every kind of fruit and vegetable you can imagine, seafood, dried who-knows-what, candy, tea, snacks, noodles... the list goes on. But the highlight of the day turned out to be the bizarre toys we found in bazaars and gift shops. These ranged from angry wooden toys to zombie stickers that are designed to attach to your mirror so you can pretend to be a zombie in the morning, to "handerpants", which, as the name suggests, are underpants for your hands.

We woke up at the crack of dawn on Sunday to drive down to Muir Woods as soon as the park opened, and before all the tourists arrived. Choosing the path less taken every time, we found ourselves on a beautiful two-hour hike through the woods, culminating in a spectacular view across the park. Mist was still blowing through the trees, so the landscape changed every couple of minutes. Spotted some cute banana slugs, a gaggle of chipmunks, and a couple of hawks. I also made friends with a lizard and he allowed me to get within a few inches for some excellent reptile portraits. He was missing half his tail, so perhaps his amiable demeanor didn't work with hungry foxes and birds.

A weekend road trip took us north up the coast to Bodega Bay, where we hoped to spy some Hitchcock-esque scenes. Ironically, Bodega Bay was relatively bird-free and we had a hard time even finding a flock of birds larger than two. Not much going on in a town that I expected to be teeming with avian-themed attractions. We even attempted to find the schoolhouse from the film. Well, we found a schoolhouse circled it twice, couldn't decide if it was the right one, and eventually left disappointed. Bodega Bay did have some redeeming characteristics, however; some beautiful piers, a couple of lone egrets, and picturesque rows of houses along the bay.

We spent day six wandering around the Castro, caught a screening of Vertigo in 70mm at the beautiful Castro Theatre, ate dinner at Orphan Andy's, and ate an excessive amount of ice cream at Ghirardelli.

Day five, like day three, was full of nature and wildlife. The California Academy of Sciences took up most of the day, until we were kicked out at closing and hopped on a bus across town for some yummy Thai food. Then on to 13 Assassins at the historic one-screen Bridge Theater, a fun samurai flick by prolific Japanese director Takashi Miike. As someone who can easily spend two or three hours in even the tiniest reptile exhibit, I was delighted to discover that the museum had a special "Summer of Reptiles" exhibit going on. Among many things, I got to see large and small monitor lizards, boas, camera-shy geckos, an agitated rattlesnake, and an extremely bored Burmese python. It pretty much spent its day watching small children on the other side of the glass and pondering which it would devour first, if given the chance.

Spent the day in the Haight, saw more vintage and thrift stores on one street than I've seen in the whole of DC, had a nap in a park, got a panoramic view of the city from Buena Vista Park, and climbed the Lyon Street steps.

Day three was jam-packed with beautiful things: a languid morning at the Conservatory of Flowers, took in some art at the De Young museum, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of a beautiful fountain, visited the rose garden, listened to a Mary Poppins-esque one-man band, and ended the day with a fabulous meal at (in my opinion) the best Indian restaurant in San Francisco.

Because day two was our Japantown day, not many photographs were taken. A lot of Japantown is indoors, with some really wonderful shops selling things like earthenware, bonsai trees, Japanese-language books, knick-knacks, clothing, unusual groceries, and--of course--fresh noodles. When I wasn't eating noodles or chatting with Japanese shopkeepers, I took photos of succulents. Many photos of succulents. The thing that always astonishes me when I travel to the west coast is how easily succulents grow in the wild, on peoples doorsteps, on walls, everywhere!

Even before we arrived in San Francisco, fantastic things were happening. Smoothies and french fries for breakfast, the speediest airport security I've ever encountered, and a gorgeous aerial view of the Rockies out my window. On our first day in the city, we visited some fabulous exhibits at the Asian Art Museum, examined a few thrift stores, discovered a delicious lunch spot, wandered up to check out the view at Coit Tower, and finished the day with a sunset by the bay, bread from Boudin, and free chocolate from Ghirardelli.

Well, technically these could be antelope cookies or star cookies or platypus cookies or... well, anything. Although I challenge you to find a platypus cookie cutter. Baking sugar cookies is guaranteed to make your inner child very, very happy. So dig out your cookie cutters, rolling pin, and food coloring, because you're in for an evening of unbridled, floury fun.

Dear friends, family, colleagues, casual acquaintances, and indifferent web surfers, You may have thought that I had stopped cooking delicious deserts to pursue other, more social pastimes. Maybe I threw a wild party, watched a football game, or even went clubbing. Not so. I've been quietly cooking and baking away during my few waking hours away from work, but simply haven't found the time to share my experiments. I'm of the firm belief that tarts are among the most rewarding of desserts to bake, because it always looks like you've put way more effort into them than you actually have.

Okay, I'm no crybaby, but this is the second time that a bicycle ride through Washington, DC has left me in tears. It was nothing, really. A car sped past me through a light (even though he was in a right turn lane) and nearly edged me into oncoming traffic in his hurry to squeeze into my lane. Maybe that sounds like a big deal to those of you who live in other parts of the country, but for those of us who cycle in DC, it is--sadly--an everyday occurrence. I guess the part that really got to me was when I glanced over at the driver. He was glaring at me, as if I had violated his god-given right to change lanes at will. He wasn't thinking about my safety--or his, for that matter--and he certainly wasn't thinking about traffic laws. Not prepared to get into a fight with several tons of metal, I slowed down. He crossed into my lane and sped away without even looking back.

I'll admit, I sometimes have odd cravings. Raw carrots, candy hearts, frozen peas... the list goes on. But earlier this week, after consuming some mediocre lentil soup at a mediocre falafel joint in my neighborhood, all I could think about was lentils. In a lentil-induced haze, I ran to my local supermarket and bought a handful of ingredients: carrots, celery, tomatoes, onion, garlic, and--you guessed it--lentils. After two hours of chopping, sautéeing, ransacking my spice cabinet, sprinkling, simmering, and stirring, something new and delicious was born.

Let's imagine that you, dear reader, are filled with admiration for my cooking projects and immediately run to the kitchen to try out each of these recipes over and over. If this is the case, then you have a veritable swimming pool of pesto sitting around, waiting to be used. And you're probably sick of eating it with pasta. Well, here's some great news! You can have fresh, homemade pesto pizza! Yum yum! And it's so easy!

I have a confession to make. I'm a pesto snob. I spent years sampling store-bought varieties, disappointed with everything in a jar, and nearly all of the fresher, refrigerated ones. While studying abroad in Paris, I lived on yogurt, baguettes, and--yes--pesto. Watching a friend make pesto out of a packet nearly killed me. You know that saying? About what to do if you want something done well? And don't have a celebrated Italian chef locked away in your kitchen cupboard? Clearly, the answer was to find a good pesto recipe and obsessively refine it over the course of several months.

A few weeks ago, I quietly rolled out a new portfolio page at www.serenae.com/portfolio. It features a sliding content section, bold typography, elegant lightboxed images, and a gallery of my work organized by category, all with the same simple, sleek style as my blog page.

Ever wandered, drooling, past a bakery window and wished that you could have a tart of your very own? A tart to cherish, to love, to pile high with freshly sliced fruit? Well, now you can! As is often the case, I volunteered to provide dessert for a social occasion without actually knowing what I'd make. Or if I had the necessary ingredients. Or even the time. This tart is the result of an hour of frantic online recipe browsing, leafing through cookbooks, and running around Harris Teeter like a madwoman, and another hour of stirring, accidentally powdering all nearby surfaces with confectioners' sugar, slicing fruit quickly rather than safely, and pouring hot jam.

At the beginning of last week, I found myself with half of a delicious cantaloupe. Now, that may not seem like much of a problem to you. Eating cantaloupe is a pretty enjoyable activity, after all. But it just so happens that there's one thing even better than than fresh cantaloupe on a sweltering summer day: icy cantaloupe sorbet!

I'm always on the lookout for new adaptations of lesser-known fairy tales, and just over a month ago I was lucky enough to find one practically on my doorstep, at the National Gallery of Art. De Vilde Svaner (The Wild Swans) is one of Hans Christian Andersen's most beautiful stories, and I had high expectations. The more I read about this production, an hour-long Danish production with art design created by--no joke--Queen Margrethe II of Denmark, the more apprehensive I became. A film with découpage backdrops and actors greenscreened in? I just wasn't convinced that they'd be able to pull it off. And oh boy, was I wrong!

We started off the day with bagels at our hostel on the edge of the Tenderloin. Wandered into Chinatown for the New Year street festival, then ended up at Ghirardelli for ice cream and free chocolate. Watched the sunset over the bay and played in the sand.

I spotted Waldo in Silver Spring, Maryland last weekend at the second annual Silver Spring Zombie Walk. Well, undead Waldo. When I was in elementary school, I used to complain about stomach aches all the time to get out of math class. And when I say all the time, I mean all the time. The school nurse knew me. She could even recognize my footsteps and my knock. Anyway, being an extremely patient and sympathetic woman (perhaps she didn't like math either), she always let me stay. I would hop up onto the spare cot with a Where's Waldo book and spend the next half hour searching through the pages.

On the morning of October 5, 2009, as he was crossing the road to kick some hippies, Jim Groom was fatally injured by a rogue New York pizza truck. He is survived by his loving wife, children, and the hippies.

As well as setting a really dangerous precedent of two blog posts in one week, I'm also getting into the bad habit of posting a lot of images and very little text. I'll try to get better about that, though I secretly believe that people are, in general, too lazy to read lot of text anyway. As promised, here are my four most recent paintings. They're actually finished, which is more than I can usually say! We'll see about continuing this trend. I'm going to save up for a couple of canvases so next time I don't have to paint on paper.

I'm still here! Despite my hectic work schedule, I've gotten quite a few art projects done over the past month. More on that later. But now, a sneak preview of my next project!

Two years ago, when I was afflicted with horrible sunburn and confined to the house, I started a tradition of decorating notebook covers with strange collages. As I was completely sunburn-free last August, I missed my opportunity. But this year I've revived the tradition! Not only that, but I've revived it with poetry. This year's notebook brought to you courtesy of T.S. Eliot and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.