New York, New York

So exciting news! For the first time ever, I will be paid for conservation work! This summer I will be travelling to New York to work at The Frick Collection with their furniture conservation department, and opportunity that I am both excited and nervous for.  I'm thrilled to have managed to get this opportunity and I just hope that I can live up to the expectations laid out for me.

I had worried and wondered for so long if I was actually good at what I do. I have never been certain that this is truly the correct path for me. There is always the doubt that while I love conservation and I love working in museums, that I wasn't actually cut out for it, or that I wasn't good enough or know enough or worth it. This internship is my first little step of validation. Maybe this truly is my calling.

I thought that coming out here to London may have been a mistake, especially for the kind of career that I want. I have been proclaiming that I want to be a furniture conservator since I found out that it was even possible. Coming to a programme that is only objects based, and even worse, archaeology based, seemed like it might be a way of shooting myself in the foot. I thought I might be throwing those dreams aside, just to get the degree. I was beginning to be comfortable with the idea that maybe just doing objects or organics would be good enough.

Now, that's all looking like it's changing. I have the internship at the Frick. I'm going to be placed for the first half of my internship year at the National Maritime Museum under a furniture conservator who may actually let me build something and get my hand skills back. The Frick internship may open doors for me to work at the Wallace in their furniture department, and the combination of the Frick, the Wallace, and Winterthur may be enough to help me start my career. Will it be an easy foot in to the business when I graduate? Probably not. But it's a start. And it's a hope.

Lord knows I've tried coming at things from a different angle before.

Pancakes

So tomorrow is Shrove Tuesday, and while I'm not sure what 'Shrove Tuesday' actually is, what is more important is that it is NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY over here in England. We'll ignore the fact that English pancakes are like crepes, which is just stupid, but there is an entire day dedicated to quite possibly my favourite breakfast food. PANCAKES.

Clearly, I will be celebrating. Sean and I bought all of the fixings for blueberry pancakes (American style, because clearly we got this one right) and we are going to be having them for dinner tomorrow night.

There is something magical about breakfast for dinner. I remember my mother making pancakes and bacon for dinner like it was a special treat. I don't particularly care that she might have been to tired or couldn't be bothered to think of a 'proper' dinner, when we had pancakes for dinner (or "brinner" because I'm just about the coolest) it was an event.

Having breakfast for dinner was like breaking all the rules. Dinner was a strictly savoury meal, generally consisting of a main course with meat, and some sort of vegetables on the side. Getting sweet, buttery, delicious pancakes was like defying some higher authority. It felt like some kind of secret club, and we had the power. Who says you can't have pancakes at 8 pm? Screw those guys, they don't know what they're missing out on.

My mother would always make pancakes from Bisquick (something that I am struggling living without while over in England). She went through her fancy stages, we would get pancakes with blueberries or banana and caramelised walnuts in them (my sister does a rendition with blueberry and strawberry that would make your heart sing), but there is nothing quite like a straight up, hot off the griddle, plain ole pancake. I think that because of this pancake love, this quiet little revolt against the dinner gods, I am just that much  more excited for National Pancake Day tomorrow. And when I go to take that first bite, I'll be toasting my mom.