I took a portrait class about a year ago and the teacher said a lot of my work resembled that of William Eggleston’s — a photographer known for his mastery of taking pictures of the ordinary. At the time, I was not as impressed with the importance of Eggleston’s work and had troubles identifying my work with his. I have since been more receptive and eager to learn about other noted photographers and today felt ready to revisit Eggleston’s work on display at the Whitney Museum of American Art. Eggleston says, “I had this notion of what I called a democratic way of looking around: that nothing was more important or less important.” Every detail, no matter how insignificant takes on meaning. It’s taken me a while to get to this point but I’m glad I see the resemblance, but at the same time, the differences are even more pronounced — a sign that my work says Wendy, not William.

Today my photo group took a tour of Grand Central Terminal (if you call it a station you’d actually be referring to its original name pre 1913 or the current post office nearby). We learned lots of interesting historical facts. Back in the late 1950s, in order to bring in revenue to a struggling depot and in response to the space race with Russia, Grand Central erected an American missile in the main concourse. The missile was a few feet taller than the ceiling, so a tiny black hole was cut to make it fit. You can still see the hole in the midst of the (backwards) constellations and even our tour guide could not explain why the hole was never filled in. This photo doesn’t show the hole but is only representative of just one corner of the ceiling.

Last weekend, Paul and I escaped the city — destination, historic Tarrytown. We stayed at the site of the oldest american conference center — Tarrytown House Estate. We had views of the Hudson and were greeted by this lonely statue at the base of our hotel building.

As with a lot of families, there are foods that stick around year after year for better or for worse… eggnog, fruitcake, jello salad, holiday wreath cake, pickled cream herring, my uncle’s special scrambled eggs, etc. I was just reading an article about the English history and tradition of Christmas pudding. While it never really caught on in America, another tradition that originally came from France through the English was pumpkin pie. From France?? Anyway, while my own cooking goes in and out of style, I always try and make a batch of bourbon balls to celebrate the season (from a recipe my friend Melina gave me almost a decade ago).