Y'all don't even know

There was a little football game yesterday. I had no plans to actually attend this game, but a ticket miracle was masterminded the night before, and I happily embraced the opportunity to road trip down there with my little brother for a day of frolicking and merriment in the big city.

Before the game, we lucked into a table at a restaurant owned by a family our older brother is very close to, who actually were among the wedding guests (their goodness was demonstrated by the fact that they missed the game the weekend before to attend the wedding -- that is true friendship right there) and we basically fell down and died over the deliciousness of the house specialty rum drink and the shrimp and redfish with crabmeat and onion rings and Irish coffee and bread pudding in whiskey sauce. Honestly, that meal alone made the entire trip worth it, as crazy as that might sound.

Soon enough we found ourselves swept up in the masses walking to the dome, drinking champagne from the bottle on our way in the warm afternoon sunlight, and I thought I had experienced the height of my lifetime's game hysteria at a couple of other big games, but this was an entirely different level.

This crowd -- well. Young and old, rich and regular, black and white -- all decked out in black and gold and all screaming at the top of their lungs for so many hours that I think I suffered permanent hearing loss. It was just so much fun.

It was intense, though. Like, you could see the weight of the closeness of the game starting to take its toll as people would quiet down for a few minutes, clenching their hands over their mouths and just staring at the field as if willing it to happen: "Finish strong, boys." The few Viking fans around us obviously loved their team, too, and weren't afraid to scream and ring their cowbell. One of them behind me splashed a large portion of his drink all over my head. But it was all good. We laughed about it. I mean, I don't see any reason to be hateful to other fans. I have nothing against the people of Minnesota. They traveled a long way to be there, and they cared about the outcome just as much and love their team just as much.

But they were certainly outnumbered by our diehard fans. There was bonding in the seats by strangers and friends, and it wasn't long before we were embracing everyone around us at various points in the game. I swear when it was all over and all had avoided stroking out or having heart attacks, some random guy almost kissed my brother on the mouth as they jumped up and down in each others arms. There was just that kind of love in the air. It was truly dizzying. The guy next to me sat down and quietly put his face in his hands and said, "I never thought I'd live to see this." He was, like 20 years old. It just seemed so impossible to hope for, and yet, here it was. Actually happening. In a classy display of good sportsmanship, two men on our row in opposing jerseys hugged it out at game's end.

In the ladies room after the game, all was chaos. In the stall next to me, a woman cried out in savage glee, "Bitches, y'all don't even KNOW!" But we all knew.

As we drove home, my brother and I listened to talk radio, where the commentators, members of the crowd, and callers alike lost their collective minds, slurring with overwhelmed emotion and probably lots and lots of beer. We laughed so hard and so hoarsely with barely any voices left with which to guffaw, just delirious from the day and everyone's spastic radio comments. The sentiments expressed were so emotional and clumsy but so obviously heartfelt and true. People called in from all over the country -- even from other countries, like Panama, shouting their sometimes garbled cries of elation as members, far and wide, of the Who Dat Nation. And I can only imagine what was going on throughout the city ... we got out of town pretty quickly as work awaited this morning, but there are reports of fireworks in the northern parts of the state, and my neighbor said our street had a party rolling down it of people hollering who dat. It's just so huge, so enormous, this excitement and joy.

I can't really explain what it felt like to be in that crowd. I am certainly the least among sports fans in my family, and it's not like I know squat about professional football, so I'm not saying this while pretending to be something I'm not. And it might not be my city in that I was not born there, and I don't pretend to claim it as such. But as anyone who's from around here knows, it really is our city, all of ours, and it's our team, and I think it's okay to feel that way. And unless you're from here or have lived here a while, you probably can't understand, and that's okay. Just like we don't understand what it means to be from where you're from. We know that. It's all okay. But see, our people, our parents and our grandparents, have been waiting for this. And it is something in the blood of my family, these families, all of our families, no matter where we're from in this state. Of course for those from New Orleans it means the most. But to all of us, it means a whole hell of a lot.

So, please. Don't belittle this team as if it's just a part of a poetic narrative that makes good newspaper copy. Don't try to take away the win by blaming it on this or that. Don't try to cheapen or slap in the face or knife through the chest something that we've been waiting for, well, forever. Have a heart. Read this article, one of the best things I've ever read in my life. Watch this video and try not to cry. And then if you don't understand just a little bit better, and you still want to hate on the Saints, then I don't even know what to tell you.

I'm so happy we got to be there. I will never forget it.

Wedding weekend

So! January. It's been a bang-up month so far, a great start to the new year.

My big brother got married, and it was a beautiful weekend. It moves me that he married this woman one year to the day that he met her. It was a small affair, but the fun was so big that I still can't really believe it and am not quite yet over it.

Old friends, new friends. Family, dancing, laughing, and tears. Memories. Joking disbelief that he was finally getting married. But a reminder by my other brother in his toast that he's always wanted to get married -- he was just waiting until it was right. Their happiness together, my brother's and my new sister-in-law's, is a meaningful reminder that sometimes it's true that when you know, you know.

I was so happy to be there and to share in the incredible weekend. Part of me wanted to dislike the place they got married on principle because I'd envisioned it as sort of snooty and exclusive, and I guess it sort of is, but I fell in love with it on sight and was totally hypnotized by the beauty of the beach and the quaintness of the shops and the whole scene and the yummy fish tacos & iced coffee. I cannot tell a lie; I can't wait to go back.

To spill more about the wedding feels like a violation of what was kind of a small and private affair, and I don't want to explain all the laughter and tears. It feels like they belong only to the folks who were there, and I want to honor that. But needless to say, I am overjoyed for them both.

Running, running, running, blah.

My training could be going better! I can't lie. Looking back to three years ago, I maybe missed two or three mid-week runs my entire training period, and for the past several weeks, I have done ... no midweek runs. It's kind of ridiculous to acknowledge this, but there you go. It's just the truth. I've not missed any of my long runs, but I know I'm missing plenty of mileage that I should be getting in there. Today's long run was without a doubt the worst long run this time around. It was another 90-minute run, and I only made it 8 miles, and it was just straight horrible. I am really glad I didn't stop and I'm also really glad it's over. It was in the upper 60s, cloudy and gray, with 90% humidity, and I was drenched with sweat and felt heavy and plodding and like the worst runner ever to hit the streets. Hating running, hating life. HATE! But it's over now, and onward I go. I think I need to actually start running during the week and actually hydrate during the long runs ... the guy leading my training group said we should get 4-8 ounces of fluids in every 15-20 minutes, and ... no. Never. So -- I should probably get on that. And I should probably stop eating pizza and drinking beer the night before a long run. Lesson learned!

That's all I have to say about running right now. I am totally bored by the topic these days.

The best thing that happened today was my trip to the farmer's market where I spent every dollar I had in my purse on brown jasmine rice, goat's milk yogurt (what?), grape tomatoes, a quart of strawberries (oh, sweet blessed beginning of strawberry season!), organic satsumas, broccoli, oatmeal wheat bread, and two dozen eggs. Totally worth it. This is what happens after watching Food, Inc.. You remember that it's better to hurl yourself out of bed on a Saturday morning to get to the farmer's market before the eggs sell out than to sleep in, and you stop at as many different booths as you can, and you just buy some fresh damn food. It's important.

Also important: The Gavin and Stacey Christmas special is now up on YouTube! It will probably get yanked soon, so catch it while you can. Part one is here, and it goes on for nine parts total. Unsurprisingly, it is one hundred percent delightful. Oh, how I love that show.

January living

I feel like if I don't sit down to write something right now, weeks might go by, maybe even months. So here's what is happening.

I'm sitting in my living room. Daisy is curled up in a chair sighing heavily, which is what she does in winter. Zuko is standing attentively at my feet, on alert for whatever exciting thing he thinks is about to happen but isn't. The cats are eating dinner across the house behind closed doors. The white icicle lights I've yet to take down after the holidays are twinkling along the window. (I hung them inside for the first time. I might just leave them here all year.) A clean out the fridge dinner of whole wheat shell pasta and broccoli, onions, garlic, and ginger are cooking on stove and stinking up the joint in that special broccoli-ish way.

I took off early today because I had to seriously TCB. Put my life in order, bake cupcakes, furiously make last-minute CDs filled with love songs. My older brother is getting married this weekend. Holy moly. We are excited. I filled two discs with love songs that I not only love but that I think my brother and his new wife will love, which is not always easy. Songs about falling in love and staying in love, many of which are songs from mixes I've given old boyfriends, songs from mixes they've given me.

It is stunning how quickly a song can take you back to a mix CD and a memory of a Valentine's Day, of an anniversary, of a dance, of a guitar, of a road trip, of a day you got engaged. One of those old boyfriends stopped by today with a belated Christmas gift, a book about running, which was thoughtful. On Christmas Eve, I actually exchanged a brief but amiable Facebook message with one man from the past, probably the one I thought I was least likely to ever communicate with again in any form or fashion for the rest of my life. One of them, who was never a boyfriend but a friend and a possibility, sent me a Christmas gift and a letter in the mail, a letter of reconciliation, I think. I hope. What I'm trying to say is that these songs bring back memories. And that in almost every case, with every person these songs make me remember, there is peace. Not with all, but with most. Even if just the tiniest moment of it. And that feels pretty good as a new year and a new decade begin.

Daisy has taken Zuko's spot by my feet and is blinking at at me and resting her chin on my thigh, on which she just loudly sneezed.

My dad and I went to hear Anthony Bourdain speak, which was a delight. Chuck is back on TV, which can only improve America. I ate Mexican food with friends and listened to my little brother play, which remains one of my favorite activities in life. I will see my sister and brother-in-law again tomorrow. My mom made tuna salad. I held an extremely cute puppy. I ran a little over 8 miles a few days ago, not very fast, and it was actually totally fine, and today I ran 3 miles faster than I ever have. Not tremendous speed in the grand scheme of things, but tremendous for me. And part of it was that 3 miles now feels short, so I didn't feel I had to pace myself. But most of it was that it was 55 degrees and sunny after a week where it's gone down into the teens night after godforsaken night, killing plants and pipes and spirits all over town, and I was so happy to be outside in a sleeveless shirt and shorts and run around and pretend for just a few minutes that spring has sprung. Which it hasn't. But it will. Of course. Thank goodness.

More house plans

As mentioned previously, design smartypants and pretty lady AB Chao very kindly visited my home recently en route from the big city to her house and told me some things. Some were suggestions; some were orders. Somehow she knew this combination is just what I needed.

Finally, after the holidays ate my brain, I'm sitting down to write down as much as I can remember from what she said. I want to get this party started. The top priorities of phase one are paint, lighting, and window treatments.

PAINT

Painting is important. All baseboards, trim, cabinets, drawers, and doors need to be brightened up with a color like Benjamin Moore's Super White, Decorator's White, or Linen White. This should be done in semi-gloss. Seeing how I kept being drawn to shades of gray, AB suggested painting every single room a gray color I really like, with the exception of the kitchen, which I should pick a fun, bright color for, like one of my crazy aqua blues, or straight up Tiffany blue. The bright white against the light gray throughout the whole house will make it look nice, and I can throw color in with furniture and art and bedding and accents, which can be switched around when I like new colors. Though I never envisioned a strategy like this, it is growing on me. Walls should be done in eggshell, "one up from flat." (That's what I wrote down as I followed her around the house, but I'm still not entirely sure what it means.) Ceilings should also be repainted, possibly one shade darker or the same color as the trim, or 20% lighter than the wall color.

I think that starting with paint makes me a bit paralyzed, because thinking about how every single thing in my house needs to be painted is kind of daunting, what with the household disruption, mess, and expense. But I figure, how long can it possibly take? I mean, I have no idea? Not going to think about it today, but must think about it soon.

LIGHTING

Every ceiling has an ugly dome light that looks like a b00b. I really want to invest in some cute pendants. I'll need an electrician, probably, but that's okay. AB likes this one, for example.

WINDOW TREATMENTS

Some kind of bamboo shades or roman shades. Longer curtains that are hung higher. I worry about tumbleweeds of pet hair nesting in floor-length curtains. I'm not really thinking this far down the line yet, though, if truth be told.

DOORKNOBS

Lose the shiny, cheap brass ones and get some mismatched old antique-y ones.

KITCHEN

Look into a counter-depth refrigerator instead of one that juts out farther than the stove and counters with which it shares a wall. I had never even heard of such a thing! But I am glad to know it exists. Possibly lose a set of cabinets hanging on that wall and put up some long shelves instead.

ENTRANCE HALL

Possibly some cute wallpaper.

DINING ROOM

Probably the piano should be sold. It's huge and hulking and sounds bad. French doors should once and for effing all replace the sliding glass door of pain.

LIVING ROOM

New couch needed, obviously. New media cabinet of some kind, maybe something low and wide. Vince Chao thinks the TV should be hung on the wall as befits a person of the 21st century.

BOOKS

Books should be culled, removed from their various bookcases all over the house, and possibly all stored in one room, such as what is right now the "study." Maybe on something like this or some sort of Billy bookcase configuration? With no Ikea in this state, that could be tricky. This is a concept I am having trouble wrapping my mind around, but I am trying to be open to it. My other decorating consultant, my friend S., loves this idea.

SMALL THINGS

Stop buying small things. Small rugs, small little things on the walls hung in isolation from each other instead of in groups, small shelving units, etc. Think bigger, and think grouped.

Phew! I think that's about it. This is just the tip of the iceberg, though. Once there are basic framework things in place, there's the matter of filling the framework with cute things. But the time will come for that. I am glad to have this written down and look forward to actually getting started once I work up the nerve.

Here's to being nervy in 2010!

Quick check-in

Bleary-eyed beginning to the first week of the year back at work!

I want to go ahead and make a quick note of last week's runs ... I had a quick three-miler (by quick, I mean I did it in 30 minutes -- quick for me) on a warm and sunny day -- we're talking shorts and a sleeveless shirt -- heaven.

And then I had my long run, a 90-minute extravaganza. It wasn't altogether terrible ... it was in the low 50s and sunny and really quite beautiful outside. It didn't take me long to take off my hat and jacket and run in shorts and a sleeveless shirt again. I guess if I had a fave running outfit, that would be it! My slowest was mile four, when I felt quite tired, but the rest of them held pretty steady, and I ended up averaging out at a 10:47-minute per mile pace for the whole 8.34 miles. I feel okay about it, though I have to admit that by mile 7, I was somewhat delirious and the bottoms of my feet hurt a lot.

I kept passing a lot of the same people more than once, so I think a bunch of us were out there on longer runs that day ... everyone looked a little deranged, bloated, and hungover, to tell you the God's honest truth, which I guess is par for January 2. But we soldiered on, and I really do love that feeling of not being out there alone, running among the strangers whose faces start to become familiar week after week. Somewhat dismayed, though, not to have ever run four times in a week yet during this training period. There was a lot more mileage in the schedule I followed last time, but I feel like it's going okay anyway.

I think this is the week when I am finally going to have to break down and go to the gym. I just don't think I have the constitution (or the gear) to run outside in the 20s, which is what it's going to be in the mornings this week. Bless the hearts of all who run in this and much colder weather, but I am not one of you. So ... treadmill, here I come. Gross but necessary.

Not sure what else to say. I find myself without a new book to read so I'm diving back into The Hunger Games even though I just finished it. It's just that fun to read. Meanwhile, I'll just be sitting back watching hour after hour of No Reservations.