Holidays so far

Let's get the running talk out of the way first. Since this week was the first week of four runs, I figured I'd get cracking as early as possible, so I left work early on Monday to head out for my 45-minute run. It's possible that a couple of hours were not sufficient time to adequately digest the giant amount of food consumed at my siblings' birthday lunch -- red beans and rice, hush puppies, both fried and marinated crab fingers, etc. -- BUT! I soldiered on, and somehow I ran 4.5 miles in 45 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly. For those following along, that is quite fast for me, to keep a 10-minute-mile pace for several miles in a row, and I just feel sort of proud about it. The perfect weather helped! In case I haven't mentioned it, the weather this month has been vile and disgusting 9 days out of 10, and this burst of sunshine and dry ground is just making everything so much better. I think that I am getting a little faster in part because I am being really conscious about relaxing my arms, almost to the point where they're more straight than bent at the elbow, which is weird, but it's working for me. On Wednesday, the run was really short -- only 20 minutes -- and I missed run three as it was set for Christmas morning and was literally freezing outside and I thought, "Eff it." Run four was set for 80 minutes, and I only made it three miles after yet another gargantuan holiday meal before just surrendering, walking to my brother's house, and asking him, defeated, to drive me home. And that's it on the running front. Tomorrow begins a new week, and I'm going to start it with the long run that was a bust yesterday. It's a process.

I finished reading The Daily Coyote: A Story of Love, Survival, and Trust in the Wilds of Wyoming by Shreve Stockton, and it's a mighty fine read indeed. I've been aware of her website for a long time, but somehow I missed that she'd published a book about her life with Charlie the coyote. Reading this book is making me feel all sorts of smooshy lovey-doveyness towards my pets. It's fascinating, and the photos are beautiful. Now I'm in the middle of Kitchen Confidential, and so far, so good. I also finished Catching Fire, the sequel to The Hunger Games, and it, like book one, was ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome in every way. What happens in these books is unbearable on many levels, but that's just part of what makes them impossible to put down. The fact that book three does not come out until August is causing me actual physical pain. I guess I'll just re-read the first two over and over until that day comes!

Now ... The History Boys. I'd heard of this play and movie but never knew much about it. Because everything lately comes back to Gavin and Stacey, I noted when listening to audio commentary of the episodes that one of the creators/writers/stars of the show, James Corden (Smithy), explained that many of Smithy and Gavin's guy friends were in The History Boys with him, so I rented the film. And I have to tell you, I really liked it. I had no idea that the play was a smash hit in London, then went on a smash tour, then was a smash Tony winner on Broadway, and then became a film, and that these cast members were together for years upon years playing the roles all the way through. The special features on the DVD are adorable and quite funny and touching, especially the tour diary. I'm very glad I saw this film.

On Christmas afternoon, as is a tradition, we headed to the movies. This year it was Up in the Air. I knew this movie has been getting raves, but I didn't know much about it. It definitely exceeded my expectations and proved to me that George Clooney is not only a first class dreamboat (which obviously I knew) but also a mighty, mighty fine actor. He was just incredibly good, and the movie was totally enjoyable even when uncomfortable and sad. Anna Kendrick: also fabulous. It was excellent, and I'd totally see it again. We were still in the movie mood that night, so we watched Up, which made me laugh and cry and was totally scary and traumatic and not for young children, I don't think. But totally and completely great nonetheless.

The holiday season thus far has been lovely. My mom outdid herself with the tons of delicious food, meal after meal; it was great to spend time and laugh with my sister and brother-in-law, who were here for Christmas; I had a great meal on a friend's birthday with the best Sazerac I've had in ages, which was somehow just what I needed on Christmas Eve-Eve; we all spent a ferociously stormy Christmas Eve morning feasting at my very favorite cafe, which was wonderful; my dad surprised us with tickets to today's Saints game, which was fun even though the ending was truly hein; (for the best piece I've ever read about the Saints, and maybe even New Orleans as a whole, read this article); there were moments of reconciliation. I'm looking forward to more relaxation and fun in the coming week as we all ring in the new year.

Alright?

I will now talk more about Gavin and Stacey. One of my favorite things about this show is how the characters will randomly burst into song, which is something that happens quite regularly with my own family and friends. There are tons of these moments on the show, more than clips exist online for, but here are a few of my favorite of these moments on the show, none of which are spoilerish in terms of plot: Smithy's big entrance, featuring the magnificent Pam. Uncle Bryn singing James Blunt in the car. (Oh my God, Uncle Bryn. Who is funnier, sweeter, more tragic in a way, and more ridiculous than Uncle Bryn? No one.) Smithy and Rudi rapping. I wish I could find the clip of Nessa and Bryn sitting at the arcade rehearsing "Something Stupid" and the gang singing Jack Johnson at a crucial moment I won't give away, and many more. And finally, in the spirit of the season, Smithy and Gavin doing "Do They Know It's Christmas?"

I really can't stop talking, at least in my head, like the characters on this show. A common Welsh greeting, apparently, is to say, "Alright, Stace?" and then the person responding will say, "Alright, Ness?" (I feel like I sound like Uncle Bryn when explaining something like this.) It is now how I want to greet everyone. Basically, I want to pretend that the entire world of Gavin and Stacey is real and that I live in it. I was able to find season three, so now I'm all done, except for the Christmas special, which is eluding me. I will not give up until I find it, though. (In case this sounds like an insane amount of TV, know that it's only 18 half-hour episodes, which is shorter than one season of an American show.) Basically, this show has made me laugh my face off and also get very moved at times, which is all I ask for in a show. I LOVE IT.

Other misc. things:

Four Months, Three Weeks and Two Days. I've been meaning to watch this for years, ever since A.O. Scott, whose reviews I normally trust, declared it his top film of the year a few years back. I knew nothing going into it. Um ... don't watch this movie by yourself on a cold and rainy night. That's all I have to say. It was harrowing. And horrifying, and bleak, and stark, and really scared the pants off of me in ways I can't really articulate without being spoilery about it. It might be a good movie, artistically speaking, and an important movie, politically speaking, but it's a movie I never want to see again.

The Hunger Games. The Hunger Games! I've been hearing all about The Hunger Games, but somehow it didn't fall into my life until now. On Gavin and Stacey, Gavin's mom, Pam, who is one of my favorite characters on the show and possibly ever in anything, exclaims, "Sh*t a brick!" when something truly major happens. And it was her voice, in her accent, that I heard in my head when finishing the book in bed late last night. "Sh*t a brick!" Like ... something major had happened, and that something major was reading this book and every single thing that happened in it. Major. Majorly exciting, majorly scary, majorly romantic, majorly awesome. I cannot wait to read the sequel. I am sh*tting a brick in anticipation.

And now for a running update ... feel free to skip if such things make your eyes glaze over. They practically make my own eyes glaze over, so I feel you. Yesterday wrapped up week 8 of training with a 72-minute run. I made it 6.62 miles. (10:45, 10:46, 10:50, 10:59, 11:14, 10:53, 10:33). I feel fine about it. After a week of no other running (I know) and a steady intake of cookies, brownies, turtle cheesecake, chocolate covered pecans, peppermint kisses, etc., I wasn't in the greatest condition for running and definitely felt it. But the day was the first truly gorgeous day we've had in weeks ... low 50s without a cloud in the bright, sunny sky ... so I vowed to enjoy the run as much as possible. When I felt tired, I told myself that I was basically running half a half-marathon, and with 10 weeks to go, that feels about right on track. I don't want to start going really far until the end; in addition to being probably physically impossible for me in this shape, it also seems anti-climactic. From here on out, the schedule demands four runs per week, and I'm going to have to be way more on the ball about actually running when I'm supposed to!

It's been a truly lovely weekend so far. A little sunshine goes a long way, it turns out.

What's occurrin'?

I've decided to try to start talking like Ness on my new favorite show, Gavin and Stacey. This means I will say things in a Welsh accent like "fair play," "tidy," "genuine," "well done," "crackin'," and "what's occurrin'?"

I am honestly starting to bore myself with the running entries so I'll try to keep this one short & sweet. Big surprise, I only ran twice last week. Again. I was set for a 65-minute run over the weekend but ran a five-mile race instead. It was in the low 40s and pouring down rain when I got up, but I knew my friends were going and I wasn't about to be the only one who stayed home. Miraculously, the rain slowed to a drizzly mist right as the race started. I ended up running the whole five miles with a friend, which was fun. I knew this route like the back of my hand, so it was nothing too adventurous or exciting, but it was great to have company and to notice on my trusty watch how we were speeding up a little bit pretty much each mile. (10:30, 10:30, 10:18, 10:17, 9:45). I feel good about my pace ... a little over 51 minutes wasn't anything record setting, and we came in very near the end of the pack, but I keep reminding myself that I'm getting faster, for me, and that's what counts. The only truly heinous part was soaking both feet in a very cold puddle about half-way through, but I toughed it out. I've never done a non-tri race without music, but iPods were outright forbidden, so I left it at home. (UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE. I'm just too much of a rule abider, I cannot help it.) It was strange to run without music, but I didn't mind it much since I was with a friend. It started pouring pretty much immediately after we finished, which put a damper on the post-race festivities, but overall, it was a good event. We milled around inside for a little while to visit, and I changed immediately after finishing into some smartwool socks and dry sneakers that I'd brought with me in the attempt to stave off the death cough that plagued me for several weeks after romping in the snow last year with wet feet, and so far, so good! This week, week 8, is the last with three runs ... it's 4 runs per week for the 10 weeks after this, starting with Christmas week, God help me. At least boot camp will be over! I've really enjoyed it, but I am tired, and I want to start sleeping past 5 a.m. more often than not.

It seriously rains every day around here lately. Everything is saturated. We are a moist, moist people.

What else? I finished Born to Run, recommended by Linda, and enjoyed it. I wish more of the book had focused on the Tarahumara because they were the part of the story that mostly interested me. I liked learning about some of the major characters in ultrarunning because they're quite a group, and all of the stuff about feet was interesting. Overall, while it isn't a perfect book, it's a pretty good read, and it definitely made me want to become a better runner. (I also liked this piece about running barefoot in Central Park. The whole barefoot running movement intrigues me, but I keep wondering, what about the skin on the bottom of your feet? Do you basically end up with hooves? No, thank you?)

I ordered calendars made from the beautiful photographs of my friends Jessamyn and romanlily, and they've both arrived. They're lovely, and I can't wait for 2010 so I can use them.

I went to my favorite local cafe three days in a row last week, which might be excessive. But if that many gingerbread au laits and peppermint mochas and pastries and good visits with good friends are wrong, I don't want to be right.

Dog update: The man I yelled at last week and his big dumb black dog were about to cross through my yard when I pulled in my driveway recently when coming home from work, so I just sat there with my car idling across the sidewalk staring at him so he'd see me and hopefully keep walking. He did. Yesterday morning, I happened to be in my room when I heard him telling his dog to "do his thing" in my yard again, so I banged on the window, waved, smiled, and yelled, "GOOD MORNING!" Once again he jumped out of his skin. He looked away and mumbled "Good morning" and hurried along. I mean, what is it going to take? Seriously? He's a little older than I first wagered, so maybe he's truly senile. Who in his right mind would take his dog back to a yard, clearly with no baggies in hand, where he's been spotted numerous times, been given the stank eye from both inside the house and the car, and even been asked rather vehemently to clean up after his dog? Encouraging his dog, "Do your thing"? Again? What is the world coming to? I can't even be mad anymore, it's too ridiculous.

Finally, design genius and overall nice Southern lady AB Chao (some of her work) stopped by yesterday with her cute husband and supercool daughter on their way home from winning a state football championship because they might as well be the Panthers I mean Lions. Basically, she told me how to live. As some of you know, she is good at this. It was a delight to see them all.

Now there is nothing left to do but finish up season 2 of Gavin and Stacey and company, my new best friends, and figure out some way to score the Christmas special and season 3 from across the pond. Luckily I have a mighty fine Irish friend who might be able to assist me in this endeavor. This show is really only about three things: family, friendship, and love. And it manages to be about them in a very hilarious way. And I love it very much. OH! And I started The Hunger Games, which I'm about a million years late in reading. And holy mother of heaven. It is so good! I can't put it down. You were right, everyone in the world.

Cool weather and cool times

A few misc. thoughts to start:

I am continuing to regularly update my House Ideas post.

I never tire of Scouting NY. It is full of such cool photographs and stories.

I am in the market for a small coffee maker. Most of the time, one or two cups will do just fine. If you have any recommendations, I'd love to hear them.

I finished Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, which I mostly loved, which I knew I would, except that now I feel guilty every time I eat a banana. Which I just did. I really want to be better about eating locally, but I don't want to give up bananas. I am working on this. It's a process.

Because I apparently cannot stop reading books about food, I know I am going to end up reading Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. I am bracing myself for this one, though. I am easily influenced and know it's going to make me go through a dilemma about whether or not to go vegetarian. But I kind of like putting myself through such dilemmas sometimes. As someone who unapologetically loved his first two books, I know I'll like the way it's written.

This review makes me really want to read Craig Ferguson's memoir.

And now for a weekend update. It was a nice weekend. I went to the farmer's market and got lettuce and a loaf of whole wheat bread and organic potatoes and organic satsumas.

Class let out early so we could attend the book festival, which was fun, and what's not cool about seeing Ernest Gaines in person? I bought Printz winner Looking for Alaska and an anthology called How Beautiful the Ordinary: Twelve Stories of Identity, chosen because I liked the title and because I am very charmed by David Levithan. So far, I've only read his chapter, which begins the book, and it made me cry.

Following the book festival was high tea at my favorite cafe, where we were served four courses of awesome. It was a delight.

Back at home, the afternoon was one of open windows with the chilly, fresh air blowing in, the baking of white chocolate macadamia oatmeal cookies (which I ended up dreadfully overcooking, oh well!), Brandi's album on the stereo, and a visit with a friend. I also took the dogs out for a long walk in the late afternoon. They were hellions, but it was great to be outside in the sun and actually get some exercise, of which I have done exactly none for weeks.

It got down into the low 40s on Saturday night, which was kind of bananas. I slept in until 7 on Sunday morning when Zuko could be contained no longer, so I got up, released the hounds, and then went back to bed until 9. It was the first cold morning since right around the time I got my new bed and comforter, so snuggling in it in the cold felt so decadent and luxurious and heavenly. It is a cloud. I love it.

Lamenting the rock hardness of the cookies of the previous day, I evaluated the ingredients I had left on hand and made a giant batch of simple sugar cookies, which I have to tell you, were melt-in-your-mouth good. Note: if you stick to the wee teaspoon-sized balls, which I did, do NOT cook longer than 7 or 8 minutes. You will be sorry. Also, I creamed my butter and sugar with an electric mixer, which I never knew I supposed to do (oops). But it worked. They were perfect and tiny and very buttery and divine. I will never make store-bought sugar cookies again. Never!

Once I was done with my baking extravaganza, I pumped up my bike tires and went out for a ride for the first time since the last triathlon of the summer, also known as the last week of August. Wow. It was a little cool outside, but it was sunny and felt kind of magical to actually ride it again and be back among the exercisers. I totally felt like one of them all spring and summer, but then I left the group for about six weeks or so. It felt good to be back. One uber-cyclist in a cycling suit on a super whizzy fast bike and I came to a bridge at the same time and I said, "Sorry!" as I bumbled clumsily in front of him and he chirped, "Don't apologize, I'm the maniac out here!" And I said, "I'm kind of slow!" and he cheerleaded, "At least you're out here riding!" And that was that. He smiled at me later as we passed each other again while I was in the midst of yelling "ASSHOLE!" at a pushy car. Oh, drivers of cars. A little patience as we cross an intersection. Is all we bikers ask.

I attended a party for my friend who's selling jewelry, where I overindulged in cocktail meatballs. I don't even really like meat. But they are so good. Then it was book club, with Persepolis and yummy homemade bread and chili and nice people.

Tonight in the works is a dinner of new potatoes from the farmer's market roasted in a hot oven with olive oil and minced garlic and salt and pepper alongside some whole wheat angel hair with tomatoes and broccoli florets and chicken and purple onions. And I might need to eat three or four satsumas for dessert. And Every Little Step is on its way.

In the mood for swoony romance what with the colder weather and all, the only thing to do yeterday was see Bright Star. The actors who played Fanny Brawne & John Keats were very pretty and good, the overall look of the film was gorgeous, and even if it was all made up for all I know, it was utterly heartbreaking. There may have been noisy, copious weeping. I kept thinking back to when I visited the Keats-Shelley house Rome in 1998. Here's what I wrote in my journal that day at the age of 23: "All I have to say is that the Keats-Shelley Memorial museum was 100% amazing. Locks of Keats's hair, original pages of 'Lamia' and 'Ode on a Nightingale,' his last letters to his sister before he left for Italy which talked about how he wanted to fully recover -- and the room where he died. So young. So sad. Moving. Awesome." For years, I had framed postcards I bought there of his gravestone and of this image, sketched by his friend as Keats lay dying. I'm not sure what I did with them. Anyway, my thoughts on the movie are all wrapped up with how I felt visiting that place all those years ago. Overall, it wasn't a perfect movie, but it was very lovely and very romantic and very sad, if that sort of thing does it for you. (It does it for me.)

10 things

(1) I went to a yoga class at the unholy time of 5:45 a.m. After several days in a row of running, biking, or swimming, I needed a change. We warmed up with some breathing and eye exercises ... like look to the right, look to the left, look to the right, etc., and I thought, "This class is gonna be a breeze!" Wrong. So wrong. The teacher is a good friend of mine, almost like a sister, and I marveled at both her excellent teaching skills and her poses, many of which I could not even begin to complete. It's been a long time since I did yoga, sure, but I don't know that the day will ever come when I can actually do the simple poses of plank (have trouble straightening my back) and cobra (way too much lower back crunching) and upward dog (ditto) properly, and bow pose? I am so sure. Also, I fell over repeatedly in warrior three. I find that I hate any stretch or pose that arches the lower back in a crunching manner rather than rounding it in a lovely standing forward bend or child's pose kind of way. It just does not seem good for a lower back to be crunched in that way. Maybe I am missing something, but it always hurts and is monstrously unpleasant. I think my favorite pose of the whole class was bending over in cow face pose because I am a huge fan of anything that (a) rounds the back and (b) stretches and opens up the old hips, which I find notoriously hard to stretch effectively. (Other favorite hip poses? The pigeon, a.k.a. heaven, and the ridiculously but aptly named happy baby pose.) I hope to spend more time doing deep stretching and yoga in the coming weeks and months ... once I wrap up the next (and final, for a while, anyway) triathlon. I think my body really needs it.

(2) I watched 8 episodes of True Blood in two days. After watching the first four season one episodes a while back and never being able to rent the next discs because they are always checked out, I finally scored the last few discs and marathoned them. This show -- this show. It is so totally gross and ridiculous but so entertaining. I have to look away and fast forward sometimes through some of the really graphic stuff because I am a squeamish delicate flower, but overall, I enjoyed it so much and deem it perfect summer fare.

(3) I've been reading Shelf Discovery every night before bed and simultaneously loving every word and feeling deeply jealous that I didn't think to, with a little help from my friends, write this book myself! But no matter. I'm just glad it got written because it's hilarious and ultimately moving to read someone else's childhood impressions of Meg and Calvin and Charles Wallace and Claudia and Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and Vicky and Adam and Harriet and Sally J. Freedman and all of the others. It's just an awesome walk down memory lane. (Here's how you can buy it from your friendly neighborhood independent bookstore.)

(4) Speaking of independent bookstores, check out this great interview by my old friend Melissa. I am very inspired by seeing her so totally in her element and doing what she was obviously meant to do.

(5) And speaking of memory lane, I've been enjoying a few really nice John Hughes tributes, including one by Molly Ringwald in the NYT and a SUCH a lovely story by a woman who was pen pals with Hughes when she was young.

(6) Recently I bought two new prints for my walls. Where I will hang these I do not know, and they still sit in their mailing tubes. But I'm just glad they're in my house because I like them. I would sort of like to rebuild my living space from the ground up. What is stopping me? Nothing!

(7) I made this zucchini bread with a ton of zucchini from the farmers' market that I needed to use up, and it was delicious, even though I forgot to add the vanilla. (Found via Tastespotting, my very favorite place to hunt for recipes and look at beautiful food.)

(8) I am kind of still loving summer in general. Lunches and dinners with friends, getting up early to run with Zuko or exercise, the farmers' market, visits to the dog park (where someone pointed out of Daisy, "She's got issues," which I frankly found a bit snotty and rude), Sunday brunch and gelato in New Orleans, and a night of excellent community theater ("I knew every word of every song growing up," my mom said as we listened to the soundtrack to The King and I on the way home).

(9) This picture makes me really happy, as does the Chuck Comic-Con panel, which is definitely worth watching if you're a fan of the show and have 34 minutes to spare. They are 34 minutes of pure delight.

(10) And finally, I leave you with this. I never knew how much I missed Tim Canterbury until now. O Timmy! My Timmy!

Clumsy times three

On Monday, these things happened:

(1) While parked at the coffee shop on my way into work with my pie on the front seat, I noticed a river of blue goo pouring off the edge of the pie dish all over the seat. I opened the car door and lifted the pie over myself as carefully as possible so as to not drip all over my white skirt and hung my feet out the car while I tried to sop up the juice with a combination of print-outs of triathlon registrations and a plastic bag. My feet started itching and burning wildly and I looked down to see they were covered in fire ants from the parking lot. Fun! I screamed, kicked my flip flops off, and slapped the ants off my feet with one hand while trying to balance the dripping pie away from my skirt. It was a great start to the day.

(2) After dinner, I carefully prepared a dessert of plain yogurt with diced strawberries and bananas and a little bran cereal. I pulled the top off the bottle of agave nectar in order to drizzle a few drops onto my bowl of heaven, and about a 1/2 cup of agave nectar gushed into my bowl, onto the counter, down the cabinet, and onto the floor. This is syrup so sweet that only a few tiny drops can sweeten an entire bowl of food. Now my yogurt was swimming in it, and cleaning it up everywhere else was just a picnic! Good times.

(3) Later, I was hand washing dishes, as is the life of a woman without a dishwasher, and I stabbed myself in the thumb with the sharp point of my damn corn on the cob holder, and it spurted blood.

What next? What next, Monday?

Clearly there was nothing to do but lie prostrate and watch The Bachelorette while reading Taran Wanderer.

Misc. things I'm enjoying:

(1) Swimming in the morning. Wonderful, meditative, exhausting way to begin summer days.

(2) Re-reading the Chronicles of Prydain. So comforting and refreshing. I was set to read Blood Meridian for book club, which I'm sure is an excellent book, but more than one person told me I should NOT read it, and knowing just a little of how violent it is, I'm not sure I can stomach that in a month like July. Or ever. I don't enjoy violence, for the most part, apparently, unless Colin Farrell is involved, such as in In Bruges.

(3) Posts about So You Think You Can Dance at Low Resolution (such as this latest one on the state of the dance floor) and A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago (such as its latest post which recaps where we stand now with our top ten). These people love the show like I do but write about it and analyze it better than I ever could. I really cannot overstate the degree to which this show brings joy to my summer.

(4) Bravo's reruns of season one of The West Wing. I had forgotten how much I once loved this show and how wonderful it was in the beginning. I am loving this chance to rediscover it.

(5) Seeing my little brother play.

That's it for now.

Easy like Sunday morning

It's Sunday morning, and I'm sitting on my couch with a towel on my head and my cat perched on the cushion behind my neck. I'm drinking a homemade iced coffee that I put in the freezer for a while to get slushy with an orange bendy straw. Both the air conditioner and the ceiling fan are blasting. It's 88 degrees, but it could easily be 10 degrees hotter in the next few hours. It's been an unbelievably hot week for June. No rain for days, and none in the forecast.

This morning I slept in until about 8 and got dressed for my bike ride. This involves putting on my new biking shorts (expensive but worth it), a quick dry shirt, my sneakers, and my helmet. I set off for my 13-miler and sweat my face off. One day I will work up the nerve to reach down and grab my water bottle and swig from it while riding. That day was not today, however. I had to pull over about halfway through and sit on a bench and guzzle some water and then set off again. It was mostly a pleasant ride despite swallowing a mouthful of gnats and taking out a small branch with my helmet. I tried to focus on my beautiful surroundings and not on how slow I truly am. I am hoping that getting some brackets for my pedals that I can slip my feet into will help me to move a little faster. But the truth is just that my bike is kind of heavy and slow. And so am I. But I am getting better, and for the most part, I really like it.

I am re-reading The Book Thief after a recent commenter reminded me how much I loved it. It is still really wonderful.

I am feeling really lucky today to be able to prepare and enjoy a meal with my family and to celebrate my dad. I am feeling for my friends who no longer have their dads and hoping today is not too hard for them. I am feeling grateful for my very fat cat who is now pressing herself against my side and arm just because she likes to be close. I got to play with a six-month-old baby last night while his mom tucked in the other kids and, to be frank, we fell in love. We rocked in a rocking chair, and we played a hilarious game of peekaboo with a throw pillow. In fact, he found mostly everything to be hilarious -- the dumber and more ridiculous the better. It is amazing how it literally only takes a few minutes alone with a little baby or kid for the first time to stage a rootin' tootin' love fest.

(Later...)

Today a very large meal was cooked for Father's Day. I made a vegetable pasta dish with whole wheat angel hair with garlic, purple onion, zucchini, yellow squash, teeny tiny tomatoes, red and green bell pepper, and fresh basil with grated romano cheese sprinkled on top. All but the garlic and purple onion were grown either in a neighbor's garden or at a local farm, which I felt great about. My mom and I peeled shrimp and cooked them with a little olive oil and Tony Chachere's, all they needed to be perfect. We heated up a loaf of whole wheat bread baked by a lady across the river, another farmer's market purchase. The crust was super hard and chewy and the inside was squishy soft and delish. I ate a piece (or two) (or three) with real butter. I made these for dessert (with sugar cookie instead of peanut butter cookie dough), which we squished into vanilla ice cream from a local dairy. My older brother's new fiancee brought salad and warm from the oven banana bread.

It is hours later and still I am so full I feel drowsy. My eyes are drooping and my belly is round. I ate more than one person should, but I ate very happily. Over and out.

Catching up & rambling

A few more words on Chuck: I finished season one and loved every second of it. I spent way too much money for a season pass for the second season on iTunes, but it's worth it to me. I'm two episodes in, and it continues to delight. One of the miracles this show has worked in my life is that it's actually made me like the actress who played the much hated Madison on Everwood. I never would have thought this to be possible, but Chuck is just magical that way.

Last weekend was a nice one. I spent Saturday morning at a little women's retreat led by my mom, and I was so proud. She did a wonderful job. She was funny, assured, inspiring, and wise.

Mother's Day was good. Morning mass followed by an afternoon gig of my brother's, where we ate boiled shrimp and had a merry time. After that, I went on a bike ride for the first time in at least 15 years. I borrowed my friend's bike and rode in her peaceful neighborhood with little to no traffic, which was a good plan. Only once did I end up messing up a turn and rolling inadvertently into someone's front yard. I'm still not entirely sure how to brake and turn, but I didn't fall down and rode for a solid 30 minutes, so I feel great about it!

(A few days later...) Ow. Ow, ow, ow. So cried my back for the next four days. I think leaning over the handlebars and clutching them in a death grip due to being someone nervous on the bike pulled some muscles in my back. It's finally feeling somewhat normal again after not exercising in several days. O Lord.

One night this week, I celebrated my dad's birthday with my parents. Fresh green beans with real butter, corn on the cob, whole wheat spaghetti, fresh pineapple, broccoli salad, and some kind of pounded meat cutlet-y thing. And limoncello! It was good to visit with them and celebrate the wonder that is my dad.

I've read the first section (CORN) of The Omnivore's Dilemma and a little bit of the next section (GRASS). It's a book club assignment, and I had to think long and hard about actually starting it because I feared it would make me more neurotic about food than I already am. I have to turn a blind eye to most of the things I put in my mouth because the freaked out germophobe in me can't tolerate to think about where any of it came from. I'm like, hello, little grape. Did a cow ever take a poop on you? (I know that makes no sense.) I'm not sure that's so healthy, especially when I've been trying to for the most part eat whole and natural foods this spring. That's really a movement towards eating more consciously for me, and I don't want to avoid a book that will shed light on where some of that food comes from. I have to say that the corn section has basically made me never want to think about ever touching any part of any animal fed with corn ever again. Even though last night I ate and enjoyed a giant ear of corn on the cob. Wha? It made me actually mad at corn. Like, how dare you, corn, for being so insidious and being in everything human beings eat and drink? I don't want to be mad at corn. I like corn. Especially when it's boiled with a bunch of crawfish. Which are born in ditches as far as I know. So that is obviously an acceptable grossosity to me. It's hard to decide what is acceptable and what is not.

It's a lot to process. I eat beef once in a blue moon. Hardly ever. Maybe three times a year. Including last night at my parents' house. And it was tasty, but it's just not my thing, unless it's my mom's famous roast. But I do eat dairy products and lots of them. And I eat a lot of chicken, and I eat a lot of eggs. I would really like to go cold-hard vegan, but I don't really know what that would solve for me. I don't want to start eating Boca burgers and fake-ass food like that. I know I could live without beef and chicken and possibly even shrimp though that would be hardest for me as I truly love shrimp. But I do not think I would do well without eggs and cheese.

I don't know. It's a lot to think about. I don't want to obsess about food, but I also want to. I want to know what I'm eating and really think about it and really savor what tastes good and is good for me. But I don't want drive myself crazy. I'd like there to be balance. I'm not sure how. As I was reading the corn section and contemplating the wrongness and badness of "processed" food and food pesticided and horomoned and chemicaled and antibioticed out the wazoo, I comforted myself by thinking, well, there's always Whole Foods. But then I got to the GRASS section. Which so far basically boils down to the fact that Whole Foods and everything sold under its roof is a big fat lie. And it galls me that I've never given much thought to trying to only eat produce that's in season and local hasn't been shipped from a million miles away. I want to be better about this, to do better.

I want to eat healthy things that don't harm my body or the earth. But what are those things? Seriously, what are we supposed to eat? I would really like to know.

(Still more days later ...) I can't seem to wrap this up! I bought a bike! My classmate was selling her gently used bike, a bike that looks like this. I have no idea if this is a good bike or a bad bike, but my sister and BFF tell me it is, and my classmate is nice and trustworthy, and it looks fine to me! My dad gave me his gently used helmet. I am ready to start really learning how to ride it even though I am kind of spastic and scared. This is not exactly a bike-friendly town, though some people are trying hard to make it more so.

Another weekend has gone by. So busy! Spent yesterday in French Quarter with my cousin, attending mass at the cathedral (banging gong drum in choir loft ... so crazy ... I loved it!), running through the rain to brunch at Muriel's, where we ate crawfish hash and crawfish crepes with goat cheese and drank mimosas and yum, and a couple of bars where we nursed family wounds and more mimosas and laughed and remembered. It was a drizzly but nice day. Early Saturday morning, I went biking, and it was very painful and I need some good padded biking shorts right away. Between the cars, bikers, and joggers (even at 7 a.m.) and the crippling nether region pain, I basically rode in constant fear of collision and death and permanent groin paralysis and only made it 3.6 miles. Biking is scary. But I have to learn, and I will!

I am very, very, very excited about Glee.

Meanwhile, some very sad things have happened to some of my friends, and I am thinking of them & love them very much.

34

The night before my birthday, I went out for Thai with my parents and brother. We had a nice visit over shrimp toast, nam sod, and various shrimp/chicken/vegetable entrees.

On my birthday morning, I was inexplicably wide awake at 4 a.m. I decided to roll over, flip on the bedside lamp, and open Harry: A History by Melissa Anelli, which (Melissa was right) is pretty fantastic. I spent a couple of hours with it before falling back asleep, only to be awakened at 8 by Zuko's staccato alarm bark. Oh well. I ate breakfast and headed out on a run. It was gray and very breezy out, the wind whipping the leaves (and me) all over the road. I got diverted by a train at one point, but overall, it was a fairly satisfying run.

After showering and all that jazz, I stopped for an iced coffee and headed to the farmer's market, where I bought some birthday gifts for friends. It started getting colder and colder outside, which was weird considering how warm it's been lately. I had a nice lunch with B. and headed to my massage appointment. It was my first time with a male massage therapist since Arturo in Costa Rica. I was a little nervous but got over it quickly. As he dug into upper back with great force, he noted that I can take more pressure than most. Then as he dug into my neck mightily, he said that some people have a tight spot here and there in their necks but that mine was tight all over. "Your neck ... is a rock," he said. "Yeah," I sighed. He worked on it for most of the hour, moving onto my hips at my request because they are always super tight, I think from running and squatting during the f-ing Jillian Michaels' DVD, and hard to stretch. He did all sorts of stretches, pushing my knee onto my chest and saying, "Wow, you are flexible. I mean -- wow. You are FLEXIBLE." I told him that was the only thing I scored well on during my gym fitness test a few years ago. Then he held my hip as he stretched it the opposite way across my body and sort of lay on it. This is hard to explain and sounds sort of obscene, but it was all very comfortable and professional until I screamed when he massaged the IT Band area of my hip with a little too much vim and vigor. Then he worked my upper back underneath my shoulder blades and so forth and it was basically an hour of complete heaven. It felt like a great gift to give myself on my birthday.

After my massage, I lay like goo on the couch and popped in my new Dr. Horrible DVD, a gift from my little brother. It was awesome, of course, as was the musical commentary, which just knocked my socks off. This whole enterprise is so delightful on so many levels to me. I bought myself the soundtrack and made a copy for him so we could continue to share the Dr. Horrible love. It was fun to check the mailbox and get some really nice cards. Overall, it was a lovely morning and afternoon.

The day shifted into evening, and I headed out for a girls' dinner. Stupid me did not think to make reservations, so our group of six faced a two-hour wait. Oops! So we sat outside on the patio, which was challenging due to the fact that a sudden Arctic blast was blowing through. Luckily there were heaters, and it gave me an excuse to wear my new school bus-colored coat all night long. We shared potstickers and pizza and fried rice and pad Thai and drank wine and gossiped and laughed and it felt really good to be surrounded by women I've known so long ... one I've known since kindergarten. They all brought me very wonderful and thoughtful gifts, which I didn't expect, and picked up my tab. It was all very special! I can't really describe it without lapsing into sentimentality so I'll stop there. One girlfriend and I headed out to watch my brother play for a little while but didn't last very long as apparently 34 means you have to be in bed by 11:00.

It got down into the thirties last night after a long string of days in the seventies, so that was a little bizarre. I woke up this morning and went to the grocery store, story of my life. Then I baked a ton of St. Patrick's Day cookies to freeze for my parade party. I've never frozen cookies before and hope they come out okay. I have to say that the green shamrock-shaped cookies are pretty cute even though some of them look more like amoebas than shamrocks. Then I decided to go out to World Market and look for some aqua curtains for my bedroom. I bought these and like them a lot. I also bought a new rug for the foot of my bed. My room, I have to say, is looking very different, and I am happy about it. I decided to go all white for my new bed (more on the new bed soon!), and I think it's all coming together.

Today I made this in my crock pot. I drained that m-fing tofu for like 36 hours and it still felt a bit moist. But I had better luck with the cornstarch and browning the tofu than last time; I think tofu just feels damp no matter how long you drain it! I used olive oil instead of butter and took my time getting it nice and brown, and it turned out perfectly delicious. I cooked it longer than the 3 hours instructed because I checked it at 3 hours and the carrots were still too hard for my liking. I also added a little more water than the recipe called for and when it tells you to add a little water and shake up the remnants of the sauce in the jar, I added 1/4 a teaspoon of cayenne pepper and some salt and shook that up with the liquid. I also added two cloves of chopped garlic and a pretty hefty chunk of chopped fresh ginger. Fascinating, I know! Anyway, I ate it over basmati rice, and it might be my favorite thing I've made in the crockpot thus far. Success!

Overall, it's been a very nice birthday weekend. Today is the beginning of a new month and a new year at a new age. I am determined to live well and work hard and, as Maria instructed Liesl, look for my life.

Monday Catch-Up

And now for more thrilling catch-up. I finished A Mercy on the plane, and I liked it very much. There was one particular part that made me well up with tears; it involved a character changing her name. I think this is a Biblical concept if I'm not mistaken, and it always moves me to contemplate it. I also finished The Reader, which was beautiful, gripping, and sad, and I can't wait to see the movie now.

Speaking of books, I've posted a few more reviews over at Kidliterate, Melissa's book review site. I'll hopefully be continuing to do so, probably focusing on graphic novels for now.

Okay, I guess that brings us to Saturday night ... it was crawfish etoufee, shrimp and corn soup, stuffed shrimp, seafood gumbo, cheese fries, and beer with old friends, followed by a girls' night out at a bar where we watched my little brother play. I had enough beers to screw up the courage to sing a duet with him, "Falling Slowly" from Once. Ridiculous but fun. It was great to hang out with my girlfriends and stay out late and cut loose for the first time in a long time. There was something about singing songs and sharing frozen sangria that took me back to the old days when all we ever did was act silly and stay up late and have fun. It was nice to realize that it's still possible! Seriously. I'd like to plan another girls night out soon with all the peeps who couldn't make it that night.

Sunday morning, I woke up to bid my houseguests adieu, and eventually I collapsed back into bed, tossing and turning and rousing in time to head to the dog parade with the same girlfriends and some kids. It was a nice afternoon, and we stopped on the way home for frozen yogurt. Sunday evening, I went to my first-ever book club meeting. I'm not sure how I made it to almost 34 without ever being in a book club, but there you go. We discussed A Mercy and drank red wine and ate homemade French bread and it was very relaxing.

It's now Monday and a new week. I'm cooking some whole grain quinoa (is quinoa supposed to be crunchy?) and defrosting some frozen curried vegetables I made in the crockpot last week. After a week of dismal and abysmal sleep, I hope to start fresh tonight and actually sleep more than a few hours. I feel this is important towards the overall positivity of the week ahead. I'm not sure what else to say, so I guess I'll post some pictures of parade dogs. There's nothing like a neon green labradoodle to sing that spring is coming.

Sunday

It was a beautiful morning to go on a run. Sunny and breezy and 65 degrees. I'm glad I went when I did; the clouds are gathering, and it looks like rain, which I think might foil my plan to take Zuko to the dog park.

On Friday night, my girlfriend and I went out for appetizers and wine and went to see Last Chance Harvey, which made us cry a lot. I just could not stop crying. I think it's because I love Emma Thompson so much and the moment her face even begins to wrinkle in sorrow I can't help but cry along. And all of the scenes related to Dustin Hoffman and his daughter sent me over the edge into serious fall apart land. It was cathartic! I'm glad we saw it.

Yesterday is a semi-blur. In the morning, I gave myself permission to be lazy, and I lay around and watched the previous night's episode of Battlestar Galactica, which was so fantastic I'm still not over it. Eventually I went to Target and spent too much money, as usual. Then I met up with a classmate for coffee and a visit about our projects. It was nice to be able to sit outside on the patio. I made this spinach and tofu recipe in the crockpot sans the tofu. I didn't drain the tofu enough, clearly, because when I tried to follow the instructions and dust it in cornstarch and then stir-fry it a little bit in a skillet to brown it, the cornstarch bonded to the water on the surface of the tofu instead of the tofu itself and slid off and ended up in strange congealed translucent bits swimming in a gelatinous goo that looked like I was stir-frying the wax we used with our childhood braces. Disaster. So I trashed the tofu and added carrots and almonds and it was pretty good. Not great, but edible. I mostly enjoyed the whole grain naan I bought at Target. Last night I stayed in and watched season two of Extras, which was wonderful if highly mortifying, particularly the Ian McKellen episode, the date gone awry with the bathroom ridiculousness, and the office antics involving the naked lady pen.

Which brings us to today. The run was pleasant. I hacked a giant lantana all the way to the ground (it will come back, it always does) and scratched myself up plenty in the process. I contemplated having a St. Patrick's parade party. I also thought back, randomly, to an old tape that a friend copied for me some 15 years ago at camp. All I remembered was that the guy's name was Raccoon and that he had a song about sitting around thinking about the things he likes to think about. A little searching online, and I found him. This is the song I really liked that summer. What can I say, we were in the mountains.

Now I'm drinking Godiva hot chocolate with soy milk even though it's not remotely cold outside and contemplating a nap. Last night was one of those nights when I was awake more than I was asleep, and it's finally hitting me. Luckily I had a good TV show ("Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Wizard: You shall not pass! Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian...") and a good book (I finished A Map of the Known World, which was beautiful and heartbreaking) All the pets are napping, and I don't know why I shouldn't follow their lead.

On this lazy afternoon, I'm thinking that some time soon I'd like to mull over the idea of giving myself permission to be lazy more often. I am lazy a lot, but I always feel guilty about it. I think I'd like to let that go in '09. I am trying to embrace the idea that a little laziness can be a good thing and not something to fret over. More on that later.

Catching up / Cry for help

I forgot to mention that I saw a really good rental recently. It's called The Edge of Heaven. I didn't know much about it going in, but I'm so glad I ended up watching it. It's hard to say too much about it without giving important things away, and I wouldn't recommending reading up on it before seeing it. Just know that it's about Turkey, Germany, a father, a son, a mother, a daughter, lovers, political activism, and other fascinating things. I highly recommend it, and I look forward to checking out another effort by Fatih Akin, the award-winning Head On.

My little brother and I took a road trip to see Slumdog Millionaire yesterday after deciding to go to it if it's not going to come to us. It was totally worth the drive and the time. I strenously avoided details on the film before seeing it because I knew it would be special, and I didn't want to know anything about it going in. That was wise. I was surprised by everything, and I had no idea I'd be so nervously on the edge of my seat the entire time. I don't think I relaxed or let my breath out for a single second. It was so exhilarating and beautiful. We loved it and wished we could stay to watch it all over again.

(The next week ...)

I've now seen Head On, supposedly a very big deal. It was definitely memorable and the performances were strong, but it didn't capture my heart the way The Edge of Heaven did. I was mostly annoyed and disturbed by its leading characters instead of in love with them and rooting for them like I was in the other film. There was a little too much blood and sex for me, ultimately.

Thanks to my friend Erin for linking to a great crockpot recipe site. Yesterday, I made the Moroccan lentil soup. The grocery store did not have garam masala, so I used an Indian spice blend, or vegetable broth, so I used chicken broth. Other than that, I stuck to the recipe, and it was DELICIOUS. It also made enough to feed a small army, so I fed some to B., some to my parents, and a lot to my freezer. I am excited to try out some more of this site's recipes for the rest of winter. 

I haven't really been able to get into River Secrets, my love for Shannon Hale's other Bayern books notwithstanding. Luckily, just I was feeling that gnawing feeling of wanting a good book, a galley arrived from trusty Melissa today called A Map of the Known World. (She reviewed it here.) I just read the first two chapters, and it is wonderful so far.

Why did no one ever hold me down and force me to watch Extras? I have just finished season one, and it is the first thing that has made me laugh out loud in ages. It is just what I needed this week, when feeling a bit gray and melancholy, just like the weather, and I can't wait to get season two. I watched Ricky Gervais on Inside the Actors Studio recently, and he said that Andy is the complete opposite of David Brent, which I don't really believe. I understand Andy is a lot more self-aware than David Brent and is often the one actually noticing other people's awfulness instead of everyone noting it about him, but he's really quite similar to David Brent in that sometimes he is so clueless and embarrassing to watch, especially when begging for a line. I mean, clearly he is not the tosser (am I using that British word correctly? no idea!) David Brent is, but he can still be an idiot. Augh! It's so good. I loved it. And it's great to see Charlotte from Ugly Betty as the dim but well-meaning Maggie. And as with The Office, I love watching the behind the scenes stuff because I cannot help but be charmed by the way that Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant genuinely seem to crack each other up to no end. Maybe it's all a put-on, but I like to believe it's a real friendship and affection in addition to a professional and creative collaboration. I don't want to think about this too much or it might lead me dangerously down the road toward Merchant/Gervais fan fiction or something. But I do like watching them make each other laugh, and it makes me think of how making each other laugh is so important in a friendship. Even when things are really shitty, my friends and I can still make each other laugh. This paragraph is getting lamer and lamer so I'll stop.

I have nothing else to say except a cry for help. I have to buy a new mattress set. I've never bought one before. My bed is a hand-me-down from my older brother that I've had for 15 years and that he had God knows how many years before that. It's heinous, I am sleeping worse than ever, and it's kind of making life suck. If you have a bed that you like a lot or love, can you please leave me a comment and tell me about it? Also please feel free to share any bed shopping tips you might have. Or feel free to tell me not to buy a certain type that you think is bad. I don't know why I am so paralyzed about doing this; I am a grown woman and should be able to go to a store and buy a friggin' mattress set. But I really like testimonials, and I like getting them from people I know (or sort of know) instead of crazy people on Internet review websites. I am not afraid to throw down some cash because I think this is an important investment that could literally and vastly improve my life. Thanks in advance for any guidance you can provide.

2 days into '09

Ah ... 2009. So far, so good. New Year's Eve was spent turning in early after turkey and sausage gumbo and spinach pie with B. at my parents' house. On day one of the new year, I slept in and then treated myself to a matinee of Milk, which I'd been wanting to see for months. It did not disappoint. My most powerful encounter with the story of Harvey Milk will always be catching the documentary The Times of Harvey Milk on TV by accident and learning the story for the first time, but this was an excellent movie and I'm very glad I saw it. It made me very sad, both the way it ended, of course, and thinking about how little things have changed despite how hard Harvey Milk and his colleagues fought. I mean, sure, a lot has changed, but clearly, as we saw so disgustingly this year, a lot also hasn't. I wish this movie were getting more press and were open on more screens because I think it's important. The cast was great ... Emile Hirsch particularly impressed me -- it was hard to recognize him as the same kid who played Alexander Supertramp. 

After going to see Milk, I went over to my parents' house to continue to feast on leftovers. My mom wrote thank you notes for wedding-related kindnesses while watched Enchanted. She, unsurprisingly, found it delightful. Later that night, we continued eating still more leftovers and watched Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; both of my parents really liked it, as I knew they would. What is not to like? I've now seen that movie four times and could easily watch it again today. It's wonderful. Kymm Zuckert, I am not sure what you are waiting for! This is your kind of movie.

After packing in three movies in the course of one day and falling asleep to Sarah Vowell's story of the Puritans, this morning I got up relatively early and headed out for a run. After about a mile, I decided that the morning fog, while very cool looking, was a bit creepy. I argued with myself for a while about whether turning around due to basically zero visibility was neurotic or sensible, and I came down on the side of sensible, ran a mile back home, and turned on Jillian Michaels for the rest of the workout. Oh, how level one still pains me so! My arms basically burst into flames, but I soldiered through. 

I showered and headed to the coffee shop to meet my old friend Herpreet, with whom I had a nice two-hour visit out on the patio. It is always nice to see her and to catch up with someone you've known for a million years. Old friends are so important, and I need to never forget that.

Then I headed over to S.'s to help get ready for a gathering at her parents' house tonight and eat handfuls of her mother's amazing white chocolate peppermint candy. I have to say, when the holidays well and truly come to a close and all friends and relatives have finally returned to their homes far away and all of the leftovers are gone and I return to work and real life, I might have to cry a little bit. 

I hope to post some pictures soon ... now I must get ready to head back to S.'s house for the gumbo event, which leads up to the Party of the Century tomorrow night. 

Catching up

I guess it's time for an update on what has been going on ... I like to keep track of these things so I don't forget.

On Friday evening, I went running and then B. and I relaxed with Thai food and some of last week's shows. I laughed a lot when Pam said, "That's what she said, that's what she said, that's what she said." I continue to be amazed to think I once assessed the U.S. version of The Office as not very good. I must have been in a dark place in my life at the time because now I love it so much that I cannot imagine life without it.

On Saturday, the morning is ... a bit of a blur. I think I went to the library. Around lunch time, B. and I began our trek to the game, stopping for iced coffee on the way there. We decided it would be faster to walk to the stadium than to attempt going in car, and I think it was a great plan, especially since it was a gorgeous day. Walking past a long line of cars in dead standstill traffic is sort of satisfying; on the one hand, you feel for them, but on the other hand, you think, "Suckers!" We stopped at a few tailgating gatherings and headed into the stadium for what turned out to be a hella exciting game. I thought of Al L-H throughout and just reveled in the excitement of the experience -- record attendance, two very enthusiastic marching bands (theirs actually plays "Confrontation" from Les Mis, which is awesome), and insanely fired up fans on both sides. It was of course wonderful to hear the announcer proclaim that it was now Saturday night in a voice that boomed down as if from heaven and see the entire stadium explode in what was basically ecstasy times more than 90,000. Aside from bruising my finger with the giant ring of the man who repeatedly wanted to high-five me, I suffered no injuries from the crush of the crowd. B. and I were actually lining up with hundreds of others near an exit to head out as the other team started their field goal formation and I actually said, "But they could miss their field goal!" Not likely. But look what happened! It was so exciting. Dads were throwing little boys in the air, strangers were embracing, the whole beautiful thing. Of course we lost in the end, but it was still really fun and spectacular in a way to be in the stadium on such an evening.

On Sunday, I ran five miles and went to the library and checked out some more National Book Award finalists. I posted about Chains over at Kidliterate. The Spectacular Now by Tim Tharp was a decent read, but I found the protagonist fundamentally unlikeable, so it was hard for me to get into the book as a whole. I'm glad I read it, for the most part, but honestly it gave me some unpleasant high school flashbacks of liking the wrong boys, acting like an idiot as a result, throwing up at parties, and overall teenage foolishness. I can definitely imagine teens getting into the book because it's very realistic to both a hilarious and mortifying degree. I'm about 100 pages into The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, and I'm undecided as to how I feel about it right now. There is something about boarding school books that rubs me the wrong way, and I blame it entirely on my deep and abiding hatred of The Secret History (I know it's not a boarding school book, but that whole rich kids at school doing wicked things aura just makes me surly). Although, as a kid, I sure did love me some Canby Hall! As long as the kids in Disreputable History don't start doing truly vile things, I might end up really liking it.

Meanwhile, I've decided I really want to see Australia. I think it will be so bad that it's good, you know? I really hope it's the movie that shows the world just how awesome Hugh Jackman really is. If only it were a musical!

The Underneath

My friend Melissa and I have long shared our obsessive love for children's and YA lit, and I'm a big fan of Kidliterate, her site on such. When I wrote to her gushing about my love for a book I finished yesterday, I was excited to get the chance to post my thoughts there. I'm not a reviewer so it's not a review per se, it's just my reaction a few hours after finishing the book. I'm cross-posting it here, so here it is. I hope to post more at Kidliterate in the future because it's about one of my favorite subjects and run by one of my favorite people!

:::

In light of how much I adored past National Book Award winners True Believer and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian — they rank among the top YA novels I’ve ever read in my life — I decided to take immediate note of this year’s finalists and read all of them.

First up was The Underneath by Kathi Appelt, simply because it was the first one that arrived via interlibrary loan. I started reading it in bed last night and had to force myself to close the book and set it aside, because forty pages in (it’s an extremely fast read), I knew that if I went much farther I wouldn’t be able to stop until reaching the end, and I am a woman who needs her sleep!

On this lovely Sunday morning, I woke up, made coffee, crawled under a blanket, and lay on the couch in my pajamas for several hours finishing this book. And let me just say that it was wonderful. I was moved throughout and cried actual tears on several occasions.

It’s hard to explain what a treasure this book is without giving too much away. I could say that it’s about a dog, some cats, a snake, an alligator, trees, and birds, because it is about all of those things, but it is so much more. I guess if I had to pick one thing this book is about, I would have to say that it is about family. It is how the unlikeliest of creatures can form a family, it is about how families are torn apart, it is about how families betray each other, die for each other, leave each other, lose each other, and find each other.

Even though these ideas are brought to life primarily by animals and other life forms in a swampy forest, they are ultimately ideas about all of us — human beings, certainly, but also the earth we live on and the living things with which we share it.

I am having a really hard time explaining how beautiful this book is. I feel like even the slightest bit about the plot will spoil it too much. I guess I can say that I think you will love this book if you have ever loved a dog or a cat, ever walked through a forest, ever swum in a creek, ever been scared of the meanness of life and the certainty of death, ever lost someone you loved, or ever believed in magic.

When Melissa told me this book is being aimed at children in the 8-12 age range, I was very surprised for multiple reasons. This book is very scary. There are villains, both human and not, that positively exude evil in a very realistic and un-cartoonish way that would have given me nightmares as a child. This book is also very sad. Extremely traumatic events occur that I found almost unbearable to read. For these reasons, I’d like to see this book marketed toward an age group that’s a little older. It can obviously be enjoyed by adults, to which Melissa and I can attest, and I think high schoolers would be more emotionally and mentally equipped to grapple with not only the frightening and heartbreaking aspects but the overall ideas of the book, which are quite profound. Let me make clear that I usually veer in the completely opposite direction of wanting to take books out of children’s hands because they are scary or sad or hard to understand. But I do think that certain books are more appropriate for older readers than younger readers, and this is definitely one of them.

As noted above, in addition to being sometimes terrifying and often quite sad, this book is also very deep. The title refers to the area underneath a house’s porch, but certainly it can be taken a step beyond that — it also signifies a jar hidden underneath a tree and an alligator hidden underneath the currents of a bayou. Perhaps most of all, though, it signifies the depth of life that glimmers beyond our knowing consciousness, the ancient mysteries of the earth that still resonate beneath the surface, and stories hidden underneath the passage of time. How the author pulled all of this off with a tale about a hound dog and some cats is a testament to her obviously great (and previously unknown to me) talent.

After suffering severe reading burnout this fall, which has never really happened to me before but which I attribute to having read 60 graphic novels over the summer, which almost made my brain fall out, this is the first book I have picked up and gotten all the way through in several months. I am so glad this is the book that has brought me back to books and to reading. It utterly captured both my imagination and my heart. I hope you will also find a place for it in yours.

Monday update

Another weekend, another Monday.

On Friday evening, we went out for pad Thai and spring rolls and frozen yogurt. On Saturday, I have no idea what I did. Seriously. How can I forget so quickly? I stopped by an estate sale and browsed. I went to the bookstore and bought a textbook. I went to the dog park with Zuko, who might be dumb and a pain in the butt a lot of the time but is a great dog park dog. He doesn't bother anyone, he doesn't scare the nervous dogs, he doesn't participate in the big group scuffles, and he just runs around a pees on everything he passes. I visited with the fiancée of one of B.'s school friends. I like both of them a lot, I like their dogs, and I'd like to get to know them better. I met B. later that afternoon for a quick lemonade at the coffee shop.

I spent much of the rest of the afternoon shopping for and preparing this salad. Don't bother making this salad if you don't have a strong affinity for chopping. There is lots of chopping involved. I didn't make anywhere near the whole recipe and it still made about a million servings. I am already sort of sick of it, but we will be eating it for many days to come. The best things about this salad are (a) the dressing and (b) the fact that it's really pretty to look at. It tastes great, but it might not be balanced in the effort/enjoyment ratio (at least for me, but then I'm sort of lazy). If you can get someone to make it FOR you, that's the way to go. I followed the recipe pretty closely as far as ingredients except I didn't use nuts (B. doesn't like cashews and I forgot to get a substitute) or bean sprouts (they were rotting in their container at the store, gross) and I used whole wheat linguine. Overall: thumbs up but kind of a PITA to make.

On Sunday, it rained the entire day, and I spent much of the day lying around. I attempted to go running on the treadmill, but that didn't go well, so I took to the couch and watched hours upon hours of one of my all-time favorite TV shows, the first two seasons of which have been placed on YouTube in their entirety by various people who must have coordinated their efforts somehow. How happy this makes me I can't even really tell you. I am loath to post the links because I think the longer they are shrouded in secrecy the longer they will remain online before being pulled. Here's a hint: this show ran for four seasons. A lot of people loved it, but a lot of people hated it. It hasn't been released on DVD. It has seven core characters. It rhymes with "dirtysomething."

It's still so, so, so good. Now that I am actually the characters' ages instead of half that (as I was when it was on the air), I see it with whole new eyes, and I don't know that I ever saw myself as the Melissa or the Ellyn of the group even though that's who I am. In the pilot, Melissa is 31. 31! Stop, I can't even think about it. Sometimes I don't enjoy some of the fantasy stuff, but it turns out that I still adore the episode about the couple who used to live in Hope and Michael's house and the WWII scenes about their life. I first heard of "Stardust," of course, in Taking Care of Terrific when Hawk plays it during the secret midnight Swan Boat ride, but I never heard it until seeing this episode all those years ago. And it has remained one of my favorite songs in life ever since, especially when sung by Harry Connick, Jr. or Nat King Cole. Anyway. Just like I always have, I cried during this episode.

I also cried when Michael walked in, face crumpling when he saw that Melissa had brought the menorah. (Their fight during that episode = still awesome. Another awesome fight = Michael and Elliot in the office after they lose the business.) I cried when Melissa and Gary talked about how together, they brought up a couple of kids. I cried when Elliot sat at Ethan's bedside, post-rocket accident, apologizing. I cried when Nancy said, "It's just something about the way his mind works." As hard as I try, I still cannot like Susannah. It was great to watch the very beginning of the Miles Drentell saga, knowing now just how long it will last. I've cried so much just watching these episodes that I don't think I'm fully prepared for what comes next. Everyone remembers seasons three and four -- the cancer and the death and the major stuff, with "Second Look" in season four as the sort of emotional climax of the entire series. But seasons one and two are also really good. I don't know what to say except that I love this show and apparently always will. I am going to look back and find my 30-page paper on the evolution of Nancy Krieger Weston. I remain oddly proud of that paper.

Also this weekend: I finished Pilgrims by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I really liked. I liked every single story. I feel like people roll their eyes at Eat, Pray, Love now, but I loved that book, and I think she's a really good fiction writer. I also started Watchmen, a gift from B. As usual with this sort of graphic novel, I have no idea what's going on as I start it, but I'm hoping all will become clear.

In searching through files which contain my high school and college papers for that damn Nancy paper, I just found a "pre-test" I wrote for English III on August 20, 1991. The assignment was to write about a book we read over the summer. Mine was called "Meg's Brave Fight" and was all about the life-or-death decisions Meg Powers had to make in Ellen Emerson White's Long Live the Queen. A book I just re-read last week at age 33. I had no memory of writing this paper almost 17 years ago to the day, but reading it again makes me unspeakably happy. Being a packrat is not always a bad thing. And now I am awash in memories. I just spent the past few hours looking through old floppy discs -- is that what you call them? the little square ones? -- on my old desktop for papers saved during college on my parents' computer, and I found a ton of old papers, but not the Nancy one. I DID find the notebook in which I wrote pages and pages of notes while watching the Nancy-centric episodes which I analyzed in my paper. And an analysis for yet another English class on how James Joyce's "The Dead" was the inspiration for an episode of this show. Which it was. The professor wrote in her margin comments, "I remember that episode!" It's the tie that binds, apparently.

I spotted files in my filing cabinet with the following labels: First Apartment Mementos, Mail Received at Camp, Ally McBeal, River Phoenix, 20th Birthday Cards, Chicago Hope, and Homicide: Life on the Streets Drinking Game. It might be time to cull some of these files. GOOD LORD.

In other thoughts, I really enjoyed reading this columm, namely because its author is smart enough to know that Tiger Eyes is the best book Judy Blume ever wrote.

Misc. Thoughts

(1) I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon with my headphones in and an iced coffee. It is a good way to spend an afternoon.

(2) This morning while running three miles outside and sweating my face off, I started to push myself to continue with all sorts of irrational but inspirational thoughts. It is what I do; it is the only way I can keep from veering off to the side of the road and hurling myself face-first into someone's bed of caladiums. This morning my thoughts of fortitude were mainly focused on the women's Olympic marathoners, whose race B. and I caught part of over appetizers (pesto bread, hummus) and Blue Moons last night. When I was struggling to get my breathing into a normal rhythm and feeling like my facial capillaries were boiling beneath my skin not unlike molten lava, I thought about that runner who got the foot cramp in the middle of the race. And I said to myself, "Self, I'm sure that foot cramping marathoner would not be complaining about the opportunity to run at a snail's pace like you around these beautiful lakes so just get a grip on yourself and finish your measly three miles!" It helped, it truly did.

(3) It's been a nice weekend so far. On Friday evening, we got take-out and watched Smart People. I both liked and didn't like it, mostly veering on the side of like. My main complaint is that the romance between Dennis Quaid and Sarah Jessica Parker was soulless and unbelievable, but other than that, I liked the quirk of the characters and the overall film. It was nice to see Ellen Page in a pre-Juno role; she was excellent, as was the always reliable and hilarious Thomas Haden Church. Saturday morning, we woke up early; I went running wanted to stop at two miles but told myself, "If you can run 2 miles, you can run 3." So I did. I ate some leftover stir-fry for lunch, returned some graphic novels to the library, bought a visor to run in to help with the blinding summer glare, and took a long nap. After appetizers yesterday evening, B. and I headed to the wedding reception of a school friend, which was in a backyard and was beautifully laid back and relaxing ... as far as I'm concerned, backyard wedding receptions are the way to go ... had a very nice time except now kicking myself not to have applied bug spray now that I'm sporting about 25 new mosquito welts ... I should know better. I wish there were some kind of natural way to protect oneself against bug bites or something I could eat or drink that would make them think, "This blood is going to be foul, let's move along."

(4) I just finished reading the reissue of The President's Daughter. As I've written before, I have a long history with this series. I have my original copies from the mid-1980s. They are tattered, torn, and deeply beloved by me. The author came upon those entries and e-mailed me about five years ago, saying that she was writing a fourth book in the series, which has since come out. The books were reprinted several years back with truly odious covers (and if I'm not mistaken, the pages were basically xeroxed copies of the original pages), and the latest reissues have much better covers, are all-around first class in quality, and have been revised/updated by the author to add modern things like the Internet. And I'm thrilled that they're back in print and I hope a whole new generation of readers embraces them. Truly. And I am fine with certain updates to bring them into modern times. And I almost want to hold my tongue about this because I have loved these books for most of my life, and I love them still. But the little tweaks to the Preston stuff in the first book really bothered me. I don't like how when describing him, something like "and he's so handsome" was added, and I don't like how Meg talks about having a crush on him. These are very minor and short-lived little moments in the book, but they leapt out at me and made me squirm a little bit. It is clear when reading book four that now that Meg is an adult, a different kind of relationship with Preston is inching into the realm of being conceivable. That's not a spoiler; it doesn't happen in the book -- after all, she is still only 18 in book four -- but it starts to vaguely feel not altogether out of the realm of possibility. And I'm fine with that. Truly. I just do not believe the seeds needed to go back and retroactively be planted in book one when she is 15. Preston was already portrayed in books 1-3 as a wonderful, cool, hip guy who was their family's best friend -- in other words, we already know how important he is to Meg and what a rock he is for their family -- we just don't need the handsome, crush, etc. stuff that early on in the game, and I wish it would not have been added. (I always, always, always assumed Preston was gay, and learning that he is not really threw me for a loop, and so I'm starting all of these thoughts from a little bit of a discombobulated place anyway, for that reason.) I am almost frightened to see if more of these little hints about him are placed in the next two books. ANYWAY -- other than that, I loved reading the reissue, and I can't wait to start the second and third, because these books get better and better as they go along.

(5) Later ... I guess that is about it for now. B. made pesto and it's time to eat!

Weekend

It's been a busy weekend and a fun one. It is very strange to spend a weekend with B. when neither of us has any schoolwork to do. Holla!

Last night, we went to a happy hour with some of my school friends, and then visited for a while with some of his. We've been watching lots and lots of Mad Men and somehow it is never enough. This morning, I went on a two-mile run and to have iced coffee with my brother's ex-girlfriend, whom I love and adore. We visited on the patio with her dog, whom I also love and adore. It was very nice. B. and I went to lunch where I had a veggie sandwich, inspired by my coffee date who told me she's gone vegan, and then we went to Target, where I forgot about my new vegan plan and bought a half-pound of honey roasted turkey from the deli. Whoops! We ended up helping a stranger jump her dead battery because that is just what you do to help your fellow human beings even when you are all melting into the asphalt of the Target parking lot.

Tonight I went to the home of my old friend who is moving away to go to grad school for writing. Does anyone want to buy a REALLY CUTE house? If so, let me know and I can hook you up! She made amazing Indian food ... naan and spinach/potatoes and eggplant and chicken curry and there was also chicken mole and it was all so delicious that I started sweating. I will miss my friend but know we will keep in touch. I know she is destined for great things. She is one of the few people I know who is actually taking the chance to do what she knows she was born to do. Who does that? Nobody, it seems. It is a beautiful thing.

Anyway, veganism. My very healthy and fit friend / semi-sister-in-law insists that she gets lots of protein from protein-rich bread and pasta and beans and things of that nature but I'm not sure I could pull it off. But Lord knows I don't really get excited about meat and could do without it. I'm just not sure about the cheese part. And I'm trying really hard not to eat food that is not really food, and it seems like vegans rely a lot on frozen organic vegan burritos and Morningstar and Boca and I'm just not sure how I feel about those foods anymore. Conflicted!

I don't know what else to say. I'm so burned out from my 60-book summer that I can't bring myself to read anything. I started Black Swan Green but can't get into it despite the fact that B. tells me he knows I'd love it. Funny story (at least to me): At my friend's house tonight, a couple of people were talking about a horrible book that one of their book club members insisted they read and how everyone in the group hated it so much that they demanded that the group leader veto the book before they had to finish it and discuss it. I asked what the book was and it was The Brothers K! As in my beloved book. I said, "I give that book as a gift!" Then I thought for a second and said to my friend who was hosting the party and is moving away, "Wait, I think I gave that book to YOU!" And she laughed and said that I did. I understand that it's a tough start and takes a while to get into, and I tried to tell them that, but I didn't go into my usual hard-sell freak mode ... I told them I understand why some people wouldn't like it and that I respect their opinion because I really do. I didn't tell them that their lives will be better and their souls richer for reading it, even though I believe that. I am trying to tone down my maniacal evangelism when it comes to things, especially when it's something that someone has already read 80 pages of and loathes with his entire being.

More tomorrow.