Striking a balance

I spend a lot of time thinking about productivity and laziness. I wonder how much of each a life should contain. When I'm being lazy, I feel guilty about not being productive. When I'm being productive, I feel a sense of accomplishment and non-guilt for non-laziness, but it's not always a ton of fun or something that I feel gives life meaning. I find that I spend a lot of time feeling my way through this ... what I "want" to make time for vs. what I "should" make time for, and so forth.

This past weekend struck a nice balance between productivity and laziness. I want to keep a record of it, so I'll remember it the next time I find myself struggling with this. (I realize that even contemplating this is a luxury.)

Saturday morning dawned before dawn, as my mornings do these days, thanks to Zuko, who apparently can no longer sleep through the night. I was at the gym when its doors opened and set off on a swim, my first in nearly two weeks. It was difficult after such a long break from the pool, but it was nice to feel myself getting back into the rhythm of laps while a class full of people who must be training for something splashed rapidly through their drills all around me. Before going home and showering, I rushed to the farmers' market, dripping all the way. Lo! There were still eggs, so I bought two dozen, along with a basket of assorted peppers and some peaches from the very nice peach man for my mom, who loves them passionately.

My front bed had become overgrown and messy, so I spent several hours pulling weeds, hacking away at my witchhazel and lantana and ferns, and using the electric trimmer to try and get things under control. I hauled a giant pile of leaves and branches and weeds to the curb, got bitten by many mosquitoes, got scratched and covered in yard filth, and felt very satisfied in the end to have shed some blood & sweat working in my yard. My dogs had become messy themselves, so I bathed both of them, which is always a wet and wrestly experience that involves tremendous clean-up once it's all said and done. I love a clean dog, though, so it was worth it. My neighbor invited me to lunch, saying she needed a "big beer," so we went out for tomato basil soup with grilled cheese on focaccia (her) and a veggie burger with fries (me). We both had big beers.

The post-lunch afternoon brought me over to my little brother's apartment, where I planned to watch a couple of episodes of season two of True Blood ... I ended up staying for seven. We ate cheetos and baked Reese's Pieces cookies and mashed them still warm into caramel turtle ice cream. We laughed, we covered our eyes, we screamed; all of the best parts of watching this crazy show. He took a nap and came out hours later rubbing his eyes and laughing, "You're still here??" Finally I peeled myself off the couch and headed home for bed, drunk on sugar and vampires and the flaming hotness of Eric Northman. ("He's been named the hottest man in Sweden like 5 times!" my brother informed me.)

Sunday morning began in a very decadent way, as Zuko let me sleep until 6:30! It was magical. I went on a 14-mile bike ride, which was gorgeous, mostly because it was 65 degrees outside, which is downright freezing for August. Heaven! I spent the rest of the morning dusting, vacuuming, and tidying my house. If I could hire someone to do a chore for me, any chore, I would hire someone to vacuum my living room furniture. Or to shave my pets permanently bald. I love them, but their fur ... gah. Pet people, you know what I'm saying. (A dream of mine is to invest in some living room furniture off of which pet hair can be easily swept. Does such furniture exist?) This all took a very long time, but I blasted the Dr. Horrible soundtrack and then an angsty love mix by mo pie and lit a bunch of candles and everything smelled lovely and clean! I did three loads of laundry and overall got a lot of household drudgery taken care of. It won't last long, but it still felt great.

Later that afternoon, I headed back over to my brother's. We ate cheese pizza and drank Coke. Actual real Coke, which I hadn't had in years. Coke just doesn't really do it for me (thankfully), but it sure is good with cheese pizza. Wow! We watched the final 2 episodes of season two in order to be caught up for this week's new episode. There was more laughing, yelling, eye covering, and general ridiculousness. Seriously ... so much laughing. Good times.

I headed home and decided to bake some more cookies, this time from scratch. These were a bit messy (when melted chocolate is involved, along with an electric mixer, I inevitably end up with chocolate splattered from ceiling to floor, and I knocked over and spilled an entire new bottle of vanilla extract on the floor ... yay), but so, so good. I didn't bother toasting the walnuts or using sea salt and had to improvise on the double boiler issue. And I just used spoons to dole out the dough, so mine aren't perfect and cute and round like these. But they still taste mighty fine. And the recipe made a ton of cookies. And smashing Skor bars with a hammer is a great stress reducer.

Thus, to conclude, I spent a lot of time this weekend doing things I "needed" to do -- housecleaning, dog bathing, yard work, and exercising. But I also spent a lot of time doing things that were in no way "productive" -- eating junk food, watching the trashiest TV show known to man, etc. But I loved doing those things with my brother, so I definitely think it was time well spent. There are things missing from my life that I want to carve out time for: yoga, for one, because I need to both stretch and meditate more in a big way, and some kind of service to the greater good of humankind, for another. I will get to those soon, I hope.

Sometimes it's 2004 and the Garden State soundtrack is all the rage, and you are 29 and see the movie and you love it, along with a lot of other people, until everyone decides to hate it, and you listen to Frou Frou's "Let Go" a thousand times. And suddenly it's five years later, exactly, and you're 34 and you haven't listened to the song in a really long time and it reappears in your life on a mix from a good friend and it sounds somehow totally different and the same. And you fall in love with this song about letting go all over again, and you think about what you want to let go and what you want to keep, and it's like a little piece of your heart you forgot about is still there after all.

What I am coming to see this year in a new way is that our lives really are what we make of them. Most of us are lucky to be able to create the lives we want. Our lives are all different and our days are all filled with different things and different obligations and things to tend to -- jobs, classes, kids, pets, relatives, friends -- but for the most part, we can build a day like we want to, with certain hours carved out for this, and others carved out for that. It is kind of a beautiful thing when you really stop and think about it, being the architect of a day. I have really liked the days I have built for myself lately. I just want to recognize this and take a deep breath and have a moment of gratitude about it. So that is what I am doing. And now I am going to eat a cookie.

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.

Randomosity

Today's entry will be a string of random thoughts.

It turns out that I have some complex feelings about Michael Jackson. At first when he died, I was immediately annoyed that everything was super positive about him with nary a mention of the fact that he was bananas and possibly did some unspeakable things to small children. But then I started watching clips and remembering. Remembering how much I once loved him, the posters on my bedroom walls, my lapel pin with his face on it, how he predated any other celebrity crush I ever had in later years, the way I adored him before my age even hit the double digits, the whole thing. It's hard for me to articulate my feelings about this so I'll leave it to Linda & Sars, who both said it better than I could.

Apologies to those who have already heard me rant about this: I do not think Chace Crawford is a good enough actor to play Ren McCormack in the Footloose remake, and I wish Zac Efron were going to play him as originally planned. Because I actually think Zac Efron is very talented! Shut up. I also think that Julianne Hough in the Lori Singer role (Ariel) is an abomination. She's supposed to be dark and damaged, and I highly doubt that Hough has that in her. Lori Singer was hardcore. It sort of bothered me when I was very young that she was not your typical teen beauty type like Cindi Mancini in Can't Buy Me Love, but as I've grown up, I realize that she was pretty much perfect for this role. Like, if my dad were super strict and my life were that legitimately dreary and hard, maybe I wouldn't eat either. (Not trying to diss her skinniness, I'm just saying.) Footloose is not all feel-good dancey dancey lighthearted goodness by any stretch. I mean, Ariel's brother died. The reverend is genuinely conflicted. There are some long and sort of boring for children scenes dealing with this, particularly the one set in church and the talks between the reverend and his wife. Bricks are thrown through windows. Books are burned. Ariel's boyfriend beats her up. I'm saying, it's got some heaviness interspersed between chicken races on tractors and Ren teaching Willard how to dance. And the director of the remake directed High School Musical. The more I think about the remake the more annoyed I get, frankly.

I've now made these two weekends in a row. I first made them several summers ago for B.'s birthday, and I've been thinking of them ever since. These past two batches, I've had some trouble dislodging them from the muffin pan without breaking the edges, so they look kind of ugly, but they still taste great. (I use sugar cookie dough instead of peanut butter cookie dough because they are already plenty peanut buttery.)

This was a weekend of nonstop chick-flickery. First: He's Just Not That Into You. Despite my enjoyment of Justin Long in anything he does, this is just not a very good movie. For many reasons. I lack the energy today to get as worked up about this movie as I'd like to, so let me just tell you that I don't recommend it. Second: Confessions of a Shopaholic. I rented this movie solely because of Isla Fisher and Hugh Dancy, and it did not disappoint. I find them both infinitely charming, and this movie is totally cute and entertaining. Third: Marley and Me. Bawled my eyes out at the end, not just cried quiet civilized tears but bawled. I can't say it was a great movie, but Marley sure was cute and reminded me so much of Zuko, that stupid, wild, destructive maniac of a dog I can't help but love.

Went on a 13-mile bike ride this morning. Yesterday I rode to a bike store to get my bike outfitted with new pedals and pedal brackets (baskets? not sure what they're called) -- things to put my feet into. Not clips or anything that would require me to actually fasten my feet in or buy expensive new shoes, but just something to slip my normal sneakers into so I can pedal more efficiently. Other than actually getting both feet inside these without tipping over -- it took me several tries -- I liked this newfangled way of riding and do think it helped me go a little faster.

Today's ride also marked a milestone I've been working up to -- reaching down to grab my water bottle while pedaling. I have never braved this feat because it's really far down, practically below the seat, and takes a really long reach to grab it, which means pedaling one-handed and reaching down and grabbing it and this just seemed too herculean a task to achieve. But today I reached down and touched the bottle a few times without actually grabbing it (tip from Jessie) to practice the reach down. It got to the point that sweat was pouring from my forehead down my nose to my upper lip into my actual mouth and I was so thirsty I started tasting what can only be described as lung juice in the back of my throat and this disgusting sensation propelled me to reach down and grab the tip of the bottle between my knuckles. Triumph! I swigged with abandon and thought I'd just hold the bottle the rest of the ride and drink out of it at my leisure. But then I remembered I needed my hand for, you know, braking. So I had to reach down and return it to its holder. Which was scary in and of itself but I did it. Then I repeated the whole process twice more over the course of the ride. I am very glad I now know how to do this because it's going to be a long, hot summer and I can't ride without drinking water, hello.

The ride was fairly delightful once I got this new routine down. Nature highlight: gorgeous, delicate egret slowly walking across the water. Nature lowpoint: seeing how low the lakes are due to basically zero rainfall in weeks. Musical high points: the harmonies in Cages or Wings and the theme to The Greatest American Hero and hearing The Weepies sing about how you can't steal happiness.

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

Before it gets away from me, I want to get a little down about a wonderful weekend. I've already posted about the concerts, which were both amazing, but I want to record what else went on. It was a rare weekend when the whole family was in town -- my sister and her husband (they live out of state) and my brother and his new girlfriend (they travel a lot). My sister had the inspired idea to rent out a private karaoke room at a Thai restaurant in an early celebration of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. We thought about inviting other people, but in the end, it was just us, and we had what can only be called a blast. There was dancing, there was drinking, there was so much eating, and there was plenty of singing. One of my favorite parts was watching my mother watch my brothers sing together. Their harmonies were admittedly beautiful but she was just blown away. Many pictures were taken, some of which I will eventually get around to posting. We also went to one of my brother's gigs, had boiled crawfish, had beignets and cafe au lait, and just had a merry time. I loved having everyone here. Just sitting around eating my mom's crawfish etouffee or lying around on the bed with my sister and brother-in-law were delightful. It was a really wonderful weekend and one I will not soon forget.

Randomness: The Great Performances special In the Heights: Chasing Broadway Dreams is excellent, even if you are not familiar with the show. Definitely worth checking out.

Meanwhile. I am still watching season two of Chuck and loving it a lot and am thrilled it has been renewed. I am reading The Wednesday Wars, finally, and loving it.

I got from Netflix the DVD of the Rent: Live on Broadway special that my brother and I went to see last fall. The special features are indeed quite special. I highly recommend both the live stage show itself as well all of the featurettes, which are VERY WONDERFUL. Seeing Jonathan Larson's parents and sister, all kinds of backstage goodness, the longtime crew members, the closing cast, the original cast (except Adam Pascal -- where were you, Adam Pascal? What could have been more important than this?). Everyone crying and laughing and singing and embracing and remembering, forget about it, it was too much, the tears poured like rain. Rent, I thought I was all cried out over you. But I was wrong.

Once again I have found myself engaging in last minute triathlon registration ridiculousness. A few days ago, I signed up for one that is tomorrow. The distances aren't terribly long, so I think I'll be okay, though I am a bit apprehensive about the biking part since the farthest I've ever gone in my life was seven miles. I'm just going to take it slow, try not to fall off or crash, and try to enjoy myself. I'm viewing it as a chance to road trip with a friend and as good practice for the one in August. I know myself, and I know my anxiety over that one will be greatly lessened over the summer by having this one under my belt.

This morning I went to the farmer's market and came away with fresh eggs, cucumbers, strawberries, bell peppers, yellow squash, and carrots. I feel really good about this. The dogs also approve.

Awful run, weird dinner, great show

I've fallen off the fitness wagon this week in a big way. Really the past few weeks. No huge shock -- it happens. Tonight I embarked on my first run in nearly three weeks and boy did it suck. I can't remember a worse run in my life. I honestly can't. I blame three weeks of slacking off, the heinous humidity, the not so healthy eating I've been doing this week, and the weird pain in my diaphragm area that made me feel like I couldn't catch my breath. Awesome! 2 miles, man. It was just terrible. But I willed myself not to quit, and I feel good about that.

I just whipped up a very bizarre dinner with canned pinto beans, slivered almonds, frozen peas, garam masala, sesame oil, kamut/quinoa pasta, and feta cheese. Yeah, those things don't sound like they go together to me either. But they were basically all I had to choose from so I just threw caution to the wind and went for it. It was not great but wasn't altogether disgusting, either.

It's a big day, America. It's the season premiere of So You Think You Can Dance, which brought me tremendous joy last summer. I just love this show. This article really says it all. I think people have a lot of misconceptions about this show if they've never seen it. It's so, so good. Great host, great stories, great dancing. Don't let Mary's screaming scare you off. Don't let some of the outrageous audition nonsense give you the wrong idea. Once the top 20 is picked, it becomes a serious and glorious competition. Love! And ... it's starting right now. And the first audition is giving me chills. This show is just phenomenally good, I swear.

I guess that's all I have to say tonight.

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.

Randomosity

(1) I now own my favorite comfy summer sandal in three colors (black, chocolate, and tan), which is possibly excessive. But wearing these sandals basically feels like not wearing shoes at all. I love them. (A note on sizing: I normally wear an 8.5, but the size 8 in these fits perfectly. I have a narrow foot, so your mileage may vary.) I am not the type of person who can wear sassy summer sandals every day of the week. My feet just cannot handle it. These sandles are awesomely comfortable, and I think everyone should buy a pair. So let it be written, so let it be done.

(2) I've never known much about the Buckleys; maybe I've been living under a rock, but they've never really been on my radar. I remember seeing Christopher Buckley last year on The Daily Show and thinking he was funny, and I remember the brouhaha surrounding his endorsement of Obama. But that's about it. The Buckleys might all be a bunch of a-holes for all I know. I read this story today by Christopher Buckley today. It's definitely tinged with a certain snootocity that might just come with being a Buckley, but I got the sense that a lot of love and care went into writing it. It moved me. Like, a LOT.

(3) Elissa, yes! It's okay. Not writing about it around here. But it's okay.

(4) Big fan of tonight's dinner!

That there is a whole wheat English muffin topped with (probably very unhealthy, but whatever) jarred pizza sauce along with broccoli, fresh rosemary, celery, onion, garlic, green bell pepper, yellow squash, chicken breast with lots of cayenne pepper, and a little grated mozzarella cheese. I sauteed all the toppings (except for the cheese, obviously) in a skillet in olive oil before baking the teeny pizzas because the last time I attempted to make pizza without cooking the veggies first they stayed rock hard. This way worked like a charm. Yum!

(5) Not that this is in any way original, but my Adam Lambert obsession began weeks ago and is still going strong. I decided from the first time I saw him on American Idol that he is made to star on Broadway as Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. A little YouTube scouring, and voila! A preview of what is clearly his destiny. I also quite frankly enjoy Adam Lambert in a face full of make-up with a bare midriff. How did we live before YouTube? I'll never know. My sister is staunchly in the Kris camp, and he is definitely adorable and talented, but there is something about this seasoned, make-up wearing, boy kissing musical theater guy making it big on the national stage that really appeals to me.

(6) I am on the hunt for a healthy bread I can make sandwiches with pretty much every day of the week for lunch. I am willing to buy it at Whole Foods/Paycheck if necessary. I just do not know what to look for when it comes to sandwich bread. It all seems to have dozens of ingredients. Does anyone know of a healthy or semi-healthy loaf of bread I can buy?

Swimming, eating, remembering

My first sweet treat since Lent started was a long time coming. I waited until the Thursday after Easter, when I could return to my favorite cafe and enjoy one of their magnificent pastries. I chose a cappuccino and an almond croissant. It was truly heaven in my mouth, and I ate every little bit carefully and slowly and deliberately. I told myself, "Self, see? See what a treat this is? It's so wonderful, and it was worth the wait."

Then the weekend rolled around, along with a limo ride with some friends for a birthday to one of the best restaurants in existence. And lots of wine. And this:

That is a damn fine plate of food in a sauce made with a damn lot of butter. But I didn't care. It was awesome. And I ate it with grilled shrimp over a fried grits cake and crab cakes and shrimp in a bread bowl and more wine. And then some starbursts and tootsie rolls from a candy bowl. And a good time was had by all, and I'd run three miles that morning, and I still felt perfectly in balance on Sunday, if a bit hungover.

Then this happened:

Oops! A friend and I went to see an art exhibit downtown and wandered over to Earth Day, where it seemed the only right things to eat were strawberry snowballs and a giant plate of greasy Chinese food that cost $13. We split this, yes. But still. Not exactly the healthiest lunch on the block. But who cares? It was a festival, and it was fun to park myself on a curb with a stack of napkins and an old friend I hadn't seen forever and eat that hot mess together. And I went on a long walk when I got home. Then I went to my parents' house after going to mass with them and ate tons of my mom's perfect tuna salad and about two pounds of shelled pecans. I'm not sure what possessed me to eat all I did this weekend. Maybe I was just hungry.

(Mass was good if a little strange. Lots of youth group type kids apparently go to this mass, which is swell, and I like the modern music a lot, and the musicians are fantastic, but I need at least one 80s-style Glory and Praise hymn per mass. That's something I had an epiphany about at this service. I like the young, hip tunes, but throw in a "Here I Am, Lord" or "Sing a New Song" every now and then, please, and it would be perfect. My little brother recently announced that "We Are Called" should become the standard recessional hymn for every mass because nothing can top it. I think he might have a point. OMG: the composer of "We Are Called" has a Myspace page. And none of those versions sounds very good, I'm afraid. Anyway, I didn't realize he also wrote "You Are Mine," which is another favorite of mine. Random Catholic music tangent: one of my co-workers and I got a little punchy from stress last week and started singing the first lines of Catholic songs we grew up with. It is very strange to think we grew up on opposite ends of the state but grew up singing the same songs in church. "Sing to the Mountains," "Lord of the Dance," "City of God," the list goes on and on.)

My very tenacious friend who might as well go ahead and become my life coach persuaded me to do the swimming leg of a triathlon for a mutual friend who only wants to do the biking and running leg. Fine. I think this event is months off, so why not? My friend said, "Let's go swimming tomorrow night!" Which was tonight. So I said, "Sure! Why not!" I bought some goggles and a swim cap at lunch and we went to a place where I thought we had permission to swim, but we totally didn't. My friend acted like we did, though, so in we went. I hadn't swum actual laps in an actual pool since 2003. We swam 8 lengths in the 50-meter pool and called it a day. I got tuckered out doing freestyle about half-way through (tuckered out = felt I might have heart attack) so I started alternating between that and breast stroke. I seriously could do the latter, I think, for hours at a time. It is so soothing. I threw in one length of backstroke just for good measure. Turns out the triathlon is actually, like, next weekend. Awesome! We'll see how that goes. I'm glad this is an event that can be split into legs, because I think it will be fun to participate, but I don't think I could ride a bike on a road if I couldn't even ride a bike in my friend's class in Hawaii for more than approximately thirty seconds.

I just have to say that I do love swimming. It is strange to think that my brother and sister and I swam every summer, all summer long, every single morning for practice plus meets on Saturdays. I don't remember much about those summers except that I think we'd end up just staying at the pool all day. It's not like this was a super-elite swim team or anything. There were all skill levels, and it was just fun. We all wore red swimsuits. The meets were awesome because we would eat jello straight from the box "for energy." I think my sister and I both did it from ages, like, four or five to twelve, every summer. That boggles my mind! (The little kids and the big kids had separate practices, obviously.) I was never the fastest swimmer, but I did always come out second in breaststroke. Even though it was my best stroke, there was one girl I could never, ever beat.

One time the coach at practice made me swim a lap of butterfly all by myself, making the other kids stand by the pool and watch, because she said my stroke was perfect. I remember that she basically barked at the older kids, "Look at this kid! If she can do it like this, why can't you?!" I was one hundred percent mortified but also one hundred percent proud. I was never a child who was known for athletic prowess, so to have something like that happen to me was astonishing and I have never forgotten it. I remember swimming the butterfly across the pool at that moment and thinking that all of those high school boys were watching me and was it possible the coach was making fun of me or punishing me in some way? But I don't think she would do that. Other major swim team memories: practicing swimming the entire length of the pool without taking a breath, throwing the coach in the pool after the meets, and always, always going to Godfather's pizza after the meets with wet hair.

Anyway, so swimming laps brings back mostly happy childhood memories. I know that cardio with impact is important for joint and bone strength, but I think swimming has to be awesome for you, too. I will try to incorporate it more into my life even if breaking the swim place law made me kind of nervous today. I am just not the criminal type.

Tonight after swimming I made an awesome dinner. Onion, bell pepper, garlic, yellow squash, and celery with fresh rosemary and cayenne pepper mixed with chicken breast and slivered almonds cooked in olive oil and quinoa with a little grated mozzarella cheese on top. It made me feel more in control of myself and was delicious.

I would literally give my right arm for a disc of In Treatment to watch right now. Only three weeks left! I love it so much. Must wait for Netflix, though. This is a busy week of dinner and lunch with friends and a date with Ira Glass. Life is good.

Easter weekend

Good Friday was not a holiday this year, as I worked all day. After work, I headed to see my friend M's new house, which is beautiful. It is always fun to see her and her girls. I love being able to watch them grow up.

On Saturday morning, I worked on homework for three solid hours in my jammies. Then I went on a three-mile jog, which was pleasant if a bit hot. I headed into the office for the afternoon, which was not the thrill of my life.

That evening was more homework plus hours upon hours of In Treatment, which is so good I can hardly believe it. I cannot stop thinking about that show. I hold my breath for entire episodes at a time. Gabriel Byrne is so good. I thought nothing could ever surpass the way I love him in the proposition scene in Camelot, but he is just blowing me away in this role. (I still cannot watch that without crying, but I never cry as hard as I did when it first aired last May, as I started to literally project it onto the upcoming presidential election -- having thoughts like, "This is the time of Obama, when we shall reach for the stars! This is the time of Obama, when violence is not strength, and compassion is not weakness! WE ARE CIVILIZED! Resolved!" Anyway.)

And Dianne Wiest ... forget about it. She astounds. (Can I just say that I have loved her since Footloose and how amazed I remain by the fact that for some mysterious reason her parents lived two doors down from my BFF growing up, in this very town? And that my BFF met her and asked her what it was like to work in The Lost Boys with the Coreys? I am not making this up.) Anyway, this show is awesome. An evening with my stir-fried chicken and veggies over rice noodles and this show was actually a mighty fine Saturday night in my book. Topping it off with Zac Efron on SNL was just icing on the cake.

Easter dawned with a trip to the grocery store, where I ran into an old friend from graduate school whom I haven't seen since the summer of '98 and who is visiting for Easter break. He looked exactly the same. He wrote a poem about each of us in our little group, and I still have the one he wrote about me. Ah, memories. Unfortunately, I spent most of the day slogging through more homework. When it was time for evening mass with my little brother, it started dumping rain. We got quite wet on the way in, and there was a sparse crowd. Good music, short mass, people in jeans, fine by me. After dinner, we met the other brother, his new girlfriend, and her visiting sister for sushi. Everyone but the sister was eager to discuss Friday Night Lights. My older brother was the only hold-out among the siblings in terms of hearts set aflame for this show, and now he's come over to the light. Both brothers admitted that the show makes them weep openly. This show brings people together, I am telling you. I'm so glad it's not over yet. (This is a frank, lovely, and very moving column by Scott Porter, a.k.a. Jason Street. Warning: full of season three spoilers if you're not caught up.) It was strange not having the parents in town for Easter, but it was still a decent day, homework drudgery notwithstanding.

I spent a little time yesterday making brownies with rolos, chocolate chips, and toffee. Usually these are made with chocolate cake mix, but I decided to use yellow to give things a different spin. I made them for my hardworking work peeps, and they seem to be a hit.

Speaking of baking, there is something about Tastespotting that makes me happy. I can scroll through this site for untold hours. I've never made anything from the recipes, but I'd like to. Even if I never do, this site releases actual endorphins within me. My body feels actually warmed when viewing the pictures. It is very strange. These pictures and the whole layout and concept of the site make me feel blissed out and satisfied.

I have not yet indulged in sweets. I've decided to break the fast with something sweet at my favorite cafe when it reopens soon. At least I'll know whatever pastry I decide on is homemade, handmade, fresh, and fabulous. I was semi-tempted to enjoy some leftover Easter candy dumped in the work candy bowl today, but I decided to wait for something really special. Hence the grapes I just had for dessert. Exciting!

Meanwhile, I was very sad to learn of the death of Judith Krug. Watch or read a great speech she gave back in 2002. She was a warrior and, in my opinion, a true American hero.

Food

It is very strange to think I have not eaten sweets since February 25. That is the longest I've gone without sweets in my whole life, probably, except for maybe when being exclusively breastfed. I'm not joking.

The sweetest thing I've had since Lent began, if we're talking quantity of sugar, was the Tropicana Pure Valencia orange juice in the several mimosas I drank at my St. Patrick's Day parade party. (Damn, that is some fine bottled orange juice.) I decided that though the juice was very sugary, it didn't count as an actual "sweet." (I can't find the information online, but surely bottled orange juice is chock full of sugar, right? Anyway.) Oh, and I did have more than my fair share of bourbon slush that weekend. Which has a lot of sugar. But other than that, nope.

During Lent, I've been around cookies, cake, ice cream, candy, cupcakes, brownies, etc. and haven't had any. It is truly shocking. I even stopped eating Cracklin' Oat Bran in the mornings because it's chock full of corn syrup, sugar, etc. and is totally only pseudo-healthy. I've been eating Shredded Wheat & Bran instead. Which has hardly any ingredients. And hardly any taste. But I'm down with it in a mug of soy milk, definitely. (Although apparently soy milk can kill you. Sometimes I don't know what to believe, I really don't.)

But anyway, the few ingredients plan is really working for me. The fewer, the better. Is this crazy? I don't know. I haven't even eaten Zone bars, my formerly "healthy" snack, because they have a million ingredients and are coated in chocolate, for Pete's sake.

It's not like I've been totally healthy. I've had pizza and cheese fries and pints of beer and what is surely a fat-laden puff pastry with an egg and prosciutto about once a week. But that snack is lovingly made by the hands of talented pastry chefs at my favorite cafe, so I'm down with it. It seems like basically real food to me, which is what I've been going for. I still drink half-and-half in my daily coffee and have had delicious whole milk in my cappuccinos from the cafe. And at least cheese fries are potatoes, you know? Tonight I had two hush puppies at dinner with my turkey burger. They were spicy fried cornbread balls of delight, and I don't regret a single bite.

This whole sweets giving up thing has steered me to not snack between meals for the most part and not eat food that comes in bags or packages or is super-duper processed or laden with chemicals. I had a handful of pretzel sticks when helping to pack up M.'s pantry and it felt like such a treat. My only really unhealthy "snack food" consumed during Lent was a small vending machine bag of that cheesy dorito / pretzel / sun chip / cheeto mix consumed while working on a Saturday because I was absolutely hungry and it seemed like the healthiest snack of those available. Oh, and I had a handful of goldfish out of the bag in my friend A.'s car (that bag of goldfish that seems to ride around in the car of every parent of small children) after a few beers after the 5K. The fact that I can name these snacks on one hand is hilarious to me considering the amount of snacking I have done all my livelong life.

The very, very weird thing about this Lenten experience is that I haven't felt deprived. I don't really miss the sweets for the most part. Today in the grocery store I passed a bag of Tootsie Rolls that I had a sudden craving to eat in its entirety, but it passed as I passed the bag by. I've also had a couple of strange urges to open my mouth wide and start pouring honey nut cheerios in it as fast as I can chew and swallow them. But again -- fleeting. Instead, I feel like my meals are real treats. Last night, I ate a chicken breast cooked in a little sesame oil with rice noodles and acorn squash. So simple but so totally satisfying and filling. I've been making a ton of stir-fries. I feel like the time spent making a really simple, healthy, yummy meal is time so well spent. It is like a gift to myself. This sounds so unbelievably corny but I'm not sure how else to describe it.

The way I have changed my eating habits has been radical. I do not say that lightly. Radical. I am a person who likes to eat and snack all day long and loves candy and salty, junky snack foods. I could eat a bag of Smart Foods white cheddar cheese popcorn or Chex mix every day, or polish off a box of garlic Melba toasts in one sitting, or enjoy a Twix or bag of Skittles every single afternoon and a big bowl of ice cream every night, no problem. Looking back over this Lent when I've (mostly) eaten three meals a day with minimal snacking, I've realized there's really no need to eat all day long and how freeing it is to not be consumed by food thoughts and food eating throughout the entire day. I can honestly say that banana slices with a tablespoon of natural peanut butter after work in the afternoon tastes better to me than whatever crap I would have eaten before. (That has become my major snack moment, and it's a very calming ritual. I thank my sister for this snack idea.) Grapes and oranges are sweeter than they've ever been. I feel really grateful to love fruit so much all of a sudden. I am like, thank you, earth, for growing this fruit for me. It is f-ing awesome. An orange after a run is so heavenly! Seriously.

I don't even recognize myself when having these thoughts. I've always really loved eating healthy foods but have also always loved eating really awful foods and lots of them along with the healthy foods. My body has not changed in any drastic way at all, because I'm not sure that is super possible at 34 when it's pretty set in its ways, but it feels stronger and more energetic, and that is honestly the most important thing to me. My mind and my spirit have changed in a drastic way, it feels like, and I find that very cool. And meals taste so much better now that I am actually letting myself be hungry for them. And I know my body is healthier on the inside.

I envisioned Easter Sunday as a day spent eating Reese's eggs and licking the chocolate and peanut butter off the wrappers, but now I'm not sure I want to do that. I don't know how much I would enjoy what is basically God's perfect candy when knowing how much better I've felt without sweets and how bad for me they are. Not just my body but my mind. The amount of guilt off my shoulders about eating unhealthily is unreal. Maybe feeling guilty about eating sweets is unhealthy in and of itself -- I know "everything in moderation" is supposed to be the healthiest way to live, and I do believe that, but maybe I'll give myself a little longer than Lent to soak in this sweets-free and snack-free existence before giving so much love and time and attention to sweets and snacks again.

I just like everything about my life better, knowing that I am feeding myself well. I am so grateful to have undertaken this experiment and this experience. I gave up something that I thought had a lot of power over me, but it turns out it didn't. That makes me feel pretty brave and strong. I like that this eating habits transformation occurred during Lent because I do still love the traditions of my family and church. I think Jesus, if inclined, would be psyched.

Weekend with old friends

MONDAY! I just spent an enjoyable hour visiting with my BFF, who's been in town for the weekend. We talked while I browned my drained-for-days tofu in olive oil and invented a yummy stir fry with broccoli, carrots, onion, celery, and garlic. Made up a random sauce with soy sauce, sesame oil, a drop of molasses, and black pepper. Then I threw in some walnuts just for good measure. And some frozen peas, why not? I'm eating it over quinoa, and it's very tasty! I love made-up food.

It was a busy and crazy fun weekend. I took the day off on Friday at a very inappropriate time of year to spend my BFF's birthday with her. We went shoe shopping, ate Lebanese food for lunch, and went to my favorite cafe. That night, we had dinner with our other BFF -- macadamia nut tacos over fried rice, shrimp tempura rolls, BBQ chicken pizza, plum wine, you name it!

Afterwards, we headed to a crawfish boil / karaoke party for our friend's rehearsal dinner, which was festive. At one point in the evening, my old friend and I headed to the most vile bar in creation because I thought my brother was playing there, but I was sadly mistaken. A frat boy took a giant handful of my bottom as I walked by. It was unpleasant but unsurprising. I should have known better than to set foot in that heinous place, where you get stuck in the crowd and end up fighting your way through the sweaty masses with a feeling not dissimilar to what it must feel like to stand in sewer. Not good! Overall, the day and night were great, though. It's just really good to be around people you've known forever, isn't it?

Saturday dawned, and I'm drawing a blank. I brought my friend who stayed with me to a brunch. Eventually it was time to get dressed for our friend's wedding reception, held outside on a terrace overlooking the river, and it was GORGEOUS. Beautiful bride, beautiful friends, beautiful night.

Yesterday, the BFFs and the cousin and I went to a coffee shop and had a non-shower for the friend pregnant with twin boys. We drank coffee and ate cake and gave her some gifts. It was nice to sit out in the sunshine together.

This is not very exciting, but my heart was very full this weekend.

I didn't eat cake because I still haven't cheated on my no-sweets-for-Lent resolution, which is shocking beyond belief. I finally sat down to watch the Battlestar Galactica series finale yesterday afternoon after basically resorting to a media blackout for two days. (No spoilers to follow.) All I'll say is that I'm so glad this show has been in my life for the past few years. In July of 2006, when I first started watching the show, I wrote, "Last night I watched the first 45 minutes or so of the Battlestar Galactica miniseries. When you can realize that greatness is unfolding not even an hour into a new show, it's pretty exciting. The cast seems solid, the premise is intriguing, and it's got heartache and comedy and sex and war and outer space and that's pretty much a perfect show right there ... it's going to be fun to immerse myself in this universe, I can already tell." Who knew the ride I was in for? I still marvel that my brother picked up the miniseries a few short months ago and flew through the entire series, Razor, and the webisodes in time to catch up before watching the finale this weekend. Talk about immersion! We agreed that we don't even really care what happened in the finale. We just feel like the show has been a gift.

I guess I have nothing else to say for now. Sometimes I wish all we ever had to do in life is sit around with those who speak the same shorthand language that we do and eat, drink, and be merry.

Monday

Rainy days & Mondays, etc. The sun is allegedly coming out tomorrow, and it will not be soon enough for me! We had a very gray and rainy weekend. My first annual St. Patty's Day Parade party was wet and small but spirited. (As spirited as it could be in the rain.) It was great to see everyone who showed up (several of whom had to trek on foot quite a ways in the rain to get here) and particularly to meet my old friend's new baby for the first time.

After everyone went home, I basically prostrated myself on the couch and watched Rachel Getting Married. Though there were things I didn't love about it, I can't stop thinking about it. It's staying in my system for some reason. The main thing I didn't like, and this isn't really a spoiler since the title tells you someone's getting married, is how eclectic and sensational and diverse Rachel's friends were during the whole wedding celebration weekend. I was like, who in the world really knows a group of people this creative, this interesting, this every color of the rainbow, this musically talented, this artistic? It felt really artificial to me somehow. Then it occurred to me that lots of people are probably part of groups like that and the fact that I'm not (though I'd like to be) doesn't mean they don't exist. Other than that, I thought it was a pretty astonishing and wonderful film. Anne Hathaway definitely deserved all of the accolades she got, and Rosemarie DeWitt as Rachel and Debra Winger as the mom were also amazing. I am very glad I saw it. It wasn't a feel good film per se, and the subject matter was dark and harrowing and heartbreaking at times, but it still totally made me feel good. It was real.

My mom and I spent most of yesterday shopping. I bought a new dress that I love. We had a really fun time together.

Switching gears, if you've left a comment on the site lately that I haven't published, please do not take it personally ... I would reply privately, but I'm not sure how to contact those of you who've left these comments. Sometimes people leave perfectly lovely comments that contain content I don't really want aired out publicly, that's all. I appreciate your comments and your interest and your reading! That is for sure.

Just when I thought the recipe I described here couldn't get any better, I decided to make it again today and added frozen peas and ... fresh pineapple chunks! Wow. The pineapple chunks (added just towards the end, they don't really need to cook) sent this dish to a new level of deliciousness. I am completely in love with it.

This is going to be a week of trying to move things along at work as things get busier and busier, attempting to exercise, and looking really really really forward to the coming weekend of fun, frolicking, and festivity with my oldest and dearest friends. I can't really think of anything else to say except I can't wait to watch tonight's Battlestar Galactica: The Last Frakkin' Special.

On that note, I think it's time to revisit Battlestar Galactica: The Phemonemon, in which everyone from the dude from Anthrax to Brad Paisley to Jesse L. Martin to Joss Whedon to Seth Green to S. Epatha Merkerson talks about loving the show. In three parts. Obviously full of spoilers if you've never watched the show. Which you should.

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.

Fat Tuesday / Ash Wednesday

Yesterday we had a holiday. I woke up early, of course, and headed to the grocery store for a big shopping trip and was home by 9 a.m. I don't really remember what I did. Oh yeah, I went on a run. 3 miles on a beautiful day. Then I had an impromptu lunch with M. and my favorite five-year-old, her daughter. We ate BBQ chicken pizza and drank frozen lemonade and it was great to have some girl time. I went to a cooking store where the owner fussed at me for not having cash, snarling that she might as well give me the shamrock cookie cutter for free for what running the charge would cost her. Made mental note not to return to stores where owners fuss at you for buying something. Eventually, I headed to my parents' house, where my mom and I ate king cake and watched Slumdog. (A copy on DVD arrived in my mailbox one day last month, a surprise from a friend. No idea where he got it; didn't ask!) I was able to watch the entire movie with my eyes open this time instead of shielding them at certain tense moments, and I caught things I missed the first two times around, including one really big thing involving Salim and Latika when they were kids. It was great fun to watch this movie with my mom, who covered her eyes, shrieked, writhed in her chair, laughed, and cried in all the right places. It is always fun to watch someone you love fall in love with something you love. I tell myself that I like sharing things I love regardless of how they're received, but it's always a bit deflating when something falls short of what you want it to be for someone (which is as awesome to them as it is to you). So I was unspeakably psyched to see how psyched she was to watch this movie. She actually called it "a gift." Good times.

Today is Ash Wednesday. I am giving up junk food for Lent. This feels like a monumental undertaking. My mom says that Lent, in part, is about emptying yourself of bad things in order to make room for good things. I think she meant spiritually, but I am taking this sort of literally, in that I am emptying my body of food that is bad for me and hoping it makes room for me to feel better, sleep better, look better (always a bonus), and most of all, live better. I realize it's only day one, but I feel oddly freed by this decision. Of course, in a week, I will probably be all "my kingdom for a Twix!" We'll see. Also, I abandoned my no-coffee resolution after less than a week, and I've decided my morning cup of coffee will have to be pried from my cold dead hands.

A few co-workers and I went to noon mass today for Ash Wednesday. It had been so long since going to Ash Wednesday mass that I was thinking you get the ashes the same time as you get communion. But no. You file up separately for each act. I have to tell you. I could not believe how many people showed up for noon mass in the middle of a workday. I mean, I could believe it, but I couldn't believe it. People were pouring into that cathedral like ants. We were squished together as tightly as possible in the pews, and still a huge group of people was standing in the back and people were lined up standing on the sides. Hundreds upon hundreds of people is what I'm saying. And it's not like this is the only service around ... all of the parishes have multiple masses throughout the morning, day, and evening today. The ash getting took a very long time. At communion, they ran out of communion wafers. The bishop gathered a few of us who were left around and started randomly and somewhat apologetically blessing us after they ran out. One of the ushers, a wrinkled old man, leaned over, realizing they'd also run out of wine, and whispered to us, "If we'd known there'd be this many people, we'd have brought more liquor!" Eventually someone ran in with a plastic bucket of more wafers and we all were able to receive them. At the beginning of the mass, before the processional, the cantor was announcing the song pages and then said, "Oops, I forgot to mention this mass is being presided over by the bishop. Sorry, Bishop!" and started waving her hands in the air like she just didn't care at the bishop who was in the back of the cathedral. It was all very comedic in a way, this solemn holy day.

What struck me about sitting there around these bazillions of people was not only the reminder that I live in a town of a bazillion Catholics who will march through the streets at lunch time to fill a cathedral on Ash Wednesday and what a possibly peculiar thing that is but also the reminder that maybe it isn't so much about what you necessarily believe but about rituals and tradition. I never know what I believe on any given day, but I believe in family and in growing up with certain traditions and that it's important to revisit those traditions sometimes. Thinking about that made it all a bit easier to stomach when the bishop went on and on about how we are all going to die physically but live on spiritually. It was a bit much to take on an empty, growling stomach that was dreaming of ordering a stir-fry as soon as this mass was ended and we went in peace. I found myself wondering about the people around me and the reasons why they were there. Was she a fervent believer with all of her heart? Was he there because he wanted to remember his mom or dad or grandma who used to take him to mass when he was little? Were they praying for sick relatives or friends? Were they there hoping that God exists and will save our country from this mess we're in? Were they there in case God exists so they won't go straight to hell? Who knows? Whatever the reasons, I did feel a little sense of community in that big church and with my colleagues as we returned to work with big black smudges in the middle of our foreheads.

This evening, I lay on the floor of my bedroom taking my bed apart, cursing and shaking out my throbbing hands as they turned purple from trying to unscrew totally shot screws with all sorts of sub-par tools. I wondered if there were some I would never be able to unscrew and about taking a hammer to them in blind rage. Finally, I got them all out. It was an Ash Wednesday/pliers miracle. Even though it was a huge pain, it felt good to do it all by myself, a very Mare Winningham in St. Elmo's Fire/her own peanut butter and jelly in her own apartment moment. My new bed is arriving tomorrow after 3.5 weeks of waiting for it; more on that later. I hope that it radically changes my life.

Today

I really enjoy when my friend Anne gets on kicks of writing what she did that day. Nothing more, nothing less. So today I will do what I always do, which is copy her. Even though her day involves directing Shakespeare in Alaska and mine ... does not.

Today my goal of having a sensational night's sleep was rudely interrupted when the garbage truck rolled by and rattled the windows at 4:45 a.m. I sighed, tried to squash my anger because the garbage men were just trying to do their job, and vowed not to let it ruin the day.

Today I had my second consecutive morning without coffee. For some reason, I've decided this is a good idea. I'm not sure how long I'll stick with it, but I like the idea of becoming less reliant on it to force my eyes open in the morning.

Today I bought a small box of Necco conversation hearts half-off at the drugstore. They were 50 cents and reminded me of the little boxes my dad used to give us on Valentine's Day when we were younger. I ate them at my desk, one by one.

Today I made myself an egg for lunch and ate it with two little slices of leftover French bread from Sunday night book club.

Today I listened to the Once soundtrack and NPR in the car.

Today I watched kittens riding around on a roomba.

Today I decided that I'd like to try giving up sweets for Lent. The truth is that I eat far too many sweets, know they are bad for me, and feel guilty about it all the time. In giving them up for forty days, I'd like to use that time to remind myself that I don't need sweets to cope with stress or sadness or boredom. I'd like to figure out other ways to deal with those things and after forty days feel healthier and like it's perfectly fine to enjoy sweets sometimes. I feel like this will be a truly head- and body-clearing experience. Maybe I'm overestimating the impact, but I don't think so.

Today I invited my cousin to come visit this weekend and accompany me to a night of watching my brother play, a parade, and a birthday party. I hope he will come.

Today I prepared this chicken chow mein recipe in the crockpot before I left for work. I didn't use celery because I didn't have any, I left out the baby corn because baby corn is wrong, and I added carrots and broccoli and green and yellow bell peppers. I also added frozen peas and water chestnuts. (My only complaints about this recipe are that it didn't have enough spice and fire for me, so I had to add some black pepper, and then some cayenne pepper just because I don't know what the hell I'm doing, there were WAY too many bamboo shoots for my liking, and the bean sprouts reminded me way too much of the brain worms from the last episode of Grey's Anatomy.) I've decided that the whole fun of crockpot cooking for me is not stressing about it, being loose with the recipes, and trusting that it will all come together in the end. It also feels really good to take the time to prepare something nourishing for me to eat over several meals in a totally economically sound way. There is just something about walking into my house and having it smell really good with good cooking smells that makes it feel much more warm and homey. I am pleased to be starting this tradition for myself. It's not fancy and it's not complicated, but it is working for me right now.

Today I decided to do nothing this evening but eat my meal and flip between The Biggest Loser and American Idol. Nothing taxing or productive. I'm fine what that on a gray Tuesday night.

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.