elizalou.com

I picture you in the sun

2009-06-30T21:19:00.005-05:00

It's now the end of the last day in June. How did we get here? Half the year gone, just like that.

Today dawned at 5:39 a.m. for me when the garbage trucks made their thunderous, window-rattling roll in front of my house. I was reluctant to get up, but I did. I lounged around for a little while, ate a half a banana, and decided to go on a bike ride since I was up anyway. I rode for 7.3 miles, and everything was so still, the water and the air. It was less atrociously hot than usual because of last night's rain. Still muggy and extremely warm, but tolerable. I enjoyed my music and the morning light and the cute dogs being walked and the way people get up earlier and earlier in the summer to exercise just so they can actually do it outside and not fall over and die. I celebrated all of the people out there jogging and biking and walking and thought, "Look at all of us, taking care of ourselves on this summer morning!" I might have been a little delirious. I thought about probably my favorite moment of any bike ride so far, one last weekend when a woman approached me running, recognized my triathlon shirt, and called out the name, greeting me, one triathlete to another, a runner and a biker. It made me feel kind of awesome. I felt like I was in a club of awesomeness. I love that this club is all women.

The day continued with no tears! I made another mixture of fruit and yogurt and added some cereal to the mix and it was delish. I drank my slushy homemade granita. I ate lunch with a girlfriend, a veggie burger and hummus and fries, and bounced her baby on my lap. There were more conversations as the day and afternoon went on and some more tears. But it was okay. My mom says that tears are words you can't say, and I think that is true, but sometimes you have to try to say the words. So I tried. I had a most excellent visit with my mom that was supposed to be just a brief suitcase pick-up and ended up lasting several hours. My mom is a very wise and understanding woman in case I haven't mentioned this one billion times already.

The quote for today is from, as are many things worth knowing in this life, The Sound of Music: "Well, you cry a little. Then you wait for the sun to come out. It always does."

Tears redux

2009-06-29T19:12:00.022-05:00

There are times in a woman's life when she inexplicably cries for days on end. And by "a woman's" I mean "mine." The past few days have been like that for me. It all started with Marley and Me and has been going strong ever since. Just flowing, constant tears. In the car. At my desk at work. While sitting on the couch. While scrambling eggs. You name it.

One of the many strange things about keeping a journal online for nearly ten years now (what?) is the easy access to your emotional archives. Even stranger is when you notice patterns from year to year. And still even stranger is when you think back to another crying jag and realize it was happening two years ago, exactly, to the day.

Maybe it's The Book Thief. I suspected two years ago that it was the culprit of the beginning of the tears, and lo and behold, I am smack in the middle of it again. I don't think that's solely it, though.

Here are some strategies I am going to employ, starting tonight, to stop these tears from flowing:

(1) Cease and desist, immediately, listening to The Last Five Years on repeat. Stop pretending you can hear Norbert Leo Butz sing these heartbreaking songs and hold it together even on a good day, especially when the violin kicks in at about 3:40 in this clip. Turn your back on this devastating musical for a while and instead watch him as the emcee in Cabaret.

(2) Look forward all day to going on a swim because you can't cry underwater and then do not freak out when the pool is closed because it's thundering for the first time in weeks. Be happy because your grass is dying and all of the plants and farmers need the rain desperately. Come home and pop in Jillian Michaels instead and don't start crying when she says "Just a couple more!" during the squats/bicep curls and you know it's an evil lie because it's really eight more. Just suck it up and feel strong.

(3) Whip up an everything left in the kitchen dinner of quinoa topped with farmer's market zucchini, frozen peas, almond slivers, and about a million cloves of fresh garlic with garam masala and olive oil. Eat it.

(4) Have some plain yogurt with blueberries and banana slices drizzled with a little agave nectar for dessert.

(5) Watch your cat lick her paw and wash her nose with it because this is cute no matter how many times you see her do it.

(6) Read David Sedaris, any David Sedaris.

Or maybe I should stop trying to stop the tears. Maybe the tears are a healthy thing. Maybe they are a delayed reaction to major life changes, to actions of others and actions of my own that I have not dealt with even though I totally thought I had. It is very strange how you can coast along feeling perfectly at peace about something and then you get shaken up and bam. Tears.

Many kind readers out there have left comments I haven't published over the past several months wondering about my relationship status. Though it was obvious in this space that I was with the same person for a long time, I never felt right about posting too much here about the relationship and thus haven't felt right about posting about its end. But there it is, and I will leave it at this: even if it's for the most reasonable reasons in the world, and even if you square your shoulders and know it's for the best, and even if you part friends and part with love (which, let's face it, is a miracle never experienced by the likes of me until this time around), breaking up with someone you love sucks a whole lot.

Maybe this teary interlude is due to hormones. Maybe it's extended bike rides and swims when I can't avoid the quiet space in my head. Maybe it's the busy season at work screeching to an abrupt stop. Maybe it's heat so swelteringly oppressive that it's impossible to keep up defenses against it. Maybe it's a million different things. And maybe six months or so is a sensible amount of time in which to have stopped crying. Or maybe, if you're me, it's when you really get started.

And maybe it will stop when I see my sister soon. And maybe all I need to do is go see The Hangover and laugh and think about how much I enjoy Andy Bernard in general and when my little brother does that thing with his hand, like marking the notes in the air, while singing when imitating Andy Bernard doing his musical notes from Here Comes Treble. Maybe all I need to do is think about how happy my older brother is right now and how blessed I am to have parents who just celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary and about friends who are having their own happy milestones. Maybe I should think about how much fun it was to get gelato with my girlfriend yesterday and her precious girls I love so much. Maybe I just need to remember that I've tried to be as honest as I can with myself and everyone else during this emotional madness, even when it's been hard, and that's something.

In Say Anything, Lloyd Dobler says, "The rain on my car is a baptism." ("The new me, Ice Man, Power Lloyd, my assault on the world begins now.") And not to be all metaphorically barfy, but maybe this much-needed rain tonight and these sudden tears are a baptism. Rebirth, starting anew, and all that jazz. On that note, what better song is there to listen to right now as the rain pours and the thunder and lightning pound the sky than Patty Griffin's "Rain"? I sure can't think of one.

Randomosity

2009-06-28T12:47:00.004-05:00

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 abandoned 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

2009-06-21T19:22:00.001-05:00

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.

Chuck

2009-06-19T17:34:00.010-05:00

There are deeper shows on TV, more complex shows, shows with tighter plot logic, possibly even better comedies ... but none features as much pure, concentrated fun as "Chuck." It's overflowing with joy, as if [the creators & writers] repeatedly ask themselves, "What else can we put into this scene that's awesome?"

--Alan Sepinwall on "Chuck"

[Note: I wanted to link back to that quote, but I wouldn't click on it and read the post if you're not a "Chuck" viewer, as it's the review of the season two finale and thus filled with spoilers a-plenty.]

As I have mentioned before, Sepinwall is my favorite TV critic and has been for a long time. I don't know why it took me so long to get on the Chuck bandwagon, of which he is a major leader. I'm just glad I finally did.

I finished season two on iTunes last night. It was such an immensely satisfying experience, this immersion into the first two seasons of this show over the past six weeks or so, that I'm not sure how to explain it. I had no idea what I was getting into. I thought nothing could top season 1, but as season 2 went on, building and building as the stakes were raised episode after episode until the final 3 or so episodes which were just perfection after perfection, I would sit there watching almost in disbelief of how much I was enjoying it and how it made me swoon and laugh and clap my hands and even cry a little bit.

I've never fallen so head over heels in love with a show like "Chuck". Maybe it's because I've never before seen a show like "Chuck." Or because there's never before actually BEEN a show like "Chuck." Ever. Watching it is just such a good time.

When an episode of a show is off-the-charts awesome, Sepinwall sometimes frames his reviews in terms of Dayenu -- he explains that Dayenu "is a traditional folk song sung during the Passover meal, where you list all the amazing things God did for the Jews during the story of the Exodus from Egypt. After you list each one, you say if only God had done just that, 'Dayenu,' which means 'it would have been enough.' So when I see an episode like this one, overflowing with awesomeness, I feel the need to sing its praises as if I was just sitting around the seder table with my family." (Link to that explanation is here, but don't click on it if you aren't already a viewer because it's full of major spoilers.)

And that's kind of how I feel about the whole series. If the show just had Adam Baldwin's facial expressions and nonverbal grunts and groans and "unleash the Casey." If it just had Lester and Jeff and their ridiculousness. If it just had the relationship between Chuck and his big sister. If it just had the way Chuck looks at Sarah and Sarah looks at Chuck. If it just had shirtless Captain Awesome and the way he says "bro" and "dude." If it just had the whole concept of the Intersect. If it just had the undying loyalty between Chuck and Morgan. If it just had one of the many great guest stars. If it just had one of the incredible songs it features episode after episode. If it just had Zachary Levi and his wondrous combination of gangly, nerdy heroism and heart.

And after giving so many years of my life to a super heavy show like BSG and recovering from its end-run in March and then watching 43 emotionally draining episodes of In Treatment after that, I needed a show like this. I needed "Chuck." Maybe a TV show should not bring light and joy to your life. But I am a person who has always found joy in really good TV, and I am not ashamed of it, okay? I am just not ashamed in the least. And "Chuck" is really good TV.

And I don't understand why more people don't watch it and love it. Maybe they just had the wrong idea about it like I did or never had someone sit them down and grab them by the shoulders and say, "What?! You don't watch this show?! You must! You would love it!" like my brother did to me. And he was so right. I just love it so much. You can watch all of Chuck on Hulu, it seems ... starting with season one ... I think would be a pretty swell way to spend the summer.

Swimming with shackles off

2009-06-15T20:08:00.007-05:00

I love swimming. I love it a lot. Tonight I swam 1143 meters (1250 yards), my longest swim yet in this whole training season. It was glorious. Mostly. Things that are not glorious about swimming: the bugs, leaves, blades of glass, wads of hair, and other filthy things in the water. My gym's pool is not fundamentally disgusting; I think it's just the result of the sheer quantity of people in the pool, many of whom are small children. I try to look past the dirty bits and just breathe.

Like no other form of exercise for me, swimming allows me to totally free my mind, as En Vogue would want me to do. I just tune out the whole blur of life. I count my laps and listen to the air bubbles made when I breathe. It sounds kind of like the ocean in my ears, like I'm listening to a conch shell, because the cap fits tightly over my ears and adds to the whole drown out the rest of humanity sensation. I just go to my happy place. It's so anonymous -- with your face in the water and your hair in a cap and goggles over your eyes, it's like no one knows it's you. You're just there all alone in the water. It is such a comfortable and comforting solitude.

Today, a good friend of mine introduced me to the Martha Beck concept of "shackles on" vs. "shackles off." I am not sure who Martha Beck is, exactly, but I really like this concept upon first glance. I am going to look more into it because I am intrigued, and I like that it seems to involve gut-checking and, more importantly, gut-trusting. That is so important and so hard sometimes. Anyway, swimming = totally shackles off for me, and I am thankful for it.

It's a good thing I love it so much, otherwise peeling off my bathing suit and seeing a clump of hair that does not belong to me plastered against my bosom might send me keeling over in a dead faint. I tell myself it's all chlorinated and to calm down. Really, swimming calms me down so much intrinsically that these things do not bother me. It's like an OCD miracle.

I also had my best bike ride yet yesterday morning. 10 miles in the scorching 10 a.m. sun. I know it does not sound like the sun would be scorching at 10 a.m., but it was. I rode with a distinct lack of the fear that has plagued me on earlier rides. I was basically like, "Out of my way, joggers in the wrong lane! Coming through!" I am turning and slowing down with more skill and confidence. I am certainly no speedster, but it's so beautiful along the route, and I am starting to let it inspire me instead of worrying every minute that I am going to be colliding with certain death.

I guess that's about it for tonight. I watched In Bruges again and loved it all over again. I am enjoying Dragon Spear. I loved The Wednesday Wars and reviewed it over at Melissa's site, Kidliterate. My brain is shutting down now. Good night.

Triathlon report

2009-05-31T18:59:00.011-05:00

Not sure my fingers have the energy to type this post, but I am willing them to. Last night my friend and I drove about 2.5 hours away to spend the night before our triathlon this morning. (Designed mostly for beginners, it was a 250m swim, 10mi bike ride, and 2mi run.) Even though we got rather lost, heading to Texas instead of the central part of the state by accident, we had an enjoyable road trip. We have basically exactly the same taste in music, so we sang until our voices hurt. We calmed ourselves in the frenzy of getting lost by listening to Hairspray. It's just soothing. "He's Corny!" Anyway, we went out for pasta and French bread in the attempt to carb it up bigtime and turned in at about 10:30. BBQ shrimp pasta is very good. So is The Wednesday Wars, which I didn't want to stop reading, but we decided it was best to turn out the lights for our 6 a.m. wake-up call. At about 1 a.m., the peaceful sound of the waterfall on my noise machine turned inexplicably to morning birdsong, which of course woke up up instantly. "WHAT THE ___?" I moaned, cursing and slapping the buttons until the waterfall came back. Somehow my friend slept through this, luckily.

We were up and out the door by 6:15 to head to our destination. We picked up our packets and got our numbers drawn on our arms and legs with big black markers and set up our bikes. Since I only did the swimming leg last time, the whole set up was new to me. I didn't even know how to hook the bike onto the little rack. Great. But I lay out my towel and shoes and helmet and all that jazz and soon it was time to head to the pool area. The 250 meter swim meant up and back in five lanes. We predicted this would cause major traffic jams -- swimming counter-intuitively on the left and passing on the right, where someone would inevitably be coming at you because she was swimming on her left -- if it sounds confusing, it was, but luckily no one had to pass me, and I was able to pass a couple of people by ending up at the wall at the same time and having them graciously tell me to go ahead. So I really enjoyed the swim other than the fact that I could feel the velcro on my ankle bracelet chip loosening with every kick and I think it caused me to kick a little less ferociously than I would have otherwise.

I lost a little time getting out of the pool because I'd left my Tevas near the pool steps. Many people left their sandals or flip-flops there because the asphalt in the parking lot where the bikes were was really really rocky and hurt to walk on gingerly -- I was afraid it would tear my feet up if hauling ass across it. I never go barefoot, even in my own home, so my feet are not exactly toughened up. Anyway, that took me a second, as did changing into padded biking shorts once I got to the transition area, but I know my nether regions, and there was no way they could survive the bike ride without padding. I pulled my bike down and realized I'd forgotten to put my shirt on, but when I reached down the bike started falling over, so I just left my shirt on the ground -- remembering that the race leader guy had said we only needed to wear our numbers for the run, not the ride -- and rode in my swimsuit and biking shorts. I "ran" with my bike to the mounting area and wobbled my way on, apologizing to the volunteers, "It's my first time." They were very encouraging.

I proceeded to set out on the ten mile ride and fry somewhat like bacon, but that's okay. I was passed time and again by other bikers -- my friend finished the swim after me but passed me handily on the bike -- but I never passed anyone, no shock there. I pedaled as fast as I could, but I am still a beginner and there is only so fast my bike can go, especially compared to some of the road bikes whizzing past me every two seconds as if they had wings. Next time I will bring sunglasses because I squinted the entire time. I tried to sing to myself and enjoy the scenery. Truly, it was so pastoral I felt as if I were in a watercolor painting or something. There were horses behind fences. "Hi, horses!" I called, flashing back to when my dad was teaching me how to drive on River Road and he yelled at me for getting distracted by the cows on the levee. What can I say, I find large grazing farm animals a pleasure to behold. There were silos and red barns. Sprawling farmhouses with front porches and corn fields, which of course made me start thinking about The Omnivore's Dilemma. The course was luckily totally flat. I only ended up in the wrong lane once on a turn. It was strange to try to give myself pep talks. Usually, such as in the half-marathon, I would just say to myself over and over, "You can do this, it's what you've been training for!" This time, I just said, "You can do this, it's what you've ... not trained for at all. But that's okay, you can still do it!"

Some 45+ minutes (?) later, it was time to dismount and "run" the bike back to the transition area. My legs were total noodles by this point and I seriously thought I was going to fall over. I took my time pulling off the biking shorts and pulling on running shorts (way too much changing compared to other people but I just wanted to be comfortable and not feel like I was running in a diaper) and making sure to put my damn shirt on and grab a visor because it was really sunny and there was not a tree in sight. I took off and saw that many, many people had already finished the entire triathlon. I told myself it was only two miles. Unfortunately it was two miles on legs I could no longer feel with sizzling skin on black pavement roads. Holy crap. I didn't make it very far on the run before I had to start speed walking and calm down a little bit. I ran a little more, I walked a little more. I saw my friend up ahead of me and as a volunteer cheered me on, "Lookin' good!" (doubtful), I said to her, "I am going to catch my friend" (pant pant) "if it kills me!" "You go get her," she yelled. So I took off (and by that I mean I broke into a slow jog instead of walking) and eventually caught up to her. I didn't feel bad about having walked because a lot of people were walking. A lot. And a lot of them looked really fit. It was just ... really hot. People were really hot, it was obvious. Thank goodness for the volunteer cheerleaders -- they really did help so much. I ran through to the end and promptly dumped a bottle of cold water over my head because I was so hot I felt like I might burst into flames. My friend came through shortly thereafter and our final times ended up being within less than a minute of each other. (I was a faster swimmer, she was a faster biker, and we ran probably around the same. So it was all good.)

We got our medals and stretched and ate some jambalaya and headed home, but not before stopping on our way out of town at the DQ. I wanted a banana pudding blizzard probably more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I hadn't been to the DQ since the summer of '95 in Boulder, when I ate a blizzard every day and I'm not joking. If you see pictures of me from that summer, this will come as no surprise. I hadn't even been to a DQ since I first saw Waiting for Guffman. So it had an even deeper meaning. We enjoyed our blizzards. Every bite of vanilla wafers and bananas and ice cream tasted like Libby Mae Brown singing Teacher's Pet and like that beautiful Colorado summer.

So. That was that. My sister reminded me that she's always thought I should be a triathlete. She has said this over the years but I effectively ignored her because it seemed impossible to contemplate. Now as of today I actually am. I still can't really believe it.

One of my favorite parts of one of my favorite books, Taking Care of Terrific by Lois Lowry (who has an excellent blog), is when Cynthia looks back on organizing the bag lady root beer popsicle protest and reflects upon how good it feels to win a war, thinking it might be fun to start another one.

In that spirit, I feel like I must now look for another war. So I've registered for a slightly longer triathlon in August (350m swim, 12mi bike, and 2mi run) and am considering an even longer triathlon (500m swim, 15mi bike, 5k run) where I'd have to swim in a lake. Reports are that you come out of the lake totally brown and covered in goo. If that's not immersion therapy for a germophobe, I don't know what is. I feel good about this. I think that Cynthia, Hawk, Seth Sandroff, and Tom Terrific would be proud.

Catching Up

2009-05-30T13:10:00.004-05:00

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.

Brandi Carlile

2009-05-28T20:55:00.003-05:00

As if seeing the Indigo Girls the night before weren't enough of a treat, I got to see Brandi Carlile the next damn night at the House of Blues.

Brandi Carlile has been my number one want to see in concert artist for a while now, and the wish finally came true. The concert was the perfect mix of old songs, new songs, and a few covers. It was all I hoped it would be and more, honestly. I knew the music would be amazing, but I did not know she would tell so many great stories and be so unbelievably interactive and charming. Brandi Carlile is the real deal.

(I found it surprising that most of the people I told I was going to this show had never heard of Brandi Carlile. So I'm going to link to some video of songs, mostly from recent shows, so you can check her out if you aren't familiar with her, because I think she is someone special and I love her music very much, obvs. I tried to find ones of good quality. I'm sure you know that you must click HQ if you can. Good stuff, beautiful, really. I must say that I loved every new song and can't wait for the new album this fall.)

Setlist:

Burn: This is a Ray LaMontagne song, which was a nice and surprising opener for the Ray fans in the audience. Video here.

Closer to You: What is not to like about this song? Nothing, that's what. Video here. (Bonus: the following song is also included in this clip.)

I've Just Seen a Face: I was aware that she has performed this in concert but it did not occur to me that she would do it at this show. I love this song, and I love her version of it, and I was bouncing on my toes with delight over this one.

Late Morning Lullabye: One of my faves. It just makes me happy. Video here.

Have You Ever: This was the first song by Brandi Carlile that I ever heard. B. put it on a mix CD for me. I have him to thank for introducing me to her. This remains one of my favorites to this day. Video here.

Dying Day: They stood on the edge of the stage and sang and played this one with no microphones and no amps. It still filled the entire house. Good stuff. Video here.

Dreams: New song. Video here.

Before It Breaks: Beautiful. Video here.

Oh Dear: This was a nice showcase for the twins. Video here.

Creep: Well, this is not a favorite song of mine. But I still enjoyed it. Video here.

What Can I Say: She invited the crowd to sing along on this one, and the crowd obeyed. Video here.

Over You: She wrote this song when she was 17, and it will be on her new album. Video here. It's not the greatest song ever, but it sure feels like being 17. She played it for her mom, who asked, "Why are you so angry?" Totally 17.

Turpentine: The three-part harmony audience choir aspect of this one was very fun. Video here.

The Story: This is the Brandi Carlile song that most people who have ever heard of Brandi Carlile know. Or at least know of. Or at least have heard in a truck commercial. This song did not disappoint, not one tiny bit. This song means a lot to me, just like it means a lot to a lot of other people, and there's a reason for that. And that reason is that it is awesome. I might have cried. Video here.

Jackson: Video here.

Folsom Prison Blues: Totally raucous and fun. Video here.

Let It Be: Beautiful beautiful beautiful. Can't find decent video. She played the piano. It was a perfect closing song. We smiled the whole way home.

At some point during the show when everyone was cheering and cheerful and things got really lovely, Brandi smiled a huge smile and said, "If they could all be New Orleans..." If all the concert venues, if all the cities, if all the places in world.

It was nice.

Indigo Girls

2009-05-27T21:12:00.003-05:00

Recently I attended an Indigo Girls show at Tipitina's Uptown in New Orleans. I tried to think back to the times I've seen them. First time: Jazz Fest afternoon show. Skipped out of school early with friends senior year of high school. 1993. Liberating, sunny, beautiful afternoon in the grass. Sometime mid-college. New Orleans. 1995? Some arena setting. Wrote a paper about it for anthropology class. Summer of 1995, Denver. Another time somewhere around here, another arena setting, with sister and friends, the least favorite of the shows, where we joked that they played every song we never wanted to hear. The glorious Chastain Park, summer of 1999 (I think). And that was the last time. Beautiful, outside, transcendent, circled back to that first Jazz Fest show.

Can't believe it had been 10 years. Because I am a nerd and like my iPhone's notes function, I typed the songs in as they played on Saturday night. This is organized by album and not by order of when played in show and will likely only appeal to longtime fans. Basically all you need to know about the setting is that it was standing room only at Tipitina's, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with strangers and friends, totally smoky (only downside), and that the crowd was very enthusiastic and it was basically one big massive singalong. The Girls seemed psyched to be there and very moved to be playing at Tipitina's -- one thing about shows in New Orleans is that the artists really romanticize the city and love it, which makes for a cool vibe. Amy Ray definitely dominated; she also rarely wiped the huge grin from her face, which was endearing; Emily's voice was still really beautiful but was a little tired every now and then. Emily said to the sweaty crowd that it's like taking a bath all the time when you're in New Orleans. Only missed opportunity: Southland in the Springtime. Seemed like a no brainer to me. Major annoyance: couple next to me who slumped over each other's shoulders, closed their eyes, and swayed back and forth the entire night, bumping me with every sway, like they were on their own personal dance floor or competing on Slow Dancing with the Stars. Otherwise, no complaints. Okay, here goes.

Indigo Girls

Land of Canaan: Super fun, of course.

Closer to fine: Last song before encore. Audience member bid $9,000 to walk onstage, drink in hand, to sing final verse onstage with the band and get CD recording of it. She really knocked it out and turns out my friend knows her. She is an OBGYN. Money went to charity (Sweet Home New Orleans).

Nomads, Indians, Saints

Watershed: This one came out of the blue for me and I was so glad they played it. What a beautiful song. One of my all-time favorites.

Rites of Passage

Galileo (2nd encore song, last song of show, with Bonerama -- lots of horns, random but good): Since Closer to Fine and Shame On You had already been played, I was having trouble thinking of a really upbeat encore song. I turned to my sister and said, "I guess all they can play last is Chickenman?" She looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Um, GALILEO!?" Duh. Obviously. She is smart. It was a fantastic closer.

Swamp Ophelia

Power of Two
Least Complicated

These are not my 2 favorites from this album -- Mystery and The Wood Song and Language or the Kiss are -- but they were fun to sing along to and the crowd loved them.

Shaming of the Sun

Get Out the Map: My sister and I worked on a top 10 of all time list to kill time while driving to New Orleans, and I'm pretty sure this made it, though we didn't write it down so I can't remember. I never thought they would play it, and it was great to hear. Meant something to my brother since he's leaving for a 3-week Europe backpacking trip in a week. Beautiful song.

Shame on you: I've always really loved this one; also a surprise to hear. Really fun in concert, clearly. Almost explosive joy from the crowd.

Come On Now Social

Oziline: I have never really gotten into this album.
Go: Ditto.

Become You

Become You: Decent song, kind of random. Not my fave from this album, but I like it well enough. (Those would be Deconstruction, Collecting You, Hope Alone, Our Deliverance, and She's Saving Me, all of which I love.)

All That We Let In

Fill It Up Again: They played these back to back and I felt they were totally random.
Heartache for Everyone -- Cute songs, sure, but nothing epic.

My two favorite songs from this album are the title track and Come On Home. It would have been nice to hear them in the place of these, but I am not going to quibble.

Prom (Amy Ray Solo Album)

Let It Ring: She did this onstage by herself and blew the roof off the place; hard to put into words; beautiful; spiritual; a prayer. Awesome!

Posiedon and the Bitter Bug (New Album)

Love of our Lives
Sugar Tongue
Driver Education
What Are You Like
Ghost of the Gang
Digging for Your Dream
Fleet of Hope: My fave song on new album.

when I was a girl

all of my fancy took flight

and I had this dream

could outshine anything

even the darkest night

now I wait like a widow

for someone to come back from sea

I've always known

I was waiting for me

I'll Change: My 2nd fave song on new album.
Second Time Around: First encore song.

It was a wonderful road trip with my sister and her new husband and our little brother. We ate pizza on a Magazine Street sidewalk and drank beer beforehand. We sang until we were hoarse. The staff held tall stacks of plastic cups to hand concertgoers on the way out to pour their drinks into and carry out into the night. We didn't get home until morning. When I woke up, my hair and pores and pillowcase smelled like smoke. I'm a little too old for that. But I will always go back to see the Indigo Girls. I love them forever!

Awful run, weird dinner, great show

2009-05-21T19:10:00.004-05:00

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

2009-05-18T20:26:00.004-05:00

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.

Race report

2009-05-03T18:30:00.010-05:00

The alarm blasted me awake at 5 a.m. sharp and I groaned and flung myself out of bed, surly and cursing the day I agreed to do this. I ate a whole wheat English muffin toasted with some all-natural peanut butter. I put on my swimsuit and grabbed my goggles and swim cap and stumbled out the door.

I arrived at 5:45 and a large bald man drew my team number on my arms and legs with a big black permanent marker. I picked up my chip and attached it via velcro to my ankle. I squinted in the darkness, trying to spot my friends, but there was no sight of them. I stepped into the brightness of the indoor pool where I had been swimming a grand total of three times in the past two weeks to "train" for this event. There was nary a soul in there yet but a young guy in a black and white referee outfit. "Good morning!" he chirped cheerfully. I went to the bathroom and took a few deep breaths. A few swimmers were getting in the pool to start warming up when I came out.

I headed back outside, and it was still dark but getting a little lighter, and I spotted my friends arriving. They went to set up their bikes. The rest of the pre-race period is kind of a blur. The sun came up. The crowd got bigger. The lines got longer. I noticed that most of the women had on biking shorts and I was seized by a panicky moment of self consciousness that I would be one of the few women to be swimming without them. I am more self conscious about my bottom half in a swimsuit than I am about any other part of my body, and I rarely, if ever, expose it to the public. I tried to ignore that panic.

I put my swim cap on and we lined up, self-seeding ourselves based on how long we thought it would take us to swim 350 meters. Since I am not the world's most confident athlete and hadn't been timing my practice swims, I put myself with the 10-minute swimmers, farther back than I should have, it turns out. We huddled shoulder to shoulder and back to back and bottom to bottom alongside the pool, waiting and waiting and waiting to go in. The minutes crawled by. I kept picking my knees up to keep the blood flowing as we stood there on the damp tile, willing myself to stop thinking "foot fungus, foot fungus" over and over again. My pink swim cap was so tight I could feel my brain throbbing through my forehead and I couldn't really hear anything around me and I had to rip it off for a few minutes. Finally it was our turn and I learned quickly that I should have put myself farther up in the line because I kept having to swim around people. Not that I'm super fast by any stretch of the imagination, I was just faster than the people who happened to be in front of me. The most maddening turn of events of the entire day was realizing that a lot of people were actually swimming on the left, not just passing on the left, so if I needed to pass the swimmer in front of me, I was blocked by the left-sided swimmer and essentially stuck because the space between them was too narrow to swim through. I tried to be zen about this and remind myself I wasn't there to set any records and for more of the race than not, I could just swim. The traffic jams were a drag because they took me out of the moment and out of the zone, if you will, but I had to let it go.

By the time I got to the end, my goggles were totally clouded over and luckily two strong guys grabbed me by the arms and pulled me out. I said, "Thanks, I can't see!" They were friendly and then I pulled off my goggles and took off running out of the building in bare feet wearing nothing but my swimsuit and my swimcap. I ran through a crowd of people cheering me on as I hauled ass to the transition area through the grass. I felt like a complete moron, naked and exposed and bouncing and crazy, but just wanted to get there as fast as I could for my teammate, who was waiting by her bike. I still cannot believe I did this but it was part of the deal, and luckily the distance between the pool and the bikes was fairly short.

I wasn't sure what to do with myself after that since my part of the race was over, so I threw on shorts and my race shirt over my soaking wet suit and exited on foot out the bike exit with a couple of other swimmers and hoofed the two miles of the running route in my Tevas. I never thought to bring running shoes. Luckily these Tevas are comfortable and well broken in. I felt silly walking in sandals while the runners who finished the biking portion caught up with us and zoomed past us, but I wanted to walk so I could wait for my teammate near the finish line. She showed up eventually and we ran the last 100 yards or so together and got our medals at the same time. We slapped her little boys' hands on the way in. It was all very celebratory and fun. The bananas, the oranges, the clapping, the cheering. I was proud of myself and of my friends.

I came home and showered and collapsed on the couch for a few hours. Soon it was time to be fetched for an afternoon festival with M. and her girls. We had a good time, enjoying Italian ices and face painting before it started raining buckets. With no other choice but to set off in the rain for the car where we'd left the umbrella, M. carried her 2-year-old toddler in a baby backpack, and I carried the 5-year-old on my back so she could bury her face in my shoulder and use her hair to protect her newly painted dalmatian face from the downpour. Somehow this worked, and her face art remained relatively intact. I have to say that running through the rain with a couple of very game young girls -- the 2-year-old was laughing and saying, "It's RAINING!" -- was more enjoyable than I anticipated. We went out for turkey burgers and fries and had a merry time. Perhaps my favorite moment of this whole excursion was walking ahead of the 5-year-old after we ate as she carried a giant black umbrella to protect her face paint and hearing her sing out in a very Julie Andrews way, "I have confidence in sunshine, I have confidence in raaaaain!" To be around a couple of little girls who have just discovered The Sound of Music in the past few weeks, knowing the magic that will now be with them the rest of their lives, is a pretty remarkable experience. They already know pretty much every word of every song by heart, and the four of us had a rousing singalong, sans the CD, in the car. ("A captain with 7 children, what's so fearsome about that?" piped a tiny but sure accapella voice from the backseat. Exactly! What's so fearsome about that? I might need to adopt that as my new life motto.) It made me really happy.

The whole day, really, was a joyous celebration of women. Elite athletes and cancer survivors and mothers of newborns, young and old and fit and not-so-fit. I can swim, but I couldn't have climbed on a bike and ridden 12 miles. My friend couldn't have swum 350 meters, but she could bike and run and has lost a lot of weight after bearing three sons and is totally embracing fitness and succeeding, and we were a team. More than three hundred women signed up and did this race in some form or fashion, fast or slow or in teams or solo, and I think that is amazing. Then I hung out with three more of my favorite females all afternoon, and we had confidence in sunshine and in rain, and isn't that something.

Running, swimming, and CHUCK!

2009-05-02T16:45:00.010-05:00

I ran in a 5K race recently with some friends. I was intimately familiar with the route, which was nice on many levels. I ran about 11:30-miles, which is REALLY GOOD for me. I felt really accomplished when I was done. As I puttered red-faced and panting toward the finish line, a very fit runner who was clearly lapping back and had finished long before me shouted, "Good job, runner!" It took me a second to realize that she was addressing me. Encouraging me. She called me "runner," like that was my name. I found it very moving. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline and the level of poopedness I felt at that moment, but her yelling that to me at that moment seemed a real act of kindness. Sometimes I think the best thing about doing races is the community aspect of it. Sure, I pass people on runs all the time because about a million people run where I run, and sometimes there's a nod or a even a little wave or a "Good morning" or a "Cute dog!" but strangers don't make a practice of cheering each other on -- unless you're in a race situation. She was done, she had probably been one of the first to finish based on her Dara Torres-esque physique, and she was just running in the opposite direction for fun, or to cool down, or whatever, but she smiled and said, "Good job, runner." Thanks, whoever you were.

I am trying to mentally prepare myself to arrive at a pool for 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning and then jump in it and start swimming. Holy crap. It's a good thing I have a disc of Chuck to keep me company. It's my first Netflix in a while not to be In Treatment, which has nine discs. I finished season one of In Treatment, and as I've mentioned, it was wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, staggeringly wonderful. I will never forget many moments of this season -- particularly, I will never forget the character of Sophie and how much her arc and her phenomenal portrayer, Mia Wasikowska, moved me to the point where I had actual physical reactions to every one of her episodes, having to assume multiple couch positions just so I would not feel like I was coming out of my skin until the closing credits and I could relax again. This show made me cry constantly and laugh sometimes and most of all think. I felt drained and invigorated and terrified and relieved and heartbroken and basically every other state of emotion on the human emotional scale while following the stories, especially Sophie's, and then Alex's. Not so much Jake and Amy's. Laura's made me want to throw up on every level. But all in all. What a great show.

Speaking of Chuck, WHY HAS NO ONE TOLD ME HOW GOOD IT IS? Under what rock have I been living? I noticed that my fave TV critic, Alan Sepinwall, wrote an open letter to NBC recently saying that it's the best show they have on air and that canceling it would be a huge mistake. Considering that this is the network of 30 Rock, The Office, and Friday Night Lights, I knew this was very high praise. So I've been peripherally aware of the threat of cancellation, but I've never laid eyes on this show or known anything about its plot or characters until last night. And I was in love with it seriously by the end of the first five minutes of the pilot. My little brother is a huge fan, and the fact that he loves a show so much that I've never even seen is very weird and unusual. He said it makes him feel so happy every time he watches it. I don't know how I didn't know this until recently. Anyway, I love it, and I've now seen the first four episodes, and I love Zachary Levi so much that I can't even fathom that 24 hours ago my television landscape and life as a whole did not include him, and I love seeing the hero of Canton, the man they call Jayne again. I love it! That it even faces the possibility of being cancelled is a crime. What is wrong with you, NBC? You should be ashamed of yourself!

Avetts at Jazz Fest

2009-04-30T20:13:00.015-05:00

Clearly I was thrilled to learn a few months back that my beloved Avett Brothers would be at Jazz Fest. My brother scored tickets and tent passes from a friend, so we headed to the city after lunch on Sunday, squeezed into a parking spot on a side street, and waltzed on into the Fair Grounds on a beautiful and sunny day. The tent was really swell -- couches, beers, big screen TVs, speakers, and best of all, misting machines. We parked ourselves on bar stools at tables and enjoyed Blue Moons with orange slices and felt like we were living the life. As the mist spewed forth upon us, I wondered aloud, "Do you think the chemicals making the mist cold are getting into our beer and poisoning us?" He pondered this for a moment and then sighed contentedly, "It's worth it."

Soon it was time to head over to their stage. There was already a pretty big crowd there, but we were able to get pretty close. What can I say? I love this band. They started with "Shame," one of my favorites (you have to scroll about 2 minutes into that video for the song to get started), and they played lots of songs I knew and several I didn't, my favorite of which by a mile was "Salvation Song." (Link is here. Be sure to click "HD" if you can on any videos I've linked.)

Something I love about the Avett Brothers is that they are, I've decided, fundamentally optimistic. Their songs are openly emotional and honest and not afraid to be boldly and proudly emotional and about family and about making the world a better place. That might sound super cheesetastic, but it doesn't come across that way. It's not that their songs don't also have darkness and sadness because sometimes they do. But sometimes they are so nakedly hopeful and romantic and I can't help but believe that they mean every word.

We came for salvation
We came for family
We came for all that's good, that's how we'll walk away
We came to break the bad
We came to cheer the sad
We came to leave behind the world a better way

I am not conveying this well. I just think that there's a time for music that makes you feel dark and twisty, as Meredith Grey might say, and there's time for music that lifts you up and makes you want to shout and sing and feel brave and happy.

I waited in a long line at the merchandise tent following the show so they could sign my CD and I could shake their hands. I have always regretted not waiting in line to meet Anne Lamott. So I decided what the hell. I moved across the table really quickly and they scribbled initials or signatures or whatever on the CD, and I thanked them for coming and told them that their music means a lot to me. I wasn't sure what else to say. They were nice.

And I took a lot of pictures. And I said this over at Flickr and want to say it here. These were not taken with a great camera or with great skill, but they were taken with great affection and joy.

I took a little video, too. Dismally, I made an ill-fated attempt to zoom with a Flip video camera. The picture is horrendous, but the audio is semi-decent once the off-tempo claps thankfully cease. If I had to pick one song as my favorite of theirs, and it would be difficult if not impossible, I think "Murder in the City" would be it. When the opening chords started, I turned around searched the faces in the crowd for my brother's ... he'd ended up a little ways behind me in the crowd. We waved and nodded and smiled. (Edited to add: Instead of embedding my crappy video, here is a link to a better version. Click "HD" and let her load.)

It was a wonderful day.

Great night at the theater

2009-04-29T18:28:00.008-05:00

Just in case you don't know, which you probably do, but just in case, because some of the people I've asked to go with me stared at me blankly, which is cool, not everyone is down with NPR, "This American Life" is a show on public radio hosted by Ira Glass. It features stories each week on a certain theme. They range from funny to weird to sad to inspirational. The stories and the contributers basically run the gamut from awesome to awesomer. (Ira Glass = awesomest.)

The show decided to do something unusual by airing a 90-minute show LIVE in movie theaters across the nation last week. (Normally it's just a radio show, though it has recently done a TV version on Showtime that's really good.) Because many theaters sold out, they are re-showing it as an encore on Thursday, May 7.

Part of the coolness was just watching a radio show be done on the big screen and how Ira Glass works the little buttons on a table in front of him on a stage to turn on music, recordings, etc. I thought that was really neat. In addition to the wonderful Ira Glass as host, it features essay readings by several other people that were all really good -- funny, silly, and sad. One man read an essay about a car wreck he was in with a drunk driver and how it affected his views on marriage. One woman did an essay about going to an intense therapy program to deal with her childhood issues (accompanied by illustrations on post-it notes that were really funny). There was a report told cartoon style about a town in Florida where thieves have to march in front of stores holding giant signs saying "I stole from this store" (this is a real law there). This cartoon was by Chris Ware (Jimmy Corrigan), so that excited me. All of these were funny and very good. They also showed a clip of one of their TV episodes where they follow 7 people named John Smith, from a newborn to an old man, that was only 4 minutes long and made me cry. There was even a segment on Dr. Horrible, which of course thrilled me.

There is one essay in particular read by Dan Savage, who as you probably know has long authored a national sex advice column. He and his partner have been together 14 years and adopted a son who is now 11 and he has also written a lot about that. Though extremely outspoken politically, he doesn't really talk about politics overtly in this show -- his essay is all about his mother and growing up Catholic in Chicago and life and death and it was really moving. (He was wearing a St. Ignatius t-shirt during the performance.) This should come as a surprise to no one who's read this site for more than a day, but I was openly weeping in the theater; however, I was not the only one. There is something about watching a grown man with gorgeous, sculpted guns (oops, did I say that) fight back tears with all his might while talking about his mother live on stage that just made the tears flow like a river. All I could hear were people sniffling and crying around me; otherwise, the crowd was still and silent and riveted. He talks a lot about his conflicting emotions about the church and all about his really devout mom and what his feelings are on the church today. Even though Dan Savage and I are unlike in obvious ways, I could relate to so much of what he said about family and heaven and tradition. And even if what he says is something you don't agree with, overall, it was a really honest account and ultimately very life-affirming and beautiful. (To me, anyway.)

This is all just to say that if there's any way you can go on May 7, I think you should. The tickets are expensive for 90 minutes in a movie theater, granted, but it's worth it if you can swing it. At least I think so. If you can't make it to the theater, there's (of course) a radio version airing this weekend. You might have to check your local public radio listings for that. The theme of the show is "return to the scene of the crime." I think you should check it out.

In other news, I have spent way too much time lately thinking what a useless addition Kelly has been to The Real Housewives of New York.

In Treatment and other stuff.

2009-04-26T10:35:00.009-05:00

(The following paragraph contains spoiler information related to casting for season one of In Treatment. You might want to skip it if you care about that sort of thing. I won't give anything away specifically in regards to the plot, but you might be able to infer things about the plot from this information.)

(Spoilery information starts ...)

I'm midway through week 8 of season one of this show with one more week to go. Like most people of my generation, I suspect, I first saw Glynn Turman as Col. Taylor on A Different World, one of my favorite shows of the '80s-'90s. I never missed an episode. And I liked him on that well enough but never really knew what he was capable of as an actor, clearly, because he so stunned me with his performance on In Treatment that I could not stop crying for the entire episode. I mean, I cried the entire way through. He was so good and so powerful that I couldn't stop thinking in the back of my mind, while the power and sadness of the episode and his performance swirled around me and streamed down my face, "If he did not win the Guest Actor Emmy for this performance, there is NO justice in the world!" Once the episode ended, I looked it up, and he did! He won. And my God, he deserved it. There have been episodes of this show that have had me on the edge of my seat, certainly, particularly the ones with Sophie and with Gina (Dianne Weist won the Best Supporting Actress Emmy! I just learned this, too! Hooray!). But I think this one surpassed them all. Wow. That's all I can really say. If I had to describe the emotional impact of this show on me, I think I would have to say that 37 episodes in, it has really taken it out of me. But it has also filled me right back up again. Over and over. It's been a strange and wonderful TV experiment and experience for me. I might have to sign up for HBO for the first time in my life just so I can dive into season two.

(... spoilery information over.)

I don't think I mentioned that AB Chao and Co. came to town last month. It was great to see them. It should come as no surprise that they're a fun bunch. It is strange to think that she lives so near and yet so far. Soon I shall join her group, Bench Monday. I just need to find myself a good sturdy bench.

I am making preliminary plans to go back to D.C. and to Hawaii this year. I need to get myself together and make it happen. I am about to get dressed to go to Jazz Fest with my brother. I cannot believe Today Is Avett Brothers Day. Last year? April 29. This year? April 26. Perhaps this should just become an April tradition. I cannot wait. I am about to freak out with excitement. More later!

Randomosity

2009-04-22T18:34:00.008-05:00

(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

2009-04-20T21:12:00.008-05:00

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

2009-04-13T19:57:00.007-05:00

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

2009-04-09T21:32:00.008-05:00

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.

Sunday

2009-04-05T14:54:00.003-05:00

I love the Internet sometimes, I truly do.

Last week, I followed Matt Logelin's link to this video. The video itself is gorgeous -- amazing footage and photos of a father and daughter whose story I've been following for the past year or so -- and I fell in love with the song. I looked up the artist. I downloaded her album. I've been listening to it all week. She might be a new favorite. And I am so interested in ways that we discover music, and I like to remember how I discovered music I love. So, this is how I discovered Amy Seeley. Since then, the line "been realistic about love, been optimistic about the weather" has been floating through my mind pretty much 24 hours a day. Not sure why.

I followed a link at kottke.org to this site, which is clever, funny, and ultimately very moving. The numbered rules are in red, and the accompanying quotations and photographs and captions are delightful lagniappe. This site is full of basic life advice that we'd all be better off following. So many of the sports-related ones reminded me of my dad and brothers. I love this site; it just kills me.

My friend Grace wrote a really nice post recently about food. I have more to say about this, but it can wait.

This video caused me great amusement and delight, possibly because I also have a dog named Daisy. She does not jump like this often, but Zuko does, every day, while outside, on the sliding glass door, wanting to come inside. Weirdo.

And now, random rambling. This week has been a blur of I don't even know what. Sushi & beer at happy hour (fun). Stressing about school (not fun). Stressing about work (SO not fun). I am sad about the end of ER. Even though I missed many-an episode over the 15 year course of the show, I saw a whole lot of them, and it's certainly the longest running show I've followed in my lifetime. I chose Chicago Hope over ER in 1994 and stuck with it for a long time, but I always ended up back with ER, and it obviously long outlasted its initial competition. I have a real fondness for many of those County General characters; I think the softest spot will always be for Carter. I don't know why. I also have never forgotten that sweet and sad scene when Carol tells Luka goodbye and explains that she's been in love with Doug since she was 23 years old. It's weird to think that was in season 6, and here we are, at the end of season 15. I never cared for Sam or Gates despite really liking the actors who played them. I loved Neela. I was very taken by this new, foxy, tortured Dr. Brenner and I'm convinced he will be a big star. This show has been on forever. I don't know why it's affecting me, but it is. I loved how they used old school-style opening credits for the final episode. How could America not break out in simultaneous smiles and tears upon seeing Benton kneel down and do that familiar punching move.

And once again I killed my iPhone. It stopped syncing or charging after an unfortunate encounter with my ceramic tile. The genius bar girl regarded me knowingly after shining a light into the base of the phone and said, "It appears to be a hardware problem." I nodded guiltily in silent acknowledgment of its contact with the floor. She noted that my original warranty had expired. I sighed, "Yes." Then she kept typing and her eyes widened and she broke out into a giant grin. She was obviously delighted to discover that I had five days left on my replacement model's warranty. "I'm so happy for you!" she smiled. "I'm so happy for me, too!" I said. It was a smile fest. Thanks, Apple. Tip: She said that we should only plug our iPhones into the car charger in emergencies. She said it's a "trickle charge" that is not good for the phone and to use the wall charger whenever possible. I told her that I plug that thing into the car charger every time I get in the car. "Oh, that's NOT good," she said. So -- word to the wise, straight from the mouth of the genius bar girl. Chill with the car chargers.

Yesterday evening I did a 5K with some friends, and I have to say, it was a great time. A big street party before and after, basically. My friend and I might join the running club that put it on. It was inspiring to see all of the super-fit runners and also the not-so-fit ones who were there pounding the pavement. It was a beautiful night and the pink azaleas were blooming along the route and the sun was lowering in the sky and it was just swell. The live music, the amber beer, the visiting. Excellence all around.

This morning I went to visit with my parents for about an hour and a half while they prepared to depart on their trip to Sicily. It is funny to sit there as an observer as they pack last-minute things and call across the house about remembering this and that. They pack funny things. Zone bars and Triscuits and large styrofoam cups so my dad can have bigger cups of coffee than they serve in Italy. My dad was in full-on travel garb; it looks like his pants and shirt were designed by Rick Steves himself. We got into our cars at the same time and I happened to have Josh Groban singing "Mi Mancherai" from my dad's beloved Il Postino on the mix CD in my car, so I queued it up and played it loud in honor of their trip, and that beautiful violin played the opening bars of that beautiful music. (The ones starting at 0:26 of that clip.) They started slow dancing faux-dramatically in the driveway. I am excited for them. They love Italy so much.

Finally, I can scarcely recall being more excited for any concert event in recent memory than I am for Brandi Carlile. I was excited to see the Avett Brothers last April, sure, but my love for them was in its initial budding stages when I saw them onstage for the first time, so I had not built up that much pre-concert excitement. My Brandi love has only intensified since first discoving her, and I just know in my heart it's going to be one of those concerts where tears start leaking out of my eyes the moment the artist steps on stage and don't cease until possibly when I'm driving home or falling asleep that night. In between then and now, I'm seeing the Avetts again, and I just learned yesterday that the Indigo Girls are playing the night before Brandi, and I haven't seen them in concert in this state since the mid-90s, and I just feel like April and May are going to be two glorious months for live music in my life, and it feels like just what I need.

Catching Up

2009-03-31T18:49:00.008-05:00

This weekend was also all about friends but in a quieter way. My friend who was meant to fly home to Hawaii was delayed, so we spent Friday evening at our other friend's daughter's 2nd birthday party which went somewhat awry due to illness.

The next morning, I tried and utterly failed to do homework. That afternoon, we returned to the scene of the birthday party to help do some pantry cleaning, which is always easier to do when it's not your own pantry. That evening, I was on my own and watched Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which was disappointing after enjoying the book so much. I also watched Zack & Miri Make a P0rn0, which was mostly a little too vulgar for the likes of Eliza, though Elizabeth Banks=great.

Sunday was a nice patio coffee and bagel date with my friend and Ghost Town, which I liked much more than I thought I would. The writer/director, David Koepp, has a huge list of credentials behind him (mostly as a writer of major blockbusters). I thought the whole thing was sweet, funny, un-blockbuster-y, and charming. Gervais, Leoni, and Kinnear can basically do no wrong in my book, and throw in a little Kristin Wiig and Billy Campbell and Aasif Mandvi and I'm sold. I could easily watch this again, and I know I'll listen to the commentary because life is too short to deny oneself any Ricky Gervais doing commentary as far as I'm concerned. This movie totally flew beneath the radar for me, and I'm glad I decided to rent it. On paper, it seems like it would be sort of wretched, but the cast and Koepp pull it off somehow. The bloopers reel also gets a big thumbs up.

This weekend also involved taking my fave five-year-old to the dog park, which was fun and exciting but also mildly terrifying, like, what if one of these dogs takes a big bite of her hand on my watch? Dog parks are generally happy shiny places but sometimes these loving family pets devolve into savages when thrown together. A dog park is an uncontrollable place! But it all went well, and we had fun. The best news was that Daisy and Zuko had their first ever meaningful reaction with a small child, and it went swimmingly. They thought she was the bomb diggity and did not try even remotely to eat her. I think it might have been because she was about their size and gave them treats and they sensed her pure, childlike, blissed-out dog love. Shame on me for not doing a better job socializing them, it's totally my fault, but I was so relieved and overjoyed that they were great with her because I think she'd somewhat celebritized them in her mind and I didn't want her to be disappointed if they were on their worst behavior, which they weren't. They totally showed off for her, sprinted through the yard, rolled around, sat on command, and were adorable. It was a trio of adorableness all around. Yay, dogs and children!

Last night I petted my friend's belly and talked to the guys growing inside. I felt not only kicks but what can only be described as rolls and squirms. Which was thrilling beyond belief, frankly, and made me scream. I also kissed them goodbye and my friend humored me and all of my belly love. I will miss all three of them more than I can say.

Castle is a cute show, but I find that it stretches the whole suspension of disbelief a bit far if they honestly expect us to believe that the lead female detective would be able to maintain this ruse of being constantly annoyed by Nathan Fillion at all times. I'm sorry, but who is more charming than Nathan Fillion? In any role? Even Dr. Hammer? Nobody, that's who. At least David Addison misbehaved and was really juvenile and ridiculous and earned Maddie Hayes' annoyance with him at all times. But Nathan Fillion's Castle is a successful author, a doting son, and a devoted father. And ... he's Nathan Fillion. What is to be annoyed by? Unbelievable. But still entertaining. Especially when Hallie Lowenthal is a guest star.

Meanwhile, my new Indigo Girls CD arrived this afternoon, and I can't wait to listen to it. I'm not sure what else to say. I made yet another giant stir-fry tonight. I had a wonderful run on Sunday and my heart sang with the joy of beholding dozens of people out around the lakes enjoying the beautiful weather. I had a horrible run this evening during which I felt alternately like barfing, dying, and passing out like Margie in Thailand on The Amazing Race. Once again, I thank Kelly Clarkson for getting me through.

Weekend with old friends

2009-03-23T18:39:00.009-05:00

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.

Thoughts while watching Twilight DVD

2009-03-18T18:17:00.006-05:00

We might need to have a conversation about this movie. (I'm about 1/2-way through it, and I had to sit down and write down these thoughts!)

Here are my thoughts:

(1) I think the studio, or whoever's in charge, made the RIGHT decision in not letting the same woman direct the upcoming movies. There is a lot wrong with this movie, but I think the buck stops with her. It is just so weird, overdone, cheesy, and weirdly paced in every possible way.

(2) I feel like this movie is almost a parody of the book. Clearly the book is ridiculous in its own way, but I don't really think this movie does it justice, if that's possible.

(3) The music is boring.

(4) The diamond skin glistening up on the mountain was shoddily done and RIDIC.

(5) Kristen Stewart, whom I have seen really shine and be excellent in other things (Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, Into the Wild), must have (I can only assume) realized this project was not going to be very well done because she totally phones in every moment she's on screen.

(6) I cannot imagine seeing this in a theater without everyone bursting out laughing the entire time. Is that what happened?

(7) OH NO, now they are lying in the grass staring at each other and the camera is spinning around them in slow circles and he started to diamond glisten again! I want to die.

(8) Thank God I have this leftover Irish soda bread to keep me company or I think I would not be able to take it.

(9) Bella's narration is lame and unnecessary. I guess they thought it was needed to fill in blanks as far as Bella's thoughts, but everything she says is obvious and things the audience would know anyway. LAME.

(10) With the exception of Jessica, whom I thought was good, the casting of the rest of the friends crowd was piss-poor. Wasn't Michael supposed to be a really nice guy? He is totally a dork here and so embarrassing to watch. (He played the nerdy brother on Joan of Arcadia and was much better on that.) I BLAME THE DIRECTOR.

(11) The part when Carlisle bites Edward's neck in 1918 was a little too erotic for children's viewing in my opinion.

(12) The analogy of vampires living on animals to humans living on tofu -- they are never fully satisfied -- must have pissed off a lot of vegetarians/vegans. Tofu is totally satisfying if you know how to cook it! I'm just saying.

(13) I do understand the love of Edward Cullen because the actor is very handsome, that cannot be denied, and he's sometimes funny when he's not being SUPER ANGSTY. I also like imagining his English accent in real life.

(14) I feel bad for the actors who play Edward and Bella because they are now super famous, have to promote the movie all over the place, and clearly sort of hate it, and now they are in it for the long haul. I wonder if they knew what they were getting into? Why am I overthinking this so much?

(15) The Harry Potter movies are a lot better.

(16) When are they going to make out?!?!? JEEZ! (She declared she is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him, but no making out yet.)

(17) When the vampire sister broke the salad bowl when Edward said Bella already ate, that was FUNNY and the best part so far!

(A little later ...)

(18) It got better once they kissed.

(19) Once the bad vampires showed up during the ridiculous baseball scene, the whole movie got so much better.

(20) I liked the ballet school fight scene.

(And ... I'm done.)

(21) I don't really understand how we, are an audience, are supposed to buy into Bella & Edward as an epic love story.

(22) I don't even really think the movie shows how / when they fell in love. Was it when they were flying through the trees? If not, when?

(23) Also, didn't Jacob have a bigger part in the book? He is barely in the movie. So weird! He just shows up at the end to tell her to break up with Edward and then glares at Edward real hard. What?

(24) I really really really want to hear your thoughts on this movie! I feel like it just wasn't good. I don't think it did a good service to the fans of the book.

(25) What are the public's impressions of the film? Did the fans love it? Hate it? Love to hate it?

(26) Perhaps the most burning question of all is why Bella was allowed to wear that hideous maw-maw sweater over her prom dress? WTF!!!!!!!!!!

(27) ALSO, and I think this is my major beef: I don't think this sends a very good message to young girls. Why would a girl want to DIE in order to be a VAMPIRE just so could she would be with her boyfriend forever? This is twisted, un-feminist, and fucked up.

Thoughts?