Slow down, sister

I made a promise to myself that 2011 will be the year that I take care of my life. The inner and the outer, the tangible, the invisible, the loud, the silent, the confident, the lost, the broken, the strong, the crazy I don't know what I am doing with myself life, the life that surrounds me and tries to get by without me touching it except by its coattails as it zooms by. That life.

But I am messy. I am messy in my room and I am messy in my head. Things jumble together and I get overexcited and want to tackle the whole wide universe of life-fixin's at once, and therefore implode before I even get started. I know, I've tried taking care of my life before. So this time I am going to try something new to me. I am going to try slowing down.

Slow is hard. Slow takes time, slow takes patience, slow takes faith. Three things that don't always go hand in hand. When I have one, I am missing the other two. When I finally get to two, the third somehow slips away. But no matter. This is a year of unity. The year I am getting my mind and life to zen. The year this trinity will finally merge. Time, patience, faith. To hold on to them is like the proverbial sand in the hand, I will try to hold loosely, and they will no longer squeeze away. I hope. No, I believe.

So I am slowing down. I am learning. Man, is it hard! I am the girl who does four squats and wants perfectly toned thighs. The girl who makes one batch of frosting and wants it to be Martha Stewart quality. The girl who gets a 1% raise and wants to buy the whole damn store. The girl who always leaves late for an appointment because she thinks she can make up time on the road. The girl who takes a Spanish class and thinks she's fluent. Who wants it all now and throws her hands up and walks away when now takes too long. I like to hurry but for no real reason. Not a good reason, anyway.

I think I am off to a good start. I am trying to prioritize things, organize issues into categories. Things like "health," "finances," "social life," "career goals." Instead of a long list of things to do in one day and not doing any of them, I have created a long list of things to do in a year, and am tackling them one, or two, at a time. I find that I can tackle "health" and "finances" at one time, but only if I subdivide these into smaller sections, so instead of "get teeth fixed, foot looked at, lose weight, make ophthalmologist appointment" and "do taxes, create separate savings accounts, pay off credit card debt, make more money," it's looking more like "get teeth fixed and get taxes done." Then, on to the second set. And so on. And so forth.

I'm also learning that realistic short term goals are much more achievable than lofty, far off goals. "Get to the point where I can do 120 squats and still be able to walk the next day" is a lot more achievable than "lose weight." "Pay off credit card debt within three months" is a lot more tangible than "earn more." "Blog about something important to you right now" is more likely to happen than "write a best seller."

It's really difficult for me, this slowing down thing. But I can already see its benefits. I am happy because I am achieving my short term goals. Therefore I am more encouraged to keep reaching other short term goals, and thus feel confident in setting new challenges for myself. It's kind of like the really unfortunate Catch-22 of working out/eating right. The worse you eat and the more out of shape you get, the less likely you are to be motivated to work out and eat better. But once you start, the more you workout, the easier it gets to watch what you eat, and the better you eat, the more dedicated you become to your workouts. I guess that's always been my problem. I want my donuts and my rock-hard abs, too, instantaneously. So I am making choices, setting priorities, and slowing down enough to see the difference between what I want and how to get there.

CrossFit GO

Last Thursday, I took my first step into a CrossFit gym. It was, to say the least, intimidating. First of all, it looked like a giant garage in the middle of an industrial zone. "Really?" thought I. "Am I going to get murdered here?" There is nothing around except warehouses! (At least that's what it looked like at night). But then I walked in and it was quite lively and remarkably happy. A gaggle of people were waiting around for class to start, and they ranged from the super buff college jock to the flabby dude you'd see at the office.

The trainer had me do a very preliminary work out, comprised of warming up along with the rest of the people there, and then doing a separate workout while everyone else did the Workout Of the Day. So the warmup was repeating as many times as you could in the span of twelve minutes the following rotation: four hopsteps, nine situps, five pushups, 4 jumpsquats, and a minute of stretching after each round. Umm by twelve minutes I was already exhausted. And this was the warmup! Then the trainer had me do my own separate little workout while everyone else did strange things with very large weights that they kept lifting and throwing to the ground, while others did strange things on gymnastic-looking rings. I don't know. I figure in a while I will learn the lingo to better explain these things.

Anyhoo, my little workout was three rounds of the following exercises: 500 meters on the rowing machine, twenty situps (using this little back pad thing), and twenty steps on a big tall wooden step thing. Sounds simple, right? Umm, wrong. It took me 16:03 to complete this, the time went up on the white board, and I was a shaky, sweaty ball of endorphins. It's kind of annoying how the harder you work out, the happier you feel, because it makes you want to work out more, and the lazy side of me is morally opposed to wanting to work out more! Ha.

All this to say that this week I am going back for my "pre Cross Fit" classes, three days this week, in which I will learn about the moves that make up CrossFit workouts and get to know the trainers more, and in the process, get my butt into gear.

M is training for his third half marathon right now, which will happen in only EIGHT WEEKS, and I made him a promise that as long as he is training for his half, I will go to CrossFit three times a week. I am hoping this keeps both of us motivated on focused on our individual goals. After all, we only have six months to go until our wedding, and we can't be flubby and huffy!

So, today is really CrossFit Day one, since last week was so introductory. I am making a minimum three-times-a-week-for-two-months commitment, and now that it's in the blog universe, I hope it will keep me accountable.

I know that even harder than going to my CrossFit classes will be cutting back on the eating. I don't know what happened, I was doing real well, but for the last couple of weeks I've been approaching food like it's made of air, and all of a sudden I am past my "weight ceiling" -- the highest number that is acceptable. So, I need to cut back on the cookies at work, but mostly portion size. I definitely have eyes bigger than my tummy when it comes to food, so I pile on the food a bit more than necessary.

But considering I'll be paying an arm and half a leg for CrossFit, I feel like I will be motivated to cut back on the food as well -- after all, what's the point of paying so much $$ if I negate all my efforts by eating badly? Okay, so here we go blogworld, you are going to keep me accountable.

So, CrossFit operation is officially a go!

I am not kidding you, this is my trainer

Say what?

I heart Southwest very much. If one could marry an airline, I may have considered it. They are speedy, helpful, reasonably priced, efficient, pleasant, and so on and so on. During my year of Long Distance Dating, Southwest and I got to know each other very well. We are good friends.

But even good friends can sometimes say to each other, Um, say what?

A dear friend is coming to visit soon and happily, she is flying Southwest. Yay! But when I looked through her itinerary, I saw the following:

Base fare: $x.xx
Excise taxes: $10.32
Segment fee: $7.40
Passenger facility charge: $9.00
Security fee: $5.00

What in the world is a passenger facility charge? No one picks you up and carries you over a threshold or gives you a piggy back ride. This is quite silly. If as passengers we have no option but to pay these strange fees, I say, put it all under the "Ticket cost." I won't be any wiser, but I won't feel like I'm getting taken for a $32 ride! Bleh.

Bestie

There are times in life when the people you love say or do something that stops you in your tracks and makes you think, damn, I love this person! Lucky for me, my fiance does/says things like this all the time. I take it as a good sign of a lifetime to come. But someone else who will be standing next to me when I get married does this as well.

Meet my bestie, we'll call her Maid Monkeypants because, well, she loves monkeys, and I think "pants" cutseys up any old word.

Recently, I had been harboring a secret that I did not want to voice out loud in fear of being stoned and run out the proverbial village that is "Things You Must Do At Your Wedding." It has to do with my dress. Now, the mister doesn't want to know what the dress looks like, so I have to be rather mysterious here. But let's say I wanted to do something that a lot of brides would consider sacrilegious. But the other day, I mull up the courage. I tell Maid Monkeypants, "ummm I'm kind of thinking of [said bridal faux-pas]. I think it might be a bigger pain in the butt than it's worth." Her response: "Yea, I totally know what you mean. If it you want to do it, go for it." It was one of those moments when I thought, Damn, I love this woman! There was no moaning & groaning taken out of that hateful "Things You Must Do At Your Wedding" book or bridesy cliches. This is a perfect example of why Maid Monkeypants is not only my maid of honor, but my best friend, too. Over the last seven years(!!!) we've known each other, she has always been supportive even when I probably made it hard and she probably wanted to yell at me, "Holy moly woman, how many times can we talk about THE.SAME.DAMN.THING?!" and has always looked out for my best interest. And throughout my relationship with the mister, she has provided endless helpful advice and support, and I'm proud to have her standing up with me, or rather, us.

The Everlasting Universe of Things Flows Through the Mind

This past weekend M and I went to Yosemite for a night. In trying to recall the words that I'd describe this masterpiece, I thought of Shelley's "Mont Blanc." So for your pleasure, the visual of Yosemite, as described by Shelley when contemplating Mont Blanc in France:

Mont Blanc

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

(Lines written in the Vale of Chamouni)

1

The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark - now glittering - now reflecting gloom -
Now lending splendor, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters, - with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.

2

Thus thou, Ravine of Arve - dark, deep Ravine-
Thou many-colored, many voiced vale,
Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail
Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene,
Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down
From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne,
Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame
Of lightning through the tempest; -thou dost lie,
Thy giant brood of pines around thee clinging,
Children of elder time, in whose devotion
The chainless winds still come and ever came
To drink their odors, and their mighty swinging
To hear - an old and solemn harmony;
Thine earthly rainbows stretched across the sweep
Of the ethereal waterfall, whose veil
Robes some unsculptured image; the strange sleep
Which when the voices of the desert fail
Wraps all in its own deep eternity;-
Thy caverns echoing to the Arve's commotion,
A loud, lone sound no other sound can tame;
Thou art pervaded with that ceaseless motion,
Thou art the path of that unresting sound-
Dizzy Ravine! and when I gaze on thee
I seem as in a trance sublime and strange
To muse on my own separate fantasy,
My own, my human mind, which passively
Now renders and receives fast influencings,
Holding an unremitting interchange
With the clear universe of things around;
One legion of wild thoughts, whose wandering wings
Now float above thy darkness, and now rest
Where that or thou art no unbidden guest,
In the still cave of the witch Poesy,
Seeking among the shadows that pass by
Ghosts of all things that are, some shade of thee,
Some phantom, some faint image; till the breast
From which they fled recalls them, thou art there!

3

Some say that gleams of a remoter world
Visit the soul in sleep,-that death is slumber,
And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber
Of those who wake and live. -I look on high;
Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled
The veil of life and death? or do I lie
In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep
Spread far and round and inaccessibly
Its circles? For the very spirit fails,
Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep
That vanishes amon the viewless gales!
Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,
Mont Blanc appears,-still snowy and serene-
Its subject mountains their unearthly forms
Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between
Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,
Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread
And wind among the accumulated steeps;
A desert peopled by the storms alone,
Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,
And the wolf tracks her there - how hideously
Its shapes are heaped around! rude, bare, and high,
Ghastly, and scarred, and riven. -Is this the scene
Where the old Earthquake-demon taught her young
Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea
Of fire envelop once this silent snow?
None can reply - all seems eternal now.
The wilderness has a mysterious tongue
Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,
So solemn, so serene, that man may be,
But for such faith, with nature reconciled;
Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal
Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood
By all, but which the wise, and great, and good
Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.

4

The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,
Ocean, and all the living things that dwell
Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,
Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,
The torpor of the year when feeble dreams
Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep
Holds every future leaf and flower; -the bound
With which from that detested trance they leap;
The works and ways of man, their death and birth,
And that of him, and all that his may be;
All things that move and breathe with toil and sound
Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.
Power dwells apart in its tranquility,
Remote, serene, and inaccessible:
And this, the naked countenance of earth,
On which I gaze, even these primeval mountains
Teach the adverting mind. The glaciers creep
Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains,
Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice,
Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power
Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle,
A city of death, distinct with many a tower
And wall impregnable of beaming ice.
Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin
Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky
Rolls its perpetual stream; vast pines are strewing
Its destined path, or in the mangled soil
Branchless and shattered stand; the rocks, drawn down
From yon remotest waste, have overthrown
The limits of the dead and living world,
Never to be reclaimed. The dwelling-place
Of insects, beasts, and birds, becomes its spoil
Their food and their retreat for ever gone,
So much of life and joy is lost. The race
Of man flies far in dread; his work and dwelling
Vanish, like smoke before the tempest's stream,
And their place is not known. Below, vast caves
Shine in the rushing torrents' restless gleam,
Which from those secret chasms in tumult welling
Meet in the vale, and one majestic River,
The breath and blood of distant lands , for ever
Rolls its loud waters to the ocean-waves,
Breathes its swift vapors to the circling air.

5

Mont Blanc yet gleams on high: - the power is there,
The still and solemn power of many sights,
And many sounds, and much of life and death.
In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,
In the lone glare of day, the snows descend
Upon that mountain; none beholds them there,
Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,
Or the star-beams dart through them:-Winds contend
Silently there, and heap the snow with breath
Rapid and strong, but silently! Its home
The voiceless lightning in these solitudes
Keeps innocently, and like vapor broods
Over the snow. The secret Strength of things
Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome
Of Heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!
And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,
If to the human mind's imaginings
Silence and solitude were vacancy?

Giant love

Personal photo taken at the train station in the morning, Nov. 2
after the Giants won the World Series on Nov. 1

Let me start by saying I am not a big baseball fan. Until quite recently, I did not even know who the Giants were. I am marrying a Dodger fan. But, Giant fever bit me this year.

At work, everyone was in a tizzy the last month over the Giants. During a very important dinner with some very important diplomats, most of the dinner guests spent the entire time checking their phones every two minutes to see the score of the Giants game they were "forced" to miss. On Halloween, little kids dressed up as Giants players. Everywhere you went in the area, Giants memorabilia lined storefronts, train stations, offices. Orange and black became representative of the baseball fury instead of Halloween. Target dedicated an entire isle to Giants (and Sharks) jerseys, hats, bats, balls, toys, etc. Co-workers left work at 1:30 to either attend games or make sure they were home in time to watch them on TV. Dedication at its finest.

This reminds me so much of being 18, living in Southern California, and the Lakers winning the championship for the second year in a row. Everywhere you went, Lakers. Everyone you talked to, Lakers. Everyone from Philadelphia was a sworn enemy. Anyone not sticking Lakers flags on their car was a traitor. This was a world or excitement, of anticipation, pride, innocence. It was June in 2001, and just a couple of months later, the world would change for ever. I would leave home to start college. While in Europe, I would watch the TV as New York bled and smoked. L.A. pride turned into American pride. Lakers flags were replaced with U.S. flags. The Lakers would go on to three-peat and win the championship again at the end of the season, but by that time it was getting harder for me to find the time to watch the games, harder to get as excited. Sports mania had somehow passed me by. It's never come back in full glory, but this year I witnessed it as a disinterested onlooker instead of manic fan, and I have to say, it warmed my heart to know so many people are being so fulfilled by "their" team's win.

It is wonderful to again be living in a place that gets to celebrate a victory like this. It makes me take pride in the place I live, as if by having a celebrated sports team, my choice of where I live is somehow validated. Also, seeing the faces of Giants fans lit up with pride reminds me why sports are so important in this world -- they bring folks together, give people something to hope and live for. Two nights before the midterm elections, the Giants gave everyone what they had been waiting for for so long -- a win in the world series! The morning after the elections, the Giants parade again gave the city and the fans something to either take their mind off the election results, or perhaps a reason to get out on the street and celebrate a two-fold win. Regardless of politics, the thousands of people who crowded the trains, the freeways, the parking lots, and the fast food restaurants today were excited, celebrating a victory that they'd had no part in. They were, simply put, happy. Nothing is bringing these folks down.

The power of vicarious happiness is pretty incredible. We may not be athletes ourselves, but when "our" team wins, we feel victorious. We may have best friends from all over the world, but in the final rounds, we protect "our" territory as if a conquering tyrant is threatening to take it over. We may not have ever met a pitcher, a quarterback, or a point guard, but we call these people by their first names, sometimes even by intimate nicknames, we have mental conversations with them, we scream at them from our peanut gallery seats or our couch, we project onto them heroics of Homeric stature, and somehow, mysteriously, we become better people in our own eyes when "our" team, "our" athlete, takes the win.

So, Go Giants! I am going to revel in the fact that I live in a place where people walking down the street have been smiling to themselves, saying hello to each other, laughing with strangers on the train, all because they are under the euphoria of a home team victory. Their happiness lets me forgive the belligerence on the train this morning when thousands of Giants fans crowded the commuter trains on the way to San Francisco for the Giants victory parade. Their happiness makes me happy.

In the spirit of sportsmanship, no matter what team you root for, the following sentiment expressed by a Giants fan and AT&T park usher who participated in the parade today sums up the glory of a hometown win:

"This is Christmas, New Year's, and your first-born all rolled into one. I'm on cloud nine."

Dress is in!

what if my dress looked like this?
it's kind of growing on me...

Oh no! With eleven months to go until the wedding, my dress has arrived! Why is this an "Oh no!" you ask? Because a) I am very indecisive -- I am afraid I will change my mind about loving the dress by having it around for So.Damn.Long; b) I am impatient -- it is going to drive me nuts having this dress and not being able to wear it; c) I am the opposite of discreet -- I don't know HOW I am going to have this thing in our house and not show my groom, who clearly has so much more self control than I do, because his only reaction to hearing my news was, "oh, cool!" instead of "oh, cool, can I see it, can I see it?!" which is what I would have done.

Now, I don't have it yet. I just know it is in the store, waiting for me to come and take it home. What if I go and I hate it? What if I go, I bring it home, I try it on with shoes to see how much I should get shortened off the hem, and I snag it, tearing to pieces, spilling food/drink/paint on it in the process? (WHY are these things near my dress in this scenario?! I don't know...)

I think I need to have faith that if I loved it when I bought it, I will love it when I bring it home. And if I don't love it... I better learn to, because I am pretty sure I can't return it!

iMac FAIL

Today is a pissy day. I come in to work this morning bright-eyed and bushy tailed, to find my giant, shiny iMac dead. Dead? DEAD! This piece of #### is only a year old, I don't go to shady websites or play videgames on it or download anything more risque than images of wedding centerpieces, so what the heck, yo? After much investigative reporting, it was decided that the hard drive has bit the dust. Thank goodness we do a nightly back up (umm which doesn't explain why there is no back up for FRIDAY but fine, in the scheme of things, one day's loss is not the end of the world). I can't even imagine this being my personal computer and losing the hard drive. I think I would literally cry for days. Which really makes me want to run to Costco right now and buy their ridiculously cheap terabyte external hard drives.

What makes me really mad is not just that my computer died, or that it's a nearly brand new machine, or that it costs almost $2000. What makes me mad is that a company like Apple, which prides itself so much on this image of the goody two-shoes, "I'm so much shinier/smarter/better/cooler/hipper/awesomer than thou," is starting to put out piece of $#@& products. My iPhone is basically hanging on for dear life even though it's not even 2 years old, and I barely even use it for anything fancier than texting and a couple of apps. When the iPhone 4 came out, and people couldn't get service when they, excuse me, say what, held the phone in their hand, I thought that was pretty ridiculous. I remember reading something somewhere last week, in which Apple said they are "going back to the Mac." Well, they better! I mean, they've put out some amazing, incredible products the last few years, but can we now get back to making some decent desktops for people who actually use computers for working?

Also, what is UP with iMacs not having any usb ports? I have to plug in my flash drive into my keyboard -- which sounds snazzy, but Mac keyboards are barely thicker than a postcard, so any average flashdrive inserted into it makes the keyboard push up, which makes it wobbly any time you type on it. The MacBook I'm currently typing on has two USB ports, both on the left side, so I can't hook up my old school mouse because I am right handed, and the Mac mouse is shockingly attached to a cord that is all but 18 inches long, meaning I can't plug it in to the USB port on the left AND have the cord reach all the way around to the right. This is all probably meant to make me get a Magic Mouse, but I know better -- because my boss has one, and its battery dies ALL THE TIME. Okay, yes, I am being way harsh on a company that is usually near the top of my "Love" list, but seriously, when you spend SO much time on design, can we please spend a tiny bit of effort on actual, every day usage capabilities?

Okay, end rant.

City box

On September 30, 2009, M and I closed on our very first home, a midrise condo in a major metropolitan downtown area. Even as recently as June 2009, I was deeply skeptical about our ability to purchase a home in the area where we live, defined by any given statistic as one of the highest cost of living places in the United States. However, once M and I started seriously discussing our options, we realized that home ownership was in fact possible. The stars sort of aligned last year. We were able to take advantage of the First-time Home Buyer's Credit, the decrease in interest rates, and the fact that our home was pre-approved by the Federal Housing Administration (FHA) which meant we could have a very low down payment (still comparable to a very reasonable down payment for homes in say, most other parts of the country, but that's a rant for a different day).

We came across our home in one of those fateful moments of chance. We went, we saw, we totally loved. We did not visit too many other places in person, but we looked at listings online for what I can only estimate to be hundreds of homes/condos for sale in a relatively wide range of zip codes within an hour's distance of where we lived at the time. But nothing came close in what that first place offered -- location completely commute-friendly, two bedrooms and two baths, and a new construction. Both M and I have this dream of purchasing a home (house-home, not condo-home) with a yard (or several acres), with lots of do-it-yourself projects that we'd take on and sweat over, but right now we are not at that place in our life. He is working full time and at the time had two years left of grad school, which means we have no time to dedicate to things like mowing lawns, raking leaves, gutting bathrooms, building sheds, and so on. These all sound dreamy for one day, but that day was not now. After many conversations, we decided to go ahead and take the plunge, and commit ourselves to the place we had first considered. That was the easy part. Then came several weeks of insanity.

You hear that there are lots of papers to sign, contracts to read, people to call. You have no idea until you go through with it. They make you feel like you are about to sign away your soul and your first born. You also start doubting yourself as you have to explain every little bank transaction in the last upteenth months. "Sign here, initial the next 43 pages, make 4 copies, fax to this number, email to this person, and meet with so-and-so four times this week." Huh!? It was crazy.

Our initial lender was nice enough but rather sloth-like, so we switched to a different bank and completely lucked out by working with a woman who I can only liken to a blond bulldozer. She promised us we'd close in thirty days, and by golly, she made it happen. August and September of 2009 are a blur comprised of nightly calculating and re-calculating of budgets, and emailing and calling our lender. I think both and M and I were incredulous at first when we realized that we could afford to buy this home, and yet once we decided to do it, the sacrifices we'd have to make in order for it to work started sinking in. There goes my boot habit, his Starbucks addiction, our movie date nights, Thai every week, our gym (I still miss you, Equinox!), and the little insignificant expenses that really add up every month. But, we hankered down, and on September 30, 2009, we became home owners!

Now, you might wonder about the title of this post. Well, "city box" is what I call our little home. You see, we have no yard, no balcony, and we are on the equivalent of the fifth floor. So, literally, we live in a box. An 1,100 square foot box. The first thing we did before even moving in was paint each room. This was the first time either M or I had lived somewhere we could paint the walls, so we went color nuts. A red kitchen, a half-red bedroom, green living room, blue bathrooms (there was a gray situation in there as well but it was recently redeemed).

One thing we learned about being home owners is that you don't have to have everything right away. So what if we lived for nine months with no window coverings in our living room windows? Our view looks out to the hills so no one can look in, and we really enjoyed the view. That is, until I nearly started breaking out in hives at the thought of looking at the black metal window frame for ONE. MORE. SECOND. So, Bed Bath and Beyond, we spent way too much money on your curtains! But, we now have lovely curtains.

So what if we (still) have tension shower rods holding up an amalgamation of shower curtains and old curtains in both bedrooms? They keep out the sun, and they are a vast improvement to the first couple of nights when, I kid you not, we blew up our air mattress and stuffed it in our bedroom window to keep out the light and noise from the train (Oh, have I not mentioned Pete and Bob yet? They will get their own post, I am sure).

So what if it took months and months of internet searching and penny saving until we finally bought our shag rug in the living room? Every day I step on it and smile, happy to have found him for half off at Macys.

So what if we searched high and low for the perfect duvet (who knew there's a word for that?!) until we finally found it for $29 in the clearance bin at Bed Bath and Beyond?

So what if for the first six months, I never stepped foot in any other department than the "HOME" department at Macy's? I didn't even realize it, and frankly, didn't miss it (I miss it now, because my boot habit is starting to rear its ugly head again).

So what if for the first ten months we only had a tiny little round bar table and no real chairs? We waited til the perfect moment and finally have our beautiful seats-8 table with high-backed chairs, from World Market.

It was an incredible feeling purchasing each of our big items, and even our little ones, like our plants.

We've also learned a whole lot. For example, hard water is a bitch. Yes, I said it, it's a bitch! But a $5 purchase of Lemi Shine from Target has literally changed my life. Or that Whirlpool service people might be in the same category as postal office or DMV workers who wish to suck your soul. Or that you should always be very careful about what you believe to be "real" hard wood flooring. It seems like all we have to do is breathe hard, and our hard wood floors dent. Or that black granite counter tops look lovely, but are a ginormous pain to maintain. Every drop shows, so M is constantly wiping them down. I call him "Cinderelly." Or that having a washer and dryer in my own home makes me happier than I could have ever imagined. Or that when you see how many tens of thousands of dollars have gone no where NEAR the principal, and are all in interest or taxes, no one is there to make it be just a bad dream. You also learn all sorts of fun acronyms like FHA, HOA, PMI.

I will be honest, it took a while for our city box to feel like home. But now it has, and I can't imagine not living there with the love of my life -- at least for the next few years, by when, God-willing, our property value will go up and we can upgrade, and start this crazy process all over again!

I'm back!

I took a year off, but I am back to my blog. Soon to come:
1. A year of home ownership
2. We're engaged and planning a small, backyard wedding. "You have no backyard," you may say. "Indeed!" Details to come.
3. Baking updates

This and much more in the days or weeks to come.

Home

Science made fun by Bobby McFerrin

This little snippet is so incredibly cool! Bobby McFerrin demonstrates how the human mind intrinsically recognizes the pentatonic scale.

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

YouTube has lots of fun Bobby McFerrin videos. Check 'em out!!

Birthday cupcakes

For M's birthday a couple of weeks ago, we decided that we wanted to celebrate a deux, and I promised to make cupcakes, instead of buying a birthday cake. I looked around the internet for different recipes, and finally settled on white chocolate cupcakes with raspberry filling from Good Things Catered, one of my favorite cooking blogs. However, I did not want to use shortening in the filling (shortening still kind of creeps me out), and Sharone was kind enough to forward me a low-fat, non-shortening recipe, so I used that instead. Then, I searched around for easy and waist-line friendly frosting recipes and found a chocolate cream cheese frosting (forget where). I was so excited to get a-baking, until I realized that I had pretty much none of the necessary tools. For one, I did not own a mixer. So off I went to Sur la Table, and back I came with my tail between my legs. Obviously, they were under the impression that money is falling out of my ears, because the cheapest hand mixer they had was around $70. So off I went to Target, and came home with a handy-dandy hand mixer which I already fantasize about trading in for a stand mixer. Sadly, this will probably only come to my counter when money is falling out of my ears...

I also did not have: cupcake paper cups, cornstarch, chocolate (white or milk), sprinkles, cream cheese, filling bags/tips ... basically anything involved in making my cupcakes! The only ingredients I had were flour and sugar... enough to make a sugary paste, but not enough for super duper birthday cupcakes!

After much fun was had exploring the baking isle at Safeway, I was revved and ready to bake!

Everything but the kitchen sink

Fresh out of the oven. Smelled delicious!

Now comes the filling! A bit messy but sooo yummy!

Ooey, gooey

Finished product

Recipe, as adapted by moi:

White Chocolate Cupcakes with Raspberry Filling

Cake Ingredients:
8 oz. Ghirardelli white chocolate chips
1 3/4 c. all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 c. sugar
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/4 c. oil
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
1/2 c. canned unsweetened coconut milk
3 large egg whites

Directions:
-Preheat oven to 325 degrees and prepare muffin tins with paper liners.
-Place white chocolate in metal bowl set over pan of barely simmering water.
-Stir until melted and smooth (this was really fun!).
-In medium bowl, whisk flour, baking powder, and salt.
-In bowl of stand mixer, beat sugar, butter, and vanilla until blended and fluffy, about 2 minutes.
-Slowly add in oil while running and mix until combined.
-Add hot white chocolate to sugar mixture; stir to combine.
-Add flour mixture in 3 additions alternately with coconut milk in 2 additions, beating batter just to combine between additions. (I think I could have gotten better quality coconut milk, or maybe I'm just not used to its texture, but it was kind of clumpy).
-Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites in medium bowl until soft peaks form. (umm white peaks didn't really form... this is where I need more practice)
-Gently fold egg white mixture into batter.
-Divide batter among muffin cups (about 1/4 cup each).
-Bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 25 minutes.
-Cool completely. (try really really hard not to eat the cupcakes)
-Using melon baller, ball out small portion of the top of each cupcake and discard. (or, as I did, EAT).
-Fill disposable bag with raspberry filling and pipe into scooped out portion of each cupcake until just reaching height of top of the cupcake. (this was a big mess!! definitely need practice with the filling bag!)
-Ice as desired. (I made a chocolate cream cheese icing that turned out a bit runny but I did not use as much sugar as the recipe had called for. I think that would have made it stiffer). I also sprinkled colored sugar on each cupcake for a more festive, birthday-ish feel :)

Raspberry filling:

1 1/2 cups raspberries
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 cup sugar
a small handful of Ghirardelli milk chocolate chips

In a small sauce pan, combined all of the ingredients and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Let cool. Take little scoops out of each cupcake with the fruit scooper thing, and using the frosting bag, inject a bit of the filling into each cupcake. Mine turned out a bit messy but no biggie. The filling turned out tangy and very raspberry-ish, which was perfect!

Gourmand ambitions

Something very exciting has been happening lately -- amidst a subtle and ongoing midlife crisis, I have discovered that I really enjoy cooking and baking; this is probably a felicitous discovery considering how much I like eating!

Since domesticity has never been among my strong suits, at first I was surprised by my own epicuriosity. I blame three people for this new interest: my mother, M, and Sharone. While my parents visited, my mother cooked almost daily, reminding me of how much I love her food. At first, I didn't understand why she wanted to spend so much time slaving away cooking, especially with some of the more time-consuming dishes she made. But then, I started realizing that cooking wasn't just meant to be a means of feeding us, but rather an expression of her creativity, ability, usefulness... in short, identity. When you cook something, you put yourself into that food, and it becomes a signal to those eating the meal that you took the time and effort and pleasure to create this food for them. You are nourishing them in a very particular way - your way, and at the same time telling them that they are important enough for you to cook for them, and that you are important enough to be trusted with this responsibility. I guess I am realizing that when not done out of sheer necessity, cooking can become an outlet for one's personality much like creative writing, painting, playing an instrument can. But unlike all these other outlets, it yields tasty, delicious food!

The second person I blame for my newly discovered passion is M. If he wasn't so supportive of all my whacky ideas, and didn't encourage me to do whatever it is that makes me happy, and didn't like to eat as much as I do, I may have been prevented from obsessively creating Amazon wish lists of all my new "must-have" cooking and baking needs! Our apartment would not suddenly feel too small because it cannot house all the hundreds of spice jars, dozens of baking molds, etc etc etc that I suddenly want to spend half my paychecks on.

Thirdly, reading Sharone's blog encourages me to take chances on things I never previously wanted to make. Her amazing ability to squeeze in time to create Margarita Cupcakes and gorgeous fluffy clouds of deliciousness while juggling wedding showers, work, grad school, and life has convinced me that there is always time for a tasty treat!

I think this cooking thing is part of a bigger picture. Lately, I've been overwhelmed by new hobbies that I want to pursue, from camping and backpacking, to spin classes and running, to cooking and becoming the next finance guru (okay, that's a bit far-fetched. But I do have this fantasy of creating a super-duper portfolio that is chock full of diverse investments, and participating in conversations in which I confidently command the usage of words like "maturity," "municipal bonds," and "hedge fund.")

Wherefore these interests? Wherefore now? I blame the clock. The clock that in a voice akin to Chinese water torture tells me each day, "You are getting older." And, without magical ear plugs to shut out this evil clock, I somehow along the way decided that "older" will not mean "boring," will not mean "settled," will not mean "slow" or "fat" or "dowdy." I have decided that if fate must be left to her devices and pull me into adulthood and all the things that come with it, I will do it on my own terms.

So, for now, I spin, I run, I ache. I eat, I cook, I bake. (I couldn't help myself!)

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Ridiculousness

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith


My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Oh, Jane... Jane, Jane, Jane. Seriously, let me just begin by saying that the only redeeming aspect of PPZ is Austen's text.

I began this book entirely open minded, but expected it to be what it claims to be: P&P with zombies in it. I expected the characters to be the same people I fell in love with so many years ago, and I don't want to give too much away, but they simply aren't. For some reason, Seth Grahame-Smith felt compelled to provide a completely contrived and ridiculous back story to the Bennett girls -- they are trained in Chinese martial arts in China by some famous Master Liu, and entrusted to be the defenders of their sleepy little British town, which for years has been terrorized, like the rest of England, by "unmentionables" (umm, I thought that was underwear). Even Lydia is a super-duper warrior, albeit one obsessed with boys and bonnets.

Other than the ridiculous character changes, there are also really stupid plot decisions, especially one involving Mr. Collins. Poor, poor fat, insipid Mr. Collins...

Let's talk about the men for a second. Actually, let's expand and talk about the sexual undertones in PPZ. I suspect Grahame-Smith felt really proud of himself for the seventh-grade humor that stains this book like a greasy hamburger leaking oil onto an Austen classic. However, while maybe a "balls" joke may have some giggle appeal the first time around, the second, third, ad infinitum time it loses its charm. There are other lewd moments, and the most enervating thing about them is that they appear as private jokes between Lizzie and Darcy.

I am convinced that even had I not known the PP plot and characters prior to reading PPZ, I still would have found this book ridiculous. Which, I suppose is the book's main goal, but it succeeds so well as to render it baffoon-ish rather than droll.

Now all I want to do is read Pride and Prejudice and revel in the banter.

View all my reviews >>

Doing that crack cocaine thing...

This is hilarious. Senator Jeff Sessions during the Sotomayor hearings on July 16:

Things to come

1. Photo proof* of my culinary adventures, including my soon-to-become famous white chocolate, raspberry-filled, and chocolate cream cheese-frosted cupcakes.

2. Impressions of 4th of July camping trip.

3. Additions to my foot woes/whoahs series, including adventures in barefoot running and my high hopes for five-toed running shoes.

4. Discussions on upcoming events, including Kenny Chesney concert, Wharf-to-Wharf run, and possibly Harry Potter film.

5. Most likely a review of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

* Cupcake shown in banner was not made by yours truly.

#99: Grammar

Stuff white people like, #99: grammar.

Word of the day: Ridiculous

ridiculous [ri-dik-yuh-luhs]
adjective
causing or worthy of ridicule or derision; absurd; preposterous; laughable.
ORIGIN 16th century

Photo credit: Jim Wilson/NYT, appeared on front page of NYT July 12, 2009.

This poor baby looks like it's being exorcised... Why would anyone want this woman touching her infant, let alone writing on her with a probably toxic Sharpie?!?!

RIDICULOUS!

Happy Fourth of July

On July 2, 1776, after much turmoil, the Congress of the twelve colonies voted to adopt Richard Henry Lee and John Adams' resolution to declare independence from Great Britain. In a letter to his wife Abigail, Adams wrote about this momentous day that it "will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America." He followed, "I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more."

After 233 years, Adams is still right about the spirit, if not the date, of celebrating Independence Day.

The Fourth of July, much like religious holidays, is often consumed as a blind commodity than a somber celebration. Over time, the Christian Easter has somehow been stripped of the miracle of Christ's sacrifice and his rebirth, redeeming mankind. I fear to think how many people "celebrate" Easter each year without stopping for a second to think about what the holiday represents. Likewise, the Fourth of July aught to remind us of the sacrifice that people made so that the United States could become an independent state that would go on to become a beacon of strength, liberty, and honor for other countries around the world. Yes, like Adams wanted, we should fully partake in pomp and parade, bonfires, and illuminations, but always remembering what these celebrate.

The twentieth century saw the demise of empires as they had existed for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. However, the destruction of large empires did not stop the unbelievable destructive force that humans seem unable to set aside. Millions of people today suffer under oppressive regimes, cruel families, crippling self-hatred. Often, I believe, these three combine in such a way as to make possible tyrants who willingly and knowingly inflict awful conditions upon the people they are supposed to protect. Countries like Zimbabwe, North Korea, Iran, how many countless others, are transparent enough to us now, due to modern media and technology, for us to look at them, look at ourselves, and know how truly lucky we are. I feel privileged each day to wake up and know that a Mugabe will never be possible in the United States. In the song "It's America," Rodney Atkins assents that "we may not always get it right." We sure don't! But the important thing is that we at least try. In 1776, a people who had been born into colonialism thought, enough is enough. They pulled themselves up by their britches, and fought to become an independent state that above all else valued freedom. But they did not get it all right. It took many, many years, for the children of the infant country to realize even a semblance of true freedom and equality. But they tried.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that one of the things that I absolutely cannot stand is blind, stingy patriotism, in which those professing to love this country do so while simultaneously decreeing their assumed superiority of right and might over others, often others who are also Americans. To these people, I would only say that the spirit of democracy and freedom is not meant to be oppressive or dismissive, but rather focused on doing the right thing. Sometimes, doing the right thing is the harder choice to make. Actually, I think every time, doing the right thing is the harder choice to make. For the thousands of people in Iran and around the world who are voicing their objection to Ahmedinejad's blatant refusal of a democratic process, the harder choice to make was putting themselves and their families at risk while protesting in favor of the democratic process. These people inspire me to remember that choices about governance are so hard - is Moussavi the better choice? who knows? The point these people are making is that democratic process needs to determine the outcome, not the strong hand of a corrupt leader.

Below I am posting a YouTube video of Johnny Cash talking/singing about the American flag. The premise is simple, humble: an old flag has become tattered, shabby, old. But each wear and tear represents a triumph of right over blind might, of freedom over oppression. On a more personal level, I appreciate the fact that at the beginning of the clip, Johnny Cash says that he is heading out to Romania soon. I wonder when this was... I think probably the 70s, a "golden" period, if you will, of communism in Romania. Anyhoo... Johnny Cash says that regardless of where he goes abroad, as much as he enjoys it, he is always happy to be back in the States. I have to say, that I totally feel him on that. I remember flying back to California after being abroad for a couple of months at a time, and there was a feeling of relief almost at hovering over the Los Angeles freeways before landing at LAX. A feeling akin to a huge breath being released, knowing that there will definitely be more breaths to come. If that makes sense...



I would also like to share, in honor of Independence Day, the following video of Rodney Atkins' "It's America." I have a few bones to pick with this song. It's so manipulative in its pride, but it means well and is harmless. I just think it is patriotism at is silliest - being proud of empty symbols like fireflies and Chevys... But, it's also the catchiest damn song, and it kinda makes me smile when singing along... so, here you go. In honor of our great country's struggle over time to continue to grow and mature and hold on to the founding values of liberty, freedom, personal and community honor, and a stubborn refusal to back down in the face of bigger, scarier foes, I give you Rodney.


As for me, I'll be flying my American flag on our tent this weekend!