Sad

I've always prayed that my path be illuminated; I've never prayed that traversing it be easy.

Resolutions

1. Elevate my life to meet my tastes. This means upgrading a few choice items of furniture; purchasing clothing more mindfully and not sacrificing style for cost; revising my grocery list to reflect a physically and emotionally healthy lifestyle.

2. Continue contemplation of the classics. Devote at least six hours per week to the study of ancient Greek.

3. Rekindle my love of Irish music. Play whistle, bouzouki, or banjo at least two hours per week at home, alone.

4. Create and complete a mature reading list. Beginning with The Brothers Karamazov and continuing with classics both traditional and contemporary.

Who Has the Day Off Tomorrow??

I do! I do! I have to work on Friday but I anticipate a mellow work day going into the New Year's weekend.

That means I can go to the session tonight and have some beer! Woot!

And then on Friday evening Rob and I are driving to Charlottesville to have dinner with my dearest friend and muse, a person I haven't seen in years and miss terribly. It should be fun. I'm craving lamb.

Incidentally, and speaking of craving, Rob has a blog. He's a great writer. You'll be salivating.

The Gift of Gifts

This is a time for cultivating the inner life. I love the coming of the New Year - quiet resolutions bring hope for strength of character and spiritual growth.

Spending a quiet morning wrapping gifts. Looking forward to an elegant dinner tonight with friends and loved ones.

Poor Rob!

Thousands of people, including my dearest, are stranded in the Denver airport. Last night was Rob's second night sleeping on the floor.

Pushing On

Today I accidentally left the house for Sligo Creek Park without my watch.

I became accustomed to always running with my watch during marathon training season. That was how I kept track of my minutes-per-mile (especially important for analyzing pace during 15+ mile runs), water breaks, and cool down. When I ran my 14-mile training run - a personal distance record - in the Catskill Mountains, my training coach encouraged me by musing that my watch will be my coach for that run, and it was; it reminded me when to stop for water, when to cool the pace, how far I could expect to my turn-back point.

So even though I was only going for an easy three today, my bare wrist incited a bit of anxiety, and honestly, I didn't feel much at the top of my game. Despite the cool, sunny weather and light breeze, despite it being nice to just run, I couldn't find my stride.

Rob you would be proud

I actually cooked dinner tonight! And by "cooked dinner" I do not mean brewed tea and boiled edamame. I actually made a sauce from olive oil, butter, garlic, shallot, and red wine and poured it over whole wheat angel hair pasta topped with sauteed baby portobella mushrooms and grilled filet mignon.

I've seen Rob make that sauce a million thousand times, so I figured I ought to be able to imitate. And my god, was it scrumptious.

I also have a new coffee table. It will look better once I replace a few other pieces of furniture. Right now it looks like a pearl among swine, for lack of a better analogy.

Blonde Moment

So, ever since I moved into this apartment in June, I've been sad because the middle window in my pretty solarium wouldn't open.

A moment ago, while reading in bed, I had an idea. I got out of bed, walked over to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

Heh.

Mom, you would be proud.

Tonight I broke free from my recent pattern and watched an interesting, suspenseful, and non-traumatic film, and it was great!
Aside from some major liberties taken with the plot (which can only be expected), Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train was fabulous. I'm glad I was able to find this photo, it's a great scene: When Bruno kills Miriam, the viewer watches in the reflection of her glasses, which have fallen to the ground in the struggle. I read the book over the summer as part of my breezing through every book I could find by one of my now-favorite authors, Patricia Highsmith.

So I've proved it to myself - I don't have to be left in a quivering ball to have seen a challenging, intruiging, and mysterious film.

Here's to Friday night, and a great weekend ahead!

Triple Splurge

Wow. I really can't believe myself the last two days. I am not a person known for splurging, but I really outdid myself!

First, I went bra shopping. (Sorry if this is too much information for Lorna's sensitive eyes). But seriously. It turns out I have been wearing the wrong size all my life. And let me just tell you, bras really break the bank. $50 for one!? I normally don't spend that much on a normal item of clothing. Or at the grocery store. Which brings me to the second splurge.....

One hundred and forty-five dollars at Giant! Woot! I restocked my wine rack, bought lots of greens and cheese and dried fruit and nuts and some toys for my little kittens (they're scampering around my chair as I type).

And then... a massage. Which, I've decided, will be a monthly indulgence. Fortunately, my masseur is trained in lots of cool Indian/yoga techniques, but that unfortunately means that he gets to charge an arm and a leg. Ah well... those arms and legs feel really, really (really) good afterward!

Triple Splurge

Wow. I really can't believe myself the last two days. I am not a person known for splurging, but I really outdid myself!

First, I went bra shopping. (Sorry if this is too much information for Lorna's sensitive eyes). But seriously. It turns out I have been wearing the wrong size all my life. And let me just tell you, bras really break the bank. $50 for one!? I normally don't spend that much on a normal item of clothing. Or at the grocery store. Which brings me to the second splurge.....

One hundred and forty-five dollars at Giant! Woot! I restocked my wine rack, bought lots of greens and cheese and dried fruit and nuts and some toys for my little kittens (they're scampering around my chair as I type).

And then... a massage. Which, I've decided, will be a monthly indulgence. Fortunately, my masseur is trained in lots of cool Indian/yoga techniques, but that unfortunately means that he gets to charge an arm and a leg. Ah well... those arms and legs feel really, really (really) good afterward!

Fight For Your Right

Last night my father and brother and I went to see the Washington Capitols play the Buffalo Sabres at the Verizon Center. It was a good game. The caps scored two goals in the first two minutes of the game. The Sabres got one in a few minutes later but the Caps answered in about twenty seconds. Things evened out from there, with the Caps coming out on top, 6-3.

I love watching professional hockey games live. The match-up really doesn't matter. It's just the vibe of the thing.

Which brings me to one of my fondest memories. Now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure if these two things actually happened on the same night, but I think they did:

I was staying home alone while my mom went on a business trip. I came home from school the day that she was supposed to come home to find a note from her boyfriend asking me if I wanted to go to the Red Wings game that night. This was right in the middle of the really intense awful rivalry between Detroit and Colorado after Claude Lemieux pushed Kris Draper into the boards face first and he had to have total facial reconstruction. The next game between the two teams was an all-out brawl from start to finish. Even the goalies couldn't stay in their nets.

Well, the game that I had just been invited to was the game between the two teams AFTER the brawl, which was after the incident with Lemieux and Draper. So let's just say it was going to be a doozie.

Jim picked me up and we went to the game. I remember high-fiving him after every Red Wings goal, but I can't remember anything else about the game, or who won. Afterwards we picked my mom up at the airport. She didn't know I was coming. I think she was equally as glad to see me as she was to see Jim and I spending time together.

Now, onto a lazy Sunday, morning, seeing my dad back to Michigan, and having dinner with one of my dearest friends, the oft-weblinked, oft-blogged about journalist and author extraordinare, man of culture and reknown....

Metro Adventures

I am very much looking forward to giving up my car, which will happen in February. Although I rarely use it even now, I'm still trying to make minor adjustments in my routine to begin to acclimate myself to the change. Last night, I took metro out to Bethesda to play some tunes, and I noticed the new SmarTrip Only fare lanes! For the uninitiated, these are lanes designated for passengers who carry the plastic farecards. These cards are simply scanned over a sensor placed on top of the fare gate. The other lanes accept SmarTrip and also the traditional paper fare cards, which are fed through the gate and spit back to you. Nerdy debates abound on which method of fare paying is faster.

Anyway. The phenomenon I witnessed must have a name somewhere in the annals of behavior psychology. Everyone with a SmarTrip was lining up at the designated lanes, leaving the traditional lanes free and clear and actually faster than the SmarTrip only lanes. In theory, during rush hour, the designated lanes would be faster because there isn't that split-second wait for the machine to process the paper card.

So for some reason, people in their head knew that, given certain conditions, the designated lanes would be faster. But last night those conditions weren't fulfilled and so the lanes were actually slower.

As I breezed my thinking-outside-the-box-self through the traditional lanes with my trusty SmarTrip, I thought... how interesting is human behavior.

WHY

Why can't I just watch a normal film every now and then. Why does every film I see have to have a castration scene, or unspeakable psychological brutality, or feature the real (yes REAL) killing of an animal.

WHYYYYY??????? Tonight's feature, Cache, was actually quite interesting, save for a few scenes and the overall feeling of doom. It's just the "few scenes" that will start haunting my dreams in about two months once the content finally makes it past the censors of my subconscious.

No wonder I'm in a mild depression. I need a good comedy.

THIS ONE comes to mind... I must have watched it a gazillion thousand times growing up and it always just got funnier... Netflix here I come.

Friday Afternoon Snooze

My Kind of Thanksgiving

Marinated artichoke hearts; shimp and prosciutto in melted butter; spring greens with cranberries, bleu cheese, and a pumpkin-seed vinaigrette; cured meats and cheeses; smoked salmon; olives. A fantastic glass of Pinot Noir.

A lovely setting on the Severn River at dusk overlooking the United States Naval Academy, wait staff to clear the table, a traffic-free drive home.

Half the evening left to enjoy before work tomorrow; then the weekend.

Perfect.

Cloister

I have been in a horrible mood lately. Conversations are boring and effortful, restaurants are typical, jokes are humorless. I just want to be left alone and not have to talk to anyone. This is an unfortunate state of mind, being that my mom and her husband are in town so we've been hanging out and sightseeing. I know my grumpy mood is bringing everyone else down, I can see it happening and it's as frustrating for me as it is for my companions.

I just want to sleep for a while, three or four full nights of uninterrupted sleep, intense exersize, time alone to think and read.

I actually believe that people are happiest when living in a [purposeful, not coincidental] community, but for me that must come with a guarantee of on-demand, prolonged periods of complete privacy.

In Support of Non-Materialism

JEEZ.

Lame Lame Lame Lame

I am so lame.

So. Lame.

I really wanted to go to the session tonight. I haven't been in a while and I won't be able to go on Sunday.

But:

1. It is cold outside and my hair is wet and I don't want to come down with something right before I have my mom and John come in from Michigan.
2. I haven't been able to breathe properly today. You all know that I have a breathing thing that's not physiological or medical. I had a speaking engagement this afternoon at Georgetown University and that's when it started. And so it's difficult to think about going out and being charming and social when I can't breathe. It's a really distracting phenomenon.

But:

3. I know I haven't been to a session in a while and I don't want my friends to think that I'm ditching them (I'm not) or that I don't like Irish music anymore (I do) or that I'm just totally lame (I am).

So I really shouldn't do something just becaue of what I'm afraid people will think (hello middle school?) and I'm afraid that if I go out that I will just wish that I had stayed home.

But:

I really don't want to get (any further) into the lazy, selfish habit of isolating myself from my friends. Sure, it's easier to stay at home warm and cozy in Rob's sweat pants with tea and kittens. But music is really important to me; the community aspect is important to me. So, as usual, I'm thinking way too hard about a relatively simple situation.

I'm gonna put on some tea and crack open a new book. And chill out.

P.S. Can everyone please refrain from advising me to go to a doctor about the breathing thing? I can run miles at a time and do yoga and climb stairs and so I am not in danger of a heart attack. When I have time to actually find a physician that is not my ob/gyn then maybe I will tell him/her about the issue and get some advice. But finding a doctor is not currently high on my list of priorities.

Confession

I do not like Thanksgiving food.

Turkey is blah... and the side dishes are uninteresting. Potato-based something... cranberry sauce... stuffing... ugh.

I would much rather have a main course of duck accompanied by a spinach salad with cranberries, walnuts, and brie; stuffed portabella mushroom caps and red wine.

Chocolate mousse for dessert.

But I guess, yeah, Thanksgiving food is supposed to be indiginous to America, stuff that the first settlers would have had on hand. So my suggestions wouldn't really work. I can't help it, though, the traditional menu is just not my taste.