House Guest

I've had a visitor in my home the last few days. She's been as pleasant as could be. She was quiet and unobtrusive, yet she brought life and personality to my living quarters. She asked for very little from me, just a bit of water when she was thirsty, a nice sponge bath every few days and some sun to warm up to. In return she gave me company, fresher air and a nice spot of color. My guest's name was Lily, and she is none other than a peace lily!

A friend of mine went out of town for a few days and asked if I would plant-sit his precious Lily. Having no plant life in my apartment, I happily agreed. I quickly realized that having vegetation in your life is something you don't realize you need when you don't have it. But once you do, it becomes inconceivable how you could have lived without it. As a friend who visited my apartment aptly pointed out, 'I didn't realize you needed plants in here until I saw Lily, but now that I see her in here, you need some greenery!'. I concurred.

In the days that have followed, I've been contemplating my options. One thing I'd like to try is a 'roof-top garden' on my balcony, complete with window boxes, some hanging planters and a tree or two. I'd also like to try an herb cutting garden. I think I'll need to wait a few weeks for the temperatures to drop, but in the meantime I have time to shop and plot and dream of my little green oasis. To temporarily satiate my newly acquired green thumb I bought my first plant tonight- a fragrant little basil plant. I've yet to name her, but I'm looking forward to tending to her and watching her grow. And eating her. Pesto, anyone? With that, I cross of #273 on my list: bring a bit of green into my life.

Tough Times

It seems that all around me friends and family are going through tough times. Some have expectedly or unexpectedly lost loved ones, others have been sick or in the hospital, in car accidents, going through divorce or break-ups, facing unexpected pregnancies, caring for sick family members, struggling with unemployment or job difficulties or money issues. It's a bit odd that so many of the people I care most about are going through these trials at the same time, and it's hard to watch them struggle knowing there isn't much I can do to ease their burdens.

I've tried to reach out to each of you individually, but I want you to know again that I'm always here for you, and I think of you every day. Life can't stay difficult forever, so just continue to forge ahead and call on me anytime. I love and care for each of you dearly.

As long as I'm able, reaching out to loved ones is something that I'll never cross off my to do list. But for the sake of blog continuity I'll mention that it's pretty high up on my list, say #3.

Elderberry Blossom Wine, Wildlife & Produce

I'm back from summer vacation, and as suspected spirits run higher whilst anticipating, versus reflecting on, vacation. Nevertheless, my spirits are in pretty good shape after having had a wonderful time.

Though it was just a trip back to the heart of the Midwest to visit my place of birth, and the city most of my relatives still call home, it was as enjoyable a vacation as I've had. The weather was a perfect respite from the furnace I now call home, with daytime temperatures in the mid-70's and nighttime temperatures in the mid-50's. I quickly adjusted to the cooler clime, and was even beginning to be convinced of an impending fall season, however that rug was pulled out from under me when I stepped onto the jetway back in Phoenix to a 99 degree evening.

I spent my vacation days sleeping in, lazing around the house, visiting with family and eating copious amounts of locally grown produce. This is a distinct advantage to Midwestern small town living that I had somehow overlooked on my previous trips, but that made quite an impression on me this time. It seemed everywhere I turned there was an abundance of local produce being offered up. Family or neighbors with too many zucchini or tomatoes or sweet corn that were happy, almost grateful, to share it with you. And these weren't your grocery store variety produce, these were zucchini the size of my calf and super flavorful tomatoes and corn on the cob that was juicy and sweet. I was in heaven.

Apart from the local produce, I was also treated to some local wildlife. I had my first encounter with a mole, and it scared the shit out of me. I actually screamed when it ran past, I kid you not. If you've never seen one of these creatures for yourself, click here. I think you can understand now why I screamed, right? Creepy! I was also treated to a visit from a opossum. It wasn't as close range as the mole, and it wasn't my first time seeing one, but man are they creepy too! As my gran accurately pointed out, they look prehistoric.

Another highlight of the trip was hearing about, and sampling, elderberry blossom wine* that my gran & grandad brewed themselves back in 1949. I think at this point it would be more accurate to call it liqueur, or extremely strong alcohol, rather than wine, but it was tasty nonetheless and certainly the oldest (or should I say the most aged?) alcohol I've ever sampled!

Though my vacation is over, it feels great to be back knowing that I spent some good quality time with family, and so I'll go ahead and cross that #159 off my list: go on summer vacation.

*Note: The picture above is of the elderberry blossom wine, specifically, of us filtering out the sediment from the wine. The green bottle is the original bottle. Cool, huh?

Bon Voyage

The red suitcase is packed, the boarding pass is printed, and the dramamine has been taken. I'm going on vacation! I'll catch up with you next week when I (begrudgingly, I'm sure) cross off #159: go on summer vacation.

Crying Over Burnt Rice

Lately, I've been making an effort to be more self-aware. I'm already a pretty cognizant person, but I've been trying to learn and appreciate a little more about my strengths and my flaws--to examine the inherent parts of my personality better, and take them less personally. My approach, thus far, has been two-fold: first, I've tried to slow down a bit and really be aware of what is going on around me and my part in it, and second, I've tried to spend more time reflecting on my day and the things that have taken place in it. If I haven't lost you yet, then you are probably thinking that I am spending way too much time thinking. And you are probably right. But nevermind that, it's been interesting, and I've been enjoying it! Which brings me to the subject of this post...

Last night I had the opportunity to cook for friends again. I decided to make kung pao chicken and fried rice. This is a relatively easy dinner, and one that I've cooked a million times. The key to these two dishes is preparation. They cook fast, so it's imperative that you have everything organized and ready to toss into the respective pans at the proper times. Fortunately for me, organization is one of my strengths! I had everything organized: my vegetables were chopped, my ingredients were pre-cooked, measured and mixed. I even had the ingredients separated out, with those for kung pao chicken on the left side of the stove and those for fried rice on the right side. Like I said, organization is one of my strengths.

Things were going well. My friends were keeping me company in the kitchen. We were drinking wine and talking and laughing (they a little more than me, I did have to concentrate on the cooking!). They were commenting on how delicious everything smelled, how effortless I was making it look, and how they felt like they were at one of those restaurants where they cook the food at your table all fancy-like (aren't my friends sweet?!). I was soaking up the compliments, multi-tasking between the two sizzling pans, and all the while insisting this was an easy dinner anyone could whip up. It was about this time that the chicken required more of my attention. I took my eyes off the rice for only a few moments, but in those moments rice began to burn. By the time I got back to the rice and stirred, the bottom of the pan was scorched. I grabbed the pan off the burner and began picking out the burnt bits, but there were too many. I dumped the unstuck rice into another pan, and resumed the cooking.

But in my mind, it was too late. My friends continued to drink and chat and laugh and effuse on the delicious smells, but I was far far away. I was sulking in the corner of my mind, so pissed that I had just ruined a perfectly simple dish to prepare, and that I was going to have to serve the resulting ruined dish to my friends, the friends who were going to be too nice to tell me how disgusting it tasted, because they were already being too nice about how delicious it smelled. Suffice to say, my night was ruined. I was pissed. And all over a little burnt rice. Then something miraculous happened. We sat down to eat with plates full and dug in, me a little less heartily than them, because I was of course anticipating the worst. But the worst didn't come. The rice tasted perfectly delicious. I was shocked, and relieved, and embarrassed. I realized at that moment that my friends had surely noticed my change in mood, and why? Because of a little burnt rice? I also realized at that moment that I am a terrible sport when things don't go my way. As laidback and flexible as I try to be, when I have a well-laid plan, I expect it to work! And so I shared these revelations with my friends. We laughed about them and they commiserated, and then we went on to enjoy a great night.

But they've stuck with me, much like the rice that was still stuck to the pan the next morning after soaking all night in water. Though I can appreciate the side of my personality that is an optimist and has very high hopes and expectations, I know the result can be immediate and overwhelming disappointment at the first perceived flaw in the plan. So I've got something to work on. Fortunately for me, I also love a challenge! I'm going to continue crossing off #119 because I'm enjoying it and learning so much: dissect my personality.

*I have to mention we drank the most excellent bottle of wine. Not sure about the pairing with kung pao chicken & fried rice, but none of us were complaining! The wine was a Louis Jadot Beaujolais, 2003 vintage. I highly recommend you go out now and buy a bottle of this wine, and then come directly to my place to share it with me!

**For the record, I didn't actually cry after burning the rice. I just want to clarify that.

Music Quiz

Today a friend of mine asked me a few really thought provoking music questions. Not the tired (though interesting), what are your top 10 favorite songs, or what are your five favorite albums from the 90's, or what are your favorite summer songs, etc. Nah, these required a little more thought. I enjoyed them so much I thought I'd share them here, along with my answers.

Questions:

1. Who would you bring back to life?
2. Who would you save from creative oblivion?
3. Who would you preserve for all eternity (alive & making music)?
4. What song do you wish you had written?
5. If you had a cover band dedicated to just one bands music, which band would it be?

My answers:

1. Though it feels like the obvious and cliched answer, I'd bring back John Lennon. He's the dead musician I've thought most often about. I wonder what sort of music he would have made, or if he would have made music at all. I wonder what influence he would have on present music & musicians, whether he would have started a record label and sussed out some cool bands. And of course, the most burning question, I wonder how long it would have taken him to drop Yoko.

2. This question is still stumping me! I can't think of anyone I really care about that has sunk into creative oblivion. Bjork? She's in creative oblivion alright, but I never really liked her. Cat Stevens (aka Yusuf Islam), that guy is definitely in oblivion, but creative? Probably not. Don't have an answer on this one yet...

3. I'd want to preserve Jeff Tweedy (Wilco, Uncle Tupelo) for all eternity. In my humble opinion, this guy is an absolute genius and responsible for some of the most beautiful compositions.

4. Two songs come to mind. I'm allowing myself both since I can, and since I thought of them for different reasons. The first is Sandusky by Uncle Tupelo. It's strictly instrumental, and really a masterpiece. I wish I had even a fraction of the musical ability it took to compose this song. It blows me away everytime I hear it. The second is A Day in the Life by The Beatles. Not sure why, it's just the first song that came to my mind, and one of my all time favorites. Woke up. Got outta bed. Dragged a comb across my head. You've got to love it!

5. The cover band question is tough. The first band that came to mind is Oasis. They are far and away the band whose entire catalog of music I'm most familiar with. They're the band whose music I can hear a few bars of, and then sing the entire song to. But, the band who I think would be the most fun to cover (though I have to state for the record that I don't think two albums makes you worthy of having a cover band) is Kings of Leon. I love the dirty, gritty, Southern rock style of their music, and think it would be immensely enjoyable to try and duplicate it. Not that I have any musical talent, but I can always dream...

If you have any more cool questions, or want to share your own answers, feel free, I'd be interested to hear them. For now I'm excited to cross #318 crossed off: pick my future cover band.

Wedding Crashers

The way I see it, I have two choices. Either: 1, stop going to see big budget Hollywood movies or 2, stop expecting them to be any good. Knowing me, I'll take option two; but knowing my optimistic and forgiving nature, it will be difficult to sustain the low expectations and then I'll be right back in the position I'm in today- sorely disappointed at a movie I desperately wanted to be good.

It seems like lately all I do is bitch about Hollywood movies. If you're getting tired of all this bitching, don't worry, I am too. I don't want to hate them, honestly, but they leave me no choice. They are sloppy. They're filled with bad acting and bad writing and bad storytelling and bad everything else that you can think of. They are just bad. Wedding Crashers is no exception. My love for Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson couldn't even save this movie. Sure, if you were sitting next to me in the theatre you would have caught me laughing a couple times. But a few laughs does not a good movie make. You could tell in the first ten minutes that this movie was going to suck. It was solidified about twenty minutes in when they went into a way too long (I'm talking at least 5 minutes) montage of scenes from various weddings the pair crashed set to the beat of loud annoying music, a la what you might expect to see in a trailer or a teaser for the movie. But this wasn't a trailer or a teaser, this was the actual movie. Dumb.

Just so you don't think I'm a movie snob, I adore Vaughn and Wilson's work. I love Vince Vaughn in Swingers (one of my favorite comedies), Old School and Dodgeball; he was even pretty amusing in Mr & Mrs Smith. And Owen Wilson, he's one of my favorite actors. He's phenomenal in all the Wes Anderson films like Bottle Rocket and Royal Tennenbaums and Life Aquatic. His cameo in Meet the Parents was hilarious, and I'm ashamed to admit I loved Shanghai Noon and Shanghai Knights. So being a genuine fan I hoped for the best going into this film. And I got the worst. Vince Vaughn's long fast-talking monologues can be hilarious. They can also fall flat- that's what these did. The same with Owen Wilson's quirkiness, it can be hilarious, or it can just be dumb- this was dumb. There were weird choices in this movie- weird character traits (Vince Vaughn's over-eating), weird characters (the gay brother), weird makeup (Owen Wilson looked like a woman at times, it was caked on so thick). I could go on, but honestly I'm tired of hearing myself complain about the same things in movie after movie, and I'm sure you are too.

I'd have to give Wedding Crashers two and a half stars. There were some times I laughed, but I'm not sure if I was laughing because it was funny, or because I felt bad that other people were laughing and I wasn't. I'm beginning to wonder how I've strayed so far off the mainstream, where critics are giving this movie three and a half stars and popular opinion is giving it four and a half stars, and I can barely muster a chuckle. Ah well, that's a topic for another post. For now I'll just cross off #249 from my list: see Wedding Crashers.

Pork Perfection

I realize the picture above looks a little more disgusting than delicious, but you're just going to have to trust that it depicts absolute pork perfection, if I do say so myself. No one likes a braggart, I know, but maybe this is because they haven't tried said braggart's delicious pork tenderloin. Maybe if they sampled the tasty pork, not only would they like the braggart, they'd love the braggart and beg her to invite them over to her meager digs in order gorge themselves on copious amounts of pork tenderloin. Hmm, okay, I think I'm going way off on a self-indulgent tangent here...

Last night I had the pleasure of cooking dinner for a few dear friends. All week I excitedly mulled over possible menu choices, and finally settled on a pork tenderloin as the main course. It's a dish I've been making for ages, but I couldn't recall the last time I'd made it. (Cooking a whole pork tenderloin isn't exactly something I'm in the habit of making just for me!) I thought I remembered the details of the 'recipe', but there was one hitch: I was to be working in the office the day of the dinner and wouldn't have time to cook the pork in the oven as per my usual habit. But by mid-week when I realized the hitch, I was really set on making the pork. Then I remembered a little-used cooking apparatus housed in my kitchen's lazy susan, the crock pot. Some people swear by these appliances, but I hardly use mine, and hardly know how to use it. Surely, I thought, it would be capable of cooking the pork, but would the recipe need to be modified to include more liquid? Would cooking it on the low setting all day be too much time? Would the pork release too much juice and overflow the pot? Would the pork even taste the same as my tried and true oven method? I agonized over these questions, but in the end decided the pork was worth it, and I'd just do the best I could.

I prepared the marinade the night before and tried to make a little extra in order to have enough liquid for the cooking process. This plan worked beautifully and there was no need to add any extra liquid for cooking. I marinated the meat overnight and then cooked it all day on low. I arrived home to an apartment that hadn't been burned down by the crock pot and hadn't been flooded by any excess crock pot juices, but it smelled deliciously, as if I (or some magic cooking fairies) had been slaving away in the kitchen all day long. When I finally served the meat to my ravenous dinner companions, it had been cooking a full 12 hours. It was so juicy and flavorful it nearly melted in your mouth- no knife required. We all agreed it was tasty as hell, though I effused a little less than them, for modesty's sake.

Here is the recipe for my pork tenderloin if you'd care to duplicate pork perfection in your own crock pot (after seeing how well it turned out in the crock pot, I'd highly recommend it over the oven). Please be warned that this is a very loose 'recipe', and I'm just estimating on the quantities. Use your best judgment if the consistency of the marinade isn't quite right, or if you are making a smaller or larger quantity.

Teriyaki & Orange Pork Tenderloin

2.5 lb pork tenderloin trimmed of really excess fat (do leave some fat because it contributes to the tastiness factor!)
whole cloves

marinade:
1/3 cup teriyaki sauce
3 cloves of garlic, minced
juice from 3 juicy oranges and some of the pulp and zest too (why waste all that yummy orangeness?!)
2 tbsp orange marmalade

Mix together the ingredients for the marinade and set aside. With a sharp knife pierce the tenderloin all over. Insert whole cloves into the holes. (I'd suggest maybe 10-20 whole cloves, depending on how much you enjoy their flavor.) Place the meat in the marinade and leave in the refrigerator overnight. The next day place the meat & marinade in the crock pot and cook on low for 12 hours. (I'm sure you could get away with cooking it a lot less than 12 hours, so just use your best judgment here.) Serve & enjoy!

With a belly full of leftovers, I cross off #99: prepare pork tenderloin for wonderful friends and savor their compliments as much as the pork itself.

*I paired the pork with mashed potatoes** and green beans*** for the ultimate 'comfort food' dinner. We also drank a bottle of Blackstone Cabernet Sauvignon 2002 vintage. Though the wine was delicious, it was a bit full-bodied and a tad dry for my taste. I'd recommend Blackstone's Syrah over the Cabernet.

**I used organic white creamer potatoes and boiled them (skin on) in free-range organic chicken broth with a little water, then drained and mashed with a stick of butter, several spoonfuls of sour cream and a bit of salt. Yum!

**I used fresh organic green beans, trimmed the stem end, parboiled for 2-3 minutes, drained and sauteed with a little olive oil, shallots and the juice of 1 orange for 2-3 minutes and then served topped with toasted pine nuts. Yum!

Exercise, Part Two

I am sure that you are all eagerly anticipating an exercise update. Have I kept up with my routine? Have I continued to find motivation? I am happy to report that yes, I have kept up my routine! Don't worry, I am as shocked as you are. I'm quite sure that fifteen days of working out is some sort of record for me. Equivalent to an Olympic medal or a Nobel Peace Prize. Truly. It's astonishing. And what's more astonishing is that I'm actually beginning to enjoy myself.

As you recall, it began innocently enough on July 20th after feeling like the ultimate slug in the company of a friend who is a workout maven. One of those rare individuals (are they so rare afterall?) who enjoys working out. It seemed that everywhere I turned people were beginning sentences with 'When I was at the gym...' or 'After I workout...'. With every mention of the words 'workout' or 'gym' I could feel myself slowly taking on more slug-like characteristics. I never used those words; they were no more a part of my vocabulary than 'lima bean' or 'dirty diaper'. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something. So I worked out. And then I wrote about it. Somehow announcing my intentions on the blog solidified them and made me feel I'd have to be accountable to someone if I quit.

But I haven't quit. Quite the opposite. Each day I've looked forward to working out. (I have to mention this is likely due in large part to the fact that I usually workout when I should be working. Anything to avoid work, that's my motto.) It's been a non-negotiable part of my day. I haven't considered not doing it. And now I wonder what made it such a challenge in the first place? I haven't found that 'runner's high' yet, but I'm feeling good. Whether it's the endorphins or the sense of accomplishment of doing something I've never really done before, I'm not sure. Of course, it's not all roses. There are challenges. In the last week or so I've been able to begin interspersing my treadmill walking with jogging (this was an absolute revelation for me!). My lungs are able to handle the exertion, but my legs tire quickly and turn from mere legs into pillars of lead. With their sudden unbearable weight they beg me to slow down to a comfortable walk for a few minutes in order to regain their original mass. And just when they are getting comfortable, I jolt them to a jogging pace again. This means at the end of thirty minutes they are dead tired, and climbing the three flights of stairs back up to my apartment is a slow and painful agony. But I'm not discouraged. A few swings of water and a banana later and the pain is a fairly distant memory.

So where do I go from here? I keep at it! At the suggestion of a friend I may try to alter my routine a bit, which is made more difficult by the oppressive Arizona summer, but I'm sure I can come up with something. I may also incorporate some weight training with the cardio. I've been doing a bit of free weights for my arms, but I'm thinking doing legs may help build up my jogging endurance. I don't want to count my chickens quite yet, but I have to say I'm pleased. I still consider #14 on my list a work in progress, but exercise and I have gotten to know each other a little more with each passing day, and we're becoming fast friends.

March of the Penguins

Since the week I saw War of the Worlds and Fantastic Four, I've been on a break from seeing movies in the theatre. I think it was the combination of the mediocre movies I'd been seeing, and the prospect of more mediocre movies in the future that kept me away. But, it was Sunday afternoon, and I started to miss my old friend, the movie theatre: it's sub-zero temperatures, the sickening aroma of fake buttered popcorn and floors sticky with spilled soda. I just couldn't stay away. Luckily for me there was actually a movie playing that I'd been wanting to see- March of the Penguins.

I'd seen a preview for March a month or so ago, and it looked absolutely adorable. I must admit I'm a sucker for nature/animal documentaries, especially when they involve an animal as cute and cuddly as penguins, and March did not disappoint. It was filmed by a French documentarian, Luc Jacquet, and is the story of a year in the life of an Emperor Penguin in Antartica. The movie follows the 70 mile trek the penguins make to a common mating ground, and the subsequent search for a mate, laying of an egg, trek for food, hatching of the egg and the hatchlings first swim. All this amidst the brutally harsh winter storms. The film is beautifully shot with amazing footage of the frozen Antartic. The penguins' story is endearing and the shots of these animals are gorgeous. My only complaint was that since the film is rated G it was filled with parents and their kids. I'm not sure if it's being marketed as a kids film, but I honestly think it's way too slow/boring for kids, and will result in what I experienced: kids and parents talking through out the entire film. A bit annoying and distracting, but otherwise a great experience. I'd give this film 3.5 stars.

With my relationship with my local movie theatre temporarily redeemed I cross off #283: see March of the Penguins.

New Identity

I'm a new woman! Or at least the same woman with a new name! For whatever blatant or sub-conscious reason, it's taken me ten months since my divorce was finalized to go get a new driver's license to reflect my name change. I like to think it was out of sheer laziness and the anticipation of huge lines and long waits at the MVD that I put this off for so long. But nevermind that now, I did it, it's official, I'm back to my maiden name, and pretty happy about it too!

With a new identity I cross off #134: change my name on my driver's license.

Illusions

Okay, I know it's technically cheating, but I don't care. I started a draft of this post the middle of last week, along with several other posts, and I'm going to post them with their original dates. I've been lazy with my writing this past week, but I'm going to attempt to catch up in one evening. Let's see how I do...

For the past week or so I've been reading a book by Richard Bach called Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. Judging from the copy I checked out from the library, it's passed through many hands in the years since it was published in the mid-70's. It's a short and easy read; I actually paced myself and just read it while I sat at my table eating. I'd heard people say this book changed their lives or their thinking in some profound way. Maybe I'm too cynical or maybe the message is getting to me thirty years late, but I have to admit this didn't happen to me. I did enjoy the book though.

A brief synopsis: Richard is a barnstormer, a man with a small private plane who flies from town to town in the Midwest landing in fields and giving rides in his plane to locals for $3 a pop. He happens across another barnstormer, Donald Shimoda, who also happens to be a retired Messiah. The two spend enough time together for Richard to learn the tricks of Messiah-hood from Donald and from his 'Messiah's Handbook'. The book is peppered with quotes from the Handbook which can be thought-provoking, my favorite being 'Your friends will know you better in the first minute you meet than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years'.

Overall, this is an enjoyable and easy read dealing with questions and possible explanations of spirituality. It offers you some opportunities to think, or you can skip the thinking and enjoy the story, as you wish. And so with life and mind unchanged, I cross of #319: read Illusions.

Pesto

I'm no expert, but I consider myself to be pretty competent in the kitchen. Most dishes I try turn out successfully. I can follow a recipe with ease, and know how to make educated decisions when it comes to measurements and substitutions. Having said this, one dish I've never felt comfortable tackling was pesto. It looked difficult! I was aware it had only a few simple ingredients, but it seemed that there must be magic involved to turn them into something so rich and delicious. I couldn't have been more wrong. I'm now embarrassed to tell those of you that have made pesto that I used to buy the jarred stuff. The jarred variety barely resembles the real thing, which is far more peppery and flavorful. It's so simple to prepare, and nearly impossible to make a mistake. If you add a bit too much of one ingredient or not enough of another, it's likely no one will ever notice. The uses and possible variations are endless. I'm begging you, if you've never made fresh pesto give this recipe a try. You won't believe how simple and delicious it is.

Pesto

3 cloves garlic
2 cups fresh basil
3 tbsp pine nuts
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
salt & pepper

In a food processor (I used a mini one), blend the ingredients in the order above, adding one by one. If the pesto is too thick you can add a little pasta water (if you are making pasta to go with the pesto) or just plain water. Serve as a sauce for pasta or pizza, or as a dip with bread or crackers.

Thanks to a dear friend who opened my eyes to the ease of pesto, I can see this being the year of pesto for me. If you invite me to your house, I'm bring pesto. If I invite you to my house, I'm serving pesto. I can't imagine myself ever tiring of the flavor or the aroma. I'm already thinking of making it again. And thus I cross off #229: learn how to make pesto.

*I'm no expert on wine pairings either, but we drank an excellent Sauvignon Blanc with the pesto from Blackstone Winery (2004 vintage) which I would highly recommend.

Exercise

Exercise and I have never been best friends. Actually I'd say we're barely acquaintances. Maybe because we were never properly introduced in our early years. While my brother and sister were busy on the t-ball and basketball and soccer and swim teams, I was busy becoming a future nerd with my glasses and my stack of Nancy Drew books. Having a slim athletic frame probably didn't help me either- why should I exercise, I could eat whatever I wanted and was still a beanpole. This isn't to say that I wasn't an active kid. I ran and played and rode bikes like everyone else, but when it came to sports I was happier to officiate or keep score. I did a little stint of club soccer in high school with a bunch of my friends, but I'm honestly not sure that I contributed much to the games, if at all. But then life starts to catch up to your slim athletic frame and you are suddenly not quite as slim nor athletic (not that I ever was!).

With a few extra pounds following me around I decided to formally acquaint myself with my foe, exercise. It's funny how motivation can be found in the strangest places. A friend of mine talks about exercise in the most admirable and inspiring way. The laps he swims, the miles he runs. I could feel myself turning more and more into a slug with every word until I finally couldn't take it anymore. It seems like this exercise buzz is all around me. Everyone is going to the gym, everyone is working out. Never one to mindlessly follow trends, I know this is one I need to get on board with. Intellectually it reasons it out perfectly, it's just getting the motivation to get off my ass.

Thanks to my friend, I've found that motivation two days in a row. I've heard it takes three weeks to make something a habit, so with 19 days to go I cross off #14: introduce myself to exercise and commit to being his friend. I'll keep you posted on our friendship...

Ray LaMontagne

Tonight I saw Ray LaMontagne at the Marquee Theatre in Tempe, Arizona. It was one of the strangest shows I can recall going to in quite a while, both for the performance and for the crowd. First, a bit of history. I first saw Ray last October 14th as the opener for Badly Drawn Boy at the same venue. I'd never even heard of him before that night, but was instantly impressed with him. His band was a three-piece: him on acoustic guitar, an upright bassist, and Ethan Johns on drums (!!!!). He played a great upbeat folky acoustic set. He chatted with the crowd, seemed pleased that people knew who he was and took lots of song requests from the crowd. I was convinced and got his cd Trouble soon after, and have been loving it ever since. When I heard he was coming to the Marquee again so soon, and as the opener this time, I was looking forward to checking it out.

Rachael Yamagata opened. I'm familiar with her name, but not her music. It was pretty decent. She has a great voice, but the music was just average and not too polished. Not that folk-ish music needs to be polished, but there was something lacking. She was a decent opener though, and the crowd was really into her.

Ray came out around 9 to a pretty big audience. There were definitely more people in attendance than were at Badly Drawn Boy, which was a big surprise to me. But, the crowd totally had me confused. Being folk music I was expecting a low-key emo crowd, but instead it was packed with loud obnoxious people. People that talked through the first five songs when he was playing with no drummer and really required a quiet audience. People that sang words loudly in my ear, made out with each other practically on top of me, talked to me incessantly about how they were going to put me on their shoulders, bought me bottled water, and danced to the beat of some music that wasn't coming from the stage. In summation, they were annoying as hell. But nevermind, it was the music I was there to see, not the crowd.

Having seen Ray already, I was expecting (read: hoping for) a longer version of the show I'd seen him put on a mere nine months prior. However, this isn't the show I got. In this show he seemed like he was on the brink of insanity or suicide. He was quiet, withdrawn, hardly spoke to the crowd at all and when he did he muttered so that we could hardly hear him. He played an odd collection of songs with tons of new songs mixed in. Even the most upbeat song on Trouble, How Come, was super mellow and stripped down. There were two highlights of the night. One was a new song which he played the electric guitar on and totally rocked. It was the opposite of his folk stuff, but his voice could easily command the rockiness of the song. The second highlight was when he appeared to totally be losing his mind during the encore. I've never seen anything like it. He came out for the encore and mumbled to the crowd about how he felt weird. And how he'd had a weird day. He said weird about 10 times. Then he played a song. Then the band left and he started mumbling again. He said something about forgetting words and forgetting chords. More incoherent mumbling. Then he thanked Rachael. Someone in the crowd yelled out for her to come out, and so he motioned her out. They conferred on the stage for a while and I swear he looked like he was going to cry. Then he gave her his guitar and left the stage. She fumbled around with it for a few minutes and tried talking to the crowd a bit and then the audience started yelling for Ray. He came back and strapped on the guitar he'd given her. A few more minutes of conferring and they decided to 'try an experiment'. He played a new song that was super soft and rather depressing and she sang a bit of back-up vocals with her back to the audience facing him and sharing a mic. When the song was over he looked relieved to be getting the hell off the stage.

I have no idea what was going on tonight. It was still a good show, but such a stark contrast to the show I'd seen less than a year ago. It can also be really tough to get into a show when there is so much material you are unfamiliar with. But, with that much new stuff in the set I imagine there is a new album around the corner.

Geeking out with the set list:
1. Burn
2. New song
3. New song
4. Narrow Escape (sung with Jennifer Stills)
5. Jolene
6. Hold You in my Arms
7. Shelter
8. New song- You Got What I Want
9. Hannah
10. New song- So Empty
11. New song- You Should Belong to Me
12. Trouble
13. How Come
-encore-
14. New song
15. New song- Can I Stay

With an all around entertaining night, I cross off #174: see Ray LaMontagne again, in a totally different way.

Movie Reviews

As you may or may not have noticed, I've been quite a slacker this week in keeping up with my blog. But where I've lacked in blogging I've more than made up for in movie watching. In the past week I've seen six movies. Instead of writing separate reviews for each I'll just get it all over with in one post. Get ready for (mostly) a list of movies not to see...

My movie watching jag started last Sunday with War of the Worlds, probably the most disappointing of all the films. Apart from the hype the entertainment magazines have been doling out on this movie, I had it on pretty good authority from two of my most reliable film obsessed friends that this was a great movie. So I went against my better judgment and Tom Cruise loathing and saw it. That was my first mistake. It was terrible. Awful. It goes without saying that the special effects were incredible, but special effects couldn't save poor writing and poor storytelling. It would have taken so little to tighten the story up a bit, but alas, it was sloppy and lazy. This one gets two and a half out of five stars.

Next up, on Wednesday, An American in Paris. Having had an off-again on-again love affair with Paris for a few years, and knowing that it was one of AFI's top 100 movies, I felt it was my duty to see An American in Paris eventually. I'm happy I did, but I think I clocked it at 14 minutes into the movie that I first wanted to turn it off. And the feeling never really left me until the final credits rolled. But, this film had a strike against it to begin with, in that it's a musical. Not my favorite genre. As one of my friends recently said to me, as soon as they start singing I stop paying attention. I second that. This film gets two and a half stars.

Thursday was the Fantastic Four. By now you might be wondering what the hell I'm doing picking movies that seem destined to fail in my eyes. With this film I can honestly say I had no choice. It was part of a day of teambuilding with work colleagues. The teambuilding involved painting pottery, so I rallied a small resistance group against painting pottery and we ended up seeing a movie (Yes, I am aware of the irony in that it was a teambuilding activity. What can I say, I'm not a team player.). The only movie playing at the time we arrived was Fantastic Four, still, we were happy to be out of painting pottery. The movie was actually better than expected, and dare I say the story was even more cohesive than War of the Worlds. Yes, I am serious. The movie was chock full of ridiculous movie cliches, but it actually started to crack me up (a dalmation in a fire truck, the giant half-rock half-man creature, Thing, stopping in a Big & Tall Men's store for clothes, etc). Pretty cheesy but better than teambuilding whilst painting pottery, this one gets three stars.

Saturday night found a friend and I looking for an interesting movie. Distant looked promising. A Turkish film set in Istanbul chronicling the days of two depressed men. Wow, not what we were expecting at all. This movie was down right numbing. Probably the most striking thing about this film was the lack of dialogue. Minutes would pass with not a word uttered from the screen. It was heavy on sound, but not dialogue. The discomfort of the characters was practically leaping into the living room through the television. We had to laugh when we realized the two men were watching TV in silence, and that the program they were watching on TV also had no dialogue. Ah, kill me now! At the time I really didn't enjoy the film, but I've had some time to reflect and realize that though it was difficult to watch, it made it's point about loneliness, despair and the distance between people in these conditions brilliantly. Three stars for this film, but know what you are in for.

After a movie like Distant you are so shaken and depressed you need a pick-me-up. An injection of life and entertainment. And so we watched The Count of Monte Cristo. I didn't know much about the film, and was thus pleasantly surprised. It's a visually appealing and engaging drama with a well told story (based on the book of the same name by Alexandre Dumas) and good acting. There's also a nice revenge twist. It accomplished what it set out to do: entertain without being mindless and boring, three stars.

To cap off my week of movies, tonight I watched Maria Full of Grace. It's a Colombian film recommended by a Colombian friend, which instantly gave it some well-deserved clout. It's by far the best movie of the week. An excellent story of despair and hope and rising above the constraints of your up-bringing. The film is tense and difficult to watch at times, but is such a well-acted and well-told story. Four stars for this film, and a hearty recommendation that you see it as well.

Although there were some disappoints and many mediocre moments of film-watching this week, I'm happy to say I saw all these movies. Loving movies as much as I do, I appreciate the bad as much as I appreciate the good because I feel like a more informed viewer, and more easily able to spot a really excellent film. And so I cross off #289: watch a mixture of good & bad films, and be able to tell the difference.

Who I Am

I discovered something pretty funny about myself the other day. Most days I put on a great game face and BS with the best of 'em. I can be sweet and polite and well-mannered. I can be thoughtful and soft-spoken, and sometimes I can even use big words. I can clean up my act in front of family and colleagues and others who I perceive may not approve, but in the end, I am just a girl with a terrible potty mouth.

I woke up a few nights ago in agony. I had a charley horse in my calf. I hadn't had one in ages, and forget how paralyzing they can be. Since I was alone in bed with no one to massage it out and allay my pain, I knew I had two choices: writhe in pain forever or get my ass up and stretch it out. You're probably thinking, what's the big deal? We've all had charley horses, am I that big of a baby? Well yes, I am that big of a baby, but here's the funny part. I awoke from a deep sleep to this unbearable pain and began yelling *(warning to sensitive readers)* Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Motherfucker, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, and on and on- you get the point. The inner dialogue I detailed above took place after I began yelling the obscenities, for they were the FIRST thing to come to my mind, and to my lips. As I was out of bed stretching my leg and still flailing Fuck around, I wondered if any neighbors might have heard me. And then I had to laugh. There's nothing like a crisis situation in the midst of deep sleep to bring out your true colors. And apparently my true colors are peppered with my favorite F word. Sorry mom. I am who I am.

Though I endured some serious, albeit temporary, pain, I am happy to cross off #268 in the process: find out my favorite curse word.

Screw Early Risers

I was 4 or 5 paragraphs into a post I had titled 'Early Risers'. It was all about my foray into waking up early for a change of pace from my typical 8:45 am wake up on a weekday, and my 11:30 am wake up on a weekend. I was cheerful, I was enthused, I was witty--I was doing some great writing! And what happened, you ask? My damn internet browser froze up and then unexpectedly shut down. Had I saved the writing as a draft? Hell no. Do I feel like re-creating all that cheerfulness again for the sake of a good post? Absolutely not. Now I am pissed.

I'm pretty sure I'm a night owl by birth, and I don't think you're supposed to mess with your internal time clock. At least that sounds like good justification to me. Yeah, the sunlight streaming into my room and waking me up felt better than the jolt of an alarm clock beep. Yeah the cool air at 6:00 am felt great. Sure, the 45 minute walk with my ecstatic dog through the quiet neighborhood streets was invigorating. And okay, a bit of the cheerfulness of the fellow early risers I encountered on my walk rubbed off on me and I was feeling rather happy about being up so early. But obviously, my laptop knows best. It wasn't used to being woken up at such an un-godly hour, and it wasn't happy. It humored me for a bit, but in the end it said screw you, I'm going back to sleep. And so I must concur. Screw the early risers, I'll take being a night owl any day of the week.

Grumpy and going on only four hours of sleep, I cross off #139: try waking up at 5:45 am (and fail miserably).

Comfort Music

As I was sitting here listening to my favorite playlist in itunes and thinking about what to write, I started thinking about the playlist itself. It started out a few months ago as an attempt to capture in a playlist the songs that had most moved me over the years. The songs that not only had been my favorites, but the songs I had been OBSESSED with. Every now and then a song will come into my life that begs me to play it over and over and over again. The scenery has changed over the years, but the habit hasn't. As a teenager it was lying on my bed in my parent's house blasting Going to California on my record player or Good Feeling on my tape deck. In college it was lying on my single bolster bed in my dorm room blasting Live Forever or In Your Eyes on my CD jambox. There have been countless crappy apartments and many upgrades to the music format and equipment since then, but the formula stayed the same: play the same song repeatedly at the highest volume possible and preferably lying down with eyes closed.

So what's with this bizarre habit of mine? It suddenly struck me that this is my comfort music. This is the music that makes me feel good. With my eyes closed and the music blaring in my ears, it envelopes me like a cocoon, occupying all of my headspace and leaving room for nothing but comfort. And so it makes sense when I'm down or stressed or worn out that I turn to these songs to relax and revive me. And I never tire of them. Ever. Loving them as much 15 years later as I did when I was a teenager speaks volumes to their personal meaning.

My soul bared, here is my beloved playlist:

Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve
Laid- James
Good Dancers- The Sleepy Jackson
Get Miles- Gomez
Lonelily- Damien Rice
Sandusky- Uncle Tupelo
Going to California- Led Zeppelin
Golden Brown- The Stranglers
This Year's Love- David Gray
Intervention- The Arcade Fire
Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl- Broken Social Scene
The Scientist- Coldplay
Good Feeling- Violent Femmes
Classic Girl- Jane's Addiction
Live Forever- Oasis
In Your Eyes- Peter Gabriel

Readers, if you have songs with similar significance, I'd love to hear what they are!

With headphones on and headspace filled I cross off my list #57: Find a name for my favorite playlist (comfort music!).

Little Pink Pills

There are few things worse than being sick when it's summertime. While everyone else is outside having fun, you're stuck inside feeling miserable. Okay, who am I kidding? It's Arizona, everyone is inside feeling miserable. But at least they don't have a dull headache on the left side of their face from their temple down to their jaw and across their cheekbone to their nose. A headache that magnifies when you chew on the left side or press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, but only on the left side. A headache that started Saturday night and has been with me ever since, even when I wake up in the morning. It's not phased by 600 mg of ibuprofen every few hours or massive quantities of hot green tea or that dumb headache remedy you do by pressing your thumb and forefinger into the webbed part of your left hand.

I'd had enough of the headache, and the accompanying watery, bulging eyes from the pressure inside my head, so I paid my doctor a visit. The diagnosis: a bad sinus infection. The remedy: little pink pills (antibiotics), lots of liquids, and hot moist compresses twice a day. So far things aren't any better (okay, it's only been 5 hours, 1 pink pill and 1 compress), but I have to report the compresses feel amazing. Even if you don't have a sinus infection you should try it: stack two folded washcloths on top one another, get wet, ring out, microwave for 20 seconds, and press on your face. Ah, sweet (temporary) relief...

With only 29 more little pink pills to go, I'm on my way to crossing off #132: cure mid-summer sinus infection.