Let Me Entertain Me

Sunday night blues don't happen to me often. Those of a certain age or lifestyle that no longer seems to fit me, may think I'm referring to the Sunday Scarries. This whole other state of mind need only one remedy I can remember: sleep, hair of the dog, hindsight. In college, I was afforded the luxury of sleep and did so with ease on those post weekend night days. As I grew slightly older and sot-of up, functioning on the weekends became a necessity and brunch bloodymary’s seemed to help for a short period of time. Finally, I arrived at hind-sight, where the nostalgic nausea remained in the forefront of my Friday and Saturday nights, allowing me enjoyment without morning regret. Now, every now and then hindsight can’t be found, no matter how hard I look, and I’m awoken by my little puppy, lapping my face at 7:30am (rain, shine, or Sunday Scarries) as if to say, “Mommy, Mommy, what were you thinking!? Now, let’s play!”

Sunday Blues don’t require sleep (although that often leads to the diagnosis) and the hair of the dog won’t cure them, as there never was a dog. They can be summed up as a weekend where you had every good intention of being productive, imaginative and adventurous, but somehow, fell short of the pedestal you had originally put these two coveted days on. Hindsight arrives and you are left wanting those days back, not to erase the mistakes you made, but to fill in the wholes that have led you with an anti-climatic Sunday night. I may be suffering from the over-ambitious, need for constant stimulation disease, or I may need to start doing more things alone, for lack of a partner in crime that feels the need to fill every moment. Jury's still out. Here's how it unfolded...





Sunday Blues, in this particular case, washed over me earlier in the day, as I was driving home from my Winter Series 5k in West Chester. Yes, I ran in this 27 degree weather and have the chapped cheeks to prove it! The race had been postponed from it's original date, Saturday. Saturday, for those on the east coast, brought freezing temperatures and snow flurries. A Winter Wonderland.....of Boredom it turned out (although that term is highly subjective for those who are content to just sit and be and not spazzes, as I am trying to recognize about myself).

After news of the race postponement that Saturday morning at 8:00 am, I found myself all dressed and ready with the whole day spreading before me. Joy?! Being the planner that I am, with no errands to run, no agenda's to adhere to that morning, we decided to take a long, wintry walk with our pup, followed by a mile run at the gym paired with a floor circuit. A great way to start the snowy morning! Now what? Most normal people would probably enjoy the winter solitude, the instant snow day lax you're allowed in that kind of weather. Not me. I immediately, almost frantically thought of indoor activities to partake in and came up with one of my favorite. Food. Leafing through my recipe bible, I found several recipes to create that week, formed a shopping list of necessary ingredients and proclaimed, "We need to go to the store!" Instant plan.




Heading to our local Giant, we gathered the food morsels needed for the coming week and stumbled upon an amazing discovery. The grocery store florist. We've recently flirted with the topic of Wedding, so unearthing this major piece of the wedding puzzle blew me away. Sending the above photo immediately to my mom with a "Found my Boutque" description had the satisfaction that came with crossing off a to do list item. Her response? "Very funny. You're not getting your flowers from Giant." Oh, mother, how the wheels of completion have already started spinning! The savings will be astronomical!

After the floral goldmind, we headed home to hang for the remainder of the day. Watched the flyers, did some wash, drank some Shock Tops. Just a snowy afternoon menagery of activity. Dinner arrived and Brad made Mega Bagel Burgers topped with provolone cheese & gucamole, sided with cajun brussel sprouts. It hit the spot. That evening we were heading to Mad River in Manayunk to catch up with some of my old Kutztwon buds, so got ready and hit the R6. Good times.

Sunday morning arrived and I hit the road for my 5K, leaving the Sunday Scarries home.

So, as I type out the things I accomplished, ate, saw, ran, planned this weekend, I am re-thinking my initial purpose of posting and considering myself a bit, well, nutty. Constant stimulation through back-to-back activity has many forms. What one person may see as a under-rated, couch-filled, in the house way too much weekend, another may see as a much needed break from an over-indulgent activity driven life, sprinkled with some pretty impressive (if I do say so myself) excercise, tasty treats, much needed reunions and an amazing partner in crime to share it with. I'm leaning toward the latter myself.



Happy Sunday!

Weekly Dish

Food, glorious food. It's a wonderful thing. Fuel for the mind & body. The centerpiece for gathering around family and loved ones. A creative outlet where herbs and spices paint the picture. Delicious bursts of wonderment with each bite...and I've gotten carried away.


In the past few years, I've fallen in love with food in a borderline Foodie way. Eating, the obvious, easiest way to lap up the goodness and cooking, which has become one of my favorite things to do. When the excitement I feel for planning a vacation mirrors that I feel when selecting a recipe, well, I know the extent of this love affair. I flip feverishly through each month's subscription to Cooking Light, searching for those have to make dishes that will liven my week and inspire my taste buds. I may have a problem.

Since I've adopted this let's just call it 'hobby' (so not to seem creepy) I've acquired quite a collection of magazines that hold these nuggets of gold we foodies use to make our masterpieces. Needless to say, after years of a loving, adoring relationship, the stacks of pages piled up, overflowed and cramped much of my living spaces. What to do with these momentum's, collected through the years together? As I was told, so I did. "Throw them out!"


It was not a heartless parting, mind you. Quite the opposite. Hours were spent extracting these gems, seperating the piles into appetizers, chicken, meat, pasta, pizza, salad, dessert, vegetables, sauces...oh there was definitely a method to my madness. A big black binder, stuffed with these chapters of menu bliss, came into my life. It was an end to my weekday angst, an end to the endless search for fullfilment in a last minute creation. I now had my Food Bible.


From then on, I would sit down on a Sunday night and choose two or three new recipes to make that week. Now, religiously? No, not every week. In lieu of actual plans? No, if Brad and I made plans with friends, family, or each other, we'd forgo our cooking ritual to explore outside the kitchen. But this helped keep my love for cooking moving forward. Which happens to be what I'd need to do after all those meals...move forward.


Here's the past week of dishes painted in pictures...minus Wednesday's meal, where I was too hungry to take a picture (homemade split pea soup & turkey bacon, apple and provolone grilled cheese) and Thursday (spent at StoneRose, with lots of wine & wedding talk...a subject that deserves it's own post).





Sunday Potstickers & Spring Rolls, made with chicken, chopped carrots and shredded zucchini rolled up into wonton wrappers and fried in peanut oil. Oh yes, they were delicious.


Cajun Shrimp & Orzo pasta in a white wine garlic & caper sauce. Interesting combination, with an extremely delicious sauce with a spicey finish.


Mini Meatloaves with a roasted red pepper & artichoke pasta salad. I've never made meatloaf in a muffin pan, but let me tell you, what a managable meal, especially when you are cooking for two or watching your figure. There's no way to over-eat when you have a muffin sized portion.

All-in-all, a fabulously food-filled week!

Filling in all the Blanks in the New Year

Where the heck did 2010 go? As I sit, typing, swearing I will use this space as I first intended to when I set it up a hundred years ago (an outlet for stories, ideas, travels, things I've done and think and all that stuff) I'm reflecting on the past year and honestly, it's been a blur. My fleeting memory has been the cause of oh too many arguments, but honestly, without written proof of accomplishments, although I know there are many, I'm not really sure where the past 365 days have gone. So, I'm going to outline them here, so next year, when sitting down to write the first blog of the New Year I'm not fumbling around my memory (So help me, I will be writing more frequently or else...) Without further hesitation or procrastination here are the momentous occurrences of my 2010:

January
New Year's Eve 2010: a night spent with a few close friends within a 5 mile radius of our home in Conshohocken. When midnight stuck, I toasted my wonderful boyfriend in the comfort of our own home, and came to the realization that there was no where in the world I'd rather be at that particular moment (he could probably argue that that lasted about 5 minutes, at which time I started planning what we would do next).

February
South Africa: 3 weeks took me on a trip of a lifetime, where my eyes were saturated with awesome wonders, both breathtaking and heartbreaking, and my view of the world forever altered.

March & April & May

Music, Restaurants, Cooking, Puppy play dates, Stone Harbor Seafood festival & boat show, Brad's Employment, BBQ's, Parties, Home improvements: a spring filled with forward motion and lots of fun. Special mention to Johnny Brenda's, where the band was loud, Cafette, where the company & ambiance glowed, Ristorante Luciano's, where the food was delicious and Groupons, where the deals were plentiful.

June
The first of the 30's: one of my best girlfriend's turned 30 in NYC and I went to celebrate the occasion. After a 3 hour champagne boat tour around Manhattan, countless buckets of coronas at the Frying Pan and an unforgettable time at the Boat Basin, 30 turned out to be the best kind of birthday.

July & August

Mi Casa es Su Casa y Su puppy's Casa: the summer months were spent with friends and their puppy's and our house became a safe haven for many traveling between circumstances. I loved the company and the dinning al fresco.

September

Birthday's & Bachelorette's: another season and another girlfriend turned over the 30 leaf, where celebration of Aqua proportion ensued, my sweet puppy turned 1, so I threw her a party with all her chums, and a friend's pre-wedding ritual pointed me to the Pocono's, where a lake house weekend made me nostalgic for the beach house days on one hand and thankful for the quiet, grown-up retreat of my town-house. Boy, we sure had fun though!

October
Canoeing, Camping, Carving, Celebrating: one of my favorite season's, fall 2010 did not disappoint. The 4th year in a row I Peddaled, Paddled and Paced, I partnered with Brad for his second Marshalton Triathlon, where we beat our 2009 time. A final camping trip followed with our little Winnie, where a leash incident lit us up with laughter (after we put out the fire that is). Listening to Phils play over the radio, eating smores and sitting around a fire really makes for a good trip. One other fall bullet of course includes pumpkins, apples and dressing up like a giant gingerbread man. Winnie's little puppy face glowed on our porch for all Hallows Eve, while I flexed my muscles. Happy Halloween & Happy Birthday Brad!


November
Momentous Milestones: Turned 30, went to Ireland, Got engaged. Too many words could describe these amazing events, but to sum them up in one: Unforgettable

December

A Flurry of Festivities & Christmas at home: the month started with New York, for a whirlwind week, including a Broadway show, Memphis, Holiday window watching, and eating amazing dinners. Then, with the tree trimmed and the house warm with the smell of home-baked cookies, Brad and I celebrated our first Christmas not only as an engaged couple, but the first holiday spent together. It was how it should be.

So, in a fee simple paragraphs, I've summed up 2010 and have realized, while reviewing each month, my year was packed with goodness. Assuming my obsessive planning will continue into 2011, I'm hoping to fill along the blanks as I go.

Happy New Year!

He Said

“I knew when I saw you,” the boy said to the girl. His confidence of their future erased all her doubt.

“We’ll have seven children,” the man said with a nod. His matter-of-factness painted their picture.

“I’ll fly around the globe and I want you beside me,” the dad simply explained. His broad view of the world would open new doors.

“Up and down coasts, we’ll all be together,” the businessman reasoned. His work ethic provided, so they’d always have.

“Oh what a beautiful morning,” grandpa sang. His voice filled three levels that would ripple memories.

“Now one at a time, it’s how it will last,” said the jolly man. His presents surrounded, for his family was there.

“Sit down beside me and tell me your story,” the friend consoled. His patience stretched miles and time was his gift.

To the man, husband, brother, grandfather and friend. He was right when he sang; it always was with him near.

Away from Me is All

I didn't see a point in having him at all. He didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. If when you are examining the pieces of your life, the characters and bits that surround you, doesn't everyone and everything deserve an active role? And if they are actively participating, as each character in your scene should, shouldn't they add to your plot? If above the fireplace, hangs a rifle, by the end of the play that rifle needs to be shot. Why then, do we hold onto those that do not contribute anything to the storyline? One could say that their mere being suggests some sort of role, or else why would you even mention them? The fact that they are being considered at all must mean something. What it means, I'm afraid, is that they only exist on your surface, so why be there at all?

That was when I decided. What was the point in having him there at all? His meager role was so bit, that to just remove his reference wouldn't be a jolt to the flow of things in the least. In fact, it wasn’t a role at all, at least not anymore. Once removed, any thought of him would dissolve, as if he had never been here to begin with. That thought made me smile, the sheer power of the dissolve tactic. It was that simple. I did not wish harm, or ill will. It was not bitterness or spite that fueled this clean slate. It was his uselessness. His vast mediocrity that lent nothing was what frayed my nerves, and I must admit, the occasional glance at him, the slip of memory, left only blankness; no feeling whatsoever. This nothingness devastated me, for vanity’s sake alone. I must feel, must conjure up some response to outside stimuli or what is the point of being alive?

It is something I had never given much thought to. The process of taking things in, them having some sort of affect on you, you respond. Obvious course of events that I’d taken for granted. But these steps hadn’t been followed with him. If you eat a bland sandwich, and are hungry, the lack of taste is overlooked, as it is serving a far greater purpose. Yes, we’d all like to devour deliciousness in every meal, but sometimes the end result surpasses the minute details of such things as flavor. However, if you are not in search of nourishment, do not look for this substance to put a stomp to your hunger, why does it brush your lips, leaving no savoring whatsoever? Why would you go through the motions of something with no taste? I always have an answer or maybe have just stumbled upon one now. Why would I? I would not. That which finds it’s way to my plate remains there out of an active decision I made. If it does not contribute to my fulfillment, comfort, enjoyment it will not be eaten.

The disposal act sounds harsh when put so bluntly. I do not discard without thought, casting aside all that does not suite me at first glance. Oh, quite the contrary. Overturning until dizziness ensues leads me to such conclusions. The decision is not a hasty one, but lessens in time as each situation presents itself. I am learning, although do not think I will ever have an immunity to being immune. The nerve endings have worn and re-grown; singed once shame on me, singed twice, let it devour. It’s experience that has moved me forward, for that which has been has made me. But it is a nugget center, a Tootsie Pop of a way to live. Where is that owl, who will one, two, three me? Have you ever had someone tell you something about yourself that you already knew, but it just sounded odd when it fell in your ears? As if their perception of your reality had escaped even you? When you hear how people have picked up on what you’ve been so carefully laying down, it’s an odd feeling. It’s as if a secret of yours that you’ve not kept to yourself, has been told to someone new. It’s unnerving, scary and exhilarating all wrapped up into one single revelation about yourself, told by someone else. Although, it’s not really a revelation if you’ve already revealed it. It’s just away from me, is all.

Rest Area ____ miles

One of my best girlfriends recently met an amazing guy. He’s incredibly intelligent, went to a notable college and actually reads (in a day and age where People and Star are considered literature, I’d say she’s hit the mother load) . Gainfully employed as head engineer on an environmental energy project, I’d say the man is fully equipped with shit togetherness. And he’s foreign, so the accent completely works (believe her undergarments dropped the second he opened his mouth). But to all the American lads out there, no need to fret. You don’t need an accent to drop drawers, just need to have all the rest. The accent just puts the sweet, sweet deliciously sexy icing on our fabulous cake. So to speak.

So, this foreign fellow happens to be amazing. Makes her laugh, can hold his drink (which to run in our circle, unfortunately, can be a deal breaker; can’t hang, can’t hang out with me), does interesting things, has a worldly view, surrounds himself with friends that are just as pleasing as him. He sounds great, and having met him a few times, can say with confidence, is. Problem? Cause there always seems to be one, right? He happens to be 5 hours away, with a full itinerary preceding the completion of his energy project that includes Latin America and possibly a move home to Ireland. Figures. Realizing the logistics wouldn’t work and the effort wasn’t being put forth, it ended and both persons went their separate ways. Filling up two more bar stools in the single scene.

I’m not sure what to think about the whole thing. In all honesty, what are the chances of you bumping into someone who has the criteria on your checklist, in your own backyard? Are we only limited to what’s within reach? Long distance isn’t that bad, right? Guess that would depend on how happy you are with your surroundings. People say that they’d move mountains to find the right thing or person or outfit. And I firmly believe in Life being a verb, so things will not just fall into your neighborhood, effortlessly (and you really shouldn’t bring your sex home if he happens to live next door…borrowing milk could get awkward if things go sour). What I do know stems from my experience with such things and while I’d never claim to be the wisest around, I am pretty levelheaded. Can call a Spade a Spade, although I try to name them differently, with nothing but pure hope to blame. Admit when I’ve done all I could do and walk. Without (much) looking back.

You don’t need to be a genius to figure out when someone has ‘Caution’ written all over them. It’s just easier to tell your friend than to have to tell yourself. It’s nice to think you want to give them a shot because your instincts could be wrong, or you just never know. Which by all means is an amazing way to Live…and frankly the only way I know how to. You do never know. But the signs are usually there. There are rumble strips to keep you in check, blatantly, and quite annoyingly, keeping you from becoming too comfortable in the rest areas. Thing that I don’t fully understand, is after all of these cautionary clues and foresight, why do some have such a hard time veering away from the jarring rumble strip, steering yourself back onto the road, and getting the hell out of dodge? Detours happen, but not to have the sense to realize driving this slow, or in these conditions isn’t working for you, to not try to find an alternate escape route? Life is too short to drive too slow on a gravel road that may lead to nothing.

Take two Asprin and don’t call them in the morning

The power of the written word is said to be extremely potent. When you see that statement, be it an insult, a compliment, an accusation, when it is staring you in black and white, it hits differently then it would be if said, I think. You get to chew it, let it fill your brain slowly, oozing in, get a second to process it. Then it coats you, seeps into your marrow and lies, maybe permanently. It’s powerful stuff. So powerful in fact, it’s absence, the nothingness that stretches oceans between you and that person who withholds the glorious ink, well, the non-responsive black and white devastates. The nothing; more powerful than a dismissive or hurtful note. It’s infuriating. And also extremely effective. Why is it that when we think of hurting someone, or wanting them to be hurt by our actions, or lack there of, do we finalize on spite? Most times only driving ourselves mad. The passive aggressive action of inaction always sends me reeling, not only because I have mastered and been dominated by it, but because it remains to be the silliest, inefficient use of our time, yet somehow always works.

They say out of sight, out of mind, but when something weighs so heavily on your mind, and then disappears, or is absent for some time, simply not there, that’s all you seem to think about. Obsession isn’t that far fetched. Coming from the most nonchalant person ever, this omission may come as a shock. But as a recent experience has led me to believe otherwise, it does seem feasible to me, on some levels. Stalking is never ok. Excessively repeat dialing and/or texting also remains in the things-never-to-do category. Unless there is a response, which due to the fact that obsession in what we’re discussing, usually a response is the one thing lacking, leave it alone if it doesn’t come home. But, how do we cut this poison out? This malignant growth that doesn’t have a choice but to magnify if we do not hack it out? Over-analyzing may be stereotyped as a chick thing, but I’ve come to realize (and observe), it’s a sickness that every person I know has. There are different stages of this illness, some easily controlled by one’s own rational, a quick ‘ok, enough,’ other’s so crippling, once you’ve come down with a case of it, you may find yourself in need of not only a swift kick in the head, but professional help. I find myself, most of the time, on the boarder of stage 1 and a not so healthy stage 2. So, what to do when this disease catches you? Nip it in the bud, at the head, so it does not consume. Here are some helpful tips:

1. If you find yourself coming up with scenarios that any normal person may define as excuses, you have over-rationalized a simple situation. It’s time to either confront or walk.

2. When out, pretending to not think about it, do not keep checking your phone. Not only does this deem you a hypocrite, you are fueling the fire you’ve claimed to put out. Leave your mobile at home. You’d be surprised at how freeing it can be.

3. When you say you’re done, truly be done. There is nothing so annoying as having to listen to anything proceeding the line, “ok, this is the last thing I’m going to say about it…” In keeping true to your word, you should stop there.

4. Make peace with yourself. Whatever has had such a hold on you, whether it be a spat, a relationship, a boss, a stalkee, you have rubbed the topic raw, exposed every possible angle and are left with the shreds. Time has come to hold your hand out the window and release.

Not all situations work themselves out. Anyone who has lived 5 minutes in the real world should realize this. Often times though, whatever the outcome of such scenarios, the ends justifies the means. Even if at the time, it doesn’t seem as much. You loosing sleep over something will not, however, make the inevitable happen any sooner. Overanalyzing things actually, when put in those terms, is quite narcissistic. Thinking you have a hand in, more often times than not, someone else’s decision? When you truly look at the topic at hand in this light, you…oh man.