white flag

My blog has of late been attacked my Chinese spammers. I'm pretty sure it's not my parents and it takes a lot of the fun out blogging. So I'm out, yo.

You do not have to be

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE

YOUR MOTHER UNLESS SHE IS

WHO YOU WANT TO BE. YOU DO NOT HAVE

TO BE YOUR MOTHER'S MOTHER, OR YOUR

MOTHER'S MOTHER'S MOTHER, OR EVEN

YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S MOTHER ON YOUR

FATHER'S SIDE. YOU MAY INHERIT THEIR

CHINS OR THEIR HIPS OR THEIR EYES, BUT

YOU ARE NOT DESTINED TO BECOME THE

WOMEN WHO CAME BEFORE YOU, YOU ARE

NOT DESTINED TO LIVE THEIR LIVES. SO IF

YOU INHERIT SOMETHING, INHERIT THEIR

STRENGTH. IF YOU INHERIT SOMETHING, IN-

HERIT THEIR RESILIENCE. BECAUSE THE ONLY

PERSON YOU ARE DESTINED TO BECOME IS

THE PERSON YOU DECIDE TO BE.

Remember P.E. class?

I just finished watching Art&Copy and they did a quick piece on the Nike women's campaign in the 1990s (remember all those chipmunk cheeked girls saying, 'if you let me play sports'?) and they flashed briefly some of the print ads from that campaign, of which I have the vaguest memories. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I found a website with the text from all those ads and I am totally in love with them. Worth sharing and more to come:


Remember prison ball and jumping jacks and

how your P.E. teacher made you try to climb that rope that

hung from the ceiling and you never could, never?

Or how you had to do chin-ups and see how

long you could hang and you could only hang something

like 2.5 seconds but that wasn't good enough,

oh no,

you had to hang something like 65 seconds

and you could never do that and thank God it was only

pass/no pass and you got a pass just for showing up and

trying. Which was good.


But when you got older.

And P.E. teachers got smarter. Because now

you got graded. You got graded and at least once you got

the dreaded C or the equally dreaded C+ and there went

your whole grade-point average and speaking of average

that's what you were now: plain-old-just-mediocre-better-luck-

next-time-see-ya-later-average and you thought

Now wait just a gosh darn minute who,

exactly, is average? And the answer came back ringing loud

and clear over the top of that chin-up bar: Nobody.

You're not average because average is a lie.

You're not average because average means stuck and

you're not stuck, you're moving and becoming and trying

and you're climbing over every bit of fear or opinion or "no

you can't do that" you've ever heard.

So you scoff at average. You laugh. You

guffaw. And you run and you play and you move and the

more you tell your body that it is a well-oiled machine the

more it starts to believe you.


And then one night you have the craziest dream.

You're in the middle of your old gym. Your P.E.

teacher is standing there. She is grinning. There is a rope

before you. So you climb it. And there is absolutely no

place to go but up.

I don't want to say I'm from the ghetto, but...

I am so totally in love with the latest contestant on ANTM who claims to be from the 'ghett-o' of Marietta.

For reals?

Right, I'm off to book my salon appointment to get all my hair cut off. It's my semi-annual, I just watched the makeover episode of Top Model, ritual. Which always result in a mushroom on top of my head. Which I proceed to grow out until the next cycle of Top Model. Fun times. Here's hoping this go around turns out more Kat(i)e Holmes and less Kate Gosselin.

want to connect on friendster? LOL!

I'm too old for Cook Club.

It was a great evening out and I enjoyed the bananas foster, apple crumb cake, and 9 different kinds of quiches, but that crowd might as well have been in diapers. Or on an MTV reality show. Things were going well for the first part of the evening. Underneath the strung-up Christmas lights in an apartment inhabited by 6 roommates, I found the one lone mom in the crowd and nodded patiently as she moaned about her thinning hair and kept checking her phone to see if the sitter needed anything. That was good - I felt young and unencumbered by children or hair issues and sipped my bloody mary knowing I was walking home and not driving back in a minivan. And then she left. To be with her kids. And I was stuck with a roomful of twenty-somethings.

They talked about Degrassi High (the new one), the cryptic text messages sent by various boys (who were so totally lame and so totally did not deserve them), and how much they hate their internships or being unemployed. I talked about Roto-Rooter and the horsehair insulation we found in our walls after installing our elfa shelving. And don't even get me started on those old drafty windows! They talked about the old 90210 like it was a cultural artifact, something their parents did not let them watch but which they were now experiencing through the Netflix. I talked about Good Morning, Miss Bliss. When they started to discuss the millennial new year's parties they attended while freshmen in high school, I thought it best to leave. Not that they weren't all smart, charming women who were living an exciting post-grad life in the big city. They were great. And I have no end of respect for the one girl who brought Cap'n Crunch to the Cook Club (with TWO kinds of milk choices no less!). But after a couple hours and a couple mimosas, listening to those girls play out every detail of a current relationship, dissecting whether the boy was 'just not that into her', and listing all the problems in their apartments that the landlord hadn't gotten around to fixing, I got really homesick for my stage in life. All I wanted to do by the end of the evening was go home, hug my dear husband, and fall asleep in a room that I could repaint or carpet at any point in time if the spirit so moved me.

true love

Husband: You look so cute today. You must have done something different.

Say yes to the invitation

I like to joke that since moving to Boston 6 months ago I've engaged in more social activities here than I did in five years in the bay area. Now I'm starting to think that joke is true. Part of it is just being new people in a new town, so we've had friends of friends, family members, new neighbors, and new co-worker types extend invitations to various social gatherings. Given that our graduate program back in California was all of thirty (mildly socially awkward) people, the numbers are simply on our side here in Massachusetts. We're also both at a point where we just have more free time and a greater willingness to take a chance on an invitation out. And overall it's been really great. In some ways it feels like I am being resocialized after five years buried under books in languages as dead as my small talk skills.

But right now this month is shaping up to take the cake for my grand re-socialization project. I've dubbed this month 'say yes to everything' month, and I'm wondering now if I will make it out alive. It started when my dear sister-in-law invited me down to New York for Half the Sky Live. Why not? It's only a bus ride away and I had all these dreams when I learned we were moving to Boston of taking the bus down to Manhattan for the weekend. So, sure. Sign me up. I'll spend my Friday hanging around the Met and then catching up with high school and college friends in the evening.

Then a friend suggested meeting up the gym one day and I jokingly said we should take the boxing class. Before I knew it, I was learning how to wrap my hands up in sweaty handwraps and punching gloves with a frightening woman who used to train professional female boxers. I'll be there again tomorrow morning because boxing is awesome. For an hour I just work my way around a circuit of drills, punching bags, doing push-ups, and balancing on a bosu with my eyes closed. And all with pretty boxing gloves that make me look like Strong Bad.

This same friend also talked me into ice skating lessons. Yup, adult beginner ice skating group lessons. Last Wednesday I was down at Frog Pond in the Common at 9AM, along with a handful of other 'adults' who have nowhere to be on a Wednesday morning, learning how to make swizzles while big fat snowflakes fell around me. And I'll be there every Wednesday for the next 6 weeks. If you miss me at the pond, you can also find me thawing out at the Starbucks across the street with hot cider just after the lesson.

I also agreed to substitute teach for someone's philosophy class at UMass Boston. This might be one of those drowning and not waving moments, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. The class will be talking about Plato's Republic, and I supposedly know Greek and have supposedly read that text, so I should supposedly know more than the students. I'm thinking 'small group discussions' will be an excellent approach.

Finally, I've been invited to a Cook Club. I seriously thought the girl who invited me said Book Club, which was why I was all 'heck yeah!' about it. And then I got the eVite for the monthly Cook Club. And this month is Brunch for Dinner! I was hoping more for Breakfast at Tiffanys. But this, my friends, is 'say yes' month and I am going. And I'm just going to be that girl with my quinoa pilaf while the host mutters under her breath, 'who invited the flippin vegan?'.

I've also already decided now that March will be 'just say no' month. Say 'no' to the conference in middle of nowhere Canada (which is a whole new breed of nowhere than what we got here in the States)! Say 'no' to submitting an article on civil law for an encyclopedia of ancient history! Say 'no' to flights with two layovers when the cost difference for direct to is only 50 bucks!

what's in my fridge

I've been doing my best lately to eat health(ier) meals that involve foods with around one ingredient. So less mock meats with about ten different kinds of chemicals and soy gluten isoloxynodohedron (which may or may not be a twelve-sided die) and more beans and veggies and whole grains. My little mission has resulted in a few super easy stand-by dishes that I thought would be worth posting for the healthy woman on the go. So here we go:

1. Chickpeas.

I heart chickpeas. They are impossible to screw up and always taste good. Right now my favorite preparation is dumping a can in a pan with some olive oil and white wine. I usually drain out about half of the liquid from the can and use some of that liquid in the pan as well. I simmer the beans in the liquids with some chili powder and cumin for about 5 minutes. And that's it. I've found that the longer that cook, the better they are but some days I'm just too hungry to wait. I usually make up a batch on Monday and then eat the leftovers throughout the week. They're really good on top of salads (I'm currently a fan of warm things on top of cold things, so I'll heat the chickpeas up before putting them on a salad) or just as a side dish.

When I get tired of garbanzo, I usually switch to cannellini or kidney beans. For the cannellini, I heat them in a pot with the the liquid from the can, a good measure of white wine, and some olive oil. Then I add Italian seasonings - oregano, basil, etc - until I feel like I'm back in Tuscany. For the red beans I tend to just heat them slightly and then eat them with diced red pepper and some italian dressing or red wine vinaigrette.

2. Kale.

Most vegans view kale as the be-all, end-all of leafy green vegetables. It probably has more vitamins than a vitamin tablet. I am at present in love with kale chips. They are easy to make and unfortunately even easier to screw up, so pay attention! The easy part is tearing the leaves off into bite size pieces, putting them in a pan, spraying them with some oil, and sprinkling with salt before popping them into the oven. The hard part is remembering to take them OUT of the oven. I have sent many a batch of burnt kale into the garbage and oh does the smell linger. The pieces take about five minutes at 400 to get slightly crispy, and I've found that checking them obsessively and pulling them out every couple minutes works best for me. I also prefer my chips more soft than crisp, so I tend to be happy taking them out early.

When the kale runs out I revert to the other vegan staple, broccoli. It's another one of those vitamin powerhouses. I generally try to eat a handful a day of broccoli, which isn't too hard. Steamed is the easiest, but when I have to pack lunches I've found that raw broccoli in balsamic is pretty good. I generally really dislike raw broccoli, and the balsamic adds just enough liquid to combat that whole 'oh my god raw broccoli sucks' reaction I usually have. Along those lines, honey can be a big help for raw carrots.

3. Brown rice.

Totally boring, right? A big ol' plate of chickpeas, kale, and brown rice. Grossness. But au contraire, mon frere! The chili powder on the chickpeas and the salt on the kale and the right blend of brown rice can make for a veritable taste explosion. My rice recommendation at present is the brown rice medley from Trader Joes This is another dish that I make in large batches at the beginning of the week and then reheat for lunch for the rest of the week. When I run out of brown rice, I'll make a batch of couscous or quinoa for the week. I finally bought some barley, so we'll see what the grain is all about.

4. Soba noodles.

These are another 'take me through the week' staple. I'll boil up a pack on Monday and keep them in the fridge all week. When I'm feeling adventurous, I steam broccoli, carrots, tofu, and bok choy and mix them with the soba and some veggie broth. When I'm watching my stories, I eat them cold from tupperware without anything on them other than a sprinkle of sesame seeds.

5. Almond butter.

You can make this stuff! No really. It's crazy easy. All you need is a food processor and some ear plugs. I buy a bag of raw, unsalted almonds from Trader Joes and put about a cup into my food processor, using the S-blade. And then WHIR! It will initially make the most god-awful sound but after a minute it goes away. Every few minutes or so I check the processor and scrape the sides back down, but other than that I just let the machine work its magic. After about 8-10 minutes I have almond butter. Done and done. Given that I think almond butter on apples and bananas is the most wonderful snack ever, I make almond butter at least once if not twice a week. If you consume nut butters at a regular rate, yours should last two weeks.


All of this advance preparation has led to one problem: buried leftovers in a sea of tupperware and half-cut vegetables. I finally decided to tackle the issue by keeping a list of the food I have in the fridge. It's sort of a reverse grocery list. Now when I go to the fridge I can see in plain English that I still have a large bunch of radishes. Radishes which are presently shoved to the back of the crisper and buried under unwieldy Mr. Kale and which I would not have remembered until next week when I finish off the kale and find a mushy red mess of root vegetables. The list helps me tackle lunch and dinner because I can sort of prioritize what's in the fridge based on when it will go bad. When I finish off a vegetable or tupperwared leftover, it gets crossed off, so now I also have a good sense of what foods need to be replenished.

Happy eating!

money for nothing

I realize that this economic downturn is by and large a very bad thing. But for those of us in academia who can spend Wednesday mornings at a near-empty mall, this recession totally rocks. I scored a cashmere sweater at the BR for 12.99. Now I won't be nearly as angry when the sweater inevitably begins to pill and get holes. Then I went into Aveda to buy a candle, and the super bored employee decided to smear every kind of face cream on me, put lots of product in my hair, and then top it all off with a neck and back massage while I sipped herbal tea. All for the price of a candle (well, and the tea. I love that Aveda tea and finally buckled and bought some). After that I went to the Container Store to pick up our brand new elfa shelving for the 'Master Bedroom' closet. That label kind of cracks me up. It's our only bedroom, so the term 'master' might be overdoing it. How about the 'not the room with the futon' (reach-in) closet (with no interior lighting)? Much more accurate. After they loaded up my car with elfa galore, I went back in to check out some under cabinet solutions. This sweet girl walked me up and down every aisle and listened with such intent as I explained the giant recess of uselessness that is our corner cabinet. I think she really felt my pain. I felt a bit more pain than I was anticipating at the check out. How can a lazy susan be so expensive? It's a plastic circle. A WHEEL. Wheels should not be expensive, especially when its only function is to spin. In a circle. With tupperware on top.

So the moral of the story -- go to the mall. Now. Right now. That chick at Aldo's will be over the moon while you try on nine pairs of boots. She might even toss in the foot pads for free.

ba-leted

I woke up this morning to find a Friend Request from a girl who spent most of middle school tormenting me, high school ignoring me, and one-off meetings after graduation acting like nothing had ever happened. I decided this was the nudge I needed to deactivate my Facebook account. I was a little surprised by just how spot on the choices were for choosing to delete my account: I don't get it; I'm spending too much time on it; I don't feel safe; I'm worried about my privacy. All they need to add is an 'I'm just SO over it' choice and I think all the bases are covered.

Maxxinista

I know they make the employees say it, but every time a TJ Maxx employee picks up one of the items I am buying and tells me in a hushed voice, 'this is a really great deal', I feel like a total winner. Today I went so far as to agree, nodding emphatically and whispering back, 'I know', as if the Calvin Klein himself would appear and demand the full price for his bathmat if I said it too loudly.

bed bath and bemoaning

The husband has just declared the new color of the bathroom to be, and I quote, conducive to pooping. Our cat Henry has declared the paint worthy of being spread all over the hardwood floors in a lovely paw print pattern. I just want to take a shower in our finally finished bathroom.

So far my favorite part of the bathroom renovation has been the mister 'hiding' our California Closets brochure so the plumber wouldn't, you know, get the idea that we're the kind of people who spend too much on home improvement. Instead we're the kind of people who hide things from our plumber. We did, though, manage to knock some off the final price of the vanity installation thanks to the mister's smooth talking, and I can't help but think how much more we could have saved if I had remembered to hide the Kitchenaid mixer. When the electrician comes, I'm replacing all of our furniture with tablecloths draped over boxes.

Leaving The Learning Channel

I was staying in a hotel this past weekend with cable TV and came across every young adult's love-to-hate channel, TLC. You know, the official network of every major life milestone of adulthood: getting engaged, buying a dress, choosing a wedding planner, learning to dance at your wedding, buying a house, renovating the house, and having a baby whether you do or do not realize you are pregnant.

When we were planning the wedding and hunting down the perfect new home, I was sucked into TLC's gravitation pull. I would watch hours of life experiences unfold before me while home visiting my parents for the holidays, and it was flat out exhausting. I think wedding planning in particular is an even more harrowing endeavor nowadays because of things like TLC. I now know more than I could have or cared to have known about what people spend on dresses, food, and quirky dance routines. The more I watched and felt overwhelmed by all the possibilities, the more I wanted to get married in a church followed by a hotel ballroom reception with a cover band and big white cake. Bring on the calligraphy and jordan almonds!

TLC wasn't the only culprit - over this past year I have been susceptible to every wedding on television or in movies, and I quickly became overly aware of the possible square footage of apartments on sitcoms and the layout of the kitchen. 'Well isn't that a clever place to put a pot rack and did you see the wedding photo on the mantle? Looks like an outdoor wedding in the spring...' Add on top of that magazines and blogs, and I was target audience numero uno for every media outlet. From Bridezilla to This Old House, I was ready to watch and buy whatever the advertiser's were selling.

But then this weekend I turned on TLC in the hotel and felt numb as brides-to-be paraded forth in frocks of sequins and pearls. Been there, done that, TLC. What else you got? Oh, someone trying to find a two-bedroom in Portland even though they can only put down 1% of the asking price? Meh. How about a show called 'what the hell were the previous owners of this place thinking when they drilled a bajillion holes into the woodwork?' I would totally watch that. Or, 'which cat tracked poop all over the house?' Riveting!

It is of course a little bittersweet to be past these 'firsts' and to no longer be the target audience for most of the TLC network programming. There's always the baby nonsense that clogs the midday airwaves, but between pooping cats and a husband who goes into toddler hysterics when his blood sugar drops and can only be soothed by the red vines or cheerios stuffed in my giant purse, I think I might just be past that programming as well.