Skinny Bitch

Let me save you some trouble if you are going to read this: the main message is to go vegan and organic.

Many of you know I was a vegetarian for about ten years and recently began eating a little bit of meat. But really, not much. I'd say that the majority of the animals I eat are still... eggs. I buy organic, hormone- and antibiotic- free, pasture-raised meat. I try to buy organic produce when possible. A lot of my produce this time of year comes from farmstands. And I'm mistrustful of government agencies, such as the EPA and USDA (there for the farmers, NOT those who consume their offerings). So you think I'd love this book, right? Not so much.

While I loved French Women Don't Get Fat for it's simple, supportive message from a (kinda) everyday person, I didn't as much care for the harsh criticisms given by two self-proclaimed former-modeling-industry "bitches." An example of how they address their readers: "You need to exercise, you lazy shit." That makes me want to get right up and do as they say. Though that didn't bother me as much as the fact that the chapter on "Sugar is the Devil" begin with an illustration of a cupcake with horns and a tail.

Darn it, I LOVE cupcakes.

(And truffles...)

That said, there was some good information in this book, and if it works for you, I'm all for it. The info in "Have No Faith" can open your eyes to the power of politics and lobbiests; they are motivated by dollars, not your health. They have some decent menu ideas in the Let's Eat chapter, though I am not a big fan of most fake meat... it's just another engineered food. I eat it occasionally, but don't want it to be a major part of my diet.

My biggest takeaway will be to cut back on dairy. (Partly because I have noticed it's creating a lot of mucus in my throat lately. Gross. Also partly because cow's milk grows a 90 lb calf into a 2,000 cow in two years, and I don't need that kind of growth support, thank you very much. Third, the list of problems linked to dairy makes your head spin.)

The Kite Runner

This was a beautiful novel, but heart-breaking and at times, very hard to read. I don't want to write much about the story itself but will say it beings in Afghanistan when it was still a relatively peaceful monarchy, struggling with racial tensions between Shi'a Hazara and Sunni Pashtuns. It is narrated by Amir, a priviledged aspiring writer who, through the course of the book, comes to terms with his personal holy trinity of Father, God and Country. The servant's son, Hassan, is Amir's constant companion until a life-changing event blows them apart.

The symbolism of kite-fighting (having string coated with ground glass and glue to cut your opponents' strings) was permeated the book: soaring and falling, freedom and restraint, grace and danger, lives turning, twisting, tangling and being cut free. But this story is no fairy tale; no one comes out unscathed.
I loved being immersed in another culture, proud and full of tradition. I loved the idea put forth in the novel that if you put two Afghanistans who don't know one another in a room, they would figure out how they are related. It struck me how young our country really is, and made me wish for cultural or even religious traditions in my own life, ways of life by which my great-grandparents lived, and by which my great-grandchildren would live. But I am a bit of a cultural mutt, and am without religiously faith. I'm striking my own path.

If you do read the book, go back and re-read the page that makes up chapter one when you are done, to really bring things full circle. But be prepared when you pick up this book, to be moved, and haunted.

Somewhere Over...

I got in about an hour early, and had my oatmeal and tea while plowing through my email, sat through a traffic meeting, organized some files and did project timelines for one client, got a print ad finalized (I hope) for a second, met about direct mail strategies for a third. I taught my boss how to enter an estimate in our unintuitive system, got some financials in order. (You know how much I love playing with finances.)

I had lunch with some co-workers at Potbelly, planned tomorrow's lunch at B&N. (Where the barista remembers me--whether he knows it or not--from my stint as Little Red Riding Hood last Halloween. Anyway, we are great buddies now. I love sitting on the balcony when the weather is nice and they all turn a blind eye to my bringing my own food.)

I worked almost until 7pm, when Matt picked me up to head to our weekly trip to Whole Foods. On the way, we (finally!) visited the chocolate shop across the street and bought a truffle each. I bought a dark chocolate with cherry liquer. I mean, who gets milk chocolate nowadays? Yes, of course... my husband.

Then on to Whole Foods: one of my favorite grocery stops. The others being Walt's produce stand down the street, the farmer's market under the JFX on Sundays (we went there yesterday and got crepes and some lettuce plants, another basil plant, more cherries than two people can eat in a week, strawberries, tomatoes, English cucumbers, beets, potatoes, jerky, barbecue sauce... I went right home and made my favorite gazpacho. But I digress), and my back yard.

But, for two people, I do spend a lot on groceries. I buy organic fruits and veggies (even at the farmer's market, when available) and hormone-free, free range meats (I still don't eat a lot of it, though it's nice to taste what I cook... I'm better at it than I thought!). And I usually spend more than $100 a week. So I'm going to try to get it below that total for now on. Wish me luck.

Okay, the point is: while checking out, we noticed it was raining yet very bright out. In the garage, I ran to the ledge and peeked out and sure enough, there was a big, bright rainbow!


Now, part of the problem as I see it is that I try to be all big and grown and professional, but then I see a rainbow and I get all giddy and happy and silly. And I make my husband get out in the rain to take pictures. (It was a stroke of good luck that the camera happened to be in the car.) And that's when he noticed that there was not just one, but TWO rainbows, one stacked right over the other. And driving down Boston Street, you could see the entire arch. (Though it was too big to get a picture of the whole thing.)

So there you have it. A good, productive day at work. A fun lunch break. Chocolate (dark, of course). Good food. And the rainbows.

Eat, Pray, Love

The book I finished most recently (okay, this morning before I got out of bed) was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It was in the format of 108 stories, 36 stories in each of three sections, one for each bead of a japa mala, in the author's search for pleasure (in Italy), divinity (in India), and balance (in Indonesia). It's a happy coincidence each begins with "I" ... that which she was seeking in each location during her year of travels.

After a bad divorce, an unhealthy rebound relationship, life-threatening depression... and a large advance on her upcoming fourth book... Liz begins asking herself what SHE wants to do. And she wants to learn Italian. (Me, too!) But unlike me (thus far), she makes the leap and takes an extended vacation in Rome. There, she does learn Italian (Her favorite word was a simple one: attraversiamo, meaning let's cross over), makes friend, eats (especially having found the perfect pizza), and learns some Italian ways of life, like il bel far niente (the beauty of doing nothing) and l'arte d'arrangiarsi (the art of making something out of nothing... like my love of throwing together a great lunch with tomato and basil and soft cheese...).

The section on her stay at the Indian Ashram was almost uncomfortably personal. This is coming from someone who loves to read autobiographies. But looking inward and loving yourself fully and unconditionally is a difficult and personal process, and this section would've been too preachy without the comic relief of Richard from Texas and Liz's other friends.

Before anyone points out that I am not a religious person, I'd like to submit that I am in my own way, spiritual. I do believe in rites of passage, rituals (don't get excited; I'm thinking of birthday cakes), and the benefits of meditative practices, especially considering that I tend to feel things intensely, and rarely managed to quiet my mind (especially when I am trying to sleep). I've meditated before. I even enjoyed it. And maybe I'll make use of the mantras Liz wrote about:

Om Namah Shivaya: "I honor the divinity that resides within me."
Ham-sa: "I am That"

While I'm not seeking turiya (constant bliss) I do have my moments, especially sitting alone on my back porch, when I feel that I am communing with the divine.

In Bali, Liz befriends two very different traditional healers, learns new way of meditating ("sit still and smile" and "Four Brothers"), goes on an American-style road trip, helps a friend purchase land for a home of her own, and falls in love. She comes her theory of "Diligent Joy," the realizaton that "you have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings."

I wish the country was more open to healers; I love the idea of using natural ingredients like herbs and roots to cure illnesses and injuries. I wonder sometimes whether some of the medical problems we are having in this country, such as the rise in hyperactivity, autism and infertility might be due to our notion of better living through chemistry.

The theme of this book, oddly enough, mirrors that of The Alchemist. Liz Gilbert pulled herself together, took a deep breath, left her life to go on a journey where she followed omens, learned all she could from her experiences, and found her Personal Legend. And now, back to her life, I can bet that everyone around her (and indeed, even the Soul of the World) benefits from her having lived her Personal Legend.

I almost wonder whether the fact that the books I've read lately have been about journeys and spirituality (and food) are omens I should be heeding. Next on my list is "Kite Runner" ... we'll see what type of journey that begins!

The Alchemist

I recently finished reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, which has sold twenty million copies, is published in fifty-six languages, and is celebrating its 20th anniversary.

It reminded me of The Little Prince in its simplicity. It was about ignoring nay-sayers, embracing a certain selfishness, fighting the good fight, and being brave enough to grab a hold of your dream when you get to it.

The main character, Santiago, has studied for years to be a priest, but what he really wanted to do was to travel. So he summoned the courage to disappoint his family, and became a shepherd -- the only thing he could think to do in order to travel. The story picks up when he meets a Gypsy, who interprets his recurring dream of hidden treasure, a king who encourages him to find his Personal Legend, a thief, a crystal merchant, an Englishman whose Personal Legend was to find an alchemist, and of course, The Alchemist.

There book progresses through Santiago's experience with the principal of favorability (or beginner's luck), his response to signs and omens (and intuition) that guide him, and the tests of patience and courage to which he is subjected in order to master his lessons and achieve his Personal Legend. While it turns out his treasure was his travels, Santiago found both love and monitary treasure, as life is generous to those who pursue their Personal Legends.

The book presents the idea that the principle that governs all things is the Soul of the World, and when you want something with all your heart, you are closest to the Soul of the World. While it does acknowledge that everything has its price, the theme of the book is that when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it, and that to realize one's destiny is a person's only obligation. Pursuing your Personal Legend betters the Soul of the World.

I really enjoyed the book, but was a bit freaked out that I may be unaware of my Personal Legend (although travel seems an enjoyable one to me!). If I think only of myself, what would I pursue? Would seeing the Egyptian Pyramids fulfill my most pressing life goal? Being the mayor of a small town? Building a self-sustaining home? Writing a novel? Do you know what YOUR Personal Legend is?

You Say "Tomato"...

...I say, "Homegrown, baby!"

This morning, I got up all grumpy and tired, having had a hard time sleeping alone. (Again, darn it!) So I dressed myself nicely and did my make up and fed the kittens and went outside to check on the garden. And what did I see? A nice, red, ripe tomato looking back at me! My very first tomato of the season. It was so pretty I wanted to sit in the yard all day, admiring it. But instead, I grabbed a hold of it and tugged it off the vine. And admired it. It looked perfect, like the mutant clone tomatoes you see in the grocery store. Only mine wasn't harvested while it was still hard and green and refrigerated and shipped from Canada. In fact, it was on the vine at 8am and in my tummy at 1pm.

So today for lunch, I had a lovely fresh tomato with lovely fresh basil (yup, from the garden... although it's not QUITE as exciting as a tomato, I really love my homegrown basil) and some spreadable cheese on fresh bread from Panera. It was pretty fabulous, though I think I need a knife to keep at work, if I'm going to make a habit of this.

And I got lots of laughs because my tomato plant is a "Better Bush." Next year, I'm growing Brandywines. (I hear they taste better, anyway.)

Friday the 13th

I took a personal day to go to the doctor and dentist and to get the oil changed in my car. The visit to the doctor's office was a bit traumatic. I was there a little early for my 9:45 appointment and ended up waiting for nearly an hour. Thank goodness I had brought my latest library book. Finally I was called back, had my exam, and was told they needed two vials of blood. A simple request, right? Not so much.

I warned the doctor and nurse that I am a fainter and that it would be best for all involved if I laid down. The nurse put the tournequet on my left arm, and tapped-tapped-tapped, frowned, and moved on to my right arm. This one seemed a bit more to her liking, and she inserted the needle and waited for the vial to fill. And waited. And waited. Minutes later, I had barely filled one vial and was feeling a bit woozy. The nurse seemed frustrated and got a colleague to see if she had better luck.

The second nurse was young, outgoing, and six months pregnant with her first child. She took a look at the inside of both arms then decided the back of my hand would be a better bet. By then, I was feeling like a pincushion, and becoming a bit tearful. But she was patient in waiting for that second vial of blood, and she sat with me while I ate a granola bar (those emergency snacks come in handy), sipped at a bottle of water, and got some color back in my face.

By then--thankfully!--I had missed my dentist appointment.

On the way out of the building, I started dialing. Matt didn't answer his phone, my mother was at lunch, and I was on the verge of real tears. I went to the library, then home to have some lunch, then to get my oil changed. Back home, I poked in the garden, finished the book I had started this morning, and have been bored for the past several hours.

One good thing is that Matt arranged for an earlier flight: tonight instead of tomorrow morning. I'm in need of that first hug!

While M's Away...

...the mouse will play! M's been in Ohio this week, and I have to say, my friends are keeping me well entertained. Monday night, I met JF at Kobe. I hadn't seen him since his last day, and he seems to be adjusted and doing very well. I swilled the dirty martinis (three olives, please) and we shared some sushi and gossip. Yesterday, J and I went to The Capital Grille (mmmm... Stoli Doli!) and bumped into the PR team (and B, naturally). I only had one drink but ate TWO (count 'em: TWO) baskets of bread. Not entirely by myself, but darn close.

So today, no bread (minus my one packet of oatmeal) and after work, I met E at The Chesapeake Wine Company. I LOVE that place. The menu is short but tasty and they have wine flights. We both got the four tastings option. And we talked and talked and talked about everything. We don't know one another THAT well, but managed to fill eachother in on a lot of background! I'm looking forward to seeing her again on Tuesday, at our girl's night at Cinghiale. (I worked on the website and don't like it, so no hyperlink!) And... I stole a glass. Awful and dishonorable, I know, but it had the Eiffel tower on it and it's the perfect size for my oatmeal. They should've know better. Plus it makes up for CakeLove being closed. (I would've saved the cupcake for tomorrow. Really!)

Tomorrow, I have happy hour at DuClaw with L, who I haven't seen in forever. Then Friday I took off work to go to the dentist, doctor, and Jiffy Lube. I get to pick M up from the airport early Saturday morning, and plan on dragging him to Crepe du Jour. And if he's really unlucky, maybe Woolworks. That's what he gets for leaving me all lonely!

Otherwise, I've been occupying myself at home with kittens:

My fledging garden (look how big the tomato bush is, on the other side of the shed! The plant next to it is an Early Girl ... I'm hoping I get a tomato or two this year!):

and working down my ever-growing library book list:

I told M that with all of this excess, I don't feel very "French." I DO plan to cut back before I get too puffy from all this revalry. We'll see how next week goes. Otherwise, I may have to start exercising soon!