Nov/Dec book list

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. Highly recommended murder mystery tale, set in Sweden and sure to be followed by two sequels.

French Milk by Lucy Knisley. Graphic novel about a 22-year-old's stay in Paris with her mother. Beautifully done. Reminds you what it was like to be 22 again.

Dreams from my father by Barack Obama. A bit slow, but really interesting... good to know more about our next president.

Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell. Although I don't buy into this as a life-changing theory, Gladwell empowers you to use your common sense to think critically about problems and consider new solutions. Good for the workplace.

Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Things...Stories by Nick Hornby et al. Classic book of stories, would be fantastic for kids, not bad for adults, either.

Also read:
To Siberia - Pers Patterson

Handmade holidays

Gave:
- The best homemade gifts I gave (with my brother) were hardbound books of photos from our spring trips to my parents. We used the Mac program iPhoto and they turned out amazing--really good quality, attractive and clean template options, and bright color. My parents were thrilled, especially as they, like many people, don't order prints anymore and have all their photos on the computer.

- Candied orange peel (amazing! Like super flavorful gummy worms. I used KC's recipe from last year with a few modifications (boil a lot longer).

- Stuffed birds to crafty co-workers. A friend had sent me the free sewing pattern.


















I infusing some of the stuffing with a few drops of lavender oil (from a farm in Sequim, WA, purchased on our trip). In others I swapped the lavender for some dried catnip to give as a cat toy.


















I made biscotti (again), only because KC asked if I was going to make "my biscotti," as if it were my thing, which tickled me and made me want to make it. I tried to grow enough herbs and peppers to give as gifts but our week or two of neglect while on vacation did them in.

I also ran out of gift tags, but made some using paper samples and a rounded corner punch, and was pleased with the result.


















Received:
The best homemade gift by far was this tasty bottle of limoncello, luckily caught on photo before the contents had disappeared. (Lest you think we're greedy lushes, we have been sharing the Christmas cheer with in-laws and other guests).
























Merry Christmas!


Christmas eve at my parents.

Google stalking my husband

So Husband's been getting a bit of publicity lately, and I was having a hard time tracking it all down... searching for news clips, checking city magazines, etc. and I realized that there was a much better way to do this: set up a Google alert for his name. We use these at work all the time to track buzz (news, blogs, videos, etc.) about our institution... Google wraps up all the new hits and sends it to you in a nice tidy daily email.

And it's been effective--no more searching. But damn, does it feel creepy to get these alerts in your email. That's probably because it is creepy.

Growing up

My secondary New Year's resolution last year (after "do less") was "let myself be a grown up." This one is a little hard to explain quickly, but in short: there was something about being the youngest in both my immediate and extended family (at least in my generation) that I was letting carry too much weight in how I presented myself; and I wanted to remind myself that that role was self-imposed.

Anyway, I was reminded of that resolution recently at work, when I started scrutinizing my emails and not liking what I found. These may have more to do with female social patterns than feeling inferior, but nevertheless, I am working on:

Eliminating or at least reducing qualifiers, such as "just" in "I just wanted to check..."
Not feeling the need to use !s

Omitting the omnipresent "Thanks," when it's really not needed.

To compensate and extend a bit of warmth, I've added what I hope is the neutral "Hi," i.e., instead of "George," "Hi George."

Sew

After a bit of exploration, I've decided sewing and embroidery are for me. Sayonara, knitting. Crocheting, you can stuff it.

After getting a sewing machine in June 07 and completing classes early this year, I'm starting to try my hand at a few things.

I made the most basic, most beginner of all quilts, a simple lap quilt.
























Emboldened, I then made a tree skirt, which turned out to be a bit small for those duties but which filled in nicely as a "table topper." (My great-grandma made the ceramic tree; she was crafty, but my grandma, let me tell you, made a living off of her craftiness. She still reigns supreme over her town's annual fair.)
























Husband finally let us get a real tree. Tree do not photograph well, but I made series of bird and button garlands to help cover for our lack of ornaments.


















Lastly, here's a bit of the embroidery--I'm too enamored with these veggies not to include them.


















I also did a camping series. Not sure when I'll need camping-themed napkins; but if the occasion arises, I'm ready.

Brr

That's my breath. Inside my house.


















We arrived home last night to a broken furnace. Good thing we arrived home late, because after chucking the leftovers in the fridge and putting a few things away, we dove under the covers with the cats and slept away the cold.

But today it feels pretty damn cold (the aluminum casing on the MacBook now seems like a poor design choice). But the repairman's here, and he had the replacement part in his van, so hopefully, soon, heat!

Identity

When my grandparents introduced me to their friends at my grandpa's 80th birthday party, I was "their granddaughter, the runner." My brother was "their grandson, who worked as a bartender in the Virgin Islands." I guess it's better to be something in the present tense, so when I give up running someday, I'll have to replace it with something equally exciting (their granddaughter, the trapeze artist) so I don't become "their granddaughter, who used to run."

Speaking of which, aerial work is apparently an amazing workout...all core strength, says my yoga teacher. So, you know... it could happen.

What are you introduced as?

Wedding season

As I sat with a group of girls affixing tiny sparkles and stitching twine on wedding programs this week, one asked, "So, did you do anything homemade for your wedding?"

Thinking of invites and programs, which I designed with the help of a graphic designer friend but didn't decorate, I declined... then gulped as the memories flooded back.

Oh my goodness, the things people did for me.

1. I made my friend MG, who has the most gorgeous handwriting ever, write all my place cards.
2. My friend EC conceived of and then constructed a forest of tiny topiary trees, color-coded to indicate meal choice, to affix the place cards to.
3. My mother-in-law took on both the favors and the centerpieces, which included folding 175 origami boxes to hold the candies.

And there's so much more I can't even begin to describe it all. Here's just the tiniest smidgen of what my parents did: we left the morning after the wedding for our honeymoon (in first class, thanks to their upgrade) and arrived home (picked up by my parents, of course, who brought my car along since I'd left it at their house) to find all our wedding presents stacked neatly in our second-floor apartment, tuxes returned, and wedding dress shipped off to one of those wedding dress preservation companies.

Is six years too late to send out another batch of thank-yous?
I didn't think so.

Winter arrives

Winter arrived last Sunday, a day that started cautiously sunny but quickly whipped up a cold wind and a sleety, snowy precip. After a quick run and a few timely chores (disconnecting and draining the hose, uprooting and drying the pepper plants) we dove into the house and spent the day reading and being cozy. Husband retired for a nap around 4, and when he still hadn't risen at 6:15 I started calling up gently to him from my perch in front of fire. When that didn't work I progressed to the stairs. He came down a few minutes later wearing his robe.

"You going to take a shower?" I asked, confused, as he'd taken one that morning.
"I was thinking about it," he said defensively.

He stood there aimlessly for awhile, looking at the fire and me and the cats, before confessing that he had thought it was Monday morning.

Tea

Is Tea Forte better than other teas, or it is just the experience that makes it so good? Taking a careful sip from the steaming cup, I decided it doesn't matter.


















Orange pekoe + autumn sky

September/October Book List

September/October books
How to be useful: A beginner's guide to not hating work by Megan Hustad. Not just useful, but actually enjoyable to read. It was so good I took notes. Hustad's target audience is recent grads who work in offices, but I found her advice a much-needed reminder for the getting-complacent late 20s/early 30s, and even helpful in thinking about how to manage others.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Unapologetically dark, this novel about a orphan and a town in WWII Germany feels like an accurate portrayal about what it might have been like. Rich, deep, and oddly shelved in the young adult section.

When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris (audiobook). I loved some of these essays and skipped over a lot on the first few discs... in particular I liked the last third best, especially the three-part essay on how he quit smoking that takes place in Japan.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running - Haruki Murakami. I love Murakami and I love running... and I think you need to have an affection for both to like this book--it's pretty niche. But if you're in that niche it's great.

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson.

Political pie

I post this tonight with a heavy heart... after a day spent reading terrible stories about racism and hatred in the upcoming political election, and even worse, receiving an email from a beloved relative espousing all that bigotry and lies, I want to steer clear of anything remotely related to politics so I don't risk offending anyone how I've been offended today. Yet this post was supposed to be so innocuous, so light-hearted, that I'm going to go with it anyway.

I wanted to share with you a recipe that Husband and I came up with during the primary elections. This dish is so named not because it's a commentary on his character, personality, or values, but rather because it's hour-plus baking time lets you stick it in the oven, go and vote, and return to have dinner ready. I thought I'd share it with you in case you wanted to make it election night or to try it beforehand just to wish your candidate luck.


Obama Pie (or, in the spirit of bipartisanship, you may call it McCain pie if you like)
Adapted from Byerly's
Note: this recipe requires thawing in advance

2 T olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
2 14-oz packages frozen chopped spinach, thawed and well drained
4 large eggs, beaten
8 oz. feta cheese
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts (in oven, single layer, while oven in preheating, 5-7 minutes)
1.5 t salt
4 T butter, melted
8 sheets frozen phyllo dough, thawed

1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Heat oil in skillet, saute onion until soft, 3-4 minutes. In a large mixing bowl, mix onion with spinach, eggs, feta, pine nuts, and salt.
3. Brush a 9-inch glass or ceramic pie plate with some of the melted butter. Place a sheet of phyllo dough over the plate, letting the ends overlap the side, and butter the top of the sheet. Add three more sheets, buttering in between, then spoon spinach filling into center of pie plate. Top with remaining four sheets, buttering in between and on top of the last one. Tuck in ends of phyllo dough.
4. Bake until browned all over, anywhere from 50 to 1 hour 15 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before slicing.

Enjoy with a sense of satisfaction for having contributed to the nation's electoral process.

Marathon #8 - TCM 2

I don't think I've fully conveyed the mental anxiety that marathon running induces. I was reminded of it while reading Haruki Murakami's What I talk about when I talk about running. An extremely experienced marathoner, Murakami recounts training really well for a recent race and then tanking near the end. For his next race, he trains more moderately and approaches it in a low-stress whatever-happens mentality, and tanks again.

So in the week leading up to a race I simultaneously fret that I've overtrained (done too many 22+ runs and worn my legs down to shreds) and that I've undertrained (why haven't I pushed myself more on long runs?). I worry that I'll go for too fast of a time and crash in a fantastic heap of hubris, or that I'll go too slow and sell myself short. The only thing that really keeps me sane is having a group of people that I run with and therefore can compare myself to so I have some idea of where I should be.

And so there I was last week at the starting line of the Twin Cities Marathon with my group, distrustful of the cool (45 degree) forecast in our sleeveless shirts, with long socks on our arms to stave off the chill. I never dreamed I'd be wearing those socks until mile 16, but at mile 2 the sky opened up and it rained for the first half of the race. In a crashing downpour we ran around Lake Calhoun and Harriet, a steaming half-naked mass churning through the flooded streets. All I could do was laugh and whoop at the the ridiculousness of it all, and be thankful for the cool weather.

Ever since I crashed last year I've paid a bit more attention to how the weather influences your running ability... Jeff Galloway has a little chart that I've shared with my training groups:

Adjusting Race Pace for Heat:
Estimated temperature at finish - Slower than goal pace - 8 min mile becomes...
55-60 degrees - 1% - 8:05
60-65 degrees - 3% - 8:15
65-70 degrees - 5% - 8:25
70-75 degrees - 7% - 8:35
75-80 degrees - 12% - 8:58
80-85 degrees - 20% - 9:35
Above 85 degrees - Forget it... run for fun

It's a little extreme, but the point is clear: you have a lot better chance of making a good time if it's cooler. So when I realized that we finally had a chance at the elusive 50-degree marathon, I let my goal time creep up a bit and got comfortable with the idea of starting out faster than usual.

After mile 19 we crossed the Mississippi and dug in for the grudge of the last 6+ miles. With much beloved running buddies SJ and AP by my side (making it a little Grandma's reunion), we pulled each other along the river, up the hills and on to Summit Avenue. Miles 23 and 24 were tough, and I had to dig deep... Summit feels never ending and unrelentingly uphill... and seeing how close to the end I got last year was just heartbreaking.

I walked up the last hill around Dale and found myself made a personal mission by a group of crazed spectators... they walked along with me cheering like maniacs and erupted into hysteria when I took off running and didn't look back (thanks guys! whoever you are!). I turned the corner at mile 25 and enjoyed the steady decline of the last mile... running it in to the finish, leaving everything on the course.

I was elated to see the time (4:02! Ten minutes off my PR!) but too spent for tears this time. The relief of stopping running is so amazing... it is the best feeling in the world.

I'm really proud of my time... nervous about replicating it, and conscious that my next goal is clearly the much sought after "sub-4." But for now there is the blessed relief from long-run training and a chance to work on some other running goals over the winter... and to do some non-running things as well! like sewing and baking.

Old shoes

Husband and I got new shoes tonight... I was feeling kind of guilty (at least in my case; Husband's shoes were a sodden mess) but a quick peek at the bottoms made me feel justified, if not horrified that I'd still been running on them.

Old vs. new
























Note the wear, especially at the tops and bottoms. They haven't come out with a new version of 2130s yet so I ended up getting exactly the same shoe.

And Husband, old vs. new:
























Although these shoes are useless for distance running, they have plenty of life left, and with a good washing (and de-stinking) look pretty decent, so I'll pass them on to a local program that gives them to kids who need gym shoes.

Eating local can eat it

I give up. It's been only two and a half weeks, but I yield.

When my friend AP first mentioned trying to eat locally (within 100 miles of where she lived), I thought she was crazy. But then I read all those books and it seemed like a fun adventure! so we signed up (mentally, at least) for the Eat Local Challenge, choosing the forgiving goal of eating local for every 4 out of 5 foods for 1 month.

And it was fun! Our concept of what we could eat locally exploded. We hit multiple farmer's markets, ate fabulous local produce, and we were amazed by the number of regular meals we could adapt without much trouble. We discovered locally processed and/or grown pasta and flours, plums and berries and the season's first apples, split peas and dried beans... even as I write this it sounds so easy... I mean, you've got honey and maple syrup and all the wheat and dairy in the world!

But lo, it is not so easy. Ultimately we were brought down by:
1. Time. Although late summer is a great time, produce-wise, to eat local, it is also a terrible time, schedule-wise. Our weeknights are nearly full, so we'd grocery shop on our lunch hour and then come home at 8:30 and start cooking... and cleaning, washing up sinkfuls of pots and pans.

2. Feeling like we were cheating all the time. My co-op is generous with the "local" label, affixing it to nearly anything in the tri-state area... and some products that are merely locally owned... which is good, but does that count? We made an exception for dining out, which sounded reasonable until it's a coffee here and brunch there and then dinner here, and is that what eating local really looks like? And what about beverages? Is farmer-to-farmer, locally roasted coffee OK? Even milk (and other dairy products) had me wondering where the cows really lived.

When a few unusually stressful weeks at work left me tossing and turning at night and running around panic busy during the day, I realized that now is maybe not a great time to take on a task like this.

So we gave up, and even though we're not eating all that much less locally, I feel so much better not having to think about food all the time. Eating local is something we'll continue to aspire to and value, but for now, it will have to be in moderation.

Insider gu

According to a reliable source, police have been frequenting local running stores to stock up on gu to use while working protest detail at the RNC.

Monthly book post: August

Boy do I have some good books for your this month!

I was told there'd be cake by Sloane Crosley. I kept not wanting to read this book because it's a series of essays, but whenever I picked it up I laughed out loud and couldn't put it down. Crosley is a brilliant essayist, equal to the hard hitters of the genre and her stories of single life in NYC (which bear no similarly to Sex and the City) have earned the attention of HBO, which bought it for a new series.

Moose: Tales from Fat Camp by Stephanie Klein. If you always wanted to know what those fat camps advertised in the back of Seventeen magazine were like, Klein has the answer. My favorite part was last third of the book, when Klein talks about what life is like post-fat camp, how she was able to shed the pounds but not the identity of being a fat camp champ.

Plenty: One man, one woman, and one raucous year of eating locally by Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon. If you're interested in eating locally, I found this book to be a more practical how-to than Barbara Kingsolver's, even though neither live in the Midwest and therefore address what it's like to eat locally here. Smith and MacKinnon are extremely hardcore about it; you'll never take wheat for granted again!

Other reads:
Certain girls by Jennifer Weiner. I was loving this book until the last few chapters.
Sleeping Arrangements by Madeline Wickham
The geography of bliss : one grump's search for the happiest places in the world by Eric Weiner
The spring cleaning murders by Dorothy Cannell. English murder mysteries help pass time on planes and ferries.

Show us your...

It has become the thing to do for women of my generation: head to Nordstrom's and be fitted for a bra. A girl's first bra fitting (or however she got her first bra... I think my mom just brought some home) is a legendary event, I don't think any of us ever envisioned there'd be this second pilgrimage. Yet cautioned by Oprah and Glamour about how many women wear the wrong size, and uncomfortable/unflattering that can be, I finally joined my sisters and invited a woman about my age to come into my dressing room and check out my rack.

While I did not find out (shock!) that I was in the wrong size, I was thrilled to have some service in finding bras. My normal shopping experience goes like this: find cute bras, check for my size (which they make) but is not there, find bras in my size but they are padded which I do not like, find racks and racks of bras that do not come in my size, start to feel very unloved and woe-is-me and I-do-not-belong-here, and ultimately buy a new version of the exact same bra I have because it's all I can find. In fact, I'd had the same experience wandering around Nordstrom that day before I got the courage to ask someone to check me out.

But hark! The efficient saleswoman came back with an armload of bras in my size that I do not already own and that are not padded! Hurrah! Never again will I wander around woebegone. Now I'll always avail myself of expert service, reigning like a queen from my dressing room as they deftly select from the collection they know so well.

Trip planning

The art of trip planning is one that is intensely personal. Do you like to have your restaurant reservations booked in advance? Do you feel burdened by plans and expectations? Husband and I try to strike a balance, researching enough to know that we're not missing out on something amazing but arriving with some ideas of things we'd like to do. We've also learned a few things about ourselves, namely, that we do not like uncertainty--we'll gladly pay the campground reservation fee, even if it doesn't seem likely to fill up, and we like to be early for things like planes and ferries and the like.

Here's a short list of resources we usually consult:

Frommers.com is a great place to start, because it's free and gives a good overview. It's good for making the big decisions, like "Do I want to stay on this island or that one?"

From there, guidebooks always provide a good overview, although I approach them with a bit of skepticism. Rough Guides tend to be my favorite, followed by the Hidden series and Lonely Planet.

My favorite source is the New York Times, which archives an extensive library of travel articles. Their "36 hours in ____" is always a good feature, although I certainly never aspire to abide by their ambitious itineraries.

Lastly, my most invaluable source is blogs. I read a lot of bloggers from the Pacific Northwest, so for our latest trip I was inspired by the advice of Orangette, Not Martha, Tea and Cookies, and ShelTerrific. Don't read any local blogs? Search on blog search engines to stumble upon some unwitting reviews.

Marathon #7 - Paavo

Since Husband can't do the Twin Cities Marathon this fall, we looked for another option to keep him in training. We settled on the Paavo Nurmi Marathon in Hurley, Wisconsin. After reading its rousing history, how could we not?

"The cream of the Midwest distance runners traditionally join forces with hundreds of novice and veteran marathoners for the running of 'The Paavo,'" claims the website. "The marathon enjoyed its zenith in the mid-1970's, when over 1,100 runners would take to the course. As the national craze in distance running faded by the 1980s, so did the interest in the Paavo as marathon. But the machine that drives the Paavo kept going, and while marathons around the nation ceased to run, the Paavo kept churning away, mile after mile, year after year.

The marathon's namesake was the winner of nine Olympic gold medals, the greatest Finnish runner in that nation's history. The name reflects the Finnish nature of the Hurley area.

Husband and I counted ourselves one of the "hundreds of novice marathoners," as was evident at the starting line, when a friend pointed out that I had a shot at winning my age group. He was right: there were just five of us younger women. Tough old men ruled.

I hadn't prepared for the race, training up to only 16 miles with my Twin Cities marathon group. I was wavering between the dream of going for the PR in anonymity (there's something about running a race without having people know about it or watch me that I like sometimes) or having a good ol' fun run. Running buddy AP had been talking about "soul running" lately... running how you feel and not looking at your watch... so I decided to take her advice and commit to good spirits.

Husband and I kept together for the requisite 13 miles, enjoying the scenery as we ran through a series of cute town and gorgeous range country wilderness, enjoying the company of other runners, and me calling out "Too fast!" when Husband unknowingly sped up to 8:20s. We separated to within eyesight after that, trudging through some of the hardest miles psychologically, 18-22.

We met up again at 23, and boy was I glad to finally catch up with him. "We'll take it in easy, run it in together," I thought. "How fitting for our 6th anniversary." As it happens at this point of the race, our paces weren't quite the same, and it becomes crucial to run and walk according to your own schedule. So we separated again without explanation

Mile 24.5-25.5 were uphill, the "Cemetery Hill" the veterans had talked about with understated Midwestern stoicism on the bus ride to the start. I decided that running the hills was at odds with my commitment to have fun, so I walked up them smiling at the cars driving by and imaging an invisible sign on myself, "Saving myself for Twin Cities!"

As lighthearted as I make these recaps, I should admit that I also have a deep fear of descending into ambulance-land again. At this point in the race it becomes really important for me to feel that I don't have to push it, that I should tail but not pass the person in front of me, that I shouldn't hurt.

I picked it up again as the hill leveled off, and soon saw a sign for mile 26. I knew I could certainly run it in from here, so I kicked it in and turned onto the main street. And this is why you do small marathons: It was just me, and a few blocks lined with spectators until the finish line. I busted it out in a big ol' sprint with people cheering just for me and the announcer calling my name and time--the greatest feeling in the world. Especially when I saw the clock, which to my surprise, told me I'd taken yet another few minutes off my PR time -- 4:12 and change.

Husband sprinted it in a few minutes later and we celebrated, picking up our bright orange shirts and medals ("I finished the Paavo" boasts the sparkley orange ribbon, perhaps the best medal ever). It was a great end to a great vacation, and a wonderful way to celebrate our 6th anniversary.

Seattle/Victoria

There was only one thing keeping me from visiting the Pacific Northwest: the conviction that if I saw the glory firsthand I'd have to move there. Between the mountains and the climate and the coffee we were pretty much hooked... I think the only thing that saved us is that we didn't go to Oregon.



















Planning our trip was difficult because we could have spent a week in each place. Instead, we afforded Seattle only a day and a half. Luckily, we had a good tour guide--our college friend E.
























He took us to some of his favorite neighborhoods and haunts (who knew salmon could climb stairs?), ate nostalgic Canadian food with us at Pike's Place Market (the Steelhead Diner's poutine; they also make a mean martini), nearly threw up from the dizzying views with us at the Seattle Public Library, finally, crashed sleepily with us at Gas Works Park.

We allotted the amazing Olympic National Park just a day and a half as well... enough time to hike to Sol Duc Falls, soak for hours in the hot springs, and drink local beer on the porch of our cabin and stare in awe at the mountains.



















Canadophiles that we are, we gave Vancouver Island and the city of Victoria two days.





Highlights included a visit to the cute waterfront town of Cowichan Bay, our fabulous campsite at Goldstream Provincial Park, and touring Victoria, including the Royal British Columbia Museum, smoothies at Rebar, Munro's Books, and having cocktails and yes, more poutine, at Canoe Brewpub.

But alas, it was in Victoria that disaster struck. When we arrived midday on the ferry, there were huge crowds and detours in the city proper. A quick peek at our guides confirmed it was the 150th anniversary of the founding of British Columbia. Instead of coming back into town after setting up camp, we headed north. The next morning we learned from a chatty young storeclerk that the BC150 event culminated in free concert by Feist! Oh, the pain! Husband and I stood struck dumb. It was minutes before we could utter cries of anguish.

We spent out last night on Whidbey Island... and man, I could have spent a week at the gorgeous, historic Captain Whidbey Inn, going on runs around the coast, sipping local wine on the patio at dusk, reading on the dock, and sleeping in the softest, most perfect bed ever.




































It was a fabulous trip!

Next time in the Pacific Northwest:
1. More camping and hiking at Olympic
2. Vancouver
3. Oregon

Monthly book post: July

July list:
Just Do It: How One Couple Turned Off the TV and Turned On Their Sex Lives for 101 Days (No Excuses!) by Douglas Brown. I couldn't stop talking about this book after I read it... the couple completely reorients their life to achieve their goal (sex every night), and it's so interesting to see how broad that scope is, from how in shape they are (physical appearance), to what their bedroom looks like, to what vacations they take, to how they treat each other during the day, to what they give up to make the time. A great read for couples.

Oh for fun: The Thornbirds by Colleen McCullough, swiped from my parent's cabin in a book-deprived pinch, the novel, which takes place in Australia, is one of those fabulous family saga stories. In the chick lit genre, The Fidelity Files by Jessica Brody was really fun.

Also read:
Man Bites Log: The Unlikely Adventures of a City Guy in the Woods by Max Alexander
My turquoise years by M.A.C. Farrant
Accidentally on purpose : a one-night stand, my unplanned parenthood, and loving the best mistake I ever made by Mary F. Pols

Red, blue, green

One of my unfortunate diversions is visiting design porn sites like Apartment Therapy and Design Sponge, sites that show beautiful photos of rooms and make you want to buy stuff. Or renovate, as they are big on DIY and share some inspiring techniques.

But lately I've realized that beautiful rooms are more about carefully selected and well arranged items. So I looked around my house and starting thinking not about what I could buy, but what I could do with what I had.

I started with the guest room—my favorite room. It’s sort of “my” room, my de-facto crafty project area, my place to nap and curl up with the cats (Husband has his “man-nook” in the basement). But it’s also our most eclectic room, with lots of random, free furniture and multiple purposes.

A critical eye found much to criticize: a slapdash of colors (I know that blue pillow doesn’t go, but I’ve stubbornly refused to care); dead plants (I’m no feng shui expert, but even I can tell that dead things send a bad vibe), and things that I want to use but don’t have a place for.

Red, green, blue, in a room with pale yellow walls. Yuck! The blue has to go!

I collected the offending items and removed them from the room (and took the dying plant to rehab, aka my office, where they are free from the snapping jaws of cats).

Then, I made a collection of things that I had sitting around unused that I could add to play up the palette, and gave the room a thorough clean.

While it’s no radical transformation, it’s definitely more harmonious (my before-and-after photos didn't turn out, so you'll have to use your imagination). It also made clear what the room does need: a new bedside table, which also would allow us to rearrange the room to better suit the space.

But for now, the room gives me a wonderful sense of peace and harmony.

4th of July

Fourth of July...

One (mischievous 3-year-old)

















Two (adorable 1-year-olds)

















Three (pina coladas... OK there were a lot more but this was just one batch!)























Here's to the 4th of July, and a lifelong friendship with the B family. From my very first memory (swimming with them in Lake Winnipeg), to trips to Disney World, to summers at a lake resort, through boy-craziness and college and drinking too much to marriage and babies, I'm so glad to spend what must be our 18th 4th of July together!

Paddling with my brother

Two nights in the Boundary Waters with Big Brother (and Husband)...
Will we survive without lapsing into sibling rivalry?
Without pushing each other's buttons?
Without tipping each other's boats?

















Kayak and canoe: a peaceful coexistence.

Of course we will, and did.

A few things I learned:
1. On a river, a kayak rules. Big brother deftly paddled through two portages Husband and I had to disembark and haul our gear through.

2. This product changed my life:























What you're seeing is a water filtration device that requires nearly no human effort. You fill the bag with water and let my best friend gravity do the work. Five minutes later you have a Nalgene canteen of fresh water. I was all, "Pills, schmills, I'm fine," but Big Brother talked me into it. The only danger is drinking so much you have to get up at night to pee.

3. A new tasty lunch treat: veggie jerky! About $1.19 at the co-op. Also (and I'm not sure why I never thought to try this) fake lunch meat packs in just fine without refrigeration. Even Big Brother was enjoying himself some tasty Tofurky slices...























All in all, it was a good trip.

Survivor CSA

It usually takes about a week for me to go from thrilled about my CSA (behold the beautiful vegetables!) to panicked about figuring out how to eat it all before it goes bad. Every year I have to remind myself of my hard-earned survival strategies; this year, I thought I'd share them with you.

1. Pasta salad, a.k.a. the kitchen sink
Nothing swallows up veggies you don't know what to do with or don't particularly care for like pasta salad. Pasta (or tortellini) + armfuls of nearly any veggie + dressing (I usually use the packets) + maybe some beans for protein, and you've got yourself 4-plus tasty meals.
See also: stir fry.


















Pasta salad... a tasty foil for broccoli, garlic scapes, kohlrabi, summer squash, leftover corn on the cob, asparagus, going-bad celery, and peapods, pictured here.

2. Pureeing, a.k.a crispy no more
As much as I like crunchy vegetables, after awhile I long for a different texture. Pureeing veggies for soups or sauces is a great respite and also makes some of your less-than-favorite vegetables seemingly disappear.

3. Add chocolate
My trusty zucchini muffin recipe* has turned summer squash from my least favorite CSA find to one of my most coveted. Centuries of desperate farmwives have paved the way for us; enter your loathsome veggie into any search engine and be rewarded with inventive recipes.
*Via http://everybodylikessandwiches.blogspot.com. Also works with summer squash. Not the prettiest muffin but very tasty.

4. When all else fails, preserve! Blanch and freeze (again the internet has handy directions), can, dry, pickle, whatever--I always feel such a relief when I remember that I don't have to eat it all! And nothing feels cooler than pulling out your own put-up veggies and cooking with them.

Monthly book post: June

June reads
The Diving Pool by Yoko Ogawa. I love Japanese fiction...there's something about the sparsity of it, the simplicity. Beautiful.

The Summer Book - Tove Jansson. Wonderful, children's-like book that takes place on a far-flung island in Finland. The type of book you want buy so you can read it to your children.

Other books
They did it with love - Kate Morgenroth. Murder mystery in wealthy suburbia.
Then She Found Me - Elinor Lipman. You can always count on Lipman for a good read.
Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon
A Place for Jeremy - Patricia Hermes. I loved this book as a kid; found it in a box of books recovered from my parents.
Anne's House of Dreams and Anne of Ingleside by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Rereading a bit of Anne goodness, also recovered from parents. Note: Anne not only has a live-in housekeeper but baby nurses. When did we decide we had to do it all ourselves?

Marathon #6 - Grandma's 2

The week leading up to Grandma's was such a relief, having met our goal in Rochester. I didn't fret over weather forecasts, I didn't feel the usual phantom pain. I did go through the requisite soul-searching ("Why do I do this?") where I remember that I love training and racing and that's why I do it; not to achieve a goal time.

I was pretty giddy waiting to line up because it was COOL--not the hot humidity of last year. Our group of six held together through nearly the half, when Husband and another woman broke off a bit, but our pack of four was strong, with me pacing, AJ calling the walk breaks, and SJ and MP providing the first-marathon spirit. The day turned hot, with a searing sun, but there was a breeze (albeit a headwind) and overall it was tolerable--not ideal, but decent. Ever the superfans, my parents (aka the Green Team) appeared to cheer us on 5 times in the first 16 miles, on pace to set a new PR and course record.


















Around mile 19 we saw Husband again, and SJ took off around 20. AJ and I ran up Lemon Drop Hill and headed toward downtown, offering words of encouragement to each other (OK, I spoke up a few times and she was a bit more proffering...) and fortifying ourselves for the end. I saw my parents again at 24. My Med-City blister returned right on schedule ("Oh! blister!" "It's OK now!" taking place in about 5 seconds). Overall I felt hot and tired and worried about finishing then crashing and having to go to the med tent.... and I told myself it was OK, that whatever time I finished in was fine, I just had to keep running but didn't need to go fast.

We rounded the corner and headed downhill to the interminable, maze-like, never-ending trek to the finish line. The band at 25.5 played "Another one bites the dust," which struck me as cruel as people around me suddenly seized with cramps and nearly fell over (And another one's gone and another's gone and another one bites the dust...") My parents appeared on a bridge about 6 blocks from the finish line... I raised my hand about 6 inches in greeting. (Later on: My dad: "You looked really pale!" Me: "Uh, yeah. I was, you know, running to the finish line. I.e. completely exhausted?!)

I trailed AJ in and sliced a minute off my PR time! 4:14!

We lingered at the finish line a long time, greeting friends and people from my running group. I definitely didn't have the dancing-in-the-streets feel of PRing like I did at Med-City: but what I was really bursting with pride at was how well my running group did. All of the first-time marathoners made amazing times and ran really smart races, nearly all achieving negative splits (speeding up in the last half). I was so thrilled for them and felt very mother hen.

Husband and I stayed up on the North Shore another day. We're getting pretty spoiled on campsites, though... I used to think you had to travel far to get the good stuff., but this beauty was only 0.7 miles in, and we had the area all to ourselves.

Ely weekend

We caught part of the weekend-long dock dogs competition... dogs compete in three categories: speed retrieve, extreme vertical, and big air (pictured here). The biggest air we saw was 18 feet--pretty amazing. But my favorite were the dogs who got all excited and took a running start only to cower at the dock's edge.




























We "camped" at the cabin (i.e. no power or water) because it hadn't been opened yet.
























There are notes up at the Ely cabin with reminders about everything from where the bedding is to how to make pancakes. They have been there since roughly 1986. We love them.

29

ON TURNING 29
I had so been enjoying saying I was 28 recently (28! doesn't that sound so young?!) that when Husband asked me how it felt being 29, I realized I felt a bit old. But I've been querying my 30+ friends about what goal they set out to accomplish before their 30th birthdays (skydiving! going back to grad school! completing an Olympic-length triathlon! getting a divorce!) in preparation for next year.

STRANGEST BIRTHDAY GREETING
A personal voicemail message from my car dealership.

GIFTS
Who doesn't love a good package from a foreign country? The official stamps, the foreign language, the embarrassed giraffe cartoon... even the tape is different!


















But the contents were even better!


















At least if you're a bit of a logic puzzle nerd, like me. My dad sat next to a Japanese man on the plane who had one of these books, so he asked for the publishing info. Some people import wine from France.... others, puzzles from Japan. Thanks Dad!

Monthly book post: May

May books:
Our book club read Night by Elie Wiesel, which needs no explanation, but which explains why we might have abandoned our June read, Love in the Time of Cholera, for something more lighthearted, a.k.a. One for the Money by Janet Evanovich. Fun and frivilous, Evanovich was the perfect antidote.

More fizzy tonic: The Gatecrasher by Madeline Wickham (who also writes as Sophie Kinsella).

Sports Nutrition Guidebook by Nancy Clark came recommended to be by a nutrition professor, and was more than the obvious, same-old stuff you might read in a magazine.... it had really honest, forthright advice for those expending lots of energy in athletic pursuits, such as YOU WILL NEED MORE FOOD and YOU NEED TO PLAN FOR THIS MORE FOOD. I.e., it's really OK that you're eating two breakfasts or two lunches because that is better than denying that you are hungry and then raiding the office candy bowl at 2 p.m.

Marathon #5

Since 3 of the 4 races we ran last year were the hottest on record, we decided to do Marathon #5 this spring to hedge our bets against the predicted heat of Grandma's. So when the weather report predicted a high of 84 for race day, I had a bit of a "What is the point?" meltdown, a cross between a little kid pout-fest and an adult metaphysical crisis (the adult version might have had a hell and fuck or two thrown in).

I was also really worried about my body--still that damn groin. That may seem like too much information, but the groin is where your leg muscles connect to your abdominal muscles. i.e. ESSENTIAL. (Aside: Dr. Cutie was actually AT THE RACE, competing in the marathon relay, and I was really worried that I'd see him and we'd have some awkward conversation about my groin. Fortunately, I didn't see him and we didn't have to go there.)

Husband and I started out the race together on the humid, overcast morning with a light breeze. At mile 12 or so we split up... Husband was pushing ahead and I was ready to let him go, having done my duty of making sure we paced well enough not to hit the half mark too soon (2:07).

Miles 18-22 I didn't feel good... I felt like I was slowing down, which seemed to be confirmed by my watch, although I was purposefully not keeping too close of an eye on it. My face and head felt steamy hot, so I took off my hat to see if that would help... people kept asking me how I was doing which gave me pause, because that was my first warning sign at Twin Cities that I wasn't doing well. Later I realized that this was probably because it was a small-town, small-field race.

At mile 23 I got an unexpected second wind, and started passing people that I'd been leap-frogging with. Soon I was passing people like crazy, and people were cheering me on, and the last mile sped by and I looked at my watch and realized with complete shock that it was likely that I was going to PR. I caught a glimpse of Husband on one of the last straight-aways and followed him in, tears filling my eyes as I saw the much-sought-after 4:15 time.

The last few days I've just been elated, so happy to have achieved my goal and so relieved to have some of the pressure off for Grandma's. I feel like breaking open champagne and dancing in the streets (although it would have to be in a hobbled, blister-footed sort of way). And I'm so out-of-my-mind thrilled for Husband, who ran an amazing race and smashed his previous PR time by 17 minutes.

Not sure what to think...

about the fact that my new nearly-29-year-old license photo looks EXACTLY THE SAME as my 21-year-old license.

$3.69

In line at Caribou:

Girl: These drinks are like, so overpriced. I mean, like, they cost as much as a gallon of gas.
Girl 2: Totally.

Why my physical therapist makes me blush

It starts with the fact that he's cute. Then there's that he's digging around in my pelvis, plucking my groin muscles like a banjo, searching around for the exact spot that's causing me pain that's about two inches from another famously hard to find spot...

Dr. Cute: "Is it there?"
Tacohead: "Not quite. It's a little to the left, I think... just a bit more..."
Tacohead: Grunt of pain as he hits the spot
Dr. Cute: "Got it."

I think I could handle all that, I really could, if it wasn't for his coaching patter as he works out the sore spots. He usually gets us into a contorted position and has me push my leg against him in resistance as he presses his finger harder and harder into the stubborn muscle, getting it to relax and yield.

And all the while, he's saying things like:
"Come on, come on, come on, come on, you got it..."
Or:
"Right there, right there, right there, yeah, right there..."

What's a girl to do?

In training

THINGS THAT BREAK YOUR HEART
A soon-to-be-new-mom, five months left to go, assembles the newly purchased jogging stroller and takes it out on a run, a bag of sugar buckled in the seat, so that she'll be ready when her new daughter arrives from Ethiopia.

Monthly book post: April

April book list
Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella. Lexi wakes up after an accident and can't remember the last three years of her life, in which she suddenly became successful, married, and somewhat of a bitch. I always look forward to Kinsella's latest--pure beach read goodness.

Curse of the Spellmans by Lisa Lutz. What life would be like if your family was in the spy business and you used your spy skills (surveillance, breaking & entering, GPS tracking) to solve your problems (i.e. your suspicious boyfriend and troublesome younger sister). As fun and clever as the prequel.

Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino. Two Japanese prep school grads wind up as dead prostitutes... as told by their classmate and sister. An interesting exploration of character.

The Senator's Wife by Sue Miller.
Beginner's Greek by James Collin.
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.

Also read
The Chamomile Lawn by Mary Wesley
Hanna's daughters by Marianne Fredriksson

Half Marathon #5

I wouldn't normally run on a day (at least, a day in late April) that required the removal of ice chunks from one's eyelashes, brows, and forehead every ten minutes...but we'd already signed up.




And when you and Husband decided (on Tuesday, when the sun was shining) that you should push it, and see if you could break your half marathon records, well, you'd already committed to that, too.

It's not like we wanted to linger out there.

So pushing it as hard as we could, accepting glasses of water half full with snow at water stops, with eyes half shut and cheeks stinging, we ran, and amazingly, finished in time to earn Husband a PR and to be within 20 seconds of my PR.



















The hot coffee at the finish line never tasted so good.