The unparalelled delight of artisanal cheese

If you’re reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that I like food. I really like food. I go on vacation and the first thing I decide is where I’ll go. The second thing is where I’ll eat. I just really like food, everything about it. I love shopping for it, preparing it, serving it beautifully, enjoying it – preferably with someone I love – and yes, oddly enough, I even enjoy cleaning up afterward. The delicious memories of flavor and conversation can transport me back and allow me to savor the indulgence all over again.

Behold the power of cheese.

Cheese, after all, is a food. And in my book, it ranks right up there as something to be enjoyed, as often as possible, within reason. Good cheese, mind you. Not that “processed cheese food,” which is something you feed the cheese. Not “cheese product,” which is something produced by the cheese. No, gentle reader, invest in real, authentic, melt-in-your-mouth flavorful rich cheese and be transformed.

It’s not gonna cure cancer (but I have a theory that blue paint or new tattoo will). It’s not going to get us out of Iraq, and it sure isn’t going to make up for antidepressants or your ADD meds, but really good cheese can give you moments of perfect enjoyment.

Yesterday, I had some amazing Stilton with herbs and mushrooms in the mix. Subtle and luscious, I can hardly wait to get home and have more. Then there was this moldy green veiny stuff that tasted so pure and perfect, I thought I’d died and gone to Cheese Heaven. And finally, a cheddar/blue blend that just about shocked me. I went back for seconds.

I know what they say … cheese is full of fat, it’s bad for you. But I say, pishaw! Choose a cheese that you love, one with strong flavors, and just have a little less of it. Quality over quantity in all things, right? A little something tasty, accompanied by crusty bread and conversation.

Ten on Tuesday

1) Muscle fatigue, or I'm getting to old for this.
At Hip-Hop class last night, Laurel tried to kill me. There was this combination of walk x8 punch kick punch kick run spin POW that was fun at first, but the more we danced - including the fall to the floor convulse crawl crawl technique - the more fatigued my right quad became. By the time we ran through the routine four times at the end, I couldn't control the spin. It was almost sad, but I think it ended up just plain funny. And I think John would've caught me. Eventually.

2) Seems like old times, or where have you been for 17 years?
After 17 years without talking to each other, my friend Eric and I now talk regularly and plan to eat food together when opportunity strikes. I love that, back then, it was very much the same, except in 1992, Indian food wasn't readily available. Food and conversations seem to be a constant with all of my good friends. It's gratifying to realize that this has been a part of me for as long as I've been making true friends.

3) Can you hear me now?, or totally tubular.
Kelly was deaf a few weeks ago. She saw Dr. Mel Gibson last week and it looks like she might be on the mend. Tubes: they're not just for watersports anymore.

4) Don't go backward, or swimming through pudding.
I continue to struggle with ... oh, let's call them "financial challenges." But every day I'm getting a clearer picture, coming to terms with the error of my ways, and moving forward, making better choices. This very real and honest approach to money has been coming for three years; it's the last challenge in the wake of my failed marriage. My head is out of the sand, which makes it so much easier to see.

5) Does anybody really know what time it is?, or maybe I'll replace the battery.
I haven't worn a watch since I got out of college. I was so bound by the clock in those days, always needing to be somewhere at some time - in class by 8 a.m., at work at 11, at Friends & Co. by 9 - so when I took off the timepiece in the summer of '97, I didn't put one back on. And I'm starting to miss it. Back in the Days of Stu, we bought each other watches; it was our "thing." The fine people at Disney gave me a beautiful watch as a wedding gift. There's also one that once belonged to Tucson Mike that's in a drawer, somewhere, tucked away after it's mood dial ceased to be moody. Maybe I should dust one of them off, replace the batteries, and wear it ... to remind me of the time today, and times long since passed that made me who I am.

6) Squishing a baby, or why do they live so far away?
This weekend, my CharlieDad, Evil Stepmother and fake stepsister will be visiting Bex, Matt and Alice (and Izzie, but she won't have much to say.) So this weekend will also find me in the Aurora area, visiting with my biological family and dropping in on Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje. I love it when they visit, and I love visiting them. I hate it when we part ways. But I'm not focusing on that. I'm focusing on the love I'll get to soak up from two of my families, and the giggles that ensue when I'm around Alice.

7) It's only a 5k, or there's never been a better reason to run.
Yes, I'm still going to run the Bunny Dash 5K in Palatine on April 4. Yes, I realize I need my head examined. But I contacted the organizers of the run, they assured me (after telling me that my e-mail was the most entertaining they'd received all week, in part because I admitted that I generally don't run unless someone's chasing me with a knife) that the run is designed for serious athletes and fun-seekers alike. And you know me - always up for a challenge, especially when fun is allowed. It's like three miles; I can so do this.

8) The opposite of tragic, or dis-tragic meat.
We could argue the meaning of "tragedy" all day long and still not come to a consensus, because I believe it's a largely subjective term. One man's tragedy isn't even in another man's top ten. But the opposite of tragedy, or tragic, would be spending a Friday evening at my place with a home-grilled burger (medium, thank you, topped with Colby,) some potato salad and "Across the Universe" on DVD, served up with the company of none other than Shakespeare. The opposite of tragic. Un-tragic. Anti-tragic. Dis-tragic. Or maybe ... Awesome?

9) Speaking of meat, or I miss Diane.
Really, totally stream of consciousness here. My friend Di is married to a guy named Justin, whom we affectionately call "Meat." This dates back to a huge slab of chicken-fried steak he ordered up at Rock Bottom years ago; the name stuck, and all these years later, I can't think of meat without thinking of Justin. Oh, get your minds out of the gutter. Anyway, that only serves to remind me that it's been at least a month since I've visited them, and I'm going to have to call them right away. I need a dose of baby love, Eva love and Aidan love, and I know just where to get it!

10) I can taste the difference, or moo.
I've started to pay a little more attention to my groceries. I'm cutting corners wherever I can in order to save money, but I'm also investing in a few items that are really high quality. Organic milk, cage-free eggs and local produce is now part of my shopping each week. And I swear, I can taste the difference. I pay a little bit more - and only just a little bit - to feel good about what I'm putting into my body. Don't even get me started on the Valencia orange/mango juice; decadent beyond measure, and so worth it.

Did I miss my calling?

Every time Shakespeare is at my house, she tells me how pretty my makeup is. Not on my face, no; in the basket on the back of the toilet. So I shouldn't be surprised, should I, that when she left her makeup bag at work and was going out for the evening, that I got called upon to tap into my artistic side and make a gorgeous girl even moreso.

I can't paint or draw, but give me a face and I can make magic! Of course, it doesn't hurt when you start out with a beautiful canvas. We had a little lunch, and then got to work.

Homemade cornbread and Shakespeare.

She chose the eyeliner color that most closely matched the scar on the back of my hand.

The beautiful girl with a beautiful smile. The look we went for was "natural, but better."

It totally works for her! Her eyes are just crazy beautiful.

Me and my dear friend.
And yeah, I am completely aware that my head
looks twice the size of hers. And I don't care.

Sometimes I wonder ...

... when I'm on the phone with a customer service representative and I adapt to their way of speaking - especially a Southern accent - if they notice. And if they do, do they think I'm making fun of them? Do they make faces as we're talking, or flip me the bird, or spit on my purchases?

I'm not making fun of them. I love accents. Maybe, in a past life, I lived in the South. Maybe I come by it naturally. I think it's possible, don't y'all?

Definition

It's funny to me how even the word "definition" can be hard to define.

There's the definition of body - like the way Lifetime John's biceps make me swoon, or how Trainer Chuck looks in clothes, or Donna's quads ripple through her yoga pants. I'm starting to get my own definition, in my calves and shoulders. It's nice. It's hard work. It's worth it.

But that's not really the type of definition on my mind today. No, today I'm thinking about the vast array of people I love, and how together we seem to be masters of defying definition. We weave in and out of our roles as effortlessly as the snow falls on a cold February night.

It can be difficult, sometimes, not to want to put us in a box and label us for the world to see, but that usually doesn't work. Not when you're mothered by your high school friend, kissing your devastatingly handsome best friend in the back seat of a gold Taurus on a long ago Mother's Day (much to the chagrin of the driver,) sharing secrets with BioSis, gathering in a Michigan kitchen to make magic and dinner with the other side of your heart, or reaching back in time to reclaim a friendship that should have been forgotten in another century.

We simply won't be defined, which explains why I have fake stepbrothers and a sister who married my brother and mothers who are younger than I and an evil stepmother who is everything but evil and a CharlieDad and a Real Dad and sisters who are neither fake nor step and friends whose brains are as beautiful as their physical presence and family to the North-and-Southwest and an Italian mama and a Jewish grandma and nieces and nephews who hold my heart and a mother-in-law I refuse to call "ex."

It's who I am. It's who we are.

No matter how you define it.

Ten on Tuesday that remained unfinished until Wednesday

1. I really love having Monday off. Somehow, when the first day of the workweek is Tuesday, it's not so tough to take.
2. That being said, what it means in reality is that I have five days of work and only two days to do it, but it's worth it.
3. I'm coming down with a case of the nasties. Stuffed-up nose, scratchy throat, general feeling of blech. But other than that, I am absolutely fine. At least, health-wise, I'm fine. I may be a bundle of emotional craziness, I may need guidance in many areas of my life, but I have my health. Hear that, Brian?
4. Speaking of my health, Shakespeare's back for Monday night classes! We get to dance our collective booties off in Hip-Hop and Salsa/Funk. It's awesome. Two dances in Hip-Hop, both were a blast (and my shoulders talked to me about them today.) As always, Salsa is the best thing I can do for myself. Donna, the instructor, just pours her soul into the class. She's amazing. Someday, I will kick like her.
5. Two additional guinea pigs have discovered the wonder that is my cinnamon rolls. Eric and Cute Brian have discovered that the love is just as important as the cinnamon. Depending on the mood of the person enjoying them, my cinnamon rolls can provide comfort, express love, fill an empty tummy, encourage an aching soul and make a rough day better. Really.
6. As usual, I'm late to the technology party. Ryan at the office introduced me to Pandora awhile back, and I just really started using it. I love it! Don't know what Pandora is? Go here and check it out. You pretty much tell it what music you like, and it will set up a station for you. I've found some great stuff through their suggestions.
7. No matter how much great new music I find, I always go back to Joni Mitchell, eventually.
8. Good friends and food are an unbeatable combination.
9. Sometimes, moving forward in life is like swimming in pudding. It's slow going, and sometimes you have to just stand still and catch your breath, but you have to keep moving forward. Obstacles are but opportunities to amaze yourself.
10. One of my dear friends (and you know who you are) is going through a rough patch right now, handling some pretty serious stuff with people in his/her life. Life has a pretty scary way of helping us align our priorities with our values sometimes, forcing us to focus on what's really important and reminding us of what that is. It's difficult. It's scary. It ain't no walk in the park. But I love you all the time, I'm here for you whenever you need me, and I'll be the one to tend to your needs while you tend to everyone else's. Because you've done it for me countless times, and its an honor and a privilege to return the favor.

Ach-oo!

I have a cat.

Two of my best friends are allergic to cats. Yes, even my cat, the coolest feline EVER.

Yet, they never shy away from spending time at my place. They'll sneeze, their eyes will itch a bit, but they'll pet the cat, they'll smoosh his face, and then they'll just wash their hands until the next time he demands their attention.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I love that my friends will cope with a little discomfort to spend time with me. 

Now if only the damn cat would stop cleaning himself in the middle of the living room. Damn show-off.

Heartache, healing and the promise of tomorrow

So it's Valentine's Day. For another few hours, anyway. As I sit in my cluttered apartment, surrounded by reminders of the great love in my life, I can't help but remember that three years ago tonight, it became clear that my marriage was over. And three years ago tonight, I decided I was worth more than a man who would spend Valentine's Day chatting online with his girlfriend.

Tonight is the anniversary of a reclaimed life. February 14 is not Valentine's Day; it's Independence Day.

The past three years have brought me a bigger world and greater opportunities to give and accept love. I'm pleased that I've been open to it, although at times it has been a challenge. And what's more, when I look over my shoulder to look at Margaret circa 2006, I don't recognize her.

There's still plenty of damage, but the empty shell is gone. The wounded bird accepted the love of those around her, and I'll be damned ... she's on the road to healing. I wouldn't have thought it would happen, but when I wasn't paying attention, it did. 

I don't take lightly this transformation from empty-shell girl to the person I am today, and I know it has only been possible because people have loved me through it. Old friend, new family, actual family or resident of my heart, you have helped me realize that three years ago tonight, I chose something more than the stagnant, dying version of myself. I chose the person you knew was there all along. 

I don't know what the next year will bring, but I know the journey will be filled with tears and laughter, cuddles and cocktails, music and conversation, love ... and more love. 

Life is grand. Love is real. I'm living proof.

One on Wednesday

One of my favorite parts of any trip, it would seem, are the moments just before bed. Whoever is still awake gathers wherever we are, the walls fall away, and beautiful honesty flows from us like sangria from an overturned pitcher. It happened in January 2008 in Disney World with my dad ... one of the most meaningful conversations we've ever had. It happened at the lake house last summer, when Ryan and I let go of secrets and trusted each other with reality. It happens every time Kelly and I (and whoever we might be with) curl up after a night out, when we debrief the night and put our own reflections in order. It happened in Jacksonville last month, around a Scrabble board or curled up on the sofa with J.J. and Chunk. And yes, it happens every time Racheal and I are together. Our shared wisdom and undeniable truth won't be held back. We let it go.

Two nights in a row, the friend of my heart and I sat, shared and cried (me, not her.) I always carry with me insight from our talks, and this time was no exception. We talked about experiences and past hurts and what the future might look like, and I expressed my belief that, because I still can't see past the pain of a broken marriage, I figured I'd get comfortable being alone for whatever time stretches between Now and Eternity.

That's fine with me, She said, as long as it makes you happy. But if it doesn't make you happy, don't close the door on it.

And the tears fell. It's such a tender subject, still such a fresh wound.

Eventually, we turned in for the night; Monday was an early morning, after all. We said our goodbyes and parted ways, each of us stronger for having spent time with the other. I boarded the plane and waited for the go-ahead to turn on the iPod. The first song up on my Tucson Playlist? Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers' "Leave an Open Door."

I can see a light all around your silhouette
Leave an open door behind you ...
Carry on

I walked through the damn door, but I left it open, just in case someday, someone worthy chooses to walk through.

A Tale of Tucson ... pictorial edition

If you want the story, read the previous post. But I know what you really want ... pictures! Of course you're probably not as crazy about pictures of animals, cacti and mountains as I am - you want pictures of the human residents of Chez Rice Tucson. Too bad, you're getting all of it. Well not all of it ... I edited it down considerably. Here goes!

Max doesn't hide from me anymore! I absolutely love this cat.

Eddie ... best dog ever!

Kaylee loves her doggie!

Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Pork Chop?

Isn't this a great picture of Kaylee?

Choosing which trail to follow in Sabino Canyon.

Starting at mile zero ... wave to my shadow!

That sky ... the mountains ... Ryan, this is what the real ones look like.

Racheal and Kaylee, surrounded by the raw beauty of the dessert.

Our path. Which is really a road, but "path" sounds better.

Our surroundings as we walked.

I have no idea why, but the girl has a need to wear her socks on her hands.

Snack time!

Walking back.

Still walking back. There was a moment when I thought I might fall apart!

It was rainy. You really can't tell, but it was beautiful.

Kaylee reads.

I just love how Gabby looks in this picture.

How do you answer the question, "What's on TV tonight?"

A Tale of Tucson

Flying in late on a Friday and out early on a Monday may not be everyone's idea of a perfect weekend, but when one considers that Saturday and Sunday were spent at Chez Rice Tucson, in the company of the beautiful Ladies Rice, it's worth it.

Between the tranquil and always lovely Racheal, the awe-inspiring energy and beauty of Kaylee and the menagerie that is Eddie, Pork Chop, Max and Gabby, I'm just bursting with stored-up love. The trip didn't end up the way we originally planned it, but I believe it was exactly as it was meant to be.

With Mike in Syracuse for the SND conference, it was the House of Women this weekend. Time for girlie activities like shopping for yarn and looking at fabric and being ladies who lunch and staying up late and good morning coffee and play dough and colorforms and why is Eddie licking my shoe and dainty desserts and power hikes in Sabino Canyon. It was beautiful. It was restful. It was perfect.

From start to finish, my trip was one delightful experience after another. My flight was on time, so I had a little more than an hour to wait. Settling into my seat at the gate at O'Hare on Friday night, I got out my knitting and a young lady asked me what I was working on. I didn't know, but that didn't stop us from talking. Her name is Jessie, and she's 18. She'll soon be the youngest department manager for any PetSmart in the country; pretty neat young lady! She was heading back home to Tucson after her grandmother's funeral. I learned a great deal of her life story - see, sometimes I listen instead of speak! - and I hope I was able to offer a bit of comfort and advice to a fine young woman at a crossroads in her life.

After we landed in Tucson and I made my way outside (blissful warmth!) to wait for my ride (beautiful Racheal and Kaylee!) I found Jessie again. There were three young men vying for her attention, asking her out for drinks, and she seemed visably uncomfortable. Or maybe that's just the overprotective part of me, I dunno, but that was my perception. So I walked up behind her, put my arm around her and said, "Well, there you are, daughter of mine! How did we get separated?"

I've never seen three guys retreat so quickly in such perfect unison. Truly a vision to behold.

Not even a minute later, Jessie's boyfriend arrived and we hugged our goodbyes (yes, I hugged a woman I didn't even know earlier that day) and my ride arrived! I was home!

The drive wasn't long, and pretty soon Kaylee was in bed ... followed shortly by me and Racheal. Do we know how to party, or what? But we needed our rest; Saturday was full of activity!

Shortly after I woke up, Racheal left Kaylee with me (daredevil that she is) and went to get a haircut. Kaylee and I played on the floor and she didn't kick up a fuss at all when her mom left! We had almost an hour of uninterrupted auntie and niece time. Completely uninterrupted. The child followed me to the bathroom and was kind enough to shut the door. With herself inside.

The things you do for the people you love.

When Rae came back, I got dressed and we headed out for our first adventure of the day: Find Kiwi Knitting Company! And find it we did. A beautiful shop, complete with an Airedale greeting committee and employees willing to give us a tour. I bought some gorgeous green heathery yarn and a pattern for wintery lace arm warmers and needles in a size I didn't already have. It was awesome. We touched lots of beautiful yarn; it was hard to choose just one, but I behaved.

We checked out the fabric store next door, got a little inspiration (Rae and I will upholster the world if left unattended!) and then headed for lunch. We ate at the place with really awesome mango salsa. I don't remember the name, but I remember the salsa, and the chipotle shrimp salad I ate. Delish!

After lunch and naptime (Kaylee's, not mine) we headed to Sabino Canyon. The last time I was there feels like a lifetime ago. There were four of us on that walk - Mike, Racheal, me and Christopher. Somehow, it felt right to be just us girls this time, Racheal pushing the stroller, the two of us talking the whole time (except for gasping up that last ... steep ... hill) and Kaylee singing to herself and taking in the scenery.

If you've never been there, you owe it to yourself to go. It's breathtaking. It's a world away from my day-to-day. The wonder and majesty of the mountains and the blue sky cannot be described by mere words. You've got to see it to believe it. (Special note to Ryan: Real mountains are in Tucson. Seriously.)

We went to a swanky little gourmet restaurant for dinner, Sweet Tomatoes. Okay, it's neither swanky nor little nor gourmet, but they had something for everyone, and ice cream for dessert. Pretty much met my criteria, for sure. We were hungry after our hike (three miles - aren't you proud?) so I just enjoyed what my taste buds asked for. Delish. Especially the ice cream. You haven't lived until you've seen Kaylee eat ice cream.

Racheal and I picked up a bottle of wine to share over a movie at home after Kaylee went to bed. We each had one glass and never settled on a movie, because we were too busy talking. We're open books to each other, and the conversation just flows. Far beyond our bedtime, we talked and yawned and worked to keep our eyes open until sleep won us over and we headed to bed.

A quick word about "my room" in Tucson: Mike and Rae have the World's Most Comfortable Sofabed. Forget everything you think you know about sofabeds; this thing is a cloud. I slept like a baby three nights in a row. Except I didn't cry (except for that one time) and I never peed the bed.

Another quick word: In true Rice family fashion, the conversation eventually turned to poop. Took a little longer - hey, we're girls - but by Sunday night, there we were.

Anyway, Sunday found both Racheal and me feeling pretty lazy. That's what a three-mile power hike will do to ya. So we took it easy. We had potato pancakes for breakfast (Mike and Rae get the most awesome organic produce!) and fiddled around the house all morning. We watched Curious George (he's still curious!) and played with play dough and cuddled and giggled and loved the furry creatures (including me, I haven't shaved) and had a delicious lunch. Have you ever had Romanesco? Neither had I, until Sunday. More of the organic goodness, it's a funky cauliflower or broccoli-like veggie that is beautiful and delicious. Paired with broccoli and a juicy steak, it was heavenly.

After Kaylee's Sunday nap, we headed out to purchase my only souvenir: prickly pear cactus jelly for my friend Eric. Having procured that, we headed back home to enjoy a rare rainstorm in the desert. It's a very different event in the Southwest. It has its own personality; it sneaks up on you and falls in perfect harmony with the mountains around you.

Now Rae is a very wise woman. Given the choice between cooking dinner, having me cook dinner, or having someone else do the work, she chose to dine out. Another delicious meal in Tucson ended with probably my favorite flavors of the trip (except maybe that mango salsa): ginger and green tea crème brûlée. Nirvana!

Far too soon, it was time to head home and to bed, for this was an early morning. But that didn't stop Rae and I from staying up and talking once again, pouring out our dreams and hopes and wishes. Who will Kaylee become? Who will we become? How did we become so fortunate as to be intertwined with such an awesome group of people - ourselves included? The tissues came out (I cry so easily!) and the dogs came in for a cuddle and life just doesn't get better than those moments shared with friends.

I didn't cry this morning at the airport. I'm beginning to realize that when we part ways, it's not a time of goodbye; it's "so long for now," it's "see you later," it's "until we meet again." So while I never feel better than I do when I'm with them, I know our time apart is never long, relatively speaking.

Now, I'm fully aware of the 3-oz rule when it comes to liquids and gels in carry-on luggage. How I managed to forget that prickly pear cactus jelly falls into that category is beyond me, but I had to surrender the 8-oz jar at security. And I felt pretty stupid, until the agent told me I wasn't the first person today to make the exact same mistake, and there is not way I'd be the last. So let this serve as a public-service announcement: JELLY IS A GEL. We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

My flight home was on time, and I was in a pretty happy mood despite the fact that I hadn't had coffee and part of my heart was in a white Elantra headed somewhere else and I was down one jar of jelly. I got settled in 25A and watched the sun come up over the mountains as we took off. When beverage service began, my seat mate ordered a cup of coffee and a container of milk. I ordered coffee with cream and sugar, but he poured his milk into my cup instead of the non-dairy powdered stuff they offered. "I can't let you drink the fake stuff," he said. We started talking, and I was fascinated.

Rob works for a publishing company, in sales and marketing. He was in Tucson for the gem show, because that's part of his product line: books on gemstones. So we talked about that and how much he travels and a little about me and then I asked where his accent was from.

He was born in Australia but has lived in Vermont for 20 years. And here's where his story gets really interesting: He works for a publisher, but two years ago, he and his wife bought an organic berry farm. This man could talk for hours about the farm; it is obviously his joy and his passion. He showed me pictures. He told me about how perfectly the farm was planned, allowing the sun and prevailing winds to nurture the berries to their perfect potential. The farm, he says, will be his "third act." His life is playing out in three acts: He was an actor and singer in Australia, then he came to the states to get "a proper job," as he put it, in that amazing accent. But it's the third act he's most excited about. The man and his berries ... we'd still be talking if he hadn't had a connecting flight to catch.

So my trip ended as it began, with a conversation with a stranger. On my way to Tucson, I was the elder, the advisor, the mentor, helping Jessie see her potential and enjoy her transition into a new profession. But today, I was the youngster, learning that my life can have as many acts as I choose. That should make Racheal happy; no, honey, I haven't given up on any of it. At least not permanently.

And now I've droned on and on and probably put you to sleep, gentle readers, and I apologize. I can, however, promise you photographs within the next few days. There is more to tell and much to see. But in the final analysis, I think we'll just have to chalk it up to another lesson of "life is good."

By the way, if you're ever in Rochester, VT during blueberry or raspberry season, please stop at the Sunshine Valley Organic Berry Farm and pick yourself some goodness. Check them out at http://vermontberries.com. If Rob's enthusiasm is indicative of a fraction of how good the berries are, anyone lucky enough to enjoy them is in for a pleasant surprise.

Ten on Obviously I Didn't Get to it on Tuesday

1. I am so excited that we (and by "we" I mean "I" but I'm happy to share) get to see James this summer. Unexpected and wonderful and hot damn.
2. I found a simple cardigan sweater pattern so I can knit Izzabutt a sweater to go with her hat and booties. I have just over 80 days to accomplish this. I'm a little nervous.
3. I got really sick at the gym on Monday and had to leave class. I hated being sick. I loved that John worried about me and called to check up on me. It's good to know that if I had a tragic accident, someone would probably miss me before my rotting corpse started to smell.
4. I am running a 5K. On April 4. That means I need to start training pretty much yesterday. (It also means I need to invest in a really good sports bra or I'm gonna hurt something.) I can do this. The running, not the bra; the bra part's easy. Determination, thy name is Maggie.
5. I'm a little bit hooked on Vitamin Water. I know it has very little nutritional value, I know I'd be better off just taking my damned multivitamin every day, I know I know I know. But they sucker me in with their clever writing. It makes me smile. For $1.59 a bottle. I gotta find cheaper smiles.
6. Tucson ... just a few days until Tucson. There's rain in the forecast and I don't care, because two of my favorite ladies in the universe will be there. I predict we will read books, watch fishy movies, shop for a little yarn, and have lots of hugs.
7. I've been sleeping weird lately. Like all over the place weird. Not like go to sleep in bed wake up in the tub, but go to sleep with my head here and wake up with it there. It's odd. Plus, when I wake up the sheets are a mess, and I swear to Bob I'm in there alone. At least I'm not sleepwalking. That I know of.
8. The cat pooped. For those of you who have been around for any of the various Constipation Fests, you know that sometimes this event doesn't come naturally for my big stupid furry roommate. There was much rejoicing.
9. The Black Angus Jalepeno burgers in the freezer case at Aldi? Seriously good. I dream of them. Maybe that explains the weird sleep pattern.
10. I'm getting a really bad case of cabin fever. As Cute Brian said earlier this week, "The sun is shining. The temps are rising. And good tunes have been playing on my iPod." Makes it hard to handle the fact that the little furry bastard from Punxsutawney saw his freakin' shadow. Screw you, Phil. I'm not putting up with six more weeks of winter. I demand a recount.

Random Acts of Fitness

I went to the gym tonight. My soul got a workout before I made it up to the cardio floor.

In the locker room, I heard a woman mutter, "dammit, I forgot my socks." Now, I keep my gym bag stocked with extra socks because that particular malady has struck me on many occasions. So I grabbed my spare pair (clean, of course) and handed them to her. "Have a good workout," I said. She wanted to know if she could pay me for them. Can you put a price on being in the right place at the right time with the exact thing someone needs to make life better in that moment? Nope, I don't think so.

Did my 45 minutes on the elliptical (Laurel wasn't teaching HipHop tonight) and then tried for an hour of Salsa/Funk. Halfway through the class I either my gallbladder started talking to me or I got another form of stomach ache that wasn't going away, so I headed out.

In the locker room I ran into my friend Liz. After trading pleasantries (How ya doin? I'm fine ...) Liz finally told the truth. "Actually, I feel like crap. I can't get back in the groove and I'm still wearing Christmas."

Well, Liz, I told her, you could keep thinking that. Or you can remind yourself that you're here, now. You've finished your workout for the day, and it's only Monday - there's a whole week ahead of you.

She smiled and thanked me. It was time for Tough Love.

"Now, get your head out of your ass," I told her. "You know what it takes - eat less, move more. Just do it. You're worth it." She teared up a little, hugged me and told me she was glad I was there, because that was just what she needed to hear.

So maybe I was meant to miss part of class so I could be there for Liz. Maybe my clean socks were meant to make a stranger's workout possible. Or maybe those women were there to remind me that when I show up, it's a good thing all around.

Post script shout-out to John: I'm fine! I was fine about an hour after I got home. No worries, dear friend, and I look forward to dancing on Wednesday and Thursday!

These friends of mine

Somewhere between my first glass of Jameson's Friday night and my burger and fries Saturday afternoon, it occurred to me that never in my adult life have I had a group of female friends whose company I enjoy this much. Shakespeare, Kelly, Amber and I are the perfect quartet of crazy. We go together like ramalamalamakadingadadingadong. Wherever we are, there is riveting conversation and a whole lot of love.

Shakespeare wonders, should I go without the hat?

Or should I throw caution to the wind and wear the doggone thing?

Amber with the cute guy. And yeah, he knew he was cute.

Shakespeare sings.

Amber and Kelly.

I know it's a funky angle and it looks like I'm taking a picture of that guy's booty,
but I really love Kelly's smile here.

It's a miracle - a picture of me I actually like! Do I look like this in real life?

Washed out and blurry. Yep, it's just another Friday night.
I love Kelly in the background here, clapping but really not paying attention.

No matter what angle you see this from, it's interesting. And weird. And cute.

I'm trying to look innocent. Shakespeare thinks that's funny.

The four of us.

Dancing the night away. I love the movement in this shot.