Monday, March 28, 2011

Hiking hiatus.

See those toes? (Sorry people who hate feet, and sorry everyone for making you look at my ugly feet. At least I used Hipstamatic to gussy them up a little.) I touched those toes today. Actually, I sat down, leaned forward, hooked my fingers over my big toes, straightened my knees COMPLETELY, and lifted my heels off of the ground. Yeah. I touched my toes!

Probably not a huge deal to most of the population, but I've never been flexible. I always had one of the worst scores on the sit-and-reach test in gym. I've never done the splits. My toe-touches stunk. In the interest of gaining some flexibility, strengthening my core, and working out some running ouchies, I thought I'd try yoga.  So today I attended my fourth Bikram class in the past week, and I smiled during class, and I touched my toes! It's been raining excessively, even for Portland, and chilly, so I thought a beginner's month of yoga would give me something to do and maybe lift my spirits. Some days, it has been awful. But the other two! I've felt great, considering that it's hell, and I've impressed myself in the process.

I could get hooked on this... if I stay unemployed, and if it were always as affordable as the intro special. Maybe it will stick! I sure like touching my toes.

Oh, the color on those cod-white dogs is Siberian Nights by OPI. One of my favorite colors ever. It's a deep, dark purple. I know when the instructor says "pull those goth toenails higher!" she's talking to me. Love it!

Saturday, March 19, 2011


When I was college, one hundred years ago, the "look" for sorority girls was black, flare-legged, tight pants that I called "porn pants," and the ubiquitous Kate Spade diaper bag became THE bag to carry with said pants. Or any time, really. I was never a fan. Rigid-sided and almost triangular, in a black fabric, it looked just like its nickname: A diaper bag! I'll cop to wearing the black pants, but really, Kate Spade never did it for me.

I changed my mind. J'adore this bag. Especially in this amazing orange, though I wish it were a little bigger. The larger Scout only comes in natural and white. It strikes me as the perfect bag for a day trip or walking around the city. Any city. Plus, I do like that smaller purses limit the amount of junk I can carry around. I'm adding this to the rapidly growing list of Things I Wish I Could Buy Upon Employment.

Kate Spade Essex Small Scout in Orange

Friday, March 18, 2011

oh mi oh my.

Ummm, I cut my finger to the bone last night. My most important finger. My giving-the-bird finger. Now I'm worried it's going to fall off. I know... I'm being a giant baby, but it's pretty much the worst injury I've ever sustained. It may have required stitches, but luckily my awesome brother brought me first aid supplies and we fixed it. And now I can't button my pants.

An aside, this reminds me of a game that my brother likes to play called "would you rather?" with twisted questions, that a certain friend of mine is very good at asking, like "would you rather have fins for hands or all proteins and vegetables taste like rusty nails?" This inevitably leads me to ask if I'm able to put on my own pants and a bra if I have fins for hands (the answer was yes, I would learn).

Anyway, the lesson here is USE THE SAFETY GUARD THAT COMES WITH YOUR MANDOLINE SLICER. Also, make this recipe below from Fried Wontons for You. The hubs doesn't like corned beef, even on St. Patrick's Day (I know...), and sandwiches were on my mind. It's hard to make things that are convenient for a late-night meal. This was perfect. I think of it as a take on bahn mi, and it is amazing.

The pickling technique is ingenious and I will be using it again soon. Who knew it could be so simple?! I roasted the pork early in the day, sliced it cold, and made sriracha mayo instead of the mustard. Also, I sprinkled minced red onion and a hearty handful of cilantro onto butter-toasted sourdough rolls. So. Freaking. Good. Would be really great for a casual party on small tea rolls. I can't wait to make it again!

Roasted Pork Loin Sandwich

P.S. Sorry there are no pictures. Hers are better anyway. And this took me 45 minutes to write with my Franken-finger. OUCH.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

not p*rn.

Here is a beautiful Web site full of celebrities at their best. I think it's easy to forget that they ARE real people. My favorites are when they are caught off-guard, but in a good way, not in a drunk-and-in-the-bushes way.

This Is Not Porn

EDIT: This has to be one of my FAVORITES.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011


Are you a hugger? Slate has an interesting article today from a vehement non-hugger.

I am a hugger. I'm worse after a couple glasses of wine, too. Sometimes I even devolve into a snuggler. (Though I could totally be converted to the double-cheek kiss, or just the single-cheek kiss as my girlfriends in New York do.) However, I can respect that lots of people are not. The only thing more awkward than the dead-fish handshake is the dead-fish hug. The half-assed, patting-the-back, oh-god-we're-doing-this semi-embrace. Yuck.

The thing I don't like about this article is that she's made me feel like a needy puppy, pressing myself on everyone around me. Look, I know those people, and they are annoying. I don't like being lumped into one big category of HUGGERS. I try to read people's body language and emotions, and I respect the non-huggers out there. Is the onus on the hugger or the hug-ee to deflect the embrace? I'm not trying to tongue kiss you! Now come give me a squeeze.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Conversation we had on Saturday:

Me: So those things I asked you to do...
D: Yeah (rattles them off)
Me: Oh, so you remembered? You're just making me ask you about them?
D: No, I just don't want to do them.
Me: Well, that's obvious...

And then we laughed like maniacs. Love being married to my guy. I don't know how I got so lucky and he picked me. ME! 

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

You can always go back, can't you?

I went for a run today (on an empty stomach - what was I thinking?), and halfway through my miserable run (due to not eating anything since last night), I had a mind-clearing realization (and not the good kind where you become a vegan or stop drinking martinis): As of next week, I've officially been "unemployed" for six months. What a loser! I mean, I guess I could get a pass and say less than five since we landed in Oregon in mid-October. Still, I felt terrible.

We moved our life halfway across the country, but what have I done to move my life forward? Sure, I've brainstormed and crafted, cleaned and entertained, hiked and read, baked thousands of calories worth of chocolate, but I have little to show for it. I am job hunting, and it's not fruitless, but it still somehow seems discouraging. Not contributing is not how I roll. I worry that poor D is going to wake up one day and go "why am I hauling around this hundred-and-mrrumphthing pound bag of flesh around in my life?" Not that he ever would. He never, ever makes me feel bad about our current situation. Believe me, I try and find ways to make up for it, but I want to be doing more to help US.

Luckily for me, I have an AMAZING and supportive set of friends and family in addition to an awesome husband. Many of them are far away, but I'm (obviously) an embracer of technology and find a variety of ways to kvetch and moan to them from afar. (TY, dear people.)

Despite being somewhat nervous/anxious/sad/worried about my future, I cannot help but feel mostly optimistic. I don't want to jinx it, but there is a twitching encouragement in my gut that says fantastic things, even more fantastic things!, are right on the horizon. I just have to look forward and hope I can make everyone proud of me one of these days and keep counting all of my many blessings. At the end of the day, I'm a damn lucky girl.