Scram(ble)

Biking makes me hungry enough to eat a horse, so after tonite's crazy-long, mixed-up ride I couldn't wait to scramble red pepper, cabbage, yellow zucchini, red onion, sesame seeds, eggs and feta in a wok. But my tummy continued to yearn even after such a filling meal so I followed up with yogurt and speculoos.

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?--it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's goodbye." -Kerouac

Writing running

If I could write running like Kerouac writes jazz or Iyer writes travel it'd be a glorious thing, but I'd be wasting the gift by describing the treadmill adventures I've been hooked on lately. The weather hasn't been tolerant so I've been running indoors. I wouldn't say I enjoy it, but I sweat less; sometimes my gait changes on the treadmill and one hip get bothered but I change it up and watch TV and laugh.

Breakfast on the road

I ran this morning for the first time in a while, and my body let me know that it wasn't thrilled with this decision. I got plenty of sleep last night, and the morning air was cooler than it has been, but still muggy enough to feel like I was running through water. The route was the usual short one but I felt some leg-related twinge that I could not pinpoint, so I ran on, slowly and a trifle awkwardly. I felt like it had been months since my last run instead of two paltry weeks. How easily the muscles forget.

I mixed together a scoop of protein powder, cold coffee and a banana for breakfast on the run. How I wish I could have settled down instead to the company of a certain sun-inclined gentleman and this:

:: Banana bread French toast ::

Vegetable meal

Vegetables are enticing when the humidity skyrockets and my appetite plummets. Ok, that could also be because I haven't run in a long time!

I made a Greek salad to get into the culinary swing of things. It's been a few weeks since I putted around the kitchen. So, two chopped tomatoes, half a cuke, and a bit of red pepper later, and I'm gettign out the old green bowl and adding feta, black olives, minced parsley and oregano. I probably havn't used that bowl since snow lay on my lawn. So I mixed it all up and added my special secret ingredient, and yeah, it's pretty tasty.

I stuffed some mushrooms with 3 minced garlic cloves and some Greek salad ingredients, and baked the caps for 20 minutes at 350 degrees.

This was all very delicious. I was going to try to dry out after Bluesfest, camping expeditions and family visits, but a glass of white wine was wonderful with this earthy, evening-long meal.

Conniving kitty

"With a single stroke of my talon-like claws I could scratch this screen into a million pieces and make my grand escape, but you'd miss me too much. See how selfless I can be?"

Steps

I watched a Flaming Lips concert last night. The Lips affect me like yoga: when I listen to their music, I feel calm and assured that things are going to be okay, which is also how I feel after a yoga class (like yin). I can usually arrive at a positive conclusion on my own but oh can I flounder when the path ahead is foggy and the events of my life are changing but not; in flux yet stalled at the same time. I like how the Lips sing about the the obvious (everyone is going to die) and then comfort us by saying that life is a gift. I suppose it depends on your focus: the sun isn't setting, the darkness is an effect of the earth spinning around. And the act of dying is not an end to life but an opportunity to check out what the hype is all about. (Ever the fact finder.)

Sometimes I contemplate the choices I made in the past and I wonder how I have changed. If I'd known I'd still be ambling along this path, would I have treated people differently or taken different risks? Would I have committed myself to this path to begin with? And now, will I ever step off?

The show must go on

I missed my long run yesterday, so I went for a longer-than-usual weekday run this morning - about 40 minutes. It was a quiet adventure. The path was sparsely populated with cyclists and even the geese were barely representin'. I don't know how to explain the lack of fowl, but the low numbers of humans might be evidence that the government days of summer vacation are now upon us. Every June, the volume of cyclists on the paths in the morning hours jumps astronomically, and it becomes difficult to find a safe place downtown to lock up my bike for the day. Later, in July, government workers take holidays and the volume of cyclists decreases, which in turn increases my general happiness during my morning commute! I like a lot of room, what can I say.

The paths are not deserted, though. This morning I spied a woman on a bike dressed as a clown. No wig or theatrical makeup - not even a red honka-honka nose! - and I didn't notice any extra-long red shoes curled across the pedals, so I guess she was a clown from the neck down and the ankles up. A clown/human hybrid.

Summer day

It's a summer day in the city, so you grab your bike for a ride. The sun is bright in the sky but you can't feel the heat in the shade of the trees along the path. You head to the marina parking lot and choose a wooden bench by the water. When you step off the bike, the pavement burns your feet. You spend 5 minutes squishing your chocolate-mocha granola bars into bill-sized pieces for the ducks. A squirt of h2o and a stretch, and then you're back in the saddle, waving to the ducks. An old guy sitting in a parked truck waves back.

You carry on to downtown, toward the smells of steak and lilacs and exhaust, until you find a small garden packed with friends sitting under a trellis, smiling and eating chocolate chip cookies.

A glass of lemonade with clinking ice cubes and a lemon slice finds its way into your hand, and a bowl of cloud-like whipped cream and lipstick-red strawberries on biscuits appears before you. Like a desert tourist crazed with thirst, you feel compelled to reach for this mirage with both hands. Then it is in your hands. And then it is not a mirage but a miracle, a tasty miracle, and then all that is left is an empty plastic bowl and whipped cream on your fingers. You bike home through traffic with a delicious memory imprinted on your tastebuds. The straps of your backpack rest on the sunburnt areas of your shoulders. It's a summer day in the city.

"I guess you were destined to come to this party today."

Stuffed

We tried an interesting-sounding recipe: pizza mushrooms. The pizza toppings are piled on portobello caps instead of dough crust and might appeal to those opting for gluten-free, veggie and vegan diets. You could also add pizza-appropriate meats or anchovies. I won't tell you what to add, but the recipe went a little something like this:

• 6 mushrooms



• minced red onion



• lots of minced garlic



• 1 tbsp of pesto



• oregano



• 2-3 tsp balsamic vinegar



• salt and fresh pepper



• 1 tomato, chopped



• parmesan cheese

Clean the mushrooms and remove the stems. Place the caps upside down on a baking sheet. Fry up the remaining ingreds (except for the cheese) and pile into the caps, then sprinkle the cheese over the top. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. One mushroom is pretty filling!

What toppings would you use? Capers? Roasted red peppers and feta? Cucumbers and marshmellow fluff?