Running through the kitchen

Was it the shot of espresso?

2012-02-08T20:24:00.000-08:00

Or the apple I devoured in the 30 minute space between spin classes? Whatever the reason, I had a great night leading a total of 32 people through two wikkid strength classes!

We climbed 5 long and steep hills, threw that dial to 9+ and sprinted in the middle of the hills, at the top and also during the chorus of songs. It was wild. People were yelling I had a repeat customer, a guy who signed up for both classes, just like last week. And I was thrilled to polish off a big yummy meal afterwards. It was packed with veggies but was, unfortu, a beer-less meal: fridge was all outa hops. :-(

Yet I gotta admit I'm relieved to be done with the extra class and content to float back to my usual Wednesday routine when my spin buddy returns to pick up his regular class next week. When Work gets demanding, everything else kinda slides, so I was lucky that She peered at me through horn rimmed bifocals today and took pity on me. Last Wednesday - here comes the whine! - I got up at 6am for a stressful morning at the job, then came home and crashed for a bit before teaching, but the tiredness slipped out of my cells and in to the second class. Tonight those cells did a 180, which is to say I am WiReD! Zing! And the last class ended ages ago.

So, to be in decent form to teach two classes, the optimal for me is a shot of espresso, an apple and a gel in between, and a good sleep the night before.

Now I can concentrate on dreaming up hilarious submissions for CBC Radio's 6-word love story contest. And oh yeah, sleeping.

Palm trees on the Canal

2012-02-05T18:51:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday. We snoozed and Dexter'd, drank coffee and ate Netherlandish goodies left over from the holidays (long story!). A fine way to waste a day if you ask me, but then I got the urge to run so I did, into the dark. I had a route in mind so I set off with a water bottle and some thoughts to carry me through. And also "She's So Cold," which I'd heard just before the run and which buzzed endlessly through my brain like a fly caught in an empty glass.

Running outside at night gave me a different perspective of parts of the city that I usually only see during daylight hours. In one well-off neighborhood many large fir trees on lawns were adorned with soft white christmas lights which created a rich glow on the brick houses behind them. I also noticed fewer people about - almost no one. During the day, the place seems rather geriatric and slow; at night, a grand neighborhood.

I thought a lot on this run about trust, at least from a writerly pov. Writers trust that readers will understand their images and phrases, and readers trust that authors will take them somewhere worthwhile. Not that every place is worthwhile, but some places are very good and worth more than others.

For the first time this season I ran on the Canal with about a thousand skaters and considered how we trust that the ice will hold firm even as we make sharp cuts on its surface and jump on it, too. The ice won't crack and plunge us hypothermically into the water, and we won't stretch shaking hands the color of fish underbellies toward the large fake palm trees for leverage. Trust keeps us donning snow pants and tightening laces with gloved fingers and licking drips of nutella from steaming beaver tails. Trust keeps us coming back.

Cookies!

2012-02-04T08:52:00.000-08:00

May I introduce my little nuggets of sweet protein. You can see the carroty bits more than you can taste them.

I'm going to pack a few for the spin class today. It's a class set up to raise money for the city's Rape Crisis Centre. I am impressed on a regular basis by this little studio run by bike mechanics and competitive athletes. These guys demonstrate that they care about health and social issues - and womens' social issues - and art and good coffee. I have loads of crap to do but this is a vital cause that needs our support, and I'm sure it will draw a studio full of excited athletes this afternoon, yay!

Half homemade

2012-02-03T21:29:00.000-08:00

I got big plans for transforming these product divas. Anyone guess what that might be?

Yep - you in the back, you were right! Tomorrow I am going to makeover this ragbag collection of ingredients into a reasonable facsimile of protein cookies! Using the dry Betty Crocker cookie mix as a base, I'll add cooked mashed carrots, pb, protein powder and ground flax seeds. Last time I baked these cookies I used an organic oatmeal mix and the results were delicious heaps of hunger-staving beacons. Stay tuned.

Ran at the gym on a treadmill after work. Not because I really really wanted to but because I bought a 3 month membership and feel like I need to get some use out of it. All the worker bees land at the gym for a TM run around 5pm so the quiet gym becomes loud and packed with runners waiting for machines. Quelle drag. I had a solid 50 minute run with some intervals, then came home and finished some writing homework.

Double spin

2012-02-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

I taught back-to-back spin classes tonight and lost my appetite. But it clawed its way back.

Class 1 was fun. It was a chance to lead a group of people I never get to see since they usually spin in the time slot I never teach in. I was revved from a catnap after work (I left early!). A last-minute pedal change kept me alert, too (thank you, green-socked woman). I was excited to see how this double shift experiment would turn out. Would I die from exhaustion or suffer a burst bloodclot in my brain? Naaaa, I didn't really think that. I was more concerned with hydration and eating enough/the right foods in the 30 minute rest in between.

Then Class 2 got under way and I felt fine, if a bit tired. I still tried to be cheery and bossy, haha. By the end of the class I grappling and had to fight the urge to stare off into space. At about the 30min mark, I almost lost my place in the choreography but found it and scolded myself sufficiently to not lose it again! I thought of people working long shifts of physical labour under emotional and mental duress and then in comparison keeping track of how many sprints we did seemed easy as pie. I didn't get lost again.

Now, laying down, my shins and calves feel achy and warm to the touch. Must be some geared up healing going on there. Go go gadget cell reconstruction.

As I was locking up the studio I had an uncanny feeling that someone was still there. I searched the spinning room and the bathrooms but saw or heard nothing. It's not a large space. Everyone was gone. I think my tiredness was setting me on the edge between rationality and hallucination.

On my way home I realized that a) my lack of appetite was a trick - how could I not feel hungry about 2 hours of spinning?! - and b) I was too tired to walk very far. I picked up a small contained of dinner at the veg place and ravaged every succulent morsel back at my place.

Rice pudding

2012-01-30T14:58:00.000-08:00

Last night, frustrated with my limited kitchen space and the many containers of rice hanging out with nothing to do, I cooked a batch of rice pudding. I found it so appealing to make something delicious, portable (take it to work! eat it warm or cold!), high in protein and fibre AND cupboard-space-freeing that I have resolved to cook more batches in the weeks ahead.

I found a recipe on the Canadian Living web site and used the modification that replaces milk with a combination of coconut milk and cow’s milk. It didn’t require much sugar at all – just a scant 2 tbsp – but there is sweetness galore, probably from the golden raisins which swelled into fat golden grublets, haha.

My sole deviation from CL’s tried and true path (those cooks perform a massive amount of testing in their kitchen labs) was to replace white rice with a rice mix I bought at TNT – a risky move, given that it’s a diverse combo of grains, including short and long lengths and lentils and oats, all needing their own cooking times and liquid ratios. But hey, I’m comfortable with risk when cooking only for myself.

It worked out pretty well, all things considered. Most of the grains are well cooked while a few retain a bit of resistance to the teeth. Yes, it’s al dente rice pudding!

For variety I think I’ll use just one type of rice next time, probably brown, and regular milk. I found a recipe for a rice pudding that is baked in the oven instead of cooked on the stovetop, and another that calls for dried apricot pieces. I will probably make a vanilla short-grain-white-rice-with-cow’s-milk just to see what all the fuss is about (jasmine would probably work well). I have a lot of rice; I should have enough time and rice resources to perfect a tasty and healthy recipe by the time spring rolls around and I can leave my cramped kitchen for the wilderness outdoors.

If it's not Scottish....

2012-01-25T20:24:00.000-08:00

"If you're looking for haggis," the chef of the vegetarian restaurant snapped, "you can find it out there." She pointed behind us, towards the door.

Ha ha.

She didn't realize it was Robbie Burns Day. And that my irreverent request had been a holiday-appropriate joke.

I wasn't looking to smell, let alone munch on any food containing sheep's stomach.

That's when she told me about vegetarian haggis. Now, I can find the thrill in tofu-flavoured meats as much as the next veghead. Duck and shrimp and sometimes even beef can be fun to compare to the original.

Which is why it'd be pointless to try the veggie haggis.

Somehow I don't feel an emptiness from closing that door.

Spicy dahl

2012-01-22T17:23:00.000-08:00

Eaket's dahl with pakoras and tamarind sauce.

Diner tale

2012-01-21T12:57:00.000-08:00

The diner was pretty full, and in the thirty minutes since placing their order, their stained china mugs had been refilled twice and they'd managed to divide most of the big household items. Shan had brought a list, and they'd discussed the list items reasonably. The maple dining room set would go to Laura, since it'd been her grandmother's. Shan would take the queen sized bed, practically new. No one had gotten upset or raised their voice. Laura figured things were going well.

The wool rug from Turkey was next on the list when the food arrived.

"Fried egg sandwich on rye?" The waitress glared at them expectantly. Shadowed eyes, rounded baby bump jutting out several inches above her low-slung, ketchup-streaked apron. At least, Laura hoped it was ketchup.

"Here," said Laura, waving one hand a bit, and two plates clattered down on the tabletop. Clouds of steam rose from mounds of glistening fried potatoes.

Shan picked at the omelette on his plate, its belly bloated with filling ingredients. Laura could make out bits of spinach and tomato, and something dark.

"Are those mushrooms?" Laura asked.

She didn't recall Shan liking mushrooms. It'd been only four weeks since he had packed a few things, his clothes and their good frying plan, the one they'd used for Sunday eggs, into his Volvo and moved across town, and she didn't think four weeks was nearly long enough to turn a person into an eater of a food they had previously avoided at all costs.

"Yeah." He put down his fork and reached for his mug. "So, we were talking about the rug."

Laura continued at stare at the semi-translucent omelette. "I loved Turkey," she said.

Uncalled images flashed before her. Tiny glasses of tea and plates of pilaf. Watching Shan make friends with locals fishing along a bridge in Istanbul. She and Shan laughing with the rug seller as they bantered goodnaturedly over the price. Laura handing the man her credit card, unsure of the security of this decision. Turned out okay.

Loud laughter filled the restaurant, and a few heads turned. A woman carrying a large cardboard box in her arms was trying to get through the door. The doorway was narrow and a corner of the box bumped it a few times. Laura watched the woman's blonde curls bounce as she was pushed back again and again.

Shan watched her too, and when the woman finally squeezed through the doorway with more wide-mouth laughter, Laura read the logo printed on the box. Michelle's Mushrooms. She watched the woman glance in their direction. And wink.

Suddenly Laura got it. The whole damn thing.

"That rug is mine," she said, and left him with the bill, the cardboard box, the mushroom lady, and nothing else.

Soulboat

2012-01-13T19:51:00.000-08:00

"Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails
of your seafaring soul."

- The Prophet, Khalil Gabril

I need you like...

2012-01-11T20:31:00.000-08:00

Delicious dinner by D.
New bowls and chop stix!

... eyeballs need a fingernail.

... a knife needs an all-season.

... a housecoat needs a sash.

... a drum needs a rhythm.

... a tongue needs a snowflake.

... a swallow needs a pill.

... glitter needs an envelope.

... a cat needs a scratch between the ears.

Writer's meal

2012-01-09T17:59:00.000-08:00

When I'm doing time in the chair, finger foods are the best - nay, the only snacks.

The first food I reach for will usually be an unhealthy choice. The second - the rebound - will contain some measure of nutrition. How much nutrition depends on the depth of depravity of the first food and what's edible in the icebox.

To be truly authentic, this exhibit would include a full pot of strong coffee.

:: Still life with popcorn and grapes ::

Pad Nat

2012-01-08T20:15:00.000-08:00

Like a hysterical house cat on catnip, we continue to go gaga over Southeast Asian meals around here. Tonight I fried up rice noodles, eggs, carrots, baby bokchoy and broccoli in a vegetarian oyster sauce, and at the table, threw a handful of dried mini shrimp and some chopped cashews on top and baptized the whole lot with squirts of lime.

The tiny shrimp had a monstrously large scent in the jar, but after their release to my plate of noodles I could barely taste them or feel any crunch even after adding a second handful! Maybe they are incognito experts.

Not pad thai but a reasonable facsimile and reasonably tasty.

Gonna be eating similar dinners this week, I think. Hope my meager stock of limes holds up!

Oh yeah. I ran today! A delicious long run. Admired pristine patches of snow that glittered in the bright sunlight. Smiled at dogs walking their humans. Thought about stuff.

Buddha and the last supper

2012-01-07T20:53:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time on a Friday night a quartet of friends who lived in a small to medium sized city decided to meet at a new downtown restaurant. One friend was excited to try this new place because he regularly painted Buddha images and Buddha was in the name of the restaurant. Another friend was hopeful that the menu would feature Indian food like idli because she continued to obsess over her long-ago days as a traveller in India, although she sometimes had trouble recalling details of the cities she'd visited (that's how long it had been). The third friend was itching for something litchi flavoured, and the fourth was on a viscous rampage for a rose lassi served with a tiny paper umbrella and would accept nothing less.

The quartet entered the resto, were seated at a square table covered by a tablecloth of a most unusual design, and devoured many uncommon and brilliantly delicious foods such as idlis, pakoras, grilled shrimp and curries.

Cocktail idlis

Pakoras

Grilled tamarind shrimp

Cauliflower and potato curry

The food arrived and was devoured instantly on account of its irresistible deliciousness, and the quartet was forced to relocate to another venue to continue talking, which they did, well into the night.

* * *

Safe and happy travels, Gazzies!

Along the way, may you discover the litchi and lassi of your dreams.

The Buddha and we eagerly anticipate your return.

Tom yum yum

2012-01-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

Spicy tom yum paste.

Cold water brought to a rolling boil.

Udon noodles.

Baby bokchoy.

Broccoli pieces.

A dozen raw shrimp.

One mushroom.

Half a lime.

A bowl, chipped.

A pair of wooden chopsticks, smooth from use.

Napkins from my mom.

How to soothe a heart shattered by the disappointments of the world.

Paying debts

2011-12-29T17:04:00.000-08:00

No story today. It's been a warm n' fuzzy but very busy week so I decided to drop out of whatever the universe had planned for me and cuddle up instead on the couch with my cat and watch a movie with him. OK, I'll be watching the flick and he'll be sleeping but the point is that I took tonight off and am making good use of my lounge time. I don't know what is in store for this blog in the coming months but it's back for now.

I harbor both fond and less than fond memories of running in frigid temperatures last winter, so I splurged on a 3-month membership at a local gym and kicked things off with a 45 minute run while watching Til Debt Do Us Part, which I realize is reality programming but comes off so authentic, with a happy ending (the family digs its way out of debt) and a moral message disguised as a financial one (spending money can make you a bad person and overspending will buy you a one way ticket to hell). From today's episode I learned that families can't afford stay-at-home moms in this economy, a father's blood pressure decreases as he spends time with his toddler, and even you can use your creative talents to earn dough. And the tough love over-all message stresses that one must save all pennies and not spend. Ever. It is a sobering program to view during the days following extravagant holiday present exchanges and tummy-stuffing meals in nice restaurants! But the run was fantastic, and I must say that the return to my former gym felt like a visit to an old friend's home.

I rounded out the run with some ab work from Bodyrock.com and completed a set of the uneven push ups I saw there. Bodyrock is like Sesame Street for exercise conscious adults.

Berries

2011-11-27T17:27:00.001-08:00

It was another Friday evening after work for Frank and Michel, but this time they were not drinking just because they were young, hot douche bags; Frank was about to start his dream job at RiM on Monday morning, and since it was only 4 PM, the entire weekend was theirs to piss away. The bar was hopping with execs, temps and admin staff who were relieved to put a long week of disorganized meetings and back-stabbing office politics behind them.

Frank and Michel started on pitchers of margheritas, first lime and then strawberry-mango, moved on to pitchers of beer, and after they got tired of beer, the bartender lined up 16 shot glasses of Goldschlager on the bar and Michel and Frank stood at each end and shot them back, silk ties flipped over their shoulder. Michel's support staff team looked on, sharing a pitcher of diet pepsi, their eyes wide with anxious amazement.

"Woooo!" yelled Frank.

"Cowabunga!" shouted Michel. "Hey Frank, what would be your one regret in life?"

Frank considered this. "You mean besides not being born stupid rich? Well, I have never tasted wild blueberry pie from Cape Breton Island."

"Road trip!" screamed Michel. So they jumped into Michel's BMW and drove 12 hours from Montreal to Auld's Cove where they pulled into a diner to ask for directions to the Cabot Trail but unfortunately fell asleep in a restaurant booth before they even had a chance to order the all-day breakfast they so sorely needed.

The waitress took one look at the shadowed faces of the rumpled and unwashed gentlemen before her and called the cops. The officer on duty was the boyfriend of the waitress and also the son of the dishwasher, and he hauled the Montrealers into the drunk tank and then drove back to the diner for an order of French toast on the house.

Frank and Michel high-fived and then curled up along the bench and fell back to sleep. The local bad asses in the drunk tank from the night before stopped their card game and stared with xenophobic suspicion at the two CFAs* in cuff links and real haircuts, and when Michel let out a mumbled "Mon Dieu" in his REM sleep they interpreted that as an invitation for a beating and kicked him in the teeth and Frank in the ribs

When he came to, Michel was tucked into a hospital bed and his face hurt like hell, especially his gums, which previously had held front teeth. With a scream of agony Frank rolled over on his broken ribs, then he asked Michel where they were. A pretty nurse entered the room holding an orange plastic tray and Michel squinted at her name tag and read it out loud: "'Kelly MacDonald, Cape Breton Hospital.' Hey, we did it! We made it to Cape Breton Island!"

"Woooo!" yelled Frank.

The nurse placed two cans of Boost and two bendy straws on the table between the guys. "Dinner time, boys," she sang. "Hope you like blueberry flavour!" She winked.

Michel and Frank gave each other virtual high fives. "Do we ever!"

* Come From Away. As in, "You're not from around here, are ya? Since you're alone and a long way from home, you'll need a witness, a doctor and a lawyer, quite possibly in that order."

Fairy tale

2011-11-22T20:03:00.001-08:00

Once upon a time there was a princess who liked to cook on Sunday afternoons, and after she stacked the pots and pans in the sink for the kitchen staff to wash, she would sit at her dining room table and enjoy the fruits of her labour with her adorable Prince Charming and her beloved cat, Manwell.

On this particular Sunday, the princess decided to tackle a Greek dish, moussaka, but a vegetarian version, because she cared about the well being of animals. She ran to the local market to buy all sorts of goodies for the meal: eggplant and portebello mushrooms for the bottom layer and milk and eggs for the top. As she was paying for her ingredients, the vendor said to her, From the looks of things, you're planning a Greek meal tonight. The princess smiled and said, You are correct, and then the vendor reached down from under the counter and brought out a small glass bottle without a label. He said, This is the finest and purest virgin olive oil from Greece, and you must use it in your recipe. I knew your dad a long time ago, and he was a good man, so please have this. The princess was a little surprised by the man's generosity, but her mama had raised her to react fluidly in awkward social situations, so she chucked the bottle into her purse with a bright thank you, and left for home with the bags of fresh food.

When she got home, she uncorked the bottle and a genie flew out. Olive oil my ass, thought the princess. The genie was tall and dressed in white with a crown, and as he floated down to the floor he grinned from ear to ear. I've been incarcerated in that dang bottle for 10 years! Just what I need, a criminal! thought the princess. But the genie was so overjoyed to be free that he promised to do all the cooking that night so that she, his benefactor, and her Prince Charming, whom he had not yet met but who sounded like an agreeable fellow, could spend some quality time together. Turning to the bags of food, he picked up a large knife and set to work slicing eggplant like a pro. That was when the princess noticed that his whites were, as luck would have it, cook's whites, and true to his word, he baked and sauteed all afternoon while she and Prince Charming played records and took goofy pictures of Manwell wrapped in blankets. The princess opened a bottle of white wine and wondered why she bothered to cook when she could eat someone else's cooking instead, and avoid all the hard work.

First, the genie served them a salad. Pretty standard, she thought, but hey, I didn't make it.

Salad with yellow tomatoes

The next course was moussaka served with couscous.

They feasted like royalty, and after the last bite of moussaka had been savoured and the last couscous grain washed down with the final drop of wine, the princess walked into the kitchen to thank the genie. But he wasn't there - the kitchen was empty. Now that's odd, he was here a minute ago, she said aloud. Just then, the royal cat, Manwell, strutted around the corner, then lay down on the hardwood floor and lazily licked a paw. Hanging from one whisker was a piece of white thread. Manwell! cried the princess. Did you eat the genie?

Manwell smiled his cat smile and thought, you"ll never know for sure! Then he went back to his warm bed for a restorative catnap.

The end.

Death of a Garmin

2011-11-20T20:22:00.001-08:00

My GPS watch died today, about 6km into a long run. I glanced down at the screen and instead of numbers there was only a neon green square. It was kind of exciting because my watch had never tried to communicate like that with me before, but sad because I knew it was in the middle of some heavy death throes. The end was at hand, and afterwards the watch would no longer be useful to me. I was selfish, I admit it.

Numbness and irritation soon gave way to a giant feeling of freedom. On this run I would be totally unencumbered by measured time or distance! I had no idea what time it was and I didn't care. I had a full water bottle, tons of gels in my pocket and sunglasses against the strong winds. I had everything I needed.

The sun appeared and I ran on the sunny side of the street. I ran past slow walkers and pushed up hills. I let it all go on the downhills. On and on I ran with only my music robot to inspire me. I thought about my life and those of everyone I know. A dull pain appeared on my left hip which I took to mean that I was at about the 20k mark. Still so far to go.

When I got home, I saw that I had run for about 3 hours and I felt great. I chalk that up to a low exercise effort last week: just 2 zumba classes at work and a spin class. I totally get why we taper for races.

Takeout salad

2011-11-19T16:49:00.001-08:00

You know what I'm doing right now? Waiting to go to dinner with a friend while blogging about a recent meal. This is happiness for a food blogger. I will photograph our dinner and blog about it tomorrow if it's good.

Yesterday's lunch was a bowl of quinoa salad with roasted butternut squash and feta from Bridgehead. I carted it back to my office for lunch and found that it was as delicious as it looks. Although the salad did not contain as much feta as advertised on the label - just one large chunk that I fished out of the grains with my fork like digging up treasure buried in sand - someone thought to compensate for the lack of cheese by adding dried cranberries by the handfuls. There were so many cranberries! Oodles of them! But they were good because they made the salad sweeter and less salty. The squash was soft and heavenly.

The last few posts have been set more often in the kitchen than on the road, and not exactly running through the kitchen but more like lingering in front of an open fridge. I didn't exercise again today. I feel slothy, having not run since last Sunday. Tomorrow I will aim to run 26k!

Feta and flakes

2011-11-18T14:02:00.001-08:00

Someone was hard at work in his kitchen, and by the time I knocked hungrily on his door the aromas of wine and sauteed garlic were swirling madly about. He did something magical with cauliflower, tomatoes and garlic, and then served up a generous portion of sauce and whole wheat pasta on a grand plate painted in the Greek colours. A delicious sprinkling of feta landed on the top, and the cheese softened and blended into the bubbling sauce. There was even wine!

I saw my first snowflakes today. Winter approaches, tenderly at first....

~ This here ain't kraft dinner Thursday. ~

Occupy Highway Movement

2011-11-16T19:08:00.001-08:00

A Southwestern American meal: black bean chili, Pillsbury biscuit,
sweet potato fries & cherry tomatoes

You dearly crave a trip, a journey, a getaway. So you hit the road.

But you don't have a car, or free time, or money. Only an open mind.

So you cook up a massive meal with friends and exchange travel tales on a given theme. Most memorable country - for any reason. Most breathtaking sunset. Weirdest food ingested/witnessed. Cheapest fleabag motel. Happiest moment away from home. Craziest death-defying experience. Longest period of time alone.

Almost as cathartic as the real thing.

"Did I ever tell you about the time...."

Still life with egg bowl

2011-11-15T19:41:00.001-08:00

Creme brule and chocolate chip cookie, massacred

Still blessed with a childlike wonder at objects of unusual shape or size, I snapped this pic of a dessert I enjoyed last weekend. It's a dense and egg-y creme brule that I didn't order until the very last second when I heard my dining partners ordering dessert, and then I shouted out my order because I had to have one, too. I refuse to be left behind!

Anyway, this picture is posted here so that you may marvel not at the dessert but at the delightful serving platform in which it was served. Naturally the CB was served in a bowl - it's easier to blowtorch the sugar on top that way, or so I am told - but an unusual one, for it has a 10 cm wide edge and resembles a plate that was punched in the centre. But check it out - with the round yellow dessert and the white edge around it, the whole thing resembles an egg. An unorthodox egg with a hard sugar coating around the yolk and a soft-centred chocolate cookie posing unnaturally in halves beside it.

I haven't run since the Sunday long run but I have been eating like mad. Just now, before bed, I polished off 2 slices of toast crumbling beneath the weight of huge slabs of Monteray cheese and still my tummy expects another course. Yeesh! Back to the kitchen....

Balance the good

2011-11-14T18:45:00.001-08:00

This, my friends, is a dangerous time of year. Bags of leftover Halloween candy linger in the stores while sales staff rush to fill shelves with human-sized chocolate Santas and boxes of Toffifay. Yes, it's sugar, sugar everywhere, primed to win control of your tummies and will power. Plus, thanks to bygone Valentine's Days, it's now November and just about everyone's birthday, which can only mean chocolate cake and assorted confectioneries so beautiful it would be a crying shame to turn your nose up at them.

What's a girl to do.

:: rices, dried tomato & dried mushroom ::

Well, she might cook up a batch of mixed rice - black, brown, japonica, whatever - to match those evil forces of glucose and balance out the good. (And her blood sugar.)

A stretch

2011-09-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

I surprised myself this morning by feeling a touch ansy about my re-inaugral bike ride to work. It's true, I recently had an accident, and some body parts have not quite returned to normal function - still a shade of jaw tenderness and an uncooperative pinkie on the left hand - but last night as I listened to the optomistic weather report I was excited by the prospect of biking to work this morning. The new Bess was waiting for me near my door, as was my new obsidian black helmet. As I whipped up a breakfast protein shake and packed up, I knew I had to get back on the horse.

Yes, Bessie is back with me, now with a beautiful new back wheel and cables that function smoothly. Her time at the spa was transcendant, for sure. She feels like a brand new ride.

I eased out on to the street, testing out the brakes and noticing with wonder that they too were smooth and effective. Just a tap and they sprung into action. Forget the speed today, I was falling in love with my new brakes and I wanted to be with them at all times.

And you know, it's a good thing I was riding leasurely because a black squirrel dashed from a plastic garbage can on the edge of a lawn to beneath my wheels and out the other side in the blink of one of my saucer-sized eyes! Bessie didn't topple or swerve so I was fine, but what of the innocent rodent? I slowed to a stop, expecting gore, but insead saw the creature scampering along another lawn, no doubt waiting for another cyclist to startle. Maybe he was trying to impress a romantic partner, or feeling suicidal, but either way he was lucky. The rest of the trip was lusciously placid and plain.

The day ended with some heated room yoga. I stretched and sweat out some tension and insecurity, and walked home on a cloud of ease, taking measured steps and, without meaning to, paying attention to seemingly everything from beneath half-closed eyelids. The night was dark and beautiful.

No play

2011-09-20T19:00:00.000-07:00

Pizza? I'm sure I ordered the Meow Mix.

It was a dog day in the rat race. BS office politics. Heavy workload and hectic pace. Two hours on the bus with no seats available... I think my shoulders are still hovering around my ears from the stress. Why am I doing this?

The winter is going to be very, very long and the isolation will be grim, given that my M-F life has only three spheres: work, commute and sleep. And from Oct-April, cold.

Speaking of which, cold pizza makes a fast and easy dinner when you've had it up to here with the capitalist world and its ridiculous insistence that we pay with our lives for the privilege of being alive. No slaving over a hot stove!

Bah.

On a brighter side, the pizza was incredibly delicious.

Finch and a long run

2011-09-18T18:58:00.000-07:00

I ran 15k this evening. It's been a long time since I hit that distance. I kept the pace steady and slow, and chose a loop to follow so that I would complete the distance even if it became difficult. I was determined.

It was much longer than I am used to but I feel great, even revived, and will attempt something longer next weekend.

I wonder if my running performance was obscured by my former 90min commute, and assisted by its discontinuation.

On a foody note, if you ever have a deep craving for good pizza and you happen to be near Finch, Ontario, you need to hit up Finch Pizzaria. OK so it's the town's sole restaurant but it is also the best eaterie in a radius of several towns around. We were gifted with a medium-size pizza that was like manna from heaven, but decorated with tomato, mushrooms, green olives and green pepper with a fantastic mozzarella top layer. I think the star of the pizza ensemble however was the tomato sauce which was clearly homemade and featuring just a hint of spice. Delicious and totally worth the gas money to drive to Finch.

Taking a spin

2011-09-15T18:28:00.000-07:00

I gave up biking for the week after my teensy-weensy accident Tuesday morning. Bessie had to be institutionalized for a rear wheel replacement, so I took the bus to work for the first time and suffered through the stares. I was a little surprised by the number of old women who gaped at the bruise on my face. Did they raise their kids to stare wide-eyed at those who look differently, I wondered to myself. At the office, I noticed that no one wanted to look like they were checking out the bruise, which runs along the left side of my chin and jaw, and only one person who didn't know about my accident pointedly asked me what happened, which I appreciated. Otherwise, the blue bruise on the face becomes the elephant in the room, and then I secretly despise everyone for being chicken. Buck up and ask, people!

After work I signed up for a spinning class taught by sport guru Ian, which was immensely enjoyable. I wish I had his access to his playlist, too. Disco, AC/DC, funk and styles I couldn't even categorize...when you get away from pop music you can see there are universes of musical styles that appropriate for spinning.

Surf n' turf

2011-09-12T18:20:00.000-07:00

Is any dish as culturally pliable as the humble fishcake? Plenty of sea-soaked countries have a fishcake recipe or two on their historical menu, perhaps as a nod to the economical side of things, or a responsible way to rid the fridge of leftovers. Or a prompt way to feed a hungry family of twelve.

Or a love of cod and spuds. I have to admit that my hands touched no animal, vegetable or mineral during the development of these cakes. They were a gift. I just heated the pan and warmed them up with a few slices of red cabbage for extra nightshade sparkle.

Concrete quads

2011-09-01T20:28:00.000-07:00

I've been missing running.

When I was holidaying with no bike in sight and only a white Mustang convertible complete with a hot Greek chauffeur with which to whisk me away (hi Pan!), I ran on several occasions and in two provinces. A short jaunt to the red beach in Cavendish. A few beautiful morning runs in the countryside (NS). A foggy, salty-smelling run along a wooden boardwalk in Summerside. Now that I'm back to work, I'm off the running. I just can't seem to fit it in. I can't run after work because my quads are tired - pleasantly so, mind you, but tired enough to convince me to stay on the couch after locking the front door behind me. And when I bring running clothes to work, Murphy's Law dictates that work demands will rise just before lunch, and prevent me from leaving.

There have been a few times when I thought I might run after work, and in these cases the first half of the run is wobbly, and the second half tiring. During these runs, my quads feel like concrete, reminding me of my very brief tri career during which I discovered the conrete quad phenomenon, which pops up in the first few minutes of the run portion.

Sunday long runs and weight training will keep me sane until bike season is over.

How about some lobster poutine and sweet tea at the Englishtown Bus Cafe? We witnessed this doubledecker while waiting for the shortest ferry ever in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. I was jonesing for some brekkie but didn't get to the order window in time.

Speculoos

2011-08-31T20:33:00.000-07:00

Back again! We have returned to the city after a lovely eastern holiday - and while that directional term is relative I playfully refuse to specify which eastern I mean - but I'm still not running a lot so do yourself a favour and don't get your hopes up for a running-centred post today.

Oh. I'm sorry.

I probably just snapped at you. How rude of me. Please allow me to explain. My kitchen is dreadfully scotfree of chocolate, and anything containing chocolate, and I'm nursing an unearthly craving for the stuff. And I have been carrying this cross for days. It's enough to drive a woman mad; mad I tell you!

Enter the miracle spread known as Speculoos.

-- Lotus is not just the brand name. It also signifies that lotus leaves were added to the product for extra addictive qualities and yogic enlightenment. --

Delicious heady stuff, Speculoos is simply a sweet blend of creamy caramel and ground-up biscuits, but you gotta realize that it is Dutch in origin and thus a perfect food. The Europeans know how to class up a dessert tray, and when it comes to smashing cookies and caramel, no one can touch the Dutch. It's a cultural gift.

And actually this very jar was indeed a gift, one that was appreciated and cherished, and honored with teaspoons at all hours of the day and closed eyes and immoderate serving sizes.

And now the vessel is empty.

Love you long time, Speculoos. May we meet again one day.

Weird fitness

2011-08-09T19:16:00.000-07:00

She's baa-aack!

I haven't been away, but I also haven't been running or cooking up any unusual dishes. The beautiful, daily commute to my new job keeps me in the saddle for about 1.5 hours a day, and I'm not yet strong enough to tackle a post-work run on top of all that cycling. Protein suddenly calls to me, and my frying pan has seen nothing but vegetables and eggs for over a week now, with a dash of maple-flavoured tempeh garnish once or twice. But I'm seeing improvement. This morning I climbed some of the hills faster and with more ease (but not easy). My arrival time was the same even tho I'd left 10 minutes later. This is a good sign!

All the same, I miss the sweat and metabolism boost I get with running. After biking home in the rain tonight I had zero desire to visit the gym - or even leave the house - so I found some Bodyrock exercises and did 3 sets each of burpees (12 reps); deadlifts (15 reps each leg); a weird abdominal exercise called a crisscross hip thrust (30); and jump lunge & twist (20). I modifed every exercise since I a) can't do pushups worth squat, and b) the only equipment I own are an exercise ball, two 5lb weights and a yoga mat. I used the weights for the deadlifts and the lunge twists, and my exerise ball pressed against a sofa for the ab exercise. Even with the mods, the exercises were effective, by which I mean sweat-a-rific and metab-boost-y. I didn't time the workout - no timer, natch - but also I wanted to concentrate on form before adding a time component. I have to admit that these exercises were pretty fun and challenging, and I'd like to incorporate them more often. The deadlifts were new to me and I totally loved how they felt. I wasn't sure I was doing them right until the 2nd set. And then the effects were unmistakeable.

I think I'll look around for heavier weights and try this sequence again.

Scram(ble)

2011-07-26T19:12:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-25T18:28:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-19T07:21:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-08T11:01:00.000-07:00

"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

2011-07-06T13:10:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-04T10:07:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-02T21:39:00.000-07:00

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?

More geese

2011-06-30T05:24:00.001-07:00

I ran yesterday morning. After the storm the night before, the air was cooler and it was easier to pick up the pace. The last few morning runs were slow adventures; they felt like opportunities to test how much water your clothes could hold and still hang on you. But yesterday I felt lighter and of course drier. The geese are still around, wandering all over the paths, and I think some of the adults are raising their second batch of babies. I'm not sure why people find them exasperating. They're messy and they require path users to slow down and take care, especially the cyclists, but they seem to know that they have a right to be there, just like the rest of us. You gotta respect that. Yesterday I watched a cyclist almost mow down a goose that was trying to cross the path. It was a close call.

Grown-up

2011-06-28T18:59:00.000-07:00

I ran this morning and my clothes were drenched within minutes. I don't mind the humidity most of the time since I live underground, in a way. A friend gave me a fantastic bottle of wine that tastes very complex, and I drank a glass last night and another tonight. Drinking this wine is like hanging out with Jackson Pollack: you suspect that a lot lies below the surface but you're not sure you can appreciate the complexity. Anyway, the wine is delicious. It tastes very grown up to me. I have been following a grown-up tangent lately and it feels refreshing, like I'm ready for it. I still eat PB&B sandwiches though, and jujubes, and I still steal the blankets at night. I think being an adult means also being a child and a teenager, too.

Dig in

2011-06-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

Now you see it...

It was one of those life-sustaining runs. I left Mr. P to his nap this morning and met up with the Gaz downtown for a nice long Saturday haul. Humid but not too hot, we fell into a good pace and let our noses find the paths. A short cut here, a walk up a steep climb there. Sometimes a run is good because of what you don't do. On the way home I stopped at a yard sale, and a woman gave me a book because she had loved it and wanted me to read it and love it, too.

...now you don't!

Orange juice halo

2011-05-30T20:37:00.000-07:00

I lived large today. A humid run this morning, then a bike ride to work where I sat for nine relentless hours. Bought a weird protein bar with peanuts, caramel and - get this - pretzels, and a massive apple that took about an hour to eat (crunching for an hour in my quiet cubicle farm is probably as passive-aggressive as it sounds, hehe). An hour at the gym. Packed my cloth bags at the grocery store and walked home, arms full of new food.

Then I poured me some sweet art in a martini glass. Whoever thinks this picture of the virgin sunrise (OJ and grenadine) has a religious tone, raise your wing.

Wheels

2011-05-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

Rainy day in Capital City.

Dark coloured coats and bent heads filled the bus seats this morning. I sat in my own seat and tried not to soak up the grim vibe (it wasn't hard). People in this city work to live, and on mornings like this I miss my bike and the traffic wrestling adventures even more than usual. Wah wah.

I ran last night without music and noticed the trees. The tips of the first courageous leaves are pushing through, and the air smelled of spring. The wind across the bridge felt strong but warm. A breeze of that intensity two months ago would have been bitter indeed. About 45 minutes before the end my trick knee started to feel tender, so I shortened my stride and it was alright after the run. During those two hours I met only a handful of runners and cyclists and one rollerblader, on a cell phone. Lonesome highway.

Choices

2011-05-10T18:41:00.000-07:00

Sunday's run was fast and tiring. Today's run was all about sunshine and chillaxing, and finding my groove. I wanted to run along the path slowly but surely; get in some distance without freaking out my knee, which is still a little tender, plus my long sleeved top felt a tad warm. I ran about 40 minutes, an appetizer to tomorrow's meal.

Dinner was a hodge-podge tonight: felafel, stir fried veggies and mac & cheese, eaten in courses, in exactly that direction.

I can't believe I returned from Nashville a week ago. I have yet to sleep in. I am looking forward to enjoying some Saturday morning shut-eye.

~ I'm like an omnivore, but for booze ~

The great balancing act

2011-05-07T19:14:00.000-07:00

Been spending a lot of time in clubs lately, and I don't just mean the seedy karaoke bars like the one from last night where, after downing two minty polar shots that inspire feelings of headiness and dental hygiene, I belted out my very best Meatloaf to a rowdy crowd. No, by "clubs" I mean the those one joins to barricade one's nutty obsessions from the rest of the world, and last week I spent 6 days with a run club and about 75 minutes with a writing club; time being no measuring stick for dedication and love.

This morning, during our writing club meeting, I realized that technique is a hot topic, and it resurfaces almost every time we meet. It's such a grind: the words have to spring from somewhere and land on the page, so we often trade tips on how we get er done. There are lots of way to do it. Morning writing, and writing after work for an hour. There's writing while at work, on the sly, but it's unencouraged to the degree that we refrain from examinating that one. Sure, you want to write and the days are horribly short, but no one's saying you should go ahead and get yourself fired before you write the Great Canadian Novel.

This leads to the concept of write-life balance: exercise; coffee breaks and a good night's sleep to keep one's sanity while immersed in a project. One member is currently committed to a heavy writing project with a firm deadline, and she told us how she diligently maintains a schedule that supports the continuation of these valuable activities, the ones that are too often cancelled when we feel pinched for time. I admire her for this.

Also helpful for writers: lazy vacations down south. With cold cans of cerveza.

Miami diner

2011-05-05T20:52:00.000-07:00

Last dinner in Miami: Polar beer, ceviche (pickled shrimp with onion, a disturbingly bright shade of pink), plantain chips, a platter of calamari with red dipping sauce, and a plate of lime wedges which compliment everything on this table!

Mystery mayo

2011-05-04T20:14:00.000-07:00

We found this fascinating Cuban answer to mayonaise on a picnic table near a beach, under a roof and thus out of reach of the sun. Yet, it seemed like a fantastic time to reach for the ketchup.

Hemingway's Havana

2011-05-03T18:57:00.000-07:00

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

Ernest Hemingway rented a room at the Hotel Ambos Mundos in Old Havana between 1932 and 1939. He stated that the room was "a good place to write." Quotes such as this keep writers' dreams alive, baby.

Next to the hotel, Papa Hemingway found this tiny bar a good place to drink. They say it's always as crowded as the day we stopped by.

Signatures from travellers are plastered on the smooth cement above and beside the bar. Writers who shared a bit of elbow room where the old writer used to hang his hat in the heat of the day.

He was a notorious drinker, but because of time constraints we didn't peer into any other bars he frequented, and anyway, this place emanated enough smoke rings of mythical aura for several cheap bars and tropicana clubs.

I picture him tripping over uneven cobblestones at night, lightbulbs hanging from naked wires on second floor verandas, swearing gruffly at thin dogs, chomping a cigar stump, tumbling into bed fully clothed, stinking of sailor's rum, characters yelling behind his door and inside his head.

Blue rainbow

2011-04-25T17:17:00.000-07:00

This post is hardly concerned with either running or food, and should be read, for deepest understanding, whilst basking in the sunshine, sprawled along the length of a beach chaise as white as the sand beneath it, adjusted to the inclined position. Stir the ice cubes in your glass with your straw, tip the waiter a peso, and feel the rays on your vitamin D deficient skin.

~ Much too hot to twist by this pool ~

The problem that gripped us each and every day, one which we considered thoughtfully, stepping out into the warm sunlight for all-you-can-eat breakfast that at times consisted, depending on the day, of mushroom omelettes, french toast, paper-thin crepes with chocolate sauce, and always cappuccino and fresh chunks of pineapple and papaya, was whether we should begin the day's romance with the hot, Cuban sun at the beach, where our senses could feast on the rolling turquoise surf, or poolside, just paces from the 24-hour bar.

Sea & sky :: chairs & sand

Once the grounds were decided upon by the both of us, the day's schedule naturally fell into place, and our leisurely activities, which relied heavily on, and often comprised solely of, the consumption of that Cuban resort gift of the gods, alcohol, served either as a mild but delightfully refreshing draft beer similar in color to Keith's, or as that sugarcane firewater, rum, in its many varieties and strengths, and a key component to many a vividly-tinted and intoxicating cocktail.

~ It's a bird! It's a plane! It's blue rainbows! ~
Grenadine, OJ and blue curacao w/ rum.

More holiday posts to follow.

No pie

2011-04-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

The kids at the bus stop have a sense of humour.

Sweet potato...con leche

2011-04-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

I skipped the run club sprints today. I love the Wednesday night workout but I still feel the pesky IT band knee pain, so I'm still not running. It's only been a week, and so far I have found tons of ways to spend this newly but regrettably acquired free time.

Take this evening for example. I made a pot of soup, washed dishes, baked cookies for friends, read parts of Rough Guide to Cuba (one never knows when the travel bug will hit...like maybe Sunday), played some Dead Space, played with the cat, iced my knee and texted the "student" (long story).

But I worry. Oh, I fret. About the race. Whether I should go. If I can't run. All summer. I will lose it. My mind. My happy place.

Well. No need to put the cart before the horse. (The horse is hungry and the cart is full of apples.) Tomorrow morning I'll see my wonderful massage therapist. She will give me her opinion, and hand me the kleenex box when she does. I am prepped to hear the worst.

Before I settle in for a lame summer - pun intended - I'm here to share a delicious recipe that rocked my soup bowl tonight.

Sweet potato soup

3-4 tbsp fresh ginger root, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 onion, chopped

1 tbsp butter

3-4 sweet potatoes, cubed (and peeled, if desired)

1 tsp cumin

2 tbsp Thai green curry mix

1 large tomato, seeded and chopped

4 cups veggie stock

1 can reduced-fat coconut milk

Melt the butter in a large pot. Add the ginger, garlic and onion, sauteing for 2 minutes or until your mouth starts to water from the fragrance. Add the remaining ingredients except for the coconut milk. Cover the pot and bring the mixture to a boil, then simmer for 20 minutes or until the potatoes are very soft. Remove from heat. After the mixture has cooled, puree in a blender. Pour mixture back into pot, add the coconut milk, et voila! A fiesty, orange soup.

Could use a squeeze of lime juice at the finish.

Winter feathers

2011-04-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

the sun exuberantly generous warms a city to the notion that winter fades new plants as green as martians appear morningside unearthed chairs clatter onto hollow patios fur hats boxed and banished in a week we'll wonder how we ever passed the winter our minds skipping over the body of a sparrow kept since december in the freezer spring is a season of forgetting

Left behind

2011-04-10T07:56:00.000-07:00

The coffee pot is gurgling on the stove, and the cat has intersected with a sun ray on the floor. Kitty is stretching and purring. I'm lounging on the couch in my pink tartan jam-jams even though it's a Sunday morning and normally I'd be found sucking on a gel somewhere along the canal by now. Actually it's not just any Sunday morning, but the morning of my was-to-be final long run before the marathon.

I'm sitting out this run. My knee gave me some attitude Thursday evening after several (I guess too many) workout days in a row, and I have been laying low since. It's ITB pain on the outside of one knee, and now I'm terrified that this new-old knee pain will haunt me during my race three short weeks from now. I reported the pain to my coach, and he told me to stay off the leg for a while and stretch, and maybe do the last long run next Sunday instead. We'll see. I'm going to monitor this pain closely. I don't want to have to take another year off to recover from knee pain.

So, I'm medicating with Ibuprofen, doing some stretching and not running. I'll probably take the week off. But it's ok. The weather is warming up, and I have a free Sunday that I can dedicate to other fun activities, like reading, gaming and cooking. Not so bad!

Drank the whole thing

2011-03-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

A long run in the spring sunshine lures the thirst outa me, and a few hours later I walked to the neighborhood health store and bought this bottle of pineapple juice, popped the lip and drank the whole thing, juice glass-free like a crazed chimpanzee...glug glug glug.

3 seconds later the the nausea hit. Come on! That was a lot of pineapple juice at once.

Today's run: Plowed through 3 gels in 31k; lots of small dogs in pastel sweaters, their feet moving at the speed of light to keep up with their humans. Far too many baby strollers the size of 18-wheelers helmed by yuppie hetero couples carrying matching to-go coffee cups like bamboo torches. You guys give me the shivers and make me transfer to the road to run with the cars.

"With fire in my lungs tonight I travel at/

the speed of light"

- Buck 65

Get set...

2011-03-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

That half banana on the middle shelf?

Means it's a party.

Work bites

2011-02-23T20:17:00.000-08:00

When did you last eat in a group? Was it a happy time?

Below: a party in its final phase; you can tell from the empty bottles. (Empty plates don't tell the same story.)

:: Lamb's Navy Rum, a cheese plate and computers. I ask you, is there anything else? ::

Hot Tang

2011-02-20T18:11:00.000-08:00

Sometimes running feels like work.

Take Sunday. Alarm shrills you from a warm bed at an hour when some people are drifting to sleep after a fun night out. You throw on your work clothes, bulky and heavy in winter, and chomp a carb-y breakfast of oatmeal and sweet caffeine. You pack gels, GPS, music player, gather hat and mitts, wish the kitty a good day and head out to meet your "colleagues" for a long morning of solo running followed by a coffee break.

Today was the same in a different way. In the important ways it looked like the above, but the feeling that ran through us as we gathered for china mugs of coffee and bottles of apple juice was that the run had gone well; it hadn't been hard. We felt okay, as though we could have gone further; as though we had expected more ice and snow and cold winds but we hadn't needed to call on our reserves because the expected hadn't happened. There had been sunshine and a blue sky, and lots of friendly unknown runners.

Once, at a cycle cafe, a skier told me a story about a long and gruelling ski race he'd completed. On the morning of the second day of the 2-day race, he'd crawled out of his tent chilled to the bone and tired from a sleepless night, waiting for breakfast. When he described the hot Tang, his eyes twinkled as he recalled the sweet, saccharine taste of that steaming hot drink. It had kept him going, that unexpected gift. That was my today. 26k.

Red lights and blue rare

2011-01-09T19:25:00.000-08:00

Winter evening runs along the canal can be lonesome adventures, but when the canal is open, the skaters make good company. I ran along the path in one direction, and then descended to the ice for the return journey as a reward. I love the feeling of ice beneath my feet, light and hard at the same time, and the snow-encrusted ice on the shoulder gives firm traction. Tonight I held a red light (from my bike) in one mittened hand. I kept it on a superfast flicker, and I think this made me more visible. 24k and no close calls! I think it was cold: I could hear ice rattling in my water bottle.

Afterwards I tore through some leftovers, but had there been a genie present, I would have made a wish to relive this Miami meal: wasabi-covered tuna. The server cautioned me that this fish dish is served blue-rare. I'm glad I went for it: the tuna was soft and forgiving, and melted in the mouth. I polished it off before I had a chance to ask for a side of extra wasabi.

The tuna rested on a bed of plain white rice, which in turn was supported by something unexpected: a puddle of butter! It was a moat of melted better with some swimming matchstick veggies. Maybe the fat was provided as a side dish, to balance the huge hunk of lean protein....? Who knows. Oh, and the beer was incredibly delicious. I think this was our Christmas eve feast!

// Cuz sometimes a girl needs a hearty dose of blue-rare. //

Life is totes

2010-12-30T18:28:00.000-08:00

I attended a spin class tonight and it felt good to push myself and work hard. It's been a while since I've done either. I spent the last week or so lying on white sand, or sitting outside at a cafe, or riding all manner of transportation to find a restarant - a remarkably good way to see a city, by the way - so except for perhaps two sunny jogs along a wooden boardwalk while dodging the well-dressed grayhairs and contented stray cats, I was wrapped up in some stage of intoxication or unconsciousness, and/or with a piece of silverware entering or exiting my yap. The restaurants were the goal and the prize: they prodded us into stepping out and touring an interesting city on our own, but if there is a bittersweet angle to this eater's paradise, it is that the food is outrageously plentiful, incredibly calorie dense and as sinfully tempting as it is delicious. We tried it all even though we needed help; as in, an extra stomach. Unfinished entrees had to be boxed up and carted home. Desserts were shared or passed up with painful restraint.

Once, after a Coconut Grove dinner with all the trimmings, we made stale excuses to the server to avoid ordering a piece of cheesecake, ultimately to dodge the embarrassment of having to doggiebag that, too - we were already taking an appetizer back to the hotel. Most of the time we ate until we couldn't. Two working stiffs on holiday with credit cards and noses for the unusual, were we left with any other option? No.

We each had our weaknesses. D went in for boozy coffees, spicy buffalo thingies, cashew-encrusted fish with rich mashed potato and succutash. (I might have coveted that meal just a little.) Me, I found the stone crab, the "lobster firecrackers," the creamed spinach (that's right) and the uncountable varieties of overly drinkable beers exotic and alluring and I had to, I just had to. I knew I would not be able to create, order, or even dream about these delicacies at home in my wintery city. The time was right. We took the opportunities and we have no regrets.

Holiday salad

2010-12-17T12:05:00.000-08:00

Red, green and white salad befits a holiday dinner with a dear friend.

:: Bocconcini and tomato slices separated by basil leaves ::

Rain and snowpeople

2010-12-12T20:22:00.000-08:00

I ran through the rain and icy slush today with Gaz. It was weird to enjoy running in such crappy weather, and we knew we looked hard core and we're just not. We decided that running together helps to set things right because we look like two runners who need company to get out there in the rain. We kept a good pace and covered a lot of ground, geographically and conversationally.

Box of seasonal treats with a telltale oily shadow.

Lait du poule

2010-12-10T16:04:00.001-08:00

A lot of chicken milk goes into a litre of lait du poule, says Pinotte.

Choko-vodka update

2010-12-07T10:13:00.000-08:00

The chocolate vodka experiment is now over. My frozen laboratory (ie, the freezer) sports a bottle of cold, seriously robust booze. After three weeks of marinading, most of the chocolate has been dissolved and incorporated by the vodka, and there is just a bit of chocolatey drudge near the murky bottom.

This "witch's brew" is thick and milky, and not a substance to take lightly. Do not turn your back on it. Do not let popular images of milk chocolate blind you into assuming this is a silly, just-a-taste-before-operating-heavy-machinery kind of beverage. It will have its way with you if you do not take care. I recently sampled a portion and then text-bombed D in a most irritating fashion. The danger lies in the sweet flavour which overpowers the taste of the booze, a tip I should have remembered from my, ahem, experiments with vodka coolers in university. Blend this vodka beast into a tall glass of milk and say your prayers.

Any other day

2010-12-06T11:41:00.000-08:00

She woke up to a low rumble. The walls shook. She didn't recognize the sound right away, and then her mind turned to last night's storm. Snowplow? The rumbling got closer, then faded away like a bear into the forest. She lay doll-still under layers of blankets, listening to the neighbor's alarm clock followed by sounds of shuffling on the thin floor above. Behind the bedroom door the hungry meows of two cats pierced the silence. Her eyelids felt weighted. It couldn't be later than 6 AM. It was as dark as night in her room but she could see a thin, pale crack of light peeking out above the curtain. She stirred, shifting the blankets, feeling a shock of cold air against her warm neck. It's morning, she thought, and he's not here. Same as yesterday. Same as any other day.

// Crepes with chocolate, banana and strawberries //

The gambler

2010-12-05T20:13:00.000-08:00

Awesome run today. I ran alone for a while, and then out of nowhere I bumped into the Gaz who was running with her auburn-colored dog, and together we pounded back the miles. For about an hour we kept it light, here and there Gaz politely reminding the dog to slow down for the humans. He did. Time flew like the snowflakes. I ran 21k; all systems solid. I registered for Nashville when I got home. Screw indecision.

I read that Kenny Rogers is going to croon for the runners at some point during the race!

:: Ginger coconut rice with chick pea & broccoli curry ::

Winter oven

2010-12-04T20:32:00.000-08:00

I bury you
for the thrill
of digging you up

~ Apple & cranberry crisp w/
Cookie Dough Dynamo ice cream ~

Forbidden fruit

2010-11-23T06:57:00.000-08:00

I brought a pomegranate home. I couldn't remember what it tasted like.

Using a knife, I cut the hard shell into pieces and sucked out the plump, sweet seeds. It reminded me of eating lobster, but even messier.

Like a gruesome scene from Dexter, the cut fruit lies in a pool of its own...juice.

I totally gorged out on this treat. Only the carcass and my stained cutting board remain.

Étudiante

2010-11-22T16:41:00.000-08:00

Rocked by a feeling (fresh-off-the-boat)
she clings to the side
blue eyes closed to inhale the
heavy air in this ancient port
strange smells and noises
weaving into the night
for reasons tingling and exotic

Here, there
at cafés on busy streets
wine and words flow
like electric currents
joining together
puzzle pieces of a place
She jumps in with a smile
as wide as the Red Sea
Je voudrais des escargots, s’il vous plait
trying on the foreign
playing with playing
la femme fatale or maybe
the sensitive come-from-away

Until a fisherman with almond eyes
shines the light of history
worn smooth and beige as an oyster’s pearl:
We don’t speak French here anymore
just a few words with the tourists

Tres drôle, she muses
plucking snails from their shells with a fork
how did she get here?
is the fog to blame
or did she shipwreck herself
in the roar of the conch
clutched too closely to her ear

Martinis are from Mars

2010-11-15T17:53:00.000-08:00

I read an article today on how to make chocolate martinis using a bottle of vodka, Mars chocolate bars and a freezer. Forget that 3-day bartending class you snoozed through during that summer in university; martini mixing is now as easy as combining over-the-counter chocolate bars with cheap vodka, and marinating the mixture in your freezer. Hallelujah!

Well, sort of. Here's the thing: while the DIY method sounds perfect for lazy, fun-loving people like us, it does require something special. And that special something is patience. Read on for the saucy details:

1. First, make room in the bottle by dumping out some of the contents.

Did I catch you emptying the bottle by drinking its contents in the style of teenager-meets-milk-carton? Oh no you didn't! Dude, it's only Monday, find yourself a hobby. But before you waste your time with other hobbies, find a spare container and pour about 1/5 of the vodka into it. For this 750 ml bottle, that means 150 ml in an unused coffee jar. From alcomahol to caffeine. Yeah, it's all peaks and valleys around here at RTTK.

2. Use your gravitational pull to draw in all available Mars bars (about 5-6 bars).

I used 5.

3. Chop chop.

Find a knife and chop up the bars. The pieces need to be small enough to slip through the bottle neck, so mince away. Then try - just try - to refrain from gobbling the pieces. (You can do it. I believe in you.) Question: is the end of a chocolate bar called the heel?

4. Feed the bear.

Mmmm, appetizing!

That's right, you're going to feed the teensy pieces of chocolate through the bottle neck. You may feel like you're working in Frankenstein's laboratory, stuffing minced body parts into test tubes of formaldehyde, especially if you're doing this at night after watching a Romero zombie flick the night before, but worry not, you're in the comfort of your own home, so try to persevere.

Tightly cap the bottle, give it a good shake, then find a home for it in your freezer. Let the mixture marinate for 2 weeks, giving the booze ample time to break down the chocolate and caramel. Check the bottle every day, shake it and turn it over if it's lying on its side. At about the two week mark, invite a friend over for a taste test. If it's delicious, call over a few more friends. Better yet, call me!

White stripes

2010-11-13T10:47:00.000-08:00

Pinotte's award-winning owl impression.

Note his white & ginger striped tail. He was a creamsicle in a previous life.

Hogs and hot nog

2010-11-09T09:23:00.000-08:00

I've been wrapped up in life details like a pig in a feed blanket, and haven't been running or cooking. I haven't even ingested anything unusual, save for an eggnog latte on Sunday, which wouldn't score highly on a list of weird foods.

"Turn up the sizzle on that heat lamp, Chuck."

The latte was my first foray into the hot nog realm. I enjoyed the adventure, but I do prefer egg nog cold with cinnamon and a liberal shot of rum. Could be accompanied by a plate of waffles, cheesy christmas music in the air, and a full table of satisfied eaters.

Jolene

2010-11-05T18:15:00.000-07:00

My first outdoor run after getting sick and existing on pause was very fun. I ran along sidewalks and tried to avoid soggy leaves and puddles for 45 minutes. I listened to a collection of punk tunes downloaded from a colleague's collection. I didn't know that punk songs are always short and sometimes intertextual, as in they parody or pay homage to other songs, sometimes in different genres. They are also very funny: I heard a cover of Dolly Parton's "Jolene" sang by a male ("Jolene / Jolene / Please don't take him just because you can") without any hint of gay signals (not that I'd recognize them, I guess). Not many bands would be brave enough in their subversivity (I just made that up) to do the same. I played the frenetic songs at an ear-blistering volume level and resisted urges to play chicken with cars in the rainy darkness. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes would surely rage on such restraint.

Adventures with pintos

Chillaxing in the bath with onion & bay leaves

Future fibre

2010-11-04T17:38:00.000-07:00

As a young child, my sister often recited a Shel Silverstein poem that began, "I remembered to put on my shirt / I remembered to put on my shoes." Thereafter followed a list of clothing items he had remembered, luckily. By the end of the poem, you'd believe a b&w an image of his pants could be seen on future CIBC envelopes like beloved children gone missing. For tonite's spin class, I remembered my shirt and pants but not the vitally-important towel for sweat soak ups; knowing how necessary the towel is, I considered leaving. I stayed, and chose a spin bike that happened to sit beside a side door that just happened to be flung open by a warm participant after the class started. The cool breezes that flowed in whisked away most of my socially-undesireable persp and left my face dry (I could make a fortune on salt remnants, though).

~ Just what will happen to these soaked pintos? ~

Check back later!

They don't love you (like I love you)

2010-11-03T06:55:00.000-07:00

Knead foreign bodies

Blood stains thin veins and lifelines

Let sleeping thorns lie.

American cheese on Bavarian rye & a French kiss of Asian hot sauce

We all scream

2010-11-02T05:53:00.000-07:00

It's November, and now that Betsy has retired her bike seat for the winter, I'll be occasionally walking to work and seeing the neighborhood at a more leisurely pace. We had frost last night so I dug out a pair of mitts and followed the sidewalk to work, the grass on both sides flattened and white. The air was cold and still. The sun was golden, and the wide sky, high above the snarling traffic, pastel crayons released from their box and spread across the horizon; a smear of baby blues, pinks and peaches; light and surreal and unattainable.

House call

2010-10-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

It's a drugstore shelf in my apartment! Some people know how to relieve sickies of their sinus pain and coughs. Today I was the lucky beneficiary of a remedy smorgasbord that included soups, nasal strips, menthol cream, pills, capsules and tablets. The primo-grade kleenex and back rub are not shown. I really dug the chocolate brownie/cookie dough ice cream.

Thank you, Dr. Feelgood!

xox

Hot toddy

2010-10-28T16:09:00.000-07:00

Home sick today.

Were my Scottish grandma still with us, she'd fix her invalid granddaughter a hot toddy (because she'd want a drive to church later!). In Martha's version of the hot drink, she'd splash rum into a mug and mix in hot water and sugar. Under a spell of inspiration, she might also add lemon juice and sweet spices like cinnamon and cloves. The toddy was a drink for which she was famous in our family. People appreciated her generosity with the shot glass. Martha was a competitive player of cards and bingo; she'd kick your arse in 45's, but she wouldn't let you go without if you were in need, and she'd do all she could to help you heal.

In her absence, I turn to pharmaceutical remedies.

They don't heal me half as fast, Gram.

Korean BBQ, at intervals

2010-10-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

Interval training is now over until December. Tonight's workout concluded the fall training, and it was a shorter distance, which I love: 8-10 (550m). The wind was warm and I bet it could have been a perfect evening for running but I could feel a cold coming on. My throat hurt more with every forced exhale, my ears were starting to pain me, and I was feeling cranky. I don't like feeling sick and missing the fun. Plus, the runners who arrived for tonight's workout were of the "gazelle" variety; the fast people whose dust I meekly inhale as I lope along behind them, and so I was last after every sprint. I try to be cool with it, but I'm just not a fan of last place. Second-last is fine with me, but that's as close to last as I like to be. Placing last many times over disagrees with me even further, so after 4 sets I tied up loose ends with goodbyes and explanations and went home to a mug of hot lemon tea and a warm shower. Both improved my mood but I'm still sick.

Stirring the pot: Mussels on the half shell, squid, salmon and shrimp.

With supporting fresh vegetables. Exquisite!

Unlike taking last place, Korean BBQ is exceptionally agreeable. Grilling your own meal in front of you is fun, and whether you're the table cook, the eater or both, you win! (Unless, say, you burn every morsel to a black carbon lump on the bottom of the pan, smoking the other customers out of the resto... but relax, that's not going to happen. You worry too much!)

Pumpkin curry

2010-10-21T17:50:00.000-07:00

Last night's sprints: 4-6 x 1000m / 3 min rest. Not bad despite the gusts of wind that caught my breath at the top of the hill. I finished 4 reps and would have gone for a 5th but while standing around and considering that 5th, the cold wind stole my best ambitions and I headed for home. The 1000m route finished with a downhill slope which was kind to my quads. They were aching but stronger after spin class the night before. Maybe there is a sweet spot between recooperation and fatigue.

Considering the earthy deliciousness of pumpkin curry, I've wondered why it isn't available in more restaurants. Pumpkins are cheap and last forever. Now I know the reason: pumpkins are as tough as coconuts! Prepare yourself. 45 minutes' worth of cutting and peeling and yelling creative blue expressions, and then - and only then - are you ready to rock.

Throw some diced pumpkin together with crushed tomatoes, red peppers, bananas, ginger and hot peppers, et voila. Proof that the pumpkin is capable of providing more than pie filling and maniacal Halloween lanterns. And the curry pairs much better with basmati.

Losing my head

2010-10-19T12:35:00.000-07:00

I’m trying to put the brakes on drinking coffee at work. I think coffee screws up my sleep rhythms so I’ve been scouting out beverages to replace my standard weekday Grande Bold. Earl Grey tea and hot chocolate are the usual fallbacks, but they're not nearly as seductive as that liquid siren known as the black gold. I went cold turkey for a few months this summer but that would be mercilessly difficult in the cold winter months when the office feels like the inside of a meat locker. I know someone amazing who recently kicked a powerful addiction without losing his head. What the hell is my problem?

Poor Tinkerbell! She was last seen - in one piece - atop a white birthday cake early Saturday evening. Later that night, after the cake (angel food, ironically) had been devoured down to its crumbs by depraved partiers (note the icing scrapings on the plate), the merriment clearly took a downturn and little Tinky was beheaded with a knife. The scenario was a gruesome morning-after discovery. I couldn't guess who butchered her or why. Maybe it was a case of "wrong place, wrong time" for the fairy. On the bright side, without a head, her potential to degrade into a flesh-eating zombie has completely vanished. Is it safer in here, or is it just me?

Identify your pie

2010-10-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

The North American Apple Pie can be identified by its flaky, tan-colored crust and sweet, tart, filling. It can be found anywhere food is available, including five-star resorts and fast food joints, but its natural habitat is a warm kitchen oven on a sunny weekend afternoon - say about 4pm. The apple pie is a playful dessert that likes to dress up in cheddar cheese slices, dollops of whipped cream with a breezy cinnamon dusting, or a naughty French maid costume (known as "pie a la mode"). This pie has many predators and, if cornered, will fight back by being delicious. Your best defense is a fork.

Take that mother down.

//R's homemade apple pie//

Rocky roads & silver linings

2010-10-08T20:52:00.000-07:00

We shared these peanut butter marshmellow treats after a Japanese dinner. My shrimp tempura donburi, salty and kinda greasy, carved out a deep thirst within that not even water could quench. I squealed when I saw these squares in their shiny foil packet opened on the table.

And that's how the evening kicked off - with a frenzied tango of opposites: salty, gooey, shiny, sweet. From that baseline we descended to a less civilized venue and kicked it up an octave with pitchers of Keith's Red, tequila shots ("shoot, suck, lick"), grubby wine lists and non-stop singing. Solo and in twos, threes, fours - even while sitting in our wooden seats like anxious mothers backstage at toddler beauty pagents - we set that tiny pub stage on fire with our angelic voices and tortured screams, shameless shaking and grinding, until the simple act of browsing the massive song book became too exhausting, at which point we took our bows, vowing, between shielded yawns, to return, bigger, better and louder. And pinker.

Reward

2010-10-04T13:23:00.000-07:00

Still reminiscing about last week's sprints session.

The cool-warm wind.

Lots of runners; positive energy flowing.

A friend's incredible stories about biking through Mongolia last summer.

Joking around in the darkness; hovering like fireflies under the streetlamp.

One runner persevering under the weight of her own worries and expectations about her upcoming marathon.

Pushed myself and was rewarded with the high!

~ Blueberry coffee cake

Gold

2010-10-03T18:54:00.000-07:00

I slept in this morning and missed my running buddies, but my week had been busy and I needed to move sleep to the top of the priority list. My knee felt a little tender from the beginning but it wasn't painful enough to stop so I cut the distance by a measly 2km and stretched and iced it afterwards. I probably should have stopped running to be on the safe side. Shrug.

Gold sun, golden leaves. I set out later in the day, enjoying the sunshine and keeping both open for small, cantankerous dogs, of which there were many. It amazes me how really small dogs, I mean ankle-biters, can be counted on to act more aggressively than larger dogs. One cute little fella listed toward me with snarls that sounded too large for its body. It was hardly difficult for me to escape its falsetto rasps; half a stride and already I was miles from its reach. The small dog probably needs to exhibit some 'tude to avoid being preyed upon, but why would it turn on a runner lost in her music and thoughts? Unless I was unknowingly close to mashing the feral little tyke into the florescent green goose droppings on the path.

It was still warm enough to wear a running skirt but there are so many full blown signs of autumn that there cna't be many days left like this in the season. I'm always sad to see summer leave us but my running clothes have more pockets for holding my music player, gels, etc. As a reason to welcome winter, that might not seem substantial enough but for me it's up there with soup simmering deliciously in a crock pot and skating by the light of the full moon. All gold.

Black bean salad with corn and ginger-lime dressing.

Milk and cookies*

2010-09-29T12:25:00.000-07:00

Glory Box - Portishead
Teardrop - Massive Attack
Don't Cry - GNR
Let's Stay Together - Al Green
Try a Little Tenderness - Otis Redding
Wicked Game - Chris Isaac
Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis
One - U2
I'm on Fire For You Baby - April Wine
Downtown - Peaches
Gimme Sympathy - Metric

*Because pain and pleasure go together like milk and cookies.

Headwind

2010-09-26T12:09:00.001-07:00

I just discovered that a website I have followed for years has been renamed. Recipezaar.com is now Food.com, and yeah, it still serves basically the same function as before, storing and offering millions of recipes. The original site in the 90s was a collection of hyperlinked pages without images, and over the years I read and downloaded books' worth of recipes. It's been redesigned many times since, but the new name and appearance are dramatic changes. It's like arriving at your office building and finding that your job is the same as before but you're working for another company (with a lamer name. Food.com doesn't sound or look nearly as elegant as a name with "zaar.")

This morning I overslept and missed the group run, so I ran the 18k on my own (on 5 hours of sleep). The misty weather was ideal for a long run.

I didn't feel a breeze on the first half of the run, but I definitely felt a headwind when I turned around for the second half. I think this poor tree lying across the bike path might have been the victim of some harsh gales.

Off

2010-09-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

She's a twister, he said
a real firecat
amber eyes spitting
image of her mother
crazy is as crazy does

she drank gin in her lincoln
parked in the driveway
curled up on his sofa
when the migraines hit

he thought she had kids
god knows where
no friends to speak of
ex husbands fighting
the law or
the devil
or both

She packed up one day
daggers glinting in her tiger eye
I guess I'm off, she told him
and she was

~Curried quinoa pilaf with cashews and ginger
and a ghost in the teaspoon~

Herring

2010-09-22T12:31:00.000-07:00

‘Twas a fine day in Holland
The sun shone so bright
on my face
until shadow
Took over the light

Looking around me
I saw a tall girl
with an object
in her hand that gleamed
Like a pearl

A grey-silver herring
Did hang from her claw
held high
and then
she opened her jaw

And the fish disappeared
In a gulp and a blink
“I’m into whole foods”
She said with a wink!

Wafelling

2010-09-21T12:45:00.001-07:00

Overheard on the sidewalk:

"I don't know what to think, but I feel like I hate her."

Whatever feels right

2010-09-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

How do you know if you're running so-called properly?

In spinning class yesterday, several people asked the instructor about proper arm positions and back posture while on the bike. We had been discussing how the position of the knee, hip and foot are instrumental in determining the most effective bike set up for each person, so questions about the rest of the body seemed totally relevant and helpful. The instructor, however, didn't respond with similarly technical answers but with vague statements that are open to interpretation. "Keep a neutral spine. Whatever feels natural," she said.

I guess the same applies to running. You can take note of technical aspects like your stride length or what you're doing with your elbows, and you can quesion these and possibly change them, but only if you notice them first. Knowing how you feel when doing anything (as well as nothing) is really important. Overall, if it feels right, it probably is.

World food fact #2455: Bakers in Denmark know how to throw down pastry, chocolate and caramel into something resembling ecstacy.

Unorthodox

2010-09-15T19:47:00.000-07:00

I was this close to backing out of sprints with the running group. Motivation is melting these days, but in the end I joined them and had a great run. I overdressed out of fear of feeling chilled, but when pratice was over it was cold enough for the jacket that had been laughably extraneous an hour earlier. It wasn't the easiest workout - 2(600m x 4) - but it was mercifully short, and in no time we were stretching to finish off the workout, and then I was pedalling home in the dark, no bike lights and tons of traffic, gritting my teeth and hoping for the best.

Along the way, I rode by the house where in summer guys linger on the concrete step and smoke sheesha. The air is perfumed with apple tobacco, sweet and unusual to me, fooling me into believing I am elsewhere for a quick second.

This summer in Hamilton I sampled an unorthodox ice cream flavour created by a girl with an ice cream machine and a dream: white chocolate, vanilla and apple. My tongue continually stumbled upon tiny apple pieces buried within the creamy white chocolate. A heavenly combination.

peanut butter cup

2010-09-09T06:16:00.000-07:00

More rain this morning. Droplets of rain clinging to my glasses. Hordes of delighted ducks squawking on the bike path. The pungent smell of wet dog lingering in the breeze....

I bought a different brand of protein powder and road tested it in a Peanut Butter Cup Protein Shake.

1 scoop of powder

1 banana

heaping spoonful of good quality cocoa (Dutch processed is best. Yo, Richard!)

a tablespoon of peanut butter

a drop of sweetener (honey, agave, etc)

splash of chocolate milk

This new powder is very dry and soaks up more liquid than previous powders I've used, so I added a lot of water while mixing. Cold coffee would probably also work very nicely.

Jiggles

2010-09-08T18:53:00.000-07:00

I dig morning runs, but I can only manage to wake up in time once a week at best and I'm comfortable with that. But now, after being on vacation in a different time zone for the last few weeks, my body clock is sufficiently re-wound to allow - nay, force - me to run at a very early hour. So, being awake and soon out of bed, I get on with the chore of getting ready to run. While doing so, I can't stop thinking about the staggering amounts of cheese and beer, etc, I consumed in Europe, shudder, consider the resulting jiggles, grit teeth, and tie the running shoes a little tighter. All of this emotional and physical self-abuse to run in the rain. As this grey scenario illustrates, my mornings have been torturous.

Some items that jiggle naturally and beautifully are shiny tea jellies.

The exact nature of these entities is a mystery to me, although I have grasped that they contain tea and possess a, uh, jelly-like consistency. Do jelly fish have a similar texture? I ask because I will never actually eat an animal that seems more like a thorny rose bush than a delicious sea morsel. (The vulnerability of the scallop is much more endearing, isn't it? They just lie on the plate, relieving you of any worry of retributive stinging.) Anyway, I was given these two jiggly lumps by my server at the Affinity veggie resto in Hamilton as the final course of my Texas-sized meal. My dinner mostly consisted of burdock root, which was new to me and as mysterious as I would later find the jiggling lumps. Breaded, deep-fried, swathed in a thick sauce and dotted with sesame seeds, the taste of the burdock root was overpowered, but who cares, that dish hit the spot.

Gateway

2010-08-10T06:48:00.000-07:00

This morning I went for a run in the fog before work. The early hours are not as light as they were earlier in the summer; still, there will be even less morning light later, so just enjoy it, ok Atlantica? Today I ran as fast and hard as I could. Couldn't keep up with the cyclists.

Last night I took a yoga class. Our teacher has returned from teacher training with a new bag of tricks which made for a challenging class for my quads and shoulders and basically my entire body. It feels marvelous to be in touch with my muscles and endorphins after a winter of couch potatoism brought on by persistent knee pain and, let's face it, relationship-motivated laziness. Yep, I'll admit my relationship motivated me to do almost nothing. I like to push myself, which meant rising early Sunday morning to run while dude complained about my leaving him alone in bed. At times, when the sadness and disappointment ease up, I wonder what I ever saw in him.

I giggled this morning when I heard the radio guy call bacon a gateway meat. A gateway to what? Bacon double cheeseburgers? Bacon bras?

Sushi FAIL

2010-08-06T18:12:00.000-07:00

We stopped at the Superstore in Espanola to pick up camping groceries and dinner. We bought some salads and trays of premade sushi.

Back at the car, T. ate one roll and laughed, saying this was the worst sushi she'd ever tasted! Gummy rice, weak wasabi, flavorless ginger. Looks delicious though, right? Maybe we ate the plastic maki models by mistake.

Pearls

2010-07-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

I joined the running group for some speedwork today. On the path, weaving between other runners, walkers and cyclists, we ran 500m 8 times with 2 minutes of rest in between, and my speed fell within 4 seconds each time, proving not my speed but surely my consistency. How to run faster is a mystery to me, as are good poetry, love, and how pearls are created.

Actually, the origin of pearls is relatively easy to explain: at the center of each pearl is a speck of dirt that irritated the shell inhabiter, and their hard beauty is the cure; the coating. Maybe there is a center of difficulty to everything.

Forehead on the mat

2010-07-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday in yoga class I rested my forehead on my purple mat for the first time. I think the pose is called the pigeon, and I find it incredibly challenging because it wrenches apart my hips that someone, somewhere, crazy glued together while I was sleeping or looking the other way. As if the hip opening portion of the pose is not sufficient torture, the pose also requires you to bend forward over your twisted hips to test your spine and posture, too, and of course your patience. I've been attending a weekly class and the teachers always include the pigeon. Usually my forehead needs to rest on something higher than the ground, like my stacked hands or a block. Maybe my hips are finally giving in to the pressure to relax.

Love Advice #384: When love goes sour, steal the organic lemons from your ex-lover's refrigerator and make sweet lemonade.