Get set...

That half banana on the middle shelf?

Means it's a party.

Work bites

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain and snowpeople

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.