HAPPY MARDI GRAS!

One of our colleagues from New Orleans brought us this King Cake back from the city last week.  As luck would have it, my boss got the baby.  For some reason, seeing this baby implanted face down in the doughy deliciousness really cracked me up. Thank you Nonna Randazzo's!

Here's wishing you all the luck in the world this year, a satisfying lent, and plenty of new life come Easter.

FINE LADIES OF (BRITISH) FITNESS

Good-bye, January.  Frankly, I'm glad you're gone.  It was a crazy month at our house with lots of drama which included, but was not limited to:  one ambulance ride to the ER, one sudden trip home from a girl's weekend, three cases of the stomach flu (overlapping), and a few intense and somewhat strange meetings with our local school district to see about taking advantage of their special education services for the babe.  So other than one great week at the beginning, and one awesome afternoon in Tennessee, I'm pretty much ready to flush it and just start his year anew.

Like everyone in America who has the capacity for sight and hearing, I've been totally inundated with images and stories from magazines to MSN about what fitness strategies people will be using to get in shape this year.  And I'm so over it for so many reasons.  Yet that doesn't stop me from sitting in front of the TV and googling the best ways to rid your body of cellulite, which is pretty much the most oxymoronic situation I can imagine and EXACTLY how I roll.  At any rate, during such a search I came across this article from The Daily Mail.  No matter what I do, I just can't seem to steer clear of the Brits these days.  It's like my secret Anglophile has suddenly come alive, full force. 

Apparently, 80s (British) fitness guru Wendy Stehling has made a comeback of sorts with an updated version of her 1982 tome on hot legs (as in the Rod Stewart version).  Here's a link to the article and peek at the cover of her original book.  There is seriously nothing like vintage 80s hot pants to inspire a new and previously unattained level of fitness:

The basic premise is walking every day.  This is my kind of fitness, lady.  But if walking alone doesn't do it for you, if you need something a bit more challenging and lively, I've found the perfect solution right here on our shores.  It's a craze started by Ben Aaron (a hilarious reporter-at-large for NBC) via this YouTube video and is sure to make your day, if not your entire fitness routine for 2013.  Seriously, just imagining myself busting a dance walk around Austin is enough to make me laugh out loud.  I hope you'll do the same.  Here's to second chances, and a Wonderful New Year!

GRIEF

Hatnim Lee snapped this picture on a foggy Tennessee night during her trip to my wedding in January 2009.  I love it the way I love most of her photographs, but this one strikes a chord right now as an excellent representation of how the world looked recently as I tried to find my way through a difficult time. 

There were some beautiful moments over the holiday season this year, but much of the time was colored by the pallor of fresh grief.  One of my oldest and dearest friends, someone I considered one of my best of the best, died in her sleep the weekend of December 15th.  It was a huge shock to those of us (who are many) that loved her and relied on her strength, wit, and compassion as a source of deep joy and encouragement in our lives.  I know that I am one of many people trying to understand how life is supposed to work with her, or at least be as good and fulfilling as before.

My friend is the third in a series of very wonderful, very young people to meet an early and nearly unexplainable death in my broader circle of acquaintances over the last six month.  So I’ve been thinking about grief a lot since the summer, and the heaviness of how long and arduous a process grieving can be was clear to me over the holidays as I sat with parents, friends and family members of the recently departed and we all tried to do the best we can to remember and reflect on the lives of those we love with honesty, integrity, truth, and grace.  

THIS CURRY WILL NOT OVERCOME ME

It's been two months, ya'll.  The end of October and November blew past me like a freight train in the middle of a North Dakota night.  Seriously.  Sometimes life can be TOO MUCH.  So I'm sharing a favorite recipe with you guys, which is rather simple in reality but took me a week to make back in late October when my idea for this post actually started.  It was one of those totally bitchy weeks where I felt slammed but needed to cook in order to keep our little boo-boo bear on her diet.  The GAPS diet, that is.  I'm not some weird pageant mom just because I'm from Alabama and call my kid boo-boo every now and again. There were many false starts, one of which actually ended in a mysterious tipping of our beloved Nordic Ware pan off the range and onto the floor, and my ensuing curse-filled clean up of olive oil, sauteed onions, and cubed chicken at 7 am.  But I didn't give up (although I did throw that particular batch in the trash) and by God, it was worth it. 

Strange pan-tipping incidents aside, this recipe is an easy version of curry that's great for such a season as this when time is the hottest commodity.  And my family wolfs it down.  And it's got peas and carrots.  Check out the original recipe on the fantastic weelicious, a cooking site started by a thin, blonde mother so perfect you'll want to strangle her except that then we'd lose access to her incredible recipes and fantastic cooking prowess, especially in regards to toddler fare.  Here is our adjusted recipe and the delayed, yet delicious, spoils of my bounty:

Ah, the success of it

 Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 small onion, diced
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 pound chicken breasts, boneless, skinless and cubed
• 2 teaspoons curry powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 4 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
• 1 14 oz can regular coconut milk
• 1  cup frozen peas (give or take)

Preparation

1. Heat 1 tbsp of olive oil in a medium pot over medium heat and sauté the onions for 4 minutes. Add the minced garlic, sauté an additional minute.
2. Add the cubed chicken, sauté for 2 minutes, stir in the curry powder, salt, tomato paste, and carrots until they are all coated.
3. Pour in the coconut milk and stir to combine. Bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat to a simmer for 10 minutes.
4. Remove lid, add the frozen peas and simmer an additional 15 minutes.
5. Eat as is, and you're cooking Paleo, baby.

Otherwise, here are a few of the highlights from the last eight weeks, which mostly consisted of day job, day job, cooking, more day job, finding a new babysitter, day job, cooking, and an occasional night of great sleep: 

-Had a blast at the opening celebration for the Billy Reid store in Austin.  Heard an amazing, low-key concert by Iron and Wine there.  Would love to have this little numero as a sweet reminder of the evening, but I guess I'll just have to wait until Billy Reid opens an outlet.  And then has a clearance sale.

-Fell in love with this album.  I'm biased, as the artist is one of my oldest and dearest, but seriously, this record kicks ass and my daughter agrees. Try it, people.  

-Got caught up in a hot affair with Martin Clunes via Doc Martin, the best television series ever made (at least this month).  I blew through all five seasons faster than I care to admit and now want to give the box set to my favorite aunt for Christmas.  Quality British television that doesn't spare the weird medical conundrums and seriously repressed love affair. And it's available for instant streaming via Netflix.  Let's give it  up for Her Royal Highness (and the BBC).  

More soon...

SUCCESS

Driving recently, I found myself in one of those deep meditative states that you can slip into when traveling a familiar road.  You know the kind:  You're driving the same route to work or school or  whatever, when suddenly you find yourself two blocks from your end goal and have only a vague recollection of actually driving there. Anyway, while doing my unintentional driving meditation the other week, I slipped into my subconscious and met an AH-HA moment head on:

I feel so f***ing unsuccessful right now.

The realization, oddly enough, felt awesome.  Like I'd just sent the last email of the day, or nailed the final question on Jeopardy (is that show still on? embarrassing).  But you get my drift.   I figured out something that felt really big:  There was too much going on for me to feel successful at any one thing.  How delightfully simple.  Now, what can I scale back on to start really kicking ass at something again?

Cue the sad face.

It won't be maternity, as my little one definitely needs me now as much as ever.  Marriage is also staying put.  Then there's the issue of my job-  last time I checked, salary and insurance were still pretty much essential.   Exercise?  Already let that one go.   Writing?  But then who would I vent to as friend dates are already at a bare minimum?

So how do you feel successful as a working mother in your mid-thirties?  Actually, how do you feel successful at all at this age?  My friends who are married with kids or on the verge often seem to feel swallowed by the complex web of relationships they juggle, many of which revolve around a deep need for said friend's time and attention.  My single friends who are still living the life and pursuing jobs they love often feel judged by outside sources because of their relationship status or choices around child bearing.  So what's a girl supposed to do?

HAPPY OCTOBER

It's finally fall in Texas and enjoying the cooler temperatures has really encouraged me to let my hair down.  And by down, I mean off.  The true essence of freedom is walking into the salon of someone you trust and having them grab their scissors to relieve you of your nine inch ponytail.  This is pretty much the way it went down last week when I walked into Mirror Mirror and the capable hands of Martha Lynn Kale, salon owner and longtime friend.  It felt freaking amazing.  For your viewing pleasure, I decided to take a snap shot of the leftovers:

The joy in this experience was the rare freedom that comes in knowing exactly what you want, and the luck of having good friends and allies to help facilitate that decision, evolution, or change.   As the world's worst salon client (since my last hair cut, Martha Lynn created, gestated, and birthed a baby and is already back at work), I know I'm lucky to have someone like her in town. She is excellent at what she does, but definitely gets that beauty is more than skin deep.  What a great reminder that taking care of yourself, even when all of your resources feel taxed, is still an efficient use of time:  The energy and pleasure I've gotten from those two hours has been endless.

What is inspiring you this month?  Here's the short list from my end:

These shoes. Joanna Goddard swears they can make anyone look French.

This movie.  The tagline: Get Pitch Slapped.  Does it get any better?

These clothes.  A girl can dream

And this book .  Maybe a bit too woo woo for some, but hey, it's where I'm at right now.

Hope you have a wonderful and inspired October.  Minus yesterday, it's shaping up to be most excellent on my end.  Ever the optimist, instead of being 1 for 2, I'm counting that as one-half of a great month so far.

TRIATHLETE(SORT OF)

A colleague talked me into doing this triathlon sometime back in June, so I spent a fair amount of time over the summer trying hard to get my ass back in shape.  The good news is that it sort of worked:  I'm definitely in much better shape than in June.  The bad news is, one of the tires on my bike totally crapped out three miles into the bike portion of the tri so I actually didn't get to finish.  This sucks, as finishing was the primary goal (not excelling, mind you).  I was able to do the bike and swim, though, and I'm hanging tight to the notion that the tire debacle may have saved me from some untimely pain or injury.  I suppose this means I'll try to stay in shape for another one at some point, which pisses me off in this ridiculous sort of way (after all, fitness is supposed to be the goal here, right?)

Adding insult to injury, the race organizers write all these numbers on your body with permanent marker, including your age by the end of the year.  So the whole week after the race, I could easily cover the race number on my arms and legs- though admittedly, there were a few situations where I did kind of show them off- but the one number that was pretty obvious no matter what I wore (remember, it's still summer in Texas) was my age which was written in big black Sharpie in a not-so-discreet location on the back of my calf.

Many of my friends and I agree that 35 is one of those scary ages. There are not that many more years that I think I'll want to run a triathlon.  I'm as close to 40 now as I am to 30.  Society at large keeps shoving the urgent need for reproduction in my face. Yet in spite of that, and in spite of my recent frustrating  foray into something I'd hoped would feel inspiring, I'm still going to keep my commitment to optimism regardless of foiled plans and my big scary age staring back at me from behind my calf.  My daughter and I discovered this Bruno Mars ditty about not giving up the other day via You Tube and at the risk of looking like a total tool for two Sesame Street references in such a short time span, I'm including it here.  Growing up is hard, after all, and if the march of time doesn't slowly free us from our inhibitions and challenge us to accomplish new things, what's the point?