Blast from the past: the cheat sheet I wrote on the late-night shift at the Richmond T-D. (Taken with instagram)
Myke said the other day that my dad as a CEO reminds him of Steve Jobs, particularly in conversations and interviews he has watched of Steve.
I text my dad this and add, “High praise!”
24 hours later, my dad writes back: “Who’s Steve Jobs?”
…
My question: Who lives in a bubble, us or him?
I suspect it’s the former.
Your new obsession: Doodle or Die. My illustration of “please goldfish with donut” above.
My doodle chain began with “devil in a windfork.”
(Source: totalvibration)
Save a pretzel for the gas jets, and try my Kwanzaa CDs.
“Rick Perry” — A BLR Soundbite (by BadLipReading)
Grilled banana peppers stuffed with spicy goat cheese. I had two of these beauties growing in my mostly sad garden, and I found the idea on this thread.
That was breakfast.
With more of that goat cheese, I made quiche. Real men ate it.
Then there was orzo risotto with homemade vegetable stock.
I had a single, small butternut squash, and I mashed it and spiced like a sweet potato casserole. It made three very tiny servings that probably should have been one normal-sized serving.
I can’t get enough lemony kale salad. Instead of hazelnuts, I use pistachios. Instead of Parmesan, I use Pecorino. It’s still a lemony kale salad, I promise.
And there has been a lot of “artisan” bread. Make enough dough for four loaves, leave it in the fridge for up to two weeks, and cut off a chunk when you’re ready to bake.
On that bread, I’ve added carrot cake jam.
And it was good.
I ran the other night, sprinting in my jeans and boots in the rain, weaving through traffic, to the drugstore a few blocks down. I snuck out of dinner after we ordered drinks; it was an emergency. Five minutes later, I returned in the middle of the same story, flushed and sweaty and grinning, my foot lit up and throbbing. I’d forgotten about my injury for those few free moments.
I haven’t run in two and a half months. It’s not the first time I’ve had an extended break before, but taking a pause from running has always been my choice; it has never been taken away from me before. I have a tumultuous history with running, more downs that ups, but I’d made some form of peace with it this year and had been covering some pretty good mileage with a group of ladies who had their own running struggles. I’d gotten used to icing my knees after the long runs, but when my IT band snapped audibly and I couldn’t stand on my foot, I knew I had to stop.
On that night last week, I had an extra glass of wine at dinner, tightened the orthopedic band around my foot, and called the doctor the very next day. This has to end somehow. I need to move.
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