Just a note to let you know that we have completed Stage 1 of our move to Nashville! On Thursday night and all day today I packed about six Honda-loads of stuff, thoroughly cleaned my old one-bedroom apartment (and realized that I probably should have cleaned it that thoroughly when I moved in because the cupboards and windows were pretty dirty!), and was all moved before noon today! A friend at work loaned me his “dolly” (moving cart) so I was even able to easily move my 27” TV, the item I was most worried about moving. I am just moving to another apartment within the same complex, so the TV and a dresser made the move sans Honda. I just rolled them through the parking lot, up a hill, over a really big speedbump, and they were “home”!
I spent this afternoon putting things away to get ready for Stage 2 of the Howell to Nashville move. Things are in pretty good shape in the new apartment, aside from a counterful of boxes and a couple corners of more boxes. Right now, I can do cartwheels in each of the main rooms! It is kind of amazing how much stuff I accumulated in just four months, especially considering how spartan my living quarters looked! Thanks to everyone who helped me get a semblance of a setup down here! You did a better job than it appeared!
Here’s an apartment to apartment breakdown:
Old / New
Bedrooms: 1 / 2
Bathrooms: 1 / 1.5
Sq.Ft.: 715 / 1020
Rent: $585 / $625
Smell: Stale smoke (I found out a drug dealer used to live there!) / new paint
Approach: Walk in off of the parking lot (no stairs) / walk in off the parking lot (no stairs)
View: Other apartment building & parking lot / parking lot and swimming pool
In amazing news, I did 32,000 steps yesterday (an average day for me is 10,000 and my previous record was 24,000)! No wonder I was tired by the end of the day! This apartment has a nice feel and I am right at home already. Can’t wait to get Les down here, too. And the rest of our stuff (we’re planning to start packing the truck on Thursday), although I am ready to be done with moving for a while after this.
Well, I am catching a plane to MI tomorrow morning so I’d better start getting ready for that. Have a great Memorial Day weekend and you’ll hear from me in about a week!
Friday, May 27, 2005
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
In Transition
I haven't posted for a while and here's why: Les and I are in the process of moving our personal belongings from Michigan down to Nashville and I've been mentally preoccupied with prep for this move. We've lived apart for over four months so this reconnection is exciting stuff! I can't wait for us to be living under the same roof again! I also feel that, once he's here, the exploration (and blogging about the exploration) of Nashville will begin in earnest.
In preparation, I'll be moving from a one-bedroom to a two-bedroom this week. I don't have much stuff, but it's amazing how spread out it all got in the course of a few months. I have been packing bags and boxes in a half-hearted fashion this week but will kick it into high gear tonight. Since I have so few things and since I'm just moving within the apartment complex, I keep procrastinating the packing process, instead playing computer games or watching DVDs. But it will probably take longer than I think it will and I need to clean the apartment before I officially turn over the keys, so I have to plan for that kind of time as well.
Everything in my apartment can fit in my car and is light enough for me to carry. Except for my TV, which I'm not sure how I'm going to move (my brother-in-law said, "You live in the South now. People are helpful and will help you move it!"). I have some Plan B's, but we'll see how it goes. Other than the TV, it feels like I'm in college again. How great to have only a few things and easily moveable things at that. I am ready to become a vagabond, moving from place to place on a whim.
Erm, except for all the stuff that's going into the 24 foot Uhaul we're renting next week...
In preparation, I'll be moving from a one-bedroom to a two-bedroom this week. I don't have much stuff, but it's amazing how spread out it all got in the course of a few months. I have been packing bags and boxes in a half-hearted fashion this week but will kick it into high gear tonight. Since I have so few things and since I'm just moving within the apartment complex, I keep procrastinating the packing process, instead playing computer games or watching DVDs. But it will probably take longer than I think it will and I need to clean the apartment before I officially turn over the keys, so I have to plan for that kind of time as well.
Everything in my apartment can fit in my car and is light enough for me to carry. Except for my TV, which I'm not sure how I'm going to move (my brother-in-law said, "You live in the South now. People are helpful and will help you move it!"). I have some Plan B's, but we'll see how it goes. Other than the TV, it feels like I'm in college again. How great to have only a few things and easily moveable things at that. I am ready to become a vagabond, moving from place to place on a whim.
Erm, except for all the stuff that's going into the 24 foot Uhaul we're renting next week...
Making Do
I realized this morning how spoiled I really am. I rarely have to "make do" with anything because I usually have or have the means to buy whatever it is that I really need.
This fact came through loud and clear this morning when I realized that I was out of coffee filters. And I had just been at the grocery store the night before, too (what I get for not making a list)! I considered going to work without my obligatory large mug of coffee drunk, but found the potential repurcussions too scary to contemplate that option for very long. So, I decided to "make do."
In college, I think I had friends who never bought coffee filters and only used the multi-functional paper towel instead. But, as I stood in the kitchen with a paper towel in one hand and a coffee basket in the other, it seemed like a square-peg-round-hole IQ test of sorts. I realized that this project would be a lot easier to do if I had already had a cup of coffee to drink. Alas, no such luck. A bit of folding, scrunching, and scissoring produced a "coffee filter" which I hoped would suffice. I wasn't happy with the end result, but it passed the test and made a good-as-it-gets, grounds-free cup of coffee. That's all I asked of it (it didn't need to look pretty while doing it), so crisis avoided.
When I went to eat my cereal, however, I realized that all the bowls were dirty. Never one to hand-wash a dish when I have any other possible option, I ended up "making do" with a tupperware container. The only potential problem was that it's a different size than my regular cereal bowls, so I had no idea how much was "enough" cereal. I decided to just wing it (being emboldened by the caffeine high I was finally feeling), and it turned out okay (if anything, I might have had less cereal than usual -- overcompensation on my part, I'm sure).
In a sense, it was fun to have to come up with a workaround for once, but I was 15 minutes late to work this morning.
Or was that because I laid in bed long after the alarm had gone off?
This fact came through loud and clear this morning when I realized that I was out of coffee filters. And I had just been at the grocery store the night before, too (what I get for not making a list)! I considered going to work without my obligatory large mug of coffee drunk, but found the potential repurcussions too scary to contemplate that option for very long. So, I decided to "make do."
In college, I think I had friends who never bought coffee filters and only used the multi-functional paper towel instead. But, as I stood in the kitchen with a paper towel in one hand and a coffee basket in the other, it seemed like a square-peg-round-hole IQ test of sorts. I realized that this project would be a lot easier to do if I had already had a cup of coffee to drink. Alas, no such luck. A bit of folding, scrunching, and scissoring produced a "coffee filter" which I hoped would suffice. I wasn't happy with the end result, but it passed the test and made a good-as-it-gets, grounds-free cup of coffee. That's all I asked of it (it didn't need to look pretty while doing it), so crisis avoided.
When I went to eat my cereal, however, I realized that all the bowls were dirty. Never one to hand-wash a dish when I have any other possible option, I ended up "making do" with a tupperware container. The only potential problem was that it's a different size than my regular cereal bowls, so I had no idea how much was "enough" cereal. I decided to just wing it (being emboldened by the caffeine high I was finally feeling), and it turned out okay (if anything, I might have had less cereal than usual -- overcompensation on my part, I'm sure).
In a sense, it was fun to have to come up with a workaround for once, but I was 15 minutes late to work this morning.
Or was that because I laid in bed long after the alarm had gone off?
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Yoga in Bed
Perhaps not as risque as some of you might have expected this post to be, Yoga in Bed, by Edward Vilga is simply a new book I got from my sister a couple of weeks ago. The book has about ten common yoga poses for morning and for nighttime, and all of them can be done from the comfort of your own bed. The first night I tried it out and basically fell dead asleep, waking up at 8 a.m. the next morning with the book in bed beside me and my bedside light still on. Apparently, this yoga stuff is quite relaxing!
I did the Yoga in Bed exercises in the mornings and evenings for a full week. Even though it meant that I got to sleep (or rather, to my book) 20 minutes later and had to wake up 20 minutes earlier (or spend less time pretending to fall back asleep and lazing around in bed) to get the exercises in and still get in the shower at the same time, I really have to say that I felt great that week. Less stress in my shoulders, better sleeping through the night, etc.
Then I took a week off, and I felt pretty horrid. Was it not doing the yoga, or was it other external factors? Just in case, I am back on it again. At least for another week. I do get bored after a while, which is why I gave up the various yoga workouts I have on DVD, but if I only have to commit to 10 or 15 minutes (instead of 45 on the DVD) maybe it will stick?
The challenge will be keeping it up when Les moves down here. You really do need a whole king size bed to yourself to do the poses. It may become Yoga in Bedroom on Floor or Yoga Before Your Husband Comes to Bed instead.
The best parts of the book are the photos. The model truly looks like she's having a fabulous time doing the poses!. If yoga is that much fun, why aren't we all doing it?
So, check out Yoga in Bed and if you try it, let me know how it goes. My blood pressure is going down just thinking about it.
I did the Yoga in Bed exercises in the mornings and evenings for a full week. Even though it meant that I got to sleep (or rather, to my book) 20 minutes later and had to wake up 20 minutes earlier (or spend less time pretending to fall back asleep and lazing around in bed) to get the exercises in and still get in the shower at the same time, I really have to say that I felt great that week. Less stress in my shoulders, better sleeping through the night, etc.
Then I took a week off, and I felt pretty horrid. Was it not doing the yoga, or was it other external factors? Just in case, I am back on it again. At least for another week. I do get bored after a while, which is why I gave up the various yoga workouts I have on DVD, but if I only have to commit to 10 or 15 minutes (instead of 45 on the DVD) maybe it will stick?
The challenge will be keeping it up when Les moves down here. You really do need a whole king size bed to yourself to do the poses. It may become Yoga in Bedroom on Floor or Yoga Before Your Husband Comes to Bed instead.
The best parts of the book are the photos. The model truly looks like she's having a fabulous time doing the poses!. If yoga is that much fun, why aren't we all doing it?
So, check out Yoga in Bed and if you try it, let me know how it goes. My blood pressure is going down just thinking about it.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Number 9
Today is my first 9th wedding anniversary (the second 9th wedding anniversary is June 16, for those of you who forgot to send a card this month; yes, we had two wedding ceremonies).
For the rabid fans of this blog who didn't know I was married and who thought that every time I referenced "Les" I was slipping temporarily into French (oooh la la!), I apologize for leading you on. But, c'mon, the writing was on the wall (or the blog, so to speak). Time to stop living in your fantasy world. I'm taken!
Now that I've cleared that up, back to my thoughts on being married 9 years. Folks, it went by fast. But when I look back on all that's happened, it seems like we've packed more than 9 year's worth of adventure in, which is a great feeling. No boredom or dulldrums, and a good measure of laughter, tears, arguments, good cooking, play, laziness, productivity, and all the other things that make life different and challenging from one day to the next.
I now know that marriage isn't for everyone (that wasn't something I knew nine years ago when I got marriend, however), and I get that. But I'm still personally a fan of it, and a fan of being married to Les himself.
So, without getting too sappy, here's thanks to Les for making the last nine years a worthwhile way to spend my time. You've continued to keep me engaged and interested and challenged. That's what I want and that's what I appreciate about you. Here's to many more years of adventure together. Happy Anniversary!
For the rabid fans of this blog who didn't know I was married and who thought that every time I referenced "Les" I was slipping temporarily into French (oooh la la!), I apologize for leading you on. But, c'mon, the writing was on the wall (or the blog, so to speak). Time to stop living in your fantasy world. I'm taken!
Now that I've cleared that up, back to my thoughts on being married 9 years. Folks, it went by fast. But when I look back on all that's happened, it seems like we've packed more than 9 year's worth of adventure in, which is a great feeling. No boredom or dulldrums, and a good measure of laughter, tears, arguments, good cooking, play, laziness, productivity, and all the other things that make life different and challenging from one day to the next.
I now know that marriage isn't for everyone (that wasn't something I knew nine years ago when I got marriend, however), and I get that. But I'm still personally a fan of it, and a fan of being married to Les himself.
So, without getting too sappy, here's thanks to Les for making the last nine years a worthwhile way to spend my time. You've continued to keep me engaged and interested and challenged. That's what I want and that's what I appreciate about you. Here's to many more years of adventure together. Happy Anniversary!
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Keep on Steppin'
For my birthday this year, my parents bought me a step-counter. It's not an expensive one (can be purchased for under $4 at Wal-Mart) and consequently it's probably not that accurate, but it does give you a general idea of how much activity you get in a day. The goal, according to the step-counter brochure, is to get an average of 10,000 steps a day (for me, I figure this is about the equivalent of an hour of activity).
Since receiving this step-counter, I have become a bit fanatical about getting in my steps (you know you've reached a certain level of obsession when you find yourself pacing around your very small apartment for 15 minutes to "just get in those last 307 steps"!). At work I can get in 4,500 without trying (walking in from the parking lot, back and forth to the printer and bathrooms). It's a good day when I'm leaving the office with over 5,000. I make up the other 5,000 of my recommended daily dose walking to and from the mailbox in my apartment complex, shopping for groceries, or occassionally walking on the tredmill in our health club (the weather has been so nice that I try to avoid walking inside, if possible). I put on my step-counter the minute I hop out of bed in the morning, and I take it off only when I have gotten in bed for the night at the end of the day. Every day I write down how many steps I take and do an average each week, keeping track of my biggest day (24,347) and my smallest day (4,305).
What I have learned is that I'm not naturally a very active person and, if I didn't have my step counter to motivate me, I bet I would spend most of my days nearer to the 5,000 mark than the 10,000 mark. But those digits guilt-trip me into exercising more, and that's a good thing.
You can also rack up those steps by just jumping in place. While not exactly stepping, it is exercise and I don't feel too bad if I get my last 1,000 steps in by doing the pogo.
I don't have any miracle weight loss stories to tell you about my step-counter, but I still feel like it's a good thing and everyone should try it out. Some of you might be surprised at how much walking you actually do each day, while others might be surprised at how little activity you get (like me). I just recently bought Les a replacement step-counter and found out they come in designer colors now (pink, blue, and green), so if you're going to go for it, go for it fashionably!
Let me know how many steps you get in!
Since receiving this step-counter, I have become a bit fanatical about getting in my steps (you know you've reached a certain level of obsession when you find yourself pacing around your very small apartment for 15 minutes to "just get in those last 307 steps"!). At work I can get in 4,500 without trying (walking in from the parking lot, back and forth to the printer and bathrooms). It's a good day when I'm leaving the office with over 5,000. I make up the other 5,000 of my recommended daily dose walking to and from the mailbox in my apartment complex, shopping for groceries, or occassionally walking on the tredmill in our health club (the weather has been so nice that I try to avoid walking inside, if possible). I put on my step-counter the minute I hop out of bed in the morning, and I take it off only when I have gotten in bed for the night at the end of the day. Every day I write down how many steps I take and do an average each week, keeping track of my biggest day (24,347) and my smallest day (4,305).
What I have learned is that I'm not naturally a very active person and, if I didn't have my step counter to motivate me, I bet I would spend most of my days nearer to the 5,000 mark than the 10,000 mark. But those digits guilt-trip me into exercising more, and that's a good thing.
You can also rack up those steps by just jumping in place. While not exactly stepping, it is exercise and I don't feel too bad if I get my last 1,000 steps in by doing the pogo.
I don't have any miracle weight loss stories to tell you about my step-counter, but I still feel like it's a good thing and everyone should try it out. Some of you might be surprised at how much walking you actually do each day, while others might be surprised at how little activity you get (like me). I just recently bought Les a replacement step-counter and found out they come in designer colors now (pink, blue, and green), so if you're going to go for it, go for it fashionably!
Let me know how many steps you get in!
Dealing with Life's Little Annoyances
For you rebels out there, here is an article from the NYT about fighting against "the man" in small ways. The part of the article that I could most relate to was ordering Starbucks coffee as small, medium, or large, to rebel against their silly renaming strategy.
I am sending you a link to the article as seen on www.cockeyed.com because there's a little more information at the bottom (a call from the author for more ideas) and because the NYT makes you purchase articles to read them which, as we all can attest, is very annoying.
To read the article excerpt, click here.
Good luck in your small rebellions.
I am sending you a link to the article as seen on www.cockeyed.com because there's a little more information at the bottom (a call from the author for more ideas) and because the NYT makes you purchase articles to read them which, as we all can attest, is very annoying.
To read the article excerpt, click here.
Good luck in your small rebellions.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The Roma Pizza Upsell
Tonight I wanted to get some pizza to eat while I watched Envy, one of my Blockbuster movie queue selections (by the way, I am totally loving the $15 Blockbuster monthly movie deal -- it's great not needing to go to the rental store since the movies come in the mail and you can mail them back whenever you want to). I never do take-away pizza by myself and have never gotten pizza here in Nashville, so I wasn't sure where to order it from. Obviously, we have Pizza Hut and Dominoes and Papa John's down here, but I thought it would be more interesting to try something local, even if it was a risk that I might not have a very good pizza.
The only pizza place I could remember seeing in this area was ROMA'S, a place with a big sign on their building (which was why I had noticed it; short name, which is why I remembered it). I am always nervous about ordering over the phone because I feel like I do better if I can see a menu, so I decided to go down there and check it out. The restaurant has a small seating area and looks like it's in a converted pole barn -- pretty low-key. When I drove up, some of the employees were outside on their smoking break, popping skateboard tricks, and listening to music on their car radios. It appeared to be a slow night.
Being a picky eater and "single," I was going basic. I wanted a small pizza with just cheese. The guy at the counter seemed to think this was very unusual, and looked at their large menu board, as if to make me aware of all the options I had before me. I nodded encouragingly and it appeared that things were going to go forward without a hitch. Until another guy came around the corner.
"Did I hear you order a small cheese? No way! You can have a large with two toppings for $2.00 less." To the first guy he said, "Give her a large!" I protested, stating that I was only one person and I couldn't eat a large. "Eat it for breakfast tomorrow, or share it with some friends," he demanded. I explained that I just wanted pizza for tonight, just for me. But it became clear that THAT was not going to happen. Convinced that he had already won the argument about small vs. large (he had?), he warmed up to the toppings dispute, stating how boring it was to have just a cheese pizza, emphatically pointing at all the options on the board. "C'mon! What toppings do you like? You must like something other than cheese!" I conceded that I did like black olives. This seemed to encourage him, and he yelled at his co-worker, pointing at the order pad, "Okay, black olives! That's one! Give me another one!" I asked if they had jalapeno peppers. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, obviously impressed by such a choice. "Yes, we have jalapenos. Do you want a lot or just a few?" So, he's suddenly cautious all of a sudden? I assured him that I could handle whatever he put on there. He beamed, told me it would be 15 minutes, and had his co-worker settle the bill.
When I took the pizza home, the crust was perfect, the sauce was great, but it was the toppings that really brought it home. Thank goodness for the Roma upsell.
The only pizza place I could remember seeing in this area was ROMA'S, a place with a big sign on their building (which was why I had noticed it; short name, which is why I remembered it). I am always nervous about ordering over the phone because I feel like I do better if I can see a menu, so I decided to go down there and check it out. The restaurant has a small seating area and looks like it's in a converted pole barn -- pretty low-key. When I drove up, some of the employees were outside on their smoking break, popping skateboard tricks, and listening to music on their car radios. It appeared to be a slow night.
Being a picky eater and "single," I was going basic. I wanted a small pizza with just cheese. The guy at the counter seemed to think this was very unusual, and looked at their large menu board, as if to make me aware of all the options I had before me. I nodded encouragingly and it appeared that things were going to go forward without a hitch. Until another guy came around the corner.
"Did I hear you order a small cheese? No way! You can have a large with two toppings for $2.00 less." To the first guy he said, "Give her a large!" I protested, stating that I was only one person and I couldn't eat a large. "Eat it for breakfast tomorrow, or share it with some friends," he demanded. I explained that I just wanted pizza for tonight, just for me. But it became clear that THAT was not going to happen. Convinced that he had already won the argument about small vs. large (he had?), he warmed up to the toppings dispute, stating how boring it was to have just a cheese pizza, emphatically pointing at all the options on the board. "C'mon! What toppings do you like? You must like something other than cheese!" I conceded that I did like black olives. This seemed to encourage him, and he yelled at his co-worker, pointing at the order pad, "Okay, black olives! That's one! Give me another one!" I asked if they had jalapeno peppers. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, obviously impressed by such a choice. "Yes, we have jalapenos. Do you want a lot or just a few?" So, he's suddenly cautious all of a sudden? I assured him that I could handle whatever he put on there. He beamed, told me it would be 15 minutes, and had his co-worker settle the bill.
When I took the pizza home, the crust was perfect, the sauce was great, but it was the toppings that really brought it home. Thank goodness for the Roma upsell.
Four Ways To Keep Cool
Summer seems to have officially begun here in Nashville (we've had three days in the high 80s last week), and I'm breaking out all my strategies to keep from overheating and melting my brain. Readers of my profile will note my references to being a sweaty person. I think I take this one step beyond normal people and actually have a "condition." Therefore, I have to take additional precautionary measures to remain chilled out during the hot months. One may ask why I wanted to move to a warmer climate. Well, for the sunshine, of course!
For those of you who live in a perpetual state of summer (Florida or SoCal) and for those of you who are still waiting for summer to come (poor Michiganders!), here are my tips for keeping cool in warm weather:
1. Undershirts. I know that the idea of wearing MORE clothing in hot weather seems crazy, but I learned in the scorching, humid weather of a Taiwan August that wearing at least a cotton tank under all of your clothes somehow really does make you cooler. Not being much of a physicist, I'm not sure if it's that the undershirt absorbs the sweat, somehow creating a layer of cool-dampness between your skin and your outer shirt, or if the sun doesn't shine as hot on your skin through two layers of clothes, or what exactly, but I know it works. I only own about four tanks right now, so it's time to go shopping for more.
2. Frozen Grapes. If you have never tried frozen grapes, I encourage you to live a little. The idea of freezing fresh fruit goes against my better judgement (I am remembering how the bananas we froze for milkshakes when I was younger turned out brown and ugly and dried after a few weeks in the freezer), but with grapes it really seems to work and they turn into better versions of themselves. Wash grapes, pull them from stems, place in Tupperware or freezer bags, and enjoy in a couple of hours. Healthier than ice cream, more tasty than ice cubes (what isn't?), frozen grapes are juicy and cold, immediately dropping your body temperature. For some reason, the sweetness of this treat also seems luxurious to me. A nod back to the debauchery of the ancient Romans, perhaps?
3. Gatorade. Water is my drink of choice, but when I am really, really hot, I go for Gatorade. I don't know if it's the electrolytes or what, but Gatorade can actually give me a chill and I feel like I can sense every part of my internal system cooling down, one cell at a time. This is the most cooling drink I have ever had.
4. Air Conditioning. Yes, this may be a no-brainer for many of you, but for me (cheap, cheap, cheap) it is an internal battle to turn on the central air each season, and then another internal battle to decide how low to keep the thermostat. As the temperatures got higher this season, I was determined not to turn on the AC before June 1 (an arbitrary date that popped into my head for no good reason). I suffered through two of the 88 degree days, opening the windows after dark and using a fan to pull in cooler air at night, but by the third day the apartment was up to 80 degrees inside and Les urged me to "not be stupid and to just turn on the AC." I set it at 70 (it is wonderful how quickly a one-bedroom apartment cools down, compared to 1800 sq.ft. house!) and slept wonderfully. The heat continued and I kept the AC on, but today it's down to 75 outside so the air is off and the windows are open again. I have to admit it was hard to get used to the humidity, after being spoiled by coolness and dryness, but I tried to toughen up, recalling something we learned last October while touring the Hemingway House in Key West -- Ernest Hemingway, living in this especially hot and humid part of Florida, refused to have air conditioning in his house (even though it was technologically available) because he prefered the fresh air instead. However, in looking for a website which cited that fact, I stumbled upon this article, written by Patrick Hemingway's wife, which says that nearly everything the tour guides in the Key West Hemingway House tell you is a complete fabrication.
With this one and only toughing-up factoid debunked, I guess it's back to AC for me.
For those of you who live in a perpetual state of summer (Florida or SoCal) and for those of you who are still waiting for summer to come (poor Michiganders!), here are my tips for keeping cool in warm weather:
1. Undershirts. I know that the idea of wearing MORE clothing in hot weather seems crazy, but I learned in the scorching, humid weather of a Taiwan August that wearing at least a cotton tank under all of your clothes somehow really does make you cooler. Not being much of a physicist, I'm not sure if it's that the undershirt absorbs the sweat, somehow creating a layer of cool-dampness between your skin and your outer shirt, or if the sun doesn't shine as hot on your skin through two layers of clothes, or what exactly, but I know it works. I only own about four tanks right now, so it's time to go shopping for more.
2. Frozen Grapes. If you have never tried frozen grapes, I encourage you to live a little. The idea of freezing fresh fruit goes against my better judgement (I am remembering how the bananas we froze for milkshakes when I was younger turned out brown and ugly and dried after a few weeks in the freezer), but with grapes it really seems to work and they turn into better versions of themselves. Wash grapes, pull them from stems, place in Tupperware or freezer bags, and enjoy in a couple of hours. Healthier than ice cream, more tasty than ice cubes (what isn't?), frozen grapes are juicy and cold, immediately dropping your body temperature. For some reason, the sweetness of this treat also seems luxurious to me. A nod back to the debauchery of the ancient Romans, perhaps?
3. Gatorade. Water is my drink of choice, but when I am really, really hot, I go for Gatorade. I don't know if it's the electrolytes or what, but Gatorade can actually give me a chill and I feel like I can sense every part of my internal system cooling down, one cell at a time. This is the most cooling drink I have ever had.
4. Air Conditioning. Yes, this may be a no-brainer for many of you, but for me (cheap, cheap, cheap) it is an internal battle to turn on the central air each season, and then another internal battle to decide how low to keep the thermostat. As the temperatures got higher this season, I was determined not to turn on the AC before June 1 (an arbitrary date that popped into my head for no good reason). I suffered through two of the 88 degree days, opening the windows after dark and using a fan to pull in cooler air at night, but by the third day the apartment was up to 80 degrees inside and Les urged me to "not be stupid and to just turn on the AC." I set it at 70 (it is wonderful how quickly a one-bedroom apartment cools down, compared to 1800 sq.ft. house!) and slept wonderfully. The heat continued and I kept the AC on, but today it's down to 75 outside so the air is off and the windows are open again. I have to admit it was hard to get used to the humidity, after being spoiled by coolness and dryness, but I tried to toughen up, recalling something we learned last October while touring the Hemingway House in Key West -- Ernest Hemingway, living in this especially hot and humid part of Florida, refused to have air conditioning in his house (even though it was technologically available) because he prefered the fresh air instead. However, in looking for a website which cited that fact, I stumbled upon this article, written by Patrick Hemingway's wife, which says that nearly everything the tour guides in the Key West Hemingway House tell you is a complete fabrication.
With this one and only toughing-up factoid debunked, I guess it's back to AC for me.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
NPR
I added a link to NPR to my blog because I recently realized how much I missed and love NPR and wanted to proclaim it by linking to it. When I lived in Michigan, my commute was an hour each way so I listened to a lot of NPR every week. When I moved to Nashville, I didn't know where the NPR stations were, and being too lazy to look it up online, I just listened to other stuff instead. Plus, my commute is now only six minutes, so some days I don't even listen to anything at all.
I didn't think I missed it until I channel-surfed into the NPR station one afternoon on the drive home. The voices and the theme songs were like old friends to this stranger in a strange land and I immediately added it to my radio memory (button #6) and have been listening to it regularly ever since.
On a culture-shock note, I also recently realized that in Ann Arbor people at work talked about NPR all the time -- we all heard the same stories on our drives in and talked about them over lunch. I don't feel like I hear that as much now and I miss it, if only because I felt it kept me more up to date on current events.
Anyway, I love NPR and proudly fly it's colors! Bum-bum-bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum!
I didn't think I missed it until I channel-surfed into the NPR station one afternoon on the drive home. The voices and the theme songs were like old friends to this stranger in a strange land and I immediately added it to my radio memory (button #6) and have been listening to it regularly ever since.
On a culture-shock note, I also recently realized that in Ann Arbor people at work talked about NPR all the time -- we all heard the same stories on our drives in and talked about them over lunch. I don't feel like I hear that as much now and I miss it, if only because I felt it kept me more up to date on current events.
Anyway, I love NPR and proudly fly it's colors! Bum-bum-bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum!
Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life
Good news! The book has found a new home. It is on its way to Jane at her work address.
I recently finished reading a book called Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. A friend, Sam, and co-worker of Les sent me a galley of it because she liked it and thought I would like it, too. Her instincts were correct. This is one of my favorites books of the year.
The book is a collection of random paragraphs on various topics, organized alphabetically. Sometimes, the entries are one sentence (SHAMEFUL: My mind has drifted onto self-involved matters at more than one funeral.). Sometimes the entries are quite long (CHILDHOOD takes up 17 pages). There were many entries that made me laugh out loud, and one that made me tear up a little (so tender). The thing that surprised me most of all, however, was that I felt that the author and I looked at everything the same way. Sometimes I would stop and say, "This book could have been written about me by someone who knows me better than I know myself! It's amazing!" She documents things that I didn't even realize I felt or thought, but I do. I am sure you want an example, so here's one:
CONNECTED (VERSUS REMOVED): When I read a magazine, I feel connected to the world, in on everything. When I read a book, I feel removed from the world, isolated, as if I've slipped off into a soundproof both.
I recently finished reading a book called Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. A friend, Sam, and co-worker of Les sent me a galley of it because she liked it and thought I would like it, too. Her instincts were correct. This is one of my favorites books of the year.
The book is a collection of random paragraphs on various topics, organized alphabetically. Sometimes, the entries are one sentence (SHAMEFUL: My mind has drifted onto self-involved matters at more than one funeral.). Sometimes the entries are quite long (CHILDHOOD takes up 17 pages). There were many entries that made me laugh out loud, and one that made me tear up a little (so tender). The thing that surprised me most of all, however, was that I felt that the author and I looked at everything the same way. Sometimes I would stop and say, "This book could have been written about me by someone who knows me better than I know myself! It's amazing!" She documents things that I didn't even realize I felt or thought, but I do. I am sure you want an example, so here's one:
CONNECTED (VERSUS REMOVED): When I read a magazine, I feel connected to the world, in on everything. When I read a book, I feel removed from the world, isolated, as if I've slipped off into a soundproof both.
For me, that is so true, but I never realized it until I read it in the book.
I read this book before I started The Talking Toaster, around the same time as I started reading my friend Mike's blog. Blogs have never really appealed to me because the very few blogs I had read previously fell into two camps: (1) way too personal ("Today I feel so depressed. Again. What's the point of going on?!!!") or (2) too impersonal so that there was nothing to relate to (posts about business tactics and personal development; a self-help book written by an unqualified stranger). I just couldn't see the purpose of a blog or understand why anyone would bother. When I read Mike's blog, I felt like he walked a line between being goofy or funny and also showing people a personal side by writing about things that he was passionate about. And he didn't seem afraid to give his opinion on potentially touchy subjects. I thought, "Mike is doing this correctly! I can see value in this, if only for your own personal documentation. And it's interesting to me." Then I read Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life and thought, "If this book is so fascinating to me, maybe writing things down myself will be interesting to others." That is honestly the best-case scenario of my blog.
But the gist of this post is that I would like to send this book to someone who thinks they will enjoy reading it. I also want another person to tell me if they totally related to everything Amy writes about or if they were thinking, "This girl is SO not like me!" I am looking to get a sense of the universality of what she writes (and maybe the originality of myself).
If you're interested in me mailing you this galley of the book, let me know in the comment section or email me. If I don't have your address, we'll figure out a way to exchange it without posting it online.
And all is right with the world
Mostly I feel like the universe is out of whack and lacking balance, but here's one area where I think things are perfectly aligned:
I don't like squirrels. Although they are kind of cute with their fat cheeks packed with nuts and the way that they hop (not walk or run, like normal animals) through the grass, they eat all my birdseed, chase sweet little birds away from the feeder, and do this really annoying thing where, if they're running up a tree trunk because I am walking towards them (in a non-threatening manner, of course!), they keep circling the tree trunk so that they're always on the opposite side of the trunk from me. For some reason, this annoys me most of all. Why are they hiding? It just seems so psychotic!
With their jerky little movements and their beady little eyes, they really creep me out and I am nervous around them, especially city squirrels who really don't seem to have a healthy respect for my personal space. I think they're scheming something, and in my mind it involves a "squirrel swarm" in some way.
Now, where is the balance part? Well, for all my feelings of animosity towards squirrels and for all the times I've been nervous when two squirrels come running towards me at interestingly enough the exact same time (it's how all swarms start, isn't it?), I feel pretty confident that they don't particularly like me either and I make them nervous, too. I take a run at them sometimes just to test my theory and, yep, they seem pretty worried about me coming right for them.
It's a good feeling, that feeling of two-way hostility with the squirrels. If I didn't dislike them so much, I might admire them for their honesty and openness. I like to believe they feel the same way about me.
I don't like squirrels. Although they are kind of cute with their fat cheeks packed with nuts and the way that they hop (not walk or run, like normal animals) through the grass, they eat all my birdseed, chase sweet little birds away from the feeder, and do this really annoying thing where, if they're running up a tree trunk because I am walking towards them (in a non-threatening manner, of course!), they keep circling the tree trunk so that they're always on the opposite side of the trunk from me. For some reason, this annoys me most of all. Why are they hiding? It just seems so psychotic!
With their jerky little movements and their beady little eyes, they really creep me out and I am nervous around them, especially city squirrels who really don't seem to have a healthy respect for my personal space. I think they're scheming something, and in my mind it involves a "squirrel swarm" in some way.
Now, where is the balance part? Well, for all my feelings of animosity towards squirrels and for all the times I've been nervous when two squirrels come running towards me at interestingly enough the exact same time (it's how all swarms start, isn't it?), I feel pretty confident that they don't particularly like me either and I make them nervous, too. I take a run at them sometimes just to test my theory and, yep, they seem pretty worried about me coming right for them.
It's a good feeling, that feeling of two-way hostility with the squirrels. If I didn't dislike them so much, I might admire them for their honesty and openness. I like to believe they feel the same way about me.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Mnemonic Device
When I first moved into my own place in Nashville, one of the first purchases had to be a coffeemaker. We have a really nice ($65 from Sears) coffeemaker in Michigan, which I knew was eventually coming down here, so I selected a really inexpensive coffeemaker ($12 from Wal-Mart) as my temporary brewmaster (and just think, when the two coffeemakers are in the same house, we could have one in the kitchen and one in the living room or one in the bedroom and one in the bathroom -- it seems so luxurious!). One of the disadvantages of a cheap coffeemaker is that it does not have automatic shut-off (of course, our other one does, because it's top o' the line) and so I was often locking up the front door of my apartment, wondering Did I really shut off the coffeemaker?, and then needing to go back in just to double-check. Coincidentally, I happened to see a draft of a book Thomas Nelson was putting together which was about memory exercises. Ironically, I forget the name of the book. One of the exercises was to say out loud when you were doing something you wanted to remember doing, so now every morning I say out loud Turning off the coffeemaker, as I flip the switch. I also use it for Locking the door, because I never ever had to lock a door in Michigan so I fear sometimes that I will forget to do it.
I never have to say Taking a shower, or Eating breakfast, or Watching my favorite shows on Sunday night. I am encouraged that at the ripe old age of 31 I haven't totally lost my mind.
I never have to say Taking a shower, or Eating breakfast, or Watching my favorite shows on Sunday night. I am encouraged that at the ripe old age of 31 I haven't totally lost my mind.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Yes, I do indeed go on...
Known for commenting too much (or too lengthily) on other people's blogs or chat boards, I was encouraged to start my own blog instead ("Git yer own blog!"). Here it is. Be aware of what you're getting into. Second only to my friend Rob Moxley, I am a very long-winded story teller, fond of tangents and side-steps. I don't get to the point very quickly, and sometimes forget what the point even was. But I enjoy it. Can a person enjoy seeing oneself type (like hearing oneself talk)? Maybe I'm just impressed with my own typing speed (it's 62 words a minute, last I tested it). Or maybe I just enjoy documenting things and seeing them written down on paper. At any rate, I may be enjoying this blog much more than you. Just so you know...
Surprise: I like Tilly and The Wall
Sometimes, things just fall into place and turn out fantastically. Later, you look back at the chain of events that led you to where you are and feel amazed that you got from Point A to Here via that particular string of coincidences.
On a small scale, such a thing happened to me last weekend. I was flipping through radio stations on my way back from the Hillsboro shops, and stumbled upon a song called "Let's Pretend We're In Antarctica," playing on the local college radio station (broadcast from the campus of Vanderbilt University). It was poppy-catchy and had me doing that tippy-head dance within five notes. After the song was over, the announcer said the song was by a band named Of Montreal, who happened to be playing at The End (venue) that Tuesday night.
If you listen to much college radio, you will realize that having a DJ tell you the name of a band and mention that they're playing locally is a great rarity. It is more likely that you will hear 30 songs before you'll ever hear the announcer's voice, and if they happen to mention who is playing, it is in an undistinguishable mutter so that you'll never know if they said Yellow, Mellow, or some other word that was perhaps made up by two 20 year old guitarists who were drunk at the time and thought Brello was a really clever name for a band.
So, feeling that the stars were aligned, I went home and wrote "Of Montreal/The End/9 p.m./$8" on my calendar and determined to go.
I did all the anal retentive prep that someone over 30 with a day job does before attending a show: MapQuesting my route to the venue, calling to make sure the band was still playing, eating a dinner that would keep me full but not weigh me down, choosing a t-shirt that is both cool and comfortable (I went with my Unlearn t-shirt with the plugs on it), putting on my most durable footwear (which just so happened to match my shirt), and leaving the house at a time calculated to give me maximum time at the concert, but minimum time standing in line outside or waiting around for the first band to play. If I was really organized, I would have fit in a nap before the concert, but I'm not much of a napper, so I just caffinated and hoped for the best.
The highlight of the evening (outside of the music parts) was the greeting I got from the doorman. When I stepped up with my $8 in hand, he looked at me, smiled, and said, "Wow!" in an awestruck voice. Immediately convinced that Southerners really are the best people in the world, I smiled back confidently, said "Hello!" and handed over my ID. Seconds later he explained that I looked exactly like his friend Rachel, whom he had not seen in 10 years and who he would have never expected to see in Nashville. Nonetheless buoyed by such a reception, mistaken identity or not, I entered The End with a feeling of great delight and anticipation.
The first band was The Bubblegum Complex (represented as TBGC on CBGB lookalike t-shirts). They seemed very casual about their performance, and I got the feeling that they didn't play out often, had full-time jobs, and were over the dream that they might one day "make it big." The lead singer was fond of guitar feedback (I am not at all a fan of guitar feedback) and didn't have a great voice, so I hunkered down and put on my "survival" mindset (since Les and I don't like the same music usually, my survival mindset is well-developed to the point that I can listen to nearly anything for an hour -- try me!). They did get better as they went along and ended up sounding pleasant around song 4 or 5. They only played about 5 or 6 songs, and ended on a high note in my book. Not enough to buy a CD of their stuff, but enough that I won't look back on their performance as one of the low-points of my concert-going experiences.
It was time for band #2, another band I had never heard of called Tilly and The Wall. I thought their name was really goofy and expected the worst, taking a "one more band to get through before I finally get to hear the band I came to see" attitude and moving back further from the stage.
The band came out on stage stomping, clapping, and chanting, and the crowd went wild. I instantly felt out of the "cool loop." Who are these Tilly people, and why does everyone love them? Maybe it was just the peer pressure of being surrounded by 80 college students who thought Tilly and The Wall were awesome, but I liked them, too. The two girls who were singing were beautiful and were having fun on stage, the keyboard player was embodying the "tortured artist" persona, long hair blocking the front of his face and not smiling, and the lead guitarist/singer was a complex character with a lisp and a rockin' attitude. The surprise was the third girl on stage. She didn't have a mic even though she was singing along to all the songs, so why was she there? By the middle of song #2, the whole audience realized it. She was the percussion section. But instead of playing drums, she was tap-dancing the rhythm to every song, complete with the traditional arm movements seen in tap-dance recitals everywhere! A guy behind me voiced the thought in my head, "This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen!" Yet, you had to love them, to think they were the coolest people ever, and really get into the perfomance and music.
When I described Tilly and The Wall to Les after the concert and tried to explain what made them cool, these were my words: Imagine you're in high school in the 80s and there is this group of fun misfit friends who truly cool people realize are really cool even though they're a little strange, and then this group of misfit friends starts a band and the music is kind of dorky and simple but because the people in the band are such good people, you really want to see them succeed and so you actually supress the inner voice who says "tap-dancing percussion is really dumb" or "who sings songs with these kinds of lyrics" and you, in the most innocent and fun version of yourself, throw caution to the wind and dance to these simple songs, singing along "They realized there was a hole in the boat, and with no lifesaver you try your best to float" and "I thought you'd come and go. I never thought you would stay. And I'm sorry if I tried to push you away." And you realize that this is the most fun you've had in a long time.
Of Montreal was pretty good, but Tilly and The Wall stole the show away.
On a small scale, such a thing happened to me last weekend. I was flipping through radio stations on my way back from the Hillsboro shops, and stumbled upon a song called "Let's Pretend We're In Antarctica," playing on the local college radio station (broadcast from the campus of Vanderbilt University). It was poppy-catchy and had me doing that tippy-head dance within five notes. After the song was over, the announcer said the song was by a band named Of Montreal, who happened to be playing at The End (venue) that Tuesday night.
If you listen to much college radio, you will realize that having a DJ tell you the name of a band and mention that they're playing locally is a great rarity. It is more likely that you will hear 30 songs before you'll ever hear the announcer's voice, and if they happen to mention who is playing, it is in an undistinguishable mutter so that you'll never know if they said Yellow, Mellow, or some other word that was perhaps made up by two 20 year old guitarists who were drunk at the time and thought Brello was a really clever name for a band.
So, feeling that the stars were aligned, I went home and wrote "Of Montreal/The End/9 p.m./$8" on my calendar and determined to go.
I did all the anal retentive prep that someone over 30 with a day job does before attending a show: MapQuesting my route to the venue, calling to make sure the band was still playing, eating a dinner that would keep me full but not weigh me down, choosing a t-shirt that is both cool and comfortable (I went with my Unlearn t-shirt with the plugs on it), putting on my most durable footwear (which just so happened to match my shirt), and leaving the house at a time calculated to give me maximum time at the concert, but minimum time standing in line outside or waiting around for the first band to play. If I was really organized, I would have fit in a nap before the concert, but I'm not much of a napper, so I just caffinated and hoped for the best.
The highlight of the evening (outside of the music parts) was the greeting I got from the doorman. When I stepped up with my $8 in hand, he looked at me, smiled, and said, "Wow!" in an awestruck voice. Immediately convinced that Southerners really are the best people in the world, I smiled back confidently, said "Hello!" and handed over my ID. Seconds later he explained that I looked exactly like his friend Rachel, whom he had not seen in 10 years and who he would have never expected to see in Nashville. Nonetheless buoyed by such a reception, mistaken identity or not, I entered The End with a feeling of great delight and anticipation.
The first band was The Bubblegum Complex (represented as TBGC on CBGB lookalike t-shirts). They seemed very casual about their performance, and I got the feeling that they didn't play out often, had full-time jobs, and were over the dream that they might one day "make it big." The lead singer was fond of guitar feedback (I am not at all a fan of guitar feedback) and didn't have a great voice, so I hunkered down and put on my "survival" mindset (since Les and I don't like the same music usually, my survival mindset is well-developed to the point that I can listen to nearly anything for an hour -- try me!). They did get better as they went along and ended up sounding pleasant around song 4 or 5. They only played about 5 or 6 songs, and ended on a high note in my book. Not enough to buy a CD of their stuff, but enough that I won't look back on their performance as one of the low-points of my concert-going experiences.
It was time for band #2, another band I had never heard of called Tilly and The Wall. I thought their name was really goofy and expected the worst, taking a "one more band to get through before I finally get to hear the band I came to see" attitude and moving back further from the stage.
The band came out on stage stomping, clapping, and chanting, and the crowd went wild. I instantly felt out of the "cool loop." Who are these Tilly people, and why does everyone love them? Maybe it was just the peer pressure of being surrounded by 80 college students who thought Tilly and The Wall were awesome, but I liked them, too. The two girls who were singing were beautiful and were having fun on stage, the keyboard player was embodying the "tortured artist" persona, long hair blocking the front of his face and not smiling, and the lead guitarist/singer was a complex character with a lisp and a rockin' attitude. The surprise was the third girl on stage. She didn't have a mic even though she was singing along to all the songs, so why was she there? By the middle of song #2, the whole audience realized it. She was the percussion section. But instead of playing drums, she was tap-dancing the rhythm to every song, complete with the traditional arm movements seen in tap-dance recitals everywhere! A guy behind me voiced the thought in my head, "This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen!" Yet, you had to love them, to think they were the coolest people ever, and really get into the perfomance and music.
When I described Tilly and The Wall to Les after the concert and tried to explain what made them cool, these were my words: Imagine you're in high school in the 80s and there is this group of fun misfit friends who truly cool people realize are really cool even though they're a little strange, and then this group of misfit friends starts a band and the music is kind of dorky and simple but because the people in the band are such good people, you really want to see them succeed and so you actually supress the inner voice who says "tap-dancing percussion is really dumb" or "who sings songs with these kinds of lyrics" and you, in the most innocent and fun version of yourself, throw caution to the wind and dance to these simple songs, singing along "They realized there was a hole in the boat, and with no lifesaver you try your best to float" and "I thought you'd come and go. I never thought you would stay. And I'm sorry if I tried to push you away." And you realize that this is the most fun you've had in a long time.
Of Montreal was pretty good, but Tilly and The Wall stole the show away.
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