it tastes better here

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Confession: I occasionally pay exhorbitant amounts of money to have someone else do with my hair what I am too lazy/uneducated to do myself. It’s always subject to how flush I’m feeling at the time, which means it happens 2-3 times a year, at most. But I love this particular indulgence– even though it doesn’t involve chocolate. I take my hair down, my stylist doesn’t even blink (you’d know the significance if you’d ever actually seen my hair) before she starts running her hands through it, combing, shampooing, rinsing… and then she offers me a complimentary paraffin dip. But this is all after she’s brought me a cup of fresh coffee. And while I’m aware that my salon probably does not buy gourmet, freshly-roasted, freshly-ground, or even moderately expensive coffee, it always tastes so good. I heard Zooey Deschanel’s voice in my head the other day as I was smiling, loving the coffee and the hair and the pampering, going “it is a crappy cup of coffee.” And it was, really. But it was fantastic.

I have noticed this also on planes. In case you didn’t know, airlines serve terrible coffee. I’m sure it’s just the cheapest thing they can get their hands on. But I always drink coffee on planes, because there is something fantastic about drinking coffee when you’re several thousand feet in the air.

I suppose this just seemed an interesting commentary on my psychological inner-workings. Or maybe it’s more about my dependence on coffee. I’m completely okay with it either way.

the virtues of slow cooking

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And… yum.

Please pardon the quality of this picture; it was taken with my phone and I didn’t have the foresight [read: patience] to snap one with my actual camera before I devoured that bowl o’ quasi-Mexican delight.

Now here I sit, full and happy and wondering why on earth I don’t use my slow cooker more often to achieve such satisfying results in roughly the time it takes to make a bowl of cereal! Chicken breasts were on sale yesterday, so I was searching for something easy to do with them, preferably in the slow cooker (so as to make my apartment smell like heaven, largely). Sometimes a thing is just so simple, you don’t think of it. This idea had never occurred to me before I read it on some blog or other (whoever you are, thank you!), and it is as easy as PB & J:

chicken + salsa + slow cooking = fabulous

I used a store brand of the fresh refrigerated salsa (I have an aversion to mushy jarred tomatoes, but I’m sure any kind of salsa would work). I also added some fresh cilantro because I may or may not be in love with fresh cilantro, and a few healthy shakes of Pampered Chef’s Mole Rub and came home after work to the most succulent, delicious shredded chicken. Topped with some shredded cheese and avocado slices, it was Cinco de Mayo in a bowl. And there are all of these leftovers for topping tomorrow’s salad! Not only am I incredibly thankful for the time this did not take, I am completely satiated. And ready for a nap…

real food

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Monterrosso al Mare

cafe counter, Monterrosso al Mare, Italy

I wish that all of the shops I stopped in here in Virginia had counters like this, full of giant wheels of fresh cheese and huge hunks of prosciutto waiting to be sliced paper-thin for a panini on fresh, crusty bread. In case you’ve ever wondered: everything they say about Italy is true. The people are slightly more fashionable, everything looks exactly like the movies, and the general attitude toward food is noticeably different from our own. I ate so well in Italy. Long, wonderfully exhausting days of walking-climbing-walking were always brought to a close with a delicious plate of fresh, whole food (and, of course, a bottle of wine).

So I endeavor to eat more like an Italian. Less processed, fake, chemically “food” and more whole, natural, actual food. It’s easier than it sounds, I think. Here, we are going to find out.

Tonight’s menu is roasted brussels sprouts and… well, we’ll see what’s in the fridge. (Check back later!)

get animated

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The title of this blog comes from one of my favourite songs ever written about being alive and traveling in America; it’s called “The Land of My Sojourn” and is by Rich Mullins. Listening to that song makes me feel grateful and content and blessed and alive. Animate. (Listen to it.)

I wonder if there is a surge in the creation of new blogs on this day, like with new gym memberships?

It is the very first day of a very new year and I am doing something different. I typically introduce myself [on the interwebs] as a writer– lovely to make your acquaintance, I’m sure!– but somehow, that comes with an enormous amount of self-imposed pressure that has, for over a year now, been paralyzing for me. I haven’t been much of a writer and I haven’t been particularly content, and I am just self-aware enough to know these two facts are not mutually exclusive. So writing is ever a goal. But I have other goals. I must. Thus, I regret to inform you that yes, you have stumbled in your insomnia- or exhaustion- or anxiety- or knowledge-thirst-induced internet wanderings onto another blog that will be a lot about being healthy and weight loss and delicious food. Happily, it will also be about living alone, going places, knowing people, reading books, being a working stiff, and my obsessions with music and all things pretty. It will be fun, I promise.†

†promises made on this website are not guaranteed, are non-refundable, and are under no circumstances redeemable for cash.