ski bunny.

Last night I had a dream that James Taylor was playing a shepherd in a church play I happened to be at.

I ran into him at one point, in his costume, and he told me he liked my blog.

In my dream, I was ecstatic, but then horrified, since that meant he could see all of my proclamations of love to him.

Upon waking up and thinking on this, I still wish he showed up at plays and read my blog.

Anyway.

I have never been so happy to see the weekend stretched out in front of me, even though I know today will be long and before I know it, it’ll be Monday again.

But let’s not dwell on that.

JW and I are going skiing in Madison this weekend.

JW and I haven’t been skiing since high school, but this doesn’t seem to be stopping us.

In fact, the last time I consistently skied was when I was in middle school, and to be honest, that was more about trying to sit next to a cute boy on the bus ride and also flirting and eating french fries in the cafe.

I’m just being honest.

During that regular interval of ski trips, I fell off a chair lift (at the end though, no cause for alarm), ran into a slow down sign (not even joking), and fell so hard I went flying out my skis at least a half dozen times.

I did not excel at slowing down.

In any case, I have decided that I have more coordination and less distractions this time around (although there is a bus ride involved, and I could go for some french fries…), that I will be a less disastrous skier.

There’s nothing like the power of positive thinking, right?

And if not, we’ve got a brewery tour scheduled on Sunday.

Nothing like craft beers to take away the pain, chickens.

Wish me luck, and I’ll see you on the other side.

fool me once.

This has been one of those weeks, chickens.

Several thoughts on that:

Due to a crazy week at work, I found myself suddenly at Chili’s the other night, drinking a giant beer and eating a menu item with the word “explosion” in the title.

I felt as though I had been sent away to the deep suburbs in some kind of fajita haze.

I can’t even promise it won’t happen again.

I told you things were getting nuts.

Last night, I actually went to the suburbs.

Though not to seek out a sub-par chain restaurant.

After several days of getting home late and torturing myself by watching more of Decision: 2012′s coverage than is healthy, I needed a safe space.

I was treated to homemade pork lo mein (Italian-Chinese, my father proclaimed), and a slice of cheesecake before heading back to the city to fall asleep and start another day.

This morning, I woke myself up and headed to the gym, where I decided to start stretching out my shoulders pre-workout.

Not a bad idea, except that I started spinning my arms backwards and sent my iPod flying off the machine.

Not one to be discouraged (read: I do not learn from my mistakes), I picked up the iPod and plugged it back in.

And rotated my shoulders and sent the iPod spinning again.

I decided then maybe my shoulders weren’t so important.

I then managed to stay upright for 4.5 miles of running, before not-so-gracefully exiting the treadmill by falling off the back of it.

My trajectory was so forceful that I actually ended up nearly running into a guy on another treadmill across the aisle.

I’m not sure that bodes well for the rest of the day, but I’m keeping it optimistic. Maybe I got the most ridiculous part of my day out of the way before 7:00 AM.

Yeah, I don’t believe that either.

spinning out of control.

I love my Y spin instructor.

But because of a series of scheduling conflicts and also that her class is on one of the only days JW’s home from school, I haven’t made it to her 80s beats-rocking session in several months.

But then the gym put a spinning bike out in the cardio room.

Perfect, I thought.

I then discovered it had the option to spin to a biking video, complete with instructor.

Even better.

But now, I’m just not so sure.

This morning I decided to hit up the endurance program, which simply means Do the same thing at the same level over and over.

Because I’m not always quick on the draw, I figured eventually the spandex-clad leader would take me through some alternate movement.

Nope. “Just keep pedaling. Let’s pedal like this for five minutes.”

Really?

That was okay, though, to a point. I could pedal along, even if I was bored.

It was then that the man in the video started talking more.

He said things like “Stay supple” and “I want to see you play your bike like an instrument.”

Cut to a wide shot of him on his spin bike with a LASER background.

I wish I was kidding but simply am not.

After several more weird phrases (such as, let me see the rhythm in your body), a really frightening open-mouthed smile, and other trippy, moving backgrounds, I was finally done.

“Thanks for taking a ride with me,” he said.

It might be our last one, dude.

Monday’s previous conflicts are looking like peanuts compared to another early morning program with this dude.

 

what it takes to come alive

Well, the sun is shining, or at least trying to, so I’m counting this as a positive start to the day.

This morning I pulled myself out of bed to go to the gym, then spent a full minute picking up my gym clothes and tossing them back onto my dresser in indecision until I finally decided to just do it, already.

Even though my bed looked like a far better option.

I ran cycles today, because I have concerns I’m letting my workouts even out too much. I’m content to just kind of hang out on the treadmill for a few miles, and I think I’m in danger of hitting a boring workout wall, so I switched it up.

Three minutes of jogging, one minute of sprinting, one minute of incline walking.

Rinse and repeat for 35 minutes or until you’re about ready to collapse.

Yoga will be a welcome respite tonight.

Unless I start falling over again.

A real possibility, come to think of it.

However, my running playlist is really firming up in the opening of 2012, with Florence, her machine, and Rihanna to thank.

Anyone have anything really great getting them going in this wintry slump?

I’ll leave you with my current favorite jam.

Which is my jam mostly because it reminds me of a 90s dance song.

And I believe we all know what I think about the 90s.

Happy Tuesday, chickens.

 

 

(not) sticking to your ribs.

Good morning chickens, and welcome back to Monday morning.

That was fast, huh?

This weekend was full of various activity, including a raucous round of karaoke in this strange VFW hall somewhere on Milwaukee Ave.

I suspect I could not get there again if I tried.

But I sang Third Eye Blind, watched a fair number of hipsters bop around, and came out smelling like 2003.

Apparently the no-smoking rules haven’t hit the VFW yet.

Although I can’t complain too much, I suppose, since it seems like inflation hasn’t either.

All drinks = $3.

I might have to look a little harder for that place again, even if it means potentially listening to someone struggle through a drunk, off-key version of Living La Vida Loca.

Some things are worth the sacrifice.

*****

Also this weekend, I spent some time jumping on and off the floor with a kettlebell, followed by a session of slightly-more-chill yoga than last week’s debacle.

I didn’t fall over just trying to stand up.

However, due to severe protesting of Jillian Michaels’ level-one DVD, Ky insisted on throwing herself on her mat in the middle of every sun salutation.

Eventually, we’ll become zen yogis.

But probably not for a really long time.

*****

Last night we made braised short ribs and goat cheese polenta, courtesy of our old friend PW.

The short ribs were easy to make and smelled delicious.

Ditto on the polenta.

In the end though, the short ribs seemed to produce an endless amount of fat (our novice-short rib making skill, I am sure), and we mostly felt shameful about what we’d eaten all night.

The homemade polenta though? Our new jam.

And super easy.

And non-shame inducing.

You should get to that as soon as possible.

I’ll be eating salad all week to compensate for this heart attack inducing meal.

And I’ll also take advice on how to make this more successfully next time.

Up today- I face a rainy January Wednesday without having a temper tantrum and insisting that I stay home instead.

I’ll keep you posted on this one, chickens.

unsettled.

The snow just keeps coming down, chickadees.

Last night after work, JW and I had plans to head to Wildfire and grab drinks, steaks, and a movie.

How I wish all the nights of my life were like this.

It took me twice as long to crawl from my office to Wildfire, but once I got into the restaurant, I was handed a martini and a menu, and I felt much better.

Crab-stuffed shrimp, lobster crusted scallops, a steak, some mashed potatoes, and a glass of wine later, I felt much better about my place in the universe.

And JW and I resolved to hang out at Wildfire more often.

Even if means we end up bankrupt.

Luckily, in you hang in the bar between 5:00 and 6:30, you’re treated to half priced appetizers and martinis.

Makes justifying the steak way easier.

Post delicious dinner, we trudged through the snow to the movies, where we were working on one of our 2012 resolutions, which was to see more movies.

I love the movies, chickens.

We settled on Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a movie about a little boy who loses his dad on 9/11 and is searching NYC for a lock that fits the key he found in his father’s closet. He’s certain it’s a message from beyond,  and won’t stop looking until he finds some answers.

Obviously, the movie made me sob for a full two hours, until I was so dehydrated that I had a headache.

I wasn’t even embarrassed.

I would not say that this was a feel good film, but it was well made and beautiful, and I loved every actor in it.

On our way home, while I was still recovering from the trauma of the movie, I noticed a woman acting kind of crazy on the Red line.

Which is standard behavior for Friday nights past, oh, rush hour.

The next thing I knew, she had lifted up her shirt and flashed the entire car of passengers.

Full trauma had settled in.

It took an episode each of 30 Rock, Parks & Recreation, and The Office, PLUS a cup of tea to bring me down from that evening.

It’s a crazy world, chicks.

turtle soup.

Good morning, chickadees.

And welcome to a seven degree day.

With a winter storm warning.

At least it’s Friday, is all I can say.

On this particular Friday morning, I’m feeling pretty slow moving, due to a night out (and perhaps too much wine for a weeknight) with my lovely coworkers.

We decided to try out Slurping Turtle, a new noodle restaurant in River North. They serve up tapas, grilled items, sashimi, and also bowls of ramen goodness.

I figured it would be nice and close.

It didn’t feel that close in the biting cold though.

By the time we got there, our arms and legs were pretty much immobilized, but all was forgotten when we got inside and were led to this cool booth overlooking the whole restaurant.

Sorry for the blurry picture. The light in our booth kept going on and off, and so this was the best I could do.

In any case, we tucked into the wine list, started gabbing, and decided on some appetizers.

Which I did not take pictures of because we basically inhaled them on sight.

What I can tell you is that the curry croquettes and steamed dumplings were amazing.

The mussels were also good, but they didn’t come out for a strangely long amount of time (like 45 minutes or something- subject to discussion since we were drinking and laughing and maybe not watching the clock).

Next up was a giant, steaming bowl of noodles. I ordered the Tan Tan Men, which included whole wheat noodles, pork broth, sausage, AND meatballs.

What’s better than that?

Also, it was spicy. And giant. I figured I’d never make a dent in it.

But of course I finished almost all of it.

This picture is obviously before I devoured the whole bowl using both a soup spoon and a pair of chopsticks, to make sure I got at every last bit.

It was pretty much the most awesome bowl of noodles I’ve ever eaten.

On the whole, this was definitely a place I’d try again, as long as I was with a group of people who make me laugh until I cry so I forget how long I’m waiting for my food. The restaurant’s service is a little slow, and you might have to prod the waiter for awhile so your appetizers appear and also maybe order two more bottles of wine because you’ve had plenty of time to finish the first two before dinner showed up.

But in general, extra wine won’t get you more complaints from me.

This morning, however, is a different story.

And with that, I’m off to face the cold, and one more day of work.

 

period dramas and culinary delights

And it’s still freezing out.

Bleh.

I spent an hour at the gym this morning, trudging through some cross training.

The Stairmaster is basically my worst enemy, chickens.

But I managed to make it home alive.

In other news, I was cheered up this morning by a Youtube video featuring one of the best characters from Downtown Abbey, the most awesome show (on PBS ever).

If you’re not familiar with the show, you might not find it as awesome as I do, but what can I say, I’m a sucker for a period drama.

Last night JW and I made dinner, trying out a new(er) PW recipe that I forgot to take pictures of, but click through to see what it’s about.

Tuscan Bean Soup with Shrimp (i.e. a culinary delight)

We made the soup with spinach instead of kale (because it turns out that my husband makes a face when kale gets thrown into the grocery cart), and only 1 lb of shrimp.

Also, my shrimp were jumbo, so after cooking them (in a tablespoon or so of olive oil, not four tablespoons of butter), we cut them up into pieces.

A delicious, tomato-ey concoction if you ask me.

Plus it basically has all the healthy things in it.

Try it out. You can thank me later.

And now, it’s off to the races.

And almost off to the weekend.

Bailing out pans.

Morning, chickens.

I’ve heard the report from NPR that it’s basically ridiculously cold out there this morning.

Which I must have sensed this morning, because I simply could not climb out of my warm bed to hit the gym.

Which means braving the crowded Y tonight.

I anticipate a less than stellar run, but assume I have no one to blame but myself.

Last night Ky and I worked on some yoga, although for some reason, I was in a foul, not-yoga like state.

Which affected my poses more than I anticipated it would.

In fact, Ky broke down into a fit of child’s pose laughter after my, oh, 23rd fall to the ground in the middle of holding a fairly simple pose.

Off balance in more ways than one, is my guess.

After my struggles were finally over, we set to making an easy, delicious stir fry.

The thing that we’ve realized about stir fry is that a good sauce really punches it up. We used garlic, ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil, cornstarch (to make it thicken) and strangely enough, a couple of glugs of balsamic vinegar. This was Ky’s brillant idea, and it was perfect, especially since I didn’t have the more appropriate rice vinegar on hand.

It’s all about getting creative, chicks.

Also creative culinary practices to be noted: in this recipe, we sauteed the frozen vegetables in some sesame oil first. Once they steamed and let off a bunch of water, Ky held the pan over the sink and used a wooden spoon to remove it of its excess water.

“This is the weirdest cooking thing you do,” I noted, while watching her toss water out of the pan and not actually contributing at all myself.

“Yeah, but it works,” she said, as she continued throwing water into the sink.

Bailing out pans.

It’s a thing.

We served it up with wild rice and Trader Joe’s potstickers, and then treated ourselves to some reality television, and the new episode of Pioneer Woman’s cooking show (which I loved, but Ree- why must you add “pop” to a recipe? It makes me uneasy).

A Tuesday night success, if you ask me. And now, it’s into the cold urban landscape. Good look trudging through Wednesday!

something to work with.

Chickens, it’s pretty dark and dreary out there, if you’re hanging with me in the Second City.

When I got up to trek to the Y, it was pitch black.

When I left the gym, it was still pitch black.

Looks like the sun’s not coming up today.

I would like to move that I take this day off in order to do focus on what’s important, like watching movies and hanging out on my couch.

Alas, it is not to be so.

My cubicle awaits.

Last night we celebrated my mom’s birthday by eating delicious Mexican food and drinking margaritas, and then I took my over-stuffed, sleepy self home to watch Downton Abbey and Gossip Girl.

Yes, I know I’m impossibly well rounded.

And scandals transcend decades.

I also spent the car ride home listening to the debate, which was most certainly a mistake, as I ended up feeling waves of rage in my car.

One would think I would learn.

But alas.

Tonight Ky and I will be doing yoga and eating another healthy meal in order to counteract my poor listening decisions.

I can’t help myself, chickens.

And on that note, I’m leaving my house’s slow Internet behind and heading into the dark with my umbrella and a questionable attitude.

Give me something to work with, Tuesday.