Kettlebell, Round Deux.

Saturday, I went back to Kettlebell, with a handful of reservations, including the fact that last time I left the studio, I couldn’t walk properly for at least three days.

But never one to give up on a challenge, JD and I decided that we should go back.

We even bought a package of classes, so for the next month or so, I won’t be able to avoid Gene, our Russian instructor.

This week’s class was different, featuring more floor and ab work, and a couple of sessions of pushups.

When Gene ordered me to do pushups, I nearly flipped out, but instead, I just lowered myself to the ground.

And collapsed a little.

Pushups are not my thing.

We also started a little bit late, which I was torn about.

On the one hand, every minute that ticked by without starting class meant one less moment that I would be tortured by the kettlebell.

On the other hand, I paid for the torture.

I mean, the class.

And I should be moving every minute of it, toning (and tearing) my muscles.

Luckily, Gene solved the problem, by apologizing for being late, and then instructing us,

“We must catch up. By going at the speed of bullet train. Made by Russians.”

And that is exactly what happened.

Russian made bullet trains, it turns out, move fast.

At another point in the class, as my energy waned and my ankles screamed, because I hit them with the stupid bell several times (again!), someone joked about how energetic Gene seemed to be, hopping around and completing difficult moves with absolute ease.

He then grew serious.

And told us that he gets his energy from the universe.

And the universe is infinite.

So is his energy, apparently.

All in all, the class was equally as hard this time as it was the last, but I’m encouraged by the fact that I woke up Sunday with only moderate, not crippling, soreness, and last night I managed to run.

And this morning I got in the pool, so I’d say my mobility is good.

Nikki: 1, Kettlebell: 1.

Today I’m hoping to enjoy the sunshine and the gradual climb to unseasonal temperatures, and I suggest you do the same!

Where’d that go?

The weekend, that is. I feel like it buzzed by and now here I am, chowing down steel oats and drinking coffee.

Well, it was good while it lasted.

Aside from my pizza party and the re-up of my vows to not buy apples in springtime, there were a few other key points to the weekend that I’d like to address.

JW and I booked a vacation in October to Mexico. This is so very exciting, because it means sun and sand and reading a stack of books and drinking margaritas and swimming in an ocean.

It also marks our first vacation together without traveling with, or to, other people who we love. I should probably ready him for what it means to spend seven days exclusively with me. Ha.

Talk about something to look forward to. October of 2010 is already chock full of good times waiting to happen with this vacation and JD and CC’s wedding.

Also this weekend were my soccer playoffs with my rec team Kickin’ It. We took the semifinals 3-1, and then lost in a heartbreaking game against the number #2 seed. It was a rough 1-0 loss, and an intense game, complete with our striker Lars getting slammed into a wall, and a lot of elbows/shoulders being thrown (there also might have been some swearing on my part, which is in direct violation of the SEC sportsmanship award I won in 2002. I apologize for my transgressions). In the end, a great season for us, and a celebratory party to look forward to in a couple of weeks.

Speaking of sports, it was also a good weekend in our household because of the Spartan’s win over Tennessee. JW is a happy man, and since UCONN couldn’t even bother to make the tournament (I kid, Huskies, I love you still), I’m in full out Go-Michigan-State mode.

Plus, my brackets are all busted. And now I feel dumb for chastising JW two weeks ago when he had Michigan State as going all the way.

“That’s dumb, you can’t just pick who you like. It’s not smart,” I said, as I wrote in Kentucky’s name as the Championship winner.

Maybe he’s onto something.

In any case, I hope on this Monday you find your brackets unbroken, and for most of you, a short week ahead of you. Eyes on the prize my friends.

For me, that prize is called Waterloo, Michigan, and holds for me two raggedy dogs, endless meals, and a handful of people ready to laugh at my jokes.

Have a good week!

What’s on Your Plate?

So last night was a Palluzzi/Wagenschutz pizza night, and it was delightful. There was homemade pizza, lots of wine, laughter, and an Earth Hour lit entirely by candles.

It was actually very lovely to eat and drink by candlelight. And it was nice to give the apartment (and the planet) a little electricity break.

So of course in order to purchase all the ingredients for our pizza night, we had visited Costco early in the day.

We love Costco.

While there, we picked up some great looking apples, which I felt immediately guilty about doing.

Apples aren’t in season, in case you’re wondering why. This means they were flown in from God knows where, using a bunch of energy to get to Chicago, and probably not tasting as good as a local, in season apple.

But they looked good, and we bought them anyways.

It’s been a long winter of navel oranges.

At least two of my agriculturally aware friends mentioned to me that it was strange that I had a basket of apples in March.

And even though it made me feel even guiltier about my out of season produce, it made me glad that I have friends on the same awareness level.

It reminded me how important it is to keep these kind of things in mind.

To expand on that, I sat down and watched Food Inc. today on my streaming Netflix (which is AWESOME, by the way) and watched Michael Pollan and Eric Schlosser explain some more things to me.

I really liked the movie, even though to be honest, it focused on a lot of facts I already knew.

But it’s good to be reminded from time to time why I wait until April to eat asparagus every year.

In essence, the movie deals with the fact that agriculture has spiraled into a massive industrialized process, turning farms into factories and in the meantime, leaving our food less healthy, and less safe to eat.

This is something I started being interested in a few years ago, after my mom turned me on to the issue of food safety in our country.

I thought she was crazy.

And then I realized she was right.

This is how it usually goes.

In any case, I am by no means here to preach to anyone, but I know a lot more than I did five years ago about the food industry, and it’s definitely changed the way I purchase food and eat it.

It also means that I try really hard (but not always, as earlier confessed) to eat as much as I can in season and as locally as possible, and to be honest, it’s become a little bit fun.

Strawberries and asparagus taste better when you wait all year to eat them, and when you do, you buy them from a stand at the farmer’s market, and the produce is at its peak.

It also makes you more creative in the kitchen, knowing that you’re going to cook differently depending on what time of year it is.

Ask me if I still think this is a positive in August when I’m thinking up hundreds of ways to get JW to eat zucchini.

Watching movies like Food Inc. and reading books by Michael Pollan and Barbara Kingsolver have definitely changed the way I think about food, and they’ve made me open to the ideas of CSAs (this is when you pick up a share from a local farm, usually heavy on the fruits and veggies), grass fed beef, and the oh-so-much-fun-why-didn’t-I-do-this-earlier farmer’s market, to name a few things.

I recommend a little research of your own if you’re even remotely interested. It’s also a way to look at the food industry from an economic, societal, and historical perspective.

We’re covering all of our bases here, my friends.

In any case, the movie was a good visual round up of what I’ve already read, and a good starting point for someone who’s new to the subject.

And with that, I’m off to a little slightly-more-focused-on-what-I’m-buying-grocery-shopping. Have a great and relaxing Sunday, chicks!

Friday, Friday, Friday.

The end of the week is in sight.

Thank God.

Also, the sun is shining, which is a vast improvement over yesterday, which was basically a flashback of cold, windy, gray November.

I don’t recall asking Fall back.

Anyway, last night I got myself back into a running groove, doing a 5k on the treadmill in anticipation of a handful of races I see in my future.

It wasn’t so bad, although my legs were a little sore from shredding, but I coaxed them along.

Coaxed maybe is too nice of a word. It was more like forced. Hot beats would come on my Blackberry and I’d tell my legs that if they just got through this song, I’d let them rest.

Those suckers bought every word.

After the 5k, I just cooled down and left, since JD and I have committed ourselves to another kettlebell class with Gene on Saturday.

Hopefully after this one, it won’t be four days before I can walk normally.

Also, hopefully I won’t hit myself in my injured ankle with a kettlebell attempting to do a figure eight through my legs.

Gene kept looking at me and noting “It should be one fluid moment.”

And then I’d hit myself again by accident.

Also on deck, JW and I are hosting a pizza night Saturday, which should be equal parts crazy, delicious, and enjoyable.

It means we can go to Costco on Saturday, provided I can still walk, of course. This house loves some Costco.

Hope everyone else is having a lovely Friday, enjoy your weekend everyone!

Someone Explain to Me…

How it’s already Wednesday? This week seems to be flashing by my eyes.

But I’ll take it.

Last night I came home from work, fully focuses and ready to tackle the Shred once more.

The Shred does not like when you take several days off.

Things were a little brutal in my living room for a half hour. Think, my slightly weakened body tripping over my yoga mat and crashing to the floor. Several times.

And from the floor, my focus drew away from the Shred and instead to the dust elephants living underneath my couch.

Bunnies, these were not.

So after a grueling and clumsy work out, I hastened myself to the task of obliterating the dust in my apartment.

If you live in a vintage-y apartment in Chicago, you know this is no easy feat.

I consider it my accomplishment for the week.

And encourage you to not do exercises which expose you to the underbelly of your couch.

In any case, I also spent the evening making a sauce (proactively, for Thursday’s dinner. How on top of my game am I? How sauce splattered is my stove?) and catching up on all kinds of sinful television with my DVR.

I cannot stop watching Parenthood. It’s just so awkward and funny and makes me want to have a large brood of children, move my brother to a houseboat, and have lovely, dramatic weekly dinners outside with my famiglia.

Is anyone else having this slightly unhealthy reaction?

Hope everyone else is having a great hump day- the weekend is in sight!

Five Good Things: It’s not Monday Edition

Morning, chickadees. The sun is shining here in Chicago, so I’m feeling good. Onto what else is making this morning more enjoyable:

1. Health care! Yes! I know this is a controversial one for some of you, but listen up: I’m glad everyone’s gonna have a shot at insurance, preexisting conditions, age, income, and all. We all deserve health care. It’s up there with food, and water, and shelter (and for me, education- but whoa, watch out, I might be bordering on socialism here ) I’m not here to debate though, I’m here to say “Good job, finally,” roll up my sleeves, and see what’s next.

2. Early morning swim = complete. Even though I spent half of my swim this morning adjusting and readjusting my leaky goggles, it felt good to do something athletic and also, give my knees one more day of rest from the Shuffle.

3. SK sent me this coupon. I love free stuff, and JW didn’t get a chance to brew a pot of coffee this morning, so it’s a good excuse to go pick up a cup-o-joe and a pastry.

4. I hustled over to the CPL last night right before close, and picked up a new crop of books to get me through the rest of early Spring. First up, Tender at the Bone, since I’m on a Ruth Reichl kick.

Hello, lovelies.

5. JW made dinner for tonight last night, since he has rugby this evening. This means all I have to is come home and reheat rice-and-beans goodness. Can’t beat that. Yum.

Hope everyone has a good one!

Shuffle: Take Four

When I woke up yesterday morning, my first feeling was relief.

No snow on the ground. We were already at an improvement over 2009.

I put on my layers of microfit t-shirts and my windbreaker, and my too short pants (yes, I know I’m barely five feet tall. I don’t know why they’re too short), affixed my bib and my chip, and headed out the door.

This year, JW chose to sleep through this.

I can’t say I blamed him.

When I got downtown, I realized it was more crowded that last year, which is probably because last year, only a third of the people turned out for the race.

It was definitely cold and windy, but no precipitation, and my feet stayed dry. This is key.

I had about forty minutes to stand in my start corral while I waited for the lightning speed waves to go ahead of me.

As my muscles grew cold and people filled in around me, I had a thought.

I’d like to run this faster than I did last year.

This was a nice thought. However, I’ve been nursing that tendonitis since September, and on top of that, I hadn’t really even trained for the race. I just ran a couple of times a week and hoped it’d turn out okay. I had certainly not strained myself here.

Coming into the race, my goal was to come in under 50, as a way of still looking like someone who ran on occasion.

And now, here I was, talking to myself in the start corral as if I could really push it harder than that.

I was still having this conversation with myself when it was time to cross the starting line, so I just turned up Lady Gaga and moved my legs along.

When the race was over, I realized that I hadn’t broken my time from 2009, but I’d basically come in right on top of it.

This was surprising, especially considering that I nearly collided with someone looking for her friend in Mile 1, and had to stop to tie my shoe in Mile 2, scooting over as far as I could so that no one would trip over me.

Isn’t it fun to run with 25,000 of your closest friends and city residents?

In any case, the race definitely was a fun one, even if my legs felt like Jello afterward, and I had a hard time feeling my hands, even through my gloves. The Shamrock Shuffle always starts off a season of running, warmer weather (although not in this case), and the general ability to be outside. It’s more of a challenge than a neighborhood 5k, and I always feel great when I’m finished.

Congrats to everyone else who finished this race, and welcome to Spring 2010! Next up for me is the Race to Wrigley, which I love particularly because it’s down the street.

And I always go get breakfast after.

What’s not to like?

Have a great Monday everyone!

Cleaved.

So this week I finished the new book by Julie Powell (of Julie & Julia fame), at the urging of my friend over at Kitchendoor. I had been hesitant to read it, because I’d heard that Julie’s behavior throughout the book is unforgivable. When I asked Kitch if this was the case, she admitted it was.

And told me to read it anyway.

So I did, because her advice is usually sound.

I picked up Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat and Obsession from the library, and I began.

By the time I put it down, three days later, I felt like I maybe needed a shower.

And a therapist.

I can only compare it to the way that I felt when I first read Wuthering Heights in high school.

I wanted to throw the book against the wall.

My frustration, in general, was not with the quality of the writing, the morally poor choices both Julie and her husband keep making, or the fact that I kept having to hear about Julie’s illicit sexual acts.

I know, then what could it be?

It was the same as in the aforementioned book. Everyone was just so GD miserable all the time, and no one seemed to be doing anything constructive about it.

Maybe I’m too type A to get it, but if you are innately, profoundly, down to your toes and up to your eyes miserable, how is not doing anything about it the right answer?

Mostly I think it was this weird feeling that I got from Julie the entire time I was reading the book that put me off of it.

The feeling I got from her was that she wanted somehow to be both with her lover, and her husband, and that she didn’t want to choose, and that she needed all of their attention from both of them.

And that seemed innately selfish and illogical.

And also, never gonna happen my friend.

In the end, there is no end to the problem. No resolution, no real self discovery, just Julie butchering things and making mistakes and being generally upset.

Although at the end, I guess she was at ease. With the illease.

Which doesn’t make sense.

I hesitate to criticize the book too harshly, because I feel like, who am I?

The longest thing I can write is a blog post, and I certainly would not have the gumption to share the things she shares in her book.

Although, I’m not sure I’d want to. Throughout the book, when she’d mention being tied up by her lover, or how she made out with someone in Africa and was proud of it, I wanted to take her aside.

And say “Julie–maybe you don’t share that with everyone. Please shut your giant trap, because you are embarrassing yourself. And making me blush.”

But the book definitely evoked strong feelings from me, which means maybe it wasn’t so terrible. It made me realize that maybe everyone has a little bit of an obsessive, kind of shameful, needy streak. Maybe it’s not just Julie.

Maybe it’s sometimes everyone. That’s a little comforting.

And a little frightening.

While I’m not sure I could straight up recommend this book to anyone in good conscious, since I’m not sure I would say I enjoyed it, I’d say that it’s an interesting and powerful read.

And it’s probably gonna make you blush.

Not in a good way.

Have a good weekend, chickadees!

St. Pat’s In Review

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty successful day.

First of all, I have a new cousin to add to my ever expanding brood. My cousins Jimmy and Heather had their first baby, aptly named Connor James Carney and born on an exceedingly appropriate day. I was tickled green.

Only Jimmy would have that hat ready for the birth of his tiny son. That is why I love him.

After that great bit of excitement, I came home to begin the boiling.

My friends made fun of me all night because I couldn’t stop saying it.

But the truth is, as traditional and culturally steeped corn beef and cabbage is, the fact is, it’s a totally boiled meal.

It’s hard for me to get my head around that.

Please don’t ask me why.

In any case, Ky brought a delicious soda bread (way unlike the soda bread she brought to the Ethnic Food Day in sixth grade, when her dad thought it was only appropriate to make honest-to-goodness, tastes-like-dust, soda bread. I’m still laughing at her, 15 years later), and JD and KT showed up with delightful confections.

Here’s the damage:

The Corned Beef. The Cabbage. The boiled goodness.

This was much improved over the 1996 version.

This stuff took care of Chris' cold. Horseradish Cream Sauce. Yum.

Five pounds of potatoes, boiled in beer, beef broth, and other assorted goodness.

All in all, it was a successful and tasty St. Patrick’s day. Great family news, good food, and time with my friends.

Can’t get much better.

In other news, it’s supposed to be over 60 degrees today.

I’ll be longing for the sunshine from my cube.

But taking a run outside as soon as I get home.

Come quickly, five o’clock.

Be Counted! And other Wednesday news…

First of all, my census paperwork came on Monday.

I hopped around the apartment in excitement.

Strange things do it for me, friends.

I read this book in elementary school, which I cannot even remember the name of (update: found the book, which is crazy. Here it is.), but basically, it was about a little girl with Cystic Fibrosis in the 70s, who died when she was 8.

The span of her life didn’t hit April of 1970 or 1980, and at one point, her father laments that she’ll never be included in a census. She’ll never be officially counted. And this fact pulls at him.

And for some strange reason, it’s always pulled at me. When I first read it when I was ten, I cried. This was not fair. Alex of course deserved to be in a Census.

It’s important to be counted my friends, because some people can’t be. Fill out your Census Paperwork.

On a lighter note, BE CAREFUL. JW let me fill the whole thing out because I was so excited, and I put his first name in the last name box.

Then I scribbled it out and fixed it.

Then he said “Be careful! Go slowly!” as if I was a child, which irritated me. Of course I could fill out Census paperwork, just an honest mistake.

Then I moved on to the first name box, and spelled his name like this:

JONAHAN

He’s forgiven me my mishap, but now I’ve started just calling him “Person #2″.

It’s a good thing he thinks I’m funny.

So very official.

In other news, last night L stopped by for dinner, and I whipped up a Ruth Reichl inspired spaghetti carbonara, which I had never actually made myself before.

It was delicious. There are no pictures because it was taken down in no time. It’s basically bacon and eggs and pasta, and how can you go wrong there?

Don’t answer that.

Here’s the recipe, if you’re interested. It’s easy, it’s fast, and it’s great.

I also added a cup of peas to mine, which I am hesitant to tell you, because when researching this on the internet, I found out that there are many carbonara purists, and that they hate the idea of peas in this recipe.

It ruins it, they lament.

It’s not real, they cry.

My last name is Palluzzi. I used this as a trump card against snobby pasta aficionados, and put peas in my recipe.

They were lovely.

And as JW noted “Are you making this for you or for them?”

Excellent point, my friend.

Hope everyone’s up to no good tonight on St. Patrick’s day! I’ll be cooking up a whirlwind of corned beef and cabbage, and eating every potato in sight.

In the name of the holiday spirit, of course.