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The Lakes

The Lake District is one of the most beautiful parts of England.  I don’t say this lightly.  England has an embarrassment of riches where natural beauty is concerned.  But the Lakes were particularly awe-inspiring.  We went to the northern Lake District, which has largely escaped Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter mania.  Based outside of Keswick, in September, we saw plenty of other tourists – but mostly Brits, a few Dutch, and no Americans.  I will always hold the Lake District close to my heart, because it was there that I learned two important lessons: (1) a pot of tea after a rainy hike is the best thing ever; and (2) I like scones.  (Laugh if you will, but it was in a Keswick tearoom that I bit into a warm, soft, flaky cream scone and discovered that scones are actually not made of chalk.  Who knew?)

Castlerigg stone circle – as old as Stonehenge, but you can still walk right up to the stones and touch them.  (I tried to go back in time a la Outlander, but no joy.)

Druids totally wore L.L. Bean rain jackets, right?

A white-knuckled car hike over Whinlatter Pass outside Keswick.

Puddle-splashing around Buttermere, a small and ridiculously beautiful lake outside Keswick.

Sure, we got soaked to the bone, but it was nothing a pot of tea couldn’t remedy.  And after we had warmed up, the sun was out – miracle! – so we headed over to…

Derwentwater, the biggest lake of the northern Lake District.  Keswick perches on its shore.  We were amazed at how unspoiled the Lake District was, for a place that has been a tourist attraction for generations.  We can’t wait to go back… but hopefully we get a bit luckier with weather the next time we hike Buttermere.

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Tea Stash Tour, Part I: Home

Buckle your seatbelts, kids.  It’s about to get all cah-razy up in here.  Now, you know that I’m a tea person.  You know I would rather have tea than coffee… and you may suspect that I would rather have tea than any other beverage, except perhaps wine.  (Please don’t make me choose between tea and wine.)

Well, today, I’m laying it all out there.  I’m going to ‘fess up to the full extent of my obsession and give you a tour of my tea stash.  I had quite a bit to start with and I’ve just recently absorbed my college bestie R’s stash as well, since she had to leave them behind when she shipped out for a new job on the other side of the world.  Although I wish she had stayed home and kept them for herself, I was glad to give her teas a loving home and promised to savor them all on her behalf.  (Am I a good friend, or what?)  I’m actually just going to show you my home stash; we’ll save the work situation for another day.  (If you feel the need to pray for my soul, I will absolutely understand.)  Are you sitting down?  Great.  Here we go…

Here is a shot of my tea cupboard as it looks when I perch on the kitchen island and gaze dreamily at it as I sip my tea in the evenings.  It’s better entertainment than television, I’m telling you.  However, this shot doesn’t really do justice to what’s in here, since some things are hidden from view.  So let’s dig a little deeper, shall we?

I’ll start with the good stuff.  This is my Mariage Freres stash.  I firmly believe Mariage Freres makes the best tea in the entire world.  I’ve tasted a lot of tea and Mariage Freres just has no equal.  About half of this stash (Citron, Etoile de France, and Earl Grey French Blue) came home from Paris in my carry-on bag.  I also have The Vert Marco Polo, which R brought me as a gift after her last trip to the City of Light.  The others (The Rouge Bourbon, Bolero, and Prince Igor) were adopted from R’s stash.  Most of these blends are only available in Paris or Japan (or online, but I hear the shipping costs are insaaaaane), but the Marco Polo and The Rouge Bourbon are available from Dean & Deluca along with some other popular blends, if you want to be bad.

It’s no Mariage Freres, but I do have a special place in my heart for anything from Teaism.  Teaism is my favorite DC tea bar – it serves up tasty Asian fusion cuisine and delicious blends of black, green and herbal tea.  I go there for lunch at least once or twice a month, and I keep Teaism stashes at home and at the office.  My home stash includes Jasmine green tea (in the red fan caddy) World Peace (my absolute favorite herbal blend with cloves and peppermint), Moroccan Mint green tea (R’s stash), Ginger Zing herbal tea (R’s stash again), Quiet Evening (a blend of chamomile and peppermint, very soothing), and “Now & Zen,” Lavender Lemon Mint and Cinnamon Apricot (in the white crane caddy) herbal teas.  Good stuff.

As an Anglophile and tea lover, you couldn’t possibly expect that I wouldn’t have a British selection, could you?  I’ve got bagged Earl Grey and English Afternoon Tea from Harrods, another tin of loose Ceylon from Harrods, and three miniature tins of various classic English-style blends from Whittard’s, all of which I acquired in London.  And of course, a bag of loose Yorkshire Tea, brought back by my sister-in-law from her study abroad.  She’s an enabler.  Also beautiful.  Very, very beautiful.

Here’s some more favorites: Prince Vladimir tea from Kusmi Tea, acquired in New York City with R, Pineapple Coconut Green Tea from Japonica Tafe, a regular seller at my local farmer’s market, and two very special green teas – bird’s tongue Jasmine and a smoky disc – that R picked up on a trip to the Philippines and Hong Kong, which she passed to me before leaving for her job.  And also two tins from Teavana, one containing Earl Grey Creme (love that stuff) and one containing Blueberry Bliss rooibos, plus a bag of Teavana Almond Biscotti tea from R’s stash.  And finally, that huge silver bag hiding behind the Teavana tins is a pound of Blueberry Vanilla Cream black tea from Culinary Teas, and its little friend is Blue Eyes herbal tea, also from Culinary Teas, which is an online tea purveyor my friend and former coworker M turned me on to.

The Spice and Tea Exchange is a small chain of… duh… spice and tea shops (oh, and they also sell flavored sugar and salts), and they have an outpost in Old Town Alexandria.  Whenever I am in Old Town – which is often – I am compelled to stop in and I usually buy something.  My absolute favorite is the Coconut Oolong… sometimes I just stick my nose in this tin and smell it, just for fun.  Delish.  I also have Tropical Green Tea, Uncle Filbert’s Nutty Dessert Tea (soooooo good!), Blood Orange Smoothie Tea (herbal) and Chamomile Citrus Tea (also herbal, obvi).  Just writing this is making me crave some Coconut Oolong.

Oh, yeah, and there’s more.  Key Lime Rooibos, which I got from a little indie tea shop in Annapolis, MD… Serene Tea by Rishi, a wonderful way to unwind after work… CreativiTea, an herbal blend from R’s former farmers market, also a gift… Tazo mixed-berry white tea… and a couple of wellness teas (Tummy Mint by Celestial Seasonings and Breathe Easy Tea by Traditional Medicinals, great for allergy season)…

So, there you have it.  I have no secrets from you anymore – you have seen my tea stash and now know the full extent of my mania.  And if you haven’t run screaming in the opposite direction by now… stay tuned, because Part II of this stash tour is coming up, and you’ll be able to see how I got the “crazy tea lady” reputation at work.

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Pizza Rice and Beans

Rice and beans is one of the most versatile dinners in a vegetarian’s repetoire.  Together they make a complete protein, they fill you up without tons of extra empty calories, and there are infinite varieties.  I often do a Mexican version, but recently I decided to try making rice and beans that tasted pizza-esque.  This dinner isn’t like eating a gooey, chewy pizza (there’s no cheese and no crust), but it has similar flavors and it’s fun.  Who can argue with fun?

Pizza Rice and Beans

1 cup dry long-grain brown rice
3 cups baby kale (I used Olivia’s Organics Cooking Greens)*
1/2 jar tomato sauce of your choice (I used 365 Organic tomato basil)
1 jar cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
kosher salt and fresh black pepper to taste

  • Cook brown rice according to directions on package – generally it requires 2 1/4 cups liquid per cup of rice; bring rice to a boil then reduce to simmer and leave covered for 45 minutes.  When rice is cooked, fluff with a fork before stirring in remainer of ingredients.
  • When rice is nearly done cooking, steam kale in microwave with a little water, then drain.  (Alternatively, wilt kale with a little oil, water or broth in saute pan).
  • Stir wilted kale and all remaining of ingredients into cooked rice and allow to warm together over low heat for 5 minutes before serving.

*If you can’t find baby kale, you can use regular kale and just chop it roughly, or you can substitute baby spinach.  Both are readily available in most supermarkets.

Source: Covered In Flour

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One Reader’s Beginnings

I’ve been a reader for as long as I can remember.  I mean that literally.  I cannot recall a time when books were not a huge part of my life.  On the first day of kindergarten, I remember sitting at my table and wondering when we were going to learn to read.  Now, I already knew how to read – my mom taught me when I was in preschool – so I’m not sure what I expected.  To be inducted into some sort of secret society, perhaps.  A secret society of readers.  Or maybe some kind of turning point where I officially became a book person.  Which I already was, and had been practically since birth.

There was never a time in my reading life where I had to learn to love reading and books.  That came naturally to me.  Turning pages, scanning printed words, imprinting stories upon my memory and imagination – those things took no effort.  So most of my reading life has been spent honing my tastes… figuring out what I like, and what I don’t like… in short, forming an identity as a reader.  For me, just identifying as a reader doesn’t go quite far enough.  Of course I’m a reader.  The question is, what kind of reader?  That is something I’ve been figuring out all my life.

In elementary school and middle school, I read wide varieties of “young adult” fiction, although I’m not sure that’s what anyone called it.  I read good stuff and junky stuff indiscriminately.  I was just as likely to be glued to a book from the Sweet Valley series, or especially The Baby-Sitters Club, as I was to a copy of Anne of Green Gables or From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.  I think the turning point for me, the point at which I started to think about content and get picky, came the summer after eighth grade.  I don’t remember now what I did (probably mouth off), but my parents were punishing me for something.  I was a weird kid, and normal punishments like taking away television or phone privileges had next to no effect on me – I barely watched television anyway and I’ve never been a phone person.  So I suppose my parents had to get pretty creative when it came to discipline, and the punishment they dreamed up on this particular occasion was this: no books, except for “classics.”  Functionally, that meant no Baby-Sitters Club.  Oh, the humanity.

It was a week of enforced good taste.  Not reading was obviously not an option.  So I picked up a book that no one could argue with or take away: To Kill a Mockingbird.  I still remember sitting on the couch with my book and my parents occasionally coming into the room to ask me, accusingly, what I was reading.  My response, emphatic and defensive, was always: “To Kill a Mockingbird!  It’s a CLASSIC!”  Take that, parents.  As it turned out, when the summer ended and I started ninth grade Honors English, I was glad to have already read To Kill a Mockingbird.  By then, it had become one of my favorite books – I’d already read it twice by the time it was assigned in the spring semester – and I was able to delve more deeply into the characters and the story.  For a class project, I wrote a journal from the perspective of Atticus Finch and my very demanding, altogether wonderful teacher was thrilled with it.  She said I became Atticus.  Looking back, I owe quite the debt of gratitude to To Kill a Mockingbird.  Not only was it the catalyst for a change in my reading life, but Atticus Finch is one of the reasons I became a lawyer.

Ninth grade changed my reading life beyond To Kill a Mockingbird.  I read Jane Austen for the first time – Sense and Sensibility was my introduction into Regency England; I identified with serious, pragmatic Elinor and rolled my eyes at dreamy Marianne.  My English teacher – the same one who assigned To Kill a Mockingbird – encouraged me to read Eudora Welty.  I read my first Shakespeare play.  By the end of the year, I was a full-on book snob.  By the end of high school, all of my Baby-Sitters Club books were in the basement, replaced on my shelves by meticulously organized, scrupulously chosen classics.  For years, my criteria for any book I read was that I had to be proud to tell my ninth grade English teacher that I was reading it.  If it wasn’t a book I would want to show to her, I wouldn’t touch it.  In 1997, I set a goal to read 50 books, all books that I hadn’t read before, that were not assigned for school, and that I would be proud to show that particular teacher.  I met that goal, but I was reading up until about 9:00 p.m. on December 31st to make it – and book 50 was actually an epic poem, which I wasn’t sure should really count, but desperate times and all that.  In 2007 I set the same goal, only this time I had to read 100 books, all books I hadn’t read before.  But the other criteria was the same – I had to be proud of each and every book if I happened to see my English teacher.

I never stopped “reading for fun,” even when life got very busy.  My college major, Industrial and Labor Relations, was notoriously heavy on reading assignments.  It was a campus joke to refer to ILR as “I Love Reading” – in fact, I remember my grandparents dropping me off for accepted students’ weekend in March of my senior year in high school.  We bumped into some upperclassmen, who asked what school I would be in.  I told them ILR and they laughed, “Oh, I Love Reading!”  My grandparents – coming to my defense – said seriously, “She really does love reading.”  The campus joke was right on; ILR kept me busy with reading assignments.  I probably had quadruple the books on my windowsill – maybe even more – in comparison to my roommate, a nutrition major.  Still, I still found time to squeeze non-labor books in (just not too many; I did have a G.P.A. to think about in light of my looming law school applications).  If I ever fell off the book bandwagon, it was in law school, especially second and third year when every moment of every day was accounted for.  But I always caught up during the summers.  And then came my first job – a government job, with enforced maximum hours and a handful of new friends who happened to be as book-obsessed as I was.  My reading life exploded into activity (hence the 100-books-in-2007 challenge).  And I haven’t slowed down since.  Sometimes I’m asked how I can read and write all day – which, indeed, I do: cases and contracts and briefs, oh my! – and then go home to curl up with a book all evening.  I can’t really explain it, except to say that I have yet to bump up against my limit when it comes to words I can stand to read or pages I can stand to turn.  And legal writing is very different from the fiction I favor in my off hours.  I don’t feel overloaded at all.

I’ve been a reader for more than two decades now.  (I don’t know how long, precisely, because as I said I don’t remember not being able to read.)  In that time, I’ve read good books and bad books, and a very few books that I had to stop midway through because they were just awful.  I’ve discovered what I don’t like: science fiction, most fantasy (except for my beloved Harry Potter), most dystopia, and most “young adult” fiction.  And I’ve honed a description of what I do especially like: classics (especially English literature), new literary fiction, well-researched historical fiction with strong characters, travel memoirs, and British mysteries.  More than just knowing my likes and dislikes – which was a long process – I feel that I have finally assembled my identity as a reader: I am mainly a fiction reader with a preference for both historical classics and new literary fiction with well-drawn characters, but I will read non-fiction books that evoke a sense of place or personality.  I favor simple but evocative language and tight plots.  I’ll give most books a chance, especially in my preferred genres, but in order to earn a spot on my permanent shelf a book has to engage me from the beginning, give me relatable characters and a well-drawn plot, and reward me with a satisfying ending.  My preferences may change over time – in fact, I’m sure they will – but I’m sure I’ll always have strong opinions about books.

What about you – what kind of reader are you?

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York

As our upcoming trip to England draws nearer, I’m finding it harder and harder to contain my excitement.  You see, as much as I loved our trip to France, I’m an Anglophile at heart.  And while I can’t wait for the new discoveries that I’m sure to make on this next trip, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for some of the parts of England that we loved when we visited back in 2008.  So I thought I’d share some of those pics with you, since they pre-date this little blog.  We started our journey in York, so that’s where I’ll begin my recaps.

First stop – the pub, obviously.  We hadn’t slept since D.C.  Hubby wanted ale and I wanted mushy peas.  (Hubby has his priorities straight; I might not.)  So we hit up Ye Olde Starre Inne – York’s oldest pub.  The mushy peas were glorious.  I can’t speak for the ale. 

You don’t visit York without spending some quality time at the Minster.  It was astoundingly beautiful both inside and out and was hubby’s favorite cathedral of the entire trip.  (I liked Westminster Abbey because I’m a history booknerd.  But York Minster was a very close second.)

Inside the Minster – gorgeous carvings.  I loved the light-filled nave.

York Minster choir stalls – pic snapped for my father-in-law and sisters-in-law, who either have in the past or currently belong to Episcopalian church choirs.  Hubby and I were lucky enough to catch an Evensong at York Minster and it was one of the highlights of the trip.

A walk around the Minster reveals… FLYING BUTTRESSES!  Oh yes, I went there.  Holla back, A.P. European History!

Walking through the medieval York streets, we stumbled upon this guy.  Anyone know what it meant to have a devil above your shop door?  In medieval times, the devil was a sign that the shop below was a printer.

Clifford’s Tower – site of a mob riot in 1190.  Okay, history lesson over for the day.

St. Mary’s Abbey.  Ah, York, how we loved visiting you.  Even though your ghost tour did give us nightmares.  Gorgeous medieval streets, a stunning cathedral, great food… it was a perfect low-key but still breathtaking place to start off our U.K. adventure.

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From Beans To Leaves: How I Became A Crazy Tea Lady

I may have been an Anglophile all my life, but that doesn’t mean I was always a tea drinker.  From the time I was old enough to start sneaking caffeinated beverages until about age 24, I was a coffee person.  I really didn’t much care about quality – probably because my parents drank instant coffee all my life – as long as it had caffeine and was made with coffee beans, I was on board.  I loved driving to Starbucks with my friends during summer vacations in college, but more because it got me out of the house and provided me with somewhere arguably cool to spend my evenings.  I’d usually order a non-fat decaf latte.  It was more about the company and the atmosphere than the beans.  As for tea, well, that wasn’t even on my radar screen.  In college I got to be dependent on a cup of coffee in the morning.  I discovered that it got me going after long nights of gossiping with my sorority sisters  kissing frat boys  studying.  Spring semester of my junior year, I got the idea that I was going to quit coffee, and I did for a few months.  Then I started my summer internship after junior year and realized that quitting coffee was not an option… at least, not when my days were filled with data entry for a survey on New York State employees’ sick leave use.

Coffee saw me through the LSATs, law school applications, senior year in college and two years of law school.  It was the quiet friend in the background.  I never gave it much thought; it was just there, part of my morning routine.  Then, during my third year of law school, I participated in an international moot court competition.  I tended to put a lot of pressure on myself before moot court arguments and frequently found myself hit with terrible anxiety stomachaches.  After some not-so-subtle hinting from a friend and teammate, I began to realize that coffee was exacerbating my stomachaches, but peppermint tea seemed to soothe them.  After our last competition, the whole team got sick – I attribute it to the adrenaline crash after a very intense experience; I always used to get sick after exams, too.  For two weeks I was practically floored by a very nasty cold.  Staying home from school was not an option; I had to catch up after months of focusing on moot court to the detriment of everything else.  On my way to class I would stop by Au Bon Pain and order the only thing that sounded good to me: a large chamomile tea.  I spent most of those two weeks in the law library, with a box of tissues and that chamomile tea next to me.  The chamomile really did make me feel better.  I was amazed.

After law school, I started working for the federal government in a two-year clerkship program.  For some reason, my office was freezing cold most of the time – winter and summer alike.  I would wrap myself in a sweater and try to type with gloves on, even in July in D.C.  When the cold got to be too much for me to stand, I’d run upstairs to a snack bar on the fourth floor, where the sweet cashier would always let me have a cup of hot water for free.  I’d bring it down to my office and steep a cup of Republic of Tea Wild Blueberry black tea.  Meanwhile, at that job, I started to become close to a few of my coworkers – to three women in particular, one of whom was a tea connoisseur.  We started to meet in her office each morning for tea – she brewed black tea from loose leaves, poured it into travel cups, and sent us off to start our days with a perfect cup of tea.  It was through this particular friend that I began to really appreciate the flavors and complexity of tea, and to learn that the flavors and aromas of loose tea are so often far superior to bagged tea.  Another new work friend introduced me to Teaism  and I started going for lunch regularly.  Soon I began brewing my own loose tea at my desk in the afternoons, although I still started my days with black coffee at home and favored herbal tea over black or green. 

When my clerkship ended and I left the government for a private firm, I was only really sad about one thing – no more tea with my friends every day.  And I knew I had to carry my tea ritual to my new workplace, even if it was just me brewing tea in my office alone.  I couldn’t contemplate starting the workday without a comforting cup of tea.  So I continued brewing loose tea at my desk, and my new coworkers – committed coffee drinkers, for the most part – might mock gently, but they do enjoy the cups of perfectly brewed tea that I am always glad to share.  Being in a new office, and no longer able to stop by my friend’s office for a cup of black tea in the morning, I had to start stocking some caffeinated teas in addition to my favorite herbal blends.  As I explored more and more black and green tea flavors, I started to enjoy and appreciate them to a new extent.  Gradually, it occurred to me that if I skipped my morning coffee, I could drink more tea.  I could replace that one cup of coffee with two cups of tea – even black tea – and not have to worry about bouncing off the walls all day.  I stopped drinking coffee except on the weekends, and I started looking forward to my morning tea much more than I ever looked forward to my coffee.  Sometimes I even fell asleep thinking about which tea I should have the next morning.  Eventually, I stopped wanting coffee at all – although I like it fine, I’d always rather have tea.  These days, I don’t even bother with coffee more than once a month or so.

Yes, over the past few years, I have grown into a full-fledged tea fanatic.  I’ve tried out different flavors and varietals, shopped for tea with my bestie, R, a tea fanatic herself, and discovered what I really love (fruit-, nut- or vanilla-flavored black teas and just about any herbal infusion) and what I’m growing to love (most green teas).  I became obsessed with Teaism here in D.C.  I traveled to England, where I had afternoon tea in the Lake District, experienced how pleasant it is to stop in a pub for a pot of tea when you’re soaked through by the rain, and took high tea in the Orangerie at Kensington Palace (pinky in the air, natch).  I brought tea home from the Harrods food hall in London, and from Mariage Freres (my all-time favorite tea, to which R introduced me and for which I will be forever in her debt) in Paris. 

Nowadays, I start almost every morning with a pot of black or green tea at my desk at work, and I end just about every day with another little pot of herbal tea at home.  I’m always on the lookout for new flavors and infusions to try, and I can’t resist bringing some tea home with me from vacations.  It’s not that I dislike coffee – I don’t – but I’ve come to much prefer tea.  I love the vast variety of flavors and aromas that I find in teas… the cuddly ritual of brewing a pot of tea from loose leaves… the feeling of intense comfort and well-being I get from opening up my tea cupboard and looking at all my favorites stored neatly within… the way my first pot of tea eases me gently into my day every morning without fail.  And whether I’m having high tea in London or brewing myself a small pot of Etoile de France (my favorite Mariage Freres tea), or just sipping a soothing cup of peppermint tea on a rainy afternoon, I always take time to appreciate the aromas, the warmth, and the ritual of my favorite beverage.  (Tied with wine, of course.)  The girl who eschewed tea in favor of black coffee has seen the error of her ways.  I am, and will forever be, a tea person.

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For September, An Old Favorite

School is starting.  It’s that magical time of year when pencils and yellow buses and new-old textbooks are a novelty and the daily routine hasn’t lost its luster yet.  There are kids gathering on street corners at ungodly hours in the morning, with backpacks and lunch boxes that haven’t yet gotten dirty and stinky.  And even though hubby and I haven’t gone back to school in years – and even though the only thing that changes in September for us now is that the traffic is a little heavier – I’m not immune to the excitement. 

I’ve had the same favorite poem since I was sixteen years old.  (In fact, hubby and I used the final three verses on our wedding programs.)  My favorite poem, “if everything happens that can’t be done,” reminds me of back-to-school – maybe it’s the mentions of leaves and books.  So, for a little back-to-school treat, here’s my favorite poem in its entirety.

if everything happens that can’t be done, by e.e. cummings

if everything happens that can’t be done
(and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there’s nothing as something as one

one hasn’t a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don’t grow)
one’s anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one’s everyanything so

so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there’s somebody calling who’s we

we’re anything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books
might mean)
we’re everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we’re alive)
we’re wonderful one times one

Happy September!

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Detox Week

Dudes, I feel icky.  Nothing seriously wrong, of course… just… icky.  It’s been a busy month in Casa Messy, between work, earthquakes and hurricanes, and I’ve been resorting to convenience foods more than I like to.  I’ve been overwhelmed and stressed out and pretty angsty for awhile.  I also feel like recently I’ve had a few too many glasses of wine… and I know I’ve indulged in a few dinners out.  (Well, hubby and I had an anniversary to celebrate!  But we tried to work it off by hiking and kayaking.)  I don’t regret a single glass of wine or a single bite of the amazing food we’ve enjoyed.  But I’m ready to shift my focus to clean living for a little while.  I want to treat myself to fresh, whole foods – hydrating fruits and veg, “real food” vegetarian protein, and nourishing whole grains.  So I’m declaring this week Detox Week at the Messy house.  Now, what does that mean?

  • No coffee and no alcohol… duh.  I don’t expect to have much trouble with this.  I rarely drink coffee as it is (maybe once a month, and when I do I’m usually thinking about how I’d rather have tea).  And although I love wine, I’m not a big drinker and I generally only have a glass or two on the weekends, and no booze at all during the week.  I’d rather drink a little of the really good stuff than a lot of the cheap stuff.  So avoiding alcohol for a week doesn’t concern me at all.
  • No cheese.  I’d say no dairy altogether, but I think that nonfat Greek yogurt is very healthy and I also happen to like it.  A lot.  This isn’t about deprivation – it’s about eating the foods that make me feel the best.  And while I adore cheese, hubby and I try to keep it out of the house because it’s not great for you.  As long as I can stay away from the gorgeous cheese plate at The Grape and Bean, I should be okay.
  • No processed carbs.  Unless I process them myself!  So that means no bread, crackers or pretzels – just whole grains that I cook from scratch.  Millet, quinoa, brown rice, barley… all on the menu.  Pasta and Walker’s shortbread… not.
  • No sweets.  I am going to go the week without the white devil.  Obviously natural sugars, like those in fruit and whole grains, don’t count here.  But I don’t need, nor do I particularly want, to eat sweets on a regular basis.  Every so often as a treat is fine, and I won’t be made to feel guilty about the occasional indulgence, but not during Detox Week.
  • No convenience foods.  As much as it will pain me to go a week without Quorn chik’n – which I really, really like the taste of – I’m going to get my hippie protein the old-fashioned way, from beans and legumes, tofu, tempeh and seitan.  I’m making an exception for Field Roast sausages, because they’re made with real food.  (Actually, Quorn has a pretty good ingredient list too, but we’re trying to do something substantial here.)
  • YES tea!  Especially green tea.  Plenty of it.  But as usual, no caffeine after 3:00 p.m., because it makes me hyper.
  • YES water!  A glass in the morning, three Sigg bottles (I have the 2-cup variety at work, so it’s not completely insane) during the day, and a glass with dinner.  That works out to about eight cups per day… although if I’m thirsty for more that’s A-okay too.
  • YES produce!  Back to eating giant fruit salads for breakfast and giant green salads for lunch.  As much fruit and veg as I want.  Nom nom nom.
  • YES sweat!  Some sort of exercise every day, even if it’s just running a mile or two in my neighborhood or doing ten Sun Salutations.  I’m going to get moving in some manner every single day this week, and hopefully get back into the habit of exercising 5-6 times weekly like I was up until this summer.
  • YES meditation!  I love meditating.  I feel so at peace and I am always rejuvenated after I finish a meditation practice.  It doesn’t have to be long, but I want to spend at least ten minutes every day this week in meditation.  It can be a sunrise meditation before I leave for work or a walking meditation on my lunch break… just so long as I take time to slow down and reset myself every day.

Obviously, this is a short-term experiment.  I just want to see how I feel after a week of totally clean living.  I expect I’m going to feel amazing.  And I hope this will be a jumping-off point for taking better care of myself going forward.  Eating a little cleaner, moving a little more, tearing myself down a little – okay, a lot – less.  Because the fact is, the only person I can really insist on kindness from is… well, me.  It has to start with me.

by

Ten Years Ago

September 1, 2001 – September 1, 2011… and on and on and on forever.

Hubby and I met during the summer of 2001 at a youth politics conference.  I was going into my junior year at Cornell and he was about to start his third year at Cornell Law.  I remember over the course of the conference thinking that he was cute, but not giving him too much thought beyond that.  I assumed that he had a girlfriend (most cute guys I met did) and that even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be interested in dating an undergrad.  Plus, one of my friends had a crush on him, and I wasn’t about to step on any toes – so I put him out of my mind.  In August of 2001, the first week back at school, I had an email from him.  We hadn’t exchanged email addresses specifically, so he had gone to the trouble of looking back through conference-related emails to find my contact information.  He suggested lunch and I was totally on board, once I remembered who he was.  (Told you I put him out of my mind.) 

For our first date, we met up at noon in the outside seating area of Collegetown Bagels – the handiest meeting spot on campus even if you weren’t eating there – and walked to a barely off-campus restaurant called Aladdin’s.  I was pretty sure it was a date, although I entertained the possibility that he just wanted me to set him up with my friend, who was still crushing on him.  But he asked me out for a second date while we were still on the first date, which was a good sign according to Cosmo Girl.  It was a bit awkward, actually – he suggested we go out and “grab a drink” and I had to remind him that I was 19.  I’m not sure which one of us was more embarrassed by that revelation.  Hubs bounced back quickly and suggested a party and I was glad to agree… and to see that my dorky inability to get into a bar (being 19, fake ID-less, and looking like I was 14) was not a deal-breaker.  After the party, sometime in the wee hours of September 1, 2001, we kissed.  And I was sure that he wasn’t interested in my friend.  (By the way, I ran the relationship by her and she graciously told me he was all mine.)

We were pretty much inseparable from that first kiss on.  By December, we were very serious.  In January, he met my family.  In March, I met his.  By April, the relationship had started to feel quite urgent, since he would be graduating and I had one more year of undergrad left, and then was planning to go to law school.  We knew that we were looking at a year or more – probably more – of long-distance.  I had no idea what to expect, except that I knew I hated being without him.  He graduated in May of 2002 and left campus while I still had a few days to pack myself up.  I threw myself down on my bed in the sorority house and cried all night because I didn’t see how I could wait three weeks until I visited him.

I didn’t wait three weeks to see him again, as it happened.  Two weeks after our tearful goodbyes (well, I was tearful – he was stoic), hubby arrived unexpectedly at the house of some of my friends.  I love surprises, so I was pretty psyched.  We went out for a special dinner at the restaurant we’d visited on the first night we met, during that summer conference in my hometown, and then we wandered around the city.  We ended up in a little garden near the office where I was serving my summer internship and hubby dropped down on one knee.  You can probably imagine my shock.  We had only been dating eight months, but we both knew we had found what we were looking for.  I said yes.

I went back to school that fall excited to tell my friends about our engagement.  In November of 2002, hubby drove the three hours to campus, picked me up and drove us both to New York City, where we bought an engagement ring.  Back at school, I announced my engagement to my sorority in a special ceremony and got busy showing off my newly-sparkly left hand.  Meanwhile, I was studying for the LSAT and preparing law school applications.  Hubby and I decided that I would move to Washington, D.C., and he would follow me as soon as he could.  I graduated from Cornell and started a new life at GW Law, and hubby arrived in town a year later.  The two years of long-distance engagement were brutal, but we never second-guessed our commitment.  Once hubby was officially in the D.C. area, we started planning our wedding.

The wedding was one area where I insisted on taking my time.  I wanted the perfect day, a day that would reflect our personalities, and I was willing to wait for it.  We were engaged for over a year before we set the date: August 13, 2005.  By the time our wedding day arrived, we had been engaged for three years.  I still remember our wedding day like it was yesterday.  Giggling with my bridesmaids while we did our makeup, hubby and I repeating hybrid wedding vows that we had customized to reflect our different denominations, riding to the reception site with the entire wedding party, dancing to Norah Jones and congratulating my grandparents on celebrating their 57th anniversary that day… so many moments.  I loved every second.

After the wedding and honeymoon in the Bahamas, it was back to reality for me.  I finished law school and hubby proudly stood up when spouses were recognized at my graduation.  I started working for the government, and then eventually moved on to my dream job in private practice.  Hubby and I bought a condo, then we sold the condo and bought a house.  We traveled all over the world – to California, Mexico, Canada, England, Scotland, and France – and took some trips closer to home to keep life interesting between adventures.  We celebrated six years of marriage.

Before I met hubby, I didn’t think there was any way I could put up with someone for ten years.  But it didn’t take long for me to realize that this was a guy who would never bore me.  I knew we would never run out of things to talk or laugh about.  I knew there would always be another adventure right around the corner with him.  On our first date, we discussed Altoids and our siblings.  I have no idea how many dates there have been since then, but we’re still not hurting for conversation topics.  Ten years later, he still cracks me up.  Ten years later, I still sneak glances out of the corner of my eye when he’s driving because he’s so handsome at that angle.  Ten years later, he’s still my best friend.

Those first months in 2001 and 2002 were great.  I wouldn’t trade that getting-to-know-you time for anything.  But I can honestly say that it’s better on this side.  Ten years in is such a fun place to be.  We have memories now.  We have inside jokes, too.  But we also have plans – another trip to England, for one.  And after that, who knows?  The only thing I can say for sure is that on September 1, 2021, when we mark 20 years together, we’ll still be going strong.

Happy ten years, friend of my heart.

by

Reading Round-Up: August 2011

Reading is my longest-standing, and also my favorite, hobby.  I literally can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book.  Here are my reads for August, 2011…

Molotov’s Magic Lantern, by Rachel Polonsky – Being interested in all things Slavic, I was intrigued by this travel-history-biblio-memoir by a British journalist who discovers upon moving into an apartment in Moscow that she is living directly below the apartment of one of Stalin’s most prominent henchmen.  Molotov was responsible for sending countless numbers of writers and intellectuals to the Gulag, but he was also an “ardent bibliophile” who collected the works of those same writers.  Polonsky explores several towns in Russia and describes their histories, their contributions to Russian intellectual life, and their connections (if any) to Molotov.  Interesting, if a bit dry at times.

Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins – I got the second volume of the Hunger Games trilogy from the library and was almost as blown away as I was by the first.  Katniss was just as brave and Peeta was just as wonderful as in The Hunger Games.  When the insane cliffhanger ending arrived I realized I simply couldn’t wait for my name to come up in the library queue (I was around 120 on the list) so I downloaded…

Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins – The final volume of the Hunger Games trilogy wasn’t as strong as the first two, but it provided plenty of food for thought and great dramatic tension.  Not enough Peeta for me though!  I always want more Peeta!

The Oracle of Stamboul, by Michael David Lukas – Loved, loved, LOVED this charming and sweet story of a little eight-year-old girl who stows away on her father’s business trip to Stamboul during the waning days of the Ottoman Empire and winds up impressing the emperor with her sage political advice.  The language was so evocative that the story was like gazing at a tapestry of color and texture – beautiful.

Faith, by Jennifer Haigh – This was a profoundly disturbing, yet also sensitive and compelling, story of the aftershocks in the family of an Irish Catholic priest accused of child abuse during the 2002 Boston archdiocese scandals.  I found the subject matter difficult, but fascinating, and the book was written in a compassionate way.  Loved it.

My Love Affair With England, by Susan Allen Toth – This was a re-read, and I don’t even know what number it was.  I’ve had this travel memoir since high school and I pull it out whenever I want to sink knee deep into one of my favorite countries.  As an avowed Anglophile, I can’t get enough afternoon tea, the Tube, Stonehenge, walks along National Trust paths… Since I’m preparing for my next big vacation to England, I pulled out this old favorite and, as always, it didn’t disappoint.

 A Discovery of Witches, by Deborah Harkness – I wasn’t sure what to think of this book.  I went back and forth.  At first I loved the descriptions of Oxford (I’ll be there in October!), and the character’s haunts in the Bodleian Library and Blackwells, and all the tea she drinks.  Then the romance started up and I found it pretty saccharine, and the main characters grated on me rather.  I finished the book and thought, “Well, I guess I really am immune to vampires.”  Then a weird thing happened… I kept feeling compelled to pick up the book and flip through it again.  And the vampire grew on me too.  Very strange.  I guess I did really like this book after all.

Notes From a Small Island, by Bill Bryson – There were laugh-out-loud hilarious bits sprinkled throughout this travel memoir, but it started to wear thin by the end.  Still, Bill Bryson clearly loves England and the English people, including their quirks and foibles.

I had a good August in books.  Some really wonderful books read, and no major flops.  Faith, The Oracle of Stamboul and A Discovery of Witches were highlights.  Three very different books, but all compelling in their own ways.  As always, to see a complete (or as close to complete as possible) list of my books read since 2007, or for full reviews of the books listed here, feel free to follow me on Goodreads.  Happy reading!