Meatless Mondays
A few of the magazines that I read with some regularity have been touting the concept of meatless monday. The Meatless Monday website promotes the concept of choosing one day a week when you refrain from eating meat on purpose, not just because you happened to gobble down only things containing pasta, cheese and peanut butter (though not necessarily all together).
In other words, it only counts if you're doing this for a purpose.
The Meatless Monday site mentions that this is a "national health campaign to help Americans prevent heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and cancer - four of the leading causes of death in America." My friendly magazines inform me that this campaign also helps out with that whole "green" thing. The raising, slaughtering (that word alone is almost enough to make me turn entirely vegetarian) and transporting meat animals expends a great deal of our natural resources. If people around meat-crazed North America (I'm talking to you, Denny's Beer Pub) band together and refrain from meat every Monday, well, hey, we may just add a couple of decades to the life of our planet.
And just think how much energy we'll save during Lent, and we super-fancy Catholics are going meatless TWICE a week.
Here are a couple environmentally friendly (I hope) ideas to help you start out your meatless monday routine (I'm not guaranteeing these are waistline friendly).
Salmon and Leek Quiche (I'm not opening up the debate about why fish is not considered meat...just go with me on this one).
Vegetarian Chili
Cornbread(because what is chili without cornbread?)
And for you truly adventurous and brave chefs out there, how about your very own, homemade Falafel
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
And Two People Fell in Love
My favorite wedding of the summer happened this weekend. Someone I've known since 2000 married someone she's known since 1998. So, as long as I've known my friend, she's known her (now) husband. They've always been a part of each other, but they've never had the relationship that, to me, seemed obnoxious. If her man was around, we were happy to see him. If she talked to him on the phone while we three roommates were having a chat, she brought him into the conversation. Those four-way conversations are one of my fondest college memories.
It helps that this is the only wedding this summer in which the the couple getting married have dated longer than WG and I have. At nine and a half years together, there's no question that these two are ready for marriage. And it showed. They were so comfortable with each other throughout the whole ceremony. The officiant cautioned them that they shouldn't get too complacent, that they shouldn't an assume they "know each other," even after nine and a half years together. I wanted to turn and look pointedly at WG, because we'd had a conversation about "knowing" each other earlier in the day. Being the six year old that I am, I wanted to stand up and say, "See! Ha! Nine and a half years and they don't know each other! We've got plenty of time to learn the little details, and we'll keep learning until we're too old to remember anything, and then we'll start learning again!" Being the grown-up, charming woman that I am, I simply smiled and kept on watching the wedding.
I cried when the bride cried saying her vows, but only because this was the first time in eight years of friendship that I have seen my friend cry.
I got a little teary during the speeches, but only because the bride's twin, whom I have also known for eight years, doesn't usually cry either.
It was nice to cry simply because my friends were crying, and not because the words they were saying touched some odd little chord in my heart. No, these were tears of unity, not tears that meant I had selfishly involved my own romantic emotion.
My friend and her soulmate got married. There was much laughter. There was (finally!) dancing. There were smiles and pictures and happy moments.
And I am so happy that two people fell in love.
It helps that this is the only wedding this summer in which the the couple getting married have dated longer than WG and I have. At nine and a half years together, there's no question that these two are ready for marriage. And it showed. They were so comfortable with each other throughout the whole ceremony. The officiant cautioned them that they shouldn't get too complacent, that they shouldn't an assume they "know each other," even after nine and a half years together. I wanted to turn and look pointedly at WG, because we'd had a conversation about "knowing" each other earlier in the day. Being the six year old that I am, I wanted to stand up and say, "See! Ha! Nine and a half years and they don't know each other! We've got plenty of time to learn the little details, and we'll keep learning until we're too old to remember anything, and then we'll start learning again!" Being the grown-up, charming woman that I am, I simply smiled and kept on watching the wedding.
I cried when the bride cried saying her vows, but only because this was the first time in eight years of friendship that I have seen my friend cry.
I got a little teary during the speeches, but only because the bride's twin, whom I have also known for eight years, doesn't usually cry either.
It was nice to cry simply because my friends were crying, and not because the words they were saying touched some odd little chord in my heart. No, these were tears of unity, not tears that meant I had selfishly involved my own romantic emotion.
My friend and her soulmate got married. There was much laughter. There was (finally!) dancing. There were smiles and pictures and happy moments.
And I am so happy that two people fell in love.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Real World Wednesday
This week, my real world is all about the Olympics, every girl's weird little crush on Raj Bhavsar.
...and, oh yeah, that war in Georgia, where we've got US troops delivering aid, 'cause our troops aren't spread thin enough.
I'd much rather watch the Olympics.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Real World Wednesday
I woke this morning with the phrase, "You are priveleged" in my mind. I've fought my whole life in defense of the fact that my family didn't start out with stable finances. I've had to explain to any number of people that I know what it's like to have your clothes on lay-away at Kmart (not that it was any of their business to start with). The fact remains, though, that I lead, and have probably always led, a life of privilege. I am loved by both of my (still married) parents. I have a grandmother whose only (current) complaint about me is that she doesn't see me often enough. I have a job that pays enough for me to have enough left over to have a subscription to an online game. Seriously? Folks, that's privilege.
I may not have the biggest house or the fanciest car. I may have parents who have always worked in public service. Oh, but I am privileged.
And that is something I must remember as I grow irritated with the customer who may be a tad hard to understand because of all those missing teeth. I shouldn't complain so much about spending at least an hour a day standing, because there is a man who has no legs who frequents my workplace.
I am privileged, and chances are, if you have the leisure time to read this blog (if, indeed, you know what a blog is), you are privileged, too.
I may not have the biggest house or the fanciest car. I may have parents who have always worked in public service. Oh, but I am privileged.
And that is something I must remember as I grow irritated with the customer who may be a tad hard to understand because of all those missing teeth. I shouldn't complain so much about spending at least an hour a day standing, because there is a man who has no legs who frequents my workplace.
I am privileged, and chances are, if you have the leisure time to read this blog (if, indeed, you know what a blog is), you are privileged, too.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Sarcastic Writing by Fabulous Women
I've read most of Laurie Notaro's books, starting with I Love Everybody and Other Atrocious Lies. I poured through Haven Kimmel's A Girl Named Zippy. I always am on the lookout for other authors with a similar sense of enjoyment in the absolutely absurd elements of their lives.
Happily, I discovered Sloane Crosley and I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and you should, too.
Crosley covers a variety of topics, from her strangely acquired collection of plastic ponies:
"I don't even like ponies. If I made one of my throwaway equine requests and someone produced an actual pony, Juan Valdez-style, I would run very fast in the other direction."
and the awkward evenings that can come of spending time with friends from another time.
"You are beginning to get the hang of these friendships again. They feel familiar, like riding a bike. This social ease could atrophy before the nights is through. But for now, you're enjoying yourself."
If I don't entirely feel like I could be Sloane Crosley, I certainly feel that I could have known her in college. She would have been the girl with the crazy, funny stories about dates gone wrong. She would have been the girl who made a fantastic evening out of even the most boring social functions.
And her book certainly livened up the waiting room at the bank :).
Happily, I discovered Sloane Crosley and I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and you should, too.
Crosley covers a variety of topics, from her strangely acquired collection of plastic ponies:
"I don't even like ponies. If I made one of my throwaway equine requests and someone produced an actual pony, Juan Valdez-style, I would run very fast in the other direction."
and the awkward evenings that can come of spending time with friends from another time.
"You are beginning to get the hang of these friendships again. They feel familiar, like riding a bike. This social ease could atrophy before the nights is through. But for now, you're enjoying yourself."
If I don't entirely feel like I could be Sloane Crosley, I certainly feel that I could have known her in college. She would have been the girl with the crazy, funny stories about dates gone wrong. She would have been the girl who made a fantastic evening out of even the most boring social functions.
And her book certainly livened up the waiting room at the bank :).
Friday, August 01, 2008
Fast Forward
I have lots of changes that could potentially happen in my life in the next six to twelve months. Okay, so that's the vaguest sentence ever. There are a number of big changes that could BELIEVABLY happen in my life soon...not immediately, but soon enough to cause me worry.
There are moments, when I feel weighted down by all of the uncertainty, that I wish I could just know what would happen, that I could be through all of the rough stuff and content on the other side.
When I pause, half in and half out of the shower, or mindlessly standing in front of the fridge, thinking about this wish (because I always pause in the most awkward places when I'm caught mid-thought), though, I realize that I wouldn't actually do it if I could.
Where will I work? Where will I live? Who will I live with? Will things with WG have taken a step forward? How will I maintain relationships with my parents and my friends in California? Will I even have left the state? See. Big questions.
If someone walked up to me, with a DVD of my future life and said, "Hey, watch this. It's the story of your life, two years from now." I'd say, "First, you're a freak. Second, no thanks."
As much as I want to know what everything will look like, as much as I want to be over the big pain of moving far away from my parents and close friends (again), I know that living those moments will make the happiness all the better.
With my finger hovering over that fast forward button, I stop, and I just let my life play out as it will. The not knowing is both terrifying and exhilirating, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
There are moments, when I feel weighted down by all of the uncertainty, that I wish I could just know what would happen, that I could be through all of the rough stuff and content on the other side.
When I pause, half in and half out of the shower, or mindlessly standing in front of the fridge, thinking about this wish (because I always pause in the most awkward places when I'm caught mid-thought), though, I realize that I wouldn't actually do it if I could.
Where will I work? Where will I live? Who will I live with? Will things with WG have taken a step forward? How will I maintain relationships with my parents and my friends in California? Will I even have left the state? See. Big questions.
If someone walked up to me, with a DVD of my future life and said, "Hey, watch this. It's the story of your life, two years from now." I'd say, "First, you're a freak. Second, no thanks."
As much as I want to know what everything will look like, as much as I want to be over the big pain of moving far away from my parents and close friends (again), I know that living those moments will make the happiness all the better.
With my finger hovering over that fast forward button, I stop, and I just let my life play out as it will. The not knowing is both terrifying and exhilirating, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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