quick check in

Yes, I'm still alive. And, I fully intend to write more about the mundane in my life. So, here goes.

I'm fine. For the past few days, however, I have felt a little under the weather. Perhaps it's just the power of suggestion as I've been caring for a sick four-year-old who has pink eye (he calls it "grits"), a sinus infection, and the early signs of an ear infection.

Work is piling up with an issue SLAP, a blues check for the issue I SLAPped last week, articles to write for an issue that SLAPs in two weeks (as well as a nasty pile of PIPs), four paginations (soon to be five) to do, and another issue to plan. It's just a little insane.

John is on a business trip, making me a little lonely at home. But, I'm relieved that the trip is just for one night, which is so much easier to handle that when he worked as a consultant, with six-week engagements that had him home only on the weekend. Actually, I'm more than a little jealous of this trip, which takes him to NYC on some business for NBC Sports (meetings at 30 Rock).

So, despite my seething envy, I managed nicely this evening with a few bottles of Shiner bock, Food Network shows on the DVR (including one filmed at Izzy's), a new knitting project, and back issues of Saveur. It's all good, but the bed will be big and cold tonight, and it will be nearly impossible to haul myself out of it manana.

Not to mention that the babies and I had a Davanni's picnic in front of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, starring Johnny Depp. While the boys thought the movie was fun (with an occasional moment of skepticism from Simon, thank goodness he found part weird), I mostly thought it was horrible. The musical numbers were gratuitous; Johnny Depp disturbingly resembled Michael Jackson; Wonka's flashbacks and Daddy/candy issues were absurd and unnecessary; I could go on. Some of the signature Tim Burton stuff—mostly sets (especially the Gothic chocolate factory that resembled a cathedral; squirrels cracking nuts standing in for the geese that laid golden eggs)—were the only saving grace for a seriously botched remake. Granted Gene Wilder came across as off-his-meds in the original, but he wasn't creepy in the same way as Depp.

This weekend, John and I have our eight-week standing date at 112 Eatery, and I'm pretty excited about that. And, I'm going to have coffee and book conversation (Memento Mori by Muriel Spark, among others we've mutually read in the past month or so and those we plan to read in the next month or so) with my college friend Caryl, and I'm equally excited about that. I'd also like to try my hand at making gnocchi, and I have a rotisserie-roasted beast in the refrigerator that wants to have a second life in chicken-corn chowder.

To bed for a bit of The Big Oyster and The Whole World Over.

Auspicious day

My birth day rocks.

To summarize:

Historical events
Gregorian calendar is implemented (I know this is why John Shepard married me)
First run of the Orient Express
Gutzom Borglund began carving Mt. Rushmore
Launch of Sputnik 1
Debut of Leave It to Beaver

Birthdays
Richard Cromwell (1626), Frederic Remington (1861), Charlton Heston (1921), Alvin Toffler (1928), Susan Sarandon (1946—rock on), Liev Schrieber (my favorite indie actor, 1967), Alicia Silverstone (1976)

Deaths
Rembrandt (1669), Janis Joplin (1970), Anne Sexton (1974), Secretariat (1989), R. W. Apple (2006)

It's my birthday and I'll eat pastries if I want to

Yes, happy birthday to me! To ameliorate the dread of being another year closer to turning 40, I did dose myself with a mini chocolate babka roll this morning. Is that so wrong?

My day started beautifully with handsome husband singing "Happy Birthday." And, Simon entered our room, fully dressed for the day, to say good morning.

As with every birthday since becoming an adult, I told myself that today is the first day of the rest of my life. It's true. My birthday symbolizes a new year, and like many do for the New Year, I make resolutions.

But before I get into that, allow me to list my accomplishments from the past year:

• Celebrated my first Christmas—with my little family—in our own home
• Started and maintained three blogs—Hambone and Spice (food), Bibliotonic (books) and this one
• Traveled to Costa Rica (for John's 40th birthday) and to France (Paris for sights/culture/food and Reims for champagne/James & Ulrika's wedding)
• Appeared on newsstands as the editor of 12 magazines
• Celebrated my first anniversary at Homestore/Homeplans, part of Move
• Crossed some restaurants off my list: Grand Cafe (the reincarnation of Bakery on Grand), Nami, Auriga (twice), a Rebours, 112 Eatery (thrice). Revisited restaurants: Alma, Vincent
  
• Took cooking classes at Cooks, something I have always wanted to do: Japanese grilling and sushi basics
• Made/cooked gnocchi (failure), osso bucco (success), Italian fig Christmas cookies (success), sushi (not a complete failure), a really large octopus (gross, but a success), croquetas (my first foray into deep-frying, a total success), empanadas, margaritas from scratch
  
• Read some classics (Edith Wharton, Muriel Spark)
• Collected wine
  
• Threw a summer solstice/tapas party and a surprise birthday party for John
  
• Maintained friendships (Tracy A., Caryl T., brother Nik)
  

This is my last year before turning 40, and I feel like I have a lot to accomplish. I'm tired of being fat. In the past year, I have gained at least 20 pounds, largely through beer consumption and by eating a few Bread and Chocolate pastries a week. Oh, and not exercising. Nada, nothing since RAGBRAI—last July. Pathetic. Last September I was only 20 pounds from my pre-Simon pregnancy weight—not that I was entirely happy with that weight, but I felt sexier and more fit than I did before Simon was born. To reward myself, I bought some deliciously curvy clothes from Boden. Then, satisfied with my success (over summer 2005, I lost 15 pounds and toned), closer to my goal, I blew it. A sadly familiar predicament (happened in 1995, after I got down to a size 10, then ballooned up to a size 14 in record time). My weight is now closer to where I was just after Winston was born, which was an utterly horrifying time to me.

As long as I exercise, I lose weight. I am happiest when I exercise. Finally, at 39 I get endorphins. I hate getting myself to the gym. My free time is so fucking precious (with a job, husband, and small children, I don't have much free time) that I never choose going to the gym. I'd rather come home after a day at the office, fix a lovely dinner for my family, have time to clean up, then cuddle with my kids before sending them off to bed.

But, I am in training for turning 40, so that I may be at the peak of physical and intellectual health. Herewith, a few resolutions for the new year:

• Exercise every day: stretching or yoga in the morning, walks at noon, ride my bike everywhere, and spinning whenever I can. Something, anything. Groove my body however I am able.
  
• Lose weight: by exercising every day, eating well, cutting down alcohol and pastry consumption
  
• Meditate
• Read 50 books (reading list to follow)
• Conquer clutter in every room of the house
• Maintain house-proud status, inside (decorate) and out (landscape)
• Clean up messy relationships (mostly my mom)
• Travel (Chicago, No Cal, Jazzfest in New Orleans, and [possibly] Barcelona)
• Dine (La Belle Vie, The French Laundry, Zuni Cafe, Chez Panisse, Alinea)
  

I hope I'm not forgetting anything.

It's going to be a great year!

Yogi Tea nugget: Wisdom, character, and consciousness conquer everything.