Summer Pasta Salad (Fava, Tomatoes, Feta)

Yes, Yes, I know I claimed it was Fall, but I love summer. And Monday, I left work in time to visit our local European open air market, which, like a good European market, typically closes before I can get off work. Feeling like I was on vacation due to the early departure from the office, I saw fresh summer produce, and I could not resist.

So, I recommend this salad for a healthy Summer treat. Or early Fall, when you wish it was still Summer, and you need to consume healthy foods to compensate for Summer. The trick, of course, is finding Fava Beans that are worthy of purchase. Also, who knew about the L-Dopa in fava beans? Crazy.


-2 lbs fava beans, shelled.
-1/2 bunch parsely
-3 cloves garlic
-1/2 lemon, juiced
-1 lb assorted cherry tomatoes (4 cups or so?)
-1/2 box of penne
-salt
-olive oil
-black pepper
-1 in X 1 in X 2 in of feta

1. Place a pot of water and much salt over high heat. Boil shelled beans for 3-4 minutes, 'til outer skin is white.
2. Drain water and allow beans to cool 'til they are able to be handled.
3. Replace water, add 1 t. salt and bring to a boil. Add penne and stir occasionally during the following steps 'til al dente, then remove and cover with cold water.
4. Peel the skin from the beans (rip the smooth end and squeeze each bean from the growth end out).
3. In a cuisinart, pulse olive oil (3 times around the bowl) and parsely 'til well blended. Add lemon juice, garlic, 1/2 T black pepper (or more to taste) & fava beans and process on high 'til it's a nice bright green paste.
4. Mix green paste with halved tomatoes.
5. Spoon one-half of the penne into two bowls.
6. Top each penne portion with 1/2 of the tomatoes and green sauce.
7. Crumble 1/2 of the feta over the top of each bowl for a colorful presentation of the last bits of summer.

Enjoy!

Mushroom Farfalline

A mid-September weekend trip to the farmer's market in Northern California is an overwhelming, glorious painting of bright colors, shapes, smells, and tastes (free samples!) that divides the world for me into crates upon crates of food I wish I could but most certainly will not have time to prepare before the harvest is over and the few things that I shall buy and try to use in meals.

Predictably, I bought over 3 pounds of tomatoes, despite a very functional tomato plant (Woo hoo! I didn't kill it! And it's a very flavorful plant, although it's not the black krim I thought I planted, but, after looking at other photos, I must admit, it likely is a black krim of sorts. Regardless, it produces delicious fruit, even if they are a bit prone to cracking.)

But, tonight, in the last un-healthy night of the week before a return to another stretch of recovery from Summer days, I opted for non-tomato comfort food. I left work at 5 PM tonight. Another deal closed before 6 PM. Anxiously, after the silly salad of lunch, I hungrily waited E's arrival home from work 'til 6:55, when I finally called, only to have him inform me that he was 5 minutes away. If only I could have exercised another 5 minutes of restraint... but alas. I could not. I suspect many pieces of history have been changed due to inability to wait for food. Another day...

Upon his arrival, after a brief discussion, we agreed to eat at home, and fast. So, I put the 2 handfuls of tree oyster mushrooms that I couldn't resist at the farmer's market and half a portion of ewephoria (I know, I know, the name simultaneously hurts and pleases me too...) in our kitchen to excellent use.

If, as a child you loved mac-and-cheese, and you are looking for a filling, not overly rich, but rich enough to feel devilish and indulgent pasta dish, I recommend this one.


-1/2 box barilla farfalline (any small but not super-small soup-shape pasta will do, something between macaroni and orzo would be my recommendation)
-1/2 a yellow onion, finely chopped
-2 T butter
-2 handfuls mushrooms, finely chopped (I suspect more would have been fine, this was pleasantly mushroomy, but had plenty of room for more mushroom flavor)
-1 box beef broth (obviously, veggie broth will work, but will probably be less satisfying)
-1/4 cup chopped cheese for melting (I used ewephoria, but I suspect any good melting cheese would do)
-dried aged cheese for grating (parmigiano reggiano was the choice, but any hard aged cheese that can be easily grated on a ribbon grater will be fine)
-black pepper, at the table
-truffle oil, if you have it, for topping

1. Heat casserole pan. Melt butter on medium heat 'til it starts to foam. Add onions and simmer for a minute or two.
2. Add mushrooms. Cook 'til butter is almost entirely absorbed.
3. Add box of broth, bring to a boil.
4. Add pasta. Boil and stir 'til the pasta is al dente and the broth is almost cooked down to a spoonable sauce (close to 10 minutes for the farfalline despite the box's 6 minute cooking time).
5. Turn off heat, continue to stir as the broth steams away.
6. Add chopped cheese, stir until melted throughout.
7. Spoon into two huge helpings and spoon the few remaining teaspoons of sauce over the top.
8. Top servings with ribbon-grated grated dry-aged cheese. Drizzle with truffle oil. Allow to cool in the serving dishes for 7-10 minutes while cheese melts and the remaining liquid is absorbed and condenses into a sauce.
8. Enjoy with black pepper to taste.



Basically, it's a gourmet mac-and-cheese with some mushrooms and onions to boot. Like I said, comfort food.

An almost perfect Saturday

Get up at 7:30. Drink some coffee. Run a slow but steady 14 miles with B. Enjoy the sun, the tour of the local towns, and finish, feeling great.

Shower. The post-long-run shower is truly one of the greatest things in the world. Ahhhh...

Lunch with E at a local diner. Cheeseburger with garlic fries. Tons of diet coke. A glass of white wine.

Nap.

Wake to go to the grocery store and collect the ingredients for a long, slow, home-cooked meal.

Spend the better part of 4 hours cooking, mainly making acorn squash, sweet dumpling squash, potato gnocchi.

Prep the vegetables by washing and piercing. Bake the vegetables. Peel the vegetables. Rice the vegetables. Kneed the vegetables with flour until they are the right consistency. Roll out the dough into tubes. Roll the tubes into snakes. Cut the snakes into gnocchi. Boil the gnocchi a few at a time (lucky_girl helped with that one).

It's a long, repetitive, labor-intensive process. It's also an awesome opportunity to meditate, daydream, and mentally relax. I found myself free-associating for hours. At one point I cried at the strength of the memory of my dad in the ICU before my wedding.

Then, lucky_girl and hubby arrived to enjoy (and boy did they, I love feeding lucky_girl, she's so verbally appreciative!) the fruits of my labor.

We (me, E, lucky_girl & hubby) sat at the table for hours, enjoying wine, the delicious asparagus salad that she brought (mmm...asparagus, cranberries, and goat cheese), the gnocchi topped in a sauce of home-grown tomatoes (supplemented by some store-bought heirlooms), home-grown basil, sage in browned butter, and, of course, bacon.

For dessert, we had fresh-baked peanut butter cookies with Vin Santo.

Then tea, and a long lazy evening of socializing including the South Park episode of "Smug" and chatting on the couch as I dozed off.

Comfortable. Relaxed. Unhurried. And, you might note, not a single mention of work.

I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderfully lazy home-bound Saturday. Sadly, after checking my calendar, I can confirm that it has been at least 10 months, more than likely much longer. Perhaps I shall try to make it less than 6 months before the next one.

Seasons Change

You may think that the equinox decides when Fall truly begins (in which case, we'd be in Summer 'til September 21).

I do not. I think Fall is a feeling in the air. For example, most of my vacations feel like Summer, even if I take them during Winter.

Last weekend, on our long run, A pointed out that leaves were turning. Last night, E and I walked to downtown and needed jackets. This morning, when I woke for my run, it was dark. Also, we are eating healthy freshly-harvested food in the form of soup and practicing restraint against the overindulgence of Summer.

As far as I'm concerned, it is officially Fall. And, that means I can't wait to go to the Farmer's market this weekend to enjoy the harvest. Mmmmm, Mmmm.

Off to run.

Spoons

Tonight, when unloading the dishwasher, E noticed that the silverware partition didn't contain a single fork.

That's right folks, it's summer recovery healthy time. And, when you're short on time, it's hard to come up with healthier food than soup. We did a vegetable stew that we enjoyed for dinner last Thursday and Friday. Tonight we enjoyed potato leek soup.

But Saturday and Sunday were the real crowning achievement thus far. Saturday, as a break from my long day of work, we went to the grocery store and found ourselves in front of the chile selection.

In our exuberance, we probably over did it. Our modified version of E's mom's gazpacho was lightly irritating on the gastric system, if I'm honest. It's delicious, but it's not much more than pureed fiber, some oil, and some chile irritants. If we weren't such hippy-haters, we'd probably refer to this soup as part of our 2-week "cleanse" since we ate it for dinner, lunch, and dinner over the weekend and it did function much like a "cleanse." But that sounds gross, doesn't it? As you know, dieting, I'm against for philosophical and psychological reasons. But referring to a food menu as "cleanse" just sounds so... I don't know, DISGUSTING!!!

So, if you aren't looking for a meal that'll modify the balance of your inner flora and fauna or you don't love the top of the Scoville scale, you should cut back on a few of the chiles. I know we will next time. Regardless, this combination of fresh veggies in a chilled bowl is one of the best ways to enjoy end-of-summer produce and our mistake didn't keep us from enjoying every last spoonful.

Super Spicy Gazpacho

2 yellow chili peppers
3 habaneros
1 green bell pepper
2 peeled cucumbers
4 stalks celery
1 huge heirloom tomato
1 box pomi chopped tomatoes
1 yellow onion
4 cloves garlic
juice of 1 lemon
1 can vegetable broth (half a box)
6 T bread crumbs
1/4-1/2 cup olive oil
salt

1. Wash all ingredients.
2. Chop cucumbers and onions on pulse in the cuisinart 'til in evenly diced. Spoon into the bottom of a large bowl.
3. Chop all peppers on pulse 'til small even pieces. Spoon into the bowl.
4. Puree garlic, lemon, olive oil, bread crumbs and celery into a paste. Spoon into the bowl.
5. Chop tomato on pulse 'til slushy, add pomi and pulse a few brief times. Pour into the bowl.
6. Stir in broth and mix until even.

Serve immediately and chilled until it is gone. Makes an excellent side dish to a baguette with some sliced avocado and cheese.

Culture Clash

When it comes to food, I was a stereotypical American this summer. You know, just always on board for too much.

In addition to too much work, this summer involved too much bacon (thanks to the bacon of the month club), too much steak (barbeque season will do that), too much wine, and even too much dessert (which should give some perspective because given a choice, I'll take more savory food over dessert almost any day).

I don't mind, really. After all, I am American. And I do enjoy summer celebrations with excessive hedonism just as much as my nearest countrywoman. Our excessive exuberance is one of our more distinctive and wonderful qualities. In fact, I had an awesome Summer.

But, ever since learning to love and relate to food in non-American ways (mainly in France and Italy), I've generally tried to embrace some non-stereotypically American lifestyle and cultural realities with respect to food. (If I am to be fair, I should point out that California, and in particular, the bay area, has evolved quite a bit in the last 20 years, such that California's default approach to food is significantly different than the American farm-and-famine-influenced approach to food under which I was raised.)

For example, I insist on enjoying food, both cooking and eating it (although I really should slow down when I eat). I prefer to make all homemade meals from fresh ingredients and do my best to do so.

Also, I refuse to diet. After years of being surrounded by eating disorders, more than likely having one in my teens, and being raised by a constantly dieting mom, I associate dieting with psychological issues, I don't think it's healthy, sustainable, and, most importantly, it's just not fun, or fun to be around.

I also refuse to flip out about an oscillating scale read-out. After college sports, for a few years, I revolted and refused to step on a scale outside of the doctor's office. Finally, after a particularly nasty 'bout with some stress-related illnesses, I returned to the gym as a way to manage my stress.

With the gym came access to a scale, and since about 25 or so, I've taken the approach of identifying a 10-lb range that I felt was relatively healthy and doing my best to stay in it. Initially, I just weighed myself at the gym once a week or so and if I had popped out of the high side, I'd bear that in mind while making work-out and menu decisions until I popped back under. It usually only took a week or two to get myself back into the range where I felt comfortable. I didn't ever think about what I ate other than, am I getting enough nutrients? And, is this good for me?

Over the last 5-6 years, the 10-pound range that I consider healthy has slowly moved downward. If I don't touch the top 5 pounds in the range and occasionally slip under the bottom for 6 months or so, I'll just reset the range. I attribute this downward evolution to a combination of several things: 1) I started running more regularly first year of law school, which is an activity that pushes bodies towards a lower total mass, 2) I had a ton of muscle from 15-20 years of muscle-intensive sports, and over time, I slowly lost most of it due to non-use, and 3) I have lost chunks of weight due to distress (gastrointestinal illness, stress) at various points over the last half decade, and since, outside of summer, I tend to live a relatively calorically balanced lifestyle, I've just kept the non-water-based portions of those chunks off, while realizing that the pounds associated with those chunks were likely former muscle, which, probably needed to go since it no longer did me any good (but thank goodness I had it to lose in the face of the distress!).

It's the clash of my personal non-American approach to food and body image with this year's American Summer that leads me to my current dilema. Generally, according to my typical pattern, I'll pop outside of my healthy 10-lb range about 3 times a year. After the winter holidays I tend to pop out, but I generally drop back down and oscillate within the middle of the range 'til late spring, at which point I'm generally at a low point just in time for Summer, when I steadily climb my way up to pop out after Labor Day, only to fall back down in fall to what is generally the lowest numbers of the year (mmm...healthy harvest food) in time to prep for the winter holiday ramp-up. But this summer, if I'm honest with myself, I cleared the high-mark in June, after Vancouver, in July, after a couple consecutive weeks of debauchery, and again at the end of August, which just stayed with me through the fabulous weekend of home-made ice cream over Labor day (4 servings of ice cream in four days!!!! Delicious!).

This conflict is simple. Either, due to being in my thirties my healthy 10-lb range has actually moved upward for the first time in at least half a decade. Or, once I return to the healthy 10-lb range that has stuck for the last two years, I should face the fact that a truly American summer is not healthy and I should be a bit more European next year.

Rock and a hard place, I tell you. Both are completely rational, reasonable conclusions. Accepting either one means accepting a reality I won't like.

I think I know the truth. I think, in my heart of hearts, I know that the numbers of my 10-pound range are and my American Summer isn't healthy. At least for my body. But part of me thinks that conscious restraint in favor of a weight range is actually bad. That I should live heartily, vivaciously, and fully when the opportunity presents itself, and if that means being somewhat weight unhealthy one season a year, then good for me, because my mental health is more important. That part of me also asks, "What's the point of having a body if you don't use it to its fullest?"

But, the reality is, if I embrace the American Summer at it's fullest, I'm going to also have to accept that what I'll be doing will be close to dieting in order to return to the middle of the 10-pound range at Summer's end. And, as I said, I refuse to diet.

So, there's a cultural show-down going on within me right now. The American within me craves life at its brightest, knowing it could be extinguished at any point. The European in me wishes for a more even-keel warm light, one that doesn't come with sharp darkness as its price because the fuel is spent before the lamp is refilled.

Perhaps, this is aging. Maybe truly American Summers are only for the young and exuberant and those of us who are more mature should settle into a slower-paced pleasant Euro-American Summer?

Regardless, E and I are in our traditional post-summer 2-week psuedo-lent right now. No alcohol. Healthy home-cooked vegetarian meals. Lots of sleep. Yoga. Running. Biking. I suspect I should wait 'til we return to our ordinary lifestyle before I resolve this cultural conflict.

Rookie Mistake

I didn't take a day of vacation between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Ostensibly, that's because E & I are saving up for 2008, which promises to be a big traveling year, for which we are both very, very, excited. But, after crunching the numbers, I now realize that I probably could have afforded a day or two this summer, and I should have taken them.

First year associates who are about to start -- take note! Everyone takes vacation in the Summer in the bay area. If you don't, you'll end up being the catch-all go-to new lawyer scapegoat all summer. This will result in some amazing experience. You will know much more about being a lawyer than you did before you worked straight through the summer. Kids, if you work in big law, and business is booming, then, you should plan to have work to do on at least one day on most weekends. Which means that, if you are me, and you didn't take any vacation, you will have worked for 3 months straight with approximately 12 days off. Total.

This will mean that you will be *fried* by the end of the summer. Just worthless. You will realize that you should do your best to take one day off completely each week, even if it means working harder on the other 6.

Anyways, enough with the first-year-associate-wisdom pez dispenser. Let's talk about vacation.

On Friday night, E and I took a red-eye to a house on a lake in the South with his parents for Labor Day and I took my first day of vacation in quite some time. 4 days without any work (okay, so I sent two emails, but really, other than that, I was completely work-free).

It was everything you would expect: languid, relaxing, hot, humid, light thunderstorm showers in the afternoon, sunset cruises on the pontoon boat with wine and gourmet snacks, yoga on the boathouse, gorgeous running in the greenery, wonderful post-run jumps in the lake, sleeping in, showers, solid football by the Bears and, of course, I read wonderful books.

Books have been sorely missing from my life as of late. I made up for it this weekend by plowing through:

1. For One More Day, a contrived and oh-so-slightly manipulative Mitch Albom brain candy snack in big font with few pages. A guaranteed tear-jerker if you know anything about death, or alcoholism, or complex fathers and sports, or mothers and fighting. Needless to say, I cried. (Thanks Arvay!)

2. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, a tale of two boys undergoing re-education in the 1970s as they come of age under the influences of a beautiful young seamstress and some forbidden western literature. I very much enjoyed this book. I know nothing of this time period in China and in addition to a gorgeous story, I found myself fascinated with the cultural and historical backdrop against which it was told. It was a sad tale, but about a life so different from my own that it was a transporting escape, which is the thing that books I love so often give to me. (Again, thanks Arvay!)

3. A dirty Job, thanks to Sarah, which was *exactly* what the doctor ordered. The only book I'd managed to make my way through as an escape in my minimal spare time of late had been You Suck: A love Story and my second introduction to Christopher Moore's imagination and prose was just as wonderful. I love that half of the jokes are webbed to poke fun of San Francisco as only a local can and only a local could understand.

4. The Average American Male, again thanks to Sarah. It was funny if you can laugh at jokes that point out someone's pain and laugh at it. I thought it was edgy and brilliant, but I did not like the main character. In that way, I guess, it reminded me of Sideways. A good story, but sort of like watching a train wreck. I was happy to be an observer, but I wouldn't want to get any closer and I thanked my lucky stars that my life did not make this story seem like a reality.

And, now that I'm home, I'm still trying to make it through Founders at Work. I like the stories. The anecdotes are educational, inspirational, full of valley history, and very interesting. But. I must admit. It's a bit like work. Which is why, I'm guessing, that though I'd started the book prior to the weekend, (prior to You Suck, if I'm honest) I still haven't finished it.

Anyways, that's the short vacation report. It was not nearly long enough. I guess I'll have to hold on 'til Thanksgiving.

Recipe Free Deliciousness

One of my favorite things about having put in time learning how to cook is that I can do it without guidance. I can just look at a bunch of ingredients and come up with an experiment that will be edible.

Just how edible... well, that's where the fun lies. Sometimes, it's an investment to be paid off later. And sometimes, like tonight, those investments pay off.

So, if you ever happen to have these random ingredients lying around (doubtful, we certainly never have before tonight), then by all means, enjoy. If not, feel free to improvise.

Okra Serrano Crustless Quiche

First, pre-heat an oven to 400F.

-1 lb okra, washed and chopped into 1/4-1/2 inch rounds.
-1/2 white onion chopped
-handfull of serrano peppers, stems removed, chopped finely, seeds left in (note: be sure to remove your contacts before this step, or wear gloves)
-olive oil, for baking
-1/2 can stewed tomatoes (full can would probably be fine)

1. Mix ingredients above in a pyrex dish (10X13 or so) and toss on the top shelf of the pre-heated oven for 20 minutes or so.

-3 eggs
-1/2 cup heavy cream
-2 T garlic salt
-4 T polenta grano turco
-1/8 block of cotija, crumbled
-other half a can of stewed tomatoes (if the whole can was used in step 1, no worries).

2. Mix ingredients above. Pour over roasted vegetables in pyrex dish (which has been removed from oven) and stir until evenly coated.

3. Return pyrex dish to oven. 15 minutes later, check with a toothpick and if clean, remove. If not clean, return to oven until toothpick is clean in all soft areas, then remove. Allow to cool.

4. Use a spatula to cut squares for each person to be served. Serve warm.


Mmmm.... comfort food. I can't express the sense of satisfaction I feel when I am able to create something new that feels old and comfortable and delicious and nurturing for E and me. Tonight, it had the fun property of being just on the edge between healthy food and not-so-healthy food. Okra is a vegetable, albeit a high glycemic index one. Tomatoes are healthy. Olive oil? Check (at least in moderation). Salt? Well, we won't tell anyone. And the polenta? Well...grano turcro is very healthy... or so I'm told.

So truly, this meal is a dream. It looks and sounds and even reads like a healthy meal, but at the end of the day, what's stickin' to your ribs is heavy cream, egg yolk, salted soft mexican cheese, and some corn grains.

Well... if that doesn't send me off in search of nirvana...

A word to the wise

If your so-called car-kit for your phone came with a phone charger and a two-ear-bud headset, beware.

At least in California.

After almost a year of using the thing, today I received a ticket.

Apparently, I broke the law.

Why are you doing it?

Lately, I've been thinking about motivation and how it moderates and defines human action (specifically mine), and, more importantly, perhaps, how it doesn't.

For example, I've got three friends going through some tough times. Two of them haven't reached out to me beyond the initial heads-up about their situation.

The one friend who said, "I need X" is easy. I am in a place where I can provide X. I want to help. I can give and they are in need, so it works well. I feel good. They feel better. All is well.

But, the ones who don't ask for something specific that I can help with...that's more difficult. For them, I'm left in a place where I have to decide whether I should reach out to them to offer support, and if so, how, and what exactly this support should be.

After confronting the bit of adversity that's come my way, I know that so much of dealing with life's difficult stuff is a personal battle. Often, it's one you must fight alone. Truly, no one can comfort you, and it sucks, because you wish they could. In fact, often the people who offer comfort and make the biggest effort make you feel more alone, because they make you realize how alone you are in your perspective and situation.

So, I'm left in this place where I must admit that I have made it clear that I support all three of my friends. I have offered my time, my thoughts, and my idea of what might be comforting actions from me, if they want them. And two of them don't.

5 years ago, I imagine both of these friends probably would have reached out to me, and I don't know if it's how I've changed, how they've changed, or just these particular situations that made this time different. Regardless, this time, both of them have refrained from taking me up on my offers.

Part of me wants to reach out again. To try to be even more nurturing. To force my way into the support structure for the ones who won't ask for help. But this additional outreach, if I am honest with myself, is at least partly for me, not them.

And then I get to the title of this post. Why would I reach out again? Do I need to feel like my friends need me to feel valid? Do I need to feel like my friends need me to feel like my hours at the office haven't made me a worse friend? Do I need to be there for them to compensate for my other perceived shortcomings as a friend?

If any of those are the reason, then I shouldn't reach out. None of these things are unconditional love. None of these things are the highest level of compassion. None of these reasons are why I'd want someone to reach out to me.

But I also don't like the idea that people I love are in pain. I want to be involved in fixing it for their sake and I don't think that's bad. When dad was ill, he didn't ask, we all just pitched in, because he was our dad, brother, and friend. We all did what we thought was appropriate and he was very appreciative. The motivation for my behavior back then was simple -- because he's family.

But with friends, it's more difficult. The initial outreach -- that was because they were my friends. The response to the one in need who needed help -- that was also because they were my friend. But an additional gesture to people who haven't responded to offers to help? Why would I be doing it? And if I can't figure it out, maybe I just shouldn't do it?

Heirloom Tomato Potato Cheese Bake

After camping, I found myself with leftover potatoes and cheese.

After last weekend's visit to the Fairfield Tomato Festival, I also had several heirloom tomatoes to eat.

After we enjoyed several of the tomatoes (a white queen, a moon glow, a carbon, and several cherry tomatoes), we found ourselves with a few almost over-ripe leftovers (2 carbons and an unidentified orange beefsteak-shaped thing).

So, I tossed this recipe together and served it for dinner. It was very filling, relatively healthy, and extremely delicious.


5 russet potatoes, scrubbed and chopped, skins left on
8 cloves garlic, peeled and diced
1/2 white onion, chopped
1 red onion, chopped
olive oil, for cooking
italian seasonings
garlic salt
red chili pepper flakes
3 large heirloom tomatoes, chopped
1/4 block of queso fresco
4 slices of provolone torn into small pieces

1. Pre-heat oven to 475F.
2. Mix all ingredients except the cheese and tomatoes in a pyrex brownie dish (9X13 or so) and place in top shelf in oven.
3. 30 minutes later, toss the contents of the dish, and then cover them with the tomatoes. Place back on the top shelf for another 20 minutes.
4. Add crumbled queso freso and ripped provolone to the top and let brown for another 15 minutes.
5. Remove from oven when it is appropriately browned to look like a cheese-covered casserole of lasagna-like happiness and serve when it has cooled to be edible without burning.


Enjoy!

Tired

Probably the hardest thing about being a lawyer for me right now is the lack of time and the choices that it forces.

I just don't have enough time to get all of my work done, sleep, eat well, train for my races, be a good wife, and have a reasonable social life.

I'm constantly juggling.

Yesterday morning I opted for more sleep instead of my run. After work, I opted to babble on the phone with R and go for a walk instead of doing the run I should have done in the morning. Then I opted to go to dinner with E and then do relaxing stuff instead of work before bed.

This morning, I couldn't get out of bed for my run. I have a stomach bug. So after hitting snooze for an hour, I opted to stay home, drink some soda and work from home 'til I feel better.

I'm starting to feel better, so I'll be back on the treadmill soon. But, man, if things could slow down just a wee bit, I would not complain.

I can not WAIT for labor day vacation.

Full Circle

Today, I found myself at the local nail salon for a pedicure.

I should have been working, but I'd handled all of the emergencies and I just couldn't motivate myself to start handling the things that hadn't yet become emergencies. They will evolve, of course. I can see the emergency cloud formation and the storm it promises to bring this week. I know the names of the clients whose emergencies are brewing, and I like them, I feel for them, and I will likely sacrifice sleep or relaxation on their behalf in the midst of the storm.

But, the storm is not yet here.

So, I did what any self-respecting woman with a serious case of procrastination and an even more serious case of runner's toes would do (the flip-flop display of toes I made at the Fairfield tomato festival was sub-par). I closed my email, I pulled out my home todo list to evaluate what I could do outside of work, I poured myself a glass of wine, and I called the salon.

When they said they could take me on short notice, I took it as an omen. E offered to put my half-glass of white wine in the fridge, while I drove the mile to the salon. For the next 45 minutes, I sat in one of the highest tech chairs in the world and let it massage me while Linda worked on my feet. I wrote thank you notes for birthday presents, which was a task that had been hanging over my head. The difficulties of my life slowly dissolved into the tub of hot water and the machinery behind my back and under my legs. Those few annoyances that stayed with me were massaged away by skillful strokes on my calf muscles.

In short, I indulged and now we (both myself and my newly periwinkle toes) are more prepared for the coming week than we would have otherwise been.

As my feet were drying I considered whether I should return to the house to do more work or just call it a day. On the work side were the emergencies growing. But team relaxo had the ingredients for chilled avocado soup just begging to be made and the reality that not a single email had arrived on my PDA during my hour at the salon despite several I had sent out in the hours prior.

As I debated my decision, I couldn't help but overhear the two women at the drying station near me.


He's in a better place now. No pain. No sickness. You can miss him, but he's not hurting. Which is good.


...


I know. And you know he wants to be there. I think they get to decide. I think my mother made a choice to go. They told her my sister died. I didn't want them to, but they did. And then, she changed. Before that, she told me she'd seen the light but that it wasn't her time. That the light didn't have any sorrow or pain or separation. And that when it was her time it would be nice. And I swear, when she found out about my sister, she just wanted that light. She was tired. And she deserved a place with no pain.


I couldn't help but think of a similar trip I made to a salon , almost exactly a year ago, under unfortunately similar circumstances.

There is something comforting about a pedicure. Like Jesus in the parable, the esthetician lovingly washes your feet, plus, they clean your nails and massage your muscles.

I think I needed to see and hear those women today. They reminded me how far I've come and how much less I hurt when I think of Dad, but how many other stresses and slight annoyances I've acquired since I was so singly focused on the sharp pain of his sickness and eventual death, which was all that mattered at the time. Their discussion today was so open and yet so oblivious. At one point, one of them literally stared through me and didn't hear a question I posed to her as she reached over me to claim her shoes. She was raw. She needed care.

They were in a place of pain similar to the one I know I was in, where I didn't realize how much my humanity imposed upon the room and furthermore how much that humanity makes people want to make it easier on you. I wanted to reach out to these women. To comfort them. I loved them for their sorrow and their desire to comfort themselves in one of the ways that I had chosen. And yet, I remembered the need to be alone. So I did not speak to them. Instead, I silently thanked the cosmos for the luck of running into them and the reminder that life goes on and comes in many flavors.

We, us humans, are more alike than we realize. And we all deserve to indulge and take care of ourselves, no matter what the situation.

Night Owls

In case you were wondering, the occasional all-nighter in law school is good training.

It's weird to join the land of those who work in the dark again.

But that is me tonight. I'm up. Working. Caffeinated. Waiting for a turn of documents from opposing counsel.

Best Surprise Present in a Long Time

Tonight, after I spent about 2 hours in the office, E wheeled my chair around and pointed it towards the corner.

I twisted back to look at him.

What?

He just firmly held the chair in place with his body and with his hands gently rotated my shoulders to face the way they'd face if I wasn't like a kid squirming to face him and understand why I had to sit still in the spinny chair.

What?

OH!!!!!!

A brand new printer!!!!

Several months ago, my printer started printing stripes. A few pages, and it added screeches to start its long, angsty descent into its blackened goth phase, just prior to a successful suicide.

Needless to say, I haven't worked from home when I've needed to print in several months.

And that's fine. I enjoy working from the office. It's where the majority of people I need to interact with are located. They walk over and find me. Being in the office is generally more efficient than working from home, if you need to collaborate.

But, sometimes, you just want to bust out work without distractions. And as a lawyer, this likely means you are gonna have to print. Plus, I just like printing things: Receipts; Letters to companies: Running training plans to go on the bulletin board. I love paper and ink and letters and all that crap, actually.

So E's surprise present to me is the best of both worlds. First, and foremost, it's a loving and thoughtful present from the category of one of my favorite things in the world (instruments that allow me to communicate). Second, and almost equally cool, it's going to make my life much easier.

For example, I doubt we'll try to check into the wrong hotel next time we're in SLO because I couldn't print the confirmation. Because, basically, what it comes down to, is this:


If you are the kind of person who won't notice a brand new printer next to your desk for two hours, you *NEED* to print evidence of where you are going, what you are doing, and what you have done on a regular basis.

Respite

Two nights in nature are good for the soul.

True nature has no connectivity, so you can't check your email. In my rebellion against technology, I didn't even shower until we got home even though we took a 6 mile hike (and boy are my calves sore).

Of course, we brought a coleman gas stove, and next time we discussed how we should bring the aerobed, so I guess it's not really a rebellion against technology.

Shocking, but it's more of a rebellion against work. I'm in the middle of two huge projects and several smaller ones at work. But I needed to get away. I needed it so much that I left on Friday morning by telling E that I'd be home by 4:30 PM to camp, even if it meant that I got fired.

It didn't even come close to that.

But there's something about the practice of high-intensity law that makes me feel like I need to be ready to quit at any time. I need to be ready to get fired. I need to remind myself that I don't need the job as much as they need me, so I can draw some lines.

Perhaps I'm overdramatic. Maybe this mindset isn't needed. But I find it comforting and oddly necessary. I have to constantly remind myself that I *choose* this life and therefore I get to have quite a bit of say in how it all goes down.

Now if only I could convince myself that the 8 AM Monday conference call I'm headed to wasn't a bad omen for the rest of the week, I'd be in good shape.

A Random Thought

Anytime I want to complain about something relating to my job, it's very easy to find a way to do so without breaching confidentiality obligations.

But when stuff at work is really cool... well, it's not really kosher to talk about it.

I wonder if lawyers aren't actually as sad, bitter, depressed, frustrated as we may seem, but rather, that our professional obligations require us to appear that way?

Probably not. But still, an interesting question.

Oops...

Saturday, a partner walked into my office with a bill. Luckily, I happened to be there.

He asked if I knew where a particular charge that was allocated to one of his clients had come from. I didn't *know*, but I could guess.

I think the summer associate I supervised on a project severely over-utilized some of our more expensive research services. How, exactly, one can rack up several thousand dollars of these particular charges, I am not certain.

But, I will find out on Monday and the firm will most likely have to eat the cost, since it never should have been incurred in the first place.

I assumed the summer associate knew how to avoid unnecessary charges. I also assumed the summer associate wouldn't do unnecessary work.

Well, you know what they say about assumptions...

So, while I'm over here making an ass out of you and me, and feeling sheepish, I've also got some good news to report.

I didn't freak out when the partner showed me my mistake. The constant fear that I'm fucking up at work is apparently at bay, because when confronted with an actual fuck-up, I took it in stride.

Also, he didn't seem to be overly critical of me, he just wanted me to handle it. It turns out, he was finishing up details before leaving for vacation, and the fact that I was there on a Saturday made his life a little easier because he could explain what he wanted me to do to fix the billing issue and leave with the comfort of having successfully handed it off instead of sending an email and hoping I understood.

I *rarely* go in to the office on weekends. When I work on the weekends, I do my best to work from home.

But this time, I'm glad I was there.

That's what I get

I am still *very* sore from Sunday's half marathon.

I was probably in good enough shape to comfortably keep a 9:30 pace. Instead, thanks to Rachel, I kept just a few seconds faster than a 9:00 pace.

It felt good to push my body beyond what it felt comfortable doing. I felt young, strong, and proud.

Now, however, I feel old and in pain. Those 30 seconds per mile total only 6:33 in total time. But boy do those minutes matter.

I think I will replace this morning's run with composing this post and yoga.

Mind you, this means I'm basically skipping my very first run on the training schedule I made myself for some gorgeous fall long runs, culminating in another marathon.

If any of those runs look fun to you, lemme know, I always love to have company at the start, finish, etc. and I'll cheer for you if I see you, regardless of whether you leave me behind, keep my pace, or run a more zenlike pace than I do (which, I can attest, will lead to less pain in the quads and hamstrings).

In my thirties

Several people this weekend informed me that now that I'm 31, I'm "in my thirties."

Who knew?

Apparently, 30, isn't 30's.

To celebrate, I did a few things.

First, I threw a fit and blamed E for my missing passport. Then I realized I was just transferring my lost passport to the reality of my lost dad and felt sheepish. Yes, a lost passport is a pain in the ass, but it's nothing compared to the pain of the reality that Dad's not gonna call this birthday.

So, I turned off my phone.

Oddly, it made it all better. After a fabulous birthday dinner and before an early bedtime, I checked my messages. I felt loved. I called them all back the next day when I was in a better mood.

In fact, the only soul who had to deal with me in my funk was E.

Saintly, that boy is.

In other news, I love the Cliff Bar Pace Team. Especially Rachel.

Due to Rachel's cajoling, conversation, encouragement, and will, I took my under-trained body on a less than 2-hours half marathon course despite being in sub-par shape and a pre-race dinner of a full four courses of amazing, decadent Italian food (with 4 cheese selections as dessert) plus imported and decanted wine at Acquarello. The servers and owners were willing to speak about food and share tidbits that were extra little birthday presents: the introduction to Gattinara, the queen to the king of Barolo and prince of Barbaresco, and the knowledge that the good Burrata arrives at A.G. Ferrari every other Saturday.

I wouldn't change any of it for the world, it was a perfect Birthday Weekend. (Rachel, Good luck with your book and I hope to see you again, soon!)

There is nothing like living it up before crossing the finish line with a nice time to make you feel young on your birthday. Plus, today, I called and visited those who'd contacted me in the last 2 days regarding my birthday. Because, predictably, I was over my funk.

At least for the meanwhile.

Gross!

Last night was designated healthy night #2 for the week.

E and I generally do two healthy nights a week. Mellow night together at home. Light food. No alcohol. One with yoga, the other with sit-ups and push-ups if we motivate, otherwise, just light food. Both nights focus on an attempt at early sleep.

Monday was healthy night #1. Predictably, I was late leaving work, so I pulled one of my favorite tricks and made a quick detour to our local market/deli where I scored a 1/2 pint of marinated beets, onions, and parsely plus a couple of ciabatta roles. At home, quickly, we composed a dinner of washed and ripped dark leafy greens topped with the beet mixture, some good olive oil, and bread on the side. Also predictably, we skipped the calisthenics.

Mmmm.... delicious *and* relaxing.

Last night was supposed to be healthy night #2 for the week.

I planned to use the remainder of the greens, topped with fresh basil from my plant, red onions, various hard cheese shavings, and some balsamic and olive oil. Again, I planned to serve bread on the side, only this time, heated in the oven from the freezer.

I arrived home, pre-heated the oven, placed the frozen bread on the stove, and unwrapped the lettuce, which I had wrapped in paper towels after washing it the day prior.

The first leaf, I tore into small pieces and split evenly between our bowls. The second leaf, however, appeared to have some dirt on it. So, I brushed it off with the paper towel, wondering how the washing I had given the lettuce had missed such large dirt chunks. I ripped that leaf into chunks as well.

Leaf 3, however, was *very* dirty.

Oh. Wait a minute. That's not dirt. That's larvae.

I peeled back the inner leaves to reveal a veritable colony of eggs and flies.

DIS-GUST-ING.

Not quite as disgusting as the Great Grain Moth Debacle.

But certainly disgusting enough to make a person not feel like being remotely healthy.

So, we did what you'd expect, we rescheduled healthy/yoga night (because there was no other light food in the house) and went out for Mexican food and margaritas (to kill the bugs we ate last night, you see...) instead.

Big Week

For those of you taking the California bar this week, I wish you all the best. It is my opinion that it's not a test of law at all, but rather a test of composure and performance under stress. So, if you get stuck, I suggest you remind yourself that you have exactly two jobs while you are in that oh-so-comfortable seat, surrounded by stress-cadets:

breath and type (or write)

That's it. If you do that, and you know a bit of law (which you probably do, since you probably totally over-studied), you will be fine.

Over here in lawyer land, I'll be going through a similar exercise. I am pretty sure that I have more work lined up for the next 5 days than I have for any week thus far as a lawyer, except, maybe, during the 18-days-straight-on-the-merger-from-hell.

This time, I helped create my situation by insisting that I get a weekend. I needed it. Particularly, because I needed to be with my sister and brother (and niece!) for a day of remembrance of dad in preparation for the sad reality of the one year anniversary of his death. I did no work yesterday. Instead, I woke early, showered at brother's, went to the grocery store and bought roses for dad (and a balloon for my niece), and went to the cemetery.

The cemetery we chose is gorgeous. Up in the Sierra Nevada foothills, surrounded by trees and under a perfect blue sky, we hugged and cried and told stories of our favorite memories of dad. We left the roses (sister brought some too) and the balloon amongst the more permanent items that people have left.

I felt such a sense of relief after my tears fell. I'm glad we decided to do this ceremony of sorts before the actual anniversary. I feel more prepared to handle what will undoubtedly be a sad, sad, day.

After our shared sadness, we shared food and a beer at dad's favorite deli. We languished in the heat. We visited our mother at her new house and I smiled while brother and niece swam in the pool, playing childhood summer water games.

After the long drive home, I couldn't bring myself to work. I was exhausted from a weekend of recruiting events and emotional release.

Instead, I read the binders of recipes I got from my mom containing recipes my grandmother had collected over the years. What gems! Then, I had a nice long phone conversation with jaykay while I cooked dinner, a luxury in which I hadn't indulged in a very long time.

For dinner, I created a delicious spicy-bacon-swiss risotto. Not exactly healthy, but I figured I needed the wife points for the week that's in the pipeline. It was delicious and E finished the whole pan with gusto.

I was asleep before 10 PM.

And now, my friends, I'm preparing for the week of battle. I suspect I'll have 5 *very* long days. My non-law goals for the next 5 days are: 1) to still fit in my taper runs before next week's race; 2) to be present and not distracted with E for at least 30 minutes each day; and 3) to get enough sleep.

Wish me luck.

A tale of two cookings

My weekend of relaxation and less than one hour of work involved much food, as you would expect. There was the walk to mediterranean food for Friday night date night, which supplanted the 6 mile run that was scheduled. Then there was the Saturday brunch of bacon, bean sprout, red pepper, cucumber, green curry salad. It was delicious, and it utilized some of the latest, inspiring bacon shipment (mmmm... pepper bacon). It wasn't too heavy, so we were able to strike out on a 6 mile bike ride (it should have been longer, but the wind, and the laziness... how can you fight it?)

The salad & bike-ride combo also left us hungry for a big caloric dinner. And thus, at 8 PM or so, we headed to our local Mexican joint for Saturday night dinner. 2 baskets of chips later, my food finally arrived. Let's just say I finished my mole enchiladas with pleasure, and I was sufficiently carbo-loaded for Sunday's run.

Sunday, I woke at 8 AM and knew I should leave immediately. It was going to be hot, you see. But, instead, I checked my work email, I reviewed a client request, I checked my personal email, and the next thing I knew, it was 8:30. Quickly, I snuck into the bedroom, kissed E goodbye, told him I'd be back before 11:00 AM and headed out for my slow 12 miler. It was the slowest and most enjoyable walk-breaks 12-miles I've ever done. (Hey, sometimes, you've just got to put in the miles as prep, and as we know, I've signed up for the SF 2nd half, so, I don't really have much of a choice if I actually want to enjoy the race.) From there, I headed to the local farmer's market...

Sunday night, after a day with the girls (starting with a brunch of multiple types of the best kinds of pork buns, and finishing with a day at the spa and a large group at a Vietnamese fusion joint), I was ready to go back to a day of light food.

Healthy, but delicious. I vaguely recalled that those adjectives could jointly be a reality. My scale, of course, couldn't recall this. Instead, it registered numbers that I hadn't seen since returning from the holidays in Atlanta.

Ouch.

In recognition of this reality, I present two recipes: the first, a very healthy filling recipe; the second, a not-so-healthy, but fairly light, make-shift dessert recipe (which, btw, E thinks is disgusting).


Healthy squash fajitas

-1 yellow long squash, sliced in 1/2 cm long slices
-1 yellow spherical squash, sliced in 1/2 cm wide slices
-1 green spherical squash, sliced in 1/2 cm wide slices
-1/2 white/yellow onion, sliced in 1/2 cm wide rings
-olive oil, for cooking
-italian seasoning (marjoram, oregano, etc.)
-5 cloves garlic, minced
-chili powder
-cayenne pepper
-salt and pepper to taste;
-corn tortillas, warmed/steamed in microwave.


1. toss all ingredients except tortillas in a glass casserole pan at room temperature until evenly coated.
2. lay coated squash and onion slices across the grill (panini grill, charcoal grill, grill pan over high heat).
3. When cooked through with dark brown lines across each one (turn, if necessary), transfer squash and onion to a glass serving dish, cover, and bring to the table.
4. Cover 2-3 tortillas per person served in microwave with a towel that has been wetted. Microwave on high for 40 seconds.
5. Serve tortillas garnished with squash and onions, sliced cilantro and freshly squeezed lime juice, as well as your favorite salsa.


I will admit, it was one of the more simultaneously delicious and filling meals I've ever enjoyed, and it's well worth the effort, especially if you are high on the comfort zone of weight...

And, for the sake of equal opportunity presentation...

Choco-dillas

1. Take 2 corn tortillas. Place in a wet cloth napkin, wrap evenly, toss in the microwave, for 30 second.
2. Remove tortillas. Lay out one tortilla and evenly spread dark-chocolate chips for even distribution and cover with the second. Place both tortillas, with choco-chips between in the microwave without cover, microwave on high for 30 seconds.
3. Enjoy.



If you care, FWIW, E loved recipe #1. Recipe #2 surprised and disappointed him. he couldn't believe that my look of pleasure was associated with *that* after he tasted it. To each her own....

And that, my friends, is all she wrote. At least tonight.

Distraction

Things were reasonably calm at work this week. I was somewhat social. If I get off my butt today and tomorrow according to the miles I've scheduled, I'll actually have my second week over 30 miles in a row, which is something that hasn't happened since January (while I was still training for the marathon).

This week, I was feeling like I had things relatively under control. But we kept getting these pesky calls from one of my credit card companies.

I finally called back only to have the bizarre experience of being asked why I underpaid the minimum payment. The call-center guy appeared to find my response of "Oh I must have misread it, why don't I pay the rest and next month's payment right now?" a bit odd. I'm guessing many people claim to have mis-read their bills. But I imagine at least some of 'em read the bill just fine but don't have the cash to correct the mistake.

I ordinarily pay my credit cards off in full. But this one is in a zero percent interest period, so I figure I'm better off paying the minimum payment and throwing my disposable income at debt that's actually accruing interest (non-governmentally subsidized school loans, I'm looking at you!).

But, even though I'm letting the principle sit, I always pay the minimum payment. I usually round up.

Apparently, sometime last month, when I paid this bill, I rounded down.

E says his least favorite thing about me being busy at work is how distracted I am. How without warning, I'll just fall out of a conversation with him. I believed him, because I feel distracted when work is crazy.

But, I didn't realize just *how* distracted I've let it make me.

Mis-reading a bill and underpaying the amount due? That's absurd.

So, I'm got some new goals. I'm going to try to be better about leaving work at work. Or at least leaving it for hours I've consciously allocated to work. Now that I've been at the firm for almost 3/4 of a year (has it already been that long?) I'm starting to feel more comfortable. And I'm going to use that comfort to start reclaiming the bits of my life that I unconsciously lost.

Here's to less distraction.

Metamorphosis

I let it slip today at a firm social event. I flat out said it.

The reality is, my social life and being a lawyer are not able to coexist. So I need to figure out who I want to be, my long term goals, and make a decision between them.

Probably not what you should say at a summer associate event. But none of them heard me. I was commiserating with a fellow member of my team.

I don't think of myself as a particularly social person. But, even so, I am relatively social. I make plans. And, I like to keep them.

Being a lawyer gets in the way of life. Especially if the business you are in is going well at the same time that you are in the traditional ramp-up period. It asks that you reschedule your life around work. It asks that you make sacrifices. It asks that you become someone who places work ahead of at least one of your friends, your family, or your health. The firm, in many ways, would not complain if you put work ahead of all three. The people will tell you to hold your own, and that they don't actually want you to sacrifice all 3, but the messages you receive will occasionally contradict that.

Lately, I've realized that of those three, the first is the one where I'm most willing to budge. If something's got to give, I'll stop being so social. And don't think that makes me very willing--I wouldn't give up my weekly barbeque for bar studies, I was willing to fail the exam before I'd give up my weekly social tradition. Regardless, for me, social life is the first to take the hit, but family and health occasionally also take a hit, even though I guard them with a little more vigilance.

Health, well, it comes in many flavors, non? I'll give an hour of sleep a night or drop my mileage from 20-30 miles per week all the way down to 10-15 before I give up quality time with E. But after a few weeks of low sleep and/or miles, the time with E isn't so quality, 'cause I'm slowly going crazy. I give up yoga night for late night work if it means I'll get date night later in the week, but I can only do it occasionally because lack of yoga starts to hurt after a week or two. Oddly, my eating habits are the one thing that seems to benefit from the lawyer life. The harder I work, the less likely I am to have a heavy lunch, to drink too many calories before bed, or to cook up a heavy delicious meal.

But family? It doesn't come in an easy to sacrifice package. It demands when it feels like it. I very much want to be a good wife. A good sister. A good Aunt. A good daughter. I'll give up my social life, and even some of my health to accomplish this. But what about when the lawyer life conflicts with this one?

For me, when the lawyer life gets in the way of family, that's when I really need to re-evaluate. That's when I have to draw some ugly lines with the comfort that I can't go there, and if that means I get fired, or I'm not considered "partner material" or I'm not going to get a big bonus, that's just fine.

But I'll tell you what.

It's hard.

It's very hard.

I like my job. I like being a lawyer. I like the work. I like the people I work with. I like my social life. I like my health. And I love my family.

Balancing it all has become the focus of this very difficult phase of my life. The only thing I keep telling myself is that it has to get easier. There are people I respect who appear to have good social lives, good health, great family lives and decent careers as lawyers.

The difficult gig is figuring out how to make it work.

Victory!

At the risk of tempting fate, I'm going to just come out and say it:


I think I figured out the secret to arancini di riso. (It's making a good risotto the day before and forgetting any complicated madness around adding eggs and cheese to "thicken" the mush.)

Wednesday, I made a wonderful risotto from 1/2 a package of this month's bacon shipment, 3/4 of a red onion, 3 cloves of garlic, vialone nano rice, vermouth, chicken broth, beef broth, and a huge bunch of red swiss chard, diced. The onions and chard stems gave a bloodish hue to the concoction, which contrasted nicely with the dark green of the chard leaves.

Thursday, there were leftovers. After fumbling for what I would contribute to barbeque, I remembered my challenge .

So, I hopped in the car and headed to the store for a late-night bread crumbs and safflower oil run. Upon my return, my neighbor knowingly smiled and said, "beer run?" Given my odd compulsion for telling the truth in annoying detail, you can imagine how well that conversation went. Yeah, the neighbors think we're weird.

Anyways, back to the balls.

The risotto from the night before was cold from the overnight in the freezer. I could form perfect spheres between my hands around the cheese chunks without fear of them losing their structure. Now that was more like it. The balls were ready to stay in their shape even *before* frying. A little egg coating. Some bread crumbs. And a few minutes on each side in the safflower oil and I was done.

The only thing I might do differently next time is take the risotto out of the fridge an hour or so before hand so that the cheese is easier to melt in the heat of the medium-hot oil (300F or so), which does not scorch the bread crumbs.

I am pleased to report that my offer of "deep-fried-bacon-rice-cheese ball?" Was not turned down by a single guest at the barbeque. They were a hit. And they were non-exploding finger food. As they were meant to be.

Success!

Holidaze

A day off in the middle of the week is so civilized, don't you think?

I slept in.

I ran 10 miles for the first time since June 9th. Guess what? It's hot today. And here's another newsflash: I'm a little out of shape. As predicted, my lazy-daze-of-summer program deflated my running fitness. Last weekend, E and I took a gorgeous 16-mile mountain bike ride on the coastal trail, which was fun, and good prep for Tour de Peninsula, but not exactly as demanding as a long run. None-the-less, I woke Sunday morning and convinced myself that the soreness in my legs meant I'd worked them enough for the weekend. I wish I could say that was the only morning in the last month or so where I opted for more time in bed over miles.

So, I've been lazy, I've been working too much, and not exercising as much as I should. I used today's Holiday to get out of that mode, officially, with the first longish run of Summer. It should be interesting to see how much improvement I can make in my 4 week training window for the San Francisco Half.

After the run, and the glorious decadence of the too-long post-run shower, E and I sipped a glass of wine and ate mediteranean food under an umbrella. I jealously observed that the restaurant's tomato plants were bearing fruit while mine has barely begun to flower.

After lunch, we took a brief drive to look at a nearby house that's for sale and discussed the unknown of our future plans.

A drive. A nap. And later today, we're even going to the Kwik-E-Mart.

Sure, I've already worked an hour or so and I have another 2-3 hours to do, but compared to a full work-day, that's nothing. And since we have no plans it's not really that frustrating. I feel quite free. In a perfect world, I could read a pleasure book, or cook something complicated with those hours, but other than those two things, I've had a wonderfully relaxing day: I got my sleep, sun, run, food, and time with E.

If only I could find a way to work a half-day from home *every* Wednesday...

Rice Balls! I accept your challenge!

Friday, I made an Italian dinner for friends.

Okay, if I'm to be honest, I should say that I planned the menu for an Italian dinner. But, I didn't have time to prepare it all, so friends came and helped prepare some of it before they ate it.

Lucky_girl took the dough I'd whipped up and made at least two pounds of fettucine with the kitchenaid pasta roller -- her enjoyment was well worth the price of the attachment. The homemade fettucine doused in carbonara made with sausage *and* bacon was the highlight of the meal.

H juiced 10 lemons and 2 oranges for sorbetto that never quite made it to the frozen state. After declaring it a failure, I added half-and-half, continued mixing, and froze it. There is now a very light sorbetto/gelato a limone waiting to be dispensed at barbeque.

For starters, A chatted with me while I deep fried arancini di riso that just wouldn't behave in the least bit. I based my efforts on a recipe I found on the internet which looked reasonable.

Uggghhhh....it was not reasonable at all.

When I took it from the fridge, it was clear that the risotto-like mixture needed to be cooked to a state that would be almost too dry to serve as risotto. I know that the cheese should have melted and the balls shouldn't have fallen apart into a goo-ey risotto-like mess when pierced. I also think the cheese cubes needed to be smaller and that the oil should have been slightly less hot so I could cook them for longer (allowing the cheese to melt) without burning the bread crumbs.

The guests, none of whom had ever had arancini di riso, raved about the weird exploding risotto goo concoctions I made, which I served over a bed of spinach with balsamic on the side for a make-shift salad. They were tasty, but much like tasty gnocchi mush, they were not as intended.

And now, it's personal.

E and I both knew what I had hoped to achieve. Risotto explosion balls were not the point. Good, yes. But not the point.

I shall be attempting arancini di riso repeatedly until I conquer them. As a side note, our marital relationship appears to be running more smoothly after the promise of increased grease, as well.

Another Try

Life got in the way of running again and I missed double dipsea for Vancouver. From what I hear, I made the right choice. I donated my number to E2 and she said it was the hardest run she'd ever done in her life. Even if I hadn't taken the opportunity to be lazy, I'd still have been much too out of shape to enjoy it.

But, now there's a new target.

The 2nd half of the San Francisco Marathon.

I just put all of my training runs into my calendar up to and including race day. 4 weeks. Each week with 2 shorts, 1 medium, 1 long and a speed day plus a of bike riding with E to prep for Tour de Peninsula and at least one hour of yoga in the evening.

And, of course, work is crazy right now. So sticking to this plan will be a big challenge. I'm going to have to try very hard to balance life, work, and running over the next 4 weeks.

Say it with me now... "No matter how tired I am, I will run *before* work."

*BEFORE*

Because if there's one thing I've learned in my half-year as a lawyer, it's that when work gets crazy, the evening plans are bound to suffer.

I heart Vancouver

I don't know if I've ever fallen so much in love with a city upon my first visit. Of course the reason for our visit was damn romantic -- P&F's wedding, earlier in the dating cycle and more gung-ho than is typical of our generation. And, then, the food gods shined their benevolent faces upon us, and, the weather was gorgeous every afternoon, the people were nice, and there's tons of trails for walking/running, and... well, what else do you want from a city, eh? That's probably 80% of the battle right there. Oh, and I heard at least 10 languages each day, so that's another 10%.

In short, I'm a sucker for Vancouver. I already told my sister she should consider applying to UBC for grad school, should she decide to go that route. See, P&F are moving *away* from Vancouver as a result of the wedding. But I want permanent connections there. I'm that much enamored with it.

One of the biggest draws is that the city is just gorgeous and very comfortable to me. Oddly comfortable. As in I felt more comfortable in downtown Vancouver than I do in San Francisco. And I feel pretty damn comfortable in SF. I think it was the combination of the slightly more international feel and the less hipster-inspired culture. Somehow, it felt architecturally like home while being more diverse and accepting of differences than SF.

I could live there, if it weren't for the rain thing. Okay, so really, I could probably only live there in the summer, 'cause the dark winter days would kill me. And even in the summer, I'd be grumpy in the morning, when it rains. But, I digress.

Leaving the US, the security guards confiscated my moisturizer and face makeup because they weren't in a plastic bag. Arriving in Vancouver, in contrast, we participated in an impromptu bachelor and bachelorette party (P & F were SURPRISED! Veil, tiara, chocolate mousse which they fed to one another in front of the airport. Fabulous!). This was in the loading and unloading only zone for at least 30 minutes and not a single person dared to suggest that we were a national security threat.

P & F took us to our hotel, which was an aging 3 star where the last star was noticeably losing it's luster. Somehow, I found that all the more charming. It reminded me of the hotel where we stayed in Sydney CBD before E & I got engaged. Also, what it lacked in modern conveniences it more than made up for with substance: Our 30th floor room had a balcony and a view of half of the city, including Burrard Inlet and Stanley Park.

The top of the hotel was a rotating restaurant and bar. You may not think this is a plus. Hokey. Lame, even. But, E has an odd obsession with rotating restaurants and, I must admit, I'm slowly catching it as well.

After checking in at 11:30 PM, we walked half a block and found a selection of 3 asian restaurants that were still open. We opted for Robson Sushi because they had "all-you-can-eat-sushi." All you can eat sushi is clearly the type of thing that's either going to be horrid or awesome. Either you are sickened by the quality of the food, or its the best thing you've ever done. It was the latter. And only $10.95CA. Which reminds me, by the way, we've basically reached parity with the Canadian dollar. They shouldn't have to pay more for books anymore.

Friday day, as a break from working from the hotel, we walked down Robson Street, window shopping and people watching on our way to an amazing lunch at Kalypso. The decor was ecclectic, the greek music relaxing, the service excellent, and the glass of Tsantali white and red wines we each ordered upon their recommendation were both very nice. We shared a greek salad with amazing feta, spanakopita, grilled octopus skewers, and my favorite dish, Saganaki (mmmm....fried cheese with lemon...). The experience prompted us to move Greece up on the list of vacation destinations.

From there, we hit the Sears in Robson square, which, in case you were wondering is nothing like Sears in the U.S. I sent E off to amuse himself with the power tools section while I purchased replacement face makeup and moisturizer and he came back explaining that they had no such thing.

Friday night, after witnessing P & F's wedding, we were treated to a Chinese banquet by F's family at Kirin. As you can imagine, we left stuffed to the brim. Crispy beef, where you been all my life? But we still had room for drinks with P&F in the rotating restaurant.

Saturday, E put on his finest Nasa T-shirt and we took a nice walk through town to to a Creperie and then to the MacMillan Space Center. For dinner, thanks to lucky_girl & hubby's recommendation, we enjoyed omakase with P&F at Tojo's. It was expensive, but quite good. Just another check on the list of the blessed vancouver food experience.

Sunday morning, after an early night to digest, we headed to F's favorite local dim sum joint. Delicious! Dim Sum with a side of chili sauce. Za Leong (or however you spell it) was a new addition and how can you argue with deep fried bread-dough? Plus, nothing beats F's mandarin when trying to order from across the room.

From there, we headed to science world, which, in E's and my estimation, is one of the better science museums in the world, and believe it or not, we're slowly becoming qualified to make that statement. The science museum keeps being the one site we consistently hit in almost every city we visit...

After science world and our viewing of the associated Omnimax film the Human Body, P&F took us to the local brewpup where E and I shared a taster sampler and we all listened to a trio from the Vancouver international Jazz fest.

Shortly thereafter, we headed to the airport where every flight except ours (or at least every one prior to ours) was unacceptably delayed (as in, "could you stay the night?"). We took off a little late but arrived in time and now, I can't wait to sleep.

It was one of the best weekend trips I've ever taken.

A Milestone

Today, I took my very first contract that I wrote from scratch to our head IP partner for review.

Nervous does not begin to describe the feeling.

Ordinarily, I've got something to start with. A form from the other side. One of our form agreements.

But not this time.

This deal was weird. One of those unique combinations of technology, business, and founder eccentricities that lead you down a path of *free-drafting*.

I was shocked when the client said he liked the first draft. Particularly because we had several almost-arguments over how to structure it.

But he's just the client. It's good when he likes it, but really, the test was the partner.

Guess what? The managing partner of my group, who's been practicing law for almost as long as I have been alive, made 6 edits on my 7 page contract. 6 small edits.

Plus, he said, "good job." And, "Thanks."

I thought he was going to rip it to shreds. I was prepared. Steeled, even. It was going to be fine.

Instead, I had to deal with the shock that I may actually be starting to get the hang of this lawyer thing.

I'm still dealing.

Father's Day Weekend

We had quite a busy weekend.

Originally, I'd planned a going away weekend for a friend who's moving to Alaska. We'd planned winetasting, food at the local vietnamese fusion joint, and a girls' day at the spa.

But, that plan was cut short when a member of her SO's family passed away of cancer.

Talk about hitting home.

I did my best to regroup. I sent out an email to the portion of the crew that were my friends and asked if we could still meet up, still winetaste, still do girls' day at the spa.

All but 1 obliged me. On Friday, I found out that the one who didn't respond was silent only because of my idiocy and sending the invitation to the wrong email address. Saturday night, she even tried to join us last minute. It was not to be, but she made the effort.

So, instead of moping, I spent the weekend visiting amazing amazing local wineries with friends. I went to the spa and got a facial. I ate entirely too much imported prosciutto, imported cheese, and local salame. Not to mention more than my share of vino, chocolate, fruit, etc.

Despite the weekend of sensorial indulgence, when E called his dad, to wish him a happy father's day, it hurt. Not all consuming. But pain, none-the-less. Like jealousy, but milder. No hatred, just the even-keeled stretching pain of sadness that you know you can't avoid.

So, I called my bro. He told me that he'd spent the day with my niece watching movies. She loves Rambo. That was just like Dad. When we were kids, we thought he was cool because he'd let us see any violent film we wanted. Of course, he'd pause the movie and send us out of the room for anything remotely bordering on sex. I called sister to laugh at Dad's movie ridiculousness and left her a message.

Plus, dad's sister sent me an email. Dad's other sister had left me voicemail on Friday. The entire family really reached out to one another to support each other this day, as we should have. And, yet, instead of gratitude, all I could think was...Silly dad. Didn't he know we could see the kissing from behind the couch when we snuck back in?

Also, E was amazing. After he called his parents, when I completely changed the plan for the evening and turned into a moping child, he willingly installed a curtain rod and hung curtains in the guest room in response to my odd request.

Because all of a sudden, I wanted big household jobs to be done with tools that made noise. The drilling noise. Somehow, it made me feel better. I couldn't go to the grave, but through E, I could bring drilling to me. It assured me that dad knew I missed him and wished him a happy father's day.

Silly, but true.

And, even sillier, but I'm going to go watch a "chick flick" to cap off my day. I'm not sure how that fits in. But, who am I to resist?

E2 left artisanal chocolate too... mmm....

Recipe: Chilled Green Curry Salad

I threw this together for last BBQ. It was a hit. It's refreshing and spicy at the same time. I think it may become a regular in the rotation.


(For the salad:)
-1 head lettuce, chopped in the cuisinart (I actually shredded it, but E and I agreed that it would be much better chopped next time)
-2 large red bell peppers, cored, and chopped in the cuisinart into strips
-2 english cucumbers, skins on, sliced in the cuisinart

(For the dressing:)
-1 T soy sauce
-1 t green curry
-juice of 1/2 lemon
-2 T brown sugar
-3 T fish sauce

1. Pull vegetables straight from the fridge (hence the chilled part). Use the cuisinart to prep the vegetable components. Put them in a bowl and mix them with your hands.
2. Combine the dressing ingredients and stir with a fork 'til the sugar is dissolved. Pour over salad.
3. Serve immediately or chill and serve the next day.


Other ingredients I would have considered if they were lying around:

-shredded carrots
-shredded cabbage
-glass noodles
-soba

Enjoy!

Permission to relax

I've been exhausted lately. Getting up in the morning for my AM runs has been quite difficult. I just want to lay in bed and get another hour of sleep. Mind you, I still get up, and I go, because I'm insane and I'd signed up for double dipsea.

But Thursday at BBQ, I found out that a good friend, P, is getting married on June 23. In Vancouver. Without family in attendance. This is good news. He and his girlfriend F, have had immigration issues that have prevented them from living in the same country since they've been together. He moved there for a long stretch to ensure they were compatible. She's come for many visits. But they couldn't truly, legally live in the same country while leading a normal life.

Apparently, some government official managing greencard appplications to file an application (I'm not making that part up) decided to fast track non-UK citizens who received their college education degree in the US. Or something like that. P was only born in the UK and speaks with a British accent, but he's not a citizen. And he has a degree in CS from UT Austin. So, much to his surprise, he's in the fast track.

Long story short, P has to be married to F, quickfast, before he files his fast-tracked application, if they want to be able to legally live in the US together.

Hence, E and I will be flying to Canada to witness a very small backyard wedding next weekend. I'm so excited for P & F. I'm also thrilled that I will finally be going to Canada. Every time I've tried to go, something has gone wrong and I haven't been able to go. I was partially convinced that Canada was a myth. You know, like a painting at the Northern edge of the US. P assures me that it's real, and that E and I will like our weekend in Vancouver.

The second bonus is that because I'll be in Vancouver, I'm not going to be able to do double dipsea. I've given myself permission to be lazy until we return. If I want to run, great. But if not, like this AM, then I've given myself permission to stay in and relax. Blog. Plan travel.

Sure, after a week of lazy, I'll be in worse shape when I start really training for the SF half. But, I'm hoping by giving permission to laze through a low mileage week, I'll be more motivated after the time off. I'll let you know how that works out.

P.S. any food or site-seeing suggestions for Vancouver?

Lest I forget

There are times when I love my job.

When I forget to eat lunch because what I'm doing is so fascinating.

When it hits home that sometimes I get paid to learn, and after that, I get paid to play with words.

When I feel important. Useful. Helpful. Smart. Necessary, even. Like what I'm doing matters and that I'm good at it.

I can't imagine trying to do this without that occasional work-induced bliss. Mind you, as a first year lawyer, those days are few and far between. But when the law flatters... if you happen to like women like that... man, oh, man. It's a heady experience.

Blah Blah Blah

I'm slightly busier than ideal this week at work. I knew, going in after the weekend of not working, that I had quite a bit lined up. Plus, I've had a client emergency each day so far, and that's kicked me into "finish up work at home" mode both today and yesterday.

But, then again, I was loafing for the first half of this month, so I suppose the hours are almost needed. After the deal from hell, I did quite a bit of summer associate bonding, which was fun.

But it doesn't count towards my billables, so...I should probably start to pay attention before the end of June rolls around. What a concept! I haven't even thought about whether I'd be on track, hours-wise for at least a month.

In other news, my Thai basil is starting to turn purple, but all 4 basil seedlings (green and purple) are wilted a bit from the transplantation. Also, I think my tomato plant grew. E thinks I'm crazy. I think I'm going to start taking pictures of my tomato plant. Perhaps it would be faster to give him a name instead of saying "my tomato plant." Did I mention that E thinks I'm crazy. I really hope I don't kill it.

On Perspective

The closest people in my life have all lived a little. Or more than a little.

They've bled. They've had a death or two. They've fought. They've lost a loved one. They've struggled with depression or anxiety or bipolar disorder or addiction or abandonment. Something. Anything.

Humanity is flawed. And the people I love all live it and love it.

Sometimes, I forget that. And I get uptight. I start to act like perfection could actually be mine if I could just be good enough. I curl up and protect and stop being willing to make mistakes.

Hah! The three-part joke's on me.

A. Lack of mistakes is not an option for us humans.
B. When I behave as if it's an option I become someone I wouldn't pick for a friend.
C. What the hell would I want with a perfect boring life, anyways?

Summer Food Kick-Off

Saturday, we had our first BBQ of the season. We bought entirely too much beer, bread, chips, and sausage. But we nailed our estimate of the white wine, hamburgers, cheese, cowboy caviar, almond bundt cake (marzipan-based recipe from my favorite baking cookbook), fresh raspberry and pitted bing cherries topping for the cake.

It was great to catch up with my sister (who drove the farthest! yeah!) friends, and friends of friends. The sun was out, and the smell of barbeque was in the air. It is officially BBQ season.

Unfortunately, it is not officially tomato season. As much as I wish it were true, it's just not.

So, today, at our local farmer's market, to tide myself over after looking at the hothouse options, in addition to some dark leafy greens (which have been sadly lacking in our diet), I bought a black krim seedling. I also bought an assortment of basil seedlings. I asked many questions about care and hope to undo my current gardening skillset, which involves killing multiple cacti.

I picked some of the basil leaves for lunch and added them to the not-even-close-to-true-tomato in our fridge with some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. We ate it with leftover bollilo from the barbeque. The good olive oil from vino noceto plus good balsamic did a good job of hiding the substitute non-flavor-full tomatoes from me until the real thing appears.

But, truly, I just can't wait. I've been outside to check on my plants 3 times today since I transplanted them. I reread the "Tomato Cultivation" chapter in The Tomato Festival Cookbook.

According to the gardening man who sold me the seedlings, I can expect tomatoes at the end of August. According to the Seed Savers Exchange I have 69 to 90 days from today.

August 18th, I'm looking at you!

On my todo list is daily soil dampness checks, the purchase and placement of slow-release fertilizer, the purchase of a cage to allow the plant to grow and the research of anti-squirrel tactics.

Much like bacon and chocolate, I expect you will be seeing quite a bit about tomatoes.

Wayward Miles

Saturday, A and I headed out to one of our local parks for an 8 mile run in the hills to prep for the insanity of Double Dipsea.

Predictably, we got lost. We did almost 13 miles instead of the planned-for 8. Several of them were walking. Which is good, because I think we'll be doing quite a bit of walking on the double dip as well.

I'm sore today. The Garmin says we did 3160 ft of ascent and 3005 ft of descent. The double dip requires 4638 ft of ascent and roughly the same in descent. So, I imagine I'll be significantly more sore after that.

The only good news is that the highest point on our lost run was over 1600 ft and the highest point on the double dip is under 1400 ft. So we know there won't be elevation-related issues. All other issues, however, are wide open.

Oh, and since we got lost, I was late to my hair appointment. My stylist was not pleased. But she did, however, mention that she was doing the Relay for Life if I wanted to sponsor her.

I had made her wait because I was running. She was running a race and looking for sponsors. The beneficiary is the American Cancer Society and they would make your donation in the honor of a lost loved one to cancer or a survivor. Needless to say, I left the hair salon with a significantly lighter wallet than I intended.

But I'm glad.

The three-to-one rule

A long time ago, someone, probably my mom, told me that it takes 3 positive messages to counteract a negative one.

The idea stuck with me, even though I'm horrid at applying it.

I often think complimentary thoughts about the amazing people in my life. But I rarely say them.

On the other hand, I'm fairly free with my brutal honesty. If I feel hurt by someone's actions, I let them know. If I'm confused by someone's actions, I question them. Bluntly. I've mellowed as I've aged, and I've learned to keep these thoughts to myself more often than I once did. But I still let them fly without the cushion of 3 of the many positive thoughts I most certainly am thinking about anyone I care enough about to say the negative stuff to.

Basically, I don't follow the 3-to-1 rule. And I should. Because I don't want to be the reason someone thinks less of themselves. If it is true that people need 3 positive messages to internalize one negative one, then I need to grow. I'm great at conveying constructive criticism. But it's still criticism. It needs to be guided with love and admiration. It needs three positive thoughts to be voiced as well. And I'm always thinking them, so I might as well start saying them too.

Lately, I've been thinking quite a bit about the next phase of being an adult. What it means. How to gracefully become a woman in my 30s who can hold her head up high with the knowledge of her crazy 20's, but be proud of the person she's become, ideally one who's more even-keel and responsible with human emotions than her former self.

I'm also wondering how to become that woman who doesn't plan to have children anytime soon and yet completely respects and admires women who make an alternate choice. I've been thinking about how my selection of life path will necessarily distance me from many of my closest friends during this decade simply because we won't share similar experiences.

The reality of the growing separation between my closest friends/family and I as I age and evolve became very apparent during the wedding process. It's sad, but true. We all grow, and thus, many of us grow apart. I think part of aging gracefully is learning how to negotiate that reality and maintain connections that are truthful and honest yet allow for the growing distance.

And so, I've decided that one of the best things I can do to help myself transform into this decade of life is to embrace the 3-to-1 rule. I've rejected quite a bit from my mom over the years. But it turns out, she's often a wise woman, in her own way.

So here's to me being more openly positive. Here's to me vocalizing my friends' and families' strengths, successes, and general fabulousness. I am very lucky to have them all in my life and not a day goes by where I don't think a thought of gratitude. It's time to sing those thoughts in public.

Wish me luck.

Co-ord-in-a-tion

You know it's a good weekend when you wake up on Monday with:

-2 holes in the palm of your left hand
-2 deep scratches in your right elbow
-1 bruise on your stomach

On Saturday, I ran 10.4 miles with E2 on trails in nature. Trails in nature have bugs, dips, and rocks. A bug may be able to get behind your sunglasses and fly around in that small space just before you need to navigate a dip in the trail followed by rocks. Might I suggest stopping running to deal with this issue?

That would explain the hand.

On Sunday, E and I rode our bikes to the nearest mall to have lunch with bear, an old friend (ostensibly we were going to shop as well, but we left after the first shop and vowed to buy all purchases online). Upon arrival at the intersection before the mall, E called bear. He handed the phone to me, the light turned green. I was hungry and wanted to get to the restaurant as soon as possible. So, I tried to ride across the intersection from a stop while talking on the phone.

I did not negotiate the curb on the other side so well. Hence the elbow and the stomach.