home, on a happier note

I am a really lucky girl.

I'm lucky that I have a handful of women who love me and who I call "mom". I'm lucky that the same friends I had when I was eleven years old are some of my dearest friends today. I'm lucky that I have a job that allows me to fly home for graduations. I'm even luckier that I have the financial stability to be able to give a graduation gift to one of my favorite people. I'm lucky that I come from a close family. I'm lucky that my hometown was safe and supportive. I'm lucky that everyone in my life has always pushed me to succeed. I am lucky that I have a group of friends who are always prepared to rally around whichever one of us needs support.

I am lucky to know that blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood. And cliche as that may be, I love that I have been surrounded by amazing people and have been able to choose such a beautiful family.

the hat

I have a much happier blog post in me somewhere. But today, I stumbled across a song that hits too close to home.

Going Home with a capital H becomes more & more strange. Going Home to support your best friend's family three months after her death is exhausting. Seeing your parents as people instead of parents is exhausting. Being twenty-three and on the verge of making a decision that will direct the rest of your life's paths is exhausting.

Going Home always makes me want to shrink back into my fifteen-sixteen-seventeen-year-old self, when I had all the confidence in the world & not a single doubt. I crave the love and the stability of hugs from friends I've had for over a decade.

Being twenty-three means that when I go to visit my best friend's grave, an adolescent with a too-short haircut will be watering her with a garden hose, because the grass hasn't quite grown in yet, and what was supposed to be a profound experience makes me laugh & makes my stomach turn at the same time. Close friends tell stories about her fierce love for me and I am so happy/sad that I don't know what to do next.

A post with us putting on our brave, happy faces for graduation is on its way soon. Today, I feel more like this song, bittersweet & honest.

veggies: 5/19/11

- red potatoes!

- a big, fat onion. Are you a sweet onion? We're not sure yet.

- swiss chard

- BEEEEETS! :)

- carrots

- green onions

- green garlic

all i want

...is a kebab. Or a kebap.

I would just about hop a transatlantic flight right now just so I could munch on a sandwich with a side of frites & an Orangina. Royal Kebab. Mister Kebap. Chicken kebab. Regular kebab. I don't care. I would like un kebab avec sauce blanche et un Orangina.

This is the voice of a woman who has been fighting a serious kebab craving for almost three years.

Help!

veggies: week 12

I think I may have missed posting about the veg last week. Maybe not. My brain's been kind of forgetful lately.

- snow peas

- sad-looking lettuce (It's cool. I'll still eat it.)

- carrots

- BEETS! :)

- leeks

- green garlic

- turnips

- easter egg radishes

Tonight, as I prep for tomorrow's Royal Wedding Party, Russell J is taking over dinner & making Ranch Style Chicken à la The Pioneer Woman. Come hang out with me tomorrow & wear your tiara?

back in action

Today is the first day in about three weeks that I've felt like cooking. This is great news!

My favorite recipes are those that are deceptively easy & undeniably delicious. Tonight, I'm busting out my favorite lemon chicken recipe, some roasted grape tomatoes, & I'm leaving the salad responsibilities up to Russell J.

And! The best part of the night! My favorite restaurant is celebrating their half birthday this week with half off apps, desserts, & beverages. Tonight is half off dessert night. Not only do I fully support the celebration of half birthdays, but I also fly into a rage every time a restaurant's website fails to list a dessert menu. No worries here! Beckett's Table has all of their desserts on their site AND they have a chocolate covered bacon smore. Oh yes. They did. It hurts so goooood. Anyway, I'm sure you could Google a recipe for something as so wrong/so right as a chocolate covered bacon smore, but that is something I refuse to do. Because then I would know all the dirty little secrets to making one. And I would weigh eight hundred pounds.

In the interest of my general health, I'll save my fave dessert for special occasions like tonight. Happy Wednesday, everybody!!

warning

This blog post is going to be chock full of self pity.

Seriously.

Totally warning you.
...

I am sick.
What I mean is I've been sick, off & on, for the past six months. Losing my breakfast at work (obviously the best way to make a good impression). Fevers that max out at 103.1. General malaise. And, as I found out last week, I've lost eight pounds since November. Kind of a cool side effect, but the weight loss is what really made me worry. I never, and I mean never, lose weight. I can live off of Chick-fil-A or spend all of my free time at the gym & I will pretty much stay at a steady weight.

So I finally went to the doctor, chatted her up, & got some blood drawn.

My stomach is playing host to this little buddy.

Helicobacter pylori. H. pylori, if you're intimately acquainted (which I am) or of the medical profession (me again).

We probably met when I forgot to brush my teeth with bottled water in Puebla. Or when I ate one too many platanos fritos that time I went to Rocky Point. Or from all those fatcakes/bowls of porridges/dishes I didn't scrub quite well enough in Namibia. Or when I was trying to be polite & ate dinner at my patient's house. That last choice was probably the kiss of death, because I've convinced myself that a sense of adventure cures any little bug you might encounter in the Third World. Also, that semester of drinking/dancing/laughing a little too much in France probably did not help my immune system recover.

At any rate, a severe lack of sleep, 70-hour work weeks, & a diet heavily supported by cows who tell me to Eet Mor Chiken became the perfect storm in which my buddy H. pylori decided to sink my poor stomach's ship.

So. For the next two weeks, my life centers around antibiotics & proton pump inhibitors.

Moral of the story: Get some sleep. Eat some veggies. Don't kiss strangers in foreign lands. And only eat street tacos when they smell really, really amazing. At least then, the stomach demons were worth it.