artillery punch

With many holiday celebrations on the way, who doesn't need a recipe for Artillery Punch in their back pocket? I just might make some tonight to help me power through addressing our Save the Dates (that counts as a holiday celebration, right?). Maybe it will take away the pain from my bruised palm -- the result of a two-hour return-address-stamping ordeal. Uff-dah weddings are a lot of work. Thank goodness for inventive cocktails, Etsy and tutu tutorials.

this is not what our bedroom looks like

For work today, instead of combing through food blogs, I'm being spoiled by having to look through home design blogs. (Yay!) I used to be an avid reader of said blogs, but then life got crazy, I got engaged, and the only blogs I find myself reading regularly are those of friends and Style Me Pretty.

But now I'm being reminded of why I used to read home design blogs, and why, when I moved in with Mr. S, I decorated the sh*t out of that place. I was inspired; I had so many ideas floating around in my head. And now, instead of tables and lamp shades and rugs, those ideas consist of wedding shoes and centerpieces and chicken versus pork (or both, why the hell not, it's our wedding!)... not really home design material (though inspiration nonetheless).

Anyway, the place that got the least attention when I moved in was our bedroom. I did purchase new lamps, two new nightstands and two dressers (which I said I was going to sand and paint... more than two years ago...) and a mirror. Sounds like a lot, but really, it didn't transform the space. The carpet needs to be replaced (or deep cleaned, though I think it's past the point of no return), the walls are blah, I don't love the lamps, and our duvet cover is just okay. No headboard, no fun colors, nothing to perk up a space that can at times be quite dark (old loft = no bedroom windows = sad!). It's fine, but very uninspired and uninspiring.

However, check out this bedroom from Making it Lovely and these heavenly rooms from sfgirlbybay. Some day, when we have a house with bedrooms full of light, I will have a bedroom that looks like one of these, complete with a big bed with a feather top mattress, down comforter and a pile of pillows. *Sigh*

the race

It wasn't the perfect race, and yet it was.

I thought I'd feel great until Mile 22 -- that all of my training would make the marathon seem almost effortless and I'd glide across the finish line, a trail of negative splits blazing behind me. Instead, my hips and quads started hurting at Mile 10, something that never happened in any of my training runs, and a big red flag I've learned to associate with oncoming cramps. I knew if I was going to qualify, I couldn't cramp up -- there wasn't time to stop and stretch, to deal with spasms or walk it off. I had to find a way to keep my legs moving for 16.2 more miles.

So instead of the race plan Andy and I had discussed -- going out slow, then making my way down to 7:45s and really throwing down the last few miles, maybe even coming in under 3:35 -- I knew I had to run as slowly as I could knowing I could still qualify. I needed to save my legs, keep steady and try to relax. I settled into an 8:20 pace and fed my legs positive thoughts -- I imagined my mother and grandmothers and great-grandmothers running behind me, pushing energy my way and giving my legs strength; I pictured Andy's hands on my hips, loosening the muscles and giving them warmth; I consciously sent my energy to the tightest places, imagined my legs strong and graceful. I refused to visualize anything but crossing the finish line in less than 3 hours, 40 minutes and 59 seconds.

I also popped some Advil, then a little more, and then a little more. I kept hydrated, kept loose, kept moving. And I had the best cheering squad in the world.

My parents drove more than five hours to watch the marathon. To wish me luck; to wake up early, groggy-eyed, to kiss me and tell me they were proud of me; to be there to scream and cheer and send me strength.

And Andy's family was there too -- both sets of his parents, his sister and brother-in-law and their two kids. They cooked us delicious, nutritious, pre-marathon meals; they bought us post-marathon recovery foods (and treats); they drove us to the start of the race; they took pictures and pumped their fists in the air and gave us love.

They were all waiting for me at Mile 12, then again at Mile 22 when I needed them the most, then at the finish line, front and center. And Andy, my coach and so much more, after running his own (very fast) marathon, walked back to Mile 25 to bring me on home, to shout "dynamite!" at me and lie about how good I was looking.

And I did it. With one minute and 25 seconds to spare. It didn't feel good, and yet it felt incredible. I ran for hours with aching legs, was determined as I've ever been, channeled all of my training runs into one big race, met my goal. I started crying with about 100 meters left. Big, gasping sobs without any tears. The relief, the exhaustion, the pride, the pure joy and exhilaration of crossing the finish line knowing I'd done what I'd set out to do oh so many miles ago.

And there were my parents, waiting with cameras and open arms. They hugged me and smiled through their tears with me and shared in my joy. My mom claims it was one of the best moments of her life. It was for me too.

And now I have the Boston Marathon to train for. Through the dark, cold, tundra that is a Minnesota winter. But I'm ready and excited, still coasting on a running high (even though I've only run four times since the marathon). I'm resting up, recovering, preparing to wake up in the blackness of a February morning, put on my thick tights and running mask and throw down a 2-2-1-2-2 before work.

Running rocks face.

words i'm learning to listen to

Decide what to be, and go be it.

yerba

While researching NYC food blogs today, I stumbled across this post about yerba-mate flavored ice cream. Yum. Mate isn't for everyone, but I loved drinking it in Argentina (and Uruguay! especially in Uruguay) and am not sure why I haven't busted out my mate gourd here in the States... maybe I'll bring my gourd and thermos in tomorrow and start sipping away on my little bombilla. I'm headed to NYC on Sunday for a few days and might have to see if I can make a stop at this ice cream shop for a little taste trip back to South America. Man, I'd move to NYC for the food alone...

holy crap

After nearly six months of training, I'm less than two days away from the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon. I woke up today with a nervous stomach -- I wouldn't say I'm nervous, per se, but it's just that feeling in my gut of something really big coming up. I also get goosebumps on the backs of my legs every time I think about it, which I always have before big races (though I suppose I wouldn't call filling in for the 4x4 team on our mediocre high school track team a big race... nor would that title go to my last two marathons, for which my goal was simply to finish... which means, this is my first big race??).

Anyway, this is a BFD. A Big F*ing Deal. So many miles, so many early mornings, so many entries in my running log. So much energy gu, body glide, and gatorade. New shorts, new socks, my first pair of racing flats. One hell of a coach. One hell of a support team. I'm getting all teary eyed just thinking about it.

And on Sunday, as I'm pounding through mile after mile, I will be chanting, "Go legs go! Go legs go! Boston here we come! Boston here we come!" I'm confident I can do it, but I also know I've done all I could have done, and however it turns out, I'm one lucky girl. I'm in the best running shape I've ever been in, my legs are made of steel, my mind is clear, and I had the privilege of spending so many beautiful mornings running around lakes and along rivers and breathing in my beautiful city. Running has given me so many gifts... hopefully it will throw one more (big one) my way.

So, my faithful readers, if you're awake at 8am on Sunday, send fast thoughts my way. So far the forecast is perfect -- high 40s, partly sunny, a slight wind out of the north -- and as Mr. S recently told a friend, I'm "fit and ready."

I told you once
Now I told you twice
We gon' light it up
Like it's dynamite

I came to move move move move
Get out the way me and my crew, crew, crew, crew

I throw my hands up in the air sometimes
Sayin' AYO
Baby let's go

eleven

I've been in a wonderfully blissful state the last eleven days... no work, no work emails, little online activity or thinking at all. Just enjoying California and Mr. S's company, celebrating my brother's wedding with my entire family, eating good food, taking lots of photos, lounging in the sun and waking up without an alarm. It was everything I dreamed it would be. Sigh. But now it's back to reality. Back to 263 emails, back to alarm clocks and schedules, back to spreadsheets and using my brain. But I suppose without all of that, an eleven-day vacation wouldn't be as sweet...

Photos yet to come, but for now, highlights for each day I was gone:

Day 1: Running around Lake Merritt. Family dinner with my and my brother's (now) wife's immediate families -- the first time we'd all met. Eating Korean BBQ together as one big family.

Day 2: Enormous burritos. Seeing my mom's cousins for the first time in 15 years. Lots and lots of laughing.

Day 3: My brother's wedding. Chinese tea ceremony, rose garden commitment ceremony, rockin' 10-course dinner followed by lots of dancing. So much happiness. Too little time.

Day 4: Wandering through the hilly neighborhoods of San Francisco. Clam chowder, sea lions, boutiques, wine. Rehashing the wedding with my parents over dinner.

Day 5: Big Sur. Oh Big Sur, you stole my heart immediately. What a beautiful drive down the coast, what a great training run along the cliffs, what a cozy dinner in a little restaurant in the redwoods on a cold, clear night. What a treat to fall asleep to crashing waves, snuggled in our tiny tent.

Day 6: A slow breakfast, a windy beach, a peaceful run. Drinks overlooking the coast at sunset. Dinner in a lodge. A campfire, s'mores, a cozy tent. Waking at midnight to drive back down the coast and sit in hot springs overlooking the ocean lit by the full moon. Crawling back into our sleeping bags under the redwoods, warmed to our cores.

Day 7: The most beautiful beach. Jumping photos in the surf. Another sunset, delicious burritos, again falling asleep to the sound of waves.

Day 8: Running in Golden Gate Park. Walking through Berkeley. Dinner with good friends.

Day 9: More walking through Berkeley. Lots more. Greek food, coffee, fresh squeezed orange juice. Used book stores, record shops, reading in the sun on the grassy campus. Thai food. Band of Horses at the Greek Theater. Frozen yogurt. Beer. So much happiness.

Day 10: Coffee and crepes. A farmers market -- oh the produce! Saying goodbye to California. Sadly, oh so sadly, packing our bags and traveling home.

Day 11: Sleeping until noon, back in our own bed. Cereal for breakfast. A run around the track on a crisp fall afternoon. Four episodes of Breaking Bad. Velveeta Shells and Cheese and root beer floats. Staying up late just to hold on to the last sweet moments of One Of Our Best Trips Ever.

csa champions

This year Mr. S and I joined our first CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). We're lucky enough that my place of employment serves as a drop-point for our weekly fruits and veggies (though we've seen very few of the former), so all I need to do is bag up our goods and carry them home every Thursday. Easy enough.

Not as easy, however, has been making it through our weekly load before the next one arrives. A bag of green beans, some squash, a bunch of cabbage and the occasional cucumber have ended up in the trash. I hate, hate, hate throwing away food -- especially fresh, organic, delicious veggies. But, considering the Veggie Wasting Tales I've heard from CSA veterans, we've been first-time CSA champions.

We plowed through stir-fry after stir-fry early on in the season (I don't ever want to see cabbage or summer squash again), made it through bowl after bowl of green beans, and managed not to waste a single bit of a vat of cabbage-cucumber-dill salad. We've tried new recipes (that even used the tops of the carrots and that Mr. S actually liked!) and have fallen into a weekly routine of eating the most delicious caprese salads I've ever had straight out of our big yellow mixing bowls. It's been a delicious summer indeed.

The low point was near the end of Cabbage Mania, when I found myself saying out loud "I don't want to do the CSA again next year." But, now that we've moved on to sweet corn (oh heavenly sweet corn, I've never tasted any corn so ripe or delicious as you), basil and six kinds of tomatoes (and started baking the zucchini into bread instead of eating it raw), I'm thinking I want to sign us up again next year.

I mean, when else am I going to eat rainbow chard and kale and discover that the inside of a purple cabbage, when cut just right, looks like a Christmas tree???

the things runners do

Look what running's done to my toe. Have you ever seen anything like it? I haven't. I'm obsessed. Nearly every day I examine it and exclaim about how it's morphed into an even more horrendous iteration of the Most Disgusting Toe Ever. I mean, a month ago, it looked like this:

And a couple weeks ago it looked like this:

Not bad at all, but I was equally obsessed. How naive I was! At least then it still resembled a toe -- now it's just a blackened stub of unidentifiable tissues.

But you know what? I think I'm obsessed because secretly (well, not so secretly anymore) I'm really proud of that toe. It's one of the few outward signs I have of all the miles I've been putting in. A battle scar of the 6am alarms, the 95-degree-heat-index workouts, the sore muscles, the chaffing in places where you least want chaffing, the hours of pounding the pavement.

I've truly enjoyed training for this marathon, and I love running now more than I ever have before. I'm proud of my long runs, my faster times, my hill workouts, and my determination to run every run, even if it means pushing through shin splints and tight quads and sleep deprivation to do it.

I just apologize to all of you who have been, and who will become, victims of this pride as I show off my rotting toe to friends, family and coworkers alike. Thanks for humoring me, thanks for your support, and thanks for not threatening to vomit on my feet if I make you examine The Toe one more time.

You're the best.

friday favorites

Oh Friday Favorites, I've neglected you. And not for lack of favorites, because I have many. Life is good indeed.

- Cruising through the countryside of southern Minnesota with the windows down, Mr. S. in the passenger seat and Wagon Wheel blaring out of the speakers
- Training so hard that I find myself eating lunch at 10am... and again at 2pm... with snacks in between.
- Researching readings and poems and lyrics and sayings, and brainstorming how they'll work themselves into our marriage ceremony (which will take place just ten months from yesterday, by the way).
- Hearing Nathaniel Rateliff at the Turf Club, after Juicy Lucy's at The Nook.
- Having my brother and future sister-in-law in town and sitting around the dinner table with my entire family.
- Knowing that in SIX SHORT DAYS I'll be standing front and center at First Ave as my mind is blown

cactus emergency plan

In my parents' house lives a very large cactus. Seven feet tall and so girthy I can't get my arms around it. My dad drove it home from California about thirty years ago when it was just a wee cactus, not the monstrosity it is today. At Christmas my mom puts red velvet bows all over its prickly branches. It's a special plant.

It also tends to fall over once and while, when it gets too fat and sassy to hold itself up. Then commences a laborious, well-practiced ordeal of wrapping it in a sheet, rolling it outside, trimming it down, re-potting it, rolling it back in and admiring its slimmer self. The best part about the trimming? Lots of baby cacti, all given away to friends and family. Oddly enough, at the ripe age of 25, I've never been on the receiving end of one of these special plants. Until now.

My parents came home from vacation a couple weeks ago to a toppled cactus, and when I went to visit last weekend I brought one of its unruly offspring home with me. It's a wee version indeed, but still required a cart to haul it upstairs, and was met by an inquisitive look from Mr. S. But now it sits in our living room, soaking up the sun, awaiting the day when it will follow in its mothers' footsteps and require us to invent our own Cactus Emergency Plan.

I can't wait to decorate it with little bows come Christmastime.

undercover

Covert grilled cheese delivery? Why can't Minneapolis have something like this? Or, undercover pie delivery? I love food.

double rainbow

Apparently this is old news in the world of internet phenomenons, but it's new to me, so that makes it post-worthy (well, that and the fact that work has been all-consuming and therefore using up all of my writing brainpower before I can get to my beloved little blog).

So if you haven't seen this video, enjoy. I think it's quite amusing. And if you have, well, watch it again.

well-earned

My lunch today? A chocolate-banana shake and "big" Italian sub from Potbelly. My running-packed weekend has me craving ice cream and meat, so this is about as satisfying as a meal can get right now. Over the last few months I've decided that training for a marathon not only earns me the right to eat more than 1,600 calories in one meal, but also the right to nap every day, drink lemonade until my belly hurts, force conversations about running on people who don't really care (and expect endless accolades and appropriately-time astonished gasps), and receive daily foot rubs (I'm still waiting for this last item to materialize).


I just realized you could replace "running-packed," "training for a marathon" and "running" with "gestation-filled," "being pregnant" and "babies" and that paragraph would still make complete sense. Maybe pregnant women and marathoners should form support groups. Or eating clubs.

pie and the likes

All this running has me craving pie like no other. Cherry pie, blueberry pie, apple pie... and other pie-like things, like peach cobbler and rhubarb crisp. If you put a pie in front of me right now I would do some serious damage. And it doesn't help that I work on the Pie Account at work, so I'm looking at gorgeous photos of mouthwatering pies all day long, reading recipe after torturous recipe. Oh pie, you are such a tease.

So, in honor of my (lifelong but currently ramped-up) obsession, here are some inspiring recipes that I just may have to make some time soon...

Cherry Fried Pie and Peach and Blueberry Crumble from Ezra Pound Cake
Peach Cobbler from My Baking Addiction
Rhubarb Crisp from Epicurious
Caramel-Apple Streusel Pie from Pillsbury
Best Blueberry Pie from The Bitten Word

cream is my biffel

I love cream. Oh so very much. One of my favorites foods is Special K topped with fresh peaches, blueberries and honey, with cold whipping cream poured all over. My mouth is watering as we speak. Be still my saliva.

Anyway, while building a list of food blogs for work today, I stumbled across this recipe for Sweet Cream. I've had trouble focusing ever since. All I can think about is getting out of work as soon as possible, sprinting home and whipping this up, eating it with the fresh berries that were just delivered from my farm share. Heaven on a spoon.

If you love cream too, I think you should make this recipe.

That is all.

Wait, no it's not. What's "biffel," you ask? Technically, it's BFFL. Best Friend For Life. I refuse to say "BFF," but I love me some Biffel. Biffel is one of three acronyms I allow myself to use in everyday speech, along with BTW (but only in writing!) and BFD. I only use LOL, OMG and TTYL when mocking.

Fascinating, I know.

hottt

The weather's been hot, the World Cup has been hot, running's been hot, my social life has been hot. I'm hoping all this heat makes up for the cold shoulder I've been giving my blog. Probably not, but hey, I can try.

You know what else is hot?

These. Can you picture them in fuchsia? I can. And it's wondrous.


Also hot? Forlán. Uruguay, I was rooting for you, I really was. But if anyone had to beat you, I suppose the country that hosts one of the coolest cities I've ever been to will do.


Lastly, all this hot weather has turned my rooftop "garden" into Basil Heaven. Sweet, Lemon and Thai, to be exact. And tonight Mr. S. and I are experimenting with the Thai variety. Stir-fry anyone?

madness

Life has been slightly crazy lately... some good crazy and some bad crazy, but generally just plain crazy... hence an entire ten days without a post. Oh no!

And though life has slowed down a little this week, I still have an endless to-do list to plow through before the holiday weekend. So for now all I can give you is a little recap of the past couple weeks and a promise to get back on the wagon.

Life's Recent Highlights (in words and photos):

- Spending a weekend on the shores of Lake Superior with an absolutely fantastic group of people
- Watching two amazing friends commit themselves to each other with the most beautiful vows I have ever heard
- Dancing so hard to The World' Best Playlist that my entire body still hurts two days later
- Lots of pie
- Lying on the beach with three old friends, laughing about old memories and making new ones
- Clam chowder and lobster and red wine and watching the sun set over the harbor
- Dozing in a beach chair as the late afternoon sun warmed my skin and ocean waves crashed in time with "England"
- Runs along the shores of Cape Cod and through the muddy trails of northern Minnesota
- Dinners of beer and green veggies from our farm share
- Beautiful weather all around

reunited and it feels so good

I'm off to Cape Cod for the weekend to reunite with my three college roommates. A little "girlfriend getaway" of sorts. The itinerary? Run, lie on the beach, drink cocktails, eat dinner, laugh, sleep. Repeat. I've been looking forward to this for months and am so, so happy it's finally here. I'll provide photos and tales next week. Happy almost weekend!

goldfish boobs

I recently read I am not myself these days, a memoir by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. I loved it. It made me laugh out loud, made me cringe, saddened me, fascinated me and pulled me in. I mean, a real life NYC drag queen with aquarium breasts? How could it not?

food blogs = pornographic?

Yes, it's true. My job often requires me to look through food blogs. This has turned out to be both a blessing and a curse -- I really, really love food, making this task feel as naughty as looking at internet porn at work, but on the other hand, at 4pm when I'm about ready for Lunch #2, I have to be careful not to drool on my desk.

Today I found a lovely little gem called Ezra Pound Cake. This woman knows her food. Cooking, baking, sauteing, she's got it down. Awesome recipe after awesome recipe. And, she has wit to boot.

"Sausage Balls. The culinary equivalent of taking your top off."

Ezra Pound Cake, you are officially bookmarked.

friday favorites: wedding excuses

Already having four awesome weddings on the calendar for 2011, and four awesome weddings to attend yet this year...

... and having eight great excuses to shop around for shoes like these.

Happy, happy weekend everyone!

thirsty indeed

I am loving myself some Reed's Ginger Brew that I picked up at Trader Joe's last week. Yum. A perfect post-soccer game drink and a lovely dose of ginger. Yes please.

I'm also loving myself the anticipation of some lady time tonight, complete with cocktails and lots of laughter, I'm sure. And, since it's Bike Walk Week here in Minneapolis, I'll be biking my butt the entire 2.1 miles there, which means I can get my buzz on. Thirsty Thursday indeed.

sex and soccer

"Sex, in other words, is just one of many factors that will determine who will win and who will lose at this year's World Cup."

Hmm.

talk of the town

After a fairly brutal four-day week that felt like a regular fiver, drinks, good food and great company were much deserved. Mr. Rain forgot to check my social calendar before coming in to town, so plans to eat at Sea Salt were postponed for the second time this summer. Luckily, I was more in the mood for a fried egg sandwich than I was for fish tacos anyway, so dinner at the Town Talk Diner hit the spot. Multiple spots, actually. It's hard to go wrong with their cheese curds, Jameson Ginger, fried egg sandwich and adult milkshakes. Delicious indeed.

friday favorites

green tea ice cream. peonies. sun bleached hair. june. upcoming dinners at sea salt and "girlfriend getaways" in cape cod and weddings on the shore of lake superior. farmers markets. rooftop gardens. bogos at lunds. eating piles of pork and drinking pitchers of bell's with best friends at brasa. air conditioning. summer hours.

libation lubrication

Cook to Bang. A saucy little blog that's all about seductive recipes.... including, of course, decision-inhibiting cocktails. My favorites? The Mo' Mojo Mojito, Hottie Toddy and Bangarita.

los angeles

Oh my. I went on vacation and didn't even warn you! Nor did I line up any posts to be published in my absence. Shame on me.

I did have a great long Memorial Day weekend though, visiting my brother and future sister-in-law in Los Angeles. Below is a photographic representation of the trip's highlights, including lots of ethnic food, beach time, and family (and canine!) bonding.