FSM is back.

You heard me right… FSM (the Free Scarf Movement) is back!

I’ve recently discovered that wool and I are not good friends. I love to knit with it, and it’s wonderful up until the point where I try to wear it for any extended period of time. Then the itching starts. First it’s just moderately annoying, but soon the itch become overwhelming and I have to take it off.

This bad for me, but good for you. Let me explain a bit. I have a bunch of yarn at home that is all wool. It’s not just regular old wool too; it’s really nice wool. And, it’s not just wool! Apparently, I can’t wear alpaca either (I totally suck). It’s simply too bad that I can’t wear it. Therefore, I’ve got a couple very nice scarves stored away that I will never be able to wear, and that’s where you come in. I can’t use these scarves, so you guys benefit. I am giving away this very nice lacy scarf. It’s very light, great for wearing during warmer weather. It’s about 170cm (67″) long and approx. 16cm (6″) wide and made from a very nice rust-coloured alpaca lace-weight yarn using this Knitty pattern.

Want to win it? Leave a comment on this post, and I’ll pick one lucky person to get this scarf for free. I’ll pay for the shipping and send it off sometime next month. Hmm… you don’t have to do anything for me, but it’d be nice if you did. In fact, if you suggested something you might do for me in exchange for winning the scarf, it might help me pick you… Maybe… I try to make these things fair, and I don’t want to feel like people are bribing me to win!

The scarf is really light, so I don’t have a problem mailing it overseas, if any of you are wondering. Actually, I don’t have a problem mailing any of my free scarves overseas, so please participate overseas friends!

Oh right… I should have a deadline or something. I’ll collect comments until… the end of the month! Haha… I want to get plenty of comments. I’m a big old comment whore!

hello summertime.

This Sunday, we finally got up early enough to make it to the SJ Farmer’s Market. It’s a small market, but it’s within walking distance and we can store up on fresh produce for the week. Well, that’s the idea anyway. Most often, we end up buying fruit that gets eaten the same day, and vegetables that get used within the first few days of the week.

Apparently this past Sunday was Red Sunday, and we bought lots of Red food.

To be honest, I have a hard time resisting red things. I see red tomatoes that are this red and plump and I can’t help myself. I have to take out the camera. I have to photograph it. If only I had a spray bottle to mist them before shooting them. Then that would have been really a nice photo! I suppose I could have done that at home, but I was simply too lazy and the tomatoes were gone before we knew it.

I have always had a weak spot for strawberries, and Sunday was certainly no exception. We bought a pint of these, polished it off within hours of buying them, and wished we’d had the foresight to buy more. They were incredibly juicy and sweet, yet still firm and lovely. Perfect. Simply perfect.

And with that, I welcome summer into my life with open arms. These are just a couple signs that it’s just about here. The weather may not be right there yet, but it’s getting so close. Hello, skirts and dresses everyday. Hello, sunny days. Hello, fresh fruit and vegetables. Hello, summertime.

[daily write] compromise.

“Only one of us can leave here alive.”

We sat facing each other, two girls with identical features, slim forearms resting on the table. The cold, heavy revolver lay between our hands, the dark metal seemingly sucking in our reflections on the smooth surface. Staring intensely at the other girl, I wondered how it had come to this. We had been such good friends, but here we were, still playing a game that had gone too far.

At first it had been fun. She had a taste for games, and soon convinced me it would be fun to play them with her. It started innocently enough, but they got more and more dangerous, and soon I found my life so horrendously tangled with hers that there was no way out. We had to find a solution.

She was the one who had thought up this new game that we played now. It felt familiar: one bullet, two girls, only one would walk away. I just hoped that I was going to be the one to win. I had never been good at compromise, so it was all or nothing. We couldn’t both exist in my mind. One of us had to go.

it’s not a meal without ____.

Friends make the world go round

Cuisines and cultures around the world are so different. Depending on where you’re from, you probably have a different idea of what makes a meal a meal. People eat all different kinds of food for their breakfasts, lunches, and dinners (or maybe you call it supper). A number of years ago, I read an article about a class of young children whose teacher gave them an assignment: they had to fill in the blank for the phrase, “It’s not a meal without _____.” The teacher told them to fill it in with what that they thought would make the difference between a snack and a meal.

What was very interesting was what they filled in. The answers varied very much. Some children filled in “meat” or “rice,” but some were more interesting and filled in “mom and dad “or “dessert.” I thought the article was incredibly interesting, especially because it was combined with the idea of children giving the answers. Somehow, that made me feel like their answers were more innocent and natural.

How would I fill in the blank? Hmm… that’s a good question. I would probably say “friends” or “other people.” I have a weird little quirk about eating by myself. Lately, I haven’t felt that it’s not really a meal unless I’m eating with other people.

So how would you fill in the blank? What makes a meal a meal for you?

[daily write] it was a learning experience.

Their relationship hadn’t been easy lately. They had been arguing more and more, over small details that one of them brought up. Was it still worth the fight to stay in a relationship like that? He hadn’t touched her in what felt like ages, and her body craved the physical affection. She could feel the yearning inside her, not just a carnal lust, but also the very human desire to feel attractive and beautiful.

Whatever happened with the relationship, maybe she could still get something out of the whole experience. Absently twirling a stray strand of hair around her fingers, she started to mentally list all the good things they had done together. They had travelled around the world together, staying in small hotels and eating at cafés where the locals went. They both had the innate ability to strike up conversations with strangers, and they constantly benefited from friendly advice while travelling. She had never been in a relationship with someone who was as glib as she was, and she appreciated the way they were able to play off each other’s sentences.

It hadn’t been all bad, their relationship. They might have their faults and fair share of miscommunication, but at some point they had been in love. What had happened to change all that, she wasn’t sure. She tried to look at the positive side of things, but the overwhelming feeling of failure and dissatisfaction cast a dark shadow in her mind.

In the distance, she could see the bus approaching the stop, and she stood, smoothing her skirt down against her legs. She caught a fellow bus passenger looking her up and down appreciatively, and it gave her a certain satisfaction inside. It felt good to attract a man, even if he was just a stranger. Now if only her boyfriend could see her the same way.

frank is the best ever.

It’s true. Frank really IS the best ever.

I’m turning 30 this year, and I’m already planning my ridiculous 30th birthday party bash. It’s going to be so awesome (you can tell I really mean it because it’s italicised). I already decided that I don’t want to have a big old fancy dinner somewhere and make all our friends come with us. No, I don’t want that. I don’t think it’s practical, and I have trouble catching up with people if everyone is sitting down and I can’t move around easily. Instead I want to have more of a party-like atmosphere maybe at a karaoke place where we can all sit around. Something definitely more relaxed than a sit-down dinner.

Frank and I were discussing this over lunch at a local Mexican place that we both like for a quick, cheap meal. I just had just finished detailing the social dynamic that I wanted at my party: casual, relaxed, easy to go around and talk to individuals. We’d both decided that we wished that it would be ideal if we could have a house party somewhere, but our flat was simply too small to accommodate our friends, and we surely didn’t have enough seating available anyway. We guessed that we would just have to have a karaoke party or something here on the west coast.

I was taking a bite out of my burrito pollo (no frijoles) when Frank casually suggested that we rent a beach house on Cape Cod (the same house where got married) and have a big party there. It took me a little bit to absorb what he said, but when I did, I broke out in this huge goofy smile and said, “Really?” He replied, “Sure! Why not? It’d be a good reason to take a trip back east.”

Oh my. I surely cannot attempt to explain how much love I felt radiating through my black little heart (black like my coffee) for Frank at that very moment. I couldn’t stop smiling, and he said that the look on my face was just sheer joy. People at neighbouring tables must have thought that I was positively enamoured with my burrito, the way I was glowing.

And so, we may be taking a trip back east to celebrate my birthday with our east coast friends, and nothing could make me a happier girl.

[daily write] clarity and concrete.

(I’ll keep posting them because D said he’d like me to. I missed a day, so here are two at once.)

Clarity

The first 15 minutes was always the hardest. Turning up the volume of her music, she felt the bass reverberate, drowning the sound of her footfalls. It was so difficult to keep going for that first mile; she kept wanting to stop and put herself out of what felt like utter misery. Breathing heavily, she felt her muscles resisting the motion, wanting to quit. Her chest felt tight, and she swung her arms back and forth to help loosen it. Glancing down at the digital display, she knew that this was all normal. She always wanted to stop and rest in the first 15 minutes, but if she kept going she would reach The Zone. She couldn’t stop, or she wouldn’t be able to reach it.

Ah, The Zone. She didn’t exactly know how it happened, but suddenly all her internal complaining went away. Her body would seem to float along, its limbs still moving, but the physical exertion not tiring her. The adrenaline would rush through her veins, and she would feel powerful, wonderful. She just had to get past that first 15 minutes to get to that point of clarity.

She silently mouthed the words to her favourite song, as it blasted into her ears. It was a great song to run to, and she smiled widely, positive that she looked like a huge dork at the gym. Suddenly, she felt it: The Zone. She was there. Her mind burst up through the clouds, rising triumphantly, sprinting ahead of her body at full speed.

——————————

Concrete

She burst out of the building and into the bright sunshine, her heels clicking skittishly on the hard walkway. Digging into her bag, she deftly pulled out a cigarette, delicately slipping it between her lips, leaving a slight red stain from her lipstick. Why couldn’t she just be cool in there? Some little thing he said just made her insides feel like they were being ripped apart, salty tears pressing behind her eyelids. She had smiled tightly, uttering her classic, “No, I’m okay,” from behind a clenched jaw. Then she had escaped, walking purposely out of there, hoping no one else could tell she was burning with rage and sadness on the inside.

Deeply inhaling smoke, she imagined the nicotine wisps heading to her brain, calming her immediately. She reached her car, but she kept walking, heading for a shaded concrete stairway behind the neighbouring building. Sitting on the cold stone, she put her hand gently on the surface, feeling how cool and smooth it was. That’s how she needed to be. She needed to be more like this stairway, instead of letting the fire flare up inside her at the slightest provocation. If only she wasn’t so emotional. If only she could hide her feelings behind a cool exterior, instead of letting every emotion flit across her face.

Slowly standing, she pulled one more deep breath of smoke into her lungs, closing her eyes briefly. Crushing the cigarette beneath the ball of her foot, she composed herself, smoothing the collar of her dress and checking her face in the faint reflection of the grimy surface of a window. Heels clicking purposefully, she strode back towards her car which beeped lightly at her arrival.

for the love of cabbage.

I like a lot of vegetables, but one of my favourites of all time is cabbage. Carrots and parsnips run closely behind cabbage. Why cabbage? WHY NOT. I think it’s one of those vegetables that is pretty much perfect. You can eat it raw, you can eat it cooked. It has a nice flavour and texture (to me anyway).

How ironic is this, but I have an Irish friend who is red-headed and loves all things Irish. She loves potatoes. She loves corned beef. But she hates cabbage. What? Yes, you did read that right. She absolutely hates it. She hates the smell of it, the taste of it, even the way it looks. I love it infinitely more than she does, and I will readily eat all her cabbage for her in an instant.

I’m one of the weirdos who orders corned beef and cabbage, eats ALL of the cabbage, and leaves a ton of corned beef behind. Frank seems to happily pick up my leftovers for me. Of course, this arrangement makes him very happy, and he loves eating my meat leftovers. It always seems to work out.

What’s your favourite vegetable? Any weird ones out there that you think I should try? I think I’ll experiment with rutabaga sometime soon. I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those before.

PS - I changed my banner up there. Like it?

PPS - Do you guys like reading my Daily Write entries? I’m considering not posting them anymore.

[daily write] these boots are made for walking.

She was a romantic at heart, always asking couples how they met, wishing her own relationship was magical and wonderful. Then again, was anyone’s relationship really everything other people thought it was? Maybe other people’s relationships weren’t magical at all, and they were just like hers. Maybe her relationship was just normal.

Frowning, she absently fidgeted with a ruffle on the front of her dress, thinking about her boyfriend and the years they had spent together. They had met at a wild party, but when the DJ started playing a remix of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made For Walking” they had started to really connect on the dance floor. It was hot, they were both sweaty, and suddenly that sharp-edged voice was there, inching them closer and closer, listening to each other singing along at the top of their lungs. It had been a pivotal moment, and they had suddenly realised, laughing loudly, that they both loved Nancy Sinatra.

It had been a few years since that moment, and she counted out the anniversaries on the tips of her long, sturdy fingers, falling into a soft reverie of their laughs and love together. She wasn’t exactly sure when she had realised that things weren’t as magical as she thought they would be, but she had suddenly come out of the clouds and seen all the faults between them. Maybe it would still work out if they both tried, but she felt dissatisfied with the way things had gone, the way they had both grown apart. They were different people now, their personalities diverging slightly with time.

She couldn’t figure out what to do with the relationship. Should they take a break? Would it help things if they did? Would they ever get back together? Had they “wasted” their time together? Could they still evolve together?

Softly humming the tune of the Nancy Sinatra track, she wondered if she would ever be strong enough to walk away from the idea of love they had together. She had such a hard time letting go of it. She was, after all, a romantic.

almost a year.

Under the technicolour umbrella

At the end of this month, I will be celebrating my one-year anniversary for running. Just around Memorial Day last year, I decided to take up running and I’ve somehow managed to actually keep it up since then. This is really embarrassing, but before I started running, I was terrifically out of shape. Getting on the treadmill for 20 minutes used to make me really tired, even just walking somewhat briskly. I had to work up to walking at 4mph, a 15 minute mile. I used to get winded at 3.5mph. That’s sad isn’t it?

I’ve noticed my progress steadily moving along. I can now run at 5.5 mph; it’s been a slow and steady climb from a mere 4.5 mph. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s a huge accomplishment for me. Even now, I think 5.5mph is starting to feel a bit slow, so I’ll have to ramp up to 5.7 or 5.8mph. I’ve gone from running 1-1.5 miles a day to almost getting up to 3 miles a day. That might not really sound like much to people who run a lot, but it’s a huge step up for me, going from zero miles a week to an average of 11 miles a week. Jeez, just saying “11 miles” seems like a lot to me, but it’s not really!

It’s been amazing, to be honest. It never occurred to me that I might be able to push my body to do these things. Other people, maybe, but never me! I just could not understand the idea of setting physical goals and the satisfaction of reaching them. It’s always been a lot easier for me to set more academic or career-oriented goals for my life. This recent experience with setting and reaching fitness goals has been eye-opening. It just proves that my mom was right: I can do anything if I have enough desire.

And now I have a question for you, lovely readers. What should I do to celebrate my little running anniversary? I’ve been thinking about buying myself a new video game (hello GTA4 madness!!) so I can properly celebrate by gluing myself to the TV and sofa for weeks on end. Maybe I will reward myself with earrings or a new bracelet? Hmm… I feel like I should really do something nice for myself.