Wednesday, January 4, 2012

You gonna eat that?

I am not hungry.

I am not hungry.

I am not hungry.

Okay. I'm hungry. Really hungry. Hungry and have been hungry all day hungry.

I didn't skip any meals. I didn't skip any between meal snacks. I didn't skip any between meal snacks snacks.

And now it's time to come up with a plan for dinner.

But here's the thing. Today is one of those days where I don't have a single good idea about food or dinner or eating and that's exactly why I'm hungry right now.

Some years ago, amidst the piles of fad diets that come out all the time, one emerged that encouraged you to follow your hunger. If you wanted peanut butter, eat peanut butter. Cheese? Eat cheese. Peanut butter spread on cheese and eaten while balancing on one foot over the sink in your kitchen? Sure thing. It's all yours.

I have no idea if it really worked or works, but I do know that, on days like this where I eat kind of aimlessly, I'm never full. 

Which is making it feel like the bar has been raised on coming up with a dinner plan.

It also means that I'm really, really, really sorry that all the good Christmas candy is gone.


Tuesday, January 3, 2012

What are you gonna do?

Like most everyone, there are a lot of things that I can't look back on without cringing.

And, no, I don't mean that in the non-literal sense. I'm talking actually, physically cringe inducing.

There are friendships that should have been maintained. Purchases that should have remained cash in my bank account. Jobs I should have likely taken or quit far earlier than I did. Opportunities I should have pursued, obstacles I should have observed and advice I should have listened to.

I should have said "no" more often than I like to think about.

Which is not to throw any shade on the "yeses" that make me very happy, not the least of which being my decision to accept a ride from Baltimore to Philadelphia and a dinner invitation from the man who would one day find himself being referred to as "Leopold" on this blog.

In all honesty, that one probably ranks as the "most of which", if such a thing exists (1).

But, this evening I'm thinking about that road not taken that gets talked so much about. Mostly, I'm wondering if it ever really existed to begin with.

More often than not, when I think of the things that I could have done, or the things that I maybe should not have done, I can still really clearly trace how it is that I would still have ended up in this little attic office, trying to keep my feet warm and listening to Finklestein snoring in her bed.

See, when the marker of another year passing is my birthday, I tend to freak out a little. It makes me anxious. I tend to serve myself a nice cold glass of regret with my cake. New Year's has generally been the same way. A big red "X" for the calendar where we're all supposed to gather around and come up with a list of resolutions for how we will be better in the New Year.

I'm going to be thinner, better read, a better cook, a better housekeeper. I'm going to get a promotion or quit my job or take more trips.

One that I've seen quite a bit this year has been to get off Facebook and spend more times with friends and relatives in the real world.

But even that last one is about fixing something...too many resolutions spring up from what we see as our shortfalls and shortcomings.

The past can't be changed and no one deserves to spend the opening months of the year scolding oneself for decisions made by someone your current self might not entirely recognize.

I will never be on a 30 under 30 list (2) for my writing. This year I'm deciding that that's okay. All I can do is start this New Year as a New Year. All I can do is say "yes" and "no" and "whoa, no thank you, please step away from the car" while thinking more about the future than the past.

Except, of course, for one particular Philly to Baltimore road trip (3).

1. No. I'm not just saying that because you read the blog. No, I'm not. No, I'm not. No. No. No. Stop it.
2. Fine. Or 40 under 40.
3. Yeah. That one was on purpose.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Winter of a lot of discontent.

The other day I made an innocent comment on the dreaded Facebook about a certain celebrity chef who, in a perfect world, I believe would live next door to me and be my best friend.

First, to be clear, this statement was made while sitting on the couch watching said celebrity chef put together a counter full of food that looked far superior to anything that was going to happen in our kitchen without, say, my actually standing up. And, really, that wasn't about to happen.

So, really what I wanted was not so much a new best friend, but for the celebrity chef to live next door and bring me food while I sat on my couch.

But where's the poetry in that?

Time passes and then, someone who serves to often be a reminder of the fact that you do not get to choose your family, decided to post a blog entry that someone wrote regarding the celebrity chef and her decision not to participate in a Make a Wish foundation wish. It was, as these things are, accompanied by a snide comment.

Why would someone do this?

Perhaps he was concerned that I would actually sell my house and set in motion a scheme to live next door to the celebrity chef?

Perhaps he too hopes to one day become her best door neighbor so that they can enjoy theme brunches together and he wanted to throw me off the trail?

Or, perhaps he was, once again, being kind of a jerk on my Facebook page.

Irony of this entire exchange is that this particular relative is a tri-corner hat sporting member of the Tea Party which means that I'm to feel moral outrage that Celebrity Chef won't do a cooking lesson for the Make a Wish Foundation while Tea Party Relative is advocating for political candidates who don't care whether the children who are making wishes actually have access to healthcare.

Moral outrage is a funny thing.