An open letter to the pretty girl in the grocery store parking lot

Dear pretty girl with the long, straight brown hair and sad eyes,

I wish I knew your name so that I could properly address this letter.  You will likely never read this blog, but if by some miracle you do, I want you to know that I care about you.

You probably don’t remember me, as it has been many months since we’ve last seen each other.  We have been acquainted on three different occasions.  The first was when I was leaving Trader Joe’s last fall.  I was a few feet from my car when you approached me with an apologetic look and asked if I needed my windshield washed.  You were holding some newspaper and a spray bottle of blue liquid, and you were looking at the ground while you spoke.  I politely smiled and said no thanks, not today.  I was in a rush and had to be somewhere else soon.  I don’t remember how true my excuse was that day, but chances are my rush was probably just to continue down my list of errands so that I could get home before my puppy caused too much trouble in the house by herself.

Finding a new meaning: “I’m sorry for your loss”

Losing something you love can be excruciating, but losing someone you love can be downright unbearable.  I was fortunate enough to never experience that kind of pain as a child.  To never feel the bottoming out of your stomach that comes when you lose someone unexpectedly.

Losing my great grandparents all in their late 90s seemed like an expected passage and their long lives were celebrated rather than mourned.  I was well into my 20s before I lost a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or friend, and I fortunately still haven’t experienced the loss of a parent, sibling, child or spouse.  I remember seeing the heart-wrenching pain on people’s faces when I attended funerals when I was younger for friends who lost their parents or siblings.  I did my best to understand and sympathize, but that kind of agony is incomprehensible if you haven’t lived through it.

A fair trade: One forever home for one life lesson

Life lessons don’t transpire every day.  My last one was passed down from a remarkable 95 year old that I am privileged enough to call Grandma.  This one came from an 8 month old puppy.

Harlan and I recently added a 7^th member to our family- an 8 month old, pit bull-lab mix who we named Sergeant Pepper.  Our tally now stands at 2 humans, 2 dogs and 3 cats, and much to Harlan’s delight, we finally have a second Y chromosome in the family.  We always wanted two dogs, but Lita’s addition was so unplanned that we never came to a consensus about when the right time would be for pup #2.  I was advocating for sooner rather than later, but Harlan thought it was best for Lita to be older and better trained before bringing another dog into the mix.  I agreed to (try to) be patient about it, but proceeded to not-so-secretly check out the animal shelter website daily, thinking that if I could just find the right dog, Harlan would give in.  Every now and again I would call Harlan over to the computer.  He would patiently read about a dog that I had my eye on and listen to all the reasons why that dog would be perfect.  Then he would apologetically smile and say “I just don’t think that now is the right time”.  The right time for what, ripping my heart out and stomping on it?  Because you seem to have no problem with that!  Moving on…

Lessons from Zelda: Living each day like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Backpacking through Europe.  Meeting your soul mate.  Landing your perfect job.  Getting into your first choice college.  Buying your dream house.  Winning tickets to the sold out game or concert that you are dying to go to.

There are many things that we may classify as once in a lifetime opportunities.  Perhaps they are things that we never thought we’d be able to do, or things that we have dreamt about and planned for since we were young.  Maybe they are things that never even crossed our minds until they were staring us in the face, and then they were just too good to pass up.  Most of us will have a few in our lives, if we’re lucky.  But you know what they say, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity”.

So what is an opportunity anyway? 

Is a “Sometimes” Runner a “Real” Runner? One ultramarathoner’s struggle with an imposter complex.

I always feel like I’m faking it.  I have lived my entire life behind the mask of an imposter complex.  I do my best to play the role, but I’m really not funny or nice enough to have the friends that I have, not smart enough to have earned the degrees that I found in my garbage pail, and not pretty enough to have scored the stud-muffin cool guy who has been living with me for 9 years.  But more than anything, this complex certainly does a great job at showing up when it comes to running.

Runners always fascinated me.  I didn’t know any growing up, but I had an image of what it was to be a real runner.  Real runners had perfectly fit bodies, they were full of energy and yet quiet and peaceful, they were in tune with their bodies and the environment, they were gentle and kind, they were determined and hard workers.  I was nothing like a runner, but I wanted to be. 

I have always hated computers…

For anyone following or occasionally checking up on this blog, you have probably noticed that there have been very few postings this past month.  It is not due to laziness or lack of things to post, it is because my computer is knocking on death’s door and only allows me about 5-10 minutes of continuous use before it threatens to give up on life.  But I’m hoping to be back into the swing of things with either a healthier and/or entirely different word processing machine soon, so please don’t give up on me and come check things out again hopefully next week!

54 Reasons Why I Will Unabashedly Continue Calling My Pets My Children Until I Have Human Babies (and probably even after)

I am obsessed with animals.  Obsessed.  I always have been.  When I was in kindergarten, I had a folder full of pictures of cute animals that I would cut out of magazines.  The 5 year old boy in class who liked me used to give me puppy pictures as a way of winning my heart.  When asked to do an assignment in grade school about someone that we looked up to and wanted to be like, I chose Fern Arable from Charlotte’s Web, because I wanted to be able to talk to animals.  Several of my pets growing up were the result of me begging for them, crying in pet stores, or just bringing them home without permission.  I used to donate almost all of my allowance and paper route money to animal rights groups, refused to kill spiders and instead caught them and put them safely outside, had a room full of stuffed animals and books about animals, and couldn’t see through my bedroom window because it was entirely covered in the stickers that were sent to me by the animal rights groups that I donated all my money to.  My love for animals is what caused me to go vegetarian when I was younger, and eventually turn vegan as an adult (although those decisions have since been solidified by many health, economical and environmental reasons).  When I was 20 and working with the civil engineering department of the City of Rochester one summer (random job, long story), I was supervising some work being done on the Erie Canal Trail.  I completely shut down operation for a couple minutes while I moved several snails to safety and while 5 construction workers sat back and had a good laugh.

Do they give out awards for most innovative accolade storage container?

Moving is never fun.  Perhaps that is why Harlan always finds a way to weasel out of most of it most of the time.  During our 9+ years of togetherness, we have shared four different residences in three different states.  Our first cohabitance (yes, I totally just made up that word and can’t believe it doesn’t already exist) was a studio loft apartment in Alfred, NY, where we lived for two years.  Fourteen foot ceilings, huge windows, dead center of Main Street, a shower barely large enough for me to raise my arms… I really loved that apartment.  Next, we packed up and moved 900 miles into a four-plex in Missouri.  Five years later, it was another 900 miles to our cute rent-to-own house in Albuquerque.  Despite our intentions to rent-and-then-own, that house was ultimately not meant to be and we moved a year later when we became first time homeowners (only about 1 mile this time!).

So with all this moving, trekking across the country, cleaning and sorting, packing and unpacking…how did we end up with boxes upon boxes of junk that have continued to travel with us despite the fact that we don’t know what’s in half of them? 

Corn salsa with cilantro and lime

We usually make this salsa to put on burritos, but we almost always have left-overs and end up eating it with chips.  It is delicious on its own and tastes great on a burrito, so eat it whichever way you please!  But if you are eating it on its own, I recommend also adding black beans and chopped avocado.  They are not included here because we add them as separate components on our burritos.

Nutritional yeast

Nutritional yeast is a wonderful pantry staple for everyone, but especially for anyone who is lactose intolerant or vegan and still wants a little cheesiness in their foods.  It is an inactive yeast that is sold as yellow flakes and has a cheesy, nutty flavor.  It is not the same as bread yeast; it is deactivated, so it won’t grow and won’t leaven.  It is also not the same as brewer’s yeast; nutritional yeast is usually grown on molasses, so it is not at all bitter.  It can be sprinkled on anything from pasta and pizza and burritos to popcorn and scrambled tofu and baked potatoes.  It is often sold in the bulk section of stores like Whole Foods or Sprouts, or it is sold in containers in the supplement aisle.  It is a complete source of protein, containing all of the essential amino acids, and is a great source of B-complex vitamins.  It is often fortified with B12, which is very important for people eating plant-based diets.