Floating Hogs, Perfect Meals and Happy Scars

Last weekend I ventured out into the overcast city in search of supplies for my long awaited red wine steak. I was absolutely thrilled that it wasn't pouring rain! The sky was threatening to open-up at any moment, but only a light mist came down.

For me, when their is a weather forecast for rain and instead it is dry, that is like a snow day for a school kid! I feel as though I have somehow gotten one over on mother nature, I have a day full of possibilities and freedom from the misery of a drenched city to sludge around in.

Anyways, it was with this sense of elation that I set-off. I wandered down 5th Avenue to the Madison Market, which turned-out to be a total bust. Lots of crafty boothes and about four restaurants with tent offerings. I bought a cider doughnut for a dollar, just to try this much lauded Autumn treat. It was terrible! It tasted to me like an overdose of baking powder. Ugk... On to Union Square and my beloved Trader Joe's. The rain was playing games with me as I trudged along, picking-up and then going back to a mist. It became humorous to me as I relaxed into the belief that it was simply toying with me and no severe storm was coming.

I bought a bottle of my favorite white, a Spanish sparkling wine at the wine shop and a bottle of tempranillo with a fantastic picture of a floating hog. Now, I was not going to purchase a young, light Spanish red. I was making steak! I was thinking something a bit more full-bodied. I put the pig down, but I just could not walk away! That apathetic floating hog captivated me! Fuck-it, the hog pleased me and I was sure the steak would be fine!Next door I did battle with the crowds at the TJ's and my anxiety grew about the sheer volume of groceries I would have to carry home!

I left the Joe's with what felt like a bag of boulders and grunted my way over to the East Village Meat Market. What a place! The little butcher shop was immaculately clean and a Young polish man was standing there feeding us all perogi's. They were fabulous and I made sure to tell him so.

I asked the butcher if they had tri-tip steak or triangle roast, he told me in his thick polish accent that they did not. I asked him what the closest cut was that he did have and he proceeded to pull out a rump roast. He cut exactly the portion I wanted and trimmed it beautifully. I was worried about the cost, but my hunk o' meat came to just $7.54. Elated, I drug my bag of goodies over to the bus stop on 1st Avenue for my final ride home.

The sky's did open-up on Saturday night, just after I had my groceries put away and my mis en plas together for our steak dinner. Ahhhh, what a great day!

I cut the steak into three smaller steaks, patted them dry and rubbed each one with salt and fresh cracked pepper. I seared them on the range until they were crisp and caramelized, then put the entire skillet into the oven above the crisping sweet potato fries. Pulling out the sizzling skillet, even with a towel and hot pad, burned the shit out of my hand, the battle scare of which has lasted me all week in various states of healing. Never-the-less, I soldiered-on, deglazing the pan with red wine and finishing the sauce with two generous pads of butter. The resulting dish was spectacular. The sauce was so rich and flavorful, D. would have licked the pan had it not been searing hot! The steak was flavorful and moist. This dish made me realize how much can be done with a simple hunk of meat!

I attended Beard on Books at the James Beard House yesterday with Kaitlin and promptly fell in love with the organization. Perhaps I can find a way to join, despite the high membership fees!

The joy of creating that dish, with the searching and cooking and surprising results has stayed with me this week. Every time I look down at my nasty scarred finger I smile. It is a battle wound in the truest sense, a badge of honor in my pursuit of culinary adventure. Sometimes I step outside of myself and say "How could you possibly want to dedicate your life to food? That is going to get so boring!" I suppose that seems like it could be true, but in everyday moments it is what I think about, in the pursuit of adventure it is my vehicle, the joy of creating one simple, perfect meal carries me along. So maybe it will be enough. Perhaps this passion is about more than the calories we put in our mouths.

As I reflect on this, I continue to see food as The Great Equalizer, as the one thing that is needed and enjoyed world wide. It is a window into a culture, into the homes of those around the globe. I began my Eating and Cooking Around the World blog on Sunday. My first country is Korea, as my friend Kyung invited me to Baden Baded for dinner on Monday. My experience has been chronicled in said blog and I plan on going to K-town for ingredients this weekend. My recipe of the week, courtesy of Korean inspiration is short ribs and spicy rice cakes. We will see how I fare!

This weekend I am going to take Gus out for a birthday drink, go shopping in Ktown, explore Brooklyn (again) at the Brooklyn Flea and perhaps a Halloween party. We'll see. I missed my EWI Chinese dinner in Flushing last weekend, it was just too far, too expensive and I just plain didn't feel like it! I still have gotten out and enjoyed my friends and my city, so perhaps my plans need not be set in stone! My life plans certainly arnt!

I have been advanced to the next round of selections for the Foreign Service Officers selection process, meanwhile I have applications out at 9 different graduate schools, 3 different disciplines, I am starting a new job in 3 weeks and I could not be happier! I feel like the pieces of my life and passion and skills are going to come together in ways I can't even imagine yet. As I mentioned before, God is the Chef d'Cuisine of my life, I am merely trying to learn how to enjoy it. In that vein, thank God tomorrow is Friday!

Sick Days and Dog Dream Guilt

Here I am, in bed at 1pm on a Wednesday. No, I am not dying, yes, I am feeling ill.

Monday I was feeling under the weather, but because my boss was not around to make me miserable, I made it through the day. Tuesday I debated coming to work, and decided to test myself to see if I was sick or just trying to get out of work (I know I have problems). I got up at 6am for pilates, they made me feel a bit better, so I went in for a half day. I felt guilty leaving early, but I still was feeling a bit run-down. I lounged all day, ate some food, and went to bed at 9:00.

This brings me to this morning, up at 6am for spinning and it seems my head and tummy are already there. I am not well. I weigh myself to find that I have gained 3lbs, true motivation to get to that class! I really can't though, so I crawl back into bed with a whimper and tell myself that there is an evening class if I am up to it.

So far today I have gotten out of bed only to shower and call the office to let them know I will not be joining them, and again about an hour ago when I decided to straighten-up and grab my laptop. Sitting was not the right move, so here I am back in bed.

I really don't know what is wrong with me, nausea and light headaches and overall fatigue. Basically, I don't feel good. I have be raked with guilt over missing some work the last two days. I constantly wonder if I am just being lazy and avoiding a job I hate. Gus tells me I have issues. I tell her we have the same guilt issues, just over different things.

Uggh, it is gorgeous outside too! Going to be 70 today. I really hope I can get out and enjoy it a bit, but right now moving feels pretty bad. Maybe I will eat a plain bagel with a side of Aleive, perhaps that will fix me right up. For some reason I feel like I am not meant to be fixed right up, that this is a time of quiet for me that I have been missing.

I had a dream on Sunday night, a dream I have had before in various forms. I was going somewhere and suddenly realized, in horror, that I had forgotten about my dog. My poor dog had been living in my old house, alone, for a long time. This dog looked like my childhood pet Angel, but was named BabyD like my rottweiler from Ft. Campbell. In fact, the place in the dream looked a bit like the area off of 41A in Hopkinsville, KY. I found the dog and as I stroked it goodbye (apparently I was still leaving) someone said, "It's not good for a dog to be alone so much". The guilt and the sorrow of forgetting and neglecting this creature was overwhelming.

The sorrow lingered as I made my way toward the office on Monday morning. I have had dreams like this before, usually I find a cage under my bed with my old hamsters or guinea pigs in it, and I am shocked to find them alive, wondering if I have forgotten any others. This one was different though. My BabyD was like my child, the sorrow was so deep. What does it mean? What are these dreams really about?

There is something I am forgetting or leaving behind, something I am responsible for, something I love. But I am still leaving. I thought I had finally said goodbye to the South, to my past, to that simple life. I thought I had moved-on and embraced a new life, all my own. What did I forget? Why do I feel so guilty?

I know many people say dreams are just dreams, or that dreams are the subconscious way of working things out and are not to be interpreted. I suppose that this dreams seems different to me because nothing was resolved, the dream keeps coming back, but with greater intensity. It feels more like my subconscious is screaming at me with increasing volume, but I still can't make-out what is being said. Perhaps during my quiet day, in my soft prison of bed, it will come to me. Somehow I doubt it will be that easy.

Getting my Life Back and the Sad Little Face

Surprisingly D has only been home for 3 weeks. Knowing that makes me feel less terrible about the fact that I am only just starting to feel my life coming back together. I carved-out a rather nice life for myself while he was away, and for the first time I am feeling like he can fit into it.

The great weekend we had, the time together and the time apart, felt normal. I am excited about my weeks again and filling my weeks with adventures. This week I am taking him to a Bar game show night, possibly to the Free MoMa Friday and then possibly curling-up and relaxing on Saturday. Sunday I have an EWI dinner in Flushing, next Monday I am having dinner with a girlfriend and an editor from Savour, I have Beard on Books next week, the Brooklyn Kitchen book club and a bread baking class next month, whew! I'm baaaack.

I feel like I am me again, with him. Don't get me wrong, I curse him every time I put away laundry and his pile is bigger than mine, but it is nice to have someone to run around the city with.

It was a hard week last week. Not only with work, but with my family. My brother's struggles absolutely break my heart, and my mother's agony over it and her father makes me cringe. It is more of a heavy frown on my face and heart than an active pain. It feels heavy and sad, but I can't feel anymore than that, there are no tears, no fits of anger, just the heavy face. Just the reality of the sadness of the situation looking at me from inside. I wish I could cry or something, but I can't, it is content to just sit there and be. Nothing I can do to help, nothing I can do to fix, nothing I can do to protect. Just a sad face staring out at a sad, hurting family that it cannot touch.

That is my little family. The one being tossed side to side in a storm. I suppose I feel guilty for not being in the dangerous boat with them. It makes me sad, but I cannot feel anything. My mother's tears for her Daddy and her son, My brother's retreat and deep, deep sorrow. These are the two people I love most dearly in the world. These are the two my life would be destroyed without, so why do I feel nothing? Why is there just a heavy sad face looking out at their struggles? I suppose I will figure it out eventually.

I don't know, but at least I feel like I am wrapping my arms back around my own life, embracing my sad little face, and my joyful adventure seeking, and my bi-polar work weeks. All I can do for now is hold-on tight and try to enjoy the ride.

Soul Stealing Weeks and Triumphant Weekends

Last week was a BEAR! but it ended with a phenomenal weekend.

I did nothing last week outside of work, we ordered-in 2 or 3 times! I spent every last drop of my energy keeping my mouth shut, rather than letting the hot lava of uncensored truth come spewing out all over my boss's face! Whew! It was ugly. But somehow, somehow, I made it to Friday in one piece and still employed. (My week ended with a frantic search for dry ice, because my boss had decided to take her dead cat out of her freezer and finally bury her properly in Connecticut, yeah that kind of week.)

Friday night I left the office early with Gus for a quick drink at her place before we embarked on our weekends. Hers involving endless pre-wedding appointments and mine a food and real estate quest.

I decided to be more open minded about potential areas to live in, so I booked an appointment for D and I to head out to East Williamsberg to see a new 1 bedroom apartment. To be fair, I also scheduled an appointment to see a studio in the East Village later that afternoon. Along the way I planned for us to stop into the Brooklyn Kitchen for a mini-muffin pan for my cheese puff recipe for Sunday, to Trader Joe's for wine and to the East Village Meat Market for our dinner. On top of all that, I booked a consultation with a new broker for us. Ambitious? Crazy? Maybe. But miracle of miracles, we did it!

There were some definite snags along the way. We started our journey with a jaunt on the L train to Brooklyn, unfortunately, the train was running limited service and would not go out to the stop we needed. Hello shuttle bus. Ugh, I hate buses under the best circumstances, let alone when I am being packed-in. We finally made it to our stop (in Bushwick, not Williamsburg) and proceeded to walk to the 1 bed apartment. As we walked, the voice in my head was screaming NOOOOOOOOOO! I was trying to keep an open mind with the jaws of death at this point! No stores, no people, empty lots...... We did keep going and the apartment itself was quite nice. Large bedroom, decent living room, great kitchen, balcony, roof deck and even, gasp, a washer and dryer hookup.

Now, under normal circumstances, this description alone would be enough to give me an orgasm, but somehow all the things that matter to me loose their luster when they are located outside of my city. If it had been closer, if the neighborhood had been more vibrant, perhaps then I would consider it, but as it was, there was just no freakin way.

We climbed aboard the crowded bus, made a quick stop at the Brooklyn Kitchen (a great little shop) and dropped back down the rabbit hole, emerging once again in the soft light of Manhattan.
Next stop, East Village!

We wandered down to our next appointment, finding ourselves 30 minutes early, we decided to grab some lunch at a diner next to the apartment entrance. It was nice to catch my breath for a minute! We popped-out to view a small studio in the back of a building on Avenue A and 12th Street. It was small, but had a cute separate kitchen with new appliances and a great skylight that opened it up. We were both quite taken with it, despite the vast size difference, the EV studio still out-shown the Brooklyn giant. God I love this city!

We wandered back out onto the Avenue and headed up to the Flatiron district to meet our potential new brokers. At this point, I must say that I am incredibly impressed that my man has not only hung-in-there, but has not tried to cut anything short! No complains! What a catch!

We met the brokers, they gave us a few reality checks with a dollop of hope and scheduled viewings for November. Time to head down to T.J.'s and our final stop at the Meat Market.
We walked in the light drizzle that had started, still warm from our hours of wandering, and I for one, quite happy. We bought our wine and wandered down to the Meat Market. Foiled! It was closed.... the one thing we did not get to. Oh well! We boarded our bus and headed home. We ate take-out, watched some bad TV, and passed clean-out.

What a perfect Saturday! Just like last week. There is no way the entire weekend could go as planned, right? (last Sunday, we had a post-bliss blow-up in NJ, oh well)

Sunday dawned, and we prepared to go up to Harlem to Abyssinian Baptist Church. We made it, despite the bitter cold and wet weather, had an ok time (D enjoyed it, I fell asleep), bought some groceries and headed home. D helped me get the house ready for my EWI guests and then went to the movies as I began to cook. How nice to have the house to yourself sometimes.

My mini-macs were unspectacular, but it didn't matter, the wine and laughter flowed and I think the small group of us had a great time. D came back hours later to catch the tail-end of our festivities. I cleaned-up and we collapsed on the couch. Another well executed day!

The dull, misery of the week was conquered by the frenetic, joyful frenzy of the weekend, and though I don't feel well today, I still am filled with some excitement and I think the energy of the weekend is going to spill into this week.

Fantasy Dream Dates and Pasties

Saturday was my 3 year anniversary with D. Three Years! That is a long time. It began with my requisite sending-off of the aunt, but progressed beautifully from there. We had planned on having lunch, golfing at Chelsea Piers, shopping in Brooklyn, seeing a Broadway show, going to dinner and dancing at an 80's party. Quite ambitious, I know!

We started by walking up to Harold's Square to grab some sandwiches from Tom Coliccio's WichCraft. The weather was beautiful and we stopped to window shop on the way. We had grilled Gruyere and onion panini and chicken salad, both fantastic. We talked and laughed. From there we decided to detour up to Times Square to the TKTS booth to try and get tickets to a show. We waited for an hour in line only to find out that our first choices were not available. Burn the floor was available for $86 a piece, but as DeShon slid them his credit card, I asked him if we could just skip it and go to burlesque instead. I was so touched by his generosity, but really did not want him to spend the money on a show I didn't really want to see. I was certain he would be annoyed with me for keeping him in line for an hour for nothing, but he simply kissed my cheek and told me it was fine. The fantasy dream date continues!

We wandered back home, shopping and talking along the way, and decided to go see a movie before dinner. We got dressed, I made a reservation at DBGB, and we headed off to see Couple's Retreat. (He actually wanted to see it too! See why I love this guy?) The movie was good (not great, but really good) and we set-off to try and get an earlier table at DBGB.

The restaurant was packed and it took a sort of guerrilla warfare to get a table at the bar, but after some devious undercutting, I got the table. He picked the first course and I picked the second. We started with Autumn Squash soup and an iceberg, blue cheese salad. They were phenomenal. The soup was a life-changer with the complex flavors, beautiful foam and perfect texture. The salad, which I have never been a fan of, was executed to perfection. The blue cheese was subtly intense and the thin sliced iceberg made a perfect base. Honestly, the dishes together were a symphony. The tangy and sweet, overpowering and subtle, a very nice nod to the occasion.

For second courses I ordered the Frenchie Burger, a burger featuring pork belly, tomato confit and an onion bun, and the DBGB homemade hot dog. They both came with fries and were both good. Not the best hot dog and hamburger I had ever had (which for the price you would hope it would be) but very good none-the-less. The martini's and wine were also pitch perfect.

After dinner we flew uptown to see our burlesque show. We sat in the front row, close enough to see EVERYTHING, and it was delightful. The show was funny and entertaining and my face actually began to hurt from smiling so much! D was called-up on stage to help the magician with his act and practically stole the show! We drank and laughed the entire performance. After the show I stopped the performers to compliment them on the performance. The burlesque dancer hugged me and told me how nice it was to have women in the audience who enjoyed it and didn't judge her body or cellulite. I must say, she had a beautiful body, and hardly a glimpse of cellulite!

Happy and drunk, we stumbled into the night and began walking toward the dance club. My feet were throbbing and we were fading fast, so we mutually agreed to nix the dancing and continue the burlesque show at home. I drunkenly danced for my man and proceeded to put him right to sleep! We made plans to continue the fun with brunch and shopping on Sunday.

Now it is Sunday and I am contently writing about my weekend of adventure, every so often glancing over at my sleeping man. It was a great weekend, one that reminded me of how much fun D and I can have when I make plans and he makes sure we are not enslaved to them, and one that continued to re-confirm my love of the city that has become my home.

An Aunt in New York

The aunt descended on Friday and, true to form, she tested my self confidence. You see, if I were younger or less secure, she could really embarrass the shit out of me. Thank God I have gotten to the point in my life where I can just grin and bear it.

She waltzed into my office to pick me up from work as planned, and of course to meet my co-workers. My infamous boss was in, so naturally an introduction had to be made. Watching them together was as humorous as it was uncomfortable. It was "battle of the talking heads"! They both love nothing more than talking about themselves, so each would begin a story only to be interrupted by the other with a tidbit about how this story related back to her, and on and on it when. That is, until aunt made an announcement. She wanted to present something to me in front of my boss. UUUUUUGH! I knew what was coming as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

She began her speech by expressing the importance of a general's coin in military culture, calling it a soldier's most prized possession (believe me, it is not) and proceeded to tell the story about how I gave the coin I received by General Petraus in Iraq to my brother when he graduated from the Marines. Triumphantly she declared that she had a new coin, from the now 4 star General Petraus, to present to me. I reached out to take the coin from her and she recoiled, she said, "come-on you know how to do it right!" requiring me to take it during a handshake.

After this ridiculousness, my boss actually teared up a bit, something very unnatural for her. She exclaimed: "My ex-boyfriend from high school died on a plane next to me and they found a coin in his pocket!" Ever the narcissist, it still came back to her! Thank God.

I think it is clear that I do not care about Army shit anymore. It was a part of my life, but now I have other things. Give me a spatula from Chef Eric Rippert and I will be excited, a coin from a general I never liked to begin with, what am I supposed to do? Jump for Joy? Cry? I don't think so. D. summed it up best, he asked me, "Is she a military groupie?" Ah, that is the best explanation I have ever heard!

Well, after that I had made reservations at the Season 1 Top Chef winner Harold's restaurant. I was pretty excited to check it out. I cleared it with her before making the reservation. She had mentioned she wanted to go to a bistro. Well, I found a few French bistros and then Harold's American bistro. As soon as we left my office she began talking about pasta. WTF. I mentioned that I would have found us a great Italian place if that was what she had mentioned, she replied that she had. No, you asked for bistro, not Italian, bistro. She conceded. D was running a bit late, and I knew she was not feeling my restaurant pick anymore, so I began looking for other options.

In the mean time she called an old friend of her's who lives in New York. He only lives a half mile north of me, so we decided to meet him for drinks. He also made us a reservation at a French bistro below his apartment. We gladly would have walked, but aunt was tired and preferred to wait 15 minutes for a cab. No matter, when we arrived, it was a fabulous little sidewalk bistro.
I asked for wine immediately.

There was an older man and a young woman at the table next to us, and he kept trying to talk to us, while she embarrassed, tried to stop him. It was clear he had had a stroke or some other mind altering ailment, and sweet D patiently spoke to him. It was touching to see that kind of compassion. The next set of guests next to us were a beautiful, hip couple with a baby. We spoke to them briefly and found out the man was French and the woman African. That is why I love New York, it is a city of casual friends and conversations. This is a sentiment I cannot share with the aunt, who hates New York and is an LA fanatic. Se la vi.

The food was good, not amazing, but good. We had beet salad, french onion soup and calamari to start; beef bourginon, seared bass with spinach and potato and cassoulet for dinner; and a truly terrible caremel flan and proifitols for dessert. Despite this, this weather was perfect, the wine flowed and the experience was good overall.

Her friend Vega joined us for dessert and then brought us up to his apartment for another glass of wine. Ah wine, I generally only drink it in celebration, but it also serves as my secret weapon for surviving family gatherings! Vega was absolutely charming and I see us becoming friends on our own, an absolutely wonderful, unexpected surprise.

The next morning I joined her for a small breakfast and lots of coffee before taking her to Grand Central to put her on a bus to La Guardia. Our conversation was typical and shallow and in a way that is a bit sad. As I have grown up we could have developed a friendship. She was, at one time, an interesting, fun, charming woman. We crossed paths though. As I came into my own, she retreated into a judgemental, semi-religious nag with her grating personality traits becoming her primary ones. I have grown a thick enough skin to tolerate this in small doses, but not to enjoy her company. Oh well, I survived another aunt experience and even made a new friend! Alls well that ends well.

Wandering Meditation and Unexpected Solutions

Walking for hours through the darkening streets of New York, searching for Masarepa (cooked corn flour) I felt like a ghost. It was so quiet, so peaceful, so alone. I walked and walked and walked for hours. It was like meditation.

I arrived home, with a slightly improved mood, and got started silently on my Arepas and soup. D blessedly let me be quiet. By the time we finished our Arepas and a sitcom, I felt like the darkness was beginning to lift.

I woke-up on Wednesday with a renewed sense of joy.

Cocktails and trivia questions and celebration over D's new freelance job highlighted Wednesday evening which ended with a fat-fest courtesy of our downstairs deli!

I awoke this morning with agonizing cramps, I am still uncertain whether they are PMS or a result of my turkey club with extra mayo!

It looks like EWI may have to reschedule again, this has been a strange week. I accomplished many of my goals, but not in the way I first intended. My social events are all with D's family or my own, my workouts have been more out of the gym than in, potential connections are spontaneous rather than planned, my new recipe was ok but hindered by a mysterious missing ingredient, and all the strangeness has left me feeling a bit upended. But that is behind me now, and the great expanse of possibility lyes ahead! The FSO exam was a breeze and I have only to wait and see what happens!

I feel more a leaf in the breeze then master of my destiny! I suppose that is where faith comes in. I will try to float happily through the rest of the weekend, through dinner with the Aunt, through a fun-filled 3 year anniversary, through an evening with in laws rather than foodies, and over a scale I am dreading stepping on!

Arepas! And Other Joyful Distractions

Looking back over the last few months I see that it was not all dinner parties and laughter, I got a bit down from time to time, there was just no one there to mirror it. (I think the tree falling in the woods fable applies to bad moods as well!) I suppose the only thing to do is talk something happy.

My recipe inspiration this week is the sweet corn arepa. You can't even say arepa without rolling your tongue and shaking your shoulders! ARRRREPA! Now that is a happy dish. The recipes are as easy as they are foreign, using methods I am not familiar with. I am eager to try this happy meal from South America and pair it with one of my best ever fusion dishes, the Thai chili green pea soup. Talk about an upgrade of the grilled cheese and tomato broth!

The sweet corn cakes with melted mozzarella playing of the delicate spiciness of the chili infused soup should be a symphony! Hopefully my nausea will not detract from the experience too much. Stress plays some evil games with me.

Masarepa or cooked corn flour is not as easy to come by as you might think. Even in New York it takes some investigation. I scanned the blogs and found out that a Gristedes in Chelsea sells the masarepa, so that is where I am headed after work. I think I will go from there down to Trader Joe's, finally looping back up to my little home in Murray Hill. A good walk through my city usually does wonders for my state of mind.

So tonight I will cook with global inspiration and then study global information. I need to get on my FSO preparation, the test is Thursday! Attitude is everything, and maybe half of attitude is happy distractions. Fuck it! What ever works right? My drill sergeants always said that if you fake a good attitude long enough it actually might start to stick. Maybe with the helpful distractions of ArrrepA!, and Thai chili and bun and perhaps one too many vino's, it will.

Help! I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

I am sitting at the bottom of the proverbial well. Tired, bored, dejected, gazing up at the spot of light that I remember as my happy life. The one thought booming in my mind is "Why?"

I have been getting lower and lower the last couple days and now I am decidedly down. I pray I can just blame this on PMS, but that begs the question- why haven't I felt this way the last few periods? The worst part may be the not knowing or understanding. As I have gotten older, have I also crawled onto the denial train? Am I too afraid to see what's the matter?

I missed my workouts yesterday and today, I feel 500 pounds, but more troubling still is the sense of apathy and bleak tomorrows. I hate it when I feel this way. It came so quickly. I was feeling on top of the world, excited about tomorrow and today, happy with my daily debacles. From my dark hole I wonder how anything seemed interesting or exciting before. I just want to cry. I want to cry because I can't find any good broker's to make my apartment hunt easier. I want to cry because my boss is being a bitch and I can't just walk out. I want to cry because my tummy is puffy. I want to cry and run away because my Aunt is coming in two days and my 3 year anniversary is in three days. I want to cry and cry and cry and then kick something.

Oddly, my tirade here reminds me of a tirade I may have had last month... hmm.. I will have to go back and see. I hope it is just PMS. I am just so tired and I have so many things on my mind. I am worried about me and D. I think that is what I don't want to look at, don't even want to speak. I hope it is just PMS. I just don't want to think anymore, but I do want to know what changed. What made me so happy and alive before and what is missing that I feel so dead inside now?

Help Me! Help Me! I have fallen into an ugly pit of anger and sorrow and BITCHINESS! And I really don't know if I can get up.

If at First You Don't Succeed; Try, Try Again

This week has not been my most successful. DeShon and I had a nice dinner last Monday with the EWI group at Yerba Buena. I met a strange and amusing man who owns and operates a ceviche bar and DeShon seemed to enjoy himself. After that things flat-lined a bit.

Our Sunday cooking event was cancelled, I tried to organize a wine tasting but no one, that's right, no one rsvp'd. I did not go to NJ with DeShon, I did not have drinks with any of my friends from work, I ate like crap and didn't even make a new recipe. Oh, and the apartment hunting was cut short by a bitchy broker who told us that there was nothing out there in our price range, despite their ads to the contrary.

But all was not lost. I discovered a new food at the Brooklyn Atlantic Ave street festival (a boring mess fyi) Arepas! I bought a hat at the vintage flea market, learned how to style my hair 40's style and I finished my law and food applications.

Still, it was not a great week. By Sunday I was feeling a bit depressed and psycho. Unfortunately, I took it out on D because he was there, poor bastard. What can I say? If I am unhappy it is much better for me to be alone. It feels odd being unhappy though, I had gotten to such a bright, positive place and the darkness doesn't suit me. It is hard having him home because it reminds me of the dark place I was in before and I am so afraid of going back.

Shine it on! Resilience is my longest running asset, so I best make use of it now. This week I am going to start it off with a bang! I am going to make Arepas and Spicy Green Pea Soup tonight! I am going to try to have drinks with Gus or MB, I need to study for FSO on Thursday, The Aunt is coming on Friday evening for dinner, the big 3 year anniversary is Saturday so we will be having a New York experience with either a Broadway or Burlesque Show, and there is an EWI cooking event on Sunday night.

Soooo, If all goes well, I will be cooking anew tonight, going for drinks on Tues or Wednes and studying, Going to dinner with Aunt on Friday, hitting the town with D. on Saturday and meeting up with my Foodie Friends on Sunday. Only 2-3 days out of 7 in the house. Not bad. Let's hope it goes well, because I don't think I can handle another bout of cabin fever!

This week I also need to really examine what makes me happy or at least content. I don't want to run from sadness, I want to avoid it all together. Just when you think you have it all figured out... Oh well, It is only week one of the new duo experiment, this is going to be a great week.

It's Not Over Yet!

Well, DeShon returned last week and my life has continued in a somewhat similar way. I tried to start another blog about foods of the world, but something was missing. You see, I don't feel like it's over. He may be back, but the story of my life has not stopped and the experiment feels far from over. These chronicles are about more than my 8 week period of Independence, they are about the evolution of my life.

Really, I feel like my life has been on hold for years. Perhaps this is why the past has had such a stranglehold on my heart. I felt that the greatest adventure of my life was over. The military was where I grew-up and found myself. That was not the end. The experiment has awoken me from my 4 year slumber. I see excitement and adventure on the horizon and all around me, I cherish the past but no longer yearn for it. Let it rest in peace, I have enough life at this moment, I don't need my ghosts. So let the experiment continue! Who knows who I will become!