My relationship with food is…complicated. It’s muddy and unfocused and completely dysfunctional. Sometimes, I laugh because I literally think the reason I work with food is because I am trying to figure out my life. Sort of like the person that becomes a therapist because they want to diagnose themselves, my love/hate with food needs some diagnosing.

I’ve been seeking help for it quietly and privately. I see a therapist regularly and a dietitian that specializes in eating disorders even more regularly. I thought this was something I wanted to tackle without bringing other people into my horrible mess. And then I read this, cried a little and thought fuck yes. This. This exactly.

“This thing I have with eating, with food, with hating my body, and being unable to appropriately deal with stress: This thing has led me to more out-of-body experiences than I can count. And there I am again, watching myself from the outside as I stand in my kitchen, surrounded by opened boxes of crackers and cereals, bags of frozen vegetables and veggie patties, pans filled with pasta and cheese and nuts and cookies and teriyaki sauce. I will eat it all.

I once ate four bagels while taking a shower. I knew I wanted—compulsively needed—to eat, to drown my emotions, to stuff everything down inside of myself. But I also knew I needed to take a shower, to get myself ready, to make myself presentable. I multi-tasked. There were seeds from the bagels in my shower drain for weeks.”

I’ve done this, I do this. I’ve locked myself in the bathroom and while I was getting “ready” I ate an entire box of cookies and two bags of chips and then threw all of the wrappers out of the window. It’s sick and it’s complicated and it really has nothing to do with food and everything to do with not wanting to feel anything and stuffing myself with food as a way to just not have to fucking deal. I’m really good at not dealing.

So couple this with working with food, day in and day out. Add a gluten intolerance into the mix. Realize that I’m also highly sensitive to sugar. Get stabbing pain every time I eat anything that has either of those ingredients. Swell up when I eat grains – any grains. Break out when I eat dairy. So, now I’m a closet binge eater with annoying food allergies. They don’t kill me – but they sure do make me uncomfortable. Shockingly realize that I don’t recognize myself under the fat I have put on – I walk past mirrors and I don’t see me anymore – photos are painful.

I can’t count calories anymore – it makes me crazy. Like an actual crazy lunatic person that nobody wants to be around. I can’t keep eating the way I have been because I will keep getting sicker and fatter. I can’t keep binging because it’s absurd behavior. I have to change it all.

After extensive research (I mean, extensive. I have charts and graphs and index cards), I know that paleo is the way to go for me. I know it’s a controversial diet – but it includes all of the things that I can eat without getting sick. It will hopefully just help me feel a whole heck of a lot better. So, I’m back to tackling no more gluten, sugar, legumes, grains, alcohol (boo)….and severely limiting dairy. It’s going to be a challenge and for my health, it needs to be a lifestyle change – for good. Daily, boring food posts ahead.

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First of all, thanks for all the kind words on my 30 list. Feedback is lovely and generous and appreciated. So, thank you.

Things here are good. Calm waters, clear skies, all of that. It’s a little mundane – nothing is really new or groundbreaking and despite that only boring people are bored…it’s a little boring. I can’t say that I mind much – it’s not like I want upheaval or drama or problems – but sometimes the day in and day out of things can be a little mundane – even if everything is good.

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I’ve been reading a ton recently – I go through spurts of not putting books down to barely picking them up. I’m back on my read, read, read upswing – which is welcome. I’m planning on spending the majority of my weekend curled up at Heart Roasters reading my heart out. I reluctantly picked up The Happiness Project – I’ve seen people harping about this book for years now and I always avoided it. I’m not a self help type of lady and it just didn’t seem to be my speed…but when a good friend mentioned that she was reading the book and enjoying it, I decided to give it a try. I’m about halfway through and so glad I picked it up. I don’t love it (especially where she spends half of a chapter devoted to the blog comments and emails she’s received – yawn) but I have picked up some good advice about goals, happiness, and small things making a big difference. It has inspired me to start my own version of a “happiness project” and create measurable, small goals that ultimately lead to big things. Nothing revolutionary, but a really nice life reminder.

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One of the things that I love about this happiness project business is it reminds me to tackle small goals, one month at a time. I have been thinking about what I have and what I want and what I need out of life – some are things that I can’t make happen myself and others are totally in my control. I thought about how much I loved running that half marathon a few weeks ago and how surprised I was that my inner athlete kicked into gear despite not training. What I didn’t love being so sore the next day that I could barely walk. I realized that every other time I have attempted to train for a race, I have given myself way too much time – a six month training plan isn’t feasible for me – I get bored and it’s way too long to dedicate to training for one single race. So, I picked two half marathons in July and am giving myself 7-10 weeks to train. Not a ton of time – but something that I know I can really commit to. Obviously, I’m going to keep running, but races are what make it fun for me – so as I continue on, I’ll just plan on more races vs. training forever for one race. It’s more expensive this way, but it keeps me focused and moving and having fun – which is what the pay-off of exercise is all about anyway.

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So, all of this is to say, that you will probably have to hear about my runs all of the time in this space. I’m totally sorry.

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I’ve always been into my birthday  - which is weird. I hate attention and I am uncomfortable when people do anything nice for me, so the fact that my birthday has always been a big deal to me is strange. This birthday was no exception and I can honestly say it was the best one I have ever had. Ever.

I learned a lot in my twenties – particularly in the years since I moved to Portland. I’ve challenged myself a lot and have been really proud of what I have accomplished. There is always room for more and I have thought of 30 things about 30 that are important to me – some are things that I’ve learned, some are things that I am still learning, and some of these things just sound like really nice things to do. But, cheers to what is likely to be the best decade yet.

1. You choose your family. Really. I have the family that I was born into whom I love and cherish and all of those things. And then I have the family that I chose and they are hugely important and special and I don’t know why it took me 29 years to figure this out.

2. Drink water. I mean, drink a lot more water than I have in the past 29 years. Which…isn’t a lot. My friend Gregory told me that he’s only seen me drink coffee, alcohol and diet coke. So, this decade I might need to throw water into the rotation.

3. Find a goal and go after it. Relentlessly.

4. There is more to life than my career. Rinse and repeat.

5. That said, my career is pretty rad and I’m lucky and I have SO many more things/ideas/projects to tackle and accomplish. And I’m going to. World domination, here I come.

6. Travel way more this decade. I’m such a homebody and I hate leaving my dog for more than a few hours, so the idea of leaving him for a few weeks makes me crazy, but do it anyway. He’ll be okay – he has other family that looooves to hang out with him.

7. Buy a house. Throw down roots. Dive in.

8. Probably time for a 401k that I don’t cash out to buy shoes.

9. Invest in myself. Therapy. Gym membership. Email breaks. All of it.

10. Say no sometimes, for fucks sake.

11. No more putting time and energy into people that don’t put time or energy into me. This one is hard.

12. Throw more dinner parties – they really are my favorite.

13. Believe in myself, my work, my abilities – stop apologizing all the time.

14. Hiring people to clean my house twice per month was the second best decision I made in my twenties. Remember that when I lament that it’s a waste of money to pay somebody to do something I can do myself. My time is valuable.

15. Turn my phone off after 8 pm (hahahhahhaaaaa). But seriously, no need to obsessively check email/twitter/facebook after work. Definitely turn my phone off when having a meaningful (or not so meaningful) in person conversation. I’m not a rat addicted to sugar water.

16. Eat breakfast. Coffee doesn’t count. Definitely eat breakfast before responding to awful emails.

17. Keep writing.

18. Continue to be kind and loving and loyal. These are qualities that have served me really well.

19. Gluten hurts me. But, eat really good pasta every once in awhile.

20. The most important relationship I have is the one I have with myself. Keep working on it. It’s worth it and strengthens all the other ones in my life.

21. It’s okay to need to stay home and sleep and watch bad television even when drinking until 4 am sounds way more fun.

22. Now that I’m 30, eye cream is going into the rotation. As is sunscreen, although that damage is already done.

23. Leave Portland for sunnier skies sometime between March – June. Seriously, it’s for my own sanity.

24. Learn how to use pinterest properly. I mean, I have a decade to understand the point of this site, shouldn’t be too hard.

25. Keep blogging even if nobody reads. It makes me happy. Leave more comments on the blog that I do read.

26. Just keep running.

27. Be honest. Even if it doesn’t flatter me, honesty wins.

28. Keep telling people you love them, continue being vulnerable with your feelings, and just be unapologetically affectionate.

29. Help is not a four letter word. It’s okay to need it and to accept it without apologizing about it.

30. Continue trusting my gut. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

Guys, my birthday is tomorrow – but two of my best friends threw me the most perfect birthday party a girl could ask for last weekend. I actually relaxed and enjoyed myself and didn’t take many photos – but I managed to snap a few. I also had good friends from California who flew up for my birthday and spoiled me all weekend. I had a great time showing them the city (their first time here!) and playing tourist a bit myself.

And about that party…think lots of carnitas, sunshine, chimenea, cornhole, a homemade pinata, twinkle lights, and a bunch of the people I love just drinking and relaxing together. It was lovely, lovely, lovely. I couldn’t have dreamed of more.

This post will be light on words and heavy-ish on photos. More birthday party updates tomorrow.

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I think my eating habits are bipolar. I gravitate from kombucha to Diet Coke (which I have affectionately nicknamed DeeCee), I have love for In n Out burgers as well as cauliflower steaks. I’m less about moderation and more about eating the things I like – which happens to be nearly everything.

Not surprisingly, I love kale. I’ve loved kale before kale appeared on every menu (god, don’t I sound like one of those ‘I loved that musician before they were even on the radio’ people? But, I swear, it’s true). Kale is my jam. Do you know what I don’t love as much? Spinach. Spinach gets wilty too fast and can be gritty and is just too delicate. Kale is hearty and bitter and stands up to salad dressing. Kale > Spinach is all I’m saying.

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I’ve been sore all day. Yesterday was worse – but today was pretty awful as well. I really wanted to lay on the couch all day, dive into a bowl of pasta, and do nothing else. But, after polling some friends on Twitter about their favorite Portland breweries (I’m not much of a beer drinker, more on this later) I decided to take a quick walk to one of the many places to grab a beer in my neighborhood. After discovering that majority of my spots were pretty crowded, I wandered over to a favorite neighborhood restaurant, Dove Vivi, snagged a chair outside and indulged in a beverage.

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Side note: Dove Vivi is modeled after a Southern California restaurant, Zelo. My sort of ex used live right down the street from Zelo and used to tell me how great it was all of the time. I was slightly disappointed to move all the way to Portland and still have a neighborhood reminder of him – he wasn’t exactly nice to me, quite the opposite really – but the food at Dove Vivi is phenomenal, so he didn’t lie about how good Zelo must be.

While at Dove Vivi, I was reminded of how much I love their food – they specialize in cornmeal crust “pizza” that is really fantastic. I wouldn’t call it pizza, but I would call it damn delicious. But, my absolute favorite thing on their menu is a raw kale salad.

When I first moved to Portland, I ate this salad nearly every day. I was obsessed. It’s as close to perfect as a raw kale salad can be. I quickly realized that as much as I love it and as often as I eat it, I should learn to make it at home. It’s probably the most simple thing that comes out of my kitchen and it’s one of the things that makes me the happiest. It’s healthy. It’s salty. It’s bitter in the best possible way. And, you can make it for dinner and take leftovers to work for lunch because kale is hearty and awesome and doesn’t get wilty like it’s frenemie spinach.

I almost finished my beer (again, not a beer drinker) and I raced home to make a kale salad to eat on the stoop of my apartment. Not bad for a Tuesday.

Dove Vivi’s Kale Salad

**I’m not sure if this is their official recipe, but it’s the replica that I created – I can’t tell the difference

1 bunch lacinto kale (the flat kind, not the curly kind)

Juice of half of a lemon (add more to taste)

Extra Virgin Olive Oil (use the good stuff – it’s worth it)

1/2 shallot, minced

Ricotta Salata, grated (I use a decent amount, probably 1/2 cup)

Finishing salt to taste

Julienne your kale into thin ribbons – save your stems for green smoothies or heartier soups (see, hippie shit). Place julienned kale in a large bowl. Squeeze lemon juice over the kale. Add olive oil and toss with your hands until slightly soft, but not mushy or wilted. Combine with minced shallot and ricotta salata. Add salt if you need it.

Grab a beer and sit out in the sunshine.

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I ran a half marathon yesterday. Wait, let me back up a little bit.

I’ve been feeling pretty stagnant recently. Everything has been the same for some time. In many ways, this level of consistency is nice – no drama, little stress – just living life one day at a time. It has been getting a little mundane and while not having a ton of stress all of the time is really lovely, I’ve noticed that I’ve settled into a routine that I’m not really in love with either. Working followed by drinks/dinner, followed by television/reading followed by bed followed by doing it all again the next day has led to monotony and some weight gain.

I’ve always liked to run. I haven’t run in a long time. So when Gregory reminded me that I had mentioned wanting run the Eugene half marathon way back in November – I was sad because I realized that I hadn’t done anything to prepare for the race.

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So, I decided that I would run this half marathon if it killed me. I figured I would get a solid month of training in before hand and just hope for the best. Well….that didn’t exactly happen. I just continued to not do anything and I buried my head in the sand somehow thinking that if I didn’t run that maybe I would figure out a way to get out of the race.

Well.

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I should have known that Gregory would have never let me get out of this. And I didn’t want to let him down. And I didn’t want to let myself down. So, off we went. I decided to use the race as a starting point. A way to say goodbye to my twenties (my thirtieth birthday is is in a week!) and to just remind myself that I can do anything I put my to. Sounds cheesy? It is. Especially for me. But, I want my thirties to be different than my twenties – my twenties have been awesome – but they’ve been aimless. I want to focus more on goals, figure out what it is that I want and set off and do those things – I want to make this next decade purposeful and great. So, I figured a symbolic thing to do would be to flail my way through this half marathon – to struggle with every step and to really say goodbye to the past ten years.

You guys, it was awesome. I wasn’t prepared at all. I struggled through it. I also did better than I could have ever imagined I would have done without training for this thing. I kind of rocked it. I felt great during most of the race. I made it to mile 10 without really having to stop and walk. I was feeling pretty confident.

And then, my left soleus muscle started to spasm. I tore this muscle last August, so at mile 10 when it started to quiver uncomfortably, I got nervous. I slowed my pace to a jog and when it spasmed again, I slowed to a walk. I realized as I slowed down that I was sore already. Furiously sore. I tried to jog again. More spasming. I walked some more. I cautiously started to jog and quickly realized I was walking faster than my jogging attempts, so I mostly walked the remaining 3.1 miles. And I was miserable. I was super sore – I could feel how tight my hip flexers were and my thighs ached and my calves were incredibly tight and I don’t even want to talk about how my feet burned and I could feel the blisters forming. I was so mad that I had to walk – physically, walking hurt more than running did and I was so frustrated because I was making awesome time before I had to slow to a crawl. I kept thinking about how embarrassed I would be if I injured myself (sad, but true) and how much more miserable I would be if I had to get back on crutches for another month.

Around mile 11, I stopped beating myself up for walking and I stopped being angry at my injury. I just was thrilled for all I had done without even training just because I wanted to. I thought about how I want to run another one and I want to beat my time and I want to be prepared. I thought about how I wanted to get into the best shape of my life, treat my body well and really honor myself. I thought about my career and where I wanted to take it. I thought about doing things with more intention, about setting goals and traveling. I basically thought about all the things I have been avoiding thinking about for years – all in the span of 2.1 miles.

I may have finished the last three miles slowly, but I finished smiling and I am so looking forward to the next one.

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Last week. Do I even need to say anything about it? I don’t think I do – I mean, I could, but so many other people have said everything more eloquently than I ever could. But, what the fuck – last week was a goddamn shit sandwich. As usual, The Onion sums up my feelings quite nicely. 

I’ve never been the type of person who loses their appetite in times of stress or worry. Instead, I want to tuck into a bowl of popcorn lovingly popped in duck fat or a pint of Salt & Straw Salted Caramel ice cream or endless glasses of these. I want to throw dinner parties where all my loved ones are sitting around a table with overflowing bowls of gnocchi or hearty servings of tortilla soup. When I don’t know what to do – I eat. I cook. I feed people.

Since Marathon Monday, I have been preoccupied by mashed potatoes. For as long as I can remember, mashed potatoes have been my ultimate comfort food. Scratch that, my mom’s mashed potatoes have been what I craved anytime I had a cold or was having a bad week at school or just generally needed a culinary hug. It’s funny because mashed potatoes never make an appearance in my kitchen. They’re now delegated to what I eat more than one serving of on Thanksgiving – a once per year treat. But, man, on Monday – the mashed potato cravings hit me wicked hard.

I planned on making mashed potatoes this weekend – but when I opened my fridge and saw a huge cauliflower waiting for me – I changed course. See, I love potatoes (love, love, love them) but my arthritis doesn’t. Excess nightshades tend to make me feel crappy and achy – which is not what I wanted from my comfort food. So, I contemplated cauliflower.

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I knew that I wanted something warm that tasted decadent that wasn’t too much of a gut bomb. So, I ran to the store and grabbed a potato to puree with the cauliflower – if you are nightshade sensitive or just avoiding potatoes – you can easily leave it out, the texture of your soup will be different, but it will still be delicious. I punched up the soup with a bit of pesto made from Brazil nuts and spinach – it broke up the monotony of the whiteness and every time I add a bit of green to my food I automatically give myself a high five for being healthy. Even if “healthy” means including a lot of parmesan cheese and olive oil. But this dish is the perfect blank canvas, you could surely take advantage of the gorgeous Spring produce and make a nettle pesto instead or do something creative with garlic scapes. Really, the possibilities are endless. I added a touch of cashew cream to up the comfort ante – a generous splash of heavy cream would work as well.

This was every bit of comfort that I needed it to be – warm, a bit spicy, perfect to curl up with while Arrested Development and Louis CK blared on my television blocking out the unpleasantness of reality. Hug everybody a bit tighter this week and feel free to feed them a mason jar full of this soup.

Creamy Cauliflower Soup with Brazil Nut Pesto

Adapted from Heidi Swanson

Creamy Cauliflower Soup

3 TB clarified butter, ghee or olive oil (I used clarified grass-fed butter)

2 cloves garlic

1 TB red pepper flakes (start with a teaspoon or less if you are spice sensitive)

1 large potato, peeled and chopped

1.5 lbs cauliflower or 1 giant(see above photo) cauliflower

5 cups stock or water (I used a very mild (under-seasoned) homemade beef bone stock, anything besides fish stock would work just fine)

1/3 cup heavy cream or cashew cream (recipe below)

Jacobsen Sea Salt or any other high quality salt

Brazil Nut Pesto

1/2 cup toasted Brazil nuts (just dry toast them in a pan on the stove – watch ‘em, they’ll burn quickly)

2 handfuls of spinach leaves, stemmed

4 cloves garlic

1/2 cup of freshly grated parmesan (optional, but unless you have a severe issue with dairy don’t skip the cheese)

A generous pinch of Jacobsen Salt or any other high quality salt

Cashew Cream 

This stuff is dreamy, even if you opt to skip it for this soup, please make it one day. Also, it makes a TON – cashew cream for daaaaaaays.

1.5 cups raw cashews

1.5 cups water, plus more as needed

2.5 teaspoons of nutritional yeast

1.5 teaspoons of Jacobsen Salt or any other high quality salt

Squeeze of lemon juice

For the Soup: Heat the butter or oil in a soup pot over medium-high heat, add the garlic and red pepper flakes and saute for 1-2 minutes (DON’T BURN THE GARLIC – seriously, that’s the only way you’ll ruin this recipe and all recipes that exist). When you start to smell the garlic, add the potato and cauliflower and cook for another couple of minutes. Add the stock of choice, bring to a simmer, and cook until the vegetables are tender – it should take about 15-30 minutes). Remove from heat and puree thoroughly with an immersion blender or conventional blender. If you are using a regular blender, work in batches and be careful not to burn yourself. I used a Vitamix and it worked nicely – but I still went slowly and in batches.

For a silkier texture, push the soup through a sieve or strainer – I didn’t do this – too high maintenance for me – but if you’re fancy, knock yourself out.

Stir in the cashew cream or heavy cream. Ladle into individual bowls and finish with a big swirl of the pesto.

For the Cashew Cream: Soak the cashews in a small bowl of warm water for 20-30 minutes to soften them – don’t skip this step. Drain and add the 1.5 cups water, the nutritional yeast, and salt – toss this combination into a high powered blender (like a Vitamix), food processor, or a bowl hardy enough to stand up to a hand blender. Puree until smooth, pourable and cream-like. This might take 3-5 minutes of steady blending. You might need to add additional water to thin it out – add it one tablespoon at a time. This cream will thicken up in the fridge – so err on the thin side. Season the cream with a generous squeeze of lemon juice, then stir, taste and add more salt, if needed.

For the Pesto: Puree all the ingredients in a blender or food processor until smooth. If pureeing your pesto is difficult, add more olive oil, a tablespoon at a time. Taste and add more salt, if needed.

 

 

“I always am more drawn to the process of painting than any of the finished products I create. All of my canvas have so many layers where I just constantly paint over them. Over and over again,” my best friend Caitlin remarked nearly ten years ago. I remember that conversation on the carpeted floor of her bedroom like it was yesterday. She was rummaging through her things and had pulled some old paintings out of her closet and suddenly they were next to me on the floor. I doubt she remembers saying anything about them – I remember not understanding what she meant, but not asking. To me, the idea of enjoying a process more than what you were creating was insane – I always want to get from point A to point B effortlessly. Without a learning curve. I want to hurry up and be there. The process is just in the way.

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The irony that I work in food isn’t lost on me. It’s my fucked up way of processing my eating disorder. Okay, I have this sickness – so let’s just inundate myself with pork belly and foie gras and see what happens. Let’s jump in and pretend like I’m fixed and writing about food and thinking about food and eating food all day, is normal.

You guys, it’s fine – I can do this – it’s totally not even an issue – I mean, my eating disorder? That was so ten years ago.

Except it wasn’t. And it’s not. And it’s a daily struggle. And here I am – surrounded. Trapped. In some sort of weird food prison. I felt it coming back. The fear caught itself in my throat and suddenly I was treading water. Except I wasn’t really above the chlorine at all – I was drowning. Thankfully, it didn’t take me much time at all to rush to the hospital where I sit in a sterile waiting room every other week waiting for a saint with the title “eating disorder specialist”. She asks me a few questions, I answer them and I leave. I feel better for going but I don’t really know what it’s doing. This fucking process is slow. I often demand answers from her – pointedly ask her why eating breakfast is the answer to everything. Or why I can’t just count calories again. Or why she doesn’t want me to not eat sugar. Doesn’t she know that sugar is the devil? Route of all evil. Why is this all taking so long? Why aren’t I fixed already?

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I’ve always been really uncomfortable talking about my issues with eating and weight to the point that even hearing somebody remark that they want to lose weight makes me squeamish and turns my entire body hot and my instinct is to run out of that conversation as fast as humanly possible. Which I’ve learned (thanks to the above mentioned saint) that my issues with food and eating and weight have nothing to do with food and eating and weight at all. They are far more personal than that – far deeper. So, what therapists tell you is true, all roads lead to your mother. Joking, sort of. It’s uncomfortable because it’s so much bigger than eating a burger or not eating for a week.

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THE TRUTH - ”I always am more drawn to the process of painting than any of the finished products I create. All of my canvas have so many layers where I just constantly paint over them. Over and over again,”

THE TRUTH SUMMED UP – The process is the best part – it’s the hardest and makes the least sense while you’re in the thick of it. But, when you come out of it – it’s like being able to see clearly for the first time ever.

THE POINT OF SHARING IT, SUMMED UP – It sucks and then it doesn’t. Just like that.

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So, I’m not great at this blogging thing. I’m not going to apologize because I hate when bloggers haven’t posted regularly and they write this whole apologetic post about how sorry they are and how busy they are and then recap how busy their life has been. The truth of it all is that I haven’t been inspired to post recently, so I haven’t.

Anyway, this article is something I read once per week. No exaggeration. Go read it. I’ll wait. The glorification of “busy” has become extreme. I see it in myself all of the time – when anybody asks me how I am or how my day is, the vast majority of the time, I respond with “busy.”

I wear my busy like armor. It’s such an easy way out. By saying that I’m busy, I’m avoiding more probing questions that aren’t about work. I’m avoiding connection because people usually leave busy as busy and they don’t inquire further. I don’t have to talk about my dating life or any emotion or really what’s going on outside of the office because suddenly busy is what I am, how I am, and what defines me.

There’s also the weird competition I have going on with people to prove who’s busier. I’m annoyed when somebody uses busy as their excuse for not communicating, not doing, not showing up – my response is usually a quick “everybody is busy” and then I like to think about all the reasons why I am just as busy or more busy than they are. On the flip side, there are the people that are not busy. The people who travel all the time or take classes or Instagram themselves outside playing on a Wednesday afternoon. Those people incite this rage/jealousy in me that is barely containable. I mean, how dare they be enjoying whatever they are enjoying while I AM SO BUSY.

My life isn’t going to change anytime soon. I am still going to work over 40 hours per week. I am still going to have a job that consumes my social life. I am still going to be somebody who fights hives at the stress of event planning. So, fighting busyness is not going to be an easy thing.

So, what changes is my perspective and how I spend my time. I am going to try my absolute hardest to stop telling people that I am busy because it’s negative even if I am busy with the best things in the world – saying that I am busy is putting negative energy into a conversation and avoiding genuine connection.

I’m going to start saying no more often. Creating boundaries. Doing things that I want to do – paint, lay on the couch, read, exercise – I’m going to stop filling every moment with “being productive” – Stopping the busy.

“One must maintain a little bit of summer, even in the middle of winter,” – Henry David Thoreau

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We’ve had a mild winter for Portland standards. It’s either that it’s been mild or that by my third winter in the Pacific Northwest, I have gotten used to the grey skies and damp weather. Yesterday the rain started and it hasn’t really stopped since. It’s hard to mind when I bundle myself up in big sweaters and scarves knitted by my mom and macaroni and cheese and whiskey. It’s funny – I really am fond of winter here – it means braised meats and roasted chickens and spicy coconut milk curries and stews and strong cocktails and warm fires and cozy sweaters. But as fond as I am of the dull and cold and grey and damp and mildew, I crave sunshine. I chase it. Vitamin D is suddenly my drug of choice.

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Citrus really is the shining jewel of winter here. Grapefruit seems to cut through the grey skies better than anything else. I roast a chicken every week. Sometimes I drown it in coconut milk, lemongrass, Thai basil, Thai chili, fish sauce, and kaffir lime before letting it bake. Other times, I surround it with citrus and hazelnut oil before tossing it in the oven. The citrus has been my reprieve recently. The juice always burns black on the pan, but it browns the bird perfectly. I rip into the carcass with my hands throughout the week – like a heathen – not bothering to cut the meat off the bone like a civilized adult. I devour it savagely, strangely embarrassed by my lack of manners and also loving how it feels to tear into the cooked flesh with my fingers and taste the acid that shines through the chicken skin. It’s moments like these that remind me that there are some really great parts to living alone and being single, nobody judges me for my secret chicken eating behavior.

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This winter has felt really good. Between the peaks of sunshine and the discovery of citrus and the new job and the taking time to figure my own shit out. It’s felt like this break from the darkness. I’ve kept to myself a lot this winter. I haven’t been going out as much. I’ve been reading every weekend. I haven’t been working out as much as I would like, but I haven’t been mad at myself for that either. I’ve been keeping my house clean. I’ve been keeping food in my fridge. Things aren’t perfect and my New Year’s Resolutions are still a challenge despite their simplicity. I’ll probably always chase sunshine – but it’s great to find a bit of light despite the darkness.