Cravings...

I once read somewhere that cravings are the body's signal that it is missing something - like craving citrus fruit means that your body needs vitamin C, craving milk or cheese means you need calcium, and so on.
Lately I've been craving red meat - the redder, the better - and since I'm trying to keep my red meat consumption to a minimum, my freezer is full of meat substitutes: MorningStar Farms Corn Dogs, soy dogs, edamame , and veggie burgers. But yesterday evening, one of my neighbors was cooking dinner on the grill and I could smell it even inside the house with the windows shut. I didn't feel like cooking, so I called Hot Mustard for delivery. Even though the charbroiled meat smell wafting through the house wanted me to order the ribs, I ended up with light, healthy sushi and edamame. That I pretended was a juicy burger and fries.

Today I crave my Nana's meat pie (sort of like a British "pasty"), Steak-Ums (even though I haven't had one of those since the 80s), and fried Spam. I will be having none of it, but on the plus side, I have taken 3.25 years off of my "RealAge."

Why don't I ever crave lettuce? Or carrots? Or green grapes?

Late Fragment...

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
~Raymond Carver

Incongruities...

Sometimes entire weeks feel like a battle between Me and Me. I constantly fight not to turn inward, inward, inward. It's self-obsession to the nth degree, as if that level of scrutiny could possibly make me better, smarter, or happier. I must get something out of it, or I wouldn't do it, right?

I often wonder if I have some kind of mental illness that makes me incapable of communicating with others on a deep and lasting level (because it occurs to me every now and then that even my family and closest friends don't know the "real" me). But I communicate for a living.

I surprise myself by occasionally dreaming about people I've only met once or twice or people who are under my invisi-square radar. That must mean I pay more attention to others than I think I do.

I hate cherry-flavored things (they taste like cough syrup to me), but I love fresh cherries and will eat them by the bagful in the summertime.

I wish I could just write books and not have to worry about the other part, like actually marketing and selling them.

I'd like to be in a committed relationship, but I'm not willing to work at it.

I judge people most harshly for things I am guilty of myself.

I wear shoes that I love even though they hurt me.

Finally making use of the Bento...

I've mentioned Mr. Bento before, and I bought him in April, but it's taken me this long to work up the energy to put him to work. After seeing myself in recent wedding photos (see previous post), I decided it was time to make grocery shopping for healthy food and actually cooking it part of my regular weekend routine so I can bring lunches to work that include more than packaged cheese sticks, sliced turkey, canned soup, or Kashi bars (because I am apparently one of those few people who can gain weight on eating 1500 calories a day). The secret for me is eating more calories at regular intervals, which usually means six small meals a day. And bento dining is perfect for that.


This is today's Mr. Bento lunch: Salmon with dill and lemon, black-eyed pea and corn salad (also known as "Texas Caviar"), and berries with cottage cheese. I made everything myself - none of it is from the Earthfare deli (though I'm not above cheating with that from time to time). And since Mr. Bento keeps food cold (or hot) for six hours, I didn't even have to try and squeeze him into the tiny fridge at work. The salmon and half the Texas Caviar was lunch; the other half and berries I saved for a late afternoon meal.

Now I can join the Mr. Bento Flickr pool, instead of perusing the photos when I'm hungry and wishing I was the kind of person who makes a healthy, tasty home-cooked lunch every day. Because now I am.

A wedding recap...

It was on a farm in the mountains.
Asheville is pretty.
Our B&B was beyond gorgeous (hello, big ass feather bed!).
The Fun Girls were there.
The wedding itself was very Aleigh & Ian (and if you don't know them, you'll have to take my word for it. It was on a lovely farm in the mountains of North Carolina.

I met a llama (and for those of you who have been reading my blog for some time, you know that the llama is my spirit animal and I am a llama whisperer).

There was much merriment. Erin gives her version here. And if you gather from her post that I was the uptight finger wagging one on the trip, you're sorely mistaken. I was just the only one not drinking. But Jemima knows I can be trouble (make sure you read through to the part about where I tell Ian's brother-in-law that I have a good divorce lawyer on speed dial...ON VIDEO).

The only thing that was missing from our weekend was that Aleigh couldn't stay with us too! Of course, there was the getting married thing and the husband-to-be and all. So I'm about to be really, disgustingly mushy right now. You might want to sit down for this one. Even though weddings (and marriage) aren't my thing, I am so happy to have been part of my Gal Pal Al's nuptials. It's rare to know two people who are so perfectly matched, and to share in the beginning of a long and happy union. Yes, I did cry at the wedding. Because I was happy. And if you don't believe me, Jem took a photo. Bizzatch.