small things...

Happy (belated) Birthday, Dad

:: Me and Dad, Cliffs of Mohr

::Dad and Megan, Cliffs of Mohr

My dad would have turned 69 years old this week. He will never be older than 55.

I spent sometime looking at photos this morning to find the one I wanted share in this post.  When someone that important has been gone so long it can be difficult to look long at their face in photos.  Not because you don’t want to, but because it is so obvious that they are so….gone.  I haven’t seen his face in a long time outside those photos.

These photos were taken on a family trip to Ireland when I was 9 years old. 

maybe it’s because of the cliffs, maybe it’s because we both look so serious and they look so happy and we all look so much like ourselves.  Maybe it’s because I’m drinking a huge 7Up through a straw with a dandy sweater tied around my neck.  But I think it’s because it’s us and our dad and I could imagine these photos being taken today and maybe everything would look the same.

Happy (belated) birthday, dad!

The Challenge is BACK!

Ah, a year and a half later and it feels so good! 

(Come visit my other blog for more info!)

Why do a challenge now, you may ask, after all this time?  Well a few reasons:

1. We are heading into the best time of year for eating locally here in the midwest and I’m feeling inspired again by all the farmers and farm fresh food around
2. I was listening to a show on the radio about running out of oil and alternative fuel sources and I started thinking about how hard it will be to get fresh food (some time in the future) when shipping food becomes prohibitive.  What a great time to learn about all your local sources!  Or grow your own!!
3. In the last year and a half i’ve been asked more than a handful of times ‘when are you going to do that challenge again?’
4. Most importantly:  I miss all of you and your good food and your awesome photos of good food and of your cute selves.

So let’s get it going again.

Official start date: August 15th 

It will run for 4 weeks and the basics are the same:

1. Prepare one meal per week made up COMPLETELY from local ingredients
2. At the end of that week send in a photo and little write up of your meal including where the food came from and any other little tidbits you’d like to share

There is no prize for this challenge – just the enjoyment of good food shared with others. 

Here are the rest of the rules

What do you say?  Want in?

To official sign up send me an email ([email protected]) with your name and location (and if you have a blog, send the link).

 

yay! 

happy eating!!

Erin

Blog catch-up – Did I tell you I went to Boulder?

Two weeks ago (already??) I took a little trip down memory lane with some of my besties from college.  We rented a house in Boulder for a semi-long weekend to catch up with each other and catch up with Boulder.  Which has grown a bit in the last 13 years. And when I say “a bit” I mean “A LOT”.  Last time I went to Boulder I compared the city to an old boyfriend who I was finally “over”.  Apparently I’ve redeveloped some feelings. 

My friend Anna and I had originally planned on driving to and from Boulder (from Chicago) as part of this adventure.  It had seemed like a really good idea.  it used to be a good idea, back when we were 20.  Now?  Not so much.  Yet I still thought it was a good idea until Anna’s train into Chicago got in at 2am the night before our drive and all I could think about was how tired I was going to be on the 16hour drive that sat before us.  I didn’t sleep all night worrying about the drive and thinking about how I could maybe convince my friend whose barely flown in the last 15 years that buying last minute plane tickets wasn’t such a crazy idea.

I didn’t have to.  She was totally on the same page and we were able to find reasonable tickets. woot woot!. 

First thing I learned upon arriving in Boulder?  A dry heat is still freaking hot.  Why do people love a dry heat so much?  Did I used to love a dry heat?  I probably said I did.  All I know is that a dry heat makes you crazy thirsty and a little lightheaded – or was that the altitude?  Who knows anymore? (you probably know).

Second thing I learned upon arriving in Boulder?  My camera was broken. This was a serious bummer, because if you’ve been to Boulder, you know about the loveliness.  And if you haven’t been to Boulder – you would have wanted to see the loveliness!  (my cell phone also died in Boulder. rude)

So I’ve been waiting patiently for my friends to send some photos so that I could steal them and share them here. 

Enjoy:

Dinner at The Rio.  Notorious for their 3 margarita maximum.  Is that why this photo is so blurry

Amy, Beth, Anna and Reba.  My super cute girlfriends on a hike w/o me.

Somebody always has a didgeridoo and bells on their keens down on Pearl Street.

We even brought a couple of mini-Buff’s with us on this trip.

Please ignore how awkward Anna and I look in this photo and instead focus in on the majesty that is the plastic gorilla in the middle.  He is looking straight into your soul.

All our friends got even better looking and then reproduced. And that is how the world turns.

One of the highlights of this trip was a stop by this guy

Poems while you wait.  After talking with us for a little while, this is what he came up with in honor of our friend Rebecca who couldn’t make the trip.  We love you, Rebecca!

This may not make sense to you.  Unless you too spent a good portion of your formative young adult years in Boulder, then it likely makes perfect sense.

It’s all lively here.

xoxo

Erin

Alls well

What Sunday brought for me.

Restrictors and Permitters all the live long day

Why did I even decide to try this?  The vegan-for-a-week-diet?    

Two reasons really.  The first is that I’ve been struggling with some digestive issues for the past 1.5 years and I would like it to go away, thank you very much.  But the primary reason is that I’ve been trying random diets for years. YEARS.  You see, I’m a serial dieter and diet-quitter.  Every few months, sometimes every few weeks, I learn about a new diet and think to myself,

Well, maybe this one will work.  Maybe if I eat in that strange and restricted way my body will heal itself. But I need to do it for the rest of my life because it has to be a lifestyle change and not a diet, of course. And look at all those success stories! This one must be it.

Then about 1/2 a day into it I’m hating life, hating the restrictions, daydreaming about the now forbidden foods and swearing off dieting forever.  It, in itself, is a very very unhealthy cycle. I’ve read so many nutrition books, nutrition  articles, diet blogs that they all sound the same now.  They probably are all the same.  The ARE all the same, aren’t they? sigh.

Geneen Roth in her book Women Food and God states that people generally fall into one of two groups when it comes to dieting.  We are all either "Restrictors" or "Permitters"

"Restrictors believe in control.  Of themselves, their food intake, their environments...deprivation is comforting because it provides a sense of control...they have convinced themselves that suffering is noble"

"Permitters find any kind of rules abhorrent.  If they've ever lost weight on a diet, it was through wrenching, abject misery....they see no point in trying to control the uncontrollable and have decided it's best to be blurry and numb and join the party." 

I am, without question, one of Roths's Permitters.  This difficulty with rules applies to all areas of my life.  I'm actually a pretty in-between-the-lines kind of person and I'm quite unlikely to break most rules - I just hate that they exist.  I think this is why I've always hated Sunday nights and Monday mornings.  I never hated work or school, I just hated that I HAD to go, that there was no other option.  And this is why I "fail" at diets over and over and over again.  Not only because I immediately resist any boundaries placed upon me and my food, but because in those moments I'm trying to be a "restrictor" and it just isn't who I am.  

There was a brief few years of my life when I was not constantly thinking about my body– it’s size, shape, or how it felt in proximity to other people’s bodies.  When I wasn't thinking about food constantly - what to eat, how much, when and in what order.  During that time I was broke, naturally active as a result of being broke, living in colorado….young. My body naturally reached, what I now think is my bodies’ happy-weight.  I didn’t diet, I ate whatever I wanted and could afford and I just didn’t think so much about it. I was so focused on the present and having fun and enjoying everything happening around me that dieting was not even on the to-do list. And my body reacted by righting itself.

Since that time I've grown more confused and less connected when it comes to food and my body. All the learning I've attempted to gain on the subject has only led me further away from myself and the truth of what I need.

I’d like this to be the part where I slam down my fist and shout, “Well this ends here!” But the truth is I’m feeling cautious.  I am feeling compelled…pulled…inspired…called even, to change everything – but I am feeling cautious. I'm not sure how easy it will be to let go of the notion that there may be some perfect way to eat and live that will cure all that ails me and right my body again.  I think now is the time to be kind to myself, not demanding.  To be loving, not critical.

To whisper in my own ear, “I love you, girl... Now what are you really hungry for?”

xoxo

Erin

ps - what about you?  Are you a Permitter? A Restrictor?  or something else entirely?

 

Veganism, sunburns and barfing. not in that order

This past week I decided to try eating a vegan diet all week (no meat or dairy).  I was curious how I would feel after cutting out all animal products from my diet.  Maybe it was coincidence, but my week of vegan eating also included a terrible head cold that lasted 4 days and ended with the stomach flu.

You know how the last thing you ate before barfing takes on all the responsibility of barfing forevermore?  For some of us it might be a bad burrito, for others it’s tequila.  But you wake up once the nausea has passed swearing to god/buddha/elvis that you’ll never eat/drink that again!?!  I’m kinda doing that with the idea of veganism at the moment.

I know it wasn’t the cause of my cold or my flu (more likely the 30 or so college students I meet with every week) and I’m sure I’ll continue to eat loads of fruits and grains and veggies.  But in my desperate pleas to stop all the barfing I found myself promising I’d eat meat again.  (Which is kinda ridiculous because I totally cheated on my vegan diet and ate a hardboiled egg in my salad – I’m clearly no vegan)

Sunday, fittingly, was a day of rest, a day of renewed clarity and a day at the beach.  We here in the greater Chicagoland area enjoyed a rare glimpse into summer weather with a sunny 85 degree day.  It was heaven.  I shared it with my sister and friend Wynn and we talked about the summer and how good the sun felt (among other things).

I sat at the beach for 3 hours and left with quite a sunburn, but man did it feel good.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my relationship to food and dieting and to my health.  I think I’m ready to do some writing about it here and I’m hoping some conversing with some of you about it through the comments or emails.  It isn’t easy, to be real open about this part of my life, but I think I’m ready to do it.

What I can talk about barfing, but I can’t talk about life?

:)

See you tomorrow.

xo

Out with the old

As some (many?) of you know the condo I live in was my mom’s.  My sister and I inherited it after she died and then a couple years ago I bought my sister’s half and moved in.  I was moving from a small one bedroom apartment into a large 3 bedroom condo.  The furniture I had to bring with me was all Ikea or found in my alley.  So I didn’t bring much of it at all.  I was moving into a fully furnished condo so there was little need for my crappy stuff.  My sister and I divided up as much furniture/art/odds-and-ends as we could at the time and I began living with what was left. 

As fortunate as I was to be moving into a fully furnished apartment (and a beautiful one at that), it is strange to move into your mother’s fully furnished apartment.  It’s her stuff and it’s hard for me to get past that sometimes.  To get the place where this place feels like mine and the stuff around me is my stuff is a major goal.  So, slowly, very very slowly I’ve started to replace her stuff with new stuff of my own.

This weekend I found a couple of things that are so small you may wonder if it makes that big of a difference.  Let me just say that when you are trying to make a place your own these things add up.

**Don’t get me wrong – there are some things of my mom’s that I could never part with.  That remind me of her and I want to keep close.  These are not those things.**

I use a butter dish.  Do you?  I use a butter dish and keep my butter out on the counter and never in the fridge.  I use a little butter every day on my morning toast so it gets used up pretty quickly.  But this is what I’ve been using for the past 2-3 years:

It isn’t cute – It isn’t! don’t lie.  Or if you do like it let me know and I’ll give it to you!  But don’t be jealous when you see where my butter will be living from now on:

My whole kitchen just got happier. 

And then there were these.  They’re fine – it’s true.  But they are thick and kinda heavy for little bowls

Maybe I should keep the matching ones for chips and salsa? Or you could – just let me know I’ll wrap them up like a present and mail them to you!  because now I have these

They’re cute! They’re simple! I can hold them in one hand!  But I won’t b/c I don’t want to break my new bowls, yo.

I realize that this may seem silly to you especially if you weren’t aware of my angsty existence in my home.  But these little things – they feel like me.  and that is a good, good thing.

Go get you some!

My cat’s breath smells like cat food

please tell me you know what that’s from….

I got a new roommate last weekend.  Her name is Mika

My sister, nephew and I headed out to a nearby animal shelter a week ago today determined to come home cat owners.  Megan and I’d grown up with cats, but neither of us had owned one since moving out at 18.  I’m not totally sure how the decision to get cats came up again, but when my sister said, “Don’t you think it would be nice to come home to a cute fuzzy face?” I guess I thought it sounded pretty good.

To reach the cats at this shelter, you first enter through a short hallway that where about 7 little chihuahua or other little dogs like that were stacked in cages yipping as you pass by.  They are saying to you, “hey.you.hey.you.hey.you.look.at.me.look.at.me.hey.you”

The cats are similarly stacked in cages lining the next hall, but they are all sleepy and tucked into little balls in their fleecy cat beds.  Finally at the end of that hall you reach the “cat room”.  Entering into this room was like the worst episode of animal hoarders.  About 150 (or more) cats are in this room.  Sleeping on top of each other, climbing on the tiered tower looming in the center of the room.  People keep asking me if it smelled…and it didn’t, badly anyways. But it was dusty and furry and there were cats who reached out to you with their paws as you passed by.  Cats who clung on to you and wouldn’t let go.  It was completely overwhelming and I walked out of that room thinking that maybe I didn’t want a cat after all.  How does someone choose a cat in a room like that?

Megan, Emmett and I found ourselves back outside that room seated on benches.  I felt a bit defeated and thought ‘maybe I’m just not a pet person.’  I was about to suggest that we just leave when one of the volunteers offered to show us a couple cats that were out sleeping in the cages.  These were cats that didn’t do as well in the “cat room”.  Probably a good fit for people who didn't do so well in the "cat room".

I can’t really explain how either of us made the decision to adopt these cats because it happened so quickly.  Part of it I think was the drastic difference in energy between the cat room and these sleepy, quiet cats was comforting.  Part of it was having someone make the suggestion, “how about this one?”  And thirdly, she looked me in the face, let me hold her and went quietly into my cat carrier.  I guess you sometimes just let the choice be made. 

Now both cats are totally settled in to their respective homes.  I’m getting used to leaving her at home when I leave and finding her their when I return.  And it turns out it is nice to come home to a cute fuzzy face.

Friday night’s alright

Redecorating a bit here at Small Things.  Hope you like the new banner image!

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Had dinner last night with a good friend for a belated celebration of her birthday.  We went to Nightwood Restaurant in the Pilsen neighborhood in Chicago.  It’s a cozy, chic place with leather chairs, great drinks and a hip and attractive staff.  I drove there directly after work and quickly lamented the frazzled/counselor look I was (not) rocking as soon as the hostess asked me if she could take my coat.  I relented, gave up the coat, smoothed back my loosening ponytail and took my seat to wait for the guest of honor. 

Chicago was in the middle of a little lake-effect snow fall and my friend was running late.  At the server’s recommendation I ordered the Warsteiner lager and glanced at the menu.  Nightwood writes their menu by hand each day and focuses on local meats and veggies.  This is from their website and pretty close to our menu from last night:

We split the mixed greens salad which was fresh and crisp with the most amazing homemade croutons.  they were buttery and crunchy and for some reason kept reminding me of a summer carnival (??) I’m going to have to go back and think a little harder about that one.  For my entree I ordered the Spit-roasted half-chicken.  It was just the right amount of food and left me feeling perfectly satisfied.

But we had dessert anyways.

I mean, they had bread pudding, for pete’s sake.  Salted-caramel bread pudding. You try to pass that up.  and we shared it by the way, so there.

Aside from being one of the best meals I’ve had out in a lonnngggg time, it was just a good night in general.  It’s been such a long time since I’ve gone out on a Friday night after work.  I’d forgotten what a fun, kinetic energy the world has going on right after work on a Friday night.

I’m thinking I’d like a few more Friday night’s out after work. Who’s in?

math skillz

I am busy this morning making this recipe for dinner for the next few nights:

If you look closely you’ll notice this recipe makes 12 servings.  Holy what? What’s a single girl to do in times like this?  I’ve made the mistake many, many times before of cooking recipes as is and ending up with so much food that I would want to punch brussel in the sprouts before eating another.

It’s all about division, ladies and gentlemen.  And for this one I figured 4 servings would be cool. So I third-ed the recipe.  Only that kind of math is completely confusing.  Why didn’t I just halve it or quarter the recipe??  who knows…I want what I want.

If you look closely again you’ll notice that the recipe counts for 2 lbs of butternut squash (yum).  Below that it called for 1.5 lbs of brussel sprouts (unharmed as of yet).  I don’t own a kitchen scale.  Do people really own kitchen scales?  What I did have was a 1lb bag of brussel sprouts and some counting skills.

one for the recipe, one for the fridge, one for the recipe, one for the fridge…and so on.  I figured that would be close to 1/2 a lb.  Then I minused 2 from the recipe pile to equal 1/3.  That’s probably not accurate….but what about this method is, fool!?

Also, I swapped tofu for chicken because I’m having chicken in my salads for lunch this week and I don’t like to eat meat 2x a day.  Vegetarians of the world – can you just swap tofu for chicken like that?  Without repercussions?  I’ll let you know.

 

annnnnnnndddddddddd….you’re welcome.

curry and squash,

Erin