the bell jar feels like it might be lifting

I did a bunch of stuff this weekend:  supper with Peter’s parents, drinks at Butch’s, an eye appointment which resulted in new contacts and glasses, started watching Wonderfalls and was reminded how much I love Wonderfalls, made a pot roast, beet salad, and walnut salad with extra sharp cheddar and homemade honey mustard dressing, saw Raleigh and was reminded how much I love Raleigh, went for an hour long run on empty streets and was  reminded how much I love running, made beef stock and was reminded homemade beef stock is amazing, lost about 3 pounds and was reminded how eating real foods prepared by me really does equal weight loss, and managed to get a full 7 hours of sleep last night which reminded me how much I love feeling rested.

Life isn’t all fragrant beef stock and burning calf muscles.  I got to work this morning to find an email informing staff we may be required to work two Saturdays a month in the next budget year which is something I championed 3 years ago when our circ numbers justified such a move, but now seems wildly unnecessary.  It’s also potentially a deal breaker for me staying.  We’ll see how that all shakes out. 

But for the most part, life ain't so bad.  I've got Chicago this weekend which will be fab plus I took Monday off to recover from my fab time in Chicago.  I filled up my ipod with my kind of  running music so that includes Hem and Josh Ritter alongside lots of Jack White, Beck and Cee-Lo.  I have tasty beef soup for supper tonight.  I procured Damages season 1 on DVD.

March?  Be cool.

team mondo all the way!

Mondo was robbed.  Gretchen wasn’t the evil bitch they portrayed her to be.  Andy was lucky to make it to the final 3.  Michael C just made me sad. 

God, I love Project Runway. 

Not only did Mondo bring me much joy and whimsy and color, I was also struck by how much I identified with Gretchen.  I too am frequently perceived as a bitch especially at work.  To their credit, my parents brought me up to believe my opinion mattered.  My point of view was mine all mine and as long as I was reasonably well-informed, I was taught to be proud of that.  What the producers did to Gretchen was unfair.  They needed a villain and since Ivy (crazy bitch.  crazy, crazy bitch) wasn’t talented enough, Gretchen got the job.  I do agree she went overboard sometimes (see the Team Lux challenge.  Hot mess is an understatement), but it’s really not cool when strong, intelligent, independent women are portrayed as bitches because they are confident. 

I still think she shouldn’t have won.  Mondo was outstanding. 

Despite my daily appearance being of the “before” variety, I love fashion.  I love clothes.  I love how styling the right piece with well chosen accessories and makeup and hair can really make a look sing.  Plus, I love clothing construction.  Every time I watch a season of Project Runway I get the itch to stitch.  As my body type and bank account don’t allow for designer clothes and I actually know how to make patterns and drape and sew, it seems like a no-brainer to make my own clothes.  And yet, I have never once made a single article of clothing for myself.

Measurements have been taken.  I have a bolt of muslin and some craft paper.  I have a fabric stash to be envied. I need to get some curves and a long metal yard stick and I’ll be in business. 

All I need is a rice cooker in the corner of the dining room and I should have my own little sweatshop up and running soon.

one week from tomorrow and february 2011 is history

Braised lamb shanks.  Seriously.  Obscenely good.  Alice Waters' recipe. Minus the rosemary and dried chili plus smoked paprika and thyme.  We only had 2 lamb shanks, but I made the entire recipe for the sauce as I figured it's a freezable yummy hey-I'm-making-soup/stew/beans/rice toss in with a big flavor punch.  Tonight I braised some lacinto kale in the sauce and served it on top of some leftover risotto.  Tomorrow night I'm going to cook some garbanzo beans in the braising liquid and serve it on top of brown rice.  If I manage to have some left after supper tomorrow night it's going in the freezer.

It will be my supertopsecret flavor bomb.

Other highlights of this weekend include a hot date with Michael at The Piper (The crepes stuffed with duck confit and bbq sauce topped with red grapes were really good.  As was the roasted vegetable dish Michael ordered.  Roasted fennel?  I wish I could cook you in my house.  You're delicious, but Peter hates anise), procuring Project Runway season 8 (I heart Mondo), and getting a call at 9:30pm Sunday from my boss informing me we were delaying opening until noon due to weather (I decided to take advantage of this gift by staying up insanely late-see above reference to Mondo-and sleeping in).

This week:  knit, tea with the bff, knit, make skirt sloper, knit, read the Hobbit, knit, finish Project Runway, knit, go for a run, knit, ponder time travelers, knit.
 

today was the day we were supposed to take the train to nola. bummer.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm not doing so great these days.  I know, I know it's seasonal @#$%!ing depression.  I know no one "feels good" during the winter months.  I know I go through this every year.  I hit a new low yesterday when I didn't crawl out of bed until 11:30am then promptly played solitaire on the computer for countless hours.  I mean countless.hours.  I didn't eat.  I didn't shower.  I sat and played solitaire.  At 6 pm I finally took a shower only to put on clean pajamas.  I did manage to put the computer down and pick up some stitching eventually, but I'd still consider it a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  It's as if I was a checklist for depression:  loss of appetite?  check.  loss of interest in hobbies?  check.  fatigue?  check.  lack of interest in daily activities?  check.

I know how to fix all of this. Run.  Eat real foods at "normal" times.  Get more sleep.  Drink less.  Pursue meaningful relationships.  Do things that bring me joy.

Guess what? 

I don't want to do it.  Any of it.  I know it will make me feel better.  But right now it not only feels overwhelming, it feels pointless.  It's a self-perpetuating downward spiral. 

It's kind of the bitch of the whole thing.  There is nothing anyone can do or say to make me feel better. I need to pull myself out of this.  I will.  I just seem to keep getting in my own way.

Things that don't suck right now include:
planning for the Chicago weekend
braised lamb shanks with saffron risotto
The Hobbit
feather stitches in shades of pink
Wholphin
taking all my breaks at work
J Lohr on sale at Meijer for $11.99

dear wayne,

Seriously?  $86.00 for a general admission ticket to see The Soft Bulletin tour.  EIGHTY-SIX DOLLARS EACH?!  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  But c'mon.  I understand you're some kind of mad musical genius.  And I thoroughly enjoyed seeing your set at Pitchfork a couple of years ago.  It was unique and a spectacle and massive and intimate.  It was so wonderful I was honestly considering driving to DETROIT to see you again.  

But $86.00?  

I would love you more if your ticket prices were closer to $50, 

Erin

The world is melting.  I stepped into a puddle that was mid-calf deep.  People walked around without coats.  Tonight there is a low of 18, but by Thursday we'll be at 50 only to be back down in the 20s by Friday night.  This weather is emotionally abusive.  Dangling these snatches of spring in front of my face.  

Thankfully, I have lemon cake to keep my disposition cheery.  I also have a copy of The Hobbit and the one David Mitchell book I've been holding onto for a rainy day.  I'm still working on the crazy green haired tree lady embroidery and just stitching with all that green makes me happy.  I have a weekend in Chicago coming up in a few weeks so that means mussels and frites and korean food and Girl Talk and good friends.  Yeasayer is playing the Majestic in June which would be a sweet place to see Yeasayer and I bet that show is a hell of a lot cheaper than $86.  

Did you see what I just did?  I just looked on the bright side of things.  The cup was half full.  Things will get better.  

Sorry, I'm not quite ready for exclamation points.  Let's just get through February, shall we?

so this might just turn into the place i blog obsessively about dr who

But right now we'll live blog 12am at Peter and Erin's house

Peter: "Facebook is the new America! It's just as shitty as the real America! You're live blogging my drunk rants! That's all I've been looking for in a girlfriend! Plus I need a personal assistant. You're hired. The pay is nothing."

Charlie Rose is talking about Egypt. Democracy. Yeah. George W Bush is sitting somewhere saying "I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU GUYS IF WE JUST DID IT TO IRAQ!"

That previous part was part Peter.

All I want is to be interviewed by Charlie Rose.

Peter: "What's happening on your internet?"

Nothing. I'm just on my blog

Peter: "Sociology is bullshit! Sociology is way worse that poetry!"

That was Peter's final exclamation at the end of a discussion regarding how the coverage of Egypt (especially the NPR and PBS kind of coverage) has been very "oh we're getting to the brass tacks of DEMOCRACY. we're talking about how we're hoping it works like we thought it might work!" And then I might have said something about how they weren't really talking about history but rather commenting on what was happening which is..well..sociology.

See above.

Peter: "Max Rodenbeck. Really?"

What's the deal with Max Rodenbeck?

Peter: "Why? Do you fancy him? Erin? You can tell me!"

And scene.

the one where erin dreams of a better world

I would like to legally change my name and not tell anyone at work so whenever someone asks for Erin I don't have to respond.

I would like to hire Bobby Knight to be my bodyguard. You don't get to ask me a question unless you go through Bobby Knight. And it will be screaming, angry Bobby Knight. Every time. So think real hard before you ask me a question because if Bobby Knight thinks you should know the answer? He'll tell you. With very colorful language. You'll probably cry.

I would like an invisibility cloak so I could go to work and do my work and be incredibly productive at my work but no one would know I was there so they wouldn't be able to interrupt me every 5 minutes to ask me a question that isn't relevant to my work.

Anything is possible...

today is brought to you by erindrenaline which is not as good as coffee

Two social late nights in a row. This is a good thing because my instinct is to hibernate in my house, drink red wine, and listen to Serge Gainsbourg by myself with the curtains drawn. This is a bad thing because today leaves me fuzzy headed and with burning eyes. Without caffeine.

My life is hell.

Sunday night I went to Travistina's sans Peter to watch the Superbowl with a bunch of folks. The shortrib eatin' was outstanding and my homemade scalloped potatoes (must.buy.mandolin. The slicing by hand was ridiculous) weren't so bad either. I wasn't expecting the crowd to be so much into the game but, gosh darn it, they were! My personal highlight was not the multiple interceptions by the Packers (!!!) or the halftime show (why did Fergie look like a tranny? what was up with the plastic boxes on the heads of the many dancers? why did Usher even bother "singing" because he didn't really sing?) or the commercials (The intro to the Detroit Chrysler commercial was actually quite good, but you don't get use the word "classy" when it's revealed Eminem is driving your car. Eminem is the antithesis of class), but rather the ongoing discussion amongst us regarding what crime it was Roethlisberger was accused of. My personal favorite? "He took pictures of his genitals and sent them to a puppy!"

Maybe you had to be there.

Last night was the Wavves/Best Coast show brought to us by the one and only Calvin College. I find it hilarious that Calvin had to cancel the New Pornographers concert last fall because of complaints about the name, but no one bothered to look up Wavves and their seedy associations. After the obligatory supper and irish carbombs at the Cottage Bar, we headed over where I was asked at the door to open my purse. There was security. At a Calvin Show. At the Ladies Lit Club. I mean, I get it. Wavves has a small reputation for being marijuana friendly, but seriously? They thought someone was going to smuggle in a one-hitter and toke away at a Calvin show? We had juuust missed the opening band (No Joy. Hadn't heard them before. Glad we missed it as I heard they were shoegazy to the max) and as we took our seats it was really apparent this was not a typical Ladies Lit Club crowd. These were YOUNG people. And I'm not talking late 20s young (which is young to me), but rather late teens/really early 20s. Beards were out, moustaches were in. There was a fair amount of patchouli wafting about. And the majority of the crowd was standing in front of the stage.

The set-up seemed to be less than smooth which is really unusual too. I bet we waited 20 minutes before Wavves took the stage. And they were actually better than I thought they'd be. Sure they were loud and messy, but they were less messy than I expected and just loud enough. Some of the people I was with had never heard them before and said they weren't thrilled at first, but did eventually get into their "thing" which I think means they just surrendered to grasping for the trace of melody you could hear every once and awhile. Plus, Wavves knew how to handle that crowd. They were very we-don't-give-a-fuck-what-you-think which was perfect.

We then had another 20 effing minutes or so before Best Coast took the stage. This did not do them any favors. Despite the show having started at 7pm (in theory), Best Coast did not take the stage until after 10. Some of us were not feeling as irish carbomby as we once were. Some of us actually sat down. It was warm. It was getting late. There was yawning.

I had heard Best Coast before and liked them. Nice short pop songs with a pleasing female lead singer. Unfortunately? She did not handle the crowd as well. It got fairly awkward. You could sense she was uncomfortable with how quiet it was between songs. She seemed nervous. Which made the crowd nervous. And thus began the spiral of nervousness. We ended up leaving 10 minutes before the end of the show because though they were way more listenable than Wavves they weren't nearly as, well, exciting to watch as Wavves. Perfect musical execution, but energy-wise it just fell flat.

Peter did purchase a Wavves tshirt. XL. With the new album's cover art.

It will be his summer uniform. Just watch.

february is already better than january

Last Monday feels like it was eons ago. Since then we had a blizzard, I got a day off, there was much shoveling, Peter got sick, I stitched a lot, I cooked a lot, and there was much DVD watching (The Life of Mammals and Wholphin were definitely highlights with Modern Family feeling a bit like a letdown. And, of course, The Gilmore Girls. Always), and Peter got me addicted to solitaire on the computer.

The biggest bummers of last week stand at germy Peter and the current solitaire obsession.

It's not good. I have abandoned my beautiful lady-with-green-hair-tree embroidery mash-up in order to play solitaire. It reminds me so much of college. "I'll just play until I win one game and then I'll stop. Oh wait. Maybe two games. Three. Totally. I will stop at three games." Saturday night I may have played for about 5 hours straight. It is definitely affecting my sleep habits as I see games in my brain all.the.time.

Before the world of computer solitaire took over my life, I did manage to make some chicken and dumplings (awesome snowday comfort food by the way), whole wheat pasta with butternut squash, gorgonzola and sage and my most successful fried rice to date. I'm also almost finished with "As Always, Julia" and "Moon over Manifest" which recently won the Newberry award.

I've been working on not, well, doing stuff. Constantly. I'm always thinking about how I can be productive in every aspect of my life and if I'm not productive I punish myself. Counterproductive much? So far I've allowed myself to stay in bed and read.

Slothdom is right around the corner.