Titanic Revisited

For the past few weeks, every commercial break into my regularly scheduled programming has demanded the answer to one question: Are you ready to return to Titanic?  My answer, along with most women my age, was a resounding HELL FRIGGIN YES!!!

I simply cannot overstate how important Titanic was to me in 1997. I was (*insert quick calculation here*) 13 years old and in the eighth grade. I had just made the uncomfortable transition from the small Catholic school I had attended my entire life to the big, bad world of public school, and I still hadn’t found my footing. True to form, I threw my attentions into my studies – in this case, Shakespeare – and an unrequited crush – in this case, Leonardo DiCaprio.  On the heels of 1996’s Baz Lurhmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, Titanic felt like a film made just for me. (Of course, now I know that every 13-year-old girl in America felt that way that year, but I digress…) 

I instantly became enamored of the idea that two people could find each other in the middle of unthinkable circumstances and save each other – to quote the film – in every way a person could be saved. This love story had everything I loved about Romeo & Juliet (including the actor, minus the fancy language) – but this time, there was a survivor! And she went on to live an amazing and fulfilling life! Now, there was a role model.  

I won’t say that I was self-aware enough at the time to liken the transition I was going through to the struggles Rose was experiencing both before and after the boat sank, but I was inspired nonetheless. And I kept going back for more. If memory serves, I saw the film 3 times in theaters, a number which would have been much higher if I was, you know, old enough to drive.

As I was watching the film in 3-D last night, (which was well worth the $14.50, by the way, and not just because this time I got to see Leonardo DiCaprio in 3-D.), I couldn’t help but think about Twilight.  (Stay with me here.) If I were 13 today instead of in 1997, it’s a pretty safe bet that Twilight in all its vampire-centric, nonsensical glory would have been just as important to me as Titanic was back then. In a way, the storylines are quite similar. We start with a girl who feels out of place in her own skin and follow her through the love connection that leads her to her destiny.

I wasn’t thinking about Titanic when I first read Twilight, but the same naïve, insecure, adolescent girl inside of me who squeals with delight at the phrase “you jump, I jump” loved every minute of it. The three “novels” that followed  and the feminist critique that came with them have since eclipsed (pun-intended) that first impression, but if we’re being honest– as I always strive to be here and in every other facet of my life – when I cracked the cover of the first book in the largely disappointing series, I couldn’t put it down. Even as a grown-ass, married, educated, adult woman, I could remember what it was like to be in high school and feel out of place and in desperate need of rescuing.  I got caught up in the romance and drama, once again, with every other 13-year-old girl in America.

Now, we know that Bella Swan is basically a waste of fictional space. She went through her big transformation and learned that you don’t need any fancy book learnin’ if you’ve already got yourself a rich fella and are wearing his ring and carrying his child. I shudder to think how my 13-year-old psyche would have been affected if I had read that tripe when I was age-appropriate. (It’s also my sincerest hope that Katniss Everdeen can undo the damage done to today’s tweens, but that’s a subject for another time.)

One of my favorite parts of Titanic (that does not feature Leo…)  is at the very end when the camera pans over the photographs that stand in for all of the great adventures Rose had in her life once she was back on dry land. True to her promise to Jack, she went horseback riding (like a man!) in the surf near Santa Monica Pier, but she also rode an elephant and took flying lessons and other things I can’t quite remember off the top of my head – and in none of these pictures is she standing beside a man. Because of her exceedingly brief relationship with the dreamy, dreamy Jack Dawson, Rose actually found independence and the courage to live her own life on her own terms.

I’m not going to say that Titanic is a great cinematic masterpiece or that it provides a positive life plan for anyone in the 21^st century. I can readily admit that it’s basically a 3 and a half hour wet dream (get it?) for adolescent girls, and I’m pretty cool with that fact. But I will say that I’m probably better off for falling in love with it when I was 13 than girls might be who feel that way about Twilight now.

Because, in short, Rose DeWitt-Bukater kicks Bella Swan’s ass.  And, if we’re looking at things that have made me the person I am today (I’m still supposed to be doing that in this blog, right?), I’m damn glad that Titanic was one of them.

RIP Davy Jones

So, Davy Jones has died. And it’s sad, for many reasons and for many people. Not especially for me, but I do have one very specific memory that I’d like to share with you all on this day.

I don’t have much of a personal connection to Davy outside of being a casual Monkees fan for a few weeks during my childhood when the TV show was airing on Nick at Nite. But I was fortunate enough to see the band play live shortly thereafter at a small venue just over the boarder in Indiana. I went with my parents and, from what I can recall, I had a good time. I still have the concert ticket; it’s framed and tucked into a curio cabinet with all of my other childhood treasures. The funny thing is, though, I cannot remember the concert at all. My memory is specially tied to hanging out in the lobby before we even took our seats for the performance. 

Since that day, I have spent a lot of time in theater lobbies and outside of stage doors just hoping to get a glimpse of a certain performer, to get the chance to thank him or her for sharing a gift that I so desperately wish I could have, and maybe even scoring an autograph or picture to commemorate the occasion. But, back then, it didn’t occur to me that meeting a real-live Monkee was even a possibility. That is, until this fully-grown, adult woman nearly had an emotional breakdown right in front of me while waiting for her beloved Davy Jones to appear.

I came thisclose to meeting Davy Jones that day, and even though I didn’t, I credit him with my first positive stage-door experience. It was unexpected and brief but also so absurd that I can’t look back on it without smiling.

This memory, in its entirety, was included in a piece I wrote for one of my seminars in college (some other bits are true too. Have fun guessing which ones I made up). I’ve pasted it below in the hopes that it might make you smile too.

 

Situations In Which You Had To Be There

I’m at a baby shower where I hardly know anyone.  It’s a business shower, not pleasure.  We sit quietly, picking at our finger sandwiches and avoiding small talk by refusing to look anyone else directly in the eye.  The mommy-to-be starts opening her presents.  After unwrapping a few trinkets, she gets to the big present – the one we all chipped in for.  Someone down at the other end of the long conference-style table starts a synthetic drum roll.  We all join in, and the mommy eats it up.  She starts shaking the box and proffering guesses.  The drum roll starts to die down as she begins to peel back the corner of the wrapping paper.  When the drum roll completely stops, the corner of the box is still covered.  From the far side of the table, someone yells to the milking mommy, “Take it off!” 

Fumbling around in the dark afterwards, he grabs a pair of jeans from the top of the pile.  “What the hell?” he asks when he realizes he can’t quite zip up the fly.  I run one of my hands along the unfamiliar wall, grasping for the switch while the other holds the sheet tightly around my body.  Light fills the room, and I look at him.  He’s wearing my pants.

It’s the summer of ’95, and my family is taking a road trip.  Four adults and two kids crammed into one minivan.  We’re uncomfortable and impatient.  The only thing that keeps my brother and me from ripping each other apart is the promise of the ice cream we will receive at the end of the journey.  During the last hour of the trip, we speak of nothing but hot fudge sundaes and Dilly Bars.  By the time we pull into that Dairy Queen in Ann Arbor, Michigan, my parents, my grandparents, my brother, and I are all salivating.  The car barely comes to a stop when we leap out of our seats.  It isn’t until we have ordered, paid, and battled at least two ice cream headaches a piece that we notice my grandfather still waiting in the car.  When we return to the car and ask him why he didn’t come in, he turns to us and says plaintively, “Nobody asked me if I wanted any ice cream.”

We arrive almost a full hour early to the theatre, an indoor venue connected to a branch of a popular hotel chain.  They won’t let us find our seats, so we stand in the lobby, fingering our tickets and frequently checking our watches.  There’s a middle-aged woman pacing behind us, repeatedly asking, “Where is he?  Where is he?”  Ten minutes before the show is supposed to start, a little guy surrounded by security guards makes his way through the crowd.  From behind me, the same woman shouts, “It’s Davy!  Davy, can you stop for an autograph?  Please, Davy!”  But Davy Jones is too busy to sign autographs.  And once he’s out of sight and earshot, she sighs and mutters, “Jackass.”

We’re on our way to Easter brunch.  During the drive, I attempt to catch him up on all the family drama.  “So, Sheryl won’t be coming because Grandma invited Linda, and now she’s worried that everyone is going to be mad at her, especially because Rob told her …”  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the speedometer.  We’re going ten mph under, so I say, “What kind of Sunday drive is this, Grandma? …  But anyway, she’s all worried now that Sheryl and Rob are going to hate her because she invited Linda.” To which, he responds, “But wait.  How many people can they fit in a car?”

My friend and I are driving down a country road.  It is midday, warm.  The windows are rolled down; the music is turned up.  Suddenly, she slams on the breaks, and I snap out of my rock star fantasy to see why we’ve unexpectedly stopped.  There, in front of us, is an actual chicken crossing the road.

We’ve never come so close to breaking up or killing each other, whichever comes first.  At this point, we don’t care.  The windows are steamed up from our yelling, but neither of us is listening to the other.  I don’t know how he’s keeping the car on the road.  We’ve faded into silence a few minutes before the railroad track.  He puts the car in park with a huff as the barriers descend.  We both stare straightforward, choosing to watch the train instead of speaking to each other.  It turns out to be just an engine connected to a caboose, and after it zooms by, we turn to each other and laugh.

Februrary Update

Happy February, y’all! It’s officially been 2012 for an entire month now, and I’m pleased to report that things are going well, resolution-wise.

Despite one minor setback in the first week of January, I have been successfully maintaining my goal weight. (P.S. Even after one achieves said goal weight, it is a super bad idea to consume an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s full-fat cookie dough ice cream in one sitting – even if you’re watching The Bachelor and that spoon in your mouth is the only thing keeping you from shouting at the television and thereby upsetting your dogs and confirming for your opera-singing next-door neighbor that you are indeed a crazy person.)

My efforts to eat more veggies have also been going well. Thus far, it’s really just been more broccoli, edamame, and carrots, usually in some variety of stir-fry – but more nutrients have been entering my body, so I’m calling it a win. I’ve also been reading every night – not much of substance – but it’s progress towards the goal. Plus, I’ve been falling asleep faster because I’m lying in bed reading instead of sitting on the couch watching TV right before bed. There might be something to that whole  “no screens an hour before going to bed will help you feel more rested” thing after all.

Cleaning all the things (!!!) and multitasking less have been harder resolutions to keep because work has been nutzo these past couple of weeks with no sign of slowing down anytime soon. Although, we did clean the bathroom and vacuum last weekend and the Pope wasn’t even coming over, so there is that.

Switching gears now  – I’m so glad it’s February.  For a number of years now, about 10 to be exact, February has been one of my favorite months. It’s (usually) wonderfully cold and snowy, which means snuggly sweaters, cozy blankets, hot cocoa, and delicious soups. The January overcrowding at the gym dies down, and any residual post-holiday stress of de-decorating and returning rejected presents goes with it. But more than all of that, February is the month that two starry-eyed teenagers first fell in love.

That’s right; way back in Feb. 2002, Josh and I began our relationship as two clueless, idealistic 17 year olds – which, thanks to basic math, makes Feb. 2012 our 10^th anniversary. If you had asked us back then if we’d make it this far, we could have told you with absolute certainty that we would – but that doesn’t make it any less exciting that we have.

We’ll be celebrating this weekend by making the short trip up to Lake Lawn Resort (previously, Lake Lawn Lodge) in Delavan, WI, a place I’ve visited my entire life. Due to some financial trouble, Lake Lawn closed for a while and reopened last summer under new management. From the pictures posted online, the place looks mostly the same, but I’m sure so much has changed under the surface. In a way, it’s the perfect location for us to celebrate our anniversary.  From the outside, our relationship might look the same as it did 10 years ago, but so much has changed as we’ve grown together. I’m not even the same person I was 6 months ago, never mind a decade ago, and Josh is the same way. But we’ve been lucky enough to evolve with, not in spite of, one another.

When we first met, I had such rigid ideas of what our life would be like. I thought that we’d follow in my parents’ footsteps exactly. I thought we’d move back to Crete, have a couple of kids, and end up living in the family house forever. I didn’t see the point in trying anything different because I thought that was my destiny. And while that would have been a lovely life (It certainly worked out for my parents, who are coming up on nearly 35 years of marriage) – it never even entered my mind that I could do anything else, that I could do something new. But Josh – a vegetarian/wannabe activist, when we first got together, if you can believe it – always questioned everything. He challenged every rule and sought to break free from every expectation. It took me a long time to understand why he had to be so difficult – and to admit that I didn’t already know everything there was to know about the world and our lives at the tender age of 18 – but when I did, it fundamentally changed who I was and what I wanted out of life. And while I’m not going to go on about how I influenced Josh in a similarly important way – mainly because this isn’t his blog and he probably wouldn’t like me doing so anyway – suffice it to say that I’ve taught him a thing or two, too.

I’m a pretty introspective person (clearly), and I can’t help but look back over the past from time to time and marvel at how truly different I am because of every decision we’ve made and everything we’ve made it through together.

And the best part is the silly, romantic teenager inside of me is still so certain that even though things will change as we continue to map out our future, the bond between us will stay strong enough to carry us through the next 10 years and beyond.

2012: A List of Resolutions

Ok, so I dropped the ball on the whole Thankful Series. My apologizes to the 11 of you who were reading it daily. I did so much better last year when I did it through pictures on fbook. They say a picture is  worth a thousand words, but it seems that a photo is actually worth about 300 words – or a standard blog entry. On the upside, I survived one of the busiest Novembers of my life, so there’s that.

But since the new year has started, I figured it might be time for me to check in here again. I saw on the news that the vast majority of Americans interviewed reported that 2011 was one of the worst years of their lives, but I have to say, without hesitation, that it was probably one of the best years of mine.  For starters, 2011 was the year I reclaimed my life. I started working full-time (I may have mentioned this here before…) and started making headway on the debt that I built up through years of studenthood. 2011 was also the year that I finally reached my ultimate weight loss goal (on Dec. 31, believe it or not). And last, but absolutely not least, 2011 was the year I met and spoke to Matt freaking Damon (P.S. 2012, Let’s make Leonardo DiCaprio happen, okay?.)

So, yeah, 2011 wasn’t so bad. And, though I’m not a big believer in resolutions (mainly because of my utter lack of follow through, as evidenced by November’s half-completed project), I’mma go ahead and resolve to make 2012 just as awesome.

To continue my efforts to be a grown-up, I make the following resolutions.

1) Maintain my weight – This is most likely going to be my focus this year and for years to come. In 2011, I managed to shed 10 pounds that I never thought I’d ever be able to get rid of. Ever. Awhile back, I posted on livejournal (Yep, that long ago) about how I was shooting for a certain goal weight inspired by Tyra Banks and some less-than-flattering photos of her in a swimsuit. I thought if that weight is good enough for Tyra, it’s good enough for me. Well, I am now 10 pounds lighter than that, and it’s incredible. The sheer fact that I made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas without a gain is shocking. I still can’t believe I did it. My new goal is to hold on to this feeling – and jeans size – for as long as I possibly can.

2)  Eat more veggies – Throughout the course of the past few months, I’ve been making a solid effort to try new foods – “new” meaning fruits, vegetables, and other foods I erroneously believed I didn’t like. Part of this resolution stems from Resolution #1, but a big part of it is just to try new things and open myself to new experiences. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been saying no to going to new restaurants or making new recipes because I was too scared of the unknown. No more, sir!

3) Clean all the things! – It’s no secret that Josh and I are damn, lazy pigs. I hate vacuuming and doing the dishes. I don’t mind folding the laundry, but I cannot stand dragging it across the parking lot to the crappy community washing machines. I won’t even delve into the nightmare that is our bathroom. Our – meaning my – cleaning routine usually begins with the realization that company is a’comin’. This year – and hopefully, that doesn’t just mean this month – I’m going to strive to keep things cleaner just for us. We deserve nice things, too, right?

4) Multitask less – This might be a weird one, but I’ve found myself getting bogged down by doing too many things at once lately. Chances are, if I’m working, I’ve also got the Netflix going, at least two games of Words with Friends popping up, and a list of chores or groceries forming in my head. Case in point – right now, I’m blogging and watching How I Met Your Mother and keeping an eye on fbook in another window. I think I could really benefit by focusing more on each individual task at hand, and I’m sure I’ll feel less stressed if I stop trying to do 2012 things at once.

5) Read more – When I walked away from academia, I had a long, long list of fiction that I was dying to work my way through. I did make a dent, but, more often that not, I ended up watching tv instead. Now that I’ve watched more than a handful of Netflix-recommended television programs from pilot to finale, I think I’m ready to get my read on.  My best friend, one of the many librarians in my life, keeps me in YA dystopian lit and paranormal romance, but I’m looking for more. Seriously, I’d welcome any recommendations you’ve got to give. Oh, that goes for TV shows too …

These are the goals that will keep me kickin’ in 2012. Unofficially, I’d like to find a real full-time copy editing job sometime in the next year. I’d also love to finish a 5k within the 30-minute mark. But those goals won’t be my focus. I started this blog to figure out what I want out of life and who I can become once I leave my comfort zone. I resolve to spend 2012 continuing that journey.

Being Thankful – Day 14

Once upon a time, I was driving home from work and I wrote this blog post in my head. I decided on today’s thankful thing and composed two tight paragraphs (not on kittens) that I could be proud of. Flash forward three hours, two miles, and one bowl of leftover chili later, and I have NO IDEA what it was I was going to write about. None. Not a clue.

There are a lot of things I could write about today, like the leftover chili which meant I didn’t have to cook tonight or, more importantly, the fact that a dear, dear friend got a job today (!!!) after a long search, and while I am infinitely grateful for these things (one more than the other, to be fair), they’re not what I was going to write about today.

Ah ha! It just came to me! I was going to be thankful for my experience with languages! (Whew! I knew I wasn’t that old yet!)

A few summers ago, when I was working as a Bear Builder, I was glad to have my Spanish because I could use it to parse together the instructions for Spanish-speaking children a la, “una corazon en la mano,” “haz un deseo,” or “un beso y abrazo para el oso.” That was the first time I’d ever been in a real-life situation in which I needed to use my years and years of Spanish, and it was such a thrill. I will never forget the joy on those kids’ faces when they realized that they could be a part of the fun in their own language. That exchange alone made my 10 years of study worth the effort.

Time has passed, and even more of my language skills have leaked out of my head. If pressed, I could likely form a few sentences and conjugate my verbs properly, but it’s definitely not as easy as it used to be. But at work these past couple of weeks, I’ve learned that my Spanish is not gone and that my French (the level of a 3rd grader according to My Language Coach for the DS) might be better than I thought it was!

Part of the content I review for this job is requests for tutors, and some of these – most often ones for ESL tutors – are written in the student’s native language – usually Spanish – and I get to translate them! For a big ole nerd like me, this is jolly good fun. Especially because it makes me feel like my minor (and all those hours of homework) are not going to waste. And then today, I received a request written in French for a piano tutor for a 6 year old girl, and I was able to read and translate it word for word. Mind you, I couldn’t pronounce or spell any of those words unaided, but I knew what they meant when I saw them and was able to process the request to find that little girl a French-speaking teacher. I couldn’t help but think back to those little bear-building Spanish-speakers and hope that this little French girl gets as much joy from learning in her own language.

Being Thankful Day 12/13

Today’s post shall be two-fold because I never quite got around to posting yesterday. Apologies to those of you who stopped by in my absence.

Saturday: I said I wasn’t going to repeat things that I was thankful for last year (i.e., friends), so I will amend the general to make it more specific, to wit- I am thankful for so many opportunities to hang out with my awesome friends! My social calendar has been overflowing lately. Between monthly potlucks, other kinds of parties, and family stuff, Josh and I are already booked on every Saturday until the end of the year! The downside is that we unavoidably miss stuff that we’d like to go to because we’re overbooked, but it’s lovely (albeit a bit hectic) to get to see the people we love so often. Especially when they come bearing delicious and exotic foods for me to try! (P.S. I’m totally making chili for dinner tonight).

That said, there still are a handful of my nearest and dearest who I haven’t seen in such a long time and who I miss dearly. I swear, as soon as things calm down after the holidays, I’ll try to be a better friend to those of you I don’t get to see every month. I’m also aching to get back to Sidetrack, but that’s another story.

Sunday: Today, I am thankful for my glasses. I have a long and unhappy history with glasses. My face just isn’t a glasses face no matter how much I’d like it to be. So, I’ve always striven to wear contacts whenever possible. But there are times (read: allergy season) during which my sensitive eyes revolt and refuse to accept those little round lenses without a fight. I bought a pair of glasses in preparation  for battling the fall allergy season before my sophomore year at IWU, and though I wore them everyday, I still preferred how I looked without them. But after years of searching, I finally found a pair that suit me.

I am completely in love with the pretty purple frames I bought in preparation for my new career. Staring at a computer screen for hours on end with my contacts in has always given me headache and weary, teary eyes. But now, I just slip my glasses on every morning, and I’m good to go. No eyestrain, no blurriness from my astigmatism, no headaches. The fact that they’re super cute is just an added bonus. Plus. my two-weeker contacts last up to a month because I’m only wearing them half-time. Win-Win.

Being Thankful – Day 11

Today, I shall write the entry I should have written yesterday. Sometimes I can get so busy that I forget to take the time to recognize the little things – like the Thursday night TV lineup, a good run, and delicious, delicious frozen pizza.

Since my husband is taking an Excel course on Thursday nights this semester, I’ve been living the single life once a week. Though I was pretty lonely the first couple of weeks, I’ve fallen into a lovely rhythm and have really come to enjoy my alone time.

My Thursday ritual starts simply enough. After I finish work, I do not cook dinner. Usually, I start cooking right away so that dinner will be ready at 6 so that Josh, who always comes home hungrier than a hippo, can enjoy his meal right away. But since he doesn’t get home until almost 10 p.m. now, I don’t bother to cook for myself. Instead, I grab my gear and hit the gym hard enough so that I can enjoy a dinner of thin crust frozen cheese pizza loaded turkey pepperoni without feeling the least bit of guilt.

And then the fun really begins. There’s an episode of Sex and the City in which the gals talk about their SSB – secret single behavior. For Carrie, that meant reading fashion mags standing up in the kitchen while eating a stack of saltines. For me, that means reality TV and medical dramas. I usually start with last night’s America’s Next Top Model and Top Chef.  These are not Josh’s favorite, so watching them when he’s not home, I can watch them guilt-free. Then, there’s Grey’s – a show I bitch about every week but still cannot wait to watch. Lastly, there’s Private Practice – another show I complain about every week but don’t really enjoy that much anymore. It’s more like a bad book that you keep reading because you’re already 150 pages in – I’m already committed, so I’m gonna stick around to see how it all ends.

By the time all of that is over, Josh is home. He grabs my leftover pizza, and we stay up a little later than usual to watch our other favorite Thursday night shows: The Big Bang Theory, Community, and Parks & Rec. 30 Rock will be added to this lineup as soon as it returns mid-season. What I love the most about these shows is that they always manage to surprise and delight. Even when they employ a comedic device I’ve seen a million times before, they add a little twist that cracks me up all over again.

A good run, quality TV, and lots of laughs with the love of my life – I couldn’t ask for anything more.

 

Being Thankful – Day 10

Today is one of those days when I’m having trouble coming up with something to be thankful for. As I mentioned last week, Thursdays are now 10-hour workdays for me, and since I accidentally slept in this morning, I only have about 15 minutes between jobs – which isn’t really enough time to walk the dogs, eat, and be thankful.

So, in lieu of a long entry today, I’ll just take these few minutes of downtime to be thankful that I have two jobs to keep me busy.

Oh, and for Lean Cuisine. I am definitely thankful for Lean Cuisine. Ginger garlic stir fry, here I come.

Being Thankful – Day 9

Today (really, this whole month so far), I am thankful for simple, delicious recipes.

I’ve been working on unleashing my inner Giada DeLaurentiis for a while now – and not just because the chica cooks so much delicious Italian food and still manages to be super slim. As I posted a few months ago in my food rules post, homemade is often better than store bought, so I’ve been trying to add more recipes to my repertoire. Walking the line between health and taste can be tricky, but since my workload has increased, I’m really glad that I’ve already put so much effort into finding some quick, quality recipes for healthy(ish) home-cooked  meals.

Lately, two of my faves lately have been spicy faux-breaded chicken breasts and easy whole wheat pasta with minute-marinara. Both of these started as recipes I found online or in magazines but have somewhat lost their structure the  more I cook them. When I was a kid, I never understood how my grandma could cook so much without using recipe cards or measuring spoons, but I’m starting to get it.

Without further ado, I present to you these simple, health(ier) recipes for two of my quickest and yummiest home-cooked entrees.

Spicy faux-breaded chicken breasts: Throw a couple of chicken breast filets in a Ziploc bag. Add 1 tablespoon of flour along with dashes of poultry seasoning, garlic salt, chili powder, pepper, cayenne pepper, and onion powder. Once upon a time there were exact quantities for these spices, but I don’t use them anymore.  So, add to taste! Shake vigorously while wagging your tail with your dogs (Oh, wait, that last part might just be for me.) Then, cook in the broiler for 7 minutes on each side.  So simple.

Easy whole wheat pasta with minute-marinara: Cook half a box of wheat pasta (penne, rotini, whatever you fancy). Meanwhile, in a small sauce pan combine a small can of tomato sauce (8 oz, I think) with two healthy dollops of tomato paste. Then, mix in oregano, garlic powder, pepper, and onion powder (also to taste!). Stir well. Heat on low until your pasta is ready. Pour over drained noodles and enjoy!

So, there you have it. Two easy alternatives to higher-calorie meals.  I have been thankful for both of them already this week, and tonight, I will be thankful for the leftovers. Yum.

Being Thankful – Day 8

Today, I am thankful for working radiators.

While there are many, many things I love about our apartment in Evanston – from its location to the pears that decorate my kitchen walls, the heating system is not one of them. After living in our place in Roger’s Park for a few years, the Clancy clan had gotten used to dealing with the various side affects of Old Building Syndrome.  So, last November, when we learned that the radiators in our new place weren’t the best and that our management company was in the process of replacing them, we just put on slippers, pulled some extra blankets out of the closet, and tried to make the best of it. Throughout a season of shivering, the heat never got better, and we ended up living more like a pack of arctic survivalists than a normal married couple, but I never gave up faith that our building manager would come through.

When the heat first came on this year a few weeks ago, I was stoked. We didn’t really need the heat yet, but just having it on and pumping warm air was such a relief after last winter. But the artificial warmth only lasted a day – unseasonable heat hit and the radiators were transformed back into ugly, useless, immovable lumps. The trouble was, after the mysterious 70 degree days left again, the heat did not return.

Every morning, I would lie in the bed – comforted by my two furry space heaters – and strain to hear the sweet sounds of the IWU-style banging in the walls that meant our heat was working. Weeks went by in silence. More than once, it felt warmer outside during the day than it was inside our apartment. But, since we rent and have zero control over our own thermostat, there wasn’t much we could do but wait. I suppose I could have called and made a fuss, but I just don’t have that kind of energy or ego. Instead, I just waited and resisted the urge to dip my cold hands into my cup of coffee.

This week, though, patience has paid off. The heat is pumping, and I’m not cold for the first time in a month. I still have no idea whether or not they’ve fixed the problems that were causing the chill last year, but for now, I’m just thrilled that I can feel my hands and feet again.