100

Goals are wonderful things. Or terrible. I guess it depends on where you're at. They can be daunting or trivial. But they're always excusable. It's easier to delay what can be done today until tomorrow. Always.

But the sense of accomplishment when one reaches one's goal is just that. A sense of accomplishment. Something to be proud of. Even better when one reached the same goal yesterday and the day before. The goal morphs and it becomes about the streak, the number of days one can string together more than the goal itself.

There is always adversity. Each and every day. It doesn't matter the goal, there are forces determined to get in the way, temptations to distract. Some distractions are good and worthy things in themselves, but distractions nonetheless.

Congratulations, if you have a goal and have found the fortitude to meet it. Good for you.

(Btw, my goal is to walk every day. Today is day 100. Haven't missed a day yet and it feels good.)

Planning for Future Emergencies

(Note the date sequence.)

http://www.seattlepi.com/lifestyle/

Report: Sex can stop a heart, so have more sex (CBS)

Problem: Sex can literally break your heart.

Solution: More sex.

The Gun lobby's solution to gun violence: Pack more heat

What Where They Thinking?

More here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wsdot/5550079867/in/set-72157626326720170/

and

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2014564465_boat22m.html

Tooth Decay

Have you ever had a case of gingivitis? Let me tell you, it makes menopause look like a cakewalk. I woke up Friday morning with a swollen gum between two teeth. I thought maybe something was stuck in there. Saturday it was more irritated and my gums were now swollen in front and in back of a tooth. I wasn't too worried about it. It didn't hurt and I figured whatever was irritating my tooth would eventually work itself out.

Sunday morning I woke up in a sweat. If you are female and around my age, this is not an uncommon occurrence. My temp was 99 but the glands in my throat were swollen. I took some Advil, took the day off work (like I have time for this) and spent most of the day in bed. I was feeling better by late afternoon and figured it was better to take care of myself than crank out a couple more tax returns.

Monday, temperature was 102, throat glands very painful. Again, the Advil did a good job of managing everything but I called my dentist. Something was most definitely going on.

Gingivitis? Are you kidding me? I don't know how this happened but I did share a toothbrush with my grandson last week. Probably a mistake in more ways than one. I read online that gingivitis often occurs in puberty during hormonal changes. Damn, this getting older! I'm definitely experiencing hormonal changes.

Because of menopause, I'm thinking, I got something that's worse. Night sweats galore! Temp is 101 this morning. Throat is sore, it's hard to eat anything that isn't soft. Good news, Advil and a stronger-than-Listerine rinse is providing relief. Other than that, I'm trying to let this virus run its course. No need to see my doctor unless the fever doesn't start to abate soon.

Oral hygiene wasn't the problem. I've always gotten glowing reports every six months from my dentist. But it's a problem now. My gums are very sensitive to brushing and flossing is nearly out of the question.

I'll be happy when this goes away, glad to have menopause as my only affliction. This is nonsense.

P.S. To add insult to injury, I also have bad breath. (That's the injury.) The worst of it is I don't know I have bad breath. (That's the insult.) Someone had to tell me. I can't taste it or smell it. I'll try to avoid close contact but if I notice you backing away, don't worry about it. I know.

Just Another Day

It’s tax season here. Well, everywhere I suppose. I live at the office now and eat two-thirds of my meals here. I’m deprived of sleep but have an ample supply of coffee. The only way I can tell that one day has become the next is that my clothes have changed. I'm thinking about hanging a sign in my window that reads HELP! NEED LATTE!

The IRS has ruined another weekend, I might add. It's bad enough that I work weekends as it is, but to tack another one on for good measure is just rude. April 15th is a Friday so what's wrong with just getting it over with? The 15th is a holiday in DC - that's why - so while they get a day off, I'm at work. And the next day, and the next day, and the day after that, ruining yet another weekend.

Here's the catch for the procrastinators who owe. Your taxes are really still due on the 15th. Bet they didn't tell you that, did they? When the 15th falls on a weekend or a holiday (as it does this year), it is considered timely filed on the next business day (this year, the 18th). If your return isn't postmarked by then, penalties and interest go back to the due date of April 15th.

I'm thinking about changing the sign in my window to read HELP! NEED CHOCOLATE!

Since You Asked

Okay, nobody really asked but here it is anyway.



Note my place card. A loyal reader. (Thank you, Sandy!)

Prom Date

We went to the prom last night (the annual Commodore's Ball at Rainier Yacht Club). Got my hair done (which involved exactly thirty-eight bobby pins and industrial grade, anti-gravitational hair spray). Got my makeup done. (My washcloth revealed similar industrial strength products were used.) Bought a new gown. (It was beautiful.) Took two days to get ready. Meanwhile, Handsome put on his tux and was ready in about five minutes.

We had a wonderful time. I only attend one ball per year and it's magical. The commodores of each yacht club attend a total of fourteen each year. I can't imagine it's as magical for them.

In some ways, it's a silly, over-the-top affair. Middle-aged people, all dressed up, dancing the night away to music older than the DJ, music they know the words to, the women dancing with each other on the fast songs, the men joining in on the slow ones. Lights turned low, disco ball shimmering.

It's true, there are more important, more worthy things to worry about and spend time, energy, and money on. But for one night, it's nice to dress up and celebrate. Celebrate with the people you care about, enjoy each other's company, and take a time out from daily woes. Transformation, for just one night. That's what makes it special. And worthy.

And now that Cinderella is home, her face scrubbed, hair combed out, wearing her regular old clothes, it's time to contemplate real life again. Back to work. Laundry, dishes, toilets. Grocery lists and a few hours at the office. But it's worth it, for that one night to dress up as a princess and dance the night away with a prince.

I have some very lovely pictures. From prom, and other adventures, and I know I've been slow to post. I might have some time to get caught up later this week. I'll try to get some prom pictures up this evening. (The roast is already in the crock pot so I might have a little time right after the ironing.)

Cinderella, out.

Leftover Valentine

up to the minute

this is live up to the minute blogging. I am currently on my treadmill dictating this post into my phone while walking at 3 miles per hour. there was a moment of sun today but I missed it. I worked straight through it. when I got home it was dark and it was raining. my only option was the treadmill. or so I thought.

I always thought dancing with good exercise but that seems to the mostly true when you don't intend to do it. at a nightclub for example are party. personally I like to dance wall in cooking. this might explain why some of my recipes turnout and some of them don't. I wonder if that's what happened to my christmas cookies this year. instead of watching the pot to boil I turn my back on in the kneeboogie.

so I tried to dance video on tv instead of my walk today. it's almost as moronic dancing by yourself as it is to be alone in a room on a treadmill dictating 1 blog. it was a dance instructor and his students, mostly female mostly young. macgyver pretty funny to watch but I cheered for the old lady in the back. it wasn't long until the old lady and I were just shuffling side to side trying to keep rhythm with the beat.

and 5678

sorry old lady you're on your own.

I still think dancing is good exercise. but I thought I should a few minutes on the treadmill just to be sure. I know I'm the 1 making the rules here I wanted to make sure today's episode counted.

my next published book - okay my first published book - ruby of photos take endurance 365 days of walking. problem is there's nothing much photojenic about working out on a lid on an elliptical machine in a hotel weight room or walking on a treadmill in indoors. but I've got to say I'm glad no 1 was here take pictures of me dancing in my living room.

lindsay dot out

Finally, Something to Write Home About

As a sometimes visitor to Vancouver (WA), I am surprised at the scarcity of quality eateries here. With Portland so close, I suppose no one thought it was worth it to have a restaurant on this side of the river. During one of my walks, I came across a diner that looked interesting. It had black and white checkered floors, red stools affixed on one side of a counter, the other side promising home made malted shakes and a "Grandma's Lasagna." Even though it was closed, it oozed nostalgia and I wanted to give it a try.

I asked a local shopkeeper if the food was any good and she said it was okay but nothing to write home about. Piqued, I asked her where I would go if I did want to write home about it and she replied Azteca Mexican Restaurant. I concluded, we have different mothers. Also, there are no foodies in Vancouver.

During one very special night out, at Red Lobster which is as good as it gets here, or so I thought, I asked the waitress what I ask almost everyone I meet here: Where are the good restaurants in Vancouver? (No offense intended to Red Lobster, or Azteca, but I'm looking for a restaurant where the best wine offered is not a Chablis, pronounced ShaBLISS.) I had just about given up hope when our server suggested three restaurants: 360 Pizzeria, Lapellah, and Roots Restaurant and Bar. Turns out all three are related to one another, each featuring a farm-to-table, local, sustainable, food philosophy that is not only trendy but tastes good - although I didn't know all that at the time.

Last night , we tried Lapellah which turned out to be a delicious oasis in a Fred Meyer parking lot. It's a stone's throw from the Columbia River, although you can't see it because Highway 14 passes between the restaurant and the view. Portland's airport is just across the river so the view also includes low flying jumbo jets. There's a popular restaurant just on the other side of the highway that has a much more spectacular view, if that's what you're into. But the food isn't nearly as good. Not even close.

Lapellah was worth taking a couple spins around the parking lot to find a place to park. I knew it as soon as I took in the smells from the kitchen just inside the door. The interior has been made to look like salvaged warehouse space with distressed wood floors that appear to have earned the description through actual wear and tear. Chandeliers hang in a room featuring exposed red brick walls and clean, silver, ducting twisting overhead, a glass divider wall made with embedded glass plates of assorted hues and textures, and as soon as I saw the wine rack and the specials written on the mandatory chalkboard (one of which we ordered), I knew I was in for a treat.

We ordered a ridiculous amount of food (for two) although it was difficult to choose because each item on the menu tempted us. We took turns reading the descriptions aloud, our mouths watering. (Kudos to the menu writer.) We had the Spinach and Artichoke Dip, Calamari (lightly fried and plated with marinara sauce, black and green olives, and sprinkled with fresh shaved Parmesan cheese), the aforementioned chalkboard promoted appetizer special of the day (roasted asparagus, crispy ham hock, two slices of a baguette, and a poached egg), the Lapellah hamburger, and a piece of banana cream pie that wasn't really a pie. (I can't describe it adequately but it was more like the cream filling served on a sugar cookie but much better than that. I highly recommend it.)

To me, the standout was the burger. I ordered it with cheddar cheese, bacon, and a fried egg. It was stacked as tall as my water glass and I wondered why fresh Bibb lettuce was among the toppings. Was it a nod to (or a spit in the eye of) nutrition? A joke? The answer didn't matter because I ate the whole thing, the flavors blending into a perfect recipe for yum. Absolutely, the best burger I've ever eaten, bar none. And still, right now, I want more.

It was a Monday night and the tables were filled. The aromas were alluring, the food was a combination for the senses, the service was friendly and professional, the interior was interesting and private, and - bottom line - the food was good. Very good.

Definitely worth writing about.

70

I've walked every day for the last seventy days, regardless of weather or what city I'm in. Today, I'm in the Portland area where it's raining. I've brought my rain/cold weather walking clothes, the sum of which is more than the rest of the clothes I packed for a single overnight. It includes spandex pants (to wear under jeans), a light-weight sweat-wicking high-tech undershirt, a ditto (see preceding description) jacket, a hooded rain coat, waterproof pants (for over my jeans), gloves, and my Jack Daniels Field Tester baseball cap. This is serious business.

Alas, however, I forgot my shoes. I did not travel barefoot but wore only my shoes for ordinary walking. I left behind the shoes for purposeful walking, or walking for a purpose. Not on purpose, mind you, I just forgot them.

And so, I did not walk to the local mall in the rain to get my after-walk treat of a scoop of ice cream. Too bad, too, as I had already decided I would have Jamoca, an exotic departure from my usual order. Sigh. Instead, I was forced (for the sake of my suede non-walking shoes and the feet inside them) to use the elliptical trainer in the hotel's workout room. Pedestrian, non-walking.

It was much harder than simple walking. And since it wasn't walking, my non-walking shoes and their occupants fared just fine. And now, back in my room, I'm considering standing out on the balcony in my rain gear just to justify having brought it. Maybe I can order ice cream from room service since, after all, I probably expended more calories not walking than if I had.

Non-walking counts as walking today, since I'm making up the rules, making today Day 71.

Impostor

Watch Me

The best people-watching in the world has to be at any American Mall. Frankly, it reinforces the notion that anyone can find true love. Maybe not at the mall but look around and what do you see? Sometimes, that which is most unattractive about us - overweight, sloppy, and spending money we don't have. And yet, these same people are walking hand in hand with someone. If you felt lonely on Valentines Day, know that you are not alone and take a trip to the mall. There, you will find hope for love although I doubt love, itself.

I walked at the mall this morning to avoid the snow. I'm outside Portland and had packed rain gear but no boots. As I looked outside my hotel window at the giant white flakes, Accuweather was reporting rain. Maybe they should drop the first two syllables from their name as I perceive that as false advertising. I think everyone is already comfortable with the idea that Weather is never more than a guess anyway and it's far more accurate to just look out the window.

The Vancouver Mall has everything. It has the usual anchor stores: Macy's, Nordstrom, Sears, JC Penny. It also has a tattoo parlor, a boxing club, and a place where you can get a contractors license. It has a number of coffee shops (where I am enjoying my post-walk latte) and an ice cream shop (where I had a scoop of chocolate chip mint after yesterday's walk). Here you can find skinny jeans for plus-sized women (I'm not really sure how that would work) and information on an upcoming Ultra Short Film Festival. (Perhaps the festival in its entirety lasts five minutes.) It's interesting to note that a scoop of ice cream is two dollars less than a cup of coffee anymore. I'm thinking my daily cup could be replaced by a daily scoop.

I see mall workers preparing to open their shops. One worker was camped in the doorway of a shop waiting to be let in like a high-end homeless person. Of course, there are people here who appear to be truly homeless, taking aadvantage of a warm, inviting place. There are people here who are physically and mentally handicapped in addition to the economically challenged. One young man, dressed entirely in black, sat alone on a bench holding a single long-stemmed rose, two days after Valentines Day. Maybe he was waiting for his one true love. Here, at an American Mall.

We No Speak Americano

50 Days and Counting

An update is here.

Duck, Duck, Goose

Going and Gone

Good News

Today is National Pie Day (which of course is not to be confused with pi day). Too bad I didn't know that before I baked a pan of brownies. Turns out I have a couple of crusts in the freezer. (I never make it from scratch.) I also have pecans and Karo syrup.

I'm thinking the brownies will freeze well.