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I want to hug him.



Okay, so this is simply pathetic. 
Great Warrior Princess, Fran LaVilla

Great Warrior Princess, Fran LaVilla

I would first and foremost like to extend an olive branch to my good friend and comrade, Fran LaVilla who has been doing a fRantastic job of representing the young and fabulous females of Northern Kentucky on her blog, Being Fran(k). Warrior woman, she is.

But this business of blogging thing has gotten tragically away from me. I have hope that I can still turn it around into something slightly more consistent and interesting than it has been, but promises cannot be made via such a presently feeble medium of communication.

Haunted House

But for an update, because one might be apparently necessary: The World has been kind to me recently and it has not gone unnoticed.  I have recently moved into a fantastic Covington apartment with Stephen. It’s the first floor of a giant renovated historic mansion home on tree-lined Greenup Street and is more space than either of us know what to do with. Everyday when we come home from work we both comment on how much we love our present locale and all the fun things we hope to do with our new space. There’s a porch perfect for conversation and consumption and the weather has been absolutely beautiful for such treats.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, either here or on other blogging endeavors, but I am in the process of making much more of an effort to be trendy like everyone else and Go Green. I’m kidding. Well, kidding about the trendy thing, but I truly feel that there is something to be said for doing this Green Thing and doing it Right. I am in the process of reading Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It’s phenomenal. I adore it and you MUST read it (go to your local Library!). It will end your dietary existence as your know it.  The realization for me comes on strong as in the past few years I have become very aware of my dietary trends and leaning towards what I thought was healthier. But healthier mainly translated to “fewer calories.” So I am drawn like a moth to a flame in the supermarket to anything marketed as “low fat” or “100 calorie pack” or “Sugar Free.” It’s worked out well for how I wanted to work, but at what cost? In reading so many of these labels I couldn’t even begin to describe what some of those ingredients may or may not be. Why would I want to eat that? Why would I want to subject my digestive system to something that it has no idea how to digest? I am convinced that these chemicals and substances that are in almost everything we eat, put there to preserve shelf life to turn a better profit, are what is leading to so many of the health crises we experience in this country. Not to mention, how much of our food (produce especially) is shipped from all over the world. This book pushes pretty hardcore the idea of Locavore and I love it. The idea of sitting down at your dinner plate and being able to say “I know where my food came from.”  Surely when we shop at Kroger and bring our veggies and meats home for dinner and sit down to eat, we aren’t aware that the majority of our produce is from California or Florida and our meat is from animals that are eating what they’re not meant to be eating on some big factory farm far, far away.  Aside from all the processing and chemical additives that are put into this food to make it last longer and reach our table before spoil, the massive amounts of gasoline and oil that is put into getting the food to us is staggering. And with the rising cost of fuel and energy, this is reflected in the price tag. At the beginning of A,V,M,(which is also written by Kingsolver’s daughter Camille and husband Stephen), it is pointed out that if every family in America at one meal a week that was grown locally, we would save around 1.1 million barrels of oil a week.

So why can’t we shop local? Why can’t we attend Farmer’s Markets or find a local bakery or better yet, bake our own bread? There is no reason. None. The arguments that I have heard against shopping at a Farmer’s Market make no sense to me at all.  In my experience, it’s cheaper, it’s easier, it tastes infinitely better and you get to meet your neighbors and engage in conversations with the people who have known the tomato you put on your plate from seedling to a big, beautiful, bustling red beauty. You appreciate the specialized art of farming as opposed to the speed of cross country produce travel.

I’m not really counting my calories these days and I feel better. Sure, I still have to venture to Kroger just like the rest of us, but it has been a while since I have bought stickered produce stacked in fluorescent light and armed with automatic misters that keep it looking brighter, greener and more attractive. I’ve been reading labels more and if I can’t derive the origin of the ingredients into something I am familiar with, back on the shelf it goes and onward to something natural and possibly organic. It might cost more, but don’t you think that some things, like the avoidance of childhood obesity, diabetes and heart disease are worth the pricetag it takes. And it doesn’t have to be expensive. As I said before, utilize your local resources and play in the kitchen. You never know what might surprise you most.

Okay, so that ended up carrying on way longer than expected, but I think it’s necessary. I apologize for the rant tone, but it’s my blog and I will bitch if I want to. I apologize for cursing.

In addition to the food project, I am making a serious effort to utilize public transportation. Again, this is another excellent resource that I find little excuse acceptable for ignoring its presence. If it goes near or around your place of employment and/or residence, “I don’t want to wake up that early” isn’t good enough.  This morning Stephen and I had to catch the bus at around the same time to get to work and it truly was a fantastic morning. We woke up, got dressed and I made our lunches while he cooked us breakfast. We sat and ate, had a cup of coffee and then walked the near mile to the Covington Transit Center to catch our respective charters to work. It was nice. I loved this morning. Walking in the cool morning and admiring our new neighborhood and taking mental notes of local haunts that we should soon explore. He calms me yet leaves me terribly excited and energetic all the time. It’s an addicting combination and a phenomenal way to start the weekend.

Tonight we are having our beautiful friend Taylor over for eggplant parmesan and perhaps a game of Scrabble or even a movie. I’m not quite sure.

This is an adventure, Kids. Go with the flow, but hold on tight. And don’t forget to write.

I need to become a teacher.

Mainly because I love the idea of summer vacation and other extended periods of time where one has no employment commitments and is free to sleep in, travel, explore, etc.

These past few days I’ve experienced a taste of the utter hell that will be this summer’s weather patterns and needless to say I am dramatically unenthused about the prospect of my eventual relocation and any and all outdoor activity that does not directly involve either a large body of water that isn’t the Ohio River, or a chilled alcoholic beverage. As most of my summer’s work days will end at around 4:30 in the afternoon and without the dread of a second employment filled with frappalattes and extra whip, I shall make the most of it and read many a books, hang out with Sweet Boy and friends, and perhaps even adopt a canine companion. Or feline friend. Yet to be determined and decided. You’ll be the first to know.

I’d like to read a lot of books this summer. My reading list is presently composed of many books I am about 100 pages into. I’d really like to finish:

  • Kite Runner
  • Cracking Open the Head
  • Love in the Time of Cholera (not gonna happen.)
  • Zarathustra

And hope to read Mary Roach’s new book, Bonk. Stiff is one of my all-time favorite books. I do hope you can get to it.

I think that I shall mark my official start of summer with the Death Cab concert that Stephen and I are going to attend this coming Saturday in Indianapolis.  Their newest album Narrow Stairs is meant for summer the way that Transatlanticism was meant for winter. It reminds me so much of Photo Album,but grown up. It hinges upon memory and loss with a presence of rejuvenation and hope. I’m all about it and cannot wait for the concert this Saturday.