Blueberry Buckle

I just baked a very tasty breakfast treat for my blueberry loving boyfriend: Blueberry Buckle.

It's not the same as the original from Missoula where I went to college and frequented the Shack for this unbelievable breakfast selection. But I think that's only because I didn't go the extra mile and serve it with warm cream. A mistake I won't repeat next time! (photo courtesy of Alex & Becca on their cross country drive a few years ago).

My version this morning was from an Alton Brown recipe and, while I had some serious doubts during the process (the dough looked totally wrong....like a cookie not a cake batter), Phillip assures me that the results are quite delicious.

Hooray!

the constant comparison game

(This is a delayed post from Friday 10/30...after I wrote this post I sat in the Denver airport reading an excellent book for about 2 hours and missed my flight home to Wyoming for the Halloween weekend. At least I updated my blog though!)

I just saw a man, walking off a plane in front of me. and he was a friendly, unremarkable

short older gentleman. Walking behind him I thought to myself, what a short little man. And as we proceeded slowly up the jetway and into the airport , this being Denver, I could easily read the label on the back of his Levis. 550 33 30. The little, old man getting off the same flight as

me has the same inseam and waist as me (ok mostly 30 or 32, but there are days when I need those extra inches and go 33!).

I play this game often with other women on the street. Especially when I’m in New York. The constant comparison game. I’m just as tall as her, she’s just as blond as me, I’m not nearly as fat as she is, I’m so much fatter than she is. It’s a comforting game on balance. I like the active simile in my mind connecting me to all the other women I see. It can be a harsh exercise, especially in a city like L.A. where there seem to be an infinitely larger number of young women looking particularly fabulous. But most times, the game makes me feel good. It puts me solidly in the continuum of people in my world. Not too far outside the bounds, remarkable in some ways and unremarkable in others.

But the little, old many with my jeans size is different. The same things are there insofar as I can enjoy our shared experiences—both flying this particular route, both sharing these numbers of dressing. Feeling apart from this little, old man also make me feel good. I suddenly appreciate with a calmness the lovely things about being a young women. A young woman in love looking both forward and back on my life to a great stretch of time and people and events that are full of joy.

I’m sitting in the Denver airport now, waiting for a flight that will take me home for a quick weekend visit to my childhood home. I’m drinking a Budweiser with tomato juice, just like my father taught me, and I’m looking out across the bright blue Rocky Mountain sky. Staring out at the view makes my eyes spot in the brightness of the sun and the feeling of being in the vicinity of home makes me smile.

I am comfortable with my place in the continuum of people: beautiful and not, rushed and relaxed, young and old. I take my place in line and smile.

still putting it off

For the record, I haven't sent that email yet. But I am feeling good that I've updated my blog two days in row now!

putting it off

Do you ever have those things that loom over you. You need to do them, but you never do. Not necessarily even big scary things like finishing your dissertation. Just little things like sending an email. I've got one that I should have sent 6 months ago and I'm still sitting here writing this blog post not writing the email.

Why do we put things off? Why not just pull off the band-aid and get it done.

Ok, I'm going to go and get this particular little monkey off my back.

run run runaround

I went for my first run this morning (not first ever in life, first in Vegas). There is a lovely park near our house called The Puebla. It's so close and convenient that it's almost criminal not to spend some time there. It's a desert arroyo—which means a dry desert gully. But that definition doesn't really do it justice. It's a gorgeous little strip of wildlife tucked in the middle of my neighborhood. Lots of trees and desert plants and little critters running all over the place. It was great. So entertaining that I ran two miles straight without stopping...then walked those two miles back home!

If you ever want to go running in the desert here there are two things I can recommend. First go when it's not blazing hot. When I left the house at 6:30 it was a lovely 85 degrees. And second run west. This way the rising sun will cast a long, lean shadow of yourself in front of you. There's no better morning motivation than a taller, skinnier version of yourself pounding the pavement with you!

Now I'm off to do a little yoga and bake some banana-chocolate chip muffins. Happy Saturday!

small, but good

I was taking notes yesterday about things I'd like to blog about (hey, I'm new at this and inherently a bit dorky, so yes, I was taking blog notes!) and I wrote a note to myself about the smile of small things.

I was driving through Las Vegas and I saw someone with a Buffalo Bills license plate holder. And it just made me think that that person gets a little shot of joy every time they see their car with their small way of celebrating a team they love.

The same is true of so many small things in my life...and I do mean literally small. My keychain that holds a little metal e that I bought one spring day in a small shop in Red Lodge, MT while planning Rani's wedding. It's worn around the edges and definitely seen better days. But each time I hold it in my hand it reminds me of the fun we had that year making regular trips to MT together to plan her wedding and of the endearing way my friends call me E. The keychain also holds a a "home sweet home" charm that another great friend, Dawn, gave me as I began considering the move from New York to Las Vegas. Both are little sentimental shots that make me happy every time I grab my keys.

It makes me want to add up and savor all the little things that make me smile. And more than that simply celebrate the fact that there is a smile in the small stuff.

Then, when I logged in this morning I had this link from a friend on facebook. I like the fact that rising, rinsing and washing are right there with addressing the powerful goodness of the day.

The small stuff, the simple stuff is just as important as the big stuff. And think of it this way, I hold that keychain in my hand more often than just about anything else. The fact that it contains a little bit of happiness probably has more impact on my overall happiness than plenty of the big things I put more stock in.

good morning sunshine

I woke up this morning to find not only the expected two dogs and one lovely boyfriend in my bed, but also that one of my two cats had joined our cozy morning cuddle. This might sound like a small thing, and in reality it's no great feat. Except that it is.

I moved my two cats out of my cozy Brooklyn apartment and out of a dozen years of living with just me to a big house that is also home to two dogs. They have been less than enthusiastic about the new environs and while there haven't been any dramatic moments of dogs chasing cats or really any blood shed, their hesitation to roam freely has been an analogy for my own acclimation to this new home.

Seymour and Clementine have claimed a small corner of the house and stayed in that general area rarely branching out unless I pick them up and bring them elsewhere.

Waking up to Clementine purring sweetly beside me I felt more at home than ever here. Now we just need to convince Seymour to shed his crotchety ways and join the fun.