Writing again

I just started a creative writing class, and it's fueling me like nobody's business.  Just 4-weeks long, 2-hours every Monday night.  It. Is. So. Fun.

Tonight's earlier post, a hastily written short story, came from that.  A writing partner gave us a character - their character - and we had to write  a quick short story about that character.  We had just 25 minutes.

My writing group partner, Richard, described his character: a man in his 20's having experienced his first failure.  Broke, down and out on his luck, surrounded by take-out containers.  Now, that he had failed, he was open to possibilities. Open and ready to pick himself up, and start making money by any means.  

Steve was born.  I don't know if it's any good or not.  Not horrible for a quickie exercise, I suppose.

But there are some things I like about it or at least had great fun with. I like his apartment full of desperation and depression.  I love that the "world wide web" is accessed from his isolated and depressed apartment, and ultimately, the "world wide web" will isolate and depress him more.  I like that his entrepreneurial risk that he took with his start-up, is now playing out with online poker.  He likes quick wins; making quick money drives him.  He is impatient.  He loves the addiction and the adrenaline of it all - for better for worse.  I like how The Golden Ticket somewhat evokes Willy Wonka.  I love the line about $$ and the XX's on porn sites.

Thank you.

The Golden Ticket (a hastily written short story)

Steve slumped on his couch, a crumpled mess.  He hadn’t showered in days, and even he could smell his own stink. The TV blared in the background, some cable host blabbing.  Steve didn’t know or care what or who anymore, it had all blurred together over the last few days. “Meaningless.  All fucking meaningless,” he muttered.

His stomach rumbled, and he farted simultaneously. “Hungry,” he thought.  But he was uninspired by the pile of take-out menus stacked on the table beside him.  They matched the collection of containers scattered around him on the table, floor, and couch, which in turn matched the collection of condiments: soy, ketchup, hot sauce.

“Damn bastards got there first!” he said to the empty room. “It was my idea! My concept! Mine!” He was nearly shouting now, but it took too much energy.  He slumped again. 

Coulda, woulda, shoulda been a millionaire.  Steve’s app, LumberJack, had been on the verge of acquisition.  A brilliant social network with an actual revenue component, Lumberjack was hot in the coveted 18 to 24 year old space,  and growing in members and clicks by the hour.

But the two guys over at the Firefly app had been steadily creeping up on him over the last two months.  Steve felt the heat, and was dying to close his damn deal.  He also noted the longer pauses between negotiating calls.  

And then last week, the dreaded call came.  He had let it go to voicemail, he knew what it was.  “Steve, I’m sorry.  It’s just not gonna work out.  Stay in touch, you’ve got great potential,” said the tech firm’s dispassionate counsel.  Steve had listened to those words over and over again since.

Now he was broke, his money had all gone into business development.  He had pre-spent some of his deal money.  He had tasted it.

Steve turned on his laptop, balanced it across his knees, and ate a chip.  Clicking, browsing, surfing the world wide web.  He started playing a game of Solitaire, but was instantly numb.  He craved the excitement he’d been feeling before the call, back when he held the Golden Ticket.  

An ad blinked in the right hand corner of his screen.  “Online Poker. Win. Win. Win.” The dollar signs were as plentiful and tantalizing as the X’s on the door to a porn site.  He clicked, and played a quick winning hand.  He reached for his credit card, not quite maxed out, he realized, the light returning to his listless eyes.  

“Small money. Just a little fun,"  he thought.  He won again, and stated chatting with the online lurkers on the bottom of his screen.  His energy was building with another win.

Steve got up, cleared off the table, plugged in, and sat down.  Another win, his total had crept up to over $1,000 in just a few minutes.  

Steve entered the high roller room.  “Just looking,” he said to himself, picked up the phone and dialed the Thai place down the street.  He watched the high roller action for a few minutes.  The $10,000 bet button winked at him, he ignored it, but it winked at him again.  He clicked.  “My Golden Ticket,” he said with a small smile creeping across his face.  He was back in the game.

5 Words.

Interesting exercise via Joanna Goddard via Nora Ephron.

Five words I'd use to describe myself right now - that is, today, September 2, 2014, age 44

Smart. Funny. Mom. Searching. Homey.

Struggled with # 5 - Professional...Successful...Content...Homebody....Present...Here...all came to mind.

I [HEART] my new Orla Kiely bag!

My big Xmas present this year - my long, longed-for Orla Kiely bag.  Sometimes stuff does bring happiness.

December has included a lot of bubbly.

Happy Birthday CaBi!

Shamelessly lifted from www.capitolbikeshare.com

After one year, Capital Bikeshare is thriving.  They clocked their millionth ride, and one recent fall weekend, casual riders (1 and 5-day membership) took more rides than regular riders (1-month and annual memberships).  The program is wildly popular - a red and yellow CaBi bike was definitely the accessory of the summer for urban men and women.  Another symptom of its popularity -  stations have had issues with re-balancing, being all empty or all full, and thus not in circulation for either rentals or returns - a phenomenon I myself have experienced no fewer than three times at less popular stations at non-peak times.  In all honestly, while annoying, I'm secretly completely tickled by such success.  Growing success, that is, additional stations and bikes are going in this fall...including one station just two blocks from my house (I currently use 3 stations nearby, depending on my route; each one is about 4 blocks from home).

Businesses are clamoring to get (and even sponsor) a CaBi bike station at their doorstep.  Residents are demanding them of their municipalities. Montgomery County - typically cool for the suburbs - wants in; but hat tip to Arlington as the first suburban county to go in, edging our MoCo as the hipper, greener, more innovative, more visionary of the two dueling inner ring 'burbs.  You snooze, you lose, MoCo!  This makes DC - yes, DC! - the proud home of the largest public bikeshare system in North America.  It's nice to be the cool one everyone else wants to be for once. Like NYC wants to be us, too.  They just announced Alta will be their contractor for the new bike sharing program of the Big Apple.  Welcome, New York, glad you could join us.  

I'm particularly proud to be a founding member - one of the first 1000 to join CaBi, I have a black commemorative bike fob, rather than the usual red.  I'm not one of their super users.  I tend to use the bikes a few times per month for quick neighborhood jaunts from Point A to Point B, rather than walking.  Each time,  however, I feel super virtuous - clean, green, active, urban, and hip.  I even handicap my cool factor, because I'm over 40 and a mom.

Nice job!  It's only been a year, but I can't imagine life and DC without it anymore.  Happy Birthday, CaBi!!!

Missoni for Target Hits It!

Guess I''m not the only one psyched about the Missoni collection at Target!

Target's New Missoni Collection Brings Down Site  :-)  Shame on Target for not being better prepared.  I mean you'd think they'd've realized when the pre-opening pop-up Missoni for Target store sold out in a night last week.  And when the preview for fashion editors last fall left the shelves in a "mild ravage."

Admittedly, all this rave and rage makes things more difficult for me.  Of course, I haven't had a chance to make it to Target yet, and now at best, I'll be there on the weekend with the masses.  Can't wait to see it in person!

OMG. MIssoni for Target! Can't wait!

Missoni - the Italian design house of richly textured geometric patterns, fabulous stripes, earthy (but punchy!) colors, elaborately-woven knits, all with a 60's vibe, - has designed a limited edition line for high brow/low price, accessibly hip/mass market store Target.  Finally, some Missoni I can afford.  I've spent so many years window licking at the boutique and drooling all over the pages of Italian Vogue.

The line of 400 items includes fabulous sweater dresses, funky tights, awesome ballet flats, cool kids' style, luxe bedding, bold dishes, and even a rad bike (perfect for a very gutsy someone).  Some nice men's stuff - socks, scarves, a refined sweater - for a handsome guy.  The full lookbook is here.  It will only be on sale from September 13 to October 22 or "while supplies last" - and given the buzz within the fashionista underground which is just fueling the mass media hype, I think that last phrase is key.  I'm already staking out Target in unhip areas  - as in not Columbia Heights - to have a fighting chance.

I'm imagining an awesome holiday outfit for G, those flats for me, and maybe a cool brown-striped cardigan, a couple of pairs of tights, a hat/scarf set, a quilted coverlet, and some cool serving pieces.  I'll have to hold back a bit though.  Head-to-toe, wall-to-wall, floor to ceiling Missoni might make me dizzy.

First Day of School

Sweet Mango Armpit

Fragrance in body products have always annoyed and amused me.  While I don't always get unscented products, I do seek out the lightest, most natural fragrance for my hair, body, and laundry.  Recently, it seems like the scenting has gotten out of control - "Cherry Mischief" Clear Gel Deodorant by Secret (wow! - that's practically a porn flick) or "Va Va Vanilla" also by Secret. I really don't want my armpit smelling like a bakery.  It seems rather ridiculous.  But while I steer clear of such frou-frou scenting, at least they make some scent sense.

This morning, however, I was shaving in the shower with Skintimate Extra Moisturizing Shave Gel for Sensitive Skin.  I must have bought it on sale - it would not usually jump into my shopping cart from the shelf.  The lather was bright pink, and smelled sickly sweet like strawberry-mango cotton candy.  I looked down at the label to figure out what on earth I had purchased....

"Cashmere Rain" it said on the label.  What?!?!  Is that like a damp sweater or a muggy summer rainstorm?  Is it soft fuzzy raindrops?  Or wet velvet?  At any rate, it's the dumbest marketing I've ever seen in my entire life.  I can't believe no one caught that in the focus group.   Jeesh.

Old Boyfriend Tour

Yesterday morning, I had to drive from someplace to somewhere on I-495 - the 10-lane ring road that surrounds Washington, DC and connects its first-tier suburbs. As I whizzed passed the exits - Takoma Park...Silver Spring...Kensington...Bethesda - at nearly 80 mph, I thought of the once-boyfriend who lived there.  Our good times and our endings flashed through my mind; some sour feelings, but mostly warm ones washed over me.

And then a nerdy, bad pun entered my head, and the Old Boyfriend Tour screeched to a halt with a groan..."Notches in my Beltway"

Professional Urban Grrl's No-Sweat Triathalon

Sportswear: Black leggings, black wool tunic sweater, black ballet flats, teal double-breasted spring trench (Pool: black swimsuit, black swim cap, pink goggles)
Getting to the starting line:  Leave work in taxi with colleague for an in-transit meeting.


Start:  Union Station

1st Leg (Walk) - Walk and talk with colleague heading north on North Capitol Street, part company at H Street.  Hang a right.  Cross bridge over train tracks.  Admire spring day - low humidity, temperature in the low-seventies, late daylight (it's already six-thirty! and the light gives everything a spring-pink glow).  Arrive on the other side of tracks - H Street NE, the edgy in-neighborhood with bars, restaurants, and coffee shops, with a hip-hop-city-punk-funk vibe. Recall the previous evening in one such establishment with friends and drinks.  Make note to self to hang out there more, and check out some of the new places.

2nd Leg (Bike) - Grab a Capital Bikeshare bicycle.  Place black work bag on the front carrier, and secure with neato fitted bungee cord.  Unbutton trench coat for ease of moment, and for cool teal trailing effect while riding.  Board bike, and head south on 4th Street NE past lovely, historic, restored rowhouses.  Note buds on trees giving a light fuzzy green-  or sometimes rose-, colored  glow of their early leaves.  Note beautiful spring gardens in postage-stamp front yards - tulips, daffodils, and blazing yellow forsythia.  Zig-zag through the neighborhood streets towards Eastern Market - going past more lovely house, small city parks full of dogs, kids, and friendly neighbors cavorting in the early evening, brought together by their shared community and the pleasant spring evening.  Arrive at Eastern Market, and park bike in the CaBI bike dock.

Pit Stop -  Enter Marvelous Market for a bottle of water and pack of soy nuts.  Sit outside on the french cafe chairs.  Check iPhone for messages.  Greet and chat with neighbor MS.

3rd Leg (Swim) - Enter public pool facility, and change into swimwear.  Shower quickly, and enter pool for 30 minutes of laps.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Let head roll out its day.  Marvel in the head-clearing power of exercise.   Chat with lanemate about water temperature - a tad cooler than lately.  Exit pool, shower, change.

Homeward Bound - Grab a CaBi bike for the short ride to the next docking station.  Walk remaining three blocks.

Finish: Home. Greet Dear Daughter, read books, snuggle, and wish sweet dreams.

Spring training never felt so good.

Still kickin'

Oui, oui..I'm still here, and all is well.  Life is good, in fact...very good.

1.  In the most significant change, I have a new boss.  She is phenomenal - so good, and so different from my last years of difficult boss relations, it's like having a new job.  My daily stress and tension are gone.  People say my face is more relaxed.  When I took my swim the other day, I had nothing - that's right nothing to work through.  I've learned so much from her in just over a month, and I'm glad I stuck it out, just to have the chance to have a new model, a new mentor - way more akin to my natural style.  We travelled together in Guatemala for 5 days - that's a lot of travel time - and still I have nothing but respect.  I think she's so cool, in fact, I'm a little afraid that I will consciously or sub-consciously go out and buy her same watch, her same shoes, her same notebook...and that might be a little creepy.  We actually are eerily similar already in terms of taste and mannerisms.

The rest is not change, as much as a nice lot of good stuff.

2.  I'm swimming regularly again, after along stretch of sick and tired...or busy...or traveling.  My swims are wonderful.

3.  I have great friends, and lately, I've gotten to see them more regularly.  We go out for drinks, for dinner, for walks...and each time, I leave with a sense of contentment.  On a not-so-content note, two of these friends will soon no longer be part of my DC fabric.  Dear Friend A accepted a government contract, and will soon ship overseas.  Dear Friend M is preparing to move to Bangkok.  Over the last few years, I've lost quite a few good friends from my daily local life.  First, C and family moved to Tanzania, where they have rooted - even had their third child - over the last two years.  And of course, great friend L moved first to Beijing, then to Paris.  Oh, how I miss their presence in my life.  I have, however, met my first new, real friend in years.  This friend M and I hang out, and chit-chat for hours.  And while we're both busy as professional, working, and more-or-less single moms - it almost makes  pursuing a friendship in hectic times easier, or at least more forgiving.

4.  My daughter is healthy, thriving, growing and so cool.  Not only is she great...but there is no new school for several years on the horizon, no new childcare plans, and we are not moving houses anytime soon.

5.  It's spring, and I love, love, love cherry blossoms.  I'm so not immune to their potion-spinning gorgeousness.

And so it goes...I'm lucky, and happy, and at peace....and I appreciate even this patch of smooth air.

(Practically) free to a good home

On Saturday, we held a yard sale.  It was a brisk, early spring morning - a bit too early spring for a yard sale, and a bit too early morning for me, but the urge to de-clutter Right Now cannot be denied, and no other free weekend presented itself anytime soon.  It wasn't about the money or the stuff.  It was mostly about getting the stuff out to people who will enjoy it for a while, and throwing in a little lesson for Dear Daughter about entrepreneurship and counting change.  The morning yielded a bit over $100, and a whole lot less stuff - the rest went to Good Will this morning.  Yard sales are a win-win.  I'm free of stuff and clutter. I feel so enterprising. And most of all, some nice new and people now have my treasures in their good homes.

There was the Early Bird mom who got here around 8:30.  From Utah, she and family are staying temporarily on Capitol Hill in a furnished, but lacking-in-character, home.  Presumably on a Mormon mission, she said she had kids of "varying ages."  The Early Bird did indeed get the worm...errrr...some of the best goods -  a kids dominoes set and a memory game, a clock puzzle, a doctor kit, and some books.

A young woman and her Spaniard boyfriend in his Real Madrid shirt purchased a set of four crisp white porcelain cups and saucers in which I imagine they will enjoy some  strong coffee on late weekend afternoons. A young Urban Greenster couple biked over - she sporting her "Stop Greed" pin on her tweed-y jacket - bought four russet-colored woven placemats, four cloth napkins in tones of green and brown, and an ecru-colored pottery serving bowl with a deep blue abstract bird design.  A gorgeous combination! -  wish I had thought of it myself -  and sure to be a hit at their next vegetarian potluck dinner party.

Two African-American women in their 50's came to admire my collections of African textiles - batik-ed table cloths, woven mats, brightly printed cloth, and gauzy scarves.  They bought almost all of it plus an ugly mint-green bathroom rug -  and since they came late in the morning, they filled several bags of such treasure for $10.

Another young couple arrived on their bikes.  He had a scraggly reddish beard and olive green jacket, and asked me about my Peace Corps days.  She told me she was of Vietnamese descent, and bought a children's book in English and Vietnamese about a frog and an umbrella - she said it was "for someday."  They are just at the beginning of their couplehood.  They also bought three African cookbooks - that frankly have a lot of repeat recipes, and from which I've cooked less than a handful of meals over two handfuls of years.  I hope those books get some cook-stained memories at last.

An older African-American man, his feet swollen from diabetes or hypertension, shuffled off with my swivel office chair that lost its back a few months ago.  While a white-haired white guy, bought my Africa tome - historical and political essays.  I asked for a dollar, but he gave me two.

A few other people bought a few other things, each one sauntering off with her find..."at such a good price." And I'm doing some sauntering myself - a little richer, a little less encumbered, and very pleased that some of my good stuff found good homes.

Good morning, Sunday!

I woke up today around 7:30, as I usually do even when there is nothing to wake up to. No alarm. No kid padding into my room. And I am just lingering here in my bed. Relaxing. No rush on my day. I have my book and my laptop. I have checked in on my favorite people on Facebook. I have browsed the news - including and especially the food, style, and advice columns (including financial advice (Michelle Singletary, Washington Post), ethical advice (The Ethicist, New York Times), and relationship advice (Carolyn Hax, Washington Post)). Checked in on my favorite blogs (Hello, my dears!)  The house is peaceful. I keep thinking about going to the kitchen for a cup of coffee to add to the bliss, and to aid in the slow wake-up process. However, ironically, that little enhancement also involves the necessity of leaving my little personal sanctuary.

I don't have that much longer in this moment. I will soon rise, pull up the shades and let the light pour into my room, go get that cup of coffee. I have early brunch plans. Things to do, people to see. Real life - and responsibilities - will beckon soon enough, and get increasingly louder. But this moment is marvelous. And the fact that it is not all that common, makes it more so cherished.

I [HEART] Mark Bittman (2)

The Minimalist is no more.  After thirteen years of weekly food columns in the NYTimes, Mark Bittman is retiring The Minimalist.  I'm sad.   It's like the end of an era.  The Minimalist was formative and transformative to my cooking, eating and media consumption life.  I mean for as long as I can remember I've turned to The Minimalist for easy - time, technique and ingredients - recipe inspirations. At first, I just sort of stumbled across the column every once in a while with newly discovered pleasure each time (these were the days before I knew that reading a cookbook by the pool for fun next to all those chicks reading People magazine made me sort of an odd duck). Later, I'd actively seek it out, and turn first  to The Minimalist in my freshly delivered copies of the Times.  Still later, I'd forage it out on the web.  I'd eat up his special editions "101 Simple Appetizers in 20 Minutes or Less" and "101 Simple Salads for the Season,"  - simply sensational with just a little of this, a little of that approach..  And these last few years, I've become hungrier and hungrier earlier and earlier for newest installments of The Minimalist videos on NY Times premium content - here's the whole video link catalog, 200 of them!  (I'm drooling on my keyboard).   And I've paid homage to him here in a previous post under the same name.  Perhaps you're still not sure who I'm talking about.  But if you've ever had No-Knead Bread, then you've eaten him, and loved it.

I devour Mark Bittman's other outlets. He is a Whole Man, not just The Minimalist.  I have his books such as How to Cook Everything and How to Cook Everything Vegetarian. I was a regular viewer of that PBS food show where Mark Bittman, Mario Batali traveled in a sporty convertible around Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow and some hot Spanish model-chick eating, drinking and cooking. (It was all a little annoying - unless, of course you're the one in the little yellow Benz, traveling around eating ceviche and rioja, washing it down with a glass of cava and a little dulce, and then heading back to the inn for a good shag, in which case it's not annoying at all, and hard to understand why the rest of the world isn't totally glued to your amazing adventure).

Bittman will continue to write for the Times - in a foodie capacity in the NYTimes Sunday magazine and in a regular blog.  He will also be writing in the Opinion section on the politics and politics of food - on topics such as fresh, local unprocessed foods, obesity and farming - hopefully using his insight and his influence for a new sustainable food movement.  (Amen).  This is a good thing.

I suppose I shouldn't be so sad that The Minimalist is gone, when indeed Mark Bittman is still very much around and thriving.  But it is sort of like the simple Minimalist found weekly in black and white newsprint, is now the Maxi-Multimedia Millionaire Magnate talking about simple cooking and traditional farm practices.  It's all good, just please don't read his blog on your iPad while trying to have a nice meal at home together.

Here's The Minimalist's twenty-five favorite recipe columns to remember him by.  Bon Appetit. And a lovely Minimalist Champagne Cocktail.  Cheers!

Friends, family, love, hugs

This weekend, I've been blessed with wonderful friends and family surrounded by love.  It's felt so marvelous.  No special occasion, no special efforts just beautifulness.  Some highlights...

• A long, lazy Saturday morning with Dear Daughter.  We are reveling in each other lately.
• Saturday evening with my sister and family - hanging out with nachos and talking about nothing in particular.  The kids, her husband, sis, and me - floating in and out seamlessly - just family ease and love.
• Sunday morning at All Souls Church - a big (first) hug from Rev. Rob Hardies, with a nice 'mwah' to accompany it.  A beautiful soprano voice fills the silence of the sanctuary with "We Shall Overcome."  
• Sunday brunch with my first new, real friend in years.  M is also a single mom, doing 90% of the parenting.  She's also urban, professional, accomplished and stylish.  It's nice to have a new friend with so much in common.
• Sunday "quiet time" with a book and a computer.
• Giving flowers to our au pair to celebrate her 1-year anniversary in our home and family. It feels good to give and to make others feel good. 
• An evening with K&J - dear longtime friends who excude warmth, welcome and goodness.  A delicious dinner.

Today is reserved for nothing in particular - some cooking, some relaxing, reading, and perhaps some games.  I could not be more content.

Drying out - Day 11; 20 to go

This whole experiment has been pretty anticlimactic so far.  I feared it would be much more difficult to give up drinking for the month. Right now, I'd say it's been one big nothing.

I've certainly had times when I would have liked a drink.  Like the time I made chili, and thought it would be delicious with a beer.  Or when I made a lovely Saturday steak dinner, and I thought a good Cab would be the perfect complement. Or when I had an awful, stressful day at work, and as I left the office, I thought, "Now I'll go home and NOT have a glass of wine."  Or when I went out with M for Happy Hour at Oyamel with amazing tacos 2 for $4, and delicious margaritas for $4 - and I had club soda.  Or when I went to the Tabard Inn with D for Sunday, and the warming fireplace, the cozy living room, the wood panels, and the jazz bassist and guitar on a cold winter night just screamed red wine or bourbon cocktail (and I don't even drink bourbon), but I had cranberry and soda.  Those times were tempting - but each time, I reminded myself I was not drinking for the month, and got over it quickly.

As for the mental and physical effects of not drinking, it's pretty anticlimactic, too.  So far, I might be less puffy (but I'm also over my cold).  I've lost a few pounds (but I'm not shrinking away).  I haven't had my willpower cave (or ever really be tried).  I have not craved a drink (or found it difficult to pass one up).  My social time with friends, some of them drinking buddies (M and D - both of whom I've been known to imbibe with), has been enjoyable.  And I have not been more or less inhibited with them.   I'm only a third of the way through, so it will be interesting to see if anything is compounding.

I'm interested to see how this experiment shows my relationship with alcohol.  Basically, at this early stage, I'd say it's a nice life enhancer.  As a foodie, I think wine, beer or a margarita are a nice complement to well-made meals.  After a long day at the office, a glass of wine helps me chill out, but I found myself  chilled out anyway after not very long without it.  As a social tool, it's nice to have the added effect of of a small buzz of wine in my system.  But all of of this, while nice, has not been notable.

And though, I have a while to go, and I intend to drink again, perhaps (if good comes out of this experiment) in a new way it's been One Big Nothing.  And that is A Good Thing.

Wanderlust

I'm a traveller. I recently tallied that I've been to a total of 46 countries since my first trip abroad when I was 15. Another travelling friend said she aimed for the same number of countries as her age - so I can slow down my pace a bit to reach 50 by 50. In fact, I wouldn't mind slowing down the pace - visiting a bit more of the US and cutting down on grueling long-haul flights. But no doubt, I have a little wanderlust in my blood. As soon as I land in a foreign place, my senses are stimulated, and the adrenaline kicks up. And while I talk about being 'done' with the travel, I think I'd still like to get to Egypt, Vietnam and Turkey and so many other places, so I suppose as long as I have the opportunity I'll keep getting on planes.

This NYTimes article, 41 Places to Go in 2011, is an annual feature, and got my blood pumping again. A few picks tickled my fancy...

Tlemcen, Algeria; Oualidia, Morocco; and Tozeur, Tunisia were three destinations on the list. I don't have a particular favorite, but I'm drawn to northern Africa by its geocultural junctures of Islam, Africa, the Middle East, the Sahara desert and the Mediterranean Sea.

Salonika, Greece I've never been to Greece, and I'm not a beach person, but I've lately found myself thinking it would be an awfully nice vacation - sailing, exploring pristine and remote coasts, ancient history and amazing food. Enough to do to accompany a good chillax. Direct flights from London on BA...

Erzurum, Turkey I'm not psyched that Erzuram is a winter sports capital, but this mention reminded me that I'd like to go to Turkey sometime, and definitely go to Istanbul and well beyond.

Koh Samui, Thailand My good friend Michele's move to Thailand next month makes it all the more likely that I'll try to go there for a visit. Bangkok for sure - been there, love it! - and this place is called a lower-key Phuket, with a focus on wellness and food (no need to say more...). And when in Thailand, hopefully get to Cambodia or Vietnam.

And closer to home... Fogo Island, Newfoundland I'm finding "remote and rugged" more and more appealing these days (if it can't be Paris). This place sounds blissfull. The NYTimes tagline? An art colony blooms on remote and rugged shores....Take me away, I'm yours.

Other destinations in the article are appealing in some way or another  - Milan, Melbourne, Estonia, Iceland, Spain, Portugal, the San Juan Islands - but these just captured my imagination. As for the US, I totally want to explore more here...and don't know where to start. Perhaps some national parks, New England or the Blue Ridge mountains....

As for me for real, the current travel I've got possibly teed up - New York and Guatemala in February, London, Geneva and...Disney World (!) in March.

Drying out - Day 4; 27 to go

I like to drink.  Especially wine, especially red.  I also like margaritas with Mexican food.  A cold gin & tonic on a summer day.  A beer with junk food and sporting events.   I drink regularly - almost, but not always - every day. I drink from 2 to too many drinks.  I drink to complement and savor a good meal.  I drink to chill out, to take the edge off a hard day, to de-stress and unwind.  I drink as a social activity.  Sometimes, but not often, I drink too much.  A few times last year - 2 or 3 specific times that I recall - I drank more than I should have, when I knew better, and when I had some regrets.

I'm abstaining from alcohol this month.   I have reasons - various and sundry - for not drinking.

1.  I feel "puffy."  Water retention, that may or may not be related to alcohol, is beginning to bother me.  I'm curious if I will de-puff when I lay off alcohol for a bit.
2.  I feel like crap - tired, run down and fighting a nagging chronic cough.  Alcohol, and other vices and excess are not what I need.
3.  It's time to cleanse and detox.  After a month of holiday indulgence - wine, food, spending - I want to practice some self-discpline and cleaner living.
4.  I want to jump-start the next 5.  Over the last few months, the pounds crept on.  A function of several things - lots of fun, lots of stress, a metabolism that screeched to a halt at 40, a little break in the groove of my swimming routine.  But later in the year, I caught on to the stealth creep.  I have reversed the trend, even losing 3-4 pounds over the holidays.  Losing the empty calories in alcohol will hopefully help jumpstart the next Minus-5.
5.  I'm curious how I will feel experiencing life stone sober.  True, the vast majority of my life is stone sober, but what will a dinner party feel like (Actually, I didn't drink NYE over our five course dinner, except the glass of champagne with dessert.  It felt fine - a little boring but fine.)  What will Happy Hour feel like at Oyamel on Thursday when I don't/can't have one of their delicious margaritas?  Will it be difficult to be at a bar and NOT drink?  Will I be tempted?  Will I be VERY tempted?  Will I cave?  Will a bar be louder and more obnoxious when I'm not drinking?  Will I have a good time?
6. Can I do it?  I'm curious whether I can go a month without drinking - and somewhat scared that I can't.  Self-discipline is hardly my strength.  I hate regimens and rules.  I cave on my resolve on all sorts of piddly things for piddly reasons.
7.  And if I do cave,  is it my lack of self-discipline (my chronic lifelong trait) or actually evidence of a drinking problem.  I don't think so, but is that just denial and self-delusion?  You know that "i-can-stop -anytime-I-want-to-I-just-don't-want-to."  Well, the next month is my little test of those systems.  I didn't drink for months when I was pregnant.  More recently, I've gone days, but I don't think a full week, without a drink.  I'm never interested in drinking before evening - a daytime drink makes me tired and sick.  I sometimes don't finish a whole drink when I drink in the day.  So this is the time to put the "I'm pretty sure I don't have a drinking problem" to the test. What is my relationship to alcohol anyway?  
8. I'm curious to observe this as an anthropologist while I'm not drinking.  Do I crave it?  When?  What are my temptation points?  Do I need it or do I enjoy it?  Can I resist it?  I hope to get better insight to my relationship with alcohol in its absence.

It's the end of Day 4.  So far, so good.  On Sunday, as I sat down to a nice salmon dinner, I looked at the wine bottle on the counter, and thought it would be nice with the piece of fish, but I overcame that pretty quickly.  Today, I had a stressful day at work, and I thought, "Now I'll go home, and NOT have a glass of wine."  It would have tasted good, and felt good, too, but the moment passed.  I've made some plans for dinners and drinks over the next few weeks.

I'll report back of some of the other outcomes on issues 1-to-8 over the next month.  Until then, Cheers!