Remy’s blog

Can I run a half marathon in February?

Hmm.

"No, it was not a waste."

That is what I needed to hear.  Thank you, Carrie.

Keep up.

I heard this on Oprah two weeks ago:

We make plans, and God laughs.  Because he has something different down for us.

I am going crazy!

Growth is change, and change is life.  So if we aren't changing we really aren't living our lives.

You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went,

                         you can curse the fates, but when it comes to the end,

          you just have to let go

I sit here, on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.  My sister flips through the latest Bon Apetit magazine, the dogs wrestle each other in and out of the living room.  And it's June.

I swear in my mind, it's still February and fresh.  But it's not.  It's June.

And although I love seeing red strawberries at the market, kids running around on their bikes and boards, I still type and pen in disbelief... "June 1, 2009". 

Not having realized it, time has passed, situations have changed, people have evolved.  It really is as if I have just blinked and time has passed me by.

Time passes by so fast, there should be no room left for regrets.

                                                                                                                                         should. I'm inching...

remlove.

Anyone who has been with me for at least 5 minutes in the last three months knows that I have been on a soul search perimeter-dipped in health discoveries.  I have recently started reading up on different approaches to a healthy life style and am all too eager to try new and various things.

But.

Since my sister is on somewhat of a restricted diet for the next two weeks, I have voluntarily taken up a position that requires me too to be a follower of less-carbs-more-fiber-count-calories-watch-weight-burn-fat-daily regiment.  However, she has been gone most of the day, and well.

I ate a very large cookie.

I ate a very large cookie while driving my car 55 mph.  It was like having sex with the door open.  I knew I shouldn't be doing it, even though it felt so good.  Still, it was over and done before I knew it.  Sigh.  Carby, sugary goodness.  Needless to say, this will not go on the food calender we have laid out.  This is between you and me.

Something I would like to share though, is the Kumquat.

And in order to do that, I guess I should confess something else too.  I love going to farmer's market.  Mainly, I love going to any grocery store.  Being surrounded by foods of all types smooths me out and places me in a more sensual (for lack of a better word here) world.  It is my therapy.  And farmer's market is a special occasion, there is always something different to be had, something new to try- a new purple to the kale, brightened raspberries, salmon season... This magic happens on Saturday mornings.  I thoroughly enjoy it.  I suggest you go to yours.  Or you come to mine and we can hold hands and skip through the different delicious colors... Okay, well now I'm getting carried away.

There was an old man in a corner booth that caught my eye.  He tugged at his tattered orange plaid shirt while I stood there, waiting for the line at the flowers to die down so that I could get my hands on a stem.  But I made eye contact.  Damn it.  I walked over with my two full bags, purse and free elbow.  His yellow table cloth was covered mostly in orderly placed avocados that he told me, grow on the other side of the mountain, and not in Mexico or Chile.  It was then that a breeze ruffled the border next door and smacked into a bowl of kumquats.  I've heard of them, but their name was the extent of my knowledge.  He ushered me to try one while proceeding to recount its history beginning in China and that he uses the same fertilizer on these little gems as on his avocados.  I didn't like it.  I had to eat it whole and its cross between orange and lime hurt my tongue.  But I bought them.  And I've just had my third one today.  Now I like them.

So you see, the moral of the story is... well... If there is one, it is: Remy loves food.  And regardless of what food regiment and health discovery I am seeking, I will enjoy it.  Hasty sex, and a slow developing love, all pieces of life are to be enjoyed...  And now, I leave this with a smile.

My uncle said something yesterday that rolled out and hit me.  We need to take care of our investments.  Money is something that we can always get back.  Things like our health, our relationships-those things, we can't.  We have to take care our investments.  Well, he didn't say it exactly like that, but something along those lines.  His house right now is rotting; it's falling apart, pieces of the ceiling are falling in, there are walls full of termites, walls in his house are full of holes, but he is still radiant with positive energy.

And even after all this, I still managed to have an argument with my mom this morning.  On the phone, nonetheless.  It was over something petty (as always, no, you said it like this... and but it hurt my feelings...) that snowballed into a forty minute heated conversation.  But things are okay now.  I always hate arguing with my mom, you know?  In the end, though, she is still my mom and I am her daughter.  That will never change.

Then, I proceeded to calm my nerves down by doing one thing that I love doing: baking.  Evaluating which procedure is best, and getting a process down with a fragrant and enticing outcome is always fun.  I decided to make the brownies I had been promising my sister since last week.  I pulled out my Macrina cookbook and got to work.  I melted the butter and chocolate together, whipped it with the eggs and sugar and it was ready to go.

It was so beautiful, the crust of it looked airy and light; it was a richly dense and sensational bar.  And then, I dropped it.  In its ceramic entireness-on the floor.  I could hear it sizzle as it hit the cool tile.  The entire time, I was thinking to myself, no... no...  But yes, yes, the brownies and the baking dish were ruined... together.

I called my sister up, we decided it was the way of a higher power trying to tell us we don't need anymore sugar or fat in our bodies, and that was that.

Some things we can't ever get back.  We suck it up, we move on, and we keep going.

I have to remember that... because all of this, it's an investment.

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Aren't these pretty?  My sister pointed out to me about a year ago that strawberry tops look very nice on their own.  Like flowers.  Clever.  Mother nature, you rock.

I feel horrible.

Ate too much sugar today and not having direction really really upsets me.

It is irritating how quickly my mood swings.

Blah.  I need something.

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I smile and miss times like these, when my head was spinning and ears were ringing...

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This, I guess can be somewhat of an abstract interpretation of how I am feeling right now.  I miss times like this, too.  Hmm... I remember during the time this picture was being taken, there was a lady behind me, sitting on a chair in the corner trying to soothe her ailing child.  Turns out the man in this picture was waiting... and waiting... and waiting... for his wife to come out of one of the stores.  She eventually did, pecked him quickly on the lips, and together with all of her new belongings and his black backpack, they walked away in their long, hip jackets.

not quite yet

but almost.