Monday, February 4, 2008

discipline and debauchery.

Last night, in a moment of decadence, I cooked a meal. I made mussels steamed in a white wine, butter, challot, garlic and lemon grass broth. We dipped buttered French bread into the broth. After, we ate mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach and seared scallops smothered in a thick butter and garlic sauce. For dessert, I made poached pears set in dark chocolate sauce and topped with fresh whipped cream. I haven’t had dessert in my house since August (except Thanksgiving). But it was time to indulge. In celebration of accomplishments, attitude changes, the meaning of mardi gras. And in preparation for more discipline to come. A triathlon, school, an art show my husband c. is preparing work for.

When I woke, still feeling full, it was cloudy. But sky and sun pushed through, broke the blanket of gray into scattered puffy pillows that have been gliding all day – floating away from us.

The day has been strange and lovely, and it has teased, maybe I’ll rain, maybe I won’t. It’s been the kind of day one should take advantage of by walking outside, running, riding a bike, sipping coffee and reading on a porch swing or napping on a hammock.

A few things I did today – the highlights.

I went to my class at the Y. [We have a new teacher, and I’ve been trying intently to like her. But I hate the music she plays (extended mix versions of songs no one should own to begin with). I don’t like her nasal, childish voice, or that her boobs are most certainly fake. Mostly, I don’t care for the particular way she teaches the class. A rant. I’m still trying to like her.]

I swam 600 yards. [Yesterday was the first day my triathlon training became a daily thing. I began last week on Tuesday, then Thursday. But as of Sunday, I’ll be doing something each day w/ one rest day per week. So. Yesterday was an hour bike ride. Today, swimming. I love to swim, yet I am a terrible swimmer. My form sucks. So in my 600 yards today (20 25-yard laps – I rested in between every other. i.e. I stopped to heave in and out as I poured water down my throat.), I practiced some drills my instructor gave me last week. The good news is that I could tell my form was improved by my last lap. I am determined to become a good swimmer. Someone who loves the water the way I do has no excuse for bad form. That’s what I’ve decided.]

I went to the grocery store. [Something I used to suck at that I’ve become really good at. I make a list of dinners for the whole week. I list what I'll need, and I mark which ingredients I'll buy from the regular store, and which I'll by from Whole-Paycheck Foods. I can manage to get to both stores and home within one hour. I feel very self-impressed by this.]

Now I’m going to go home and eat dinner. Something healthy. And stretch out. And read. And prepare for tomorrow. It’ll be Fat Tuesday. I begin working on two freelance stories – more time inside my own head. I’ll revel in it while revelers chase beads, hoard debauchery. I've already had my debauchery. I ate it last night.

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