Foodie two shoes

At an event for school (yes, I am finally attempting to meet people) I was talking to someone about all the amazing restaurants in SF and they asked if I was a foodie. Never in a million years (or at least 27 of them) have I considered myself a foodie...now I'm not so sure. For some the term conjurs up a certain snobbiness about good food. Snobbiness I possess and I can claim no such expertise on food. It's not my fault I happen to live in one of the "20 greatest cities in the world for foodies":

www.gadling.com/2010/03/11/the-greatest-cities-in-the-world-for-foodies/

Good food provides for the me the same kind of pleasure as a beautiful new shirt and I'm no fashionista. I recognize pleasure when I see it (or in this case taste it) without preference for one kind over the other. Bubble baths and a well-prepared polenta have different sensory experiences that don't make one any more important than the other in my book (not that I have one). Suffice to say good food brings me great joy, the same way as beautiful music - I'm never against anything that delights my senses or tickles my fancy (whatever that means anyway). I enjoy the finer things in life - always have and most likely always will.

Slashfood.com calls anyone a foodie who is interested in food. They point out just as a good student will have a thirst for knowledge, a foodie wants to learn about food. Foodies will never answer the question,"What are you eating" with, "I don't know." Basic traits include knowing what you like (caramelized brussel sprouts), why you like it (nutritional value with a lot of taste), recognize why some foods are better than others (boxed Kraft mac and cheese), and want to have good tasting food most or all of the time.

If loving good food makes me a foodie than I guess it's just my flavor; just call me a foodie two shoes.

Today I'm grateful for rose cupcakes, Lauren's engagement, and dinner with Victor.

The Price of Beauty

In order to put off studying for another 20 minutes during my spring break, I watched Jessica Simpson's new show, "The Price of Beauty" on VH1.com. The latest episode highlighted Paris and the dark side of the fashion scene. At first I was really skeptical of something having to do with Jessica, she seems nice, but naive (which may or may not be an act as is the case with the "Chicken of the Sea" comment from Newlyweds). The last thing I wanted to do was watch a show about a celebrity from America, especially one from Texas (she says in her most snobby I-have-lived-in-Paris-and-been-annoyed-by-loud-Texans-voice) attempting to show us about another country. Instead what I watched was a woman exploring her own struggle with outer beauty and her search for acceptance.

I was touched and then couldn't help but watch the first episode about Thailand. Confession - I cried during both episodes. Something in the show evokes a strong reminder about the importance of inner beauty first and foremost. In Paris the idea of "joie de vivre" seemed evident even while talking to a former model with anorexia who created a campaign to expose her struggle to other models and the fashion industry. The show seems to tell us what we already inherently know and have yet to act upon. I'm reminded of some of the most fun times of my life in college when I was 30 pounds heavier (doughnuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday will do that) and dated far more than I do now. Yes, I realize there were more dating opportunities then and I also acknowledge my ever so obvious "joie de vivre" at that time as well.

The Price of Beauty may not run another season and I might not watch another episode, but either way Jessica Simpson reminded me of The Price of Beauty, which is afterall, priceless.

Today I'm grateful for BART, Wikipedia, and kites.

Going to the gym

At first glance this post topic may appear to be a simple one, I assure you this is not the case in San Francisco (sorry, I'm finally even annoying myself with calling it "Man Francisco"). My 24 Hour Fitness is approximately .8 miles from my apartment, about a 15-20 minute walk - uphill. Mind you once I arrive at this .8 mile destination I must then climb six flights of stairs to get to the gym. Let's recap...uphill almost a mile and then flights of stairs. If I am running a few minutes late for say a Turbo Kick class I am then running uphill and running of stairs - just that alone is enough to work up a sweat.

Which leads me to another point about the gym going experience in San Francisco - sweating. For those of us who lived in the dry desert of Colorado for quite some time this is not something that occurs very easily. Any moisture my body possesses was sucked out of my body upon arriving here. I drank almost a gallon of water a day just to stay hydrated, not to eventually sweat out. My dilemna in SF is humidity makes me think I'm working out harder than I actually am. In all actuality I may not be tired after going up hill and running up stairs, but I wouldn't know it because I have broken a sweat, which didn't use to happen. Until I moved here and began going to the gym.

Today I'm grateful for Across the Universe, free underwear, and inspiration.

What's your credo?

After almost 10 years with AT&T it was time to switch my mobile carrier. Sometimes we outgrow even the most simple relationships such as our choice service providers. It can be a little scary, as a lot of changes are and in the end only time will tell if it was for the greater good. This time I am certain it was for the greater good. Credo mobile is my new company of choice. Not only are they environmentally friendly (the only company to print their bills with soy ink and 100% recycled paper), they also donate 1% of phone charges to progressive nonprofits you vote on.

In one phone call to Credo I am paying signficantly less for my service (right now there's a special through March for 1000 minutes and 1000 test messages for $49.99!!), get a free new phone, begin donating money to causes I care about, and supporting a company with green practices. Best yet, they bought out my contract with AT&T and am making the cancellation call for me (what a relief so I don't even have to have an official break up)!

Ready to recreate your credo? Then check out Credo Mobile: http://www.credomobile.com/ As they say, it isn't just a network...it's a movement.

Bloom where you're planted

This simple, yet practical advice comes from a cross stitch my mom used to have in the laundry room. Great line for an army wife - and a dorky blonde girl who misses home on the first day of spring. I'm handling my move to San Francisco the way I handle a lot of things...say I'm committed, but in the back of my mind really not so much. The option to go back to Colorado just seems too real and plausible, because it is. My brief visit there last week only solidified how much I love it and miss my close friends and family.

And while my head hasn't caught up with my heart...I'm here to stay. While I may not have committed to SF in the way of efforts to meet new people or find a job, I certainly committed to finishing my degree and a year-long lease. As much as it feels like I'm on a vacation and taking classes for a summer credit somewhere, I live here and it's time I start acting like it. No more planting and then pulling - the time has come to bloom where I planted myself!

Today I'm grateful for belly dancing, work possibilities, and Cafe Gratitude.

So delicious, it's oatmealicious!

After almost a lifetime of a sugar addition, I'm in need of a new drug, until I remembered how much I love Oatmealicious. Cups and Cakes Bakery in SOMA has oatmeal cookies sandwiched with frosting and ganache. They haunt my dreams - I actually dreamt about one last night.

To be honest I'm not exactly sure when sugar became such a staple in my diet. Although suspicion tells me it has something to do with both my parents being in the dental field and any child's natural desire to rebel...It's pretty odd, I don't really drink or have any other vices...no interest in drugs and yet sugar runs through my veins. My tolerance for the sweet stuff is mind blowing. I can have three cupcakes in one day and not get a rush or even feel sick to my stomach.

Spring begins on Saturday and I would love to be addiction free going into the season. I take great care of myself otherwise (as long as shaving my legs isn't included in care) with exercising, eating well, and getting sleep. Anyone who knows me knows I can't resist an afternoon cookie (or 10) and I adore cupcakes and chocolate. Hmm, if not sugar then what?

Eventually I want to go back to having a cookie or enjoying the pleasure of a hot chocolate, but not until the emotional desire has subsided. My goal is to be sugar-free (rhyme unintentional, but lovely nonetheless) until I realized I set the intention of what I put into my body and how it feels. I'm hereby deciding oatmealicious is as nutritious as broccoli! And so it is!

Today I'm grateful for Dr. Kim, new jobs, and spring weather.

Put a rock in it

I see part of my role on this planet to make fun of people when they say stupid things. Not everyone says things worthy of my mockery; however, celebs seem very uninterested in my opinion, making them an easy target. Lil' Wayne shall be my next case in point. Mr. Wayne is guilty of several charges for poor grammar, but his latest song "Bedrock" makes me do more than cringe. I question his ability for romance at all, although I'm not sure his intentions with this song presume that he has any to begin with. The song's main line is as follows, "call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock." Really? Cartoon references are a turn on?

Comparing men to cartoon characters was fun when I was 10 and had a crush on Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid (it's practically impossible not to). I'm almost 28 now Lil' Wayne and while you may still be growing (hence the Lil' and not even a full "Little"), I on the other hand, enjoy being serenaded with visualizations about beaches and bubble baths. Yes, I understand the play on words about "Bedrock" and "bed rock," and Mr. Flintstone did seem like a very nice guy who treated Ms. Flinstone well, but I request you please put a rock in it, for now.

Today I'm grateful for radio, granola pancakes, and documentaries.

Potty Retraining

CIIS (California Institute of Integral Studies), where I attend for graduate school in case I haven't shared or we aren't close, has a proposal to put all gender or mixed gender bathrooms on every floor of the building. The purpose being that all people whether genderqueer or transgendered have a place to use the restroom without fear of harassment.

I'm envisioning them like the bathrooms in Ally McBeal, only probably without George singing Barry White. Of course I have concerns besides the obvious weirdness that comes with bodily functions in general. That and I have shared restrooms with men who pee on the toilet seat (as do womens sometimes). Being uncomfortable with new things brings about a lot of growth. Some students (very few) have asked why we are prioritizing the needs of a small group of people. We do the same for people with disabilities...it's a matter of equality no matter how small a group.

More than 150 institutions of higher learning in the country have mixed restrooms and it kind of suprises me it's even a discussion here. I think it should have already been done...this is 2010 for pete's sake!? (On another note, I don't think I've ever said "pete's sake" on my blog before, let alone out loud) Hopefully this will also bring about a new symbol for genders...I'm awfully tired of the triangle dress to denote women. Bring on the potty retraining!

Today I'm grateful for change, dogs with bandanas, and haircuts.

Just right, in the middle

One of the largest adjustments thus far living in a large, non-mid-Western city has been not smiling at people as I pass them on the street. I learned my lesson the hard way, once acknowledging the wrong people a few times and being screamed at by some folks with not-so-obvious mental disorders. The balance of being hard and soft is one I'm constantly seeking. How do I connect with others without having that connection put myself in danger?

In the Buddhist tradition a life of moderation between extremes is the path to wisdom. Lately it has become my mantra for any sort of decision making, particularly when it comes to San Francisco - the land of extreme (or so it may sometimes seem). With high rents, a lot of very self-expressed people, opportunities to overindulge in food on every corner.

My adorable friend Rebecca made me see it differentlyl things are already the middle way in SF. Case in the point the weather - not to hot and not too cold and just right. And it is in the middle of a bay...Middleness seems to be the answer to everything in life. Should I eat five cupcakes today or none? Should I ignore this homeless person or give her all my money. Not too hot and not too cold is probably best. Heck, this Goldilocks learned her lesson that some ways of being (like porridge and weather) are just right.

Today I'm grateful for Rebecca, cozy apartment, and Ferry Plaza Building.

Great update debate

I have long struggled, since my first Facebook and Twitter update several years ago (I am an early adapter after all), whether to use 1st or 3rd person. Clearly everyone's name comes first each time. In doing a quick survey of reading 10 updates - 90% of them didn't even use their name as a part of the update. Even more puzzling, some pretend the name isn't even there and begin an entirely new sentence. While others incorporate their name into the sentence. See examples below:

Becky Farrar Meet me at the Roxbury!
Becky Farrar was asked to join an M.J. Tribute dance group.

There appear to be no clear cut rules or proper online etiquette for this sort of thing, hence, my confusion. I'm unsure what to make of this mind boggling (and now blogging) issue. Taking the descriptive approach would mean doing whatever I want. The prescriptive (my usual adherence to some sort of grammar rules) draws me towards third person, despite the awkwardness it possesses. I suppose the great update debate continues.

Today I'm grateful for cookies, P.O.P.O.s, and H&M.

Tater salad

There's nothing quite like seeing a comedian live - suddenly not even HBO or Comedy Works can sensor them. In everyday life I wouldn't opt to spend time with a smoker from Texas; however, when it's Ron White...it changes everything. My mom was visiting a few weekends ago (I'm a tad delayed in posting this) and she wasn't near as excited about seeing him as I was (for obvious reasons). Nothing says mother and daughter bonding quite like Ron White mimicking masturbation on stage.

Of course that wasn't the least raunchy of his jokes, but I won't ruin the show for you by leaking his comedic genius on my blog. For those of you who may not be fans or whose Dads don't watch Comedy Central and South Park (love you Dad), Ron White calls himself "Tater Salad." I'm not sure why, other than every comedian seems to have his or her drink of choice (Ron's is scotch and Chelsea's is vodka) and a catch phrase (Chelsea has several, but I will stick with "hot pocket" for this example).

I have nothing else to say other than to encourage you to see Ron White...and not with your mom (love you Mom). ;)

Today I'm grateful for comedians, Internet TV, and Moms.

Grrreat parade!

This weekend I attended the Chinese New Year Parade and realized I was there for more than just the floats and free candy (although that is of course a large part of it). In a big city it isn't socially customary to smile at strangers, let alone wave. I have missed this immensely and had an incredible time at the parade waving at all the strangers in floats I wanted to - without any repercussions. Heck, I even waved when they couldn't wave back (such as having the important job of holding one of the parts of the dragon).

It was wonderful, but what was even more wonderful than the waving was feeling a part of a community. Since moving, I've missed that familiarity. Comfortable and oddly familiar were exactly how I felt being there among people with so much diversity in the same city coming together to celebrate a holiday. There were people everywhere yelling "Happy New Year" and each time I felt a twinge of belonging. My favorite part of the parade (besides hearing "Eye of the Tiger" 6.5 million times) were the school marching bands. It seems the whole bay area enjoys celebrating together and I'm so honored I got to be a part of it and wave to my little (now big) heart's content.

Today I'm grateful for dragons, lion dancers, and firecrackers.