Day Five--The Best Laid Plans

I have control issues. This is not a new declaration for me. I've known this for many years. I have not, however, learned to "control" those issues satisfactorily. Ironic, right? Baby steps, I keep telling myself. Let go of certain things, little by little. Don't believe that you have to dictate every circumstance in order for things to work. As I'm thinking this, the other half of my mind is telling me that I should have finished this blog way earlier. That I'm losing my hold on some things like when I try to carry a freshly laundered load of whites to the bedroom, dropping socks here and there behind me. I'm trying to will myself to tell that side of my mind to shut up.

I realized recently that I'm giving breakfast the short end of the stick. Other than the magic lattes, I don't give the most important meal of the day a lot of air time. It isn't because I don't get excited about breakfast. I do. I wake up every morning feeling famished for coffee and cheese and meat and bread. I satisfy that need with basically the same fare each day: egg whites, sliced cheese, turkey bacon or veggie sausage, and an english muffin. I'm never certain that the monotony deserves recognition. Monotonous or not, it's just plain tasty. I especially enjoyed breakfast on this particular day, my favorite part being the toasted muffin with strawberry all fruit. I save that for last to eat while I sip my coffee. Heaven on a plate.

I try to have a plan every day. After breakfast I wanted to work out, create menus for next week and get the grocery list together, have lunch, deliver t-shirts to my SCA President, and then have date night, which would consist of dinner at Saffron, our favorite local Indian restaurant, followed by a movie. My day actually went mainly as planned, with some delays and unexpected necessities cropping up here and there. I certainly can't complain. It just speaks to the severity of my control issues that I'm so easily thrown off into a funk.

The workout went as scheduled: Legs and Back, followed by Ab Ripper. After exercise, I always have to sit for a few. Today I sipped my protein and lapsed into a mental coma. Inertia is probably my worst enemy. I had to work really hard to finally gather myself up and take a shower.

Next item, lunch. A quick glance at the clock told me that it was later than I wanted it to be at this point on my to do list. I hastily assembled the ingredients for my favorite lunch of the week: Roasted Vegetable Salad with Shrimp, Goat Cheese, and Pesto. The highlight of this dish is a segment of red and yellow pepper filled with a basil leaf, goat cheese, and pesto that melt together as the veggies roast in the oven. I also had red onion and tomato in the mix, topped it all with shrimp that I threw on the roasting pan for the last five minutes, and drizzled homemade pesto over everything just before serving. I literally wanted to pick up the plate and lick it. If you aren't roasting onions, then I insist that you do it immediately. It takes out all of the unpleasant sharpness of the onion and brings out all of the sweetness and amazing flavor.

At this point I started getting alarmed about the time. I hadn't even begun planning for next week, I still had to drop off t-shirts, and now I also needed to stop by Momma and Daddy's to get instructions on taking care of their kitties while they're visiting Mollie and Charlie. A normal person wouldn't sweat it. I seem to sweat everything.

Long story short, I had a lovely little visit with Momma and Daddy, delivered the shirts (despite a nasty traffic jam between Lynnhaven Parkway and Alanton), and made it back home just in time for my date. I did not plan menus. I also did not let that fact hinder my enjoyment of a fabulous evening. Baby steps.

Dinner was pure flavor and happiness. I usually order vegetable korma, a dish that's loaded with cream sauce. This time I opted for madras curry with scallops. It was spicy and amazing, and I only missed the korma a weensy bit. For my beverage, I chose a glass of the house cabernet. I never met a cabernet that I didn't like. Steve had chicken curry accompanied by a generously-sized bottle of Taj Majal beer. I don't think we talked much once the food arrived, which is always a very good sign.

The movie was equally thrilling, and the rest of the night I shared only with Steve. No work e-mails, no blogging, no worrying. One small step for Sarah, one giant leap for letting go.

Day Four--I Can't Quiet My Insides

I'm writing in the morning because I was just too tired last night to write. It was a busy day: out of bed at 8:30 (quite a feat for me in the summer), breakfast, shower, school, meeting, pick up t-shirts for my SCA officers, home, make dinner, yoga, then soon to bed. Though busy, it was another good day.

As subtly mentioned on day three, I'm a bit of a worrier. Yesterday held its fair share of stress-inducing subject matter. I woke up thinking that the t-shirts wouldn't be done in time for my kids to wear at their leadership workshop, then moved on to stressing about all of the planning that needs to be done before the school year begins and not getting to see my sister Mollie, who lives in Louisiana, when she's visiting family in North Carolina. Add on to that my fear of overcooking the pork chops at dinner, and you've got the perfect storm, much like the one that was brewing outside of the townhouse. There were other concerns, of course, but these were the big ones.

You'd think that by now I'd have learned that everything always works out somehow, whether I worry over it or not. When my meeting ended at 1:30, I pulled out lunch to enjoy in the quiet of my empty classroom. Vietnamese chicken salad: chunks of ginger- and garlic-poached chicken served over bean sprouts, mint, and scallions, all tossed in a light dressing of lime juice, fish sauce, sriracha (Asian chili sauce), garlic, and ginger. I absolutely love the crunch of bean sprouts, and I enjoyed the balance of flavors in this dish. I wasn't sure how Steve would like it, considering that I've been cooking a lot of Asian recipes this week. He said it was his favorite lunch so far. As I sat crunching away, I received an e-mail that the shirts would be ready by two. Hoping my lucky streak would continue, I called Mollie. After much happy giggling, we discovered that, not only would we have three days together in North Carolina, but that two of those days are our birthdays. All I can say to that is, "Yay!"

After a bit of scheduling in my day planner (yes, I still use pencil and paper to keep a calendar), my best defense against a great deal of needed planning, I headed over to pick up t-shirts (so cute!) and finally arrived back home where I had maybe an hour to vegetate before starting dinner. As I gathered ingredients on the counter, Steve called from the living room, "We're under a tornado warning!" Great. I hope you want pork chops for your last meal. With slight trepidation, I quickly made dinner: pan-seared pork chops with mustard glaze, sweet potato mash, and stuffed zucchini. I had no idea that it would be dark and rainy when we ate this meal, but it was sublime comfort food for a night like last night. Five inches of rain hammered the parched earth, and we ate. I looked at Steve no less than five times and declared, "This is soooo good!" I'm not too proud to tell you that I was really sad after the last bite of salty, creamy zucchini. By the way, the pork chops were not overcooked.

We soon faced the last big obstacle of the day: yoga. On P90X, yoga is a 92-minute workout. It's the one that I look forward to the least. The first half is a vinyasa series: plank to chaturanga to upward dog, back to plank, downward dog, float one heel in the air, swing through to runner's pose, then to warrior or triangle or chair or right angle. Brutal. Last night, though, we did yoga against the sound of rain. Have I told you yet that I love rain? It reminds me of a Counting Crows song, I can't even remember which one right now. In it, Adam just wants it to rain so that something will be different. I think that's how I feel. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that I was doing yoga in an outdoor pavilion on a mountaintop, having this life-changing, spiritual experience while the rain poured around me. Ninety-two minutes later I descended from my mountaintop, exhilirated at what I had accomplished and ready for the glass of wine that I had purposely saved for this moment.

The first time I attempted yoga, it didn't go so well. I was with my three girls from college: Helen, Kelley, and Meredith. We decided to take a yoga class at the rec center near Kelley's house. The lights were low, the instructor's voice was smooth and calming, and I was willing to chew off my arm to escape. I didn't know any of the poses, and I felt ridiculous. I kept picturing the yoga class from a scene in Sex and the City in which the instructor walks around saying, "Quiet your insides." All I could think was, I can't quiet my insides! I vowed never to do yoga again. However, just like with sushi, I had a strong desire to like yoga. Wii Fit taught me the basic poses, and P90X pushes me like I would never push myself if left to my own devices. Last night I learned to quiet my insides.

The next challenge: learn how to quiet my insides when I'm worried about work or money or missing people that I love. Because in the end, everything will work out. As Tony Horton says, "Just clear your mind and breathe." And even if I do end up facing that which I fear the most, if it doesn't kill me, it can only make me stronger.

Day Three--Frim Fram Sauce

The house is quiet tonight. Steve went to bed early because he's starting a six-day tutoring job tomorrow. He, being the morning person that he is, very sensibly goes to bed early enough to get seven to eight hours of sleep. I, being the night owl, would make excuses and bargain with the devil to stay up for an extra hour... or three. I don't have to tutor tomorrow, but I do have to get to school for ample prep time before a noon meeting.

Tomorrow is a little dry run for the impending school year. After making breakfast (with Steve's help), lunch, and dinner, I also had to make tomorrow's lunch for us to take to school. All of this cooking and packing gives me a little anxiety about September and beyond when we'll have to fit in workouts, cooking, lesson planning, and quality time, all after me staying at work way too long.

While I was cooking lunch, Thai Spicy Shrimp Salad, "Frim Fram Sauce" randomly played on Pandora radio. I'd heard it before, but I never really paid attention to the lyrics. I listened bemusedly while I hurried to mix the dressing, chop the veggies and herbs, slice shrimp in half length-wise to saute, then pack it all up before Steve had to leave for a meeting with lunch in hand. I revelled at how shrimp curl up so tightly into little twists when they're halved and look just like calamari. Absentmindedly, I thought that the song was a nice symbol of my quest for tasty nutrition. Not just any food will do; I want spectacular! Lunch, by the way, was exactly what I wanted: salty from fish sauce, spicy from red curry paste, bright and fresh from lime juice, mint, and cilantro. Everything I was looking for after a gruelling workout (Shoulders and Arms followed by Ab Ripper).

After lunch I decided to read the paper. I have the paper delivered three days a week: Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can count on one hand the number of times in a month I actually read the paper on the day that it's delivered. This was a big step. Today's edition came with a fun little insert entitled, "Discovering Hampton Roads." In my usual fashion, I saved this for last, perhaps sensing that it held a little nugget of gold. After skimming through the front page (huh...what did you do with all that money, Pentagon?), the local news (heard a whisp of rumor about a pay raise for teachers... if it's not on the front, it's probably not there... moving on...), the sports section (how exactly are the Phillies only three and a half games back? as if I need one more thing to worry about), and the flavor section (they should pay me to write this), I eagerly opened the glossy cover of the insert. A random flip took me to the page on which was printed, "Virginia Beach Chorale: A volunteer singing group... under the direction of Don Krudop." It just so happens that I love to sing as much as I love food. It also just so happens that Don Krudop was my high school choral director. I've tried several times to get involved in various choral groups since high school, and nothing has really panned out or been the experience that I wanted it be. Open auditions are August 29. Keep your fingers crossed that I remember how to sight sing.

The day wore on, and minor anxiety settled in like the tightness in my muscles. How will this work when school starts? What if this year is as bad as last year? How will I fit in rehearsals for the chorale I'm not even in yet?

Dinner was good, but not exactly right. I love chicken marsala, but this recipe was missing something. Maybe my mood affected the meal. Or maybe I should use beef broth instead of chicken broth for the sauce next time and see if that gives the dish more flavor. As I fretted over what I feared would be bland chicken, the words "frim fram sauce" kept going through my mind, kind of like a skipping record player. I vowed to look up the song lyrics later.

So here I am, after preparing tomorrow's lunch, folding laundry, wishing Steve a good night's sleep, and watching Top Chef while savoring every delectable spoon of Greek yogurt with honey, my new after-dinner snack of choice. Upon googling the lyrics, one line in particular leapt off the screen and punched me in the gut. "I'm never satisfied." And there it is. Not just the theme of my culinary journey, but the theme of my life. Sarah-can't-live-in-the-moment-because-she's-too-worried-about-tomorrow-and-the-next-day Worry-pants. And I realize that it's one thing to plan, but it's another to stew in your own juices and miss the beauty that's right here, right now.

Day Two--Laying Aside Perfection

I woke today with one overwhelming sensation: pain. Pain in my arms and back and abs. As Tony Horton would say, "I hate it, but I love it." I love having physical evidence that my workout was not in vain, and as a typical American, I want it now. So, undaunted and strangely proud, I struggled to a sitting position, got to my feet, and immediately went downstairs to try out the new toys that Steve and I brought home last night.

I would love to pretend that every experiment in the kitchen turns out perfectly and ready for the cover of Bon Appetit, and it kills me to admit that nothing could be further from the truth. I learned a bad lesson at an early age, that it's worse to fail than to bravely try and learn from the failure. I'm attempting now to reteach myself a few things, firstly to be frank about my failures, pick myself up, and do better next time. I had one of those moments this morning while cooking breakfast. It's always the simplest tasks that go awry. I thought I would try out the new, pristine, nonstick skillet by cooking egg whites with no cooking spray. Bad idea. Unfortunately, Steve's portion of egg whites developed an unsavory brown crust on the bottom. He, being the very good, very decent man that he is, would not let me cook him new egg whites but chose to eat the crusty eggs with gusto. On my second attempt, my smaller portion of egg whites, cooking spray worked magic. The egg whites went from translucent to opaque in no time flat, received their portion of salt and pepper, and were folded and placed to rest on an english muffin with half a slice of cheese and a veggie sausage patty. I'm happy to report that, since this morning, the world has not ended because I did not make perfect egg whites. Nor has it ended because I discovered that mint and cilantro do not care to be treated like flowers in a glass and are now wrapped in paper towels in the refrigerator, slightly worse for the wear.

The best part about breakfast involves my new favorite gadget, the Aerolatte. In about ten seconds, I had a skim milk latte (vanilla-flavored coffee, two packets of Splenda) that rivaled any skinny latte I've paid five dollars for. It's sleek, silver, and unassuming. I think I'm in love.

Our daily workout was close on the heels of breakfast. Today's adventure: Plyometrics. Steve likes to pretend that it's called Polymetrics. We each use our own pronunciation when we talk about it, which makes me giggle profusely. Plyo, poly, it doesn't matter; it sucks. And when I say it sucks I mean that after one hour my legs are jelly, and I'm drenched in sweat. It's actually pretty awesome. Like with my egg whites, I have to tell myself that it's okay if I'm not perfect. Even if I can't do everything, I'm still doing something really good for me, right?

Lunch and dinner were both brilliant successes. The best part? They were both extremely simple to make.

Lunch consisted of a salad of greens, sliced grape tomatoes (I don't care for ginormous chunks of tomato in salad), cucumber, very thinly sliced red onion, roughly chopped kalamata olives, and nonfat feta cheese tossed in my homemade red wine vinaigrette. A little dijon mustard, a little red wine vinegar, olive oil, oregano, salt, and pepper, and you've got yourself salad dressing. This was topped with homemade Greek chicken salad. Did you know that you can make chicken salad with plain nonfat Greek yogurt? Because I didn't know that until today. No mayo, no sour cream, just yogurt. Add a little mustard, oregano, salt, pepper, and garlic water (which just means the water from my jar of minced garlic)...voila! On this week's episode of Hell's Kitchen, the contestants' food was evaluated based on how much the judges would pay to order it off of a menu. Steve said he would pay $15 for that salad.

Dinner was so simple that I hesitate to tell you what it was, but then why would I be writing at all? Okay, here it is. I'm calling it an open-faced soft taco. We can only have half a carb at dinner because we have the other half at breakfast, which means one 100-calorie fajita-sized tortilla each. This woman refuses to eat only one small soft taco and declare dinner over. The solution? I warmed them in the oven wrapped in tin foil. (You are warming your tortillas, right? Because if you're not, then you're really cheating yourself of fluffy tortilla goodness.) Then I quartered them and piled all of the usual suspects on top. Lean ground beef (the other half of the package I bought for yesterday's lunch) seasoned with the familiar yellow packet, lettuce, tomato, a touch of shredded sharp cheddar, and jalapeno slices. What really made this meal special were the sliced avocado and the sprinkle of fresh cilantro. I used the tortilla like naan (mmmm...Indian food...) and had a little party at the table, interrupted only by my own frequent exclamations of happiness.

Before dinner we ran a couple of errands. Rather than throwing on my Braves cap, I made a concerted effort to look presentable. Jeans (it's unseasonably cool today), a little top, and minimal makeup. I opened the jewelry drawer for my diamond studs, the ones that I wear for everyday when I remember to wear earrings at all. Heeding my own advice from yesterday, I opted instead for dangly earrings. Maybe no one will notice, but I like the way I can feel them move when I turn my head and the little flashes of color that peek through my hair. Just a smidge of beauty during a very ordinary round of errands.

My favorite part about today, though, is that I moved my desk into the kitchen. Every time I watch The Family Stone, I marvel at Sybil's desk. Feet from the coffee pot, covered in God knows what creative blurbs, with a view of my favorite room in the house. Today, I made it happen. I share mine with the produce bowls, and the desk is actually a very small table with two stools that Steve bought years ago. But as I sit here, sipping the last of my second glass of wine, I love my new workspace. The space and this moment create pleasant waves in my belly, identical to the feeling I get when I first feel fall in the air. Fall is my favorite season.

I'm off now to make frozen yogurt. I'm mesmerized by the hypnotic whir of the ice cream maker and smitten with the half inch layer around the edge that's too frozen to scoop out when the rest of the concoction is ready. I sneak into the kitchen later when no one's looking and eat that layer when it's melted to just the right consistency.

But first, today's lessons (sit up straight, adjust glasses on nose, and take note):

1. A good nonstick skillet is worth its weight in gold (especially when cooking spray is needed and used).
2. Coffee tastes better with foam on top.
3. The kitchen looks even more spectacular from behind a laptop that sits beside a stack of cookbooks.

And most importantly:

4. I will never be and do not have to be perfect.

The Beginning

Today is a very good day. As soon as I woke up, one thought screamed above the others that were mumbling of morning breath, how I loathe waking up, and my hefty to-do list for the day. In fact, that thought sat up, threw the covers aside, laughed, and practically sang, "I GET TO EAT FOOD TODAY!"

Now, I tend to wake up every morning with that thought. I love food. I'm a foodie. I bore my boyfriend Steve in the grocery store with constant chatter of food and food-related trivia. "It's funny; they always put the orzo with rice because no one knows that it's actually a pasta. Idiots." Or, "I can't believe they only have bok choy. I wanted baby bok choy." It's endless, and it's getting worse. However, this morning was special. It marked the end of six days of detoxing that included a nauseous-making mix of aloe vera juice, liquid chlorophyl, cascara sagrada, and psyllium husks. For meals, only bland smoothies with protein powder. For snacks, hot tea and chicken broth. Not my idea of good food. But today, I got to eat.

This was my third detox in a year, so I've gotten pretty good at predicting the horse-on-fire-stagecoach-is-going-over-a-cliff emotions that Steve and I will experience during the six days. Day one: hopeful optimism in the face of despair. Day two: absolute certainty that we cannot make it. But about day three, a new spark emerged than I had experienced in the past. I always become absolutely obsessed with what we'll eat after the detox. I thought we would take a day or two "off" from our workout of choice, P90X, and go nuts. That's the usual path of destruction. This time, however, I was having crazy thoughts that not just any food would do for the first day back in the land of the living. I didn't just want to eat food. I wanted to eat food that would feed my soul, renew my faith in humanity, and not make me gain back the seven and a half pounds I had lost on the detox. I resolved to stick to the P90X nutrition plan without feeling like I'm on a diet.

My resolution paid off today.

I had an inkling that it would as I gazed lovingly at the assortment of herbs resting on the pass-through to the dining room. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I had this moment standing there, taking in the aroma of fresh mint and rosemary. It suddenly occurred to me that I had to fight for beauty in my life. It's too easy to get lost in the mundanity of the everyday. If I don't occasionally use the coffee cup with the saucer, or put my herbs in glasses on pretty plates on the pass-through, nobody else is going to do it for me, and I'll be living life surrounded by the beige, drab, soul-sucking ordinary. I'll be Mr. Big trapped in the apartment with Natasha.

It was this thought and the Diana Krall station on Pandora radio that motivated me today. Which, as previously stated, was a very good day. There were so many little things that came unexpectedly. The rich, slightly bitter, slightly sweet taste of coffee after six days of not having it. The new toothbrush I found while preparing to bug-bomb the bathrooms that has the tongue and cheek scrubber on the opposite side of the bristles. Genius. The heaven-sent box of six lovely bottles of wine that interrupted my polishing of our stainless steel spice rack. Only a lobster gram can parallel the joy.

But mostly it was the food. For lunch, we had a picnic in my classroom, where I was getting a jump on the school year while Steve went to the chiropractor. I'm particularly proud of this meal because lunch is my biggest obstacle during phase one of P90X when Steve and I only get one carb a day. I found a recipe for lettuce wraps that I've made before and loved, but Steve finds lettuce wraps to be awkward food. I adjusted by making it into a salad: vibrant purple and celery-green lettuce topped with Asian-seasoned lean ground beef, julienned cucumber and red pepper, and finished with the homemade pickled carrot and onion that I made last night. In my rush to get it packed, I forgot to throw in cilantro, but there's always next time. Even without that herbaceous flavor, the salad was... so... good. I'm pretty sure Steve finished his, which was twice the size of mine (I'll refrain from the obvious comment about men and weight loss), within five minutes.

Dinner, which followed the Chest & Back and Ab Ribber workouts, was another jewel in my culinary crown. Filet mignon (thank you, Omaha Steaks, for your daily bargains) topped with a parmesan-rosemary crust (my own little touch), oven-roasted potatoes, and herb-roasted tomatoes. I'm always looking for a vegetable to serve with dinner that isn't green beans, asparagus, or salad. The tomatoes were really nice, flavored with basil, thyme, and garlic, and sweet and tangy at the same time. As I sat down to the meal and a glass of my new wine, I did something I don't normally do: I turned off the television and turned on some music. There's something about a filet of beef that just makes you want to eat at the table and listen to standards from the great American songbook.

I asked Steve at one point today if he feels like he's on a diet, and he answered with a resounding "no." Mission accomplished, ladies and gentlemen.

After dinner we went to the store for four much-needed items: a griddle pan, a skillet, a plastic spatula, and protein shakers for post-workout. We came out with a griddle pan, a new skillet, a plastic spatula, plastic tongs (for cooking turkey bacon), and a little gadget that runs on batteries, foams milk, and mixes protein (and sounds like it's up for a rip-roaring good time when switched on). I am now totally excited to cook egg whites and make skim milk lattes in the morning. Don't worry--there will also be veggie sausage patties, cheese, and english muffins involved.

Before I sneak upstairs and dream of tomorrow's exploits, I leave you with three lessons learned, or rediscovered, today:

1) Shiny things get shinier when wiped vigorously with a soft cloth.
2) An ounce of organization is worth a pound of peace of mind.
3) Consistent maintenance prevents massive overhaul.

And finally, to reiterate, for someone who may need it:

4) You have to fight for beauty in your own life. No one is going to hand it to you.