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Archive for November, 2011


Chickpeas Do Exist

In School on November 30, 2011 at 7:02 pm

See ya, social media.

“Miss Katie,” said a little blonde girl, hand on hip, “you are [sassy snap] workin’ it today.”

“Miss Katie,” says another, “your hair is so silkyyy.”

I could get used to this working with kids thing…

For the last three months I’ve been working with a nurse at a local elementary school to facilitate their fourth grade Nutrition Club. The last Wednesday of every month is definitely my favorite Wednesday of the month.

I know a lot of people my age don’t, but I happen love kids and actually have quite a bit of experience working with them, but I still wasn’t quite sure what to think going into the experience so I Googled this:

Seriously though. I had no idea. Can fourth graders read? Hell if I know. (Turns out they can.)

I read up on learning theories and stages of development and all that textbook stuff that never really applies in real life and felt fully prepared to school the group on health and nutrition.

I came at them hard with some pretty dense material on carbohydrates and protein and fat and insulin and antioxidants and things that should have been way over their heads. But, surprise surprise, they shot back with questions about lycopene and diabetes and why, pray tell, cranberries can be classified as fruits if they don’t have seeds. (They do.)

I was so impressed by their interest in the topics and their (almost excessive) engagement in discussion about said topics. It was great.

So to celebrate out last meeting of the year, we had a little snack party with two dips–one sweet one savory–and a little trick up my sleeve.

Partay

You see, the students had already told me they hate hummus. We had a lengthy discussion about my love for chickpeas earlier in the fall and they were almost interested until I told them they’re used to make hummus. They weren’t buying it.

So for the snacks at the party, I knew exactly what to do. We had roasted red pepper hummus with carrots, celery and peppers and cookie dough dip with apples, pretzels and graham crackers. Both were made with chickpeas. Only one was consumed. But still, my point was made when I announced that the secret ingredient in the cookie dough dip was… dun dun DUUUUUN… the dreaded chickpea.

“See?” I said. “It’s ok that you guys don’t like hummus, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like chickpeas at all. Sometimes you just need to serve a food in a different way to get used to it. You never know what you’re missing.”

Success.

I can assure you they didn’t miss a single drop of that cookie dough dip. They were scraping the bowl clean. And one little girl, I kid you not, looked up at me and said with her cookie dough dip-covered face, “Miss Katie, my favorite thing about Nutrition Club this year was learning that chickpeas exist.”

My work here is done.

We also played beer pong.

No.

We made our own “sodas” with sparkling water and 100% juice.

Make your own soda bar

One boy said it tasted like toilet water. You win some, you lose some.

Aw

I wish I could stay forever, too.

They made me a big ridiculous card with the following highlights:

“Dear Katie, you spent one hour to come and teach us health. Now I know how to make a smoothie! Thank you so much. I’ll stay healthy!”

“Thank you for helping us learn about health and nutrition. We should try to study to be a dietitian.”

“Dear Katie, thank you so much for helping us in health. Now candy is not my favorite food. You took your time just to help us and I thank you a lot for that. You are a very successful person and I will miss you a lot.”

Aw. I suppose if I can teach just one child that chickpeas exist, then I’ve done my job here on earth.

Speaking of chickpeas, I was eating a heaping bowl of them (with wild rice, kale and artichokes) when I decided I’m taking a break from social media for December.

[gasp.]

I know. I know. What will I do with my time? Hopefully lots of things.

I will still be blogging (probably at an even higher frequency now), and both my Twitter and Facebook accounts will still exist, but I won’t be on them. I blocked my Facebook wall so no one can write on it, but I’m leaving Twitter up and running so it will continue to autopost blog updates.

It’ll be good. I really need some real in my life.

Plus, like I told the kids… You never know what you’re missing.

See ya when I see ya.


Well.

In Life on November 30, 2011 at 1:20 am

The table is still standing.

Tonight I ate deep-dish pizza overnighted from Chicago while watching the Biggest Loser make-over special and the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show back-to-back. It wasn’t until I’d had my second post-pizza cookie (and two brownies, too) that I thought, “Things have really gotten out of hand over here, Levans.”

There was vodka, too.

This vodka is straight outta 1979.

Weaz has a problem.

I don’t know where this ridiculous girl came from, but I like her.

Anyway, there is something at once oddly satisfying and blatantly disheartening about eating a buttery crust buried under two inches of straight up CHEESE while watching people lose 100 pounds and/or strut around in underwear weighing less than 100 pounds. This is my life.

But it’s not like I was sitting around doing this nonsense on a Tuesday night for no reason. Oh no no no. Tonight was a damn holiday. Tonight Mitch and I christened the new table. Actually… Well. I guess we ate on the couch while watching our shows. BUT we did set the food on the table long enough to take a picture of it.

Tah dah.

Rachael, my fellow Chicagoan, sent the pizza as a thank you for watching her dogs last week, and it made the perfect centerpiece for a little mid-week (is Tuesday “mid”?) mental escape.

Yep.

I needed it. Because you know what I realized today?

(Other than that there is a hipster camera app for Droid. Did you notice? You bet you did.)

I realized that next semester, which was supposed to be a whole lot easier than this semester, is actually going to be a whole (whole) lot worse. I had to put together my availability schedule for my two jobs and… let’s just say I dry heaved at the sight of it on paper. I’m not kidding.

Shit’s about to get REAL up in here.


I Built a Table

In Life on November 29, 2011 at 12:07 am

I paid for this.

The heart truly knows no joy like walking into your evening vitamin metabolism class and being informed that it’s the last class of the semester. I almost cried tears of pure joy when I saw the professor evaluation sitting on my desk. Instead, I got a little excited and spilled a cup of water I had balanced precariously inside my purse and proclaimed, “Aw shit, my water broke.” Heads snapped in my direction and my only friend who actually caught the joke said, “You carry it well.”

I’m pleased to report (and certainly hope it doesn’t come as a surprise) that I’m not even a little bit pregnant. Do you see how much vodka I drink? I mean, are you kidding me? Not even a little bit pregnant. For this I’d like to thank all the men who will not even go so far as to call me. Thanks for helping me fight the good fight against unplanned, irresponsible pregnancy. Carry on, soldiers.

And that’s the last time I’ll make a broken water joke. Take a deep breath, mom.

Tonight I built a table. This is what happens when I get, like, 15 minutes of free time. Can’t sit still. Can’t do it.

Yikes

I turned in two papers today–count ‘em… one, two–and I feel like the weight of the world (or at least of a good 300 pages of research material) has been lifted off my back. As a result, my appetite made its triumphant return today after about a month of stress-induced sustenance via coffee, vodka and pretzels. I’m pretty sure my body had entered serious survival mode for a while there, but I assure you we are back on track. I’m like a ravenous little badger today.

So I ate a whole lot of food and built a table. Ah, to be free…

Weaz supervised the process, which took me one viewing of Chicago, an episode of The Sing Off and a couple glasses of wine–or about three hours. It was not pretty, but I got it done.

Approved.

Mitch called and told me I had to stop because her man friend was going to come do it for us. To which I responded: “I’m having an “I Don’t Need a Man” moment. I’m building the shit out of this table.”

And I did.

I did notice an awful lot of “extra” pieces–screws and such–by the end so… I don’t know. We’ll see how this goes.


You Should Know #3

In Life, School on November 27, 2011 at 11:07 pm

What's going on here?

Somewhere between eating pizza and taking sake shots at 3am and currently nibbling a gingerbread man (thanks, Caitlin!) while sipping candy cane tea, I wrote a 10-page paper on the clinical complications associated with Wernicke-Korsakoff and the independent and concomitant roles of malnutrition and excessive alcohol consumption as a trigger for the syndrome by way of thiamin deficiency.

2am Pizza and Sutter Home White Zin Minis

3am. Sparkling shiraz and candy.

WHAT. Whatever. No one cares. My professor probably won’t even read it.

[You might wanna skip this.]

Basically, the deal is this: Thiamin (vitamin B1) is an essential vitamin, which means we can’t synthesize it in adequate amounts in our own bodies so we have to take it in through food. Thiamin plays an important role in the breakdown of carbohydrates by functioning as a coenzyme for three enzymes responsible for carb catabolism and is also vital for the synthesis of myelin, which is the protective sheath around our neurons. Deficiency leads to severe complications in the central nervous and cardiovascular systems, among them Wernicke-Korsakoff, a combination of two syndromes characterized by confusion, ataxia, vision complications, memory loss, confabulation and hallucination.

Demand for thiamin increases in the presence of excessively high carbohydrate intake because, simply put, you need more thiamin to make it possible to break down all those carbs. Since alcoholics ingest a lot of carbs (I wouldn’t know…), they are a high-risk population for Wernicke-Korsakoff. WK can be treated with thiamin supplementation but, unfortunately, some 90% of cases go undiagnosed because 1) the symptoms look a whole lot like plain old drunkenness so alcoholics experiencing symptoms are dismissed as just having hit the bottle again, and 2) there just aren’t great methods of testing for diagnosis.

Anyway, my position on it was to examine whether or not the complications associated with WK are a result of pure thiamin deficiency from malnutrition associated with alcoholism (alcoholics don’t eat very well, in case you didn’t know) or if alcohol itself plays a role in preventing thiamine transport, absorption and metabolism.

It’s a little of both.

I can’t believe I had to stretch that out into 10 damn pages…

[Stop skipping now.]

Have I lost everyone yet? Good. Here are some less impressive things about me buried underneath this gibberish that makes me sound intelligent.

You should know…

  • I really hate Christmas. I know. I know. It’s my least favorite holiday by far. I feel like such a fraud sitting here in bed with my gingerbread man and my candy cane tea and my Everyday with Rachael Ray holiday magazine… I haven’t always been this way. I think it came with adulthood. Once I’m home with my family and we roll out all of our traditions, I’m fine. It’s just the getting there–the weather and the crazy shoppers and the terrible music for TWO FULL MONTHS–that wears on me. I do love Christmas cookies, though. So much.
  • I steal food from buffets. I don’t really consider it stealing, but… it is. When I get soup at Earth Fare I only fill it up like halfway so I can go down the salad bar and top my cup off with extra beans, fresh veggies and tofu. I don’t think this is allowed.

It's just such a THRILL.

  • I’m not a vegan. This is not a secret or anything, but I feel the need to clarify. I get that it would be confusing considering how I eat… I’ve been a vegetarian for about 10 years. I was strictly vegan for about a year back in 2009-2010. These days I’d say I eat 85% vegan and 15% string cheese. I bake vegan because I hate eggs so I don’t see a point in buying a dozen of them just to use one in a cookie recipe. Plus, I like the challenge of vegan baking. I don’t drink milk because I’ve always hated it, but I do have rice and almond milk for my coffee and smoothies. I do not turn down baked goods that contain eggs and milk. Don’t try to make sense of it all.
  • I’m writing a book proposal. What? I don’t know. I had it on the agenda for 2011 to have a draft by the end of the year and, wouldn’t you know it, here we are. Now that I said it, it has to happen. Thanks for that. It’s not about Sweet Tater Blog.
  • Starbucks has real mugs. You just have to ask for one. It makes you feel less like a total sell out.

Stick it to the man.


Girl Code.

In Life on November 27, 2011 at 4:46 am

Uhhhh.

Last night I had plans to get drinks with Mitch. We’d both been doing school work all day and had been texting back and forth for hours about getting sufficiently slammed. It was one of those “aw shit, girl, it’s so on” kind of days that you just know will turn into one of those “BEST.NIGHT.EVER.” kind of nights. You know the kind. Heels. Lipstick. Whole shebang.

Thirty minutes before we were supposed to head out, she called. She had a boy-related duty to tend to. Had to meet The Mother. Big step, big deal. I got it and told her it was fine.

I tried to pretend like it really was but really… I was alone on Thanksgiving. It was a little bit nice but mostly miserable. I felt abandoned and like I needed to seriously reevaluate my life. I needed to feel like someone gave a shit about where I was and what I was doing. And just as I was about to start moping, she chimed in…

“NO. I mean, I will go meet her but… I’m hanging out with you tonight. I went into this day with this intention to be deliberate with you. You are important to me. You are going to be in my life for a long time. Like, sitting together in rocking chairs long time… Is that weird?”

No. That’s not weird at all. I need that.

So we went out. We drank champagne until I was sufficiently drunk enough to eat my weight in oatmeal cookies and she went off to meet her boy’s mom. It was a win-win for all parties involved. I don’t have a lot of girlfriends I can depend on. So it was big.

So tonight when I was up to my neck in research for a 10-pager that’s due on Monday and a friend of mine called at 11pm saying she needed some support, I paid it forward and took her to the exact same bar, ordered the exact same drink and told her the exact same thing Mitch told me last night:

You are important to me. I want you to be my friend. I am here for you no matter what.

Pizza and wine in paper cups. Duh.

We drank way too much champagne and wine and sake and ate way too much pizza and stayed out way too late.

My paper isn’t done. I won’t be rested tomorrow. I probably won’t make it to yoga… But whatever. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.

In the last six months I’ve had a lot of moments where I really needed someone. Just needed someone to be there for me. It doesn’t always happen and that’s ok. I mope around on the internet and we all get along just fine.

But maybe the reason no one is ever there for me is because I’m never really there for anyone else. I’m too caught up with my own problems. It’s rare that I get to be that “someone” for someone else because I get so wrapped up in my own issues and needs.

I’ve found, though, in the last two nights, that standing in as support is as meaningful for the supports as it is for the person who needs it. To get to be support for someone else. To forget about yourself for a little while. That is a beautiful thing.

I’ve said before that I don’t like to ask for help. I think I’ve got it all covered. I’m good. I’m Katie (fucking) Levans. I’ve got this. But the reason I don’t tell people I need them is because I don’t ever want to give them that power to be able to say, “No, I can’t be there for you.” Because it hurts. I also rarely say, “I’m here for you” because I don’t want to give anyone else the power to say, “I don’t need you.” Because that hurts, too, in a different but very painful way.

But that’s a lose-lose. It’s time to be a little bit more vulnerable, I think. To lay it all out there. To live just a little bit. With pizza and champagne and late nights turned early mornings. It’s in the Girl Code, y’all.

Article 9, Section 7: You will drop anything and anyone when your friends need you. Period. Champagne and pizza are required.

“You’re a human being, you live once and life is wonderful, so eat the damn red velvet cupcake.”


Caturday 11/26/11

In Cats on November 26, 2011 at 11:31 am

Tia's kind of a cat...

Happy post-Black Friday Caturday!

Ralph is still recovering from yesterday’s shopping rampage. Rumor has it she put some old lady in the hospital over a steeply discounted iPhone… I’m not talking because whatever I say can and will be used against her in a court of law. I know nothing.

She wouldn’t tell me what she got everyone for Christmas but I found an Urban outfitters bag full of ironic coffee table books so…

Haha. You have to be smart to get it.

She got another pair of red Toms, too. She now has 37.

Speaking of hipsters… Weaz got her first Instagram portrait courtesy of Mitch’s iPhone…

I look so good blurry.

I know, I know. I’m just bitter that I don’t have Instagram on my Droid so Weaz has to deal with looking like this:

Why do you have to be so lame?

I didn’t get much quality time with the cats this week because I was dogsitting at Rachael’s house…

Gabby!

Gabby!

Gabby is 18 freaking years old and in better shape than Ralph. Sure, the scent of her breath signals that she’s rotting from the inside out, but homegirl can still ball. She’s awesome.

I missed not waking up to this little face today…

I miss you.

Needless to say, the cats hate me for spending time with the dogs. I made it up to them with a Thanksgiving feast of turkey shreds (WITH CHEESE).

And suddenly I am forgiven.

Off to work… got you THIS:

My mom sent me this.


I Have Everything I Need

In Life on November 25, 2011 at 5:57 pm

Snack time.

This morning I was up bright and early to open the store at 6:30am for Black (fucking) Friday.

It wasn’t bad at all, actually. I totally volunteered myself for the early shift. The way I see it, Black Friday crazies have all been up since, like, 3am. Around 4am at the Doorbuster Sales, fueled by coffee and flying high on hit after hit of materialism, their spirits are soaring. But come noontime when the caffeine starts to wear and the spirits start to wane, they start to get a little bit tired. A little bit hungry. A little bit cranky and unreasonable.

I didn’t want to be there to see the shift so I volunteered myself for 6:30 to 12:30. Brilliant.

Of course.

My roommate–who will henceforth be known on the blog by the name I really call her, Mitch–came dressed as a turkey and made me a pilgrim hat out of construction paper. Perfect. You bet we work and live together. Just can’t get enough.

In (dis)honor of the biggest shopping day of the year, I bought absolutely nothing. In fact, I did the complete opposite…

I got my library card.

BAM

It’s official. Charlotte and I are now in a long-term relationship. I hope she likes cats…

I’ve decided I’m going to learn French. I can’t decide if it’s because there are lots of French exchange students on campus and I want to be cool like they are or if I want to know how to actually say French culinary terms or if I just want a reason to go to France but… I’m doing it.

Cwa-sawnt.

Unfortunately, my neighborhood library branch is the smallest and illest equipped of them all, so the only language instruction books they had were for:

  • Vietnamese
  • German
  • Italian
  • Spanish
  • Japanese
  • Hebrew

So I got Italian.

Italian is easy because I already speak Spanish–Does this make me sound cool? I certainly hope so. That was the idea.–and get this…

CASSETTES.

I’m probably the only person in the world who, when presented with cassettes responds with: “OH MY GOD YES.” But it’s perfect, you see, because the CD player in my car is broken and for some reason no one will ever understand, this vehicle built in 2003 also still has a cassette player. Game, set, match… Volvo.

Because I have time for this.

I also picked up Poser because I love a good yoga book.

Having trouble controlling your spending this holiday season? Repeat after me:

I have everything I need. I have everything I need. I have everything I need.

Now go get your library card.


No, Thanks.

In Holidays on November 24, 2011 at 7:13 pm

Pumpkin green smoothie

It is now a surprise to no one–thanks to my public internet moping–that I am alone for Thanksgiving. It’s not so bad, really…

Sure, I laid in bed and cried for two hours yesterday. And then cried some more when my mom called to see if I was crying. And then cried some more at 1am when I was driving back and forth across town (I’m dog sitting) to check on my cats and then check on them again because my roommate informed me that she was concerned she’d left a candle burning and that the cats had surely perished. They didn’t.

The whole day I felt like I was doing a lot of giving without receiving (which is fine), like I was getting bailed on left and right, like I was setting expectations that were falling short and like I just wanted to be with my family.

Anyway, I’m happy to report I got it all out of my system. I let myself play the victim and feel sorry for myself, as if I were at the mercy of others’ decisions, when really… I put myself in the situation and could get myself out. Once I got over the fact that this holiday was shot, I decided I’d just be grateful for a day off, for beautiful weather, for some time to myself and for plenty of time for yoga.

Today I feel fantastic. This is what I did…

In the span of about 14 hours, I was in yoga for 3.5  of them. It was a beautiful thing.

Steamy.

You bet I drink coffee in hot yoga. It’s fine. All told, I also had three coconut waters, two Ultima electrolyte mixes, two Pedialytes and plenty of water. Don’t you worry about me and my dry ligament. It’s on the mend…

I wrote a 20-page lit review on high-fructose corn syrup.

Disgusting.

You bet I want to stab my eyeballs out. I have to write the conclusion for another 10-page paper, write an entire other 10-page paper (topic as-of-yet undecided; due Monday) and make a nutrition-related public service announcement video and then you can stick a fork in this turkey-like semester because that mofo is DONE, son.

That turkey analogy is the closest I will get to anything remotely resembling a real Thanksgiving today. That’s not true. I made the cats their tri-annual (birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas) turkey dinner. And by “made” I mean I opened a can of turkey shreds with cheese…

WITH CHEESE

Gross.

Other than that I haven’t eaten pie or stuffing or mashed potatoes or… anything, really. I had a fantastic green pumpkin smoothie with oatmeal cookies crumbled on top, at least three coffees, a Pedialyte, a Vitamin Water and MORE PRETZELS. (As you can tell, my appetite has been shot for about three weeks.) I’m about to go pickup some kind of anti-Thanksgiving takeout like Indian food or something and drink copious amounts of wine.

On a far more grateful note…

Thank you for reading my blog and not judging me (too harshly) for my antics. Thank you for supporting my haphazard philanthropic efforts. Thank you for sharing your stories. Thank you for sending me support. Thank you for spreading the word about this silly little place to your friends. Thank you for praising the cats. Just… thank you.


Pedialyte is Great

In Life on November 23, 2011 at 5:42 pm

Who knew?

I feel like if someone had told me Pedialyte was this delicious, I never would’ve gotten this dehydrated in the first place.

Then again, I probably would’ve started using it as a cocktail mixer and that would’ve landed me exactly where I am today… hobbling around on a dried up ligament. Gross.

My leg is doing much better now that I’m a hydrating machine. I kind of hate it though. You know how frequently someone with half a bladder has to pee when consuming enough water to sustain life? A lot. A whole lot. It’s disrupting my usual routine of Facebooking for eight hours straight without ever having to stand up. I could get a catheter or something…

I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself today because I just now realized I want to be home for Thanksgiving and it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? My sister’s going to her boyfriend’s house. My brother’s going to see our grandparents in Atlanta. My parents are in Illinois. I am moping around Charlotte eating pretzels like they’re going out of style.

These pretzels are makin me thirsty.

Last year I made an epic vegan Thanksgiving.

WANT.

But that’s not my life this year. And it crushes my soul a little bit. But it’s ok. It’s ok. Moving on…

I don’t know why no one thought to alert me of the existence of Marcel the Shell sooner, but now that I know… my life is made. Nothing can bring me down from the giddy high this little nugget gives me.

Know what I wear for a hat? A lentil.

Want to see my playlist?

I made it myself.

I have no real music of my own. In fact, almost all of my music is really Stew’s, which is irritating, but… it’s still so good. I’ll give him that. So here we go…

  1. The Cave – Mumford and Sons – Every time this song comes on in the store I yell, “THIS IS MY JAM.” and turn it up obnoxiously loud. You’ve never seen a girl fold pants so fast as I do when this song is on.
  2. Shake it Out – Florence + The Machine – Every single one of her songs is perfect. I listen to this no fewer than six times a day.
  3. Africa Remix – Jaz Z and Toto – Jay Z is the coolest person on the planet. I love everything he has ever done ever. This mashup is badass. BOUNCE.
  4. The Gambler – fun. – Vivid lyrical storytelling makes you want to fall in love and grow old with someone.
  5. It’s Around You – ANR – This song makes me feel invincible.
  6. Cold War – Janelle Monae – Try not to dance around.
  7. I Would Die for You – Prince – I could really do without hearing another Prince song ever again in my entire life. But this one I love.
  8.  All the Pretty Girls – fun. – More fun. Just can’t get enough.
  9. Dancing on my Own – Robyn – Remember Robyn? She’s come a long way since Show Me Love. Every single song on her new album Body Talk (1 and 2) is perfect. Poppy perfection. Call Your Girlfriend and Hang with Me are also perfect.
  10. Happy People – R. Kelly – It will make you happy. Try to fight it.
  11. Penny & Me – Hanson – Hate on, haters. This song is fantastic. I still remember the first time I heard Hanson. My sister and I were late for the bus stop one morning because MMMBop was on MTV and we couldn’t figure out if the band consisted of boys or girls…
  12. Sweet is the Night – Electric Light Orchestra – I don’t know. This is one of those loaded songs I should stop listening to. But I won’t.
  13. You Don’t Make it Easy, Babe – Josh Ritter – I just saw this dreamboat live last week and he is brilliant. Brilliant. His lyrics are things I wish I could think, much less put to music… “The heart has no bones, you see, so it won’t break.”
  14. Sweet Song – Blur – This fucking song… Do I even share this…? This (no lyrics, just music) was what I was going to walk down the aisle to. If ever I got that far. I didn’t. Yikes. There’s that.
  15. Horizon – Genesis – This playlist came to be as a challenge to create an hour-long yoga playlist. So this is your savasana. Namaste.


Cookies… Check.

In Life on November 22, 2011 at 5:59 pm

Banana cookies galore.

The other day I stopped by Caitlin’s house carrying a paper plate overflowing with baked goods. Three different kinds, in fact.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Don’t you bake when something has gone terribly wrong?”

You bet I do.

That’s why my to-do list looks like this:

Amber is my cat dealer. I needed a hit...

A list of grad papers followed by:

  • 4 dozen banana cookies
  • Brownies
  • Cookies

Sounds about right.

DO YOU SEE HOW THIN THAT LIST IS GETTING? Oh sweet baby Jesus, I can taste the freedom now. And it tastes like brownies.

In the next 48 hours I will:

  • Finish my paper on the bioavailability of vitamin B12 in novel vegan sources
  • Write reviews on five studies on the differences in metabolic processing of high-fructose corn syrup vs. sucrose (if any)
  • Write a 10-page paper on an as-of-yet undefined vitamin-related topic. (Had this assignment since the first day of class. Oops.)

It’s so on.

I actually feel really (really, really, really, really) good about… life… right now. The weather is gorgeous (75 degrees and sunny, swoon). My work is almost done (so close). My leg is slowly but surely healing (I’m a hydrating machine). I sent my first (tiny) assignment to Charlotte Magazine yesterday (which is such a bigger deal to me than I will admit). I’m working on handstand (and if you knew how much I fear being upside down, you’d know that this is big).

Lovely.

I feel very calm. And in control. And I think this stems from two things:

  1. Gratitude
  2. Accepting responsibility

It’s Thanksgiving week so it makes sense that I’d be more cognizant of the good things in life, the things I’m so grateful for.

I’ve also been working internally on identifying when I play the victim (which is often) and consciously trying to avoid that mess. Call it what you will–an excuse, a defense mechanism, a trap–it’s not who I want to be. My focus, then, has shifted from feeling sorry myself with all I have to do and instead feeling empowered that I have to do it all because I can and, more importantly, because I chose to.

Bam.


I Hope You Die Blondies

In Baked Goods on November 21, 2011 at 1:02 am

Vegan salted caramel blondies

Yesterday I learned to use iTunes. It was a momentous occasion just 11 years behind schedule. I never claimed to be cool, guys.

It’s not that I don’t like music. (So go ahead and put that music-is-my-oxygen lecture back in the pocket of your skinny jeans and just calm F down; you’re fogging up your fake hipster glasses with your hyperventilating.)  I just don’t like change. So, as I’ve stated before, back when iPods came to replace CDs, I said, “No, thank you.” Plus, I was on a PC up until two years ago and I was using Windows Media Player. Don’t judge me. And I like to think I do my part to support the music industry by dating musicians. You’re welcome.

I’m proud to report that my beloved CDs and I have fought the good fight for the last decade, but after about a year of a broken CD player in my car and having to endure the likes of “Hey Soul Sister,” anything by Nickelback and autotuning so aggressive and overpowering that I’m not entirely sure a human ever sang the song in the first place, I simply cannot take it anymore.

So I made a playlist.

Exactly.

I still don’t know how to actually buy music (how do I do this?) so all I have is my brother’s library (99% Jay Z and a little bluegrass) and my ex’s library (100% Prince). But I did learn a little secret for getting songs that I am absolutely certain is illegal so I’m not even going to say I’m doing it because I picture a team of bazooka-wielding music piracy cops smashing through my windows to arrest me. “But I didn’t know it was illegal!” … “Yes you did. We read your blog. Perhaps now you’ll stop oversharing like your mom asked you to do years ago. By the way, we know you’ve been stealing internet for the last six months… And can we take a picture with Weasel?”

Anyway… I’ve been keeping a running list of songs I like in anticipation of this day.

Yep

I have listened to my playlist one thousand times and am very pleased with myself.

So pleased, in fact, that I remade the infamous “I Hope You Die” blondies just to get the recipe right this time and celebrate my accomplishment.

I Hope You Die Blondies (Salted Caramel Blondies)
Print
Author: Katie Levans
Prep time: 5 mins
Cook time: 30 mins
Total time: 35 mins
Ingredients
  • 1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon canola oil
  • 1 cup brown sugar, packed
  • 1 tablespoon ground flax seed + 3 tablespoons warm water
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt (plus more for dusting)
  • 1 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1/2 cup walnut pieces
Instructions
  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees
  2. Combine oil,sugar, flax “egg” and vanilla
  3. Add salt, flour and walnuts, and mix to combine
  4. Line an 8×8 baking dish with parchment paper (or grease) and spoon in batter. It doesn’t spread easily so cover with plastic wrap to press it out flat with your hands. (Remove plastic before baking, duh.)
  5. Sprinkle dough with extra salt (this is the best part)
  6. Bake for 30 minutes until cooked through
  7. Allow to cool completely before cutting with a sharp knife

So damn good.

Am I really as bitter as the story behind these sweet blondies makes me sound? God I hope not.

I don't really hope you die.


Black Pepper Brown Sugar

In Baked Goods on November 21, 2011 at 12:02 am

Vegan black pepper brown sugar cookies, yep.

I learn things the hard way. I like to think it’s less an innate character flaw rooted in unfaltering stubbornness and more my selfless desire to give as many people as possible as many chances as possible to say, “I told you so.” I know how they love to say it.

If ever you have wondered the following things:

  • Does vodka count as hydration?
  • Do cars really need oil?
  • Are air filters really necessary?
  • Do swans attack when provoked?
  • Aren’t three part-time jobs pretty much like one full-time job?
  • Baking soda and baking powder are pretty much the same, right?
  • Are cats comparable to babies in terms of owning your soul?

I have your answers: nope, sweet Jesus yes, jury’s still out, like rabid pitbulls, NOT EVEN CLOSE, negative and YES, respectively. How? I learned all these things the hard way.

Did you know you can be so dehydrated your ligaments start to dry up? Me neither, y’all. Me.neither.

We’re not positive since my “consult” consisted of me laying on their living room floor for approximately eight minutes, but Caitlin’s Doctor Husband Kristien seemed pretty confident that a “dry ligament” (ew.) is what’s causing my elusive leg pain.

“I have no idea what could have caused this,” I say, eyes shifting tellingly from my empty coffee cup to my empty wine glass. “I drink plenty of fluids.”

I know I know I know. I know that I’m studying nutrition and I know that water is important for, um, everything and I know that I practice hot yoga, like, seven days a week but… I still don’t drink water. CONFESSIONS OF A WATERPHOBE.

I just don’t like it. You know why? It dates all the way back to 1989 when my doctors thought I had cancer but really I had a urachael remnant but either way half of my bladder had to go so I had to pee all the time and it caused me great stress and anxiety on planes and in cars and mostly just all the time so I learned the art of not drinking unless absolutely necessary. There’s also the fact that when I got cats they kept putting their stupid paws in my drinking cups. So then I got water bottles but I don’t like cleaning them out and when I don’t they get moldy and I unknowingly keep drinking out of them until I discover, with great horror, that they are full of mold and that creates an even stronger water aversion. So then I buy water when I need it but that is ridiculous and expensive and unnecessary. So then I’m like, “Well, this vodka will have to do.”

I know. I won’t say any more because I hate me right now, too.

The point is… I have learned the hard way that I actually do have to drink water.

I know at least six people who will be calling to say I TOLD YOU SO in 5… 4… 3…

Another thing I learned the hard way today is that, no Katie, you cannot just “eyeball” measurements when baking. Cooking, maybe. Baking? Never.

Those seemingly flawless stacked cookies were actually sprawled out on the baking pan creating a bubbling sheet of molten dough. I think it had something to do with too much butter, not enough flour, but who cares? They were salvaged. I let them cool and then cut out nice little circles. No harm, no foul.

Black Pepper Brown Sugar Cookies
Print
Author: vegan adaptation from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian
Ingredients
  • 1/2 pound Earth Balance
  • 1/2 c dark brown sugar, packed
  • 1 tablespoon ground flax seed + 3 tablespoons warm water
  • 1.5 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon cracked black pepper
Instructions
  1. Beat butter and sugar until combined
  2. Add the flax “egg” and pepper
  3. Scoop out tablespoon-sized balls of dough onto a parchment paper-lined (or greased) cookie sheet
  4. Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 350-degree oven
  5. Makes about 3 dozen

HAHAHA. Looking at the recipe again, I see that I used 1/2 a cup of flour, not 1.5. Very good.

As always, do as I say, not as I do.

I’m off to drink some Pedialyte…


Caturday 11/19/11

In Cats on November 19, 2011 at 7:26 pm

You forgot Caturday.

No I didn’t.

I bet you guys thought I forgot Caturday, didn’t you? You know how I know? Because I’ve received tweets and emails and phone calls and Facebook messages to the effect of: WHERE THE HELL IS CATURDAY???

Maybe the cats died. Maybe I just like to keep you on your toes. Maybe I was at work. You’ll never know.

But don’t worry, guys. Ralph has got this one under control…

SUPERRALPH

You wanna know the real reason there was no Caturday this morning? Because Ralph was drunk.

D-R-U-N-K

Look at that asshole. She claims someone roofied her at Butter but I know the real truth. She stole two bottles of Ashley’s wine and watched Lifetime movies with a tube of cookie dough in her hand. I don’t know where she learned these habits.

Only after drinking the two bottles of wine and syphoning out the last of the cookie dough did she proceed to Butter to shake what her momma gave her. (I am not her momma.) The bouncer gave me this picture from the security camera…

I FUCKING LOVE BEYONCE

We’re staging an intervention tonight.

Weaz is feeling emo about it.

No one understands me.

So there you have it. Caturday for November 19, 2011. Never a week missed since 2009.

PS – I bought a journal this week. I thought it might help me curb my internet usage if I could just write down my thoughts instead of tweeting and/or Facebooking them. So far this is all I’ve done with it…

Weaz does love TV.


And Then Restart

In Life, Restaurants on November 19, 2011 at 1:23 am

Siddhartha spinach salad. Fern (Charlotte, NC)

You know those mornings where you hit the snooze button nine times (three times for each of your three alarms, duh), walk outside to find the temperature has dropped 40 degrees overnight (literally. 75 degrees to 35 degrees.), scrape frost off your windshield with  Trader Joe’s gift card (with a zero balance) and speed off to work with your new, never-been-used reusable cup still on top of the car, totally unbeknownst to you until you reach stop sign numero uno of the drive and it flies off the roof into the intersection ahead and you have to shamefully step outside to pick it up while neighbors and passersby stare at you with a look that screams, “Get it together, girl”?

Me.too.

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS

Surprisingly none of this bothered me because I was feeling all recharged from my selfish night in and my no-yoga-because-I’m-injured morning, and I decided I’m going to pretend like my life is all unicorns and glitter until it actually is. Namaste, bitches.

I had a great day at work because I decided I was going to. Pretty simple, actually.

I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues strong
It’s always darkest before the dawn

My leg is in terrible shape so I gimped around the floor and made everyone feel the gross creaky thing my shin is doing. It’s… gross. I sat down for two damn minutes in the last 30 minutes of my shift and was ridiculed mercilessly by my cruel and heartless coworkers. Then they photographed me like some kind of zoo animal and told me to get back to scrubbing the floors with my toothbrush. Jerks. (Not really. They’re some of the best people I know.)

Cats!

It’s a really tough job. Really.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this leg situation other than ice it and complain. Try to stop me.

I lucked out with a dinner out with my friend Ashley who is in town interviewing at the hospital. I used my new favorite restaurant as leverage to convince her to move here…

Three sisters cakes

Mmmhm.

Ashley's pumpkin salad

OM burger

Ashley pulled a Katie and got a salad with a veggie burger on top. I pulled an un-Katie and got mushrooms. What? I don’t even know. The spinach salad with roasted mushrooms and tempeh and pears and candied pecans was just calling my name. I hate mushrooms but I loved that salad. Surprise.

Alyssa, the brilliant mastermind behind Fern’s kitchen door, tempted us with some insane desserts but we passed. She sent chocolate bark out anyway.

God I love that place.

I appreciate all the feedback on yesterday’s rant. I hope it comes across that I’m not as miserable as I sound. Like most of us, I’m just in a period of growth and change and there’s a lot to take in and analyze and, in my case, overshare on the internet with thousands of strangers. It’s what I do. I’m glad to hear it resonates with some people.

After dinner Ashley looked at me and said, “I wouldn’t tell you this if I weren’t your friend so just think about how many other people are thinking it and staying quiet but… your blog really changed my life. Like, changed my life. I’ve been meaning to tell you since May. I wrote it in my planner.”

What do you even say when someone says that to you? “Thank you” was all I could think of in the moment.

So. For all you silent lurkers who feel like you’re in the same sinking boat, just know we’re all in it together. Let’s not take it too seriously, though. This is just life. It’s beautiful and hilarious and frustrating as hell. Let it unfold.

As Florence would say, “What the hell, I’m gonna let it happen to me.”

Shake it out, y’all. Shake it out.


Take Care.

In Life on November 17, 2011 at 11:07 pm

Pear + cinnamon + sharp cheddar = yes.

“I’m just… exhausted,” I said, voice cracking under the pressure of a dam of tears about to burst. Normally I would never (ever ever ever) cry at work but… I work at lululemon and if there’s one thing we love more than black stretchy pants, it’s a damn good cry.

We had a conference call this morning. I sprawled out on the floor–coconut water on one side, coffee on the other–wondering why I had to come in early for this mess and hoping my new prone position would hide my eye rolls as sunshine and butterflies spewed from the receiver.

Voices from across our region–some I know, most I don’t–started to chime in to share why life was oh so beautiful and perfect on this glorious Thursday morning that, from my vantage point anyway, was rainy and gross. Plain and simple.

I listened to the voices talk about their great morning workouts and the sun shining through their windows and their steaming cups of home brewed coffee, and followed each statement with a silent, “I hate you and your perfect life.”

I was bitter. I wanted to work out and sit in the sun and sip coffee. Instead I was laying on the floor in the mall, unshowered and completely uncooperative, wishing I were still in bed. I haven’t been sleeping. Haven’t been eating. Haven’t been studying. I was in no mood.

I did actually listen to the call because I wanted to make sure I was positive it was a complete waste of my time. And just when I thought I was sure to win my own internal bitter battle, something actually resonated. In fact, it echoed right off my hollow, angry, Grinch-y heart and snapped me back into reality. And it came from my very own boss… right there in the room with me… probably wondering why I was sprawled out on the floor.

She’d just taken her daughters on their first (that they could remember) flight and wanted to repeat a phrase I’ve heard a hundred times over: “You have to put your own oxygen mask on first before you can help anyone else.” But this time I actually heard it.

I laid there on the floor for a few more minutes and then slowly and deliberately sat up, reached for the phone and blurted out to the dozens of strangers something to this effect:

“Hi. This is Katie in Charlotte. I’m really excited today but anyone in the room with me right now wouldn’t know it. I’m sprawled out on the floor. Literally. I’m laying on the floor. But I am excited today because in the last four days I’ve raised $1,000 for this charity I think is really important. But I don’t look excited right now because I’m exhausted and I think that if I would take time to put my own oxygen mask on first… Sometimes I just think about how much greater my capacity to help others would be if I would just take care of myself first… That’s all.”

You’d have to understand our company and our culture to understand that that wasn’t really a strange thing to say on such a call, just that it was strange for grumpy Katie to say it.

Afterwards I sat down with my boss and begrudgingly admitted that I’m breaking down. Again. To which she responded (in so few words): “You have to take care of yourself. You have to ask for help.”

Normally I would protest. Normally I’d say I’m fine, that it’ll pass, that I can handle it. (Just ask my parents. You’d sooner find me face down in a gutter, homeless but full of pride, before I’d willingly ask them for help.) But this time I get it. This time it’s not about me and my limitations and what I can or can’t do. It’s about my potential and my capacity to give and what I can or can’t do for other people if I don’t take care of myself first. And that’s a whole lot more important to me than whether or not I get eight hours of sleep a night or not.

For me, “take care of yourself to take care of yourself” doesn’t resonate. “Take care of yourself so you can take care of others” does.

So, in a small but meaningful first little step towards taking care of myself, tonight I did the following perfectly selfish, unnecessary things:

Skipped class. Whoops.

Took the longest, hottest shower my water heater would allow.

Bought myself some sweatpants and slippers that I’ve been wanting for, oh, three years now. The too-big kind that my mom is always telling me to pull up. $6 at Marshall’s. BAM.

Not lululemon. Blasphemy.

Organized my accessories drawer that has been driving me batshit crazy for six months….

Pretty.

And ate 1000 of these ginger-orange chews.

The peppermint ones are better.

I’m the kind of girl who thinks she doesn’t need anyone or anything. You realize I don’t even own a brush, right? I can get by with very little. But sometimes even a too-proud minimalist like myself needs some help. My desire to do everything on my own all the time is really just a defense mechanism. If I don’t ever have to say to someone: “I need you and I need you now and this is why…” then no one can ever let me down. I’m noticing now that in relationships and potential relationships and friendships and everything that this lack of vulnerability makes me completely unapproachable.

I need to take care of myself, yes, but also need to be willing to let other people take care of me, too.

I hate this, but I get it now.


Love in a Hopeless Place

In Charity on November 17, 2011 at 5:08 pm

AH!

When I set out to raise money for Beards BeCAUSE this year, I just wanted to help. My mom has always told me that when you’re sad and lonely and in a general state of blah, you should do something nice for someone else. My two primary coping mechanisms are avoidance and displacement. In this case, I applied both. I decided I’d avoid my own problems by directing my energy towards someone else’s. It seemed logical.

At the time, I didn’t think I had a strong tie to the cause but I knew it was a worthy one, and I also knew Scott and Jared personally and wanted to help them out with their mission. Plus, I love beards.

What I’ve learned over the last month and a half–and in the last week especially–is that this cause is so much bigger than that, so much bigger than me, and that (like it or not) I do have a strong tie to this cause. We all do.

One in four women will be a victim of domestic abuse. One in four. That is ridiculous. Unacceptable. Disheartening.

By participating in Beards BeCAUSE I’ve been exposed to the raw truth of real suffering. Though the outlet is lighthearted–beard growing, beer drinking, fundraising–the organization’s mission is heavy and their actions deliberate. In hearing from victims, caseworkers and policemen who deal with domestic violence, I now better understand the gravity of the problem, the breadth of its reach and the reality that it’s not going away any time soon–a fact that leaves me feeling frustrated and overwhelmed and, in all honesty, angry.

But what I’ve seen in the last six weeks–through the kindness of strangers–is that there is great power within each of us (and especially all of us collectively) to make a difference. To cultivate love where there is none. To create hope where there is none.

I cannot thank you all enough for your support (monetary and otherwise) of this cause. The way I see it, my role in all this was simple: draw attention, spread the word, be a voice. You all–the bakers and crafters and bidders in the auction; and the eaters and drinkers at the bar–are the ones who gave selflessly of your time and energy and skills and money. And for that I am very, very grateful.

Together, in just four days, we have raised $1,000 for Beards BeCAUSE to put an end to domestic violence. (The grand total from the auction was $801.50 and my tips from the bar brought in $186, which I filled in to $200 for a nice even $1000 total.) Way to go.

But we’re not done yet. Oh no… There are still three more weeks of fundraising left to go.

Still want to donate?

You can do so through my participant page here.

To the auction winners…

Thank you for your patience with the logistical problems. I’ve been at my other job all day, computerless and phoneless, and am emailing everyone right now with instructions on how to proceed with payment. Thank you all!


My Leg is Broken (Not Really)

In Life on November 16, 2011 at 7:46 pm

This is a pear.

Hello, nuggets.

What a day. What a day. The bake sale is in full swing and I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to see all the bids coming in. I’m so thrilled, in fact, that I have spent the better part of my day constantly refreshing the page to watch the numbers change. Very productive…

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has donated, bid and helped to spread the word. The auction will close at 10pm EST and I fully expect to see some last-minute bidding wars erupt. Can’t wait. Scoot your booties on over and find something you simply can’t live without. (Ralph and Weaz are not up for grabs, sorry.) It’s a wonderful cause.

When I wasn’t busy obsessing over the auction, I took a hot minute to venture to the health clinic upstairs to find out why my right leg feels like it’s going to straight up snap in half every time I take a step. They ruled out shin splints, stress fracture and (they think/hope) blood clot, but three doctors and two nurses later, all I walked away with was a prescription for 12 Advil a day (a day??) and instructions to carry on with my life.

This does me no good.

They were all very perplexed by the whole thing and even busted out some reference books (this always makes me feel good when my doctors are essentially paper-Googling my problems) but concluded nothing. I’ll keep you posted because I know you’re all just dying to know what it is. Secretly I hope I’m having a delayed growth spurt so I’ll finally gain that extra inch necessary to qualify for America’s Next Top Model so that I can bitch slap Miss J in real life and not just inside my own head. (I AM NOT SERIOUS.)

Now I’m off to chug a(nother) soy latte and write a paper on the bioavailability of vitamin B12 in novel vegan sources. Partay.

Go buy something awesome.

[Shameless plug.]

These are my items in the auction:

Vegan Tollhouse Cookies

Vegan Banana Cookies

Vegan Brownies


Baking BeCAUSE

In Charity on November 16, 2011 at 10:00 am

TODAY

Thank you for visiting my online bake sale/auction. Bloggers (and non-bloggers) from all over the country have offered up some serious baked goods (and some seriously gorgeous non-baked goods, too) to drive funds and draw attention to this very worthy cause. I hope you’ve all come hungry.

All proceeds raised will go directly to Beards BeCAUSE to benefit the United Family Services Shelter for Battered Women.

The auction will be open from 10am EST to 10pm EST.

Never participated in an online bake sale? Let’s break it down…

How to Bid

  1. Click the MORE link next to the item’s description. Your bidding page will pop up in a new window.
  2. Enter your bid, name and email address (I’ll need this to contact you if you win)
  3. If you’re the highest bidder, the computer will let you know with a friendly pop up window. If not, it’ll let you know that you’ve been outbid.
  4. At the close of the auction, if you are the highest bidder you will be prompted to pay for your winnings via my Beards BeCAUSE Paypal page. (This is not an account I can control/access. All funds go directly to Beards BeCAUSE. If you are concerned about payment, please email me at sweettaterblog@gmail.com.) I will email you requesting your contact information for shipping. I will then pass this along to the baker/donor responsible for your goods and they will get them out to you at an agreed upon date. (You can work together to determine an ideal delivery time for both parties.)
  5. Legal mumbo jumbo: Sweet Tater Blog cannot guarantee the integrity of “gluten-free,” “vegan,” “dairy-free,” “soy-free,” “raw,” or other dietary labels on baked goods. If you are highly allergic or ethically inclined, please make this very clear when communicating with your baker or (better yet) consider a non-food item. Please do not let your winnings sit around for a month, eat them, get sick and then tell me I made you sick. Please. If there is a problem with your winnings (lost in the mail, crushed in the mail, etc.), please let me know and I will send you a replacement straight from my kitchen.

Thank you so much for stopping by! I am so grateful.

Sincerely,

Katie

Baking BeCAUSE
Auctions RSS Feed Auctions RSS Feed


Salted Caramel Blondies

In Baked Goods on November 15, 2011 at 12:50 am

Or... I Hope You Die Blondies

I can safely say that I have never wished death upon anyone. That was, of course, until today when I saw a picture of my ex with his new girlfriend. (At which point I promptly deleted my Facebook account.) It’s not like I’m proud of this little lapse in my sanity and humanity, but come on, guys. Come. on. She was holding a pumpkin. A pumpkin! Everyone knows fall is my favorite season, a right that is protected in Girl Code article 13, section 9, which clearly states: No future girlfriends may be photographed carrying hallmark produce representative of former girlfriend’s favorite season. Um, hello. Everyone knows this.

So. As you can see, I lost my mind today. At first I thought: Bitch, I hope you die.

And then I thought: Well that’s not very nice at all… You realize you’ve been seeing someone else for months now, right? You silly hypocrite.

And then I thought: NO MORE THOUGHTS. JUST BAKE.

And this is what I did. Things were going very well. I was heating butter for my blondies and gathering goods for black pepper brown sugar cookies, banana bread and oatmeal cookies (What? A PUMPKIN, GUYS. Stop judging me.) when all of the sudden…

Karma, ya betch.

Since when can Pyrex dishes not be heated on the stovetop? Since always? Oh ok that’s cool.

So there I was standing in the middle of my kitchen, shards of glass all around me and butter running down the stove into a pool on the floor when I realized… I need some wine.

I bet you thought I was going to realize something like: “This is silly. Let’s just clean up and go to bed.”

BUT NO. When life gives me pictures of exes with new girlfriends lemons, I will give life a big fat lemon drop martini straight to the face (because apparently I’m a bartender now).

So I chugged some wine, pulled up my big girl pants (or perhaps didn’t judging by the picture), cleaned up my disaster and carried on with the task at hand, this time subbing oil for melted butter since that didn’t go so well the first time.

Deal with it.

What I was left with was this:

Blondies?

Still not willing to admit defeat, I trimmed off the charred edges and was left with a perfectly gooey, sticky, sweet-but-salty little bite. A small victory.

I also made a miniature mint chocolate cake for dinner.

Whatever.

Girl Code article 1, section 1: You can eat whatever you want.


Bartender for Hire

In Charity on November 14, 2011 at 11:31 pm

Fake it til you make it.

I’ve never experienced domestic abuse firsthand. I’ve been a bystander, unfortunately, as neighbors go at it on the other side of a shared wall, a scene more common than most of us would like to admit. I’ve learned to distinguish between an inanimate object hitting a wall versus a fist hitting a wall versus a body hitting a wall and when it’s time to call the police (which is an acquired skill I could’ve done without acquiring).

In my own homes though–growing up and as an adult (is that what I am now?)–I’ve never seen anything remotely close to resembling violence. My whole life I’ve been surrounded by strong, honorable men. My grandfathers and uncles and dad and brother and boyfriends (all two of them) would never (ever ever ever) lay a hand on me but would seriously (I am not kidding) murder anyone who did. But I do have friends who’ve been (or currently are) in ugly situations and their hurt is very real and their worlds are very dark.

So when people ask me why I’m raising money for Beards BeCAUSE to end domestic abuse (I prefer “abuse” to “violence” so as to not discount the non-physical damage done verbally and mentally), I suppose the response is twofold:

  1. To support the victims
  2. To celebrate the great men in my own life

So last night I bartended to raise money for Beards BeCAUSE to benefit the United Family Service Shelter for Battered Women here in Charlotte.

Sweet Tater Behind the Bar

When putting this together I decided I’d go big or go home so I reached out to one of the city’s most popular restaurants where you’ll frequently find a two-hour wait on a Tuesday night. For some unknown reason, Cowfish was kind enough to let me behind their beautiful (and rather large) bar to make the fundraiser happen. I think it had something to do with the fact that I neglected to tell them that I had never bartended before. Details, shmetails…

Cowfish

Signs on the bar and everything

We all know I like to drink a little bit lot but I can now confirm that a love for vodka does not a bartender make.

I don’t know if maybe Cowfish had a whole lot of faith in me or if they just couldn’t wait to see me fumble my way around the free pours, but there was no training whatsoever going on. This was a straight up birth by fire, my friends, starting with the complicated fancypants cocktails ordered by… my friends.

Thanks a lot, guys.

I wasn’t really on my own. No one would be foolish enough to give me full reign behind a bar like that. Oh no no no. I had the support of Jen, one hell of a bartender and (I’d argue) the most patient person in the entire world.

Thank god for you, Jen

With Jen’s coaching and a little guesswork, I now know how to do the following:

Make fancypants cocktails

Work that archaic computer system

Serve giant onion rings...

... and salad.

Keep track of tabs

And clean up.

Watch out, Vegas strip. I’m comin for you…

By the end of the night I had:

  • Received one phone number
  • Poured one Jack & orange soda… instead of ginger ale
  • Ripped one wine cork straight in half
  • Shin splints.

Seriously. I feel like my right shin is going to snap in half. Bartending is like an endurance sport. Tip big, y’all. Tip big.

PS – This is what I look like at the precise moment of realization that I have probably ruined an entire bottle of wine:

Aaaahaha

PPS – I only served one minor and I’d totally do it again. I mean, her ID looked fully legit and a I knew that tequila would pair nicely with her macaroni and cheese… (That didn’t happen.)

I'M KIDDING DON'T SUE ME

All told, it was a wonderful night. An enormous thank you goes out to:

  • Cowfish for the space, the support and the endless patience
  • Katy for my promo pictures
  • Gwen Poth, PR guru extraordinaire
  • Beards BeCAUSE for doing what they do
  • Everyone who came, drank, ate and tipped. I love you.

I was telling my roommate when I got home this morning that everyone who came out last night (with the exception of Brittney) I’ve known for less than six months, which is exactly how long I’ve been living here in Charlotte. And it was this humbling realization that made me feel like I’m really at home here, like this is mine and I built it myself. And that, my friends, is a pretty big damn deal for the girl who a few short months ago couldn’t even get out of bed.

THANK YOU

If you’d like to donate to Beards BeCAUSE, I’d love for you to do so on my page here.

Also, don’t forget this Wednesday…


Don’t Poop Your Pants.

In Life on November 12, 2011 at 3:00 pm

Mile 1 motivation.

So I put a dent in my vitamin B12 paper, threw my cares to the wind and went to the bar with my roommate, some girls from work and a new friend I picked up at Starbucks not two hours prior. I do that.

We drank and talked and ventured into such standard bar topics as boys, religion and food ethics… at which point Ashley declared herself a vegetarian for the remainder of our time living together.

Shook on it and everything.

I told her this meant she had to throw out the turkey she brought into my house (the nerve!). She agreed and asked if her beef bouillon cubes had to go too. Yes, Ashley. Yes they do. [Update: She just texted me to report that she almost ate a pepperoni but realized it wasn't made of vegetables. This is going to be slow going...]

I had a beer and a vodka soda.

And waffle fry nachos (sans chili cuz we're all veg now)

Did you know you can make nachos out of waffle fries? Me neither. But Ashley did. And she was so excited about those vegetables.

VEGETABLES FOR LIFE

After destroying some drunken boys in a game of basketball, we headed home where we decided it’d be a great idea to have drunken craft time. Glitter included.

We made signs for Thunder Road Marathon and vowed to wake up early and watch them run by our house.

OH MY GOD GLITTER

I ate pretzels and cheese while we worked…

Hey, you wanted to know EVERYTHING, right?

We made two signs. One that said: Don’t poop your pants. And another that my mom is going to be so very furious about but that went over well with the runners at mile one…

Good advice

Yep.

This is what happens when you let two girls from Ohio and Illinois drunkenly make signs to be held at a marathon in the conservative south. No matter. Everyone loved it. And… we were right next to a fire eater so we were pretty much the best cheering section those runners saw all day.

At least I don't eat fire, mom.

We were happy to be of service.

This was my first time spectating a marathon and I’m happy to report that it is awesome. Have you ever read “How to Ruin a Marathon“? Do it right this second. It’s so perfect.

“That’s why I like to start off my training day bright and early with a full breakfast of espresso, some diet pills, and a small bag of rock candy. It keeps me edgy and volatile when I’m in the thick of disrupting a tight race.”

L.O.L.

Seriously though, you marathoners are incredible machines. For example, Adam decided he would run Savannah last weekend and then just, ohhhh you know, run a second marathon in seven days with Thunder Road this morning. Alright then. No big deal.

Way to go, you runners. I will never be one of you but while you’re carb loading and sleeping and training and all that, I’ll definitely get drunk and do yoga and make you motivational signs.


Eating Fail.

In Food Diary on November 12, 2011 at 2:34 pm

This is my life.

I’m going to be honest with you… I have not been eating well (or kind of at all) the past couple days. I attribute this to an extreme level of stress coupled with an extreme lack of sleep. I am in a perpetual state of motion right now and apparently don’t have time to notice the most basic physiological cues of exhaustion such as hunger. I’m running on coffee and vodka and, no, I do not condone this lifestyle.

Nevertheless, when I do eat, I make it count with whole foods, lots of vegetables, fat and the occasional cupcake. Breakfast was PB&J toast with coffee (above).

Lunch was this cool power meal pack that comes with a big ol’ tub of greens, dried cranberries, chickpeas, bulgur wheat and dressing. I added pretzels, a cheese stick and sparkling water.

Power Meal Pack

I got the Power Meal with a free coupon from Earth Fare and while it’s not something I’d usually buy (because it’s just as easy–and cheaper–to assemble on your own), at this point in my life this is exactly the kind of thing I need. Speed greens. I’ll take it.

I found this cupcake and ate half.

I bounced from meeting to meeting yesterday afternoon–one with A Healthier Charlotte to discuss some potential collaborations and another with Cowfish to work out logistics for my charity guest bartending stint Sunday night. I picked up my first story for Charlotte Magazine this week, too. Things are happening, y’all. They’re happening.

I drank a beer with Blair of AHC, ate an apple in the car and threw down some rice cakes with hummus and pickles when I got home.

This is an apple.

I know it's weird.

Dinner just was not on the agenda because I spent four hours on a Friday night researching the bioavailability of vitamin B12 in plant vs. animal food sources.

Ack.

So I wrapped up my work, had a PB&J rice cake and and headed to the bar to pretend–for at least a few brief hours–that I am a normal 26-year-old.

Dinner of champions?

(I am not normal.)

My intake doesn’t end here (neither of food nor beverage), oh no.

To be continued…


Caturday 11/12/11

In Cats on November 12, 2011 at 2:59 am

God, is that you? It's me, Weazus.

Heeeeeey, kittens. Happy Caturday from the past… It’s Friday night (early Saturday morning?) and my roommate is singing “feelin’ like a star, you can’t stop my shine” across the hall and we’re running out the door to the bar because that vodka’s not gonna drink itself, you know, and I know I won’t get Caturday up on time in the morning because I plan on going to straight to cheer on the Thunder Road Marathoners and then straight to yoga (still drunk, I presume) and I just don’t want you all to miss out on these gems.

Mmmmhello.

The cats spend most of their time laying around seductively. It’s true.

Look at these fools.

Oh. Hello.

Not so much what I want waiting for me at the end of the day but… I’ll take it. They’re good cuddlers after all.

Bring me my vodka.

I miss when Ralph looked like a lion.

That’s all I got. My roommate and I have been drinking all night and then came home to make motivational signs for the marathon tomorrow. The runners will be passing by our house bright and early so we’ll be out there with coffee and fleece blankets and a little mile one motivation…

Alright then. See you in the morning.


Well This Was Weird

In Food Diary on November 11, 2011 at 12:01 am

Pretzels. Cheese. Tiny ice cream cone. Duh.

Would you like to know the only thing I’ve learned in class so far this week? Good because here it comes…

Bats are the only mammals other than humans that perform fellatio. You’re welcome.

Try to figure out how that relates to nutrition. I dare you.

This fact makes me very uncomfortable not only because we almost had to watch a puppet demonstration and a video but because I like to think that all animals are just completely asexual, especially my pets. This would explain why my female cat who I watched birth five babies is named… Ralph. And why my first cat Gracie… was a boy. Gender neutrality, y’all. As far as I’m concerned, my pets do not have genitalia at all. Sure, Ralph was pregnant and all, but everyone knows that was immaculate conception. And you know that that means? Baby Weaz is Jesus… Baby Weazus.

I guess that’s not really the only thing I’ve learned this week. It’s just the only thing I retained, apparently. Again, you’re welcome.

I’m doing other academic things, too. Lots of them. I saved all of my big papers and projects for the last three weeks of school. Good for me. Three research papers requiring 20 citations each didn’t sound so bad until I printed out my 60 sources… It’s pretty bad, y’all.

Yes.

In honor of this ridiculous time in my life, it has been an odd couple of days of eating.

The day started off innocently enough with a vitamin C tablet the size of my head (generously donated by my roommate):

Plop, plop... fizz, fizz.

I am sick (because this is what happens when you kiss people who are sick… WebMD it), but there are few things 1000mg of vitamin C can’t cure and I’m happy to report I feel just fine today. Sort of. I have no appetite. None.

I took my sweet time making a smoothie for the road because when I don’t feel so good the entire world stops rotating long enough for me to make a smoothie. Surely my bosses know this because no one said anything when I strolled in 30 minutes late. (PS – I let my roommate try it and she said, “YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THERE ARE VEGETABLES IN HERE??”)

Smoothie on the way to work

Thank god I had the foresight to plan ahead and roast an acorn squash Sunday night because it was easy to stuff on the fly on my way out the door and made a lovely centerpiece for lunch at my desk.

Acorn squash, quinoa, feta, tapenade, roasted broccoli

I look forward to the day I am not eating all of my meals out of tupperware. They should really sponsor me. WAIT. They should… I’ll get Weaz on that right away.

Mint tea

A rather angelic cheese stick.

As the day wore on, my 1000mg of vitamin C wore off and I started to drag. But come hell or high water… or mild illness, I’m at Wednesday night yoga every week.

I had a snack before I left because I knew dinner wasn’t gonna happen on any grand scale afterwards.

Rice cake, PB, pumpkin, cinnamon, maple syrup

And I was right. By the time I got home around 10pm, dinner was not happening. So I assembled that lovely plate of cheese and pretzels and baby ice cream cone above and then ate trail mix in bed.

From Tropical Foods

Probably didn’t need chocolate-covered coffee beans before bed. Live and learn.

Oh shoot. Maybe I also had a glass of wine on my way out of the yoga studio. You heard me. I can’t help that I practice in the best studio in the world where people hand you glasses of wine as you’re trying to walk to your car. (Calm down. It was a tiny glass. And was shared. This is probably how I get sick…)


I Pulled a Sandra Lee

In Fast on November 9, 2011 at 8:18 pm

Easy flatbread pizza

I think we all know how I feel about Sandra Lee. If not… The woman is a nut job. And an alcoholic. Plus, is it not a little off putting for a woman to match her kitchen (which is a different color every day, mind you)? It is.

Still, we can’t deny the fact that Ms. Lee got one thing right: Every meal should end with a cocktail. No wait… That’s true, but what she really got right was that it’s ok to use pre-made foods as shortcuts. Sometimes.

The other night I got home late and wanted good food (namely pizza) but didn’t want to put forth any real effort (especially in the dishwashing department). So I dug out some packaged gems:

  • Jarred pizza sauce (from the Foodbuzz Tastemaker program)
  • Jarred artichokes
  • Pre-made tapenade
  • Whole grain tortillas
  • Feta cheese

And made my own little 15-minute flatbread pizza.

Sandra Lee approved.

I’m actually a little concerned that this was one of the best things I’ve “made” in a long time because I didn’t really make anything at all. I just assembled. This does not speak highly of my cooking skills.

For people who are intimidated by cooking, this style of assembling foods in ways that taste good is a great start. It gets you in the kitchen, gets you comfortable cooking and gets you ready for bigger, better things… like making your own dough and your own tomato sauce.

Until then, rely on the packaged stuff. Ain’t no shame.

Easy 15-Minute Flatbread Pizza
Print
Author: Katie Levans
Cook time: 15 mins
Total time: 15 mins
Serves: 1
This is not so much a recipe as an assembly line. Rely on packaged, pre-made goods to carry you through this meal prep with minimal culinary skill or cleanup required. A toasted whole grain tortilla stands in for a more traditional crust with rather smashing success, if I do say so myself. You can use any toppings you have on hand, as well as any cheese you like (vegan or otherwise).
Ingredients
  • 1 whole grain tortilla
  • nonstick spray or oil of choice
  • salt and pepper
  • tomato sauce
  • roasted broccoli
  • olive tapenade
  • artichokes
  • feta cheese
Instructions
  1. Spray the tortilla (or drizzle with oil) and season with salt and pepper
  2. Toast on a baking sheet in a 400-degree oven for about 4-6 minutes until brown and crispy
  3. Remove crust from the oven and add toppings
  4. Place dressed pizza back in the oven for 6-8 minutes or until cheese is melted

I want this again.

This is a perfect single serving pizza. The crust is thin and crispy but holds the weight of a mountain of veggies with ease. I might just have another one tonight…

 


Regarding the Fast Lane

In Food Diary on November 9, 2011 at 3:43 am

Muffins with almond butter and grapes

I do a whole lot of driving these days and one thing I have learned is that Charlotte drivers are vicious. Do you know how many times I have to merge before I’m safely cruising down 77S? Five. Five times. Do you know how hard it is to merge when people are doing everything in their power to ram their giant SUVs into your face? I sure do.

All this time I’ve been spending in the car lately (two hours on an average day, 1.5 on a good one) has led me to a few realizations:

  1. I need to get my CD player fixed. Immediately. If I hear that “Pumped Up Kicks” song or (WORSE) “Moves Like Jagger” one more time, so help me God I will ram my car into the median. (More Beyonce, please.)
  2. ipod? What’s that? When I was about to turn 21 the only thing I asked my family for was to not get me an ipod because I knew I would never use it (because I’m old school like that). You know what I got? An ipod. It’s in a drawer somewhere. I may be the only person on the planet who doesn’t know how to use itunes. When I was, I don’t know, way too old, I duct taped my walkman and mini speakers to my bike and rode around the neighborhood blasting 98 Degrees “I Do”. Little did I know I had duct taped the CD into the walkman and couldn’t change it out. It was the single. Never got old. Judge me.
  3. I can drive at least 60 miles with my gas light on. I live on the edge.
  4. I have two cat carriers and four yoga mats in my trunk. Just in case I need to rescue some strays and work on my stupid bird of paradise at the same time.
  5. If I know I have to get off at, say, Exit 9… I will get over into the slow lane by at least Exit 6. At least. Rationally, I know I have plenty of time to get over. But just knowing that the exit is coming makes me fret that I might miss it so I over-prepare in anticipation. Because, hello, if I don’t get over now there might be a semi in the way in a minute. And then I might crash and die trying to get around it. And then who would take Ralph and Weaz after I totally mangled their carriers in a wreck? You see?

I do the premature exit in real life too (sounds like a sexual disfunction but is not, I promise). If I know something is coming up in my life–especially a change–I slam on the breaks and slide on over into the slow lane so I can safely stew and fret and mull over every possible move prior to said event occurring so that I am fully 100% undeniably prepared. It’s maddening. And boring, really. This is why I didn’t register for classes last week when I was supposed to (wasn’t done fretting). Why I can’t seem to cash in my $400 flight voucher (can’t overthink it enough). Why I fear change in general.

I’d like to think I’m cut out for the fast lane–flying by the seat of my pants, throwing caution to the wind… breaking rules. But I’m just not. Slow and steady wins the race, right? So long as it’s not on I-77, in which case slow and steady dies at the mercy of an angry soccer mom in a Hummer.

Anyway…

I was having one of those EVERYTHING-LOOKS-TERRIBLE-ON-ME-AND-I-THINK-MY-ASS-IS-EXPANDING days, which is a sure sign that I am mentally ill (this is how Joshilyn Jackson describes skinny girls who think they are not skinny in this amazing letter and I love it) and that I’m having a girl moment. When all else fails: NEUTRALS. Neutrals and a belted skirt.

Tah dah

Breakfast was two muffins with almond butter and grapes. And two cups of French press coffee with rice milk at home.

Lunch:

Lentils, quinoa, kale and sparkling water

This cheese stick.

Snacks:

I had two apples (one around 11am and one around 8pm), grapes and a soy latte (at 5pm, which explains why I am awake at 2:30am…).

x 2

These are grapes.

Bag lady. Late for class. Always.

Dinner:

This perfect cupcake

Just kidding. I split that cupcake. I also split a trio of dips with pita chips–tzatziki, hummus and baba ganoush, an amazing vegan sushi roll, a cheese plate and a gyro that we somehow thought was made with falafel but was definitely made with lamb and was, therefore, not consumed.

But, yes. For a hot second I had lamb in my mouth. IN MY MOUTH. It was weird and horrible. I knew it immediately, promptly spit it out and got a very good laugh out of the whole situation. (Vodka helped.) It really, really looked like falafel, y’all.

While I’ve never had any doubt about being a vegetarian, 10 years without meat can sometimes leave you wondering: “But… what if I miss it and don’t even know it??” Let me tell you… I do not miss it. Weird. So weird.

In my decade of vegetarianism, I have unwillingly almost consumed animals on three other occasions:

  1. Stew let me go to town on a pasta salad his mom had given him to take to work without telling me there was shrimp in it. I bit down on one and almost vomited. I still shudder thinking about it. I don’t know what about that texture makes me so uneasy but I can’t handle it.
  2. I went through a phase of eating a Thai tofu wrap from a coffee shop down the street from my house in Greenville, like, three times a week. On one unfortunate occasion they brought me the chicken wrap instead. Lame.
  3. One time I was at a dive burger bar and was thrilled to find they actually had a “veggie” burger on the menu. When it arrived it looked, smelled and, yes, tasted a whole lot like real beef. I decided “veggie” burger must mean a burger with vegetables on top at this particular establishment and proceeded to drown my sorrows in french fries.
And have willingly consumed them twice:
  • One time I tried a bite of a crab cake. It was not very exciting.
  • One time I ate a fish stick. I just straight up ate it. And that was that.
This is what you get when I blog at 2am.


Better’n Granny’s Cornbread

In Baked Goods on November 8, 2011 at 9:12 am

But not better than Grandmother Betty's.

One of my favorite things about being southern is being southern but not really being southern. I was born in Kentucky but raised in northern Illinois by parents who were born and raised in small-town Kentucky and backwoods Georgia. I grew up just outside of Chicago but we ate grits and drank sweet tea and (much to the delight of my friends) my parents said “y’all.”

I feel like this “biculturalism,” if you will, affords me a sort of dual citizenship. I get to pick and choose what I like about each region and apply it to my identity and abandon the rest. From the Midwest it’s all cornfields and cumulous clouds and crisp fall mornings. Down south it’s yes ma’am and no sir and family and tradition and cornbread.

Hey y'all.

My Grandmother Betty makes the best cornbread I’ve ever eaten in my life, and I’ve mentioned before here that I suspect it is most certainly made with some sort of animal fat in an iron skillet older than this fine country we call home. Some things I just choose to ignore.

While I can’t replicate Grandmother’s cornbread (even with the recipe it wouldn’t be the same), I did find at least a suitable stand in earlier this week.

This recipe is a vegan adaptation of Bittman’s cornbread from How to Make Everything Vegetarian. (This is the best cookbook I own.)

Better’n Granny’s Cornbread
5.0 from 1 reviews
Print
Author: Katie Levans (vegan adaptation of Bittman’s recipe)
Prep time: 5 mins
Cook time: 25 mins
Total time: 30 mins
Ingredients
  • 1.25 cups nondairy milk + 1 tablespoon white vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon ground flax
  • 2 tablespoons Earth Balance
  • 1.5 cups cornmeal
  • 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
  • 1.5 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
Instructions
  1. Combine the milk, vinegar and flax and let sit.
  2. Place an 8×8 dish over medium heat on the stove to melt Earth Balance. Remove from heat once the butter melts to prevent burning. Set aside.
  3. In a bowl, combine all remaining dry ingredients.
  4. Add wet ingredients to dry. Stir to incorporate. Pour into greased dish.
  5. Bake for 25 minutes on 375 degrees until the top is lightly browned.

Sing me home, cornbread.

For the record, cornbread is to be salty, not sweet. If you must have sweet cornbread (there is something wrong with you and) you can add 1 tablespoon of sugar to your dry ingredients. Don’t do this.


You Are What You Read

In Food Diary, Links on November 7, 2011 at 9:21 pm

Extra Hour Muffin-cake w/PB and an orange

Sharing the following may throw me into the line of fire for saying I have no time to do anything ever, yet somehow managing to read about food all day. It’s fine. I’ll use the same defense I keep in my arsenal for when people tell me the food I eat is too expensive for my budget:

Some people like expensive clothes. Some people like exotic vacations. Some people like fancy cars. I like food so my money goes there.

Likewise, some people like watching TV. Some people like playing videogames. Some people like taking naps. Me? I like reading about food so my time goes there.

Here’s what I’ve been up to this week:

The Invention of the McRib (Chicago Magazine): “Most people would be extremely unhappy if they were served heart or tongue on a plate,” he observed. “But flaked into a restructured product it loses its identity. Such products as tripe, heart, and scalded stomachs are high in protein, completely edible, wholesome, and nutritious, and most are already used in sausage without objection.” Mmmmm, sign me up.

The Gift of Food (NPR): “Lasagna or carrots, rice or bread, cinnamon rolls or salt. It doesn’t matter what you bring. It is the act of bringing sustenance or sweetness that communicates caring — and something larger. It cements our bonds, the chemistry of flour and eggs, butter and sugar making not just a cake, but a community.” Perfect.

Supersized Portions and Social Status (NPR): Apparently the Napoleon complex doesn’t just manifest itself as an obnoxious bright yellow Hummer or a protein powder-snorting meathead… When people feel small (figuratively, as in “without power” or “inadequate”) they are more likely to order super-sized portions.

Jello Art (WFAEats): Artist Carla D’Tapiero uses an unlikely medium to create her masterpieces. Delicate flowers are suspended in a familiar wiggly treat creating edible art.

Happy Birthday, Red Solo Cup (NPR): I hope frat boys everywhere are throwing keg parties across the country to celebrate the Red Solo Cup, which turns 75 this year.

I Want to Cook but… I’m the Guest (NYT): A reader laments her sister-in-law’s lame holiday cooking and asks if it’s ok to insist on cooking if you’re not the hostess. Thoughts?

Florida Prisoner is an Idiot (Orlando Sentinel): This is an incredible display of idiocy (and absurdity) at its finest. 34-year-old Eric Harris is serving a life sentence (FOR SEXUAL BATTERY ON A CHILD) and has decided to sue the state prison for “cruel and unusual punishment” for feeding him too many soy-based products, which he says are making him sick. Excuse me, sir. I hope you choke on your soydog and die.

25 Perfect Pies for Fall (Bon Appetit): Two words… crack pie. Two more words… you’re welcome.

NYT Vegetarian Thanksgiving 2011: Every year The New York Times puts together a flawless collection of gorgeous vegetarian-friendly Thanksgiving dishes. They add a new recipe every day. I can’t even handle the suspense.

So that’s what I do with my life. Here’s what I’ve been eating…

But first… may I just say… I hate documenting my food for the blog. There. I said it. I find it horribly boring and uninspired. Whew. OK then. I’ll do it for a few more days and then NO MAS (“no more” en espanol… gotta use that degree sometimes, y’all).

For breakfast I had my extra hour muffin-cake with peanut butter and an orange.

On the way to work I had a vega shake that made me want to vomit.

Bleh

I ate an orange while I was working…

Booooring

And then I ate a late/weird lunch of: green beans, kale, nuts, masala burger, peanut sauce with pretzels and cheese.

Weird.

And then coffee with soymilk to survive the rest of my shift. I found this chocolate peppermint cookie unattended in the back room so I ate it. I hope that taught someone a lesson.

Coffee. Is it more exciting if I call it cafe...?

When I got home I drank a glass of wine (or three) and ate carrots while I made dinner…

Hello.

 

These are the last two not the only two.

Dinner was a sparkling water that I got suckered into buying on sale at Earth Fare when I ventured in to buy the cats’ expensive freaking cat food (You heard me. I shop for the cats at Earth Fare and myself at Trader Joe’s. I’m also thinking about getting them health insurance…) and lentil walnut soup with a piece of the world’s best cornbread (or three).

Impulse buy.

Oh, and roasted broccoli, too.

So very perfect.

Cornbread is a touchy subject down South and no matter who you ask they say their grandmother makes the very best cornbread in the world. Well, I hate to break it to all your grandmothers, but I made the best cornbread in the world last night. Just not better than Grandmother Betty’s. So there’s that.

Then I rounded out the night with a peanut butter chocolate eyeball (or three).

Pan's Labyrinth. Anybody? Anybody??

I really do hate doing this. Soak it up, y’all. Soak it up.


Thanks, Trader Joe

In Food Diary on November 6, 2011 at 12:31 pm

Tempeh, tapenade, cheese, hummus, pickles

Yesterday’s food was brought to you by: Trader Joe’s. It’s ridiculous, really. Please don’t tell me Trader Joe’s is in some way destroying the world because it is my sole grocery store right now because it is CHEAP but still sells organic. Actually, does anyone have a strong opinion on TJ’s either way? I’m sure they are doing some major things wrong that get people all riled up… like supporting factory farmed produce that is raping the Earth and homogenizing our food supply… Do tell if you’re into that (and educated on it). But they do a whole lot of good, too. I haven’t looked into it. I’m sure someone will educate me…

Anyway, for those who missed it, I’m documenting my food for one week and one week only. Here’s day two…

Smoothie bowl with walnuts and iced coffee

Tempeh sandwich with carrot sticks & almond butter

Carrot ginger soup, quinoa, tofu, cashews

Snickerdoodle coffee with soy milk

Pretzels on the way to the bar

1 Mich Ultra at the bar with my brother

Midnight snack: carrots, cheese, pretzels, almond butter

I know what you’re thinking: WHEN DOES THIS FOOL MINDLESSLY BINGE EAT LIKE THE REST OF US?

I do. Believe me. I am a stress eater and used to have a lot of trouble with binge eating at night (I’ll devote a full post to this soon), but I identified that habit and have been able to squash it for the most part.

Last night I kept it together with a snack on a plate but still went back for a bowl full of leftover almond butter cup filling. Who keeps bowls of leftover almond butter cup filling in the fridge? I do. Obviously. I made those suckers like TWO WEEKS AGO but ran out of time or chocolate or something and set the extra filling aside to be used at another time. That time was last night at 1am…

I used dried apricots as a vessel whose sole purpose was to transfer that buttery, sugary goodness straight to my face.

Mmmmhm

Nope, Weaz should not be on the counter.

There you have it. Some notes…

  • I eat the same thing for breakfast almost every day.
  • Both lunch and dinner were eaten at work on this day. Tupperware is my friend.
  • My dinner looked like straight up vomit, right? Tasted just great, promise.
  • My intake was low on this day. I was busy and running around and not prepared for it.
  • Because my dinner was so light (and consumed at an ungodly early hour of 5pm), I knew I’d be snacking all night. And that happened. I don’t consider it a problem at all because I was legitimately hungry and my body was just telling me I hadn’t eaten enough during the day. Listen to your body.
  • I can’t wait until I have a normal human schedule that involves cooking real meals and sitting down to eat them.


Extra Hour Muffins

In Baked Goods on November 6, 2011 at 11:25 am

Extra hour? Muffin time.

Let me paint you a little picture…

I’m seated on a stool at the kitchen counter, pot of French press coffee to my right, muffins cooling on the stove behind me. Ralph is asleep in my bed, Weaz in Ashley’s (inappropriate, Weaz… inappropriate). Sun is streaming in through the big window over the sink and I’m chatting with one of my best friends in the whole world (perhaps trying to convince her to move to Charlotte when she’s done saving the world in India). Last night I talked to both of my parents on the phone and grabbed a beer with my brother (and also tried to convince him to move up to Charlotte…). I woke up today without an alarm clock and without anywhere to be until noon.

In fact, here's the actual picture.

This, my friends, if I remember correctly, is what Sundays look like. When presented with a morning like this and an extra hour of it, no less, I had no choice but to bust out the baking supplies and make muffins.

I adapted Mama Pea’s banana chocolate chip muffins to my anti-chocolate-in-the-morning liking, cut down the sugar and packed it full of some more vegetables. More vegetables never hurt anybody.

Extra Hour Muffins
Print
Author: Katie Levans (adapted from Mama Pea)
Serves: 12
Woke up to realize the world fell back an hour? (I bet you didn’t even know it was gonna happen, did you? Your iphone told you, didn’t it? It’s ok. I forgot, too.) Seize the day, my friend, with these hearty muffins packed with whole grains, two (count ‘em, TWO) vegetables and a whole lot of awesome. You’ll have enough batter for 12 muffins and one mini cake in a ramekin. Don’t have (or want to make) oat flour? Use more wheat flour. Don’t have (or want to buy) non-dairy milk? Regular is fine. No sweet potato puree? Two bananas will do or sub in 1/3 cup apple sauce. I’ve got a substitution for every excuse you’ve got. So let’s make some muffins…
Ingredients
  • 2/3 cup oat flour
  • 1.5 cups whole wheat flour
  • 1.5 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
  • 1 banana, mashed
  • 1/3 cup sweet potato puree
  • 1/2 cup grated zucchini
  • 1/3 cup brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons grapeseed oil
  • 1/2 cup rice milk
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/4 cup walnut pieces
Instructions
  1. Using a coffee grinder or food processor, grind oats into a flour
  2. Combine oat flour, wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spice in a large mixing bowl
  3. In a separate bowl, combine mashed banana, sweet potato, zucchini, brown sugar, oil, milk and vanilla extract
  4. Add wet ingredients to dry and mix to incorporate
  5. Stir in nuts (optional)

Happy Sunday to you.

I had extra batter after filling up my dozen muffin cups so I made a mini cake using a small ramekin…

Hey, baby.

Now, go forth and seize your extra hour.


Caturday 11/5/11

In Cats on November 5, 2011 at 10:14 am

This bed is mine now.

Happy productive Caturday, my friends. Since I didn’t do a thing I was supposed to last night, we’re taking care of business over here at Caturday Headquarters. I’ll get a handle on my schoolwork, so help me God…

We haven’t been entirely worthless this week. We did clean out my closet…

No one needs 13 pairs of jeans, Katie. No one.

The cats gave me their honest opinion on what should stay and what should go…

That outfit makes you look like a MOOSE.

Let's just light it all on fire and start over.

By the end we’d cleared out and condensed enough space to free up the spare room for our new roommate.

It was hard work.

New roommate? Yep. It happened. We crammed one more living creature into this tee-tiny little ill-equipped apartment. The cats have already claimed all of her belongings as their own…

What's yours is mine.

To give you an idea of how our personalities and styles will mesh, these are our teapots…

Mine is on the right.

And this is her bedside table:

Winston the frog butler

We are a match made in heaven. Words cannot even describe how great it feels to come home and see lights on in this little apartment.

Even the cats agree.


You Should Know #2

In Tater's Food on November 4, 2011 at 11:05 pm

Sweet potato muesli

I had grand plans to throw down some serious productivity tonight but–wouldn’t you know it?–here I am at 10pm, 15 minutes from bedtime with not a thing done. Story of my life.

Here are some tidbits that you may or may not want to know to fill in the rest of the story…

  • I don’t buy my own underwear. Nope. Sure don’t. Where do I get my underwear, you ask? From sugar daddies, of course. Not really, but the truth could be worse… My mom buys all of my underwear. I get a large supply every year at Christmas and usually again on Valentine’s Day and any other random holiday where she feels justified in sending me underwear so I’m not running around naked. I realize now that getting underwear on Valentine’s Day FROM MY MOM is really not normal.
  • I have never smoked. I just like to share that and watch jaws drop.
  • I think I have a legitimate Internet addiction. You will all laugh it off but… seriously.
  • I check my phone one billion times a day. I don’t know what I’m looking for but I clearly don’t find it because I come back again and again and again. Mostly I’m just not adjusted to this single shit and want someone to want to reach me so I don’t feel like I’m by myself. I mean, what if I slip and fall and can’t get up and Ralphie’s iphone is dead because she won’t stop playing Angry Birds and so she can’t call for help and instead just waits for me to die so she can eat me? You see??
  • Getting my nails done makes me anxious. It’s not so much the act of getting them done (although this does make me feel uncomfortable) as the waiting for them to dry. I feel very claustrophobically trapped inside my own body when I can’t use my hands to grab for my keys or my phone (see above). It’s very stressful. I end up messing them up every time.

Lots of great feedback on this post revealed that some people want to see what I eat and some do not. So I will give it one brief week (unless I get sick of it earlier) of tracking and that will be that. Deal?

Breakfast (at work): sweet potato muesli – 1/2 c oats, 1 c rice milk, 1/4 c sweet potato puree, raisins, pecans, pumpkin pie spice; combine in a container and refrigerate for a few hours or eat immediately

Lunch (at work): quinoa, kale, cashews, tempeh, liquid aminos, nooch and string cheese

Bowl of stuff.

 Snack: These babies.

You again.

Snack again: Orange and string cheese and coconut water

Pre-laundry fuel

Dinner: build your own salad from Crisp with romaine, chickpeas, carrots, walnuts, olives, red peppers, grilled tofu, balsamic vinaigrette

Same toppings. Every time.

 Snack again: graham cracker, almond butter, raisins, apple, mint tea

Apparently I'm really excited about graham crackers.

Things to Note:

  • If you work weird hours (I was on 7a-2p today) and say it’s easier to just eat out, you need to invest in some tupperware, girl. Just do it.
  • Oatmeal doesn’t always have to be hot. In fact, I prefer it cold. Try it. You might like love it.
  • You can use dried fruit, fresh fruit or a puree (like sweet potato) instead of jelly for a pairing with nut butter to cram in some more fruit and vegetable servings without added sugar. (There is nothing wrong with jelly.)
  • If you’re eating salads, go big or go home. Make it massive and top it with things that will fuel you and keep you feeling full–nuts, full-fat or lower fat dressing (not fat-free), a whole grain and some form of lean protein like tofu. (See also: How to Build a Suitable Salad)
  • Tracking my food made me hyper-aware of it. I’m not putting on a show for you (this is absolutely how I eat), but I did find myself less inclined to grab a handful of carrots here or some dried apricots there as I normally would because I didn’t feel like taking a picture. Studies show that tracking your food has this effect (you are less likely to eat it if you have to write it down) so it can be a tool for weight management. On the other hand, for people susceptible to disordered eating (specifically restriction), it can be a trigger.
So many bullet points. So little time.


What are You, Five?

In Snack on November 4, 2011 at 12:10 am

Tasty snack.

String cheese… graham crackers. Next thing you know I’ll be rolling my mat out for nap time and expecting a juice box upon my waking.

I never buy graham crackers (because who really buys graham crackers other than parents of five-year-olds?), but I needed them for my almond butter cups last week so here they are.

Tonight I had this brilliant idea to eat one with:

  • Almond butter
  • Sweet potato puree
  • Chocolate chips

Mmmmmhmmm.

I am very pleased with myself.

In other news, my roommate moved in today.

Not the roommate.

Me: Oh my god. The bedside table…

Roommate: Oh I see you’ve met Winston, my frog butler.

This is going to be great.

I hope she likes graham crackers.


Do as I Do.

In Rant, School on November 3, 2011 at 11:50 pm

I measured this.

Lots of people ask me to help them lose weight. My friends ask me. People in my family ask me. My coworkers ask me. Big Rick at Earth Fare asks me. Strangers at the coffee shop who inquire what I’m studying ask me as soon as they hear it’s nutrition related.

Weight loss is really just the tip of the iceberg of dietetics. But no one really cares that I’m being educated to administer tube feedings and reverse diabetes and prevent heart failure. To save lives and stuff. Which is great because I don’t really care either.

That’s not true. It’s not that I don’t care about those things and see value in those skills, but my place is simply not in clinical practice and I’m ok with this. My place is in prevention, of this I am quite certain. I’m about keeping people out of hospitals all together, not caring for them in their last months, weeks or hours. It’s a little bit selfish, I realize, but I’m just not cut out for it. Not in my head (I just can’t get my mind around most of these concepts and procedures) but, more importantly, not in my heart (I’m simply not strong enough to watch people die). If you work in any field of clinical care, thank god for you.

So it would seem that weight loss (and, more importantly, prevention of excessive weight gain) is totally my bag. But here’s the thing… for a concept that (to me, anyway) seems really, really easy, it’s actually really, really hard to execute successfully. It’s really hard to get people to change their habits. It’s really hard to get your message across clearly. It’s really hard to account for and accommodate different cultural beliefs, taste preferences and religious restrictions. It’s really hard to go head-to-head with Big Food (who, in case you haven’t noticed, are in this to make money and do not have your best interests in mind–this includes “health” food companies!). It’s really hard to break down a lifetime of misinformation from the media. It’s really hard to tell a single mom working two jobs to just “cook more.” It’s really hard to ask someone without a car or a grocery store within walking distance to stop eating at the fast food joint down the street. It’s really hard to navigate psychological motivators behind eating (or not eating). It’s really hard to enact change, to really make a difference. It’s just really hard. The ol’ “eat less, exercise more” mantra is great in theory but simply doesn’t fly in practice.

But here’s the thing… I’m up for it. I’m so very up for it. I just need a little practice.

I recently gave a friend of mine some pointers on losing weight and it occurred to me that it’s a little twisted for me to demand that she do as I say while I’m over here doing as I do. Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself to be an exceptionally healthy person. (Yes, exceptionally.) Sure, sometimes I don’t sleep enough. I never drink enough water. Once every month or so I get outrageously drunk. I make cupcakes at midnight. Nevertheless, I’ve never smoked, I don’t eat fast food, I exercise daily, I eat more produce in a month than most people will eat all year. I’ve got the health thing down.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t translate when you’re trying to help someone else. Sure, I lost 25 pounds a few years ago, but I did so as a result of a dramatic shift in lifestyle and not with the explicit intention of losing weight. I never counted calories or kept a food journal or measured out little 1/4 cups of nuts.

That’s what sent me down this thought process. I knew it would come around sooner or later…

I told my friend she needs to be measuring out a 1/4 cup of the trail mix she’s been eating because she’s probably eating a lot more than that. (She kept a 3-day food journal for me to evaluate.) And she totally does need to, but that’s not the point. It occurred to me that I don’t eat (or live) the way I’m going to be asking people to eat. I don’t measure out 1/4 cups of nuts because I can eyeball it. I don’t count out 16 crackers because I can eyeball it. I don’t weigh x ounces of anything because who the hell weighs things before they eat them? (People do.)

But these are things that I will most certainly instruct people to do when helping them to lose weight. What I’m realizing is that what seems so obvious to me is not obvious to everyone. It’s obvious to me because I live and breathe this stuff every second of every day. If I’m not studying it, being testing on it or sitting in a lecture about it, I’m doing it in my own life.

So the moral of this whole story is that I’d like to get Sweet Tater back on track with more practical health advice, how-to videos, recipes and all that good stuff I started with two-and-a-half years ago so that it can serve someone other than myself and my need for constant attention.

The oversharing and ranting and cats and general shenanigans are here to stay, don’t you worry. I just want this blog to go back to its roots and be a resource (as well as a source for shameless lifecasting) because I just realized I have a whole lot of helpful things to share.

Since I was thinking about what it would feel like to actually measure and track everything I eat, I did that tonight. My dinner above is:

  • 1/2 cup quinoa
  • 2 cups steamed kale
  • 1/4 cup raw cashews and almonds
  • 1/3 package of tempeh cooked in 1 tablespoon peanut sauce
  • 1 tablespoon liquid aminos
  • 2 teaspoons nutritional yeast
  • sprinkle of paprika
  • 1 slice low-fat sharp cheddar cheese

580 calories, 36 g protein, 30 g fat

Questions:

  1. Do you want to see what I’m eating and why? I don’t really want this to become a food diary but I’d go there for a couple weeks if people want to see it.
  2. Do you want more solid nutrition information in the form of food news, recipes, videos and evidence-based research?
  3. Are you just here for Caturday?


I Probably Have a Test

In Life on November 2, 2011 at 11:18 pm

Broccoli slaw, masala burger, quinoa, nooch

You know when you have absolutely no idea where you stand with someone and you won’t be getting to the bottom of it any time soon because that would require you having one of those awkward “Heeeey, what’s going on here?” conversations and you simply can’t do that because it would mess up your I’M-SO-LAIDBACK-AND-I-DON’T-CARE-WEEEEEE allure so you just act the complete opposite way you’d act in any other situation? Yeah, me neither…

Anyway… Now that I have no expectations for anything, I feel like I breezed through the day approximately 6,000,000,000,000 ,000,000,000,000 (6E+24) kilograms lighter. Nothing really changed other than my attitude, but it’s amazing what that can do.

I drove fast (but within reasonable legal limits) with the windows down and the music up and my hair did this:

Sorry.

There comes a time in every young blogger’s life when she will take a picture of her hair in the car. Embrace it. I won’t even apologize. I’ve been trying for 26 years to get my hair to swoop as dramatically as Ariel’s and this is the closest it has ever come.

See?

I decided I don’t hate my new windowless, secluded office so much.

Right?

For it was from there I ventured into the promised land that is Pinterest. How… HOW does anyone accomplish anything in the day with that site in existence? I thought Foodgawker was bad but, LAWD, Pinterest is like Foodgawker for ALL THINGS. It is the everything of bagels… the garbage of pizzas… the bisexual of sexualities… the all-you-can-eat of buffets. It’s the: I’ll have one of each, please.

I don’t have one (one what? a pin? a board? WHAT IS THIS THING??) yet, but give it time… give it time. Because just what I need in my life is one more online life trap.

What was I saying?

I busted out my winter coat AND fingerless mitten things.

Fingerless mitten things for CONSTANT PHONE ACCESS TO PINTEREST

And then at some point I attempted to study for tomorrow’s medical nutrition therapy exam…

That page looks awfully blank.

And that, my friends, is the “why” behind this ridiculous post. You guessed it. I probably have a test I’m not studying for. Yahtzee.


I Feel Better

In Life on November 1, 2011 at 10:24 pm

Put on your rant pants...

Today I took no fewer than three long walks. I used to do some of my best thinking while running, but then I got hurt and stopped running. So I started doing my best thinking in the shower, but I hate my current shower so I don’t spend a lot of time in there. So THEN I did my best thinking in yoga, but I eventually learned how to not think in yoga (which is kind of the point) and now I have no time to think at all. You see?

So wandering around today was good. And necessary.

What I realized, more or less, whilst wandering aimlessly is that I’m doing just fine. I am fine.

I hold really high expectations for myself and when I’m not able to meet them (which is, uh, an hourly occurrence at present), things get ugly. Suddenly when things don’t go quite as I’d expected, I am not good enough or smart enough or social enough or mature enough or flexible enough or desirable enough or friendly enough or giving enough or responsible enough or funny enough or happy enough. The list goes on and on.

So then I was thinking about how things get pretty ugly any time we hold expectations. And herein lies the root of every problem in my life.

I have these expectations about who I should be, where I should be, how much money I should be making (and spending and saving), how people should treat me, when I should achieve certain milestones, how many more cats I should get… and so on and so on. The problem with expectations is that they’re just stories. They are complete fabrications of the mind. Whether they actually happen or not is irrelevant. I spend all this time and energy trying to will them into existence, but the fact of the matter is expectations do not exist.

Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t think about the future, set goals and dream big. But the difference between creating expectations and setting goals is that expectations are these non-existent, futuristic, intangible things that detach me from the real world; goals are planned future events rooted in reality. Expectations leave me so lost in the imaginary world in my head hoping and wishing and fearing that I lose all sight of the present moment; goals set me on fire and send me out into the world to make shit happen.

I think I’ve been so mad at myself lately (and that’s really what all this has been about) because I had these grand expectations for how things would be going in my life right about now and they simply did not (and will not) happen. These things had to do with my career, with my education, with my finances and, of course, with my relationship. And let me tell you, it’s one thing to create expectations for yourself and another beast entirely when you project them onto someone else. Especially a significant other.

I like to think that were I not so blinded by my expectations of where Stew and I were going and when we would get there and who he would be and who I would be, I might have been able to see that we simply weren’t going to work. Or perhaps, without all those expectations in the way, I would’ve seen that what we had right that very second was pretty perfect. Maybe, upon realizing it wasn’t working, I could’ve directed my energy towards making it work. Or, on the other hand, maybe I could’ve cut my losses sooner and moved the hell on with my real life instead of trying to force us into the imaginary life I’d created in my head. Who knows? The point is, having expectations didn’t get me anywhere in the end.

When I get lost in my expectations of who I should be and what my life should look like, I experience a complete loss of power and control. I feel helpless and hopeless. Now that I’ve realized this, can’t nothing stop me now, y’all.

You see, I have these goals and I know what I have to do to get to them and those steps lie in the present moment. Every day I’m getting closer. It’s already happening right now. I am the one I’ve been waiting for. I am living the dream.

So those are the things I realized today. I have no regrets. I have no expectations. I choose this. I choose this. I choose this.

Now. Don’t we all miss the happy-go-lucky, light-hearted, completely ridiculous Katie from two years ago? I know I do. I’m back, bitches.


Things That are Awesome

In Life on November 1, 2011 at 5:24 pm

I realize this is odd.

All adults should be required to eat string cheese on a daily basis if for no other reason than that you can’t possibly take yourself seriously while eating it.

I know I confuse people when I bake strictly vegan and then turn around and eat string cheese. I cannot explain it. Transcend labels, my friends. Transcend labels.

I’ve been on this rice cake + hummus + pickles + cheese kick for a while now and neglected sharing it 1) because people will accuse me of having an eating disorder if I willingly eat rice cakes and 2) I realize it’s a little odd. Nevertheless, it is awesome so here it is.

Other things that are awesome right this second:

Charlotte

This is still exactly where I want to be. I can’t explain it. I’ve never been somewhere and not been plotting to go somewhere else. It’s a great feeling.

Fall

This is my absolute favorite time of the year, and the city is on fire with the colors of changing leaves. I love it.

Zara coat + boots

I bought this coat while I was in Spain after getting trapped in another one and literally having to be cut out of it. Seriously. It took three Zara employees with scissors to cut me free. I still blame a faulty zipper but at the time felt guilty enough to buy another one anyway. When I wear it with boots I feel like I’m still in Madrid. (Those are car keys in my pocket; I am not happy to see you, no.)

Mochi

My neighbor just informed me that this cat I’ve been feeding belongs to one of our other neighbors. Thank God. I do not need another cat. I will still refer to it as Mochi and feed it the food that Ralph and Weaz have deemed unsatisfactory. Little dictators.

Beyonce.

Everything Beyonce does is flawless at all times so this could really end with: Beyonce, period. But specifically, what is awesome about Beyonce right this second is her new song Countdown. It is perfect. If it plays during yoga (HINT, TANNER), I will die of pure joy. She’s straight up pregnant in this video, PS. EXCUSE ME.

Griiiind up on it, girl. Show him how you ride it.


Sick Day.

In Crazypants on November 1, 2011 at 7:53 am

Smoothie. Tea. TV.

Well, I slept for 10 hours last night, and this morning I called in a sick day. You know what this means… Sitting around in my underwear drinking tea and watching morning talk shows with a space heater situated six inches away from my body. Not really. It means I’m still going to work all day anyway. Weeee.

I think I’m slowly but surely legitimately losing my mind this semester. Seriously. I feel like a straight up crazy person. I just cannot get it together. It’s a little unnerving. In fact, I’ve found myself hovering around at the foot of the stairs to the counseling services office, all: Do I go up? Do I not? What do I say? “Helloooo there, I think I am going crazy. May I have a crazy pill, please?”

Dr. Weaz at your service.

Depressed? Absolutely. I’m failing school, can barely get out of bed and have all but abandoned most of my relationships and responsibilities. But I’m also self-aware enough to realize that this funk is purely situational, not clinical. The situation right now is that I’m overworked, underpaid, stretched too thin, terribly lonely, doubting everything I do (and have done and will do) and collecting cats like they’re going out of style. (If the temperatures stay below freezing, I’m bringing the strays inside. Mark my words.)

It’s kind of funny to watch me lose it, I’m sure, and the humor is certainly not lost on me. But it also kind of sucks and is pretty pitiful. The type A, overachieving, go-getter in me does not even recognize this person I’m being.

So where does this leave me? This leaves me trudging through one.more.month. of this mess, of course. And then? I don’t even know. But I like to think it’s going to be pretty great.

“Chances are we already know what makes our hearts sing, we already know the beauty that we love. The problem is that we have been trained to believe that the power to fuel our dreams lies outside ourselves, that our unique gifts must be described in a preexisting job description for them to be legitimate. It’s a real breakthrough to stand in the middle of your room and realize it won’t be spelled out for you in a want ad section or grad school catalogue.” – Rolf Gates