My Grandmother's Secret Swedish Meatball Recipe

Editor's Note: I originally wrote this story on the 26th of December of 2011. However, yesterday would have been my grandma‘s 105th birthday, and this is one of the memories of her that I’ll never forget. 


Swedish meatballs have been a Christmas tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. We originate more or less from the Twin Cities in Minnesota, my father from the St. Paul side and my mother from the Minneapolis side. Thus, when I was doing my childhood growing-up in Michigan we would complete a cold, snowy 13 hour drive every year to Minnesota to celebrate the holidays. Christmas Eve was spent with my mother’s parents and Christmas Day with my father’s parents. It was fantastic- two Christmas dinners! On Christmas Eve we had a huge feast and the best Swedish meatballs known to man were part of the feast. On Christmas Day we would then drive to St. Paul and have a succulent rib eye roast with all the trimmings.

It’s been about 25 years since we were able to partake in the Minnesota double Christmas feed (and double Santa visits- he came to both grandparents' houses). My mother’s parents moved to Tucson, I moved to Seattle and for a while we had to alternate Christmas visits between Minnesota and Arizona. I was blessed to have both sets of my grandparents in my life until my early thirties. Now I’m blessed that I get to see my grandmother on my mother’s side every Christmas.

After my parents retired to Asheville, NC. My grandma, who is 90 and fit as a fiddle, has now also relocated to the area. My brother lives 4 hours north in Raleigh, leaving me as the prodigal daughter on the other side of the pond. Last year was an incredibly special Christmas as it was the first one where all of us had been together in a few years. My parents were also able to be the Christmas hosts, which hadn't happened in decades. In the most recent years previous to this, we spent Christmas, usually without my brother, at my grandmother's place in Tucson. The kitchen in her flat was quite small, so instead of making Swedish meatballs from scratch, we had been purchasing them from places like Trader Joe’s. They were good, but nowhere near as scrumptious as the ones my grandmother made back in the day. That year my mother was pulling out all stops. We would have the homemade Swedish meatballs for Christmas Eve dinner along with all the other traditions we had observed when I was a child (except the double Santa visits).

On Christmas Eve my grandma arrived and she and my mother went into the kitchen. My mother took out the recipe my grandmother had given her years ago and said, “Look, mom, it’s your old Swedish meatball recipe.”

“Ahhh… you know where I got that?” asked my grandmother as she donned her apron.

“No, I don’t,” my mother admitted and waited anxiously to hear a story about how our family recipe had been handed down from previous generations of family in Sweden.

“From Playboy magazine,” my grandmother said nonchalantly, “Your father’s Playboy, of course. I didn’t make a habit of reading it.”

And so the delicious meatballs, which practically melt in your mouth, were made and consumed while we wondered aloud if the Playboy edition where the recipe had originated featured Swedish models that month.

Today is Christmas Eve and we are once again having these delicious Swedish meatballs tonight for dinner. For those of you who might want the recipe that came into our family via Playboy, here it is. Happy Christmas to all!!

Tear 2 slices of stale bread in small chunks and soak in 1/2 cup of lite cream.
Peel a medium potato, cut into chunks and boil. When it's nice and soft force it through a strainer.
Chop one medium onion extremely fine.
Put the onion in the pan with 1 tbs butter and slowly sauté until onion is yellow.
Combine in deep bowl the breadbread, cream, potato onion, 1 beaten egg, 3/4 lb lean ground pork, 1/4 lb lean ground pork, 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp allspice, 1/8 tsp pepper.
Mix very well (use your hands) until bread disappears.
Shape into 1 in balls.
Place in a shallow baking pan.
Bake at 475 (Fahrenheit) for 20 minutes, turning once until balls brown.
Melt 2 tbs butter in a large saucepan and stir in 2 tbs flour, blending well.
Gradually add 10 1/2 oz can consummé.
Add balls.
Turn to low and cook for 1/2 hour.
Stir in 1/4 cup cream.
Bring to boil, season to taste.
YUMMMY!!
Enjoy! :-)

My Donald Trump Diet

No, I'm not going to be eating Cheesburgers in my bed, but Donald Trump is the primaray motivation for the diet that I intend on following from now until the first of December, 2018.

First let's begin with the rules:
While I am in the United Kingdom I will not knowinly consume the following things:
-Food containing refined sugar or added fructose
(energy gels, etc. during long cycles okay, but no cake)
-White flour
-Dairy (with the exception of a small amount of milk in my one cup of coffee)

While I am in the United Kingdom I must do the following things:
-Drink 64 fluid ounces of water a day
-Accumulate no less than 70,000 steps a week
-Exercise 4 times a week
-Only drink one cup of coffee a day

My escape clause:
I am allowed one cheat day (24 hours) a month. However, on months when I am travelling outside of the United Kingdom, I am not allowed any cheat days, but I must still do my best to stick to my step goal, drink water, and eat sensibly when travelling outside the UK. Exercise and step goals still apply for cheat days duing months when I don't travel. Also, I'm allowed 8 cheat days in May (it's my big birthday month-I get to enjoy it a bit).

Where does Donald Trum come in?
If I break the rules of my diet, I need to donate £300 to the Trump fund. The thought of doing that is enough to ruin my appetite.

Let's see how this goes!

H NOT in London right now, PT 1

Damn, the Charlotte airport is big! It's a bit like a fancy mall with airline gates, and it just goes on and on and on.

And, that's where I am right now, quickly writing about the first of many parts of my journey through the USA as I wait for the connection to Chicago. I had an amazing twelve days in North Carolina, both at in Asheville and at Topsail Island. Here's some of the highlights.

First, my journey from Heathrow to Asheville was perfect, no lost luggage, no delayed flights, and ever since Delta has paired up with Virgin Atlantic, flying transatlantic is lovely. I was given my seat at the gate, something that has never happened to me before, and I was a bit worried. Not being able to select my seat was a bit disconcerting. However, I ended up in Delta comfort, which completely lived up to its name.

The first two days in Asheville were spent with my parents running errands, seeing my grandma, and getting ready to head to the beach. During this time, my father and I had an amazing lunch at a small little place close to where they now live, called Abejas House Cafe. It's small and from the outside, you wouldn't think much about it and may possibly pass
it by, but don't! It's amazing. All the food is fresh and mostly locally grown and/or organic. Plus, it's reasonably priced. If you follow the hyperlink above, it will take you to their "about" page, and it's clear that they are the type of business that should be lauded. If you live in or are visiting Asheville, go! They even serve chilaquiles, although they don't appear on the online menu.

Okay, I'm done sounding like an advertisement...

View from the house (taken by my brother)

On Saturday, my mom, dad, and I loaded up the car and started out for Surf City to the beach house we stayed at the year before (actually it's a duplex and this year we were next door) However, within the first 30 minutes of our journey we were delayed due to a milk truck accident on the highway.
Fortunately, (and also luckily) we were ten cars back from where this occurred, so after the three quarters of an hour that it took to clear the highway, we were quickly on our way.

View from The Bistro

Once we finally arrived at the house on Topsail Beach, we met up with my hot and sweaty brother, who had been waiting for us in his car for an hour or more, changed into nicer clothes and jetted over to The Bistro. This restaurant, as well as spending a week on Topsail Island, has become a new family tradition. My mother's birthday is at the beginning of July, so last year we did this trip to celebrate it. We ended up loving it all so much, we did it again this year and will repeat it next year. By the way (and briefly reverting to my advertisement tone) The Bistro serves the most excellent food and makes a damn good Old Fashioned.

Other highlights from the week at Topsail beach included:

-Multiple Firework viewings from the towns and businesses near to the house, including a fantastic display from the people in the house next to us on both the 3rd and 4th of July. We didn't have to leave and face traffic and crowds to enjoy fireworks this year.

-Down the beach about two houses, there was a small evening wedding on the beach (it may have put some ideas in my head-haha)

Sunrise taken by my mother

-Amazing weather only broken up by the occasional thunderstorm. The surf was a bit too raucous at times to swim, but we braved the sea a few times anyway.

My Topsail toes

However, for me the highlight of the trip came on the penultimate night that we were there. My dad noticed a gathering on the beach of about 16 people. They seemed to be forming a semi-circle around a rather large mound. My mom called me to come and see, and after looking for a few moments, I saw the mound move. Realising it was a sea turtle, I flew down the steps to join my dad, who was talking to our next-door neighbour. The crowd included some volunteers from The Sea Turtle Rescue and Rehabilitation Centre, who were making certain no disturbed this magnificent animal. She was massive, possibly the largest sea turtle I'd ever seen, and she had just climbed from the sea to an area under one of the steps of the house next to us, dug a hole, laid eggs, and now was making her way slowly back to the sea. Unfortunately, I left my phone in the house and was too mesmerised by the whole thing to go back to get it. It was truly amazing to witness.

Panorama from the deck

After our beach week ended, we returned to Asheville where we ran errands, visited my grandma, took a dip in the pool, and spent a lovely evening with my parents friends, Jan and Ken.

My pool toes

So now I'm in the Charlotte Airport awaiting my flight to Chicago, which boards in five minutes, for the next part of this journey. I'm going to quickly publish and post this, so please forgive my grammar for now.

Ciao for now and see you for part two!

From the mouths of babes on today of all days...

It's the day of the election in the US, and people over here in the UK are worried...all people, not just ex-pats.  The hate and vitriol that has permeated this election has affected civility and common decency on what I've seen in the news and social media. This whole fiasco has brought me to the point of despair over the human race.

Until about 10 minutes ago...

If you've read my blog in the past (or you just know me), you know I teach grade 6 at an international school in the UK. The school is approximately 30-40% American with a wealth of nationalities making up the other 70-60%. Earlier this morning one of my homeroom students came to me and asked if she could come in with a group of students and do some filming at lunch recess for a little project she was making for fun. I was a bit annoyed by this because we're in the midst of grading and report writing, and I'm swamped with work. But, I grudgingly obliged, warning that if they were too noisy I would make them leave.

So in they came...quietly...a big bunch of them, and they spread out amongst my desks, taking books from my classroom library and pretending to read as my student walked around the classroom filming them with her iPad. They then all gathered together behind two students who had a notebook with messages on four pages. My student zoomed in on each page, reading the messages aloud, so she could make certain that she was giving enough time for each message to be read.

Page 1- "You see a mixed race classroom. This is our school"

Page 2- "We accept each other for who we truly are no matter of religion, belief or skin color"
Page 3- "Our school treats each other equally and cares for each other because we are a community"
Page 4- "Why can't the world be like our school?"

 As I watched this my eyes welled up with tears. This was not an assignment. No one had suggested they do this. They felt it had to be said, so they gave up their recess to say it.

And with that, my faith in humanity is restored.

You've let me down, Gloria Steinem!

Gloria Steinem has been an iconic figure for me ever since I can remember. I even subscribed to Ms Magazine for a while. On the 4th of November, 1992, the day after Bill Clinton was elected president, Gloria Steinem spoke in Grand Rapids for a YWCA benefit. My mother was one of the organisers for the event. As I was living in Seattle at the time, I didn't attend, but my mother sent me a picture of herself and Gloria. I've had that picture in a frame and in a prominent place wherever I have lived. But, today I gave some serious thought to taking it down.

There's been a lot of chatter about what the old guard feminists are saying about younger female voters, and from it I came across Bill Maher's interview with Gloria Steinem on YouTube. The interview starts with him gushing over how good she looks for 81. Then he goes on to ask Gloria if she thinks, as some other feminists have said, that young women today are complacent about Rowe v Wade because they weren't around when abortion was illegal. Gloria answers in defence of today's young feminists saying that she finds them to be far more activist way more feminist than the women of her generation and goes on to say that "...gratitude never radicalised anybody." She continues on to explain that she "...never said, "Thank you for the vote,'" and adds, "I got mad at the basis as what was happening to me, and I think that's true of young women too. So they're mad as hell because they're graduating in debt, and they're going to earn a million dollars less over their lifetime to pay it back...they're mad about what's happening to them."

So good. It sounds like Ms Steinem really understands the issues of the youth (and some of us who are not so young) today. But then in one fell swoop she dismisses and alienates an entire generation of women. When Bill Maher points out that the younger generation of women support Bernie more than Hilary in this presidential campaign, Gloria says that women tend to get more radical as they get older, and "When you're young you're thinking where are the boys? The boys are with Bernie."

Wait. What???

So, this entire generation has gone from being way more feminist and activist and "mad as hell" to boy crazy??? For someone who claims to be more radical now that she's older, she certainly seems to be using a rather old school argument some men may have even used to belittle women who had stood up in the past.

Actually I think these women who are angry about the situation they find themselves in economically are more apt to be thinking of the two candidates who is really going to stand up to the bastards that have really set most of my generation (men and women) in the position we find ourselves? Of the two candidates who consistently votes his/her conscience and doesn't pander to big money corporate America? Who does that? Not Hilary Clinton.

When women fought for the right to vote, they did not make an agreement to always vote for women. They wanted the right to speak their minds and vote their consciences and to have their opinions be taken seriously. Instead of taking the opinions of the young women of today seriously, Gloria Steinem has trivialised their beliefs by saying they are supporting Bernie simply because they want to meet a man.

So today after I saw that interview (which by the way has now been removed from YouTube but you can still find it here), I thought about taking down that picture of my mother with Gloria Steinem.

But it's a really good picture of my mom.

My dry spell has ended. Thank you, Donald Trump!

No, I've not slept with Donald Trump. However, that misogynist, racist asshole, who throws his toys out of the pram when he doesn't get his way, has been the perfect incentive for me. And as a result of his influence, I'm healthier and perhaps slightly wiser.

First, the backstory:
I realised back in November that perhaps I was going out and drinking a bit too much. But, the holidays were around the corner, so I carried on and decided that January would be the perfect month to give my liver a break. Many people have 'Dry Januarys' so I wouldn't be alone. But not drinking when you live in the UK is far more difficult than not drinking when you live in the USA or Mexico. Going to the pub is a social expectation here. People meet up at pubs far more than each other's houses or coffee shops. Plus, I have a fantastic local called The Lamb, where the most interesting and creative people I've ever met congregate. It's become a big part of my life, and I find myself there at least once a week if not more. Thus, I knew that this giving up booze for a month thing would not be easy. I needed an incentive to keep me on track.

If you've read my blog in the past, you'll know that I've a history of using my political/ethical beliefs to keep me on the road to meeting goals, so I was a bit surprised that I didn't come up with this idea on my own, but I didn't. The credit goes entirely to my friend, Kellie, who suggested that if I had a drink in January I should have to donate a sum of money to Donald Trump's campaign. Since I had social plans over the first weekend in January, I decided that the 4th of January should be the start date of my dry month. Thus on the 4th of January this was my Facebook status:

As 2015 was the year of indulgence for me, I've decided that 2016 will be the year of good health. Therefore in order to begin, I will not have a drop of alcohol from now up until the 4th of February 2016. If I do have a drink during this time, I will donate £300 to Donald Trump's presidential campaign.

There was no turning back now. Everyone knew I wasn't allowed a drop of alcohol, and the brilliant part of this was that everyone I knew supported me. No one wanted me to give Donald Trump a penny, so no one tried to get me to drink. If I was getting pressured to have a drink, I would explain my incentive, and they would quickly offer to buy me something non-alcoholic. In fact, I have yet to actually meet someone who supports Donald Trump. If those people really exist, they do not live in the UK.


Second, the results and realisations from my dry month:

-I slept better!
I am normally quite the night owl, but found myself going to bed at more reasonable hours and then sleeping straight through the night. When I was out late, my sleep that night was sound. I didn't wake up early and stare at the ceiling feeling like crap having to guzzle down a pint of water.

-My resting heart rate dropped!
This surprised me a bit. I received a Fitbit Charge HR for Christmas and began to wear it immediately. My resting heart rate at that time was at 68bpm as an average before I started my dry month. It's now at 62bpm. For one week my average was 60bpm. This means my heart doesn't need to work as hard when I'm not drinking. Granted, I'm also exercising a bit more (see below), so that also might have something to do with it.

-I was more productive at work on the days after I went out with friends!
I was still social. I still went to The Lamb and did other things on various school nights. I just didn't drink. As a result, I was far more productive at work on the days following. I am always active and alert when I teach, so that remained the same. It's the prep time where my productivity increased. I didn't find myself staring off into space in the middle of a task, and as a result I ended up doing more at work and brought less work home.

-Weekend mornings are far more enjoyable!
This one really needs no explanation.

-I wasn't as socially anxious as I expected I'd be!
Social anxiety is probably the reason I started drinking in the first place. I have always been nervous in social situations, but after a few drinks I am intelligent, funny, and beautiful and don't care what people think. Sometimes my desire to be intelligent, funny, and beautiful would go a bit too far. The best example of this is my one and only real blackout when I was a student at Michigan State University. My friend, who was an active member of the Democratic Party, asked me to accompany him to the Governor's Christmas party. He was also helping secure a role as an intern on The Governor's Cabinet Council for Human Investment, so attending this party would be to my benefit. Since I was so nervous, I drank far too much. My last memory of that evening is clinging to my friend's arm barely able to stand while trying to have a conversation with a group of people that included Governor Blanchard.  Fortunately, my friend was tuned in enough to get me out of there, and I still somehow ended up with the internship. It's what my housemates told me I did when I got home that makes me cringe. Sorry, but I'm not going to relate it here. If you run into me in the real world, ask.
Anyway, since that time I must have grown in confidence because while I was out socially this past month, I discovered that I am already intelligent, funny, and beautiful and really don't care what people think. I no longer need alcohol to make me these things.

-I have just as much fun with my friends who are drinking when I'm sober!
Oh the laughter that happens when we share a few drinks. So many funny things are said that sometimes we laugh so hard we cry, and guess what? Those funny things are still said, and they're still just as funny. Plus, the goofier my friends became when they drank, the goofier I was. I still had a great time. I just didn't feel like poo the next morning.

-It was easier to exercise!
This one is a no-brainer. Cycling long distances on the weekend (30 miles +) is a lot easier if you haven't had a few drinks the night before. It's also easier to drag yourself to an exercise class during the week if you didn't have that glass or two of wine with dinner the previous evening.

-I ate better!
And it was easier to do so. There were no impulsive stops for 'cheesy chips' on my way home from the pub, no hangover pizza orders, and less cravings for cake (although the cake cravings were still strong, just not overpowering).

-And finally, my favourite thing... I LOST 9.5 pounds!!!!!


So today my dry month ends. Will I remain a teetotaller?
Hell no! I like the taste of alcohol, particularly whiskey and bourbon. I miss occasional overpriced cocktails, and I enjoy wine with dinner. Plus, it's just nice having a few drinks with friends at the end of the week. However, I do not intend to return to the level of drinking I was at in November. I feel much better now than I did then, so I still intend to use good old Donald as an incentive to keep healthy. Tomorrow I shall post the following on Facebook:

As Donald Trump helped me achieve my dry goal for the month of January, I will continue using him to guide me in healthy choices. With the exception of one day a week and when I'm travelling on holiday, I will, as accurately as I can, track my calories every day on My Fitness Pal from now until the 17th of June, 2016. If I do not do this, I will have to donate £300 to that man's presidential campaign.

But tonight I'm off out to celebrate my achievement of a month of sobriety with a few drinks.

So, thanks Donald! The fact that you're such a twat has been truly inspiring.

Death, you suck but...

"Death you suck! You take all the nice people."

I originally posted this as a status update on Facebook and then took it down. Not because I don't really feel that way, but yes because I don't really feel that way. Yes, death sucks. Yes, it does take all the nice people. But...

So first, allow me to give you some context to this post. I'm sitting here at a pub in my black dress on the way home from a funeral, having just missed my train, drinking a glass of red wine while wiping tears from my eyes as I wait for the next one.

The funeral I'm returning from was for my colleague, Judy. We taught together in the same year level for four years. Judy was one of the kindest and most lovely people I have ever had the pleasure to know. During the time we worked together, I held my first "teacher leader" position as the head of year. Judy was always there to reassure me during my first year in that position that yes, I had made the right decision, and yes, what I said at that meeting needed to be heard and wasn't stupid. In addition, she listened when I had to rant about my personal life, and she always had a gentle, wise perspective that left me feeling both better and empowered.

Then, I moved to another year level and saw Judy less. For the next five years when I'd pass her in the corridor or see her at a faculty meeting, she would always touch me on the arm and say, "Heather, I never see you anymore." I'd acknowledge that with some lame excuse about work or different schedules and say I'd pop by to say hello more often. Sadly, that rarely happened.

Tonight, I did have a chance to see and catch up with many wonderful people I work with whom I rarely get to see. There was, of course, one glaring exception to that. But, pictures and memories of her lined the walls of the room. 

I stared at one of the pictures on that wall longer than the others. It was a picture from our first year of working together. We were on a field trip to the British School of Ballooning, and Judy, me, and two other teachers were all in a basket of a hot air balloon about to be lifted into the air. As I looked at that picture, I heard a colleague behind me say, "It really puts it all in perspective, doesn't it?"

It does. 

All that other crap consuming your life doesn't really matter so much. Your job, a hurtful thing someone you barely know said, that rude person on the train, that stuff doesn't matter. What matters is the people you love and who love you. What matters is that you appreciate their existence on a daily basis. What matters is the little miracles that happen naturally right under your nose. What matters is the beauty that surrounds us and is also in us. What matters is that you embrace and live the life you have right now and in this moment. What matters is the way you treat others.

This isn't the first time I've had death give me this reminder. In fact, earlier this year my friend, Tom, another beautiful soul, was cruelly taken from this earth far too soon. And death's lesson of life appreciation rang in my ears then, as it has each time someone I love has been ripped from this earth.

But, after a while that beautiful yet painful raw emotion of unlimited appreciation and love fades as we all get sucked in to the drudgery of our lives and begin once again to sweat the small stuff. However, thanks to the loss of someone we love perhaps we'll come up for air to love and appreciate what we have a bit more often.

So yes death, you suck. You do take all the nice people, but thanks for the reminder.

However, I still think you're an asshole.

My Top 9 Most Romantic Songs of All Time

WARNING: This post is steeped with cheese.

I shared a song on Facebook a few weeks ago declaring it was the song I considered to be the most romantic of all time. That lead to a conversation, which lead to my inspiration to write this. Not that I have any time to actually sit and think of my top most romantic songs, look them up on YouTube, and write a little description about each one. Yet somehow that's when inspiration strikes, when you have a million other things you are really meant to be doing. And, so putting all that to the side I give you my top 9 most romantic songs of all time, because I just don't have 10.  In High Fidelity fashion (yes, I've done this before) I begin with number 9.

For me being in love brings a sense of elation where you just wish you could freeze time and stay right there forever...never coming down from the cloud where you happily sit gazing at the beauty of the world with your lover. You don't want to do anything else or be anywhere else than right there at that moment. That's what this song is to me. It's literally about wasting time with someone you love, so here it is.

#9

When I was much much younger, I fell in love with this next song and had a little fantasy that  I would one day receive a card or something of the sort with the lyrics of the first stanza of this song from the man I was destined to marry. I'm over that now, but any time I listen to this song I envision a lovely autumn night with leaves swirling around two lovers as they playfully dance beneath a harvest moon. It's just so beautiful.

#8




Not all romance has happy endings or is filled with hearts and flowers. In fact not all romance even comes to fruition. Sometimes love is unrequited and excruciating, biting chunks out of your heart and spitting them on to the pavement. I chose this song as the lyrics and music combine perfectly to emulate that feeling of two people who want so badly to be together but just can't, a situation I have found myself in on more than one occasion. Plus, it has my favourite line of all time, "words are vitamins and life is short." And, how often does Ani Difranco have Prince as a backup singer? Just this once.

#7




Life would be some much easier and a hell of a lot less painful if we could just switch our hearts on and off like a light, but that's not how love works. It comes along at the most inappropriate times and often not when you're ready for it. It also may throw your heart in the path of the wrong person (as mentioned previously). When it comes to love there is absolutely nothing you can do, and that's why this song made it here.

#6




While I love this this next song and think that both the lyrics and music are gorgeous, I must admit that it was chosen for someone I truly loved a lifetime ago. Unfortunately, we all lost him. Some people who knew us back then might suspect that I would have chosen a Grateful Dead song in his memory, but no. We went to see this artist in Ann Arbor with some friends, who were trying to record the gig. However, the tape ended up being mainly a recording of our mushy lovey dovey conversation with Robyn Hitchcok playing somewhere in the background. I sometimes get lost in that memory, but I'll save my illusions for myself.

#5




I chose this next song for two reasons: 1) It's sexy, really sexy. It's I-want-to-take-you-home-right-now-and-start-taking-off-your-clothes-before-we-get-through-the-door sexy. 2) I really like being single, but I even have moments when I want to stop playing with my bow and arrow. I just need the right man to give me a reason.

#4




I love this next song. This song gets me going and has me bouncing around the room, and I may very well be guilty of overplaying it. Lord knows I've shared it on social media more than once. To me it is the essence of what's like to be in those first few weeks of a new relationship, that cloud nine feeling I mentioned earlier, the honeymoon stage. Love love love...

#3




"Wasn't it 9:10 just fifteen minutes ago?"
"Yes."
"Then why is it 11:20 now?"
Time is relative and it certainly zooms past when you're falling in love. Those first few conversations that last well into the morning before you even realise it and have you walking around the next day in a sleepless haze with a dopey smile on your face. Your head spins and you don't even notice the resulting clumsiness from sleep deprivation. After all "...you can't fight gravity on a planet that insists that love is like falling and..."

#2




And finally, my all time most romantic song. I don't think I need to explain this. Just listen to it.


#1



Of course there are other beautiful songs out there, but these move me every time they're played. And, now I'm off to bed.

As you were.

Giving up hope...

Yet again, another cryptic post. Perhaps that's my true superpower, and my superhero name should be Cryptonia. But, doesn't that make my secret weapon Cryptonite (Kryptonite)? If so, wouldn't that make me a super villain? Sorry. Digressing...

The title of this post makes it sound like I'm going to off myself, doesn't it? Don't worry. The complete opposite is true. I've not given up hope in despair...well...okay I kinda did, but I'm not in despair. There's a sense of freedom and joy that has come from finally and at last just giving up and accepting that I have absolutely no control over said situation. There's nothing I can do that will lead to the outcome I desire. Phew.

Giving up hope doesn't make you feel hopeless. It makes you feel hopeful.

Of course if you're a buddhist, you already know that. Hope can be detrimental because it focuses you on an outcome and brings you out of the present. It also breeds desire, and while desire fulfilled brings happiness, that happiness won't always last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Plus, unfulfilled desire leads to unhappiness, but fortunately that also won't last forever.

So, when you have a desire (like I did) and you hope and hope for that desire (like I did), only to be disappointed and maybe even a little heartbroken (like I was), and finally just say, "Fuck it," and let it go, it's a bit disappointing at first, but then it's liberating. Not the type of liberation of a prisoner coming out of a dark cell after many years. More the feeling you get when you have way too much on your plate and someone offers to do one of your most menial, time consuming tasks. It's as if you've been released from a tedious burden.

I don't think giving up all hope is a good thing, however. I am still hoping to increase my cycle speed, and that leads me to choose healthier diet and behaviour. If I gave up hope on that, I'd probably start to drink and eat more and become lethargic. At the same time increasing my cycle speed is an ongoing hope that never ends and a bit different from a final goal or end desire. Increasing my speed is not an object or person. I'll admit it's a bit disappointing when I get stuck in a rut and don't improve, but it also keeps me going. I do it more for the joy of the activity. After all, a hiker doesn't hike up a mountain purely for the view at the top. It's the journey not the destination that keeps the hiker going. For me the reward of pizza at the bottom also helps. I've digressed again, haven't I?

So, this is starting to be my year of wisdom. Two days in and two wise adages.

First, if it's meant to be, there's nothing you can do to fuck it up. You just need to accept the fact that it may not be meant to be.

And now, giving up hope doesn't make you feel hopeless. It makes you feel hopeful.

I also seem to be saying fuck a lot.

As you were.

A Birthday Epiphany (or something like that)

This post will seem a bit cryptic to most of you, and I apologise for that now. However, I'm no longer in the business of airing my dirty laundry here...or any laundry for that matter. Seriously, do you want to see my underwear? But, I digress.

Oh, I'm also going to use the word 'fuck' a lot. Consider yourself warned.

I'm another year older today, and thus far I'm having a spectacular birthday weekend. There is, however, a slight dark cloud hovering above my elation that's now gotten to the point where I don't think I can emotionally handle the status quo, and I need to take action to get out from under said cloud and continue happily on my way.

This action is a very subtle one and probably won't even be noticed (I hope), but there is a possible awkwardness that may result from it if it is. So, maybe I should explain myself before taking this action to ease the possible discomfort. But, it is just a possibility of awkwardness, not definite. By explaining myself I could make things ultimately better in the end, or I could forever destroy a beautiful dynamic that I've grown to love and cherish. I am only doing what I have to do so I can be happy with things as they are and preserve and continue with that cherished dynamic in the future. In other words so that I can happily and comfortably return to the status quo.

Am I making myself cryptically clear? Good. Now, here's the wisdom.

If it's meant to be, there's nothing you can do to fuck it up. You just need to accept the fact that it may not be meant to be.

So, my action will not fuck up anything that's meant to be.  If I explain what I'm doing that will not fuck things up either, if they're meant to be. Publishing this post also won't fuck things up. It's a win-win situation really. If it's really not meant to be, if this dynamic is only a bit of temporary joy, I shall relish it now, kiss it goodbye, and keep the memory of it close to my heart. My happiness is paramount. At the end of the day, I'm the person who will be with me for the rest of my life, so I need to take care of my heart. Whether I choose to wear it on my sleeve before I tuck it safely in a box to possibly give away at a later date won't matter, because if it's meant to be there's nothing I can do to fuck this up.

As you were.

Defining 2015

If I'm starting out 2015 as I mean to go on, then that means sitting on the sofa in pyjamas all day, watching crime drama, researching and scheming for a friend, faffing about on Facebook and then writing this.

No, that's not exactly the way I intend to go on through 2015...well except for the writing bit.

In a distraction from research and scheming for a friend I took a break to ask HRH Google to define resolution and came up with five definitions varying from decision making to physics, but what I found particularly interesting was the derivation of the word.

Resolution is derived from the Latin 'resolvere', which means to loosen or release. So while many people are promising to start new things like exercise routines or diets as part of their resolutions, the origin is something a bit different. It's more like letting go, not taking on something new. Therefore it seems to me the focus of resolutions should be releasing those bad habits and letting them go.

The derivation of resolution reminded me of an epiphany I had in the middle of 2014 that was pretty significant. I woke up one day in July thinking, "If you do what you have always done, you'll get what you've always gotten." I'm not certain if I read that somewhere and it seeped into my subconscious or if it was my own original thought, but there it was the very first thought in my head on a beautiful, sunny July day.

Originally I had intended on this blog post to be a litany of personal definitions for 2015 such as "2015 will be the year I take my creativity more seriously, find true love, cycle quickly up long, steep hills, etc." but now I've decided that for me 2015 will be the year that I won't do what I've always done....well with the exception of when what I've done has lead to what I wanted as a result of course, but I suppose that's implied.

So there. 2015 is the year I will not do what I've always done. Short, simple, to the point- definitely not something I've always done.

Where the hell is my muse?

Seriously, where is she/he/it whatever it is that enabled me to write decent stuff?

I've looked under the bed, behind the sofa, in the cupboard and can't find that damn muse anywhere.  It's been years since I've really sat down and written something...anything creative. My writing as of late has all focussed on my fitness or recipes to support my fitness. The creative muse has gone and abandoned me it seems. 

Really? Has it? Or have I just locked it away?

I have a myriad of excuses for my writer's block, but I won't bore you by listing them all. Anyone can make excuses. I hear excuses from my students all the time, but excuses are just that...excuses. They are not reasons. Well, no, I take that back. They are reasons. This last week Richard Sherman, cornerback for the Seattle Seahawks, posted on Facebook, "Excuses are the reason not everyone can be successful.... If you want success then replace your excuses with ambition."

So my muse is lost because I no longer have the ambition to write? Was my muse really just my ambition to write? Hmmmmmm....

I wonder. I wonder if I started dragging out my old work, the pieces I wrote and actually liked or at least tolerated enough to share, would I find that lost ambition and begin to create again? Would it finally make me add more to My Luck With Cars and Boys? Would it make the poetry that dances around in my head tap its way out though my finger tips? Would I finish all those stories that I start but never really complete?

So here goes. Piece number one. I wrote this about mix tapes seven years ago, and it was decent enough for my friend, Richard (hey that's two Richards in one blog post!), to add to Rock'n'Roll 2.0 at the time. This was one of my last pieces of written work before my writer's block locked my muse away.

Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Mix Tape As An Expression of Love

I just recently finished reading High Fidelity, by Nick Hornby, and it started me thinking about when I got my first mix tape from a boy. We were 15. We, the whole lot of us lil' wanna be punkers, would all get together and hang out downtown in 'Bland' Rapids, Michigan. I was trying to be all cool and show off on his skate board when I fell and scraped my leg pretty badly. After helping me up to a bench, he pulled the tape out of his Walkman and placed it into mine. "I…uh…made this for you last night. Hope you like it." My heart soared. I listened to that tape over and over again. I had never felt so much love while listening to Black Flag, the Butthole Surfers, and the Dead Kennedys before. Every song held a meaning for our relationship. I now had a better understanding of how he felt about me thanks to one 90 minute Maxell.

I loved making tapes and would make individual mix tapes for friends on their birthdays and for Christmas presents. I would spend hours with my music collection all over the floor trying to figure out what the recipient would like and how to best put the compilation together, fading songs into and out of each other. I was quite proud of my work. Inevitably I would call the tapes, "Stuff-n-Things for…" and then try to do something funky to the cover. For lovers, however, the creation of the mix tape was more difficult.

The last compilation tape I made for a lover was about eight years ago. Tapes were beginning to be old news at that point, but my boyfriend at the time had a tape player in his car, not a CD player. Making that tape was an agonizing feat for me as I wanted to give him something he would enjoy with songs that subtlety expressed the growing deep affection I had for him. On top of this, he was moving and I wanted to express some sadness without being too depressing. I didn't want to freak him out or scare him away with an overwhelming display of affection. In the middle of making it I called my friend, Julia, and asked her opinions. Should I put this song on it? Would he think this if that song were on it? What about this other song instead which expresses the same sentiment, but…? Julia is a very patient person.

So, he moved 300 miles away, and we attempted a long distance relationship. Having summers off, I went to visit him intermittently-a little over a week there and then about a week at home. It was during the second or third round of my visits that I began to feel insecure about our relationship. I had a feeling things were not going to work out. Plus, I knew at that point that I would be leaving the country, perhaps permanently. His plans were similar to mine, but our destinations were not the same. Trying to distract myself, I went through his music collection pulling out albums I didn't own. "Make a list of what you like, and I'll make you a tape," he said, and my mood lightened. He must really love me; he was making me a tape.

He gave me the tape the next time I came to visit. He even put some artists on the tape that I had not requested, such as Bruce Springsteen. Being from New Jersey, he is a huge Springsteen fan. While I have an appreciation for Springsteen's song writing talent, I do not consider myself to be any sort of fan at all. However, I found myself listening to the tape over and over again searching for some hidden meaning in the selected songs and their order, and I was disappointed. There didn't seem to be any deep feeling or hidden meaning behind it. It was just a group of songs that all sounded good together, just an ordinary tape like that you would make for a friend. And, indeed the platonic nature of the tape was the giveaway. We broke up on my next visit.

After that I made one last mix tape…for me. It was called "The Ultimate Break-Up Tape." I very carefully selected songs to express the stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. It was a kick-ass tape if I do say so myself. I later gave it to another friend who went through a break-up.

And now the mix tape is practically extinct. Its end is due to the onset of Mp3s and the like. Making mix CDs is easy, a bit too easy. It's so easy in fact that you can make the same one for many people. I have a friend who compiles all the music he has purchased over the year and makes a Christmas CD, which he gives to away. While this is a great answer to the traditional Christmas card, it does seem to be about as personal as one of those Christmas newsletters detailing the events of people you only ever hear from once a year. I now make CD compilations for people, but it just isn't the same. There can be no replacing the mix tape with a mix CD. In my opinion the mix tape was a true expression of feeling due to the toil put into the making of it. I find it sad that it has now become obsolete.

I also find it sad that I no longer own a tape player.

This sh*t just got serious or 10x10=100

It seems as if this blog as deteriorated into random and sporadic posts about sports, politics or my health. I'm not certain when or how that happened, but this post will be slightly different.

This post is not only about sports, my health and politics, but it's also about how long I've lived in the greater London area! Ta-Daaah!

On the 10th of August I will have lived here for 10 years! My how time flies. 10 YEARS! In four years I will have lived here for the longest time I've lived in any city anywhere. Woah! I should become a citizen-oh wait. I did that. I should...hmmm...oh, I know!

I should cycle another 100 miles, because 10 (10th of August) x 10 (10 years here)= 100. And, so that is exactly what I will be doing. This year's RideLondon-Surrey100 is on the 10th of August, and I was lucky enough to receive a ballot place for the second year in a row. Just like last year I will be using my ballot place to raise money for the International HIV/AIDS Alliance in memory of my dear friend, Scott Williams. I've set the goal as £100, since 10x10=100, but I'd love to raise more than that.

And now for the serious health sh*t. Last year my completion time for the 100 miles was 7 hours and 14 minutes. Not bad for a middle-aged, beginning cyclist on her first serious sportive, but I'd like to do better. Unfortunately, I've not been taking the best care of myself. I had several rationalisation (stress, friends visiting, buffets offered at courses and seminars) for the decadence I've allowed myself in the last few months, and I feel it. I'm not in the best shape and certainly not in good enough shape to beat my own time. But that decadence stops today!

From today until the 9th of August when I need to carb load, I will not knowing consume any foods containing glutenous white flour or excess refined sugar. I will also not consume any beer or cider. There are three exceptions to this: 1) During matches in the World Cup where the US Men's National Team is playing, but that applies to beer only, 2) On the 4th of July and ONLY if I attend the beer festival in Hersham (all bets are off) and 3) Em's wedding (no restrictions for me on that day, but I'll attempt to be moderate). If I consume glutenous white flour, refined sugar, beer or cider, before the 9th of August, I will have to donate £100 to the BNP.  And that's the political part of this post. Having created such a restriction for myself in the past, I find this VERY successful motivation.  The BNP has never received a cent from me, nor will they.

So there you have it. This post contained sports (London-Surrey Ride 100 and mention of the World Cup), my health (the diet restrictions) and politics, (I hate the BNP) in addition to letting you all know that I will have lived here for a whole decade on the 10th of August.

And now I'm off to get some miles under my wheels.

Genius? Really?!?

Me: I'm here to pick up my iPhone. It was getting the battery replaced. (Hands authorisation form given 30 minutes prior to Apple Store Genius)

Genius: Okay, I just need to see some ID.

Me: (Shows ID)

Genius: Hmmmm... the name on the form here is Paul Smith, and you're not Paul Smith.

Me: Uh...no...I'm not. I was just given that authorisation form half an hour ago and told to come back.  I also had the same form emailed to me if you need to see it.

Genius: No, that's fine. I'll just go back and sort this out.

Me: (Gets out iPad. Connects to Wi-Fi. Retrieves authorisation form from email and checks to see that name and all other details are correct on it. Waits. Waits. Looks at Facebook. Waits. Looks at Twitter. Waits. Waits.)

...Twenty minutes later...

Genius: (Comes out and looks perplexed) Is that the iPad you brought in to get fixed?

Me: No, I dropped off an iPhone 5 that needed a new battery.  (Pulls up authorisation form on email and turns iPad around for him to see)

Genius: Oh, I know where that is. I'll be right back.

I was lovely and polite to him for the rest of this transaction simply because I didn't want the poor Genius to feel stupid.

I have fallen in love with an old friend

but it's probably not what you think.

In general, I like sports, but there are a few I LOVE. However, even with the sports I love, I need to be rooting for a team in order to keep my interest and make me pay attention over an entire season, but I still do love them and can appreciate watching teams I don't root for.  I just don't go out of my way to do that. So anyway, as sports goes I LOVE...

Basketball (MSU Spartans and Detroit Pistons. I used to love the Seattle Supersonics, too)
Ice Hockey (Detroit Red Wings)
Soccer or Football as it's known (more accurately) over here. (Arsenal)

Those were my three...until this year.

American football (I have to call it that or my British friends will jump down my throat about how it's not proper football-they probably will anyway) has never really peaked my interest much.  I found the game a bit slow with too many pauses in between plays.  I always saw cheering on my alma mater, MSU, during football games more of a social event and a good time to be spent with my college buddies. If I hadn't gotten a head's up about certain football games from my friends, I really wouldn't have cared.

It's not as if I could ignore American football. I grew up with it, as pretty much most every American kid did.  I played it with friends in my neighborhood and knew the rules, etc.  However, as I said it didn't really interest me much.  Since I was in the marching band in high school, I had to go to every home game, but I still just didn't care much. After high school I attended MSU. That year we played in the Rose Bowl and I still wasn't bothered. After graduation I moved to Seattle. My ex-boyfriend in Seattle and I lived together for several years, and he was and avid Seahawks fan, an avid football fan in general. I'd be in the kitchen baking or in the bedroom writing or reading and he'd yell for me to come into the living room to see the replay of some amazing touchdown or something. If anything, that just turned me off to American football.

But something happened this year.

I'm not certain exactly when American football seduced me.  Perhaps it was just seeing my facebook feed with posts from my friends back in Seattle about the Seahawks all season, but I would find myself looking up results on the internet when I woke up in the morning or searching for them at my lunch breaks.  Perhaps it was because the Detroit Lions actually won on Thanksgiving that made me start tracking MSU's football results (For me there was a link between these two teams). Whatever the reason, whatever it was, I was starting to really pay attention to American football.

It's as if an old friend from childhood got in touch with me and we started to chat. He started to flirt with me a bit and became interesting. I knew about him, knew him fairly well in fact since I grew up with him, but suddenly the things he was into that seemed dull now fascinated me and he became REALLY attractive.  Now I am in love and in another long distance relationship.

And it's been a good season to fall in love with American football as far as my teams are concerned.  MSU went to the Rose Bowl...and won.  This time I cared so much I screamed at the television until I was hoarse and cried a little when we won. And, tonight the Seattle Seahwaks are about to play in Superbowl 48.  I will be watching over here in London, which means I'll be up until 4am, trying my best to not anger my neighbors.

And so, victory tonight or no, I can honestly say I've fallen in love with American Football.

GO HAWKS!

And so it beings...

Wow!

Have I seriously not posted since last year?

Wow!

Okay, here I go...blogging away. I'd forgotten how much fun this.

Sometime ago I entered the ballot for the Prudential Ride London-Surrey 100.  I didn't actually think I'd get a place.  I really didn't.  So, you can imagine my surprise when I did.

I was of course thrilled by this...and then terrified. However, there was one slight problem.

I no longer had a bike.

Well, okay I do still have a bike, but I can no longer ride it.  One fine day last summer an irresponsible dog owner on Rollerblades lost control of his rather large dog, which threw the full force of his weight into me as I was cycling along.  This lovely dog owner did stop to ask if I was okay.  As I sat in shock and bleeding on the ground, I answered that I was fine when in fact it was quite obvious that I wasn't.  Instead of asking me again to make certain I wasn't just in shock, helping me or giving me his details, the dog owner leashed his dog and skated away quite quickly.  Another stranger assisted me up and I limped to a shop to get some plasters.  This unfortunate event resulted in two things:

1. I re-injured my shoulder.  I've hurt this shoulder in the past in a couple of car accidents (not my fault and I wasn't even driving in one) and a climbing incident (nothing dangerous, just something stupid).

2. The frame of my bike was cracked and I've since been told it's now dangerous to ride.

I'm currently in the process of purchasing a new (and very nice) bike through the the Cycle to Work Scheme, but there's been an issue in regards to my training.

My damn shoulder began acting up quite painfully again recently.  In fact, I couldn't raise my arm above 90 degrees to my body without crippling pain.  Nor could I open a door or pick things up without wincing. After about a week of this, I finally saw my GP.  He gave me some physiotherapy exercises to do and prescribed Naproxin.  This past Friday, two weeks later, I went in for a follow up appointment, much improved, and he gave me the okay to begin to train. He did say, however, that I must start out slowly.

And so, tomorrow I begin with a pilates class.  My plan is to go to pilates at least once a week for core strength, spinning class at least once a week and cycle at least twice a week for very long rides.  (Until I have my bike, I'll be taking spinning classes to make up for not having a bike).  By June I intend to ride to and from work (about 50 miles round trip) at least twice a week.  I will also cut down on gluten, eat healthier in general and may even consult a nutritionist. Finally, I will no longer go to the pub for a casual pint or catch up over a bottle of wine with friends.  Alcohol may only be consumed on VERY special occasions (birthdays, weddings, travelling outside of Britain).

So, on the eve of all this as I sit drinking my last 'casual' glass of wine, I had a thought.  Perhaps I should track my progress via my blog.  After all, it will be interesting to look back on the changes I am about to undergo physically, as well mentally, after I complete this ride.  Therefore, in addition to the training, I'm going to post regular updates on how it's all going.  While these postings will really be more for me, I of course welcome you to read and feedback if you wish.  I wouldn't be posting this all publicly if I didn't want to share it with you.

Hmmmm...maybe I should change the name of this blog to "H on her Bike".

For those of you who are curious about the route, here's a little video mapping it out.

Dear Moderate Republicans

Dear Moderate Republicans,
I'm speaking to those of you who are 'fiscally conservative, but socially liberal.'  Some of you are Christian, but not radically so, and many of you aren't Christian (or perhaps any religion) at all.  You are ashamed with how the Republican party touts to the extreme Christian right and appalled at the misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Muslim (or frankly anti any religion that's not Christian) rhetoric coming from a 'few' loud-mouthed bad apples tainting the entire party.  However, you don't agree with the financial plans of the Obama administration because you're possibly in a tax bracket that would benefit under Republican rule.  (Or, you're hoping to be.)
So, you're still going to vote for Romney despite disagreeing with him on his social issues.
Okay, fine. That's your choice, but I'd like you to do one thing for me before you cast your vote.  I want you to stand in front of the mirror, look yourself in the eye and say the following.
"I'm voting for Romney because the amount of money I make means more to me than the health and individual rights of my female friends, the basic civil-rights of my homosexual friends or the First Amendment in the Constitution, which establishes the freedom of religion.  I'm voting for Romney because money means more to me than any of that."
Then look me in the eye and say that to me the next time I come to visit.  Frankly, if the only reason you're voting for Romney is a fiscal one, you've just admitted money means more to you than other human beings.
You don't have to vote for Obama.  There are other options, but there are plenty of Republicans for Obama. So perhaps you should listen to what they have to say.  At the end of the day it is, as I said, your choice, but to me it speaks volumes about your character.

Music Top 5s with apologies to Nick Hornby

Last week a friend gave me a bit of a fun task.  In a 'High Fidelity' theme I was to name the following:

• Top 5 Artists
• Top 5 Songs or Albums
• Top 5 music experiences - gigs, soundtrack to point in life, first album bought etc.

I don't do anything half-assed and gave this some serious thought before I replied.  After looking over my email to him I decided it would make a rather interesting blog post, plus it's been ages since I've written anything publicly that's over 140 characters.  And so, here's my response in case you're interested.

Top 5 Favourite Artists:

Number 5- The Grateful Dead- Many of my current gig buddies/music friends do not understand this, but there was significant amount of time in university that I spent on the road following them around.  The only thing I regret about my cultish behaviour of the time was that I had a fantastic 4AD vinyl collection that I sold to pay for a few shows.  I don't listen to them as much as I used to, but any time I hear them, I get nostalgic. Thus, they must be mentioned.

Number 4- Manu Chao A friend of mine introduced him to me Manu Chao when I lived in Seattle. I didn't really listen to him much until I moved to Mexico (to help my Spanish) and I fell in love with him.  He almost appeared later in my Top 5 Gigs too, but as it is I had to extend that list to 6.  The Manu Chao gig in London last year would have been number 7.

Number 3- Nick Cave He's so lovely. So very very lovely.

Number 2- Polly Jean Harvey. I love her. That is all.

My number 1 artist of all time is Ani DiFranco.  I could go on and on about how her music is poetry and she lives her songs, but I won't.

I'm separating songs from albums as some of my favourite songs aren't on my favourite albums.  And, not all my favourite songs or albums are by my favourite artists.

Top 5 Songs

Number 5- Dizzee Rascal & Armand Van Helden- "Bonkers" This song makes me cycle super fast.  I love it, plus Dizzee is from my 'hood' more or less.

Number 4- David Byrne and the Dirty Projectors- "Knotty Pine"

Number 3- Richmond Fontaine- "Lost in Trees" These guys are friends of mine (I went to university with the bass player), but I'd still love them even if they weren't.

Number 2- Beta Band- "She's The One for Me". 

Number 1- Ani DiFranco "32 Flavours" It's such a pretty song and at one point mirrored my life.


Top 5 Albums

Number 5- The Cocteau Twins- "The Pink Opaque" Sold to fund my Grateful Dead wandering.

Number 4- Guided by Voices- "Do the Collapse" ("Hold on Hope" almost went on my top 5 favourite songs, but since I was doing separate list for albums, I decided not to put it on that list)

Number 3- The Flaming Lips- "Soft Bulletin" This was partially due to the gig I saw, which will be mentioned later.

Number 2- Elliot Smith- "From a Basement on a Hill"  I actually like most of his stuff, but this album is special as it was released after his death.  Quite sad really.

Number 1- PJ Harvey- "Let England Shake" This is a fantastic album! That is all.


Top 5 Gigs- I can't do 5.  You're getting 6.


Number 6- Sleigh Bells at Heaven in Feb 2011.  Who would think that 2 people could put on such an amazing gig? I was pleasantly surprised.

Number 5- Nirvana at the Seattle Center in 1994- Sadly this was the last live gig Kurt would ever play in Seattle.  It was also his best (in my opinion)

Number 4- Flaming Lips at the Showbox in 1996.  The audience wore headphones- it was an audio and visual treat.  As an added treat, Krist Novaselic was there and approached me to say hi and talk.  But then realised he didn't actually know me and said, "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Number 3- PJ Harvey at the Troxy in Feb 2011.  Wow!

Number 2- Ani Difranco- each time I've seen her she's amazing and I've seen her 3 times, the most recent being at the Union Chapel in January.  In fact I just found a clip of her playing my favourite song at that concert.

Number 1- Neil Young (Patti Smith opened and then came on stage with Neil at the end) at The Gorge, 1996.  The Gorge is a naturally beautiful venue in George, WA.  It tipped down rain and was also quite windy.  Neil was rocking to Like a Hurricane with his hair wet and blowing in his face.  It was as if he was defying the forces of mother nature.  I was blown away (literally and figuratively).

And that's my musical me.

The Mitt Romney/BNP Diet

I'm not happy with my weight. Currently, I'm about 5 kilos above a healthy BMI and would like to get back there. 

When we had a Biggest Loser competition at work a few years back, I was almost down to the weight I managed to lose that weight and more, but I put it all back on slowly in addition some extra pounds. I know my personality and I need something with a competitive edge that rewards me and I need it to be constant so that I make a healthy lifestyle change, not just a short term change.  I also need to have an achievable goal, so that I don't get discouraged and give up easily or wind up yo yo dieting. 

So, It's decided.  I'm going to lose 5 kilos by American election day in November, damn it! This is completely achievable and healthy. And what if I don't lose 5 kilos by American election day? Well, then I will have to vote for Mitt Romney. That makes me nauseous just thinking about it.

Once I lose that weight, I will establish that as the base that I can never again go over.  If I go above that weight and stay above it for two weeks, then I will have to donate £100 to the BNP another thought that makes me feel ill.

I'm using a very cool and free social-media(esque) app called My Fitness Pal and have notified some close friends and family of where they can find my profile, so they can track my progress online. If you are using My Fitness Pal already and would like another friend for encouragement please message me and I'll add you. 

Of course I know that I don't really have to vote for Mitt Romney or give money to the racist BNP, but the simple fact that I've now blogged about this has committed me.  If I fail, I will always feel shame of betraying my political and moral values.

Right, I'm off to do some exercise.

Just when I was thinking of quitting…

Last week was not a good week for me.  In fact I would have to say that it was perhaps the worst week of my teaching career; good thing it was only a three day week.  On the Friday I found myself in my assistant principal's office threatening to "fucking quit" right there and then.  Probably not my finest moment as a "teacher leader", but I do believe it got my point across. 

So we are now in the final stretch.  Just five more days with students and then two more days to 'post plan'.  Somehow I need to mark the projects that are still being handed in (seventy left) and calculate final grades by Wednesday afternoon.  Hahahahahahahahaha

Of course at this point you're wondering, "Well, if you have so much work to do, why are you blogging?  Shouldn't you be working?" 

And to that I reply, "Fuck off, it's my lunch (half) hour and I deserve some time to vent on-line before I work well into the evening."

I rather like the F bomb lately.  However, don't worry. I'm not saying it to my students-at least not intentionally- but I digress.

I came in to school this morning determined to have a better attitude and to just suck up and deal for the next seven work days.  It worked for a bit, but I still was running a list of other career opportunities in my head.

And then I received this email from a parent:

Hi Ms. M---I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for everything you did for XXX this year---in and out of class.  He really enjoyed you as a teacher, and I know it was your positive attitude and encouragement!

This is an excerpt from a note I sent to Ms. XXXX (my principal) :

*********************************************************************** 
"Dear Ms. XXXX:

I wanted to take a minute to pass along our appreciation for a few special teachers in our Middle School students' lives this year.  Their other teachers are amazing, too, but we think that special relationship that develops with some teachers in support of their students is extremely important ...

That being said, I will also express our thoughts to the teachers directly, but please know that we especially thank:   ...

Ms. M for her straightforward, respectful, yet nurturing style of teaching---always expecting the best of XXX, but hanging tough when she thinks he can deliver more, and encouraging him to maintain his effort.

**************************************************

Thanks, Ms. M!  XXX'x sister is looking forward to meeting you next year! 


I then remembered why I kill myself in this job.  It's not for the outrageously high pay (hahahaha) or long luxurious holidays (that I work through or take courses during).  It is for the kids, our future, and despite all this crap, it is worth it at the end of the day.

So, if you're a parent of a student with teachers who have made a positive difference on him or her over this academic year, take a moment to send those teachers a quick email showing appreciation of their hard work.  I promise you they have probably been thinking of quitting too.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled workload.