Today I am grateful for: my tea kettle. It is an old and battered Paul Revere that has sat atop countless ranges and survived countless moves; it may have seen better days but it's an old, cherished friend that can always be depended on during tea-steeping missions.
Our excessive festivities last night were a thing of the past due to a weird family trait that, thus far, has rendered us immune to hangovers; the worst I've ever felt was after drinking fortuitous amounts of Patron and passing out on the bathroom floor - I woke up feeling refreshed and spry, except for an irritating pain in my lower back where I'd slept on top of a rubber duck. It's a good gift. Makes me wonder what god my ancestors pleased in order to obtain it.
The novelty of being lazy bums wore off after a little while and out came the yoga mats. Fitz isn't real big on yoga - he calls it hippie fitness - but he surprised me by joining in for an entire 90-minute vinyasa session. By the end we were both positively dripping sweat, something that I think caught him off guard because he made the remark that maybe there was something to all this Dalai Lama om-ing.
Yesterday we did a full sixty minutes of stretching, and I definitely noticed a difference today during yoga. I was able to really get a lot deeper in my poses, especially triangle, twisting triangle, and pyramid. There was the usual resistance but on my exhalations I could actually feel my muscles relaxing and giving in. So cool!
We rewarded ourselves with more tea and the latest episode of True Blood (soso good - but I can't help but giggle every time Bill says Sookie's name. SUCKEH, SUCKEH NOW.) Fitz took off for a run after that (he's crazy about exercise) and I tidied around the house. Neither of us were keen on breakfast, having stuffed ourselves silly last night and by then it was nearing noon anyway.
The need for apples meant that I was going to meet Fitz in town at the health food store (which is the only grocery in my little town - there's an actual Supermarket in Princeville but that's a twenty minute drive and not really worth it.) I don't know if it was just the fact that we hadn't really done anything really strenuous that was making me feel like a blob but I almost canceled on my poor brother. To get motivated I used a tried-and-true trick: I put on my favourite pair of worn shorts and a pretty, bright shirt that just begged to be outside, and a fun hat (because it was one of those hair days.) No matter how hermit-like I'm feeling, I find that if I put a little effort into getting ready - a fun bracelet, a new hairstyle, presentable clothes - it almost always gives me the extra push I need to shake the lead out.
Do you think that if they make a hippie version of Blues Brothers, I could get cast? =P
I really and truly considered walking to town. The idea flickered about (cardio! sunshine!) but I just couldn't bring myself to commit to an hour-long walk, especially knowing that the hour back would be accompanied with the weight of a bag of Granny Smith's, so I compromised. I drove to the gas station, parked my car, and then walked from there; I'm not sure how many blocks it is (and the town doesn't really have blocks haha) but by my watch it was a nice fifteen minute trek. Nothing really to notice, fitness-wise, but the point was just being out and about en pied.
Did any of you ever watch that film Milo & Otis, about the curious cat and the pug-nosed pup? I used to love it when I was younger and today's walk reminded me of the jaunty little tune at the beginning. We're gonna take a walk outside today, gonna see what can find today...
Made it to Healthy Hut and got our apples and, because they looked amazing and we go through them like candy, got some beautiful local to-mah-toes.
I also found a nifty little treat - teeny, tiny Luna bars! I love these things full-sized and these little 90-calorie options are going to be just perfect for mid-afternoon pick-me-ups. Plus, they're freaking adorable! I got one of each flavour; peanut butter cookie, white chocolate macadamia, and lemon zest. Can't wait to try one!
They fit in the palm of one hand! D'aww.
I walked across the street to Pau Hana bakery after that and met up with Fitz for coffee. He ordered some fancy schmancy special and I varied from my normal cup of black coffee and splurged on a double Americano. Mmm. It never fails to amaze me just how creamy Americano's are compared to regular coffee or even espresso. It tastes like there's milk in there but there isn't.
Fitz and I mostly ignored each other because we both had books we wanted to read. It was one of those non awkward not talking times. Wiling away the time in a coffee shop with a good book is so much fun and reminds me of France and how everyone there just takes things slow, really enjoys the little things. I suppose Etienne must have made us crave that lackadaisical efficiency that's so common in Les Midi because we lingered for over an hour (and I think annoyed the staff as they were super busy and we were taking up a table despite only ordering one drink each.)
When we got home it was a little after three and I was ready for a snack. A hardboiled farm egg with cracked black pepper, eaten with chopsticks because that's how I roll:
More tea, more tea, more tea. Some reading. Laundry. Cat nap. I nibbled on leftover fruit and salad for dinner (I seriously had no appetite today) but Fitz was in the mood for something a little heartier. After reading a post on steak Ducasse by Charley from Chuck's Kitchen, he decided that he wanted to give it a try. Fitz is a big meat eater but he doesn't often do red meat, sticking mostly to fish and chicken and turkey. Steak is a treat he indulges in but hasn't been to do so for months because his wife, K, is pregnant and the one smell that she absolutely cannot tolerate while she's pregnant is beef, raw, cooking, or cooked. Fitz was positively gleeful about getting his carnivore on. So much so that he only had eyes for his porterhouse.
"I think we have some brussels sprouts in the freezer that you can roast to go with that."
"No, thanks."
"Or there's broccoli. And I definitely have wild rice in the pantry. I can make some of that for you."
"Nope."
"Mushrooms? There's a potato, too, and I got tomatoes."
"Nie, it's okay."
"There's salad in the fri--"
"Really, it's fine."
"... so you're having what?"
"Steak."
"Just steak?"
"Not 'just steak'. Delicious steak."
And that was exactly what he did. I told him to take photos of the process but he didn't because a) doesn't have the patience and b) was too busy cooing at his slab of meat to remember. Luckily I was there snap a photo of his beloved finished product:
The noises he made while eating this were pretty embarrassing, lemme tell you.
Now it's off to enjoy the rest of the night with apple slices dusted in cinnamon and whatever backlogged shows Fitz has on his computer. See you on the 'morrow!
<3
I really do love reading your daily posts, Liz! The photos are fabulous! Thank you for sharing! I wish you were here to cook for me, really - lol...
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