home is the crook of that arm
breakfast sounds
the steering wheel turning the corner
the broken chair you won’t stop sitting in
a coffee cup that doesn’t match
to covet the same object and then share
the hair of a hug
a finicky light switch/doorhandle/appliance
the memory a scuff in the floor evokes
a catalogue of smells
being where you would’ve called
having your place on the couch
under covers, too close to see where eyelashes end and eyelids begin
knowing your way, middle of the night, to bathroom
running in wet grass
holding hands
a tree house
wanting to be nowhere else
feeling like someone
knowing
by Cristina Paul
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Simple Spinach
Plenty for 2 who aren't fooled by the raw food hype
INGREDIENTS:
3 Tablespoons finely chopped shallots
2 Tablespoons butter
12 ounces of organic baby spinach (or 2 of those nifty, ready-to-go bags)
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
DIRECTIONS:
1. Place the shallots in a large skillet pan. Melt 2 tablespoons of butter over medium-low heat and sautee the shallots until they soften and become translucent - about 5 minutes.
2. Lower the heat to low and place all of the baby spinach in the pan and cover the skillet with a lid or with another pan. When the spinach begins to wilt, add the salt and Dijon mustard, stirring until all of the spinach is wilted. Don't overcook!
*Spinach is an iron rich food. Two types of iron can be absorbed by the body: heme and nonheme iron. Grains and veggies and most meats contain nonheme iron. Iron is more readily absorbed by the body when combined with vitamin C. Unfortunately, spinach also contains a chemical called oxalate which decreases the body's ability to absorb iron. Nevertheless, spinach still provides us with many nutrients and has high levels of calcium - Popeye's guns are a testament to this veggie's awesome power.
Recipe by Cristina Paul
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Blah-Blah-Blahg: Food For Nought
The ethos of uptight here on the east coast has infiltrated the most unlikely spaces - yoga studios. So I went to my first yoga class in Beantown and I got some very funny looks as I was setting up my mat. No, I wasn't facing the "wrong" direction - although many yogis were miffed about the fact that the studio had recently switched the orientation of all the classes. You have no idea how a 90˚ reorientation can completely fuck with people's inner harmony! I (being the crazy Californian that I am) love when teachers alternate the directions of their classes, but I guess creatures of habit that inhabit Boston can't handle that sort of spontaneity. I digress; I wanted to discuss the strange stares. I didn't have a massive booger stuck to my chin and I did shave my armpits... what they were in a huff about was that my mat was not lying within the boundaries of these perfectly-placed, annoying little strips of tape on the floor. Some poor bastard (not plagued with OCD himself but probably held on a very short leash by a type A individual) had created, with tape, an outline for each yoga mat. God forbid the idea of someone accidentally touching their neighbor or feeling the hot breath of a fellow yogi or, even worse, smelling another human's sweat! This initially felt like less of a yoga class and more of an exercise in staying in line. I was fully prepared to salute and give somebody twenty. I nearly ran out of the studio before beginning the class, so disturbed was I by the territorial urge to keep people under control, in their place, and out of yours. Namaste - no more stay.
On the subway home, I was relieved when a fellow commuter with a total disregard for personal space and propriety picked his nose with a sense of satisfaction that we generally get only when alone in the shower, inhibition-free. I wish he were in attendance at the yoga class. Perhaps he could have inspired a little bit of the light-heartedness that a good nose pick or even an acidental fart allows us to feel - knowing that after all, we are just humans doing our human thing.
This was my favorite poem on nose picking as a child and perhaps an east-coast-appropriate response to the tremendous hand-nose coordination that I bore witness to:
Warning
Inside everybody's nose
There lives a sharp-toothed snail.
So if you stick your finger in,
He may bite off your nail.
Stick it farther up inside,
And he may bite your ring off.
Stick it all the way, and he
May bite the whole darn thing off.
- Shel Silverstein
On the subway home, I was relieved when a fellow commuter with a total disregard for personal space and propriety picked his nose with a sense of satisfaction that we generally get only when alone in the shower, inhibition-free. I wish he were in attendance at the yoga class. Perhaps he could have inspired a little bit of the light-heartedness that a good nose pick or even an acidental fart allows us to feel - knowing that after all, we are just humans doing our human thing.
This was my favorite poem on nose picking as a child and perhaps an east-coast-appropriate response to the tremendous hand-nose coordination that I bore witness to:
Warning
Inside everybody's nose
There lives a sharp-toothed snail.
So if you stick your finger in,
He may bite off your nail.
Stick it farther up inside,
And he may bite your ring off.
Stick it all the way, and he
May bite the whole darn thing off.
- Shel Silverstein
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Blah-Blah-Blahg: Food For Nought
Across The U.S. In 5 Days
Day 1: 3 Hours of Sleep With a Will To Drive
man-made wire palms just north of Las Vegas
Utah is gorgeous - the Mormons are onto something here. One minute it was 90 degrees and in 5 more, the temperature dropped 25 degrees and my MINI was being pelted with heavenly rain as I lead-footed my way through an ethereal combo of lonely Joshua Trees, red mountains, and wooded hills.
Lightbulb: Your glove compartment may very well double as a cooler when the A.C. is on - try it
BTW: My suspicions are confirmed - Las Vegas is a portrait of modern decay. Sin City suppposedly exemplifies the ethos of the 21st century, whereas New York City was it's 20th century analog (at least that's what my friend, and map maven, Madeline reads and says).
Day 2: "Ladies Day"
This is the sharp drill bit that got lodged in my tire and gave me a flat (right after we passed through 200 miles of no-service nothingness - first piece of luck)
This is the cheapest Kombucha I've ever purchased at the health food store serendipitously located across from the tire place where burly men fixed my flat (second piece of good luck - not the burlies but the beverage)
This is the glee I felt when I asked what the damage for the tire was and the burly man smiled and said "It's ladies day!" (third piece of luck)
BTW: Coloradoans (is that what we call them?) are the worst tailgaters on Earth or at least in the western half of the U.S. Also, I missed the 5.4 earthquake back at home in L.A.
Day 3: A Visit To Newton, Iowa - my friend's mom's hometown and prior home of Maytag Factories
Where we lunched and what we ate - a favorite old-timey place of my friend Madeline's family
To ensure indigestion, we visited City Hall and witnessed vehement citizens lamenting the loss of healthcare benefits after their jobs were outsourced
I saw some biggies today: enormous, reeking pigs on the side of the road that sort of looked like black seals on their sides, wind turbine blades on a big rig, the largest wheels I've ever seen - also on a big rig
Plus, I got my first bug bite today - yes, I am in the midwest
BTW: There are insane numbers of semis on I-80 through Nebraska and Iowa. One may try to run you into the median if the driver is on pills, fatigued, not at all aware of his blind spot, and/or if he sees you in my MINI Cooper - good times.
Day 4: My Extreme Distaste For Buffalo or Why I am Grateful For Manifest Destiny
This morning, some hardcore bikers called my car a roller skate in the most endearing way possible. Men in bandanas are cool.
At a supermarket in South Bend, Indiana a very proud employee explained to me his exotic understanding of Kombucha yeast. He was so very proud of himself and his eager-to-please rolly-pollyness and midwest chattiness made me deliriously happy.
Had a beautful picnic lunch today - Lake Eerie gave us breeze and Ohio cumulus clouds provided the entertainment.
I-90 in Pennsylvania runs parallel to part of the route for the Underground Railroad. I got shivers thinking about all the travelers who have passed through these parts before me.
We've whizzed through 13 states! After interacting with some extremely rude New Yorkers and jonesin' to turn right at a red light, I have decided that Buffalo, New York is the ring of repugnance. In upstate New York, I had the displeasure of speaking with and being gawked at by more hicks than I ever saw in the midwest or even in the south on previous trips. Plus, it took us an hour and seven tries to find a decent place to sleep.
Toll roads are weird, but the sweet medicinal smell of an east coast evening has greatly decreased the post-turnpike tightness in my neck and shoulders (so has watching So You Think You Can Dance in the motel room).
BTW: Instead of just listening to our plethora of CD mixes and local NPR stations, we mixed it up by listening to part of an 8-CD audio book called You The Owners Manual. Awesome!!! I learned that poop floats when you've eaten too much fat - turns out fat is rather buoyant.
Day 5: Beantown
Charlotte and Hobbes are my new roommates. We are three very lucky residents of Beaver Pond - actually outside Boston proper.
I discovered a deer tick stubbornly embedded in the flesh above my knee. 5 minutes later I noticed a rash or welt (let's call it a relt) in a neighboring area. I hope I don't have poison oak or poison ivy. Long walks to farms and historic estates are lovely, but living in the country is going to give me a MASS-ive heart attack (get it, MASS - achusetts?). I think I'm just being a hypochondriac. Next Christmas, I'm going to purchase my own personal bubble - just in case.
You can't quite see the pond I live on, but check out the prayer flags.
This is what I wake up to every morning.
Day 1: 3 Hours of Sleep With a Will To Drive
man-made wire palms just north of Las Vegas
Utah is gorgeous - the Mormons are onto something here. One minute it was 90 degrees and in 5 more, the temperature dropped 25 degrees and my MINI was being pelted with heavenly rain as I lead-footed my way through an ethereal combo of lonely Joshua Trees, red mountains, and wooded hills.
Lightbulb: Your glove compartment may very well double as a cooler when the A.C. is on - try it
BTW: My suspicions are confirmed - Las Vegas is a portrait of modern decay. Sin City suppposedly exemplifies the ethos of the 21st century, whereas New York City was it's 20th century analog (at least that's what my friend, and map maven, Madeline reads and says).
Day 2: "Ladies Day"
This is the sharp drill bit that got lodged in my tire and gave me a flat (right after we passed through 200 miles of no-service nothingness - first piece of luck)
This is the cheapest Kombucha I've ever purchased at the health food store serendipitously located across from the tire place where burly men fixed my flat (second piece of good luck - not the burlies but the beverage)
This is the glee I felt when I asked what the damage for the tire was and the burly man smiled and said "It's ladies day!" (third piece of luck)
BTW: Coloradoans (is that what we call them?) are the worst tailgaters on Earth or at least in the western half of the U.S. Also, I missed the 5.4 earthquake back at home in L.A.
Day 3: A Visit To Newton, Iowa - my friend's mom's hometown and prior home of Maytag Factories
Where we lunched and what we ate - a favorite old-timey place of my friend Madeline's family
To ensure indigestion, we visited City Hall and witnessed vehement citizens lamenting the loss of healthcare benefits after their jobs were outsourced
I saw some biggies today: enormous, reeking pigs on the side of the road that sort of looked like black seals on their sides, wind turbine blades on a big rig, the largest wheels I've ever seen - also on a big rig
Plus, I got my first bug bite today - yes, I am in the midwest
BTW: There are insane numbers of semis on I-80 through Nebraska and Iowa. One may try to run you into the median if the driver is on pills, fatigued, not at all aware of his blind spot, and/or if he sees you in my MINI Cooper - good times.
Day 4: My Extreme Distaste For Buffalo or Why I am Grateful For Manifest Destiny
This morning, some hardcore bikers called my car a roller skate in the most endearing way possible. Men in bandanas are cool.
At a supermarket in South Bend, Indiana a very proud employee explained to me his exotic understanding of Kombucha yeast. He was so very proud of himself and his eager-to-please rolly-pollyness and midwest chattiness made me deliriously happy.
Had a beautful picnic lunch today - Lake Eerie gave us breeze and Ohio cumulus clouds provided the entertainment.
I-90 in Pennsylvania runs parallel to part of the route for the Underground Railroad. I got shivers thinking about all the travelers who have passed through these parts before me.
We've whizzed through 13 states! After interacting with some extremely rude New Yorkers and jonesin' to turn right at a red light, I have decided that Buffalo, New York is the ring of repugnance. In upstate New York, I had the displeasure of speaking with and being gawked at by more hicks than I ever saw in the midwest or even in the south on previous trips. Plus, it took us an hour and seven tries to find a decent place to sleep.
Toll roads are weird, but the sweet medicinal smell of an east coast evening has greatly decreased the post-turnpike tightness in my neck and shoulders (so has watching So You Think You Can Dance in the motel room).
BTW: Instead of just listening to our plethora of CD mixes and local NPR stations, we mixed it up by listening to part of an 8-CD audio book called You The Owners Manual. Awesome!!! I learned that poop floats when you've eaten too much fat - turns out fat is rather buoyant.
Day 5: Beantown
Charlotte and Hobbes are my new roommates. We are three very lucky residents of Beaver Pond - actually outside Boston proper.
I discovered a deer tick stubbornly embedded in the flesh above my knee. 5 minutes later I noticed a rash or welt (let's call it a relt) in a neighboring area. I hope I don't have poison oak or poison ivy. Long walks to farms and historic estates are lovely, but living in the country is going to give me a MASS-ive heart attack (get it, MASS - achusetts?). I think I'm just being a hypochondriac. Next Christmas, I'm going to purchase my own personal bubble - just in case.
You can't quite see the pond I live on, but check out the prayer flags.
This is what I wake up to every morning.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Poetry For The American Road Tripper
even the darkness
cannot eat away the light
of a tiny match
by Vivian Shibata
*this haiku was on the label of a great bottled tea. Whole Foods had a sale ...and I get inspired while drinking and driving in Utah.
Fortune cookies have got to step up their game
Living in America
'Living in America,'
the intelligent people at Harvard say,
'is the price you pay for living in New England.'
Californians think
living in America is a reward
for managing not to live anywhere else.
The rest of the country?
Could it be sagging between two poles,
tastelessly decorated, dangerously overweight?
No. Look closely.
Under cover of light and noise
both shores are hurrying towards each other.
San Francisco
is already half way to Omaha.
Boston is nervously losing its way in Detroit.
Desperately the inhabitants
hope to be saved in the middle.
Pray to the mountains and deserts to keep them apart.
by Anne Stevenson from Anne Stevenson: Selected Poems
*eerily apt in light of my trip across the country and move to Boston
Road Trip 'Rito's
Serves one on the run
INGREDIENTS (to make your road trip or picnic easy, all ingredients except the romesco sauce are packaged and available at your local Trader Joe's):
1 Ezekial sprouted grain tortilla
1/2 of a chopped Italian Tofurkey link
a smattering of organic hummus
a sprinkle of steamed black lentils (found in the refrigerated section)
a dollop of romesco sauce (see recipe from the week of 6/01-6/08 on Everyone)
a handful of organic spinach
DIRECTIONS:
Place all ingredients in the Ezekial tortilla and roll it up.
*Avocados would also be a nice addition.
*Amounts aren't exact because most people don't carry measuring instruments while road trippin' - feel free to play with the ingredients. I ate these while on tour with my dance troupe and while on the way to Boston - so satisfying and easy! Often it's very difficult to get your greens and your protein while traveling - problem solved! Taste - check, nutrition - check, simplicity - double check.
assembled by Cristina Paul
Thursday, July 24, 2008
The Good Nights
On the good nights
when the bottle's empty
we always want
just a little more,
half a glass,
a few sips,
a taste.
We know
this desire
can be dangerous
to pursue,
that it can make
mornings difficult,
so usually we
brush our teeth
let the dog in,
lock the doors,
but sometimes,
even as we say
We really should
get ready for bed,
instead of loading
the dishwasher
we will search
for the corkscrew,
all the while
shaking our heads
in wonder
at this willingness
to ignore the clocks
and the fact we have
to work tomorrow,
this irresponsibility,
this evidence
even after all these years
of the unquenchable desire
for each other's company.
by Joseph Mills from Angels, Thieves, and Winemakers: Wine Poems
when the bottle's empty
we always want
just a little more,
half a glass,
a few sips,
a taste.
We know
this desire
can be dangerous
to pursue,
that it can make
mornings difficult,
so usually we
brush our teeth
let the dog in,
lock the doors,
but sometimes,
even as we say
We really should
get ready for bed,
instead of loading
the dishwasher
we will search
for the corkscrew,
all the while
shaking our heads
in wonder
at this willingness
to ignore the clocks
and the fact we have
to work tomorrow,
this irresponsibility,
this evidence
even after all these years
of the unquenchable desire
for each other's company.
by Joseph Mills from Angels, Thieves, and Winemakers: Wine Poems
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