I think the idea of new years resolutions is lazy. It just gives you an excuse to wait to change something until Jan. 1st instead of right away.
That said, this year I was lazy.
I'm a list maker, and so without further ado here are things I'd like to do in 2011. I know... they're pretty much the standard. I'm realistic.
1. Exercise at least 4 times a week. Like, real, sweaty exercise.
2. Eat better
3. Read at least 30 minutes/night
4. build a bedroom set with my husband
5. GET OUT OF DEBT. At least credit card debt. Our cars and house debt will have to remain.
6. try to be more understanding of others perspectives
7. go out more often/make more friends
8. keep up better with the friends I have out of state
9. stop watching so much tv
10. read every issue of the New Yorker
11. Get better at my job
12. take on more freelance.
Lovely things that happened in 2010:
The birth of Cash Peterson and Edith McDonald. Meeting Morgan Shaw. Falling more in love with my husband (... and my dog). Finally got our house to where it feels like ELIZABETH AND LEE'S HOUSE when you walk in. Puerto Rico. White water rafting. Bonnaroo. Detroit. Orlando. My sister spending a week in Nashville. The lakehouse. Our scrabble family meetings. Football Saturdays. The holidays in Birmingham. New couches. And much more.
Cheers to 2011. I'm looking forward to it.
31 December 2010
03 October 2010
22 August 2010
August 22, 2010
It was finally cool enough (high of 93!) to take a long walk today. One nice thing about Nashville is the vast greenway system. Really, it's one of my favorite things about the city. People are always on them, but they're never overcrowded.
The dam was flowing today, so I walked Bela over to the lake to take a drink.
In other news, if anyone has any good Indian recipes, I'd love them. I have finally (!) gotten Lee to like Indian food, though he doesn't venture out to the restaurants yet (he's allergic to peanuts and many ethnic foods use peanuts in their sauces...). We're partial to curry, but have also made a successful butter chicken recipe.
Currently obsessed with Alias.
The dam was flowing today, so I walked Bela over to the lake to take a drink.
In other news, if anyone has any good Indian recipes, I'd love them. I have finally (!) gotten Lee to like Indian food, though he doesn't venture out to the restaurants yet (he's allergic to peanuts and many ethnic foods use peanuts in their sauces...). We're partial to curry, but have also made a successful butter chicken recipe.
Currently obsessed with Alias.
14 August 2010
patio heat
I've never been a fan of summer. I think it's a dud of a season, unless you're living on the water. This summer has been unbearable. The heat.... it just won't stop. We're going on two solid months of mid 90s and above.
I took this photo through our window, so it's a little difficult to see. But that thermometer reads 122 degrees.
I took this photo through our window, so it's a little difficult to see. But that thermometer reads 122 degrees.
12 August 2010
the center of the watermelon
When my sister and I were children, watermelon was a summer staple in our house. My mom would always ask us to help cut it up, which was a pain because you had to lay out newspapers and it made a lot of waste. We'd sit on the counter next to the watermelon, "helping" my mom as she sliced half of it up for dinner. Then we'd fight over the center.
The center of the watermelon is the juiciest and best part of the watermelon. When we were growing up, seedless watermelon wasn't as common, and the middle was the only part sans seeds. It was delicious. And worth fighting for.
Now that I'm grown up, I'm free to eat the center whenever I want. And I do. But I'm still worried my mom will catch the remnants of my indulgence and yell, "WHO ATE THE MIDDLE OF THE WATERMELON?!"
The center of the watermelon is the juiciest and best part of the watermelon. When we were growing up, seedless watermelon wasn't as common, and the middle was the only part sans seeds. It was delicious. And worth fighting for.
Now that I'm grown up, I'm free to eat the center whenever I want. And I do. But I'm still worried my mom will catch the remnants of my indulgence and yell, "WHO ATE THE MIDDLE OF THE WATERMELON?!"
16 July 2010
Summer 2010
It's been really hot.
Also:
Turned 28.
Sarah Winchell visited me.
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I decorated this 4th of July cake Sandy made. America!
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Also:
Turned 28.
Sarah Winchell visited me.
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I decorated this 4th of July cake Sandy made. America!
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17 June 2010
16 June 2010
10 June 2010
Enchanted Island
I went to Puerto Rico with some friends. There were iguanas, rainforests, boats, sea urchins, fish spearing, beautiful mountains, and some of the nicest people I've ever met. Recommended.
06 June 2010
15 May 2010
06 May 2010
Nashville Flood
While I was at the lake....
It was raining in Nashville.
My city went under water, but it's slowly emerging. And I love it even more.
Intro to this week's paper. Written by Jim Ridley.
This is not the city we lived in five days ago.
We woke last Saturday morning — May 1, 2010, the ominously designated May Day — to a sky the color of a livid bruise and rain that steadily increased from strong to torrential. It didn't let up. By late afternoon, a children's birthday party at the Hillwood Strike & Spare near Bellevue let out to a sky split by lightning and rivulets swelling into whitewater.
In Antioch, motorists on I-24 realized too late that an impossibility had overtaken them — symbolized by the sight of an uprooted portable building lumbering into view like a ghost ship. In Germantown, in Bordeaux, in Antioch, where the roiling Mill Creek brought traffic to a standstill, the waters churned. In Franklin, homeowners along the Harpeth watched the river rise with terrifying speed. "It was like something alive," one said.
By Sunday afternoon, two realizations set in, equally chilling. The disaster befalling Tennessee was worse than anyone could possibly have imagined — and yet we had no idea how bad it would get.
Those of us with power watched as the unthinkable happened again and again on live TV. Or we followed updates chasing the lightning on a buzzing web of electronic media — a support network emerging from isolated pinpricks. Those without watched helplessly as their homes and belongings washed away, their cars, their keepsakes, their family photos. Entire communities were devastated. Nashville, for all practical purposes, became an island.
In the weeks — months, years — to come, we will have time to consider the magnitude of the disaster. The destruction done to the Opryland Hotel and Opry Mills, let alone the tourist district on Lower Broadway and Second Avenue, will ripple throughout the city's economy. And yet it will pale beside the devastation of communities from Kingston Springs and Ashland City to Antioch and Inglewood. The vast majority of Middle Tennessee homeowners never had reason even to consider flood insurance.
At the moment, though, as the city takes a deep breath before coming up for air, we look back at the images that held us riveted with disbelief over the weekend. Some came from our own photographers, aware they were trying to catch history on the fly. Many, however, came from the kaleidoscope of images that appeared online with dizzying speed — the clearest, and in some senses truest, picture of the event. We have also provided some eyewitness accounts of the flood, along with a list of vital services we'll need in the long dry spell ahead.
Many years from now, we'll look at these pictures and scarcely believe our eyes, while our grandchildren will look on with astonishment. Until then, we'll continue to dry off, lift our neighbors to higher ground, and show the world the resolve of our unsinkable city.
It was raining in Nashville.
My city went under water, but it's slowly emerging. And I love it even more.
Intro to this week's paper. Written by Jim Ridley.
This is not the city we lived in five days ago.
We woke last Saturday morning — May 1, 2010, the ominously designated May Day — to a sky the color of a livid bruise and rain that steadily increased from strong to torrential. It didn't let up. By late afternoon, a children's birthday party at the Hillwood Strike & Spare near Bellevue let out to a sky split by lightning and rivulets swelling into whitewater.
In Antioch, motorists on I-24 realized too late that an impossibility had overtaken them — symbolized by the sight of an uprooted portable building lumbering into view like a ghost ship. In Germantown, in Bordeaux, in Antioch, where the roiling Mill Creek brought traffic to a standstill, the waters churned. In Franklin, homeowners along the Harpeth watched the river rise with terrifying speed. "It was like something alive," one said.
By Sunday afternoon, two realizations set in, equally chilling. The disaster befalling Tennessee was worse than anyone could possibly have imagined — and yet we had no idea how bad it would get.
Those of us with power watched as the unthinkable happened again and again on live TV. Or we followed updates chasing the lightning on a buzzing web of electronic media — a support network emerging from isolated pinpricks. Those without watched helplessly as their homes and belongings washed away, their cars, their keepsakes, their family photos. Entire communities were devastated. Nashville, for all practical purposes, became an island.
In the weeks — months, years — to come, we will have time to consider the magnitude of the disaster. The destruction done to the Opryland Hotel and Opry Mills, let alone the tourist district on Lower Broadway and Second Avenue, will ripple throughout the city's economy. And yet it will pale beside the devastation of communities from Kingston Springs and Ashland City to Antioch and Inglewood. The vast majority of Middle Tennessee homeowners never had reason even to consider flood insurance.
At the moment, though, as the city takes a deep breath before coming up for air, we look back at the images that held us riveted with disbelief over the weekend. Some came from our own photographers, aware they were trying to catch history on the fly. Many, however, came from the kaleidoscope of images that appeared online with dizzying speed — the clearest, and in some senses truest, picture of the event. We have also provided some eyewitness accounts of the flood, along with a list of vital services we'll need in the long dry spell ahead.
Many years from now, we'll look at these pictures and scarcely believe our eyes, while our grandchildren will look on with astonishment. Until then, we'll continue to dry off, lift our neighbors to higher ground, and show the world the resolve of our unsinkable city.
17 April 2010
08 April 2010
Three ingredients...
and 24 hours later, we have bread.
So good. Here it is after Mary and I enjoyed a piece (or two).
So good. Here it is after Mary and I enjoyed a piece (or two).
01 April 2010
29 March 2010
27 March 2010
I'm back.
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