Good habit: Head to the bar

Nearly every Tuesday and Thursday after work, I head home real quick, say hello to the gang, change my clothes and head to the bar. I usually find myself there first thing on Saturday morning, too. Now that I've possibly made your eyebrows rise in judgement/horror, the bar I'm referring to is not my local watering hole. This is the kind that's bolted to a wall, one that aids in balance and stretching and is at the center of a complete workout at Bar Method. Har har.

Last spring, finding myself lacking the personal motivation and time to exercise outside of my daily walking routine, I thought maybe what I needed was a Pilates class...or something. I loved taking classes at the Y when it worked for my schedule - there's something about the camaraderie, accountability, shared misery, encouragement and the variety that helps me actually want to go. So last April, after noticing a few different studios pop up around town, I signed up for a barre class. I had googled it a bit and decided it was my kind of workout: a lot of micro-movements that build long, lean muscle and maybe just a light layer of sweat. Barre studios are similar to ballet studios in that they're usually lined with mirrors that have bars affixed to them. There's a lot of work at the bar itself, but also a bit of floor/mat work that is akin to Pilates. Many classes use light weights and small exercise balls, too.

When I got to my first class, I instantly went into comparison mode. For me, the comparing is not so much about my fitness level as it is about what I'm wearing. Fortunately this studio's website had a "what to wear" section, and also a heads-up that it was a barefoot studio, so you don't have to worry about what's on your feet. Still, when I got there, I felt a bit out of place. I was greeted by a super-perky 20-something who instantly made me feel old. The other women there were, for the most part, younger than me. They wore long spandex tights with no panty-lines, their hair was expertly wrapped into messy buns, and they were stretching at the bar like they've done it their whole young lives. Among these Lululemon all-stars, I felt pretty frumpy in my outfit that I probably spent no more than $30 on seven or so years ago. At least my hair looked awesome (I told myself), albeit too short for a messy bun.

Around the room were framed inspirational posters with shabby-chic lettering with sentiments like, "Embrace the shake." I learned during my googling that "the shake" happens when  you work your muscles so deeply that they start to give out. The way you "embrace" this is that you keep pressing through them, despite the fact that your legs and then your entire body are a little bit out of control. Like convulsing.

Ready to begin?

The music started and the instructor came out and got us right into it, and though it was a bit fast-paced, there wasn't a lot of coordination needed. (Good news for me.) As we worked through the first few muscle groups, the one I dreaded most was yet to come: thigh. This was where the shake tends to happen violently. Since most of these exercises are repetitive, isometric movements, it's easy to begin confidently because it seems easy. One of the thigh exercises involves standing with your feet hip-width apart, on your tip-toes as high as they can go, with your tailbone tucked in. From there, you hold onto the bar with one hand, your other hand on your waist, and bend your knees to about a third of the way down from standing, and from there you bend your knees down an inch, then up an inch, and repeat. Simple. You got this. But after a 30 seconds or so you start to lose your mind with the shaking and burning that is happening as you're staring yourself down in the mirror, clinging to the bar for dear life. They tell you if you're shaking a lot, don't even worry about moving up and down. This is the time to - you guessed it - embrace the shake. It's almost laughable. After an hour, I left feeling well-worked, refreshed, and shaky for several hours. My muscles had never been worked quite in that way.

And...surprise. I loved it and felt empowered. I just wasn't totally sold on that studio. I looked up a different place a little further from my house called Bar Method. It's a franchise and there are hundreds of them across the country. Where the first studio had more of a cool downtown loft aesthetic, the Bar Method was more like a spa, thoughtfully built for flow. You walk into a reception area, where there is a sign-in, then a waiting area with an assortment of magazines and a bouquet of flowers, a mini fridge with bottled smoothies and water, a Keurig machine, etc. You keep walking through to a curtained-off area to find the changing room and lockers - all very clean, all very white. Truly, you walk in here and you feel like you've escaped from the grind. They also offer stuff like daycare and even have a monthly bookclub and some incentive programs, like earning "Bar Star" status (which earns you your own locker and monogrammed towel), and lavender socks after taking a certain number of classes. This place is a socks-ON studio, which was great news for my foot joints, because that means it's also carpeted (which I thought would be gross, but isn't).

Here were the young 20-somethings (but they tend to wear their hair in high pony tails and also have giant diamond rings), and even some teens, but also ladies more my age - professionals and working moms - as well as women who are nearing retirement if not already there. But what I ended up appreciating most was the level of attention by each of the instructors. Each one learns every person's name. Throughout the class, they may correct your form or they may cheer you on - out loud, on their mic, in front of everyone. I am usually the kind of person for whom this would be mortifying, but strangely, it's a nice reminder that I'm seen and cared for and working hard. I also like how we "thank our bodies for working hard for us" at the end of class. The whole thing is a surprisingly mindful experience. And then we clap and cheer for ourselves. It all sounds a little silly but gosh darn it, I'm into it.

Bar Method folks are sure to tell you you're building long, lean muscle. It's true. The muscles are there and some are kinda visible! I aim to go 3 times a week, thus fulfilling one of my original Day Zero goals. I rarely make excuses to not go because I know how good I always feel at the end - better than I'd feel if I didn't. I even went on the Saturday morning of my birthday, just so I could wear the birthday tutu. Who knows how long I'll stick with this particular mode of exercising, perhaps long enough to earn those coveted lavender socks. Either way, whatever I do, I'm just gonna thank this body for working hard for me.

Birthday tutu

Thoughts before beginning my Whole30 experiment

My two main feelings right now: excitement (what could happen?!) and confusion (how did I become this person?). I have never really had any food aversions, allergies or chronic indigestion; I'm someone who believes that no food is forbidden as long as you eat real food and know your limits with the less-real food. I've grown weary of the number of conversations I've had in recent years about peoples' very specific diets. And yet, here I am, blogging about launching a Whole30 thing on April 24. (Here's a link in case you've never heard about this program.)

Why am I doing it? I'm not really sure yet. I have a decent level of energy. I get between 7-8 hours of sleep. I eat pretty well. I exercise regularly. And while I wouldn't be sad if I lost five pounds, my doctor told me I am at an ideal weight.

I suppose one reason is because I love a good lifestyle experiment. A 30-day challenge is enjoyable to me because it is a relatively quick way to make a lasting and usually positive change in my life, even if it's just a change of perspective, or a feeling of accomplishment for sticking it out. Another reason could be that food is a bit of an obsession for me. It's a subject I think about a lot and truly love learning about. I also believe that food is medicine and all that jazz, and that if I can understand how food works in my body, then I can feel that much more empowered by my choices - even if I ultimately decide that life is not worth living if I deny myself butter, cheese and wine (a decision I am fully prepared to make). As I am about to hit year 34, I feel that gentle urge toward some good old-fashioned self-discovery. I want to know what eliminating foods for 30 days could possibly do to/for me. Will my skin allergies go away? Will I sleep more deeply, and go to sleep more quickly? Will I have more energy, and what will that feel like? Will my mood be less swingy? Will I realize that drinking wine is more a habit than enjoyment? If I get a yes or two, then I think it will have been worth it. If I don't, then I can stop wondering and look for other ways to address what ails me.

I also acknowledge that choosing this kind of tough-love program is much easier than having it be prescribed to you as a result of a serious medical condition. Kind of like the time I took the bus to work for a month (my first major lifestyle experiment - 10 years ago!) but had the peace of mind that I still had a car in case of emergencies. But just as that experiment opened my eyes to a low-income population I could otherwise easily ignore, I hope my experience of doing my own Whole30 will make me more sympathetic to people with serious food allergies, sensitivities and other health concerns, and even more considerate when bringing treats to the office or a dish to a potluck.

Follow along if you dare, and know I will understand if you are totally bored by this topic. I'm not sure how often I'll blog about it, but I'm definitely open to comments and suggestions if you've done it yourself, or questions if you're thinking about jumping in.

In the meantime, I'll be over here drinking my final glasses of wine, eating slices of cheese and buttered toast for the next 36 or so hours.

Book report (if you're looking for something to read)

One of my goals is to read 15 books in a year, which, as you can figure, means more than one book a month. I just did a quick check of how many I've read since last September. Fourteen. Argh. I'm reading one now (The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer). So close I might just call it good.

In the meantime, here are the 14 books and what I thought of them, starting with the ones I read first:

1. An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler: A year after reading this book, I'm still using it. This book built my confidence as a home cook. I trust myself to create meals with what I've got on hand rather than following recipes to a T. I recommend this highly to anyone who wants to be culinarily adventurous but appreciates being practical and economical.
2. People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks: I started this book about five times before I finally forced myself to get past the first chapter. I enjoy stories that weave plots together from various centuries and families and such, but I found my mind wandering a lot with this one. I wish I could speak more articulately about it, but I've forgotten most of it by now.
3. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett: I finished this book while waiting in the Oakland airport. As I closed it, a woman sitting next to me said, "Isn't that just the most wonderful book?" It really was. It's the kind of book that compels strangers to talk to each other at airports, clearly. It was an unbelievable plot and an intriguing character study, and frankly I'm impressed with any author who can blend opera with hostage crises. I'm glad I finally got around to reading it.
4. The Dog Stars by Peter Heller: This is soooo not the kind of book I would normally choose to read. Post-apocalypse, a dude and his dog (which I know is eventually going to die), survivalism. In the end, though, the narrative style that I struggled with in the beginning felt like poetry. Sad and beautiful.

5. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson: I want everyone to read this book, if only to have more people with whom to talk about it. Every chapter was filled with incredible facts about such an incredible time in our history, from the building of the Ferris wheel and the financial ruin surrounding the Chicago World's Fair, to the story of the deranged man who lived down the street who lured women into his fiery chamber. I couldn't believe it was nonfiction.
6. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn: This is the kind of book you don't recommend to your mom, but she's most likely read it. It's terrifying how quickly I breezed through this evil revenge thriller.
7. 52 Loaves: One Man's Relentless Pursuit of Truth, Meaning, and a Perfect Crust by William Alexander: I resisted this one for awhile because I doubted how interesting a book about bread baking could possibly be. When people see you reading this kind of book, they instantly judge you. So go ahead and call me a nerd when I tell you it was fascinating. I'll never go to the lengths this guy did to make great bread from scratch, but I definitely appreciate all the ingredients that go into mine that much more. I also learned how to make my own wild yeast using an apple on my kitchen counter.
8. A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenburg: This was a selection for my book club. I have loved Molly's blog for so many years that I felt like I was reading a book a friend had written. Unfortunately, I was the only one in the club who actually enjoyed it. I think she is a tender, nostalgic writer, wise beyond her years, and her recipes are simple and honest and yummy.
9. In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson: Still reeling from The Devil, I had high hopes for this one. Berlin, 1930s, Hitler stuff? Tell me more. But the Hitler story was nothing like H.H. Holmes, and the blossoming Nazi Germany was filled with so much sadness and repression while the World's Fair carried so much optimism of the American Dream. And, frankly, the reading was a bit like sludge for me. Too many people to keep track of, and certainly none I felt I could latch onto.

10. Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter: Does it get any sweeter than a naive Italian who falls in love with an American movie star? The theme of beautiful ruins is an absolutely perfect one. This is good for the soul.
11. Zeitoun by Dave Eggers: Hurricane Katrina seems so long ago for a northwesterner. I know it's still playing out in the South and will for a long time. What's worse is that 9/11 is still rearing its ugly head in all of these kinds of situations and divides us in catastrophic ways. This was an important read.
12. Bringing Up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman: The moral of the story: raise your kid in France. I can't imagine how people will emulate French parenting unless they shelter their kids from the American way of life. Still, it gave me lots of things to think about in terms of catering to our children.
13. The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi Durrow: In this day and age, it's risky to continue titling books beginning with "The Girl Who..." Either way, this was one of those books I categorize as a "bus read." Good plot, quick reading, and ultimately, forgettable.
14. Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver: I'm still trying to decide how I feel about this book. Kingsolver is one of the most eloquent modern authors I've read, and experiencing nature through her words is beautiful. The characters were messy and I loved them. The main gripe I have is that the book is one big sermon on climate change which did make it feel a little preachy (though she's preaching to the choir in this case). But the butterfly provided a nice metaphor, I s'pose.

Any recommendations? Please let me know!

Happy reading.

Eight tips for traveling abroad that make all the difference

Gelato near the Pantheon, Rome

This post is overdue. It feels long ago now, but in early June I found myself back in some of my favorite places in Europe and exploring others that were only a glimmer in my eye months earlier. In the process I crossed two Day Zero goals off my list: return to Paris, and eat gelato on the Spanish Steps in Rome (which was not totally how it played out, but close...see the above photo). I'm not sure how else to recap it at this point, but over the course of the trip I made mental notes of things I've learned along the way that might be fun to share. And thus, I present to you,

Stuff I've learned while traveling to Europe

Taking in the Jardin des Tuileries, Paris

Sentiment on the wall of our Roman apartment

1. Return to places you love. Though we only have one life and a limited number of days and many places to go, when you find a place that speaks to you, go back if you can. It was just over a decade ago when I first visited Rome. I'll never forget the night our shuttle bus drove from the airport into the heart of the city. All at once we rounded a corner and there sat the Colosseum, lit up in all its ancient glory. My heart fluttered. It fluttered again this second time when we walked from our apartment on our first evening to the same spot, in the same dark setting. While I had forgotten much of that first trip, certain things triggered my memory as we walked through piazzas and around crumbling structures. It's funny how these things cause you to think about all that's changed in your life between then and now, and how, amazingly, these other things around you seem not to have changed at all. Call me sappy, but it really was nice to go back with perspective and maturity, and also to go with someone I've been so excited to share it with.  And also, when you return to places, you don't worry so much about seeing all the big sights. With trip number two, you notice a lot more.

With Paris, I'm noticing it becomes more romantic with each visit.

Pont des Arts, Paris

2. Let food be your guide. I didn't exactly eat gelato on the Spanish Steps (the original Day Zero goal), but we stood at the top of them as the sun set and got hassled by annoying vendors who wanted to sell us roses. After we descended and headed toward the Trevi Fountain, we struck gelato gold. I learned that not only can you judge a good gelateria by the color of its pistachio gelato (should be a muted green, not bright), but also in how they display the gelati - or in this case, don't. This place had everything under silver lids, so you went into it blindly. What we got, though, was mind blowing. We went twice in 24 hours and enjoyed fruity scoops of grapefruit, pear and grape, and creamy varieties flavored with whiskey, ginger and cinnamon, and licorice like we'd never tasted before. I am forever ruined.

View from the Spanish Steps, Rome

3. Get into "bed mode" right before you get on your long flight, if time allows. This was the easiest flight over because I changed into my yoga pants, took out my contacts, washed my face and had my noise-cancelling headphones, warm socks, neck pillow and sleeping pills at the ready. Also, drink water every time it's offered. A little Campari before dinner helps. And believe people when they tell you not to take a nap when you've reached your destination. Stay stimulated and seek sunlight. Hold out for an early bedtime. 

Walking outside the porticos, Bologna

4. Talk to locals. Rick Steves does it and you can, too. This has been one of the best parts of traveling with Joel. He's good at this. On our first trip to Paris, he contacted a couple through Couchsurfing who was willing to meet us for drinks. We wanted to practice our French, but also wanted to get a less touristy experience with people our age who live in Paris. We really enjoyed them and stayed in touch, so this time they offered us accomodations. By the time we left, we had solid Parisian friends. Besides that, we used Airbnb to find our other lodging and our hosts were really helpful and kind. One of them (in Bologna) gave us a bottle of wine to welcome us. Another (in Rome) gave us great restaurant recommendations (the best food on our trip). The others (in Lyon) provided nice, simple breakfasts and lots of maps. Maybe we've just been lucky, but I've been reminded time and again that there are friendly and caring people everywhere.

Our apartment in Bologna

5. If you're traveling with a partner, know what each of you considers to be a vacation. Joel and I learned this last time - he likes to relax and do as the locals do, while I like to explore until I'm exhausted. He functions well with spontaneity, and I prefer a basic itinerary. We still struggle to find that happy medium, but we're getting better; he's starting to be okay with the touristy stuff, while I am working hard to not let a 10 a.m. start frustrate me. We've also ventured into doing certain things on our own. It's important for any relationship to understand these nuances, and a trip will bring them out real fast, for better or worse. If you want to have a good time, anticipate where you may need a little patience.

The view after dinner, Lyon

6. You are a tourist, and it's okay to make mistakes, but you don't have to be an idiot. Don't speak louder than normal when you're speaking English to those who only know a little. Knowing a little bit about the people around you will help you appreciate or anticipate the things that otherwise may feel strange. That "do as the Romans do" saying only works if you have eyes to observe. I've learned so much about how to dine at a café or restaurant just by looking around at the local patrons - how to eat pizza when it doesn't come pre-sliced, where to place a half-eaten slice of baguette, how to handle a sticky cornetto pastry. Your trip is less stressful when you admit you're not from there but you're eager to learn.

Thing learned from watching Italians: it's okay for each person to order a pizza (even if it means leaving some behind). Bologna

7. Learn the basics of exposure when taking pictures. I'm no pro, but I saw a lot of bad photos being taken that I knew would not turn out because the photographer wasn't thinking about back light. Understandably, people want to take photos of themselves against beautiful backdrops, which are lit up nicely, but the subjects in front are often in the shadows. Sad, delete. Take a second to notice this stuff. Also keep an eye out for all the tourists behind you who are also taking photos, otherwise you'll be photobombing each other like crazy.

Getting artsy with backlight from the lookout at Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière, Lyon

The Pantheon at night (the first time we had the amazing gelato), Rome

8. Trains won't always get you where you want to go. (Though I always think they will.) Do the research before you get there, otherwise be prepared to spend more money and more time figuring out complicated travel connections. We learned this days before we planned to travel from Bologna to Lyon and ended up backtracking via train and taking an EasyJet from Rome. In other cases, trains (i.e., metros) may be on strike at any point during your stay. Being a good sport and a swift-paced walker will get you far. Wear good shoes.

From the Two Towers in Bologna

As with any trip like this, I'm grateful to have had these opportunities that make realize that I'm one of millions of people who have walked these roads, climbed these towers, sat in these café chairs, and my experience is just one in a brief moment in time. There's so much to soak up.

Summer Journal: Week 9

A tribute to some of the nice things you can find in Spokane.

Had a meeting at Indaba and picked up this fancy bag of beans from Manners Roasting while there. I've been French-pressing it all week. Yum.

On Thursday, I headed over to the South Perry Market with my friend, Monique, before we got delicious cocktails at Casper Fry (I recommend the Bijou). I bought some lavender castile soap from the sweet people at Rocky River Soap Company.

 And, of course, the famous Elasticat of Spokane. My Margot. She does this a lot.

 I love the flowers that bloom in the late summer.

And it wouldn't be a late summer day in Spokane without a little smoke in your eyes. This view is just a couple blocks from the house. The green patch is Polly Judd Park, the best place for an after-dinner Frisbee rally.

Too hot for hoops?

 Back to those late-summer flowers...dahlias are perhaps my favorite. These beauties are from the Saturday market.

This was one of those moments when I could almost picture what my neighborhood must have looked like a handful of decades ago.

The Maple Street Bistro is no longer my little secret. This place is rightly crowded every time I go. It's one of those places that gets a lot of things right when it comes to baked goods. They're often old-fashioned, not overwhelmingly sweet, and there's almost always something small you can treat yourself to. And then there's the Rice Krispies Treat Cookie, which is very sweet, very crispy, and dangerously sized. Eating it is for your own good, as is saving half of it for someone special.

Someone's garden is covered in succulents on my way home from the bus. These plants are a real wonder to me.

 Another scene from the Maple Street Bistro; a working lunch getaway on a Friday afternoon. BLT and tomato gorgonzola soup.

I can't tell you how many vehicles I've seen in the past two weeks with this sentiment emblazoned on the back window.

Summer Journal: Week 8

I got lazy until about Saturday in the picture-taking category. Not pictured is the delectable huckleberry cornmeal butter cake I made and quickly divvied out to coworkers to keep us from eating the whole thing ourselves. It's an adaptation of a Smitten Kitchen cookbook recipe, which uses blueberries. I'll definitely do this one again and eat more of it. You can Google it and find any number of on-top-of-it bloggers who documented theirs and included the SK recipe. 

Also not pictured: hot, sweaty days, a dry drive to Boise with a boyfriend sleeping in the backseat, a beautiful morning at the Capital City Market in Boise, jumping in the pool, lounging by the pool, smoked meats...oh, how I have failed in the name of Living in the Moment.

This is what I got.

 My mom's bud vases on the window sill. I've always loved that blue hobnail.

 My niece's cat, Susie.

 Doot, doo, doo, lookin' at my backdoor...and the clematis, spent of its petals.

I'm not sure how we manage it, but somehow we always end up being in Boise the same weekend the Tour de Fat is parading through, beckoning closeted costumes to expose themselves on cycling Boise citizens. In the name of beer. (The band up there is Devotchka. Awesome.)

...and I look down, grin, and think, "Ah yes, that's my hometown." I love the variety of people who live here and who take such delight in what it offers. Even (especially) this.

Who knows if he really wears this stuff when I'm not around, but Dad always makes sure to put on that Brothers Four reunion tour T-shirt I made him a few years back every time I'm in town. I love it.

We always stop at the Alpine Pantry in McCall, Idaho, for a drive-snack on the way back. It's right across from this beautiful piece of beach.

Summer Journal: Week 7

 Done and done.

Way to be professional. I haven't let nail polish get this bad since, oh, kindergarten?

Glorious leaves of green and skies of blue.

At Jones Radiator. The neatest little venue we took way too long to check out.

Saying goodbye to my longtime college friend, Crystal, who lives in Louisiana these days. We got to have her back in Spokane for the week.

These are my go-to, lightening-fast, semi-healthy, oatmeal raisin breakfast muffins. This is the recipe I use.

How you know you're in Post Falls, Idaho. (from the White House Grill)

Have you Inland Northwesterners started down the ale trail? We have a bunch of great breweries around this area and as of this weekend they've all been compiled into this lovely map and even incentivized: visit 10 of the breweries and you get a mini-growler. Selkirk Abbey (pictured) was probably our favorite of the day (though we only went to a couple other places). Our Belgian-beer-loving hearts were warmed with each sample.

 Beautifully simple and obvious signage for an auto body shop.

Pixelated but oh, well (phones...). From another place on the Ale Trail: Slate Creek Brewery.

Summer Journal: Week 6

A quick carwash before hitting the road again.

A show at Nuemos, Seattle, and another one of those discussions 30-somethings have about how much longer they'll be doing this kind of thing.

Views from the top of the Smith Tower in downtown Seattle. Check out the Space Needle at the very end of the road.

A misty view of the sound.

Touring DigiPen and learning about all the talented artists and tech nerds that our friend Mark advises.

My morning capp at Cafe Presse.

It's a good day for a foodie when you base your afternoon around getting to Salumi to purchase pig jowls (a.k.a. guanciale, a staple in some of the most delicious pasta dishes you'll ever eat, though impossible to find in Spokane).

Paddleboarders near Juanita Beach.

Lily pads galore.

A nice little secluded piece of Juanita Beach.

Lyle Lovett on a summer evening at Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery. 

You've got to use up your peaches somehow. A very simple recipe - I'll include it in a future post!

Lunch hour literary bug.

Monday night was silly.