Here's To You...Multitasker

A woman at the gym this morning was doing cardio, talking on her cell phone, and eating breakfast...at the same time. It made me realize that I have not been taking full advantage of my workouts. I'm thinking about bringing my laundry tomorrow...or maybe playing some Sudoku.

Meat & Potatoes Kind of Gal

Yesterday was my friend KK's birthday. I won't tell you how old she is - I do not want to die. Let's just say I have a few more years until I'll be celebrating that one. There's something about birthday's that just make me a happy camper.

I spent three hours making these chocolate cake balls on a stick. Martha Stewart I am not. I saw the picture, thought, 'that looks delicious' and decided to waste my entire afternoon burning stuff in the kitchen. What a treat. But I would do anything for a birthday celebration. So instead of giving up like I wanted to, I perserved and made the ugliest looking things I ever had the good fortune of creating. God gives us many gifts, and I need to learn that mine is not baking. Taste great, look hideous. How can you go wrong with chocolate, sugar, butter and cream cheese? Those are my four food groups.

To celebrate her big day, I carried on with a tradition started last year, and made a shirt for Tristan. Since KK was raised Jewish and I was raised Catholic, we love to ruffle eachothers "religious" feathers. I felt I needed to explain so the next sentence doesn't make me sound like a Nazi. Tristan walked in wearing a shirt that said "Roses are Red, Jews are Frugal, I Heard Your Mom, Makes a Mean Noodle Kugel". It was the only thing that rhymed, and I figured it was less threatening coming from a 15 month old. The shirt did also say "Happy Birthday". I'm exploiting my child...that can't be good.

Forgive him...he knows not what he does

They were supposed to look like flowers. Didn't quite work.

We went to a restaurant of her choice to celebrate. Last year we celebrated at a hippie organic vegetarian restaurant in Boulder. I had the pleasure of eating Yak butter, Baba Ganoush, and steamed beets. I was hoping for something different this year. Instead, she told me we were going to eat at a sketchy Indian restaurant. I couldn't wait for my mouth and stomach to turn in to lava.

Buddha was staring me in the face when we walked in, pictures of Nepal covered every square inch of wall space, and fourteen different kinds of incense threatened the stability of my stomach. It was delightful.

She used to be a vegetarian until a few months ago, so now she is being gutsy and trying anything and everything. We had all different kinds of meat hidden in colorful sauces. I. Was. Terrified. I asked someone to pass the sweet potatoes, only to get several odd looks. No potatoes here, just spare animal parts in hot orange sauce. My mistake.

The safest thing I ate was Naan. It was actually delicious, given that it was plain bread. I asked for honey to make it taste like a sopapilla, and was given three discouraging looks from the table and one under the breath remark by the waiter. I asked for coffee. He said they didn't serve it. I asked for tea. He said they didn't serve it. I asked what they do serve, and he walked away. It was not my night. I tried to be brave and sampled a few of the dishes. I spent the rest of the night regretting it. My mouth was on fire for four hours courtesy to one fiery little dish. Needless to say, I left hungry, and $60 poorer.

Thank you for the lovely evening India. It won't soon be forgotten - given that my eyes haven't stopped watering and I still can't taste anything. Let's just hope that next year we get to eat somewhere normal, or this girl is going to pack her own dinner.