What Does My Hand Say?

I had my palm read over the weekend at a tiny candle-lit table in an unassuming corner of a bar by a soft-spoken, wrinkly-eyed gypsy woman for $25. And it was both eerily life affirming and wildly off the mark ("It looks like you're in a fight with your mom" Uh, no). But that's to be expected. As a friend later put it, after listening to the lengthy description of my foretold fortunes, "Well, they can't all bat a thousand."

At the insistence of Heather (more like pushing and shoving), I slid into the small chair opposite stacks of tarot cards and votive candles to embark on my very first palm reading. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what to expect, beyond what Heather and Nicole (who'd only just vacated the same seat after much excited chatter over the future of her romantic relationships) had told me about this fortune teller at the bar every time they'd been, telling them the same thing each time they sat down. So there I was, right hand nervously outstretched beneath a heavily bedazzled magnifying glass as deep pen lines appeared in the creases of my palm, waiting for the proclamation of a lifetime. High expectations for the neighborhood clairvoyant, no?

Here's what she had to say:

- I am either living in the wrong city or working in the wrong career (ugh?!)
- I'm from the West coast; she guessed California (pretty close--Seattle)
- For work, I excel/enjoy most the creative side of projects and bringing people together (definitely true)
- I will have two boys and a girl for kids (if true, I'll take it!)
- My life line is unusually "all over the place" and not well-defined, indicating high levels of stress (somewhat true, more so at this time in my life)
- I have difficulty saying no to things/people which wears on me physically, and I should learn to be less of a people pleaser (1000% true)
- Sometime between the age of 31 and 32, I'll meet three important romantic relationships one of which will ultimately be the One (when I questioned which of the three was marriage material, she responded "Oh, monogamy wasn't established yet when palm reading was invented so I can't tell." Right, ok.)

For the most part, a knowing smile hovered on my face the entire 20 minutes we talked, though a few of her comments range false: two breakups at age 26 and 27 (nope, in a relationship with Kevin that whole time!) and I have zero desire for kids (this is only somewhat false as I do eventually want a family but have never been a dying-to-have-kids-right-now type). The epic proclamation I was waiting for? Still waiting. But that's ok because I've got polygamy in my future to look forward to!

Have you ever had your palm read? Did any of it actually come true? Is it all just a bunch of mumbo jumbo?!

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Meatloaf Monday

You know all those "Meatless Monday" posts around the internet today? Well, for the meat lovers out there feeling neglected, here's a special treat: meatloaf! Meatloaf?? Yes, the unassuming loaf of meat. Elicitor of many an upturned nose from child and adult alike. Not especially photogenic or abundant in plate appeal, meatloaf can get a bad rap. Here to turn that frown upside down is this recipe (which-surprise!-includes veggies hidden inside) adapted from here. Without further ado… Meatfull Monday!

Ingredients:

1 pound ground beef 

1 zucchini, diced

4 oz. button mushrooms

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 yellow onion, diced

2 tablespoons dried basil

2 tablespoons dried parsley

1 teaspoon garlic powder

Salt and pepper to taste

Note, the original recipe calls for zucchini and mushrooms, but I went with broccoli and carrots instead. Be adventurous with your veggie mix-ins!

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400°. Simmer onion and garlic in a skillet over medium heat. Once the onions begin to become translucent, add vegetables and cover to let steam. Once vegetables are fully softened, add in parsley, basil, garlic powder and salt and pepper. Mix well and remove from stove to cool. Next is my favorite part: combine the cooled vegetable mixture with your raw ground beef in a bowl and squish it all together with your hands. This will feel a lot like massaging a brain (so I imagine). Line a bread pan in parchment paper and place brain--I mean, meat mixture into pan and press in firmly. Bake for about 50-55 minutes.

Before you go assuming this is now a weekly anti-vegetarian series, fear not. I don't love beef that much.

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The Weekend In A New York Minute

Last week flew by in a library induced haze of LinkedIn job boards, and now low & behold here we are back at the start of a new week. A short one though. Which means the weekend provided that elusive extra 24 hours. Did I take advantage of the bonus time? If taking advantage means cooking the entire 10-slice package of bacon on a Sunday morning instead of the usual half, than yes I most certainly did.

Bacon Late Bloomer | Recently, within the last six months or so, bacon has risen up the ranks on my list of morning breakfast staples. Salty. Crispy. Greasy. Yes duh where have you been, Ana?? Growing up the daughter of a nutritionist, that's where. Why it took another 10+ years for these crunchy slices of pork heaven to make their way onto my breakfast plate, I have no idea, but hallelujah count me in as officially converted to the uncured honey maple congregation. (Favorite brand so far: Applegate)

Curl Challenged | Evidently, this blog is quickly becoming a self-help guide on how not to take care of nice things. First the ruined sneakers, now the curling iron. Up until a couple years ago, my stick straight locks would not hold a curl to save their life, then along came this miracle worker, followed by a year of voluminous wavy bliss. The honeymoon period could never last, though. All this time I've been stowing my curling iron with the cord wound tightly around the barrel. Big mistake. Only after it completely shorted out mid-attempt at the above beachy waves, did a quick google search later reveal my glaring oversight. Don't make the same mistake! 

Wine & Cheese Please | At the risk of sounding like a late twentysomething cliche, spending a Friday night with friends chatting late into the wee hours over trays of brie and red wine, might just be the best kind of Friday, don't you think?

Fair-Weather Fan | As an NYC transplant from the Pacific Northwest, I have a lot of hometown pride when it comes to anything Seattle related. With one exception: our historically lackluster sports teams (ahem dearly departed Sonics). However, the Seahawks have dominated this football season, culminating in Sunday's nail-biter of a game sending them victoriously off to the Superbowl. And there I was cheering along like the true bandwagoner that I am. #gohawks, indeed.

Enjoy the short work week, folks!

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The Weekend In A New York Minute

A few recent life lessons and mini discoveries worth sharing from around these parts because, well, armed with the critical knowledge of how to properly launder sneakers, your transition into Monday will inevitably be that much smoother.  

At the Library | Can anyone else remember the last time they saw the inside of a library beyond freshman year of college? Guys, we have been missing out. And so have weekend productivity levels. With my job hunt entering full-blown crisis territory, local coffee shops have been seeing a lot of me & my laptop lately and it's become increasingly clear how very little actually gets done amongst the endless distractions (is the music unnecessarily loud in here or am I just getting old? Are they seriously charging $8.75 for a latte? Did the newsboy-capped barista just wink in my direction?). None of that at the library. Still plenty of cute strangers to wink at, but shhhh inside voices only!

Gym Lace | Not your usual boring ol' workout gear, I'm loving this pale pink top with a hint of lace detailing. Just enough to lend an air of real elegance to back sweat.

Coconut Ice Cream | This unassuming treat isn't actually ice cream (milk being the key missing ingredient), but your tastebuds would hardly know the difference and isn't your freezer lacking in the coconut-based frozen dessert department? Enter So Delicious' line of dairy-free, soy-free, gluten-free goodies. If that's a few too many "-frees" for you not to worry, grab a spoon & some chocolate syrup, dig in and… milk who?

Lessons in Laundry | This photo does not do the damage justice, but if you look closely you'll see wonky upturned toes and curled insoles. Yours truly threw Nikes into the washer machine (on hot water cycle!) followed by an hour in the dryer in an attempt to clean them. Result: size 7.5 now a snug size 6. Note to self--skip the dryer!

TV Sunday | Golden Globes. Downton Abbey. Girls. All in a single three-hour window. If like me, you struggled to decide which to focus on, ultimately switching back and forth between commercial breaks without truly watching any show in its entirety, than yes it was a great night of television.

Wishing you all a great week ahead full of sweet treats and freshly cleaned (un-shrunk) shoes.

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Volunteer Park

While home for the holidays last week, my Mom & I took an impromptu walk (meant to be run) through Seattle's Volunteer Park a few blocks from home. Initially, we marched out the door with grand intentions of working off the 50+ chocolate salted caramels we I consumed in a holiday-induced binge, Lululemon gear on ready for max exertion. Instead, on a whim, we re-routed our course through the nearby park for a more scenic backdrop from grey city streets. Man, am I glad we did. Not only did we time it perfectly just as the sun was setting, bathing the already-beautiful grounds in all sorts of magical light, but we made up for the so-far lackluster workout by climbing to the top of the park's historic water tower. All 106 spiral stairs.

Of course, I've climbed these stairs before. The park's soaring oak trees, yawning stretches of grass, winding walkways, and stone wading pool are all familiar faces to me from a childhood spent in its greenery. But the last time I climbed the water tower was a distant memory from more youthful years, and now the circular stairwell looked especially steep.

Much to our surprise, exhilaration replaced reluctance when 106 stairs later (plus a few stops along the way to snap pics but in reality catch our breath) we crested the final step thigh muscles and dignity intact. Take that youth! We still got it!



And apparently so does the water tower. Her charming brick glory shimmered especially bright in the late afternoon sun.

After much ooh'ing and aah'ing, the descent proved far more enjoyable filled with our excited chattering over the water tower's loveliness as if we'd just discovered an unknown hidden gem in the city (ah vacation brain!). High on park life, we stopped into the Conservatory too, warming ourselves beneath the leafy palm trees and swampy air.

Finally, just as the setting sun dipped below the horizon, our wandering took us by the infamous "doughnut" sculpture with the sun's last rays peeking through the center just perfectly.

 Well done, Volunteer Park. Well done.

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