Put Your Shiny Suit On, It’s Monday!

First off, thank you all for your lovely comments. They definitely lightened the mood of this weekend, which was generally, um, not light.

Second, one (of the only, the other being decreased hair removal management) good thing about being newly single is the opportunity you have to reinvent yourself, to become the (bright! shiny!) New Single You.

Of course, becoming the (bright! shiny!) New Single You isn’t terribly easy when you’re miserable, but as one of Laurie‘s favorite sports metaphors goes, sometimes you’ve got to suit up, show up, and act as if.

The thing I’m struggling with is that historically, becoming the New Single Me has always involved going on a nutty diet, getting myself out there every weekend, adopting a new hobby, and dating someone incredibly inappropriate for a while until I end up with someone more long-term.

But you know? I’m too damn old for for that crap.

I’ve no idea who the (bright! shiny!) New Single Me is going to be.

Should I get a moped? (NO.) A tattoo? (NO.) Become an artisanal cheesemaker? (Saving that for retirement.) Move? (Maybe.)

No clue what I’m doing, but for now, I’m suited up.

I borrowed some library books for the bright! shiny! New Me Who Rides Public Transportation.

I made some FREAKING AWESOME (thank you, Martha’s Great Food Fast) acorn squash with rosemary and shallots for the bright! shiny! New Me Who Cooks for Myself, Not Just for Others.

And I made some scones, for the bright! shiny! New Me Who Doesn’t Pay Starbucks $1.80 a Day for Breakfast.

That’s enough, right (please say yes, all this shininess has me exhausted)? That qualifies as acting as if, yes?

I don’t know who exactly I’m asking — you the reader, myself, the gods, who knows. But whomever it is, I bet the answer is more likely to be yes if I gave you that squash recipe, no?

Roasted Acorn Squash, Shallots and Rosemary

2 acorn squash (2 pounds each), halved
8 shallots, peeled, roots ends left intact (separate into lobes, if large)
6 small sprigs rosemary
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
Coarse salt and fresh ground pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Carefully cut each squash half into four wedges.

2. Combine the squash on a rimmed baking sheet with the shallots, rosemary, olive oil and vinegar. Season with 2 teaspoons salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper; toss well to coat and spread in a single layer.

3. Roast, turning the squash halfway through, until browned and tender, 35 to 40 minutes.

SERVES 4. (Or just one, Shiny New You.)

There’s a Reason It’s Called EnGRAVing

“I think we need to talk.”

These are never words you want to hear if you are in a relationship. And if you are me, sitting on The Boy’s couch in San Francisco the morning after you’ve gone to his work party as his girlfriend, these are not words you expected to hear. Ever.

My expectations, however, are now irrelevant.

The point is that after you hear something like that the next thing you know your sister is shoving all of your crap from his bathroom into a plastic bag and you’re zipping up your carry-on, hoping you’ve got everything because he’s standing there and looking around the room requires that you look at him when you’re just (not consciously, you only realize this later) not ready to look at him yet.

And then you’re there in San Francisco for two more days, attending securities law training, doing your best to pay attention to the intricacies of rule 10(b)-5 violations and here is the great, super impressive life lesson you/me learn from all this.

Never, ever, get anything engraved for someone. Or, more specifically, a boyfriend.

The first time I got something engraved for a boyfriend was a few years ago. I think I’ve already told this story, but I don’t care. I had been dating this guy for about six months, and when Valentine’s Day rolled around, I thought, hey, he’s mentioned he’s always wanted a flask. I’ll get one engraved for him. Dumbass (me). Lo and behold, I did not receive a V-Day present or even a V-Day date, so there I was stuck with this stupid, unreturnable flask and the knowledge that this relationship was headed to the grave.

The second time was just September 27, 2007, when I was blithely, at The Boy’s request, getting a glass-bottom tankard engraved with his initials for his birthday. So here I am, stuck with this stupid, unreturnable tankard, and the knowledge that this relationship is in the grave.

So my advice for the still-single among you: never, ever, EVER, get anything engraved.

And yes, I know, relationships don’t die because you were optimistic enough to get something engraved, to look toward something lasting. But for right now, I prefer to locate the reason there. It’s easier than trying to figure out how I could be so blindsided, broadsided, how I could be so deaf to our relationship’s death rattle.

p.s. In hindsight, the pun in the title doesn’t quite vanquish the taint of bitterness from this post, eh? Oops!

It’s Like I Just Suddenly Switched to Vodka

This weekend was one where I had big plans, big dreams for what I would do, including getting a haircut, a mani-pedi, cleaning off my patio, going to the Rose Bowl flea market and practicing my birthday dinner for The Boy.

Of course, I managed only to accomplish one of the aforementioned tasks, the haircut, and that’s only because I had an appointment and couldn’t exactly not show.

I don’t know what my problem is, but all I wanted to do was nap. Maybe it’s the change in seasons, maybe it’s adjusting to a new work schedule and more alone time than I know what to do with, who knows.

Luckily, though, my sister, aware of my state of misanthropy, emailed me Sunday night to tell me she was watching “Elf,” suggesting I should do the same.

Oh. My. Goodness. Not now, arctic puffin!

After that film, I was in an amazing mood, finding the recipes for my practice dinner, knitting a Christmas present scarf. I am truly embarrassed at how much better watching Will Ferrell prance around in tights for 93 minutes made me feel.

But you know, who cares? So I am on a one Christmas-related film a night plan for the next week or so until I get myself over the hump. Luckily for me, there are a ton of not-actually-Christmas movies that are Christmas-y for me, e.g., When Harry Met Sally, Serendipity, and the movie for tonight:

Desk Set.

Oddly enough, it’s written by Phoebe and Harry Ephron, I believe the parents of Nora, who wrote When Harry Met Sally. Anyway, it’s a hilarious old romantic comedy in which (gasp!) a computer (gasp!) is installed in the reference department of one of the big three TV networks. It is AWESOME, in that it is still funny today, and also, hello! the computer is bigger than my apartment and makes total R2D2 noises. Ah, The Future as imagined from 1957 — in technicolor, wee!

Anyway, one of my favorite lines from the film is when Spencer Tracy, playing the “efficiency expert” (which is I guess what IT guys were called in those days but for me only recalls reading Cheaper by the Dozen, like, 900 times as a child), is measuring the reference department for where his big, hulking “electronic brain” is going to go. And the ladies of the reference department don’t know why he’s there quite yet, with the greenest speculating that he’s there to redecorate.

One says, “Does he look like an interior decorator to you?”

Another replies, “No. He looks like a man who just suddenly switched to vodka.”

Wee! I love you, you broad-sweeping 1950s humor. Especially when you involve a romantic Christmas scene in which someone’s shoes end up getting burned in the oven.

You make me so happy. It’s almost like I just suddenly switched to vodka. Or one of the four main elf food groups, syrup.

Snipe Hunting, Anyone?

Did anyone else get duped into snipe hunting at camp? I can’t tell you how many times I went hurtling along well-worn paths at YMCA summer camp in search of the elusive snipe. Other campers figured it out more quickly than I did (I didn’t figure out Santa Claus wasn’t real until the 4th grade, sheesh), but even once I knew, I still loved the snipe hunt.

In Argentina, we were in El Palmar National Park, just outside Colon, hanging out, keeping warm with the occasional swig of yerba mate, goofing off:

Me Jane, you Tarzan.

When suddenly our guia caught wind of the elusive CARPINCHO.

And we were off! In what I really thought was an elaborate snipe hunt, designed to give foreigners a thrill and our guide/taxi driver a good chuckle.

We were off-trail, The Boy, me, and this very nice Argentinean woman, following our guide zig-zagging along the banks of the river, quietly dodging branches and bramble. We’re all trying to move swiftly yet silently along the banks of the river, all the while having to sidestep the MASSIVE piles of CARPINCHO poop.

Mmmm, peanuts.

I have not had that much fun in a long time, even though the most exciting wildlife I expected to see were some fire ants. I was tiptoeing along, trying not to lose an eye in the brush, and I’m embarrassed to admit I spent a good half hour imagining myself as some master tracker, invisible to my prey (as every branch I stepped on gave a resounding crack of course, but it’s hard to hear when you’re breathing so hard, so I was able to keep up the illusion).

So I was shocked as all get out when we finally stopped along the river and saw that our guide (and we) had successfully tracked THIS:

Pardon the fuzziness of the photo. The Boy doesn’t have the steady hand of a seasoned peeping tom apparently.

A real live carpincho, the largest rodent in the world! barking! like a seal! at us. Can you believe that is just a giant rat and not, like, a BEAR or something?

AWESOME. Finally, I found my snipe.

Blank Screen of Death, I Banish You.

Did you know it is difficult to blog when you have no internet access at home (HATE YOU, ISP)? No? Well, it is.

I’ve thought a lot recently about quitting this blog. Most of the time I can’t figure out what to say, or I write an entry and delete as irrelevant or too personal. And I never get up the nerve to comment on others. But after two weeks of not even being able to blog or read others? I am re-committed. Besides, where else but on the interweb would I learn about The Working Pool but from reading Jonniker? Or about how to make your own Kate Spade classic book covers but from Not Martha? Or meet someone like Carolyn, who will a) come out and meet me for drinks that I really shouldn’t be having considering the open bar at my work orientation and b) not think I am a raving lunatic the next day?

Above, the aforementioned Kate Spade bookcovers. Perfect for when you are in Argentina and, um, do not want people to see that you are reading a book called, “Imagining Argentina” (excellent, btw).

So, I’m back, recommitted, and wondering, seriously, WHY are there no black belts with gold buckles? Anywhere? I got those cute new shoes and it feels wrong to have different colored hardware, but I have yet to find a non-silver-buckled belt that isn’t also fancified beyond all hope of work appropriateness.

And also, I would like to repay the interweb’s favor with some news of what I’m enjoying these days:

1. Boots No. 7 Quick Thinking Wipes. I am HORRIBLE about removing my makeup at night. By horrible I mean: never do. Ever. However, now that I can wash my face and remove it at the same time? Oh, heaven.

2. Whole Foods organic scone mix. It is so awesomely easy to make, and then all I do is throw some fennel seeds on top when I’ve got the dough formed into scones, and voila! Delicious, 200-calorie snacks for the morning, yummy.

3. OK, this isn’t a complete recommendation because I have developed a love-hate relationship with Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style. On the one hand, I love it. I am fully against the trend of people wearing pajamas to the grocery store. On the other hand, isn’t it HARD to have the confidence/wherewithal to throw on a chic sundress and heels as your “sweatsuit alternative” to go pick up some cat food and beer? I spent the past weekend divesting my closet of all of the bare necessities only to look at it now and think, my goodness, is there anything in here of which Tim would approve except my work clothing? It’s very distressing. Have you seen the show? Is he crazy or no?

And with that, blank screen of death, I banish you!