[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]It seems fitting that the planet (our corner of it, at least) is getting some much needed rain for Earth Day. Clark and I enjoyed a nice, long walk in the mist this morning before curling up on the sofa for a day of reading, folding laundry, and getting ready for the B’s game (come on, boys!).
Yesterday’s game didn’t go as we had hoped, but we still had a good time cheering on the black and gold with Nick’s brother Mike, and my lovely friend Elizabeth. Elizabeth provided her unmatched knowledge of the team, as well as various good luck tokens, including a piece of glass from last year’s Stanley Cup final. I made sure we had snacks.
I’ve been sticking to my low FODMAP diet as closely as possible, while giving myself a little wiggle room on days like yesterday (a little bit of bread, and a touch of garlic). I’m half-way through the four week process, and looking forward to figuring out what to eliminate for good. Amid the snacks, we made room on the table for a springy centerpiece.
There was plenty of yelling, cheering, and groaning as the Captials topped the Bruins with just over a minute left to play. While killing time before today’s must-win game, Nick and I checked out Confessions of an Eco-Terrorist. It was very interesting, if not more than a little upsetting.
I am fascinated by Paul Watson, The Sea Shephard Conservation Society and their tactics. Are they controversial? Most definitely. They have done well to bring media attention to whaling, seal clubbing, drift net fishing, and other serious issues, though. It seems we still have a long way to go to protect our planet and all its inhabitants.
[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]It would seem my Saturday was brought to us by the letter B. I got up early yesterday to host a breakfast meeting, but apparently not early enough. I found myself rushing about the condo half-dressed, hair half-dried, and floors half-vacuumed. Reminding myself that I am fully human, I consulted my rules for entertaining and finished things up just as the door buzzer rang.
Sure, the cranberry orange muffins were still baking when everyone was settling in, but that I meant I could don a festive mitt and pull them from the oven with a bit of flair. Just kidding… sort of. In addition to the muffins, I combined blueberries, blackberries and raspberries in a big bowl, and topped them with a few ribbons of basil. I think everything should be topped with a few ribbons of basil. A fresh pot of tea, some orange juice and a pitcher of water later, and we were good to go. And by go, I mean sit and debate for three hours.
As the meeting was winding down, I couldn’t help but feel like a restless high schooler, constantly sneaking a glance at the clock, counting down the minutes. (I don’t wear a watch for this reason, never have.) I was meeting my friend Elizabeth minutes after the group left to check out The Z Spot, a new Zumba, dance, and yoga studio that just opened in the South End. I find it’s okay to over-schedule on the weekends, as long as there’s booty dropping involved.
I haven’t taken a Zumba class in ages and sort of made up my own moves when I wasn’t quite sure was going on. Fortunately, that seems to be a widely accepted practice. During the hour-long class, various teachers from the studio lead high energy, fun routines. It was a great way to showcase each teacher’s style and personality. I had the goofiest grin on my face the entire time. The studio space, which formerly housed O2 Yoga, is bright and airy, and just a short walk from the Broadway T stop and several bus stops (not that I know anything about T buses… I avoid them at all cost). I can’t wait to go back for a drop in class soon. My friend Courteney is teaching yoga there, so I definitely want to check out one of her classes, too.
After class, we headed to Amrheins for salads, beers, and the end of the Bruins game. Elizabeth is such great company; I’m so glad our paths crossed, especially since making friends as a grown-up is no easy feat.
I haven’t been brave enough to show my face at Owl Station since my 30th birthday party, but fortunately, they deliver. Nick and I ordered a few of our favorite sushi rolls to enjoy at home with a bright bunch of sunflower on the table. It was the perfect way to wind down a busy day of b’s.
Something about a high stake athletic event makes me want to retreat to the kitchen. Fortunately, I can see the TV from there. Oddly enough, I can also see the TV from the shower. Who wants to choose between seeing the Bruins crush it and maintaining a normal standard of hygiene? Not me.
In celebration of our Boston Bruins’ being in the Stanley Cup Finals, I made some edible hockey pucks. They may not be the prettiest things, but man, were they good. I added a teaspoon of fresh lime zest to the filling for a little extra kick. These little guys are tastier than Patrice Bergeron’s finger.
I sent a special delivery to the Bruins this week. A secret weapon, if you will. If you watched last night’s game, you know as well as I do that the secret weapon did not reach the B’s in time. As time wound down in the third period, friends and family members wondered where I was. And I wondered why I will still inside a hockey bag in the back of a Fed Ex truck. I specifically checked off priority overnight, not standard overnight.
It's gettin' hot in herre.
Signed, sealed, delivered. I'm a dingbat.
The grizzly hat: an accessory for all seasons.
Do these shoulder pads make me look... never mind.
I'm an animal. And/or something smells.
If you like it, then you shoulda pinned a flower on it. Sorry that I'm not sorry for disgracing the uniform.
Aaaaand, the grand finale: Imagine our carpeted hallway is actually the Garden. Rene Rancourt and his awkward confetti vest have just left the ice. With the fury of a thousand suns, I come flying out of the locker room ready to rumble. Or, whatever.
I have a newfound respect for hockey players. Putting that stuff on is not easy. Fortunately, I had Nick’s help. I understand from him, however, that teammates usually do not help one anther in and out of their gear. And yes, I did remove the pink flower before returning the jersey to its rightful owner.