I somehow managed to have energy today after the long car ride home from North Carolina yesterday. While we were down, Mike and I were able to visit one of my favorite restaurants, Print Works Bistro. I fell in love with it for the first time over coffee-crusted lamb chops with blackberry compote, ratatouille, and cream-filled beignets with chocolate sauce. Basically, food porn. Sunday night, however, was disappointing. I ordered duck confit cassoulet for my entree. The cassoulet was fantastic! The white beans were creamy; the sausage was slightly smoky with a touch of crust seared on slice; perfectly seasoned sauce binding together the beans, sausage, and soft, but firm, carrots. But the duck leg? Overcooked. It was like chewing on shards of meat that stabbed the insides of my throat as I swallowed them. So disappointing! And I had so looked forward or it after having some of Mike’s last year.
I feel bad that Daffy had to die for this meal.
I got what I deserved for dessert. I ordered layer cake. WHAT was I thinking? Usually, I avoid cake in restaurants because it’s almost never good. This was no exception. Even though it was called chocolate caramel layer cake, there was barely any caramel in it. Just a touch at the skinny end. And it managed to be dry. This is why I don’t try new things, people!
I say all of this to say: I have my new culinary projects laid out before me.
A new year is ahead. Blog posts, statuses, and tweets abound with resolutions for the coming year. Some come across as seriously as things everyone needs to pretend they’re giving up for Lent. I stopped making resolutions a long time ago. To me, resolution can be defined as the naming of something at which you will fail and then become highly disappointed or depressed over in the coming year. While I don’t have resolutions to make, I do have hopes. To me, having hopes about certain things allows me to be flexible and not endure self-punishment if it doesn’t happen. I have learned in the past year that life often gets in the way of very specific plans. Things are already a little bit nebulous for me; why not settle in and not allow it to always be a negative thing?
I hope to be healthier.
Gee. Soooooo original, Julie. Here’s the thing: I know myself. I know that after having two kids, medication that has made me gain a lot of weight, and that fibromyalgia doesn’t allow me to exercise the way I used to, I’m going to have a hard time with my weight. I know that while I sometimes eat healthily, I’m not great about it, especially when I’m not able to cook or crap is laying around the house for me to shove in my face. I also know that with all the factors working against me for losing weight, if I set a specific number goal, I will fail. I will fail and cry into my extra serving of baconated ice cream chocolate triple cheesy burger with sugared French fries dipped in whipped cream….with a diet coke…that none of it matters, no matter how hard I try, so what’s the point in trying? So, rather than set myself up for failure like that, I figure I will purge the house of the things I know I will binge on. I hope to get back into some gentle exercise, like walking and light weights.
I hope to be more patient.
I have a hard time not going from 0 to Bitchy McScreamymonster at times. Lately, those times have been pretty often. Exhaustion + kids losing their minds = losing temper. I’m also wondering if my medication isn’t working nearly as well as it used to. I remember when I first started taking it. I called it patience in capsule form. But none of those are good enough reasons to not treat others with the kindness and respect they deserve, especially my kids and husband.
I hope my fibromyalgia gets better.
I know that this is a chronic condition, one that I am likely to live with for the rest of my life. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t hope that it will get easier. I know that in order for that to happen, I will need to become more proactive in my own care. I will need to do more research, especially with regard to homeopathic and natural remedies. I will need to ask more questions and be more persistent, even to the point of changing doctors if I need to. It will also means putting on my big girl panties and doing what I’m supposed to do, e.g. getting more sleep, eating less processed food.
I hope to be more hopeful.
Mike hates it when I talk about our Hokies. Of course I’m a fan, as they are my alma mater. But I tend not to be too hopeful when it comes to them winning, say, the bowl game they’re currently playing against UCLA. I call it realistic. Mike calls it negative. This negativity tends to translate to other things in my life. I assume things will be horrible or go poorly. I have a hard time not dwelling on what went wrong, rather than moving on and focusing on what I can control. Some of this comes from my depression and anxiety and some of it is learned behavior. It’s always easier to tear down than it is to build up, but it leaves you with way more useless rubble. And I’m tired of useless rubble.
What do you hope for in this coming year?