Because of My Stupid Master’s Degree™, begun four years ago, and, you know, Shef, also begun four years ago; I haven’t seen any movies or read very many literary books in that amount of time. Four years.

I’ve set about remedying that situation this summer by joining Blockbuster Online and reading stuff. I read a little and watch a little every day. In case you want to know what I’m reading or watching you can look in the right sidebar, where I’m keeping a list. If you don’t care what I’m reading and watching, then you don’t have to look at it.

Also, I’m doing triathlon training, which brings me joy. This summer, I’m riding my new road bike with clipless pedals, the kinds of pedals that your shoes lock in to. The kinds of pedals that bad-ass and wannabe bad-ass cyclists use.

The trouble with clipless pedals is that, you know, you clip your feet into them. And then when you want to stop and put your feet on the ground, you have to be able to clip them OUT.

This hasn’t been a serious problem, except today. After I’d already clipped out my right foot and was waiting at an intersection, right foot on the ground and left foot clipped in; I lost my balance.

I lost my balance, began falling to the left, but of course the left foot was still locked into the pedal, and there was no time to get it out. In a panic, I reached out for cycling mentor Jamie, who happened to be right there. But in reaching for her, I really just pushed her down.

And then we were both on the ground under our bikes. When I first got down there, my left foot was still clipped into the bike, and I had to lift the bike off my legs and twist my foot violently to toward the ground in order to be able to stand up again.

This took time. And there were several witnesses.

Lee recently asked for boring stories. Well, today we cleaned out our basement, extracting no fewer than nine trash bags of junk and half-a-garage full of second-hand furniture that’s ready for a third hand.

While we were at it, Shef played with Nana. We all had dinner together, and then when we got home, I ordered some more knight books from Amazon because I’m really sick of reading In the Castle fifty million times a day.

That’s all.

We saw a billboard featuring a suit of armor on the way home from the bagel shop this morning.

“That’s what I wear when I fight,” Shef said knowingly. “Armor, a shield, and chainmail.”

“Hmmmm,” I said.

“Yep,” the would-be fighter continued, “armor protects knights against swords, spears, lances, and other weapons.”

And I’m so glad he’s using his powers for good.

Anyone who’s spoken to me for more than five minutes this summer knows I’m completely obsessed with the vegetables. They come from Richard at Harmony Valley Farm each Thursday, and I fixate on becoming more organic, more green, and much more healthy via consumption of these magic fruits of our Midwestern land.

I’ve been chatting nonstop about the veggies since January, and Dan still thinks it’s funny to pretend he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“What vegetables?” he’ll ask distractedly, as I read through recipe ideas and serve up delicious organic meals and side dishes.

This nonchalance does not subvert my passion, I’ll tell you what.

So far, my goal has just been not to throw anything away, but now my rock-star colleague Jackie, who turned me on to the farm in the first place, has started up a blog devoted to sharing ideas about using Harmony Valley products. This is seriously going to elevate my cooking. Mark my words.

Usually I totally understand Dan’s crushes. Natalie Maines: Yes. Ashley Judd: Obviously.

“Sporty Spice is off the list now,” he told me last night, “but Baby Spice is totally on it.”

And I think that’s a good edit.

But I do not understand his fascination with the host of Top Chef, Padma Lakshmi. Padma seems smart and nice. She seems to have a discerning palate and contributes nicely to "Judges Table." Overall, I think she does a swell job of hosting the second-best reality show on television.

But, she’s not hot. She’s actually kind of emaciated, I think; her wardrobe is questionable, and in some shots, her face looks somehow just not quite right.

“Look,” I said emphatically, as we watched this week’s show, “she looks kind of like a reptile right now.”

“Yeah,” Dan replied without a pause. “A hot reptile who I’d like to have sex with.”

Excellent. I guess there are some things we don’t need to understand about one another for our marriage to continue.

The latest obsession is knights. He reads about knights, dresses up like a knight, pretends every ordinary household object is a medieval weapon, rides the armrest of the couch to practice jousting, and requests that we both “get angry and spring to action!!”



Yesterday, when I picked him up from school, he was running around the playground with a bucket on his head while brandishing a shovel. This behavior was tricky to explain. Actually, I sort of feigned ignorance.

Photo credit: Dobby

So, Santa Fe rocks. On the morning of our second day, I told Dan I’d like to live there someday, and he looked at me like I was insane.

Because, of course, everybody knows that Minnesota is The Promised Land and should you desire to be closer to God, all it takes is a dip in one of our 10,000 pristine lakes. Or a quick trip to the State Fair.

But then, that evening we sipped cocktails on the patio of a partner’s sprawling adobe sanctuary on the mesa, where we gazed at the sun setting behind the Sangre de Cristos mountains, and he was singing a different tune.

The next day we conquered the rapids on the Taos Racecourse, which was way fun. On the way to the rafting drop-off point, the guide asked us why we’d all gotten together for the weekend.

Someone said, “To gain weight and be drunk.”

That’s mostly true. I also think it was provide an incentive to keep them working so goddam hard.