my favorite kind of invite

click the images to get a much better view
from Keetra Dean Dixon via Oh Joy!

tangy, cold + tasty tubers.

yesterday was a glorious day. glorious, i tell you! actually, the whole weekend was downright divine. warm, sunshiney, breezy. FINALLY. winter in NYC this year has been a long, brutal and tricky one, teasing us with warm weather and then plunging us back into the icy depths of winter. needless to say, this past weekend was quite a treat.

honestly, i felt like i was starring in my very own feminine hygiene product commercial.

via AdClassix

i even got to wear my flip-flops!

there's something about this weather that makes me crave cold potato salad. is there anything better than tucking into a hearty helping of chilled potato salad on a warm day? preferably having to balance a practically soggy paper plate of it on your knee as you sit on a lawn chair, bottle of beer held between your knees, bare feet in cool grass?

can i get an AMEN?

so yesterday i made some, and wowza was it ever tasty. i riffed on what i could remember from a Domino magazine recipe that my friend J introduced me to last year (note: that mag and site are now defunct, so i couldn't locate the original recipe online). no mayo, but i didn't miss it cuz i threw in a couple of chopped hard-boiled eggs for creaminess. it's tart and tangy and just a wee bit more sophisticated than what you might get at the supermarket deli (although i wouldn't turn my nose up at a vat of that glorious stuff). it's also super-simple, super-cheap and super-filling. recession-proof, you might say.

excellent alongside some grilled shrimp + vegetables, and a spinach-avocado salad (sadly not very photogenic, but very tasty! props to The Cute for manning the grill)

better than flip-flops potato salad
adapted from Domino magazine

5-6 medium-sized redskin potatoes (about 3-4 inches in diameter)
3 tablespoons dijon mustard
1 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2 hard-boiled eggs, chopped (spring for organic if you've already paid the rent)
1/3 cup, sweet gherkins, sliced into teensy little circles
salt and black pepper to taste

cut potatoes into 1 1/2 inch-2 1/2 inch pieces depending on how chunky you like your salad. put them in a pot and fill with cold water it just covers the potatoes.

bring to a boil. add a teaspoon of salt. boil until the potatoes are easily punctured with a fork, but not mush. you want them to maintain their firmness in the salad.

drain the potatoes in a colander. rinse with cold water.

dump into a large bowl. add mustard, white wine vinegar, chopped eggs and gherkins. toss gently until evenly distributed. the potatoes should be coated in a creamy sauce-like substance courtesy of the mustard, vinegar and egg yolks. sample it. if it's a bit dry for you, add a touch more mustard or a touch more vinegar. salt and pepper to taste. (this stuff deserves a hearty crank of the pepper mill, and if you can get your hands on five-color peppercorns, do so. your tastebuds will thank you.)

what sort of foods does the warmer weather make you crave? what are some of your favorite "summer foods" from your childhood? s'mores? lemonade? barbecue chicken? popsicles? get your hands on at least one of your favorite summer foods (make it? buy it? who cares!) and savor it.

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this is the start of a weekly blog post entitled size ate eats: love the belly, feed the belly. i've wanted to make it a regular part of the site for a while now, and i figure... why not start now? not only do i love cooking (and eating), i also think my learning to cook and nourish myself has been a huge part of my recovery, and it continues to be a huge part of my self-care. i also find it to be a hell of a lot of fun. so stick around. i promise to never speak of calories, fat grams or "good" or "bad" foods. i love spinach and butter equally. paula deen and i do share the same birthday after all.

love is better than exercise.

our morning routine. (not really)

i went to my yoga studio's website today to see what classes they're offering.

Restorative Yoga.

perfect.

i scan the rest of the page just for giggles.

Yoga Fight Club.

what?

the idea of it makes me cringe. Yoga and Fight aren't 2 words that should ever go together, are they? i live in NYC, just walking down the street feels like a battle, and it's free!

i haven't really been to the gym in any real way in almost 2 years. i could blame The Cute. he lives in Jersey, i live in Queens, with all the time spent commuting back and forth, no time to go to the gym! blah blah blah blah... but i'm actually going to thank The Cute for giving me a break from the gym. turns out i don't like the gym. turns out i kinda hate it. turns out my body wasn't very happy there either.

here's the thing: it's been almost 2 years since i've gone to the gym in any real way and i feel physically better than i have in years. yes, i feel better about my body, but i also just feel better. my joints are looser. i'm more flexible. i feel more relaxed (i know what you're thinking, and yes, the sex helps.). movement i'm beginning to miss, and i'm working on getting more of that back into my life via yoga, swimming and dancing, but not WORKING OUT.

doesn't the term WORKING OUT just sound like so much, well, WORK? who needs more of that word?

for me, working out was always about burning calories, tightening the abs, carving out the triceps. even when i tried to convince myself it wasn't, even after a few years of writing this blog and doing my show, and waving my "love my body as is, or else" banner, it was. and good lord was it ever about COMPETITION! either with the girl next to me or the girl in the mirror. never enough. never satisfied. push, push, push.

ouch.

sure, i loved the endorphin rush of a 30-minute dash on the elliptical machine followed by crunches, and arm curls, and push ups, and, and and... but after the initial glow wore off, i'd feel sore and tired and beat. i'd fall into bed, wake up even more sore, tired and beat, just in time to do the whole thing all over again.

gerbil. wheel.

what's the point of all of this again?

i frequently ponder what aliens might think if they came to earth and the first thing they saw was a gym. loads of people on treadmills and stationery bikes and rowing machines, sweating profusely, working incredibly hard, but going ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE. intelligent life? i think not.

i've decided i want to incorporate more joyful movement into my life, but this time, it's a fear of developing a hunchback like my Great Grandma Ida that's pushing me to get more active not fat thighs. there's also this guy, and i fancy him, and he loves me the way that i am and the way that i will be. i'd like to hang out with him as long as i can making designs in our coffee and swinging in the hammock and making up songs about how much we love brushing our teeth. and movement, they say, helps you live longer. i suppose i should listen.

my ass may be flabbier than it was in april 2007, but i could give two shits. the past 2 years have made me stronger in ways that going to the gym never could. no, i haven't spent a ton of time building my ab muscles, but oh, how my heart muscle has grown. i ain't gonna lie, it's been painful at times , because wow, here's a part of my heart i never thought i'd have to use, and there he is taking up residence in it. burping and snoring and being downright beautiful. stretched. big, red beating heart of mine. stronger than ever, and there's absolutely no competition. it's all his.

do you like going to the gym? if not, what are some fun, joyful movement alternatives that you might try this summer? what physical activities you enjoyed as a kid usually offers an excellent clue. me? swimming!

also, is there someone in your life who loves you unconditionally? regardless of what your body looks like?

voluntary torture

keep this in mind, the next time you, or someone you love, thinks about going on Jenny Craig... or Weight Watchers... or Slim-Fast... or Opti-Fast... or Nutri-System...

Bush Torture Memos: Commercial Diets Used as Justification

oh, the irony...

bleaching the family 'stache

that so many of the things we do to ourselves in the name of "pretty" make us look pretty damn ugly.

this ain't no yankee candle.

ha.

i walked in to Dean and Deluca this morning to purchase my overpriced mocha (mortgage payment, anyone?), and was welcomed into the loving arms of an old friend.

BACON.

i love her. she comforts me and calls me "pet."

i thought to myself:

why not a bacon-scented candle? we have cinnamon bun-scented candles. sugar cookie-scented. apple pie-scented.

i posited this question on my Facebook page, and my friend Y shot back with this link.

BLT candles.

after a little "bacon-scented" google, i found this. i don't think i'm looking to catch myself a bear, but always good to know.

you can also buy yourself a bacon scarf, underdrawers, or floss.

finally, this.

so. wrong.

but then, if you're looking to catch yourself a man, this just might work.

better than smoking the pipe.

i discovered Zitner's Butter Krak eggs at a convenience store right outside Drew University's campus. i was there performing size ate (at the college, not the convenience store. altho, i would actually love to do my show at a convenience store smack in the middle of the snack cake aisle! Kandy Kakes for everyone!). at first, i was drawn to it mainly for the name, but holy moly it's tasty too. like a Mounds bar on, well, crack.

computer update: it's getting operated on today. fingers crossed it's back in its mama's arms by this evening.

lost little girl grown up too fast

by michael cavayero

i came across these paintings of lindsay lohan in a window on the corner of 10th street and broadway in manhattan. i found myself staring at these images. struck and saddened and angry by the juxtaposition of these two images.