The problem with starting my health kick on Monday…
Is that this week I didn't just go out for dinner twice, I was also testing different caterers for an event. I love eating with all my heart so testing caterers is, by extension, something that brings me bliss.
While health kicks…
(where you have to exercise all the time and think carb-carb-carbs but never eat them)
…are a struggle for me.
So my plan (for eating clean and hiring the grade-six-year-old to make me do squats and lunges) had to be adjusted for this week. If you've been around these parts before...you might be moving that mouse to close this page because blah, blah, blah…but WAIT!!!
I did make some progress.
I started a stair-climbing club! Twice a day my club and I will climb the stairs to the 16th floor (which is actually a four minute no-brainer since just-like-that you can bring greater good to your back-side).
The food we ate during the catering tests was absolutely delicious and I am ON A MISSION to figure out how to make: a mascarpone stuffed pasta with asparagus, peas and a cream sauce that was TO DIE for…and the greatest salad with a ricotta base (I haven’t seen or tried anything like it before). I will post recipes and pictures as soon as I nail them.
You know I could go on and on talking about food for four and a half hours but I MUST tell you about my other VERY BIG, VERY LIFE-CHANGING calling.
I am trying to win an inn.
My friend Angela, who has fantastic red hair and who takes the most stunning photographs (I just want to be a little bit as good as her) dropped the article about the inn in my life…and told me to go win the thing.
It is possible I am the most easy-peasy person you know.
Because I went from hmmm…let me read about it…
To I CANNOT IMAGINE my life without that inn in it.
It really is a contest. And I really, really will be very good at inn-keeping. I mean I’ve imagined the people who will stay there and I love them all like family already. I have to pay 125 American dollars (which will probably work out to about 800 Canadian, it’s a shame how the dollar has crashed) and I have to convince them in 200 words to give me, That Allisun, the inn.
It took me an hour to write my entry. Counting words. Deleting. Counting.
And I know I’m being a little smug...but I read what I wrote and thought…
I would pick me.
When friends came over the next night I better explained the concept and the process and handed over what I penned…
And one after another they told me it was really good…and one after another they said the same thing…what if…what if I really won???
And the day after that, in a move I decided was very Hemingway (minus the cigaretting, minus the affairs and minus Paris, which is a shame really, because I think I would write better there too)…I tossed round one in the garbage.
Because while it WAS good, I knew instinctively that it wasn’t right. The same way Angela would know the lighting was off. Or a carpenter would know the frame wasn’t level or Harry would know the kid didn’t have what it takes.
[Harry, as in Connick, who remains tied with Keith on my “List”]
Hemingway was a master of dialogue and could put simple words together in such a way that his reader could actually remember what he said, because she felt like she was living it.
If I’m going to win the inn and the life that will come with it, I have to tie the words together in such a way that she will remember me...
You want to know what I've always wanted, even more than a desk?