Last week, inspired by an article in Body+Soul magazine, I did some spring organizing and tried to remove as much unwanted clutter as possible. The article was organized by room. The bedroom was first: out went clothes that I don't wear anymore, jewelry that's been sitting in the closet since college, and shoes that never fit.

Next was the "attic," which for me meant under the bed and the hallway closet. I cleared out old board games, a three-level Felix the Cat box that I received for my birthday in high school (even though I've never been much of a fan of Felix), Nightmare Before Christmas pins, the dried bouquet I carried as a bridesmaid three years ago, and a statue of Eros and Psyche I bought in Rome.

I then tackled the "office," which is my big, wooden, $10-from-St.-Vincent-de-Paul desk in the living room. There, I mostly tossed papers I didn't need anymore and cleared off the top to free up prime real estate so I could actually do work on it (imagine that).

I didn't quite finish. I still need to declutter the desk drawers and the bathroom, which I will do this weekend.

But then I took all that stuff I didn't want anymore and brought it to work. There is a giveaway table in our kitchen, and I piled my unwanted clothes and other junk there. It was interesting to see what went first: the giant bottle of Neutrogena bath gel that my aunt gave me for Christmas, the earrings, and the cute tops (that I felt were no longer in the style that I wanted to wear). Eventually, the black strappy heels that hurt my feet went away, along with a white shirt with black embroidery (which never fit me right), a pair of too-long walking shorts, a Jimmy Eat World CD, and the pins. In the end, I still had a number of clothes (a red skirt, an alien abduction T-shirt), plus the Felix box and a couple other things, which will join the rest of the stuff that I didn't give away and will be on its way to Goodwill this weekend.

It felt good to rehome a bunch of my stuff. And it was nice to think I have (slightly) less stuff in my bins, closets, and drawers!

A couple weekends ago, I was expecting some company (a family I used to work with) and did some light organizing around the apartment. I came across some photos I'd printed ages ago that I'd been planning to put up. After living here for almost two years, I decided it was high time I actually start to decorate my walls.

The past two weekends have seen me at Michael's twice, buying collage frames and photo mats. In the kitchen, I used the mats to frame food photos I'd taken: heart-shaped cookies, strawberry ice cream in the ice cream maker, an star-shaped shortbread, as well as apples in a pool of sunlight at a friend's house and two shots at restaurants in Manhattan. In the living room went photos from various places I've traveled to, including some of my favorites from India. I also put up an 8x10 of a close up of my cat Sabriel's face, which is blurry but looks really cool at a distance (you can also see my and D's reflections in his iris).

In the dining area above the table, I hung D's things: a framed piece of cloth from West Africa and a print of dogs playing pool that I think belonged to his grandfather.

Today I printed some photos from different things D and I have done together. I get such joy out of putting photos I've taken into frames and then hanging them up. And it's made my place look less bare — at least on the walls (because there's no problem with being bare in the rest of the house!).

I have to admit that I've spent some time contemplating the phenomenon of changing one's clothes after work. Whether or not I do is definitely an ever-evolving part of my coming-home routine. Obviously, on a day when I'm particularly covered in smears of mucous and smudges of baby food, I would change into clean clothes. But lately, especially with D away, on most days, I come home and get into my pajamas. I remember that Karen, a friend from high school, had once told me that's what she did, and at the time, I found it odd. Why change into your pajamas if you're not going to sleep soon? But I realize now she has the right idea: getting into comfy, home-only clothes is a nice way to ease yourself into relaxation and an evening in front of the TV or with a book.

So here's to a purple Eeyore T-shirt and white-and-pink striped flannel bottoms. And now... time for some What Not to Wear.

Last weekend, I went to my aunt's house to visit her after her stroke. She had been on the plane home from the Holy Land when it happened, but is now safe and sound in her bed at home and recovering nicely. My brother and I visited with her in her room for a while, and the rest of the time, I sat in the living room, reading a copy of Better Homes and Gardens and surfing on my phone while my mom tried to undo the mess of a barbecue that my cousin was making.

In the middle of all that, my 90-something-year-old grandmother came into the room and beckoned me to come with her. She does this fairly often: wordlessly gesturing for me to go with her to her room for whatever reason. I followed her up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She sat on her little bed and began to pull out several little jewelry boxes and tiny plastic pouches. "Pick something," she said. "Just something to remember Inang."

Inang means "mother" in Ilocano, the Philippine dialect that my family speaks. Everyone in our family calls her that: all her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

I chose a delicate gold ring with a little red stone. But she encouraged me to take more. "Don't you like earrings?" she asked. So I chose a pair of little gold hoop earrings. I kept looking at the rings, though, and she pointed one out to me — a gold ring with a raised flower-like setting of little white crystals — telling me, "I used to wear this one when I was young."

In the end, I had the two rings, as well as three sets of earrings and a bracelet with pictures of saints that Inang had been keeping on her elaborate altar. Afterwards, she showed me some portraits painted on cardboard of her mother, her brother who had died young, and my grandfather, whom I never knew.

It was sad because I knew she was giving me these things so that she could know her family members were in possession of her treasured things before she died. But I was touched, too, and honored. I've worn the ring with the white crystals several times now, and I really like that I'm wearing something my grandmother wore when she was my age. I like to think that someday I'll pass it down to a child or grandchild who will value it as much as I do.

As always, I've been reading food books. The latest is Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food. Despite the fact that I'm not cooking a lot these days (because I'm eating at work for free), I definitely agree with his stance on eating real, whole foods and eating the way our great-grandparents did. (In that same vein, I recently gave up eating things "in crinkly packages," a la Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project.)

I'd been struggling to understand why exactly high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) is bad for you. Reading Marion Nestle's What to Eat, I understood that because it's in everything and because sugars have a high caloric content, people get fat from consuming so much of it. But Pollan helped me to make the final connection of understanding:

There are three kinds of sugars: Glucose, fructose, and sucrose. That last one is what we typically think of as regular old table sugar, which further breaks down into glucose and fructose. Glucose is tapped by the insulin in our bodies to form energy. Fructose is metabolized in the liver, and when there is no energy needed, the fructose is converted to fat. Now, fructose is the sugar found in fruit, and when eaten in fruit, the fiber counterbalances the way the liver converts the fructose. (Fruit also has vitamins and antioxidants and other nutrients that are good for you.) HFCS, therefore, is making us fat because we consume so much of it, and we aren't burning it off as energy. It's in everything because it's cheaper than sugar and it satisfies the practically insatiable hunger we have in the U.S. for sweet foods.

So despite what those pro-HFCS ads might tell you, it really is bad for you. (It's hard to get something "in moderation" when it's everywhere, right?)

I'm also learning about fats and about why saturated fats aren't the enemy, as we've all been told to believe. I'm still not clear that I understand how fats work, but I do know that the rise of heart disease and ailments related to obesity started after WWII, which coincided with the reduction of saturated fats in the diet and the rise of trans-fatty acids in processed foods. Interesting, no? This point is harder to convince people of, I think, because we've been hard-wired to believe that most fats are bad for you. I'll have to do more research before I can fully understand why they aren't — except for trans fats, of course.

I went shopping at Old Navy last night with some people from work and the "Friends and Family" 30% discount that my stepmother had sent me. Clothes on sale are even better when there's another discount on top of it! I didn't buy a whole lot because I'm mostly broke right now. But my colleagues took full advantage of the extra 30% off and bought tons of stuff.

I'm not the biggest fan of spring fashion. I love spring itself: the return of longer days, when it's still light at 6PM, and the produce that starts to appear at the farmers' markets (asparagus, peas, strawberries). But while I'm always on the lookout for skirts and dresses, I'm never overjoyed by the options in spring. Old Navy had lots of strappy spring dresses and full crinkly skirts. Nothing looked good on me. Because I'm picky. There were also lots of shorts and cropped pants. I'm not the biggest fan of shorts because I don't like showing that much leg, and I'm anti-capri (thanks to What Not to Wear). What did I end up getting? A few tops, to wear with jeans to work, and a cute ankle-length white dress that would be a perfect date dress for when D comes home. And even that dress I'm not convinced about.

Fall is my favorite season for fashion. I love sweaters, light jackets, corduroy, ribbed tights, and boots. I love wearing the colors of autumn: rust, brown, olive green, burgundy.

But I need some warm-weather clothing. Because it will be getting very hot soon, especially here in Silicon Valley. And I wasn't prepared for the last two summers, clothing-wise!

No, not a white Christmas. Far from it, actually. I've been daydreaming about camping lately. Today, while my babies were crawling around the yard, I lay on the turf and looked at the blue sky through the budding branches of the mulberry tree, wishing I was camping.

I love camping, needless to say. I love being in the outdoors. I love taking a long drive to get to a camp site. I love planning meals to cook over a fire (or a propane stove) and eat under the trees. I love spending the day sitting in the quiet of nature, listening to rushing water or insects humming. I love roasting marshmallows at every chance I get, whenever there's a fire. I love reading all day long. I love hiking and playing in the river and looking for interesting bits of nature, like lichen, feathers, or rocks.

I even love camping when D and I argue. I love it even when we forget the rain fly and have less privacy than we would have liked. I love it despite having annoying, loud, inconsiderate neighbors in the next site over who stay up all night and have the police called in to break up a dispute.

I've been camping three times. The first was three years ago. I went twice more last year. With spring coming, I'm ready to go again.

D comes back for a visit in May. Maybe we'll go then.

I'm really enjoying reading a blog called The Happiness Project, written by a lawyer-turned-writer who went on a search to become happier. It's uplifting without being too sappy or preachy. Her thoughts and advice ring true to me, and I read it when I'm needing an emotional boost.

The other thing I found surprisingly inspirational was the book Eat Pray Love. I borrowed it from a colleague early last year, and I actually found it a little hard to get through because it was kind of over-the-top cheesy at certain parts. The person I'd borrowed it from had even warned me of this. But when I think back on it now, I realize that I do get inspiration from the central message of the author's story, which is: find yourself and be happy with who you are, and everything else will fall into place.

I live in the apartment at the end of the building, so I only have neighbors on one side. These neighbors are young, and honestly, I don't know what they do. I think the guy works — I've seen him leaving and wearing a white button-down. I've only ever really seen the girl going out to do laundry in her "I'm an angsty punk" clothes. Whatever they do, it allows them to stay up late, sitting at their computers (I've seen them doing this because sometimes they leave their curtains open), and playing video games or music with the bass turned up.

And I mean really turned up. There have been some nights where the thudding bleeds through the hallway and bedroom doors of my apartment, which are closed. Where it sounds like it's coming up through the floor from my downstairs neighbors. And they do this late, past 11pm some nights, even though there is a quiet policy between 10pm and 8am.

D had been known to go over and knock on their door to ask them to be quiet. But when it's past midnight, I'm not about to traipse out into the cold in my pj's. So last night, having decided I was done with listening to their music while I was trying to sleep at 12:30am, I pounded my hand against the wall between our living rooms. One, two, three. I felt like a jerk for doing it, but they immediately turned the sound down.

I think I need to live somewhere where I don't have immediate neighbors.

My hair is newly short and asymmetrical, more so than before. (My hair is ever-evolving, thanks to my wonderous stylist.) I love it. I'm considering dyeing it, and he suggested black and platinum. I'll think on it. Honestly, this guy has done such awesome things with my hair that I trust his judgment one hundred-and-ten percent. I'm thinking I might change it up right before ablossoms' wedding, since I have an appointment the weekend before and it's always fun to be able to share a new 'do with friends. But we'll see.

I love having awesome hair. I wish I had an awesome life to go with it. But at least I'm good on the hair front.

The thing annoying me most today: The manager of the apartment complex I live in will bring the trash dumpsters to the curb, but then leave them there. For weeks. Not that it's hard to walk out to the curb with my trash, but normally one of the dumpsters is right at the bottom of the stairs in front of my apartment, which makes it so much easier to quickly run out and take out the trash. Alternatively, sometimes he doesn't bother to bring the dumpsters to the curb, and then everything overflows and gets really stinky. He gets free rent because he happens to be married to the daughter of the owner and is supposed to keep up with the maintenance around here — so do your job, dude. (Like how it took him three months to come and unclog my bathtub drain? Lame.)

Someone explain this to me: In the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, two different malls in two different cities were packed. Yesterday, I was at Stonestown in San Francisco just before lunch, and the parking lot was full and people were all over the mall itself. Today, I was at Valley Fair in Santa Clara in the early afternoon, and it was the same thing. In fact, I couldn't find a parking space at all, so I gave up and went home.

Why aren't these people at work? And why are they at the mall? The only thing I could come up with was that because people have lost their jobs, their only form of comfort is to buy, buy, buy... on credit. True, or untrue?

Some of my friends asked me, upon my return, what my top three things about India were. After having been to a part of the world I'd never been to for five whole weeks, that's kind of a tall order. I came up with this list, though:

1. The time a monkey stole my glasses in Shimla.
2. Sitting on the beach in Goa (a tiny tropical state on the west coast of India, which had once been colonized by the Portuguese) on Christmas Day.
3. The ridiculously delicious "karma-free" pure-veg buffet at the Hare Krishna ISKON temple in Delhi.

There were more highlights, of course. I sent an email to some friends partway through my trip, listing the high and lows up to that point. ( read more... )

Being that my last post was in late October, this is probably the longest stretch of time I've gone without posting. Remember when I used to post daily? Back in 2004? But now that I've gotten into the habit of keeping my food blog up-to-date, I suppose I can try to do that here, too.

Major things you might have missed in my life in the past three-and-a-half months:
- I went to India for the month of December. It was pretty awesome.
- I pretty much am over my job, except that I wouldn't be able to make the amount of money I'm making now if I quit. So basically, I'm stuck.
- I have a fancy new G1 phone, which all employees got as a Christmas bonus. Sometimes it's cool, and sometimes it sucks — like when it won't pick up my email.
- I'm paying rent all by myself now, plus I have car payments and student loan payments. So I'm nearly broke every month. Add the fact that I want to go back to India in September, and it equals "stressed out."
- Have I mentioned I don't like my job?

Other than that, life has been pretty much the same around here. I'll be sure to keep you updated more frequently from now on.

My nephew Conner was baptized last weekend, and the favor given out at the reception was custom-made M&M's with his name or the date or his little face printed on them. I'm eating some now — and I have to say that it's really weird eating chocolates with a smiling baby's face on them.

I watch a lot of What Not to Wear. Enough that, during a marathon last year, I went into my closet and pulled out a ton of my clothes that I realized I either shouldn't be wearing or just never bothered wearing. And I've taken a lot of their tips to heart: I generally don't wear message T-shirts anymore or wear clothing that looks like stuff I wore in college (e.g. anything with skull-and-crossbones), and I try to pay attention to fit, shape, and silhouette (which, actually, is more Tim Gunn — but Stacy and Clinton stand by it, too).

There are some things, though, that I don't agree with. Sneakers, for example. Stacy would have every woman wearing heels or flats — and no socks, ever. Sorry, Stacy, I like my sneakers (Converse, specifically), and they look good with jeans. I do wear ballet flats sometimes, too, but I also don't have fifty pairs of shoes — my go-to shoe is a black pair of Cons.

I have also decided recently that I can't stand Carmindy. While I've learned quite a bit from watching her put make-up on women, I also think she's incredibly fake and annoying. My biggest pet peeve is that she tells women that they're "hiding" behind their glasses. In one episode, they gave the woman being made-over a free year of contacts so that she wouldn't have to wear her glasses anymore. I've also noticed that at the end of the show, when the women are showing off their new looks, they often don't wear their glasses anymore — as if not having glasses anymore is a part of their transformation. What is wrong with wearing glasses? For a while, people who didn't need glasses were wearing them as accessories! I don't like feeling like I'm being told that my glasses are getting in the way of my being stylish — because, clearly, that's not true!

Several of my colleagues stopped to ask me how I'm doing today, which was very sweet. I also hadn't realized that people remembered that D was leaving town — and going to be in India till next July. At the moment, I feel like it hasn't really hit me yet that he's gone, at least while I'm at work and keeping busy. I know the evenings and weekends will be hardest. When I came home today, I picked up around the apartment and did this and that — and finally turned the TV on to keep me company. I'm also trying to book my weekends for the next few weeks, so that all the activity will keep my mind off missing him. Not that I don't miss him. Because I do.

Speaking of weekends, I'm off to Las Vegas this weekend for a whirlwind overnight excursion. I've never been, so this'll be interesting. It will also probably be more about food, drinks, and dancing than gambling, since I'm not much for gambling and neither is the group I'm going with. (Though D did give me some instructions on which slot machines to play.) Our first day is already planned out: the Wynn buffet for lunch, dinner at Enoteca San Marco (one of Mario Batali's joints — and being the food snob that I am and having been to one of his places in Manhattan, I'm prepared to be completely underwhelmed), and clubbing at Tao. Plus swimming at the Palazzo Pool apparently. We're staying in a suite at the Venetian, so it's swank city all around. I just hope this trip doesn't break my budget!

Following weekends include the first musical of the season at American Musical Theater of San Jose, dinner with one of last year's families, a conference, a wedding, and my nephew's christening.

I went to Coldstone's today and tried their (apparently new) marshmallow ice cream. It was kind of awesome. It had the same texture as a marshmallow, except that it was ice cream — you could push your spoon into it, and the ice cream resisted in a way that regular ice cream doesn't. I had them mix in some brownies, and it was highly enjoyable.

Speaking of marshmallows, I've discovered that toasting a marshmallow over the flame on a gas stove is nothing like toasting it over a campfire. Seeing as it'll be a while before I can have the marshmallow-camping experience, maybe I'll try using the flame of a tea candle next.

Just a quick note to mention that Target sells pillows that are not only cheap but comfortable to boot. Really comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable. And for only about ten dollars a pop. I normally sleep with two pillows because I like having a lot of height under my head, but the "extra firm" option, which is supposedly meant to side-sleepers like myself, is supportive enough that one does the trick.

Also, the Halloween stuff at Target is super cute this year. As I am currently not allowed to spend any extra money, due to wedding-related events and a trip to India coming up, I can only drool over the T-shirts and socks. Didn't think to look for the Halloween Kelly doll, which I would gladly spend my money on if there are cute options.

This year was the first time I've ever really paid attention to the Olympics. It started with staying up too late one night to watch who won men's race walking (and who knew that a 24 km race walk would take nearly two hours?). Then I watched a little baseball... then I saw Michael Phelps win his eighth gold... and Shawn Johnson win her first. By that point, I was turning to NBC any time I watched TV. I didn't want to miss Usain Bolt break a world record or see who won women's beach volleyball (which ended up happening — it was on too late, and I had to go to bed), so I delayed watching my Netflix rentals and the second Lord of the Rings movie (D and I are trying to get through the trilogy before he leaves for India).

Then while watching the closing ceremony tonight, D and I considered going to the games in London in 2012. With the price of tickets to individual events (somewhere between $30 to $120), plus accommodation, food, and plane ticket, it would be very expensive — but it would also be really fun. My hope is that D does land a job in London by then, so we could already be there for the games! Or, maybe Delhi will get the games in 2020 — and I can celebrate my 40th at the Olympics in India!

Also, I love the mascots for the 2010 winter Olympics in Vancouver, and I really want a "Quatchi" stuffed toy (in lieu of a T-shirt, which they don't seem to have yet).