Redeyed RD in DC

I just attended a conference on the east cost. Time traveling from LA to Baltimore is quite a feet. After 1 hour of sleep, I realized why it was called a redeye. Appropriately named. And exacerbated by the pinot at the airport in hopes of its sedative properties…

Clearly, I was only kidding myself.

It felt like I had ran a marathon yet I had sat for hours. The particular dietitians attending this conference were the sports nutrition and marathon running RDs. 

As I sat in the hotel lobby, wearing my redeye PJs, awaiting my friend (to get back from her morning run) I watched these fit RDs filter into the atrium. 

One by one. 

None with redeyes. 

All very upright and very much awake.

Conferences can be just that. Conferences. 

But everyone once in awhile you have a speaker that reminds you why you picked to study the field. His name was Barry Braun, PhD. A real smart, practical, academic type with a laid back way of speaking cracking appropriate jokes and possessed genuine enthusiasm for his work. 

During his presentation, it felt like I had drank a redeye instead of traveled a redeye. I had wide-eyes hanging onto every study and joke mentioned. 

The main point was that men and women have different responses to energy expenditure, energy intake and hormone regulation. A lot of the presentation shared how valuable standing as opposed to sitting is, the most universally completed activity that beat out sleeping-perhaps everyone is taking redeyes these days? 

After the conference I took these words and ran with them. Well walked with them. All over DC. With my RD friends in tow. 

Four women all met at the very centrally located Saint Louis University in St. Louis Missouri in the nutrition department. 

All met in different stages: Carolyn was an undergraduate at the time, Erin was an intern, I was a graduate assistant and Jamie an instructor. 

Now all RDs or Dietetic interns we have sprawled out-covering coast to coast. 

Me in LA. Jamie in Denver. Erin In STL. Carolyn in DC. 

So what did we do when we got together?

What RDs do. 

Talked about the field

One intern, one clinical nutrition manager, one outpatient dietitian, one chef professor.

Ate

Phenomenal fried mahi mahi fish tacos with house made, fresh pico and gauc; boiled lobster with a spritz of lemon juice and finely ground spices on toasted, buttered bun with light mayo; a rendez-vous at our claim to St. Louis fame in DC-Pi Pizzaria

Walked

Smithsonian, WWII memorial, my main man Lincoln, Korean War Memorial, Nam Memorial, Dupont Farmers Market

Drank

White Rascal, Beloved Schlafly at Pi, Black Cherry Mojitos

Acted like no time had passed

meaning, they all made fun of my poster presentation from the conference... 

Seeing friends from my past home and seeing an east coast city reminded me of just how foreign LA really is. There really are weather patterns and metros in this world. 

It was sad to say goodbye but traveling west is always easier on one’s body. 

And once the plane landed in LA, it felt more like home than before I left.

Sometimes you have to run away and come back to make a new home feel homey. 

Even through bloodshot eyes…I was back, reenergized and moving. homeward. 

Horse Tracks and Cow Trucks

(clearly this post is long overdue. It's been sitting, minimized on my desktop since mid March...what have I been doing? Pshh who knows, acclimating. Going up and down in life).

Today is my second favorite holiday. It is second to Thanksgiving. At Thanksgiving, I'm usually thankful there is a St. Patrick's Day.

It doesn't feel particularly like St. Patrick's Day in Los Angeles. I called up my entire family. Each off doing something St. Patrick would enjoy.

It was actually warmer for the Chicagoans than it was for the Angels today. So in a way it did feel like St. Patrick's Day here.

It's not so much a place with stone, pub-like places. More like mobile, taco-like places. Just as the industry progresses, so does the food. It moves. Literally. It's warm enough to have trucks serve up summertime goodness all year round.

There is a whole truck food culture.

Kind of like college, when you spill from the dirty bars to find the glorious hotdog stand waiting for you. You and ten other half barefoot, slobbering drunk idiots. And just like how that hotdog is the best thing you've ever tasted at that moment and it only cost you the spare two fifty you neglected to give for tip on that 1 dollar jello shot, this truck food is cheap. But gourmet. And loved by all. Not just drunk college kids. 

Instead of paying rent for a restaurants in LA, these chefs roll onto the streets tweeting their whereabouts.

It rained here today. The trucks were few and far between. The lines waiting were nonexistent.

A far cry from the days at the South Side Irish Parade in Chicago, when rain or shine you cling to the mobile stands, the beer stands, the portable potties. Most likely you cling for stability. Sometimes to stop from spinning.

I headed to Santa Anita the next weekend for a food truck festival held at the horse tracks. All these trucks parked in one place. 

Everything from creole to kohlrabi. 

The meal went something like this....

 

 Pork and Beef Sliders

To Die for Garlic Fries

Fried Plantain

A Solid Dog

Craft Beer

Fresh Baked Cookies

ten pounds. and worth it.

Driving Googled Americans Up the Wall-E

I really liked the movie Wall-E. Watching Wall-E’s confusion in the beginning of the film was reminiscent of Short Circuit’s confusion ending up in Oregon. Except Oregon was nothing like the pollution Wall-E was left to rummage around. And unbury treasures that were popular in the time of short circuits. Like plugs. And outlets.

Maybe it’s just me but I don’t feel like the movie got much attention. 

Was it for lack of dialogue?
Pshh, I’m pretty sure that “the Artist” is up for like eleven nominations. 

Was it because it went over the heads of children-the intended audience?
I’m pretty sure I was into Short Circuit and I had no idea what the cold war was or the song “who’s Johnny” which debuted in my birth year. 

And I’m not so sure it was entirely intended for children.

Was it because Americans are in denial about their sustainable practices and weight problems?
Because the movie certainly used a cute little, expressive robot to showcase how far the American physiques have changed since the days of short circuits. 

With those robotic chairs, we can have our pie and eat it too!

Americans are the best at everything. We win Olympic gold medals and we win at robotic chairs. It is called being an American. 

If you type “why are Americans” into Google, the first predicted text to pop up is “why are Americans so fat.” It doesn’t say why are American fat. It says, why are Americans SO fat. 

I’m doing far more sitting at this job than past jobs. I’m also dealing with more weight management issues at this job than previous jobs.

Maybe I should start writing for Google…

I wonder if Wall-E toys were used in Happy Meals. Maybe that’s why the movie didn’t get a lot of attention. Google stole the attention with all the questioning.  

Until we all short circuit and adapt into robots, we may continue to be googled by such complexly, simple questions such as “why are Americans so fat?” And it may take another 20 years for us to assess overweight and obesity in health severity instead of aesthetic scrutiny.  Oddly enough, scrutiny helps encourage healthy behavior. The way Americans scrutinize smokers, outlawed lighting up indoors and tax cigarettes has changed significantly since the days when ‘Who’s Johnny?’ played on the tape deck above the ashtray in the ‘ole paneled van.

When did Happy Meals start hurting?

I’m sure a day, not too terribly far from now, the happy meal toys (and food) will be so heavily taxed it may be a fattening delicacy like fois gras. Oh wait, that’s not American.

 The New Happy Meal

Whatever Will Be Will Be Good

I finally joined the current century. I upgraded my phone! I went from rebate to a white, 16gb 4s rectangular thing. It’s magical. It’s also necessary. A miniature computer makes living in a foreign territory quite un-foreign. 

I’m keeping up with the Silver Lakians. To do so, one must be in thrift store digs holding a rectangle. My email footer says “sent from Mcmurph PC” … now I’m the hypocritical joke.

I fit in. 

I fit in…but I’m still getting lost.

I left said rectangle at home while I went out for a run today. After all the eating and drinking in the hills I needed a bit of exercise. Running up and down hills is confusing. And hard. And I got lost. And when I walked into my apartment later than anticipated, I thought my roommate and her boyfriend were reaching for the defibulator upon seeing their faces see mine. I was as red as a pinpoint on the electronic map I left at home. If only I was holding that rectangle with that 4G GPS. 

After cleaning myself up, I started out on another “exploring my hood” adventure. This time with my friend and tour guide, Siri, in hand.

On this rectangle, an “app” is not food. But an app can tell you where to find food. Urbanspoon is an app. AroundMe is an app. They are both tasty but you can’t eat them. Almost as confusing as the curvy, hilly streets.

Ahh, how the modern hunting and gathering has cut out the work-or rather, the exercise.

So to see some of these red pinpoints on my map app, I set off to wander up and down Sunset Boulevard for 2 hours while talking to my dear friend Kory. Kory lives in Charleston, South Carolina.

Time zones are not on our side. We are kind of the same person occupying different coasts. 

Kory is at a university hospital doing outpatient dietetics. So am I.  Kory thinks too much. So do I. Kory is a bit sad right now…trying to figure it all out. I am sad for her. So I bought her a card. And I wrote in it.

1.22.Twenty12
Dear Kory,

You are a peach. A peach & a half, actually. I miss you often. Very often. And the moment in my life that you were a part of.

First off, happy 30^th! I wish getting older gave us more answers-or led us closer to “the answer.” Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it gives us the answer that there aren’t real answers at all. That everything is a journey. That we are all fluid. That when things are good and we meet amazing people we need to recognize it.  and them. and celebrate that moment- because it passes.

And it makes life better but harder too. Because we’re always trying to top that moment. Or hold onto it while we continue to grow. And then we compare everything to it. And try to get the best of every world we live. And our hearts just fill to the max! And it’s exhausting.

And silly!

We are humans and we can’t control hardly anything. (and we have big expectations!). And we can’t hold onto everything and expect to also move forward. If that were the case, I would have like ten boyfriends all the time! (psh, no I wouldn’t). And that would be terrible! Because I can’t hardly handle one!

You are like me-that’s why I like you. That’s probably why Rick finds me “ok” for a girl and a human and a stupid 25 year old with an older brother and an older sister. (Rick, you lost that bet).

We try to hold onto everything all the time. And do it well. And our hearts and minds just can’t hold onto everything and continue to grow, and go with the flow, and process. And even if we did hold it all together and stay in one place, the world would go changing things on us! It's a sneaky trick this world pulls on us!
Then we feel sad. Or guilty. Or reminiscent for things in our past. And then we need to remember that life is always changing and it’s a journey to nowhere at all. And you can’t compare apples to oranges. It has ups and downs and looking back always seems better in retrospect. The future is uncertain. The present is what it is. So we keep going.

And we are getting smarter and we do have more answers. But it’s just our own answers.
But even when we hit 30, or 25, or whatever, we have to remember that we’re doing the best we can and we need to put our pretty thoughts and heads to rest. And be. Good.
I love you!
Meg

As I wrote to dear Kory, my rectangle app played me a song. A version of Que Sera.

The future’s not our….

Life is going on as normally as ever…

There are a lot of things we don’t understand, either. We need answers from you: what did you expect to find? What’s going to be our future?..

…Que sera, sera.

I started to walk back up my street. To get to my new version of home at this time in my life. And I passed the Microbrew on the corner called Good. My rectangle tells me it’s 0.25 miles from home. It neglects to tell me that 0.25 miles uphill feels like 0.5 miles.

My rectangle helps close the gap from Charleston to Los Angeles. There is also an app that yelps that my house is by Good and it’s not just a clever name. And I should go to Good. So I will. And I am. 

And while I type, my rectangle app tells me that I’m searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old.

I’ve been to Hollywood…

...and I've seen it from my bedroom window.

Danger’s Global Warming Warning

Let me just say that this holiday season was anything but a normal holiday season. 

One reason? Possibly my decision to relocate from Chicago (the burbs, let’s not get ahead of myself) to Silver Lake LA CA between Christmas and NYE Twenty12.  Hmm or maybe it was that it was warm and ice-less enough to take a run on Christmas in the burbs. Either way, it just didn’t feel much like Christmas.

Either Chicago was onto me and gave a solid persuasive attempt to keep me or that thing that Al Gore and my college chemistry teacher kept talking about is happening.

Global warming?

Global warning?

As I packed up some essential cooking utensils and favorite mugs I also packed on some pounds-That run was the last run I took.

After that it was a 2,000 mile drive down route 66. The submission to all the roadside food and kitschy Americana I could get. And a week of getting acquainted and dining out LA style with tour guide Danger.

Which is proving dangerous for my beach figure.

My habits and location are now a global warming warning for my figure.

St. Louis, Missouri. First stop. 2:30pm. Local Harvest café. Blocks down from my old digs. Good food. Good people. Smoker out back. Sold.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Midnight. Nothing was open. Pizza Hut? It was a blurr but whatever it was, I needed. Some sleep. Some continental breakfast. 

Amarillo, Texas. Midday. Golden Light Café. Apparently the slaughter house of our nation, Amarillo served up a mean burger which I washed down with a Lone Star beer. The place was classic. I could spit on the line behind the bar. The only waitress thanked locals for Christmas gifts as they walked in. Sweet Child of Mine, Jack and Diane, and Mary Jane’s Last Dance played on the barely audible gloveless cook’s 1992 radio. Apparently no health regulations followed in international territories-The Lone Star State. Popped in and out of the antique lined street and jumped back into the car.

 Pit stop. Gas station coffee. Necessary after a midday beer and lots of driving.

Albuquerque, New Mexico. Late. Kelly’s Brewpub. Wanted some authentic Mexican but it felt like Albuquerque was trying to prove that it was more than chilies. Quinoa concoction, some of pop’s pulled pork and a house made red lager. I wasn’t in the Midwest anymore. Cool place. Cute accents. Crazy, great houses.

 

 

Santa Fe, New Mexico. Mid morning. I felt like I walked into a past time. Explored the culture of this old world, beautiful town with a latte in hand.

 

 

 

Navajo land. I bought a blanket. Be jealous. 

It’s amazing and so is the man who sold it to me. 

 

 

...And then there was Geronimo.

Flagstaff, Arizona. Evening.

Oh no. Problems occurred. Altitude of 6,900.

Authentic, college hipster vibe of good beer and good coffee. Beaver street brewery served up some artsy goodness. Which was later served up by me. Needless to say, not as good tasting the second time. Even worse, only room available was a hostel style room without a bathroom. Going down to the toilet paperless lobby bathroom half delusional at 3am was less than ideal.
Macy’s coffeehouse for breakfast. Not my finest hours. But real good granola, yogurt and fruit breakfast. Couldn’t do coffee. That’s how bad I felt. It didn’t even smell good. Now you know how unfortunate this event was. I’d still go back to flagstaff. 

 

 Sedona, Arizona. Midmorning. After my illness and lack of shower, the streets were mocking me. I was dirtier than they will ever be. Sparkling town. Caters a bit much to high-end tourists. Fried cactus helped get me back on my road food track. Too preoccupied with nausea to truly enjoy the town but the red rocks looked a lot nicer on the way out of the town than they did on the way in. Maybe it was the cacti help.

 

 

Santa Monica, California. Late. Pizza again. I needed a shower and to not move.

The next morning started with a coffee on venice beach. “Good” microbrew down from my new digs in Silver Lake. And a late night diner experience at Swingers diner.

…the week following the road food continued onto include: Malibu fishery, barbeques in Topanga Canyons, In-and-Out burger on Ventura, horchata at an authentic taqueria down the hill from my place, An intoxicating experience at Musha in Santa Monica...

And the list goes on and on. And on.

One can get any food one wants in this town.

And not only is my global location a warning but so is my ability to fit into these clothes I hauled 2,000 miles.

Today I decided to be healthier. I took a hike in Malibu and picked an orange off a tree by my mailboxes. I’m going to try living off this global land and see where it gets me.

So far it’s gotten me west, up the hill from Sunset Blvd and a view of the Hollywood sign.

 

Happy Baking

 

Tis the season of scones and spice and everything sugar.

A Whole Worldly Market

So I stopped in Whole Foods Market and then jumped into Cost Plus World Market when my sister sent me a text message.
Does anyone say Market after Whole Foods anymore?

Does anyone use the words Cost Plus before World Market?

Does anyone say message after text..?

Am I living in ‘97?

The contents of said text message were anything but ordinary but neither is my sister. Instead of “Hey! Wanna meet at LA Fitness for a workout tonight?” It read “OMG! You need to go to Richard Simmons work out class!”

I chose not to respond.

Let me recall what I know of Richard.

Isn’t he like 97?

Later that night we had the Murph Family Dinner-a traditional Wednesday night event that’s been occurring since as long as I’ve been gone. While living in STL, my family, the significant others and my dog have been partaking in a Whole lot of good Food sans my presence.

In the past couple months I’ve had the pleasure of participating in this glorious event.

Let me tell you, having the ability to persuade slash officiate a beer chugging contest between my brother and brother-in-law after a lovely home cooked meal played a part in my decision to move home..

Brian took all. 5.6 seconds. No spillage disqualifications. Almost disgusting. Almost.

Ahhh, the skill set learned while he lived away. In a fraternity house.

At Murph Family dinner, my sister explained the thought process behind the random text. She found this article. Everything made sense. And I realized that it was true. I HAD to visit R. Simmons. And befriend him using my powers of persuasions.

And I may need to leave the class wearing a new, branded tee from, I’m guessing, 1997. Easily.

So unless something changes in the next couple of weeks, I will only have approximately 3 more Murph Family Dinners to be the Beer Chugging Initiator as I have officially accepted a position that will take me to another part of the world. And not just World Market.

Instead of going to LA Fitness, I’ll be doing fitness with R. Simmons in LA.

I’m hoping this job will make me a bit more marketable. And as a plus, a bit more worldly as well.
And with worldly, comes a plethora of new whole foods to try!!..meaning, it is necessary that R. Simmons and I become buds.