I have had a truly ballin’ Saturday morning.
I rolled over in a panic at 7 a.m., light pouring into my room through the cracks around the shade. I thought, of course, that I was going to be late for work–until I realized that it was in fact Saturday. Cue sigh of relief and extra hour of sleep.
Over a bowl of Puffins and soy milk, I gchatted with Ali and watched this amazing video (thanks, Jamie!). I aspire to one day dance with the joy, abandon, and sweet turquoise kitten tee shirt of that plump asian man. (: Bonus? He’s actually quite good!
I know from experience that there are few February mornings in New England such as this one. Bright, sunny, just the right amount of breezy and unseasonably mild, it is the perfect morning to get outside. I went for a walk around my ‘hood today, during which time I ran into the glowing Stefania, guzzed a delicious french vanilla coffee, and enjoyed some sweet tunes while smiling into the wind. And on that note, I’d like you to meet somebody. Her name is Anni Rossi.
This talented little musician from Chicago/LA has a musical presence forged of what sounds like an extremely close encounter betwixt Regina Spektor, Andrew Bird and Bjork over the aural backdrop of a skillfully chucked cello. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked when I discovered that she’s another signee on 4AD, the same label as a number of my other favorites, Bon Iver, Beirut, and The National. Machine (or Arctic Swing) is the song that sparked my interest in her. This morning I’ve been listening to Ecology and Wheel Pusher whilst executing a complicated series of silly shimmies around my kitchen and cooking the delicious couscous recipe brought to my attention (and now yours) by the wonderful Ms. Katie Gordon.
This recipe (with a sadly lengthy, crappy title) is from the Fields of Greens cookbook by Deborah Madison. Make it, serve it over arugula like I did, and top with shaved almonds in place of pine nuts to render it even quicker, healthier and (bless!) cheaper.
With a sunshiney morning walk behind me and this in my belly, I have a good feeling about the rest of today. I know it may come as a shock, but in a little over an hour I’m going to learn how to shoot a gun. Bob, one of my coworkers, is a registered NRA instructor who offered to teach the Ladies of Fathom how to shoot. I hemmed and hawed about the decision for a while, but upon answering what Bob posed as the “deciding question,” concluded that maybe I should go and learn.
“Caitlin,” Bob asked, “Just tell me this. Make a decision right now. Would you, under any circumstances, be willing to take the life of another human being?”
Almost without thinking, I answered, “Yes.” I further explained to Bob that were someone torturing my mother or a few other choice individuals in my world, I would, without a doubt, be willing to kill. I might also kill in self defense, though I feel less strongly about that than I do about the defense of loved ones–whatever that means about my own self worth–ha!
“Okay then,” Bob told me. “Then you should probably learn how not to accidentally shoot yourself with the gun before you get that far.”
And so, today I’ll be picked up by a coworker and borne to an indoor shooting range to meet Bob and a few other coworkers and shoot at targets for an hour or so. I’m looking at it as an acquired life skill–something much like driving stick, which, incidentally, I’ll also be learning this weekend. The more you know, right?
Tonight’ll be Ben’s birthday party, and tomorrow if I’m very lucky I’ll see Charles over some delicious tapas at Barcelona. I’ll drink to my rejection letters, a future which is uncertain but exhilarating any way it’s sliced, and the vision of tiny pinpoints of light and warmth lit up on both sides of the Atlantic, representing the people I love and who I’m lucky enough love me back. (: