The printer at work keeps flashing this message, “The cyan cartridge is close to life.” It makes me feel as though it has been incubating all these months just waiting to spring forth and offer vibrant color to my mundane office documents. What it really should say is, “The cyan cartridge is close to death.” It is obvious, as my brochures and other printed materials have been lacking a fresh burst of color. So long cyan cartridge, may your next life be longer.

We are currently a one-car family. I would like to say this is because we are also a "green" family and concerned about sending more pollution out into the world. I'd like to say we are trying to be economical. In reality, we haven't had the money to buy another car. We haven't taken out a loan for a car in more than a decade and I didn't want to have to now, but it's time — because the one car we do have has begun to slowly break apart, piece by piece.

The engine ticks, the electronics are wonky, only the back windows will  roll down (partly on account of the electronics), and now, to top it all off, the back air shocks have stopped working. Our car is now a low-rider and if I took a jar of cream with me as we drove to work, I could make butter. The window thing I can live with-- it keeps us from going through drive-thrus and has probably saved us money — but the whiplash is a bit much.

We've taken the car to the mechanic, and even he didn't think it was worth sinking money into. So, it's definitely time for a new car, which means a car payment, which means debt. As if our student loans weren't enough to worry about.

....   .....   ....   .....: This is me taking deep breaths and trying to envision driving to work in a car that doesn't prompt me to cross myself every three miles. (I'm not even Catholic, so you know it's bad.)

I think about food all the time. Even right now, I'm thinking about what to make for dinner and whether I should buy more romaine or skip the salad and have mashed potatoes instead, or just skip dinner all together and eat half a chocolate mousse cake. See how that happens? A simple, reasonable thought about food turns into this unhealthy obsession that causes my brain to battle it out with my stomach.
We host many barbeques and dinner parties at our home. We enjoy doing it -- great food, good conversation and even better friends. It's a lot of work, but at the end of the night we go to bed full (not just of food, but life and happiness). The thing is, at these dinners we talk about food. Everyone shares a story about their most recent food experience, their favorite hometown restaurant or the recipe they tried last week. It's natural to talk about food while eating food, but it can go too far. I've had a friend comment on how she enjoys watching me talk about food. She said it was as though I could taste the words coming out of my mouth. (Those were her words, not mine. To me it sounds a little like vomit, seeing as how it is coming out of my mouth.)

Isn't this plate of food beautiful? This mozarella and pasta dish was prepared and photographed by Framed Cooks. (Talk about feeding my food obsession- she's amazing.)

Her comment got me thinking, and I tried to listen to myself when food came up in conversation. I realized I sound as though I am talking about my first love, or recalling my happiest memory. I love food, I have a passion for food-- not just eating it, but preparing it, admiring it and sharing it. The trick is how to find the balance between my love of the art of food and how eating it makes me feel or is a result of how I feel. How do I enjoy food without using it to calm my nerves or allow a celebratory event to become an excuse to have more food? (What? Armistice Day is not a good enough reason to have a three-course meal and dessert bar?)

In any case, I'm still working on that balance. Let's just say, it will be a lifetime battle-- especially since I just became the proud owner of my very own KitchenAid mixer. Can you see how this might be problem?

Isn't it gorgeous?