Thursday, September 10, 2009

Hooray for Fall!

Tonight marks the start of NFL regular season games. Can you feel the excitement? I have the television on right now as I write this, anxiously awaiting the kickoff.

I consider myself someone who lives in the moment. I hate making plans; when forced into structure, I am a terrible planner. I have never been able to stick to a routine of any kind. I try new things. I take detours. I explore everything. I shake things up. There are, of course, exceptions to every tendency. My particular exceptions are less like chronic habits, and more like sacred traditions. Fall is the season that houses most of these sacred traditions. Football is one.

Football season means several things. I spend much more time on the couch. Sundays, Monday nights, and occasionally Thursdays, are strictly off-limits to other events and activities. My beer and carb intake inevitably increases, contributing to the annual arrival of the very thin fatty layer that keeps me warm as the temperature drops. This works out nicely since I like to eat artery-clog-worthy food while watching football, plus it helps me prepare for winter.

Being averse to routine, I have never really been good at sticking to a workout plan, which also helps to preserve the extra winter insulation. I feel like I’m in decent shape; I walk a lot, and take the stairs. Occasionally, if I’m running late to catch the subway or if I’m walking my pugs and they decide to chase a squirrel, I might even break into a “mini-jog” (a term coined by college friends when we would sort of half-run, usually while wearing heels and trying to catch that last bus to the off-site frat party). Besides, the last time I tried to conquer a treadmill, I got so sore that I vomited. Therefore, I think I will just stick to walks, stairs, the intermittent mini-jog, and couch yoga while watching football. Especially since I’m okay with what I see in the mirror when I step out of the shower, and I don’t hear any complaints from the one other person who sees me naked, so couch yoga and artery-clogging it is. Hooray for fall!

Another sacred fall tradition is fried green tomatoes. I find ‘em, I fry ‘em. They can be elusive, but check out farmers markets over the next couple of weeks and you should be able to turn some up. Or you can just do what I do: try to grow tomatoes over the summer, fail miserably, and pluck the underdeveloped green tomatoes as they mock you.

I wrote a green tomato blurb last year with a family recipe that you can read by clicking here. I finally added some photos, too.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...