fitforafemme.com

I already miss the World Cup. Do you?

What a love affair. There’s this great big empty space where the only traditional sport I’ve ever loved lived for 1.5 passionate, glorious weeks. (UFC and bull-riding don’t exactly count as traditional.) We shared eight games together and it just didn’t seem to matter that I knew nothing of and had no interest in soccer before at all, the Uruguay vs. Ghana game sunk its big, sweaty, dramatic teeth into my neck and I was irrevocably hooked.

M was delighted to bear witness to this newly discovered passion. She’s not a sports maniac or anything, and I do occasionally enjoy watching football and baseball (but only ever at actual games, I find the latter dreadfully banal on the television), but it’s rare and we have never been so engaged as this. When we weren’t sneaking away during lunch to watch the games during the work week (or streaming them at our desks), we’d trek to the Stray Bar on the weekend.

Being a mixed-race baby with roots in Germany and Spain, it was very difficult for me to choose a side in semifinals. Who I picked is obvious, and I chose Spain because it’s where M & I had such a dreamy courtship the first year we met. (It leaves an indelible impression on you, that kind of spectacular free-falling someplace unfamiliar.)

It was the right choice. I couldn’t drum up any feeling for Germany’s team, anyway.

The photos above were taken right around the moment when Spain won the World Cup!

I cried. I actually cried with genuine joy. Over a sport. WHAT?! (I also toasted M so heartily that I shattered her champagne flute, which is why it moves from one glass to another up there.) This is so unlike me, and now every four years M will have to make room for my whirlwind love affair with this happy sport. I apologize profusely and in advance to the shocked friends who will likely never understand it and think it the beginning of the end of Skinny, surely.

I threw this outfit together essentially at Target the night before. M & I drove some friends of ours to their local store to get some new home essentials, and I scoured like 5 departments before settling on the shorts, black tank, red button-up from the Converse line, and the contrasting handkerchiefs that M & I chose. You know it’s ardent when I willfully don the ill-advised ketchup + mustard color motif with not a single trace of shame.

She psychically knew that they’d be wearing their blue uniforms.

Thank heavens for the striped H&M socks at home!

VIVA ESPANA!

CONFESSION: On our 5th consecutive day of blissful holiday PTO, M took me to see A Single Man (remember when I mentioned it here back in November?). Despite the dreariness of the day, we bravely set out on BART to catch it playing down by the water at the Embarcadero theater. I really, really enjoyed it. It was delicious. There’s an old L-Word actress cameo, model cameos, a Mad Men cameo, and one other that I cannot quite recall. It was a touch slow in places, but it’s so visually saturated that it really doesn’t matter, and it made me cry. On our way home we took these silly photos, and then it began to rain, so we hustled inside, made a big spaghetti dinner, opened a bottle of tasty red from Spain, and then FINALLY got around to the Johnnie Walker Black Label blending session we’ve been postponing forever. Dreamy.

Y’all can have special insider pics of the super elaborate scotch whisky blending set-up, because I love you like that:

When: Wednesday, February 18th, 2009.

What: Corduroy pants from Victoria’s Secret, mystery sheer black camisole and striped Italian cardigan, thrifted. Vintage scarf, western-y leather bag by Betsey Johnson and boots by Lamica. Beaded glass necklace from Spoiled.

Scent: Guerlain Angelique Noire. Interestingly enough, it smells similar in some ways to the scotch I review below. The vanilla, I think. It’s got bergamot, angelica and vanilla, goes on as sticky sweet as cotton candy melting on the tongue or warm summer skin, settles into something slightly more creamy and a little bit green, with the slightest shimmer of a bouquet of mulled wine spices. It’s a bit much for everyday wear, not quite enough for evening, so I’d probably wait for the perfect outfit and almost-too-warm spring day for this!

Confession: So absurdly busy with new job, but it’s fantastic and top secret. M is opening our newest bottle of scotch, a Macallan 12-Year, with “hints of sweet cream and vanilla due to aging in used sherry casks from Spain.” It definitely smells sweeter. Not like Sharpie. I’ll have a little taste when I’m feeling brave.

OK, I’m brave now. That was delicious. It was less smooth than the Lagavulin, a great deal less smoky or sooty, yet with somehow more bite along with the sweetness. It burns when you sip it, but it’s so sweet at the same time. I imagine it’s the sherry casks? I don’t care. It’s delicious. I want more. It makes me feel all warm inside. Mm.

SCOTCH! We’re friends again. Hi.