2 lbs

Never in my life have I had such a packed schedule. There are shows to go to, races to compete in, garage sales and flea markets, seed swaps, keg parties and weddings. Business meetings with shrewd neurologists are up there, too. This spring, I've found myself caught in a whirlwind of masonry, Pabst Blue Ribbon, embroidery and medical politics.

I started the garden a few weeks back. I'm hoping it's not too early. It's been an awfully temperate spring thus far with no frost in April whatsoever, so I'm optimistic things will survive just fine. Seeds were started indoors this year, in pizza boxes filled with baked earth from the East Liberty backyard. As usual, I was pretty determined to avoid spending any money on gimmicky yuppie-planting stuff, i.e. special soil, vermiculite, moss, little compostable planters. I built a table out of plywood and spare 2x4s in the basement, and hung flourescent lights from tied-up bicycle inner tubes. Everything sprouted rather well, despite a little mold at the beginning, which I attributed to not filling my containers up with enough dirt. Not enough airflow over the surface.

Cherry tomatoes, cabbage, broccoli, swiss chard, and peppers. I busted up the plot with the help of my buddy's cousin, a Marietta, Ohio native with a penchant for pedaling through the mountains. I liked him. He works fast food and doesn't use the internet.

you kinda beat the shit out of me last night

Still up to the same thing. Yesterday, I purchased the most meat in one trip in my recent memory: six pig's hearts, a pound of beef tripe, pork neckbones, a slab of bacon, a pound of fresh chorizo, a pound of blood sausage, and a lot of chicken necks and backs.

Yesterday was offal day. It was also wassail and rum day and bullshittin' with your friends day, a weekly winter event I never tire of. It really feels good to be hanging out with a group of people in this city that is collectively grandfathered in with every butcher, cheese counter employee, or barista worth visiting.

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Hangover season seems to be over. The holidays, as much as I regret to admit, are just one big excuse to drink, especially if you're an atheist. Wassail, egg nog, seasonal beers, and getting booze for Christmas have all contributed to a light haze that is still interfering with my yuletide memory.

They're also a good excuse to eat. We actually managed to get pretty professional with our dinners in December, creating a recipe involving a pork loin, a lot of bacon and butcher's twine, and three or four heads' worth of garlic confit. I bought an entire half of a lamb with a friend, braised a shank with clementines and a lot of sage, made chili, ate a lot of chops, etc. I can't really complain about any of that. I also showed up to the old restaurant about 15 seconds before midnight on New Year's Eve.

2009 was a really great mess. I managed to work a full year at a nine to five office job and not lose it; I sustained only minor injuries, related, as usual, to arm wrestling and cycling; and I also moved again, to the seventh place I've lived in Pittsburgh in the past four and a half years. I live with three of my good friends now, in a very large house in East Liberty that I've spent a lot of hours fixing up. It feels good to live with other people again. It also feels good to turn a creaking hellhole into a really nice place to live with a lot of paint, spackle and tools. Maybe remodeling is my next career.

I probably rode a good 3,000 miles, maybe a little less. Moving has doubled my commute--I ride six miles to work and six miles back five days a week--so assuming I stay in the medical biz this year I'll ride 3,000 just commuting. Honestly, I feel pretty damn smug about doing that on a 38 year-old red bicycle that doesn't coast.

I feel 45, post-mid-life crisis. Like I've finally learned how to be friends with people.