Life offline

Hi, the internet. Sorry I haven't written in a while. I kind of fell off of all of my healthy routines for the last two weeks. Turns out that writing on you is part of my healthy routine. Who knew?

As of this morning, healthy routines are back! I had a lovely, rejuvenating weekend in Boston with my boyfriend, caught up with some wonderful old friends, saw my dad and my sister, met some new friends, and got a new hat. Thanks for the hat, boyfriend! I also ate way too much delicious food. Bostonian vegetarians, I recommend Veggie Galaxy! Space-themed fifties-ish diner that is all vegetarian and has lots of vegan options! As the Mysterious X put it when I sent her photos, "in the actual 1950s, the only people eating vegetarian food would have been COMMUNISTS."

Technically, I should be recommending it to Cantabridgian vegetarians, but I figure Bostonian ones can cross the river.

I also took the boyfriend to Harvest for late birthday/slightly less late Valentine's Day dinner. It may win life in the "side dishes that most exceeded expectations" category. Damn good roasted root vegetables over farro risotto and also smoked Gouda mac and cheese.


As part of my get-life-back-on-track weekend, I ignored almost all of the emails I got for three days. That was even better than the food—and you know how much I love to eat. Getting back into the electronic swing of things isn't fun, but it's necessary in my various jobs. However, I have decided something about listservs, Twitter, blogs, Facebook, Google+, LiveJournal, and any other constant information drip service I subscribe to but have forgotten. For the foreseeable future, if I am disconnected from my drip for any period of time, I am going to pretty much skip that dose and just pick up where it left off and assume the intervening flow is expendable.

This is a fairly uncontroversial position, common to almost everybody I know, but it's hard for me. I suffer from what my friend Sally (real name; too tired for nicknames) taught me is called FMS: Fear of Missing Something. FMS means that I want to make sure nobody told a really funny joke while I wasn't listening, or came out of the closet as I blinked, or got a job when I was in Boston. FMS means I want to get up earlier and stay up later than everyone else in the world, just so they can't do something awesome without me. FMS means the Internet is highly addictive to me; there is always, always, someone doing Something that, if I'm not careful, I might Miss.

(Relatedly, FMS is why I love New York.)

For now, I'm going to feed the hedgehog and go to bed. You all can get by without me for the rest of the night. I'll see you when I see you, and hopefully it won't be another two weeks before I come back to the blog. If it is, look for me in the real world, trying to move slowly and just pay attention to the small portion of Something that is happening here. And in DC. And in NY. And in SF. And. And. And...