It's Del-i-cious!

Princess H made this announcement while eating her pizza with spinach and mushrooms the other night. Two years old and she already has great taste buds!

The pizza was delicious - Benny Tudino's pizza always is. And the company was even better, but I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a sad occasion. It was our last (regular) meal with the Ws. This weekend they will pack their bags and take the family back to Toronto.

After five years of knowing them, the Ws have become family. Mr. W and Mr. Oh were acquainted through work, but our family ties strengthened over the years. We lived in the same building - a mere elevator ride away - for most of these years. And, in the last couple of years, we were there for the birth of their children and got to watch them grow.

I know the move will be great for their growing brood. I also know, there are a multitude of ways to keep in touch and that we'll see each other on our trips into Toronto. But, it doesn't make it any easier knowing that I won't be able to enjoy an evening colouring with Princess H as she gabbers stories to me about Caillou and Dora whenever I want.

L'arte d'arrangiarsi

The Italians have a saying "l'arte d'arrangiarsi", which translates to the art of making something out of nothing.

For the most part, I've heard this saying used as one would use "making a mountain out of a molehill".

But, when I read Elizabeth Gilbert's incredible Eat, Pray, Love (a book for everyone to relish), she provided a new perspective on the expression - and of course, it has to do with food. She explains that Italians have a knack (an art) to make an incredible meal out of few basic (nothing) ingredients.

There is no food that more exemplifies l'arte d'arrangiarsi than pizza.

In preparation of our upcoming move, I spent the day packing up my kitchen. In doing so, I discovered several foodstuffs that if I didn't use quickly, I'd have to loose them. These included: an envelope of rapid rise yeast, half a zucchini, a sliver of an onion, half a jar of artichoke hearts and a spoonful of capers. Literally, a handful of nothingness.

Add to this some bread flour, a few spices and a can of tomatoes and voila... a satisfying meal after a hard days work.

Now, if I only knew where I packed that corkscrew, I could have enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner.

I Run Because...

Last weekend, I ran in the Human Race – a 10 km course sponsored and hosted by Nike+. It was an incredible event that got about one million people racing in 25 cities around the world. In New York, there were more than 10,000 people who turned out for the event. Part of the proceeds from the race supported various charities.

It was pretty amazing to be part of something so big. But, with big crowds come big issues.

The event was horribly disorganized – there was a 30 minute start delay and when we finally got started, the course couldn't handle the large crowd. At one point, the race came to a complete halt as thousands of people tried to cross a very narrow bridge.

To top it all off, upon crossing the finish line racers were offered warm water and yogurt with granola. Mmmmm – there’s nothing like dairy to quench your thirst!

Over the years, many have asked why I run and I've always had a hard time answering them. Why? Well, because I both love and hate running (New Balance's recent commercials epitomize my feelings to a T).

There are the health benefits - I can stave off heart disease and other chronic illnesses. It also satisfies my need to compete and achieve - is there any better competitor than yourself? And, when I'm actually running, I feel strong, energized and empowered.

This is all great, but more times than naught, I loathe the effort involved. I don't like leaving my bed at 5:45 most mornings, I’m not happy about passing up my glass of wine when I’m training, I’m not a huge fan of sweating, and I could really do without the aches and pains that follow me after my outings.

So, why do I do it? Well, to be completely honest, there’s only one reason that keeps me going: food, glorious food! Really, is there any better reward than knowing you can actually eat - and eat well - without fearing (too much) the consequences of the weight scale?

On Sunday, after running for 1 hour and 10 minutes (my worst performance to date), I decided I was owed a little treat. Since Nike wasn't kind enough to feed me, I made a quick pit stop before heading home: