Haitians digging through the rubble of a marketplace today stumbled on more than moldy bananas: they pulled out a man alive after 28 days. You can probably imagine the state he was in; if not, the all-knowing news scroll at the bottom of the TV reports that he was severely malnourished and dehydrated. Really?

How does a body endure for nearly a month without food and water? How do you not decide that it’s time to close your eyes for good on Day 27? How does it change your life to know that you are a miracle?

Crazy Heart: Despite the fact that I’ll never understand the appeal of The Big Lebowski, I found Jeff Bridges to be a charming alcoholic in Crazy Heart, a movie I liked more than I expected. Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Colin Farrell all gave excellent performances, but Robert Duvall made me want to revisit every movie he’s made. Plus, we saw it in this charming old movie house in Hingham where you can afford to buy a ticket and popcorn.

Bright Star: I’m halfway through this Jane Campion film and need advice from someone who’s seen it. Should I watch the second half? I was drawn to the romance between Keats (the poet) and his love interest, but so far there are no sparks. I suppose things pick up, but right now, no one seems passionate about the poetry or each other.

I Like Killing Flies: an unusual documentary about Shopsin’s, an old restaurant in Greenwich Village churning out an outstanding variety of comfort food. The footage, however, lingers a bit too long on the grimy counters and unrelenting flies, so you’d never actually want to eat there, but the guy who runs the place is a riot, setting up arbitrary rules like, We don’t serve parties of five. You gotta love that.

This year I challenged myself to take a photo a day. I’m happy to report that January 2010 is fully covered, leaving me with a photo diary that’s as colorful and eclectic as a quesadilla. Turns out, my photos are often of things like quesadillas or whatever else I’m eating that day. To keep myself accountable, I joined the Project365 group on Flickr, dutifully posting my pic every day, even if a review of said photos reveals that I should have joined the What I Ate picture a day. Oh well. Next year.

Here’s my project so far. You can keep up with it on a link in my blogroll if you’re so inclined. It’s over there →

So far, it’s getting me outside where the light is good and there are more interesting subjects than my bed. I’m staring at people and taking covert shots in cafes, and I often find myself pausing before I chow down on a meal that I appreciate now not just for its taste, but for its composition.

And I know that come this time next year, I’ll appreciate having a journal of my year because despite being a writer, I find it near impossible to jot down a thing in any of those blank journals I’ve accumulated. Plus, a picture says more. You might even say a picture is worth a thousand words. Hey! I’m gonna coin that phrase.

On a recent walk, I saw a horse munching on hay in a cold, snowy paddock yet he seemed content. The blanket looked so heavy it might smother me, but it did appear to be keeping this giant warm. I’m thinking of investing. And taking horseback riding lessons. And taking a trip to Montana where you can get up at dawn when it’s cold enough to want to wear a horse blanket while you’re riding a horse. And you can ride in wide open spaces, sing campfire songs while roasting marshmallows, and be stunned by the sky.

My mom bakes this hearty English muffin loaf that makes you want to tote a toaster to work. It makes two loaves and is easy to make, even if, like me, you fear yeast. I don’t have nightmares about it; it’s just that I don’t understand it.

Anyway, she got the recipe from an old, simple-looking booklet that probably came with an early bread making machine.

English Muffin Loaf

2 cups milk

½ cup water

5-6 cups all purpose flour

2 packages Fleischmann’s active dry yeast

1 T sugar

2 t salt

¼ t baking soda

Cornmeal

Prepare pans first by greasing and sprinkling with cornmeal.

Combine milk and water in small saucepan. Heat over low heat until liquids are very warm (120 to 130 degrees on a candy thermometer).

Place 6 cups of flour, the yeast, sugar, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl. Attach bowl and dough hook, if you have one. If not, do it the old-fashioned way. Turn to Speed 2 and mix 15 seconds. Gradually add warm liquids to flour mixture and mix 1 minute longer.

Continuing on Speed 2, add remaining flour, 1/2 cup at a time. Knead on Speed 2 for 2 minutes longer or mix by hand. Dough will be very sticky.

Spread dough into two 8 ½ x 4 ½ x 2 ½ inch prepared loaf pans. Brush tops with melted butter and dust the tops with cornmeal. Cover. Let rise in warm place free of drafts for 45 minutes.

Bake at 400 degrees for 25 minutes. Remove from pans immediately and cool on wire racks. Yields two loaves.

I tried swapping out a couple of cups of flour for spelt flour, and the results were pretty good. I’m curious if a healthier version made with some whole wheat goodness would be as tasty. Please report back if anyone makes it, though you’ll likely be too busy stuffing your face.

You know what you don’t do enough? Star gaze. A magical wonderland spreads itself out for you each evening in the sky and you don’t bother to stop for a moment, tip your head back and just look. Well. The universe outdoes the Griswolds night after night with its light show, but your big, bright city smothers it with its shopping mall lights and parking lot spotlights. 

I know, you’re not big on standing idle in the frigid, dark night straining your neck, but if you did once in awhile, you might find yourself like I did last night taking a quick jaunt to the car then finding myself staring at the moon, my mouth hanging open at the mass of stars between pockets of illuminated clouds and the moon surrounded by a golden halo, glowing like a giant night light in the sky.

And then it happened again tonight. I was shuffling into the grocery store when this giant globe startled me. I, in turn, startled a guy walking by, because I just had to know:

“Is that the moon?“

“Yeah, wow, huge,” he said. Not as impressed as I was, but not a bad response from a stranger accosted at the door to the grocery store.

Of course, summer stargazing is sweeter. I can’t wait for the Perseid meteor shows to come every August when I can lay out with a blanket wherever I am and watch the giant fireflies streak through the sky, gasping each time, like it’s the first one I’ve ever seen. 

I tried this when I was in the wilds of Virginia in November for my sister’s wedding, going out late at night where the sky was unpolluted for a 100 miles and there were bear warnings in the community. The stars were out, and the view was spectacular, but every rustle sounded like the biggest black bear and when a twig snapped in half, I ran inside at the speed of light.

My friend got me this retro bookmark with Twiggy on it, which is fitting, because as a stick-thin girl, that was my nickname. Anyway, it has this great quote:

I love books so much I wish I could just marry them.

True that.

My heart sinks when I spy one lonely mitten on the T or a glove smushed and alone on the sidewalk, forever lost. Finding the perfect gloves are impossible. Plus, that one hand is gonna freeze until you do. This quote, which accompanied my A Word A Day email yesterday, describes the agony that the loser of the single glove must endure:

Losing one glove / is certainly painful, / but nothing / compared to the pain, / of losing one, / throwing away the other, / and finding / the first one again. -Piet Hein, poet and scientist (1905-1996)

Let me say right away that while my neighbors may have seen smoke billowing out my kitchen door and while the smell of batter burning in the oven may have nearly overpowered me, making me also consider the fact that my fire extinguisher probably dead a decade ago, there was no fire. But if there were, it would have been worth saving these muffins.

In search of a not-too-sweet breakfast muffin, I found this recipe on Smitten Kitchen, which is an interesting combination of ricotta and fennel. Not sold on the fennel flavor (I can’t get sausage out of my head), I only threw them in a few. While I was pleasantly surprised, I still preferred the milder version sans seeds.

One thing though, while I know you’re supposed to read the recipe through, and while I’m quite sure I did this, I didn’t realize internalize the importance of the steps, i.e., not overfilling the muffin tins with batter. So while one tin came out splendidly, the other emerged as a giant 6-in-1 muffin. You’ve been warned.

Sleep No More is the most unusual theater experience you’ll ever have. It’s what theater can be. A British drama troupe, Punchdrunk, puts on a Macbeth-meets-Hitchcock production that takes place in an old school in Brookline. You wander through, choosing to check out this room (an old-style dressing room with a ceiling covered in umbrellas) or that room (a recreated forest that engulfs you in fog), all in semi-darkness while wearing a mask. Exquisite details abound. The acting, when you stumble upon it, happens all over the building and you can watch the actors in a scene in one room or chase them down the hall in another. There’s much to reveal, but I won’t because you must see it.

Except you can’t: it’s sold out. As it should be. There are Craigslist postings for tickets, which are as sought after as Super Bowl tickets, and the option of waiting (a long time in the cold) for standby tickets. Be warned, you won’t be the only one waiting; but you’ll probably be the only one who’s seeing it for the first time. Everyone else will be on their third or fourth visit because there’s something new to discover each time.

Tonight on Boston’s local Fox news: What if the Internet shut down?

Oh. My. God.

I tried.

This weekend I tried matzo ball soup for the first time and it tasted just as I suspected: like chicken soup with moist meatless meatballs. I know that doesn’t make it sound very good (it was), but I just don’t get matzo balls. I watched my boyfriend form the little spheres from the matzo mix and marveled at how it solidified in minutes and again how it tripled in size like one of those Grow Your Own Dinosaur sponges when he placed it in the soup. Clearly, matzo is magical. 

I’m not a vegan, but if I hear there’s a good cookie recipe out there, I’m gonna try it—butter or no butter. In the December/January 2010 issue of Ready Made, L.A.-based Krissy’s Cookies shares its recipe for these healthier morsels, which can also be ordered online, along with other interesting varieties. 

If you’re vegan, you may already have the ingredients on hand; but if you’re like me, you have to hit Whole Foods to find spelt flour, agave nectar, and safflower oil. The cost of those three ingredients: $13. These cookies had better be good, I said to my shopping cart. They were, even if my tasters pointed out, But they’re vegan! Doubters.

Vegan Mint Chocolate Chip Cookies

(or plain old chocolate chip cookies if you skip the mint)

Makes about 48 cookies in under an hour.

3 cups organic white spelt flour

2 10-ounce packages of grain-sweetened chocolate chips (Sunspire brand)

1 tsp. aluminum-free baking soda

1 tsp. organic sea salt

1 cup light-colored agave nectar

1/4 cup organic safflower oil

1 tsp. organic peppermint oil

1/2 teaspoon alcohol-free vanilla

1/2 cup organic crushed almonds

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Line baking sheets with parchment paper if you have it. I most certainly did not. In a large bowl, stir together white spelt flour (Whole foods only had whole grain spelt flour and it worked well), chocolate chips (I used one bag, which seemed plenty), baking soda and salt. In another large bowl stir together agave nectar, safflower oil, peppermint, and vanilla. Add the flour mixture to the nectar mixture and stir until well combined.

2. Drop the dough by rounded teaspoons onto baking sheets. Using wet fingers, gently flatten dough mounds. Sprinkle each dough round with about 1/2 teaspoon crushed almonds.

3. Bake 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned and edges are set. Let cool on cookie sheet two minutes. Transfer to a wire rack; cool. Eat at room temperature (yeah, right!) or for best results, slightly chilled. To store, layer cookies between waxed paper in an airtight container. Store at room temperature for up to three days or freeze for up to three months.

Every time my brother-in-law’s mother visits him, she makes him a freezerful of pasteles that she carries with her on the plane. These pasteles are hot tamales (except they’re not, technically), but I was lucky enough to try one of the traditional Puerto Rican dishes while I was visiting at Christmas by digging around the freezer in the middle of the night. Well, it was slightly more above-board than that, but I would have . . .

Masa harina, the main ingredient, surrounds shredded chicken, olives, and spices, all wrapped up in a giant, glossy banana leaf. You warm the tasty little package in the leaf and unwrap it like a present. Here’s one recipe for the treat, traditionally served around Christmas. These little numbers take a couple of days to make; in fact, there was mention of an assembly line to crank out a batch. Best to have your pasteles hand delivered off the plane. 

Selecting just the right planner and wall calendar is key for a successful year. Without them, your life is a series of Post-it notes and shredded napkins of To Do lists that leave you with napkin fragments all over your clothes and nothing accomplished. This year, I scrambled to find a wall calendar and somehow ended up with the unusual Britain by Rail filled with cool graphic images that maybe one other person in the world might buy. Turns out the images are from the collection of The National Railway Museum in York, England, a place I steadfastly avoided while studying abroad in the same city years ago because well, it was The National Railway Museum. Now, every month, I’ll be gazing at the images I once shunned so cavalierly.

Then I got this featherweight planner by dozi on Etsy.com that is keeping me organized and oohing over the design. The simple lines remind me of mini bird footprints. Like a stampede of mini birds.

Anyway, I’m resisting iCalendar—just one more thing to click on—and going the old-fashioned route. So far, my planner has been a success, reminding me that I had dinner and a movie with Katie on Monday, a show with singer/drummer Vinx tonight at Club Passim, am watching the new season of Project Runway tomorrow (yes, I have to write it down), and checking out Elizabeth Gilbert reading from her new book, Committed, on Friday. Good job, little planner.

Revolutionary Road: not revolutionary, but disturbing in that American Beauty kind of way (same director) starring the same Titanic duo of Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, except without the ocean liner. Oddly though, there was a steamy love scene with a hand pressed to a foggy window that recalled that scene in Titanic. Unintentional homage? Who knows, but, I liked it enough.

Please Vote for Me: an unusual one-hour documentary on the first Democratic election in China—for the position of class monitor in a third grade classroom. Let me tell you, third graders are cut-throat little suckers. The movie is an interesting reflection on democracy, life in China, and how kids are mean wherever you go.

The Road: it’s as bleak and dark as an end-of-the-world movie should be; and if the world has to end, I would like Viggo guiding me toward salvation. Or toward the grim road where the few surviving people in the world are out to get you—and eat you. Though in an ideal after-world, he would be clean-shaven and scrubbed clean.

An Education: a must- must- must-see. Carey Mulligan is delightful, and Peter Sarsgaard is more than delightful even when he’s not delightful. A charming movie with a message that as a woman, makes you go: right on, sister. Right on.

A few years ago, I frowned on winter sports. I mean, it’s cold and windy outside, and inside is so very, very warm. Leave it to the winter Olympians, I thought. But then I discovered walking in the snowy woods (I’m a slow learner) and how if you actually just layer up like your mother tells you, you can be outside without crying. These days, I walk every morning unless it’s a blizzard. I draw the line at driving snow pelting my face. 

Today’s chapter in Embracing Outdoor Activity featured a stab at cross-country skiing. The strong sun, smooth trails, and patient teacher who piled on the positive encouragement (he’s my boyfriend, so he had to), conspired to make a believer out of the former I Prefer the Lodge Me. 

Somehow, I found myself gliding down one bunny hill after another, never wiping out, despite the feeling that I was in a runaway train careening toward a ravine. I did, however, master the art of falling down while just walking from one spot to another. 

The best part? Skiing makes you super tall…

Mostly though, my view was of my feet, marveling at how skis have a mind of their own despite me swearing at them to Go to the left! Go to the left!

I closed out the year with three novels:

Americans in Space by Mary Mitchell, is a fun, satisfying read that traffics in my favorite thing: poignancy. The protagonist is a widow with a sense of humor about her difficult teenager and toddler who insists on toting around a ketchup bottle and their eventual return to their lives post-grief.

The Bright Forever by Lee Martin centers on a missing girl in a small town in Indiana during the Vietnam War-era and is told from the perspective of multiple characters. The writing is strong, and Martin makes you want to go out and search for this little girl to ease the pain of her family.

Then We Came to the End is a cleverly told office drama with a splash of British humor—even though the author, Joshua Ferris, is apparently from Brooklyn. Well, the British comment is a compliment, Joshua. This book was a finalist for a National Book Award in 2007, and even better, it has a cool website where you can tour the office—the setting for the book. Check out these stellar opening lines told in the “we” voice of the novel, which makes you feel like you’re hanging out with the characters around the water cooler:

“We were fractious and overpaid. Our mornings lacked promise.”

Come on, that’s better than “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” which isn’t even punctuated correctly, no?

I thought the sky was on fire when I snapped this by the Charles River in Watertown last week. Alas, it was just the sun going down in a blaze.

As I was taking the T home yesterday across the Longfellow Bridge, another cool sunset as bright as the Citgo sign. Pretend there’s no window glare and the train isn’t in motion…

What’s better than a cantaloupe and lilac-colored sunset? Getting out of work early enough now to catch it. Hello marginally longer days.