whichwaydidshego

Be the change you want to see.

2011-01-20T13:30:00.000-08:00

I take such joy in finding ways to live a more ecologically friendly life, odd as that sounds. Each time I discover a new way of living wisely I feel a sort of delight that isn’t easily taken away.

Just yesterday, ironically minutes after my final load finished, my back-ordered Wonder Ball arrived, a way of using less or no detergent and getting things clean. I can’t wait to use it! I already started using the Static Eliminator instead of dryer sheets. I had no idea how many chemicals were in those little sheets! But when I think of a lifetime of using them (even if I was someone to use half of one per load), I’m embarrassed by the waste.

One of the great things about having these items for laundry, besides the environmental benefits, is the money saved. The Wonder Ball lasts for 2,000 washes and the Static Eliminator for 500 washes. For a single woman with not a lot of laundry, that’s a long time.

The other thing that is great about using these products for the lifestyle I’m working toward is that they travel well. I don’t have to buy small packages of products I don’t even know if I can trust because that’s all that is available, or alternatively I don’t have to carry bottles or boxes of detergent around.

Another item I purchased part way through the year is a safety razor. This is going old school, and I love it! The razor I chose was the Vintage Butterfly Safety Razor with Gun Metal Finish. Does that sound like me or what? It's pretty hot to look at, and gives a nice, close shave.

I will say it takes some getting used to. After a lifetime of shaving with those disposable things, using quality takes practice. You don’t need to push for one thing. Nor do you take fast, long strokes. It’s just as easy, mind, but it’s a different way. When done properly, it is the closest shave you’ll ever have. And the waste is almost nil. Plus, it’s purdy.

Some changes I’ve implemented over the last year or so:

Only reusable shopping bags. (If I don't have them with me I go without or don't buy.)
Only handkerchiefs. (So, so much nicer on your nose!)
Only cloth napkins. (This includes always carrying one with me for restaurants without them.)
Rags instead of paper towels. (Best change made - works much better and you don't realize how often you use paper towels.)
Always use my own container for coffee and other drinks. (Again, don't buy if don't have a container with me.)
DivaCup instead of tampons, LunaPads instead of liners. (I cannot believe I hadn’t heard of these before! So much more effective, more comfortable, and healthier!)
Never plastic utensils. (Again, proper silverware carried with me.)
Ending all catalogues and junk mail. (So easy and so few do it.)
Changing to non-disposable razor with replaceable blades.
Laundry detergent and dryer sheet alternatives.
An eReader instead of books; an external hard drive instead of DVDs.

I’m not militant about any of this, don’t impose my ways on anyone around me (beyond blogging), and when in other’s homes I use what they have. But for me, all of these have been really easy changes. And I feel great about them.

Obviously, there is so much more I could be doing. And I’m working toward quite a few new changes. But I also won’t be so over-the-top about it that I can’t enjoy things with people. For instance, the one and only time I used a paper coffee cup last year was when I was out with a friend and we drove to the coffee shop in his vehicle a mile away from my car with my cup inside it. I was out to have coffee with a friend on a schedule. It was to be my treat. Of course I ordered something, and we had a lovely visit.

I hope this inspires someone – even just a little. It started small with me, just the shopping bags, and expanded from there. But these changes, they feel good. It may seem small, all this… one little person, what can she do? But you know what? I know that last year because of my changes a tree or two less were used for wiping my nose on or cleaning up a spill. I love trees. Simple as that.

The gypsy in me.

2011-01-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

Today I awoke a bit healthier than I have done in the last week or so. But what I awoke to was a longing for the visceral again. For actually seeing the world. Walking it. Interacting with it. Tasting it’s flavors. Understanding bits of it. Definitely appreciating it.

When I get this feeling at this level, it actually physically hurts that I'm not attaining it. It’s the deepest, most intense longing in me. It goes beyond even the desire for companionship.

It’s not about making my mark on the world. My time here on this planet, in the scope of all of history and all that is to come, is miniscule at most. It’s about BEING in it. Experiencing it. Knowing, truly knowing, the wonder of it during these moments I'm privileged to be in it. Glimpsing it’s beauty in this moment. Marveling at the cultures I encounter. And touching as much of it as I possibly can.

This. This is what drives me. What feeds me. I spend my time downloading books to my reader or films to my external hard drive in anticipation of the first step of this journey. Yet, in reality when I go I won’t give a crap about these things. I’ll care about engaging with what is around me. Not what is made to entertain. (Not that I obviously don’t enjoy these things… but they often can dilute the preciousness of the moment as well as suck time from this sacred interaction.)

I used the word “sacred.” I do see being deeply engaged in each moment as spiritual encounter – as the most profound way to honor the divine, or at least to honor this mysterious gift called life.

But I digress. This drive, this desire for a nomadic existence is both marvelous and maddening. How do I support myself financially is the most trying part to figure out. (Yes, I am open to suggestions – and especially connections.)

It is isolating, too. Many people I meet think it’s a great dream, but then have a lot of negative comments about it. They even become angry. I do understand. They have made choices in life that have allowed them to walk away from their dreams. To encounter someone who still holds to theirs is not always comfortable. It is only hard when I get discouraged and haven’t someone who believes in me and my goals to encourage me. (I’m so very grateful I have a few wonderful women who do that for me now. What a true blessing.)

Whatever this wayfaring passion is, it is my objective; my goal. my future. I just wish so much I knew how be in it now rather than always, ever “moving towards it.”

The weight of me.

2011-01-05T18:00:00.000-08:00

I thought with the New Year I would start afresh. An invigorated focus on my goals in life brings me back with a new look for the blog and a refreshed sense of purpose for my writing. But first, a reflection…

The last few months I have had some personal breakthroughs I didn’t even know I was needing. (Sometimes those are the most awe inspiring.) These epiphanies have centered me as never before.

What it comes down to is a knowing myself completely at the deepest levels of my being. Really being good with who that is. This is an all-encompassing knowing; a resting in and embracing of my whole self. This includes recognizing and appreciating my place in the journey of life, loving my body just as it is, and being both contented with and excited about my spiritual path with the wrestling and expanding it involves.

This sounds so corny, really. But it was born of coming the other side of an intense trauma after finally truly healing. In that final emergence from the dark waters of that churning ocean of betrayal, despair, and brokenness I was lost in, with that first step on dry land I felt the weight of me. By that I mean I knew the depth of my courage as well as just how intense and incredible my strength is. That was my “grounding.”

One interesting thing about that ocean: you feel so overwhelmed in the depths of it when you can’t see the shore as the waves are pounding you and threatening to take you under, but the very hardest part is when you finally stand in the shallows of the tide and are taking that long walk to the beaches. Because you feel the sand between your toes as you step, you think you are on land, so the effort is all the more frustrating as you fight to bring your legs forward through the eddying riptides. Never have you worked so hard, yet you don’t realize you really aren’t out of it yet. It’s only on that first step out of the waters that you find that true freedom.

And that’s the moment you know. You know just how fierce you are. You know it’s not an invincibility but an endurance. You feel your strength in every molecule and know… that you can. Who you are is enough – more than enough. Whatever comes next, strenuous and painful or freeing and joyful, will not be beyond you. You can.

Edith Södergran said:

“My self-confidence comes from the fact that I have discovered my own dimensions. It does not behoove me to make myself smaller than I am.”

I know my own dimensions now. In fact, I OWN my own dimensions. I revel in them. So I walk tall. Because I am tall.

Love (supposedly) happens.

2010-10-10T01:19:00.000-07:00

I just watched a film tonight on a whim. It was called “Love Happens.” It was a good film in that it had a depth I didn’t expect and wasn’t the rote Hollywood love story. For me however, what was glaringly obvious was that in my life love doesn’t seem to happen.

In the end, what I saw was the lack of it in my life. In the past I have idly wondered about how people have love more than once in their lives. At the conclusion of this film I felt the frustration of the main character experiencing the potential for real love a second time while I can only long for it just once.

It’s hard not to think how much I must lack as a person to not ever have been very near it. Mostly, though, at the moment I feel envy for those who find it so easily. I even envy the potential pain – because I know that it is only possible to experience deep love if you risk greatly.

Perhaps that is the problem. I know the risk it takes. Therefore in the past when I’ve decided to trust, I dove in the deep end with an open, vulnerable heart – expectant and ready. Finding out after all that talk of oceans that they didn’t know how to swim, or at most only wanted ankle deep waters, made it hard to want to keep climbing that ladder to the high dive board.

But I would again. If someone would talk of oceans once more. It seems they no longer do. Not to me.

So do I see this as a reflection of how unworthy I am? Do I just keep moving forward, pretending-until-I-believe that life without love is still great? Do I give up the biggest portion of who I am to be someone who is more accessible in order to have it? Or do I keep hoping that someone I can be crazy about will cross my path who will love me – as I am? Because honestly, hope is exhausting, and quite frankly, after nearly 42 years, unfulfilling.

I know, I know – I’m not being very positive. I’m sure I’ll find that place of graceful patience again. But for tonight I’m childishly covetous of you who have love and am generally discontented with my life lived thus far without it. Just for tonight, while still trusting the journey, knowing love happens is a horrible reality rather than a wondrous possibility.

Timing is everything.

2010-09-15T01:15:00.000-07:00

Hope. That’s what this is. I’d forgotten. Or at least, I’d forgotten the pleasant side of it. This last month, being out of touch, I have been discovering hope again… in the strangest of ways.

I suppose it had been building for a while, leading me to this place of feeling again. Then I had a couple weeks where suddenly I was feeling all the pain of the traumas of the last five years – all at once. It was nearly unbearable, but I knew that if I could feel this pain, if I could find a way to walk along with it, then I could again feel love and have passion and find… hope. I just didn’t want to be numb anymore, but until then didn’t have the tools – the pain and heartbreak – to be free of the anesthesia.

The thing about pain is that without feeling it we can’t feel anything. Not really. Certainly not deeply. Overwhelmed, I had flipped that switch to “off” in order to deal with the fallout of various extreme situations that I was bombarded with in rapid succession. However, by the time I wanted it turned on, I couldn’t reach it. I was so far from it wandering in that darkness, I couldn't even see it.

When I then all these years later unexpectedly backed into it, I was blinded by the light. It was incapacitating to experience so much emotional pain all at once. Now my heart has adjusted. (I’m so grateful.) And I find I have passion again… so much of it! Yet, now it it tempered with wisdom and experience, so it is a fuller and a more beautiful sort of passion.

I’m not saying everything’s perfect, and frankly I hope I never will say so – how boring that would be! I am saying I feel [internally] prepared for what may come. More, I am moving toward it with anticipation while still endeavoring to be present even in these duller moments.

As this hope builds, and more specifically as I complete my few remaining (time consuming) projects, I will be much more consistent with my blog entries… and I would imagine they will be getting more interesting as I enter into the flow of, well, my destiny.

Here’s hoping…

What I found.

2010-08-17T20:00:00.000-07:00

Over the last weeks while researching other things I've come across some pictures that made me laugh at...

the whimsy
the ironythe sweetness
the perpexity
the hilarity

...of life and us in it. Hope you laugh today!

The way here.

2010-08-16T22:30:00.000-07:00

I’ve been going through a bit of a transformation lately. It’s been a few years in the process, but the chrysalis is opening, and the view is great!

I think the most recent revelation in this evolution has been in finding that I’m sincerely content to be where I am while at the same time looking forward to all the years yet to come. I’m actually excited for 50, though not wanting to miss a second of all the years in between.

This is in contrast to how I was living. Internally I felt that there just wasn’t time – everything had to be rushed and was eminent because life was in fast forward. While I always was one to “suck the marrow” from life, this frenetic, whirlwind living I think really started after September 11th. Time froze while at the same time I felt like it went into overdrive. I never got out of that gear – not really. Not internally. I was almost in a panic to do and see all that for which I hoped and planned. I knew my mortality and was putting all sorts of energy into racing against it.

Suddenly, though, I feel like I have time. I’m resting in knowing me; knowing I accomplish what I set out to do, so it will happen. In the mean time, I’m here. That’s kind of great. My mortality hasn’t changed, just my perspective on how to be with it.

There’s another level to this, too. It’s the whole thing about feeling and looking (and acting!) younger than I am... This has always been a fantastic thing in my book. (What woman doesn’t want to frequently be taken for 10 years younger than she is??) Now, however, I’m really quite proud and grateful to be my age. Because it took to here to be so grounded and solid in who I am. No thoughts of what others think or how my family might react. My perspectives and beliefs won’t be altered by other’s judgments... no matter how much I might love them.

Considering my world view is so far from my entire, very large and well loved, extended family as well as the community I was so vigorously involved in for my first 35 years of life – the only community I’ve known, in fact - that is an extreme statement. Their disagreements and judgments on my Weltanschauung won’t cause me to waiver from it. If I am very blessed, they might one day understand I haven’t left my faith – only expanded it. But I can’t concern myself with the reactions of others, positively or negatively, when it comes to this subject. I embrace and accept others where they are at... I don’t ask them to do it/think it/feel it my way. I try to meet them where they are at and hopefully I will grow by embracing and understanding them.

Now, to looking young... sure, it gets me in more places and gives me access to more people who wouldn’t normally talk to (or date!) someone my actual age, but I love what those extra years have brought me. Suffering.

Because it’s only when you come out on the other side of deep pain and loss, that engulfing kind of brokenness, that you know your true strength. You know how deep your courage runs. Your footing there is solid and unwavering. You know yourself utterly. And can rest in that.

When you get there, to that place of peace with the ever-present pain, you will find real joy and passion again (likely in fits and starts, but you will find it). In fact, it will be richer because of the freedom taming such a ferocious beast brings. You will be full.

What a miraculous place to be. Hooray for aging!

What they mean.

2010-08-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

Words. I never realized how much I prize them. The look of them; the sound of them. Where they come from; how they came to be. Why they mean what they do. I love words.

Specific words. Elegance. Passion. Art. They hold pictures. Home. Family. Friends. They hold emotion. Adventure. Faith. Live. They hold hope. Explore. Connect. Create. They hold my soul. Love. It holds everything.

Even in my art, words are vital. I love having them around me. To look at. To consider. To embrace.

I guess this demonstrates what I value. A story. How it is told. The words it uses. A person. How she describes herself. What I see in her. What it communicated. And faith. Sharing hope, asking for help, expressing gratitude… all in words.

Perhaps because I am physically separate from all of my friends and most of my family, the depth of meaning that words take on is even greater when a hug cannot be had or a laugh cannot be heard. A word can be felt. They have texture. I feel them.

Verve. Vivacity. Vivid. They are favorites, and hopefully me.

Where we love.

2010-08-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

My wonderful friend Courtney is getting married today to the love of her life, Rebecca. In the world I come from, this would not be okay… but I don’t think it’s okay that when two people find that rarest and most illusive of things, deep and abiding love, that anyone would ever take issue with their union. That they have to go out of state to legally make this bond is very sad, indeed. I am acutely grateful they have such grace as to embrace this forced journey rather than begrudge it.

I have had few friends in the course of my life who have given to me as much as Courtney has over the last few years. She has been a light. She has supported me in so many, and to me, miraculous, ways. In short, she has been a friend. But in truth, she has become a sister.

We have shared so much with each other during this time, but what was so beautiful to me as I got to know her was HOW she and Rebecca loved each other. It is protective and gentle, yet fierce and vibrant. It is both tactile and cerebral. It is comfortable and natural, yet intense and passionate. But most of all, it is true and enduring.

I am so thrilled that today they join together in this way; that they commit to each other openly and lastingly. How magnificent!

Deep joy, great peace, and lasting hope I wish for you both as you begin your journey together... you already have abiding love.

With all my heart.

Ten on Tuesday.

2010-08-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've done one of these. I sort of morphed questions from a couple different entries on the "official" list site into this one list because a lot of times the questions just didn't apply to me. Hope you enjoy this "get to know me" post - and I'd love to know the answers some of you all have to these as well!

1. What is your favorite summer television show?

Probably Psych. It never fails to make me laugh – usually hard. But after the last episode, Memphis Beat has caught my attention in a big way. Though not a comedy per se, I’m STILL laughing at parts of that one! And it has great music, too.

2. If it was raining so hard on a Saturday that you couldn’t leave your house, what would you spend the day doing?

It would never rain so hard that I couldn’t go play in it! (I’d jump in puddles, go for a run, maybe even go sliding in the mud, or simply taste it on my tongue. And yes, I've been out in a hurricane.) But my favorite thing to do after coming in from playing in it is to cozy up with a good book, a cup of cocoa or a really exquisite tea (depending on the book), and if I’m lucky a fire... and listen to the tattoo of the rain while I sink deeper into the comfy chair. (I neither have a comfy chair nor a working fireplace, so this really would be an indulgence!)

3. What was your favorite candy as a child?

I don’t remember, but I’m pretty certain it involved chocolate. Oddly, I remember my brother’s favorites, though. Oh! But my favorite thing to get with my “treat ticket” at the “snack shack” after a little league game was Chick-o-Stick. Soooooo fantastic!

4. Did you get an allowance? What was it based on? What did you do with it?

You know, I must have, but I honestly don’t remember it lasting long. I always had chores and responsibilities, though.

5. What is your favorite flower?

Peonies. Vibrant, sassy-yet-elegant, delightful, diverse... guess that sums me up as much as the flower!

6. Do you prefer time with family or time with friends?

Hmm. Most of my friends are very far away, so I covet that opportunity to spend time with them. I have a fantastic family with whom I love to hang out, but lately I’ve realized I’m not really that “in sync” with most of them both philosophically and because so many of them are married with families, so time with them is still good, but not what it was.

7. Looney Tunes, Tiny Toons, or Animaniacs?

Animaniacs – a gazillion percent. Enjoy all the original Looney Tunes, but never ever liked Tiny Toons.

8. Best daytime talk show: Oprah, Ellen, The Doctors, Tyra (ha!), Dr. Oz, or Dr. Phil?

I’ve never seen any save the first two, and of those I’d choose Ellen for sure... but honestly if I’m watching TV in the daytime for whatever reason, I’d rather watch a rerun or something I’ve tivoed or a video. Oh! Or Craig Ferguson on the computer! But Ellen is great, I must say.

9. Would you rather have the power of invisibility or the ability to fly?

Well if I were really to choose a superpower, it’d be teleportation... but of these two, I’d choose flying, hands down. The only thing being invisible is good for, it seems to me, is stealing things... or prank scaring people.

10. Name 1 thing you love about being an adult.

The experience gained. The ability to be so solid in who I am. To know what I know and what I don’t know without being embarrassed or intimidated by either. To be comfortable in my skin and content in the journey. That’s more than one. Sorry. Okay – the experience gained (and the perspective that gives).

Psyched out.

2010-08-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

My last installment of USA Network original shows is most certainly not the least. Psych is in the midst of it’s fifth season and is going strong. It is a different breed from all the other shows I’ve talked about, more akin to Monk… but sillier. And funnier.

Shawn is a guy who was trained all his life by his cop dad to notice details, quizzed incessantly during his childhood, he was groomed to be a detective. Gus was his uptight best friend. But Shawn was too much of a screw off (likely because of his dad’s zealousness) and didn’t go the cop route. But with his skills he could solve crimes. One day he got blamed because he knew too much when he called in a tip, so thinking fast, he claimed to be psychic. Then he went and spent Gus’ money to create Psych Detective Agency.

Shawn and Gus are at the heart of the humor. There have been episodes where I couldn’t breathe for laughing so hard – where I had to go back and watch again because I missed what came next, but before I got there I was again laughing too hard and missed it again. The humor is a lot about pop culture, some about 80’s references since that was their childhood, and then just their general bizarre-best-friends humor. Admittedly there are times when I cringe for their being too ridiculous, but mostly I just laugh. Hard.

Their relationship, though, is something to behold. Dulé Hill (from West Wing) plays Gus, and he is the yang to James Roday’s slacker Shawn. It’s this ongoing battle with an intense bond going back years. The struggle and the tension meshed with the history and the camaraderie is what really makes this show work.

Corbin Bernsen (from L.A. Law) plays Shawn’s dad who often begrudgingly or unknowingly helps, when that’s the last thing he wants to do because he thinks his son is not taking anything seriously in life, etc. The detectives that regularly (have to) work alongside Shawn and Gus (as they have been contracted to work cases with the police) are hilarious, too.

There is so much about this show that is right. When the show The Mentalist stole the premise but made it more “legitimate” as a drama instead of a comedy, the characters of Psych even poked fun at it. This season they’ve even been poking fun at themselves; at how they have Shawn figure things out. I love it!

I’ve debated sharing one of my favorite scenes ever, but I don’t know how it would work without a little background of the characters and the start of that episode… you just can’t get how off-the-wall funny it is without having the scene set.So I’ll settle for this quote from a recent episode:

(Detective) Juliet: Who ever said work was supposed to be fun?

Shawn: Ron Jeremy for starters… but that’s beside the point.

It was just in the middle of nothing, and plenty of fine, upstanding folks won’t get it… but it slayed me.

If ever there was a show for ridiculous fun, it’s this one. If you’ve never tried it, give it a chance. It might be too low-brow for you, but you might just love it.

Looking good.

2010-08-08T00:00:00.001-07:00

I discovered this amazing program when organizing my eBooks. It’s called Calibre. It’s free and amazingly works with all eReaders, including Kindle from what I understand. (So if you have one, you should check it out!)

It does all sorts of things, including converting files into whatever is best for your eReader. But most of all, it organizes… so therefore I’m in love with it. It’s like iTunes for books – only better!

One of the features it has is a book cover scroll through option, like album art in the afore mentioned iTunes. I really had a lot of fun when setting up my library choosing the coolest covers to use. I thought I’d show you some of the best.

I think this cover makes the book look
far more interesting that I understand it is.
Covers from the 1950's & 60's tell such great stories on their own.

I love everything about this. It's evoking.
It's at once vintage and modern - my favorite combination.

I wanted to read this before, but now
I'm dying to know what it's about!

This is very much my style.
I can't explain why except to say at once it is
simplistic and visually impacting. It holds emotion.

Oh my gosh! Completely irresistible!

Come on - this just interests me.
Fascinated to know how this cool art
relates to the story.

There is a whole set of these super-cool covers.
It was hard to select just one.

So graphic, it expresses so much...

This one is actually a picture of the book
with a reflection of the Guinness sign at a pub
in Ireland (author is Irish) - fabulous!

This was an early cover which is
apparently much sought after...
with good reason in my opinion.

It was really hard to keep it to only ten, I found so many interesting ones. Love to hear what you think of them!

On a role.

2010-08-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

In honor of my brother’s birthday (because he’s a fan), I’m talking about Burn Notice today.

Burn Notice has been around a few seasons so you may have caught an episode here or there. It was the first of these clean, fun shows with characters that are relatable because they grow and have emotional depth.

This one is about a spy, Michael Weston, who was wrongfully kicked out (burned) and is trying to make it right. To make money he works different jobs helping people in the kind of trouble the police can’t help with. There’s lots of explosions and cool “jobs” in this one. I love how with voiceovers they sort of explain the MacGyver way of getting it done as a spy, often with a touch of humor.

The show is clever in many ways, not the least of which is how they keep the audience coming back when Michael never actually gets what he most wants – to be back in. But the relationships he builds, often begrudgingly because he wants to be back out there again without ties, really makes this show something special.

For instance, they convey serious depth in the relationship with his mom who is played by Sharon Gless of “Cagney and Lacey” fame. There are so many nuances and adjustments on both sides – honestly it’s phenomenal writing as well as acting when it comes to their relationship and the perils it’s fraught with, yet how much they both fight for it.

Another great element relationally are his two “sidekicks.” First, Sam, an ex-spy who once turned on him has now become the person he can really rely on to get his back. He’s a lot of fun, but no less complex than the rest. And Fiona, an Irish ex-girlfriend who was a bomb maker and general roustabout for the IRA. Somehow with that resume, she still has a heart. They are ever in this love-hate struggle, and it is always engrossing. But she and Sam are his crew, the two people he can count on… his best friend and his girlfriend.

I’ve watched this in fits and spurts in recent seasons because it was too much into the jobs for the people in need and what compels me to keep watching is these relationships, but in the end I always get caught up. Because it’s worth it. And because it’s something other than hockey to talk to my brother about.

Reading revolution.

2010-08-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

For some time I was contemplating, then researching like mad, the potential purchase of an eBook reader. Two weeks ago I finally did do so… and it wasn’t a Kindle.

I always thought I’d just never get into having a digital reader. I mean, I adore my personal (and quite large) library of books. It’s always been a dream to have a room in my home designated strictly for books and reading. (One day…)

However, as I continued to prepare for moving abroad I kept looking at my bulging shelves of to-read books puzzling over how to manage accessing them once there. Do I re-purchase? Do I ship – there and back? Because books are such an important part of my life, it was a frustrating dilemma.

Somewhere in the midst of that quandary, a digital book reader started to seem like a good option because even if I had to repurchase a book, it would likely be cheaper this way. When considering it a few years ago, it wouldn’t have been an affordable option, but now it seemed it might be.

So, as is my way, I looked into every kind of reader I could discover. I read up on each of them, finding the benefits and disadvantages of each. What I realized was it really is about your personal needs and likes.

I purchased a beautiful Sony Touch eReader. It’s gorgeous. And red. :D (No, being red is not why I got it, but it definitely tilted me in it’s favor!) For me this was ideal. The biggest selling point was that I can underline and write in the margins of each book, which is my common practice, even in novels. But further, it’s fantastic to turn the page with my finger sliding across the screen as it makes it somehow feel more like a real book.

The Kindle wasn’t at all ideal for two reasons beyond not having the options I just mentioned. First, in Europe where I'm planning to move, and elsewhere in the world, to download directly to the device without a computer costs considerably more. And I don’t mind using my computer anyway. Second, and much more vitally, because of Amazon’s proprietary system, you can’t download other forms of eBooks. There are hundreds of thousands of free books on Google Books that the Kindle doesn’t provide access to. To some that wouldn’t much matter, but I enjoy the classics and the majority of them are, in fact, in the public domain and therefore free.

There are other fun features that caused the eReader to outshine the others for me, including the ability to group books in collections, but I think I’ve gushed enough. I will say, when comparing it to a Kindle side-by-side today, the only thing the Kindle seems to score higher on is that it’s screen is ever-so-slightly less glary. I’ve a feeling that has to do with the eReader being a touch screen, because Sony has been making these devices far longer (and is an electronics company rather than a book seller as well) and is therefore quite a bit farther along in perfecting and debugging. Besides, the shine factor really wasn’t such a significant difference and the eReader wins, in my opinion, in every other way.

So for my lifestyle and future plans, the scales just about fell on top of my beloved Sony Touch eReader! As a side note, it’s really kind of great to think about how green this option is. Oh, plus it was on sale!

I never knew how powerful it would feel to carry around a library with me. I swear to you, it’s absurd I know, but I am nearing 800 books – all free one way or another - on the device (in my defense, three authors take up about a third of that number)… and I love that at any time I can access any one of them. Oh, and I’ve been able to find over half of the titles on my shelves for free as well, so I’m overjoyed!

Back in the game.

2010-08-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

Wow! How did I get so far behind??

Next on the list of USA Network original shows is Royal Pains. The premise behind it is a top ER doctor from New York was wrongly blamed for a patient's death and lost his job. This led to him loosing his fiancée and his home. Enter his his little brother who takes him to the Hamptons, drags him to a party, and as a result he becomes a concierge doctor for the ultra-rich.

The background out of the way, the characters in the show are a lot of fun. I’ve always liked the lead actor Mark Feuerstein, but honestly, though good, he doesn’t keep me watching. It’s his character Hank's little brother Evan who keeps me coming back. Evan is one of those people who drives you nuts, yet you find yourself in his corner time and again. He’s endearing, sometimes hilarious, and often frustrating. But the fact that his character grows and evolves is, yet again, what makes this show worth watching.

I also find it refreshing to have a talented actress who is Indian playing the clever, compassionate physician’s assistant Divya. Not the most common casting. She is another character worth watching as she banters and manages her way through working with brothers.

I must mention that this show has some well know actors guesting, like Henry Winkler playing the brother's father, Campbell Scott is the patron, then also Andrew McCarthy and Marcia Gay Harden have each been in it a few times. It's always interesting to see faces you know (and for me in the case of Campbell Scott to see a face I love!) bring something fresh to an enjoyable show.

Again, though, what sets the show apart is how the characters have to deal with, well, life. They live and work in a kind of wonderland, but they have to face normal everyday life issues. Most of all, they have to face themselves, their past, and family. Yet somehow the show is still light and fun and worth relaxing to.

Three in a row.

2010-07-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

Let’s not stop the writing trend now… more tv talk. Can you cope?

Covert Affairs is a new show with only the pilot and an episode under it’s wing, but it looks promising. A new, very green, spy is brought early from “the farm” to the agency. She is lead to believe it’s because of her linguistic abilities, but what she doesn’t know…

This is another original show by the USA Network that focuses on relationships and how to deal with them while extraordinary circumstances are happening all around. Piper Perabo, another favorite of mine, is the lead role. She lives in the cottage behind her sister’s house, and her family doesn’t know what she does (they think she works at the Smithsonian). Her relationship with them looks to be one of the things she struggles to balance as she moves forward in this new career.

But how she got to this point was a broken heart. And this broken heart turns out to be important because the man she loved was something more than what she thought. She doesn’t know this yet, but it is why she jumped the line, so to speak. With only two episodes aired, the reason behind why the agency wants her ex-boyfriend has not yet been exposed. However, she caught a glimpse of him when he saved her life, and now the wounds are open again.

Without the life-saving and the spy stuff, how many of us get that? A glimpse at someone who reminds us of the one who hurt us and the floodgates of questions and emotions arise. She can’t share this, and we usually know better after we’ve zapped our friends’ patience with it all enough times. But we still ache.

Beyond that, dealing with a new job, feeling a bit behind because training wasn’t quite complete, building friendships in the workplace… all normal stuff we face. The extreme nature of her job is obviously the part where we let go of our selves as we watch, but in the various relationships and working out the kinks of a new job, we connect. So far I’m having fun with this one. It's real life, but with the adrenaline rush (and calamity) of a spy adventure.

Try, try again.

2010-07-23T00:15:00.000-07:00

As the writer's block continues, so to do the posts about television shows...

The background of the USA Network show White Collar is that of an art thief caught by and FBI agent who, because of a girl, escaped with just 4 months left on his sentence, essentially doubling his initial sentence when the same agent caught up with him. I like that start. I like that the art thief will do something utterly absurd for love. Okay and,as an artist and an ardent art admirer, I like that he cleverly steals art (this, by the way, is not what he was convicted of).

The premise of the show is that to work off his now extended sentence, the thief ends up assigned to help the very agent that caught him in order to solve other high end white collar crimes – while wearing an ankle tracker with a two mile radius, of course. But then, two miles in Manhattan can take you pretty far!

I really like the interplay between the agent and the thief as they try to find a trust level and become friends. Actually, with all the tugging of loyalties and complications of life, they end up trusting each other more than anyone else (save the agent’s wife) as they form a deep friendship. The the testing of this friendship, and the solving the mystery of the disappearing girlfriend, really drives this series. I enjoy the humor and the jobs the thief does “in the line of duty.”

It’s a fun show, but the key is (again) the depth of the characters. Of course the premise of the show is far-fetched, and the scenarios therefore aren’t exactly every day occurrences (which is why they are so fun), but with great characters stretching themselves a little at a time for the sake of friendship, growing along the way, and grappling to find trust through it all, we the audience find our connection - and have an adventure along the way.

It's a start.

2010-07-18T02:00:00.000-07:00

So since I have writer’s block, what with all the trauma that has been stirred up and me being sick AND having (family) company, I thought I’d write about television shows. Specifically, those on the USA Network. Yes, it's called avoidance.

I’m a fan of most of their original programs. Some I enjoy more than others, but they all have interesting relationships with emotional depth, regardless of the premise of the show. I like that they have some intensity yet are funny, and basically “clean.” Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind shows with some smut now and then or some cussing, provided they have a good story and involving characters and relationships, but in this case it’s nice to just sit down and know you won’t be bludgeoned with all that extraneous stuff.

The original series are: In Plain Sight, White Collar, Covert Affairs, Royal Pains, Burn Notice, and Psych. I chose to end the list with Psych because it is a show in it’s own category. The others follow a similar rhythm, even if they are wildly different in subject and style. Psych, however, is something wholly separate, and for me all the more fabulous for it.

But today I want to start with In Plain Sight. Mary McCormack (love her!) plays the lead character of Mary Shannon, a tough, hard-as-nails federal marshal who has had to basically provide and care for her sister and mother for many years, having to be the adult when the adults didn’t step up. Her job is in many ways her salvation, helping to keep people in witness protection safe. This is in large part because of her dishy partner Marshall Mann (yes, that’s Marshal Marshall Mann), played by Frederick Weller, who is her best friend and counterpoint, being more sensitive and compassionate.

The thing about Mary is that in all that cynicism and snarkiness, which is quite funny for the most part, she has a good heart. Marshall helps bring that out and reminds her that that’s okay now and then. The two of them together are a classic duo, though. There are lots of layers to their relationship, but it’s the kind of friendship that we’d all like to have… the kind with a knowing beyond words.

There is a lot of depth of character and the dynamics of the relationships are not easy and are very real. In this way the show rarely feels contrived, because no matter how silly some of the scenarios might be to real life, the characters are real. They are us. They deal with crap in their lives, with difficult-nearing-impossible family relationships, with messing up in romantic relationships, with getting things all wrong and still wanting to be justified, with having to admit they are wrong and trying to mend things. This is why I love this show, and why the shows on this network all appeal to me.

The separation.

2010-07-08T15:30:00.000-07:00

Someone told me today how courageous I am. I had never thought of my decisions and actions recently as courageous until they said that.

I am a journeyer. In that, I see things differently than most. So, in the course of my experiencing God from the Christian perspective I was raised in and personally embraced, I continued the journey and found myself experiencing God beyond the limited ways and practices that are the habits of the church.

This is an amazing and exciting path. However, it is also very lonely. You see, in embracing the Sacred Mystery (God with open eyes) I effectively broke my deep bonds with the community I have always been a part of as well as with my entire family. So suddenly instead of walking alone but still solidly belonging, I walk alone because I am alone.

This is where courage was seen. In this act. It is not easy to be so disconnected. I am a person who thrives on and craves connections. It is so deeply ingrained in my being that it feels like it’s what I’m made for – to connect with others. The growth and understanding that comes from this is rich and true, but the love that exists in that acceptance is magnificent.

I seek connections where I can, but just right now, with the exception of a few (amazing) online girlfriends, I am so very alone. There is no going back now that I’ve reached higher and farther in faith than a box of religion will allow, but do I have the strength within me to continue to be courageous… and alone?

What happened.

2010-07-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so down that you just can’t seem to function? In that place, even breathing is hard. I’ve been there lately.

This explains the downfall in posts, obviously. It’s hard to find a point of interest in your life when most things make you cry. I’m not vying for sympathy, but trying to explain how frustrating it can be.

Yes, there were catalysts to this level of stress, and there were a lot more things that were waiting to surface as well. So when the current difficulties occurred, the latent pain broke free of it’s container. This is a good thing in the long run if I can face it all, but everything at once is overwhelming.

So I apologize for my lack here on this blog, and I hope that you will stick with me. I’m working on moving forward, and this includes sharing my interests and opinions, as well as my heart here. Just scrounging for some hope. Thanks for understanding.

Reconnecting.

2010-06-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

My computer had a freak out recently and left me all alone. No communication with friends, no sharing my thoughts, feelings, and opinions with you, no downloaded TV shows, no DVDs, not even mahjong or spider solitaire! Oh yes, and no online business or knowing where and how to get to my next agency job!

Usually when I disconnect for a time, it’s a wonderful reconnection with aspects of the world with which I was less engaged while computing. However, in this case it wasn’t at all like that. Because it wasn’t by choice, I was rather lost.

Is this dependence a good or a bad thing? Should I be appalled or pleased? I do have a ridiculous sort of love for this luscious laptop of mine. Possibly because I designed it’s specs myself… or perhaps because it’s red. ;)

Likely, though, most of all it’s because when I open it, I’m inviting in my friends. Sure there is a whole cyber universe to explore, but most of all it has given me, and kept me connected with, the most precious people in my life.

How we met.

2010-06-13T22:00:00.000-07:00

My good friend Elizabeth is taking part in an month long event celebrating Jane Austen. In honor of this event she asked if I would do a guest blog post for her outstanding blog Strange & Random Happenstance. I was thrilled and took the figurative pen in hand.

The whole process got me to thinking about friendship. I mean, they are so very vital to our lives. Jane Austen shows us this in her wonderful novels. Whether family or neighbors, friendships are at the heart of her stories. And, too, they are so very essential to having a good and happy life.

What I was thinking, though, was how Elizabeth and I connected. It’s so odd, and really rather wondrous, how these things can happen. It started, I suppose, because we both watched and liked a TV show called Gilmore Girls, but more specifically because we love reading. On a book and reading website called goodreads, we both were taking part in a group on the site called The Rory Gilmore Book Club. But stranger still, it wasn’t until a conversation or three about the 10th Doctor Who that we connected.

What’s amazing is how deeply we connected and in so many ways. How fantastic to make such a great friend in such an unusual and roundabout way! To be fair, I suppose it’s not all that unusual since this actually happened to me with one other person from that group on that site… Yet still, these two ladies are two of the most wonderful people I know!

As to Jane Austen, well, I encourage any one that hasn’t done to read one of her books straightaway. You won’t be disappointed! And who knows, maybe you’ll find a friend or two along the way.

Catching the fever.

2010-06-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

Having lived abroad, I can honestly say there is nothing like the frenzied love of the sport we call “soccer,” but for which I will side with the rest of the world and call “football” from here on out. With the World Cup beginning today, I’m like a kid in a candy store with free samples – amped up and crazy excited!

When I was young, I played the sport for some time. Somewhere in the midst of all that, and while attending a San Jose Earthquakes game in which George Best played, I met the legendary Pelé. This man was something beyond the sport. He was exceptional, exciting, astounding to watch play, yet as a person he was kind, patient, and loved fun. And to him, that’s what it was all about, this sport of football: FUN. As a result he exuded exuberant joy even just kicking about.

When the World Cup was played here in California, there was a buzz everywhere. You didn’t even have to know or like the sport to get caught up in the excitement of this world event. In preparing to make the world at home, different towns and cities “adopted” the various countries participating. The players from and fans of those teams would celebrate and hang out in their country’s town. My home town of Los Gatos adopted Brazil who became the champions that year. That was some intense revelry! I’d say it was not to be forgotten, but I’m pretty sure that many did just that the next day…

However, it wasn’t until I lived in Italy that I UNDERSTOOD. This game played in about any other country in the world (excepting perhaps Asia) is not a game. Not really. The intensity, the passion is beyond what an American can comprehend. Imagine taking our love for American football, basketball, baseball, and hockey and polarizing them all into one sport. Add to this fervor a regional pride like you’ve never seen here with rivalries going back centuries starting with skirmishes long forgotten. Then times this by ten, and you might begin to get the feeling with which this sport is followed and played worldwide.

It’s a lifestyle one follows there. In Italy, where I have first hand knowledge of the fierceness of their club rivalries and the riots that occasionally ensue, they even have a name for their national team – Gli Azzurri. When Gli Azzurri are playing, it doesn’t matter if the man next to you in the pub is a fan of one’s fiercest club rival, the frenzy and vigor of their love for their national team is so extreme that they are embracing and kissing cheeks in their extravagant joy or defending one another’s opinions when the team is not performing as expected.

It’s a crazy, wonderful, strange, and magnificent thing, this rapture for the exhilarating sport of football. I hope a few of you will catch it!

USA versus England on Saturday – the expedition begins!

Like father like son.

2010-06-05T03:40:00.000-07:00

I just now saw a lead in for a segment on a news show about a seven year old being taught to hate… they showed him holding a sign saying, “God hates fags.” The clip included the interviewer asking the parents the question, “What if he grows up and doesn’t agree with everything [you believe] anymore?” He’d be bounced out of the family – “that’s the Lord.”

After a moment of this sinking into not just my psyche but also my spirit, I wept. I wept deeply.

What this family is doing is horrifying on multiple levels. Employing a merciful and forgiving God (who IS love) to wield and spew hate is appalling and grievous. To indoctrinate their children into this hate-filled perspective is shocking and frightening. To believe one is righteous whilst judging others is above all angering and embittering.

I wanted to scream, yet could only weep. I wept for those whom with words they were wounding; I wept for their children who will have a difficult time of ever finding their own way and who might never know what unconditional love is like; I wept for how they were condemning themselves to a life, and (if one believes in such a thing) an afterlife, of misery and coldness; and without knowing it at the time, I wept for the children of a family I grew up with who suffered a similar, though in many ways more insidious, form of tyranny.

I wrote for several hours about this, detailing many things: My perspective spiritually, and how I feel they are so far from knowing who God really is. My feelings about their position on sexuality in the context of spirituality. My heartbreak at their absolutism versus, the beautiful alternative of love and understanding regardless of agreement. My feelings about their role as parents. But what it came down to was my perspective on freedom.

You see, the thing that makes it most difficult for me to decide how I feel about this is that I truly abhor how parenting is controlled by media and popular society. For instance, the public floggings of the parents whom have encouraged their kids to go for their dreams even in youth are appalling to me. To the father who climbed Mount Everest with his 13 year old son – I applaud him for nurturing those dreams and allowing his son to go for it, and not only that but doing it alongside him. It’s not like the boy didn’t have to work very hard to get there. Yes it’s dangerous, but everyday life can be dangerous – and how much better will he be for understanding the effort and preparation and exertion it takes to achieve, but also how worth it the endeavor is?

The same with the 16 year old girl circumnavigating the globe non-stop alone via a sailboat. Or the 7 year old girl in 1996 who became a pilot. (Yes, in attempting to cross the U.S. she, her father, and her flight instructor crashed and died, but she was already better educated than most college graduates, knew her mind and pursued her dream.) How dare the media, the masses, whomever, ridicule and condemn those parents because they didn’t choose to coddle and ignore their child’s dreams and potentials. They listened and gave them wings. Just because our modern society says that protection is the absolute, the most important thing, does not make it so.

Whatever we think about these hate-filled parents, why do we think we have a right to tell them how to raise their children? That above all else bothers me... because, I assure you that if we do, it won’t stop with them. So how can I, then, condemn these parents teaching hate as I so desperately want to? Within my heart I fiercely defend the freedoms we enjoy here in America. I know they are fragile, and come with a great weight of responsibility that we as a nation don’t always handle very well, but I believe it would be an insidious kind of enslavement to have my government tell me how to raise my children (or worse, to have the world do so via the UN). Such a thing frightens me beyond measure, and as a fearless optimist, that's saying something.

To that end, I find it irritating that this news program put the story of the 16 year old sailor, the 13 year old climber, and an 11 year old toreador in the same light as this story of the 7 year old hater, making it seem that these parents are all the same. This is, to me, more of the media tainting and manipulating our perspective.

How do we find our way free of this control while still trying to keep children away from actual abuse? Because I believe that parents of the sailor and the climber, at least, did something magnificent in fanning the flames of their child’s dreams and guiding them as they worked for it... then letting them go to achieve when the time came, knowing whatever the outcome that their child would be profoundly the better for the experience of trying.

I liked what the young climber said, “I encourage other kids to discover their own Everest and go for it.” Magnificent. Incandescent. May we all find that kind of perspective, whatever our age!

Living in the past.

2010-05-24T17:45:00.000-07:00

If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching the British television series Life on Mars, you’ve missed out. It’s something that is hard to describe, but in a nutshell is a show where a modern day cop is hit by a car and he wakes up in 1973. In the past he’s a cop as well, but it’s a very different world to the one of forensics and procedures… and seatbelts. He’s just trying to figure out what’s happened so he can get back; is he in a coma, traveled in time, or has he gone crazy?

The show is so incredibly well done, with characters that you can’t get enough of. And realizing just how much things have changed – it’s astounding and quite funny, really, in the context of the show.

The defining character was Gene Hunt, the man in charge of the squad when Sam Tyler wakes up after being hit in 2003. He is a bit of an anti-hero with all his machismo and misogyny, but somehow you can’t help but delight in him. His comments are jewels to be admired, no matter how offensive they are. At his heart, he is a good man, but he’s a 1970’s man's-man, make no mistake. And much as I should writhe at his very character, I adore him.

There was a follow up series to Life on Mars called Ashes to Ashes. It gave us back Gene Hunt and some of the other characters we loved from Life on Mars, except now it’s 1981 and the person that showed up in Hunt’s world from the present is a female officer called Alex Drake. That lends to a whole new level of misogynistic issues that are quite fun to watch unfold. It also lends to a sexual tension that was in turn both intriguing and comical.

Ashes to Ashes was quite good, but didn’t quite capture the mystery and intrigue of Life on Mars. The final episode of the series ran this weekend, answering all the questions. For many that is most desirable. For me, however, it was a let down. I loved the mystery left to us at the end of Life on Mars. It was a frustrating sort of exhilaration that I’d take any day over neat-and-tidy, then forgotten.

I mean, I haven’t stopped raving about Life on Mars since I first saw it until now, but with Ashes to Ashes I guess I feel like it was fun and all, but didn’t rivet me in the same enthralling way. Don’t get me wrong, it is far and away better than the majority of shows out there, especially American shows, and indeed I’m sorry it’s over, but it’s answers, while interesting, weren’t all that engrossing. Mystery is my mate, intrigue my seducer, plain an simple.

P.S. Best car chases since Streets of San Francisco in these two series!

What we know.

2010-05-22T15:45:00.000-07:00

Memorizing. It’s not exactly a common past time any more, with the possible exception of stage actors. In our parent’s and grandparent’s generations it was valued as a way to share beautiful and important things. Now we just google and forget.

As for me, before I could read or write I had all the books of the bible memorized as well as a couple dozen scriptures. As a side note, this shows how deeply ingrained in my core faith is. However, as I grew, I got lazy. I did memorize scriptures now and then, but my mind was filled with all sorts of things: movies, television shows, school work… movies. In all that I lost the practiced habit of learning something by heart.

The other day I was working on yet another list diligently (yet somehow wondering if spending so much of my time on lists wasn’t wasteful) when I started to think about how I’d like to improve my spiritual life. I had chunked the sections of my life up to what I’d like to work on in larger sections, hoping that having a larger focus instead of the minutia of details would make it easier, and in truth more fun, to achieve. Regarding my self, there were the three areas of mind, body, and spirit for which I was considering how to improve. When it came to my spirit, memorizing came to mind.

As I processed this idea, I processed what was important to me spiritually. Though I cherish the Bible, I value more than it now, because my understanding of God is bigger than what it was in my youth. And, my spirit revels in words. So I started to think of the quotes from books I’ve read that have changed me, moved me so deeply that they changed how I lived. Those words, those wonderful thoughts, that’s what I’d like to have inside me to dwell on when I can’t sleep or when I’m struggling emotionally.

So I decided to start with one of my very favorite quotes, an excerpt from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. In point of fact, the first two I want to keep trapped in my brain in order to seep into my spirit are both from that outstanding book. Here’s the first:

“I hate a Roman named Status Quo,” he said to me, “Stuff your eyes with wonder,” he said, “Live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth that hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that,” he said, “shake the tree and knock the great sloth on his ass.”

I know that what inspires is very personal, and most of my friends I’ve shared this with liked the idea of it, but didn’t have the bonded sort of reaction that I did. I know my perspective is rather uncommon, and likely considered uncouth at times, but for me embracing this philosophy is to embrace my nature. My desire to purge and be free of stuff is tied into it. That’s me making sure I’m not so bound by things that I don’t have the energy to shake the tree.

The second quote is quite as vital to my being; to that for which my brain and heart longs.

We’ll just start walking today and see the world and the way the world walks around and talks, the way it really looks. I want to see everything now. And while none of it will be me when it goes in, after a while it’ll all gather together inside and it’ll be me. Look at the world out there, my God, my God, look at it out there, outside me, out there beyond my face and the only way to really touch it is to put it where it’s finally me, where it’s in the blood, where it pumps around a thousand times ten thousand a day. I'll get hold of it so it’ll never run off. I’ll hold onto the world tight some day. I’ve got one finger on it now; that’s a beginning.

It goes to my character and how I want to live my life. There are other quotes, many by the great authors of past generations, that speak to me. And I do hope that I find my way to memorizing them as well. It was likely unorthodox to memorize these two first… but then, that rather sums me up. I have great faith, but it is anything by orthodox. It’s vast and ever-expanding and with it comes a drive to understand and embrace the people and cultures of the world, and in doing that also growing from how they experience and honor God. This is my passion. To know not just these words, but the world - by heart.

Have my cake & eat it, too.

2010-05-17T16:45:00.000-07:00

After (hilariously) making yet another list of books last week here on the blog, I dove in. It was like I suddenly gave myself permission to eat dessert first.

I’m not good at that. I come from a family of good Christian Midwestern farmers of mostly Danish stock. What that adds up to is the idea that life is toil and hardship – you work very hard and maybe at the end of the day if you have any energy left, you can do something you enjoy… although even if you do, you never have idle hands! Honestly, it’s slightly psychotic, or rather masochistic. Or a bit of both.

Ingrained in my brain is the story of how my grandfather said he became a success. It was the hour before dawn and hour after dusk that he worked in the fields when everyone else was sleeping or being with family when he made his money. The rest of the time was what barely allowed them to scrape by. And he did become a success, owning several farms, apartment complexes, and more. In fact, the people at the apartments thought he was the janitor because even into his seventies he’d always be the one to do all the work when things went wrong. That’s how I remember him… with that giant ring of keys, which weighed about as much as I did back then, in work gear heading out to one or the other of his sites again.

So when I was in college, I decided to study art. But my parents made it clear I needed an “academic” major as well. I obediently obliged them. The thing is, I would end up spending all my time on classes that were tedious rather than investing some of that time in my major classes because, well, I loved doing art. Classes I would have aced I struggled with at times as a result. And now I deeply regret not taking full advantage of the facilities the art department had because once I graduated (and had the time) I no longer had access.

This disposition carried over into my finding a job/career. I’d pursue things I was interested in, but never anything that brought me bliss. Mustn’t enjoy what I do, not deep down. That was somehow wrong. So my varied professions gave me great and diverse experiences (oh my goodness – the stories!), but not real joy. There was no true satisfaction that what I was doing was something to which I felt any sort of “calling.” Therefore, I’d work extremely hard, get very good at it, then get bored. There was no passion behind it. So I moved on.

This mentality I was brought up in (toil and suffering first, pleasure last), instead of helping me progress has held me back. Not just from reading the books I’m most looking forward to, but from doing the things I’m most passionate about. From living a joy-filled, complete life.

It’s a hard thing to break out of. Truly. I’ve known about this for quite a few years, and have attempted to extricate myself from it. But it’s so pervasive in all areas of my life. Obviously it’s worth the effort. And, too, this extreme pairing down I’m doing with my “stuff” invades my being enough that I’m stripping down and purging some of the non-productive internal processes and ways of thinking and being as well. But I do wish I could simply relax and enjoy without feeling antsy, guilty, or frustrated.

When it comes to the books I have, the permission I gave myself was to read exactly what I want… not to feel the need to have read books I feel are “important” but for which I know I will honestly hate reading. Those classics that show only the depravity of life, for instance, really needn’t be read – not by me. I, quite obviously, understand the hardships life can bring; the difficulties from which some souls never climb out. I chose to dwell on and read about those who perhaps struggle, but who find a level of grace they never expected.

In that revolutionary act of permission-giving, I find I again desire to read some of the books that felt rather obligatory only days before. Perhaps in the same way when I break out of this “toil” mentality, I can find a deep joy in the very things that wore on my soul previously. I hope so. I love dessert.

I believe.

2010-05-16T15:30:00.000-07:00

So here I am, mid-game, with my Sharks jersey over my Sharks t-shirt with accenting Sharks jewelry and hidden beneath, a pair of Sharks thong undies. It’s silly, I know, but as I keep saying, I loves me my Sharkies… and I am eating up these playoffs!

In the Eastern Conference Finals you have the bottom two qualifying teams defying the odds, making for a gladiator-like match-up. That series is going to be about gumption, will, and most of all desire. Neither team has anything to loose and they leave it all out on the ice every game. That makes for amazing, no-holds-barred hockey. The Flyers and the Canadians will give hockey fans a great series.

In the Western Conference Finals, well, we have my Sharks. Okay, okay, and the Blackhawks. The two teams that finished first and second in the West. It’s all about power, skill, force, and flipping great goaltending. These two teams, coming off a week’s rest, are going to bowl each other over as much as they can. This is a hard-core match-up.

The thing about this post season is that there are so many things happening that haven’t happened in decades, if ever. It’s exciting and thrilling because you never know what’s going to happen; what the outcome will be. Stats are out the window, no matter how much the announcers like to throw them out there…

[Fast forward 30 minutes of game play] Well, the first game of the third round is in the books, and the Blackhawks came away with the win. I’m of course suffering for it, but it was a well-played game and the Sharks aren’t even close to out of it yet. They played strong, in truth for the most part they played a stronger game than the Blackhawks, and with so much hockey left to play, I BELIEVE.

You know, as a fan this match-up is rough for me. I have one team I love far-and-away above all others – obviously the Sharks. However, I have two other teams that come in (a distant) second. Because I lived in Washington, D.C. for several years (and because I’m a huge Ovechkin fan), I cheer for the Capitals in the East. Then, and here’s my dilemma, of the Original Six teams that formed the NHL back in the day, the Blackhawks are my team.

When they aren’t against the Sharks or battling the Sharks for position in the Conference, I cheer for them as well. In this post season, I have cheered against them every series because I knew that they would be the Sharks most difficult opponent; that they would be their greatest challenge. No matter how much I love intense, great match-ups, I want my team to make it to the Cup – and win – so I want the easiest path possible.

But here we are. Sharks versus Blackhawks. And even with this first loss, I’m excited! I guess it’s a good thing I have two pair of Sharks thong undies…

Great expectations.

2010-05-12T02:15:00.000-07:00

Indulgence. Why is that such a hard concept for me when it comes to reading? Up until a few years ago I mostly read by mood. I’m in the mood for a classic, I pick one and read it. I’m in the mood for fluff, so be it. I’m in the mood for a WW2 biography, bring it on!

Then I joined, and quickly was helping lead, an online book club. Suddenly I had a list. I was passionate about this list. No, to be honest it wasn’t so much passion as compulsion. I get that way about lists. So I collected all but 4 of the 118 books on the list I didn’t yet own, plus a few on the periphery group list as well. Sadly, I found two other lists to obsess about on top of the first. It wasn’t pretty. (I blame my ex – everything was his fault during that time!) After a while it kind of felt like a chore to read the books the group chose. I didn’t like that it felt that way, because often they were books I was really looking forward to and occasionally, it was even a title I had selected.

The other compulsion that occasionally overcomes me when selecting my next book is this feeling that I “ought to” read something. I think this comes a bit from being a literature major, as well as being someone who wants to continue to expand my brain and be “well-read.” It also comes from my upbringing in that you do the difficult and unenjoyable first, then if there is time you can do something pleasurable. (This didn’t serve me well in college because I loved my major so I’d always leave that work for last and things I would have aced I struggled with!) The trouble with the “ought to” mentality is that when I’m not into a book, I flounder.

I guess what I’m saying is that I need to read for joy. This means being excited, anticipating, and being in the mood to read it. Also, I need to quit selecting something because it’s on a list and I want to keep crossing books off. I need to read what interests me in the moment, and along the way, those books will get read because it will be the right timing and my mood will take me there.

So, the question becomes, what books in my to-read pile am I most looking forward to reading? What have I delayed reading for those “ought to’s” and list books? These are what I came up with:

The Gun Seller by Hugh Laurie
The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier
Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
Ballad of the Whiskey Robber by Julian Rubinstein
American Gods and the other unread books by Neil Gaiman
The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim
The Inkheart Trilogy by Cornelia Funke
All Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett titles I haven’t yet read
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas
North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino
Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Series by Douglas Adams

It’s a pretty eclectic list. Actually, there are quite a few more, but these seem to float to the surface most often when I’m looking at my library and wishing. Oh, and these are just from the books I already own (except for the complete canons of Gaiman, Chandler, & Hammett – still a few to fill in on each). Also, this list doesn't include recommended books I'm excited for either.

So, while I’m sure I’ll continue to intersperse some of the more educational and spiritual reads, I’m excited to start diving in to my joy and reading these. The trouble is choosing just one with which to begin!

Time to indulge…

Dancing queen.

2010-05-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

Oh. My. Gosh. I just attended a Mamma Mia! movie sing-along. It was THE party to be at, in my opinion. Sincerely, I haven’t had that much fun in ages! I MUST tell you about it! :)

Even though it was just around the corner (so to speak) from my house, I found out about the event last night via my favorite Meetup group. I jumped at it, of course… I mean, a chance to belt out those fun songs with a ton of other people? Tsh, ye-a-ah! Sadly, I didn’t have time to think about dressing for the event, though, which was disappointing because you KNOW I can vamp it up with the best of them!

But the event started when I walked into The Retro Dome. This facility was an old theatre (in the shape of a dome) that a couple purchased to do fun events like this. They have this great vision, and as I found out, a lot of spunk! The lobby has bright, colorful, funky seating to lounge in while waiting for friends, they have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for sale at concessions, and the girls bathroom is hot pink, has cool girlie vintage movie posters up, and a hip cartoon lady looking very "Breakfast at Tiffany’s" painted on the wall. I was smiling in the bathroom!

Then as I entered the theatre itself, I was handed a bag of “swag” by ABBA-style clad peeps. Big hair, glitzy, wild outfits, platform heels. Yeah. It rocked. I found my group, and snagged a seat in the crowded row and enjoyed getting to know some of them. But none of us had any idea just how interactive it all was to be.

First, there was meant to be a “singing” contest, but they didn’t get many entries. However, the “Grandma Mia’s” did a number that brought down the house. All bespangled and laméd and sequined out, they got on stage and did all sorts of ABBA moves as they lip-synced. It was such a kick! (One of them was 92 – and the life of the party! Think Betty White with moves.)

Then they had a Mamma Mia! trivia contest, taking volunteers. Two ladies were chosen, and not to be left out, I raised my hand as well as the lady’s hand next to me. We were chosen and not only that, we won! So now my new friend Bobbie and I get to go see Broadway San Jose perform the stage play of Mamma Mia! Woohoo!

Just before the main event, we were taught the dance moves from the film for “Dancing Queen.” Then the show began… and we were all belting it out as the lyrics were highlighted on the screen. When the songs would start the funky colored lights would come up a bit and they’d pull people from the crowd to dance in the aisles or hand the microphones to different people. The funniest was two guys, one with a red crinoline slip on and one with a huge feather boa, busting a move to "Dancing Queen." It doesn’t get much better than that!

In the swag bags, we all got a bit of play money, and when the song “Money, Money, Money” came on, we waved it around and threw it in the air. A few got flowers, and those people were our dancing entertainment for “Chiquitita.” Then on “Does Your Mother Know,” they handed out juice with umbrellas in dixie cups!

But in “Take a Chance on Me,” when I’m about to burst out of my seat for wanting to dance (again), I was handed the microphone. After a moment, I thought “screw this,” and went to the aisle and danced and sang the big finale! (The other person that had a mic jumped out in the aisle as soon as I did!) While streamers were blasted over the seats and the dressed up peeps ran down the aisles spraying the crowd with spray bottles of water when Aphrodite’s fountain burst, I was singing and dancing away. That’s me. The Dancing Queen.

“I’m a lone wolf… ar-rooooo!”

The Doctor is in.

2010-04-30T12:00:00.000-07:00

Several weeks back the latest series of Doctor Who with the Eleventh Doctor, Matt Smith, began. My doctor is, and always will be, the Tenth Doctor, David Tennant. I sang Tennant’s praises early on in my blog. He is, quite frankly, my dream guy – crazy-smart, tall & thin, sassy, great sense of style, loves adventure, travels through space and time… and yes, I know he’s an alien. And fictional. I can’t set myself up for disappointment much more completely than that… but I digress.

I was inclined at the outset to dislike Matt Smith as The Doctor. I mean, how can I appreciate anyone who follows up my favorite? Beyond that, he’s just so young, and that’s bothersome because it’s hard to then see him as the 900-and-something-year-old that he is. He doesn’t have any experience in his eyes. To me that is an important quality to have in The Doctor.

However, while so far I feel a bit like Doctor the 11th is a watered down version of #10, I am enjoying the show. His companion Amelia “Amy” Pond, for one, is clever and funny. And Scottish. I adore how they met. The scene early on where she feeds him – one of the funniest things I’ve watched in years. And as a whole, the show is still as fun as ever.

The sass is, I think, what I miss the most. The Tenth Doctor was full of piss and vinegar, and several of his companions were as well – especially Donna Noble. The verbal banter was mouthwateringly good. Also, I think so far I haven’t felt The Doctor’s intensity and strength; that fierceness that, coupled with his sense of adventure, drives him. His vulnerability has been present, but so far not his venom.

Perhaps that’s who this Doctor is, though. I’m okay with that, but it will take some getting used to. Perhaps when I can finally quit comparing, I will be able to more fully enjoy this new Doctor. One thing’s certain, though… I’m still watching!

(Love the new logo!)

Puck me.

2010-04-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

I’m a hockey fan. A rabid one. If you’ve been reading this blog long, particularly around the Olympics, you know this. So with the Stanley Cup Playoffs starting a few weeks ago, you might have noticed that a blog entry on the subject was conspicuously absent. Let me explain…

I love me my San Jose Sharks. Last season they ended the regular season with the best record in the league, setting all sorts of records along the way, which gave them the President’s Cup. But then in the very first round of the playoffs, when playing the last to qualify in the Western Conference, they were knocked out. That was it for their post season. The best in the league was knocked out by one of the worst that qualified (and an archenemy, no less). Joy.

This season they finished at the top of said Western Conference. As a fan this time around, I was too wary to hope too much. After last season, and the several seasons before with desperately disappointing post season endings and people talking about “curses” and other such nonsense, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk about my team and profess a hope and excitement. I didn’t exactly think it would jinx them, more I didn’t want to be that much more disappointed. It was me trying to temper my desire and hope.

In fact, I didn’t even go to a playoff game. I always do, but this time I just couldn’t handle that thrill if it was to end in heartbreak early on again.

However, they made it past the first round. The Sharks are into the quarter finals! I am now moderately hopeful.

Beyond my trepidation for my beloved team, this year’s playoffs have been some of the most exciting I’ve ever seen. Two matchups played all seven of a best of seven series. Five series ended after six games, and only one finished after five games. No one ran away with a series. THAT’S exciting hockey!

I hope that round two can deliver as much back-and-forth, evenly matched action… except when the Sharks play, of course! Say it with me, now…

Go Sharks!

Where I am.

2010-04-28T14:15:00.000-07:00

I’m a little out of rhythm. Out of rhythm of writing, yes, but out of rhythm of living, too. I guess that’s what being sick is.

Last week I finally took the initiative and dove into The Great Purge. I was fierce and fast and exceedingly effective. I was on my way to having it all taken care of likely within the week. But then.

I hate that so often it is when you are burning bright and really accomplishing something that you are struck down physically. Why must that be? After years of not getting The Great Purge done, I’m finally motivated and wholly committed to it’s completion in short order. Instead I’m weak and in bed with a chesty cough.

I don’t mind being reminded to slow down and relax now and then, but this time it’s more like I’m being mocked. You’re getting something monumental done? Mu-ah-hahaha, now I have you! *Bang!* Struck down and doing nothing.

The process of The Great Purge is a difficult one in places. It’s fantastic to finally have access to all my things after all these years, and to ruthlessly sort and mostly purge. However, when I get to the items that bring up memories lost, of a self that is no more, it can become emotional. There is no better way to realize how we modify our memories than to go through this process. It’s strange, it’s difficult, and sometimes it’s wonderful.

As I lay here in bed recovering, pining to be working again, I most of all cannot wait to have less, and to have that little bit completely organized. To me that is freedom.

The place of pondering.

2010-04-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

I sit here on a lovely rainy day pondering. I think that’s one reason I love rain so much – the sound is restful and somehow rejuvenating and in that it gives my mind time and space to consider without the usual stresses. Well, that can happen so long as I don’t run headlong into my day, at least.

What came to mind as I listened to the trickling of the water in the drainpipes, the drops touching down on various surfaces, the swish of the distant cars as the fresh puddles shoot out from below their tires, was the Way of the Tao.

Isn’t it interesting how sometimes you pick up books at random, in a moment you want something different than what you’re in the middle of for instance, and in the end they all seem to relate? One night recently, on a whim, I picked up the tiny tome call What Is Tao? by Alan Watts. Concise as it is, it manages to effectively convey the essentials of the Tao. Having finished that, I grabbed The Tao of Pooh and now and then delved into this easy read.

The thing that most effects me about the Way of the Tao is that it is in the rhythms of nature. It isn’t the worship of nature, but is a kind of respect for nature that we whom have grown up in Western cultures can’t truly understand immediately. This is because in the Eastern cultures they don’t see human beings as standing apart or dominating over nature, but as an integral part of it, fitting right in to it. From a Western perspective, this is revolutionary.

When I started reading these two books, I was already making my way through John Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra and No Impact Man by Colin Beavan. John Muir was a devout Christian, yet he saw the hand of the divine in nature. When speaking of poison oak and poison ivy he said, “Like most other things not apparently useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, ‘Why was it made?’ goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.” John Muir may never have know about the Tao, but he understood it.

In No Impact Man, Mr. Beavan talks about the day that he and his family had planned on walking across the bridge from Manhattan to go to a birthday party, but when the day came it wasn’t just raining, it was a torrential downpour. So instead, they stayed home and relaxed and just spent time together. No rushing off in a cab to do the 101 things that we all pack into our “time off” because they were on the journey of a year without making a negative impact on the environment. That day more than any other he felt how the rhythms of nature, even in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world, is within each of us. He noticed how when we pay attention to these things, when we move within them, we are happier and more connected to the people around us, not just nature.

One of my favorite stories so far from No Impact Man was how on another day when it was raining, he was walking somewhere or other with his daughter on his shoulders. Feeling guilty that because of his choice to do this no impact challenge his daughter was having to be out in this weather. He was trying to hold the umbrella so that she would not get wet, but she was crying. Then a gust of wind blew the umbrella over and rain poured on both of them, and his daughter stopped crying. After he righted the umbrella she started crying again. After a couple of times of this he realized that she’s not crying because she was getting wet, rather she was crying because the umbrella is stopping her from getting wet. In his words, here’s his realization in that moment:

“And on this rainy day, here is what happens when I treat my body as something more than a means to transport my head, when I finally learn to treat the landscape as something more than the space that stands between where I am now and where I want to be later:

I take Isabella down from my shoulders and let her jump in a puddle, soaking her shoes and her pants. For fun, I jump in the puddle, too. Isabella laughs. She stretches out her arms with her palms facing up to catch the rain. She opens her mouth, sticks her tongue out and leans her head back. I try it, too.

When did the child in me disappear?

People are running past. They look desperate, miserable, trying to get out of the rain. What has happened to us?”

I think I’ve always kept the child in me, splashing in puddles and loving playing in the rain, for instance. But also, I am a person of the journey, appreciating the path often more than the destination. Also, I have often felt that there is no place better to find the divine than in nature. To connect with the Way of the Tao has for me been more of an understanding of how I relate naturally as well as how I move through the journey.

Reading the Tao Te Ching, the main source of understanding the Tao, is an interesting process this time around. It is causing me to question my ambition. But it is also giving me permission to find rest and contentment in this time of intense struggle with my situation and my lack.

In sharing this, I’m not saying I’ve converted to some new faith, but rather that I feel knowing about the Tao enhances and deepens the faith I have. It gives me a mind for the whole rather than a part. I see creation, not simply man, when exercising my faith. I have always had an affinity for this way, but until it was explained to me I accepted the idea of man’s domination, if uncomfortably.

I think when I started to see the world in this ancient way, I also understood how much less I need in order to feel the fullness of joy. If you know me or have been reading here for a bit, you know that I’m a purger, trying to keep myself free of so much stuff that weighs us down. But isn’t it so much a better idea to simply not collect these things so that there is no need to purge? I’m not saying strive to be an ascetic and live in deprivation, but more to be thoughtful in what you buy. To have less stuff is to have more time because you needn’t work so much to get it and you have less to clean and sort and put away. Not a bad trade.

I look forward to exploring the Way of the Tao more. I look forward to feeling the rain on my tongue and appreciating the wind on my face. I look forward to being fully present and having the time to connect wholly with those around me. I look forward, but only in that I am completely engaged now so I know whatever comes I will be the same then – engaged and ready.

Ten on Tuesday.

2010-04-20T15:15:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd join in on this week's Ten on Tuesday. I tend to prefer when the questions are interrelated as well as on a topic that interests me, but this week's questions do touch on travel and the outdoors, so I figured I'd give it a go...

1. What two cities should be moved closer together?
Gosh. I’m not sure. I think I like the journey too much. But I think it’d be wherever I am to wherever I want to be next. Yet, that’s not right either because I’d not like Edinburgh, Scotland to be down the road from Los Gatos, California. That’d be creepy and ruin the point.

2. What was the first plane ride you took?
No idea – was way too young. I remember the first plane ride I took alone. I was seven and went on a plane from Northern to Southern California to visit my grandma and grandpa. It was so exciting to be doing this on my own that I can even tell you what the sundress I was wearing looked like (this was in the days when one dressed nicely to travel).

3. What continent would you most like to visit?
All of them. And I will.

4. What’s your favorite place to window-shop?
I don’t like shopping, really, so mostly I hunt online (and still don't much like it). Although I did a browse through REI on Saturday and enjoyed it a lot. Got me excited for hiking in nature and traveling the world – two of my favorite things. Back when I had a place to do my art, my answer would have been Home Depot.

5. What’s the least fun you’ve ever had at a place specifically tailored for fun?
Well, because I read someone else’s answer to this question, what comes to mind was when I went to this really cool event, a Mayfest, at the Tourist Club on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County last year. We had to hike down this really steep grade to get to it, and once I got down there I got an insane migraine. It was quite hot and heat makes my migraines explode. I’m miles and miles from anything resembling a place to rest, I rode with a group in a beat up SUV with no working air and no apparent shocks, and all there is available to drink is, of course, beer... which will only dehydrate me and make the pain worse. There was traditional German polka-like music replete with screeching (so it seemed to me) horns blaring, bodies everywhere in a relatively small space, barbecues heating it up more and sending smells wafting everywhere that made me feel like puking even more, and a blazing bright sun shining in my eyes to sharpen the pain up to the nth degree. I didn’t want to spoil the event for the rest of the group, but I thought I might just curl up and die somewhere. The worst was all those hours and hours later when we left, I still had to walk those several miles up that incredibly steep grade in the heat. Hell of a day. Funny thing was it was such a cool event that even in that state I wanted to become a member of the club.

6. You’re stuck on an island with plenty of food, a companion, and a relatively stress-free lifestyle. What do you say when the rescue ship comes?
It took me a long time to come up with a real answer for this. But then I remembered. Island fever. When on Maui, one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited, I realized that I’d not be able to live there very long because I would get serious island fever... mostly because I love to explore, it’s my nature to my core, and once it’d all been explored (including the water around the island), no matter how wonderful and simple my life was (which is ideal in my book), I’d go stir crazy pretty quickly. Though, I could ask the rescue ship to send us a helicopter so that when we want to we could take jaunts off the island. Then I’d not feel trapped. The other thing is, where is this island? In the middle of the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles from anything, or just off a coast somewhere so that if we built a canoe we could paddle off now and then? Also, if the island is New Zealand, I’M STAYING.

7. Which day of the week do you look forward to most?
This is going to sound so stupid, but I love Thursdays. Always have. I can’t explain it. I don’t know that it’s the one I most look forward to, but I do love me my Thursdays. I think I look forward to the days I know I will be doing something I love doing or will be with someone I love, or be doing something I’ve never tried before... and that’s never on a specific day of the week.

8. What’s your favorite place to enjoy the great outdoors?
Anywhere in nature, I guess. I love the forest, but I also love the ocean. I’m not big on deserts, but that’s mostly because of my issues with heat ever since I got heat strokes 15 years ago. Well, that and I DON'T love dry, dusty, barren places. I love lush, green, moist... with creeks flowing through the dense trees and secrets to discover, as well as the wildlife that comes with that environment. Then, too, the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean... especially in the rain. Or if in someplace lovely (like the afore mentioned Maui), then snorkeling all day long and seeing the wonders of that sort of wildlife! I feel like nature is my temple, so entering it in any form is a way for my soul to be refreshed. (Perhaps that is why I prefer the moist, lush places... though even in the deserts I can experience this.)

9. What’s on your “to do” list this summer?
Hmm. Well, number one would be moving to Scotland. But before and after, going on as many hikes and jaunts into nature as possible. Potentially getting back to cycling. Mostly remembering to find restful moments to just partake and enjoy... whatever is around me. And continuing in my quest of purging the detritus of life – both internally and externally. Less stuff, less clutter, getting to the bare minimum externally. No more mass amounts of storage. Just my books, some quality kitchen things, and some lovely bits that bring me joy. Internally getting rid of the junk that weighs me down, that detracts from living my best life, from being as open as possible to those around me MUST GO. Freeing myself of those annoying thought processes that cause me to think “I can’t” is another big part of this detritus I’m purging. Also, to continue to find more ecologically sound ways of living, wherever I may be, and reducing my waste as much as possible. Mustn't forget, watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

10. Which natural disaster freaks you out the most?
I don’t really get freaked out by such things. I’ve been in intense blizzards without power, some of the worst earthquakes in recent history, and even a hurricane or two. I don’t think I’d like to have my home (such as it may be) taken out by any of them, but why dread what we have no control over? I will say that as a kid I’d have nightmares about Tsunamis. But they were cartoon-like dreams where the giant tidal wave would suddenly be overcoming the towering downtown of a big city. And there I'd be running, knowing it was useless. Interestingly, I neither lived next to the ocean nor in a big city with high rises... so go figure. But, because I love water so much I think I’d be really sad to experience its devastating powers, whether through floods or hurricanes or tsunamis. Also, I have this weird sort of feeling that if my stuff was all taken from me in this way, it’d sort of be freeing. It’d be hard because I have things from family whom have passed on, yet it’d be so releasing – I’d be able to be the nomad a really am without worry over stuff. Even if it’s stuff I LOVE. I’m a weirdo, aren’t I?

Okay, I just wrote all that, and then realized I would totally be freaked out by potential avalanche if I ever was somewhere where that was a possibility. Being buried alive is a horrific enough thought, but to do it while freezing is worse somehow. Yikes.

So there you go. A little more about me you mightn't have known.

What was discovered there.

2010-04-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend I did another event with the same meetup group. This time it was a docent lead tour of the town I grew up next to, followed by a hike in the hills behind it and a picnic supper under the Redwood trees.

The tour about town was fun and informative, but a little odd since I’ve basically lived there since age seven. Still, it was a kick. The docent was new (I have a sneaking suspicion this was her first time) but she was quite good. The most fun thing I learned was that Lillian Fontaine brought up her daughters Olivia deHavilland and Joan Fontaine here! As an classic film lover, this was astoundingly cool to discover.

But I must say I came alive on the hike. This area of California… well, we are incredibly blessed. It’s unbelievable how stunningly beautiful it is. With the forests that have survived their giant ancestors being cut out 100 years ago, it still thrives. From the most elegant, almost lacy, little plants along the path like the Maiden Hair, to the great Redwoods, it’s lush and vibrant, and quite frankly life-giving.

I nearly didn’t go on the hike, fearing I mightn’t keep up and hold up the group. But the group was four of us, all completely enamored of the nature surrounding us. I gamboled all over the mountains, becoming the kid I am. The others laughed at me as I chattered like a five year old, completely in my element and happier than I’ve been in quite a while. They expressed their shock at discovering I wasn’t 15 years younger than I am (probably would have thought younger had this been their first experience of me). But most of all they found it too funny that I thought I’d not be keeping up with them. I mean, I probably walked twice as much as them in my excitement and contented joy.

But the very best part was when the sent me ahead to see if the path continued on or not, and I discovered something… interesting. There was a bit of a clearing, and in the center of it was an eight foot stick standing upright in the ground with a colorful ribbon tied to the top of it. Beyond it was a small circle of trees, as happens with Redwoods, that had long branches placed in such a way that all sides of the circle had about a four foot high wall, save where the entrance was coming from the clearing. On the two larger trees that formed the door there were imitation flower leis about seven feet up.

As I approached it, I took in the four foot high stump with three candles, broken pieces of celestial stone work, and another flower on it. To the right of the entrance I noticed a broken stone disk of the sun, but it was what was posted below the lei on the right hand tree forming the entrance that caught my attention. The others hadn’t caught up, so I had time to read the wooden plaque. It read:

LOVE

There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer;
no disease that enough love will not heal;
no door that enough love will not open;
no gulf that enough love will not bridge;
no wall that enough love will not throw down;
no sin that enough love will not redeem…

It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble;
how hopeless the outlook;
how muddled the tangle;
how great the mistake.
A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.
If only you could love enough you would be the happiest and most powerful being in the world . . .
Emmet Fox

Wow. As the others approached, I surveyed where we were exactly. It turns out that it was at a meeting of five paths, none of these paths were man made, but extended out from this clearing. It was fascinating. And beautiful.

This was, in our communal opinion, a place to receive a (pagan*) blessing for love – whether with your partner or in hope for the future of an individual. It wasn’t until we’d explored several of these paths and returned that I finally decided that I wanted some of that, so I entered. I took it all in, looking up at the sky through the tall branches that met in the center of the circle far, far above me, to the hand-dyed celestial tarp that was lightly buried beneath the debris of the forest, to the lovely scarf wound around a fallen branch that slanted from the back in (and was perfectly placed to hang a lantern from) and the necklace also attached with a charm reading “I ♥ Ashton.” I felt as if love was brought there, sought there, and found there.

I felt more than thought my prayer, and with the joy of an explorer who has made a delicious discovery, I scampered on to again overtake my group so that I can come back with more to show them.

*When I say pagan I refer to the original meaning of “belonging to the country,” or those who believe in honoring and respecting nature, not the blanket term adopted much later by those of the Christian faith to mean “ungodly.”

A dark day.

2010-04-14T01:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. I mean, not overtly, being an optimist at heart. But I just feel like whatever I accomplish, my setbacks are multitudinous in comparison.

People talk about being tested. But, I mean to say, can’t I just take the traumatic events as they come? Must I be handed days and weeks and months adding up to years straight of daily, even hourly, setbacks to “prepare” me? Give a girl a break, already.

I’m not a whiner, really. Sometimes I vent to friends – we all need that (and thank you friends). But I try not to make excuses. Sometimes I fail at this, but I do try. And usually I downplay just how bad things are. Mustn’t show the chink in the armor. Mustn’t overburden friends.

I was hit by a truck – yes, you read that right – a couple years back. I was cycling, training for a half-iron triathlon. It was a hit-and-run. It was miraculous things weren’t worse than they were, though it wasn't fun. But as the days and month of trials continued and compounded, I remember wondering if I was really meant to die there... but there was a mix up.

I’m not saying I want or wanted to die, just that I haven’t figured out why seemingly every step I attempt to take to better myself, to make my way back, I instead get a beat-down.

Like I said, I keep the good in my heart as much as I can. I keep the joy effusing, hoping not only pour out, but that it will make it’s way back in to the deeper, dry regions of my soul and refresh them. But, no matter what, head up… keep moving forward. Hopefully spread blessings even when broken.

But I’d really like to be whole. And most of all, I crave an actual hug from someone who truly cares.

That said, I want to make it clear that I believe there is more goodness than evil in the world. I believe that we choose every moment what we give, what we accept, and most of all how we respond. I want to keep choosing to love, to be kind, to embrace, to accept. No matter what comes in return, I want this to be what I give. This is MY choice.

Lastly, I’m sorry for complaining. Being heard, feeling connected, these are needs, not wants, and I guess I am in great need tonight. Thank you for hearing me.

The gathering.

2010-04-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

Today I attended the Tartan Day Scottish Fair about 45 minutes from my home. I was meant to go with a Meetup group, but they canceled for fear of rain. A little rain never scared me away, and indeed it never did rain anyway. I was too excited for this event not to go.

I’ve never attended one of these things, though I’d wanted to for some time. This was a small gathering, but I must say, SO MUCH FUN. I had no idea about all the things that go on. What I did expect was shopping booths, the clan booths, and Scottish music, but I did not expect all the different reenactments and interactive displays. Nor did I expect how outstanding and diverse the music would be. I learned a lot and laughed and danced and met lovely people and spent WAY too much money. I don’t regret a bit of it, though.

On the historical side of the event, there was a family that set up camp and dressed up as if they were Scots from first century BC. Just down the way was a Viking tent with all sorts of interesting weaponry and protection. This group not only put on a display, but explained what kind of person would be wearing each costume and why. There were those dressed as if they were from more of the upper echelons of historical Scottish society, including royalty. (“Excuse me, your Majesty.”) And of course, there were all different aspects of what everyday life would have been for the Scots of the day. The traditional kilts, the sword fighting with actual steel blades, and the feasts were all spectacular.

I confess, I met a gentleman that turned my eye. I actually blushed in his presence. I don’t do blushing. The funny thing is, he was big and burly with long hair, a great scruffy beard, and a belly, but his genuine character and kind nature shone the moment I met him and all that other stuff I mentioned that I’d normally avoid was suddenly quite attractive. QUITE. And yes, the kilt and kit made him that much hotter!

There was a birds of prey display that was outstanding. They had hawks and falcons, but they also had a huge eagle that was stupendous and gorgeous. They would walk around with them in and amongst the rest of us. It was amazing to be so close to an animal that regularly hunts for live food.

As for shopping, I was doing just fine - a CD here, a necklace there – until I found a kilt. It’s just a simple black cotton one, but it looks so good on me. I was avoiding, avoiding, but I couldn’t resist. Basically, I’ll wear it as skirt and love it. I'm sure I will feel ridiculous doing so when I actually move to Scotland, but I will enjoy it nonetheless. I’d love to have one exactly like this:

because this is actually my clan tartan, but as this is a designer gown (Alexander McQueen) that’s not very likely. It’s crazy how expensive it is to even get the fabric in your clan tartan in order to have a kilt, or anything else, made. So for now it’s crazy tights and a “fun” skirt (a.k.a. the new kilt).

Anyway, if you ever have the chance and like to learn as well as hang out with really down-to-earth folks, I highly recommend attending a Scottish Fair. For me, the music alone makes this kind of event worth it. The rest made it... a perfect day.

*If you didn't get the pun in the title, you REALLY need to watch more movies. "There can be only one."

Finding their place.

2010-04-06T16:00:00.000-07:00

I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks as read by Stephen Fry. But in doing so, I find that when I’m not working on some project, I’m staring at my closet full of books. Of course my mind muses on even better and cleaner organizing within, but it also has caused me to want to pair down even more.

This time it’s not so much to get rid of more, as these are the books I’ve yet to read. Rather, I'd like to remove the ones that just aren’t screaming out to my psyche to be read at the moment. I mean, there are so many I really want to read – likely over a hundred I’m pining to dive into and devour – that storing the others elsewhere for a while might be a wise idea. The idea being to clean out the clutter and feel less overwhelmed with the amount of upcoming reads.

I use the term clutter loosely, because if anything in my life is organized, it’s my books. There’s just too many of them in a small space, but they are ordered – OH, are they ordered! When I feel that my life is getting out of control, I go and reorganize my books. I must feel in that moment that at least in that action, with my books, I have control. It’s a bit like John Cusack’s character with his albums in High Fidelity, only my ordering curricula are quite different.

I mentioned that these are just the books I’ve yet to read, my already read books being in storage. See, because I was in a crisis mode for several years, I went about collecting all the books from the Official Rory Gilmore Book List. That alone is about 120 books. But along the way, there were books that I heard about, read about, or randomly picked up that I discovered I wanted. So getting those, receiving other books as gifts, and then starting yet another book list, BBC’s The Big Read Top 100, I have several hundred books in my closet that are to be read.

Yes, I said in my closet. My clothes have been relegated to a tiny armoire so that my books have space to breathe. The doors are off, and the closet is completely shelved. Yet still, somehow, I have them stacked on top of the neatly shelved books. Neat piles on neat rows. What am I to do?

What’s most frustrating is that lusting I mentioned earlier – that desire to simply devour a title I see right there on my shelf. I think this is why I’ve undertaken so many at once – I just want to read them all NOW so I end up entrenched is eight titles at the same time. I want to pick it up, read it right there in a short time, and then grab the next one. I know it’s illogical, and frankly impossible, but it’s the longing to know and understand each one that grips me.

Every day I consider how I’m going to get these volumes, even the ones I most want to consume, with me when I move to Europe. I finally got the opportunity for the first time this weekend to try a Kindle by Amazon. It was indeed convenient, and compact when you think that you can have a library right there… but the problem is that I already have these hundreds of books I want to read. Why would I re-buy them for that gadget? It just doesn’t work for me. So I keep pondering.

I think it comes down to the fact that it was really unwise for me to do all that collecting in those years of trauma recovery. But it can’t be changed, so I need… a bag that’s bigger on the inside and really strong muscles. Since I haven’t yet read the books on physics to figure out how to do the first bit of that (nor have I met The Doctor, as I’ve long hoped for, who could do that for me), I welcome any and all suggestions…

Loveliness gained.

2010-03-31T19:15:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have days where, even though you didn’t get a thing done you really needed to; meant to, they were simply scrumptious? Today is that for me.

I had had a nice cappuccino, and was doing a little of this and a little of that before I got down to the “meat” of the day. In the midst of this, the Harry Potter books read by Stephen Fry had finally downloaded.

First of all, yes I’m a Harry Potter geek. Here's the proof...

If you’ve been reading, you also know I’ve a thing for Stephen Fry. He’s just… kind, adorable, debonair, and seems Good. He’s not my usual type (and thank goodness, as he’s gay), but his honest, vibrant, and even gentle ways are so seductive. Anyway, as a result of this fixation, I’m finding out about all sorts of projects he’s involved in, like reading the Harry Potter books.

So this morning when the bubble popped up saying the download was complete, I thought, oh why not listen for a few minutes while I deal with these odds and ends. I thought ten minutes, tops, before I need to get on with it. Um. About three hours later, I'm still sitting there, wrapped. And grinning. The entire three hours – six chapters, mind – grinning! It was a bit of heaven. Utterly divine.

I mean, he IS British, so he can do the various accents. But beyond enjoying the stories I love read so well, knowing it was him gave my imagination leave to me picturing his expressions as he sat there reading.

I’m not someone who can usually do audiobooks because I’m an intensely visual person. For instance, I always have to take copious notes for a lecture to stick. You tell me directions I won’t have a clue what to do and will most certainly get lost, however, you write them down and I read it once through, I’ll nearly always remember. It’s just the way I’m wired.

But with these books it’s different. I’ve read them multiple times – more than any other books in my life, truth be told. Therefore I know the stories, have seen the words, so they stick. But I’ve a feeling that if it were always Stephen Fry reading, I’d get it even if it were a first go around!

At the end of the sixth chapter I thought I’d at least go out and do my walk through the park for exercise. I’d been out there maybe ten minutes when it started raining. Seriously, it was fantastic. I LOVE this. I had started my walk still grinning from listening to the book, completely filled with delight, and now the rain just enhanced it. I know for most that’d be so off-putting, but I adore rain, so it was perfect.

I was inspired, delighted, and gaining energy. And now I’m home and I can’t wait to take a nice hot shower, get all cozy, and window fully open so I can continue to listen to the rain, indulge some more in Stephen and Harry! Hooray!

Nothing accomplished, loveliness gained.

The dream and me.

2010-03-30T17:15:00.000-07:00

Goals are strange, often illusive things. We aspire to them, we try to tackle them, we aim for them, we fight for them, and every so often, we achieve them. Lately, I’ve been trying to determine what I need to make that every-so-often be simply every.

In saying this, I don’t mean to say that I want to have everything I ever desired. Honestly, that’d be quite cumbersome. Rather, I’ve been evaluating what the core desires in me are and then figuring out how to make them absolutes. No more “one day,” but rather, “on my way.”

Some of you know through reading here, as well as perhaps through personal interactions, that my deepest longings rest in writing and in experiencing. So, I want to travel the world not to have done the rounds and be able to say “I’ve been there,” but because I want to go and experience that culture, interact with those people, and see life from their perspective. I want the learning and growing of that; I long for the understanding of that. There is nothing deeper in me than this desire to experience every people group in every corner of the world… and to connect with them.

I don’t much care how it happens. I just know it MUST happen.

The writing is my wanting to share those comical moments when two cultures just don’t quite get the other. Sort of that “lost in translation” aspect. Not, I must clarify, to poke fun at either culture, but to show the humor in their meeting and the process of connecting. Then, too, expressing the beauty of these connections and the delight of discovery of… well, friends.

I guess my goal is sort of a cultural anthropologist on speed. Right, I do know that an anthropologist tries to observe more than interact, but still what I seek is understanding and connection on that deeper level that both embraces and transcends cultures.

This passion, this intense focus, that comes with this rather unusual goal is something that cannot be mollified or quelched. In that, however, it is isolating. Many people admire such vision and think they share it, but of these few really want it in practice, and even fewer really understand it. My family cannot really understand it. And, in truth, not understanding this means not understanding me at my core.

My dream is not the accepted “American Dream.” Even on book websites I have been called names and berated and admonished (and those are only the nice things) for these goals. The most harsh are the people that had similar divergent dreams, but fell into routine or made choices that forced them to no longer be able to easily pursue their dreams, so they chided and mocked me.

I, however, have not, will not give in to status quo. It’s a beautiful thing if that’s your dream. It’s my brother’s dream – a home of his own, a wife and a family to raise up in it, the traditional job scenario, active in the local church. I’m so incredibly joy-filled that he has achieved so much of this. But it’s not my dream. It simply never will be. I don’t like the idea of settling down. It makes my bum itch just thinking about it.

Also, I will not apologize for going for it. I won’t even apologize if I fail at it – more than once, if it comes to that, in order to attain it. Because it’s about me going for MY dream, not coming ‘round to someone else’s. And I do seek whatever means and wisdom that is out there to help me find that path to my goal. So in all this, I’m determining that this one will NOT be “the one that got away.”

Hmm.

2010-03-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

Hello? [tap-tap-tap] Is this thing on?

Not a single comment on the last three posts. Did I forget deodorant? Does my breath stink? Anyway, just checking.

I sort of feel untethered and adrift in a vast ocean without an occasional check-in from someone. Hope each of you are well and having a great start to the week.

The devious nature of inanimate objects.

2010-03-29T11:30:00.000-07:00

I love books. Passionately. I do NOT, however, love mass market books. You know the ones – 4” x 6 3/4”, horrid rough and dark pages, smells disgusting, frustrating to keep open (especially if it’s a long one), yellow quickly (like as you read it). I abhor them.

No really, I think they are evil. Well, since last night I do. You see, I was reading one, ignoring my sore hand from holding the nearly 800 page volume open and trying not to destroy the spine, while laying on my stomach. Because I was leaning on my elbows, I was holding it closer to my face than when I’m sitting properly.

Now, I already know that holding one of these Godforsaken volumes means that my hands get so dry touching those pages that even after I’ve put the volume down for the day, when I apply lotion, within two minutes I need more as my skin is still parched. That’s horrible.

But it’s nothing to last night. Because the book was closer to my face, I was breathing in that… shite. Apparently something – I can’t begin to guess what exactly – from the pages of the book was inhaled and imbedded in my lung. I was hacking almost all night. Whatever I did, nothing seemed to sooth it. It was like that one molecule was sucking out all the moisture in my chest. I was barking like a sea lion. The gallon of water did nothing (except make me need to pee), covering my mouth in order to breath in the warm moisture of my own breath did nothing, finally the third Sucrets allowed me to get to sleep.

I want to chuck this book and all the other mass market volumes I own at the person who came up with such an abhorrent idea. Cheap bastard. Except, I want to find out what happens in the story. I’m torn.

One thing is for sure, I’m gathering all the ones I’ve read that don’t have sentimental value and am selling them to the used bookstore. I don’t want to wake up to find that while I was sleeping the mass market paperbacks attacked and left me completely void of moisture – meaning I’m cracking everywhere so that when a breeze comes through the open window, I blow away like dust. Like I said, EVIL.

It's the little things.

2010-03-28T23:30:00.000-07:00

A couple of interesting experiences from the last few days…

Scene One:

I was in my local Mexican hole-in-the-wall. It’s the kind where it’s clean and colorful inside, with a television always on a Spanish speaking station – that day’s show was “El Gordo y La Flaca” (the fat and the skinny). The food is truly authentic to the point that during the time I was in the restaurant for a quick lunch, easily twenty Hispanic people either dined in or took out. I was, in fact, the only white person there. That is until The Grannies.

Just as I was finishing up my amazing fish taco and horchata, three older ladies entered. One of them charged in yelling “HOLA” (she pronounced it hoe-lah). The other two scurried up behind as she said in one of the worst gringo accents ever, "¿Cómo estás?" The cook/owner kindly responded in simple Spanish, but it seemed those three words were about the extent of her Spanish vocabulary.

I went about the business of devouring more of the taco when bits of the continuing conversation wafted my way. She was explaining to her two companions what a burrito is and what a taco is. Now here in California, well, you’re just sort of born with that knowledge. Like knowing your cheeses if you’re from Wisconsin. It’s just the way of [your] world.

Still, I ate on. But I was again sucked in when one of the followers said in a British accent, “Guacamole,” (pronounced something akin to that amusement center game “Whack-a-Mole”), “that’s made with avocados, yes?” When the answer came in the affirmative, she said, “I’ll have this.” She then points to an item on the menu which is on the wall outside of the kitchen. So the person taking the order had no idea what she was referring to and just looked utterly dumbfounded when none of the three offered a further explanation as to what “this” was.

Well, that was pretty much it for me, I mean I’m sure they said and did loads of other funny things before they took their seats, but frankly I got the giggles. The three Mexicans at the next table looked at me… sitting alone… laughing... but I was giggling too hard to explain, so I vaguely gestured toward the ladies and just kept looking the fool. It was worth it. I was sorry I was done and had to be off.

Scene Two:

I was walking in the park again today. Third day in a row, fourth this week, so I’m feeling really good about it. Sunday is obviously more crowded than the other days (even Saturdays, actually). I’ve recently learned this breathing technique to do, and it’s especially good when walking. Without getting into it, I’ll just say it involves intaking all your air through your nose. Being spring, over the last few days this has been delightful. It’s a large park with a lake, and I walk the whole of it, so there are loads of lovely, fresh smells with everything blooming.

I was about two thirds of the way through the walk when, in the traffic of people on the trails, walking toward me were a man and a lady. Now, I must confess I don’t have any idea what the guy looked like because my eyes went straight to the lady’s fake boobs. They couldn’t help it, my eyes. Now, this lady was dressed like someone from Beverly Hills would dress if they were pretending to workout – all high end clothing, none of which would actually hold up to any real excerpted activity, and no actual bra underneath her purple designer spandex-with-spaghetti-strap top (yet oversized-boobs-on-tine-body are fixed in place). Her hair is big, and she’s even holding a designer water. Yet, somehow if it weren’t for the boobs, she’d not look so obviously over-done. Of course, with the exception of the boobs, having only had a glance, none of this processed until I'd passed them.

But the passing was the thing, because when I did I happened to be doing one of those big intake breaths… you know, through the nose. I sputtered and coughed, my eyes started watering. I was choking on the cloud of perfume in which she was encased. This also made me laugh – and I thought for sure I’d be found out as to why, so without really being able to breathe I rushed forward. Once breathing again commenced, I was chuckling for a while, because seriously it was an intensely pungent fragrance. I got to my turn-around point on the dam, back in the groove of the rhythm of exercise. As a turned a corner down the way a bit, there they were again. Luckily this time I could see them coming from a ways off, so I could make sure to be breathing OUT when I passed. But I still laughed.

Scene Three:

I was helping someone out with their start-up business, and ended up driving an hour away to babysit both Friday and Saturday. They were for about four hours each. It was fun (the work, not the commute); the girl is really cute. This business provides you with a basket of fun, mostly learning-related, toys and games. Yesterday, amongst other things, we built a wooden model of the skeleton of a brachiosaurus, played the memory game, and I painted her face. She loved it all, but especially the face painting.

With about ten minutes before I was scheduled to leave, she really wanted to do something from my basket of goodies again, but I explained that I was going to have to leave soon. She started crying and said she wanted her mom. Her mom, who had returned and was working in the next room, automatically asked what was wrong. Once she realized, she started laughing and left me to it. (I’m pretty sure her daughter was hoping mom would side with her and tell me to stay.) I came up with a solution that made my charge happy, but it’s pretty hilarious when someone outright cries AND wants their mom when you tell them you’re going to be leaving soon – especially when you’re at work.

The reality.

2010-03-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

I am a reality TV hater. Truly. However, I did see the “preview” episode of Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution. Honestly, what he’s trying to accomplish is so vital, and also so valiant.

He has gone in to the most unhealthy city in America. They have the most deaths from health problems resulting from obesity. So they are dying young. They are the most obese city in the most obese country in the world. So he went there to attempt to effect positive change.

He’s trying to start in one school, be successful there and they will start to adopt his ideas for the entire school system. But he only has a week. A week to make healthy food that meets the ridiculous USDA requirements, a week to serve fresh food on the same budget as processed, a week to feed all those kids and get them to like it. A week. I can’t imagine kids that have been raised only on processed foods could change their tastes and these eating habits they’ve had no choice in for pretty much the whole of their lives.

Worst of all, he’s got a kitchen full of women who pretty much hate and resent him. Their contempt is palpable. One in particular is a real ball-busting biotch. I CANNOT fathom not wanting someone to bring healthy change knowing that these kids they are feeding are the first in generations to have a shorter life expectancy than the previous generation. At least, I cannot imagine not being OPEN to a better way.

Having lived abroad, I think the saddest thing that Americans are known for is for being, on the whole, fat. I remember having been there about a month, when in a bathroom I heard two Europeans talking about this. I wanted to come out of the stall and say, “Really, ALL Americans?” using me as an example for the thin side… but I knew at that point a least I was only proof of their stereotype. It really bummed me out. Not because I cared about their opinions, but because I cared that we are so unhealthy. That I was (am again) so unhealthy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with my body whatever it’s size. But I want to be healthy and fit as a way of life. When I lived abroad I achieved that. Without even knowing it, I lost 50 pounds. Just eating like the locals, walking everywhere, and frankly, being happy. And I truly didn’t have a clue it was happening.

These women at the school kitchen Jaime Oliver is working in think they don’t have a choice. They just do what they’re told, so to speak. The school food board essentially say the same thing – they just follow the USDA guidelines. Two breads a day. At least this much sodium, at least this much fat. Blah-blah-blah. No personal responsibility, so no guilt. No ability to change anything (so they tell themselves), so no extra effort need be made. Worst of all, they don’t think anything is wrong with their status quo.

It seems to me we are allowing the government, yet again, to decide things for us. This time it’s the health of our children. It’s the length of their lives. I’m not even a parent and I care deeply about this. Yes, I’m pissed off that our government is so all-invasive and can control so much, but why I care deeply is that these are children. We, in feeding them this processed CRAP, are taking years off their lives and training them to do the same for themselves. Not to mention the things that can’t develop properly because they aren’t getting the proper nutrition.

I think the most significant thing that Oliver said in that episode is that he’s been to South Africa in the townships and those kids are getting fed better and healthier food than American kids are in school. Appalling. Parents should care. We as a community should care. I care.

I won’t be watching the show because I frankly cannot stand the platform of reality TV (if it were a documentary project I’d be all-in), but I will try to discover whether his project succeeded or failed. I know he did revolutionize the food system in schools in Britain, so there is some hope. I will hope. And eat veggies for lunch!

By the way, Oliver has a petition going to improve school food, if you’re interested.

Old dogs.

2010-03-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

I’m someone who has a fondness for British television. No, not Benny Hill. I mean their current dramas, comedies, scifis, and such. Nearly all of my all-time favorite series are British shows, truth be told. I’ve become rather clever at using BBC America, Acorn, and PBS catalogues to find new British series in which I might be interested.

One such show I found this way and recently I started watching is called “New Tricks.” It’s sort of a cop show, but not in any way typical. There are three retired police that have been brought back in to be part of a team that tries to clear up unsolved cases. They aren’t actually cops, but they do work as detectives. The thing is, it’s hilarious. All the crap of being old, all their little idiosyncrasies – completely funny.

One of them has major neuroses, but also has a form of eidetic (photographic) memory, mostly for facts. Another has had three wives and a daughter by each, and is still a charmer. The third lost the love of his life, and still talks to her… at her grave in his backyard! It sounds so kooky, and it is a bit, yet somehow it’s all quite lovely. It works.

But for me, I think the best bit is their boss. She’s this hot blonde woman, but not at all in the style of a Hollywood-type (though in her youth she was once asked to star in a big Hollywood film, but her father was dying so she declined and was never asked again). She’s in her late 40’s and early 50’s for one. But she’s this tough, dare I say ballsy, copper that was on the fast track until in a raid she shot a dog and got bumped over to head this unit.

As a side note, the actress, Amanda Redman, who plays this “gov’nor” of the group has scars all down her left arm from being badly burned at 18 months old. She was in hospital until age 5 getting grafts and such, as she was burned all over her body… but the one bit they just couldn’t fix was that arm. Honestly, the show never addresses it and I love that she just takes it in stride – it makes her no less beautiful in any way. It is, in fact, a part of her beauty. How great is that? Fantastic in my book.

As for the show, I love that all the characters have depth. It’s so funny to watch how they interact and deal with their personal lives, yet in the end it is a cop show so they do solve crimes. I never thought of myself as someone who was particularly fond of cop shows, but lately I’ve realized if they’re good, it’s worth it. This one is, both good and worth it.

In truth, I’ve sort of become addicted to it. It’s had six series, which are about eight episodes each… and I’m on series three, so I’m not sure what I’ll do when I’ve finished them! Withdrawals are a b-word.

How to be.

2010-03-23T22:30:00.000-07:00

People of the blogosphere take note: courtesy should not be optional.

When a nice lady is on the tale end of a rather long walk, whilst still recovering from both ankle surgery and plantar fasciitis, finds your stray dog, cleverly and with some effort corrals him, and then walks him about a mile back to his home while slumped over in agony because she is holding firm to the collar, and she shows up, bright red from exertion and the day’s heat, holding said dog while you are on the phone she tried to call and was not allowed to leave a message on, maybe offer her a seat… some water… don’t simply take the dog in and never return.

Seriously – I had to ASK if I could sit for a moment on the retaining wall, I was panting so hard. YOU try walking a mile hunched with a dog pulling you faster, get a blister doing it, get your nice clothes all sweaty, then don’t get more than a half-hearted “thank you,” and tell me you wouldn’t be annoyed. The neighbor from far away was more thoughtful and considerate than the owner. By the way, that neighborhood hasn’t house numbers related to the actual long drives that go up, so I went down the wrong ones until that neighbor directed me. And yes, they are more like estates.

I just think something is wrong with our society when someone extends a kindness, and common courtesy, much less gratitude, is not shown in return. What happened to manners? When did being polite become unusual?

I say all this knowing it’s more likely that all dogs will learn to carry their leashes with them when escaping than for our society to remember how to and then regularly practice courtesy. I’m not jaded, I’m just mournful of such a great loss.

Little delights.

2010-03-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

I know I’m going to seem like such an oddball for doing this, but I want to tout another blog. The thing is, it’s not your typical blog. It’s a blog for students in a classroom of the US equivalent to 2nd graders in New Zealand.

Room 10 @ PT England School gives their young students this opportunity to write a story, read it on film, edit the film, then post it online. You wouldn’t think it could hold your attention for very long, but each film I see is so sweet that I end up watching more and more of them. I find myself commenting on them, knowing how amazing that would have been when I was a kid to have someone from another country send me a note of compliment or encouragement.

These are, I believe, mostly Maori children, and it’s interesting to hear some of their stories, especially when it involves what they did on the weekend or about family life. It’s like little cultural exchanges in 30 second clips!

So wanted to share it with you all in case you need inspiration now and then. Because I assure you, these kids will do just that – inspire!

Aren’t they sweet?

When confusion makes sense.

2010-03-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

It’s funny how once you incorporate a practice into your life, it becomes bizarre when you realize it’s not common practice. This happened yesterday when I was at the grocery story. I was back for a few items for the bread I was making as well as meat for dinner.

When I went to check out, the lady behind the counter wasn’t all that together, and while I was grappling with the many demands of the credit machine, she bagged my groceries in plastic. Didn’t even ask – not about paper vs. plastic, much less if I had a bag. She had just watched me take everything out of my reusable bag a few moments before, by the way. When I stated I had a bag, she asked, rather disgruntled, if I wanted her to change it. Well. Yes. DUH.

It’s not just I made a resolution – and easy one to manage, I’m finding. It’s not that it’s environmentally better. Not even that she used two plastic bags to my one only half-filled reusable. Nor even the stupidity of her question and lack of short-term memory. What honestly momentarily astounded me was that plastic was even an option. THEN all the other flooded in, but initially I looked at my items in those odd things, and thought, “what are they?”

I kind of like that.

Currently.

2010-03-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

I saw this on a couple of blogs I enjoy and thought I’d follow suit. Yes, I’m a bit late to the game.

Current Book(s): See sidebar (how i roll: i'm reading). I really am reading all seven of them. Not my norm to be reading so many at once, but it’s where I’m at just this moment I guess.

I’m not liking Catcher, but the rest are really interesting in entirely different ways. No Impact Man is not at all what I expected, so personal and funny and conversational… I highly recommend it.

Current Playlist: Mostly classical with traditional Celtic thrown in now and then. Okay, and Celtic drinking songs, too. They’re hilarious.

Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure: I don’t really do shame or guilt. Not in relation to pleasure, at least.

Current Drink: Chai, nice and spicy with no milk. When I lived in Italy I would fantasize about it and refer to it as “the nectar of the Gods.” It’s just next to me now. But also I found an old favorite wine the other night, Marqués de Cáceres Grianza and while it’s not as fabulous as I remember (or at least this vintage isn’t as tasty), I have still been enjoying it wholeheartedly with my homemade suppers the last few nights.

Current Food: Hmm, well I sort of had a festival of food this weekend in that I thoroughly enjoyed cooking up all sorts of lovely dishes from scratch… unfortunately the steak I grilled to go with my potato and mushroom au gratin, which I purchased last minute from the local Safeway rather than the market with the proper meat section, seems to have been bad so I tried to sooth my stomach with some of my homemade Irish soda bread I was trying to save for tomorrow’s breakfast. Fingers crossed it helps!

Current Favorite Show: Well, it’s not officially airing it’s last episodes for another week or so, but Saving Grace, absolutely. I can’t begin to say how deeply this show effects me.

I’ve been thinking about this recently because I’ve been trying to decide when I move what shows I’d still want to try to catch. As cheesy as this sounds, Bones made that list. Castle didn’t, but came close. I still love House, but would be okay without it I find.

Mostly I watch tons British shows, so whichever one I’m into at the moment would likely make the list (the advantage of them is that they only last from 6 to 8 episodes a season so it’s not exactly a long-term commitment). At this moment, that is Kingdom and Blackpool.

Current Wishlist: A job in and a ticket to Scotland. Oh, and my financial woes thrust upon me on the sly by my ex-boyfriend to magically disappear.

Current Needs: Money for the ticket, and the job of course.

Current Triumphs: Honestly, that I’m somehow maintaining a positive, hopeful outlook after all I’ve gone through. That I believe I am about to move forward with my goals, regardless of what my current circumstances look like from that horrid face called “reality.” Also, that I’m good with who I am as I am this moment. That’s huge.

Current Bane(s) of my Existence: Bouts of self-doubt. The garage with all the crap that must be gone through, gotten rid of, and most of all sold. The current situation of finances, of lacking relationships, of faltering belief in myself to attain; to live again.

Current Celebrity Crush: I guess it’d be a girl crush on Nigella Lawson. She is a goddess, domestic and otherwise. She’s stunning, confident, and completely at home in her curvaceous body. She loves food, loves to cook, loves to bring people together with it… and has the resources and high-brow connections to do so and make a living at it. May I please be her?

Also, Stephen Fry. I want to marry him. Yes, I know he’s gay. And English.

But honestly, he seems kind and witty, brilliant and compassionate. He both recognizes and embraces his differences, yet conveys an everyman's commonality with humanity. he's humble yet clever. In so many ways, he is endearing to me.

Current Indulgence: British television shows.

Current Blessing(s): Parents that have put up with (and financially supported) me all this time as I have been slowly, slowly emerging from the fog of trauma. My online girlfriends who support and encourage me just exactly when and how I need it. Going to therapy, silly as that sounds.

Current Outfit: PJs, actually. It’s late. But I wore one of my jail house striped tops today with jeans tucked into my awesome black Merrell rain boots, even though it was sunny. A girl can dream.

Current Excitement: I WISH I could say hockey, but my team has been sucking badly of late. That a dear friend got engaged this weekend. That I’m believing and working toward moving to Scotland. That I’m continuing to purge the detritus of life. That I’m allowed to wear heels again.

Current Link: I guess I’d have to say the blog that I first saw this list on, though I’ve been following the blog they got it from for a while, yet somehow missed this post on that one!

Starting out fresh.

2010-03-21T16:15:00.000-07:00

One of my all-time favorite breakfasts is crepes. To be more specific, lemon crepes – simple, light, fresh, delicious. Give me crepes and a cappuccino in the morning, and I’ll experience nirvana, especially if it’s served out-of-doors.

So today I made them myself! This was first time since the debacle while I was babysitting a family of eight kids for sixteen hours straight who decided to make crepes, and at fifteen years old I didn’t seem to have the power to stop them. Well, not ALL of them. But that’s another story.

I had intended to go to the Farmer’s Market and then treat myself to one at my favorite place along the market strip in town. However, I neglected to set my alarm and since I stayed up far too late reading (another “old lady” pleasure that I’ve done since I was tiny), I didn’t awaken in time. I could have gone to town just for the crepe, but I would have been so disappointed about the rest that I couldn’t have enjoyed it as well.

So I looked up a basic recipe online and went for it. I quickly learned the importance of a hot enough (but not too hot) pan coupled with a quick twist of the wrist. Let’s just say the first one was more like a not-quite-cooked corn tortilla. Less batter is better, my friends. However, with a squeeze from the fresh lemon plucked from our tree and a dash of sugar, the rest of them were perfection. I was so excited to not only make one of my favorite things, but to know instinctively what to do to make it turn out better next time (whip the eggs first).

I’ve always loved cooking. Finding just the right spices to make the dish blossom on the tongue, being sure all the different parts of the meal flow together, presenting it in an inviting and beautiful way all contributed to this passion. I enjoy it enough to have once had a catering and party planning business. I was too wimpy back then to handle the business side (yes, ‘tis true, an entirely different me), so I actually lost money, but every party I did was a huge success mostly because I created the recipes to fit the events.

However, when it comes to breakfasts, I owe my cooking indulgences to my ex-boyfriend. His favorite meal was breakfast, so my skills were honed. Before he came around I was a cappuccino-and-brioche-girl. Now I love it. In the last few weeks I’ve made waffles, whole grain pancakes, awesome omelets, some kick-arse challah bread french toast, and now crepes. It’s strange to realize just how easy all this stuff is to make… and how much better it is than from even the best restaurants.

So later today I decided to make an Irish soda bread. I haven’t had it in years, but love it. It’d be a fun thing to have available for the week, and it’s another easy thing to make (I know this because I used to make it in Junior High). Plus if my hockey team plays as badly this evening as they have been this last week or so, I’ll need the distraction.

It’s exciting to accomplish something new and find you’re pretty good at it. Even more so when the results bring a favorite thing to your lips. It makes me wonder what breakfast challenge I might conquer next… madelines? croissants? The latter seems the most daunting, and it might be best if I didn’t discover a proficiency for making them since they are something to which I believe I can become addicted – especially if they are of the almond or chocolate persuasion. Mmm. But taking a little time and thinking outside the usual breakfast box is exciting!

Hope your breakfasts bring you a bit of joy this week!

How I got old.

2010-03-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

Last night I attended a party for a long-time friend who moved out of state and was back for a visit. It was a decade birthday, so quite a do. It was lively – body shots were had (not by me).

On the way to the party I was thinking about how when we’re young, we tend to watch all the movies that are considered greats, for instance. We lap up everything. We’re at a party and we’ll drink whatever is on offer – and likely lots of it. But there comes a point where one says, I really couldn’t give a rat’s arse about that film, academy award nominated or not. It’s not my thing. I’ve definitely reached that point.

So now fast forward to the actual event. Wow. Crazy happenings, lots of “WOOOs” were yelled out over the blaring party-dance music in the back yard of that high-priced suburban neighborhood. This isn’t a bad thing at all – this friend is a true party girl, and it suits her – carefree, flamboyant, youthful. She’s serving her famous “Panty Rippers,” a concoction so strong for a fruity drink as to be dangerous to drink around open flames, and she’s bouncing from group to group, challenging some to do Patron shots, jumping into the arms of her best friend’s new beau and flashing the rest of the party in the process, chatting and flitting, and honestly somehow doing it all with everyone feeling delighted and joyful – including family. That’s how she is.

Now, I have been as brazen and wild and rambunctious. In fact on occasion when we’ve been together, I’ve even outdone her. By a lot. It’s a complete blast to cut loose and just be. Bold. Brash. Ballsy. Confident and fun-loving.

In fact, there were to be further celebrations tonight with a smaller group of ladies taking on a local hot spot and I was invited. At first I thought it’d be great. But then I realized… all this – the party scene – it just isn’t me any more (not that it ever was – I just dabbled). Now, I’m not saying I won’t ever want to get wild and crazy (this was me), but honestly just now it sounds horrid – at least in that way.

As an aside, last night was also the first time I’ve worn heels since my ankle surgery back in October. Previous to going under the knife I quite literally wore crazy-high heels every day (lowest heel was 4”). EVERY DAY. I only owned one pair of flats aside from my sports shoes, and had only worn them on a handful of occasion. I thought heels were the most comfortable thing in the world. Honestly! Until last night. Holy crap! That was rough! Of course, I *did* choose my absolute highest heel – with a platform as well. At any rate, thinking of traipsing all over the area hot spot again in heels wasn’t the most appealing possibility!

So back to my mini-revelation. I was considering on the ride home how I may have inadvertently gotten OLD. I mean, as I write this, instead of being out on the town, I’m sipping a favorite red wine while listening to classical music after being rather domestic all day, doing laundry while suffering through last night’s recorded hockey game then indulging myself in the delights of both creating and eating an exquisite homemade risotto and to-die-for chocolate mousse. And I’m contented (especially my stomach). What’s worse is that I’m looking forward to going to the Farmer’s Market tomorrow and doing more of the same tomorrow evening. (Cooking, chilling.)

I want to think that I’ve just discovered how my dimensions have changed and am embracing them, but really… classical music over popular music at the club? Chill-out evening over a night out? How old is THAT?? Still, somehow it marking me as old doesn’t make me want to jump back to the other way. I’m glad I don’t feel that youthful compulsive need to drink whatever is going. I’m willing to try things, and have a diverse palate, but at the same time I know what I prefer. If it’s not the trendy thing going, and most often my drink selections aren’t fashionable, I don’t care. It’s what I like.

One more thing that is related to this insight is that recently I have been honing in on what I really want from my life, determining that the things that detract from that goal need to be set aside. Spending money to follow in my girlfriend’s wake as she parties the night away, not really getting to visit properly with her at all, isn’t helping me toward my goals. If it were about getting to connect with her, then absolutely I’d be there… but who connects on deeper levels at a club?

I confess it is disheartening to think that I’m not as fun and playful as have been my trademarks. At the same time, it’s really nice to truly know what brings me joy as well as that I can maintain my focus to achieve my goals. So in my dotage, I guess I’ll know myself well. Ugh. I guess my only hope is found somewhere in these two quotes:

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. — Anaïs Nin

My self-confidence comes from the fact that I have discovered my own dimensions. It does not behoove me to make myself smaller than I am. — Edith Södergran

That said, I hope I can manage tonight without the Ben Gay and Metamucil. Might need the walker, though.

Just plain perfect.

2010-03-15T12:00:00.000-07:00

So this is just a little post, but I couldn’t resist sharing this adorable picture of my precious niece. I’m hers utterly, and can you blame me?!

Abbie Grace, 10 weeks & the apple of her Auntie M's eye.

ICE it.

2010-03-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

I was watching the Sharks hockey game this evening when the color announcer (Drew Remenda for those in-the-know) gave his Keys to the Game. What the team needed to do, according to Remenda, was demonstrate Intensity, Consistency, and Expectancy. I generally ignore whatever he says because he really can annoy, as well as say the most absurd things and present them as absolutes (plus he worships at the alter of Crosby, so on principle I MUST distrust him). Then he made an aside about it spelling “ICE.” Okay, appropriate for a hockey game, if cheesy.

However, because he said the acronym, the three words stuck. As the game went from bad to worse and I was unconsciously looking for anything else on which to ruminate, I realized that those three words – intensity, consistency, and expectancy – are exactly what I need to remember and apply to my endeavors to reach my goals as well.

It’s good to get the vision and keep it in front of you. It’s good to speak it out and to believe it. It’s great to work toward it. But without those three words, it’s likely the goal will be a long time in coming.

For me lately, because of unforeseeable and rather exigent circumstances, I’ve found myself faced with setback after setback to even get on the road to where I want to be, much less there. In that state, everything seems more strenuous and it’s difficult to keep my energies positive and my vision focused. In other words, my hope wanes and I get smacked across the face with the glaring reality of where I am so that my eyes have no room to see where I am going. When that happens, it’s hard to take a step forward because you can’t see that it IS forward.

It reminds me of when I raced triathlons. In the swim portion, it was important to keep an eye on the next buoy. If I didn’t take a peek every few strokes the current could take me off in some other direction. So focusing on my current situation is like never taking my eyes out of the water. I may keep moving in the direction I think is right, but by the time I run out of energy I could have swum in a circle and gotten no where, or worse, ended up farther back than where I started.

Beyond that clear vision, that focusing intensely on my goal, I need to be consistent in my work toward achieving it. Letting myself not do that work one day because of distractions is bad, but it’s far worse when I don’t do it because I’m discouraged. That’s exactly when consistency is the key. If a hockey player allows his game to suffer because he is upset about a call, he won’t be playing much the rest of that game… and won’t achieve his goal – nor be helping his team to achieve their collective goal.

I’ve realized, however, that these first two don’t work without an expectancy. I get worn out on the work when I don’t have an expectancy to reach my goal. The sheer amount of stuff I have to tackle is overwhelming – paralyzing. But to do it and not think that it’s getting me any closer causes all motivation to wane, no matter how diligent of a person I am.

Honestly, I have to say that ICE is something I want to make a part of my way of life; my being. In the trauma of the last few years, the subsequent difficulties that piled on both physically and emotionally, and the general stress of daily life in the midst of turmoil, I think these three little words are good to keep as fixtures in my internal living room.

My only concern is if I can stay as conditioned in the areas I need to as the hockey players do physically for their sport. I want to, but I’ve never been one for routine and consistency does tend to lean on it quite a bit. However, I think I do have the power to change – I have done it many times – and while I will never embrace routine as a dear friend, I think I can learn to tolerate and even welcome it in when it serves my purpose… as a means to my desired end.

So thanks, Drew, for the Keys to My Future. (You don't know how much it rankles me to say that, as he really does get on my nerves.) I'll keep "icing" my bum areas to make them work better.

Intensity * Consistency * Expectancy

What we have.

2010-03-11T16:30:00.000-08:00

I want to start this post out by saying that this is NOT me preaching at you, this is me sharing my astonishment and expressing my realizations at how the way I live my life effects the world.

I’m so ashamed. When I actually consider my weekly trash output, I’m so ashamed. I’m someone who has always been, shall we say, ecologically conscious. I remember in the mid-80’s, for instance, long before recycling was touted, much less readily available, and being ecologically minded was PC (long before there was such a thing as PC), I would cart around my empty Coke cans in my bookbag to bring them home to recycle (meaning then later taking them out to a recycling center as home pick-up was unheard of). The last few Christmases I only shopped with reusable bags. Good things. Valuable things. Things I should and will continue. But what about all the trash I was outputting? Recycle or not, why am I using so many things for no more than a few minutes and trashing them?

By now some of you might be wondering what I’m on, as in what I’ve been ingesting mentally. You would be right to assume there was something. In a round about way, an online girlfriend opened up my world. It was a simple link posted on Facebook. A movie review, actually, and one that was just so-so. But she recommended a website, and as she is someone I admire and whose opinion I value, I checked it out.

No Impact Man. Heard of him? He’s that weirdo in New York City who tried to live, along with an 18 month old daughter and his reluctant wife, with no environmental impact for a full year. I was interested in practical ways I could live a more ecologically friendly life – simple things like when I made the resolution at the beginning of the year to only ever use recycle bags, otherwise I must carry the items without anything or simply not get them. Extreme? Perhaps. (Or at least to some.) But, though I’ve been far more ecologically sound than most of those in my neighborhood, I’d never taken that real step of making it an absolute. So far it’s been incredibly easy to live by. But I digress.

Through this simple post by a girlfriend, I discovered many things. One of the most impacting was the short video call “The Story of Stuff.” Wow. I mean, WOW. It really makes you think about what you buy… and even why you buy it. Even more, it opens your eyes to SO MUCH about the process of making, about how we became a consumer society, and so much more. Beyond that video, I discovered other products and possibilities as to change and how I can conserve.

But most of all, and especially after hunting down a copy of the book No Impact Man, I found out just how much waste I am putting out there every day. It’s astounding. I, for instance, had only recently started using handkerchiefs now and then, more as a novelty and a convenience in cold weather. But when I realized that the thousands and thousands of tissues I still use and translate that into trees, I was floored. How about paper towels? It’s so easy to pick up a rag for the dirty jobs and a dishtowel for the drying jobs that might cause me to normally reach for a paper towel.

But then one of the resources pointed out feminine hygiene products. Um. Yeah. Not getting into too much detail here, boys, but I must say I was astounded that there WERE these options. How come I’d never heard of them before now? I’m THRILLED not to have to ever worry about running out. I’m psyched that will not have to spend all that money yearly on products – ever again. For the lifestyle of living abroad and travel which I’m working toward, knowing that wherever I am what I need will be available by the mere fact that I have all I need always with me is revolutionary. And, then also it’s great knowing that I’ll never, ever again add that kind of waste to the environment. (Never mind that I won’t be putting bleached and not toxin free – none are, nor are such things regulated – paper-based wads inside me.) Girls if you are curious to know what I’m talking about, check out DivaCups and LunaPads. Mine are on their way!

So far I’m about a third of the way through the book, and I’ve not yet gotten to the big changes he (they) made. Like TP alternatives. Like only food produced within a certain distance from them. Like… well I don’t know as I’ve not gotten to that yet! But what I do know is that all my take-out waste is absurd; that when I ate at that restaurant last night, it would have been easy enough to have a cloth napkin in my bag so as not to waste the paper; that cutting back – especially my trash output – actually isn’t hard at all.

Most of all, what I’m realizing is that my grandparents had the right idea. Okay, my grandmother was a hoarder in many ways – not like those horrendous shows you see on TV with all the filth, but in the never-throwing-things-away sort of scenario. We cousins still joke about the Styrofoam platter that had the duct tape down the middle, which was used ever time we visited. The water used to rinse our plates had to be taken out and used to water the plants outside in the Nebraska heat. That idea of “waste not, want not…” the idea of being grateful for what you do have, these are good tenants to live by.

[Those positive psychologist have] discovered that happy people spend a lot of time being grateful for what they have and savoring their experience. They don’t rush through “now” to get to later. They don’t make taking care of themselves or their families something they have to get over with so they can get to the good stuff. Instead, they insist that this moment, whatever it is, is the good stuff. – Colin Beavan, No Impact Man

So their idea then, my grandparents and their generation, was that if we treat what resources we have as precious, we understand how this life is precious, too. We have less “need” for things because we are so full up with blessings for what we have in front of us. If that’s archaic thinking, bring on the Ben Gay and Metamucil.

(No offense, gang... but could YOU resist this picture??)

Giving and getting.

2010-03-09T01:30:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine asked if I would host a charity event to benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society as she knew I could handle myself in that sort of a scenario. It was a speed-dating event held at a popular local pub.

Now, I found it a comical thing for me to be the face of. But I was more than happy to help and had a lot of fun. More importantly, so did the people that participated… and best of all, they could leave feeling great that the money they put forth goes to help this great cause. The other customers at the pub even took part by purchasing raffle tickets, and the management were very generous indeed, both on behalf of the bar and individually.

After it was over, a few of the participants hung around and it was lovely to chat with them. But after cleaning up, as I was heading out, a group of guys that had been there all night, now entertaining one woman, called me over. Having fielded questions all night about the event, I assumed that was what it was why.

Before I continue, I must interject that one of the married guys had interrupted a conversation I was having with this lovely, tiny, woman to see if she’d be willing to come meet his single friend who was interested in her. Yikes.

Now, having joined this group, the one single guy he’d been talking about begins to chat me up. I was having a nice time, but then I knew what kind of woman he liked, right? Über-thin I am not. However, confident I am. Here’s the thing, though. This same gentleman in all politeness tells me that they talked about me. Okay, I figured. But then he sort of concedes that I’m beautiful… after qualifying it with “full-figured.” Hmm.

Can I ask you, what woman would even need, much less want, that qualification? Really? I know what I look like, and I’m more than happy with myself. If you like what you see, then don’t be telling me that I’m “big” or “thick” or “full-figured” or any of that. I’m a WOMAN. I’m beautiful at any size and shape. And I know at any given moment what that size and shape is. Like or leave it, Bubba! Sure I want to be more fit (mostly so I can do my sport again and better), but this is me right now, and I really am all that just like this!

Now, as I was leaving – leaving him wanting more, of course – he asked if he could see me again. Well, sure, okay. I enjoyed talking to him and he really was a gentleman who paid me some lovely, thoughtful compliments along the way. However, on my way home I thought about the fact that he preferred the beautiful, tiny lady, and wondered why I agreed. Eh, cop or not I’d eat him alive really. But maybe I’ll gain a friend.

"Every new friend is a new adventure...
...the start of more memories."
Patrick Lindsay

And so it goes.

2010-03-08T09:00:00.000-08:00

I confess I did end up watching The Academy Awards last night. As I said, I really wasn’t all that interested, but thought I’d fast forward to the acceptance speeches. Then that opening happened and I just kept watching. *Sigh.* I disappoint myself. (Kidding.)

I was a little astounded that I predicted every single winner, including the more obscure which I didn’t list in that last post. That’s most certainly a first. Of course it helps that I was able, through the more illicit bits of the internet, to actually see most of them. Also, and most of all, because I finally acknowledged the politics of the entire process instead of going just with my heart.

On the “yes-yes-yes!” side: I think it was really exciting that we had for the first time a woman director win. I thought Sandra Bullock showed extraordinary poise, grace, humility, graciousness, and humor - her speech made me almost glad she won. I loved all the dedications to those who serve in the armed forces. I enjoyed how they again introduced the top actors and actresses. Seeing some of the clips made me excited to see some of the other films I hadn’t gotten around to watching yet which is nice for a change. I thought James Taylor doing the memoriam was lovely. And it was my year for dresses as there were so many RED ones! Hooray! I thought Gabourey Sidibe’s confidence was wonderful. The tribute to John Hughes was nice. Lastly, Neil Patrick Harris was great!

On the “not-so-much” side: Bridges speech, man, was not all that groovy, man. (His wife is still a stunner, though.) I was terribly disappointed that District 9 didn’t get some of the periphery awards (though as I said, that’s what I figured). I wish Streep had done it, darn it. I also would have liked it if more winners were gracious and witty like Bullock or heartfelt like Waltz and Bigalow (and Bullock). Wish we could have had another Roberto Benigni moment… this show was a bit dull, wasn’t it?

Some questions: Who makes up the seating chart? I want that job! How on earth did those dancers manage to fly like that? No really, HOW? How precious were the nervous winners? Why is it that although I recorded the show a half hour over what they allotted, I still didn’t get the speech for best picture?

I had some other witty observations, but I can’t recall now. Perhaps that’s a good thing for you! I will say it was a nice show overall because it wasn’t so over-the-top. But I was still glad for the fast forward button.

I guess Hollywood just doesn’t impress me anymore. I used to love the glamour and keeping up on the films and such. Now I’d rather focus on the latest language I’m learning or go for a hike or watch a hockey game than pay attention to any of that. Give me a scifi over a serious drama or a kid flick over the critic’s choice any day! Yet films can give us insights and perspectives into things we might never have been exposed to otherwise, and that’s something to value, particularly if it’s done well and unbiased.

In all my blustering about not being into the Academy Awards here, I’m sure I’ll again at some point in my life consider what my acceptance speech would be were I to win. It’s just a part of having a dream, even when it’s not actually a Hollywood dream… and I plan to keep dreaming!

Celluloid dreams.

2010-03-07T14:15:00.001-08:00

“And the Academy Award for best picture goes to… District 9.” Wouldn’t a shocker like that be exciting? It’d be nice to have the Oscars shaken up a bit, to be sure, but even more I actually prefer this film to the others up for best picture.

To be fair, I haven’t and most likely won’t see Precious. I just don’t do those kinds of films that show the never ending horror of a life without a possible way out; without hope. That fatalistic perspective does it for some, but as a person who doesn’t do anything by halves – especially glasses (and their fullness) - I think something like that just enforces the false assumption that there’s no way out; no choice. In my opinion there are always options and choices (we may not like any of them, but they are there).

In all honesty, though, I don’t think the Oscars are likely to hold any surprises, even with ten films duking it out for the top spot. That’s disappointing… and why I likely won’t watch it this evening. It’s ironic, really, that I’ve finally seen nearly all of the films nominated, but don’t care about the show.

Maybe it’s my new perspective on waste and want in our culture (read: consumerism), but not even the fashions really get me excited. I don’t know why I feel the falseness and pretention this time over other years, but I do. Is it that nominating ten films for best picture seems so obvious a marketing strategy rather than a desire to open up the field? Is it that I no longer give a toss about the actors and their lives? Is it that the quality of films today as a whole are so lacking? Of course in all that, I’m still curious about the outcome.

BEST PICTURE

Of the ten nominees, I was most impressed with District 9. Allegorical and intensely revealing, it showed us the best in worst in humanity through the medium of scifi. After that, Avatar for all it’s beauty and with it being a technological joyride, seems like a Disneyfied, animated lollypop. Don’t get me wrong, I immensely enjoyed Avatar, but in story and intensity it can’t compare to District 9. And anyway, I think Up is a far better film as a whole!

In all reality, though, Avatar is likely the only gate crasher to The Hurt Locker’s party. Because that’s the one will likely win. It’s really a good piece of filmmaking without the heavy-handed polemics in which modern warfare films seem to revel. Inglourious Basterds is a extreme longshot only because the Academy doesn’t hold with a brash loudmouth like Tarantino. Too bad, really.

I do wish it was about what’s best and not Hollywood politics. But when has it ever been really about what’s the actual best performance or best film? I can’t remember a time.

Oh, and I think the best director will likely be Bigalow for The Hurt Locker, though her ex-husband Cameron could give us another lame King-of-the-World speech – potentially in Na’avi this time – if Hollywood is less thoughtful and more financially motivated in their decision.

BEST ACTOR & ACTRESS

In both cases, I think it will be less about performance than about rewarding those the Academy haven’t bothered to honor yet. If you were looking at performance alone, Renner of The Hurt Locker should get it, hands down. With Clooney in Up in the Air, there was nothing really challenging in it, was there? He was just sort of… Clooney. He’s a good actor, but this role seems almost rote for him. In Invictus, Freeman was convincing but really not amazing. (I think it’d be fun if he won, though, because he does so many joke sketches on The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson!) I think Firth in A Single Man will be overlooked for the subtlety of his layered performance as the Academy at large tends to prefer showy.

I think for that reason they will select Bridges. I haven’t seen Crazy Heart, but honestly haven’t heard anything good… Bridges is pathetic, drinks to excess, sings, and apparently even flashes a pot belly which, put together, is the Academy’s weak spot (over-the-top, sappy, pathetic, looking-your-worst roles). I think, though, he will be chosen because of his body of work, not because he was the best of the five this time with these performances.

Best actress is where I most hope the Academy doesn’t do what I expect them to do. I’ve a feeling they’ll reward the sweetheart of the screen who finally had a vehicle to showcase her abilities in a way the Academy likes. Now, I like Sandra Bullock, but in this field this year, she was nowhere near the others. Mulligan (love her!) lit up the screen in An Education, but she didn’t have as deep a role as some of the others. I think Mirren will likely be overlooked because her film wasn’t as embraced, though from what I here her performance was a stunner. I’d say that no matter how great Sidibe’s performance was, as a freshman, a true unknown with little marketability (thinking like Hollywood here, peeps), the odds are against her.

Personally, I think Streep’s performance in Julie and Julia was incredible. I only saw Child when I watched her, which is an astounding feat. It was subtle as well as showy – just like Child herself. She’s the most decorated, though, so though hers was the best performance I think they’ll skip her for Bullock. But a girl can hope!

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR & ACTRESS

Well, in short, wouldn’t it be awesome if Waltz from Inglourious Basterds won? I hear Tucci was truly horrifying in The Lovely Bones, and he’s really a fantastic actor (he really WAS lovely in Julie & Julia), but I don’t see them giving it to him for some reason. Harrelson in The Messenger is unbelievably fantastic (this from a girl that doesn’t much care for him), but I don’t think he’ll pull it either. Matt Damon has proved to be a great actor, but this roll in Invictus? Really? Plummer? Same as Mirren, not a widely embraced film. I’m thinking Waltz. That’d be cool.

I think this category is a lockdown for the women. This is likely where they will show tribute to Precious – and from what I hear, rightfully so. Apparently Mo’Nique is set herself in a league all her own with this performance of the horrifyingly abusive and manipulative mother. I did see Up in the Air, and while I do think that Kendrick brought energy, humor, and pathos to the film, it wasn’t enough… I mean, even if Mo’Nique’s performance wasn’t all that it’s being touted (and I’m thinking it is because how often do they talk about lesser comedians in this way?), the Academy likes to be seen rewarding the films that show the horror of the plight of the underprivileged. Somehow they think they’ll be forgiven their insane riches. Please. But, though I don’t want to go anywhere near the film, I do think this time around the performance is likely worthy of the PC nod.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Right. I know this isn’t one of the “big six” categories, but it’s been my favorite in recent years. I actually saw all five nominations this time… even the more obscure The Secret of the Kells. Can I just say that while I may be in the minority, I thought Fantastic Mr. Fox was dull and rather lame all ‘round. Sadly, I saw it in the theatre. Bleh. (The one thing I did like was when they were going to swear, they always used the word “cuss.” My favorite was “mothercusser.”)

Coraline was great animation and even a good story, and while I did like it a lot, I actually had a nightmare after watching it. Me. Br-rr-rr! The button eyes – horrifying! I can’t imagine the Academy going for it. But maybe that’s me. The Princess and the Frog was sweet and sappy – a true old-fashioned Disney… though not as good as those of the past. The music really was fantastic, though!

Up was “FULLY AWESOME!” It’s so heartwarming and fun and sweet, without hurting your teeth. Even my date teared-up in this one! It’s one of my favorite movies of the year, if not my absolute top film. For heaven’s sake, it’s up for best picture (see how good it is??) – of course it will win here.

But I must, must, must give my two-cents about The Secret of the Kells. It’s not your typical animated film. It’s artistic in how it’s drawn, almost architectural. Like Frank Lloyd Wright doing background animation. STUNNING. But then, the story was deep and touching. It involves faith without explaining the faith, it involves hope and survival and love and curiosity and wonder and so much more. Honestly, I absolutely loved it. I kinda wish that Up would win best picture, so that The Secret of the Kells could win here… but the Academy wouldn’t do either part of that scenario. They’d choose all four of the others over this one in my opinion. Very sad.

I know it’s silly to have written this long post when I’m not all that into the Oscar show itself this time around, but for whatever reason it was this year that I was able to see so many of the nominated films… I guess it seemed a waste to not talk about them! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the glamour. I think I might just go read a book.

The last hurrah.

2010-03-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

So yes, I didn’t write this entry in a timely fashion as I was in mourning. You know, wearing black, lots of weeping. I’m sure you all understand… the US hockey team loosing the gold medal game in overtime was too much to bear.

I mean, Zach Parise scoring a goal for the US to tie it with 25 seconds left in the game was heart-stoppingly thrilling. Ryan Miller was absolutely inspirational in goal. The team as a whole played with passion and fight. But the day was Canada's, obviously.

Now, I don’t actually have anything against Canada… but their fans holding up signs that hockey is Canada’s sport really rubbed me wrong. I mean, which country keeps loosing teams to the other (Winnipeg Jets, Quebec Nordiques anyone)? Which country was home to a mere one third of the Original Six teams and only one fifth of the teams now? In other words, which country supports the league? I get that it’s their national sport, but to say that it’s THEIR sport (i.e. no one else’s), then why the heck is it in the Olympics to begin with? After all, the Olympics are about international sports. Yeah, I was riled.

Then there are the incredibly Canadian-bias announcers. This will never shut them up. Every single time they all made excuses for any problems… like the fact that they lost to the US earlier, or nearly lost two other times. Every time, no team had a chance in their eyes. A clue, MEN, a group of really talented guys does not a team make. And bias is bias is bias… please, for the love of hockey, stop making excuses and stop glorifying only Canadian players. I know, it’s a fantasy that will certainly now never be achieved.

You all know I also really don’t like the constant hype about Crosby. He’s good, but he’s not the best. But him scoring that game-winning goal in overtime? I’ll NEVER get to win that argument now – particularly with my Canadian family! Honestly, him being the one to score it hurt a lot more than them winning it. Still stings… a lot.

But mostly I ached for our boys who never let up, never wear even behind in a game in the entire tournament until that last game, who played with heart and without excuse. I wanted gold, but they deserved it. One thing is for certain, though... it was one heck of a game.

As for the Olympics as a whole, I had a great time. Apollo Ohno’s story was really delightful to watch unfold, seeing different countries winning in sports they don’t normally win in was exciting, and of course seeing all the men and women in flight one way or another was a blast. All the uplifting and inspiring stories that went along with the events were as always touching and wonderful. I’m glad I watched. Good show, mates.

And yes, gang, this blog in now an Olympics-free zone. Mostly.

What it's really about.

2010-02-26T20:00:00.000-08:00

A good friend of mine has been trying for ages to get me to check out a website called CouchSurfing. It’s this fantastic site for… well I was going to say for travelers, but really it’s for people who want to connect with individuals from other places and cultures. Obviously I finally took a look – and signed up straightaway.

When filling out the profile, I really liked that they had a section for “Teach, Learn, Share.” Under the premise that surfing isn’t just about a place to sleep, but about an exchange, they gave a place to share any sort of special knowledge or insights you might have.

So when I got to that section, the following is what I shared…

When I was simply crossing a park in Athens on my way to someplace ancient, carting my bag as well as some leftovers which were meant for my supper, I came across three homeless men. The only three I saw in that country, I believe. They spoke to me, eventually in perfect English, with respect and politeness they tried to induce me to stop for a moment. I'm a girl, traveling alone in my first foreign country in a shrouded area at dusk. What did I do? I stopped. Sure there were things I wanted to see, places I wanted to go, but this was after all truly Greece right here in the park.

After some conversation around a burning trash barrel by a park bench, they insisted I eat with them - & were insulted when I pulled out my own food. First of all, the food they shared was phenomenal - the churches made sure they were very well fed, so it was one of the best meals I had in Greece. But then chatting with them I discovered that one of them had worked for years at one of the most famous restaurants in New York. He told me about serving all the famous people of the 60's & 70's and who really had been magnificent and who had been horrid. Another had been a merchant marine & told of some thrilling adventures & travels as well. The third told shyly of the love of his life, whom had eventually died after many years of joy together. We all talked and laughed into the wee hours.

In the end, I discovered the one who had lived in America had recently inherited a tiny two room flat, and knowing I hadn't yet found a bed for the night, insisted I stay at his place. The other two explained they were homeless by choice. They enjoyed this life, even on cold January nights like that one. Indeed, they were some of the most contented people I'd ever met. I'll never forget any of them nor those hours around the rubbish bin fire where they, each one, enriched my life.

Never discount the little moments. Take every opportunity to embrace life, but even more to experience the people around you, whatever their status. Don't miss the people for the place; don't miss the now for the past; don't miss the beauty in front of you for the dust on it's shell.

There is so much more to that story, like how horrid my host’s home smelled because he had recently painted it… and they put crazy stuff in their paint there. I believe I may have experienced something akin to an acid trip. I mean, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never dropped acid, but… it was SOMETHING. In that neat, sparse room were there REALLY bed bugs, or was it all part of the hallucination?

Still, great people, great experience, and many, many great stories… all because I stopped for people most pretend don’t exist.

Wanting more.

2010-02-24T17:00:00.000-08:00

So all day today I’ve been going through Stephen Fry withdrawals. If you’ve been reading here long (or if you’ve actually looked at my sidebar), you’ll know I love Craig Ferguson. But Stephen Fry is a whole other level of respect and adoration. Well, last night Craig Ferguson interviewed Stephen Fry old school style – no audience, just the two of them talking for the entire show. It was fantastic. I mean, it wasn’t the usual hilarity Craig brings every night, but it was endearing and smart and wonderful. And I want more.

The interview, or really the conversation, touched on some very interesting things. And what I found in the midst of it was that Mr. Fry and I have an great deal in common when it comes to perspective.

For one thing, I’ve always felt that it was so odd that one word can be a “bad” word, whereas a word that means the same thing is acceptable. I also found it odd just what the words meant that were considered bad… not hater or killer or abuser, but fucker. Hmm. Here’s Mr. Fry’s words on the topic:

If an alien was looking down on us and inspecting our language, they would see that the worst that we do on this planet is that we torture, we kill, we abuse, we harm people. We’re cruel. And those are the things in which we should be ashamed. Amongst the best things we do is we breed children, we raise them, and we make love to each other. We adore each other; we’re affectionate and fond of each other. Those are the good things we do.
And they would say how odd that the language for the awful things is used casually all the time. “Oh the traffic was agony - it was hell - it was cruel. Oh it was torture waiting in line.” You use words like torture – that’s the worst word! And yet if we use the “F” word which is the word for generating our species, for showing physical affection one to another, then we’re taken off air and accused of being wicked and irresponsible and a bad influence to children. Now we’re part of this culture so we often don’t question it. But if you think of someone outside of it, it is very strange.

As always, most cleverly put.

Early on Craig said when they knew each other years before how he always felt that Mr. Fry had it all together. His response was so true to the nature of the human psyche.

This is sort of a truth about all humans… You arrive at a party and everyone, in your mind, is armed with a club and all you have is a little Q-tip behind your back. And you think somehow everybody else was at a lesson at school where they learnt some life trick that you will never know because you missed that lesson and you will never catch up... and they think the same as you.

Isn’t that just the way of things, especially in our youth? We think somehow we are missing the punch line to THE joke; the secret ingredient to life, but everyone else knows it and isn’t sharing. I think the wisdom that comes of experience can change this perception, but indeed, not always... or rather, not everyone gains this wisdom in life.

The whole of the show held such insights, but as a whole it was simply captivating. Because of the unique style of this show, two friends talking without an audience, I rather felt like I was the one chatting with Steven Fry. It’s quite disconcerting to find I can’t enjoy a cuppa and a conversation with him again sometime.

Speaking of cups, I did notice that for the first time ever, I believe, Craig gave his guest THE SAME rattlesnake mug as he uses. He’s given the smaller version on rare occasions, but never “the real thing.” That’s some respect right there!

I wanted to end with the W.H. Auden line that Mr. Fry quoted in response to Craig’s tattoo which reads “Live free or die,” because again it is to the heart of my philosophy…

“We must love one another or die.”

**********

Addendum: Yes, I know I referred to Craig Ferguson informally as “Craig,” and to Stephen Fry as “Mr. Fry,” but when you think of each of them and how we know them… can you blame me??

The world is upside down.

2010-02-22T12:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a great day in hockey history. The last three gold medal games were replayed in the last day of the preliminary round, and it was exciting!

The first game, Russia and the Czech Republic, was intense and fast. But even more, there was loads of hitting. Yes, this is my favorite part of the game, but it was more impressive to see so plainly how a single hit can alter the course of the game, as with Alex Ovechkin’s hit on Jaromir Jagr. It was a mid-ice smackdown. And ten seconds later, Evgeni Malkin scored for Russia. Wow. The energy completely shifted, too. The intensity of the game never let up, and the Czechs were in it until a late empty-net goal by Russia that sealed it.

The second game is THE game. Come on, even non hockey fans must have heard about this stunner. The USA taking on favored, powerhouse, home team Canada. If talent had weight, the Canadian team would be an anvil. Not a single person, not media not experts, not really anyone who knows hockey slightly thought that the US men could pull out a win. No one, that is, except them.

I hoped. Hard. I know anything can happen, but I didn’t believe… until they started playing. They were a Team, with a capital “T.” They knew their roles, and they played as a unit. I love a huge amount of the outstanding players on the Canadian team, but great talent, as we well know from history, doesn’t make a great team.

The game was back-and-forth for a while, but the US seemed to dominate momentum and pace, especially later in the game. But goaltender Ryan Miller was on fire, saving 42 shots. Then when Ryan Kesler made a near-miraculous empty net goal, it was unbelievable. The US was going to win. My joy poured forth!

Kudos to NBC, by the way, for playing that entire game (excluding between periods of course) commercial free. Because there are no TV timeouts in the Olympics, the other games would go to commercial and we’d miss segments of the game. So thank you, NBC.

In these first two match ups, the silver medalists toppled their gold medal counterparts from the years before. But in the last game, Sweden versus Finland, it didn’t turn out that way. In fact, it didn’t turn out to be much of a game. Miikka Kiprusoff came to play for Finland, but he didn’t seem to have a lot of help. Sweden dictated play on every level after the first few minutes, blanking Finland. I was disappointed because I really thought this would be the game to round out one of the most amazing days in hockey in recent history. Still, Finland was good enough in preliminary to garner the forth spot, giving them a bye along with all of yesterday’s winners.

What is so astounding about all of this is that now the USA has top ranking, meaning they play the easier teams, and either Russia or Canada will be out before the medal round as they will play each other in the quarter finals provided Canada beats Germany tomorrow. Holy cow. That’s just crazy. These are the teams predicted to be the top two. What an exciting tournament! What a great sport.

I feel guilty for saying this, but between Canada and Russia, I’d rather see Russia continue. Not because I have anything against the amazing players on Canada (save one or two – LOL) nor the country (Vancouver is one of my favorite cities in the world), but because Russia is just a more exciting team to watch. The have a fire that is… fun. They are having fun, so you have fun watching them.

I’m open for any eventualities, and LOVE the unknown of it all. Nothing is a sure thing in this one-game elimination setting that we are entering. But that’s what makes it so exciting! Slovakia or Sweden? Russia or Canada – or does Germany surprise the world and be the ones to take them both down. Now THAT would be a long shot. However it goes, whatever the outcome, it’s an amazing game and I wouldn’t miss this for the world!

...U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!...

You can't take it with you.

2010-02-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

“My idea of the ultimate luxury is to be able to move all my worldly goods in one taxi.”

This, one of my favorite quotes, is from a British TV series (Murphy’s Law). Though I’d thought like this for years, I’d never put it so well. Actually, until this show I hadn’t really known there were other people, even fictional ones, out there that thought like me in this way.

Having said this, it’s likely apparent that I’ve not been a big saver of things, and am, in fact, excessively sparing compared to most Americans. Because of my desire to live abroad and travel the world, I’ve attempted to keep the ever-building amalgam of collected paraphernalia to a minimum. (Of course, being a compulsive organizer contributes to the constant downgrading as well.)

Yet the mass makes headway. Like when I took up triathlons. The equipment and wears add quite a bit. Or my growing collection of luggage and travel gear. Meant to help me keep things to a minimum, or at least to keep them quite small, these little items add up and take up space. Or my high quality kitchen items that have accumulated during my more domestic moments.

Most of all, it’s my books. It is the one collection with which I just can’t seem to part. I’m ever torn between wanting to be free of the encumbrance of mass quantities of stuff, to adoring the library I’ve taken a lifetime to build up. How can I reconcile this? I get advice spanning the spectrum. Yet my core is still torn asunder.

What’s worse with the books is that, because I was in a non-productive space both mentally and physically for the last few years, I indulged in collecting easily over 300 books I’m longing to read. What do I do with them as I prepare to move abroad? How do I keep up with them? When living in Italy, I used to send the books I’d read home to my parents. Do I keep that practice up? Am I then spending the same as if I bought them again? It’s my constant conundrum.

As to the “memory items” that fill up closets, garages, and storage sheds all over this vast country, I’ve been good about ridding myself of such things. If it still holds personal value and I can, I’ll scan or take a snap of it then free myself of it. But mostly it just goes. This is perhaps easier because I don’t have a family of my own. If one day I do, my kids will likely be grateful not to have to sort through my life in objects and paperwork.

Now when it comes to things from my ancestral past, I truly treasure the connections to those that have gone before. I would like to hold onto a few things from them. My grandad’s old stand-up radio that he brought to California from Nebraska as a surprise, the rocking chair my great-grandfather built, the painting my great-grandmother created… those things I will cherish whether they take up space or not. And the photos, of course. But the rest I can leave behind.

All this said, I do still love to have things. I’m not all that abstemious. Nice things feel good. I just want to keep them in proportion. Especially since so much of it is going to be in storage very soon. And, too, I don’t want to have things just to have them – I’d like them to be useful as well as nice. Form and function together is ideal. And always, always, always I must remind myself that in my case, less really is more.

If I try to stick with this, then perhaps I can live something close to that quote. That is, so long as there is a bike rack on the back of that taxi…

[not an actual post]

2010-02-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

Okay gang, just a supplemental. I’m toying with the layout a bit, obviously. I’ve never been a big “blue” fan so was getting worn out on the old color scheme, yet I love the design. This one seems a bit flashy, but I’m hoping with the help of an incredibly generous, creative, and talented friend that I might get something more suited to me soon, while still keeping the general look. In the mean time, don’t get blinded by that green. I think I am already.

Learn from the best.

2010-02-18T22:00:00.000-08:00

So tonight, with family in from out of the country, I was chef for the night. I usually create my own recipes – a habit from when I had a catering and party planning business, but occasionally lately I have gone to Nigella Lawson for inspiration. Today I wasn’t feeling too well, so I bowed to her genius rather than pulling something out of my own hat. She is a goddess on so many levels, but her cooking is insane.

I decided on a Cheddar Risotto. Sounds weird, I know, but just keep reading! Because I was under the weather a bit, Mum was gracious enough to do the shopping for me. But she only found boxes of porcini risotto. So the scramble began. Hey, this is ALWAYS where I shine. So I filtered most of the mushroom bits out, but a couple of the boxes had some flavoring already mixed in. Then I became my usual creative self and added little bits of fresh broccoli and chicken at just the right times to balance it all.

May I say, amazing! It’s incredibly rich, but the flavors were so fantastic together. As more of a purist when it comes to Italian cooking, having lived there, I’d NEVER have thought to try a risotto with cheddar – sharp at that. However, this was delectable.

I followed it up with – I say with all modesty – the best mousse I’ve ever had, much less made! I was doubting my beloved Nigella on this one when it was done as it seemed runny, and I’d already decided I was going to write further instructions in the book, but I should have trusted one of my favorite sirens. I let it chill (as I made it before the risotto). It was PERFECTION. The most chocolaty, rich, flavorful, smooth thing imaginable. Absolute heaven for any chocolate lover. Best of all, one of the easiest things I’ve ever made for dessert!

As I said, I’m not a big recipe person. I’m an artist, and I carry that into the kitchen. I use flavors like colors on a canvas – one must always be sparing and they must compliment and flow into something beautiful. But again, Nigella is my go-to for inspiration and elevation.

And she IS a goddess, I promise. Yes, part of her allure for me is that she is a curvaceous woman who is considered one of England’s top beauties. HELLO! We have very similar shapes, and to me that’s just fabulous. (If you were a fan of the Gilmore Girls, Lorelai and Rory had a discussion about how amazing she is in an episode.) She is sexy, sultry, yet also practical and friendly. It’s very endearing. But she makes simple, quick, and easy dishes also be off-the-charts delicious and somehow also elegant.

I actually bought her biography and am looking forward to reading it. Truth be told, I had to buy it twice because my friend’s dog quite literally ate my first copy. He must have known she was a chef. Well, that and he missed me and wanted to be sure I knew he wasn’t happy I’d left him. At any rate, shows my excitement at reading it!

So I highly recommend Nigella’s Cheddar Cheese Risotto and Instant Chocolate Mousse, as well as about anything else from her cookbook entitled Nigella Express. If you like to cook, and want great things that are quick and easy, that is the best possible book out there!

As a post script, may I say that I began the meal while completely entranced by the Canada – Switzerland hockey game. Can you believe that they went to a shootout?? How great is that potentially for USA? How much greater for the Swiss, of course. I confess I was mesmerized and had to put the risotto on hold for a while. Hockey first, peeps! :)

How to read.

2010-02-18T00:00:00.000-08:00

Reading is such a personal thing, I find. It’s not just our different tastes that make this so, but each person experiences the act of reading differently. We even approach it differently.

I’ve always been someone who devours books, reading whatever it is to which my mood drives me. A biography set during the Resistance in Europe in the midst of World War II or a cozy mystery, very often a classic I missed in my studies or a random piece of modern fiction I picked up at the airport or at Costco… whatever I felt like at the end of the previous book, I’d take down from the shelf and dig into.

A couple years ago I got ambitious and decided to try a different approach. With much zeal I undertook first one list, then another, eventually adding a partial third list to the stack. I was determined.

I collected most of the books from one list, while reading dozens from the second. I was moderating a book club which followed one of the lists, doing so virtually on my own for a while. At first it was great because the discussions were so rich and deep, but soon I became overwhelmed keeping up with the posts AND the reading (and the complaints that came in back then). The lists soon became chores as well, so weighted down with it all was I.

Suddenly, it wasn’t so much fun any more. I wasn’t reading what I wanted, but what I felt I SHOULD read. Some people are driven by lists, and I commend them. But was loosing my joy for the demand. And yes, it was a demand I put on myself. I’d also committed to reading a huge amount of books the last two years, so that was even more pressure.

To counter act this and regain some of that joy, this year I decided to just read what I’m in the mood for and have fun with all of it. I’m loving it! I do read from those lists, but only if I feel like it. I had to get out of the mindset of being bound to something so that I could actually dive into that very thing. However, the key is that when I feel like reading something as far away from those lists as is imaginable, I don’t feel pressure or guilt that I'm not doing as I should – I just go for it.

And now I’m in the midst of reading The Catcher in the Rye, a book I’ve never had an urge to read (and in fact have avoided), because it’s on all three lists and particularly because as a well educated woman, it seemed a gap in my knowledge. I’ve loved several of the other books I've taken on so far this year, so I thought reading something that likely I won’t enjoy, but will appreciate on certain levels was a good way to do it. That and I made it “homework,” as in I gave myself a deadline. (So I won’t have to suffer forever.) Hee-hee!

Anyway, I’m so glad to have reading be a pleasurable part of my journey again. It’s been a vital part of my life since I was very young, and I want to keep it always a delight. Happy reading!

Breaking it down.

2010-02-16T21:00:00.000-08:00

HOCKEY TIME! I watched both the US game against the Swiss and the Canadian game against the Norwegians. Watching the US game first, I felt like they were really strong for being a team so unaccustomed to each other… until I saw Canada. Wow. They really are going to be hard to beat. Good for Norway, staying with them for an entire period. One thing's for sure, our two teams meeting (on the 21st) will be both an interesting and exciting match.

Here’s my anger point. Jerome Iginla scores a hat trick for Canada, and the announcers somehow give the credit to Crosby. GAH! As if Iginla isn’t an amazing player in his own right. Crosby didn’t even touch the puck for at least one of Iginla’s goals. I truly cannot stand the Canadian attitude about that guy (Crosby)! He is so incredibly over-hyped. He’s a good player, but he is most certainly not the best player in the world. Oh, and they kept calling Crosby the Captain – which he so isn't. (That would be Niedermeyer, if you were curious.) I just know I’m going to be pulling my hair out over this before the end of these games.

Two of the US goals were pretty amazing no-assist goals. Though it was a tighter game in regards to the score, the did dominate and it felt more like they were just feeling out the other players on their lines. I mean Canada has an entire line (from the Sharks!) as well as defencemen that have or are playing together in the NHL. That makes a huge difference to gelling quickly on the ice. I think as the tournament progresses the US will find their cohesiveness and really shine.

Oh, and as a Sharks fan, I’m LOVING that Roenick, who finished his career with us, is doing the intermission commentating! He’s being too professional, though. He’s so much more fun off-the-cuff!

I’m really excited to see the Russians play later. I’d like to see the Swedes, too, (tomorrow) but the Russians are one hot team – especially with Sharks’ goaltender Nabokov, Malkin (who makes Crosby a better player on the Pens), Kovalchuk, and the player who REALLY IS the best in the world, Ovechkin. He truly does make the players around him better.

Yes I’m biased. Deal with it.

Another thing that’s irritating is to have the Most Hated Player, Pronger, be on the ice with so many players I respect. He’s considered great, but really he’s just plain dirty. He hits to injure. He’s nasty. And, as all Sharks fans know (if they actually know why we boo him every time he touches the puck), he is a great big whiner. There are other players I don’t like (Perry) or for whom I don’t have respect (see above), but there are none as completely loathed as Pronger.

I know most of you could care less about any of this – but (obviously) hockey is something for which I have great passion. It is such an exciting sport which takes skill on several extra levels than most sports do. In these Olympics I’m enjoying so many sports for so many reasons, but summer or winter, for me nothing compares to my beloved hockey.

Can't wait to see what happens next!

Simply luscious.

2010-02-14T20:00:00.000-08:00

What makes a day a good day?

Today I woke up to a fresh doughnut (thanks Dad!) and coffee while enjoying the end of last night’s Olympics (Ohno! Kearney! So exciting!). I then put on a cute skirt with fancy tights and my still-pretty-new boots and headed out to the farmer’s market. Sheer joy. I can’t explain why. I think it reminds me of when I lived in Italy… except far more international with sellers originally from Tunisia and India and Portugal, to name a very few.

Maybe because I know after I’m done I’m going to my favorite French-American fusion café, located right on the strip of the market, for the lightest, most delicious crepe imaginable. Today I upped the ante by getting champagne instead of café au lait, and when the chef/owner found out I didn’t have a sweetheart, he gave me a tuxedoed chocolate strawberry – very sweet – as well as instructions on how I need to find a French man for real romance. I even got a second glass of champagne on the house! Best of all I laughed with a lovely couple from Australia during all of this.

I also walked into the local used bookstore on the off chance that a specific copy of a book I wanted might be there, fully expecting to have to go elsewhere as they didn’t have it only days ago. But there it was! Just EXACTLY what I wanted – and for so little!

I eventually wandered home to snack on a fresh hummus and warm pita, finishing with a perfect cup of tea. Then after a quick change, I was off to the park for a long, brisk walk around the lake – a big deal with the ankle still recovering. It was lovely, if packed with couples taking a Valentines stroll. It felt like spring with trees flowering here and there. I finished lounging on my blanket on the hillside overlooking the lake, reading until dusk.

Now, after a warm shower (under a wonderful new shower head) and a fresh and light dinner, I’m enjoying the Olympics before watching a movie!

So, little joys, fun interactions with people on an international level, delightful surprises, tasty treats, refreshing exercise made up this good day. But even more, purposing that it would be good made it so. I chose to believe it would be, and my outlook made all the difference. Now if I could just remember to do that more often…

Anyway, after sharing about “one of those days” recently, it seemed right to share this simple yet wonderful day as well. I hope in the days to come you find delights around every corner.

The wondrous spectacle.

2010-02-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

“…in what other place does the queen of silence show us more splendour…” - François-Xavier Garneau

With all lights out, I sat in front of a giant LCD LED HDTV with the surround sound turned up to decibels never before reached in this household to fully experience the festivities of the opening ceremonies of the 21st Winter Olympic Games. I mean, this is a one-night-only live show on which was spent 35 million dollars and the likes of which New York and Las Vegas shows can’t compare. With this killer system, it was nearly like being there… except I was in my robe instead of one of those white poufy parka-mini-skirts the help had on! And I didn’t get to bang a drum, darn it.

The lead up to the event included a wonderful reflection on Canadian-American relations and a lovely segment about carrying the torch near the arctic circle. Even the premier of the new version of the song “We Are the World,” recorded to benefit Haiti relief, was moving. But the main event was just getting underway!

I loved the visuals and the lead in with the sights of Canada and the snowboarder heading down the mountain and… into the arena. Really a great way to showcase the country’s beauty. One observation I had early on was when the Royal Canadian Mounted Police were carrying in the Canadian flag. I was slightly surprised and not a little impressed that of the eight holding the flag, five were women. It’s not the typical idea of an RCMP, but rather an exciting one I think. What an honor to be chosen, too, regardless of sex.

Watching all the athletes in their procession, I observed that there really are a lot of beautiful people in this world. Really. I thought the colorful giant paisley print pants of Azerbaijan get the award for most daring outfit, far outstripping the Bermuda shorts of the (duh) Bermuda delegation. I thought Russia’s jackets were by far the nicest looking. (But then, if you don’t yet know, I adore red!) I was excited that there was a woman competing for Iran for the first time in the Winter Games – AND she carried their flag.

But most of all I was moved when the dancers stopped and the audience gave a standing ovation for the entrance and procession of the Georgian delegation. Such a truly tragic – and horrific – thing to loose such a young teammate (21) the day his dreams were to come to fruition. Kudos to both the Chilean and Croatian delegations for wearing the black armbands as a sign of respect. How sad that none of the bigger countries, or at least all the other lugers, didn’t follow suit.

As to the ceremonies themselves, I was delighted. So many things stand out. That 16 year old Nikki Yanofsky singing their national anthem – wow! The entire fiddling & tapping sequence was outstanding, exciting, and inspiring – fully my kind of thing, and so much energy! k.d. lang was utterly amazing singing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” (I’ve never been a fan of hers, but that one performance caused me to want to be one.) And that slam-poet Shane Koyczan was phenomenal. Made me wish I was Canadian. Nearly. “…Don’t let your luggage define your travels – each life unravels differently…” Fantastic!

And then there was the torch lighting. But it’s a little hard for me to comment on it, as I was watching it via DVR (so as to skip commercials all night), so it cut out during the extended delay they had waiting for… I don’t know what. I missed it entirely – and was incredibly irked about it! Four and a half hours, and I miss the finale! I’m hoping it will eventually be posted online, but no luck so far.

I know it’s a bit silly to go on about this, but really it’s so thrilling to this child-like soul. I love the competition and the sport. I love the stories of overcoming personal struggles to just BE there. (Like that athlete from Tajikistan who didn’t qualify, but they let come be a part of it just for the experience – he won’t compete. He’s that country’s only athlete.) I love the spotlight on a city and country – in this case one of my favorite cities to which I’ve ever been. And I do love the pride of country that comes forth. It’s going to be a great two weeks.

What this girl wants.

2010-02-12T02:45:00.000-08:00

Hockey. The greatest sport in the world. Now don’t attempt to argue – on this little patch of cyberspace at least you won’t win.

I’m bringing it up today, however, because it’s Olympics time! Woohoo! I always get excited for The Games. I enjoy the entire spectacle, from start to finish; opening ceremonies to closing festivities. From the obscure sports to the little known countries competing to the personal stories of the athletes to learning about the host city and country, I immerse myself in the whole of it.

However, this time with it being in Canada, and being the Winter version, I’m over-the-moon! Hockey played in it’s birthplace on a world scale – flipping awesome!

The thing that makes it all the more exciting and urgent is that this isn’t like the NHL playoffs. Come the finals of this tournament, it’s one game elimination. No best of seven. Just one shot. Your team doesn’t gel one night and your country’s metal chances could be over. So much more thrilling and nail biting this way!

With that in mind, a team like Canada with all that talent and more pressure than most could fathom (particularly after the last Winter Games results of seventh place), might just have an off night. In this one-game final rounds elimination world, even a most unlikely team might emerge… not to mention the other powerhouse of Russia.

I will, of course, cheer for my country. I will also cheer for the players from my NHL team (the San Jose Sharks) on their respective country’s teams. And I will just cheer because it’s that rare thing of world hockey. There is no (real, regular) world cup for hockey, so this is what I’ve got. And I’ll most certainly take it!

I know most girls (who actually like the Olympics) are excited for figure skating or perhaps, if they are more edgy, then some of the more extreme-style sports. But this girl, she just wants to see her some hockey!

For better or for worse.

2010-02-10T02:35:00.000-08:00

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve just finished “one of those days.” At the same time, it wasn’t all bad… it just left me melancholy and feeling a bit hopeless.

The good bits? For the first time in a really long time I had someone who listened and told me they were sorry and how much what was happening sucked. To individuals that have always had that, please TRUST ME, count your blessings. The last time I had a far, far worse situation I had a “good friend” tell me in the moment of crisis to just stay away then… at least that was the kindest bit of what they said. It is the most wonderful thing when something yucky happens to have someone listen then simply say, “That completely sucks, I’m so sorry!” So for that I’m overwhelmingly grateful.

The other nice thing was that another person whom hasn’t always made things easy for me actually came to my rescue – graciously. Usually this person has to let me know how much they are sacrificing for me and how I’m putting them out, but today she simply helped. It felt almost miraculous.

Still, the day seemed to want to twist me about his finger (the evil days are generally male… the truly depraved and vicious ones are obviously female). He wanted me to cower. With so many negative things piling up and his fierce vigilance at trying to bring me down, a simple conversation where I perceived that someone of importance in my life didn’t have faith in me for that which I’m striving toward was "the thing." You know, the tipping point. The day got his way. I crumbled.

I tried to process, but get angry when I can’t get past the self flagellation, so I thought escape was a good idea… in the form of organization (my go-to for feeling in control again) and a film. I chose, at random, Up in the Air. A movie about a man who had made an art of pairing down – great right? I’m working on that daily! – and a life of travel – so my goal! – only to discover that it’s all really about connections with people, and he didn’t actually have any. *Sigh.* Yes, let’s make me feel that much more crappy about my life and where I’m heading.

So. How do I then proceed? I’m a person who loves connections, but have never had one that… held out. I’m okay with that. I will continue to enjoy them for however long and on whatever level they are extended. Would it be nice to have one last? Most definitely. But in the mean time, I have to try to go for my dream, one step at a time. Even if it means I may be further isolating myself. I hope that’s not where this leads, but I will pursue regardless.

I’ll survive today’s adversity in large thanks to a lovely connection I have with a great person who knew to say, “I get it and I’m sorry.” I must have faith that my life will be graced with a few others that will also know how to listen and care – whom I can be there for as well. Lastly, I have to believe that whatever others think, I REALLY CAN.

Now to just get my heart to own all that… perhaps sleep is a good place to start. Thank you for indulging me in this reflective rant, and, well, good night.

Best pick-up line EVER.

2010-02-04T13:00:00.000-08:00

(Well, by a geek to a geek at least.)

It was last year, and I was in a frustrated and miserable state as my car, which I’d just the day before dropped a bunch of money into to replace the radiator while on a trip, had not even 11 miles later fizzled into eternal death. By that time, however, I had crossed the San Francisco bay (from Marin to Oakland) and there was not a soul I knew in the vicinity.

So I waited for a tow truck (that was going to suck even more money out of me) to make its way up from home in the south bay to where my car had breathed it’s last. I was stuck in a sort of in-between place, so had to walk some distance to find a spot in which to finally eat. It was a restaurant next to a boat dock.

I go in, and head upstairs to the less… romantic area. I ascend the stairs into a raucous, merry world filled with local fishermen and posh yacht owners swilling together. There were peanut shells on the floor, and dice rolling around on the bar.

I reached the top and INSTANTLY became the center of attention. Oh, and you can believe me, I (also instantly) decided I was going to have some serious fun with this!

I was invited to sit many places, but chose the table at the head of the stairs, just next to the bar, that was filled with a motley group. Sort of a large “welcoming table” as you got to watch the ebb and flow of customers… and discuss said customers at length in front of them if you wished (apparently this was the local custom).

Now, in that mix, some of the guys were complete idiots (to be expected) attempting to pick me up by insulting me and calling me a liar. As a side note, the irony was it was the one thing I wasn’t… “misleading” about! You see, I’d also decided to just be evasive about everything, so that when they questioned me about what I did for a living, they decided it was whatever they suggested because I didn’t stop them from thinking that. So I had a myriad of occupations (and a plethora of names), depending on who you talked to!

There were other guys that offered, and did, buy my drinks and my meal. There were some that were so drunk they could only say sexual things to me as their friends laughed nervously, while I, smartalec that I am, had scathingly awesome comebacks that the drunk guy couldn’t follow, but which his buddies so admired that they rather were in awe of me. There were others that were overly polite trying to make up for the rest of them. In all, I was on top of my game, witty as all get-out, and having the time of my life!

But then there was the guy next to me. Sigh. It’s true, my geek-love set in. He had the hot geek-style glasses, was thin and tall as I often lust after, and was, I discovered, quite smart. He thought I was a quantum physicist.

He took his time at starting to talk to me, and when he did it was to “save me” from the idiot who wouldn't stop insulting me in a twisted attempt to win me over. So the geek turned my stool toward his and started chatting. It was natural for both of us and we matched wits well. He wasn’t trying to pick up on me in the least, but just trying to keep that rude guy from annoying me. We continued to interact sporadically with the entire table, but focused more on each other. Then as his confidence grew with my attention, he started telling me this great story.

Did I know, he wondered, that we are all made of stardust? He talked about eons ago how different stars exploded and their molecules were blown across the galaxies. He told me how we are now made up of these molecules. He also talked about how molecules have memory and how if they’ve ever been linked, they remember and are drawn to those once connected molecules. In his thoughtful, rapturous monologue, he continued his thought process with, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if some of your molecules were from the same star as some of my molecules and that’s why we were drawn together? We are from from the same star...”

Completely involved in his story, he was intending on continuing, but I sucked in my breath, my eyes wide, I said, “BEST PICK-UP LINE EVER!” He was completely thrown and couldn’t remember what he was going to say… instead, red as a beet, he finally grinned.

Yes, it turned out he was married. But this event made flirting the rest of the evening, in the midst of and while participating in the chaotic revelry of that place and the phrenetic enthusiasm of our table, until the tow showed up a blast – no worries about it being taken seriously either way. We could be saucy and sassy and know that this was it. This moment. It was, in the end, a perfect moment. All thanks to my car deciding THAT was the spot she wanted to “shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Ten on Tuesday.

2010-02-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

So I saw on several other blogs this list of questions. I really liked the idea, but more I liked the questions. I know I won’t do this “Ten on Tuesday” weekly, but perhaps monthly I can come up with a list of questions like this that seem interesting and put them out there. This first one is…

All About Books

1. Favorite book(s) when you were a child and why?

I loved Babar. Madeline, too, but with the Babar books I still remember the feeling I got reading them. I think it was the art – I adored how they looked. Madeline... I think I loved how she dressed and where she lived – how exciting, a foreign land AND with lots of other girls (I had only a brother, so this was a mysterious and magical idea all it’s own)!

2. First “grown-up” book you remember reading?

Okay, this is really funny. I think it was like Poltergeist or Ghost House or something. I LOVED to be frightened, and reading it was far scarier than seeing it in a film or something. Honestly, it was more likely a work of classic literature, but I read so much, it’s all jumbled up together. This is what stood out. No! Wait! I just remembered! I read a Danielle Steele novel - crazy-long for a preteen, I must say (and embarrassing as an adult). No idea how I got my hands on one in my household growing up!

3. Favorite movie that came from a book?

I would go with Pride & Prejudice, but the version I like was a mini-series so that doesn’t really fit the parameters of the question. Probably Peter Pan. I loved the animated version as a child, and think the live action version made in the 90’s was fantastic, too.

4. Movie that you loved so much that you WISHED there was a book out so that you could find out more about the movie?

I guess it would be Amelie. This is possibly my all-time favorite movie. It is very parabolic, so would make a great book. (I love movies like this – that roll like a parable.) I’d just love to hear more of the little things that she did to continue to effect positive change. Ack! Just such a precious movie, I think I might have to watch it again tonight now! The only thing about it being a movie is that it is really visually interesting, using color and images to effect mood and such, so that it mightn’t be as interesting in the end as a book.

5. Worst book you’ve ever read?

Hands down, a horrid thing called Blue Angel by Francine Prose. When I lived in Italy, a great friend at the time gave it to me saying it was so incredible – has this major twist at the end. So I hungrily read it. It got worse and worse and I just wanted to chuck it out my 6^th floor window, but I kept thinking how it MUST redeem itself at the end, what with that twist. The letter fairies must have got in and changed all the words around by the time I read it, because there was no twist, no redemption, and NOTHING INTERESTING about it. God what a waste of my time that was!

6. Book that everyone raves about that you either a) haven’t read and feel slightly dumb for not having read it or b) have tried to read and hated and so feel slightly dumb that everyone is getting something you don’t?

Okay, first of all, I don’t feel dumb if I don’t like it – because I generally see what “everyone is getting,” but just think whatever that is is rather lame, or at least not up my alley. Nor do I feel dumb if I haven’t read it because I read all sorts of vital and awesome things, but still have a life so can’t get to everything at once... and besides, I don’t tend to follow the masses in anything, but most especially reading. Except Harry Potter – it’s just that good. But a book that is huge which I haven’t read but want to? Hmm... The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, most anything Dickens (used to hate him, rediscovered recently), and as for modern stuff... maybe Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, Arcadia by Tom Stoppard, and Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino.

7. If you were forced to choose only 3 books that you could read for the rest of your life, which ones would they be?

Well, I’d likely cheat and make them anthologies of authors or something... but if it were a strict island life with book Nazis patrolling, maybe – wow, this is hard! – Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, and something by Dickens... as I’m just now getting into him, I’m not sure which yet. Maybe David Copperfield or Little Dorrit. I must say, tomorrow I might change the first two to Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and Good Omens by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, though. Crap, you know what? I just wouldn’t choose. That’s evil and wrong. Three books? *mumble-mumble, whine, mumble*

8. Name one book that you would recommend everyone you know read.

I really had to think on this one because I know a diverse crowd, many with strong viewpoints, and that can get dicey for a blanket recommendation... but I settled on Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. Incredible.

9. What is your “guilty pleasure” reading?

I guess the closest I get to that is the book American on Purpose by Craig Ferguson. I don’t feel guilty about it because he’s actually a good writer and is very transparent about himself in it, but you know, books by famous people generally fall in that category. Also Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert would probably fit here. Indulgence and abstention bound together – says “guilty pleasure” if ever a thing could.

10. What book (excepting the Bible or other major document of your religion/faith) has changed your outlook on life the most?

Honestly, there was recently a succession of books that together changed my perspective on life... a few of them are: The Secret by Rhonda Byrne, cheesy as that sounds, really reminded me to keep my mind always focused and positive, His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman trilogy gave me the gift of seeing the intrinsic value of THIS MOMENT – of life right now as well as how precious every single life is (plus it’s a fun story), and then years ago I remember No Graven Image by Elisabeth Elliot altering my perspective on cultures and how faith interacts with it. I’ve read many, MANY books on faith, but it seems those that are about living effect the most change in me.

So I’d love to hear some of your answers to the questions, especially the ones that jumped out at you the instant you read them! Chime in! Tell me about you…

The moments that make us.

2010-01-31T23:30:00.000-08:00

I’ve noticed that these posts are becoming more cathartic and less topical than I initially indicated this blog was going to be. I think I will again get to my stories and views on fun things in this world, but right now my journey is once more opening up. To share that is invaluable, but further, I’d like to hope some of my revelations might inspire. So I ask that you “stay tuned” and see what might come of it.

That said, I have been contemplating what the difference is between one’s purpose in life and one’s goals in life. Defining them alone is a difficult thing, but to recognize how they effect each other as well as how they may or may not work together is another level of mental arduousness. Yet, it’s a refreshing sort of deliberation. Anything that potentially compels refining is, I think.

To this point in my life I hadn’t put a firm definition on these things. There were things I wanted – to achieve, to experience, to learn. There were things I hoped for – love, joy, fulfillment. There were thing I sought after – adventure, passion, vivacity. There were things I craved – connections, hope, understanding. But there was no clear definition of my purpose, nor a vision of how to actively pursue my loosely known goals.

It’s an exciting place to be, on this precipice of the discovery of a lifetime. It’s a sort of threshold moment, and man I’m jumping!

Timing is everything.

2010-01-30T14:30:00.000-08:00

I was accused recently of being a bit depressed and negative in my posts. Thing is, I wasn’t. I’m not. (And I don’t like that my wit seems to sound sad.) So when I began to ruminate on the following as something to muse on here, it seemed fitting…

In the last few days I’ve had this overwhelming sense of gratitude. It encompasses me completely as I think about certain people in my life. But even more, I’m awed by the timing of things.

Remember Toughguy? Well, our families have known each other on the periphery for more than 20 years. Life continued, we stayed separate. Fast forward to now. Out of the blue Toughguy and I connect online. We start talking, usually daily. We seem to understand each other on certain deeper levels. As we share ourselves, the strange connections come to light.

First of all, he is actually living in the exact same room I did when I lived in the Seattle area. Eerie, right? He only moved up there recently, though, and before that he lived not even two miles from me. We frequented the same supermarket and liquor store a block from my house. We ran the same back roads at the same time of day. We relaxed at the same park. And we never noticed one another.

But had we met then, I don’t believe I would have been able to connect in the same way I can currently. The process of healing, of life, brought me to be open NOW. So it took all the missing each other to find each other at the right moment… likely for both of us. As a result I have this rich, and I believe abiding, friendship. That’s really an amazing thing.

The same thing with my friend Sky. We’ve been close for a couple years now, but when she came along it was right on the heels of two people I deeply cared about walking away from me for reasons I never quite understood. But at that time, she and I both needed what the other had to offer – unencumbered acceptance, which is to say, true friendship.

In that, I believe I helped her through some dark times, but I KNOW she saved me. Put me on the path to mindful health. How incredible is that? Had that friendship come earlier, I might have been tied up with those other two people and she might have been lost in the all-consuming day-to-day of a job she hated (and had just left when we met). But we connected at that moment when we both were… ready.

It’s inspiring. But mostly, it’s just humbling. I’m so grateful. I’m so blessed.

Crash landing.

2010-01-26T21:30:00.000-08:00

Today started constructive and educational and effective. I was ready to conquer, light of spirit. I had just finished at an appointment, that of course went smashingly, and was on to my next thing when suddenly… my body simply stopped. It said, “enough is enough,” and sneered at me as it broke down right there in the road.

At first I was simply flustered and thought, “I can fix this.” I then tried a jump start – a little energy food. But still it wouldn’t even turn over. Then I thought back and the proverbial light went on.

O-ooh. When it was on empty and I pushed through to have that wonderful conversation a couple weeks ago, then never did fill up properly on a complete night’s sleep… that was a bad idea? Doing that pretty much every night since, that was also a bad idea? Not taking heed when it sent a warning with a migraine wasn’t the right thing? Going all day with gusto on Sunday when I finally could have been sleeping, even that wasn’t smart? Hmm. Well, good to know.

Sadly, however, it is too late. Having barely managed to tow myself home, I am lying on my bed completely spent, and I just slept for quite a few hours. Lovely conversations with a lovelier man is such a warming idea, but… maybe a little restraint is now in order. (Damn.)

One thing I know... tomorrow I'm going to be an Energizer bunny on speed. Might make for some interesting posts!

The following story...

2010-01-26T19:00:00.000-08:00

So to follow that last post up, I have to say that I began reading Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman today. I’d been wanting to for some time and had finally collected a copy of my own this weekend. Early on, he says this (page 13):

“Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didn’t occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.”

How disappointing not to be the first to come up with this idea. Even more, it is depressing that he said it so much better and more succinctly. And then, too, how queer that we used the same turn of phrase.

I must confess a further strangeness in that it is only after reading the comment posted by Miss Eliza on that last post which prompted me to begin reading this book at this moment. It’s a bizarre sort of whirlwind of connections, which is underscored by what was contained in Miss Eliza’s comments, and of which I will now repeat here:

This reminds me of a post I read on Neil Gaiman's website today, it's the real truth that should be universally acknowledged:

Strange moments of juxtaposition that make you feel like you're living in a novel:

It had been the kind of day that meant I never quite got to look at the post. After dinner I opened the various packages on the kitchen table.
The first thing I opened was a secondhand copy of The Inner Hebrides and their Legends by Otta F. Swire, and I opened it to a random page and read, "...the third of May, when the Devil and his angels were cast out of heaven (and therefore 3rd May is a day on which no important undertaking should be begun and on which it is unpardonable to commit a crime)..."

That's interesting, I thought. I could put that in a story, the next time I need a date of ill-omen. I put the book down.

I opened the next envelope. It was huge, and came from Bloomsbury books in the UK, and contained – well, what it contained was on the note accompanying it, which said, in tidy handwriting:

Dear Neil
I'm delighted to enclose proofs of the Bloomsbury edition of "Instructions" (to be published on 3rd May).
With best wishes,
Madeleine

That's a bit heavy-handed, I thought. If I were writing this, I'd drop the 3rd May date in on something that happened tomorrow, to give everyone reading a chance to forget.

Real life is so strangely written, sometimes.

To add one more oddity, this book seems to be about this very thing - odd occurrences and connections that lead us to the most unusual situations... sometimes even to the incredible and unbelievable.

"...big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey."

On how things happen.

2010-01-25T22:00:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed how nothing happens on it’s own? It’s like a conspiracy of occurrences. Whether good or bad, they run in packs and gang up on you.

I mean, sometimes I’d rather have the lovely things dolled out here and there rather than coming all at once so that you rarely get to enjoy one thing fully. When it’s a painful thing, of course, it’s worse because there is no time to recover strength before the next blow hits.

Why is it, for instance, that I will literally go months without a man taking any real notice, then when I become interested in one I have them crawling out from all sorts of strange places. Some of them are rather tempting and others are, well, anything but, yet there they all are ringing me in the middle of a nice dinner out on my own or texting me sexy things that would normally be quite delightful in different circumstances or from the man I’m wanting.

Or how about when you’re down you get tackled again, then piled up on? Like me recovering from ankle surgery and finding problems with three other places in my body during recovery, not to mention cramps and migraines pairing up on me. Lovely. How about I just get hit by a truck? Again, I mean.

Then there are those rather rare days where the wonderful moments all roll in on top of each other, everything being delicious and delightful. It’s such a fantastic day, but then it is done, and the next day grinds on and on.

I wish we could confront these events and tell them to quit being so cliquish; to make friends with events that they have nothing in common with now and then. But I guess they get what they want and they want tribal attacks. Bastards.

A great loss.

2010-01-20T18:00:00.000-08:00

Mourning is a strange thing, it comes and goes in waves. Today another strong wave hit… about the 10th Doctor Who dying. I’m devastated! (Yes, I know as an alien – a Time Lord – that he has regenerated into a new body and personality, but… that’s not MY doctor.)

I had to overcome a HUGE crush on the character when I first discovered him (and the show). David Tennant as The Doctor was everything I wanted in a man – clever, funny, geek-hot, tall & thin, snappy dresser, genius, personable, time & space traveler, a wordsmith, an adventurer, loves people… you get the picture. My only salvation was that he didn’t have a Scottish accent – my ultimate Achilles heel. How much more difficult do you suppose it was to overcome that crush once I found out that the actor himself IS actually Scottish?? But it’s The Doctor I wanted (want). As for my dream man being an alien… figures.

If you are a follower of the show, you’ll know of all the amazing adventures he had, as well as be familiar with the wit and humor that was part of his genius. If you are not, indulge me just a moment (but keep reading!)…

How great were the episodes with River Song, the Vashta Nerada, and that awesome library planet?! I mean, River was so bold, take charge, and adventurous, yet completely feminine and sweet, not to mention brave and sacrificially loving. But the Vashta Nerada? Beings that prove that being afraid of the dark is not irrational? Oooo! Super scary! Plus a planet that WAS a library. AWESOME.

“Blink,” one of the best episodes out there, was so fantastic with weeping angel statues that were an evil alien race – taking the innocuous and making it menacing = genius! Also, best line in that episode is found here… “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey… stuff.”

I loved the episode “42” (with Martha Jones). That a sun could be a sentient being was cool and fascinating, but way more interesting was the race for survival on that tiny cargo ship… and that trivia was how to break the locks – really funny.

But most of all, any episode with Donna Noble as a companion was a favorite. She was absolutely hilarious and matched The Doctor’s gumption and spunk and wit moment-by-moment! I’m just so sad it’s all really over. *Must not cry.*

Talking scifi tech, one of the coolest things created in the genre at large is the TARDIS (“Time And Relative Dimensions In Space”). This is a machine that travels through time and space, but here’s the cool thing… it’s bigger on the inside. I WANT THAT!! How amazing would that be? I could travel the world – or indeed, many, many worlds – and have my things with me. I mean, I’m not a pack-rat, but getting to travel with my bicycle and my library would be pretty great. Even if I could just use it to wander this planet, it’d be a dream!

But in “reality,” I’d want to travel in it WITH The (10th) Doctor. Thus my dream of becoming The Doctor’s companion. I mean, I want to be a mermaid when I grow up, but as it’s not very likely that will happen (me growing up, I mean), being The Doctor’s companion seems a good goal to pursue until then.

That’s right, pick me!

Boys to men.

2010-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

So I’m a girl who is not, I suppose, actually a girl so much as a woman. I am, however, a kid at heart, loving to play and be silly. I’m a very active person, too. All of this lends to me generally dating men quite a bit younger than I am. Um, like 11 – 16 years younger. (Hey all you teens with incredibly oily skin, don’t you worry – it will pay off as you’ll always look younger than you are... even if it’s mostly because you still have zits at 40. I’m just saying...)

So this time it’s rather nice to be involved with someone who knows how to pay bills on his own, likes a clean space, gets references to 80’s movies, and doesn’t have homework to do before we can hang out! Okay, yes he’s still younger, but it’s a more reasonable range… and hopefully those few years means he can keep up with me!

I mentioned before that he lives quite a distance. I cannot begin to say how frustrating this is… yet making it more bearable is that, as actual adults, we have conversations which aren’t limited to a select few things since he doesn’t feel intimidated by my experience and knowledge. So all-in-all, I’m having a great time! Thanks, Toughguy*!

I did have a story about the last guy I saw regularly. Bookboy* and I have remained friends and go out for a movie and drinks now and then to catch up, so when Christmas came along he gave me a gift. It was a specially made pink, man’s T-shirt that reads, “I ♥ Craig Ferguson.” I sat there wanting to laugh-out-loud thinking, “Is he trying to tell me why we’re no longer dating?” A girl can love in many different ways – he needn’t be threatened! It’d make a good email to Craig, though...

In the end, it was a “good idea, bad idea” kind of thing. It was not very practical as I neither wear pale pink nor men’s wear (and he should have known this, really), though it was thoughtful because I am a huge Ferguson fan. Ferguson’s humor is exactly my speed and style. Bookboy is a Fallon fan. So, actually it does sum up why we’re not together. I am not young-and-hip, am looking for something more than just “cute,” and prefer humor that is off the cuff, clever, and sometimes rather naughty!

* Names have been changed to protect the not-at-all innocent.

(I must end this by saying that though Bookboy and his gift both come off sounding rather bad, he's a good guy and I do like the gift a lot... but what kind of story would this be without poking some fun??)

Vision.

2010-01-17T12:30:00.000-08:00

Over the course of several months last year, when in need of hope and encouragement, I put together a portfolio of images and sayings of what I wanted to make manifest in my life. It is a take on the Visualization Boards that are popular in various circles and schools of thought today.

I was quite pleased and proud of how mine turned out, because of course as an artist each page is visually impacting. Some of the pages focused on my plans to move to Scotland in the near future, some on my hopes for my spiritual life, some on my sports goals, and some on my visions for my writing, as well as other topics like financial stability, travel, and lifestyle.

But most of all, I took a quote from an ad for a television show and manipulated it a bit, making it my current life mantra…

For a while I was reading this out every day, and I still regularly go over it. It’s been really fun to see how things not only within, but without begin to change; things begin to happen. (I mean, my bro wasn’t even expecting when I adopted this!) I guess this is just an encouragement to you, and a reminder to me, to keep you sights on what you most want from life and to remember in the stress of it all exactly who you are… and draw strength from that knowledge.