The world is emptier tonight. A little less bright and a little less hopeful.
I am learning new dimensions of pain. I have lost a best friend and the world has lost a unique and great person. It’s not easy.
I am still stricken with grief, blind with running tears and lonely, terribly lonely. And I am not sure that words can ever describe how I feel, or if I’ll come at the other end of this story coherent at all. I am sure I won’t sound complete by the end of it.
We’ll all read in the next few days about Jeff Carlton the writer, the reporter, the UVA alumnus, and the sports aficionado. But I have had a different experience with Jeff. I knew Jeff, the man, the friend, the devoted confidant, the loving son and brother. I will talk about things few people knew or maybe fewer people noticed.
The man had a “Vault” where he kept all his secrets (you know, Seinfeld style). He told me when I first met him that he “doesn’t just let anyone in the Vault. He lets secrets out one at a time, carefully”. Well, after two condensed years of friendship, that felt like 20 years or a lifetime, I feel like he blew the Vault wide open for me, and let everything bleed out. I have had the fortune, and incredible honor and privilege to know Jeff in ways maybe his parents or brothers didn’t know him. With me, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, weak, strong, stubborn, but also funny, serious, impatient, devoted, sincere, giving, and sometimes quite a bit of a nuisance, too. Never a jerk. Never a bore nor commonplace. Never.
Some of the things I have learned from him and about him will probably go to my grave, with me, because he wanted them “kept in the Vault”. And they’ll stay there.
Loneliness, tears and pain brought us together and made us friends forever. Happiness, joy and unconditional friendship sealed that bond.
I have learned more lessons from him in 2 years that I have learned from life in 33. He lived short. But he lived intensely. He did everything with passion and dedication. He never wasted time. He laughed hard and loud and often. Even if he didn’t feel like laughing, he always smiled. I could not find one picture of him either not talking or not smiling. He was always in mid-sentence and mid-thought. He met everything with a sense of humor. Especially pain!
Always active, and always cooking up some thought. His mind worked overtime, for sure, like he knew he was running out of hours. He loved everything he believed in, and he believed in having fun, being honest, being loving and generous, and in The Phillies, of course (I know that much!). Oh, and being Conservative, too. How he ever survived our Newsroom, I do not know!
Some people said they argued with him on everything. Some said they found at least one thing in common with him, he was that diverse. I did both!
We both loved mashed potatoes, long road trips, U2, good spelling, a cold pillow, and no tomatoes on the sandwich, please. We argued about politics (mostly), the music of the 80’s (I am sorry, but it DOES suck, Jeff!!), about how often he should call his doctor, and about leaving the dog out in the rain.
He was so contradictory, and such a “whole” person, all in all. He lived fully, but quietly. He had no patience for computers, faulty chairs, slow drivers and small airline seats. But he never, ever, not ONCE, lost his patience in trying so hard to explain baseball to me. He did it time and again, with the stoicism of Sisyphus. Nevermind my impossibility to wrap my head around that one. He never once made fun of that or gave up trying to teach me! He used to tell me: "A whole American nation GETS baseball, you'll get it too!". I only wish! I promise I’ll read the book, too, Mr. Jeff, and that I’ll get it, one day!! One day, when we’ll meet again, we’ll both watch a game and you can quiz me. I’ll pass, I promise.
I had a lot of “firsts” with Jeff. No, not “that” kind of “firsts”, but these kind: he took me to my first Major League ballgame, my first soccer and my first hockey game. I loved them all, because I could enjoy them through his eyes! He breathed and lived every game, with nonchalance, fun and a scary (to me) amount of knowledge. Like a fish in the water, he was most at home in the arena. It was fascinating to me to watch him watch every move, every play, and predict almost every game. Well, with the exception of The Phillies, of course.
He was the first man to ever not be afraid of sassing me back. My sarcasm was a cause of divorce in my marriage; it was a requirement to be his friend. I loved him for it! He’d say: “Don’t you sass me, I’ll sass you right back”; and he did. Or “sarcasm is a must to be my friend”. Always witty and original. The most I’ll miss is the way we cracked each other up. Never taking anything defensively, but always talking smack, lovingly and endearingly. I’ll miss his blue eyes, and his well-defined dimples and his writer’s hands. I’ll miss his bear hugs!
The part I am not going to miss is the pain I knew he was in. I am happy and grateful that he’s running free, where gates fling wide open, without broken latches on them, in which he can cut his hand.
The most I learned from him was about pain and accepting it with grace. I learned also about courage and the kind of facing every day like it was your last one to live. One of the last conversations we had was about strength and how he has it, and he should not be afraid. And strong he was, as I have watched first- hand how he dealt with bad news after bad news, and misfortune after misfortune. He kept smiling. And pushing through! Always smiling.
I feel that I am a better, wiser, more complete person, because he was part of my life. He was one of those people one is only lucky to meet once in a lifetime.
I am not sure what I’ll do with myself next time I want company to Boston Market, or want to go to the dog park. I am not really sure what I’ll do when I want to go to the ballgame to actually watch and understand the game, not just to socialize. I am not sure with what I’ll fill up the minutes of every day when I worried sick about him, and wondered how he was; the minutes we talked on the phone, or the times I’d interrupt his deadline work just to see how he’s feeling. He was a part of my life that’ll never come back now. A part – irreplaceable.
I am glad he never listened to me when I told him not to take a trip last year. Now, I know, you gotta take EVERY opportunity you get to do what you want. Life doesn’t give you second chances, and he’s a fine example of that. So, take it or leave it, as hard as it is.
He made me realize once more that riches don’t consist of bank accounts. His wisdom, compassionate understanding of humans, and unconditional friendship made him one of the richest people I know!
And above all, he was humble. He was private, and he kept things fearfully in the “Vault”… I think I was the only human, that I knew in our brief time together, to ever pry the Vault, and he helplessly allowed it. You never knew just how much he suffered. And you never knew how much he hurt. He wanted to keep YOU happy. He was thoughtful and caring. And through it all he used to say, with his innate self-mockery “It’s always about me, you know!”. He made it seem that way, but it wasn’t. I will never forget his last words to me: he wanted me to say ‘hi’ to my cats. On his dying bed, he wanted to greet the cats … He was like that. He died quietly, as he lived, but painfully, as he lived also.
The pain of the emptiness I feel is making my chest hurt. I cannot breathe, and I am not really sure what’s going to fix this.
There will never be another Jeff Carlton. I was lucky, fortunate, blessed beyond belief to have him in my life. He gave me two years of friendship, love, courage, togetherness, understanding, pain and healing. And mostly, he’s taught me forgiveness and hope.
Good bye, my dearest, and I miss you much, always, with love …!
Happier times. My favorite album of pictures of Jeff and Floyd.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Yep! I am chicken!
I hate to sound like a broken record, but you know how much I love my dad. And my dad can be a royal pain in the butt, but sometimes, about some things, he knows best: “sometimes - he says - things help ‘in absentia’ more than they ever will otherwise!”
I almost did it! I “interviewed” all my friends who have met online and got their opinion. I even talked to those who got married as a result of an online date and I was impressed by their recommendations! I have talked to one of my best friends who, I thought, was as skittish (old fashioned, conservative, insert your “guarded” adjective here) as me about online dating and who, recently, turned "modern" and uninhibited on me and started dating "online"... I thought that he and I were the only single souls in America not sold on the online dating craze. But, nope, I was alone ...
I even bought a book (always, my resources!), with a given-up title: "Fine: I’ll Go Online", about why and how you should date online. I even opened up a free account with E-harmony, "just" to see what my profile says and what matches I am being delivered”. Ok, ok, you get the picture: I was still on the fence, but very much over it, too, barely hanging on to it, before I touched the ground on the other side...That is, before I was to start putting myself out there, to try "online" dating, too ... Since the normal, day-to-day kind of dating has not worked for me for a while now ... Not that I am “that” desperate, but weekend trips can be lonely without a partner and cold winter nights even colder. Heck, we ALL need companionship, right?! So, I was sold. Almost. Till tonight anyway...
Tonight, I peeked at my "free of charge" matches from E-harmony. The matches are "real", but you don't get to communicate with them unless you pay, which I haven't yet. And I won't! I won't because one of the matches E-harmony delivered is a guy I know. And a guy that I tried to date. Desperately (almost), crazily single-ly tried to date. A guy that I met in the real world, on a real date, with whom I had many real dates … and who contributed to two of the most frustrating and confusing weeks of my life. He left me with a more bitter taste than bile acids can leave ... and he is now, one of my computer generated (how else??) matches on E-harmony.com. I was flabbergasted, amused, mad, and ... really, really, relieved! Relieved that I didn't sign up for an online dating site, that is... E-harmony is supposed to give you “leads” on relationships that might possibly work for you, with your personality traits… Relationships that will bring you to your "soul mate" and promise happiness for ever. Have you seen those commercials?! But this guy was “a cold trail” as Deputy Andy Brennan, in “Twin Peaks”, says about his love interest. I was amused!
Tonight I realized (yep, I am slow AND naïve), just like the junkie gambler who plays the casino and the machines for years and finally realizes he cannot beat a computer and gives up, that that's all that online dating is! It's a gamble! And just like the junkie gambler, you're playing the computer. It's the computer that "finds your matches", really ... Now, maybe you have some gambling luck to speak of! I don't! With my luck at gambling, thank you very much, I'll pass! Now, if you factor in my luck at dating, I am REALLY screwed! So, I think I'll leave the $120 in my pocket for now, and take myself on some real sushi dates with a movie at the end. At least I'll get the food, and some quality alone time with a bag of popcorn! Now, THAT's real! And to this day, has never disappointed me! Of course, the cold winter nights are still outstanding, so if you know someone out there who would like to join me… please send them this way, and I’ll share the popcorn…For now, no online dating for me, and still just a firm belief in Karma, and Fate and all old-fashioned things my mom used to talk about. At least they are monetarily free...
Of course, you'll hear first if there is a change... For sure. But, boy, was I close to almost being there ... Phew! What a relief!! Thank you, E-harmony! You have noooo idea !!!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The Heritage of Love
My veteran readers are probably wondering what am I going to trash this year for Valentine’s Day? What crazy, sassy, sarcastic blog am I up to for 2008? The thing is, though: I am not in such mood. So sorry to disappoint: I think I’ll be goopy, for a change!
I thought about my parents a lot today. Their love story is a bit unreal and seems out of cheesy paperback novels, and I haven't shared it with many, but here it goes.
They met on a train ride to the beach one summer. They were 17-18 or so. Mom looked very old (as in “mature”) and serious and very beautiful, by dad’s accounts. Dad was a hippy, bell-bottoms and flip-flops. He was passing her compartment, he stopped in awe and he asked her: “Why are you sad?”; in her typical, dry, fatalistic tone, she answered: “I don’t think I will ever, as long as I live, know what happiness is. It’s just the way it goes”. And she looked outside the window, and didn’t smile, like he was bothering her. Then, he sat down and he said, just like that: “Well, that will be my mission in life, then: to make you happy. One day”. That was their first dialogue. And the rest is history. Or the rest is my life ...
We don’t have Valentine’s Day back home, or at least we didn’t when I grew up. But their “love day” was the anniversary of the day they met. That day, on the train ride. And until both my sister and I left home, I don’t remember one such anniversary they celebrated without us.
We never went out. But on their “first date” anniversary, we would go out, the four of us. They didn’t want to be alone, and they didn’t want a party, like they had for any other celebration. They always told us: “On this day, when we celebrate our falling in love, we want to be with the fruits of our love, the two of you (me and my sister)”.
Dad, forever the romantic, Beatnik hippie, used to tell me and my sister: “Your mom and I are part of the ‘Love Story’ generation: little money and lots of love will keep us going forever”.
And thus years passed and we always knew to be prepared to go out with them for “love day”. And I really felt that for ONE day, at least, that I could tell … mom was happy. They both were. Happy and in love.
And so, today, when the world (or at least the American one) celebrates love, I give thanks to all the loves in my life, in memory of theirs. Even if single (again, I know: broken record), I can feel love and taste love, and smell it around me. And I am grateful for it.
And I am starting with the parents.
Hopefully, we’re all here because of love, or at least pleasure, and that’s one thing we can think about and appreciate on our own, without having to “share” it with “someone else”. We can just enjoy it, on our own. I am grateful for that every day of my life: that I am a “result” of love.
I try to give that feeling back to everything else in my life: my house, my family, my food, my friends, people I work with, books I read, every day that I open my eyes to, my cats, the way I cook, the way I plant my flowers, the way I write, and everything else I do or come across with. Love is mindfulness and respect towards all that, for me, and I share it freely. With all of you.
Mom and dad are still married, after 34 years of love, cat-and-dog style. She nags and is “serious” and “bitter”; he tries, relentlessly, to make her happy. Children are gone now, far, far away, but he buys her gifts on their love day, or just flowers, while she sighs with sad eyes, looking out the window. And I am sure they both feel the happiness, and bask in it. It’s there. Even if they don’t “call” it that!
Give love and feel it. It’s always there. You just need to be still and find it, listen to it, taste it.
And as my dad would want me to, I will end with the most absolute (if “absolute” can have a comparison degree!) definition of love: the one that John Lennon left us:
“Love is real, real is love
Love is feeling, feeling love
Love is wanting to be loved
Love is touch, touch is love
Love is reaching, reaching love
Love is asking to be loved
Love is you
You and me
Love is knowing
We can be
Love is free, free is love
Love is living, living love
Love is needing to be loved”
Happy Love Day, everyone!
And remember: we’re all loved, somewhere, and also “lots of love and little money can keep you going forever”. And we all come from it! So, just enjoy it, and be happy for it, and tread gently …
I thought about my parents a lot today. Their love story is a bit unreal and seems out of cheesy paperback novels, and I haven't shared it with many, but here it goes.
They met on a train ride to the beach one summer. They were 17-18 or so. Mom looked very old (as in “mature”) and serious and very beautiful, by dad’s accounts. Dad was a hippy, bell-bottoms and flip-flops. He was passing her compartment, he stopped in awe and he asked her: “Why are you sad?”; in her typical, dry, fatalistic tone, she answered: “I don’t think I will ever, as long as I live, know what happiness is. It’s just the way it goes”. And she looked outside the window, and didn’t smile, like he was bothering her. Then, he sat down and he said, just like that: “Well, that will be my mission in life, then: to make you happy. One day”. That was their first dialogue. And the rest is history. Or the rest is my life ...
We don’t have Valentine’s Day back home, or at least we didn’t when I grew up. But their “love day” was the anniversary of the day they met. That day, on the train ride. And until both my sister and I left home, I don’t remember one such anniversary they celebrated without us.
We never went out. But on their “first date” anniversary, we would go out, the four of us. They didn’t want to be alone, and they didn’t want a party, like they had for any other celebration. They always told us: “On this day, when we celebrate our falling in love, we want to be with the fruits of our love, the two of you (me and my sister)”.
Dad, forever the romantic, Beatnik hippie, used to tell me and my sister: “Your mom and I are part of the ‘Love Story’ generation: little money and lots of love will keep us going forever”.
And thus years passed and we always knew to be prepared to go out with them for “love day”. And I really felt that for ONE day, at least, that I could tell … mom was happy. They both were. Happy and in love.
And so, today, when the world (or at least the American one) celebrates love, I give thanks to all the loves in my life, in memory of theirs. Even if single (again, I know: broken record), I can feel love and taste love, and smell it around me. And I am grateful for it.
And I am starting with the parents.
Hopefully, we’re all here because of love, or at least pleasure, and that’s one thing we can think about and appreciate on our own, without having to “share” it with “someone else”. We can just enjoy it, on our own. I am grateful for that every day of my life: that I am a “result” of love.
I try to give that feeling back to everything else in my life: my house, my family, my food, my friends, people I work with, books I read, every day that I open my eyes to, my cats, the way I cook, the way I plant my flowers, the way I write, and everything else I do or come across with. Love is mindfulness and respect towards all that, for me, and I share it freely. With all of you.
Mom and dad are still married, after 34 years of love, cat-and-dog style. She nags and is “serious” and “bitter”; he tries, relentlessly, to make her happy. Children are gone now, far, far away, but he buys her gifts on their love day, or just flowers, while she sighs with sad eyes, looking out the window. And I am sure they both feel the happiness, and bask in it. It’s there. Even if they don’t “call” it that!
Give love and feel it. It’s always there. You just need to be still and find it, listen to it, taste it.
And as my dad would want me to, I will end with the most absolute (if “absolute” can have a comparison degree!) definition of love: the one that John Lennon left us:
“Love is real, real is love
Love is feeling, feeling love
Love is wanting to be loved
Love is touch, touch is love
Love is reaching, reaching love
Love is asking to be loved
Love is you
You and me
Love is knowing
We can be
Love is free, free is love
Love is living, living love
Love is needing to be loved”
Happy Love Day, everyone!
And remember: we’re all loved, somewhere, and also “lots of love and little money can keep you going forever”. And we all come from it! So, just enjoy it, and be happy for it, and tread gently …
Thursday, February 07, 2008
A Communication Misfit …
“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.” (Oscar Wilde)
I was thinking the other day that since I am such light years behind everyone else in the means of communication I use, I should make a somewhat “public” note of this …
I am sort of trying to tell everyone that despite what their perception is, no, I am not rude (not trying to be, anyway), no, I am not anti-social (not much), and no, I don’t hate them, either …
I simply use methods that are a tad less mainstream – just like I do with a bunch of other things in my life …
So, here we go, in case you're trying to get in touch with me ...
I don’t have caller ID on my home phone. Never have. I am not even ever considering having it, because it costs and it’s a luxury I can do without. So, I don’t screen your calls. If I don’t answer, it’s because I am not home yet, or because I am asleep (yes, I take naps, too), and I unplug the phone then.
No caller ID at work either, and that's out of my control. If I don't answer, I really am, away, or in a meeting, or on the other line, like the greeting says. Not lying at all.
I don’t use my cell much, which WILL come as a shocker in this day and age. I answer it only when I am in the car or in a public place, because those are the only places that don’t have a landline that’s permanently mine. If you call the cell then, I will be “quick” and ask you what you need, ‘cause I gotta go. I have a plan that covers 50 minutes of peak time a week and 500 minutes a weekend. Yes, in a world when people have 1200 minutes a month, I get 50 minutes! I know: it’s hard to comprehend. Again: it costs, and it's a luxury I can live without. No, it’s not you, it’s me. If you call the cell while I am at home, or at work, I will ask you to hang up, and I will call you from a land line. I am cheap indeed. No joke!
So, I don’t use the cell for chattin’. I love to chat, don't get me wrong: call my cell and in 2 minutes tell me when and where you wanna meet: we’ll chat then and there. For hours!
Since we’re talking “cell” here: I don’t text either! Never have. I am having trouble accepting "text" as a verb, too ... I don’t think I ever will "text". I personally think that’s insulting my very ability to communicate. You wanna talk: pick up the phone and call … meet me somewhere … you get the point… In my communication-challenged opinion, typing into a PHONE is slightly ... well, un-natural, for wanting to be less insulting here! :-) Doing something “just because you can”, we’ve learned from our 42nd president, can be pretty stupid! So, yes, I am going to be mad at you if on Christmas Day my cell goes off at 7 AM when you decide to text me “Merry Christmas”. So, stop it!
Unless you live on another continent, or another country, I typically don’t want to sit there on the phone and chat with you for 5 hours. Sorry… You’re welcome to visit anytime, with notice, and we can also meet in town and do dinner, or lunch… But I am not going to do my dishes and laundry, change my cat litter and do my nails or take a bubble bath with you on the phone … As I grow old, I am seeing how I am very A.D.D. anyway, so I am trying to focus more (this is no joke!), so I cannot give “the phone” undivided attention, while I do all that, plus: you’ll complain because of the noise … Maybe once in a blue moon, yes, I’ll chat you up, but if that’s your idea of keeping in touch with me, it’s not going to work for a long time at all. We’ll break up!
But there is always email, and ... I do email a LOT. And that’s because it allows me to have some freedom, the sole driving force of my life, and respond when I have the time, and again, to give you undivided attention! I will email you updates about me and I’ll ask about updates on you; I will expect an email back, although people will call back. You don’t get me then! … Again: it’s about being focused, and not missing things. And I can do my laundry at the same time, since you won’t mind the noise … I am religious about answering emails, so if you want a 100% sure way to reach me, email me. I promise you: I’ll be there. But again: ideally, we make time to chat!
It’s not uncommon that you should leave me a voice mail and you’ll get an email back. If the voice mail says “ I am just checking to see if we’re on for 5 PM for drinks” – I’ll call. But if it says “ I am checking to see how you are and what you’ve been up to lately”… and there is a looonnggg story behind it (make your own “WRONG” game show noise here!): yeah, I’ll write! I’ll even attach pictures. :-)
My days of IM-ing are over … The only people I used to IM with regularly and with patience are my parents, but since Skype, we talk live, over the Internet, for free … Since they live in Europe, they qualify for long distance “phone” chatting, you see . So, stop sending me messages about “IM me on MySpace” or on AOL, or on Yahoo: not gonna happen!
If you live in another continent or town and don’t have a pc, you WILL get a hand written letter once in a while IF you write back! OK, I am weak: for those who are so poor that can’t afford postage, I’ll even write without expecting a response back.
If you really made it to the list of “my friends”, you will get a hard copy of a birthday card, and Christmas card. I love paper and ink … And I love to write, so, yes, you’ll get me, in paper … I am still working on being good about the "thank you" notes. I'll get there, once I'll be "officially American", I swear!
And actually, that’s one thing I do miss: the handwritten cards and letters …
I guess I do live in the past … But here I am, still, trying to love all of you the ways and means I can master: as the ultimate communications misfit!
And always remember: you’re not doing anything wrong. This is about me, not you!
I was thinking the other day that since I am such light years behind everyone else in the means of communication I use, I should make a somewhat “public” note of this …
I am sort of trying to tell everyone that despite what their perception is, no, I am not rude (not trying to be, anyway), no, I am not anti-social (not much), and no, I don’t hate them, either …
I simply use methods that are a tad less mainstream – just like I do with a bunch of other things in my life …
So, here we go, in case you're trying to get in touch with me ...
I don’t have caller ID on my home phone. Never have. I am not even ever considering having it, because it costs and it’s a luxury I can do without. So, I don’t screen your calls. If I don’t answer, it’s because I am not home yet, or because I am asleep (yes, I take naps, too), and I unplug the phone then.
No caller ID at work either, and that's out of my control. If I don't answer, I really am, away, or in a meeting, or on the other line, like the greeting says. Not lying at all.
I don’t use my cell much, which WILL come as a shocker in this day and age. I answer it only when I am in the car or in a public place, because those are the only places that don’t have a landline that’s permanently mine. If you call the cell then, I will be “quick” and ask you what you need, ‘cause I gotta go. I have a plan that covers 50 minutes of peak time a week and 500 minutes a weekend. Yes, in a world when people have 1200 minutes a month, I get 50 minutes! I know: it’s hard to comprehend. Again: it costs, and it's a luxury I can live without. No, it’s not you, it’s me. If you call the cell while I am at home, or at work, I will ask you to hang up, and I will call you from a land line. I am cheap indeed. No joke!
So, I don’t use the cell for chattin’. I love to chat, don't get me wrong: call my cell and in 2 minutes tell me when and where you wanna meet: we’ll chat then and there. For hours!
Since we’re talking “cell” here: I don’t text either! Never have. I am having trouble accepting "text" as a verb, too ... I don’t think I ever will "text". I personally think that’s insulting my very ability to communicate. You wanna talk: pick up the phone and call … meet me somewhere … you get the point… In my communication-challenged opinion, typing into a PHONE is slightly ... well, un-natural, for wanting to be less insulting here! :-) Doing something “just because you can”, we’ve learned from our 42nd president, can be pretty stupid! So, yes, I am going to be mad at you if on Christmas Day my cell goes off at 7 AM when you decide to text me “Merry Christmas”. So, stop it!
Unless you live on another continent, or another country, I typically don’t want to sit there on the phone and chat with you for 5 hours. Sorry… You’re welcome to visit anytime, with notice, and we can also meet in town and do dinner, or lunch… But I am not going to do my dishes and laundry, change my cat litter and do my nails or take a bubble bath with you on the phone … As I grow old, I am seeing how I am very A.D.D. anyway, so I am trying to focus more (this is no joke!), so I cannot give “the phone” undivided attention, while I do all that, plus: you’ll complain because of the noise … Maybe once in a blue moon, yes, I’ll chat you up, but if that’s your idea of keeping in touch with me, it’s not going to work for a long time at all. We’ll break up!
But there is always email, and ... I do email a LOT. And that’s because it allows me to have some freedom, the sole driving force of my life, and respond when I have the time, and again, to give you undivided attention! I will email you updates about me and I’ll ask about updates on you; I will expect an email back, although people will call back. You don’t get me then! … Again: it’s about being focused, and not missing things. And I can do my laundry at the same time, since you won’t mind the noise … I am religious about answering emails, so if you want a 100% sure way to reach me, email me. I promise you: I’ll be there. But again: ideally, we make time to chat!
It’s not uncommon that you should leave me a voice mail and you’ll get an email back. If the voice mail says “ I am just checking to see if we’re on for 5 PM for drinks” – I’ll call. But if it says “ I am checking to see how you are and what you’ve been up to lately”… and there is a looonnggg story behind it (make your own “WRONG” game show noise here!): yeah, I’ll write! I’ll even attach pictures. :-)
My days of IM-ing are over … The only people I used to IM with regularly and with patience are my parents, but since Skype, we talk live, over the Internet, for free … Since they live in Europe, they qualify for long distance “phone” chatting, you see . So, stop sending me messages about “IM me on MySpace” or on AOL, or on Yahoo: not gonna happen!
If you live in another continent or town and don’t have a pc, you WILL get a hand written letter once in a while IF you write back! OK, I am weak: for those who are so poor that can’t afford postage, I’ll even write without expecting a response back.
If you really made it to the list of “my friends”, you will get a hard copy of a birthday card, and Christmas card. I love paper and ink … And I love to write, so, yes, you’ll get me, in paper … I am still working on being good about the "thank you" notes. I'll get there, once I'll be "officially American", I swear!
And actually, that’s one thing I do miss: the handwritten cards and letters …
I guess I do live in the past … But here I am, still, trying to love all of you the ways and means I can master: as the ultimate communications misfit!
And always remember: you’re not doing anything wrong. This is about me, not you!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Universe Listens
Patañjali's initial statement of intent: “Yoga is mental-movement stopping”.
The Tree pose is one of the mind. When I am not centered, I wobble in Tree pose. We all do! Unlike other poses, Tree is build for people of any build: heavy, light, tall and short, flexible or not, young and old, we should ALL be able to master it. IF … our minds are level, grounded and focused.
And the Tree shakes if we’re not those things, “up there”!
So, lately, I am trying “different” things … I know: “different” is a vague word: well, “different” as in “different than I have tried so far”, shall we say. For instance, I am going to yoga instructors that I have not gone to before. OR, instead of staying away from the ones I went to before and hated, I am going back to them. That kind of different.
So, tonight I went to the one of the latter kind, just to test her again (I thought), after many years. I forgot, really, what she offered “good”. We always do!
A lot of what she offered felt like new to me. We forget so easily, even when we don’t have age as an excuse. Yet.
So, at the beginning at the class, when she was making a call for our focus, she didn’t just talk about breath and quieting down and leaving the world behind, which is what every instructor does. She also asked us to quietly, in our own minds, “give intent to our practice for tonight”. And I thought to myself: “WHAT??? That’s YOUR job! You usually tell us what we accomplish or work towards tonight: open shoulders? Flexible pelvis? Stronger legs? Or breathing? YOUR job!!!”. But she was waiting patiently for us to find in our minds an intent: I didn’t want to lag behind in the practice. So scrambling after the crazy, hectic, nuts kind of the day I had had, I came up with this and told myself, in my mind’s voice: “My intent tonight (I spoke voiceless) is that I want to be focused! I want to be focused on this moment, this body, now, this breath, and nothing else! I will shoo away every foreign thought, noise, happening that’s outside this very body and just stay HERE. Not judge. Just be. And listen. And know. And take THAT into the world when that door will open at the end”…
This is almost impossible to me, because no matter how great the instructor is, and no matter how hard the camel pose, I have “stuff” to think about, like: "Did I pay the bills? Did I feed the cats? Did I turn off the coffee machine? Did I send that email before I left work?” Or “ I wonder if my feet smell? Oh, the person next to me is really wobbly in this tree pose!” – my mind works overtime. All the time!
And tonight, not only my usually un-quiet mind was my enemy, but everything else around me, it seemed! The Universe listened, for once, and threw everything it could think of my way!
I could not get out of my head the idea that the teacher was wearing not only socks, but SHOES too in the class! My favorite teacher, somewhat of my “guru”, because I would do everything that man tells me, even if it were jumping in active lava, always taught us that we do NOT bring shoes in the classroom; we do not allow “unsacred” things to invade the sacred of the room! This instructor had ugly, big, rubber shoes on, stepping on the sacred ground, and on MY mat!!! What a sacrilege!! But I had to get over it. “Stay focus on ME”, I told myself, “and the NOW. Don’t judge it. Just be it”.
Then, she gave me yet another blanket that was wet with sweat and smelled too … Again, I could not focus on my shoulder stand, but on the smell… Again, I drew closer to the NOW and the core of my chakra stem, and blocked away the thought …
And then she came with a different style, too. I like for teachers to tell me what’s next and let my pace do the pose in its own speed. No, she wanted us hanging in the pose, and when we least expected it she’d move us to the next stage. Again, what she wanted was our mind to let go. To be in the now. To listen to it, and follow it. Absorb it, like a sponge does water, and then … let it squeeze the benefits out! She read my mind, somehow, it seemed!! She was the enemy! Or was she my friend? Hhmm…
And there is nothing like a very well-lead Savasana (relaxation pose) that’s disturbed by the noise of the Miller truck pulling in and the sound of the beer crates dragged across the parking lot right outside your window. At that point, I wanted to laugh, it was so helpless … But I didn’t. Following my “intent”, like every lost ship does a beacon, I enjoyed every single muscle and pore being relaxed and melting away in the ground beneath me! All the meetings of the day, and the tense shoulders, and the anchored toes – all melted and were released away in yet another week of life.
With all those challenges, I came out centered. I walked straighter. I drove better, I yielded more, and I can guarantee you my Tree pose would not have been wobbly!
Try it sometime: give yourself as a puzzle to the Universe and watch It solving you! It works! You have ALL the answers within you, but you’re too busy “living” (actually not caring, getting lost in futile, irrelevant, unimportant, superfluous little things) to acknowledge they’re there. But give yourself “intent” and enough room to “listen” and you’ll hear it. Just like “the Alchemist”, you’ll find that the only travel you’ll have to do is down deep; that your treasure is home!
The Tree pose is one of the mind. When I am not centered, I wobble in Tree pose. We all do! Unlike other poses, Tree is build for people of any build: heavy, light, tall and short, flexible or not, young and old, we should ALL be able to master it. IF … our minds are level, grounded and focused.
And the Tree shakes if we’re not those things, “up there”!
So, lately, I am trying “different” things … I know: “different” is a vague word: well, “different” as in “different than I have tried so far”, shall we say. For instance, I am going to yoga instructors that I have not gone to before. OR, instead of staying away from the ones I went to before and hated, I am going back to them. That kind of different.
So, tonight I went to the one of the latter kind, just to test her again (I thought), after many years. I forgot, really, what she offered “good”. We always do!
A lot of what she offered felt like new to me. We forget so easily, even when we don’t have age as an excuse. Yet.
So, at the beginning at the class, when she was making a call for our focus, she didn’t just talk about breath and quieting down and leaving the world behind, which is what every instructor does. She also asked us to quietly, in our own minds, “give intent to our practice for tonight”. And I thought to myself: “WHAT??? That’s YOUR job! You usually tell us what we accomplish or work towards tonight: open shoulders? Flexible pelvis? Stronger legs? Or breathing? YOUR job!!!”. But she was waiting patiently for us to find in our minds an intent: I didn’t want to lag behind in the practice. So scrambling after the crazy, hectic, nuts kind of the day I had had, I came up with this and told myself, in my mind’s voice: “My intent tonight (I spoke voiceless) is that I want to be focused! I want to be focused on this moment, this body, now, this breath, and nothing else! I will shoo away every foreign thought, noise, happening that’s outside this very body and just stay HERE. Not judge. Just be. And listen. And know. And take THAT into the world when that door will open at the end”…
This is almost impossible to me, because no matter how great the instructor is, and no matter how hard the camel pose, I have “stuff” to think about, like: "Did I pay the bills? Did I feed the cats? Did I turn off the coffee machine? Did I send that email before I left work?” Or “ I wonder if my feet smell? Oh, the person next to me is really wobbly in this tree pose!” – my mind works overtime. All the time!
And tonight, not only my usually un-quiet mind was my enemy, but everything else around me, it seemed! The Universe listened, for once, and threw everything it could think of my way!
I could not get out of my head the idea that the teacher was wearing not only socks, but SHOES too in the class! My favorite teacher, somewhat of my “guru”, because I would do everything that man tells me, even if it were jumping in active lava, always taught us that we do NOT bring shoes in the classroom; we do not allow “unsacred” things to invade the sacred of the room! This instructor had ugly, big, rubber shoes on, stepping on the sacred ground, and on MY mat!!! What a sacrilege!! But I had to get over it. “Stay focus on ME”, I told myself, “and the NOW. Don’t judge it. Just be it”.
Then, she gave me yet another blanket that was wet with sweat and smelled too … Again, I could not focus on my shoulder stand, but on the smell… Again, I drew closer to the NOW and the core of my chakra stem, and blocked away the thought …
And then she came with a different style, too. I like for teachers to tell me what’s next and let my pace do the pose in its own speed. No, she wanted us hanging in the pose, and when we least expected it she’d move us to the next stage. Again, what she wanted was our mind to let go. To be in the now. To listen to it, and follow it. Absorb it, like a sponge does water, and then … let it squeeze the benefits out! She read my mind, somehow, it seemed!! She was the enemy! Or was she my friend? Hhmm…
And there is nothing like a very well-lead Savasana (relaxation pose) that’s disturbed by the noise of the Miller truck pulling in and the sound of the beer crates dragged across the parking lot right outside your window. At that point, I wanted to laugh, it was so helpless … But I didn’t. Following my “intent”, like every lost ship does a beacon, I enjoyed every single muscle and pore being relaxed and melting away in the ground beneath me! All the meetings of the day, and the tense shoulders, and the anchored toes – all melted and were released away in yet another week of life.
With all those challenges, I came out centered. I walked straighter. I drove better, I yielded more, and I can guarantee you my Tree pose would not have been wobbly!
Try it sometime: give yourself as a puzzle to the Universe and watch It solving you! It works! You have ALL the answers within you, but you’re too busy “living” (actually not caring, getting lost in futile, irrelevant, unimportant, superfluous little things) to acknowledge they’re there. But give yourself “intent” and enough room to “listen” and you’ll hear it. Just like “the Alchemist”, you’ll find that the only travel you’ll have to do is down deep; that your treasure is home!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Life
Note: this is long past due…
I have been overwhelmed with joy and life-stricken , ever since I heard the news that my baby sister is pregnant! I have not mentioned anything because, like everyone else, I am superstitious… And they have to make it to the second, third trimester before we can talk openly about “this”… It’s the rule of Today… But I have felt exhilarated and so outrageously happy ever since I heard the news… I just could not scream it out loud…
I am now…
Every piece of news, every photo that she sends me of a new ultrasound, everything… just gives me tickles and “warm fuzzies” (thank you, Ms. T!!) inside…
This is another life in our family, just now being conceived. Another entity… another being… He will come from two very strong personalities, and even stronger genes . He will come with his own schedule, and way of cooking the potatoes, and way he likes his eggs. Cats or dogs? Vanilla or chocolate? Will he be afraid of heights like his dad, or a daredevil like his mom? Thick lips or thin?
He is a personality now (you can tell by the way he blinks fast and the way he frowns in the movies), as I see the pictures and I can make out his habits already and his features. Amazing what they can do with pictures before the baby’s born nowadays …
I feel like he is part of me, although, of course he is not – just because he’s part of my baby sis! She and I have been for years now One. We have shared more than soul mates, mothers-and-daughters and more than twins share. I have loved her as my own ever since I can remember… And now, she’s the bearer of this wonderful gift of life…
I read sometimes about rivalry amongst sisters, that she got pregnant and I am not even dating anyone … But these feelings/ attitude are strange to me. I feel just one with her, just witness at this miracle called life. THIS is not a competition. This is her gift to herself and to the world and to our families, and I am just glad to be witness to it.
I can never, ever, ever, get the rivalry thing figured out. I stopped competing with her when I was probably in first grade. I have always known that she will be the “mother” of the two of us, and I will be the “helper”, the watchful servant of her. I am the Godmother, of this first wonderful miracle and that is … just such an honor! I am breathless!
I would like to hug them, she and baby, every day, at the end of the day, and tell them “I Love You”, every second! I would love to have to almighty power to protect them from any harm!
I have got to be feeling the same love, happiness and fulfillment that the tree in the spring feels when it nourishes new branches full of blooms! I am speechless, breathless and ecstatic!
Every picture I see, every 3D movie, every … image … makes me want to scream with the joy of happiness and hope. No envy, no jealousy whatsoever. Just joy of being a witness! And privilege of being so close.
There IS life, after all… and it shall perpetuate. And even if some of us came barren, or sick, or unwilling, or…otherwise … we CAN still see the miracle of life blooming in our bloodstream!
It’s so beautiful. And so sacred. And I wish she were closer. And him too!
His first pictures in the womb lead me to believe he looks like his dad… Now, I am more inclined to say he takes after her … but until I see him “out”… I remain breathless. And happy.
I have been overwhelmed with joy and life-stricken , ever since I heard the news that my baby sister is pregnant! I have not mentioned anything because, like everyone else, I am superstitious… And they have to make it to the second, third trimester before we can talk openly about “this”… It’s the rule of Today… But I have felt exhilarated and so outrageously happy ever since I heard the news… I just could not scream it out loud…
I am now…
Every piece of news, every photo that she sends me of a new ultrasound, everything… just gives me tickles and “warm fuzzies” (thank you, Ms. T!!) inside…
This is another life in our family, just now being conceived. Another entity… another being… He will come from two very strong personalities, and even stronger genes . He will come with his own schedule, and way of cooking the potatoes, and way he likes his eggs. Cats or dogs? Vanilla or chocolate? Will he be afraid of heights like his dad, or a daredevil like his mom? Thick lips or thin?
He is a personality now (you can tell by the way he blinks fast and the way he frowns in the movies), as I see the pictures and I can make out his habits already and his features. Amazing what they can do with pictures before the baby’s born nowadays …
I feel like he is part of me, although, of course he is not – just because he’s part of my baby sis! She and I have been for years now One. We have shared more than soul mates, mothers-and-daughters and more than twins share. I have loved her as my own ever since I can remember… And now, she’s the bearer of this wonderful gift of life…
I read sometimes about rivalry amongst sisters, that she got pregnant and I am not even dating anyone … But these feelings/ attitude are strange to me. I feel just one with her, just witness at this miracle called life. THIS is not a competition. This is her gift to herself and to the world and to our families, and I am just glad to be witness to it.
I can never, ever, ever, get the rivalry thing figured out. I stopped competing with her when I was probably in first grade. I have always known that she will be the “mother” of the two of us, and I will be the “helper”, the watchful servant of her. I am the Godmother, of this first wonderful miracle and that is … just such an honor! I am breathless!
I would like to hug them, she and baby, every day, at the end of the day, and tell them “I Love You”, every second! I would love to have to almighty power to protect them from any harm!
I have got to be feeling the same love, happiness and fulfillment that the tree in the spring feels when it nourishes new branches full of blooms! I am speechless, breathless and ecstatic!
Every picture I see, every 3D movie, every … image … makes me want to scream with the joy of happiness and hope. No envy, no jealousy whatsoever. Just joy of being a witness! And privilege of being so close.
There IS life, after all… and it shall perpetuate. And even if some of us came barren, or sick, or unwilling, or…otherwise … we CAN still see the miracle of life blooming in our bloodstream!
It’s so beautiful. And so sacred. And I wish she were closer. And him too!
His first pictures in the womb lead me to believe he looks like his dad… Now, I am more inclined to say he takes after her … but until I see him “out”… I remain breathless. And happy.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
New Year’s Resolutions
To J.C.
"Come back to square one, just the minimum bare bones. Relaxing with the present moment, relaxing with hopelessness, relaxing with death, not resisting the fact that things end, that things pass, that things have no lasting substance, that everything is changing all the time - that is the basic message". (Pema Chodron)
· I will eat more greens and less meat.
· I will listen to more music and watch less TV.
· I will tell mom and dad I miss them more and I love them most.
· I will make an effort to touch the cats, and snuggle, even if I come home with a splitting headache and no willingness to touch anything other than a bottle of Excedrin.
· I will eat less pills and I will do the bridge pose more, to cure migraines.
· I will use my furniture more. I have two comfy chairs that I never sit in. I will sit in my chairs more. Give them attention.
· I will spend more on others and less on me.
· I will be open minded. “Crazy” is such a simple classification. “Crazy” should be so complex and so thought-through. “Crazy” should never be used as an easy dismissal!
· I will pay more attention to words. They can cure … and they can hurt … and they can kill!
· I will label less. Actually, I’ll throw away the label maker!
· I will be mindful of my presence, here, on Earth.
· I will make an effort not to leave marks, unless they’re of love and whispers.
· I will really smell the roses and hydrangeas in my garden, not just acknowledge their color.
· I will kiss Gypsy more and pop his tail less.
· I will hug more.
· I will kiss less fast.
· I will “make” more and “buy” less.
· I will write more and speak less.
· I will speak less and listen more.
· I will teach myself patience, one teardrop and one sweat bead at a time!
· I will open my heart, like you open a vein, into the running water: free, and hopeless. Completely flowing and exposed, oblivious of the consequences!
· I will let my heart bleed to the world and learn freedom!
· I will read more.
· I will make my nails more often. They make me smile and make me feel pretty and clean.
· I will touch my toes more.
· I will welcome life and love in my life.
· I will start the days with a smile and not a frown.
· Like a beautiful willow tree, I will be lonely in the field, with my head bowed humbly at the sky, and thanking Mother Earth for having me …
· And people will see me from afar and will come visit my strength and beauty.
· But I will be OK. Alone. And just letting the wind comb my wild and unruly branches.
· I will seek freedom and allow it on others, too, as much as I can help it.
· I will be the door that opens. Never the one that closed.
· I will learn more and forget less.
· I will use my crock-pot more and my microwave less.
· I will heat up more tea, and open less wine.
· I will eat more honey and less preserves.
· I will kill fewer chickens, and grow more lovage!
· I will stubbornly live.
· I am stubbornly starting.
· I will have no regrets!
“The sound of the stream, after all, is without present, without past.” (Ching An)
"Come back to square one, just the minimum bare bones. Relaxing with the present moment, relaxing with hopelessness, relaxing with death, not resisting the fact that things end, that things pass, that things have no lasting substance, that everything is changing all the time - that is the basic message". (Pema Chodron)
· I will eat more greens and less meat.
· I will listen to more music and watch less TV.
· I will tell mom and dad I miss them more and I love them most.
· I will make an effort to touch the cats, and snuggle, even if I come home with a splitting headache and no willingness to touch anything other than a bottle of Excedrin.
· I will eat less pills and I will do the bridge pose more, to cure migraines.
· I will use my furniture more. I have two comfy chairs that I never sit in. I will sit in my chairs more. Give them attention.
· I will spend more on others and less on me.
· I will be open minded. “Crazy” is such a simple classification. “Crazy” should be so complex and so thought-through. “Crazy” should never be used as an easy dismissal!
· I will pay more attention to words. They can cure … and they can hurt … and they can kill!
· I will label less. Actually, I’ll throw away the label maker!
· I will be mindful of my presence, here, on Earth.
· I will make an effort not to leave marks, unless they’re of love and whispers.
· I will really smell the roses and hydrangeas in my garden, not just acknowledge their color.
· I will kiss Gypsy more and pop his tail less.
· I will hug more.
· I will kiss less fast.
· I will “make” more and “buy” less.
· I will write more and speak less.
· I will speak less and listen more.
· I will teach myself patience, one teardrop and one sweat bead at a time!
· I will open my heart, like you open a vein, into the running water: free, and hopeless. Completely flowing and exposed, oblivious of the consequences!
· I will let my heart bleed to the world and learn freedom!
· I will read more.
· I will make my nails more often. They make me smile and make me feel pretty and clean.
· I will touch my toes more.
· I will welcome life and love in my life.
· I will start the days with a smile and not a frown.
· Like a beautiful willow tree, I will be lonely in the field, with my head bowed humbly at the sky, and thanking Mother Earth for having me …
· And people will see me from afar and will come visit my strength and beauty.
· But I will be OK. Alone. And just letting the wind comb my wild and unruly branches.
· I will seek freedom and allow it on others, too, as much as I can help it.
· I will be the door that opens. Never the one that closed.
· I will learn more and forget less.
· I will use my crock-pot more and my microwave less.
· I will heat up more tea, and open less wine.
· I will eat more honey and less preserves.
· I will kill fewer chickens, and grow more lovage!
· I will stubbornly live.
· I am stubbornly starting.
· I will have no regrets!
“The sound of the stream, after all, is without present, without past.” (Ching An)
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
"La vie en rose"
It takes roughly 6 hours to get from Greensboro to Montreal.
Loaded up with ALL my winter attire, and I really do mean ALL of it, every thick sweater I own, I spent Christmas in Montreal this year. The thing was: Montreal was quite warm. And that was not the only pleasant surprise on this trip…
Although this time I was planning to just see family and stay in and get a serious case of the cabin fever, I reluctantly accepted the invitation to go out, after 4-5 days of heavy Romanian cooking and eating, of too much sausages and “sarmale”…
There is something about the city that makes me feel like I am in Europe. Before I went to Canada the first time in 2006 I thought I would feel more like being somewhere in YankeeLand, America. Not so! I felt more like in Northern Germany, or Holland. My sister always says she feels more like in Northern France, but I have never been, so …
The city has an Old World feel and safety about it that’s unusual in a metropolis, to me. Yes, there are times of the day and spots even in New York City where I feel borderline “safe”, but not many!
In Montreal, I feel like in my own back yard, with nothing to fear, no danger awaiting. There is a peace in the hustle and bustle of the city that’s hard to describe. Easier to grasp though. There is a slower pace and a friendlier attitude of the French, I guess, that are reassuring and inviting. And I think the French is what makes the city feel and look “non American” to me. Not much to annoy the Americans who expect to hear English; but enough of it, where it makes it feel you’re abroad.
In just the couple of days of sightseeing that I set aside on this trip, I still managed to entertain the eye, and the palate with some of the bazillion things Montreal has to offer. That’s the thing about a big city: you never run out of things to do and see, I guess… The trouble there is: what to do with such a variety and so little time?? But I usually like little portions of time on my hands: gives me no hour to waste! And I love the concentration of those little chunks of time. It’s what stays with me.
One day, we went shopping in the Underground City on Rue Saint Catherine. I hope I got the street right here, but I know I got the place. It’s this huge honest-to-God Shopping City, built indoors, mostly under the street level, but also above, but all indoors. I hate shopping, but I love shopping with my sister, because she loves it so much! She’s like a professional shopper. She wastes no time. She’ll make a list of what you need, and then take you there. Like the project manager of shoppers, she has all planned out and timed!
One thing that stuck with me on this tour was the $1 lockers they have. It’s Montreal, or as my sister says, “The North Pole”, so everyone wears thick, heavy clothes : well, “for your shopping convenience” they have these lockers you drop a coin in and then you lock your baggage and your coats in. So convenient!
I was also fascinated mostly by all the various cultures cuisines in the Underground. Anything from Lebanese to Serbian and Japanese seemed to be represented, as in a Babel Tower of goodies. My sister had to have a shawarma – her favorite sandwich since forever, and I just gawked at all the sushi fast food counters, because as much as I love sushi, and as beautiful as everything looked, I was saving myself for a “flamm” at Les Trois Brasseurs later. No, it’s not a pizza. It’s better than a pizza! The menu looks like a newspaper, and working for a paper here, I can appreciate that; it’s even called “La Gazette” and along with their own beers it features these very thin and loaded with flavor “flamms” which are like pizzas, only better. Maybe more like flat breads?!
Another day, we went to the Beaux Arts Museum. I have not been to a museum probably since college (don’t ask: that’s a LONG time ago!). There, I saw for the first time ever original works by Dali, Picasso, Warhol and Rodin, amongst soooo many others. I am never a museum fan, typically, but I’ll have to say, if it comes in small portions and at long intervals of time, it can be very relaxing and mind opening. With the risk of stereotyping, if America is all about movies and amusement parks, Europe is about museums. Anyone I know goes to Paris, and Madrid, Russia and Rome for the art! The museums. Reconnecting with the way I grew up, as a perpetual student, was good too, this way … Refreshing. Rejuvenating. I don’t do spas, so, this was my spa treatment. For the spirit – which I’ll have to tell you, I worry more about than my skin!
Some pictures I took there were because of the viewpoint of the art, or the materials, some others were for their fame. They were all taken because they opened my vision and they all provided food for thought. They were never “dry” … They fed me! In many ways! Creative, spiritual, visceral. Check out the gift shop when you’re there. It’s not cheesy! At all!!
Another stop was the lounge bar at Suite 701 on Cote Place D’Armes for an appetizer and wine dinner . Very subdued, hip but classy, modern décor, model-like handsome wait staff, and THE best cheese plates I have ever seen! You felt like in The Iron Chef contest, and you were given the opportunity to sample and judge! The judging would have been easiest: all the plates would have won! The presentation of the dishes was outstanding, but they definitely passed the tasting challenge too. True feast for many senses.
The seafood plate was oozing with sea smells and full of flavor, once you tasted it! The best smoked salmon I have had in a long while, and the best oysters! And what a presentation! The fries came like in Europe, of course, with mayo on the side. Yum!
Once outside, in the surprisingly warm Montreal, we soaked up in winter decor and snow, like we were walking in a fairy tale.
It was such a nice break from the routine. And like my French teacher said in school: she used to go to Paris once every two years. She didn’t have much cash, but she said she needed to see Paris every two years, “to feed herself with beauty for another 2 years, and then her routine life became more bearable” … Now, I see where she was coming from!
Note: Enjoy Montreal Pics Here.
Loaded up with ALL my winter attire, and I really do mean ALL of it, every thick sweater I own, I spent Christmas in Montreal this year. The thing was: Montreal was quite warm. And that was not the only pleasant surprise on this trip…
Although this time I was planning to just see family and stay in and get a serious case of the cabin fever, I reluctantly accepted the invitation to go out, after 4-5 days of heavy Romanian cooking and eating, of too much sausages and “sarmale”…
There is something about the city that makes me feel like I am in Europe. Before I went to Canada the first time in 2006 I thought I would feel more like being somewhere in YankeeLand, America. Not so! I felt more like in Northern Germany, or Holland. My sister always says she feels more like in Northern France, but I have never been, so …
The city has an Old World feel and safety about it that’s unusual in a metropolis, to me. Yes, there are times of the day and spots even in New York City where I feel borderline “safe”, but not many!
In Montreal, I feel like in my own back yard, with nothing to fear, no danger awaiting. There is a peace in the hustle and bustle of the city that’s hard to describe. Easier to grasp though. There is a slower pace and a friendlier attitude of the French, I guess, that are reassuring and inviting. And I think the French is what makes the city feel and look “non American” to me. Not much to annoy the Americans who expect to hear English; but enough of it, where it makes it feel you’re abroad.
In just the couple of days of sightseeing that I set aside on this trip, I still managed to entertain the eye, and the palate with some of the bazillion things Montreal has to offer. That’s the thing about a big city: you never run out of things to do and see, I guess… The trouble there is: what to do with such a variety and so little time?? But I usually like little portions of time on my hands: gives me no hour to waste! And I love the concentration of those little chunks of time. It’s what stays with me.
One day, we went shopping in the Underground City on Rue Saint Catherine. I hope I got the street right here, but I know I got the place. It’s this huge honest-to-God Shopping City, built indoors, mostly under the street level, but also above, but all indoors. I hate shopping, but I love shopping with my sister, because she loves it so much! She’s like a professional shopper. She wastes no time. She’ll make a list of what you need, and then take you there. Like the project manager of shoppers, she has all planned out and timed!
One thing that stuck with me on this tour was the $1 lockers they have. It’s Montreal, or as my sister says, “The North Pole”, so everyone wears thick, heavy clothes : well, “for your shopping convenience” they have these lockers you drop a coin in and then you lock your baggage and your coats in. So convenient!
I was also fascinated mostly by all the various cultures cuisines in the Underground. Anything from Lebanese to Serbian and Japanese seemed to be represented, as in a Babel Tower of goodies. My sister had to have a shawarma – her favorite sandwich since forever, and I just gawked at all the sushi fast food counters, because as much as I love sushi, and as beautiful as everything looked, I was saving myself for a “flamm” at Les Trois Brasseurs later. No, it’s not a pizza. It’s better than a pizza! The menu looks like a newspaper, and working for a paper here, I can appreciate that; it’s even called “La Gazette” and along with their own beers it features these very thin and loaded with flavor “flamms” which are like pizzas, only better. Maybe more like flat breads?!
Another day, we went to the Beaux Arts Museum. I have not been to a museum probably since college (don’t ask: that’s a LONG time ago!). There, I saw for the first time ever original works by Dali, Picasso, Warhol and Rodin, amongst soooo many others. I am never a museum fan, typically, but I’ll have to say, if it comes in small portions and at long intervals of time, it can be very relaxing and mind opening. With the risk of stereotyping, if America is all about movies and amusement parks, Europe is about museums. Anyone I know goes to Paris, and Madrid, Russia and Rome for the art! The museums. Reconnecting with the way I grew up, as a perpetual student, was good too, this way … Refreshing. Rejuvenating. I don’t do spas, so, this was my spa treatment. For the spirit – which I’ll have to tell you, I worry more about than my skin!
Some pictures I took there were because of the viewpoint of the art, or the materials, some others were for their fame. They were all taken because they opened my vision and they all provided food for thought. They were never “dry” … They fed me! In many ways! Creative, spiritual, visceral. Check out the gift shop when you’re there. It’s not cheesy! At all!!
Another stop was the lounge bar at Suite 701 on Cote Place D’Armes for an appetizer and wine dinner . Very subdued, hip but classy, modern décor, model-like handsome wait staff, and THE best cheese plates I have ever seen! You felt like in The Iron Chef contest, and you were given the opportunity to sample and judge! The judging would have been easiest: all the plates would have won! The presentation of the dishes was outstanding, but they definitely passed the tasting challenge too. True feast for many senses.
The seafood plate was oozing with sea smells and full of flavor, once you tasted it! The best smoked salmon I have had in a long while, and the best oysters! And what a presentation! The fries came like in Europe, of course, with mayo on the side. Yum!
Once outside, in the surprisingly warm Montreal, we soaked up in winter decor and snow, like we were walking in a fairy tale.
It was such a nice break from the routine. And like my French teacher said in school: she used to go to Paris once every two years. She didn’t have much cash, but she said she needed to see Paris every two years, “to feed herself with beauty for another 2 years, and then her routine life became more bearable” … Now, I see where she was coming from!
Note: Enjoy Montreal Pics Here.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Layoffs, Buyouts and Other American ... Opportunities
What To Think? – you ask …
It was just announced sometimes last night that Landmark Communications, our parent company, is about to have us sold. The news traveled from mouth to mouth, from computer screen to computer screen like wild fire.
Eyes were bulged, people were numb; some were even crying. They’re all sad and disapproving. I think they’re all mad at the institution one more time (like they were after the June layoffs) and at the leaders. They’re frustrated that they feel lied to, and cheated one more time by “the bottom line”. They are mad that they had to find out from another paper’s front page, or from the website.
I guess I am one of the “numb” ones. I am not even vehemently or otherwise disapproving.
There are a lot of speculations and that’s all they are, at this point in my book. A lot of folks are talking about "remember when such and such got bought and fired everyone", or "I was at Cone when we got bought out" or "I was at Sealy and usually what happens is: they push out everything here and implement everything they have; they might not even have Windows, they might work in some other system"... “the big wigs fall off first, then us, the ‘little people’ “… blah blah blah... We were around the table for an hour this morning, our team, making “if” statements like those. Staring into the void of the room. Thinking out loud. The point, please?!
Who’s going to buy us, the papers (meaning "me"), asks my friend who works for The Weather Channel, another Landmark property (granted, with better odds for a more advantageous sale than us, papers, who are losing money right now)?! “McClatchy ?? MAYBE Cox?? What if it's Media General??” – well, yeah: that’s it for now: ANYONE in the business can buy us at this point in time … or we can fold. Story of the market economy, I think. Story of any economy trying to stay strong and healthy and doing what they think it’s best. I am not wasting my energy on this… Yet!
I for one, of course, am interested in what happens to my future and to my career; I have invested more than 7 years in this, so it’s not indifferent to me what happens next. But I think for now, for me, it’s time to keep eyes and ears open and wait. And what I want or would like might happen or might not. I think it’ll take time and we’ll have options either way. And then, when we have real, touchable, palpable options, I will weigh and I will pick one. For me, this is nothing more than a learning experience.
My heart goes out to people who are either in key positions or who have invested 20+ years in this! To people with families and especially special needs (kids, old people to take care of, sick folks, etc). It is disheartening to see those who have made a life out of this, here, at the Paper and to see their empty stares looking at a blurry future – I will say that. I wish everyone luck and wonderful choices ahead!
Till then, I am reading the news. With no opinion. Unbiased, like a true media person should be, right?! Smiling. I don’t believe that myself.
I am just learning about democracy and a market economy still. And this is one of those opportunities. I come from a place where people go to college, find a job and retire from that job 30 years later. So, this is all new to me. But very expected. I don’t hate the leaders, I don’t hate whatever decision they’re going to make. In any kind of “household” there comes a time to remodel, move out, cut bills or just plain start all over. So, I am trying to understand which is it this time.
Still numb.
It was just announced sometimes last night that Landmark Communications, our parent company, is about to have us sold. The news traveled from mouth to mouth, from computer screen to computer screen like wild fire.
Eyes were bulged, people were numb; some were even crying. They’re all sad and disapproving. I think they’re all mad at the institution one more time (like they were after the June layoffs) and at the leaders. They’re frustrated that they feel lied to, and cheated one more time by “the bottom line”. They are mad that they had to find out from another paper’s front page, or from the website.
I guess I am one of the “numb” ones. I am not even vehemently or otherwise disapproving.
There are a lot of speculations and that’s all they are, at this point in my book. A lot of folks are talking about "remember when such and such got bought and fired everyone", or "I was at Cone when we got bought out" or "I was at Sealy and usually what happens is: they push out everything here and implement everything they have; they might not even have Windows, they might work in some other system"... “the big wigs fall off first, then us, the ‘little people’ “… blah blah blah... We were around the table for an hour this morning, our team, making “if” statements like those. Staring into the void of the room. Thinking out loud. The point, please?!
Who’s going to buy us, the papers (meaning "me"), asks my friend who works for The Weather Channel, another Landmark property (granted, with better odds for a more advantageous sale than us, papers, who are losing money right now)?! “McClatchy ?? MAYBE Cox?? What if it's Media General??” – well, yeah: that’s it for now: ANYONE in the business can buy us at this point in time … or we can fold. Story of the market economy, I think. Story of any economy trying to stay strong and healthy and doing what they think it’s best. I am not wasting my energy on this… Yet!
I for one, of course, am interested in what happens to my future and to my career; I have invested more than 7 years in this, so it’s not indifferent to me what happens next. But I think for now, for me, it’s time to keep eyes and ears open and wait. And what I want or would like might happen or might not. I think it’ll take time and we’ll have options either way. And then, when we have real, touchable, palpable options, I will weigh and I will pick one. For me, this is nothing more than a learning experience.
My heart goes out to people who are either in key positions or who have invested 20+ years in this! To people with families and especially special needs (kids, old people to take care of, sick folks, etc). It is disheartening to see those who have made a life out of this, here, at the Paper and to see their empty stares looking at a blurry future – I will say that. I wish everyone luck and wonderful choices ahead!
Till then, I am reading the news. With no opinion. Unbiased, like a true media person should be, right?! Smiling. I don’t believe that myself.
I am just learning about democracy and a market economy still. And this is one of those opportunities. I come from a place where people go to college, find a job and retire from that job 30 years later. So, this is all new to me. But very expected. I don’t hate the leaders, I don’t hate whatever decision they’re going to make. In any kind of “household” there comes a time to remodel, move out, cut bills or just plain start all over. So, I am trying to understand which is it this time.
Still numb.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
A Resurrection
I am one of those blue cheese haters (and no, "hate" is not too strong of a word here!). Yep. When the wings are coming, I am one of the wimps that says “Extra ranch, please!”. I hate everything about blue cheese: the looks, the smell, the taste, I am officially a blue cheese hater.
I am a pumpkin-anything hater too, but while I think anything pumpkin needs to be fed to pigs, not humans, I find no purpose at all for blue cheese. If I’d find it in my fridge, I’d probably chuck it, considering it spoiled food! To me, it tastes like good cheese that’s been soaked in water along with some sweaty, dirty, smelly, man-socks for days!!! It’s foul and evil!
Or I thought so, till the other night, when I decided to give it a chance! It was a big step! Trust me. HUGE step. Like moving to the States from a Third World country big step!! Like deciding overnight you want to give it all up to move in a tree and live there forever like a monkey. Huge. The dish I ordered came on a bed of “blue cheese coleslaw” – very plainly stated in English on the menu. No surprises. And I said, what the heck… And let me, the blue cheese hater, tell you: when you know what you’re doing in the kitchen and you know how to mix tastes and textures, you can send your customers straight to Heaven!
If you ever go to Revival Grill, please order the crispy, fried oysters!!! Oh, boy, is that heaven or what, to utter “the” understatement of the year?! It is a feast for all senses!
It’s fried oysters served with a garlic and chili red transparent sauce, on a bed of green and red cabbage slaw, mixed with chunks of blue cheese and roasted, sweet-glazed walnuts!
The textures of soft oyster, liquid garlic and chilies, crispy cabbage, even crispier walnuts, and semi-soft chunks of cheese, and the combination of all tastes: sweet, and hot, and bitter, and woodsy, and garlic-y, and sea-y make you think you died and ended up on the shores of France or some other Mediterranean culinary Eden. Just like a great orchestra, every ingredient was a standalone talented player, which also made for a great-sounding, in this case tasting, whole.
Did I mention the colors?! The subdued shades of green of the cabbage, along with the purple of red cabbage (that’s funny: “purple red cabbage”… ), the light brown of the oysters, the white of the cheese and brown of the walnuts, almost floating in this bright red, transparent sauce – it’s a beautiful food, too!
Yes, you still taste the blue cheese – very much so, but to me, it was not repugnant this time! It was the perfect complement to everything else on the plate! And I will say: the blue cheese was needed there, for the whole taste to come together. It was definitely not dispensable!
Makes my mouth water as I think of it. Should I think of myself now as a blue cheese convert?!? Hhhmmm… Probably too soon. I’ll still have my wings with ranch, but I’ll be looking for the next blue cheese mixer favorite. I finally found a redemption for the poor food! And surprisingly enough, it doesn’t involve swine!
I am a pumpkin-anything hater too, but while I think anything pumpkin needs to be fed to pigs, not humans, I find no purpose at all for blue cheese. If I’d find it in my fridge, I’d probably chuck it, considering it spoiled food! To me, it tastes like good cheese that’s been soaked in water along with some sweaty, dirty, smelly, man-socks for days!!! It’s foul and evil!
Or I thought so, till the other night, when I decided to give it a chance! It was a big step! Trust me. HUGE step. Like moving to the States from a Third World country big step!! Like deciding overnight you want to give it all up to move in a tree and live there forever like a monkey. Huge. The dish I ordered came on a bed of “blue cheese coleslaw” – very plainly stated in English on the menu. No surprises. And I said, what the heck… And let me, the blue cheese hater, tell you: when you know what you’re doing in the kitchen and you know how to mix tastes and textures, you can send your customers straight to Heaven!
If you ever go to Revival Grill, please order the crispy, fried oysters!!! Oh, boy, is that heaven or what, to utter “the” understatement of the year?! It is a feast for all senses!
It’s fried oysters served with a garlic and chili red transparent sauce, on a bed of green and red cabbage slaw, mixed with chunks of blue cheese and roasted, sweet-glazed walnuts!
The textures of soft oyster, liquid garlic and chilies, crispy cabbage, even crispier walnuts, and semi-soft chunks of cheese, and the combination of all tastes: sweet, and hot, and bitter, and woodsy, and garlic-y, and sea-y make you think you died and ended up on the shores of France or some other Mediterranean culinary Eden. Just like a great orchestra, every ingredient was a standalone talented player, which also made for a great-sounding, in this case tasting, whole.
Did I mention the colors?! The subdued shades of green of the cabbage, along with the purple of red cabbage (that’s funny: “purple red cabbage”… ), the light brown of the oysters, the white of the cheese and brown of the walnuts, almost floating in this bright red, transparent sauce – it’s a beautiful food, too!
Yes, you still taste the blue cheese – very much so, but to me, it was not repugnant this time! It was the perfect complement to everything else on the plate! And I will say: the blue cheese was needed there, for the whole taste to come together. It was definitely not dispensable!
Makes my mouth water as I think of it. Should I think of myself now as a blue cheese convert?!? Hhhmmm… Probably too soon. I’ll still have my wings with ranch, but I’ll be looking for the next blue cheese mixer favorite. I finally found a redemption for the poor food! And surprisingly enough, it doesn’t involve swine!
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Thoughts on New Year’s Night
Life’s a trip, indeed! The kind that never stops and never stops surprising you, either!
2007 turned out to be weird to its very silly end… The year when a long awaited family gathering 5000 miles away from here fell apart to bickering and pettiness; the year of a beautiful couple’s wedding AND separation a few months later; the year of going in business with dear friends only to be cheated on, lied to, not to mention fallen apart with disappointment; the year of another one night stand, when I swore I am too old for that; the year of a freak happening on the top of the one mile bridge mountain, when the wind locks me out of my car; the year of the long awaited first Christmas in Canada, only to witness a death… Also the year of a new home, and new praise at work, the year of new-found love and respect for people I have taken for granted.
So, last night, when my friend called 15 minutes before our dinner to tell me she can’t show, because she broke out in hives from her makeup and can’t go out, I said to myself: well, THIS is a fine ending to this crazy year: going out on New Years alone. I have been out alone before, but the folklore of the masses in any culture will tell you oh no, you can’t be alone on New Years. Oh, no, it’s bad luck!! Well, I said to myself: what else am I going to do?? I have two options: alone at home with the cats, or alone in a crowd… So, I went for the crowd… I had not dressed up and made up my face to show it to the cats. Nope.
Yes, I felt stared at and pitied when I first walked in and sat at the bar, but just like a new piece of furniture eventually blends in the room’s décor, so I became part of the scene just after the first sip of my Riesling…
There is something thrilling on the night between the years, that I would always want to be part of, I think. People grow smiles out of nothing; even the shiest ones are chatty and even the cold, aloof ones are warm and approachable! Everyone is evidently throwing off the worries of the heavy, old, past year and embracing, it seems, a new life, with new hopes, and new dreams. Of course, we know that tomorrow is just another day we wake up to, with the same lives and people and problems, but this night, between the years, we all get this glimpse of hope in our eyes, and we throw away the worries to the wind, and for just those 10-15 seconds of the countdown, we are worriless, and fearless, and free, and happy. Truly, unbelievably happy!
Every year, I feed off of the smiles, and the light in the eyes of people at midnight on New Years; the tears, the kisses, the hugs. They all seem sincere and whole! For those 10-15 seconds, I think I will always want to see and be around “people”, to renew my jaded energy from an old, tired and “silly” year that passed, and appreciate being human again. It gives me fuel for the new beginning …
It was a smart choice to go out. Food was unbelievable (more on that later); people were friendly and welcoming; music was great. I told my sister I need to go to Romania every 5-6 years for a wedding to REALLY dance, because in the US no one dances… Well, not so on New Years. Old and young, fat and skinny, beautiful and plain were dancing their hearts out. I felt right at home …
I felt right at home, with strangers all around me. I let the crowd swallow me, and the wine warm up my cheeks and the music sway my hips and everything was all right and easy and non-weird again.
I woke up the next day to the same cats, in the same bed as always, but coffee tasted a little sweeter today and my omelet was a tad tastier, I thought. I smile more and I am once again hopeful.
Bring it on, 2008. I am ready!
2007 turned out to be weird to its very silly end… The year when a long awaited family gathering 5000 miles away from here fell apart to bickering and pettiness; the year of a beautiful couple’s wedding AND separation a few months later; the year of going in business with dear friends only to be cheated on, lied to, not to mention fallen apart with disappointment; the year of another one night stand, when I swore I am too old for that; the year of a freak happening on the top of the one mile bridge mountain, when the wind locks me out of my car; the year of the long awaited first Christmas in Canada, only to witness a death… Also the year of a new home, and new praise at work, the year of new-found love and respect for people I have taken for granted.
So, last night, when my friend called 15 minutes before our dinner to tell me she can’t show, because she broke out in hives from her makeup and can’t go out, I said to myself: well, THIS is a fine ending to this crazy year: going out on New Years alone. I have been out alone before, but the folklore of the masses in any culture will tell you oh no, you can’t be alone on New Years. Oh, no, it’s bad luck!! Well, I said to myself: what else am I going to do?? I have two options: alone at home with the cats, or alone in a crowd… So, I went for the crowd… I had not dressed up and made up my face to show it to the cats. Nope.
Yes, I felt stared at and pitied when I first walked in and sat at the bar, but just like a new piece of furniture eventually blends in the room’s décor, so I became part of the scene just after the first sip of my Riesling…
There is something thrilling on the night between the years, that I would always want to be part of, I think. People grow smiles out of nothing; even the shiest ones are chatty and even the cold, aloof ones are warm and approachable! Everyone is evidently throwing off the worries of the heavy, old, past year and embracing, it seems, a new life, with new hopes, and new dreams. Of course, we know that tomorrow is just another day we wake up to, with the same lives and people and problems, but this night, between the years, we all get this glimpse of hope in our eyes, and we throw away the worries to the wind, and for just those 10-15 seconds of the countdown, we are worriless, and fearless, and free, and happy. Truly, unbelievably happy!
Every year, I feed off of the smiles, and the light in the eyes of people at midnight on New Years; the tears, the kisses, the hugs. They all seem sincere and whole! For those 10-15 seconds, I think I will always want to see and be around “people”, to renew my jaded energy from an old, tired and “silly” year that passed, and appreciate being human again. It gives me fuel for the new beginning …
It was a smart choice to go out. Food was unbelievable (more on that later); people were friendly and welcoming; music was great. I told my sister I need to go to Romania every 5-6 years for a wedding to REALLY dance, because in the US no one dances… Well, not so on New Years. Old and young, fat and skinny, beautiful and plain were dancing their hearts out. I felt right at home …
I felt right at home, with strangers all around me. I let the crowd swallow me, and the wine warm up my cheeks and the music sway my hips and everything was all right and easy and non-weird again.
I woke up the next day to the same cats, in the same bed as always, but coffee tasted a little sweeter today and my omelet was a tad tastier, I thought. I smile more and I am once again hopeful.
Bring it on, 2008. I am ready!
Sunday, December 30, 2007
End of Another Year. Or Age.
“God is a concept,
By which we can measure,
Our pain,
I'll say it again,
God is a concept,
By which we can measure,
Our pain… “
(John Lennon - “God”)
So, we’re back at the inevitable end, eh? Well, not “the” same end, but, like a spiral, the end of another year … This year surely kicked my butt in more ways than one… I don’t believe I had ever contemplated death as much as I have this year. Death and birth both. As Bono says: “the two biggest events of our lives that we have absolutely no control over”.
I feel at least 10 years older now that on December 30, 2006. And judging by my gray hair, you would say the same thing too…My sister hates my gray hair. Not because she hates the color. She hates being reminded that time passes and we grow old. I love it, though, and I told her: embrace it! Embrace the wisdom you’ve gained in living! And this year, more than any other, this really holds true for me!
I have been taught so many lessons in loving, living, dying and hope this year that I don’t believe I learned all my 32 years put together…
If I feel anything at the end of 2007, is … tired … Tired but not wasted. Just tired and melancholy. Not bitter, surprisingly enough. Maybe even sweeter and calmer. I have always been the never-ending, absolute control freak … till this year – when I realized God laughs so hard at us control freaks! And He shows us who the boss really is every once in a while, JUST to set us straight!
God is so great. So awesome and unbelievably, overwhelmingly all powerful! – I have found …
I have learned how strong humans can be, and just how much pain one human body can take at one time. And how much morphine really doesn’t help on some wounds. I have learned the strength I can muster when I put my heart and mind into something. I have found the depths of my love and giving are bottomless indeed! And I am grateful I was born that way! I have learned that no one dies on my watch. At least if I can help it!
I have found out that maybe long distance romances can work, if true love and truthfulness are involved. After all, I have fallen in love with my folks all over again as an adult, and I have been 5000 miles away from them for 10 years now. But I still don’t believe in the soul mate stuff.
I have found out how picky I truly am about humans. I love them all, for letting me get to know … humans… but I am indifferent of them all, for my own self-preservation. At least thus far.
I have learned that it takes time but mostly patience and open-minded-ness to make a good friendship and just a fleeting whim and/or moment to break it. I have also learned life’s too short for some people to be worth the bother of making friends! I have also learned I am expendable to others. So much the better: I am glad they beat me to the punch of “breaking up” with them. :-)
I have found new friends, rediscovered old ones I thought lost and lost others. I have no regrets! After all, that’s my religion: to live with no regrets, right?!
I have found new music, new books, new art to enrich my imagination and feed my writing voice and world, in general. I have a new found confidence in my writing voice, for which I thank God every night.
I have found a new home and after cooking a few meals in it and putting up a Christmas tree in it, I really feel that it suits me and it’s my abode! Not some other’s … And I am now eagerly waiting to share it with the world, and with friends and family and a new life, too …
I have found out how much I can really love my kin! And how much I didn’t know about them. How much I took for granted and how many lessons I owe them, in love, and acceptance!
I have really understood the truly deep meaning of this: “Life is what happens when we’re too busy making plans”. So true! And that’s why I got no plans for the new year. Other than to stay open and be ready to soak up LIFE. I was way busy this year, making plans! HHmm… yeah …
I have learned that age is irrelevant in dating. You can be 40 and still in diapers, you can be 27 and have lived your life and be ready to die at Christmas time.
My brother in law taught me to hope and be grateful. Be grateful for love, one another and health. He also taught me he and everyone else is a yin-yang kinda being. We all have bright spots and dark ones, and it all makes up a beautiful, unique whole. And we all should be blinded by the bright spots, and love, and appreciate and value those, and never ever waste time even noticing the dark ones. And for that I will be forever grateful to him.
Some of my friends taught me patience (although I need another 2 decades of work there) and others taught me love. I’ll promise I’ll continue the research religiously on both and will deepen my understanding of the two.
My sister taught me love and the unconditional kind, too…AGAIN! God bless her; she is my true guardian angel! Always taking care of my soul!
A stranger taught me about death on Christmas, when we celebrate the most glorified Births of them all! And he taught me that all is relative, here on Earth! One day, you love, live and build your dreams, and another one, you’re lying cold in the morgue of a foreign country in an unknown hospital, 5000 miles away from home. “The trouble is we think we have time” – we really don’t!!!
Happiness, I found, is what you can find in one day that’s worth not crying sad tears for. The non-pain of every day should be good enough sometimes, if not most. If not all times. And if anything, that’s what I am wishing myself and all for the new year: more happiness, whatever our understanding of it is!
It’s been a sad, gloomy and tense year – if I have to put a label on it. I wish for an easier one, but like birth and death, I feel we have little control over it …I’ve lived enough to know that after terrible lows, we get magnificent highs, and I am hopeful! At the threshold between the years, I am hopeful…
At least now, I know I have the strength to pull through whatever the year might bring…Really?! I don’t even believe that statement…’Cause, trust me, the year can bring a crapload of stuff you’re not ready for!! We’ll see…
And I am happy that I am here, writing this, with heart full of hope…
Happy New Year, all! And thanks!
By which we can measure,
Our pain,
I'll say it again,
God is a concept,
By which we can measure,
Our pain… “
(John Lennon - “God”)
So, we’re back at the inevitable end, eh? Well, not “the” same end, but, like a spiral, the end of another year … This year surely kicked my butt in more ways than one… I don’t believe I had ever contemplated death as much as I have this year. Death and birth both. As Bono says: “the two biggest events of our lives that we have absolutely no control over”.
I feel at least 10 years older now that on December 30, 2006. And judging by my gray hair, you would say the same thing too…My sister hates my gray hair. Not because she hates the color. She hates being reminded that time passes and we grow old. I love it, though, and I told her: embrace it! Embrace the wisdom you’ve gained in living! And this year, more than any other, this really holds true for me!
I have been taught so many lessons in loving, living, dying and hope this year that I don’t believe I learned all my 32 years put together…
If I feel anything at the end of 2007, is … tired … Tired but not wasted. Just tired and melancholy. Not bitter, surprisingly enough. Maybe even sweeter and calmer. I have always been the never-ending, absolute control freak … till this year – when I realized God laughs so hard at us control freaks! And He shows us who the boss really is every once in a while, JUST to set us straight!
God is so great. So awesome and unbelievably, overwhelmingly all powerful! – I have found …
I have learned how strong humans can be, and just how much pain one human body can take at one time. And how much morphine really doesn’t help on some wounds. I have learned the strength I can muster when I put my heart and mind into something. I have found the depths of my love and giving are bottomless indeed! And I am grateful I was born that way! I have learned that no one dies on my watch. At least if I can help it!
I have found out that maybe long distance romances can work, if true love and truthfulness are involved. After all, I have fallen in love with my folks all over again as an adult, and I have been 5000 miles away from them for 10 years now. But I still don’t believe in the soul mate stuff.
I have found out how picky I truly am about humans. I love them all, for letting me get to know … humans… but I am indifferent of them all, for my own self-preservation. At least thus far.
I have learned that it takes time but mostly patience and open-minded-ness to make a good friendship and just a fleeting whim and/or moment to break it. I have also learned life’s too short for some people to be worth the bother of making friends! I have also learned I am expendable to others. So much the better: I am glad they beat me to the punch of “breaking up” with them. :-)
I have found new friends, rediscovered old ones I thought lost and lost others. I have no regrets! After all, that’s my religion: to live with no regrets, right?!
I have found new music, new books, new art to enrich my imagination and feed my writing voice and world, in general. I have a new found confidence in my writing voice, for which I thank God every night.
I have found a new home and after cooking a few meals in it and putting up a Christmas tree in it, I really feel that it suits me and it’s my abode! Not some other’s … And I am now eagerly waiting to share it with the world, and with friends and family and a new life, too …
I have found out how much I can really love my kin! And how much I didn’t know about them. How much I took for granted and how many lessons I owe them, in love, and acceptance!
I have really understood the truly deep meaning of this: “Life is what happens when we’re too busy making plans”. So true! And that’s why I got no plans for the new year. Other than to stay open and be ready to soak up LIFE. I was way busy this year, making plans! HHmm… yeah …
I have learned that age is irrelevant in dating. You can be 40 and still in diapers, you can be 27 and have lived your life and be ready to die at Christmas time.
My brother in law taught me to hope and be grateful. Be grateful for love, one another and health. He also taught me he and everyone else is a yin-yang kinda being. We all have bright spots and dark ones, and it all makes up a beautiful, unique whole. And we all should be blinded by the bright spots, and love, and appreciate and value those, and never ever waste time even noticing the dark ones. And for that I will be forever grateful to him.
Some of my friends taught me patience (although I need another 2 decades of work there) and others taught me love. I’ll promise I’ll continue the research religiously on both and will deepen my understanding of the two.
My sister taught me love and the unconditional kind, too…AGAIN! God bless her; she is my true guardian angel! Always taking care of my soul!
A stranger taught me about death on Christmas, when we celebrate the most glorified Births of them all! And he taught me that all is relative, here on Earth! One day, you love, live and build your dreams, and another one, you’re lying cold in the morgue of a foreign country in an unknown hospital, 5000 miles away from home. “The trouble is we think we have time” – we really don’t!!!
Happiness, I found, is what you can find in one day that’s worth not crying sad tears for. The non-pain of every day should be good enough sometimes, if not most. If not all times. And if anything, that’s what I am wishing myself and all for the new year: more happiness, whatever our understanding of it is!
It’s been a sad, gloomy and tense year – if I have to put a label on it. I wish for an easier one, but like birth and death, I feel we have little control over it …I’ve lived enough to know that after terrible lows, we get magnificent highs, and I am hopeful! At the threshold between the years, I am hopeful…
At least now, I know I have the strength to pull through whatever the year might bring…Really?! I don’t even believe that statement…’Cause, trust me, the year can bring a crapload of stuff you’re not ready for!! We’ll see…
And I am happy that I am here, writing this, with heart full of hope…
Happy New Year, all! And thanks!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
A Family for Christmas
This year, I am spending this wonderful time of year with her in her "grown-up" home for the first time ...
We cooked all our family holiday foods together for days on end, we bickered about who dad or mom loved best (I am sure they both loved us immensely just the same), and because she is 4 months pregnant, we fought over how a child should be raised. At the end of the day, we go to bed together, and we re-live our childhood when we shared the same bed till I was 21. We kiss each other good night and I always have a “good night” thought to give her before I hug her into her deep sleep.
It's a magical time indeed. I feel SO loved, so safe, so ... calm and peaceful. I can speak dirty, and bare my soul in front of this one person, I can be clumsy, and unguarded, and I can always guarantee you she will smile and kiss me and love me whole, the way I love her, with no restrictions... There is so much I am sure I take for granted, but THIS, this love and acceptance, I will make sure I won't ...
She's always been my “baby” sister in the true sense of that word, and every bit as helpless, quirky, unguided and just … basically, lost ... But now, pregnant, and overwhelmed by Christmas preparations, she is ten times as helpless and overwhelmed... And I am 10 times more in love with her! She is cute and ten times as small ... It's such a treat. Such a love feeling... Coming in at the most perfect time!
I have found peace and family once again and this is no small gift! I am trying to give and not to take much. I am trying to help without being in the way. I am trying to re-create "home" for both of us, away from the family we both miss, the language, the home, the “true” foods … And we both somehow managed to re-create that lost universe we left back years ago, in the black depth of
All we’re missing is a couple of kick-a$$ parents who drive us nuts and a small, furry Dolly cat to purr in our ear at night … But we both have big hearts and they all live in there – always … Merry Christmas, all. And rest assured: love truly lives in the hearts. No mater how many continents or years they travel, it’s always there. Untouched.
For pictures of Canada weather and love, click here...
Monday, December 24, 2007
Random Airport Thoughts
Note: ... and I really do mean "random"... so, don't look for coherence here ... (much)
- 6:23 AM - Greensboro Airport, December 22. Going to Montreal...My baby sister's pregnant with her first one: almost 4 months... Excited and numb. Growing old's no fun ...
- Still very sleepy, since I went to bed at 12.30 last night ... Missing my cats, but excited about the trip. Hope it won't snow, so they get fed. First trip during winter...Should be a lesson. Any trip always is...
The plane is delayed (surprise?! hardly!) "because the crew is asleep, ma'am! They got in late last night and they have to sleep so many hours!" - "Oh, by all means, I would NOT want to fly with an asleep crew, Sir! So let them sleep! I can surely wait!"
- How do they know how many of those 'so many hours' are real sleep, and how many are sex with the flight attendant, or ... insomnia?!" - I wanna ask, but ... I refrain!
That gives me time for a bagel, coffee and The O'Reilly Factor. And, as always, for eavesdropping on other future passengers. There is a family of four, all overweight people, but I decide to leave my judgmental streak at home, so I'll stop there... Only one comment: sweat pants! I am the first one to vote for comfort over style, but sweat pants... are ... a sure sign you have given up on being a human! You can watch tv in them, and even step out of the shower in them ... but going on a plane on them: sorry. It' your abdication from ever having a life of any amount of humanity! So, yeah, I have an aesthetic issue with watching your rags falls off your fat butt and showing off your "pretend" knees! Yuck!
Other than fat people in sweat pants, I once again feel so at home in the airport. I think, for me, the airport is the closest to life: always moving; always changing; always in transition; always at home ...
I love airport coffee: it's weak and flavorful. Drinkable, too... Not the Starbucks or Brueggers crap, that you have to chew...
- Finally on the plane. I notice that the aisles in First Class (and the seats too) are twice as wide as the ones in Economy. Why?!- I wonder. Do you require to have wider hips in First Class?!; it feels like the Airline is telling us: "Nope, all you narrow-hippers, go to the back!; the ones with 'wider hips for breeding' ", as one of my friends would say about women, in general, "are allowed only in the front of the plane".
- Why do parents of toddlers who have their face covered with crumbs and leathered with jelly don't clean their faces up?! Even long after they have finished their eating, their face disgusting and goopy, the parents let them roam out in the world all dirty and sticky. Why?! I guess you must be a parent to get it ... I mean, why would you want your kid to look either sick or retarded... when they're not?! Beats me!
- I will NEVER make fun or criticize the over sized carry-ons! Never. I have learned that some folks don't bring checked luggage; smart people and if anything, I am jealous! If I didn't have half of WalMart to haul to Canada or Romania every time I go back "home", I would do the very same thing! So jealous ...
- In a (calendar) time of "Thanks", I am amazed once more at how ... un-thankful Americans are for what they have over here! This Indiana 30 some year old coming back from "a job in Cambodia" is shocked beyond belief that I personally chose America as my home because I think that it is the most amazing country in the world. She can't believe it, and from her shock and her story I gather she can't be convinced , either. So, I don't try. I never try. You have to come to it yourself to actually get it and make it matter ...
Americans still don't understand what it truly means to be able to have even a low paying job like cleaning the tables at MacDonald's, after hours, and after that affording to walk up the street and be able to afford a meal for less that you make an hour, definitely, less than in one full day. To be able to eat 3 meals a day. To just have them... available! Warm, filling meals that you don't have to hunt for, or cook yourself. That alone demands "thanks" every minute of every day... But oh, well, don't we always set out on the big journey in the world, only to find out the Holy Grail sits tucked in back at home?! (maybe this "Interviews with Bono" book I am reading is getting to me...); so I stop the judging once more ...
- You know the airlines are full of shit, when you see at least 2 flights from the same airline scheduled to leave at exactly the same time: 8:53 - both one flight to Chicago and one to Atlanta! Anyone who's ever flown has been on at least one wait on he runaway, when you can't leave the place because other planes are taking off.... Yep... Full of shit! But yet, the computer does not "budge" the schedule by even one minute!
- No more pretzels or peanuts on planes ... No, Sir nor Ma'am! Just drinks. At least in Economy. Pretzels for First Class only ... Economy used to get pretzels or peanuts "before" the Industry went to crap ... But no more... The First-classers need to keep growing those hips, for their wide aisles and seats! So, feed THEM the carbs!
So, what's next, I wonder?! No drinks for Economy, just for First Class, and then?! ...then what?! No more perks. Just requirements of "large hips" with no perks... Pretty sad. And pretty much the "American way" in the skies anymore ...
- 6:23 AM - Greensboro Airport, December 22. Going to Montreal...My baby sister's pregnant with her first one: almost 4 months... Excited and numb. Growing old's no fun ...
- Still very sleepy, since I went to bed at 12.30 last night ... Missing my cats, but excited about the trip. Hope it won't snow, so they get fed. First trip during winter...Should be a lesson. Any trip always is...
The plane is delayed (surprise?! hardly!) "because the crew is asleep, ma'am! They got in late last night and they have to sleep so many hours!" - "Oh, by all means, I would NOT want to fly with an asleep crew, Sir! So let them sleep! I can surely wait!"
- How do they know how many of those 'so many hours' are real sleep, and how many are sex with the flight attendant, or ... insomnia?!" - I wanna ask, but ... I refrain!
That gives me time for a bagel, coffee and The O'Reilly Factor. And, as always, for eavesdropping on other future passengers. There is a family of four, all overweight people, but I decide to leave my judgmental streak at home, so I'll stop there... Only one comment: sweat pants! I am the first one to vote for comfort over style, but sweat pants... are ... a sure sign you have given up on being a human! You can watch tv in them, and even step out of the shower in them ... but going on a plane on them: sorry. It' your abdication from ever having a life of any amount of humanity! So, yeah, I have an aesthetic issue with watching your rags falls off your fat butt and showing off your "pretend" knees! Yuck!
Other than fat people in sweat pants, I once again feel so at home in the airport. I think, for me, the airport is the closest to life: always moving; always changing; always in transition; always at home ...
I love airport coffee: it's weak and flavorful. Drinkable, too... Not the Starbucks or Brueggers crap, that you have to chew...
- Finally on the plane. I notice that the aisles in First Class (and the seats too) are twice as wide as the ones in Economy. Why?!- I wonder. Do you require to have wider hips in First Class?!; it feels like the Airline is telling us: "Nope, all you narrow-hippers, go to the back!; the ones with 'wider hips for breeding' ", as one of my friends would say about women, in general, "are allowed only in the front of the plane".
- Why do parents of toddlers who have their face covered with crumbs and leathered with jelly don't clean their faces up?! Even long after they have finished their eating, their face disgusting and goopy, the parents let them roam out in the world all dirty and sticky. Why?! I guess you must be a parent to get it ... I mean, why would you want your kid to look either sick or retarded... when they're not?! Beats me!
- I will NEVER make fun or criticize the over sized carry-ons! Never. I have learned that some folks don't bring checked luggage; smart people and if anything, I am jealous! If I didn't have half of WalMart to haul to Canada or Romania every time I go back "home", I would do the very same thing! So jealous ...
- In a (calendar) time of "Thanks", I am amazed once more at how ... un-thankful Americans are for what they have over here! This Indiana 30 some year old coming back from "a job in Cambodia" is shocked beyond belief that I personally chose America as my home because I think that it is the most amazing country in the world. She can't believe it, and from her shock and her story I gather she can't be convinced , either. So, I don't try. I never try. You have to come to it yourself to actually get it and make it matter ...
Americans still don't understand what it truly means to be able to have even a low paying job like cleaning the tables at MacDonald's, after hours, and after that affording to walk up the street and be able to afford a meal for less that you make an hour, definitely, less than in one full day. To be able to eat 3 meals a day. To just have them... available! Warm, filling meals that you don't have to hunt for, or cook yourself. That alone demands "thanks" every minute of every day... But oh, well, don't we always set out on the big journey in the world, only to find out the Holy Grail sits tucked in back at home?! (maybe this "Interviews with Bono" book I am reading is getting to me...); so I stop the judging once more ...
- You know the airlines are full of shit, when you see at least 2 flights from the same airline scheduled to leave at exactly the same time: 8:53 - both one flight to Chicago and one to Atlanta! Anyone who's ever flown has been on at least one wait on he runaway, when you can't leave the place because other planes are taking off.... Yep... Full of shit! But yet, the computer does not "budge" the schedule by even one minute!
- No more pretzels or peanuts on planes ... No, Sir nor Ma'am! Just drinks. At least in Economy. Pretzels for First Class only ... Economy used to get pretzels or peanuts "before" the Industry went to crap ... But no more... The First-classers need to keep growing those hips, for their wide aisles and seats! So, feed THEM the carbs!
So, what's next, I wonder?! No drinks for Economy, just for First Class, and then?! ...then what?! No more perks. Just requirements of "large hips" with no perks... Pretty sad. And pretty much the "American way" in the skies anymore ...
Thursday, December 06, 2007
‘Twas the nightS before Christmas …
So, it’s THAT time of the year! Yes, you got it. That time when we all get a lobotomy and we forget common courtesy, how to drive, how to say thanks and please and hello, and we see only one light at the end of the tunnel: the one that’s at the only open cash register in the store!
It’s running against time, to make it to that deadline of December 24th, 11:59 PM with ALL gifts under the trees and the biggest, juiciest ham in the fridge. Or the fattest car in town in the garage, or … whatever The Joneses have this year!
It’s INSANE time, people!! Every year I tell myself I won’t be on the roads, and I won’t fight the crowds, and I won’t … etc… but I got “obligations” too… And I love to see my friends smile just as much as every other Scrooge out there! So, I shop! But … I lose my patience online, waiting for my pages to upload and I am never happy paying $20 for shipping, handling and self-pleasuring charges per item, either! SO, the store it is!
It’s a whirlwind in Garden Ridge. Oh, my Gosh, have you seen that store on Sundays around this time of the year???? It’s a tornado!!!!! If you find WHAT you’re looking for in there, I will throw a Christmas party for you for FREE! No, you find (and fill up your basket with) 1000 other items you are NOT looking for, and you most likely don’t need, but you cannot find, say … stocking hooks! Impossible! You have to stand in lines JUST to get in an aisle!!
The most accurate barometer of how crazy it is are the faces of little kids, caught in between carts colliding, little fingers clutching, big eyes bulging, and mute with despair when yet another cart is coming their way, head-level! They must feel like in those “Matrix”-type movies (bear with me, I am not a movie buff!!) where cars are flying out of control over people’s heads in the narrow streets of a 2222 Manhattan! They’re fretting, but standing still, since there is NO safe way to go!
And the Dollar Tree??? Oh, God! You would think the Dollar Tree has THE best deal of all, and now they’re actually giving stuff away for free, because again, you wanna stand in line to just get in! The cashier calls his manager in and demands that he’ll be replaced, because “he MUST use the restroom. No, Sir, this one CANNOT wait. I must go now”… - he says in a very loud, and very convincing voice! Hhmm… There are 20 people in his line, and we’re ALL shouting in one huge choir voice: “GO!!!!!”. Nope, we don’t mind the wait!
And the driving??? Holy crap! People have one thing in mind and that is their destination! They will brush off, drive over, shove aside, disregard anything, anybody, and massive body that stands in their way to get there! Nope, they’re oblivious at one way signs, “no U turns”, red lights, yield signs … The only light they see is Wal-Mart, and that’s across that big wide road, called Wendover!
I finally found out why crap-for-brains blonde women, soccer moms, or high maintenance single chicks have SUV’s! No, it’s not for the drooling toddler who is mostly absent in all and weighs 2 lbs anyway! No! It’s for flying over the speed bumps at Friendly Shops while looking at the Ann Taylor window without whacking their fancy cars off of alignment! That’s why! How else could they speed in a 10 MPH zone with bumps as high as my knee?!?
‘Tis that time again, of car crashes just because and rubberneckers… That time of looking at the balance on your credit card and telling yourself: “Oh, well, there’s that trip to Madrid I’ve been wanting to take for 10 years! Gotta get that grill and those shoes for the brother in law. Oh shit!(insert sigh and eye roll here)”.
They say Christmas brings the best out in us… Really?! It’s the opposite that I see…
My favorite story this year?! This little girl is lost in a huge department store. Frantic, and well… lost … she gets pulled over by a stranger who’s trying to find her mommy.
“Honey, what’s your mommy’s name?”Silence and sighs…
“You gotta tell me your mommy’s name, so we can find her, hon’!”.
“Her name is Mommy!”. :-)
Oh, humanity!!! Now go smack your kid when they call you Mary, and John, and Ann, and Bill!
Oh, headaches! And fast heart rhythm! Nothing an Excedrin, a tenormin and a huge glass of eggnog, 10% Bacardi would not fix! Quite a cocktail, I know!
Happy shopping, everyone! Umm… I meant … Holidays! :-)
It’s running against time, to make it to that deadline of December 24th, 11:59 PM with ALL gifts under the trees and the biggest, juiciest ham in the fridge. Or the fattest car in town in the garage, or … whatever The Joneses have this year!
It’s INSANE time, people!! Every year I tell myself I won’t be on the roads, and I won’t fight the crowds, and I won’t … etc… but I got “obligations” too… And I love to see my friends smile just as much as every other Scrooge out there! So, I shop! But … I lose my patience online, waiting for my pages to upload and I am never happy paying $20 for shipping, handling and self-pleasuring charges per item, either! SO, the store it is!
It’s a whirlwind in Garden Ridge. Oh, my Gosh, have you seen that store on Sundays around this time of the year???? It’s a tornado!!!!! If you find WHAT you’re looking for in there, I will throw a Christmas party for you for FREE! No, you find (and fill up your basket with) 1000 other items you are NOT looking for, and you most likely don’t need, but you cannot find, say … stocking hooks! Impossible! You have to stand in lines JUST to get in an aisle!!
The most accurate barometer of how crazy it is are the faces of little kids, caught in between carts colliding, little fingers clutching, big eyes bulging, and mute with despair when yet another cart is coming their way, head-level! They must feel like in those “Matrix”-type movies (bear with me, I am not a movie buff!!) where cars are flying out of control over people’s heads in the narrow streets of a 2222 Manhattan! They’re fretting, but standing still, since there is NO safe way to go!
And the Dollar Tree??? Oh, God! You would think the Dollar Tree has THE best deal of all, and now they’re actually giving stuff away for free, because again, you wanna stand in line to just get in! The cashier calls his manager in and demands that he’ll be replaced, because “he MUST use the restroom. No, Sir, this one CANNOT wait. I must go now”… - he says in a very loud, and very convincing voice! Hhmm… There are 20 people in his line, and we’re ALL shouting in one huge choir voice: “GO!!!!!”. Nope, we don’t mind the wait!
And the driving??? Holy crap! People have one thing in mind and that is their destination! They will brush off, drive over, shove aside, disregard anything, anybody, and massive body that stands in their way to get there! Nope, they’re oblivious at one way signs, “no U turns”, red lights, yield signs … The only light they see is Wal-Mart, and that’s across that big wide road, called Wendover!
I finally found out why crap-for-brains blonde women, soccer moms, or high maintenance single chicks have SUV’s! No, it’s not for the drooling toddler who is mostly absent in all and weighs 2 lbs anyway! No! It’s for flying over the speed bumps at Friendly Shops while looking at the Ann Taylor window without whacking their fancy cars off of alignment! That’s why! How else could they speed in a 10 MPH zone with bumps as high as my knee?!?
‘Tis that time again, of car crashes just because and rubberneckers… That time of looking at the balance on your credit card and telling yourself: “Oh, well, there’s that trip to Madrid I’ve been wanting to take for 10 years! Gotta get that grill and those shoes for the brother in law. Oh shit!(insert sigh and eye roll here)”.
They say Christmas brings the best out in us… Really?! It’s the opposite that I see…
My favorite story this year?! This little girl is lost in a huge department store. Frantic, and well… lost … she gets pulled over by a stranger who’s trying to find her mommy.
“Honey, what’s your mommy’s name?”Silence and sighs…
“You gotta tell me your mommy’s name, so we can find her, hon’!”.
“Her name is Mommy!”. :-)
Oh, humanity!!! Now go smack your kid when they call you Mary, and John, and Ann, and Bill!
Oh, headaches! And fast heart rhythm! Nothing an Excedrin, a tenormin and a huge glass of eggnog, 10% Bacardi would not fix! Quite a cocktail, I know!
Happy shopping, everyone! Umm… I meant … Holidays! :-)
Sunday, December 02, 2007
My musical dad's heritage ...
“Everytime I stop drinking, can’t stop
Thinking ‘bout what I took for granted
And I thought I’d never lose
So I put down the booze and I pick up the blues”
(Steep Canyon Rangers – “Pick Up The Blues”)
“ When you let the instruments tell the story you would otherwise tell with your words, and it all makes sense, that’s when you know you have good music and a good band” – my dad’s words.
With that prerogative in mind, I very much felt like I was listening to a great band, tonight, at the Steep Canyon Rangers gig at the Church of the Covenant.
As luck would have it, the number one vocalist of the band, Woody, “had the laryngitis” – which reminded me of June Carter in Walk the Line:” Bieell, I can’t sang tonight! I got the laryngitis”. Poor thing. Can you imagine being robbed of your instrument and being pushed on the stage in front of the crowd: PERFORM!!! ?!
Of course, we missed his voice, but he and every single member of this band is such a virtuoso of their instrument that … well, they let the other instruments (voice missing at most times) play and boy did they come through!
You needed the sound of a trickling stream in the mountains? A swishing wind in the trees? A crying baby, or a mother in pain?! Even a speeding car on the race car track?! You got it! The fiddle, and banjo, and mandolin, and bass and guitar were there to give them to you and deliver the story…
I was amazed at how well they all conversed with each other. Dad and I used to listen to rock’n’roll bands, like Cream, and Gary Moore’s, and he always made me close my eyes and listen to the “dialogue” the instruments carry on. And “if you feel like the instruments carry on a successful dialogue, with no additional questions, unanswered, at the end, you’ve got great music”…
There is so much to great music: great playing is half of it, and then there is the dialogue with each other, but also the unique sound, that no other bluegrass band will come with, and also showing your roots, the forefathers of what you create today! We all have genes, and so does the music. Also, to me great art is when you make it look like pleasure, and not pain!
And I can tell you, The Rangers have all that, and then some, down pat! They play their instruments mistake-lessly, and they let them "talk" to each other like people who have been married for 50+ years. They don’t miss each other’s beat! And also, what’s my favorite: you can trace them WAY back through the Deep South, all the way back to Irish music. The sound is clear as a crystal bell, and the stories, like all the good bluegrass stories, are every day and common, and special to every mortal soul because of that!
And they all make it look sooo…easy! You know what you look like and sound like and act like when you talk with your best pal?! Well, that’s what they look like and sound like when they play their music! So relaxed, and matter-of-fact! You feel like what they have through their blood veins is bluegrass and that's what their eyes are spitting out too...
Another line from dad’s arsenal of music education came to mind also: “how can 5 people make SO MUCH NOISE???” – that was, he said, his first reaction to hearing The Beatles (well … 4 people there…). It’s amazing what kind of emotional, artistic, and spiritual “damage” 5 people can make, when they know their stuff… They can make a statement and leave you quiet and in awe. You're in a "presence" and you're not sure how to qualify it, but you know it's not commonplace.
It was the perfect way to end a quiet, unwinding, very colorful, and mostly sick weekend!
Very enlightening, and of course, it’s always a blessing to add another page to my musical memory album!
I’ll be shopping for Rangers music now. Started tonight…
And in moments like these, of great musical pleasure, when I always thank him for opening up my musical pores, I wish dad were close, to share them with me!
Love you, dad! Always, and more each day!!
Thinking ‘bout what I took for granted
And I thought I’d never lose
So I put down the booze and I pick up the blues”
(Steep Canyon Rangers – “Pick Up The Blues”)
“ When you let the instruments tell the story you would otherwise tell with your words, and it all makes sense, that’s when you know you have good music and a good band” – my dad’s words.
With that prerogative in mind, I very much felt like I was listening to a great band, tonight, at the Steep Canyon Rangers gig at the Church of the Covenant.
As luck would have it, the number one vocalist of the band, Woody, “had the laryngitis” – which reminded me of June Carter in Walk the Line:” Bieell, I can’t sang tonight! I got the laryngitis”. Poor thing. Can you imagine being robbed of your instrument and being pushed on the stage in front of the crowd: PERFORM!!! ?!
Of course, we missed his voice, but he and every single member of this band is such a virtuoso of their instrument that … well, they let the other instruments (voice missing at most times) play and boy did they come through!
You needed the sound of a trickling stream in the mountains? A swishing wind in the trees? A crying baby, or a mother in pain?! Even a speeding car on the race car track?! You got it! The fiddle, and banjo, and mandolin, and bass and guitar were there to give them to you and deliver the story…
I was amazed at how well they all conversed with each other. Dad and I used to listen to rock’n’roll bands, like Cream, and Gary Moore’s, and he always made me close my eyes and listen to the “dialogue” the instruments carry on. And “if you feel like the instruments carry on a successful dialogue, with no additional questions, unanswered, at the end, you’ve got great music”…
There is so much to great music: great playing is half of it, and then there is the dialogue with each other, but also the unique sound, that no other bluegrass band will come with, and also showing your roots, the forefathers of what you create today! We all have genes, and so does the music. Also, to me great art is when you make it look like pleasure, and not pain!
And I can tell you, The Rangers have all that, and then some, down pat! They play their instruments mistake-lessly, and they let them "talk" to each other like people who have been married for 50+ years. They don’t miss each other’s beat! And also, what’s my favorite: you can trace them WAY back through the Deep South, all the way back to Irish music. The sound is clear as a crystal bell, and the stories, like all the good bluegrass stories, are every day and common, and special to every mortal soul because of that!
And they all make it look sooo…easy! You know what you look like and sound like and act like when you talk with your best pal?! Well, that’s what they look like and sound like when they play their music! So relaxed, and matter-of-fact! You feel like what they have through their blood veins is bluegrass and that's what their eyes are spitting out too...
Another line from dad’s arsenal of music education came to mind also: “how can 5 people make SO MUCH NOISE???” – that was, he said, his first reaction to hearing The Beatles (well … 4 people there…). It’s amazing what kind of emotional, artistic, and spiritual “damage” 5 people can make, when they know their stuff… They can make a statement and leave you quiet and in awe. You're in a "presence" and you're not sure how to qualify it, but you know it's not commonplace.
It was the perfect way to end a quiet, unwinding, very colorful, and mostly sick weekend!
Very enlightening, and of course, it’s always a blessing to add another page to my musical memory album!
I’ll be shopping for Rangers music now. Started tonight…
And in moments like these, of great musical pleasure, when I always thank him for opening up my musical pores, I wish dad were close, to share them with me!
Love you, dad! Always, and more each day!!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Sprouts - I finally got it!
I think sprouts are a misunderstood food. And I am a sucker for misfits, of course. I am talking about the bean ones. I never had sprouts growing up. They’re inexistent back home.
Since I moved to the States (the lessons never stop, even after 10 years), everyone I have ever met warns me how sprouts are to be stayed away from. They order the sandwiches “without sprouts” and oh, no, I have never seen a grocery list with sprouts on it.
So I never put them on my list either, but, the ever adventuresome eater that I am, I never take them off my sandwiches when they “come with them”. Nooo… I wanna keep them there, to try them at least once, or twice… or …. .
My first thought when I had them was: “oh, THIS if different, all right. I AM eating, well, SPROUTS . And nothing besides!”… but I kept having another bite. It was one of those feelings of “not-sure-I-like-it-like-it-but-I-don’t-hate-it-either”. So for years now, I have had sprouts… They’re not on my grocery list still, but they’re on all the sandwiches that come built that way.
A chronic sufferer of acid reflux and a champion burper, I figured out tonight what, exactly, is my relationship with sprouts. You know, I came to that point in the relationship where you either move in or move on! Well, they moved IN! The sprouts that is!
Oh, yeah, this is love! And one “healthy” burp (don’t talk to your GI doc, trust me, the adjective is right here) helped me figure that out: I love sprouts and now I know why: they’re earthy! They’re simple, and plain, with no claim to polish-ness and high-class. They’re dirty and earthy. They come from the ground and tell the soil story! And they bring into your mouth the aroma of their mother earth!
And that’s just so simple, and whole and uncomplicated, that I love it, and melt for it. It’s the same reason why I love trout and carp (yes, I said carp!!): because they taste like muddy waters. None of that fancy, garlic and whine sauces can take that aroma away. It’s un-fancy fish, it’s un-messed with, and elemental.
Man was born to be a hunter-gatherer… and when I can smell, and taste and chew on the simple elements, like the water, and the earth and the mud, and sometimes the air … yeah… that’s when food is turning me on! It’s when I taste the grape, or the pear, or the strawberry in the wine that I go ga-ga for it, not “when I taste the barrel or the steel”…It’s breaking the bread, instead of cutting it, and when I pull the chicken off the bone, and not cut it, when it “doesn’t come with a bone” that I love eating meat…
Mom tells everyone this story of me as a restless toddler, eating potting soil. One of my favorite things to do when I was 2 or so, was to walk up to a potted plant, stick my tiny fist in the moist soil , grab a handful and eat it, muddy cheeks and lips and all. No, I was not hungry, nor underfed, I was an “obese kind, so fat in fact my big fat tongue would not fit in my mouth and was always hanging out” (mom’s quotation and translation here), but I loved to eat soil for some reason…I loved the taste, I bet!
Maybe eating sprouts is the “OK” from the civilized world to be one with the elements again. To eat my potting soil again. And it’s a welcome reunion indeed! Not to mention, quite delicious!
But I do understand the fear people have for sprouts… Those same people who want “fish with no eyes and chicken with no bones”
Since I moved to the States (the lessons never stop, even after 10 years), everyone I have ever met warns me how sprouts are to be stayed away from. They order the sandwiches “without sprouts” and oh, no, I have never seen a grocery list with sprouts on it.
So I never put them on my list either, but, the ever adventuresome eater that I am, I never take them off my sandwiches when they “come with them”. Nooo… I wanna keep them there, to try them at least once, or twice… or …. .
My first thought when I had them was: “oh, THIS if different, all right. I AM eating, well, SPROUTS . And nothing besides!”… but I kept having another bite. It was one of those feelings of “not-sure-I-like-it-like-it-but-I-don’t-hate-it-either”. So for years now, I have had sprouts… They’re not on my grocery list still, but they’re on all the sandwiches that come built that way.
A chronic sufferer of acid reflux and a champion burper, I figured out tonight what, exactly, is my relationship with sprouts. You know, I came to that point in the relationship where you either move in or move on! Well, they moved IN! The sprouts that is!
Oh, yeah, this is love! And one “healthy” burp (don’t talk to your GI doc, trust me, the adjective is right here) helped me figure that out: I love sprouts and now I know why: they’re earthy! They’re simple, and plain, with no claim to polish-ness and high-class. They’re dirty and earthy. They come from the ground and tell the soil story! And they bring into your mouth the aroma of their mother earth!
And that’s just so simple, and whole and uncomplicated, that I love it, and melt for it. It’s the same reason why I love trout and carp (yes, I said carp!!): because they taste like muddy waters. None of that fancy, garlic and whine sauces can take that aroma away. It’s un-fancy fish, it’s un-messed with, and elemental.
Man was born to be a hunter-gatherer… and when I can smell, and taste and chew on the simple elements, like the water, and the earth and the mud, and sometimes the air … yeah… that’s when food is turning me on! It’s when I taste the grape, or the pear, or the strawberry in the wine that I go ga-ga for it, not “when I taste the barrel or the steel”…It’s breaking the bread, instead of cutting it, and when I pull the chicken off the bone, and not cut it, when it “doesn’t come with a bone” that I love eating meat…
Mom tells everyone this story of me as a restless toddler, eating potting soil. One of my favorite things to do when I was 2 or so, was to walk up to a potted plant, stick my tiny fist in the moist soil , grab a handful and eat it, muddy cheeks and lips and all. No, I was not hungry, nor underfed, I was an “obese kind, so fat in fact my big fat tongue would not fit in my mouth and was always hanging out” (mom’s quotation and translation here), but I loved to eat soil for some reason…I loved the taste, I bet!
Maybe eating sprouts is the “OK” from the civilized world to be one with the elements again. To eat my potting soil again. And it’s a welcome reunion indeed! Not to mention, quite delicious!
But I do understand the fear people have for sprouts… Those same people who want “fish with no eyes and chicken with no bones”
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Asheville Trip: Thankful Trails
Life is just a lonely highway
I’m out here on the open road
I’m old enough to see behind me
But young enough to feel my soul
(Lenny Kravitz - "Can't Get You Off of My Mind")
They had to bribe me to get out of the house when we were little. My sister was up with the roosters, feeding the chicken and freeing the cows into the pastures, cleaning the pig stables and sties and soaking up the morning dew long before breakfast was ready and I’d finish my beauty sleep. I slept in, showered, bird-bath style, and then I’d spend my days lingering inside, reading books and doing nothing much but moving myself from one bed to another. I loved napping too!
Now, my sister watches several movies a day, has a husband to do house chores daily, cooks once a week and bundles up inside in the winter, while I spent maybe 4 days at home in the past 11 days! I’m always on the road, always on to the next trip, and on to the next thrill! Weather, tiredness, loneliness matter not when all I do is look forward to the next upcoming corner, to see what hides behind it.
No, I didn’t get hacked up in little pieces in Norfolk, although some said the hotel I picked was “at the project limit”; and no, I didn’t freeze to death while sleeping in 29 degree weather last weekend, while camping, although I’ve had a cold that would not budge ever since. And no, my friend didn’t strangle me after our weekend in Asheville, although we all know that I can be too much for even 24 hours, for the most patient person alive! Being cooped up with me for sightseeing and every meal fir several days is indeed a challenge, even for me at times!
I love peace. I do! And simple-ness and easy-ness. But somehow there are storms all around me, either in the lives of people I know, or just thrown my way, to interfere with my own life. Sometimes, literally, too! Just to keep things… interesting … I guess.
The Asheville trip was fun, as usual. A couple of snags could not put a damper in the overall success of the weekend: the big, loud parade we were not expecting on Saturday that kept us away from our hotel (and car) for hours, or the silly “no photography” rule at Biltmore! I hoped, maybe, that for the Holidays, they’ll allow photography inside, but no. Yes, I snapped a few indoors pics, before I was admonished by the older “Guest Relations” man and then I stopped! I really did: I was good!
The weekend was a success though: the art and woodworking at Biltmore, the attention to detail, the local art galleries, all over downtown, the general “laissez-faire” air of the Asheville inhabitant, the bras-less waitress at Tupelo Honey, with her confident smile, the delicious foods and impeccable service, the new beers we had to try, the crisp mountain air all added to unforgettable memories.
The last day (Monday) we saved for driving up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, for visiting Grandfather Mountain (for its large vistas from the mile high swinging bridge) and for eating fresh trout sandwiches at the Speckled Trout, in Blowing Rock.
Well, that’s when the storm happened. Literally. The 72 degree forecast turned right after we left Asheville and it got progressively worse as we got lost a couple of times trying to find the Parkway Detour, as the Parkway had been closed for reasons unknown to us, for portions of the ride.
Once we reached Grandfather Mountain, despite the thick fog and blasting wind, and occasional rain, we drove to the top, as my friend had never been there and we figured we could get some close-up pictures of the wild landscape and natural life.
When we finally got to the top, we were driving through “pea soup” smoky fog and it was raining steadily. Once we got out of the car, the wind wanted to throw us off the peak! It was the very same feeling you have in a blizzard, only with rain instead of snow: cold, piercing wind, and sharp drops of cold rain! Trying to put on a coat, with my purse balancing on the back bumper and the trunk open proved to be a dumb idea! The wicked wind closed the trunk shut, with only the handles of my purse peeking from the trunk, as if in a hopeless cry for help. Everything else we had, keys included were now locked up!
It’s amazing how limit situations like these make each of us react differently and make us know each other better!
I was forcing the locks, while my friend was repeating that we might have to break the windows. I was trying to remain calm, although I wanted to scream to his face: “ ONLY as a last resort, pal! Only if the other option would be for us to die of frostbite here, on top of the mountain!”. Hell, no: I’d force those locks and I’d beg the people at the gift store for help, before I’d drive to Greensboro with a broken window, in the rain, the week of Thanksgiving, and with a cold! Plus: no garage at home, either!! Hell, no, we ain’t breaking any windows! And we didn’t.
Half and hour (longest one I have lived!) and three park rangers later, I found out that this wonderful world we live in has a whole kit of cables, complete with a manual, with directions for breaking into each car, each make, model, year, ever made. My comment was: “WOW! I can be a car breaker-inner, and make a ton of money”. It was amazing how documented and easy it was to break into a car. And thank God for manual locks, too!
And thankfulness is what this piece is all about. I was thankful, once more, for being in the South, and having such folks to offer to come to my rescue! They went way beyond their call of duty to unlock my car, with not as much as one scratch to the vehicle, in the middle of nowhere, and in the middle of a wicked storm, wearing no gloves, no hats in 20 degree weather with a 70 mph wind, on a mile high peak!!!
Everyone at the top, was so nice, so calm, so helpful. The gift shop lady, feeling sorry for our wet and frozen selves, offered hot chocolate or coffee. We didn’t have any. We couldn’t pay- I would have felt bad! The guys who eventually unlocked the car said to me that the only reward they need is for me to promise I’ll have a good time. Well, I was having a blast (no pun intended) already, when my door was unlocked!
I am going to remember the Asheville trip always, and not just for the Early Girl Café which makes the best vegan sausage in the world, or for the Endless Summer beer, brewed in Black Mountain, which is probably the only microbrew that tastes absolutely heavenly to me!
I’ll always remember this trip for the thanks I have been woken to give to everything and everyone I’m blessed with: thanks to my health and the ability to work and travel, thanks for the friends who want to join me, no matter how difficult I become, thanks to great strangers with big hearts who help unconditionally, thanks to the peaceful world we live in, in NC and America, for the most part, the safe roads, and towns, and mountain tops, thanks to the honest people, the beauty of nature that keeps me drawn to the road. I give thanks to whole car windows and to alternatives out there to break into cars without damaging them. Thanks to my sister, who reminds me that staying home, catching up on movies, books and … naps is important, too! I give thanks to God, for all these and so much more, and for my innate willingness to keep at it, too.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
For pictures, click here:
http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0BcOWLFs1bsXdA
I’m out here on the open road
I’m old enough to see behind me
But young enough to feel my soul
(Lenny Kravitz - "Can't Get You Off of My Mind")
They had to bribe me to get out of the house when we were little. My sister was up with the roosters, feeding the chicken and freeing the cows into the pastures, cleaning the pig stables and sties and soaking up the morning dew long before breakfast was ready and I’d finish my beauty sleep. I slept in, showered, bird-bath style, and then I’d spend my days lingering inside, reading books and doing nothing much but moving myself from one bed to another. I loved napping too!
Now, my sister watches several movies a day, has a husband to do house chores daily, cooks once a week and bundles up inside in the winter, while I spent maybe 4 days at home in the past 11 days! I’m always on the road, always on to the next trip, and on to the next thrill! Weather, tiredness, loneliness matter not when all I do is look forward to the next upcoming corner, to see what hides behind it.
No, I didn’t get hacked up in little pieces in Norfolk, although some said the hotel I picked was “at the project limit”; and no, I didn’t freeze to death while sleeping in 29 degree weather last weekend, while camping, although I’ve had a cold that would not budge ever since. And no, my friend didn’t strangle me after our weekend in Asheville, although we all know that I can be too much for even 24 hours, for the most patient person alive! Being cooped up with me for sightseeing and every meal fir several days is indeed a challenge, even for me at times!
I love peace. I do! And simple-ness and easy-ness. But somehow there are storms all around me, either in the lives of people I know, or just thrown my way, to interfere with my own life. Sometimes, literally, too! Just to keep things… interesting … I guess.
The Asheville trip was fun, as usual. A couple of snags could not put a damper in the overall success of the weekend: the big, loud parade we were not expecting on Saturday that kept us away from our hotel (and car) for hours, or the silly “no photography” rule at Biltmore! I hoped, maybe, that for the Holidays, they’ll allow photography inside, but no. Yes, I snapped a few indoors pics, before I was admonished by the older “Guest Relations” man and then I stopped! I really did: I was good!
The weekend was a success though: the art and woodworking at Biltmore, the attention to detail, the local art galleries, all over downtown, the general “laissez-faire” air of the Asheville inhabitant, the bras-less waitress at Tupelo Honey, with her confident smile, the delicious foods and impeccable service, the new beers we had to try, the crisp mountain air all added to unforgettable memories.
The last day (Monday) we saved for driving up on the Blue Ridge Parkway, for visiting Grandfather Mountain (for its large vistas from the mile high swinging bridge) and for eating fresh trout sandwiches at the Speckled Trout, in Blowing Rock.
Well, that’s when the storm happened. Literally. The 72 degree forecast turned right after we left Asheville and it got progressively worse as we got lost a couple of times trying to find the Parkway Detour, as the Parkway had been closed for reasons unknown to us, for portions of the ride.
Once we reached Grandfather Mountain, despite the thick fog and blasting wind, and occasional rain, we drove to the top, as my friend had never been there and we figured we could get some close-up pictures of the wild landscape and natural life.
When we finally got to the top, we were driving through “pea soup” smoky fog and it was raining steadily. Once we got out of the car, the wind wanted to throw us off the peak! It was the very same feeling you have in a blizzard, only with rain instead of snow: cold, piercing wind, and sharp drops of cold rain! Trying to put on a coat, with my purse balancing on the back bumper and the trunk open proved to be a dumb idea! The wicked wind closed the trunk shut, with only the handles of my purse peeking from the trunk, as if in a hopeless cry for help. Everything else we had, keys included were now locked up!
It’s amazing how limit situations like these make each of us react differently and make us know each other better!
I was forcing the locks, while my friend was repeating that we might have to break the windows. I was trying to remain calm, although I wanted to scream to his face: “ ONLY as a last resort, pal! Only if the other option would be for us to die of frostbite here, on top of the mountain!”. Hell, no: I’d force those locks and I’d beg the people at the gift store for help, before I’d drive to Greensboro with a broken window, in the rain, the week of Thanksgiving, and with a cold! Plus: no garage at home, either!! Hell, no, we ain’t breaking any windows! And we didn’t.
Half and hour (longest one I have lived!) and three park rangers later, I found out that this wonderful world we live in has a whole kit of cables, complete with a manual, with directions for breaking into each car, each make, model, year, ever made. My comment was: “WOW! I can be a car breaker-inner, and make a ton of money”. It was amazing how documented and easy it was to break into a car. And thank God for manual locks, too!
And thankfulness is what this piece is all about. I was thankful, once more, for being in the South, and having such folks to offer to come to my rescue! They went way beyond their call of duty to unlock my car, with not as much as one scratch to the vehicle, in the middle of nowhere, and in the middle of a wicked storm, wearing no gloves, no hats in 20 degree weather with a 70 mph wind, on a mile high peak!!!
Everyone at the top, was so nice, so calm, so helpful. The gift shop lady, feeling sorry for our wet and frozen selves, offered hot chocolate or coffee. We didn’t have any. We couldn’t pay- I would have felt bad! The guys who eventually unlocked the car said to me that the only reward they need is for me to promise I’ll have a good time. Well, I was having a blast (no pun intended) already, when my door was unlocked!
I am going to remember the Asheville trip always, and not just for the Early Girl Café which makes the best vegan sausage in the world, or for the Endless Summer beer, brewed in Black Mountain, which is probably the only microbrew that tastes absolutely heavenly to me!
I’ll always remember this trip for the thanks I have been woken to give to everything and everyone I’m blessed with: thanks to my health and the ability to work and travel, thanks for the friends who want to join me, no matter how difficult I become, thanks to great strangers with big hearts who help unconditionally, thanks to the peaceful world we live in, in NC and America, for the most part, the safe roads, and towns, and mountain tops, thanks to the honest people, the beauty of nature that keeps me drawn to the road. I give thanks to whole car windows and to alternatives out there to break into cars without damaging them. Thanks to my sister, who reminds me that staying home, catching up on movies, books and … naps is important, too! I give thanks to God, for all these and so much more, and for my innate willingness to keep at it, too.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
For pictures, click here:
http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0BcOWLFs1bsXdA
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Waking Up To Life, or Nature, again ...
It’s coming home smelling like a slab of bacon, forgotten in the smoke house for 2 weeks that I missed. It’s the burning of the cheeks either from wind and cold or sun, 4 hours after I finally got home that I missed, too … It’s the fire pit and the cool stories; stories about people and their weird diseases they would not admit to when they’re sober, and “proper” in a dining room; stories about their kids, and the imaginary monsters or friends they have. Did you know “elephants” or “monkeys” can be code names for bodily functions?! Well, you’ll find that out at camping sites …
I also missed using … whatever handy for a plate when eating around the communal table; like the top of a Tupperware dish for a plate, or using a mug for your soup bowl, or a paper cup. Missed the creativity and simplicity of living … Did you know you can boil an egg on the fire in a paper cup?!
I missed the way food tastes when it’s “improvised”, and half-way cooked! Because when you come back from a 10 mile hike you really don’t care what goes down the throat… Everything at that point tastes heavenly, and you learn, again, to be grateful for someone else handling the fire and feeding you, even if all they do is throw every meat and every veggie known to man in a huge cauldron full of Swanson broth. That beats any Iron Chef gourmet dish ever cooked, I swear!
I missed falling asleep listening to the wind, and realizing that there IS wind and a whole world of sounds out there. Have you noticed how oblivious we are to Nature when we’re trapped in between our homes’ walls? Out there, you have nothing else to put you to sleep at night, but the wind, and the swishy trees … Crickets are gone right about now…
I missed the dry skin that you get when you skip your lotion treatments twice a day. I missed the long, hot shower you take when you get back home. We only take short, insignificant and routine showers daily. None that “matter” on any kind of higher level.
I missed the numb, sore body that comes back with us from sleeping on the ground for a couple of days. I never knew I had muscles that can hurt, in so many places!
And I thank life, and chance, and good friends for bringing all that back to me this last weekend! I felt like a slumber-full, barely awaken Rip Van Winkle. Only I was happy, not sad, to finally wake up to the same beauty of life that I left almost 5 years ago, when I camped last! Finally happy to wake up smelling like smoked meat again!
I also missed using … whatever handy for a plate when eating around the communal table; like the top of a Tupperware dish for a plate, or using a mug for your soup bowl, or a paper cup. Missed the creativity and simplicity of living … Did you know you can boil an egg on the fire in a paper cup?!
I missed the way food tastes when it’s “improvised”, and half-way cooked! Because when you come back from a 10 mile hike you really don’t care what goes down the throat… Everything at that point tastes heavenly, and you learn, again, to be grateful for someone else handling the fire and feeding you, even if all they do is throw every meat and every veggie known to man in a huge cauldron full of Swanson broth. That beats any Iron Chef gourmet dish ever cooked, I swear!
I missed falling asleep listening to the wind, and realizing that there IS wind and a whole world of sounds out there. Have you noticed how oblivious we are to Nature when we’re trapped in between our homes’ walls? Out there, you have nothing else to put you to sleep at night, but the wind, and the swishy trees … Crickets are gone right about now…
I missed the dry skin that you get when you skip your lotion treatments twice a day. I missed the long, hot shower you take when you get back home. We only take short, insignificant and routine showers daily. None that “matter” on any kind of higher level.
I missed the numb, sore body that comes back with us from sleeping on the ground for a couple of days. I never knew I had muscles that can hurt, in so many places!
And I thank life, and chance, and good friends for bringing all that back to me this last weekend! I felt like a slumber-full, barely awaken Rip Van Winkle. Only I was happy, not sad, to finally wake up to the same beauty of life that I left almost 5 years ago, when I camped last! Finally happy to wake up smelling like smoked meat again!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Funky mood - funky season
Current mood: cranky!
Bacovia was right: fall IS the season for neurotics!
Timing sucks, lately!
I have always loved colds. Colds remind me of my dad. And of very snowy, cold winters back home, when you could not see through the windows, they were so thick with ice. And they make me crave soup, and warm clothes, and dad’s story telling and watercolors… For the first time, this year, I am hating my cold. It could not have come at a worse time, and I want to tell it to go away and come back when I am in the mood for it. If only one could have such understandings with their viruses…
Because of this cold, now, I am not looking forward to a trip I have waited to go on for years! Typically, I am ecstatic about ANY of my trips. There is nothing that makes me happier, makes me smile more, and make the time go faster than the imminent approach of a trip. Any trip. But this one – has been planned and wished for for years: Christmas at Biltmore. Yeah, yeah, I know, all the Scrooges out there will tell me that’s overrated, and it may be, but I love Christmas celebrations. I always think I am not doing a good job of that, and I am fascinated with people’s creativity around this time of the year. Part of it is because I never had them growing up. My Christmases were low key, under wraps, as they were “illegal”.
So, I have saved, and waited, and now finally I am going, and well… all I’d rather do is cuddle up with Mr. Fero and read a good, long, cheesy, girly book and burn my throat drinking lemon tea! Not go out there, and face the world and the chills of Asheville… Not that! Anything BUT that!
This season is killing me, too! Or should I say: weather, because, what is the season, really?! If you look at the trees, it’s still fall, and in some parts, early fall, too. But do you realize that Thanksgiving is here in a WEEK??? And Christmas fasting starts tomorrow, which makes Christmas … 6 weeks away?! Yeah! The Holiday Season, The WINTER Holiday Season is here NOW, so … is it winter?!! I cannot get into the holiday mood, and I cannot start making lists, and buying cards, and buying family gifts because … I still see leaves on trees, and 65 degrees on the thermometer downtown, and I have not worn gloves nor scarves to work yet!!! Barely worn my leather jacket, much less my winter one, too.
But I have scraped frost off of the windshield a couple of times … so … yeah, I am confused. And I don’t like confusion… I don’t like gray. I don’t like this autumn-winter deal, nor this sick-but-gotta-stay-healthy deal either…
I want the stars to align, make up their minds and stop funkying me around !!!
I still miss dad, though. I can hear him say, in his thick accent:
“Funky? What is funky? Honky? Honky-tonk woman? Obla-di, obla-da?”… Are you confused? So was I, when I heard him say this!!
I miss dad. And I want my soup now …
Bacovia was right: fall IS the season for neurotics!
Timing sucks, lately!
I have always loved colds. Colds remind me of my dad. And of very snowy, cold winters back home, when you could not see through the windows, they were so thick with ice. And they make me crave soup, and warm clothes, and dad’s story telling and watercolors… For the first time, this year, I am hating my cold. It could not have come at a worse time, and I want to tell it to go away and come back when I am in the mood for it. If only one could have such understandings with their viruses…
Because of this cold, now, I am not looking forward to a trip I have waited to go on for years! Typically, I am ecstatic about ANY of my trips. There is nothing that makes me happier, makes me smile more, and make the time go faster than the imminent approach of a trip. Any trip. But this one – has been planned and wished for for years: Christmas at Biltmore. Yeah, yeah, I know, all the Scrooges out there will tell me that’s overrated, and it may be, but I love Christmas celebrations. I always think I am not doing a good job of that, and I am fascinated with people’s creativity around this time of the year. Part of it is because I never had them growing up. My Christmases were low key, under wraps, as they were “illegal”.
So, I have saved, and waited, and now finally I am going, and well… all I’d rather do is cuddle up with Mr. Fero and read a good, long, cheesy, girly book and burn my throat drinking lemon tea! Not go out there, and face the world and the chills of Asheville… Not that! Anything BUT that!
This season is killing me, too! Or should I say: weather, because, what is the season, really?! If you look at the trees, it’s still fall, and in some parts, early fall, too. But do you realize that Thanksgiving is here in a WEEK??? And Christmas fasting starts tomorrow, which makes Christmas … 6 weeks away?! Yeah! The Holiday Season, The WINTER Holiday Season is here NOW, so … is it winter?!! I cannot get into the holiday mood, and I cannot start making lists, and buying cards, and buying family gifts because … I still see leaves on trees, and 65 degrees on the thermometer downtown, and I have not worn gloves nor scarves to work yet!!! Barely worn my leather jacket, much less my winter one, too.
But I have scraped frost off of the windshield a couple of times … so … yeah, I am confused. And I don’t like confusion… I don’t like gray. I don’t like this autumn-winter deal, nor this sick-but-gotta-stay-healthy deal either…
I want the stars to align, make up their minds and stop funkying me around !!!
I still miss dad, though. I can hear him say, in his thick accent:
“Funky? What is funky? Honky? Honky-tonk woman? Obla-di, obla-da?”… Are you confused? So was I, when I heard him say this!!
I miss dad. And I want my soup now …
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