Floating Cloudberries

a cozy heart.

2012-02-14T02:56:00.000-08:00

I'm not always an easy person to live with. I'm not intolerable, exactly. I don't scream or demand perfection. I don't stock an all-white-cashmere-do-not-sit-on-the-furniture-house. or hoard plates and crystal glasses that are off limits. I do believe in everything in it's place, but I also realize how some things are just born to wander, without rhyme or reason, then have a habit of turning up in the darnest places. Aesthetics aside, it's my unrealistic, romantic expectations, that may, at times, make putting up with me a little challenging. I have this knack for romanticizing everything. Preferably as pertaining to everyday nonsense. Let's just for the sake of argument call it endearing. Partly it's my upbringing that is to blame. I was cutting teeth on movies the likes of Gone with the Wind, Casablanca, Breakfast at Tiffany's and An Affair to Remember. So when it comes to romance, my motto is definitely more is more. It can never be too much.

But mostly, mostly it's just me. I'm the girl who saves every note, trinket, ticket stub and sea shell. the one who celebrates in days and weeks, not just the big ones. I can tell you exactly what day and time I meet the hubs. I'm the girl who sends her parents flowers every year on the day they meet and a few more on their wedding anniversary, just for good measure. I'm the early morning walker who sees the moon glowing off the snow and stops and stares, every single time. I'm a hopeless romantic who believes that Rick and Ilsa got together after all. that Rhett really did give a damn. And Yuri and Lara lived happily ever after.

Well, things just don't always go as planned. See, when I was young I thought it would be all romance, ALL THE TIME! - sure - why not? Well - it just doesn't happen that way. Why not? Well that's because, apparently, life gets in the way. What the heck you ask? Well, believe me, I'm asking the same thing. If we can't find romance in the simple, little things, what's the point. right? I know!? so pardon me, because I need to indulge my romantic side, if even for just a smidge, in everything I do. It's not as though I sip champagne and eat lobster for dinner every night. honestly. It's just that every thing can use a zap of magic.

Fortunately for me, I also have a minor in Realism, which I try to dust off every now and again.

Romance is a murky thing with the curious quirk of being describablebut not definable. I won't muck up your head with silly little cliches, or suggest that draping a coat over a puddle automatically makes someone romantic. Or how one act or another rates on my romance scale, even though I was born with an innate knowledge of this stuff. and although romance may not be definable, there are still some hard fast facts you may want to know.

So just to get you started ~~down~~ ~~queasy~~ ~~lane~~, here we go... Some things are inherently romantic, like hearts. this is a given. Science fiction is not romantic. Sleepless InSeattle is. Teddy bears are romantic. so are puppies. Roses, absolutely. Bubble baths. Herbal tea and candles also are romantic. picnics. Sunrises and sunsets, ditto romantic. Red but of course! Music is romantic. Chocolate. notes, letters and poetry, all romantic. random acts of housework or kindness. surprise outings. old fashioned keys. small boxes. bookshops. breakfast. and yoga. tres romantic. Practical things can be romantic but are kinda tricky, food processors or mixer, yes. Vacuum cleaners, not so much. looking at the stars. kaleidoscopes. rain. check. check. check. doing something unexpected or out of the box. holding hands. dolphins. strawberries. photo booth pictures. balloons. compliments. just talking. and mooshy greeting cards...romantic! birthdaypresents also romantic, especially if they are wrapped real pur-dy. Flowersalways work. and the ocean is the most romantic thing, e.v.e.r. One of the main required ingredients of romance is your time. yeah, there's just noway around this one, you need to show up. Pet names are cute, but not necessarily romantic. being clean. smelling nice are both romantic, big time. being polite, sensitive and funny, also get big points. While it would be nice for these things to happen 24/7, I know that is impossible, and I'm cool with that.

But Valentine's Day?

DUDE!!! Valentines' Day(!!)? Romantic!

I know Valentine's Day like the back of my hand. I know how, for one seemingly, boring month, February gives us one truly spectacular day. the likes of which we haven't seen in months. Maybe it's because I'm a pink person. Probably, it doesn't help that I can't quite resist anything in the shape of a heart. chocolate. sweet nothings. magic. or glitter. ah, glitter. Valentine's Day is the ultimate sparkle fest. As for me, I will be wearing my pink socks, eating heart shaped cheese, sipping pink hot chocolate, blowing kisses to my puppies and listening to songs about love.

so, to me, love is showing how much I care. doing little things to make someone happy and feel special. leaving little notes around in unexpected places. when someone secretly fills my gas tank. tucking a container of homemade soup and cookies into someone's suitcase. being extra nice when it's been a rough week. getting spoiled when you are sick. or surprised with a pint of your favorite ice cream, just because. love for me, is always striving to make another person happy...because knowing they are happy, makes me happy. Grand gestures of love are nice, but it's the day-to-day actions that truly keep love alive.

Once I thought that love was tempestuous, heart pounding, butterflies in my stomach, kiss me quick! I was wrong. Love is mostly very comfortable. a touch of the cheek. wear your boots. take your vitamins. it is a cozy heart. and what keeps a love cozy? because, every so often love is tempestuous, heart pounding, butterflies in my stomach, kiss me quick!

peace.

Ace Sugar Cookies with pomegranate butter cream

(go here for recipe)

it goes on.

2012-02-05T16:54:00.000-08:00

It's a gentle thing. a collection of moments, evolving into a life. Disclaimers aside, I am enjoying it so. I am fairly certain my memories are intact, at least the best of them. And I also think it is safe to say, my memories are selective. It's easy for me to remember the big stuff. the headliners. but it's the little things that make my toes curl. However. One of the loveliest things about memory, in my humble opinion, is that they can be easily taught. they are open to influence. And it never requires much nudging, at least in my case, to call to mind all the twinkly bits.

I'll remember, for sure, the very moments my boys were born. how happiness came to me the day I wore a new-to-me vintage lace dress. a stolen moment by a lake is forever locked in my heart. and how, thanks to one solid childhood, and loving family, it really is all that it's cracked up to be. I'll not soon forget unconditional love. or how waking up by the ocean is a one-spot-on-show-stopper. I will long hold onto this big lump of gratitude. I'll think back fondly on the way things were and dream of the way they will be. as I settle in. life is deceptively simple, sometimes tragic but mostly, a big boatload of magic. confirming the universal truth, once again, that it goes on. yeah. it goes on. No matter which way I spin it, at the end of the journey, there's that. This thrills me to no end, because I'm sort of an unconditional optimist. I have been know to top off half empty glasses, just to bring them up to snuff and quite possibly just a pinch above. And really, how can that be bad?

If you're anything like me, you see the problem right away. it sounds hopelessly cliche and common and maybe just a tad bit trite. Oh man! where to start? Doesn't sound promising, when I see it in writing, but there's an awful lot going on in my head just now. This is not exactly one of my best kept secrets, but let me assure you, I do have my wits about me. Not bad, for an old broad. a.n.d. while I'm not exactly going over to the dark side, as of late I have found myself doing some rather strange things. I have taken to dissecting my life. searching for anything that needs changing or removing. also, that which contains even a hint, or the slightest trace of negativity, anything even remotely dowdy with a minutia that would make a forensic scientist proud. And I can stop old age talk in it's tracks. in ways that never cease to astonish even me.

But. But.
Despite my best attempts to slow it all down, another year has come and gone, and I am contemplating it in my usual, quiet way (just go with it). And as is my tradition every single year, I did a re-cap. journals, re-read. scrapbooks, in progress. photos, everywhere. and my new favorite, smash books. the result is layers upon layers of the past unfolding. my life overflowing with memories that are casually whipped about. one gorgeous, ravishingly delicious delight after another. While I believe that I have yet to reach my stride, my peak physical years sadly have come and gone, and today, well, the lines are winning. I'm getting a bit fuzzy, and a few streaks of ~~gray~~ sophisticated silver runs through my hair. which by the way has become extremely unruly. keeping in shape takes more effort every day. still... my inner child is alive and well. thriving even, thank you very much (!!). I have always been a rebel by nature, and the youthful me is grappling to stay in control. still full of energy and mischief, not content to sit and twiddle thumbs or let society call the shots. It may be said that silliness does not become a woman of a certain age, and while I have no control over the passage of time, how I spend it is my choice. my spirit is my own creation, to do with as I wish.

My personal fountain of youth, is not just wrinkle free skin and shiny hair, rather it is a feeling of complete joy, that inner peace, embodied by the young at heart. I am trying to recapture the carefree feelings from childhood, when those feeling came naturally to me. And in all honesty, it gets easier every day. Being happy hardly seems a predicament, to look at it. After all, it's not the years that age us. And I don't know about you, but I think the difference between those who are eighty years young and those who are thirty years old is the ability to let go. The more we hold on, to the things that don't matter, the more stuck we become. A rule of nature is that which stops flowing stagnates and putrefies. So, not flowing is out. stagnating and putrefying doesn't sit well with me either. letting go is a nice compromise. And because life is short, being miserable is not an option. Did I mention being happy? Because what's the point if your not? And then there's the letting go. of old ideas. grudges from the past. pain you carry with you. holding on to these things only makes you feel tired...and old. I know, right there's a lot going on here.

still, I take great pleasure in my girlish silliness. my lack of respect for the rules of behavior that are said to apply to people my age. True, I am now squarely centered in that “woman of a certain age” category. I look in the mirror and see the lines on my skin. I feel the weight of the years softly sitting on my shoulders. gently pulling me home. gravity I have found is also not my friend. My faithful bones creak a bit and my back has just the slightest slouch. I'm trying to exercise, stretch, do yoga more. breathing has become more conscious. But for all of the outward changes, the slow but inevitable metamorphoses that the years bring, they cannot even compete with the inward shift in the opposite direction.

So “remember when!” followed immediately by “I was so young!” is a game I play. less rules, more childish chit chat from someone who does not feel old. though the years have rolled by. Indeed, I laugh in the face of Old Man Time and plan to hold on to my childish glee with an ironclad grip. There may be a brief moment when we achieve the perfect balance, when we reach some ideal age, that place in time where it all comes together effortlessly, perfect, pure and sublime, I like to think that time is now. Tonight I'm playing Joni Mitchell on repeat and thinking about life. how fleeting it is. how it rushes by, a whisper blown away on the wind. aging is a strange process, yet somehow it feels pretty magical.

peace.

chocolate sandwich cookies with orange filling
(go here for recipe)

again.

2012-01-29T03:11:00.000-08:00

I know! ANOTHER post about winter! and that snow thingy! Well, this is what we all get when I am not happy. it's either winter with snow or winter without snow. Once I did say to the hubs that I loooove winter and he started looking around for an alien pod in which he thought he would find my real body, he was so shocked by me saying that. Anyway, winter. I'm over it. If there is a jack frost, then jack frost help us all. This is INSANE. The worst winter I can remember, e.v.e.r! the worst to date. period. and when I say worst, I mean where le heck is it? winter 2002, best I ever had, it almost made me tip right over the edge, seriously. We live in the mid-west. Which means, for the last few months we should have had 20-something degree temperatures. every. single. day. and snow!

Well, this winter, dude? Temperatures in the thirties and freezing rain. WHAT? Yep. This causes me to run around the block, twice, screaming at the top of my lungs because nothing else will do. there is no other way to express the level of my frustration. The next day, sixties. I KNOW, right!!? So I went for an hour hike, feeling all mope-y for living where I do with this fickle weather. Every time I passed someone on the trail, I would say something like "Can you believe this weather?" or "Is it January or April, tee-hee? " or "I didn't know there were grisly bears in these parts!!" because I'm hysterical that way and because the weather, clearly, makes me behave as if I were on medication while convincing me that I am indeed funny. I don't learn from past experience, you see.

Anyway,when I lived in Florida, people always asked what it was like to live there in the summer. Well, take a hair dryer, put it on the hottest setting, turn it on high - point it at yourself - and hold it there for four months. That's kind of what it's like. And then of course factor in the sun, shining all the time. man, it is relentless! So, now we're suppose to have "four seasons". winter wonderland wonderful, heading into a bud bursting-ly beautiful spring, then three months of staggeringly awesome summer followed by a spectacular Fall. this has not been the case. so, please forgive me this indulgent and annoying post where I go all nutty about the weather. again.

Since moving back here ten years ago, I've been enjoying the changes. Here is a pause ______ for you to reflect on that. See, when we decided to move here, I had to leave my beloved ocean, even though Florida and I never bonded. But I threw myself a bone. a trade off if you will, for family and changing seasons ~ no more spring break traffic jams, spiders the size of dinner plates, scenery as flat as a pancake, gardening in the sand plus alligators and armadillos for yard pets. so, I've been torturing myself ever since. At this point, almost everyone who hears this says "are you NUTS?" because people just cannot fathom leaving a place where sunny days are the norm. On one hand, I understand their contention. On the other, I don't get it - I mean, if you can't work it out, if you just don't like where you live, and life gives you the chance to move, do you do it? Just curious. So, I'm always a bit struck that people are just dumbfounded by the fact that we moved back to Ohio from Florida. am I the only one who does not find this strange?

Some of us are "four seasons" people and some of us are not. I am. I like when the seasons change, going from one to another makes me appreciate them more. Make sense? Yeah, I know. I've been watching winter struggle. throwing around and thrashing together every weather condition possible with abandon...rain, snow, thunder, winds, freezing rain, fog! in no discernible order. Mother Nature going against ALL the weather rules. All the while, smiling like a cheshire cat, flirting with me, teasing, daring me to make any kind of plans. The saucy minx. But that's just so Ohio. Glorious and graceful one day, a hideous mess the next. It ain't always pretty, and it's never predictable. Yet, there are moments when I am transported into the full realization of just how beautiful it can truly can be. And I'll stand there riveted, humbled, enchanted. I want to soak it all in, man! Giving me that kind of living-in-the-moment feeling, that special kind of inner peace. Honestly, I really am into all that inner peace stuff. So then I was wondering, during my day-to-day nonsense, where ARE my daily moments when I'm actually in the moment. cultivating some peace?

My early morning walk with the puppies, but of course. The first sip of my morning coffee, absolutely. and so it goes...the first steps toward World Peace. They say it begins at home people.

baking, especially bread.it just smells so wonderful. I should bottle and sell it.

Hiking. two to three times a week. this usually helps me actually notice there is nature outside my door.

Reading. I love to read. love how it makes me feel cozy and peaceful. takes me to exciting new places.

Okay, see why peace is so easy? I do yoga quite regularly, meditate, and write a little positive grateful-something something each morning in a journal. It makes me feel good. big surprise. It also makes me curious, what do other people do to ensure some peace and serenity in their lives? What do you do?

Hmmm, so? Where am I going with this?

Every January I think to myself, I can do this. I can get through winter. I can make it. But once the holidays and birthdays, once all the merry making is over, and it's the end of January. it. brings. me. to. my. knees. reminds me that I have such a long way to go, and that winter is far from over. I miss my garden. I miss going barefoot. I miss the sunlight that gets higher than the treetops. and stays all. day. long!

I miss all that stuff, and more, and it's only the end of January. It happens quickly, my disenchantment with winter. But once the decorations have all been packed away, the porch swept and it's back to waking the dogs in the still-dark mornings, it's okay. I'm good with it. at peace. It's just that sleepy, dreamy days are what I love best.

Spicy Applesauce Cake with Cinnamon Cream Cheese Frosting

(go here for recipe)

peace!

snowfalls and heroes.

2012-01-24T06:51:00.000-08:00

I'm going to talk birthdays today. Big ones. And cake and family and memories and so on. But dude! It snowed last week! now everything else will have to wait. Just for a moment. not exactly earth shattering, news. Vital though, I'd argue. As in, we have had so little snow this year. so...first things first, do you know big fluffy snow flakes? the kind that fall onto your eye lashes? and just sit there? even when you blink they don't fall off. or melt! because to know them, is to love them. and that whole business about absence and fonder hearts, true! at least where snow is concerned. everything else... cold, less daylight, slush, we already had on hand. but snow! Holy Cow! Snow and I, we go way back. I have Ohio to thank for that. every year when I was just a babe. And now, again, packed into every year. slipped in one month at a time. ~~three~~ ~~four~~ five all together. once more mixed into my regular routine. so I will enjoy it while I can. Heck, this may be my last one. Or close to it anyway! All I know is that I was introduced to it early on, the when is kinda cloudy, stored in that place where early memories go. The how, that I can remember, clear as a bell. crystal. that part's sharp as a tack. first snow falls are like first kisses, you never forget. they are magical. and the snowy white air, makes my chest open wide and my mind settle down. allows me to take deep breaths. calms my thoughts. Quiet days fill me with inspiration. Solitude, writing, toiling over photos, just me and my thoughts. and my puppies. and the sun streaming in my window.

everything else comes to a crashing halt. and spirits are high. Today, snow and sunshine. truly magic is just outside the door. the world glistens and sparkles as if everything were made of glass, and sprinkled with diamond dust. I watch as the silence seeps into every nook and cranny, bringing my imagination to life, taking me to those far away places. where make-believe just doesn't seem like pretend. being young and carefree isn't so hard to reach.
These are the days to remember.
I listen to the snow fall. whispering against the window. melting, slowly, on the glass. Melancholy daydreams find their way to my desk, scattered among the memories, old photos and wintery doodles.
This has been an escape for me. after I have rediscovered it's magic. My desk is tucked in the corner by a window, overlooking the world outside. overlooking the sunrise. and away from the hub bub, giving me a place to create, to think and write and ponder. This moment is oh so sweet.

i love it here and the silence of winter speaks to me with the most beautiful sound.

dark, cold winter mornings. early. the wee hours. this is the time I love the best. when my thoughts come alive. Listening to the quiet. cherishing every moment. Not just the good stuff, but, all of it. snippets of time to cherish, on this journey called life. to find the beauty in every moment, every heartbeat. I am excited. spread before me is the rest of my life. moments of firsts, decisions, dreams, happiness, heartache, and laughter. also in front of me, every photo I have ever taken. every memory I have captured, shares this space with me, in this moment. I am stringing them together, like pearls on a necklace. occasionally feeling as if I am collecting marbles that are rolling in all directions. as scattered as my thoughts.

past few days, still sporting pajamas until lunch. You know how it is then, how sometimes, it just works out that way. working on projects. important ones. melodies dance in my head, memories slip through my fingers, and ideas spring forth. This mornings sunrise mimics my feelings. the promise of a new day. the trees outside my window scattered across the skyline, bare branches against a blue sky. looking for all the world like ink across the still unwritten pages of my life. I'm hoping and praying that I finish before I must put on proper clothes and tame my troll hair. a big birthday. today! my dad. so bright. and sparkly. and radiant. back then! yep, like a copper penny. thing is, he still is. more so, even. how does he do that? add to that list brave and strong. and keeper of the time. I am (and always have been) endlessly inspired by him. so now, there's an agenda, somewhere to go, deadlines, hurry up! dinner. cake. celebrating 80 years.

my heart swelling with thankfulness and joy.

birthday spice cake with caramel icing
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

winter

2012-01-16T10:35:00.000-08:00

Winter plays me like a mandolin. January, sprinkled with 50* days and sunshine. The sky, daily, exploding into a kaleidoscope stunt double. And just like that, single digits, Snow! came and went! In less time than it takes to cobble together one respectable snowman. gone! I find myself hankering for more. accumulation. new snow blower worthy. It is wrecking havoc with my mind. I am such a sucker. yet, I fall for it every time. And just to be clear, I don't have a problem with that...just make up your mind, January. Oh, and either way, keep the sun. please tell me you're working on this. Gloomy need not apply. The sunlight has a way of changing drab into magic. So, when I find myself in desperate need of some face time with Nature, I go on a winter hunt. While I find the mud, vines and moss on the ground to be intriguing...I have to keep reminding myself to look up. I am so glad I do. Ohio, you sure do know how to paint a purr-dy sky!

So it's at this point that I have to admit that it's just kind of full of itself. Winter, I mean, and it's mixed bag of outrageous, the one it keeps slung over it's left shoulder. where little bits of amazing and incredible get cast about, and scattered haphazardly ... these are my thoughts. in January. a month close to my heart. a month full of monochromatic beauty. happenstance. and serendipity. I keep it filed under the same basic heading as other things I love. I've been sort of taking notes, noticing the enchanting ways winter keeps surprising me. funny little things where jack frost and kismet rub shoulders. walk hand in hand. And darned if they don't keep cropping up. one after the other. It's not as though I prefer winter over summer. Honestly. sometimes, I actually have to say this out loud. To myself. I really love summer best! It is my love song. But, winter makes me swoony. Once it's here. Getting it here, takes a little work, though, because winter is slow and easy at heart. It can easily take weeks, months even, and suddenly without hoopla or fan fare, it's here.

.
I made impromptu plans over morning coffee, bundled up, grabbed my camera, headed for the hills. The promise of exercise and fresh air nearly sold me on the idea, sunshine closed the deal. It's a magical sort of place, a small slip of the world. a few unremarkable fields bisected by a path, blending in cozily with the acres of hills, ponds, abandoned locks and tress all around it. wildlife, a solitary path, and a lazy, distant slip of blue. The urge, of course, is to take it all in at once. But what delivers, far and away, is attention to detail. the ideal to focus separately on every accessory. listen intently to the shushing silence. I am at a loss at first, in this unfamiliar landscape. gradually my eyes reluctantly surrender their desire to roam, and tune in to focus. aware of every element. Peripheral vision is premium here, frosting on the cake, an elegant slideshow of shadows and mystic. the flicker of a wing, rustling of a branch or just another one of a million wonders.

My sight is crystal clear as are my thoughts. While I looked around, I decided this will be the winter of my content. the winter of more photos. This winter, my house will be a mess, and I will choose muddy boots and walking over clean feet and mopping. I will keep my car packed with hike related things at all time, and not complain about the lack of ocean. (and by complain, I mean out loud). This winter I have decided to enjoy the cold. To embrace it as part of the experience. And not wish it were summer, that will be the hardest part. As a summer person, I am hardwired to complain about the winter. But...this will be the winter I sit in front of the fireplace and sip hot chocolate instead. I will channel my seven year old self, the last self who actually enjoyed the frozen months. The one who ran out in the morning, in pajamas, shouting at the top of her lungs...It Snowed! It snowed! It snowed! The one who lived for making igloos and snow angels for wearing mittens, scarves, hats, snow pants, parkas and red boots, just to go outside! for 15 minutes! The one who had frozen hair and was still impervious to the 12* numbing landscape of childhood.

Winter has become my escape. my solitude. I can hide away in peace. Sneak away to the woods, knowing I practically have the whole place to myself. There is something enchanting about tromping through the woods alone, hidden amongst the trees and rocks. After years of forgotten days, this afternoon, I revisited my old stomping grounds, after years of forgotten memories, and it was so unexpectedly blissful. To add even more flair to the moment, it snowed. All of those cherished moments came flooding back to me in a wave of utter joy I couldn't have anticipated. Nostalgia is funny like that. It will sneak up on you when you least expect it. As I move forward on my journey, it comforts me to know that my fond memories of the past will never fully fade. indeed they will only grow stronger.

I cannot help but smile, in the face of everything that has come before, when I see it for the gift it really is. This will be a year of endless possibilities. A year of manifested destiny. This will be the year where age no longer matters. And I give up caring about what happened to my butt, or what it looks like in a bikini. This year there will always be fresh flowers, laughter and hope to go around. This year I will wear velvet and lavender. I will sing loudly, despite the fact that I can't carry a tune. I will give my dogs belly rubs. I will daydream about the ocean. I will surround myself with people I love, and who love me back. This will be the best year...ever!

Okay, winter,

Bring it.

Hippie Health-nut soup

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

clean sweep.

2012-01-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

Well. That was exhausting. The holidays, I mean. Lovely. But exhausting. You know how it goes~ Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's...non stop, whirl wind, roller coaster ride. A catch all of baking, eating, shopping, decorating, wrapping, activities, and random acts of craziness. Guess that pretty much sums up the past few months. plus, it just flew by! all I know is, one minute I'm in full Christmas mode, and the next minute, I'm sitting here in my pajamas wondering what le heck happened. So now that the fa-la-la-la season is behind us, I am prepared to buckle down and get on with it. get back to normal, pfffff! whatever that may be. As far as January goes, it pretty much evens things out. It's not that I'm not thoroughly and madly in love with all things festive, it's just that too much fancy pants nearly causes me to lose the small amount of sanity I cling to. The holidays may be all about merry-making, but they are also about changes, huge, wild, rocky ones, especially hard for a perfectionist or a girl who embraces her comfort zone. so I shouldn't be surprised by this, but that's my nature. I try to anticipate these changes every year, and every year, without fail, I fail to anticipate them.

Somewhere between scraping up the last of the cookie crumbs from my kitchen flour and sweeping up the glitter that has blanketed my entire house, it occurs to me to wonder...what would ~~normal~~ most people be doing now? Me, I clean. A cupboard, dust the furniture that up until two days ago I could write my name on, the pantry that hasn't once, in three months, closed properly. There are the just-right assortment of storage bins and Christmas boxes which fit haphazardly into the basement. The once shiny brite trees are now as out of place as a teenager at a Barry Manilow concert. So compromises are made on both sides. The decor is edited, heavily. Ornaments are asked to contain themselves a bit. wrapping paper, ribbons and bows are ordered to tuck themselves away. new ornaments blend with old and are packed up. Vintage Santas are respected and wrapped in tissue paper. By week's end, everything is back in order, including a double batch of breathing space. There is even a soft click as the pantry door is closed. respectable order made from cabin fever chaos. a place for everything. everything in it's place...

Save one bright, shiny exception. Snowmen. They alone have been granted clemency. Though a single reason for keeping them eludes me, since a clean sweep is what I was after. So, it became another one of those soul searching decisions that nearly threw me under the bus. ice cream...strawberry or vanilla? vacation...beach or beach? car...buy or lease? Snowmen...keep out or put into storage?

Maybe I'm too ~~lazy~~ decor sensitive. Maybe it is too drastic of a change going from glitter baby heaven to stark and empty...overnight! Maybe I'm just a sucker for a cute face. Either way, the snowmen stay. So I prepare for a final compromise, Christmas out~winter in. Until I remember the snowflakes. Are they beautiful on their own or snowman-wannabe? but magnificent, magical, whimsical, just the same. If you don't have snow, you should probably make some just to justify winter. stick them in the windows. string some over the porch. hang a few on the kitchen ceiling. or over your bed. why not? snowflakes, completely change your outlook on life. they define everything I know about magic. they also makes me say "it's snowing! it's snowing! it's snowing!" Which, admittedly, may not be much to you, but, they also make me say, in hushed tones, "oh! snowflakes, you must be MAGIC!", which actually is quite a lot, considering my grouchy state of late. so, glittery snowflakes and snowmen, stay.

This past week I have been reacquainting myself with routine, schedules and my vacuum cleaner. Getting back into that old familiar ~~grind~~ rhythm sure feels good, even though it took a bit of getting used to. The head count at dinner has returned to everyday, and the family room no longer doubles as a staging area for hoarders. No more Christmas cookie breakfasts, and afternoon tea is once again on the menu. as are afternoon naps. on the week-end. with the puppies. And come the first day of January, the calendar was wiped clean. of Christmas parties, concerts and past-bed-time-visits. Welcome back p.j. Saturday mornings, pizza and movie night and lazy Sunday breakfasts. Can I tell you how magnificent it is to make steaming vegetable soup for dinner. instead of a ham the size of a small child. how remarkable it is, to eat fresh fruits and veggies and call it a meal. which isn't to say I did not enjoy all the holiday feasting, I did, I am just ready for a change. To much of a good thing and all that. I'm not giving a thumbs down to celebration food, I just can't eat it year round..

I'm still remembering though, just a few short weeks back, spending time with family, in the house that grew me up. It still gets to me. It's was all so cozy, so very homey. The air smelled of firewood and rang with the sound of laughter... and the food was the kind I was raised on. cabbage rolls, salty ham, creamed peas, pretzel salad, crusty bread slathered with real butter, and Vernor's Ginger Ale.

The weather got under my skin as well. Seriously, all I wanted was a little snow for Christmas. Was that asking too much? There's something monumentally important about celebrating the holidays in the folds of my childhood home, with the snow softly falling outside. I won't say that it's a necessity exactly, but I will say that it seems to have nosed itself into a regular tradition, and I grew rather fond of it. Snow always works for me, but on Christmas Eve, it casts a special magic.

So, I really have no solid resolutions yet this year. no list to speak of, but I am thinking about finishing some from last year's list. I never did learn to play the violin, but I did practice my piano more. I did not walk on the treadmill everyday, but I did do yoga (almost) everyday. and there was lots of dancing barefoot in the kitchen. I almost never make resolutions on the first day of the year. I know that will change as the days go on. I know I'll stretch and strain and pull on my heart, and still that won't be nearly enough. It's still kinda soon to say, but my hope is that, among other thing, I will read more books, because I love them. I will stop eating candy for lunch like it is a normal thing to do in the middle of the day. I will get more sleep. I hope that my love will be as big as the world. as bright as the sun and not a single shade lighter. this new year looks wide open, and I am so ready to jump right in and roll with it.

Brevity may be the soul of wit, but it is seriously not my forte. Which might be why I love this space so dearly, a sentence and an image, awesome! But usually it takes more than that to convey the mayhem and joy running around inside of my head. Except on those days when a particularly excellent winter storm ignites a certain person's imagination. leaving me swooning over and plodding through piles of driven snow. It started last Tuesday, a while it only lasted for a few days, it was enough. It made me happy, watching the flakes fall. It also makes me happy to have you all as part of my life, thank you for coming. I am

forever indebted to your kindness. I hope you all have the best year ever. Peace and love.

Hummus
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

a quiet bang.

2011-12-31T13:00:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. It's New Year's Eve. Day before's no time to foist off a list of new resolutions. Don't worry. I don't want to run around, adding to or editing my list. That would be silly. Not to mention an exercise in futility. So, what I am going to do is tuck a few away. They are not exactly resolutions anyhow. In fact, I really won't have to do anything. But, since it is mere hours from the first official day promises are flung about, since it is almost 2012 and we have yet to talk about resolutions, here we go. Every year I find myself mindlessly (but faithfully) making New Year's Resolutions. This is not exactly my strong suit. I've never been very good at the follow through, before. I've made them for Monday mornings, and lazy p.j. week-ends. I've slipped them in for a birthday or two. wrapped up and sugar coated them. threw them out carelessly at the dinner table to accompany a heated discussion. They are that kind of thing, everyday folly. But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the resolutions, or lack there of, at least based on my own resolution-less years. I like things the way they are just fine now, but it's thoughts of brand spanking new beginnings that makes my knees weak. Getting better organized is always on the hit parade. more exercise. eating better = losing weight and being healthier. be more spiritual. do Yoga every day. listen more. talk less. laugh more. worry less. travel more. take more pictures. write more. live every day of my life. Whoot Woo! How can those things be bad?

See, I sort of suspect dreamers have it hardest, come New Year's. Maybe not all of them, certainly. But, some ~ I'm not going to name names, me ~ burst upon the scene at the eleventh hour on December 31st announcing "I've got my list of resolutions! I've got my list of resolutions!! Plus, Dude, I may just have invented a new holiday! It's called ME day, and on it I can do anything I want. All day long! I can take a nap! I can have popcorn and hot chocolate for dinner. As much as I want. In my pajamas. 'Kay? How 'bout today? This is the kind of day I called dibs on. In October! But I digress, resolutions...just to set the record straight, I adore ringing in a New Year. Don't get me wrong, I dig all that live in the now, smell the roses, be in the moment, ...and the hour and the second, and and and... All that slap-me-silly being mindfully aware of what is going on right here and now. It rocks. I revel in it. I haul it home, by the bushel and bagful. For months on end, for most of the year, I do nothing but. I love it.

But I also loathe it, just a little. Because, it's sort of exhausting. Chores must at times be put on the back burner. You must stick to the program. Thoughts must be recorded, pronto. Those perfect Kodak moments? enjoyed to the max. and...they can be relentless. Zippy and at their peak one minute, sad and slumped over the next. Totally out of control, the lot of them, seemingly crossing the finish line before they're even off the blocks. Leaves me just a little breathless.

so it is no accident that I have been putting it off. My silence on the subject is downright chivalrous, seeing as I'm already into a list as long as my arm, promises through the roof, and at least half a dozen ideas still on the back burner. Six calendars waiting to be hung, three new journals, a double batch of memory cards and a clean new insert for my day timer, plus various and assorted project just waiting in the wings.

Yet I know, I really do, that you can't plan it all. Life is full of surprises, some wonderful, some not so much. Certain things are out of our hands no matter how many lists we make. how many prayers, hopes and wishes are uttered in the dark of night. I have a handful of dreams I hope to fulfill. I've wished on falling stars and lucky pennies, but mostly I just wait. and wonder. I always believe I've handled it just fine, after all, who wants to tempt fate? Still, my emotions have blind-sided me before. It happens. what can you do? At times I've let the nostalgia get the better of me, and sometimes the ride is a gentle one. A few nights back, I didn't have a choice. end of the year does this to me. I thought it was no big deal. I drove down memory lane. I knew it was coming and I felt myself getting a little fluttery about it. I slowed down just a little. but not enough. I pulled the memory box out of its hiding place and unfolded old letters and momentos, from long-ago. I pushed on that bruise just a little, knowing all the while it was a bad idea. that it would hurt.

And there it was, a big lump forming in my throat. I pushed it down, only it pushed back and my eyes got that glassy I-don't-want-to-but-I'm-going-to-cry-feeling and I cried a little. I knew I would. Do I somehow not remember this about myself? Am I always testing my heart? Putting it out there. And then, I knew. It just came to me. It's not the years that I miss. It was never, ever about the past. The memories happen to be beautiful. It helps sometimes to remember them. They are comfortable and warm. There was a youthful lightness to everything. It was perfectly me and oh so very joyful. I think about it often in that wistful way. Sometimes at night I close my eyes and try to imagine myself in those long ago days, staring out the window of my life, gazing at the quiet all around me. I'm quite fond of that place. I always will be.

What makes me nostalgic isn't the past, it's who I was in the past. Actually, it's who I wasn't, at least, it started out that way, in the beginning. Back then, I was a girl who never felt shaky or unsure about her destiny. I knew I would be fine, forever. I would talk about days in the far-flung future when I was "older"...thirty, forty, fifty, and when I was really old, sixty! I would dream about living on the ocean, once other places lost their shine. I daydreamed my future, even as it was happening. Of course I did. But, I didn't know what I didn't know. My heart didn't twist up like it does now. I was innocent about some things and, I gotta say, innocence can be a pretty cozy companion. It can be liberating, willing, big hearted, free and easy, so easy that I say to myself,

"It's fine. I'll just move to the ocean next year."

Right now, today, on this last day of the year, there are uncertainties about my future. Sometimes I feel like I should know exactly what comes next, but I don't. I'm in a bit of limbo, and limbo's not so cozy. not as easy. in fact it is kind of a drag. But here's what I do know. I know that I'll be happy. and that is enough. I have that choice, and for that I am thankful. Thing will change. and change again. but I will always have the things I need most. inside of me.

In my mind, anyway, my too full days are tattling on each other. Years have their own momentum, I find, and this past one? well, it was less mosey, more gallop. Pretty much entirely due to yours truly. Normally I wipe the calendar clean, come this time of year...mentally marking up the month to come with promises made. This year's no different. I just need another week to make it happen. I'm hopeless at the wade in gently, but let me jump in with two feet, and I'm there. If you don't know passionate, straight up, you may well know one of its many guises. impulsive. spontaneous. impetuous. gone-round-the-bend. defines all manner of free spirited, and rocks my world on a regular basis. It is thrilling. and complicated. and absolutely intoxicating. Really the only problem is the way time seems to whisper my name. louder and louder. no more la-di-da-ing about. this is serious. Really? Really!

Outside...the porch is strung with Christmas lights and snowflakes, there is a wreath on the door. It looks so snowy and lovely and I have to wonder, why don't I do this all year long? this past year was a risky venture for the planning everything out kind of girl that I am. but it sorta worked out. it's an easy and laid back year when you fly by the wind. or the seat of your pants. and really that's just what i needed. even if there were some rocky times. but in all honesty, I would do it exactly the same way, given the chance.

this new year i'm slowing it all down. take my happiness in watching a sunrise. seeing the world covered in a frosty glitter. feeling the sun on my face. watching my cold breath mingle with the air and pretend I'm smoking a cigarette. taking the scenic route home, even if it takes longer. and I'm running late. not getting wrapprd up in fancy people or glittery things. doing things that matter. that make a difference. or make someone happy. and, oh I promise there will be love and laughter, enough to go around.

i have spent a great deal of time trying to make a perfect life. paying attention to all the details. trying to make sure all of the pieces fit. holding things together. keeping my heart safe from the "what ifs". protecting my people from the "come what mays". collecting all my moments into safe places. I may have missed a few. but they never broke me. only left a few cracks, enough to let in the light. and the goodness. and when there were dark places, simple things grew from them. enriched my life and made it better. gave me all I needed.

2012 is almost here. waiting on the porch. come midnight, I will welcome her with open arms and an open heart. I am a big fan of these last few hours, the ones that lead up to a new beginning. a fresh start. I like how it feels. plus, I have always been one for rituals and ceremonial hoo-hah. so,tonight, I am swimming in brand new lists.and the good news is that I am ready. as I tip toe out of this year into 2012, I send you a million wishes. and the knowledge that the magic is in the unknown. in the fact that in the end we can't predict it all. the best we can do is share the moments. all of them.

Oma's cabbage rolls
(click here for recipe)

Peace, Love and Magic

and so this is Christmas.

2011-12-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

And so it is almost Christmas and apparently, I am the last to know. I am calling in favors to make Christmas magic happen. I realize it's another week until it's official, but we all know Christmas season does not much mind the calendar. I have even taken to mustering up stashed away spirit from last year, evidently there was spirit to spare. Also tapping the reserves. pulling out aces that fell in holes. yet, somehow I am still waiting. For glittery Santa's. chubby snowmen. impossibly tiny lighted villages. Christmas music. shiny vintage bulbs. sparkly lights. the scent of pine and cinnamon. the joy that fills the house, creeping into every corner. still waiting...for the jolly. and the merry.

I feel compelled to give more during this season. I am hoping to be compelled further in February, June, September. I want to keep wearing it, never take it off. Shift my thinking to this way of truth and call it my own. Surrender to the everyday love that changes all. Make it a way of life. At times I have let the minutes, hours and days box me in. Control me. Giving me an unhealthy relationship with time. Ebb and flow. living in the moment. yet time is elusive. it slips away. I am learning patience. trying to get cozy in it. practicing the art of living the best life I can, maybe it will be even better after another year of practice.

Christmas seems different this year. For the first time, I find myself digging it out of the boxes with the ornaments and tinsel. Looking for it among the snowmen and stockings. Usually I already have it on...like a favorite sweater. I have it spilling out of everywhere. Until, everything started to change. I kinda feel discombobulated and out of sorts. Sure, it is still exciting, but now also uncertain. It does not all make sense yet, and I find myself still wondering about things. things untold, and as of yet, unknown. Still trying to get my head around it. I do know for sure that it is deep. That there is a happy/heartachey kind of feel to the season. Should not all of the preparing and anticipation last longer than a month. Should giving and gratitude not have a limitless shelf life? Be never ending? Everlasting and all that. This is not breaking news people, but what Christmas really is, what it was meant to be all along.

And call me childish, but I am borderline pouting about the snow situation this year. Bare grass. mud. rain. not acceptable. I am doing the best I can with what I have. Snowflakes strung everywhere, but I'm hankering for the real thing. It's not just that I'm fond of it, but snow seems to be winter's commitment and I have come to expect it...look forward to it even. A fresh swooooosh of powder and abra cadabra, instant magic. delivered right to your front door. At the risk of repeating myself, I love the way everything looks covered in white...so quiet and elegant. Everything bare and gloomy suddenly gone festive. How the world lights up and sparkles. Dude, the shiny bouncing off the snow can throw off some serious twinkle! Makes it dazzling. like pixie dust and glitter. The simplicity of this decorating plan is pure genius.

My plan this year is to not be left with that sinking Christmas is over feeling. I want the "peace on earth, good will to men" feeling to go on...f-o-r-e-v-e-r! I will let the little things go. I will look at more twinkly lights. Sing carols at the top of my lungs. Put aside my obsession about buying the "perfect" gifts. Give more hugs. make fewer lists. paint my nails red. spend more time with loved ones. clean less. help others and ask for help if I need it. Eat less cookies and more veggies. Spend less time in the kitchen and more time at the table. Be kind to others and to myself. Fix my heart on things that don't come wrapped up in pretty paper and bows. To remember, all year long, the real reason. And to be grateful, truly grateful.

I am still throwing around the bling. Dipping everything in chocolate and wishing everyone a Merry. Decking the halls, but hoping what will shine through, what will be seen is love, hope and joy. A place where I am reminded of the truth, in a world that truly is beautiful. In a life that truly is blessed. It may look a bit different, seem a tad strange...yet my heart continues to melt and my hopes are molded around the reflection of my journey in the way that I live and love. and so, this is Christmas.

Three-Layer Peppermint Bark

Adapted from Bon Appétit, December 1998
(click here for recipe)

Coffee Toffee

(click here for recipe)

Happy Christmas!

you may say I am a dreamer...

2011-12-11T16:03:00.000-08:00

It seems so simple. Make a wish. dream a little dream. float some hope. Wish, dream, hope. imagine.

i know.

but, are they real or just something we aspire to? are they possible or simply unattainable romantic notions. Can our inner thoughts and desires be so intangible that merely voicing them out loud is a strike against fate, puts them in the bad luck category, making it impossible for them to come true because we spoke it out loud. So, they stay our own little secrets, delicious thoughts we cherish and hide away in safe places we only allow ourselves the pleasure of visiting from time to time.

It took me a little while—say a few decades, and a lifetime—to see what good could possibly come of this practice. But over time I began to entertain the idea that this wishing/dreaming/hoping business might be less hardship than good fortune. That in a life wild with distractions, there's a certain comfort in minding a few things, not Everything, of course. But just knowing that is a wonderful thing. And, keep in mind that endless possibility's themselves may be a bit overwhelming. Still, do not consider this a direct order, but a gentle reminder, to heed at will.

As a child I had a very active imagination. As a teenager I had many questions and long periods of self reflection. and always, always I have been a dreamer. I wanted to gaze at skyscrapers, lunch in Paris, swim turquoise seas in foreign lands. I spent hours trying to imagine the excitement of places like San Francisco, New York, London and Paris. I longed to feel my hair whipping across my face as I flew through the countryside in Tuscany. on the back of a scooter. my arms strapped about Carmine. I saw myself floating down watery streets in a gondola. Gazing at the Pyramids and The Great Wall of China. I had visions of myself riding on the back of a camel. taking photos of giraffes, tigers and kola bears. In my wildest dreams I saw the ruins of ancient Rome and Greece. I prayed to be whisked away. dropped on a doorstep in a far away land. Books and movies helped to provide details for the adventures and places I dreamed of. helped to fuel my desire and fascination for places unknown.

I guess I did not need a crystal ball to know that come what may, travel was in my future. Be careful what you wish for was not in my vocabulary. and wanderlust is what flowed through my veins. While kids my age were busy playing hop scotch and Red Rover, I was strolling down the Champs Elysees, window shopping and having lunch at a sidewalk cafe. Crossing my fingers to visit the Tower of London. Or sunbathe on a yacht in Cote'dAzur. Yes, from my tiny spot in the world, I could go anywhere and it all seemed so exotic...

For the most part, the wanderlust won out. I have enjoyed many great adventures and travel. Even some of the places I dreamed about years ago. I still have visions of that perfect moment of Zen doing yoga in the Himalayas. Dog sledding through Norway under the Northern Lights. going on a safari in Namibia along the Skeleton Coast or hiking in Patagonia. These are just a few of the places I dream of, envisage with the dreaminess of a lifetime, making them as familiar to me as my own home town.

so the question remains, what do I wish for now. In those quiet moments when I allow myself the luxury of daydreams, what is it I want? Needless to say, once again I am afraid of tempting fate. jinxing it. yet, the truth is, the things I wish for now, are simply health, happiness and peace. and I would not object to a little friendship, romance, laughter and love thrown in. I know that my mind will always turn to thoughts of wandering, will remember and create fantasies about the far flung and the extraordinary. Hopefully, adventures are still mapped out in my future, if I keep dreaming.

After all, wanderlust runs deep. When life is relentless, I take the time to remind myself of the things that make my heart skip a beat. To put practical thoughts aside. Actually, days with drama are the perfect excuse to do a little arm chair traveling. To catch up on that which needs being caught up on. Dreams need an endless supply of imagination. please, skip the predictable. surrender to the elements of surprise and the never taken for granted. always, look at the world with love, happiness and high expectations. These dreams were meant to last a lifetime, many lifetimes in fact and therein lies their magic.

Pink Peppermint Snowballs

makes about 40 cookies

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

edge of seventeen

2011-12-01T06:12:00.000-08:00

Alright, enough with all the fancy pants posts.

I never meant to give you the impression that it's all frou-frou and la-di-da around here. So now, I would like to set the record straight. pull no punches, talk straight, color out of the lines, get down to the real nitty-gritty.

Let's talk about life. Let's talk about heartbreak. Let's talk about the sixties.

s'ok.

High School. Yeah. I know!

Two little words that can either conjure up sweet memories of a nearly carefree youth or can immediately evoke feelings of inadequacy and make even the most well adjusted adult in you break out in a cold sweat. So you loved it or you didn't. Makes no difference if you were the queen of the prom who enjoyed her reign as teen-age royalty, a loyal member of the Royal Court, one of the peasants or the court jester counting down the days until diplomas were handed out, it is impossible to believe that those years do not bring about some kind of emotion. maybe even left a few scars. There is no question they left a lasting impact on you.

So why the nostalgic trip down memory lane?As I find myself ~~wallowing~~ enjoying my golden years, I occasionally think about what I will be leaving behind. I have lived in the same house for almost 10 years (14 in the one before this) my closets, drawers and storage rooms are virtual catacombs of gathered and collected things. Saved things. I understand that what to me are sentimental tokens, to other people would seem like candidates for a garage sale at best, and possible Goodwill donations at worst. I know, right that's just the way it is with sentimental things, it's the memory that the stuff evokes that's valuable, not the item itself. The true past is manifested, not in an album of old photographs, but in the memories they conjure up. not in the tear stained pages of old poetry or love letters, but in the sentiment you remember deep within your heart. not in the faded, wrinkled fabric of the prom dress...but in the whispers of broken dreams and heart ache.

lately, I have found myself thinking about that girl...the one I was back then. starry eyed with grand plans for the future. on fire to change the ways of the world. I've been remembering the days when the house I lived in belonged to my parents. When my whole future stretched before me. the world was my oyster. Still, they "were the boss of me". taught me right from wrong. Set my curfews. Decided my punishments for breaking the rules, even though I though I should be rewarded for the clever ways I broke them. My biggest worries were finding time in my active social life to complete my homework, fret about my hair getting ruined in the rain on the walk to school, or wonder about who I would go to the prom with...

Prom!?!!!

Remember when Prom Season rolled around? If you were going "steady" with someone, you were pretty much set. dating someone exclusively meant you could start shopping for your dress. but if you were not in a steady relationship you had about a 50/50 shot at best that you'd get asked to the Prom. Some of the girls I knew had nerves of steel (keep in mind that when I was in High School we had not discovered woman's lib, so protocol was waiting for the guy to ask you) anyway, they would go after what they wanted, would ask a guy instead of waiting for him to ask her!!! I wasn't one of those girls. Now all through high school I was in love with Bobby (all these years later, I think I might still be, if only just a bit.) We dated briefly, sporadically, he was busy. studying, basketball, wrestling, baseball, golf. He didn't have time for a serious girlfriend, I tried to respected that.

Still I waited faithfully junior year for him to ask me. nervously fretted for weeks about it. went to all his games. we did homework together (he had a hard time with English, math made me pull my hair out). I tried a new hair do. Wore shorter skirts. followed him around like a lost puppy. hoped that he would give me his class ring, because back in the day that's what you did, when you were a couple. Nervously I waited...March, April. three weeks before the dance, he still had not asked me. Two weeks before the dance I found out he was going with someone else. She asked him. Right after the dance She was wearing his class ring. They were married right out of High School and divorced after their third child was born. Was I heartbroken. absolutely! did I learn a valuable lesson. you betcha! never again did I wait and wish. If I wanted something I made it happen. If it was not to be, I moved on.

So, if I could, what would I tell my seventeen year old self?

Don't be in such a hurry to grow up. Spend more time with your parents. Pay more attention to Nature and the beauty around you,I know you get cold easily and worry about your bullet-proof hair getting messed up, but go for a walk or ride your bike more often. Chores will not kill you. Spend less time reading Tiger Beat, Seventeen and 16 magazine and read more books, someday you may want to write one. You aren't going to marry Paul McCartney. Buy a good camera and take tons of pictures. Write more and do not throw away all your old journals. Do not, I repeat DO NOT sneak out for that Halloween party, you will regret it. I promise you. Being grounded? not the worst thing in the world, you will actually enjoy the peace and quiet of being locked away in your room one day. Sorry, but you will always be afraid of the dark. Your Mom is totally right about that whole water thing, sweat, tears, and the sea can cure anything. Spend time with people who can rekindle your inner spirit and don’t ever forget to tell them how much they mean to you.You might not ever figure out exactly what you want to be when you grow up, but that’s okay. life is more about the journey than the destination. you are fine just the way you are. smile more. remember how good it feels to do a cartwheel or split, you won't always be able to. diet coke is not the answer. do not listen to the people who tell you you cannot do something, do it anyway. keep writing. when your mom offers to teach you how to sew, do not blow her off. make grandma write down her recipes. boys are generally not worth it. you don't really need all that black eyeliner. really. and while we're on the subject, beware of all cosmetic counter makeovers. do not slather yourself with baby oil and lay out on foil mats. furthermore, wear sunscreen. ALL. THE. TIME. your dad is totally right about that whole time thing. twenty years, gone. just like that. And dude, seriously, you are okay just the way you are.

So it is at this point that you may be asking what in the world does Prom have to do with anything. Well, sometimes life still feels that way. like it is a few weeks before the dance and I'm still without a date. Now I know, life is good, mostly it's dinner and a movie, sometimes lunch and shopping, a.n.d. every once in a while, you get asked to the Prom.

Farmer's Cheese and Raisin Filo Strudel

adapted from Rick Rodgers

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

something in the air

2011-11-22T16:00:00.000-08:00

Despite fond memories of Fall, I'm not entirely sorry that it's almost over. Even though Fall does this thing where she dances back and forth between warm and cold, sunny and gloomy. one day strolling in short sleeves the next flirting with freezing, back and forth, ...but who can blame her? she is after all posed on the cusp between summer and winter. And she has that special light, the one that makes magical things happen, things that charm everyone around her. So I patiently wait and let her do her thing. Eventually she will introduce winter. winter with his monochrome decorating scheme, crystal storms, winter wonderlands...delivered right to your door step, no less! everything powdered and frosted and dusted by white. Farewell Fall, I will miss you, it's been swell.

I can't help but wonder, is there something in the air lately? I mean besides the usual nitrogen, oxygen, argon, and carbon dioxide? and is it just me or does this seem to happen every year about this time? What le heck? I am almost starting to think there is something seasonal to it. The other day while I had the luxury of a few lucid moments to myself I started thinking about the up coming holidays. ding! ding! ding! I'm not a genius dude, but could there possibly be a connection? I'm dangerous, I know. Life itself has been a bit challenging lately, but throw in the holidays, and~oh, lordy~this may just unravel my last nerve. In a conversation with my sister recently, I used the word stressed no less than 16 times (she used it more than 20), needless to say it was a five star rant, full of manic, multi-tasking energy that I have become scathingly guilty of lately.

Also, I'm feeling my "inner schucky" more, I've been having ~~nightmares~~ really unsettling dreams...feeling restless. waiting for the other shoe to drop kinda feeling. other things too. cracking my knuckles. writing in all CAPS, swearing more (well, more than usual) and then there is my exhaustive fight with exhaustion. and, just to get this straight, now I am also ranting about ranting. That's right!, so clearly I've been all over the place emotionally. I dunno, at least I have not done anything crazy like shave my head or pour a bucket of paint on the living room rug. Still. Something in the air. I have been working non-stop for the past few months trying to wrap up Fall and welcome winter. All this has made me sorta loopy. I feel at times like a cross between a buzzed college kid and a giggly five year old. So, as you can well imagine, I have been a joy to be around, not to mention an easy target. Something in the air.

Oh, I almost forgot! on top of everything else we are now in full holiday mode! Halloween, done. Thanksgiving, 2 days. Christmas, right around the corner. So given my

fondness for Christmas and my obsession for holiday decorating, well my obsessiveness in general, it's no secret that I look forward to this every year since it really is my "get out of jail free" card to indulge in all of the aforementioned vices with complete and utter abandon. And let's not forget, it also allows me to indulge in another of my not-so-secret addictions ...baking Christmas cookies. Seriously, who comes up with this stuff? I would love to meet the PR guy who came up with this idea and give them a big, fat kiss on the mouth. I couldn't have dreamed up a better scam myself.

Like the big hair and pageant makeup of the sixties, there is something disgustingly sweet yet wildly shocking about the amount of decorating I do. The hubs has taken to calling it my Shock and Awe campaign. I pull out box after glittery box. for weeks on end it is just me and my beloved decorations, which I line up like little soldiers waiting to be hung, strung or otherwise turned into fabulous Christmas charm. Getting back into the holiday decorating saddle is a heady and seducing sensation for me. unwrapping my ornaments is akin to greeting long lost friends...oh, baby, how I have missed you all. So, I say to heck with pretending to be immune to all of the snowmen, santas, glittery bulbs, red trappings and gaudy reindeer, I adore them. I probably didn't need to point that out again, but I'm driving it home. M'kay?

Snow, Christmas lights, buying the perfect gift for someone, drinking hot chocolate, fruit cake (that's right), Christmas carols. I love them. just adore it all. I love sending Christmas cards and special wishes to those who are near and dear to my heart. baking and giving away Christmas cookies. I really do LOVE IT! actually, at times I may love it a bit too hard. I am always trying to squeeze in just a little more twinkling, baking and general holiday merry making. So I decided ~~this~~ next year things would go down differently. I am thinking more towards the all is calm rather than the all is ~~crazy~~ bright angle. Hopefully. It is an admirable goal even though the art of being a single-tasker is not one that I possess. But I have over twelve months to get my head there. to prepare. make my lists. baby sit it. conscientiously mind it, and...... here is the kicker, actually follow through.

I know.

something in the air.

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

that old familiar feeling...

2011-11-10T03:29:00.000-08:00

And just like that, fall is upon us~how is that possible...how is it November already? As of late, my efforts to be outside have been heroic, if not entirely successful. Saturday morning I looked out my window, gazed upon the sunny gloriousness and I was seduced, totally convinced that I must be out there soaking up enough rays to warrant requisite not-too-much-later-in-life botox treatments. so, under this obligatory coercion, I finally propelled my butt out of the house to be one with Nature...you see, I've been facing a drama head on for a couple of months and decided that I might like to dapple in denial instead. just for a day or two. My plan? my plan was to pretend that I did not have a three page to-do list, feign sunny optimism and ignore the frantic feelings that were beginning to churn in my gut and run rampant right beneath my surface. So, I did what any self-respecting girl facing a mini breakdown would do if she were in my shoes...planned a day trip. one hour south, a Barn full of Christmas and a winery! makes sense to moi, no? I mean isn't that what everybody does when life gets kinda funky.

Saturday afternoon had me pretending that it was not as cool as it was, that I didn't need a bulky sweater, scarf and mittens to sit in a pasture and enjoy a ~~bottle~~ glass of wine. that I wasn't feeling all mushy and nostalgic as we sat and watched Fall come swooping in. hundreds of brilliantly colored leaves fluttered around us in the cool air like little bits of papery magic. one landed on my shoulder and I marveled at the brilliant colors, the amazing patterns. there were horses in a field. chickens. a donkey named Hobart (he was not home) and a cat named Lafayette, unfortunately, she ran away before we were properly introduced. we watched her work the crowd, flouncing from table to table, she was shameless in her begging and quest for attention.

And then, as always, there was the matter of finding my groove. I tend to obsess over stuff, you know me, I like things in neat packages, it is comforting to me to know what to expect, oh, I love surprises and adventures as much as the next guy, I just don't like having the rug pulled out from under me. and sudden, drastic life changes rivals all of the above. As does things out of my control. Even if it's just a part of the whole process. Even if I've known this the better part of forever. even if I try to roll with the punches. Still and all. Things happen.

One of my biggest snafus? Not living in the moment enough. this is particularly clear when the moments are gone. captured only in photos and my selective memory. yet, even with these I wish I could remember certain things...what we ate, what we talked about, how we sounded, what was the mood like. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing, shopping, lunch, glass of wine, home. I wish I had cherished the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Certain things I'm still getting used to, having spent many years doing the whole long distance thing, it is pretty cool to have most of my gene pool so close by. within spitting distance. an arms reach. right in my hood. There was always such an all or nothing quality to being so far-flung. But now, now life is pretty rich on the spontaneous! So I'm living more in the moment, and when I add up my tangible accomplishments as of late, not so much. in fact just about zero. but I'm digging it, I'm busy attending to important matters. My closet's a disaster. My garden is a scandal! Don't even think about opening my fridge. Because after all, Life won't wait. we were recently given an extra hour. seriously? I savored it. pissed it away. I'm hoping to double down on my free time, my fun days, suddenly I'm aware that they come with an expiration date. I'm reveling in quiet afternoons talking to goats, willing the peaceful times to keep coming. I might nearly have let this season pass without enjoying it for what it is, had I not spied the shiny peeking in. watched it strutting about my kitchen all sassy like. I'm so glad I remembered, just in the nick of time. It's deceptively simple, sunshine, good company, a whole day of happy, sparkles, and twinkly. Add that we laughed, a lot, made it a day I won't soon forget. for a long time. maybe, never.

And, I collected more memories than I can count. Rare is the outing that doesn't end with a fistful of photos. A reasonable person would take a few photos and be done with it. I am not that person. Perhaps because there were years when I had none. I'm making up for lost time. It bears repeating. often. live in the moment, and take tons of photos.

In the moment. Humph. Do you or don't you? Me, I'm of two minds on the matter.

I definitely try to. live in the moment. Sometimes, it seems I have to try rather more than I ought to. And then I have some serious explaining to do to myself. catching up if you will. is it merely a case of enjoying life or is it a question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin? This is not to say it comes easily, but when I make up my mind, I jump in feet first. I'm on a roll. Finally find my groove and sort of move into it. this keeps me busy. out of trouble. out of my head where things tend to wander a bit at times. where I should not always go. keeping me up well past my bedtime. my head barely above water. Then of course, there is the small matter of borrowing trouble. getting ahead of myself. even though I know, I really do know, that these are roads better left untraveled.

and something more.

I've been having those feelings again. Those feelings where I can’t pay attention to any one thing for long. you know how it goes, I’m there, but I’m not. The thoughts in my head are louder than any real voices I hear around me. When I feel this way, I need to be alone. the truth is, time alone, finding a place to escape has always been important to me. As a child I would hide in closets, the attic, behind the couch, climb a tree. anywhere to be by myself. hide away. regroup. refresh my spirit. that's how it was on Tuesday. windows flung open to capture every last bit of magic. an early picnic lunch by a lake, an afternoon making Apple Crostata and singing along with Bon Jovi, now there's a guy who really knows how to show a girl a good time.

there's a chance of snow on Friday, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Apple Crostata (Adapted from Ina Garten)

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

ohio.

2011-10-30T15:43:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to love Ohio. In the Fall. It fills me up, in the same way walking among the stars would do. soaring with the eagles. swimming with dolphins. being able to breathe under water. or skip up a mountain side. It makes me feel fine. At one, with Nature. Even when you've ended up here, once again, by accident. There is a spectacular show under way, staged in the tops of the trees. The ground is dripping with leaves, and on display are all the shades in the Universe. a final hurrah. hip-hip hooray. a standing ovation to summer, before the frozen months come. No more hundred shades of green. My formerly familiar trees, are now becoming shadows of their former selves. silhouettes. mere fringes against a barely blue sky. The air astounds me with it's chill. and hiding in that tiny space between dusk and dawn are all the secrets in the world. Cool, star studded nights that tumble into non stop glorious mornings will be dearly missed. And did I mention? a state bird, the color of Christmas flowers. Oh, my!

Dear Ohio, has anyone complimented you lately on your covered bridges. framed with the plush of trees and water. Somehow? these escaped my attention the first time around, when I lived here before. Now I am making up for lost time. They really are sort of special. Over 125 in all. scattered through-out. mostly wooden. all historic. If you haven't seen them, I highly recommend it. a tour. Sixteen in one afternoon's time, is not impossible. flat out gorgeous, baby. Ashtabula, if you are a one trick pony, this is a good one. Madison County could take a few pointers from you.

Also swoon worthy, are your wineries, plotting competition for California and New York. Surreptitiously, so as not to start a trend, still not every state can make this claim, or accessorize so smartly. Fields and fields of plump grapes on vines as straight as a zipper up the back of a party dress. Really, just drop everything. It’s wine tasting time. Ohio, excellent and wine absolutely can be used in the same sentence. Here is a notion that is positively brilliant! venture to the lake area, order a bottle of Chambourcin, score some cheese and crackers, and I suspect you're in for one dreamy day. or at least one seriously tarted up afternoon. And this intriguing wine, Chambourcin, well, I suspected it was The One, or could be, after I'd devoured a few bottles several years back. And the best part, for my money anyway, is the all together bit. So before Ohio gets all stiff-lipped and serious about winter, grab your peeps and give it a try. Seems 119 year old churches make excellent wineries. Ohio has a knack for growing grapes. Who knew? a certain serendipity and a region perched atop the remnants of glacial beaches would create the perfect soil, rich and fertile that would become the Grand River Valley. Yep, Ohio can make a mighty fine wine.

Amish country? you must know by now that it has a personality all its own. It is peaceful, historic and chock full of restaurants, gift shops and show-stopping scenery. everything I crave in a one tank trip. I treat it more as a mini vacation than a shopping expedition. One that makes me happy. every. single. time. not too long, not too short. just far enough away as to not be everyday humdrum. endlessly entertaining. more a suggestion really than a direct order. Antique shops and diners can be swapped out for flea markets and Amish cooking at grandma's in places cozily named Charm, Berlin and Sugarcreek. Throw in a few cheese shops and bakeries for fun, and really, don't skimp on the atmosphere.

Also? I think I may owe you an apology for affixing "no ocean" every time I mention you, as if it were your middle name (yes, Ohio, no ocean, but we have...)...beaches, no ocean, but will a Great Lake do? And a lighthouse? fabulous islands. awesome Metro Parks! Plus, Mohican State Park. And Hocking Hills. water parks, world class amusement parks ~ including one that still holds the world record for the longest wooden roller coaster in the world! historical sites, arboretums, bike trails, zoos, award winning golf courses. museums, a building shaped like a basket, spectacular State fairs, corn fields, pumpkin patches and Swenson's. all these things delight me.
Oh, and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame! Extra credit, BIG TIME!

I know Fall technically still has several weeks left on it's lease, but I can feel winter's whisper, so get out there and soak it up while you can.

Pumpkin Cupcakes With Maple–Cream Cheese Frosting
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

i don't know why.

2011-10-24T06:21:00.000-07:00

I don't know why the urge for uncontrollable laughter sometimes comes at the worst possible times, like in church, or during a funeral. I don't know why it rains whenever you plan to be married on the beach or in the park. I don't know why we sometimes want what we can not have. or crave things we clearly know are bad for us. I don't know why love tests us to the very core of our being, sometimes. I don't know why all these years later, the hours, days and years rearranged themselves to allow me to see it as I had the first time. as if no time at all had passed. Mostly, I saw those eyes...bright, alert, kind, searching. light blue with darker blue on the edges as if they had meant to be the color of the sky and at the last minute they changed their mind and decided to be the color of the ocean. Oh, life, I didn't think you had it in you. After all this time of doing the only thing I've ever loved, I thought I knew what to expect. I had a hunch there would be challenging times, of course, there have been before. Maybe a few bad days to boot. And if I'd been more naughty than nice, a piper to pay. but boy, did you ever surprise me. after all these years? How very clever. to catch me off guard. when my defenses were down. I never saw it coming. and let me just say, that if a broken heart made a sound, you would have heard mine, shatter like breaking crystal crashing to the floor. in that moment.

Some of you may know this about me, I like my life to be perfectly well-ironed. no wrinkles. or creases. when this happens, when things do not go as planned, I am ever so slightly prone to theatrics and exaggeration! This can sometimes cause me to mosey on over to crazy town. And perhaps, if I line these two up, all back-to-back, nice and casual-like, I hardly notice I have ventured into some seriously bad juju. And just to clarify, I am only iffy on the drama bit, while most certainly rock solid on the crazy, even while trying to maintain just a tiny bit of dignity. It may not seem that way. Because, by rights, huge emotions slamming down through a normally peaceful day should floor you, make dealing with certain things tough...but I find this is not always the case for me. it may even be a cinch at times. you know the kind I'm talking about. pure, raw, honest emotions that come out fighting. screaming. these I know what to do with. how to handle them. maybe not always with perfect grace and charm, but I know I will make it, find my way to the other side and just maybe be better for it. what I can not deal with are the hidden, cleverly muddled up emotions, tangled and messy. silent. almost impossible to unravel. they always come with a touch of resentment and a huge dose of guilt. They sit in the pit of my stomach. waiting. with their recriminations. making demands. just will not leave me alone. I try to deal with them. no way. nothing. yep! still tangled up.

So? what to do? I listen. reflect. let it resonate within my heart. I am silent. This is what I do. When I am upset. when I feel hurt. when I feel unappreciated and there are no words of encouragement. not even a thank you. I grow silent. This may seem strange, given my romance with words, but it happens none the less. I lose my desire to talk and I close down. still my thoughts. Maybe I am hoping someone will read my mind. fill in the blanks. read between the lines. Luckily, I know what is in my heart. how to fill in the spaces between my emotions. those hollow spots between each heart beat.

Silence can be my saving grace. my strength. it compels me to do those things that I love. Yoga. meditating. writing. long walks. sitting and doing nothing. Life, at times can be loud. Sirens wailing, cars honking, people yelling, construction everywhere, lawn mowers, babies crying. hearts breaking. at time, it can be incessant, the noise. making it difficult for me to hear even my own thoughts. The sad thing is, I somehow get used to it. accept it as being the norm. I don't even realize that it is getting to me, crawling under my skin, slowly driving me down that road again. Until...I have to make it stop. head out to the woods, take a drive down a country lane. even, sit on a bench in the historic cemetery close by my house, after all, everyone there is pretty good at the whole silence thing. so, I chill. find that semblance of quietude that I crave. ahhhh, the sounds of silence. I am a big fan.

On the flip side, I also love having cocktails at cool smokey bars while listening to jazz. going to a concert. dinner with friends. listening to tall grasses dancing in the wind, I love the sound of laughter, music, whispering and puppies barking. so, I'm never sorry for the bits of silence that creep in. I embrace them. adjust my priorities when needed. the lesson may be in learning how to laugh at dropped balls, just as well as learning how to juggle them. I surround myself with those that understand my heart. I am slowly learning how to let go. and that my greatest weakness may become my greatest strength. and...maybe, just maybe, silence is it's own reward. And on the off-chance that hind sight is 20/20, I have to figure out how to make this into a permanent change of strength.

Ginger Snaps
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

it was good.

2011-10-18T16:56:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning in my own bed...hidden bits of stowaway pink sand between my sheets, the sound of waves still crashing in my mind. Ely's soft sweet song whispering in my ear. Phew! we went and came back. a while ago. I am mostly settled back in. physically. mentally i am still on the island. It was good. as it always is. Obviously, I'm not good at saying good-bye. or letting go. I'm still sorting through the photos. and memories. it was more beautiful than I could have dreamed up. When we first arrived I was tickled beyond belief and immediately went into bossy mode. "We have to do this and must do that, and oh yeah!, we need to go there!" Then I realized that I should save my bossy pants for another time, and just go with it! So I did! It was blissful. quiet. restful. in the moment. spiritual if you will. it was the perfect escape. vacations can sometimes be stuffed with itinerary's. things to do. places to see. too much to eat. not enough time for anything. leaving you more exhausted than before you left. this was not that trip. it was laid back. beachy kind of days where the only plan was to just sit and be and the only routine was sunscreen, a late lunch,and ~~lots of~~ the occasional dark and stormy.

it did my heart good. and my soul. moving to a slower rhythm in one of my favorite places on earth. we hid away in a giant pink sandcastle. surrounded on all sides by the sea, the only way out by plane, ship or dolphin. So, before I forget, while it's still fresh, I wanted to remember... the things we did. the way I felt. I could breathe...deeply. I get all teary eyed, noodling over times remembered, apparently, this is what I do best. It's happening again now. I am reminiscing about an island shaped like a fishhook, twenty two miles long, 2 miles wide...you can almost walk the entire way, but keep in mind, flip flops top out at about mile twelve. I have memorialized all day moped sightseeing tours on narrow, winding roads. backwards from what we know. on the left side. takes some getting used to. heavenly beach walks where shells were scattered like tiny stars. and the many other things. big and small. You know, right? all the extraordinary, amazing, spectacular, mind blowing things that are everyday occurrences there. I am the first to admit that I am a sucker for the royal treatment, every now and then, but I won't make pampered my lifestyle. and why would I, puffery is just not my way, I promise.

I adored blue skies, a tropical storm worthy of Oz, that came out of nowhere and then slipped back...all in the blink of an eye. Palm trees were a dime a dozen. Best seafood this side of anywhere. The air. Holy cats. It was outrageous stuff, crystal clear, salty, bright, completely addictive. I'm not sure how I live without this. deep inhale, slow release. repeat. instant calm. It's pretty amazing stuff. But when it comes to sea air, I find I return to this same method, over and over. You can complicate it, if you wish, I tried it myself. gussied it up. but keeping it simple, gentle is the way to go. in my book, anyway. it relaxes. comforts me. I'll allow, though, that it might just be the thrill of being near the ocean, finding such splendor, that puts me in this state of mind. I hope you don't think me waxing nostalgic. or even pining for moments lost, I am not. Rather I am wishing to remember, to look at things less and to see them more. manifesting daily, my karma, that one day the ocean will be my home again. Not a bad fate, if you ask me.

There's a popular hang out, maybe you know it?, Swizzle Inn. they serve up a pretty tasty lunch. Bermuda fish chowder, Wahoo Burgers, and of course! a rum swizzle. aka Bermuda's national drink, it originated here! A delicious combination of rums, orange, lemon and pineapple juices, falernum (local sweet syrup) and a few extra secret ingredients! Whirl them together in a pitcher, strain into cocktail glasses, mmmm. not too sweet and definitely not too weak, although I may have been over served a time or two.

There is a quaint downtown. human traffic lights, duty free shopping! A harbor with ships as big as Boston. Real English Pub's. Botanical gardens and crystal caves. An aquarium and a zoo. Dozens of ancient fortresses, a Royal Naval dockyard, and a snorkeling park. Under water coral reefs best viewed from a glass bottom boat. Amazing Churches, cemeteries, nature reserves, over 34 beaches, a lighthouse, the friendliest people in the world (duh, they live here!) and Moon gates. World class golf courses, 5 star restaurants and High Tea...on the beach! Holy Cow! who designed this place?

The rest of the time, we stayed on the beach. and why not? we soaked up the sun. wiggled our toes in the sand. sported hair dos fashioned from salt water, helmet hair and snorkeling masks. there were shells to collect, castles to build, dreams to weave and dolphins to kiss. did I mention that I kissed a dolphin? DUDE!!! I kissed a dolphin, six times! Her name is Ely. We connected, it was love at first sight!!! I adore her! I also met her daughter Marley. we held hands and she danced for me. sang me a song. I fed them a snack. they were mystical.ethereal, otherworldly. I could not have felt more spiritual if I had kissed the Dali Lama himself. Yet, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had a hunch it would be great. Maybe a shared laugh or two. a warm feeling in my gut. Oh, Ely, man, did you ever deliver. I was awfully pleased with the way you fulfilled pretty much my every hope and wish. We tumbled into non-stop happy. I will remember always. Celebrate our bond that goes back to forever, no small feat. And a minor miracle to witness, the way we took to each other so quickly. If you haven't tried it, kissed a dolphin I mean, I highly recommend it.

I felt like a five year old at Christmas. Everything was magical. every moment was a new gift to unwrap. amazing little treasures each one! I could not stop myself. I savored it all. tucked it away. weeks after being back I'm still remembering moments as if they were yesterday. I woke up a few mornings to be alone on the beach. to walk. think. watch. listen. Anyway, I hope you'll forgive my wanderings. the redundancy. It's just that from where I sit on this October morning, in Ohio, everything looks a bit bleak. So, I am keeping my eye on the big picture. trying to live in the moment. I am always reminded of what that is. picturing my dream home, my nautical stomping grounds, I know nothing else. Not that I am wallowing, I love the spontaneous routine of every day. tucked between the last and the next one. still I may be a bit timid with it at times. it seems so alive. always moving and pulling at me. just out of reach, like a shiny star. darting about and at times even being caught up in the waves and washed out to sea...crashing to the ocean floor only to be washed back onto the beach. with tiny bits of broken shells. washed smooth as sea glass. but still intact. still within reach. I know all this, in my heart.

ghost cookies
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

as time goes by.

2011-10-10T03:41:00.000-07:00

Having a few lucid moments to myself lately has been pretty rare and when they do happen I go through them like Russian stacking dolls. So bear with me here, as I feel a ramble coming on. You may not have noticed, it's kinda hard to tell, but I am getting older. That's not the bad news. Everyone else is getting younger! It was pretty subtle at the beginning. But now, well let's just say it's starting to suck, big time. Take my doctor for example. While I'm not ready to call him Doogie Howser, M.D., I'm pretty sure it would be illegal for him to order an apple martini before dinner. Aren't doctors suppose to be ~~old~~ older? Instill trust and a sense of well being? And my hairdresser! Dude! What is she like 14. How does she even get to work? Does her mother have to drive her?

I'm thinking thoughts that have spanned an entire lifetime. here I sit at my desk, in my own home, but I may as well be trekking Mt. Everest. suspended between yesterday and tomorrow. holding my breath wondering if there really are enough happy endings to go around. reflecting on how to tip the clock so that everything can feel new again. in my favor. full of possibilities. ripe with second chances. knowing in my heart that all the good intentions in the world don't amount to a hill of beans when fate has something different in mind. I'm running around a lot, here and there, and now I have to worry about a feather that came off my wings. Yet I continue to hold onto my dreams, some silly some grand and some still up my sleeves. I'm pumped just to still have some.

I find my way, most days, through trail and error. serendipity style. In the span of an afternoon I can go from kindergarten giddy to Golden Buckeye grumpy jumping in feet first, cannon-ball style with a belly flop as an encore. only I know these secrets. and I'll keep them to myself awhile longer, as I let them marinate. There are few subjects I am less qualified to discuss than time, but my knowledge on my personal memories run the full distance. they remind me, worryingly, of how quickly time is passing. How tempestuous my relationship with it really is. It starts out lighthearted and jolly, but often ends in the overstepping of boundaries and things taken too far category. Our zealous rendezvous is often regretted the day after. At times I feel I'm not ready to rekindle this romance, and maybe, just maybe it is one best saved for another time.

Lucky for me then, I am on a first name basis with reality. without any boozy undertones in the mix. I am not putting down booze, or undertones, I just prefer mine straight without the flowery, perfumed taste. without the haze and higher honeyed disposition. I am not sneering at pouring spirits into the mix, I just prefer to set my own mood. the mixing of seriously sweet times, with feelings that are as common as pumpkins in the fall. and regrets? pffffft! what regrets? check back in another ten or twenty.

Obviously I just returned from another trip down memory lane.

William Morris was quoted as saying "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." I love this quote. I would like to take it and run with it. set it free. give it wings. also I would like to add to it, you had to know that was coming. I would like it to say 'Have nothing in your house or life that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.' Because Life is beautiful. I'm not talking about the everyday, expected beauty of a landscape or the ocean, but deeper...the kind that you may find in the most unexpected places, at times even hidden. yes, that's right, you may have to look for it. search it out. go ahead, it's worth it.

So, I like to think about the things that inspire me, in my every day, things that are beautiful and useful and delicious.

simple plum tart

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

transitions.

2011-10-02T16:23:00.000-07:00

I saw them today, just a few, but enough to let me know they are on the way. the rain had stopped and they were basking in the sunshine, tiny raindrops reflecting the shiny like so many diamond bits sparkling above. a bright splash of crimson. a small burst of golden honey. we are truly there. our days light waning, finding it's well worn groove, claiming it's rightful spot with just the smallest of sighs. Yet I find my mind is still eager to wander to thoughts of summer. to seek out the bright places and hold on tight. reach into the sunshine and wrap myself in it. to prolong the inevitable bruising of the season. I understand that this is the way it should be, has been forever, I'm just not ready yet. So lovely is the sun, I take my quiet time, to meditate, daydream, build castles in the air. breathe. deeply. and open my heart. I am happy in the knowledge that although I do not know the answers yet, I will, when the time is right. And so of course I do what comes natural to me and hope that it will be enough.

If you are ever given a choice between names like Autumn or Fall, by all means, pick the first one. Seriously, why would you not? just curious. autumnal equinox. so pretty. frou frou. a little more on the fussy side, I know but still! Really? just drop everything it's Autumn. Perhaps I should be a little more accepting, so I shouldn't label it with "this too shall pass" because, why would I want it to, but that's my nature? So let Autumn creep in. Yes, the days have been mostly bluster. chill settling in and rain. but the sky... Michelangelo worthy. Spectacular. Before and after. Dusk and dawn. scrapings from heaven's gift shop floor. And I find that before I venture out, I am looking high and low for that hoodie missing in action these past few months. Soon for mittens, scarves and boots, but we will leave that for another day. When the cold becomes more than just a kiss on my cheek.

The last of summer's roses are shivering in the breeze, hanging their heads and fading beauty. No longer the queen ruling her garden. sighing in sadness and planning for spring. such grace and dignity. I kid you not. I didn't even bribe her. didn't even have to plant the seed although I might add an extra scoop of mulch to comfort her during her beauty nap, you know, to prevent her feet from getting cold. she is amazing. has it all figured out. no worries though, her method is foolproof. You need only to tuck her in, help put her to bed. Other than that, she needs no minding. I am never this prepared. Come to think of it, everything should be this easy. But the one rule with roses, is that when they announce themselves, when they return late spring, you must come running. stop everything. inhale. pause and admire. make a fuss.This shouldn't pose a problem. But it is crucial.

And there are leaves! Have I mentioned the leaves? All green since May, now going on parade. don't think I haven't noticed. It just can't be helped. and while I didn't actually plan it, by now I'm kinda diggin' it. you can always look away, ignore it. but then, you would miss the show.

I am once again speaking fluent knitting. naturally, given my love for it I never stopped, but now, now I am doing it up a storm. I know yarn weights. I can tell at a glance my wools from acrylics. use angora even though it leaves a trail of angel dust everywhere. I can use needles without supervision. I always check for dropped stitches. I am mad about Fair Isle,Intarsia, Entrelac, and cables. the soft fetching drape of a 5 ply cashmere. And Argyle, I tip my needles to you. I believe that my knitting baskets everywhere are part of the decor, same as lamps and nick-knacks. Then of course there is the stash. not a small matter to be sure. a whole closet full. walk-in. over flowing. If you knit, you know what I am talking about. Piles, stacks, boxes and bags of yarn. some older than my first born. Brentwood I'm talking about you. all weights. all colors. all bought with the best of intentions. and needles, please don't even get me started, 8 pairs of size six alone. complete first set I ever got. when I was five. I still have them. they are well loved. cherished even. And projects. obviously. why else the stash!

I am still not in love with fall. still... I just might be tip-toeing toward like. And I can admit it is a thrill to see. I can't help but be drawn to certain magical events that happen. The way the landscape seems to set itself on fire. each changing leaf an inventory of every sunny day since May. the same could be said about the outside decor. pumpkins. scarecrows. mazes. non-stop orange. the only alternative seems to be hibernating until spring. that just seems irresponsible. and rude. over here we are still gearing up for one humdinger of a show. fall sure knows how to put on a fine display. look upon it now! oh, my! *I know*! so there it is. I lay at it's feet. firmly planted in the I-did-not-know-I-liked-it category.

Summer, however, belongs to that lovely-makes-me-happy category, which I've long loved for the better part of, well~always! Better, it's a perfectly put together season, each element awfully vital, John-Paul-George-Ringo-style. The buttery sunshine plays off the longer days, which cozies up to the dreamy blue skies like nobody's business. Toss in a heap of those carefree days, beach trips and fresh fruits and veggies galore, and you've got yourself some serious happy. Possibly, enough to last through the frozen months. it’s about transitions, big, wild, rocky ones, especially at the outset. You know how it goes, and as the green sinks back down into the earth again, and everything outside my window falls into a restfulness, except perhaps my pounding heart, I will be sweeping away the cob webs that found their way through my open Summer doors, shaking out the wrinkles, and with a tiny sigh I will open my eyes and listen. gently. as Autumn eases me into it. softens the blow. then BOOM! there is a certain charm, bewitchery if you will. Still,I am so late to this party, but better late than never. Right? baby steps dude, baby steps.

butter + cinnamon + sugar = cake

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

summer's end.

2011-09-25T16:26:00.000-07:00

I have not really been on my best behavior lately. I am in my second ~~day~~ month of unrelenting procrastination. The puppies are sporting fur do's worthy of a Tibetan winter. The weeds are winning. The weather is finding new and exciting ways to torture and cause irrevocable damage to my moods. I am trying to paint woodwork (which I suck at). I still have not completely unpacked from vacation. I know, right! I feel as though the only thing I have accomplished lately is to sweep up small piles of debris from the floor and whine occasionally. By the time evening crawls around, I am only fit to watch sappy lifetime movies and schmaltzy season premieres. I am only slightly concerned that my sleep routines may now become dependent upon the soothing sounds and muted palette of a media which usually lulls me to sleep by the first commercial break. Anyway, I'm not entirely sure what to do with these itchy, bone shifting kinda feelings I've been having. Seriously, I would have thought that after all these years I would know, right? Well, maybe not.

Maybe I'm waiting for my head to stop spinning. I feel twelve years old again, my emotions all over the place, sentences running together, just came home from camp feeling. Wanting to talk about all I saw, re-live every little thing. It's all right there beneath the surface waiting to bubble up. Oh and summer, I will miss you so! I know I have said nice things about Fall in the past, I do have feelings for her but it is nothing serious. Please don't leave me. You are still my favorite season and I will love you forever. Though you should know you kinda kicked my butt this year. P.S. Think about coming earlier next year and staying a little longer and really, about the humidity, not so much. okay?

I suppose also that I may worry too much that things will change, or that they will stay the same...but it's hard not to when I feel so grateful. treasure every moment of the day. cherish the love, light and laughter. dance around in the colors and music that fill my life. bask in the steadfast belief that things are exactly the way they are meant to be. I still have a pocket full of dreams. a heart to follow. yet, I am in a kind of transitional, funky place. I feel things shifting, if ever so slightly. I calmly await the ebb and flow of the every day. I know, the tide that goes out, always, always comes back in. I have been more quiet than usual. waiting. listening. hoping. clearing out clutter and making my space more breathable. There are certain things that I can only whisper about. to myself. when no one else is around. This makes me sad, but I am learning to live with it. and to tread lightly here because as you know, I have a tender heart.

I spent the last day of summer outside. In the sunshine. soaking it all up. At one point I had to let go of the hundreds of things I wanted to do. settle on a few unforgettable. So, I took what I could get and walked away happy. once I did that it made breathing easier, and besides what other choice was there? Because pretty soon you run out of summer. see, some things are impossible to hold onto. I made my peace with it and moved on. sorta. I had a terrible yearn for you yesterday. it came out of nowhere. Fall makes it worse, that was the first time I saw you. It was also the last. In the Fall when the leaves fell. It wasn't shouty tears, or anything blatant or flashy, just a huge tide of emotion that rose up in me like a swell at sea. I miss you. still. I was not intending to talk about you. out loud. because you know I never do that. but. my heart still aches for the loss. even after all this time. I actually thought that with time I might give up the ghost. that the hurt would fade away. if even just a bit. at first I thought this might finish me. turns out I am made of stronger stuff. there are times when I can even dance. when I sing the songs in my heart. When I am filled up with life and spirit. and others, when the grief finds a way to catch onto a jagged edge of my broken heart that never quite mended properly.

I made peanut butter cookies, I know they were your favorite and somehow this comforts me.

peanut butter cookies

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

simple.

2011-09-19T15:37:00.000-07:00

I know, right! heading into September admittedly made me more vapid than previously suspected. And, while clarity has never been my forte- I can sometimes be found in it's general vicinity, after endless annoying exercises in deduction. I'm a cloudy soul, what can I say? And antsiness really doesn't help settle the air - it makes me cranky, irritated, pinch-faced, and suspicious. So when someone recently asked me "what makes me happy?" I kinda let it sit for awhile. Swirl around my brain a bit. While there were various obvious contenders that rose to the surface for consideration, an answer that eventually won a spot in the top ten was "rekindled friendships". Really? Who am I, Buddha? This coming after years of self-therapy? The equivalent of a junior high school BBF was the best I could come up with? You betca!

Here were my thoughts almost in their entirety...I love my family. I adore my puppies. I am obsessed with the ocean. Traveling makes me giddy. Writing centers me. Baking gives me purpose. Gardening feeds my soul. Yoga calms my mind. I really missed having a BBF! What? Dude I really dig the fact that not having seen someone in over forty years, that's right over forty years, it was as simple as sitting down with you and talking! A certain smile, a hug. ~~One~~ ~~two~~ three glasses of wine and it all came tumbling out, like cookies from a jar...memories, stories, secrets...and poof!!! just like that it was back, and might I say better than ever. And why not? because with age comes a certain understanding. kinda cool, huh?

in situations like this, a cozy corner booth by the window works a special magic. not that this is news, exactly. Which brings me back to friendship, a keeper extraordinaire. Do you know friendship? I can't remember not. It inhabits my earliest memories, goes together like...carrots and peas, love and marriage, horse and carriage. And just between you and me, even better than. Not that I was counting, or taking notes but suddenly the light was doing it's slanty late summer thing, swaggering in at that rakish angle. Funny I've always had sort of an issue with the whole time flies scenario. Not every time. But when memory is open to influence and doesn't require a lot of nudging on my part, when laughter comes often, and words flow...I like to draw out all the twinkly bits. But...there was also an event. a book. more friends. All this made me shiny and happy, and also a little sad. not wanting to let go. Indeed my cup was full, you could even say it was running over.

However. I'll remember, for sure, our first smile of recognition. How a hug turned into a welcoming friend. How we settled into a comfy fit. It really was all it's cracked up to be, deceptively simple, fun, yet over all to fast. I'll long hold onto this big lump of gratitude for people and things that made it happen. brought us together. And we obviously ate, maybe even enjoyed it, though I don't recall many details. There were zucchini slices and spinach dip. Smiles, which I loved still more, the second time. But the subsistence I remember most and best was a simple side dish of, well, friendship. Anyway, I hope you'll forgive the gushing. It's just that from where I sit everything looks rather magical. Did I mention it was wonderful. And I'm reminded again of why, when opportunity knocks, you should open the door. Far and wide. Let it in. Embrace it. And given the circumstance hold on tight, least it takes another forty years. Not that I'm waxing nostalgic here, pining lost moments. Quite the opposite, actually. What I want to mark, what I wish to remember, is that this is only one of many. just the beginning.

I've never hidden my fondness for friendships, but as we stand on this new threshold, I hope you'll indulge me one more huge sigh....*S.I.G.H.*

Now I'm not looking to re-live high school, that would just be silly. wouldn't it? But can I just say that at times, I feel a bit irrelevant. Sorta behind the times. Old if you will. I'm kind of taken aback! I mean I was hip once. I cut my teeth on Cream, Iron Butterfly, Led Zepplin and Jimi Hendrix. Dressed like Stevie Nicks. Bob Dylan was my sen-sei. Expanded my mind and my horizons. Moved to San Francisco. Became a vegetarian. A free spirit. A seeker of magical things. and peace. Did my own thing. And I was terribly misunderstood at times. But now I feel sorta validated. We were a fringe generation, for sure. It's a great retrospective though, how at times I consider myself just one ping away from driving really slow in the left lane, and other times I have the world on a string. Friends. Holy cow. Outrageous stuff. completely addictive. I'm not sure how I missed this my first time around.

Yet, in a perfect world all I have ever wanted was clarity as to what it is I wanted in life. Silly that it has taken me all these years to realize that I have know this all along. Hindsight tells me, just to look for the simple answer, because truly it is the simple things in life that make me happy. So given the question that had haunted me, and not necessarily revising my answer, it is so simple. What makes me happy are those things that fulfill me. See, simple.

Black and White Cookies

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

you had to know it was coming.

2011-09-11T16:16:00.000-07:00

I really love the little moments that force me to close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Exhale s-l-o-w-l-y. Calm my heart. They are the litmus test for all the bookmarks of my life. They remind me of what is important. What to hold onto. What to let go. These certain heart-stopping moments just snag me without pause for air. magical, whimsical moments, that can cause such delight ~to the point of making me want to close my eyes and hold onto them forever? To relish in them. be in the moment. To let them hold me in their fullest capacity. To totally give myself to them. I suppose we could go with a scientific explanation of endorphins being released and what not, but I prefer to romanticize it (yes, that's right if I don't have the facts I make something up). I allow my senses to be completely captivated, charmed, bewitched, dazzled...quite literally to be transported into the moment by way of that sensory explosion and savor the moments for what they are.

So, I close my eyes. find the extraordinary in the mundane. I am drawn to beautiful things. I want to fix anything that is broken. I am bad at asking for help. I feel badly when I occasionally eat meat. I am time oriented. I wish I were more task oriented. I can't stand cliches. My puppies make me a better person. I adore the ocean. I buy more books than I will ever be able to read. I always fall asleep when the TV is on. or if it is raining. I love anyone who can make me laugh. my favorite movies make me cry. I love art, opera and the ballet. I'm not into sports. I love heart shapes, they make everything better. I am very spiritual. I hate cilantro, it activates my gag reflex, (sorry cilantro. I tried to like you). I am a big fan of being cozy. Florescent or harsh overhead lights are a turn off. I like to be where the light is soft and stays long, where I can string words together, or parade my thoughts around like trained circus animals. I am annoyed with anyone who wears too much perfume or talks in a movie theater, this is just so rude. Wet socks give me the willies. Large crowds make me nervous. I am not a big fan of dark chocolate. I love chocolate pie. I like doing laundry. Public restrooms creep me out, ugh! do I even need to explain? I can't stand it when my fingernails get long, even a tiny little bit. I do yoga daily.

I tend to gravitate toward extremes. When I am stressed I cry and organize things. It helps me focus. calms me. I am forever trying to organize my life and the things in it. This is how I want it, tucked into little cubicles. according to color. alphabetized. easy to find and use. Instead I tend to stuff things I'm not using in drawers, back of closets, the storage room, garage...least I sound like an episode of Hoarders, let me just say that my home is clean and basically clutter free, but stumble upon any of my "secret places" and the jig is up. It's not that I lack discipline or commitment, I just have a hard time throwing things away. The longer I keep something the harder it is for me to get rid of it, I somehow become emotionally attached to inanimate objects (I'm kind of a nut that way). While I am famous for my yard sales, they are quite the production to put together. Still, I keep chipping away. a drawer here. top of the desk. sometimes an entire closet. I have learned to accept this and celebrate the small victories for what they are. They fill me with hope and a sense of accomplishment.

I hate getting my hair cut. Every hair-do I have ever had does something completely different than what it promised. every day is a show down. everyday a battle. the "dos" are winning. They are starting to break me. Fashion magazines are also on my taboo list, isn't it hard enough out there already? I love to travel. I love to stay home. I look like my mom. I am starting to act like her. I started sounding like her when my boys were born. photos of my babies unravel me. I have a rose tattoo on my ankle. I would like to get another one, maybe a mermaid. I have crow's feet and could stand to loose a few pounds (neither of these bother me as much as they should), this bothers me.

These are just some of the thoughts that continue to run roughshod over me, a hassle to be sure, but not much when brought up against life's standards. Not to mention a much needed excuse for a little La De Da-ing, in the middle of the week yet. And have I mentioned the fading light? blooms also are fading, even though this may be a bit premature. Meanwhile, I open my eyes to let the light in. Listen to the foot steps on my heart. While I can't stop her from going, I hope to remember the woman inside. who desperately yearns to fly, stretch her wings. wishing my shadow were as long as it used to be. I can still feel like a princess, even when I'm wearing pajamas and dribbling coffee down my chin. I never want to lose her or forget the wonder of my hippie heart. I put my arms around myself and hold on tight, smiling because life is still worth getting excited about. and I know, that I would do it all over again~exactly the same way, given the chance. in a heart beat.

bitter-sweet chocolate pie
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

sunday

2011-09-05T08:57:00.000-07:00

It was really a strange day. kinda intense and prismatic. but stormy, with a breeze that was blowing straight from another time, Deja vous, and a feeling I just could not shake. Like it was a leftover day from long ago, warmed up and served for lunch. the smell, even the way it moved made it seem old. unfinished somehow, like it was lost in time and just now got around to showing up. It made me feel restless. a.n.d....whenever that happens, I take notice. I get wide-eyed, take a few steps back and do a visual scan, ask the universe for extra protection. amp up my ever present neurosis. As I get older this becomes less poignant, but still has the clout to make me pause. It is unpredictable, after all. Unsettling. feather ruffling. disaster potential. drama queen inducing. an irritating sort of thing. It is not a life-changing kind of event, I get that. Yet it nags at me, nonetheless.

somewhere along the spectacularness of the last few months I got stuck...stuck in that strange in-between place. waiting for the next big thing. adoring the quiet, simple. that unwinding/amping up pre-vacation place. One minute I was floating around the room and the next, weepy and couch bound...up-down-up-down-up. Packing had been on the list all week, actually for the past two, yet I was as apt as ever to lose all track of time and priority. Going from complete and utter chaos to total zen, tucked between silly reminders for must do, should do, and what le heck? I need these to keep me on my toes, being ever mindful of the big picture. Serendipity strikes when least expected, I am inclined to believe that life works out the same way. I find at least as often as not, maybe more so. I breathe deeply. Give over an entire day to inexplicable destiny. One afternoon I softened around the edges. The next day, I threw in the towel and had a melt down. By way of counter balance I spent time in the kitchen, preformed a random act of kindness and napped with the puppies, these things were not on the list, but absolutely necessary. I did not dare do more, it's early yet. I think it's the main thing that gets me, this coming and going, it's the rubbing up against of what's next and what was.

When life starts closing in, and becomes too much, I walk. I head for the outdoors and just walk. when my head is a mess, the house is a mess and stuff does not magically fall into place, I grab the puppies, lace up my Adidas and walk. My favorite time for this is during the magic hour. I adore how the light stretches out and makes everything twinkle. glow. and in that perfect place somewhere between dawn and sunrise or dusk and sunset, I find my bliss. Bliss that scatters into the sunlight and is carried into the atmosphere, touching upon every thing in between. no shiny. no dim. call it twilight if you must, I prefer the blue hour. ambiance lighting. l'heure bleue. the romanticism of it all makes me love it even more than I already do.

all of the sudden, it's vacation time. I kind of forgot how good this canfeel. the insanity of the past months, is no match for the upcoming get away. It almost seems shameful to be so happy. I exuberantly jumped headfirst into the tying up of loose ends, partially because I was more than ready to come out from underneath the funk but also because there was an ocean waiting for me, with my name on it! So I crawled out of the bell jar and embraced the forever-hippie-ocean-loving-beach-bum me. I will be humming a different tune for many, many weeks, (maybe even months) to come.

mornings walks on the beach are beyond happiness. a sand-covered body. my skin soft and brown. my hair wavy and stiff from sea water. there was shell-collecting, which I adore. watching the sunset. and did I mention moongates? oh be still my sea bound soul. these were a few of the things that coaxed the happy out of me. really cool stuff, I'm telling you. I was ready for it. ready to throw off the chains and lose myself. normally it takes me much longer, but with the fulfilled promise of turquoise water, pink sand, rum swizzles, moped mornings, lazy lunches, dreamy dinners and hotels meant for a princess...I was there.

That's what I'm talking about!

I know I called vacation some time ago, but I tend to get a bit excited about these things. so I would just like to say, one more time, for the record...YIPPPEEEEEEEEEEEE. I ditched appointments, errands and dusting for beaches, the shiny and kissing dolphins. The ocean is everything I love about vacations, things I look forward to and for that matter, life. I collect these things as I go, the scent of salty sea air, the sight of sunlight exploding off the waves, paper thin seashells and making moments into memories.

Lemon Meringue Ice Cream

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

time is on my side (happy birthday).

2011-08-21T16:07:00.000-07:00

July passed like a summer thunderstorm. Of the quick, unexpected kind.The ones that come out of nowhere and are gone before you can enjoy them. It was lovely. Much like every other July. The way I remember, it went something like this...Rain. Sun. Long hours of daylight. The gardens dripping with flowers. Psychedelic greens. Occasional picnics. And much like every other July, gone too quickly. I believe July was meant to calm me. make me smile. slow me down. And it was working... until August got in the way. With its promises of endings and beginnings. summer's last harrah~as well as my own. A month plump with plans as well as celebrations. And scattered between, unending distractions. My to-do lists generally manageable, lately have been able to make or break the day.
I know, right? Who needs to be reminded to have fun? What can I say? When Wednesday still feels like Monday I tend to get a bit mindful. Double up. wipe the week clean, because being apologetic is not acceptable. Unbending is not what I am. Flexible is totally in my DNA. never one to walk on pussycat feet, I just clomp right ahead. Besides, procrastinations already been done, and August just will not dawdle. Crazzzy arrived right on time, but it's lease expires around mid-September. In the meantime...everything sprinkled with pink, tiaras, pretty papers and bows, sparkly surprises in small boxes. magic popping up between every ordinary. August feels like driving down a country road with no chance of getting lost, since a destination is never clear anyway.

So, yeah, it's August and I'm starting to feel it. I've spent the better part of the summer thinking about it, and now...now it's all starting to hit home for me. So much for "all the time in the world", plus I threw July to the wolves as a bonus. Fortunately it all culminated on my ~~dreaded~~ much anticipated birthday. I should preface this by saying I had been a bit out of sorts lately. nothing crazy, just the usual mid life crisis stuff. a touch extra nostalgic with a bit of wistfulness thrown in for good measure. So what can I say, perhaps I was whinier than I wanted to be, complaining about getting older and all. but it was nothing that sent me round the bend. or had me pulling out my hair, and hopefully I made it through without a major meltdown and my dignity intact. I'm pretty sure I even came out better for it.

It's true, I'm a little different now. the years will do that to a girl. I'm a tiny bit more patient, more spiritual and in the moment, definitely stillfree-spirited although I try to rein it in at times, I do not feel as invincible as I once did, perhaps my mortality is showing. and certainly I am a lot less obsessed by the rules. life is so much better now that I've chilled le heck out. a touch broken? maybe. but so much stronger and wiser. and seasoned in ways I never thought possible. I know who I am. the barefoot girl running on the beach still lives inside of me. whispers in my ear. I occasionally call upon her to breathe new life into a beat down part of me that from time to time seems to be hanging on by a thread. she is the center of me, my core, my heart and soul that I pray to hold on to for the rest of my time here, though I keep my photos and journals near as a reminder. just in case I forget for a second.

Some of the dreams I had passed like strangers on a crowded street, so quickly forgotten were they. But it is the dreams I cling to, as tenaciously as the moon and stars cling to the sky, that sustain me. and the things I have learned, like...love cannot exist without forgiveness and that faith is more enduring than understanding, that carry me home. most importantly though, I am shamelessly basking in the incredible feelings conjured up by life, gratefully wearing them like a crown of laurel leaves. the glorious memories that I carry like an invisible locket in my heart. I'm starting to understand how the winds of change can blow. How certain events can be bigger, stronger than we are. I have always been chasing the proverbial rainbow. A part of me will always be just a grown person who loves their happy memories of childhood...where there were enough happy endings to go around. The vibrant blue of my eyes may have been replaced by gray. overnight. just like that. gray...the color of aged pewter and oyster shells. but, I kinda dig it. I am actually embracing it in a gloriously imperfect sort of way. the ~~crying~~ waiting is over. I catch sight of the future with the sort of relief that only comes at the end of this kind of a wait. It's a beautiful thing. I look at old photographs and I can't help but remember how idealistic, how optimistic and free-spirited I was in my twenties. I was a new mother, and because of that I walked around in a perpetual state of bliss. I was also knee-deep in the moment. in the living of life. making a safe, secure nest that was full up with love. I was so on fire to change the world.

it's true. I do ~~more~~ ~~than~~ my fair share of daydreaming. it's just that it's so easy to do. some things just seem to wear on me. more than others. the normalness of it. the everdayness. sometimes makes me forget. sometimes makes me remember. at times I get so caught up in the getting there that it's hard to remember where I was going in the first place. and why. I can forget where I've been, and most important of all, where I am now...right this minute! I get lost in it and it becomes nearly impossible to see because sometimes what I am working so hard to create in the first place, has been there all along. It's ruby slippers. I imagine I could shoot off a snarky remark here. I should at least whoop and holler. in my defense I did not moan and groan. not even once. not even a little. Though if I were to be perfectly honest, I would mention that I wanted to.

So there's quite a bit in the brew, making it feel surreal. like a moment captured outside of time. Where the music is so quiet the only sounds I hear are the beating of my own heart and the dreams I have. dreams of sunny days, peaceful nights, and unconditional. dreams that turn to wishes. the crossed finger kind. knock on wood three times. blow out the birthday candles kind. It may seem tricky at times, but deep down inside I know. I know. Everything will work out. It will be fine. Time won't stand still, but it will be counted by heartbeats instead of seconds.

Yet it's better than ever, if the rumors are to be believed. even several years off, and sort of optimistic if you ask me. The time of freedom. light and laughter. purple and red are the new beige. swapping 9 to 5 for all day long. flip flops for high heels. So I guess I'm squarely in the over and above camp, but for bringing me peace of mind, I forgive you. I've seen this before, suddenly everyone swapped their pretty ribbons for a life line. I have seen plenty of birthdays before, of course, they were magnificent although this one fulfilled it's promises to be a bit melodramatic. *deep sigh of relief*

and then all of the sudden, it's done and you find yourself looking back. if you're lucky, you really see. I can hardly contain myself taking inventory of every memory since childhood. millions of bittersweet, heartbreaking memories. they are like money in the bank. I am so rich, I am rolling in it, I'm drenched and saturated. love, love, love. I see it, I feel it, even when I don't want to. my life is spilling out all over the place. I am excited to think where it will take me. untangling the threads of my days and weaving them into a life I love. It is bursting with color. quirkiness. and I am embracing it all, as if I were 16 again. It takes my breathe away, makes me squeal with delight. time is on my side. makes me feel special. humble. it counts. all of it.

Ruffle Cake
(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

in my life.

2011-08-14T17:05:00.000-07:00

Somewhere between the idealistic girl I was and the woman I became there was a lot of life! I rarely say it out loud any more, though I still every now and then, hear it's familiar refrain, along with its quiet message of moving on, and silvery linings for those who look. A few fading memories of long ago are kind of a bummer, but I'll take them as part and parcel of life. And honestly, they all came together. the wearing of bruises and days without laughter soon had me singing a different song. I can say this calmly now, that the softness of a baby's cheek and the promise of unconditional love, did rather soften the blow. became the sweet poetry of freedom. my despair and cynicism were discarded like newspapers in a windstorm. I felt the sun wrap it's arms around me, lifting me away from the crippling events of an earlier time, and I felt as if it shined just for me. and my life started to heal.

The old familiar tug of my gypsy soul was too much to ignore. I sold off my belongings in exchange for a home by the Bay. My thoughts were free as I danced along the beach knowing that the tide would wash away my footprints, but that they would live forever in my heart. I married a poet. Gave birth to another son. because of this I did my best. but it was the role as mystical wife that slayed me. It did me in. brought me to my knees. Yet, I buried my doubts in the sand, hidden in the crumbling castles that were swept out to sea. rain mingled with tears, impossibly small and perfect, like little gold stars twinkling just for me. fog surrounded me, comforted me like an old sweater, and I welcomed it home. I built roads from rivers that washed the miles behind me into swimming sunrises, while the wind restlessly created lost concepts in yesterday's foundations. I opened my heart. fostered a marriage spun together by dreams and ghosts. I lived by my convictions. I wrote poems about the sky and the sea. grew morning glories and zucchini through my bedroom window. took in stray kittens. danced naked in the waves beneath the moon. took part in a love-in. prayed for peace not war. wore beads instead of diamonds. wove flowers through my hair. hung baseball jerseys on a broken fence. Planted rosemary in a garden that now belongs to someone else. I painted my canvas the color of summer where the sky was the same color as the horizon. I fell in love with my own dream.

I learned so much, about how to survive, thrive even. To humble up and admit that there is no valor, definitely no fun, in playing the martyr. It was instinct and inspiration all rolled into one, all in the same day. I knew it was coming, I just wasn't expecting it so soon, still by the time I heard the rumors, my memories had been packed in cob webs, and another decade had flown past. Waiting in a small pastry shop I realized that my dreams were different from his, the incorrect answers to the questions I never asked mystified me. I saw him for what he was. he had been a barrister, a lighthouse man that lived some lives ago. he sat at the piano wearing lavenders and looking lonely as he wrote a song for me. I loved him for this and more but our paths were spent in sad lonely nights and his songs never became mine. nightless days I wondered if my eternity would consist of tears running endlessly as they did now, washing away the truth. redundant reasons echoed endlessly upon my ears amidst the laughter, becoming empty words and tears on a dusty play ground. I knew then that forever ended yesterday. So compromises were made on both sides. Emotions reined in and taught to contain themselves a bit. Four lives broken, feelings respected. Comments ordered to make themselves useful or scarce. By Spring everything in it's place, including a double dose of breathing space. Even a click! and a shooch! as one door closed and another was opened.

As the seasons changed, I started my life again. And somewhere between baking bread and early morning school bells, I tended to people I did not know. I served my share of soup. I cleared tables, cob webs and old ghosts. I began writing, once more. I missed the sea. I tried to convince myself that I loved snow and slush as much as sun and blue skies. That waterfalls are an appropriate substitute for the ocean.

I now live on a leafy street with manicured lawns in a town reminiscent of New England. There's a neighborhood to walk, when the mood strikes, plus agarden in full bloom and a yard with a hammock. There's the freedom to nap at ten, two, or never. Seriously I landed smack dab in the middle of life, which by the way is downright spectacular. and that leaves the door open for a second cup of coffee. I go to Farmer's markets and antique stores. I meet the people I love for coffee, lunch or shoe shopping. I take photos of everything. Read sappy romance novels and watch five hankie movies. I secretly draw and sometimes even paint. I create wondrous things with my hands and two bamboo sticks. I am inspired by everyday life And in between I remain expectant, curious, and full of joy.

Zucchini Soup

(click here for the recipe)

enjoy!

slip sliding away.

2011-08-07T15:52:00.000-07:00

It can be a funny business, trying to figure out what to do with a sudden folly. I imagine there is a perfect storm somewhere between dillydalling and rambling. at least I like to believe that there is. yet, I'm never quite sure if I get it right, strike the perfect balance. maybe my only goal should be whole lot of fun! And then, between all that gallivanting about, a whole lot of nothing. And through out it all, serendipity. Because after all, that is the whole point, soaking up the moments. There is something magical about a moment in time, and a whole day put together from them is nothing short of extraordinary. opportunities and moments they just naturally come together sometimes, and the trick is to soak them up. it just wouldn't be right any other way.

There have been many moments in my lifetime. Some, more accommodating than others. both physically and emotionally. profound at times, as if I've been away too long. causing me to settle in again, re-learn the rhythm. adjust to a more peaceful way. tell the stories in my heart, sing the songs, dream the dreams. I was introduced early on to gentler days and peaceful nights and now I'm praying for time to stand still, or at the very least s-l-o-w le heck down! sure, this is what I want. I'll be pulling out ALL my tricks. ah, but on the other side of reality lies the fact that it's slip sliding away. quite possibly faster than ever. It's exquisitely nostalgic, which is just how I like it, with ample room for wistful. Together, I think, they're practically perfect, the last indulgence of childhood, the first abundance of maturity. It may not be tricky, only redundant, but next year, let's do it again...same date, same time? I'm penciling it in now...

Seriously, it could begin and end right there. It really is all that. All sparkle and boo! I mean, I knew it all, obviously, I have lived a lot of life. really. What is missing though, is all I don't know. everything I am still learning. patience and humility. Plenty of life's lesson's still elude me. I did not, for example, know just sitting and daydreaming could feel so good. Did not know that a day playing hokey can make the best memories. Did not know that a cake flavor could be pink. I did not know how cool walking the dogs at 5am in my pajamas could be. I never knew how simple just talking could be. or how much fun.

I never knew.

but lately, I am paying more attention. What did it? I can't say for sure, but I'm holding on tighter. whispering more prayers. making more memories.Time is a jet plane. No matter which way I spin it, at the end of the day, there's that. This pains me a little bit, because normally I am a cock-eyed optimist. As in, watch me around half empty glasses. so that makes me an optimist most of the time but I do have a healthy dose of cynicism floating just below that bubbly surface which sometimes makes me seem bipolar (and I am self-diagnosed mind you) but I mostly just suffer from ADD and OCD. On my birth certificate Pollyanna is listed as my middle name. Did I mention that life is jam-packed? each day a little too short, every moment gone too quickly? Really. no do overs. instant replays are not allowed. Would you prefer it any other way? Sheesh. seemed so simple when it started. My memories may go all pristine, but least I do not forget to factor in gratitude. I know it's the proper thing to do. And really, what part of it would I change...if I could. Funny thing, time. seems to sort itself out even though it breaks my heart in the process. oddball logic at best. I begged hard and landed a spot on the sunny side of the hill.

Sometimes, age does teach you things. Sometimes, it teaches you not to sweat the small stuff. And life, can be summed up in three words...it goes on. Yes, I know, I may be channeling Gandhi here, but I know this to be quite true. and so simple. I tend to dramatize things, make everything into an opera that plays itself out in my mind. three acts. mad visions. worst case scenario. but when I finally get it together and take care of business it is usually not as bad as I feared (and even if it is, I survive it). and vanity? I am more Kathy Bates than Annette Benning. Things like cheek bones, porcelain skin, firm abs and a butt you can crack walnuts with doesn't really seem as important any more. It wasn't the plan, not even close, though not for lack of trying. I scold myself for minding, and I try to concentrate on the things that are important...making people feel loved, good moral code to live by, a really good recipe for lemon meringue pie. In the end it is the joy. peace within. kindness. days filled with delight. I have after all been around the block a few times, I'm never going to get back that youthful shine and that's all right. As long as my days are filled with love, laughter, peaceful moments and I still have my lemon meringue pie recipe, it's not all bad. besides, because, goodness gracious, why ever not? I am a dreamer. a lover of happy endings.

Emma's Lemon Meringue Pie

(go here for recipe)

enjoy!

life is like a peach.

2011-07-31T15:58:00.000-07:00

Another one of those weeks! It's not really been a bad week, just one where I pause and wonder what le hack? Is it the moon? The heat? Is my sacral chakra blocked? When life gets crazy, I like to let things set for awhile. I float them around my brain as I go about everyday business. Wait for the proverbial dust to settle. Try to balance out all the what-le-heckness. This can be a slow process that sends me straight into major procrastination mode. Not unlike when I need to complete a huge project and wait until the last minute to finish it. Then I freak out and work on it non-stop. can you believe that? is that so wrong? but procrastinating when something major lurks on the horizon is just so vintage me. I may even have taken this art form to a completely different level. So, let me set the stage...I can be in the middle of painting a room and decide to run out and buy new throw rugs. Or I have the entire contents of my closet dumped into the middle of the room and go take a yoga class, *I know* and besides, why not when I can so easily justify it? really, I can. This little habit first appeared in the form of speed reading books for long put-off book reports in the fifth grade and wait-until-the-last-minute science projects, which required days of heavy reading and hours of research crammed into one ~~week-end~~ all-night session. smart, no! but then I work well under pressure.

s'ok! In an earnest effort to further hone my procrastination skills, I have taken on more projects than ever lately. these things just seem to find me. even while ~~laying by the pool~~ claiming to be too busy, I finally got ~~over come with guilt~~ inspired and decided to not take on any new projects until I've finished a few already on the table. But I really should know better, because whenever I say never, the Universe starts conspiring against me to make sure the opposite happens, and BOOM sure enough I am at it again. ohmygod, really? It's just not right, dude! but we all know I have no will power, and obviously I am not one to take my own advice. I have been dreaming about making a video for my parents 60th Wedding Anniversary in a few weeks, and so while I'm at it why not make one for the hubs for our 25th, oh yeah and one for myself since that milestone birthday is also coming up in the same week...hmmft!!! What can be more uplifting on your birthday than 300 pictures of how you used to look, set to music? Now I kinda wish I'd never thought of it. But the last day of July is just the push I need.

Every day is a gift when you think about it, but vacation days are especially easy to love. I hauled my beloved suitcase from the back of the closet, dusted off my passport, and I am starting the packing process (soon). The hubs is taking me to the ocean for our 25th. I am giddy and gooey shoed. I can not concentrate on anything else. The ocean does that for me, she makes me dance, inside and out. I patiently let him plan it all. I'm not sure how this will work out being the ~~control freak~~ excellent vacation planner that I am. When it comes to planning trips, I am practically a professional. But every once in a great while I turn the reins over and wait to be amazed.

Okay! since August is chock full of celebrations, it will not be just any ordinary month, so the build-up starts early. Uh huh. I am the high maintenance one in this relationship. I mean you know how it is, if you're going to be a year older (and cross into a whole new decade) you may as well enjoy it. So this year, for birthdays, we're not talking numbers, the because should be totally self-explanatory. Mine, in particular. But there will be scandalous celebrations. And worth every minute. Plus throw in two milestone anniversaries, and the birth day of my youngest! pffffft! definitely taking the whole month. Happy birth-month to me! happy 25th my darling! happy happy birthweek to my sweet son, and happily ever after 60th to my loving parents. As you can see, I'm big on celebrations! I probably didn't need to point that out, again, but I'm driving it home. I'm pretty low-key about most things, but birthdays and such, HUGE. HUGE!...you didn't pick up on that? Oh yeah, and especially ones that are focused on ~~myself~~ people I love. So, I will be back when I have a moment, but right now there are gifts to wrap, cakes to bake, streamers to stream and an ocean with my name written all over it!

Life is like a peach. Firm, pink, and juicy at first. In the blink of an eye, it is ripe, bruised and wrinkled...but even sweeter than ever.

fresh peach and oat muffins

(go here for recipe)

enjoy!

bowl of cherries

2011-07-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

I have always been a big believer in hard work...blood, sweat, tears and all that. But lately, lately I'm beginning to wonder, and while I'm not exactly ready to doubt, I am starting to believe in the whole luck thing. Oh, I'm not ready to pull out the hammock and bail on my duties, but every once in a while a big pile of wonderful falls in my lap. Time was, when I would have called this frivolous. silly and naive. But these days, I know not to question it. I have taken to wearing my favorite accessory, rose colored glasses, all the time. These revelations have not come easy, they come by way of a lot of soul searching and living...call it age if you must.

For much of my life, everything else has come first, which is kinda the way I roll, and I'm fine with that. it still has it's place. But nowadays laundry, dusting and shuttling are taking a backseat to sitting in the garden, walking on a beach or jumping on a plane for parts unknown. I am known less for my quiet tucked away get it done and more for my sheer spectacle of surprises, I'm just not sure if bragging is allowed. Not to give you the wrong impression with all my nattering on about housework and hammocks,or to mislead you...but just maybe it was because I crossed my fingers, and my toes or wished upon a star. It could just be my good fortune, is probably more like it. A bit of magic sprinkled on top, certainly. karma, absolutely! a big ole bushel of blessings. luck running rampant.

I-AM-SO-L-U-C-K-I-E!!!

I have never been a pessimist. Chicken Little is not my style. Doom merchant, spoilsport or killjoy are not acceptable. I am a kooky mixture of realist and dreamer with a huge sprinkling of mother earthyness thrown in. And man I do love walking on the sunny side of the street. Yet for all my make-believe putting-on-of-airs, I am hiding a certain cloudy foolishness. Nothing that will leave me baying at the moon and hiding under my bed, but still it could send me over the edge. So, I will scatter these seeds of confession to the wind. Let the sun nurture them with the understanding that they may grow into something I can befriend, at least come to terms with. Lately I have come to the realization that I'm not digging always being an adult. In fact, at times, it is kind of a drag. I'm tired of being responsible all the time! I want to play! or sort of play, it is kind of a big topic, and I'm sure traveling will also creep in. and the ocean, of course. I'm still trying to connect the dots, not sure how this will all play out, but bear with me. So, lottery. If I won the lottery, the first thing I would buy are plane tickets (and Frye boots) but mostly plane tickets. I love to travel. love it!

I want to paint. make jewelry. collect shells. write in my journals. make photo collages. take dance classes. I want to spend hours writing my book everyday, every stinking day. I want to look at the stars. walk on the beach. take photos of everything! I want to make jazzy play lists on my i-pod. organize 50 years worth of photos. hang paper lanterns through out the house. spend hours reminiscing with old friends over lunch. plants roses and cosmos in my yard. shop for vintage clothing. read trashy romance novels. watch movies that make me cry. get my hair cut short. drink really dry red wine. dance.

You know how it goes, childhood, care-free, skinned knees, shorts and unmatched blouses, trivial outdoor things, slamming screen doors, summer, schedule-free, options everywhere, obligations nowhere, life is good! you marvel at the expansive possibilities. Mostly. and then, as suddenly as a tropical storm coming out of a seemingly endless blue sky there are bills to be paid, children to feed, washers to repair, floors to wax, windows to wash, a tiny voice (may be my own) telling me I'm an adult now.There are still oceans to play in. sand castles to build. giggles in the night. ice cream cones. full moons and sunrises. kites to fly. shells to collect. dolphin, jelly fish and starfish to marvel at. books to read. beach balls, floaties and sunglasses. songs to sing. campfires. barbeque dinners. tangerine colored sun tans. and laughter. but now, I will be the one washing the beach towels.

Childhood may be all about long lazy days, but it’s also about transitions, huge, crazy, bumpy ones, without fail. It took me a while to realize that. I thought about it secretly a million times, but I'm pretty sure I've never said it out loud until now. Yeah, the hood I now call home is ~~crazy~~ adult "hood", a neighborhood I am very familiar. A long road of taking care of the people and pets I love, worrying about every little thing, doing the responsible thing, always. It became a full time job with many benefits and zero chance of early retirement. I punched my time card and am still putting in my time. It flipped me end over end, I never did get right again. I went from a care free little girl to Woody Allen. And still it gives me that feel good feeling I always hope it will. I go through stages where I do, then I don't...but I never stray too far, never let it get too dusty, because secret thoughts aside I guess I do dig it at times. Okay then that feels good let's put a check in that box.

So here I am, rushing from here to there, clapping my hands, snapping my fingers, whatever it takes to slip into the next phase, hoping that joy will appear and the whiners will surrender. All the while, I still feel that life is rosy. A bowl of cherries. Yeah, sometimes it can be the pits, make your face pucker. Sometimes the glass is half full. Sometimes it's half empty. And sometimes, it is filled with the perfect Manhattan—the one with a little cherry in it. Or an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top. Maybe you like to teeter somewhere in the middle if you are anything like me. So between the sundaes and the Manhattans, I was thinking about cherries today and they made me happy. I let go of all the crap I was holding onto so tightly, all the self-imposed deadlines and expectations, all the anxiety. all of it floated away. i felt like a kid again. and I made this.

Cherry Clafoutis

(go here for recipe)

enjoy!

bucket list...

2011-07-10T16:35:00.000-07:00

I'm still in a summer state of mind, just in case you are wondering. I'm currently trying to catch up on my weeding, remember what day of the week it is, and working on my bucket list. It's making me a little nervous what with thinking about my own mortality and all, but I'm sticking to my new mantra...do it scared! so I am. That little phrase is opening up a whole new way of life for me. A time where trying new things does not turn me into a nail biting, hair twirling puddle, and the thought of flying excites rather than terrifies me. So, in what surely qualifies as an ah-ha moment, I came full-circle. My list may not look like much now, but in my head I have visions of greatness for it. I am, straight up in love with it. Completely infatuated with it. I kinda had an inkling I would be, but now I know for sure. I'm striving for less is more and trying to over come that sinking, over whelming, I've taken on more than I can handle feeling. I set out to share time with my people, to share joy, be in the moment, and I am left feeling satisfied. In the beginning it seemed innocent enough, maybe I was only being naive thinking it was nothing more than eye candy. window dressing. wishful thinking. It was so pretty, so soft and easy it was able to hook me, right away. Truth be told, it's moved right in, taken over and grown roots. I'm up to my eye balls in it, fear only a distant memory. So, as I hold these thoughts in my hands, turning them over and over, wearing them as smooth as sea glass, I'm ready. I will surely emerge feeling brand new. I love my life. I want to smooch it on the head.

Now that you have endured my ramblings, I will reward you with one item from my ever growing bucket list. Even though I'm kinda fickle and tend to change my mind a lot, here's my truth...for reasons untold I have always wanted to learn ballroom dancing. My ancestry is chock full of great dancers. And, I admit to having two left feet and being a bit of a klutz. There is no cure for it, so please don't slay me over it. Even worse, I love watching old musicals and trying to dance along. When I was five I thought I was Shirley Temple until I danced right into the door jamb and had to have three stitches in my forehead. I remember reading books about Marie Antoinette, soaking in the romance of it all, I just could not get enough. It was an obsession that had me dreaming about going to the ball and cursing in French. This went on for for ~~years~~ weeks. The dancing was fabulous and the cursing sounded so sophisticated, so delicious, so ohhh, la la. Mais bien sur!

I found myself fantasizing about dancing and wearing those pouffy dresses (while in reality I was wearing flannel pajama pants). hmmm...I wondered if I would have been a good countess? Then I remembered how I cringe when anyone calls me ma'am or heaven forbid madam. So, I'm thinking not...plus, going to all those balls and social extravaganzas also would have been exhausting, as it is I practically need an act of congress to get my butt out of the house. So, maybe it's not really my era, I do love my modern comforts after all , but it would have been cool to see. I've often thought that if I could have a super power, I would choose time travel. Can you imagine? time travel. Oh swoon!

So, is it just me or does everyone think they can dance? I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I'm one of those girls who thinks she can ...but, really I can't. yes I know, hard to imagine. so I guess it's at this point that I'm wondering-why did I not do this before. I've thought about it forever, mulled it over in my mind for years, talked about it endlessly. begged the hubs to go with me. but alas that's as far as it went. I never actually signed up. well...I'm doing it now, baby! I am signing on the dotted line. Crossing one more thing off of my bucket list.

I am inevitably fascinated and attracted to things I can't do. I've been thinking about how to make this move for a long time. my first thought was how I would so be doing this if I had someone to go with, but...pause~and absorb, I~am~going~alone! I am jumping on the dancing bandwagon!!! It makes me feel kinda wobbly in my knees. Won't it just be the cat's meow to be able to do the dance du jour in a kicky little outfit? I am so pumped! Dude, I just love the way my brain works and I live for the day when I get all kittened up and glide across the dance floor.

I know it's a bit more complicated than a fancy schmancy outfit and a spray on tan but I'm ready! tee-hee...that's what I love about myself, I can talk me into just about anything. Rest assured there with be sore feet, tears and drama. Did I mention there will be drama? Lacking a team of experts to make me "dancing with the stars" gorgeous, I will make do with what I've got, donning my expandable pants, dime store make-up and slipping my two left feet into my moccasins.

Cornmeal and Raisin Cookies

(click here for recipe)

enjoy!

wishes, dreams and moments in time.

2011-06-26T16:11:00.000-07:00

you might imagine, just because i'm land locked, that i've forgotten. but mere state lines and lack of tides alone cannot ease my yearnings. i suppose, what with the ocean being hours away, you might think it has slipped from my memory. but it's salt water spray and magical pull sit side by side with the longing in my heart. with my mostly closed eyes it is never far in thought. warm sugary sand, sea oats and starfish are sweet, sweet summer wishes. so when word comes of warmer weather, my thoughts, of course, turn to the sea. I know just exactly how lovely it is to sit, in the sun, inhaling the sweet smell of coconut oil. brushing sand from slightly moist limbs. old adages aside, i find that a day at the beach is what soothes my savage beast. so what to do? my mind's not blank mind you, but racing through a thousand ways to get me there. even i can see that with all the blessings in my life, asking for more is something akin to adding a shaggy haired hippie to the mix. the way i let it all hang out, the way i protest against the unfairness of it all. but like anything worthwhile, you just have to know how to go about it. how to tame the wilder side while still respecting the inner moxie. which is to say...

i have been dreaming, again.

if you know anything about me, you know that i am a dreamer, know that i love to make wishes. I wonder, how long must wishes and dreams dance together before they become one...meld quietly into reality. i have a huge dream jar that i add to forevermore. most of the time i wish for peace~ peace in the world, peace at home, peace in my heart. for years and years i was away, living in places other than this mid west city i grew up in. after returning, i wished that it still felt like home to me. be that it ever did. my family is here. so i love it, but i don't. i wish that i did. yet i find myself wishing for a place that feels more like home in my heart.

whenever i can i leave behind the land~lockedness of this place called home. to a place where my body and soul can become one with the sea. where i can run along the shore searching for sea glass and other treasures. as my skin turns golden and my hair is stiff and salty from the sea spray. curiosity has lead me to discoveries that have stayed with me throughout my entire life. i dreamily watch the sun slip into turquoise waters as stars twinkle above. each night i gently dream of the wonders i beheld that day, a day that started long before the sun appeared. it is this home by the sea that raises me up. it is the ocean treasures that fill up my hollow places. i feel a kinship with the creatures that live beneath. i am over flowing with hope, love and am in a constant state of wonder. sweet promises fulfilled cradle me and rock me to sleep. it is these two homes i abide in, the one where my family and heart lives and the one where my soul longs to be.

there were times my dreams had no pillow. i wandered in the rain. crickets serenading me as i slept. yet my yearnings would not bend. my dreams never folding over on themselves. i tucked them aside. made them stronger. always, always making sure that there would be plenty of happy ending to go around. i vowed to stay strong. keep my eye on the brass ring. never to lose my way. you are either an ocean person or you're not-forever it is in your blood-and, what i have learned is just this...if you love the sea, do not live in the middle of the country! these thoughts burn deep within me, tearing down old walls and healing old hurts. always turning the page and starting another chapter. achieving my dreams while always dreaming new ones.

as my restless heart continues to weave dreams, i embrace my home...music dances along walls painted buttery yellow. my breathe mingles with the scent of roses and jasmine. sunshine slips through walls of windows casting an enchanting glow, the light just right. shelves are filled with books and photos. filled with life. herbs grow in clay pots. the air is sweet with the scent of puppies. furry paws cast a spell of magic everywhere there is love, laughter, memories all around me. i share a dream with the garden. all the many corners are filled with whimsy.

so, here’s to new beginnings, and making the most of what we have, right where we are.

when I was a kid, I would wonder if it was possible to hold onto a moment. you know, if you tried hard enough. if you closed your eyes and memorized every single thing about it, pressed it into your mind. conjure up every detail. will yourself to immortalize it. could you? as time went by? remember the way you flew down the street on your bike as the wind whipped your hair across your face. remember the way peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tasted sprinkled with sand while sitting on a towel at the beach. laughing as you watched the three stooges. on a family road trip how your sweaty legs stuck to the car seats as ricky nelson belted out traveling man on the car radio. where do they go? these moments in time. all the seemingly forgettable moments that make up the days of our youth. the thought of losing them scares me. i want them. i want them all. no matter how ordinary. how bland or meaningless. i hoard them. hold on for dear life. yet only a handful remain. i have really only managed to hold onto a fleeting few in a lifetime of many. for whatever reasons, only certain moments stick.

and i wonder why I cannot. for. the. life. of. me. get anything done. i thought about this earlier as i was ~~daydreaming~~ working in the garden. i thought about how hard i tried as a child to hold onto things, how hard i still try to hold onto things-- how i take photos. how i am constantly making lists. how i scribble thoughts onto pages, spilling over into hundreds of different notebooks and scraps of paper. how every day i carefully integrate this practice of preservation into my daily life. how i immortalize.

and then...then i sat there and did what my six year-old self used to do. i memorized the moment... cool grass beneath me. sun on my face. right hand full of weeds. birds singing. me humming quietly along, under my breathe. a butterfly whispering in the breeze. that sky! wide open and blue as a robin's egg. fluffy cotton candy clouds. blooms the size of babies tear drops, some as big as a head of cabbage. air washed clean from a recent thunderstorm. peaceful. serene.
one moment slips gently into the next and then it's gone. i am wishing this one will stick.

peace.

Strawberry Icebox Pie

(go here for recipe)

summer of love

2011-06-12T16:24:00.000-07:00

it started out as just another day when ordinary turned into extraordinary. i've been expecting it, waiting for everything to fall into place in that dreamy effortless way that these things do. it was early in the evening, just after supper and i was sitting on the deck when i felt it. when everything was just as it should be. it was a perfect moment. the kind you want to hold on to forever. the kind you lock in your heart. commit to your memory banks. the kind you don't forget anytime soon. finally. it was here! summer was here. oh, i know how these things work, according to the calendar spring still has a few weeks left on it's lease, but there it was. the sun winked like an old friend, the breeze fluttered past just like i wished it would, the addition of flowers blooming everywhere was nothing less than magic. did i mention it was perfect? i had this whole scenario planned out in my head of how it would go, and instead it just fell into my lap. i was so willing to welcome it, i coached it on. i was overcome with the most basic kind of happy. i was totally in the moment. in-the-moment. i have been talking about it for weeks. i can not say it enough i love summer, i love summer, i love summer. I have been making people crazy yapping about summer this and summer that and now that summer is here...yep, i'm that person.

i know, there is the humidity. there are west nile carrying mosquitoes. sweat you can scrape off with a spatula. days on end when all i want is to sit near the air conditioner dreaming of weather that has me wearing sweaters and boots. i know this, i really do. but it's summer that makes me giddy and gooey shoed. thoughts of turquoise water. toes painted cotton candy colors. beach sand between my toes *sigh*. picking blueberries. dripping homemade popsicles. skies so beautiful they hurt to look at them. peaches. cotton sun dresses. going barefoot. laying in the grass watching the clouds drift by. flicker of lightening bugs. bird songs. corn on the cob. sting of sunburn. tomatoes warm from the garden. these things make me happy. make me feel alive. i am finally able to talk myself off the ledge. kicking off the shiny season, does that for me. not just because i need to walk barefoot, play in the sunshine, and wish on lightening bugs...or because i need special days to wallow in the gardens, splash about in a pool, eat with my fingers on a blanket, b-u-t...because I need days where flowers reign supreme. the sun struts around like it owns the place and the days roll out lazy, hazy and crazy. i am a sucker for such things. and i'm not ashamed to admit it.

i have decided that this will be the summer of my life. this summer, my house will not be immaculate. i will choose sitting on the deck sipping lemonade and reading over mopping and polishing. i will keep a bag packed of beach-related things at all times, and take impromptu trips to the pool. i will suggest random trips to the beach (and by suggest, i mean demand). this summer i have decided to enjoy the sunshine and my garden. to embrace the heat and humidity and not to complain about it. maybe. as a pale person, i am determined to become at least bronzed if not brown sugared. this will be the summer i sit outside listening to the crickets. eat popsicles at midnight. i will channel my six year old self, the one who actually enjoyed the months June through August, who lived for green chlorinated hair, all day bike rides, watermelon for lunch, root beer floats, who was immune to the 110* heat a-n-d...

this will be the summer of love. let me tell you why. it is a summer for milestone birthdays and anniversaries. the summer where the big 6-0 looms ever closer. the summer i give up caring about what happened to my butt (or chin). or what it looks like in a bikini. this summer, there will always be fresh flowers on my kitchen counter. i have the hydrangeas and roses working on this as we speak. this summer, I will wear seersucker and madras, maybe even together! i will sing. i will whistle. i will make wishes. i will daydream. i will give my dogs bellyrubs.

honestly...
i am expecting nothing less than excellent, fabulous and extraordinary...

i won't be able to get enough of summer breezes (after all they do make you feel fine). i will take in the green all around me. delight in the flowers, blooming as if they have nothing better to do. pick herbs fresh from a garden that i planted. spin around to the music in my head. in my twirly skirt and flip flops. hang clothes outside to dry. get poison ivy. i once believed that perfect summers only existed in childhood memories, sappy movies and at ina garten's house. i aim to correct that. i want to eat outside, grilled hot dogs with grainy mustard and artery clogging potato salad. i will set the table with vintage linens, antique crystal and bouquets of heirloom roses from my garden. i will string chinese lanterns across my patio. at sunset. did i mention wine?...oh there will be wine.

the amount of loveliness will be obscene.

i will plop myself in front of a bowl of fresh cherries and get some reading done.

picnics. running through sprinklers. bare feet. all that summery goodness. absolutely, positively, definitely summer is here...i have enough reasons to believe.

there will be bed and breakfast week-ends. starting things i have no intention of finishing, because i am kooky that way. now. this coming summer is a big one, and i'm trying to avoid my usual white-knuckled way of dealing with the unknown. and because i have no self control, there will be strawberries for days on end....

fresh strawberry cake (from Martha Stewart)
(go here for recipe)

peace.

counting sheep

2011-06-03T04:47:00.000-07:00

Sleeping.

I adore it!

If you thought you were going to get a break from the poor-pitiful-me-posts, I'm sorry. Things just don't always go as planned. See, nice weather is here-and I thought that I'd work in the garden a few hours every day or so ~sure~ why not? Well, because it appears I just do not have the time...why not? I apparently need to maintain a scheduled two hour nap every day! What am I two? So, what le heck you ask? Well, believe me, I'm asking the same thing. If I am truly THIS tired - how in the world am I even operating on a day-to-day basis, right? I know!? For the love of goddesses, I'm realizing it's a miracle I'm up and walking about everyday what with my apparent lack of consciousness. This sudden narcoleptic business is rather suspicious on the heels of that sleep test I took a few months back~I was not born yesterday, I can figure these things out...my brain goes kinda mushy, my I'm not tired switch blows a fuse and even simple chores can blow my hair back!

So here is the deal y'all. I was scheduled for a sleep study. I arrived promptly and was shown to my private ~~closet~~ room. It had a decent bed, bedside stand, a television with remote and a private bathroom. so far so good. Then came my hook-up (tee-hee)... the hook up consists of a series of wires and belts and takes from 45 minutes to one hour to complete. Most of the wires attach to your head and scalp. There were about 25 leads attached all together. Those leads are picking up brain waves. From your brain waves, they can tell if you are awake or asleep and also the quality of your sleep. When you are asleep, the stage of sleep you are in can be determined. Also monitored are eye movement and muscle activity on you chin/jaw to see if you grind your teeth as well as helps to detect when you go into REM. Beneath your nose you will have a cannula to monitor when you breathe in and out, also a snore microphone on your neck to see if you snore (duh)! They can read every thought you have, okay, not really but you know, it's kinda scary that way!

At least two EKG patches will be on your chest to pick up your heart beat and two elastic bands will go around your chest and abdomen to sense your effort breathing. Not done yet! There are also leg leads attached to each shin to detect leg movements such as restless leg syndrome. FYI I have never had RLS until that moment! thanks sleep study tech, just what I wanted! So, last but not least is the Pulse/Ox attached to your finger complete with a little red light (hell-o ET)! that's it! ready for your close-up polysonmogram...

OH, did I mention someone will be watching you all night and listening to every little sound you make...okay, now, just relax and go to sleep. What? Right!

Still, I was so determined on acing my sleep test until a dreadful visit from you know who hit, I'm talking about you insomnia! All of a sudden I felt as lite up as an all night liquor store. The kicker is it happened during my test. I felt like a bunch of tiny caffeine monsters invaded my body. All I could think about was gooooooing to ssssssleeeeeep! and the more I thought about it the wider awake I was. Now, for anyone who knows me, insomnia is not something I suffer from, in fact quite the opposite, so for it to happen during my sleep study was rather bizarre. definitely not cool.

The morning after the test, I went and got my hair done...yea, that's right! my hair done ( there was goop all over it and tangled enough to give Rapunzel a run for her money, yet my hairdresser never missed a beat...she is sweet that way!) After my hair appointment, I crash landed on the couch and passed le heck out. Dude, I slept like a baby. like a log. gave Mr. VanWinkle a run for his money (where is a sleep tech when you need one?). I should have known something was going to happen, when I woke up I grabbed my i-pod and the puppies and went for a walk to clear my mind. I started bawling uncontrollably over a song that came on, I just was over come with emotion to the point of tears. Not my proudest moment. Certainly not my worst either but you understand, right? In consolation, I had waffles for dinner. yeah, got to love the mood swings.

I am not a wimp. I do not believe in coddling myself.
Get up, get out there, and just do what you need to do. I don't really even believe in taking medicine for a cold. I do however, believe in the restorative power of sleep. Be forewarned people, the following is not pretty...you may want to stop reading and skip down a bit...I did not sleep well that night and thereby also discovered the world of late-night television, including commercials for Erectile Dysfunction medications and discussions of Alien Abduction. Apparently, there's a lot of this going on between the hours of 1:00am and 4:00am. that I never knew anything about until suffering this bout of left-over creepiness from my sleep study that prevented me from getting my beauty rest and seriously threatened my naturally sunny disposition.

I counted sheep. I tossed. I turned...I turned on my computer. I updated things that didn't even need to be updated. I installed another browser. I stalked Amazon.com. I watched the seconds click by on the clock. This went on for hours. It was sooo irritating, but I could not stop it. I could not quit it. I pretended to befriend it, but still...I was consumed~haunted~tormented...

It wore me down.

I have a hair appointment today. Hopefully my hair dresser will be able to fix all my problems for me. snap me out of this. what really worries me is that I may be losing the ability to keep things in perspective...is it just a matter of time before I become the crazy cat lady. Have a wardrobe consisting only of red and purple. Am I destined to be the old woman on the cruise ship, the one crawling around under the table searching for her lost shrimp from the all-you-can-eat buffet, then wandering the Lido deck baggage in hand like Delta Dawn?

I've got to get my bangs cut, they have a lot of work to do.

update...I am once again gobbling up sleep like chocolate chip cookies from Grandma's bottomless cookie jar. I know how good I have it, I really do...after all the insanity passed I did ace my sleep test and luckily, after a crazy few days, the bluebirds are once again landing on my shoulders, as I fling open the shutters and greet the day.

chicken and broccoli (aka comfort food)
(go here for recipe)

peace.

flower children

2011-05-18T16:56:00.000-07:00

On a morning when I already am in a funk because of side effects from medication, the weather is sending me precariously close to the edge of the crazy cliff.

A few days back there was sunshine! for a whole day! and warm weather. tank top shorts and flip flops warm weather! The sky was a thin blue, like a favorite shirt washed too many times, without a cloud to be found. I had my coffee basking in the garden, feeling like a cat all stretched out in the perfect slant of light...did I mention that there was sunshine? and...fat buds and brand spanking new leaves on the trees, soaking up the light and sporting a thousand shades of green while swaying lazily in the breeze. I was ridiculously happy! The light reflected off of everything, looking like tiny candle flames, there were exciting new things happening almost every moment.

My mind wandered to when we first moved into this house, the backyard was, well, ugly, to put it nicely. Bleak and depressing are the words that actually came to mind when I first saw it, but I pushed them away, buoyed by thoughts of English gardens with lavish flowers andcopious color. In reality what I saw out of my window, those first few months was an altogether different tale...there was nothing but brown earth, weeds, and poison ivy. Having come from a well loved and much tended garden, I was rather unaccustomed to this dressing down. Every bush, tree and flower I planted was a validation of my faith that this was only just a phase, marking the beginning of a beautiful rendezvous.

The sad azalea's and rhododendron struggling there were of little comfort. The ivy and clematis were nothing to write home about. I had no idea what lay beneath, gardens are like that: you know, mysterious the first year. When, in late summer I spotted patches of color, I crossed my fingers and held my breath, hoping it was a new variety of perennials. Within days I had confirmation, weeds!

Yep, it was one of those kinds of yards. I know you know what I'm talking about. The kind of yard that just struggles against your best efforts to smooth its ruffled edges. You try, you take deep breaths, you tell yourself this is just a lesson in patience. You go through your routine ~ weeding, planting, mulching, pruning. Jump every hurdle that comes your way. The yard is too shady. The soil is too clay-y. The deer are eating everything. what else can you do but mutter a few curse words and sigh?

Ahhh, gardening...a celebration of love replete with flowers, sunshine and lots of hard work. It's no secret that I look forward to it every year since it really is my "get of of jail free" card to indulge in all of the aforementioned vices with complete and utter abandon. And let's not forget, it also allows me to indulge in another of my not-so-secret addictions...shopping. I am enamored with the soft, magical powers of plants. with their gentile persona. I love how the morning sun shines on them causing a warmth in my heart. Their gentle ways send me straight to garden estacy.

So how do you choose? limit the list to favorites? It's not easy, but I tackle the job as if I were inviting friends to a party, a garden party, choosing those I think I will have the best time with. Trying to work out a mix that will make our gathering interesting for all. Not all of my picks are hardy, so that brings about the matter of spending money for plants that last for only one season, one short season! Sadly, my guest list exceeded my pocket book again! I do enjoy a good party. If my plan succeeds, I should be rolling in various peonies, hydrangeas, bleeding hearts, Lady's Mantle, Shasta Daisy's, asters, fox glove, dahlias, lobelia, cosmos, and larkspur not to mention Lisianthus, Delphiniums, hollyhawks, lupins, poppies, carnations, candytuft and sweet peas.

Oh, and did I mention the herbs? Yea, sweet basil, dill, chives, and oregano plus I'm bound and determined to find organic peppermint and chamomile so I can brew my very own tea. Seriously, I would love to track down whichever marketing guru came up with this concept and give them a big hug. I couldn't have dreamed up a better scam myself.

I don't mind telling you that ~~spring~~ winter was hard this year. I felt the yuckies grab hold and just keep digging deeper and deeper. At times I felt it was mocking me waning my resilience like a petulant child. Sometimes I fought back, hard. Other times I just sat quietly. On the days I woke to freezing rain or sleet, I found my moods reflected in the muck being trudged through my house.There are health issues to deal with. Tragedies

across the world. Nothing at all. Yet at times I could feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wanted to wave my white flag and surrender. Then you came into my life, dear spring. Days were sprinkled with sunshine. Puddles emerged from under the ice. Robins appeared. A vase of tulips sat on my kitchen counter. sun rays streaking through the kitchen window. I realized the ice was not the only thing that melted. As I flipped a few pages of the calendar, realizing I was happy to bid ado to March and April...oh, May you are so full of hope and promises. Tomorrow I may get knocked down by life again, but somehow it all feels doable now. I feel a slight shift. Oh May, I think I love you...you make magic happen.

Today the sun is a milky glow in a sky the color of rubbed silver. The weathermen are threatening more coldish weather and rain, but I'm going to my happy place and will believe these beautiful spring days aren't going to budge. How I have missed my garden. that first sniff of rich, dark dirt. I want to grab my trowel and start digging! I knew I was in trouble when last week-end we went to the garden center. in the rain.

I have a plot to plan, weed and plant. One of the challenges of living in the mid-west is dealing with long winters and a short growing season, especially when an English garden is your idea of heaven! When I first came to town, azaleas and rhododendron were the norm, now there is English box woods, Sweet William and David Austin roses. I've even managed to keep a few hydrangeas alive and have gorgeous pink peonies every spring. Yes, I weed and mulch like a fiend, yes, I've lost too many plants to count, but for all of my hard work and all of the losses, the reward of seeing that first rosebud open, seeing the explosion of colors as my sleepy garden pops back to life and smelling the glorious scents that waft through my windows makes it all worthwhile...and then some.

Now I know that you should not have favorites, but I will admit that the roses absolutely drop me to my knees. They are heartbreakingly beautiful and the many varieties to choose from is like picking the

perfect ball gown. I know, they may be a bit high maintenance, but at the end of the season they remind me of an elegant lady whose fallen on tough times, her dress might be a bit tattered and torn from frost, aphids and powdery mildew yet she sends up blooms so gorgeous that there is no question who rules this garden. And even though it is time-consuming, back-breaking work, I gladly kneel at her feet. As I walk through my garden to see how everyone is doing, fat pink buds catch my eye~peonies!I am so ready to embark on a new gardening season. anxious to see all of my flowery children, so like giggly girls at a slumber party, they may be a tad cranky, but they love showing off...twirling spinning and doing cartwheels in the sunshine.

Healthy Spring Vegetable Risotto by Sally Bee
(go here for recipe)

peace.