VESPA VS. HARLEY (1/08)

I love oatmeal now, which is truly astonishing. I mean, I actually find myself waking up in the mornings, thinking "Hot damn, it's oatmeal time!" As soon as my cholesterol hit 200, I tried to eat more of it, hoping it would bring the numbers down, but I never learned to enjoy it. I hated the slimy, soupy texture, and never felt like I'd really had a meal unless I added a couple of pieces of toast, to have something to chew on. I figured I was doing good if I averaged one dose per week.

So, how has it suddenly managed to steal my heart away from whole wheat waffles with peanut butter, and become my breakfast of choice? Well, I have two words for you. Steel Cut. If you have only had instant oatmeal all your life, then I must tell you that the difference between eating that and eating steel cut oats, is the difference between riding a Vespa and riding a Harley. Some would argue that they aren't even in the same family, and I can only wonder why no one bothered to explain this to me before now.

I suppose most people in this day and age, just can't get past the lure of anything instant. Yes, the steel cut oats do take 30 minutes to prepare, but it's not 30 minutes of standing at the stove, stirring. It's 30 minutes of more or less ignoring them, and being able to read the paper, or go get dressed, or do some yoga. How hard is that? And what is your reward for all that "effort"? A breakfast you can really sink your teeth into - literally. With this oatmeal, instead of ending up with a soupy mush that you could suck through the gaps in your teeth, you get a thick, rich concoction full of little chewy morsels. Has anyone ever made for you a luscious bowl of old-fashioned rice pudding or tapioca? If so, compare digging into that with eating a little cup of powdered vanilla pudding from a box, and you will know what I am talking about. One's a Harley, the other's a Vespa. Now if only this Harley will bring my cholesterol down, perhaps I can come out of hiding and face my doctor again, who was threatening me with drugs last time we met.

I CAN'T GET NO, SATISFACTION (1/08)

Years ago, I heard about a book called The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. The book came about after Julia, herself a prolific writer, developed workshops that led people through a twelve-week program to help them recover from artist's or writer's block. Since the book also claimed to unleash creativity you never even knew you had, I decided to give it a try. I guess it worked, because if you recall, up until that point I didn't think I had a creative bone in my body.

Last week at the bookstore, I was jolted to a stop when I saw a book called The Writing Diet - Write Yourself Right-Size, by none other than Julia Cameron! I usually get crazy with people who rush out and buy every silly new diet book that comes out, instead of just using common sense, but I ask you, how on earth could I pass this one up? Apparently, after about twenty years of conducting her unblocking workshops, Julia noticed that as her students uncovered their creative selves, they became so invigorated by their work that they often slimmed down.

I'm reading one chapter each day, performing the assigned tasks and allowing it all to soak in, before I go on to the next one. So far, I like what I'm reading. Cameron is using many of the same techniques that she used in her original book: writing "morning pages" every day - a stream-of-consciousness rambling which somehow manages to dig up important but buried truths; keeping a journal in which you log not only what you eat, but also all your thoughts and feelings regarding food; solo walking, not just for exercise but also as a form of meditation and exploration; asking yourself some important questions before you put anything in your mouth, so that it becomes a conscious decision; and my favorite so far, culinary artist's dates.

I loved the idea of going on dates with myself when I read her first book, and it's a guilty pleasure I've indulged in ever since. The point is to prime the pump of your creativity by taking yourself out on festive, creative adventures that expand your comfort zone, only now, instead of exploring art, book and antique shops, I'm roaming the farmer's markets, ethnic food stores, gourmet cookery shops, shelves of cookbooks and magazines, trying new foods and interesting restaurants, and losing weight while doing it!

If you equate diet with deprivation, this is probably an unsettling concept, but what I'm finding is that the more flavor and texture my food has, the less I need to eat, and that standing at my butcher's block, enjoying the feel of a good knife in my hand as I chop ingredients, and the aroma of sauteing onions and garlic wafting about me, are all essential elements to the overall pleasure and satisfaction I get from my food - a sensation you will never experience by nuking something in the microwave, or wolfing something down in the car or in front of the TV.

If you don't believe me, try this little experiment. Think about the last time you gobbled a candy bar while absorbed in your favorite TV show. Now, go out and find a specialty shop that carries Vosges chocolate bars, and select whichever one appeals most to you (my favorite is the Barcelona bar, because I love the combination of salty and sweet). Take it home with you, and wait until you are completely alone, and all is quiet, before you pull it from it's hiding place beneath your lingerie. Now, carefully follow the instructions you will find on the back of the package, taking three deep breaths as you gently stroke the chocolate with your thumb, releasing its aroma. Next, snap off a small piece and place it on your tongue, then press it to the roof of your mouth, where the heat of your tongue will cause it to slowly melt, releasing an explosion of flavor sensations. Now tell me honestly, which experience left you feeling more ... sated?

ONCE IN A LIFETIME (1/08)

I’ve been seeing previews for a new kid’s movie that is due out soon. It’s about a boy who finds a secret book in the mysterious old house that his family moves into. He is warned not to open the book, for though it will enable him to see the wondrous, magical world that surrounds us all, but which is invisible to most humans, it will also foist on him an enormous burden of responsibility. Pretty far-fetched, huh? Well, yesterday I went for an early walk, while everything was shrouded in heavy fog. At first I saw just a few cottony webs tucked in the branches of some low, evergreen shrubs. Then I noticed that there were some extremely fragile ones floating on the tips of a few tall grass stalks. Finally I realized that it wasn’t just a few. There were hundreds, if not thousands - a veritable sea of delicate, waving flags - and when an occasional beam of light managed to penetrate the fog, they became tiny, glistening necklaces, spun of silk and diamonds.

This morning I went walking a bit later than usual, and unlike yesterday, it is a gorgeous, sunny day, with nary a cloud in the sky. Try as I might, I could not spot a single one of those webs. Were they all dismantled overnight? Were they so fragile that the wind wrenched them away from their flagpoles, and sent them drifting like tiny parachutes? Or was I, for some unknown reason, granted a once in a lifetime glimpse into a secret, magical world that surrounds us, but which most humans are never allowed to see?

WHAT'S FOR LUNCH?

Each time we move, one of my first missions is always to find my special "lunch spot". It's not an easy task, for I have stringent criteria that must be met. First of all, it must have the right ambience - rather casual, with a cozy booth or sunny corner table - somewhere that I would feel comfortable dining alone and lingering over my meal, with a crossword puzzle perhaps. Second, it must have really good food, not national chain fast food. Third, it must be inexpensive.

It took me a while, but I finally found the perfect place here in Wimberley - Crucita's Kitchen. I didn't notice it at first because it's tucked away in a strip center behind the laundromat. Open only for breakfast and lunch, it serves mostly just an assortment of tacos and gorditas, using the most delicious, warm, fluffy homemade flour tortillas I've ever tasted - and I've tasted a passel of them. Try a chicken fajita taco, a bean and cheese taco, and a pineapple flavored Mexican soda, and not only will you get out of there for less than $6.00, you will surely be coming back to work your way through the other options.

TURNING UP THE HEAT (12/07)

I told someone recently that my husband has always had a habit of leaving things lying around the house. As long as they are not causing him actual discomfort, they might stay where he dropped them indefinitely. Nagging only makes things worse. The one trick I have found is to just shift the items to a spot that does make him uncomfortable - in front of his computer, in his favorite chair, tossed into his closet, etc. Do that, and the pile of shoes or mail or dirty clothes will be dealt with in no time! I'm not sure if he even realizes that I'm being somewhat manipulative. I think that in his world, that stuff on the floor isn't even a blip on his radar, and when I shift it so that it does appear on his screen, he probably just stares in confusion, wondering how on earth all that mail ended up in his underwear drawer.

If I do decide to move on up to Wimberley ahead of John, I will suddenly make his situation in Houston seem much more "uncomfortable." He always hated Mondays when I was off and he had to work. The first week after they switched my schedule around so that I could attend the Monday managers' meetings, John leaped out of bed gleefully, threw his arms in the air and crowed "WELCOME TO MONDAYS!" That was the only time in 32 years that I ever saw him leap out of bed. Just as he hated those Mondays when I was off work, he will probably be much more unhappy with working in Houston, knowing that I am in Wimberley. Well, who knows? Perhaps it will motivate him to get extricated from his job sooner, rather than later.

SYNCHRONICITY (12/07)

One day I was cruising the internet, to see if anyone else was blogging about the hill country. I found one interesting site called Lifescapes. The woman was chatting about her husband's pecan trees, and some tracks spotted by the pond, then really caught my attention when she mentioned being a writer. I thought, hmmm, maybe I can pick up some tips, and kept on reading. When she mentioned something about her recent book "Spanish Dagger", I almost fell out of my chair, for there on the shelf directly in front of me, was that very same book, by one of my favorite authors, Susan Wittig Albert.

I have been reading her China Bayles mysteries for years, about an ex-criminal lawyer from Houston who becomes disenchanted with her life, chucks it all to move to the hill country and open an herb shop, and happens to solve a lot of murder cases in her spare time. I couldn't resist sending Susan a short email, explaining how I had happened upon her blog, and telling her how much I enjoyed her books. I also mentioned that we had bought a house in the hill country ourselves, and hoped to retire there some day. I hadn't really expected a reply - after all, the woman is a nationally known author juggling three different book series and a magazine column. She doesn't have a lot of spare time. Nonetheless, within fifteen minutes I had a note telling me that "China" says "Yes, the hill country is a great place to live!", and that they both hope we will be able to make our move there soon.

Later, after I had made my decision to leave the nursery and concentrate on writing, I came across her email. It reminded me that she was once an administrator at Texas State University. I decided to send her one more note, asking for suggestions on classes that might improve my writing skills. I had barely hit the send button before I had an answer. In addition to class recommendations, she suggested that I might want to join the Story Circle Network, and attend the conference being held in Austin soon. I went online to check it out, and discovered that SCN is an organization she launched ten years ago, made up of women who want to explore their lives and souls by exploring their personal stories, and this was to be their fourth National Women's Memoir Conference. When I checked out the list of topics being offered - Blogs and Life-writing, Accessing Your Inner Muse, Turning Food Memories into Stories, Demystifying Word Processing Programs, Getting Published, and many, many more - I knew I had to be there.

SO LONG, FAREWELL, AUF WEIDERSEIN, ADIEU! (12/07)

When I first landed my job as visual merchandiser at the garden center in Houston, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world. I just couldn't believe that someone was willing to pay me to hang out around plants all day and do displays, but not have to deal with customers or work weekends. The first year was a bit rough. I hadn't done this for a nursery before, and they had never had a merchandiser before, and weren't really sure what they wanted. The manager would ask us me to do one thing, then the owner would flit in and tell me to do the opposite. The next day she would change her mind. Each department head was accustomed to doing their own thing, and it was not at all unusual for me to spend the day reworking the gift shop, only to return a couple of days later and find that a certain someone had put everything right back the way she had it. The maintenance manager wouldn't even speak to me the first couple of years, just grunt, and there was rarely anyone available to help me move the heavy stuff. They were only willing to pay me to work 10-15 hours a week, so I used the rest of my time to build up a garden design business on the side, and to haunt every garden-related shop I could find, in order to figure out what a well-merchandised nursery was supposed to look like.

I kept on plugging away, and eventually most of them came around. I think they started grooving on the positive feedback they were getting from the customers, and decided it was more fun to work with me than against me. I kept hoping to get some feedback from the owner, but that rarely happened. She never seemed to notice anything we had accomplished, only that which we hadn't. Still, business was increasing slowly but surely, and we were getting good reports from the marketing consultant that came in periodically. One day, out of the blue, the owner invited me to begin accompanying the shop manager on her buying trips. Surely I must have been doing something right.

In the meantime, we bought this house in the Hill Country, and I became obsessed with writing. As we spent more and more time here, it became harder and harder to find time for my design clients, and I eventually let that business go. After five years at the nursery, with only one fifty cent raise (which I had to beg for), and still no signs of approval from the owner, I was getting extremely frustrated. I was getting less and less satisfaction from my efforts there, more and more from my time spent writing. I found it particularly irritating that she would never allow my name and picture to be included in the employee section of our website. My friends would ask "Are you sure you really work there? I think you are making it up!" When I inquired about it, she claimed that if customers knew who I was, they would pester me so much I would never get any work done, but one of my co-workers said "Nah, she's just afraid someone would steal you away." I was dumb-struck. "You mean she's actually pleased with my work? Why doesn't she ever say so?" "That's just the way she is," they replied. I discovered exactly what they meant when she decided that I should be included in the weekly manager's meetings. Although it was somewhat comforting to find that it wasn't just me who failed to live up to her expectations, but the entire world, it was also disheartening to realize that no matter how hard I worked, I would never get any reaction from her other than "Why haven't you done this?" or "When are you going to do that?" Still, buying trips to Dallas, New York and Atlanta, can make up for a lot.

* * * * *

A new manager started on Monday (the fourth since I've been there - they never stick around for long). Whenever that happens, the owner always goes into an expense-cutting frenzy, to compensate for the manager's salary, so I wasn't too surprised when she told several of us that we should go ahead and start our (unpaid) holiday early. On my way out the door, she stopped me. I thought she was going to say "Have a nice holiday!" or maybe even, at last "Good job on transforming the nursery for Christmas. Thanks." Silly me. Instead she said "By the way. I don't think we really need to go to market this year, do you? I don't see why we can't just order what we need on line." And that was it. She didn't even say good-bye. So, I owe her a huge debt of gratitude, for she has made it so much easier for me to finally leave the nursery behind, and actually start living the good life, instead of just reading about it!