In My Mind I've Gone to Carolina....

The air is different. The view is lush and green and incredible. Even the bugs are strange and beautiful. I’m in the mountains of North Carolina. James Taylor said it best when he wrote “In my mind, I’m going to Carolina”.
I really love traveling and visiting new places. And so far, there isn’t anywhere that I didn’t enjoy or find something wonderful or beautiful about them. There is something to be said, however, about traveling back to someplace that you really love – someplace that just resonates with your soul.
God really knew what he was doing when he paired me up with my husband. He is the perfect travel buddy. Well, let me back up – he really is the perfect husband. Most of the time. I do have to re-train him every once in awhile, but just like the dogs, he’s good after the refresher course. Traveling with him is really a joy. He’s just so easy going and easy to please. He’s never met a stranger and he’s just about as adventuresome as I am. So when we travel, it’s always the perfect mix of rest and play – sleep and party.
This trip is one of those soul fulfilling trips. We are traveling with another dear friend and staying at the home of two more dear friends. What a blessing – not just to have this beautiful trip and take-your-breath-away view, but loving friends that open their hearts and homes and boats for us.
What would life be if we couldn’t share “just one more bite” meals that knock your socks off – or savor a great cabernet as you watch the sunset behind majestic hills and mountains? What would life be if we couldn’t float in the lake with our noodles, incredible margaritas and some of the best friends ever? How boring it would become if we couldn’t walk together and share our deepest thoughts among the towering pine trees.
I can see how some people would consider a place like this lonely. Small town, no city lights and not a whole lot of people or traffic or big malls. But not me. I am just a humble human being lucky enough to be sharing this space with singing birds, glowing fireflies, and trees that are so old that you know they have many great stories to tell.
Sitting on this porch, writing this column and drinking coffee is just about perfect. My A.D.D. is kicking in a little bit though, because my eyes keep straying to the beautiful views, and my ears keep listening to the joyous songs of the birds. The one thing that is weighing most on my mind is my sense of gratitude. I do appreciate all of this: my friends, the mountains, the lake, the food and my husband. (Not necessarily in that order, dear.) So, it’s time to go – another day of adventure awaits! Thank you, dear friends. Thank you, mother nature. Thank you, Carolina. Thank you, God. Now, time to Jet Ski!

What the Babies and Dogs are really saying....

Everyone always says how much they love dogs and babies. I mean most of the television commercials I even remember have one of both in it. There really is no reason not to like dogs or babies. They are cute, fun, usually happy and – let’s face it – they don’t talk back. Babies and dogs can’t tell us what they are really thinking. They can’t say the word “no”. They communicate by cooing, smiling, or wagging their tail. They normally love everyone. They laugh or jump for joy at our silly antics of baby talk. They think our rendition of “Itsy Bitsy Spider” is the best they’ve ever heard. They think the latest dog treat is the best they’ve ever tasted. They are happy to see us and act like they’ve missed us - even if we’ve only just turned our back for 30 seconds.
But let’s face it. In reality, what we think they are communicating and what they really mean could be two totally different things.
My new granddaughter is being introduced to “real” foods. So when mommy or daddy shoves some tasteless green peas in her mouth, they are happy when she smiles and coos and eats it without going all “Exorcist” on them. But if you really watch her eyes, you know that there is much more going on in that little five-month-old brain of hers.
Daddy: “Come on pumpkin. Sweet peas! Yummy! Look, watch daddy taste them. Ick! Oh man, these really could use some salt. And maybe a steak to go with it. Ok, sweetie, come on, eat the nummy peas. Take one more bite for daddy. That’s right, eat it all.”
Baby: “Ok, seriously dad. You can’t even handle one bite and you expect me to eat the entire thing? Get real. I mean I appreciate mom going through the trouble to make me organic, fresh baby food – but I’d really be happy having some of the pepperoni pizza you’ve got there. And maybe some of that soda. Oh, I know, healthy smealthy. But when I’m a teenager and you wonder why I have weight issues, just think back to when you made me eat an entire bowl of tasteless green peas. Look, I appreciate what you are doing. But help a girl out here – I have needs too.”
Our three dogs definitely have minds of their own as well. Sure, they look cute, sweet and innocent. Just like our granddaughter. But I have no doubt there is a lot more going on in their minds than their adorable, furry expressions show.
Me: “Ok guys, mommy has to go to work now. You be good widdle doggies and I’ll be home soon!”
Dog #1: “Right. And tonight you’ll let me sleep on the bed. Not! Don’t think I don’t remember what you told me. You also promised an extra treat last night. What’s up with that? And can you please not talk baby talk to us – in dog years I’m old enough to be your grandpa. Hey guys, party in mom’s bedroom while she’s at work! Let’s sleep on the bed, drink outta the toilet and play catch with her new shoes. Who’s in?”
For now we are safe, I guess. Their little computer brains may be storing this information, but we can still look at their adorable, innocent faces and read whatever we want into their simple expressions. And according to my dogs and granddaughters, I am the most amazing person in the universe. No wonder I love them so much.

I Want to Live Like My Dog

“A dog is like an eternal Peter Pan, a child who never grows old and who therefore is always available to love and be loved.”
--Aaron Katcher, American Educator and Psychiatrist
“Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend.”
--Corey Ford, American writer
I want to be like my dog. He’s so full of life and zest and love. He doesn’t second guess anything I say or do and he lives his life “full steam ahead”, no questions asked. He believes me when I tell him how pretty he is after a haircut. He eats his meals with relish and doesn’t bemoan how many calories are in the kibble. He jumps for joy when given a treat, and doesn’t wonder if he should go to Weight Watchers because he got an extra bone for dessert.
How wonderful to be able to take doggy naps whenever you want. How great to wake up happy and refreshed and full of energy. Why can’t I walk two miles and still want to play? Why can’t I wear a dorky looking sweater and look incredibly adorable?
Like my dog, I want to be able to live my life full of joy and eternal happiness – to show my loved ones how much I adore them and want to be with them; to shower my friends with kisses – and to not look crazy when I shake my butt because I’m incredibly happy to see them.
I want to live like my dog. He lives in the present moment. He finds joy in everything he does. He doesn’t over-plan his days, forgetting about living in the “right now”…in fact he relishes in just “being”. He relaxes with abandon, lying on his back without a care in the world. He knows he is loved and lets me know that he is grateful for it – and will return it a thousand-fold.
I want to live like my dog…never worrying about what size I am or how my hair looks. My dog doesn’t question if someone likes him; actually there is no doubt in his mind. He plays in the mud and sticks his head out of the car window to feel the wind in his face, gloriously taking in all his surroundings while his ears fly back behind his head. He smiles when he sees me, running with glee to tell me how much he’s missed me even if we’ve only been apart for a moment.
To be like my dog will make me a better person. I will always consider and appreciate my humanness, but will also try to learn to live what comes so naturally for my dog: 1) Enjoy life for what it is 2) Be yourself 3) Love without thought or judgment. Thank you my furry friend for these lessons – you have trained me well.

Sweet Home in California

The sun isn’t shining - yet. But very soon, I will see the reflection on the bright blue and green of the ocean. I can’t get enough of it. We are perched on top of a hill, with views of valley and mountains and ocean. I am back in California and am not only soaking up the sun, but the love and the comfort and memories of home.
I am sitting at my mom’s computer (she’s in her 80’s and knows more about the internet than I do) and looking up at a picture of my dad - his young, handsome, unlined face is looking down at me as I write. He’s wearing his flight jacket - the same musty, cracked leather brown bomber jacket that I wear during the cold winter months in Ohio. I went to see my dad a few days back. He’s buried in a lovely cemetery in the Garden of Valor - reserved for men and women that have served our country.
Soon I will take a walk along the canyon, smelling all the smells that evoke childhood memories: sage, eucalyptus and sea salt. We are having our “June Gloom” weather where it’s quite cool in the morning and fog is mixed with clouds. The sun will show up after lunch and then the rest of the day will be glorious.
I have spent the past week on the beach. I couldn’t get enough of the sand, the salt and the cold Pacific creeping up over my toes. I felt like a 4th grader, shouting as I watched dolphins swim off the pier - or a sea lion body surfing next to the surfers with the boards. I watched huge pelicans flying in formation, looking like small Pterodactyl dinosaur birds, diving into the ocean for their lunch. I collected sea shells for my always growing collection - memories to be taken back to Ohio for my “California room”.
I am not going to lie - I get very homesick. It’s as if I have one foot home in Ohio and one foot back here, in Southern California. I miss my kids and grandkids, my dogs and my friends. (My husband is with me so I am not missing him!). I miss my garden and the woods behind my house. But I also miss my mom, my sister and brother, the ocean where I learned how to body surf, my friends that I grew up with and that “California” feeling and attitude.
Those that know me don’t deny I am a little out of place in the mid-west. Although it is my home, there are times I may seem a little out of sync. (You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl.) I’ve never tried to change my attitude or spirit. I guess for that very reason, it’s very easy to be living a life with one foot in each location. When I am home in Ohio, I live that life fully. When I come back home to California, I don’t miss a step.
It has taken me awhile to discover the reason why I am able to live two lives without becoming schizophrenic: I am at peace with myself. I am happy living and “just being” wherever I am planted. There is no doubt I am currently in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And I believe because of the gift that I am learning everyday - the gift of learning to love every waking minute and living for the “now” - I am able to soak up the wonderfulness and uniqueness of each location with relish, and not regret time away from either home.
Soon I will be back in Ohio, my time spent here fading like my tan. And instead of dwelling on not being here, and obsessing about planning my next trip, I will instead take a deep breath and appreciate the sights and smells of my current home. I will reflect upon my seashells and lounge in my beach-themed screened-in porch. I will choose not to be homesick; instead I will savor the memories of the ocean, while soak up the smells of pine, fresh mowed grass and smoke from the bonfire in our backyard. Instead of missing the view of the ocean, I will delight in the sight of the luscious woods behind our house, that house the bright red Cardinals and the furry-tailed squirrels. I will smile as I hear the dogs bark, the grandkids shout and my friends and family laughing and joking. Home is where the heart is. And I’ve decided it’s ok to share my heart with two different homes…and to not dwell where I can’t be - but instead to appreciate where I am.

The Elusive....Morels

They are elusive. Apparently they are delicious. And the one time I found them in the store they were $20 for about ¼ pound of them. I’m talking about Morel mushrooms.
“They are so yummy,” said a friend of mine. “Just go hunt some yourself – it’s totally worth the effort. I went yesterday and found a bunch.”
“Ok, but where?” I asked. I was a mushroom-hunting virgin - seeing as how we didn’t have this sport where I grew up in California.
“Here, I’ll show you.” And he brought out a map. “Right here.”
“Ummm, that’s a giant forest. Exactly where?””
“Are you kidding? I can’t tell you that. That is sacred information. You know how much those babies go for? And when you sauté them in butter – oh it’s beyond words. Look in the woods behind your house. There’s a good chance you could find some there.”
So that is what we did this afternoon. We went mushroom hunting. I was dressed from head to toe in long sleeves and long pants with long socks – looking not only for mushrooms but also the ever popular “leaves of three – let them be”. If there is poison ivy anywhere near me, it will find me, jump out, rub itself all over me and leave a rash in its’ wake. (Now I wouldn’t mind if say, Steven Tyler did that - but if I can skip the poison ivy - the world is a better place.)
“You have to move very slowly and concentrate,” said my husband. Normally an obvious statement like that would irritate me. But my husband compares me to a 12 year old boy standing at the open refrigerator looking at a milk carton while yelling, “Mom, where’s the milk?” So I didn’t take offense. I could see where my A.D.D. could possibly kick in while doing the tedious job of looking for tiny brownish, tan fungus. I know, it was my idea – so I tried not to complain.
“Stay on the trail and look – there is less poison ivy there.” Fine. Boring, but fine. So Lucy and I set off on our own adventure. We saw a lot of cool things: A black non-poisonous (I hoped) snake, a black with a green stripe down it’s back (questionable on the poisonous part) snake, an orange bird with a black belly, clam and oyster shells from a millennium gone by, a very cool pine cone fossil (that from a distance I swear looked like a Morel – my heart starting beating faster, dang it), some beautiful wild flowers, some neat fish swimming in the stream near the waterfall, a Bud Light can (and don’t get me started on that very touchy subject), some early-bird mosquitoes, some lovely fern, and droppings that I swear could be from a Mountain Lion though I’m told they are not indigenous to these parts. But no Morels.
My husband caught up with us by the stream. I was throwing sticks into the water and Lucy was retrieving them.
“Looking pretty hard, I see,” he smugly commented. I noticed his bag was just as empty as mine.
“Just taking a break. Any luck?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Oh well, it’s after 5 O’clock and I hear a glass of wine calling from the back deck. Ready to call it quits?”
Thankfully I didn’t have to twist his arm. We collected the muddy dogs, took some great shots of the stream, waterfall and glorious sun (lately as elusive as the Morels) with our camera and headed back to the homestead. Empty handed – no Morels. Thankfully, as far as I know anyway, no poison ivy either.

Living with "I Love Karen"

“I think I’d like to go camping for my birthday”. “Hello? Shoot did I lose a signal again?” I was talking to my husband on my way home from work.

“No, I’m still here.”

“Then why aren’t you answering me?”

“Because I don’t know what to say – again.”

My husband, bless his heart, is the All-American Ricky Ricardo. He’s handsome. He can sing. He could play the bongos if he tried. And he’s married to a blonde “I Love Lucy”.

“I want to wake up in nature!” I exclaimed, getting caught up in the potential of my make-believe world. “I want to smell the coffee and bacon cooking on the campfire. I want to gaze at the stars and watch the birds and wildflowers.”

“We can do that from our back deck. With comfortable chairs and a nice glass of wine.”

“You are missing the point,” I said, exasperated. “Think what an adventure it would be.”

“It’s a daily adventure right here with you. I don’t think can stand anymore adventure. We have plenty.”

“But we have the gear! The tent, the sleeping bags, the air mattress, the portable stove…”

He cut me off. “The tent was loaned out 10 years ago and never returned. The mice in the garage decided they not only wanted to sleep in our sleeping bags, but that they tasted pretty good too. And one of the kids borrowed the portable stove for their apartment and I think it caught on fire. We have no “gear”. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Just like Ricky, he could see the wheels turning in my head. I must get some kind of look or smile, because I swear he knows when I am trying to conjure up a harebrained idea.

“Karen…don’t do it.” (This said with a fake Hispanic accent. He thinks he’s funny.)

“Oh don’t worry honey. It’ll be ok. I’ll see you at home. In about an hour or two. I have a couple stops on the way”

“Seriously, Karen. What have you got up your sleeve? You have some ‘splainin to do.” (Did I mention he thinks he’s funny?)

“There is a sale at the sporting goods store and…”

“Do me a favor. Let me plan your birthday. I will handle the whole thing. And you will love it. I promise.”

Darn. How could I refuse that? I gave in. And the next day he presented me with his plans. It was a compromise, he told me.

“I’ve rented us a room for a few nights at a romantic bed and breakfast. It’s way out in the country. Lots of hiking trails. You can wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of coffee and bacon. You don’t have to blow up an air mattress. You can take a shower every day. And they will make your bed.”

Wow. He drives a hard bargain. How could I refuse? I hugged him and told him he was the most wonderful husband in the world. And as he walked away, a smug smile on his face, I could swear he was singing “Babaloo”.

Now we just have to find out if Fred and Ethyl can watch the dogs while we are gone.

A Letter From Charlie (the Dog)

Dear Aunt Nan:
My mom is making me write this. She said I have to apologize for peeing on your carpet. Twice. She said I have to buy you a bottle of Nature’s Miracle out of my next allowance…instead of the chew toy I wanted. I guess that’s ok, since I have an extra toy my granny gave me for Christmas.
Your carpet almost feels like grass – and I mean that in a good way. Mom doesn’t realize I was just testing it out….I didn’t mean to make a mess, honest.
My mom also said that next time I want to play with Cheyenne that she has to come to my house to play, since I am on restriction from going to your house. I don’t know what restriction means, but my mom was pretty serious when she said it. She also said that maybe this summer you would let me come over if I stay outside, and I said that would really be wonderful. I like your outside grass better, anyway.
Did you see the picture my mom showed you when we were there? My mom said that dog is what I am supposed to look like, but there was some kind of genetic mix up at the lab. Not sure what that means but she says she loves me anyway – and I DO know what that means. I don’t know if she told you, but we just found out I have some kind of lung condition. My lungs are quite scarred and it’s hard for me to breathe at times. The doctor said this could affect my quality of life. I don’t know why they are worried, since my life is grand and the quality could not be any better! (Did I mention the pills taste like yummy liver?)
Anyway, I am very sorry and am sending you many kisses. (Even though at times I’ve been told I may give too many. How can a dog give too many kisses?)
Don’t forget I love you. I have to go now, ‘cause my mom says I have to do my homework on account I have to go to special needs doggy school tomorrow, and the short bus comes very early.
Lots of licks, and a high five too,
Charlie
PS: My daddy just got home and said I didn’t have nice manners. I am not sure what that means, but I don’t think he’s happy either. I will charm him by dancing around him and showing him how much I love him. Remind me to show you that trick next time, ok?