‘Tis the season – for all things wonderful. That of course includes food. So even though I strive to eat healthy the rest of the year – it all goes out the window during “Seasons Eating”. Of course those of us that are professional seasonal eaters know that tight jeans are not the attire to wear. It just makes sense that the “stretchier” the clothes, the more you can eat. Here then, is my theme song for those moments.
This song is meant to be sung VERY loudly to the tune of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”. Feel free to break into harmony during the chorus!
Candy Canes, they’re around us
Sugar cookies, they astound us –
A beautiful sight, I’m happy tonight,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants-land.
Sweet egg nog, it’s required
The great taste, I never tire.
We sing the sweet song, of food (right or wrong),
Walking in my comfy sweats pant land.
In the kitchen we will find a large ham, and pretend that it is healthy fare.
We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Hambone, and all the sandwiches we will prepare.
Later on, we’ll conspire,
As we lay by the fire –
Our stomachs are quite full, the calories a toll,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
In the kitchen we will find the rum balls, and pretend they don’t have alcohol.
We’ll have lots of fun with all the rum balls, until the little kiddies all fall down.
When we eat, ain’t it thrilling?
Though our clothes, they are filling.
We’ll frolic and eat, till we fall asleep,
Walking in my comfy sweat pants land.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Coco Wasn't Always Right
“When accessorizing, always take off the last thing you put on.”
Coco Chanel said this. And up until now, I normally followed these words of wisdom.
For some reason, my thoughts have done a 180. Actually, my thoughts have been thinking that Coco was wrong my entire life. But lately my seemly fashion-safe self has gone out the window. Now, I am not any sort of fashion maven. And I’ve been known to dress, ah, “out of the box” shall we say. (My sister goes as far as to say I dress in costume. Seeing as how I love her, I will consider this a compliment.) But as of late I’ve felt the calling to just keep going.
Yesterday, not only did I NOT take off the last thing I put on, but I added more! I added a necklace to the already completely accessorized outfit. And it felt good! It felt complete! I actually felt free!
Ok, I know, we are only talking about fashion and clothing here. But there is something psychological about it as well. The rule about fashion is: There are no rules! Gilda Radner said, “I base my fashion sense on what doesn’t itch.” And we loved Gilda for that.
In her defense, Coco had some other great quotes, such as: “The best color in the whole world is the color that looks good on you.” That’s more like it. Definitely more out of the box.
Personally, I really don’t think anyone else really cares what we wear. I mean if they like it they may comment on it. (Thank you to the clerk that said she loved my beautiful outfit on my day of over-accessorizing.) But does it really matter who wears what color and how many bracelets they may have on? (Um, is four too many?)
Fashion, for what it’s worth, is something that is supposed to make us feel good about ourselves. Concordantly, what makes us feel good about ourselves may not always be in fashion. I say, hurrah! Of course I don’t make my living in the fashion industry…I also don’t follow trends, per se. (Ok, I had to do the feather earring thing – it just called to me). Since I buy most of my clothes and accessories at the Goodwill and thrift stores, I usually am wearing something that was either a style flop or that was in style years ago. And I pair it with something that normally wouldn’t go with it. I refuse to be all “matchy-matchy”. (Except the other day with feather earrings and a western belt – but of course I threw on my dad’s bomber jacket from WWII and all of a sudden it felt “right”).
Don’t worry – my husband doesn’t hide in embarrassment when we go out in public. I am not ready for a support group yet. On the other hand when a friend called me “Grandma Auntie Mame” the other day, I had to smile to myself. We are what we make ourselves. When Coco Chanel said don’t pound on the wall in order to make it a door, (or something like that) I think she meant to say don’t try to be something other than yourself.
Peacocks (and male at that) aren’t the only ones meant to show off their colorful plumage. So if it’s your secret desire to strut your fancy stuff I say “go for it!” Give in to your moxie and sassy self. If you have things sitting in your closet/attic/basement that you’ve not worn because it wasn’t in style or was too flashy or weird or eclectic, well for heaven’s sake – go get it! What are you waiting for? Let your inner eclectic self shine! “Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.” - Quentin Crisp
We all have an inner flair dying to get out. If it feels strange at first, fake it ‘til you make it. If your inner flair is quiet and subdued, I am not saying to change it. If, like Coco, taking off that last accessory feels right, then do it! But if you are like me, and you secretly just want to add more, there should be nothing stopping you.
And with that, I leave you with words from Mark Twain: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”
Coco Chanel said this. And up until now, I normally followed these words of wisdom.
For some reason, my thoughts have done a 180. Actually, my thoughts have been thinking that Coco was wrong my entire life. But lately my seemly fashion-safe self has gone out the window. Now, I am not any sort of fashion maven. And I’ve been known to dress, ah, “out of the box” shall we say. (My sister goes as far as to say I dress in costume. Seeing as how I love her, I will consider this a compliment.) But as of late I’ve felt the calling to just keep going.
Yesterday, not only did I NOT take off the last thing I put on, but I added more! I added a necklace to the already completely accessorized outfit. And it felt good! It felt complete! I actually felt free!
Ok, I know, we are only talking about fashion and clothing here. But there is something psychological about it as well. The rule about fashion is: There are no rules! Gilda Radner said, “I base my fashion sense on what doesn’t itch.” And we loved Gilda for that.
In her defense, Coco had some other great quotes, such as: “The best color in the whole world is the color that looks good on you.” That’s more like it. Definitely more out of the box.
Personally, I really don’t think anyone else really cares what we wear. I mean if they like it they may comment on it. (Thank you to the clerk that said she loved my beautiful outfit on my day of over-accessorizing.) But does it really matter who wears what color and how many bracelets they may have on? (Um, is four too many?)
Fashion, for what it’s worth, is something that is supposed to make us feel good about ourselves. Concordantly, what makes us feel good about ourselves may not always be in fashion. I say, hurrah! Of course I don’t make my living in the fashion industry…I also don’t follow trends, per se. (Ok, I had to do the feather earring thing – it just called to me). Since I buy most of my clothes and accessories at the Goodwill and thrift stores, I usually am wearing something that was either a style flop or that was in style years ago. And I pair it with something that normally wouldn’t go with it. I refuse to be all “matchy-matchy”. (Except the other day with feather earrings and a western belt – but of course I threw on my dad’s bomber jacket from WWII and all of a sudden it felt “right”).
Don’t worry – my husband doesn’t hide in embarrassment when we go out in public. I am not ready for a support group yet. On the other hand when a friend called me “Grandma Auntie Mame” the other day, I had to smile to myself. We are what we make ourselves. When Coco Chanel said don’t pound on the wall in order to make it a door, (or something like that) I think she meant to say don’t try to be something other than yourself.
Peacocks (and male at that) aren’t the only ones meant to show off their colorful plumage. So if it’s your secret desire to strut your fancy stuff I say “go for it!” Give in to your moxie and sassy self. If you have things sitting in your closet/attic/basement that you’ve not worn because it wasn’t in style or was too flashy or weird or eclectic, well for heaven’s sake – go get it! What are you waiting for? Let your inner eclectic self shine! “Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.” - Quentin Crisp
We all have an inner flair dying to get out. If it feels strange at first, fake it ‘til you make it. If your inner flair is quiet and subdued, I am not saying to change it. If, like Coco, taking off that last accessory feels right, then do it! But if you are like me, and you secretly just want to add more, there should be nothing stopping you.
And with that, I leave you with words from Mark Twain: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Why Change Twice?
This time of year, it’s tough to get going when most of the time it is dark when we leave our homes and dark when we return. I have a theory that Christmas lights were invented to cheer up those that are suffering from S.A.D.D. – a little light can go a long way during the long, dark, cold and grey winter months.
My friends and I actually have a saying when this short span of daylight arrives: “Why Change Twice?”. When we get home from work, all we want to do is get comfy, make tea (or, let’s be honest, drink wine) and settle in for the night. Usually for me, that involves changing into nice and comfy sweat pants and my husband’s t-shirt. But lately, I’ve really been into this comfy nesting thing. So much so, that I’ve started skipping the sweat pants and going straight for the pajamas. Yes, even at 6pm. Seriously, why change twice?
There is something about the darkness – the long, drawn-out darkness – that wants me to stay home and curl up in front of the fire. If I plan anything at night during these winter months, I make it a practice to not go home first. Once I’m home, I am, as they say, “dead in the sled”. Done. Capoot. Finished. The minute my foot hits the floor in my house, the clothes start coming off and I head straight to the bedroom for the flannels. Sexy, I know.
The good thing is I’ve been able to make a believer out of my husband. I have to admit, it was a tough sell at first. He came home the other night and I was working on my laptop at the kitchen table. In my jammies. At 5:30 pm.
“You ok?” He asked.
“Sure, why?”
“Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. Just working. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you have your pajamas on. It’s not even dinner time.”
“And your point is…”
“Um, like I said, it’s not even dinner time.”
“Try it. Go change. I’m comfortable. I’m relaxed. I’m cozy. I’m warm. Why should I come home and change out of my work clothes and then a couple hours later change again into my pajamas? It only makes sense. Go change.”
“Does this mean I don’t get dinner? Once when I was little my mom made me get my pajamas on and sent me to bed without dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m not your mom, and yes, I am making dinner. Go. Put on your pajamas.”
And the rest is history. I think from here on out - December through March - all our dinner parties will be pajama parties. Our neighbors have already gotten used to the fact that I go outside to get the mail in my pajamas. I don’t think they’d care one way or another if I walk the dogs in my jammies too. Heck, I may just start a trend. The “Why Change Twice” trend. Try it – I know I can convert you too!
My friends and I actually have a saying when this short span of daylight arrives: “Why Change Twice?”. When we get home from work, all we want to do is get comfy, make tea (or, let’s be honest, drink wine) and settle in for the night. Usually for me, that involves changing into nice and comfy sweat pants and my husband’s t-shirt. But lately, I’ve really been into this comfy nesting thing. So much so, that I’ve started skipping the sweat pants and going straight for the pajamas. Yes, even at 6pm. Seriously, why change twice?
There is something about the darkness – the long, drawn-out darkness – that wants me to stay home and curl up in front of the fire. If I plan anything at night during these winter months, I make it a practice to not go home first. Once I’m home, I am, as they say, “dead in the sled”. Done. Capoot. Finished. The minute my foot hits the floor in my house, the clothes start coming off and I head straight to the bedroom for the flannels. Sexy, I know.
The good thing is I’ve been able to make a believer out of my husband. I have to admit, it was a tough sell at first. He came home the other night and I was working on my laptop at the kitchen table. In my jammies. At 5:30 pm.
“You ok?” He asked.
“Sure, why?”
“Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine. Just working. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you have your pajamas on. It’s not even dinner time.”
“And your point is…”
“Um, like I said, it’s not even dinner time.”
“Try it. Go change. I’m comfortable. I’m relaxed. I’m cozy. I’m warm. Why should I come home and change out of my work clothes and then a couple hours later change again into my pajamas? It only makes sense. Go change.”
“Does this mean I don’t get dinner? Once when I was little my mom made me get my pajamas on and sent me to bed without dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m not your mom, and yes, I am making dinner. Go. Put on your pajamas.”
And the rest is history. I think from here on out - December through March - all our dinner parties will be pajama parties. Our neighbors have already gotten used to the fact that I go outside to get the mail in my pajamas. I don’t think they’d care one way or another if I walk the dogs in my jammies too. Heck, I may just start a trend. The “Why Change Twice” trend. Try it – I know I can convert you too!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Big Girl Christmas
It happens every year. It sneaks up on me like the last five pounds snuck up on me last month. I know the date is always December 25th. I know that I only have a certain amount of time to get my act together. In the end, it usually stresses me out and leaves me feeling a little lost, like maybe there should be “more”.
What I have finally come to realize is that Christmas is not supposed to be a race to the finish line. It’s not a contest of “those with the most gifts (to give or to receive) win”. This year Christmas is an even larger challenge for me as we will be moving. That’s right, packing everything in boxes smack dab during the time that I am supposed to be decking the halls.
Sitting back and taking a deep breath is now on my “to do” list. However I look at it, this is not a win-win situation. Except for the fact that we did sell our home – and in this economy I guess that is just about the best Christmas gift I could receive.
So I have made my own special big girl Christmas list for this year, in order to keep my sanity in check. It doesn’t include presents – since I am actually trying to downsize. It doesn’t include (much) food – since I am actually trying to downsize.
Karen’s Big Girl Christmas List
1) Enough boxes to pack all my stuff in. Since I’m trying to get rid of a lot of the stuff, hopefully the ratio will be even in the end.
2) Enough time to prepare loving meals and bake the special cookies my sons’ love.
3) Enough sense to remember to take deep breaths, do my yoga and treat my body with kindness.
4) Enough energy to take my sweet dogs on their much anticipated walks – no matter what the weather.
5) Enough gratitude to devote time to God - giving thanks for all my blessings.
6) Enough room in my jeans to go ahead and have just one bite of pumpkin pie – with whipped cream.
7) Enough courage to realize that I don’t have to put up a Christmas tree just to take it down in a couple days. I can find charming and creative ways to decorate without going overboard as usual.
8) Enough wisdom to realize that all the decorations and gifts and food don’t matter. What matters is the love of my family and friends. It’s the support they give me when it’s needed most.
Christmas isn’t always a Norman Rockwell painting – actually, it usually never is. (I wonder if Norman actually lived the life depicted in those paintings.) Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Christmas is also the joy and wonder that we want to experience all year long. Christmas is my own personal role model – the bar to set for everyday, not just in December.
It’s tough to be a big girl in a season full of childlike wonder. It’s tough to sit back and live in the real world. But the one thing I am discovering is that the wonder is always there. It’s hidden behind the future expectations of a fantastic holiday season. The wonder is ours to grasp moment by moment and day by day. It’s not an eleven month ramp up to the most spectacular day of the year. Our lives are meant to be Christmas every day. With or without a Christmas tree and tons of presents. So my goal is to combine it all. My Christmas wish in a nutshell is to live each day – no, each moment – being content and happy and stress free. To know that to live in bliss, to live as my soul intended, is the best gift I could ever give to myself and my loved ones. So, let the celebration begin!
What I have finally come to realize is that Christmas is not supposed to be a race to the finish line. It’s not a contest of “those with the most gifts (to give or to receive) win”. This year Christmas is an even larger challenge for me as we will be moving. That’s right, packing everything in boxes smack dab during the time that I am supposed to be decking the halls.
Sitting back and taking a deep breath is now on my “to do” list. However I look at it, this is not a win-win situation. Except for the fact that we did sell our home – and in this economy I guess that is just about the best Christmas gift I could receive.
So I have made my own special big girl Christmas list for this year, in order to keep my sanity in check. It doesn’t include presents – since I am actually trying to downsize. It doesn’t include (much) food – since I am actually trying to downsize.
Karen’s Big Girl Christmas List
1) Enough boxes to pack all my stuff in. Since I’m trying to get rid of a lot of the stuff, hopefully the ratio will be even in the end.
2) Enough time to prepare loving meals and bake the special cookies my sons’ love.
3) Enough sense to remember to take deep breaths, do my yoga and treat my body with kindness.
4) Enough energy to take my sweet dogs on their much anticipated walks – no matter what the weather.
5) Enough gratitude to devote time to God - giving thanks for all my blessings.
6) Enough room in my jeans to go ahead and have just one bite of pumpkin pie – with whipped cream.
7) Enough courage to realize that I don’t have to put up a Christmas tree just to take it down in a couple days. I can find charming and creative ways to decorate without going overboard as usual.
8) Enough wisdom to realize that all the decorations and gifts and food don’t matter. What matters is the love of my family and friends. It’s the support they give me when it’s needed most.
Christmas isn’t always a Norman Rockwell painting – actually, it usually never is. (I wonder if Norman actually lived the life depicted in those paintings.) Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Christmas is also the joy and wonder that we want to experience all year long. Christmas is my own personal role model – the bar to set for everyday, not just in December.
It’s tough to be a big girl in a season full of childlike wonder. It’s tough to sit back and live in the real world. But the one thing I am discovering is that the wonder is always there. It’s hidden behind the future expectations of a fantastic holiday season. The wonder is ours to grasp moment by moment and day by day. It’s not an eleven month ramp up to the most spectacular day of the year. Our lives are meant to be Christmas every day. With or without a Christmas tree and tons of presents. So my goal is to combine it all. My Christmas wish in a nutshell is to live each day – no, each moment – being content and happy and stress free. To know that to live in bliss, to live as my soul intended, is the best gift I could ever give to myself and my loved ones. So, let the celebration begin!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
There's an APP for that
I love modern technology. Who knew how close Gene Roddenberry really would be? I swore I’d not get all “high tech” but sometimes it’s just hard to resist. My handsome husband is a self-proclaimed Star Trek freak – and I spent the first few years of our relationship making fun of him and the entire Science Fiction genre.
I’ve come a long way since then – trust me. I am glad my husband knows about computers and gadgets and all things electric. (I’m equally glad his Explorer no longer has the bumper sticker that read: Star Fleet Academy).
I was one of the people that kind of fought doing everything on my desk top computer. Heaven forbid something happened. Then of course it moved to a laptop, and now my phone. I literally can do everything from my “smart” phone. The fact that the darn thing is smarter than I am frustrates me just a bit, but then I bring myself back to earth when I realize my phone actually makes me appear more intelligent than I may be. I mean, I even looked up the spelling of Gene’s last name on my phone.
These phones really are incredible. I have an app for just about everything I need. I have an app for counting calories. (That one has not been used). I have an app for healthy recipes. (Sometimes used). I have an app on wine tasting. (Many times used). If I want to know how many steps I’ve taken, there’s an app for that. If I want to listen to a radio station in Italy, there’s an app for that. I’ve also downloaded the app for learning to speak Italian. Oh, and the one that specializes in Italian wine. Next will be the app for “how to afford to rent a villa in Italy near a vineyard”.
I have an app for my 3-year-old granddaughter (she had to show me how to use it). I have an app for the weather , an app to teach me how to play my ukulele, and an app for daily uplifting or spiritual quotes. Today’s is: “Creativity is a natural extension of our enthusiasm.” Earl Nightingale.
I have a Zippo lighter app to use at classic rock concerts and a flashlight app to use in dark movie theaters. A self-help app to help motivate myself and an errands check list app to keep me more organized. (I guess I should use that one more.) I have a book nook app if I actually want to read a book on the tiny little screen and a translator on how to say my name in other languages. (It’s the same in most). I have the required Angry Birds app, and the much loved Words with Friends app.
There is even an app called “The Great App Show” that tells me which apps I can’t live without. I seriously do love the logical apps – such as GPS and weather. I find some obscure apps quite handy such as the dog whistle app or the Gas Buddy app (finds cheapest gas near you.) I suppose at this point in my life if you took away my smart phone, I may be a little upset. I’m not addicted to it, but I am becoming dependent on it. I Google (the need to know NOW) and text (gotta love it) and Facebook (status updates rock – are you with me?) right there with the rest of the gang.
But there is one very special reason that I love my smart phone. It has email. My mom (who lives in Southern California) and I email every day, no matter what. With the three-hour time difference it often makes phone calls challenging. So the fact that I can write my mom either a long letter or a short “I love you” every day, no matter where in the world I am, means so very much to me. It keeps us very connected, despite the many miles separating us. It has brought my mom closer and made my world a bit smaller – and for that I’m grateful.
I’ve come a long way since then – trust me. I am glad my husband knows about computers and gadgets and all things electric. (I’m equally glad his Explorer no longer has the bumper sticker that read: Star Fleet Academy).
I was one of the people that kind of fought doing everything on my desk top computer. Heaven forbid something happened. Then of course it moved to a laptop, and now my phone. I literally can do everything from my “smart” phone. The fact that the darn thing is smarter than I am frustrates me just a bit, but then I bring myself back to earth when I realize my phone actually makes me appear more intelligent than I may be. I mean, I even looked up the spelling of Gene’s last name on my phone.
These phones really are incredible. I have an app for just about everything I need. I have an app for counting calories. (That one has not been used). I have an app for healthy recipes. (Sometimes used). I have an app on wine tasting. (Many times used). If I want to know how many steps I’ve taken, there’s an app for that. If I want to listen to a radio station in Italy, there’s an app for that. I’ve also downloaded the app for learning to speak Italian. Oh, and the one that specializes in Italian wine. Next will be the app for “how to afford to rent a villa in Italy near a vineyard”.
I have an app for my 3-year-old granddaughter (she had to show me how to use it). I have an app for the weather , an app to teach me how to play my ukulele, and an app for daily uplifting or spiritual quotes. Today’s is: “Creativity is a natural extension of our enthusiasm.” Earl Nightingale.
I have a Zippo lighter app to use at classic rock concerts and a flashlight app to use in dark movie theaters. A self-help app to help motivate myself and an errands check list app to keep me more organized. (I guess I should use that one more.) I have a book nook app if I actually want to read a book on the tiny little screen and a translator on how to say my name in other languages. (It’s the same in most). I have the required Angry Birds app, and the much loved Words with Friends app.
There is even an app called “The Great App Show” that tells me which apps I can’t live without. I seriously do love the logical apps – such as GPS and weather. I find some obscure apps quite handy such as the dog whistle app or the Gas Buddy app (finds cheapest gas near you.) I suppose at this point in my life if you took away my smart phone, I may be a little upset. I’m not addicted to it, but I am becoming dependent on it. I Google (the need to know NOW) and text (gotta love it) and Facebook (status updates rock – are you with me?) right there with the rest of the gang.
But there is one very special reason that I love my smart phone. It has email. My mom (who lives in Southern California) and I email every day, no matter what. With the three-hour time difference it often makes phone calls challenging. So the fact that I can write my mom either a long letter or a short “I love you” every day, no matter where in the world I am, means so very much to me. It keeps us very connected, despite the many miles separating us. It has brought my mom closer and made my world a bit smaller – and for that I’m grateful.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
As Sweet as Honey
I love moments of déjà vu. They are mystical and magical, yet confusing and thought-provoking. Sometimes it is just a fleeting moment of time, while others, it seems to go on for awhile, tugging at your brain and your memory, teasing and taunting. Sometimes I remember what the connection is, and sometimes I just give it up to fate, even though I know there has to be an answer.
Today I had a wonderful déjà vu moment. At first it just tickled my brain – and a warm feeling overcame me. I was slowly driving by a local, small farm, and was relishing at the sight of the sun trickling through the trees. It made the shadows as dappled as some of the horses that grazed in the meadow. Beyond the barn was a huge tree – and just within sight, a red corral. I’d been there before. But yet, I hadn’t. I’d never been to this farm before in my life.
I suppose instead of déjà vu, maybe it was just my memory serving up a dish of days gone by. Maybe it was my brain wanting me to seize the moment, just as I did 40 years ago.
I was in 6th grade. I lived in a little suburb in Southern California, back when orange groves and strawberries far outnumbered homes and businesses; when Disneyland was still a wonderland – the original Magic Kingdom that had amazingly wonderful rides that required E coupons. Amidst the unusual pairing of palm trees and eucalyptus trees, on the path of my daily journey to school – was a tiny farm. I imagine back in the day, it wasn’t so tiny. To me, it was absolutely perfect. Daily I’d walk by and smell the mixture of eucalyptus tree, hay and horse. Daily I would gaze past the trees and the sun dappled shadows into the red corral. And there she stood – tall, proud and mighty.
Every school day, and on the weekends too, I’d walk past this lovely setting. And every day, I got the courage to go a little closer. Finally we were friends, this lovely Palomino and I. I’d stop by on my way home and pet her soft, silky nose. I’d savor the pungent smell of manure and leather. And I’d dream of being on her back, feeling her strong legs and powerful neck.
One day I got enough courage to approach the owner. That was the turning point of my love affair with horses. I finally met Honey, face to face. I got to pet her flanks and tickle her soft nose.
“Do you want to ride her?” The owner asked.
“I have to ask my mom and dad”, I said, as I took off mid-sentence. I ran as fast as I could - as if I was riding the horse herself – flying and gliding as my feet barely touched the ground. I would soon be on Honey – the most beautiful horse in the entire world.
My school days could not end quickly enough. I raced to the farm as soon as class was dismissed. I would spend hours with her – talking to her and brushing her. I’d clean her hooves and braid her soft, blonde mane. I’d whisper my secrets to her. I’d walk her around on a lead, and she reacted as if she was an 800 pound dog, following me anywhere I’d take her. Boys were (almost) forgotten. Riding lessons became my priority. As I gained confidence, I’d not only ride her with her saddle on, but I rode her bareback, feeling our friendship and connection grow.
I will never forget my days riding Honey – in the red corral beneath the dappled shadows. But I became a teenager, and went on to Jr. High. I no longer walked past the tiny, suburban farm. I discovered boys, dances and choir. To this day I am not only grateful to my parents for the hours and hours of riding lessons, but also to a beautiful horse and her kind owner – who opened up a whole new world to me.
Déjà vu or good memories, it really doesn’t matter. I appreciated the fleeting moment very much, and am hoping to draw upon my 12-year-old self and gain the courage to make friends with the habitats of this little farm – horses and owners alike. It’s been way too long since I’ve savored the smell of hay and leather. Thanks Honey, for those sweet memories.
Today I had a wonderful déjà vu moment. At first it just tickled my brain – and a warm feeling overcame me. I was slowly driving by a local, small farm, and was relishing at the sight of the sun trickling through the trees. It made the shadows as dappled as some of the horses that grazed in the meadow. Beyond the barn was a huge tree – and just within sight, a red corral. I’d been there before. But yet, I hadn’t. I’d never been to this farm before in my life.
I suppose instead of déjà vu, maybe it was just my memory serving up a dish of days gone by. Maybe it was my brain wanting me to seize the moment, just as I did 40 years ago.
I was in 6th grade. I lived in a little suburb in Southern California, back when orange groves and strawberries far outnumbered homes and businesses; when Disneyland was still a wonderland – the original Magic Kingdom that had amazingly wonderful rides that required E coupons. Amidst the unusual pairing of palm trees and eucalyptus trees, on the path of my daily journey to school – was a tiny farm. I imagine back in the day, it wasn’t so tiny. To me, it was absolutely perfect. Daily I’d walk by and smell the mixture of eucalyptus tree, hay and horse. Daily I would gaze past the trees and the sun dappled shadows into the red corral. And there she stood – tall, proud and mighty.
Every school day, and on the weekends too, I’d walk past this lovely setting. And every day, I got the courage to go a little closer. Finally we were friends, this lovely Palomino and I. I’d stop by on my way home and pet her soft, silky nose. I’d savor the pungent smell of manure and leather. And I’d dream of being on her back, feeling her strong legs and powerful neck.
One day I got enough courage to approach the owner. That was the turning point of my love affair with horses. I finally met Honey, face to face. I got to pet her flanks and tickle her soft nose.
“Do you want to ride her?” The owner asked.
“I have to ask my mom and dad”, I said, as I took off mid-sentence. I ran as fast as I could - as if I was riding the horse herself – flying and gliding as my feet barely touched the ground. I would soon be on Honey – the most beautiful horse in the entire world.
My school days could not end quickly enough. I raced to the farm as soon as class was dismissed. I would spend hours with her – talking to her and brushing her. I’d clean her hooves and braid her soft, blonde mane. I’d whisper my secrets to her. I’d walk her around on a lead, and she reacted as if she was an 800 pound dog, following me anywhere I’d take her. Boys were (almost) forgotten. Riding lessons became my priority. As I gained confidence, I’d not only ride her with her saddle on, but I rode her bareback, feeling our friendship and connection grow.
I will never forget my days riding Honey – in the red corral beneath the dappled shadows. But I became a teenager, and went on to Jr. High. I no longer walked past the tiny, suburban farm. I discovered boys, dances and choir. To this day I am not only grateful to my parents for the hours and hours of riding lessons, but also to a beautiful horse and her kind owner – who opened up a whole new world to me.
Déjà vu or good memories, it really doesn’t matter. I appreciated the fleeting moment very much, and am hoping to draw upon my 12-year-old self and gain the courage to make friends with the habitats of this little farm – horses and owners alike. It’s been way too long since I’ve savored the smell of hay and leather. Thanks Honey, for those sweet memories.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Official NCCD! (National Chocolate Cupcake Day!)
So today is a huge day in history. It is NCCD. National Chocolate Cupcake Day. Normally this wouldn’t be such a big day for me, but you see, right now I can’t eat a chocolate cupcake. Go figure. I always choose to do no sugar or carbs at the very wrong time of year. Like Halloween. Truly, it is the job of the homeowner to finish off the extra candy that is in the plastic pumpkin. I would hate to fail this appointment three years in a row. But alas, the scales are calling – and I want to be happy – or at least mildly pleased – at the outcome.
There are some other national holidays in October that don’t have to do with food, such as: October 17 - World Toy Camera Day, October 22 - Caps Lock Day (or is that CAPS LOCK DAY?), and October 27 - Cranky Co-Workers Day. But if I am going to torture myself with foods I cannot eat, may as well go all the way.
It’s the food days that are calling my name; these tempting days someone created in October to make your mouth water. These days include: National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day, Caramel Apple Day, Caramel Corn Day, Boston Cream Pie Day, National Chocolate Day, National Donut Day, Pretzel Day, Greasy Foods Day and to top it all off, (literally),National Beer Day.
Normally, I really don’t want to eat all that stuff. However, when I know I can’t have it, I seem to want it more. There’s also a Mince Meat Pie Day and Brandied Fruit Day, and even though neither one of those incredibly important foods tempt me (well, is Brandy a food?), all of a sudden they sound pretty darn good.
And now it’s just about that time of year to buy the Trick-or-Treat candy. That infamous bounty that will make my neighbor kids adore me even more. So, I have a choice. Do I buy the Snickers, Kit Kats and Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, with a back up of Skittles and Laffy Taffy to have on hand for those (strange) kids that don’t like chocolate? If I do that, I will of course be drooling at the thought of the hidden treasure in my pantry until that day is here. Every year somebody seems to open at least one of the bags of candy – no names mentioned of course. And once they are open, well, it’s very hard not to reach in for “just one more”. So, to be kind to myself and my desire for smaller jeans, should I buy the candy that nobody really even likes? Should I hand out (gasp) toothbrushes? Should I wait until an hour before Trick-or-Treat and hope that there will still be some good candy left to purchase? Should I lock it up and hide the key?
I think that October actually has another unknown national day. It is called “Be Kind to Yourself” day. That means we can’t beat ourselves up over consumed Halloween Candy, Caramel Apples, Caramel Corn, Candy Corn, Pumpkin Cheesecake or Donuts. I think I’m going to like this day. I will post it on Facebook for all to see. Maybe I’ll change the name to: “Eat All the Good Stuff and Still Smile Day”. Watch for the posting. And of course, this will require a little work and effort on my part. Thank goodness it’s National Chocolate Cupcake Day – I will need the energy.
There are some other national holidays in October that don’t have to do with food, such as: October 17 - World Toy Camera Day, October 22 - Caps Lock Day (or is that CAPS LOCK DAY?), and October 27 - Cranky Co-Workers Day. But if I am going to torture myself with foods I cannot eat, may as well go all the way.
It’s the food days that are calling my name; these tempting days someone created in October to make your mouth water. These days include: National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day, Caramel Apple Day, Caramel Corn Day, Boston Cream Pie Day, National Chocolate Day, National Donut Day, Pretzel Day, Greasy Foods Day and to top it all off, (literally),National Beer Day.
Normally, I really don’t want to eat all that stuff. However, when I know I can’t have it, I seem to want it more. There’s also a Mince Meat Pie Day and Brandied Fruit Day, and even though neither one of those incredibly important foods tempt me (well, is Brandy a food?), all of a sudden they sound pretty darn good.
And now it’s just about that time of year to buy the Trick-or-Treat candy. That infamous bounty that will make my neighbor kids adore me even more. So, I have a choice. Do I buy the Snickers, Kit Kats and Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups, with a back up of Skittles and Laffy Taffy to have on hand for those (strange) kids that don’t like chocolate? If I do that, I will of course be drooling at the thought of the hidden treasure in my pantry until that day is here. Every year somebody seems to open at least one of the bags of candy – no names mentioned of course. And once they are open, well, it’s very hard not to reach in for “just one more”. So, to be kind to myself and my desire for smaller jeans, should I buy the candy that nobody really even likes? Should I hand out (gasp) toothbrushes? Should I wait until an hour before Trick-or-Treat and hope that there will still be some good candy left to purchase? Should I lock it up and hide the key?
I think that October actually has another unknown national day. It is called “Be Kind to Yourself” day. That means we can’t beat ourselves up over consumed Halloween Candy, Caramel Apples, Caramel Corn, Candy Corn, Pumpkin Cheesecake or Donuts. I think I’m going to like this day. I will post it on Facebook for all to see. Maybe I’ll change the name to: “Eat All the Good Stuff and Still Smile Day”. Watch for the posting. And of course, this will require a little work and effort on my part. Thank goodness it’s National Chocolate Cupcake Day – I will need the energy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
