Day 358: Running Free, No Longer Going Nowhere

Tuesday, September 9

In moments of self doubt, sometimes the unthinkable can happen.  Sometimes miracles can happen.  Okay, maybe I’m going a little bit overboard.  But, I have been a little bluesy over the past few days.  Got my celiac rash bach.  So, I knew the negative, despressed feelings were my symptoms returning.  After I wrote yesterday’s entry, feeling so down and exhausted, like I’ve been running like hell on my treadmill but going nowhere, I realized I was being entirely too hard on myself.  I don’t want to patronize myself and suggest, sure - all my dreams will come true.  I need to re-evaluate my dreams and why I have them.  This will help me figure out how I can reach them.  I caught a flickering light of reason at the end of that entry, with my consideration of the Shakespeare quote – strong reasons make strong answers.

So, by the time I did my skincare regimen, sprayed my room with a soothing sandalwood and cinnamon aromatherapy, and pulled back the sheets, I felt relaxed in the sanctuary of my room.  I have made it a temple for sleep.  And at the end of every day, I am able to lay down, have two sweet kitties snuggle up next to me and fall with ease into deep, restorative sleep.

When I woke up an essay came to me.  I took out one of my notebooks and wrote feverishly.  In twenty minutes I had the skeleton of some really good content.  When I closed the notebook and finished getting ready for work, I took a mental note of where to submit this.  Top of my list are River Teeth journal and Seattle Concious Choice magazine.  My essay was about what it feels like in moments of succumbing to anxiety and depression, as experienced through malabsorption of nutrients from celiac disease.  I mustered some humor in the midst of such a heavy subject.  In the end, I thought and felt that it was well written.

During my lunch break, I wrote down some lines about the ineffectiveness of the National Organization for Women (N.O.W.), how it has become nothing more than an advocate for one issue (abortion, as if I really need to state that) and how disturbing it has been to watch the organization sit back and do nothing while sexism had smacked both Hilary Clinton and Sarah Palin in the currrent election.  I then highlighted the more current and relevant organization that better supports women, irrespective of party or issue.  It’s an organization that promises to protect all women running for elected office.  It protects in a way that N.O.W. has terribly and erroneously neglected.  That new organization is called WomenCount.

I was energized with good essays to finish and submit for publication.  And I need to give credit where credit is due – this blog.  It has forced me to write daily, to think and write in essay form.  It has helped me to hone my skill of writing narrative nonfiction. 

What a difference a day makes.

And this evening, I went for my first real run outside in years.  I broke free from the treadmill.  And, it’s not that the treadmill is a bad thing, per se.  During inclement weather, a gym and treadmill is better than nothing at all.  But, this evening, I ran free.  I ran through my neighborhood, with gorgeous houses lining the streets and tall trees to admire.  I ran up-hill, around bends, down-hill.  And I only ran for twenty minutes, but I was satisfied.  It’s a different kind of energy running outside than on a treadmill.  It felt good.  And I made a goal to be ready to run the Jingle Bell 5K Run this winter.  As long as I can help it, I’m no longer going nowhere.

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Day 355: G. Love & Special Sauce, John Butler Trio & Tristan Prettyman Live at Edgefield

Saturday, September 6

Wow.  Ten days left and I am done with this.  I have no plans for a party or celebration.  But, if I get a book deal and get my narrative published, based on this blog, then I will definitely plan some sort of gluten-free party in a vineyard here in Oregon. 

Anyway.  I didn’t really sleep in.  When I got home from the movie last night I went right to bed, which was around 12:45.  I was feeling a little off, and have for about a week or so.  First, there’s the moderate congestion.  It’s not requiring a decongestant just yet.  But, rather, is uncomfortable.  And contributes to my being drowsy.  I realized I could use a multi-vitamin injection, as I must have had some gluten intake over the past week or so.  I’m feeling some of my celiac symptoms.  And I think I’m dealing with malabsorption again, meaning, my small intestine isn’t able to absorb nutrients from the foods I have been consuming.  It’s so complicated.

I worked all morning on the holiday catalog I had begun for work.  I’m basically doing layout design in Illustrator.  And I really like the way its turning out – I have some great photographs to work with and it looks really elegant, so far.

Finally, at around 3:00, I needed to shut down the computer and get ready for a concert.  I was going to meet friends Kerry and Renee to see G. Love & Special Sauce at Edgefield, a McMenamins property.  They have a really cool outdoor concert venue.  Opening for G. Love were Tristan Prettyman, touted as the female Jack Johnson, and then the John Butler Trio.

I got dressed, grabbed one of my straw cowgirl hats, and a bag with a blanket it in.  We met at Renee’s house and then carpooled to Troutdale, just 25 miles or so down I-84 East.  It was a quick and easy drive and we parked in a small field and headed into the roped off area.  We grabbed a drink, beers for the girls and a Lemon Jack cocktail for me.  We set out our blanket super close to the stage.  It was amazing.

Tristan was very good.  Her music is very sunny and light.  When her set was up, we walked back to the concession area and ordered Thai curry dinners.  I got the chicken.  It was pretty good.  We sat at a picnic table, which was nice.  There were trees all around.  Like a little tree village.  After we ate, we went back while the John Butler Trio was into its set.  Their music is amazing.  John Butler cut off his long dreadlocks.  He looked really cute.  He’s a great young singer-songwriter born in California, but he grew up in Australia.  He began the song “Zebra” when we got back to our blanket.  We started dancing with the rest of the crew.  There was a ton of pot smoke around us, which was actually upsetting my stomach.  And, a young woman passed by us in a long tie-dyed sundress.  She smelled of poop.  Renee and I looked at eachother quizically.  I asked her if she smelled the poop.  And she did.

JBT’s sound is a blend of reggae and Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Great guitar rifts and rockabilly sounds at one moment, then hard rock and roll the next, then folksy-reggae beats.  It’s upbeat and fun.

Here’s John Butler addressing the eager crowd.

Here we are between John Butler Trio’s set and G. Love’s.

And then, G. Love & Special Sauce hit the stage.  He was seated, playing guitar and harmonica.   He’s brilliant.  He’s really a blend of surfer folk meets Philly hip hop, with a lot of rhythm and blues. 

G. Love got everyone up and dancing.  I missed dancing like this.  Like a bunch of hippies without rhythm.  Only, me and my gal pals, we had rhythm.  We were totally getting into the groove.

Then, the highlight was when G. Love called John Butler back to the stage to sing a couple of songs together.  They basically had a killer jam session.

After the last song, we headed back to Portland.  It was pretty easy getting out of the venue and Troutdale, which was a relief.  I dropped the girls off at Renee’s and drove home.  I was tired.  It had been a full weekend, so far, and I was looking forward to sleeping in and having time to myself tomorrow.  I’ll do more work, to get ahead on some of the creative projects in my queue.  But, all in all, I was looking forward to some down time.

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Day 351: No Snooze Button, 5 or Less Dried Plums & Developing Marketing Strategies for My Writing

Tuesday, September 2

Things don’t seem to change.  This does not surprise me.  I shrug, even.  But, alas, I went to bed at 1:00 a.m.  That’s when I get tired, that’s when I’m ready to actually go to sleep.  And, the alarm went off at 7:30 a.m.  I don’t have a snooze button.  My alarm clock is a tibetan gong.  I stop the alarm and then either get up or lull back into a half-sleep.  Which is what I did this morning.  I finally got up at 8:00 a.m.

I had breakfast, including some of the dried plums my friend, Susan, gave to me.  These aren’t your grandmother’s prunes!  These were sweet, delicious with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg, meaty, and more like figs than the dark, slimy prunes I remember at my grandparents’ house.  Susan’s family has a prune ranch in northern California.  She just returned from harvest.  It was a nice treat for her to bring back the freshly dried fruit.  Susan did warn not to eat more than 5 per day, when you’re not used to eating dried plums regulary.  Good thing she did that – otherwise we’d get more fiber than our young bodies could handle!

 

I got to work at 10:00 a.m. and was busy all day without even a stop for lunch.  I made a turkey breast sandwhich on gluten free bread and ate at my desk.  I worked until 7:30 p.m.!  I was waiting for a bunch of photos to upload on flickr for our event photo galleries.  It took forever.  Plus, I was working on website updates.  I didn’t even realize what time it was.  I get in a zone.

When I left, I locked up and drove home with every intention of going to a driving range to hit some golf balls.  But by the time I got home, it was too late.  I dropped off my bags, with a handful of basil I brought home from our garden at work, and put it in water.  I changed and went to the gym to ride on the exercise bike by 8:15 p.m.  I got a good 20 minute workout in, and my legs were wobbly and sore by the time I made my way back down to my townhome.  That was a nice change from my usual jogging on the treadmill and yoga.

I quickly got to cooking.  I boiled in water with a dab of olive oil and a pinch of salt some Tinkyada brown rice spaghetti.  I cooked up two small spicy Italian pork sausages in garlic and olive oil.  I then cooked up some homemade tomato sauce.  I topped the cooked pasta with a mozzarella-assagio cheese blend, the cooked sausage and garlic, the tomato sauce and then some freshly chopped basil. I love to show how you can make delicious gluten-free options for your favorite meals.

After dinner I had a cup of hot Yogi India Spice tea.  I then cleaned up the kitchen and wiped down the counters and floor.  I have been so nervous about the ant situation this summer, that it has forced me to be obsessively clean.  Which is probably a good thing.

I missed the Republican Convention this evening.  Because I am registered Independent, I don’t believe in voting for a party.  I vote for the best person.  And I feel I must listen to both parties present their cases.  I am curious about Sarah Palin, especially after her controversial announcement of her 17 year old daughter’s pregnancy.  Unfortunately, politics get ugly, and it will be interesting to see how the Democrats rip these people and their families apart, and vice versa.  This is the part of politics I hate.

Today, I received my order of a USB desktop microphone to record myself doing readings of my literary work for my new website.  I can save them as mp3 files and make them available on the new site.  I noticed today that my friend cleared up my current website with a “new site coming soon” announcement.  I am excited about creating my new site.  This will go to show potential publishers (and agents) that I am a “dream author” who knows how to market herself.

When this blog comes to it’s end in two weeks to this day (wow!), I will start a new blog on my writer’s website.  I won’t stick to a daily entry cycle as I have with this one, it’s a totally different kind of blog.  I am happy to see this blog come to it’s end.  I will still keep it up and accessible via my new site.  I am proud of this blog and I am still hopeful I can get a book deal based on the content of this site.

As I began to wind down for the evening, I realized how promising my writing career has been since I committed to this blog.  It was one great step for me, one that will surely turn things around and land me my first book deal.  I am sure of it.

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Day 346: Last Thursday, Bourbon Cherry Sour & Braised Pork Cheeks & The White Ninja

Thursday, August 28

This evening marked the last Last Thursday on Alberta Street for the summer.  I hadn’t been to one in, gosh, about two years, maybe.  It’s unlike any other street fair or art walk on the planet.  Really.  There’s this wild confluence of hippie dippie, antique chic, hillbilly, and soulful art and music.  I wandered around up and down Alberta, loving Portland with my whole heart. 

On every corner there was different music – jazz, funk, bluegrass, folk.  I tried to stop here and there and give a listen. I looked at some really good paintings that were patched in between some creative but not-my-taste artwork.  I came very close to buying a painting of a beautiful tree in golds, oranges and turquoise blues, which would have been perfect for my meditation room.  It wasn’t meant to be.

As I walked down the street, a thirty-something guy with a hoodie on, a trucker-style mesh baseball cap sitting high on his head, was riding a bike pulling a wooden cart.  Inside the cart was some kind of cooler.  He yelled out, in a sarcastic, goofy tone, “Frozen…” he paused.  I thought what?  Treats?  Ice cream?  Popsicles?  What??  He finished, “stufffff!”  And continued along.  It was pretty funny.

I felt like I was wandering aimlessly.  But there was nothing aimless about it.  I followed the music, the smells, the sights.  Ahead, someone opened up their window to their loft apartment facing the street, put a speaker up to the window and blasted out Obama’s Democratic presidential nomination acceptance speech.   People of all walks crowded around to listen.  It was something.  It was just another moment in the midst of American history happening.

As I continued along, looking at the wares of street vendors, walking down the free spirited vanity faire, I ascertained that one couldn’t help but feel the change in the air.  People were happy, no – hopeful.  Well, both.  But the mix of different colored faces, hair and style – the happy hopeful mix was so different, so unique, so diverse, so weird, so Portland.

I actually stopped for a moment on a corner where a blues band was performing.  I missed my sister.  I thought about summertime in Chattanooga, the sweeping heat and humidity that wrapped around the Riverbend Music Festival on the edge of the Tennessee River each year.  I thought this street festival was something like the Bessie Smith Strut, a mid-week celebration during the Riverbend Music fest that celebrated the famous blues singer, a similar event by way of mood, colors, art, jewelry and food, but mostly the music and diversity.

I peeked into the window at Ciao Vito and wanted to go there to eat so badly.  I’ve never had a meal there before.  With its dark mood lighting, and especially its lovely dangling chandeliers, the place dripped romance.   I decided I’d wait for a date to go there.  That may be a long wait, but that’s okay.

I was surprised at how many amazing restaurants and eateries have popped up on Alberta over the past couple of years.  And cute boutiques.  But, mostly the “fooderies”.  Thinking about this made me hungry.  I briefly met Susan in the streets to say hello and walk a few blocks while totally distracted by all the pandemonium all around.  She ended up leaving soon after with friends, and I headed to the Alberta Street Oyster Bar – another place I have been meaning to go to.  I entered the dark front room, a throwback to another time with its dramatic black and red color scheme.  It was cozy in this room.  Another good date place, I thought.  I grabbed a seat at the bar.  That’s my thing.

I ordered a Cherry Bourbon Sour, per the recommendation of the friendly bartender.  It was a cherry-infused Bourbon cocktail with lime, orange and club soda.  Lying across the top of the tall, thin glass was black plastic toothpick lined with three amaretto cherries.  I was pleased.  I often judge bars and restaurants by the kinds of cherries they use, usually in Manhattans, my staple drink.  If an establishment offers maraschino cherries, I judge them harshly.  Gross.  If they serve up Amarena cherries, I am a life-long friend, a fan, a patron.  I asked the bartender where one could pick up the Amarena cherries, and he advised at Pasta Works.  Toschi brand.  Good bartender.

I started with a duck salad on wilted greens.  It was nice and actually tasted really good with the Cherry Bourbon Sour.  Then, I had the pork cheeks from Carlton Farms with artichokes and fingerling potatoes.  It was amazing.  I heart pork cheeks.  It’s like braised pork and just pulls apart effortlessly, almost sweet in flavor.  Delicious.  I finished with a scoop of molé ice cream with chunks of chocolate.  It was lovely.  I enjoyed it with a cup of Stumptown coffee.  Another reason to love the Alberta Street Oyster Bar – amaretto cherries, Stumptown coffee and really good food.

A few days ago I wrote about lonely.  But, truth be told, I signed up for lonely.  When I packed up all of my treasures, watched four young men load it all up on the moving truck an stood in line with a one-way ticket to Portland, Oregon, my poor, anxious cats in their carriers, yup, I signed up for lonely.

And lonely is not so bad.  It’s not as foreboding for me as it might be for others.  Because, I love my solitude.  I love the quiet of eating dinner out and sitting at the bar and savoring food as only a foodie can, without forced conversation.   I don’t need or require company.  I am delighted in my quiet, reverent moments of alone.  It’s not bad when it’s wanted.  Just like anything else.

But in the event that it’s not wanted, that I’m missing my family, or I’m bored with my routine, sometimes I have my moments of lonely that make my taking on “alone” sometimes a little sad.  And it’s okay to be sad every now and again.  I say this with strong conviction, because before I was diagnosed with celiac disease, before I went gluten-free,  I had endured many, many very dark days of lonely.

As I walked mistakenly down 31^st Street, happily full from my savory dinner and sour cocktail, I ducked down for a moment to pet a very cute kitten.  I heard giggling just ahead.  Then, a wiry, medium build young man climbed down a small tree all dressed in white.  He startled me.  His two friends, a guy and a girl probably in their thirties, were sitting on a patio cracking up.  The guy approached me in white sweat pants, sneakers, a plain white zipped-up hoodie, and a white cloth wrapped around his head, covering all but his eyes and mouth.  He had HUGE white Mickey Mouse clown handed gloves.  He kept asking me in a bad mockery of an Asian accent, if I feared the White Ninja.  It was pretty flippin hilarious.  His friends were practically rolling off the patio. 

It wasn’t scary or threatening.  It was a joke.  He was up in the little tree waiting to spook unassuming passers-by.  It was magically hilarious.  The little kitty had run off.  When he asked one last time if I feared the White Ninja, I casually told him no, but at least the White Ninja scared the cat.  He and his friends cracked up.  It was a fun night.

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Day 343: That’s Not My Mom & Dad, Is It????

Monday, August 25

The alarm clock, albeit a Zen gong, started ringing at seven.  Ugh.  I don’t like to wake up before eight.  But I had to be at the winery by nine, so there you go.  I dragged my sleepy bum out of my cozy bed and sauntered down the stairs for a bowl of Leapin Lemurs cereal.  What can I say, the sweet yumminess of gluten-free chocolate-peanut butter cereal clears away the early morning blues.I hurried along, feeding the cats, cleaning the litterbox, and getting myself ready for work.  I spent most of the day at the winery while a producer was filming segments for a video.  I kept the time to keep things moving along.  The last quarter of my day was at my desk busily working through a long line of emails. 

When I got home, I changed and went to the gym.  On my way, I stopped by my mailbox and opened up a letter from my uncle in Florida.  In it was a fantastic photo taken of my parents from the late 60′s or early 70′s.  My mom has this huge black chignon or beehive, a little red velvet dress, looking wiped out a la Amy Winehouse style, and she’s sitting on a funky sofa (with colonial images like George Washington on a horse!) next to my dad who looks handsome in a black suit, only his eyes are totally closed.  He’s either very, very bored and tuning out his surrounds, or he’s passed out!  On the coffee table in front of them are two empty cocktail glasses.  I couldn’t stop laughing. 

My uncle is hilarious!  He included a funny note with the photo.  I’m going to have to frame this photo!  While it’s funny to see my parents in this era, and questionably sober, it’s also just cool to see them in a moment that’s so honest and real – not perfectly prim, proper and posed.  I don’t have any other photo of my parents like this, at all.  I do believe it’s now my favorite.

It’s also quite remarkable how much I look like my mom.  Aside from the black hair.  When I learned that the photo was taken in 1971, it dawned on me that I am four years older than my mom was when that photo was taken.  She had an adopted three year old little boy (which explains why they look so spent!) and, they didn’t know it at the time, but their soon-to-be adopted little girl was about to be born.  I wasn’t even a thought in the universe for another three years.

I called my mom and learned that she has to now give herself insulin shots.  Her voice was hesitant as she mentioned this.  I remembered practicing giving oranges insulin shots when my diabetic grandmother was still alive.  I knew this day was coming.  Her pills never seemed to control her irratic blood sugar.  I have worried about this, which is so fitting.  My mother spends many waking hours worrying about her children.  It’s quite the role reversal, but, I have worried about her diabetes for awhile.  But, part of me was a little relieved.  I figured the insulin shots might actually make her feel better.  This, I decided, was a good thing.

I made a thick and very cheesy two egg omelet stuffed with crab for dinner.  I had a very leafy green salad for lunch.  So, I was craving protein.  I had two organic sausage links with my omelet.  I then fixed a cup of Yogi India Spice tea, which is so darn good, with one third of a Dagoba dark chocolate bar.  I also ate two Ener-G brand gluten-free donut holes.  My sweet tooth was calling. 

Alas, I noticed a few ants around my kitchen sink.  I was pissed.  I spent days cleaning up the kitchen to get rid of the buggers.  I kept mumbling under my breath, not again.

I flipped through the latest New Renaissance book shop catalog and dog-eared pages to listings on a couple events I’m interested in attending this fall, including Images & Inspiration from Tibet – a talk and slide show on Heart Essence of the Vast Expanse, a tradition providing many pathways to enlightened being, which is scheduled for Friday, November 7th.  Another talk that I marked was Spiritual Discourse with Anam Thubten Rinpoche, a heart-to-heart dharma dialogue and exploration of the truth that is always available to us.  This class is scheduled for Thursday, November 13th.

As I made a note on my calendar about these events, I thought about my spiritual compass.  I haven’t been going to mass, still.  It’s been a couple months.  Maybe even more.   But I am still hung up on the fact that the Catholic church will not allow persons with celiac disease to take a gluten-free host for the Eucharist.  This is so offensive to me.  As if people with celiac are just trying to make a stink.  The bread is a symbol, which mean it’s not literal.  Which means Christ isn’t really wheat, water and yeast baked to crusty brown perfection.  C’mon!  It’s a sacred symbol.  I might as well have been excommunicated, as far as I’m concerned.  I’m not able to let go of this.  Communion was such a sacred, deep connection I’ve had with my faith.  It really meant a lot to me.  There are some Catholic churches out there that welcome a gluten-free host for those in need.  But, unfortunately, not mine here in Portland.  So, I’m a little bitter.  I am more or less ditching church until I am able to take a gluten-free host for Communion.

Meantime, I am exploring other spiritual options.  This isn’t really to replace my Catholic faith, but to keep my heart, mind and spirit refreshed and fulfilled.  I miss going to Mass and feel a void in my life, but I’m taking my own stand.  So, because I enjoy the philosophy and spiritual teachings of other faiths, anyway, I have been seeking out other ways to experience spirituality.  I had been on hold, spiritually, for awhile now, checked out, even.  Perhaps these Tibetan talks will feed my spiritual needs until the Catholic Church decides to be more inclusive to all, including those with celiac disease.

 

 

 

 

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Day 340: A Start with Leapin Leamers, A Bite at Bar Avignon, Little Notebooks & Moss Garden Incense

Friday, August 22

I got up and enjoyed a sweet but moderately nutritious bowl of gluten-free Leapin Leamers cereal. 

I had to run errands for our vineyard dinner tomorrow.  I drove over to Michael’s printing for our menus, Trader Joe’s to look at flowers (I took notes in my little writer’s note pad), Haggan (which I couldn’t find anything that would work for centerpieces), the Fred Meyer in Sherwood, which, again, didn’t have anything for my centerpieces, and finally the Fred Meyer in Newberg – where I scored these adorable and beautiful plants with tiny red, orange and green-yellow peppers.  I then found some green-white hydrangea.  I also found these beautiful green ceramic pears with silver-gray stems that would also look beautiful.

The cellar had just finished bottling for the day and were offering “first off’s” to staff, the wine they couldn’t sell that went through the bottling line first.  There was perfectly good wine inside, in any case, a few of us went down to the cellar and picked out a number of single vineyard Pinot noirs, some Syrah and Gamay noir, as well as single vineyard Chardonnay. 

When I got to the winery there was a lot of work to do.  Others were cleaning up while I washed out our hurricane lamps and staged things for my flower arranging tomorrow.

I returned to the office to check emails and then headed out to Dundee to pick up a few coolers from another winery. 

Driving home, I had every intention to change and go for a run, but Susan had called and convinced me to meet her and her mom for dinner downtown.  So, I emptied the wine from my car, put it away in my cellar under the stairs and changed for dinner.

We were going to go to Nuestra Cocina up on Division and 22^nd, but there was an hour wait. So we went across the street to a new wine bar called Bar Avignon.  It was chic and cool inside.  We took a table by the window.  Her aunt, uncle and family friend joined us.  I shared an order of luscious green olives and prosciutto and sweet peaches, then an order of gazpacho and their local farm green salad, which was really fresh and delicious.  I enjoyed a glass of Soter rosé with it.

I tried to pay for my portion, but Susan’s mom wouldn’t have it.  That was very nice of her.  I sipped on a cup of Stumptown coffee while they passed around a couple desserts.

After, Susan, her mom and I went into the frozen yogurt shop next door.  I ordered a cup of the chocolate yogurt topped with a little coconut and shared it.  We proceeded toward the New Seasons on Division, where I bought gluten-free donut holes by Ener-G, a couple more of my new favorite gluten-free pizza crusts, organic, free-range brown farm eggs, organic sausage links and these cute, small recycled notepads. 

I have become obsessed with little notepads that I carry around in my purse, leave in my car and stock in a pocket inside my workbag.  I take a little notepad everywhere I go, just in case I get an idea I need to write down.  I use the little notepads for more.  Like when I was in Trader Joe’s in Lake Oswego and needed to note which kind of flowers would work best for our vineyard dinner.  I jot down notes of things to do, people to call or meals I should make for the week.  I write down names I like that may either become characters or children.  I write down addresses and phone numbers, but, mostly, I scribble thoughts that come to me when I’m driving down 99 West or I-5 or when I’m in the middle of doing something else but don’t want to lose that train of thought, that perfect description in my head, that crazy thing that just happened as I turned that corner on 21^st  and Clinton, where the two guys on their bikes nearly hit a parked wagon with the front windows slightly open where two shiatsus practically wrestled each other to fit their sad little pink tongues through the slight open crack of window.

There was a cute, smallish guy putting his groceries down on the conveyor belt as a tall, round girl with friendly violet eyes framed in old-school black and mother-of-pearl glasses checked me out.  I handed her my check card, excited about the gluten-free donut holes.  The cute guy looked at my little notepads and said they were cool.  I told him I was a writer.  When the check-out-girl gave me my receipt, I smiled happily as the cute guy kindly offered, “good luck with the gluten-free, and the writing.”  I smiled back, “thanks!”

At home, I finished the place cards for the vineyard dinner.  I watched the last five minutes of Jaws 4 (or Jaws: The Revenge).  I had no choice.  I had watched the first three this week.  I didn’t even know there was another one after the 3-D version.  This Jaws didn’t blow up.  I was disappointed.

I burned some Moss Garden incense, not that it really smelled like moss.  It was actually a blend of sandalwood, benzoinum, patchouli and spices.  Not sure what the spices were, even with my trained wine professional’s nose.  It was Japanese.  Manufactured in Kyoto and distributed in Boulder, Colorado.  I have been slightly obsessed with Kyoto.  Not the same way as I have been about Tibet or Vietnam.  But enough so that I read a whole book on the tea service in Kyoto and the spirit of reciprocity there, how everyone is keen on gratitude, even if only in a matter of politeness and gesture.  There is what is called ‘the spirit of the gift’, to which Kyotans give little gifts to patrons who dine in their tea houses or restaurants, the gifting concept carrying over in many areas of their culture. 

Anyway.  I burned the incense to relax.  It’s a kind meditative gesture to myself, really.  I read a little and headed up for bed later than I had intended.  I made a note in one of my little notebooks that I was now going to bed rather regularly at 1:30 a.m.  It started off at 11:30 p.m.  That had been my bedtime for quite some time.  But then the late hour for me crept to midnight.  Then 12:30, always reading or writing, stretching my day as long as I could to get in all of the time I needed after work to workout, cook dinner, get some writing done, meditate and unwind, read and then turn in, which no sooner turned to 1:00 a.m.  And for the past couple of weeks, this has proceeded to dip into that too-late pool of 1:30 a.m.  I made a note that I simply could not allow this pattern to continue.  I could not let the minutes charge on to 2:00 a.m.  I had to curb the restlessness, the need for more time. 

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Day 339: Moody, Bluesy, Lonely & In Need of Chocolate

Thursday, August 21

Another gray start to the day, rain channeling in and out of the sky.  I wasn’t really hungry, so I had a lovely frozen fruit pop in coconut milk and pineapple.  It’s packed with vitamins and tasted like a pina colada.

I chugged through a busy to-do list.  It’s amazing how quickly the days fly by.  I’m still stunned that we’re in the near last leg of August.  How did that happen?

I wasn’t feeling great early in the day.  Not sick.  No, more mood-wise.  I had PMS, I guess, unless that’s just an excuse I’m using for feeling a little bluesy.  I played some music at my desk today and kept it on artist Meiko for awhile.  Her song Hawaii is ethereal, delicate and haunting.  I imagined myself floating on a longboard under a pink sunset, towering palm trees behind me, cautionary fronds swaying in the wind telling me to paddle in.  It’s easy to get carried away by gentle waves of distraction.  I am rocking over the rise and fall, sweating under the languid breeze, hot and warm, while the persistent pull, the letting go rolls me along.  And sometimes I really just want to let go.

I met a photographer for lunch today at the Dundee Bistro to go over some shots we need for our stock photo library.  It’s all part of a larger piece of work I’m doing to use better images for storytelling.  I had Italian sausage with polenta and broccolini and a side salad.  It was pretty good.  My favorite sausage and polenta remains to be cooked up at Bar Mingo, mamma mia!  But this hit the spot.

After lunch, I finally went to the post office to send my cousin’s new baby the adorable Portland designed onesie and baby cap I purchased at the Saturday Farmer’s Market a few weeks ago.  I picked up a book of stamps with sunny sunflowers on them.  Very vibrant.  I needed vibrant.

I didn’t leave work until 7:15 p.m.!  What the heck??  I had a lot of work to do.  And I also emailed Kerry, who was back on the east coast for work, to give her my typed verbal diahharea on the usual woe-is-me crap that came with the said “PMS” blended with boredom and loneliness.  There.  I said it.  The dreaded “L” word.  I’m normally not so down, not so, well, lonely.  Mostly, I missed my family.  At least I’ll see them in a few weeks.  I’m looking forward to that.  And I missed my friends – we haven’t been able to hang out much these days.  I’m flailing all by myself, so I suppose it’s good that I have a lot of work to do.  It’s a distraction.

I have also been concerned with my aunt in Seattle.  I received an email this week from my cousin that she had to have surgery on her gut.  Well, apparently, there was some kind of infection.  I’m really not sure.  But, she’s back in the hospital.  So, I called my dad’s brother the other day to check in.  It sounded like she’s stable and doing okay for now.  Hopefully she’ll get to go home this weekend.  I have been thinking about them all week.  I plan to go up for a visit when I return from the east coast, which means, most likely, in early October.  Plus, that will give her ample time to recover.

I went to Fred Meyer to stock up on some fruit, salad mixings and, oh yeah, Dagoba chocolate.  I found a new organic, gluten-free EnviroKidz cereal in peanut butter and chocolate, called Leapin Lemurs.   I also picked up a box of Frosted Perky-O’s.  I don’t usually eat sugar cereals, but, well, clearly I’m jonesing for some sweets.  I got organic strawberries and white nectarines, as well!

The sunflowers on my postal stamps must have been in my head, because I bought myself a bouquet of flowers with three lovely sunflowers.  I needed some cheering up.  Sometimes a single girl’s gotta buy herself flowers.  I mean, I do everything else for myself.  Why deny myself from receiving flowers?  There I go again with my moodiness.  Well, the flowers were a treat.  And, yes, I even smiled.

My sunflowers shown with the green-leaf square ceramic plate I had painted a couple weeks ago.  Painting pottery has been another soul soother for me these days.

When I got home, I re-heated the beautiful gluten-free pizza I made last night.  I actually took a photo of it:

Yup.  Brown rice crust that I brushed with olive oil, a little bit of organic tomato sauce, fresh mozz, a little salt and pepper, super-thin local heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil from our garden at work.  It’s the best thin-crust, traditional Napolitano Margherita pizza I’ve had since I was diagnosed with celiac (hey…Dad…are you looking at that photo??  Now that’s gluten-free pizza!!).

As I ate, I turned on the genius box and watched Jaws 3.  Hell, three’s a charm!  I figured, I watched the first two the past two nights, might as well fry my brain with the 3-D version without 3-D glasses.  I was stunned.  Was that really Dennis Quaid, Louis Gossett, Jr. and Lea Thompson??  Ha, ha, ha.  This was 1983.  I was nine years old when this flick came out.  And still swimming competitively.  Though, I figured out at this point that sharks didn’t swim in pools.

 

That’s awesome… Anyway.  The 3-D made for silly television viewing.  Especially when the “35 foot” Jaws swam straight for the glassed-in control room at Sea World in the end.  It was so fake, so goofy I couldn’t stop laughing.   Oh, and then when it blew up in the end – it was hilarious how ridiculous it looked with bits bursting out in blood red ocean water, namely a large half of the jaw with several jagged teeth still intact floating to the forefront.  I laughed out loud again.  Too bad I didn’t have any 3-D glasses around.  Anyway.  Why was it that all the Jaws sharks were blown up at the end of these movies?  I guess that was done for the teenaged boys.  After Jaws 3, after the great white explosion, Dennis Quaid and his lady friend surfaced in their scuba gear and called out to their dolphin friends, who flipped and jumped in the finale.  Uh, that was the teenaged girl’s ending.  All they needed were rainbows and pegasus.  And then, Jaws 4 could emerge from the bay and take down the wing of pegasus..a segue to a final chapter.  I digress…

Anyway.  I turned on the Beijing Olympics to watch the American men win the beach volleyball gold medal.  It was killer!  Again, I am pumped to play volleyball.  That’s another thing I missed about living in Seattle.  I was part of a group that played volleyball every Tuesday all summer long at Greenlake.  I missed summer volleyball.

In any case, I had a round of crunches to get to.  And another piece of Dagoba dark chocolate.  My favorite.

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Day 338: Oregon’s Buddhist Teas, Gluten Gut, Kinder-Nightmares of Jaws & The Beach Volleyball Workout

Wednesday, August 20

This morning I was a little sluggish.  It was gray outside, overcast,  with more rain in the forecast.  It was cool out, a nice break between 100+ temperatures at the end of last week and the forecasted high 80′s low 90′s forecasted for the end of this week.

I had an especially busy day at work and got caught up on a lot of projects.  It rained all morning.  I had Amy’s Kitchen green tamale with black beans for lunch, a new favorite.  I’ve been drinking Diet Coke lately, which I’m not too pleased about.  I’m a water drinker, but I think water has been boring me, or something.  Perhaps I should pick up some Vitamin Water for a healthier change.  I’m not really a juice drinker because of all of the sugars and calories. 

I do drink hot tea, which, I enjoyed a Tazo tea this morning.  I have been drinking just Yogi tea for a long while, as I love the quality, that it’s organic, and the health benefits.  Today, I had the Ōm Tazo tea.  It was delightful.  It’s a blend of high-grown organic Darjeeling green and black teas with natural flavors of cucumber and peach.  No wonder I love this! 

The package reads (and I transcribe this without permission):
The word Ōm is frequently seen on prayer wheels, stones and flags as you walk through the Himalayas.  To merely say it releases a vibration of peace.  Imagine what happens when you drink it.

Oregon packages great teas, what can I say!  Tazo is based in Portland and Yogi is based in Eugene.

Once again, I was the last to leave work at 6:45 p.m.  I locked up and listened to my 80′s New Wave CD.  I’ve been loving the Roxy Music song “More Than This” and have reminisced on how much I love Bryan Ferry.  Perhaps I should just go ahead and get a friggin’ I-Pod.  I am probably the last person on the planet who still listens to CDs.  Yup, I even travel with my Disk Man.  What can I say?  I like tradition.  And antiques, apparently. 

When I got home, I changed and walked over to the gym.  I ran for 30 minutes, which felt really good. Here’s a crazy thing.  When I was at my yoga class on Sunday, I caught a profile glimpse of my body in the mirror and my belly was still uber swollen from gluten contamination a week ago.  Gluten Gut.  It was crazy.  It disgusted me, as I’m used to having a flat, strong stomach.  Well, this evening, I caught a glimpse of my body in the mirror at the gym, and my stomach was flat again.  I lifted up my shirt just a little, I was the only person in the gym, which is usually the case, which I really, really love, and sure enough my stomach looked normal again.  There was the usual little pooch, which I affectionately call my Buddha Belly.  But, all in all, it was healthy again.  I sighed with relief and then cranked the speed up on the treadmill.

For dinner I made an organic, gluten-free brown-rice super thin-crusted pizza with fresh ingredients, including wet mozz, minced garlic, a little tomato sauce, which I topped off with fresh basil when I pulled it out of oven.  I poured a glass of refreshing limeade and then made a small crab salad with organic, fresh ingredients – white cabbage, butterleaf and radiccho lettuces, red onion, green onion, cilantro and lime topped with a lite Caesar dressing by Annie’s.  I was satisfied with my dinner.

After, I enjoyed a cup of Yogi Indian Spice tea with a Pamela’s brand gluten-free shortbread, chocolate chip and pecan cookie.  My Yogi tea fortune on the tea tag read:  Share your strengths, not your weaknesses.

I watched Jaws 2 this evening, as one of the local channels is doing a week of Jaws movies.  I can’t help it.  It’s been years since I’ve seen these movies.  And, it has to be said, the first one was by far the scariest.  The music , the suspense and even the shark put all other sequels to shame.  In Jaws 2, the shark looked so fake that I wasn’t even scared.  I laughed.  That’s right.  I laughed at the fake man-eating great white killer shark.  Still, if I had to jump in the ocean tomorrow I’d crap my suit.  I’m just sayin’…

I lit some sweetgrass incense to relax.  I just love the wonderful scents that I have.  I watched the women’s beach volleyball in Beijing.  I sware.  I said the same thing after the Athens Games.  I’ve got to start playing beach volleyball.  They have the best bodies!  Super abs.  That’s what I want.  Misty May-Treanor and Kerry Walsh, the American women volleyball pair, are my idols!  I am going to do 150 crunches tonight before bed.  No.  Make that 200.  I can do that.  I’m training for beach volleyball.  It’s summer.  It’s the Olympics.  I just need to find a beach that’s not as far as the coast.  And a tall partner.  And time.  If only I had more time…

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Day 337: Dinner at Red Hills & Remembering Jaws

Tuesday, August 19

I woke up to a rainy morning.  The rain was good and definitely needed out here in the northern Willamette.  I stretched and went downstairs to get in ten solid sun salutation yoga poses and 100 crunches.  I ate a half cup of cantaloupe for breakfast nd felt refreshed.

On my way to work, I headed over to Target to get materials to create place cards for our wine dinner on Saturday.  I was going with a green leaf theme.  When I got to the office, I had a meeting regarding our wine dinner over lunch.  I brought Amy’s Kitchen green tamale with cheese, which is obviously gluten-free. 

In the afternoon, I met a former colleague, a wine broker from mid-Atlantic, at winery.  We tasted through our line up and then I gave him a quick tour of the cellar.  After, we drove the back roads to Dundee and had dinner at Red Hills Provincial Dining.  It has such a beautiful dining room, much like a California bungalow, with old dark wood siding and built in cabinets, etc.

I ordered the Montrachet small plate to start, a single roll of warm goat cheese and herbs wrapped in grape leaves, and replaced the crostini with sliced apple and celery, for a gluten-free option, which also came with whole roasted garlic and marinated olives.  It was delicious.  We selected a bottle of Scott Paul Pinot noir.  And then I ordered the duck confit for dinner with chicken sausage and mixed vegetables.  The food was truly delightful.  And because it was cold and rainy, it was comfort cuisine.  They had an amazing ice cream and sorbet selection – I had to have four tiny scoups because I wanted to try them all!  It was hard enough to narrow it down to four flabors.   I was able to decide on the fig sorbet, cherry chocolate praline, lavender ice cream and pomegranate coconut. I finished with a cup of decaf cappuccino.

When I got home, I watched Jaws on television – the only horror movie that really ever scared the crap out of me because, well, shark attacks can actually happen.  I remember swimming on the swim team as a kid and I was six years old and I stood stoic on the block ready for my race when my mother, who was timing in the next lane, called over, “think of Jaws.”  Child abuse!  By the time the started shot the cap gun, I was shaking the whole 25 meter length of the pool.  The pool was shaped like a “Z”.  I was swimming free style.  As I approached the end where the deep top of the “Z” was, to my left, I peered over and could have sworn Jaws was in there coming for me!  I never paddled and kicked so hard in my life.  Needless to say, I won the race.  Got a blue ribbon.

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Day 335: Return to Brunch, Yoga Union & the Battle with the Ants

Sunday, August 17Alas, another morning of ants welcoming me in my kitchen.  It’s been pretty ridiculous.  I couldn’t deal.  So, I took the water bottle, sprayed the trail, wiped up the casualties, and then sprayed a corner baseboard with Raid where the persistent ants seemed to seep through.

 

I had to get out.  I met the girls, Susan and Kerry, at Everett Street Bistro for brunch.  We had’t had brunch in ages.  And I hadn’t seen them in forever.  We had lots to catch up on.  I ordered my scrambled eggs with mushrooms and a side of rosti potatoes, with a glass of orange juice.  Then I gave Susan her present.

After, we walked up to our favorite shop, Anthropologie.  There were so many adorable things, from pajamas to cute fall sweaters.  I practiced incredible self control and left before getting too tempted.

I drove up Hawthorne to go to Yoga Union for the hot yoga class.  I had been longing for yoga since before I left for Montana.  I hadn’t practiced in so long – except for some sun salutations here and there.  It was a really tough class for me.  My muscles shook, barely holding some of the positions, but it was a welcome challenge. 

When I got home, I was ready for another challenge.  To combat this militant ants needed to be pushed out for good.  So, I moved furniture, I vacuumed the floor up, all along the baseboards, sucking up any crum of kitchen glory, or from the kitties’ dishes, and then washed the floors to remove the scent of the original ant trails.  Next, I sprayed Raid along every base board where the ants had been bunkering.  I pulled out the trash can, that had a major infestation – it was pretty gross, and I hauled it outside to do the proper fumigation.  It would have to get washed out over the weekend.  Meantime, I would have to dispose of food in the garbage disposal and carefully throw things away, mindful of what has fallen to the kitchen floor and gone unnoticed.  Nope, I would have to be more careful.   

I sat down for a little while to rest.  I took a much needed shower post hot yoga and this mad cleaning session.  It was still very hot in my apartment, the humidity unbearable, and the shower cooled me off significantly.  I made a pizza with a gluten-free rice and potato crust I had never tried before.  I heated it up in the oven and then removed it to brush it with olive oil, and then I topped it with a thinly sliced heirloom tomato,  wet mozzarella, and goat cheese soaked in olive oil and basil, with garlic and red pepper on top, finished with sea salt and black pepper.  I baked it for about ten minutes.  It was incredible.  I ate half of the small pizza.

 

I then made a delicious salad of butterleaf and radicchio lettuces, white cabbage, topped with heirloom green tomato, and a fresh salsa made of diced red tomato, green onion, red onion, cilantro and lime.  Finally, I topped it with fresh crab claw and drizzled a creamy Caesar dressing by Amy’s Kitchen, careful not to use too much dressing.  It was amazing.

 

I have just thirty days left for this blog, just a month.  Have I even begun to find love in all of its manifestations?  I can’t help but wonder about this.  It’s the purpose behind this journaling journey.  It’s strange.  I think I have found plenty of love in my life.  I am lucky.  Blessed even.  Apart from the seemingly mundane actions of my daily life, I have found my share of good things, things that I have come to love.  I know it’s not the same as finding the kind of love you share with that special someone, I’m not even convinced I am supposed to be with one someone.  But, I have come to appreciate the other loves of my life - my gluten-free life, my artistic-creative life, my dear friends who continue to show me how good life is when you have a cadre of soul sisters, and my long-distanced family back east who have made my phone my second heart beat.  Yes, I have lots of love in my life.  Lots of good love.  And I do know when to count my blessings.

 

Before I went to bed I checked in on the ant situation.  They were nowhere to be found.  This round, I won.

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