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Eat, Pray, Chocolate: One Woman’s Search for Tranquility, Balance and Good Food (Conclusion)

Chocolate

In addition to the delicious, fresh and healthy food, daily exercise and my monumental Zen moment, there was another equally exciting moment when a stash of chocolate had been found!  Perhaps now would be the time to mention that said chocolate stash was located at the very back of the bookstore, in the corner, on the lowest shelf, tucked in back of … well, emergency feminine hygiene products. I don’t know about you, but this makes perfect sense to me! Within a few minutes, all the chocolate was sold out, gone, zippo! All of this happened, of course, during the time that I had been pondering the meaning of life without technical gadgetry in my journal down at the lily pond.

 It wasn’t until I had wandered back up the hill and saw everyone sitting and huddled together in what looked like a big ball, eating chocolate, that I realized there had been a sacred stash (the nuns were holding out on us!). I would have been completely out of luck had it not been for a nice lady who bought extra and insisted I take one of the pure, rich, solid, milk chocolate bars (I am convinced that only at a Buddhist retreat would someone be nice enough to share the only stash of chocolate on the premises). Being no fool, or rather a fool who loves chocolate, I immediately and graciously accepted her offering. Within moments I was having my second Zen moment.

The next time chocolate surfaced, it was I who saw it first. I chalk this up to pure coincidence that I happened to be hovering standing at the food table when the chocolate covered strawberries arrived. Like a swarm of bees, we all made repeated trips until we just couldn’t eat another single bite of food. I must state for the record that these were the best chocolate dipped anything I’ve ever eaten. As we were learning to follow the “middle way” we did not eat all the dessert, saving a healthy portion for the following day, which we devoured by noon. Pat, one of the women at my dinner table didn’t like chocolate. She preferred the strawberries without embellishments and so she used a knife and fork to peel off all the chocolate, at which point my disbelief was evident by the widening of my eyes and dropped jaw. I intensely stared down and studied her bowl. As if she had been reading my mind (which probably was not difficult given my obvious facial expressions), she laughed and said something that for the life of me I can’t remember. What I do remember is that she gracefully slid the bowl across the table, smiled and told me to enjoy the chocolate. And so I did!

Both retreats flew by quickly, much more quickly than I had wanted. I was sad on the final day of the last retreat when people packed their bags and departed, one by one. The laughter and goodbyes grew faint until there was only silence. There I sat on the a chair under a tree, feeling pangs of melancholy, the same pangs I felt as a kid on the very last day of our family vacation. I was not ready to leave. I had learned so much, and I realized the more I learned the more I wanted to learn. The time that I had spent at the Buddhist temple was special, and I cherished every moment, even the moments of awkwardness due to forced silence and chants in a language that I did not know, moments of withdrawal from high-tech gadgets and creature comforts I had grown used to. I missed Bill. I missed Webster, but I was not yet ready to return home, return to my fast-paced, frenzied life and I certainly wasn’t ready to go back to work. I had finally relaxed, calmed and silenced a very noisy inner critic.

As I was heading around the corner from the pay phone that was on the blitz, which meant that I would need to drive to a point where I could obtain a cell phone signal in order to request another day off from work, I happened to see Pema, one of the Buddhist nuns, standing on the edge of the deck outside theGompa. Or rather, I should say hanging off the side of the deck, cell phone in hand and held high up over her head. My first reaction was hysterical laughter. Picture this: A bald headed nun dressed in a full Tibetan ceremonial robe hanging off the deck trying to score a cell phone signal! Oh how I wished that I had my camera. I know what you’re thinking right about now, and you’re partially correct. I did, indeed, whip out my cell phone. I typed in a text message asking my boss for another day off. I leaned off the side of the deck, just as I had seen Pema do, and held my phone high above my head until I heard the all to familiar “bloop” of the text message being sent.  I was fairly certain my boss would approve the additional vacation day.  I then turned the phone off, tossed it in my backpack and slowly snaked my way up the long, steep hill to a sit in silence in the middle of the woods, to bask in the sunshine with only my journal and prayer beads, and my simple desire to experience pure tranquility. 

Please visit my new blog, Three Cent Stamp, at:  http://www.threecentstamp.com/

Eat, Pray, Chocolate: One Woman’s Search for Tranquility, Balance and Good Food (Part 2)

*** PLEASE VISIT MY NEW BLOG, THREE CENT STAMP AT: http://www.threecentstamp.com/  ***

Pray

I have been interested in Buddhism off and on for many years. I like the concepts of Buddhist philosophy and how it complements other more formal religions if one so chooses. One thing that inspires me about Buddhist practices is the fact that Buddha encouraged his students to question everything and not to believe everything he said merely because he said them. He inspired people to live wisely and apply those practices that made sense for each individual. I admire the “do no harm” practice of Buddhism in which protecting all living things is important because it is believed all living things are interconnected. There are many other things I admire about Buddhist and Zen practices, but I won’t provide you the entire list here, because it’s a long list that goes on and on and could end up a dissertation instead of a blog post. The bottom line for me is that I like the way Buddhism’s governing principles give everyone the benefit of the doubt in that at our very core, people are good, we are all good.

The people whom I've gotten to know during the course of my retreats are absolutely fascinating; a Catholic Priest, a schoolteacher, a fisherman, a Buddhist nun, and two women from Missoula Montana who run their own Buddhist center. Everyone was a kick in the pants and each of these individuals inspired me in different ways. Laughter, stories, advice and kindness were shared freely and openly. Everyone had experiences to share and from which we could all learn. Meals and break times were always lively and entertaining, and I was in awe of the accomplishments of some of these people.  On more than one occasion I stood, mouth wide open and speechless, (it is rare that I am rendered speechless as my family -- particularly my dad -- will swear to). There was a very wise, older woman who traveled the distance of several hours to attend the retreat. She was funny, childlike in her inquisitiveness, and pure joy to be around. She had noticed that I wore a lot of t-shirts with logos from a very prominent company in Silicon Valley. After the 4th day she finally asked if I worked for the company that was advertised on the shirts. “I do,” I told her, with a twinkle in my eye (little did I know that this very fact would make me very popular at meal times). She chuckled, mischievously, and told me her son works for the “other guy” and then we both laughed. Our inside jokes and bantering continued throughout the course of the retreat. When the time had come to exchange email addresses and phone numbers, she told me, apologetically, that she wouldn’t be online for a while. Apparently, her computer had come down with the “blue screen of death” right before she left for the retreat and so she said she would let me know when her system and email were back up and running. And so she said to me, “I guess you get the last laugh on this one” to which I just grinned, closed my eyes and shook my head, saying not a word.

 Three days into the retreat on a Sunday afternoon, I finally had what is known as a “Zen” moment; a transformational experience that no book or person could have convinced me was possible. Up until now, I believed such encounters were fabrications from well-meaning authors, and that the only way I would ever have such a moment was if I shaved my head and fled to the nearest ashram) not something that’s likely to happen anytime soon, if at all). As my mind frequently jumps from one thought to another, a mis-calibrated stream of consciousness, I have a difficult time keeping in the moment. There is a never-ending, constant, chatter that I have grown to accept and understand. The ongoing, inner dialog never leaves me feeling lonely and without company. Is it any wonder that I’m an insomniac?

The extraordinary moment came about during one of our many meditations and after having recited a single mantra well over 150 times, so many times, in fact, that I think I actually lost count. My prayer beads in hand, I continued reciting in silence. I have no idea how much time had passed, but I do know that when they called time and rang the gong, I was overcome with feelings of serenity and peace; complete relaxation, intermixed with exuberant energy, and I felt like I was busting out at the seams (not to be confused with “busting at the seams” from one too many trips to the food table). It’s a feeling that is difficult to describe and a feeling that I have never before experienced. Not long after our meditation, several people discussed the constant, loud noises that had been coming from the next room, noises that made it difficult for them to meditate. Noises I never heard, which is odd since repetitious noises typically sends me through the roof (remember the post about barking dogs?). I felt so tranquil. Still, I was in a state of disbelief, so I asked Juanita, the woman who sat to my right, if she had heard any snoring coming from my direction. She confirmed, there was no snoring and assured me that I had NOT fallen asleep in an upright position. I was happy, and I felt a sense of accomplishment from having achieved the sense of calm that I had always read about and that I so very much needed. I was also encouraged that if this could happen once, it could happen again, and so it did, but not until after several more failed attempts. 

Eat, Pray, Chocolate: One Woman’s Search for Tranquility, Balance & Good Food (Part 1)

*** PLEASE NOTE NEW BLOG SITE: Three Cent Stamp

It is peaceful and serene here at the Land of Medicine Buddha temple and sanctuary. I am sitting in Lotus position on a special meditation pillow, surrounded by candles, incense and statues of 9 Buddhas lined neatly in a row. I am reciting a prayer and mantra after mantra. Still, I cannot seem to move beyond the fact that I have no cell phone service, which makes me feel quite intense! Try as I might to lead my mind from missing my cell phone service back to meditation and mantra, I continue to dwell on the fact that I went from 5 bars to no bars the very minute I turned up the long, winding and heavily wooded driveway. In my current state of withdrawal, I am most certain they did this with thoughtful intention.

Morning, noon and night, during every available break, I continue to check my iPhone, even through the previous 5 times I checked the phone still reported, "no service."  Did I honestly think that somehow my body could act as a giant receiver and that I could, miraculously, lock in service? My mind resurfaces and I wonder what he hell is wrong with me in that I cannot enjoy this alluring place, serene moments of silence and meditation (note that I originally typed medication, to which I am certain that I am that in need of at lease one prescription).  I have sadly come to the conclusion that I am a high-tech junkie in need of a thirteen-step program, the additional step needed, specifically, for having fond attachments to electronic devices. Since meditation and Buddhist philosophies advise that you not fight your thoughts and simply acknowledge them, no matter how obsessive, and gently let them pass, I practice doing so.  Out of sheer mental exhaustion, I finally surrender to the fact that I have no service and I begin to relax. However, looking around at all the smiling, peaceful faces in the room, I am fairly certain that I am the only person attending two, back-to-back, Zen retreats who was foolish enough to smuggle in a laptop computer!

EAT

One of my biggest pleasures in life is eating. I make no excuses to hide the fact that I love to eat (nor do the hips lie)! For this very reason, I am often on a diet (along with the dog). The food served at the retreat, to my surprise, has been amazing!  It’s beyond what I would have expected (of course, what I “expected” was a cardboard & broccoli concoction drowning in an unidentifiable green sauce).  However, nothing even remotely resembling a cardboard, broccoli combination, nor any overcooked noodles with unidentifiable sauce of any type, or color has been served. What they did serve was what they refer to as sustainable vegetarian, what they can grow or purchase locally and that which will not deplete earth. Everything was fresh, homemade and organic. I have tried, many times, to buckle down and become vegetarian without success. In spite of my efforts, ultimately I return to my flesh eating habits (barring anything resembling Bambi or Peter Cottontail, and the very reason I do not befriend chickens). Tonight we are dining on salads with fresh vegetables with a lemon dill vinaigrette, lentil soup and homemade vegetarian pizza. We continue to go back and forth for seconds and thirds until we are all too stuffed to move, which is likely to be an issue since after dinner there is a scheduled walk and qigong session (and for this I pray that we are all not standing too close to together given our hefty dinner portions). There were many meals that were so delicious that I never once missed having chicken or fish. Rarely, do I eat beef, but this is more attributed to having had a pet cow more than the issue of “beef” (perhaps a topic for another blog post).  If only they had had a cookbook that I could purchase (not that I cook, but it is a nice addition to any library and a beautiful accessory for any kitchen countertop)! When all was said and done and I returned back home, I was not chomping at the bit for any of the foods that I ate before the retreat. I was perfectly content to continue eating vegetarian cuisine, at least for a while, the “awhile” being the longest period of time I’ve ever gone without eating meat like substances. 

(To Be Continued) ...

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NEW BLOG SITE:  THREE CENT STAMP

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Hi everyone.

Please visit my new blog, Three Cent Stamp at: http://www.threecentstamp.com.  If  you're subscribed to this blog or have me linked on your site, please update the link. I've moved all my new content over there and although I'll be running my Typepad and Three Cent Stamp blog parallel for awhile, eventually, this Typepad blog will be no more.

Thanks,

Kat

Saturday Migraine

This morning I awoke with a migraine. Six aspirin and a flax compress later, I am finally able to sit up without feeling like I want someone to shoot me.

Still, everything seems rather blurry.

But, in spite of all of this, my faithful companion is still on the bed next to me, wondering why we haven't yet gotten up. Webster is growing restless, as am I.

But have no fear, Webster, for we do need to get up. Because you know what?  We have about 6,000 photos to transfer from the old drive to the new one. Remember that rainy day project?

Well, it's raining today.

No creativity required. Just drag the photos folder to the new drive and copy away.

Maybe tomorrow, something more interesting.

Pop Goes The Hard Drive

The wind had picked up, as did the rain. Our first fall storm continued. However, in spite of the flickering power and lights, I was perfectly content. After all, we were on the generator, which provided enough power for me to keep working to finish my blog post.

Damn, it happened again; lights on, lights off. Every time the power went on, we’d cut the generator only to have to repower it up again and hour or so later. At least the power, once it went off, did come back up quickly, within a couple of hours, and much sooner than the typical cycle of events. There have been times that we’ve been without power for days, and once, a few years ago, we were without power for a week due to bad storms and road closures. I remember working on a video project for a client where I was rushing against a Christmas deadline and with limited power. All the power that we had coming from the generator was siphoned into my studio/home office. Power cords everywhere, it was a mess. But I did finish the project, albeit the clients family back east did not get their movie until the day after Christmas.  So this … this should be a piece of cake.

As I typed away, I noticed that one of my drives wasn’t showing up. Never mind, I thought, I’ll finish my post and then worry about it later. The post went up and I went to work, moving the extension chords out of the way and getting equipment off their power strip and back to where everything belonged. But my drive was still MIA. I tried rebooting, new cables, powering down, then up, disk repair, to no avail. The drive, simply wouldn’t boot. The drive won’t boot, “OH MY GOD THE DRIVE WON’T BOOT!”  My husband could hear my panic from across the hall. Actually, I’m fairly certain that even the neighbors were able to hear my panic attack in spite of a storm and rain hitting so hard it sounded like workers banging on the roof.  We continued to try everything, including yet more cables and three different computers, different operating systems, yet nothing worked. The drive refused to come up (and I yelled at it as if it had a conscience and it were spiting me just to teach me a lesson). I took a deep breath to see, double check, once again, to absolutely make certain the drive that died was NOT my primary photo drive. Yes. Thank goodness, it was the backup drive, not the primary drive that stores my 1600+ photos, spanning years of picture taking, travels and whatnot. Of course, now that I was over the temporary rise in blood pressure and relief it wasn’t my primary drive, it was the whatnots that concerned me. For you see, that second partition on my backup drive housed my entire music, movie and TV collection. All the content I had purchased from the iTunes music store was housed on that drive!  Was I smart enough to have backed up that partition?  No, I was not. I went against common sense and all that experience has taught me about backups and computer equipment. I just forgot. How, I wondered could I have been so careless? I know these things happen and I know to always back up my content. And I always back up my content. Although, now I could no longer use the word, “always.”

Bill took the drive and continued CPR efforts to no avail. Do I have a copy of the software program, Disk Warrior, he asks?  Without one peep, not a single word, I give him “that look”, the one that answers his question, but with a serious attitude. And so he assured me that we’d buy a copy of the software, these things happen, and he’s sure he can get into the drive. He’s sure he can, he’s sure he can, he’s sure he can, and I am now contemplating giving him “that look” again, because I am thoroughly disgusted, but I think better of it. After all, he is trying to help and it’s not his fault I was careless.

Meanwhile, I am faced with the fact that my primary drive no longer has a backup drive. It’s still raining and I don’t want a repeat of events.  I frantically go through my office, searching for every available drive I own, be it a big one or a small one. Finally, I’ve located 3 drives and I diligently go to work backing up here, backing up there, backing up, backing up everywhere. It’s a whacky system, but it worked. I had enough room on each of the drives to get every important photo backed up. God forbid, however, that I need to use this whacked out system to really find anything. But at least I can sleep through the night knowing photos are safe. As luck would have it, in my finding space to back up my photos, I also find a “partial” backup of the drive that I lost. While it doesn’t contain everything, it does have all my music and half of the video content that I purchased.  And so the memories come rushing back as to why I had not finished doing the back up of my music content -- I had run out of room. I had had good intentions of backing up some content to DVD and the rest to another drive. And what’s that quote about good intentions? Ahh yes, those were the drudge tasks that I was putting off for a rainy day. Can anyone guess what I’ll be doing this weekend?

First Fall Storm

All my rain dancing paid off. Thursday afternoon, I began to celebrate the incoming storm that was forecast for Friday.  The few drizzles that we had Thursday around lunchtime were merely teasers. I planned to work from home on Friday so I was more than ready and looking forward to the rain. We stocked up on all the supplies we’d need: food (canned, frozen and fresh), firewood, fire logs, gas for the generator and of course a bottle or two of wine to sip in the evenings. Friday, sure enough, like clockwork I was happy to see the rain begin to fall. Thank goodness the weather guy was actually accurate in his weather predictions!

 All, particularly Dee and Celia, two women whom I ride the bus to work with, do not share my high-spirited zest and love for the rainy weather. Both of them love the hot, summers and summer heat. Celia already forewarned me that if she looses power at her house this weekend that she would be sending me a text message! You can also add my husband to that list, because every time there is a big rainstorm, the power goes out. The power outage means that he’ll be standing outside with a flashlight in one hand, the gas can in the other, trying to get the generator going. Which is exactly what happened. The lights started to flicker – on and off, multiple times -- and then they went out.  At that very second, I heard the word, “crap” echoing from the room across the hallway.  Oh wait, no, that was me saying crap! I was the one working on my blog post and video. But, like clockwork, Bill hauls himself out to the garage, gearing up for the trek outside to the shed that houses the generator. He knew I was in the middle of a blog post and that I had signed up for NaBloPoMo. And he knew that I needed to get that blog post online; otherwise, I’d end up having to drive to the coffee house at the next town over in order to use their Internet connection. Luckily, for me, my husband can’t live without his precious Internet, so our router is hooked up to the generator, which means Internet service even when the power goes out (although we have had storms severe enough which knock out EVRERYTHING, including said precious Internet).

I sit there in the dark, holding a flashlight, Webster at my feet part of the time. The other half of his time is spent running up and down the stairs and into the entry way, whining because Bill is outside instead of inside with us. But Bill has the routine down like clockwork. The generator fires up, we flip the inside switch and whoala, there is light. Then he’s off once again, outside, this time to wrestle with the roof gutters, which have now clogged up due to all the redwood tree debris blown in by the wind. We now have our own, semi-natural waterfall gushing from the front gutter. And so the cycle continues – more than once.

But all’s well that ends well; the generator kicked in, power came on, extension cords were dragged through the house and into my home office, the Mac was fired up, blog post written and posted.  We did it!  Ahh, and now back to bliss (or so I thought). Little did I know that the storm was about to get worse, and what I would lose would be more than electricity!

Please visit my blog, Three Cent Stamp at this loction: http://www.threecentstamp.com.

NaBloPoMo

No, this isn't a foreign language, although, right now, the concept feels a bit foreign to me.

NaBloPoMo stands for National Blog Posting Month. In a nutshell, it's an invitation to post every day for an entire month, including weekends. That's the foreign part. Lately, I've had more on my mind and more to say. But any blogger will tell you that ideas and posts tend to come and go like the ebb and tide of the sea. So I'm worried that once I've make this commitment, will I actually be able to find the time to post each and every day? And will my posts be of interest, or merely ramblings that get lost in Internet space?  So you might be asking right about now, why am I even considering this? It's a fair question. My answer: Because I want to see if I can really do it, post for one month, every day, including weekends. 

So here we go. This is Post #1, November 1st, 2008.

And to kick off NaBloPoMo, I'm unveiling my new blog, Three Cent Stamp. Please visit me at my new location: http://www.threecentstamp.com.

Wish me luck!

October 28th, or the Day That I Blew it!

I had been working 16+ hour shifts on a special project for the previous company in which I worked as a program manager.  Literally, I was working pretty much every waking hour, many days from home, where I rolled out of bed at 6:00 am worked all day and rolled back to bed at 3:00 am. Still, there really wasn't much of an excuse. Jobs come and go as I have painfully learned, but my mate, my husband, well, he's a keeper!

That fateful night on October 28th,  I was working late in my home office. In spite of the repeated calls from upstairs to please come up for dinner, I would call up every so often and say, "one more minute, or just a few minutes more, just let me get one more email out."  It was 2 hours before I eventually gave up on email and went upstairs for dinner. 

Wandering up into the kitchen I saw Bill standing at the counter, several feet from the table. On the kitchen table was a beautiful, candlelight dinner, the candles obviously having burned for quite some time, as was painfully obvious by the streaming wax down their sides, which puddled onto the table. The food, in spite of having grown cold, smelled wonderful. 

"Hey, this is  nice," I blurted out. "What's the occasion, or are you feeling sorry for me for having worked so many hours this week?"  I laughed, amused by my idiotic humor, and I continued to eye the beautifully set table. I was awfully hungry.

He said nothing, and my doltishness continued. 

I walked over to where Bill was standing, ready to give him a big hug of thanks when I noticed a card with my pet name on it AND a dozen long-stemmed, white roses. My face crumpled and my eyes squinted as I, once again, asked what was the occasion.  This time, his eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open, like a little kid that had seen a ghost, or some other horrific, unbelievable sight. Still, he remained patient -- and speechless. But as the moments, which seemed like hours, mounted, a look of horror finally covered my face. Oh my God, it's October 28th, OCTOBER 28TH, OCTOBER FREAKIN' 28TH!  October 28th?  Our wedding anniversary, and the anniversary of our first date. I don't recall exactly what I said after I realized it was our anniversary, although I do recall muttering in a barely audible tone, "I'm sorry" and "I can't believe this."  For which I REALLY couldn't believe it!

"So you admit that your forgot our anniversary" he said, rather flatly, not in an angry tone, but more from a position of disbelief. I nodded, my head slowly sinking to floor level.  There really wasn't anything that I could say at this point to redeem myself, nor anything to cover up the fact that I was an ass for forgetting our anniversary. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing I could say or do at that point.

As I stood there in silence I wondered, hey, isn't this something that he's supposed to forget, because he's the "guy" and everyone knows that if someone is going to forget an anniversary, it's the guy, damn it?!  I also had to wonder that If the situation had been reversed and he forgot our anniversary, would I be as forgiving as he was now? Probably not, if I was going to be completely honest about it. 

I begged him to call me names, call me an ass, tell me how selfish I am, yell at me, scream at me, for God sakes make me feel better, pahleese!!!  I cursed him under my breath when he said, quite simply, "It's Okay."

That was a couple of years ago, and, thankfully, I have not forgotten our anniversary since that time (but hey,  I'm still young, with many more opportunities to make an ass out of myself).  

Today, October 28th 2008, is our 3rd wedding anniversary, and our 13th anniversary of being together. I remember eloping to Yosemite as if it were yesterday. 

Sweetheart, if you will kindly go look on the kitchen table there is a card and surprise for you. Happy anniversary.

I Love you, Katherine.

Vacation State of Mind

On vacation. At least that is what I am pretending. And, on a cloudy, blustery day if I were on "vacation" what might I be doing?

For starters, I'd be doing my happy dance because I've been desperately waiting for rain. For two months now I've been doing my rain dance (you see the trend here, right?). I'm tired of California heat waves. I've grown tired of forest fires burning my favorite places almost to the ground. I'm tired of summer. Today, I'm tired of sunshine, and I feel betrayed when, for a short while, the sun makes an appearance.  I want gold and orange leaves, wind and rain.  Last night  at 9:56 pm the rain began to fall, and I was very grateful that nature decided to wait until I had come home from work when I could enjoy my log-awaited gift.

I am having a perfect and relaxing day, indulging myself, as if I were in a cottage in Mendocino (a place I fantasize -- and visit -- as often as humanly possible).

I decide to nuture each and every one of my senses. Here's a recap of my day:

Went outside when the rain let up. Took pictures. Breathed in the wonderful, fresh earthy scent of redwoods and leaves. Listened to the rustle of the tree tops in the wind and the stereo surround sound of Chestnut-backed Chickadees in my woods. They are either flying to, or flying from the bird feeder, stashing seeds for when the rain returns. I count a dozen on the deck and there are more dangling from the tips of tree branches. Their buddies, the juncos, towhees, Stellar's Jays and another favorite of mine, the Pygmy Nuthatch (we finally have a small flock sticking around after summer breeding) are all out and about in a feeding frenzy. Had I been able to find the battery of my video camera you would have seen a video clip of all this activity.  Instead, I hope you will enjoy the still photos.

The sky grows dark.

My husband lights a fire in the fireplace and I begin to feel myself slip into a trance, brought on by the sounds of the crackling fire, the soft, gentle rain and the chorus of chickadees.

I drag out the aromatherapy candles and sensuous scents begin to faintly fill the room. 

As there is much warmth from the fire, I open the sliding glass doors that lead out to the deck so that I can better hear the rain and nature soundtracks.

A very late lunch, early dinner, consists of an open faced chicken sandwich smothered with garlic jack and pepper jack cheeses -- and a glass of wine. Yep. Lunch or not, if I were on vacation I"d be sipping on a glass of wine right about now. 

There are the soft pillows and a comforter that I have dragged out from the bedroom, and I settle and snuggle into them as I close my eyes, smelling the faint combination of rose and lavender, intermixed with crisp rain dampened air, madrone and oak leaves and the sweet, smoky scent that they call Fall. Each time the wind blows through the room the scent combinations change and evolve into something different, something new.  The wind chime that hangs under the eaves catches the wind's current and its hollow metal tubes come together to combine a symphony that could only be delivered by nature.  Webster, as always, is close at hand, curled up, warm and content.  I reach out to the coffee table and grasp by book, Escape to the Mountain, by Marcia Bonta. My pages are saved by a beautiful wooden, scented bookmark given to me by Doña. The book gracefully opens to page 26 where I return to learn about the Bonta family's struggle to embrace their first harsh winter in the mountains in Pennsylvania. 

The rain, which had stopped, now begins, once again, to gently fall. 

Serendipity. 

Life feels good.

The Birth Day Post

Last Thursday, September 25^th, was my birthday (I was so preoccupied -- OK, obsessed -- with the stupidity of Sarah Palin last week that I completely forgot about my birthday post)! As anyone who knows me will attest, my birthday isn’t something I typically like to cop out to. I prefer to fly under the radar. This year however, was so much fun to celebrate, that I completely forgot about birthday phobia.  By the time I"m a 99, I'm sure this won't be an issue!

This year, I thought I made a mistake by telling a friend at work the date of my birthday. She had asked me the date and I changed the subject – several times -- and I could tell she was disappointed. Since I know the date of her birthday (June 25^th!), I felt it only fair to share mine. Next thing I knew it I had a meeting invite for lunch -- for a party of 4. We had SO MUCH FUN and laughed so hard (until our cheeks hurt), that I had completely forgot that I don't like to celebrate my birthday. Of course the ultra rich chocolate cake from La Patisserie bakery was just the icing on the cake (pun intended). I would have taken a photo of the cake, but it didn’t last very long. Not only did I get to eat the chocolate heart (which I did share with Courtney and Doña) but I also had a nice, robust chunk of the cake. Between the sugar from the cake and the wine at lunch, I was certainly in rare form in which to conquer any afternoon meetings (you want this WHEN?). 

That night I came home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my family. 

Bill and I dined at one of my favorite restaurants, Shadowbrook, in Capitola.

Webster bought me an iTunes gift certificate (or so he says), which in my book is reason enough to celebrate. 

But the thing that I really love most about my birthday is sending my mom flowers (pictured below)  to acknowledge her efforts in the birthday bliss. It’s great to celebrate Mother’s Day, and I know my mom always appreciates the gifts or cards she’s given on that day. But my birth is very important to my mom, and I suspect she thinks about it more than I do. I am not a mother, but if I were, I know I would think about the day that I was blessed in having the opportunity to bring a child into the world. All the efforts on that day at 11:19 am when I made my long awaited appearance, were her doing, not mine.  So I'm convinced that her efforts are really the efforts worth celebrating. While Mother’s day, indeed, is important, it means more to me to celebrate my birth day by acknowledging my mom, so, mom, here’s to you!