Tag Archives: Lifestyle

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Falling Into Fall Love

Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

Fall is a time to love. It’s coming quick. We are in the last summer days of August. We had some heat and we had some unusually cool days too. What we did not have was rain. But here comes fall anyway. Falling leaves, new colors in the naturescape, brisk air and excitement of the holidays on the way. The stores become bright and fun with an array of merchandise that’s beautiful and jolly.

Fall is a time to get warm and love finding ways to do it. Building a fire, finding the perfect cozy blanket and drinking warm, comforting drinks. Fall is for cooking-serious cooking. Baking and stewing and creating delicious new foods that are hearty and full of spices. Foods that are sweet and warming that bring joy to the belly and the brain. Foods that when you take a bite, you become alive with warmth and joyous memories. It’s almost ridiculous what food like this can do to you.

It’s a time to be with friends and love ones if you have them and love life with the very core of your being. The season is about celebration and everyday is perfect for a new reason to do something fun or meaningful with anyone you can get to come along. It’s a time of year that’s inspiring and awesome.




Every year of my life has been punctuated by the brilliance of fall and all the wonderful events that take place this time of year. Even as a small child, memories were created that were embellished with sparkles and glowing lights that emphasized the joy and warmth of the season. It started with the excitement of going back to school. The anticipation of meeting a new teacher and seeing if everyone was still in your class. Halloween rose over September like a big hot air balloon filled with spooky treats and stories and the fun of creating a new costume, different than last year and of course, always better. The anticipation of hiking city sidewalks in the dark with crowds of parents and kids dressed up and asking for candy. Going from door to door and your neighbor excited to see you and wanting to know who you were.

Halloween evening passes at a brisk pace. First the preparation and then the rush home from work before it gets dark to get the kids ready. Then we are out the door and into the first really cold night of the season. We walk, we smile and call greetings to new and old friends. Up and down pathways we go and then our legs are tired and it’s time to head home. After counting the candy, we pass out and fall into a deep sleep.

The next morning we wake up to a new holiday rising. The promise of good food and family love and friendship. Thoughts of huge, juicy turkeys with steamy apple and nut dressing oozing into the baking pan. Golden apple pies shimmering with a dusting of sugar and cinnamon. The promise of Christmas, further away, but a shining light that will guide us into winter.

The leaves are golden and glorious and falling; leaving branches bare in preparation for winter. Animals scurry to collect the last portion of their reserves for the coldest days of the year. They prepare their nests for nestling and staying warm during a long winter’s sleep.

Fall is here. For one more time, one more year, we prepare, we enjoy and fall in love with life all over again.




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Yoga Sweet Yoga

Photo by Sanju M Gurung on Unsplash

I went to Yoga today and had my first hot yoga class. It wasn’t officially hot yoga, but there were 50 people packed into one small studio, our mats just inches apart and everyone breathing deeply. The air filled with CO2 and heat. The sweat began to pop through my skin and run in rivulets down my head chest and back. I was sweating! It had been awhile. Even though I was working out and sometimes quite hard, I just didn’t sweat anymore like I used to. It felt good and cleansing. I dearly wanted more room around my mat, but I acquiesced to the group activity and eased into the positions as the instructor called out poses and counted; urging us on with a mix of eastern philosophy and showtunes.

As I held poses, my legs and hips ached from a week working and sitting and driving. Five days of intense activity and this probably should have been a day of rest, but I was hungering for endorphins and to loosen my joints. After about 20 minutes, my muscles relaxed and gave in and my movements began to flow. My breathing kicked in and I was able to breath away the pain and focus on strengthening of key muscles. It was the magic of Yoga. Part Eastern philosophy, part new age exercise craze. A discipline that had been around centuries, but had just recently really become the hot new exercise of choice for newbie Americans. We Americans we love our hardcore sports. Football, marathons, baseball and a whole host of athletics disciplines that were our favorite sports and required intense concentration and effort. In contrast, Yoga was more about the flow of energy and through continuous practice, the body adapted and strengthened. It’s not something that can forced and if you try to force it you don’t really become a true Yogi.




Yoga originated in ancient India and there is quite an array of disciplines. Some of these disciplines are spiritual and some more based in developing muscles and postures for maximum performance. The wonderful thing about Yoga, is that it’s centering, relaxing and rejuvenating. If you want, you can chant or if you don’t want-then don’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s just about poses and really that’s enough. The simplicity and the complexity of Yoga are beautiful things. Like some many of the wonderful things in life. The best part is the effect on your spine. The spine being the core of human movement and stability. The positions of Yoga stretch the supporting muscles and ligaments and open up compressed spaces that need some fresh blood and oxygen. The fresh fluids and O2 cleanse and wash away exhausted cells and used up nutrients. They flow into this neglected and deep center of the human body refreshing these hard to reach spaces. Like the ocean sending in new waves one after the other, circulating over the earth’s surface and refreshing the land.

Of course there are people that have known about Yoga for a long time. I grew up in a community of hippies and communes. At the public school, my fifth grade teacher would darken the room, push the desks to the wall and lead us through simple yoga poses. This was over forty years ago. It’s wonderful to see the practice reaching all communities and people of the world now. Maybe that’s another wonderful thing about the internet. We can learn about things that might have frightened us in the safe environment of our home, where no ones looking and find out some of this stuff really is ok. It’s not magic, it’s just tried and true practice of exercises over the centuries that work for the human body and make us feel better.It’s a practice that helps humans overcome grief, anxiety and confusion in a very direct and simple way.

Here are some poses that do exactly that. Downward Dog. You look like a dog stretching with your head down. This is great for relieving back pain.  This is great for relieving back pain. The stretch of the position aligns your vertebrae, opens up disc spaces and stretches the supporting muscles and ligaments to give them somewhat of a break from the monotony of the hard work of holding up your spine all day long. Blood rushes to the brain and into your central nervous center invigorating your mentation and coordination.




Another pose, and a big favorite is Savasana. This is literally the pose for everyone and if you can’t do any other pose, you will probably be able to do this one. You lay on your back and completely give in and relax. That’s all. Just lay down and do nothing, except of course breathe. This connects you to your life giving breath, which will ultimately give you peace with your body and life. The goal is to think of nothing during Savasana, but your breathing. I’ve had several Yoga instructors teach that this is the most important pose of Yoga and it should always be for full five minutes at the end of class, no matter what. Here you touch base with what you’ve accomplished for the preceding hour and it’s time to relax and absorb the benefits.

These are just a few poses and benefits of Yoga and some of the reasons why I love it. It’s just like life. When you are in a Yoga class, you never really know what’s coming next, but you learn to relax and breathe through it. It’s a great lesson to learn for enjoying life too. Because you never know what excitement is around the bend; so remember, just breathe and you to will move right through it too.

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The Old Circle

Summer is coming and it’s the best time of year in Southern California. My favorite city was once a farming town, founded by a group of entrepreneurial bankers from the midwest. The land they purchased was an alluvial plane descending from the Santa Ana mountains. On the other side of this mountain range are the beaches. The cool fog drifts over almost every evening and then burns off with the first sunlight. When seen from the right angle at a certain time a day it looks tropical and you could swear you were driving into an island. Palm trees jut up against small green mountains with a backsplash of blue sky and puffy white clouds. The city started as a farming community that sustained itself on citrus crops. Those farms are gone now, along with the groves that released a heavenly sent every evening at sundown and blanketed the city with a heady, intoxicating perfume.
Summer is hot here. It’s all about very light clothing, no sleeves, mostly shorts and tall glasses filled with ice and sweet liquid. They call it the dog days of summer. If you are feeling particularly ambitious, it’s wise to rise early and get everything done in the coolness of the morning. As the day progresses it’s time to hit the porch and do nothing. Just like the dogs. Lay back, try to breath and don’t get overheated, because there aren’t too many ways to cool back down. Now we have indoor showers, air conditioning and refrigerators. Back then, you had to improvise. Sleeping porches were common and the family would gather on the second story to catch the night breezes and chat about the happenings of the day as they drifted off to sleep. Once you get used to the heat, it’s wonderful. The body relaxes, the skin opens and breathes. Everything and everybody slows down and it’s summer-time for vacation!




When summer hits, the main event is the fourth of July. People from all over the city head into the historic core for a good old Fourth of July parade. The local school bands and the Rotary are in full force. Candidates for city office ride by in old Thunderbirds or new souped up Mustangs with a young gorgeous pageant queens at their side. People set up small encampments with chairs, blankets, drinks and food and settle in to enjoy the good old fashioned spectacle. Laughing with friends and neighbors and feeling thankful that they landed in this place.
The city was planned with a circle at it’s center. It was meant to symbolize a crown. The crown of English royalty that invested in the small inland colonies of California and provided financial backing to make sure the farms grew and prospered. A hundred years ago famous racers and their vintage Stutz and Fiats tore around the circle to complete one hundred screaming, terrifying laps at more than 100 miles per hour. Beautiful grand farmhouses were erected along it’s borders for the more prominent business leaders and politicians. Many had carriage houses, tennis courts and later swimming pools. Now the races have a become a historic relic and many of the homes are gone. For those that remain; some are well-preserved and some not. Some are modified beyond recognition. It’s a mish mash of eclectic vintage architecture lined with dusty palms, ancient pepper and oak trees. It’s old and lovely and full of history that’s intriguing. The circle has persevered and remains a landmark to Southern Californians. It’s easily seen from the air and serves as a landmark for pilots.
Farming gave the city, it’s first purpose and history.




Over a hundred years have passed and now there are other reasons to live here. As farming phased out, development and industry took over and were a success. Some of the old orchards still remain up in the hills rising above the city. Beautiful old citrus trees stand majestic and silent with globes or orange and yellow fruit hanging enticingly from their branches. Small noises of animal life punctuate the quiet as birds fly over the canopy singing joyfully.
This is summer, this is history, this is Southern California.

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Paint Now




This is my mantra as of late.  I’m trying to be decisive about the colors to paint my house.  It should be easy, right?  Maybe, but maybe not.  I’ve learned recently that there are a lot of factors to consider.  I’ve also learned it’s easy to get caught up in the minutia.

First color. So many colors. More than ever before.  Over the past ten years, paint companies have become quite sophisticated and broadened their perspectives.  The last time I painted my house, the choices were definitely more limited.  There were the appropriate colors to use and that was it.   There were a few breakthroughs along the tropical lines, but mostly the palettes were sedate.

It’s exciting and beautiful to experience all  of the new pigments and I’ve found myself diving into color psychology.  Color has the ability to conjure up emotions and create ambiance.  I’ve been noticing that most houses are pretty sedate.   I’ve done some research and experts recommend that you blend in with your neighbors and not disturb the neighbor with distracting colors.   I’ve driven through countless neighborhoods to derive inspiration from the available palettes.  Some neighborhoods are quite colorful.  People using color liberally.  Bright colors abounding and calling out like colorful jungle birds. One colorful neighborhood in particular was colorful neighborhood in a historic downtown where people collect antiques and hot rods.  The culture here is patriotic and fun and a celebrated university is nearby.  Some other neighborhoods are subdued and tasteful. The colors make sense and blend seemlessly with the environment. This sensible and clever neighborhood was another historic university town. But the University here is private, well established and ranks beside schools such as Yale and Harvard. The top minds in the world gather here to be trained.




I live on a alley, so what is my environment? I have black pavement lined with green bamboo. Some broken fences, occasionally garbage, an old shed with a two tunnels running under it. One of the tunnels is  used by my cat, possums and squirrels and the other tunnel is inhabited by lovely bees.  My house is historic, a teacher built it and loved it.  She built a house for her sister across the street and there used to be a well worn path between the two. The houses were painted white then; as all middle class bungalows were.   Should I stay true to the era and history or go for something new and entertaining?

Probably not.  It wouldn’t suit the tastes of modern America where we have a myriad of choices for everything.   Not saying that’s a bad thing.  It’s all part of the process of advancement.  Evolving as Darwin would put it.  So where are my Darwinian inclinations taking me to?  To all kinds of colors and wishing I could use them all. I have at least three favorite themes; western, tropical and psychedelic, but probably western is the most acceptable for a house built in 1916 in a quiet family neighborhood. So this would lead to browns, tans, greens, reds, blue and maybe patriotic purple. The choice is there and I’m warming to it, but it’s not like the first time I chose a theme for the house. The first time, I was trying to bring out the best bungalow characteristics of my bungalow at that time. I was trying to incorporate elements of history while making a new statement.  For the green, I chose a deep forest green.  It represented health and growth.  A great color for that stage of my life, when I was raising two children and working on my career. I had four colors to create with rather than the standard three. I chose claret red, a blush tone and white for the other three. I tried to choose colors that struck a chord with earth elements. I ended up with one earth color, the green.  Bungalows were conceived as a new form of dwelling that was simple, practical and closer to nature.  The bungalow lifestyle was to inspire health and honor are connection with the earth.  Wood moldings and flooring were the major elements and the outside siding was often not painted and the wood stained  As America grew and prospered, painting became the trend and if you could afford a tinted paint, you were declaring your affluence.




The question is, should your house color really be some personal quest to reflect your personality? Or should it just be a practical process that’s not emotional in any  way. It’s funny  how some of us would never really think to deeply about a house color choice and then those of us who analyze, ponder and consider endlessly.  I found myself kind of tortured by the whole thing, which is such a contrast to how I felt about picking house colors a decade ago. I used to be excited by the idea and was very sure of myself and the statement I wanted to make to the world.  I wanted  to make my little craftsman, the best restoration possible on a single mom’s income.   This time; having lived through aging, menopause, children growing up, going away, getting married, family deaths, sickness, a tumbling economy, the emergence of the internet, a war and significant changes in the fabric of daily life, I found myself questioning a whole lot of things that didn’t even have anything to do with painting a house.  Somehow each color would stimulate my thoughts and my brain would be off on a jaunt contemplating the ways of the world and my place in it.

Photo by Talles Alves on Unsplash

Finally, the process was wearing me out.  I decided to drive through more historic neighborhoods and just pick a theme that looked nice and that I could picture myself going home to everyday.   Once home,  I looked everything over and then cut swatches from the paint store color wheel.  I  picked colors that felt good and would blend harmoniously with the neighborhood and nature.  I decided to pick and stick no matter what. My stomach churned and my throat muscles clenched.  I did some deep breaths and convinced myself this anxiety was ridiculous.  I smiled my brave smile; my everything is always OK smile.  I conjured up my family member’s voices in the back of my head, coaching me and telling me I could always paint over it and start over if it didn’t work out.  I buckled down and picked.

The next day I handed the colors over to my painter with my deepest apologies for my indecision and delay. We went over the scheme and where the colors would go.  They were kind.  I played it cool.  The deed was done and I prayed secretly that I’d figured it out.

 

 

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Parisienne Breakfast, natural and healthy

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Later in life and once I had enough resources, I made it my mission to recreate a breakfast that defined my initiation into the ways of the world, literally. When I was 20, I moved to Europe and my first stop was Paris. After a very long transatlantic flight and taxi to the our hotel located on the border of  the red light district, I would be ushered into the breakfast room that changed my life and beliefs about the world completely. That first European breakfast would be a vivid memory for the rest of my life.




The breakfast room was a small bright room with huge old windows hung with lace curtains. The morning light of the gray Parisian morning filtered through the backwards lettering that spelled Hotel Des Arts. The tables were old, with linoleum tops, the table legs resting on a painted floor. The room was old, vintage, but one of the cleanest rooms I’d been in.   The aroma of fresh robust coffee filled the air with underlying tones of fresh bread and steamed milk. I felt incredibly fatigued by jet lag and hungry from lack of a real meal for about 24 hours. A waitress came to the table and asked for my drink order in French. After I gave her my order, a basket containing a fresh baguette and croissants were placed on the table with fresh butter and a pot of strawberry preserves. Small containers of plain white yogurt were placed on the table and then a pot of steamed milk and a silver teapot filled with steaming coffee. It didn’t seem like much compared to the choices I had at home, but once I partook of the this Parisian repast, I found it was delicious and satisfying in a wonderful way. It was simple, but completely gratifying. I was  full and the fatigue was slipping away. The flavors of coffee, hot milk and patisserie with fresh butter and jam blended perfectly. Later, I found out that this was the way the French lived. Creating their own unique blends of delicious and natural foods from ancient recipes and traditions. Cuisine that satisfied the soul.

That started a train of thought that would not leave me for the rest of my life. I was determined to recreate that first Parisian breakfast. Once I returned home, I would seek out bakeries in grocery stores, restaurants and freestanding establishments  to find the perfect croissant and baguette. Thankfully about 20 years into my search, French culture hit the US with the opening of a famous coffee chain based out of Seattle and specialty grocery store that went national. The grocery delivered the patisserie, pain au chocolate, in particular, via the frozen food section. I could buy the frozen treat and have it baked and ready by the next morning. Of course, it was nothing compared to the real thing found only in the morning in Paris, but it was amazing how after eight hours of rising through the midnight hours that buttery, flaky crusts actually came out my Southern California  oven. It seemed there were a thousand layers of delicious buttery  dough that melted in my mouth. The last layer, a thick ribbon of dark chocolate lay slightly melted but holding it’s form. The perfect ending to the delicious pastry.




For the coffee, the new coffee chain opened, bringing espresso to the United States. So finally I had most of my ingredients for that mystical French breakfast that plagued my memories and created a longing that went on for years. The last ingredient was a plain, unbelievably creamy and tangy French yogurt. I found that most of the plain yogurts here were Greek and too thick. The European style yogurts didn’t really capture the simple and pure style of those first yogurts. I tried Kefir, goat yogurt, you name it, I tried the gamut.

Then finally and unknowingly, the yogurt that I had dreamed of for 30 years was in my fridge and I had no idea it was there. I knew I had just bought yogurt, but I didn’t  think it would be ‘the one’. I was having a lazy day and didn’t feel like putting my glasses on at the grocery store. I asked the young clerk if he saw a plain cup-sized yogurt in the case. He found me one and said , “this is the only one that we have left, it’s our store brand and I’m not too sure you’ll like it. It’s low fat too, so I’m not sure you want this. ” I really wanted a plain yogurt in a cup, so I took  a couple of cups from him and stored them in the fridge without a thought when I got home. The next day, I sat down to breakfast and opened a cup of that very American, no frills plain cup of low-fat yogurt. I  looked into the cup and immediately felt a twinge of nostalgia and faint feeling of recognition. This yogurt appeared runny, but creamy and it clung thickly to the sides of the cup. An aroma similar to a dairy milking room wafted up from the cup. Memories of the Parisian breakfast room began to appear. I dipped my spoon and tasted the French imposter. The yogurt slid over my tongue with satin creaminess and tanginess that I hadn’t tasted for 30 years! It was ridiculous the joy that I felt over that generic yogurt. It was one of those funny little jokes that life  will play on us every once in awhile. Searching everywhere in vain for something that was right under my nose.   Maybe, over the years, I just didn’t recognize that taste from that long ago, but for some reason, my mind wanted to believe it and that made me really happy. I decided to go with it and the wonder of discovering the missing link I needed to recreate that life changing experience from years ago.




So that’s how I managed to recapture that wonderful first morning in Paris. The quest is over and the idea no longer plagues me. I didn’t have to leave that wonderful memory behind and now every morning I can have a little bit of Paris.