Juliano and I

Renee (my fabulous friend), Soup and Monica (two of my three incredible sisters) and I made a quick trip to LA. We had a great visit with my brother, Andy, and then headed off to crash the Craig Ferguson party at NBC studios. I’m not much of a TV person and had actually never heard of the guy but was excited about being in the audience during a taping. After being “warmed up” and coached on how to be a fantastic audience (they bribed us with chocolate) we watched them put a show together. I’m a fan now. That Craig guy is one funny dude. Thanks, Renee, for getting the tickets.

After we checked into our hotel in Santa Monica, we explored the neighborhood. We had a great dinner at True Foods and soaked up the artistic, funky atmosphere near the pier.

Before going to California I had researched some raw restaurants in the area in hopes of trying one out. I wrote down a list of five or six and their locations but then left the list on my desk at home.

Early the next morning I was drifting in and out of sleep when I suddenly remembered that one of the raw food restaurants was located on Broadway in Santa Monica. I didn’t know which one but realized we had walked down Broadway the night before. I jumped out of bed, eager to start my quest. Monica heard me get up and offered to go with me. So, with about 5 minutes of primping (looking gorgeous in my sweats) we were off on our adventures.

We walked about ten minutes and found Planet Raw Cafe with the front door wide open, awaiting our arrival. We entered and I explained to the man on the computer that we knew they weren’t open yet but wanted to look at their menu. He kindly gave us the menus and allowed us to sit and peruse. Halfway through the menu I saw references to Juliano and excitedly asked the man if this was perhaps Juliano’s restaurant. (I have read about the famous raw food chef.) He said, “I’m Juliano” which immediently sent me into geeky fan mode.
“You’re Juliano? REALLY? I’ve read so much about you!”
Then Monica chimed in, “Picture time!” which was great because although it NEVER crosses my mind, she’s really good about getting pictures of everything. He was gracious and accommodating and spent time explaining the benefits of raw food to us. When I complained to him about my cookie downfall he brought out two chocolate coconut raw cookies for us to sample. Delicious!

Monica and I eventually let him get back to his work and made our way to the beach. I happily remembered how the ocean soothes my soul and made a note to get there more often.

Suzy and Renee were game to try the Planet Raw with us at lunch which was no small sacrifice given the abundance of incredible restaurants around.

It was a new experience for Renee to have an extensive menu in hand where every single item was gluten free. We ordered four different entrees and the avocado chocolate pudding to share. (It sounds weird but is really good.) They gave us a complimentary appetizer sampler plate and we were oohing and aahing our way all through lunch. The best part was how good we all felt afterwards. Or maybe it was the chocolate pudding. Possibly it was the kelp noodles with a wonderfully flavored, creamy sauce. It’s hard to say. But we did feel energized after eating that delicious food.

I could easily be a raw foodist if Juliano would just move into my house for while and take over the food prep!

Of course It never occurred to me to take any pictures of the food but that only means we will need to return. The sooner the better.

Buy the Book

 http://www.amazon.com/The-Sound-Stars-Sandra-Smith/dp/0595345824/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1354763259&sr=8-3&keywords=The+Sound+of+the+Stars

The Sound of the Stars  
by Sandra M. Smith

Years ago I was surrounded by four small, adorable children and had a hubby who averaged 60-hour work weeks. I enjoyed that phase of life witnessing the exponential growth of my children but missed out on regular adult conversation. I also found that children and husband alike had trouble listening to me. In fact, most days it felt like nobody was listening.

In order to avoid being put away on grounds of continually talking to myself, I took pen to paper-actually fingers to keyboard-and wrote a novel. It was a fun project and kept me sane, or pushed me toward blissful insanity, depending on how you look at it. To fulfill a need to create felt wonderful and kept me balanced. To wake up in the middle of the night by conversations my characters were having in my head was wacky but interesting, to say the least. Those figments of my imagination came alive and pretty much dictated which direction the book went. They taught me much in this writing adventure and I thank them for it.

This book is about people and places and love and life and sorrow and forgiveness and skinny dipping. It’s ideas I’ve learned and beauty I’ve discovered. I was living in foreign countries when most of it was written so some exotica comes through. (Not to be confused with erotica-sorry to disappoint.) I self published the book in 2005 so I could hold something in my hands after that two-year on again off again relationship with the figments. My small, adorable children are now teenagers and older but strangely, I still feel like no one ever listens to me.

I wanted to share my book with the world but it was too scary. It felt like that dream where you get somewhere and realize you’re naked. It is a work of fiction but if you recognize any people or situations just keep your mouth shut and we’ll talk payment later.

Last year someone asked me if it was available for download on an electronic reader. I didn’t know. So I ordered one for my Nook. It worked. Two months later I got a royalty check for $1.67. I was overjoyed. Someone bought my book! Then I remember it was me. So now, it you want to push someone into overjoyed land, you have the power. Buy the book, enjoy it and make my day! By the way, I think you’re really pretty!

http://www.amazon.com/The-Sound-Stars-Sandra-Smith/dp/0595345824/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1354763259&sr=8-3&keywords=The+Sound+of+the+Stars 

The Botox Blues

 My beautiful and wise friend Renee Thurber (partner in crime since 7th grade) wrote a funny, thought-provoking essay. Just thought I'd share it with you. Enjoy!


Virtue would go far if vanity did not keep it company.
~Francois de La Rochefoucauld

i am a vain woman. heck, i was a vain kid. on the morning of my very first day of kindergarten while i was primping before the mirror i felt a little confused so i asked my mom "am i pretty, or cute?". obnoxious, i know. and the thing is - this was a serious question for me, one that i felt was weighty and consequential and deserved an honest answer. now i find it amusing that my wisdomic mom's response irritated me a bit - actually her cavalier answer absolutely annoyed me. "well, you look just fine Nay. and i'd say you're pretty-cute!".
should time travel become a feasible option anytime soon, i do have a message i'd like to give to my little self on that first day of kindergarten. but first let's deal with the present, shall we?
being a middle aged woman in america today is an interesting thing. we spend a deplorable amount of the almighty dollar on the fountain of youth. and i am conflicted. should i jump on the bandwagon and literally buy in to the anti aging craze, or should i embrace the aging process with grace and dignity by shunning the miracles of modern medicine which aide in stalling the process? why, the latter option of course. YES!! age naturally - absolutely!! i will NOT succumb to the pressures of botox and injectables and plastic surgeries. no way, not me. i mean i may be vain but i'm far too enlightened for such nonsense. right?
a couple of years ago i noticed that one of my girlfriends looked unusually rested and peaceful. i should mention that she is a lovely woman approaching 50 with a whole bunch of kids - like 117 or something. anyway i said "Gracie, you look fantastic!". i wasn't searching for an explanation, that's just not how my brain works, but she very easily responded "that's because i got some botox between my brows and i don't have that permanent scowl that made me look so unhappy and tired all the time." as soon as she told me this i realized eureka! that is exactly why she looks so great! she then went on to explain that there was a problem with the look, however, as her 117 kids didn't know when she meant business. in fact, my friend gave me her "mad" face and i had to admit that is was pretty non threatening. i guess everything is a trade off.
i should clarify that i have no issue at all with people who choose to incorporate these modern miracles and tricks into their beauty regime. my dilemma exists within the confines of my own mind and relates to my own personal experience. i'm not all judgy judy, that's just not how i roll.
so here comes my confession: i did the botox thing.
ok FINE, i did it twice! damn that groupon. yes, i used groupon both times which is a little embarrassing and a tad curious but i suppose we all have our chinks in the armor. apparently my moral resolve to resist the trappings of modern middle aged madness is built on a sandy foundation easily washed away by a smoking daily deal. and 89 bucks for $400 worth of vanity's ambrosia is a screamin deal my friends. (alas, i hang my head in shame.) (but whoa nellie i was looking good - you know, in a frozen plasticy kinda way.)
so a few months after a dose of toxins had been injected in to those well earned feet of crows around my smiling eyes i bumped in to an acquaintance whom i had not seen in nearly 3 decades. her third sentence to me was part question part accusation. "WHY DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY WRINKLES?" retrospect tells me this was a socially odd beginning to our catch up session, but at the time i felt a heavy pang of guilt and nearly shouted back "BECAUSE I AM A FRAUD! A CHARLATAN! I SUCK! I CANT RESIST THE POSSIBILITY OF A RANDOM COMPLIMENT ABOUT MY YOUTHFUL PRESERVATION ANY MORE THAN I CAN TURN AWAY FROM A GREAT GROUPON!" instead i just just sort of sheepishly shrugged. and silently vowed to never ever ever again surrender to the ridiculous temptation of botoxing the lines away.
and i've kept that vow. but i had to remove myself from the groupon alerts - i'm only human.
did you know that we spend $20 billion dollars a year on cosmetics alone in this country? and that number doesn't even touch what we drop on the increasingly popular menu of invasive beauty treatment options. i don't know. i don't have a whole lot of life's complexities completely figured out, but i do know that that stat makes me sick. i get that there are real problems in the world. i know that there are those even in my inner circle who could use just a fraction of what i spend on beauty lotions and potions, friends who are suffering with real life issues much more pressing than lookin good. i'm compelled to be more thoughtful about how i choose to divvy my financial resources. even by removing money from the mix there is something entirely screwy about a society that spends more time worrying about "fine lines and wrinkles" than about significant social and even moral and emotional issues. still though, i admit that when i see a friend decide to ditch the hair dye and embrace the gray i celebrate her freedom and commend her chutzpah with sincerity all the while thinking good for you, chica bonita, but i'm off to the drug store cause it's time to hit the bottle, baby - aint no way i'm following suit. see what i mean about being conflicted? serenity - such an elusive tease sometimes.
George Sand (Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin), a sassy, brassy and unconventional french novelist from the 1800's who was known in part for bucking the traditional fashion trends of her time once said "vanity is the quick sand of reason". tell me about it, georgie. tell me about it.
they say 50 is the new 40 and frankly i have no idea what that really means particularly since 40 was once the new 30 and may still be who knows so i'm left wondering in Cosmo years and stuff just how the hell old am i anyway? enough already.
this much i do know; i feel great. i mean, i feel better (dare i say even younger?) than i have in years and i can easily claim that i'd much rather feel good in my skin than look young in it. i don't know if i deserve any points for that but let's be real - having the energy to remain engaged in the stuff that floats our boats is awesome. and more importantly being healthy enough to enjoy those fabulous human beings with whom we desire to spend our energies - to really BE with the people we love most - that's a really big deal! for me, good health is a blessing which i am not guilty of taking for granted. shouldn't we be more invested (both phychologically and financially)in feeling good than in looking good? i mean, when i'm healthy i'm able to connect with others - which is pretty much what i'm all about. looking like crap hasn't stopped me form connecting with anybody ever, well at least since high school. ok, maybe a couple times in college puffy eyes or zits made me feel reclusive - i'm vain - we've covered that. and i'm suddenly reminded of my favorite Dennis Miller quote: "There's nothing wrong with being shallow as long as you're insightful about it..." heh
i guess the older i get the more i revel in the the stuff of real meaning. the more i recognize the value of time wisely spent and the emptiness in money foolishly squandered. the easier it becomes to first see, and then to eschew the silicone lies that assail us today. i'm not sure if my own inner botox-battle will ever know a full peace treaty, but i don't see myself giving up the fight. when it comes to the strife in my mind, i'm no deserter. i'm barely scratching the surface here and i feel like i could carry on ad nauseam but the insight i'm typically left with after consciously hashing these things out is that i'm probably not going to come to an easy resolution any time soon, if ever. but remaining engaged in the effort to find meaning in the way we choose to live is a good thing. in the case of vanity, dissecting those modern beauty messages (myths) is more worthy than blindly wandering to the surgeons chair without questioning the marching orders that lead us to such an action. yes, that feels right to me - to remain engaged in the process of figuring things out. to be willing to change course when my inner compass seems askew. those ideas appeal to my divine spark. the Gnostics teach of the divine spark, and the concept resonates with me...that spark being infinitely more relevant than how old i appear or how fabulously plump my kisser is compared to angelina Jolie's.
oh and then there is that message to little renee i'd deliver if the time travel thing were to become an option: dear 5 year old me, you know that confusion you have about being "cute or pretty" when you look in the mirror? it doesn't matter. really, don't worry about it. you're smart and kind and curious and thoughtful. you have a little feist that will serve you well. your looks are what they are and that is just fine, despite the litany of messages you will be bombarded with which seem to link good looks with personal worth. foster your inner beauty and develop your mind and your talents because none of the rest really matters. you are worthy of love, you are a good person, and you are beautiful; regardless of the way you look.
well i might not use that exact same vocabulary, but you get the gist. oh, and i'd include a warning about avoiding landon lambert in the 4th grade - dude's trouble.

Stress = Brownies=Stress=Brownies

Life got a little stressful this week. I self-medicated with brownies. Too much sugar makes it hard for me to handle stress. So more brownies. After which, daily happenings that normally are not stressful feel catastrophic to me. Thus fueling the need for more brownies. And so on and so forth until I spend a long night crying about my stressful life and my brownie-bloated body. I wake up the next morning with bloated eyes to match bloated body. Nothing fits now because in a wave of optimism I gave away my fat jeans a few months ago, assuming I would never be riding the 150 plus pound wave again. So here I am feeling a little strung out on sugar and wearing uncomfortably tight jeans on a bloated body. Let's just call this eating rock bottom and go up from here, shall we?

Do you have a family that becomes truly barbaric when a large pan of brownies sits on the stove? Do they skip the whole civilized act of cutting and serving brownies in lieu of a couple of forks in the pan? Do they leave the forks in the pan so that anytime anyone walks through the kitchen they can pick up a fork and take a stab at the pan and chew up the brownies on the way to somewhere else, effectively leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail throughout the house? Does the enormous pan of brownies disappear, forkful by forkful, at an alarmingly fast rate and everyone assumes that someone else is eating most of it? Does your family consume brownies like that? Well, thank goodness, neither does mine!

But other than those bad news brownies,  everything is great! I'm getting psyched to start another attempt at my 30-day raw food experiment. This time I'm going to be gentle on myself and remind myself that this is NOT a diet. This is a celebration of the miraculous abundance we have of delicious, healing foods. There is no bandwagon to fall off of. No amount self loathing will be tolerated. (Thank you, Cindy, for that.) This is not about what I CAN'T eat but about what I WANT to eat. This is a powerful way for me to nourish my body and help me to reach my best place- physically, emotionally and spiritually. A place I love, love, love being in. A place full of calm, loving feelings and great skin. Produce shopping here I come.

Havasupai Falls

 

                                            Incredible and so worth the effort to get there

Years ago, Audrey and her friends hiked down to the falls in the Grand Canyon. The pictures she took of beautiful waterfalls and dream-like blue green water captivated me. I am drawn to almost any type of water, but Havasupai whispered my name in a powerful way. I vowed to go. I envied the fact that she took all these fun trips while I was tied down with a family business and numerous small children. Even though I knew I could take three days from my life if I HAD to, I never did. Responsibilities and inconvenience to others weighed heavily while making plans.

                            
                                    Havasu Falls-another time, another photographer

Last January, without the family business or dependent little people to factor in, we made a plan. I booked a couple nights in March at the Havasupai Lodge and arranged to meet Audrey for my long awaited adventure to the magical waters. But, a month before our scheduled departure I changed the plan so I could join Brandon in California on one of his business trips. I called the lodge and booked the next two nights available which wasn’t until the end of September.

                                  Audrey in front of Havasu Falls

Audrey knows I am unreliable and flaky (I prefer spontaneous to an inconvenient degree) in all matters of fun activities and was undaunted. She merely kept my original reservation (they are hard to get) invited some of her friends and went without me. She returned with fabulous photos and threatened me with unspeakable consequences if I should dare to cancel on her AGAIN! (Hey Auddie, I’m still sorry about blowing off the reunion after I talked you into going.) Suzy had scheduled two days off which is stressful because of all the work that awaits her when she returns. (The disadvantage of being so good at your job, Soupie.) I knew I had to either go in September or consider myself officially orphaned.

                                                 Me and Soup taking a dip at Navajo Falls

I’m talking about a place I’ve wanted to visit for years so why did I need pressure to go in the first place? Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it? I am indeed a mysterious woman, just ask hubby. He is still searching for the manual. Maybe after a few hundred hours of counseling I’ll know more. But for now I do know this:

Whenever I plan a trip or a fun activity that requires any degree of effort I always start out super excited. I consider myself an adventurous person. Then as the day draws closer I remember all the negatives about how sometimes traveling sucks. I remember changing diapers in airport bathrooms, vomit, messed up sleeping schedules, poopy blankies at the beginning of a long trip. When my children were young we lived overseas and I took them back and forth across the globe numerous times. All the hardships of traveling with babies has made me dislike traveling. Even if there are no more crying babies to take. 

                           

Lately I hate driving for more than an hour because my broken down body complains. The start of the hike is a six or seven hour drive from my house.

The biggie is that I feel guilty when I leave because when I’m gone the teenagers live on waffles and video games. Before that it was about how small babies don’t understand why mommy isn’t there. I have a huge of list of reasons why I don't need to have fun. 

 

The hike/climb/caving and ladder adventure required to get to Mooney Falls

                                                          The reward: Mooney Falls
I tell myself that I can just enjoy photos of where ever I’m going from the comfort of my own home. Or read a really good book about the place written by someone who has already been there. Talk about efficient! I love efficiency, it’s one of my favorite hobbies. Who really needs to go? I could save the traveling money and spend it on a good cause. I could feed the hungry and clothe the naked or feed the naked and clothe the hungry or... you get the idea. By now, most of you are probably encouraging me to go ahead and start in on those hundreds of hours of necessary counseling. Or wishing I would just stop rambling. Or both. So, I will finish this post by saying: go to the falls. Google it if you don’t have a sister/tour guide who’s been there numerous times. There are lots of helpful people in the land of internet. Get in shape to hike. Save your pennies or write it off as therapy. Whatever! It’s worth the trouble. And let me know when you’re going cause I’d love to return.

                                       Suzy and the stray

One of Sandi’s observations: If you never find a way to go skinny dipping in the real world (bathtubs and backyard pools don’t count) your life is incomplete. Let me rephrase in case you didn’t get that. Go skinny dipping or live an unfinished life. Just don't get yourself arrested.

The Hiking Hoarder

Last Monday two of my sisters and I trekked down the Grand Canyon to Supai Village (We missed you, Monica). We stayed at the lodge for two nights so we could spend the entire day on Tuesday hiking to the waterfalls. I love to hike but I’ve never carried more than a three-pound water pack around my hips. This time I had my son’s big time backpack. The kind that actually sticks up higher than my head. It didn’t look too bad when it was empty but after I packed, it looked as though I was hauling around a dead body. Or two. 

I always consider myself a light packer but I had to face reality on Monday night. That morning my pack registered 37 pounds on the scale, which didn’t sound like much to me. I figured my legs were accustomed to hauling around all 150 pounds of me so what’s another 37? I’m tough. I can rally. It’s only eight miles to Supai village. Mostly down hill. No problem.

It took about 15 minutes of hiking before I realized I had a problem. A big problem. My knees decided that an extra 37 pounds did indeed make a difference. I had to lean forward to stay upright and my back was telling me (loudly) to get the pack OFF! There was really no where to put the pack if I did take it off. Plus it was full of really important stuff that I surely needed.

It was a long and arduous hike and I seriously wondered if birthing any of my four children was as painful and long as that hike. I thought for sure I was going to end up as the hunch back of St. George.

The last mile I was in a daze and just kept urging my feet to keep on plodding along. When I passed the camper’s check-in spot they tried to call me in because they couldn’t imagine anyone carrying so much stuff to the lodge. I didn’t have a tent or a sleeping bag or a camp stove so what did I have that could possibly take up so much room?

We checked in, unloaded our packs and went to order dinner at the cafe before it closed. Then we went back and unpacked and I had an ahah! moment. I am a hiking hoarder. In my defense I will say that I packed a week early and threw in all kinds of snacks. Enough to share. Then I forgot all about that food and packed more the day before we left. Then I put all my healthy raw food in so I could feel good on this trip. Then I packed extra because I was quite sure that Audrey and Suzy would want to eat some too. We could all be healthy and eat raw food while communing with nature. I was so excited at the thought. In my excitement I forgot we wouldn’t be there very long. And that we were going to eat dinners at the cafe. And that my sisters may not want to eat raw food in place of Burritos, Oreos and M&Ms. 

In our lodge room it was like a magic trick where the magician just keeps pulling stuff out of his hat. Lots of stuff. All three of us were completely astounded at the amount of food I carried in.

Audrey, the experienced hiker, came in first place in the practical contest with a 12 pound backpack. She packed crackers and cheese, olives to go with her V8 and a small bag with her candy corn/peanut combo.

 
Suzy was in second place with a 20 pounder. Her food consisted of nuts, dried fruit, Oreos and her beloved uncrustables.

 
And then there’s me. The hiking hoarder. Who somehow brought enough clothes and food to stay two weeks without having to do laundry or forage for food. What was I thinking?

Just for the record, I ate all the kale chips myself and no one wanted any of my chia seed porridge for breakfast.
 
I did know there was no way I was going to carry that pack out again. I was still considering how upset my hubby would be if I ditched the professional grade backpack when we finally solved the problem. Arrangements were made. Cash was exchanged. Our packs would be going up on horseback when we hiked out. It was a gloriously light hike on the way up and out. Now if only I can figure out how to travel lighter in the future...

Waikiki Rough Water Swim Race Day

Hubby Brandon met me in Hawaii and we really enjoyed the week. We did touristy things and hang around and soak up the beach vibe stuff. I have to admit, I am more of a hang around on the beach person. Something about the ocean just renews me. 

Two days before the race I got in the ocean to stretch out and swim a few hundred meters. I was in waist deep water with people around me and I still couldn't get "shark week" images out of my head. My overactive imagination is not always helpful. I wailed to Brandon afterward that there was no way I was going to get into the deep end of the ocean when I was having such a hard time in the  shallow end. (Not to self: Do NOT watch shark week programs just days before an open water ocean swim.) He reassured me that it would be all right and I reminded myself that I went all the way to Hawaii to swim this race. No backing out now.

Labor day morning we walked from our hotel to the race start. It was fun to mingle with the other athletes and to feel the race day excitement again. 
 
At nine am the cannon sounded and the first wave of swimmers (green caps) took off. There were five groups, leaving five minutes apart, and I was one of the red caps in group two. It was a little crazy at first swimming out to sea but it thinned out after the first marker. It was a rough swim but I found myself enjoying the motion of the waves and the feel of being in the sea. We were out beyond where the waves broke so I didn't get any of the washing machine tumbling cycle like I had two days before while trying to surf. Brandon didn't think it was necessary to take a surf lesson but I'm going to disagree with him on that one.

The water was rough enough that the markers were hard to see. Every time I looked up I found myself off course and needed to swim back out some more. That meant a lot of zig zagging and I'm sure I swan at lease four miles instead of the 2.4 miles. Brandon had walked down to the finish line beach and took some photos of me on the home stretch. I'm number 466 in the middle of the photo:

After slowly running up beach to the finish line (jelly body) I clocked in at 1 hour and 22 minutes. Out of 900 swimmers I placed 321st. Which was 5th in the old lady division. Next year I'm breaking an hour and winning my age division. Who's swimming with me?