One day last week I cried so much I had to drink tall glasses of water for the rest of the day to rehydrate myself. I cried for different things that both were and weren’t happening to me. I won’t bore you with my “stuff.” I’m sure you have your own.
I invoked Tony Robbins’ “90 second rule” — but I turned it into a four hour rule, because 90 seconds seemed a little too short for me (haha). The 90 second rule is to let yourself feel your pain, sorrow, suffering for 90 seconds.
You all know that I love to cook and bake. I read food blogs and websites. Cookbooks as bedside reading are a given. Cooking is not only how I nurture and delight my family and friends, it’s how I explore, travel and taste the world right in my own home.
Lately, people have been after me to compile a book of the recipes I’ve cooked over the years that have become family favorites. Now I’m not a recipe writer. Whilst some of my recipes have come from my mother and grandmother…other family favorites have come from famous chefs, cookbooks and websites.
Eating out of a bowl is nothing new. Asian cuisine and many others, have been served out of bowls for centuries. In 2017, bowls have become a cultural and gastronomic moment. If you’ve ever eaten a bowl of ramen, or a burrito bowl at Chipotle, you’ve had a bowl.
The millennials appropriated bowls into a lifestyle. It turns out millennials don’t want to sit at a table and use a knife and fork. They want easy, attractive, fork food that you can pick up and carry to the couch and watch Netflix, or to the computer and keep working or Skyping.
I recall my father saying to me when he was in his 70’s and 80’s: “My skeleton hurts.” I let it slide by, not understanding, not caring to understand. That’s the arrogance and breeziness of youth.
Now I understand. My skeleton hurts. I guess I inherited it from him.
So, in addition to this being the year of living passionately, this is also the year of the bod. My bod.
New Year’s eve morning as I write this. I’ve spent the week between Christmas and today pondering the events of 2016. I’m surprised at the number of surprises I had in 2016. It was a year of surprises. And I’d like another please. I believe this is because of my new commitment to extemporaneous living, instead of planning everything out. There’s a flow going on.
Here’s my list. I suspect you had tons of surprises too. What’s on your list?
The only way to navigate the rapids is: calmly.
In Tropica I spend a portion of each month making the rounds of the various utility companies to pay each bill in person and in cash. It’s the price of a low voltage life in paradise.
As I left the electric company and drove to telephone company, I had a dull thud revelation. I don’t need to rush anymore. I said it to myself again to make sure I understood correctly. I. Don’t. Need. To. Rush. Anymore.
Liza and Jeanette go for a drive
I used to walk to high school with Jeanette every day. Now, decades later, we’re going for a big
walk hike together.
Two high school friends, meeting up for a girly road trip. We’re as opposite as can be: She’s slim, I’m curvy. She eats slowly, I eat faster. She walks fast, I walk slowly. Will we still be friends by the end? I’ll try to post from the road, but I’m also trying to unplug. [Read more…]
When the going gets tough, I drizzle.
It’s steamy in Tropica right now. Meriland empties out like Paris in August. It’s too hot for even the Tropicans who have deserted Meriland and moved lock, stock and servants to the beach. I adore Meriland in the summer. A quiet city to myself, lost in the heat. I swim in the morning and drift through the lazy days.
The world news in the past few weeks has left me sacudida. That’s a Spanish expression which means, “shaken like a rag doll.” That’s about right. Exhausted, trembly, heartbroken, shaken inside and out. So much evil, sorrow, hatred, sadness. In addition, I have a friend who is suffering greatly with his health.
Solo travel for me is the norm, not the exception. I don’t even call it solo travel, I call it travel.
My first job out of university was as an aviation journalist. I traveled the world on assignment. Europe, South America, Africa and memorably, to what was at the time Communist Eastern Europe. That job is where I learned how to travel.
There’s no better time to reflect on my packing than when I’m on the plane home and have a fresh experience with my travel wardrobe. I spent two weeks of my “adult spring break” in Zurich and Milan with a carry on. I love carry on travel for the ease of maneuvering my way through airports, train stations, subway steps, buses and on crowded, uneven streets. A small bag, packed with some carefully chosen items makes me feel smart and powerful.