Stay True

It’s true I bought jello today, I’m not certain where — maybe it was in Safeway or Lucky’s or Longs Drugs – yes, I think I was in Longs where I stared at the perfectly square three by four-inch box finding solace in a label that read “artificially flavored raspberry.”   Perhaps it was because I had just seen the Perseids scream across my backyard sky the night prior to my jello lust, but the artificially-flavored warning looked like a day-glow comet which made it all the more attractive to me. I was captured and transported to a time where artificially flavored was not such a bad idea and jello was happy.  It jiggled and you smiled.  As a kid it was easy-peezie.  Easy to make, easy to mold, to play with, and easy to eat.  It was refreshing and cooling on a hot summer day.  Sometimes it was all I could eat when I stayed home sick from school yes, as I recall, in jello there was comfort.  I grabbed the raspberry and what the heck a peach artificially-flavored, too.  My son would probably want to mix the two together (he’s a Gemini and apparently they do this kind of things, mixing and matching, wanting 2 of everything, when he was younger if offered a choice of cookies he would politely look up and say, “I’ll have one of each, please”). Little did I know bringing home a box of jello would help me to work my way back to comfort, order, and a sense that all could be well in the world.

For those of you who don’t know, my 14 year old son was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm last month, saying life has changed is a bit of an understatement for us and yes a box of jello helped to bring some sanity into my life.  It took me a few days to make the damn fake raspberry gel and then it sat in the fridge for another few days before my stomach hurt so bad that it called out to me.  Soothe my tummy it did. I ate it for breakfast one day and dinner for another, it allowed me to sort through thoughts, create some order out of the recent chaos and thankfully eat something.

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About a week ago I noticed that I haven’t been driving around with the radio on or my iphone plugged in, I guess there are too many thoughts roaming my mind and I need the quiet only car rides bring.  The thought that visits me the most is the UCSF hospital policy of consent.  I don’t know why University hospitals have this consenting policy for 14 year olds, I had this notion that if young animals where made to attend a consenting meeting– there were be millions of people protesting this cruelty,  but not so true for our youth .  As if they are not wounded enough with absentee parents and divorce, the consenting policy is just one more opportunity to mis-manage the mind of a teen.  Let me explain a bit further here– I am the adult, however, this particular hospital insisted the details of a cerebral angiogram be described to my son (a minor). Angiograms are no picnic, they are the gold standard of brain tests and are approximately a 2-3 hour procedure, whereby one is put to sleep.  At the meeting my son looked faint, but powered on.  As scheduled, the next morning he bravely walked into radiology, got into his hospital gown and was left alone in a tiny room waiting.  The wait was growing a bit long, when he walked out announcing he was not going to go through with this.  He elaborated that he did not want to be put under and have a catheter running through his arteries stopping just above his neck whereby doctors would begin to shoot dye into his brain for imagining.  Information overload for a frightened teen already anxious about his health.  There were no sedatives administered to help him, only a few kind nurses tried to talk him into going through with this.  At 6’1” his mind was made up, maybe next year he thought he could get a cerebral angiogram.  The anesthesiologist standing by agreed that the consenting policy for minors was over the top ridiculous- he said there are many adults who don’t want to know what procedures entail, so why do we need to subject our kids to this? When I later confronted the neurologist about this he mumbled something about Nuremberg . . . . . hmm. When I told a doc friend about this he replied, “Can we just stop here, can’t we do better for our children?”  As a doc the entire incident upset him greatly.

Bedside manners seem to have all been tossed out with our health care plans of which I reminded UCSF in a stern, but jello- felt moment email to their neurology department. My son now has a new neurologist who seems to understand the complexities of teen-agers.  She asked us to be a part of a research study, starting out with a higher quality MRA.  This may not give them all the info they need, but her plan is to enlist his trust and ease him into the challenges and concerns of an aneurysm which due to the type and location, may or may not be treatable.  Meantime we wait—peach jello anyone?

Stay true,

M

About a week ago I had the night off – from everything. No child, no social engagements, and no deadlines I was free to dabble in my heart’s delights.  Naturally the evening passed all too quickly and I found myself baking brownies at midnight.  The luxury of freedom tasted so good around 1am.  The beauty of it all.  Yes, there was beauty in the baking (sorry). Beauty that lives inside the freedom of self-expression, that pops out to affirm and dedicate itself to . . . . . . all things beautiful.  As long as I can remember I have been a lover of beauty and of making beauty; however; it never dawned on me beauty was in my personal freedoms, my choice, my time—simply because they are all mine.  I thought there was a certain amount of doing involved in beauty, as it turns out beauty only requires being true to self—in every moment, every choice, and in every thought if you will.  There is no doing as far as I can tell; there is only the effortless streamlining of being loyal to yourself—being committed to your authenticity if you will.  But first you must find out who you really are and just imagine what this would bring . . . . . .it sounds old fashioned, but beauty is as available as baking brownies at midnight.

Stay true,

M

*RIP Eight Belles—you must have been a true beauty.

Don’t know whether it is because it’s tax season or hormones but I’ve been in the woe is me mode all week.  It sucks.  The cherry trees are about to burst and so am I.  There is nothing quite as spectacular as spring in Sonoma County and this year because of all the rains the blossoms are particularly glorious, or as my son said taking his ipod out of his ear, “That tree is angelic mom”.  To true, solid white, thick, happy flowering plums reaching out in blissful celebration.  Believe me I adore how the gods delight us in spring, so what is wrong with me?  Perhaps I am down, I decided because I haven’t necessarily had the time to enjoy the jovial botanicals, so I did what any hard-working single mom would do—I played hooky and took myself to lunch at one of my favorite west county digs.  There was a table waiting just for me outside, I sat down, breathed in the splendor of spring, ordered up a glass of Thumprint pinot with an extra garlicky Cesar salad.

“By-the-way, I asked my waiter, do you have any anchovies?”  “No, I don’t think so,” was his reply.  But lucky for me, one of the chefs came out of the kitchen for a moment (must have been to drink in some spring) and my waiter asked him if they had any anchovies in the kitchen.  “Yes”, beamed the chef (he recognized an anchovy fan).  When the Cesar arrived it was topped off with a heaping pile of anchovies, which I promptly popped a few into my mouth, and then I picked up the large leafs of romaine with my fingers, sipped my wine and completely enjoyed myself.

As I was leaving, life felt better.  No former husband to complain about me eating garlic or anchovies that is one plus.  Beauty abounds us here in wine country, which is another plus and on it went-until all the plusses elevated my spirits up to a flowering plum kind of celebration.

As I walked to my car three gorgeous men were walking directly into my path. Hard not to notice one was a Clint Eastwood rugged-type with curly, dark hair.  And they stopped to ask me, if my little restaurant was a good one.  “Very good,” I replied—“this is Sonoma County, most of these restaurants are fabulous with sustainable local produce on their menus and killer boutique wines by the glass.”

To which Clint Eastwood smiled big and said, “Is that what I am smelling?”  “I smell something delicious.”  Ears beginning to burn, I threw my hand across my mouth and noted, “That would be me, I just ate a ton of anchovies on top of an extra garlicky Cesar salad.”

“Would you like to join us for a glass of wine?” he asked.

Hmmm-a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  Who knew a few seemingly inconsequential anchovies could revive the promise of spring . . . . .

Stay true,

M

Maybe it is the long rainy days that brought this on or mercury in retrograde, but recently I developed a strong aversion to ‘screens’—monitors, televisions, laptops, blackberries—you know – ‘screens’.  It began in a taxi ride in NY when the news was on a ‘screen’, it heightened while standing in line at a supermarket where the news was on a ‘screen’ again, and pretty much climaxed when my body kept avoiding sitting down in front of my ‘screen’ to work last week.

No fool to clues of burn out, I promptly took a walk in the rain breathed in the negative ions, allowed myself to become awestruck by the lingering fog and for a moment felt better.  Still when I walked into my office, I could not get my body to settle down in front of my ‘screen’.  So I built a fire, made a cup of tea, and decided I was going to unplug for a day or so.

Which as you know is not so easy.   To unplug- or to disconnect these days requites a bit of effort.   AT&T, etc market themselves by keeping us all connected—‘all around the world’.  What I am wondering though is —- what staying connected means or translates to ‘all around the world’.  One might like to think that staying connected has overtones of caring—of keeping in touch with ones values, sense of self, friends, family, belief systems, and if you will to-god.  Staying connected not so long ago was something we did to keep us whole, nurtured—and sane. Staying connected did not translate to connecting to a ‘screen’-no matter how flat, thin, or skinny.

About the only ones advocating we disconnect from our ‘screens’ is Kaiser Permanente—everyone I speak to agrees—their ads rock.  Why? Because in the name of health and healthy lifestyles Kaiser continually suggests we turn off our screens—we disconnect, we manage our stress, become nutritionally and emotionally aware of our choices, and generally spend some time reflecting on how best to take care of oneself—all significant keys to maintaining health.  Finally, a health care model that understands the key to our current health care crisis is prevention.  (Take note that prevention requires awareness and balance.)  With thoughts of health care systems focusing on prevention then might it be a good idea for us to start looking at ways in which we can all disconnect and focus on bringing our lives back into balance—re-connecting to that which truly matters?

Stay true,

M

Local (and then some) Rants & Raves 2008

RAVES   (M’s Best of the Best)
Champagne: Krug, Brut 1996
Sparkling Wine:  Schramsberg Brut Blanc de Noirs 2003
Pinot: Halleck & Sons 2005
Grenache: Jeff RunquistWines 2006
Malbec: Chateau St. Jean 2004
Grappa: Mazzatti di Altavilla Le Rose
Marguerita: Barn Diva, Healdsburg
Restaurant: Ravenous, Healdsburg
Sushi Ran, Sausalito
Chocolate: La Dolce V
Tomatoes:  Tiger-Striped Heirlooms from Sol Food Farm
Smile: Shea Breaux Wells (new CD coming soon)
Sir Richard Branson 
Jazz /JazzExperience:  Patricia Barber performing to a very intimate audience, Healdsburg Jazz Festival, Barn Diva
Club:  The Forge, Miami
Party: Jean’s Pajama Party, Eldorado Kitchen. Sonoma
Foundation:  SEVA
Film: Juno
Painter:  Kim Lordier (fantastic Norcal pastels)
Theater: sad to say didn’t get much in this year- heard Coast of Utopia and Rock and Roll both by Stoppard are fantastic
Speech: Chairman Dana Gioia Stanford’s 2007 Commencement Speech

RANTS
“You finished?” What’s up with five-star restaurants rushing over to take your plate just as you place the last bite into your mouth? Don’t they have enough dishes in the kitchen?  
“I will call you back just as soon as I can” As heard on one too many VM’s UGHHH yes we know how very important you are and that meeting with your endless lists of senior VP’s will take 3 months at least
The New Gateway Drug Highly addictive, extremely violent online adventure games targeting our youth, especially boys who have been found to play for hours, days, weeks at a time alone in their bedrooms.
Sebastopol, CA The community is PCing themselves into the dead zone of indignant stagnation and misdirected hostility (makes one want to light up a cig on Main Street)
Not Giving Money to Homeless People Do we really think that by not giving them a $1 or $5 that this will help?
Hearing the N word from Anyone Rappers included, it just plain hurts
Fake Floral Bouquets Are they really sent as gifts?

I was thinking how wheat has now become the new dairy-wreaking havoc on our digestive systems, immune systems, and giving many of us annoying allergy symptoms.  Personally, I’ve begun to see wheat as a toxic mimic of what used to be sustainable food fare, now with all of the hybridization those of us with wheat sensitivities don’t stand a chance against sourdough, store-bought pasta, or even oatmeal for god’s sake.  Some research points out that common wheat allergy could actually be a mold allergy, due to the overdose of penicillin given at a younger age, but that’s another story.
Lost in thought about the good ‘ole days of Kansas wheat fields and home baked breads, I dreamed up the image of a cowboy.  Yep, round ‘em up cowboys; men who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to let the world know—like wheat back then men were not hybridized.  They weren’t so much a mixture of mumbo-jumbo excuses—they just were their own variety.  And they had names that let the world know who they were – proud yes, fearless, I think to a point, but best of all I sense they had passion.

Last week I was talking to a dear male friend, married for like 30 some years who posed the question, ‘Maggy what is wrong with these guys?”  He had just met one of my gorgeous friends in LA who was well, single and before that had two calls from friends of his in NY who are, well single and then there is me.  He is perplexed and it was I who had to inform him that we fabulous single women have reached epidemic levels.  Not that this is any news to available men out there, but it was to him.  He had difficulty fathoming why all these exceptional women are, well on their own.

Not that any of us consciously chose this.  We duty date and give it a go putting the past behind us.  But is it a woman’s fault that so many men today are a combination of indecision and separation—lacking genuine passion and ever-so fearful of the C word (commitment)?  I think so.  Why should the new fusion of men have to do much at all when on any given day, they can be so easily gratified?

Until women learn that it is their job to set the standard and teach whoever, wherever how they want to be treated, we lose.  And it seems we are losing big, as our hybrid men suffer from the confusion of instant gratification-another day, week, month, year goes by—each of us relinquishing the need, the wonder and the beauty of authentic intimacy.  What we are left with is the cross pollination of feelings that pale in comparison to, well my image of a cowboy.

Stay True,

M

October is only few short weeks away and we as consumers are soon to be overcome with choices in pink.  We will have pink toilet paper, pink M & M’s, pink mouthwash and toothpaste (joking) descended upon us like a casual summer rain.  October in case any of you have been asleep for the past 7 years is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and there is not anything quite like the pink parade of products that promote the political correctness of caring about women’s breasts.  With all the bells and whistles blowing in October I, for one wonder where does all the money go?  By the time companies, manufacturers, and organizations pay for all of their pink advertising costs and products how much is for their image and how much is for a cure?  I wonder.

Obviously I am not referring to the authentic breast cancer organizations like Susan B Komen, Avon, etc- I am referring to companies who claim to align themselves with being pink for one month.  Hopefully for each pink product there is a CEO who understands that beautiful women in all shapes, ages, and sizes everywhere are loosing beautiful breasts; nature’s most symbolic of all things feminine and nurturing.  Hopefully they have considered the single mom who now has to shuffle work, motherhood, and her treatments-who when she has a moment, turns on the television and sees an ad for pink M & M’s.  Hopefully the marketing department asks themselves would this mom be encouraged or infuriated by our pink product.  Hopefully these brainchildren of pink truly care and hopefully they have been told that 65% of all breast cancers happen in the left breast.  The left side of our bodies accepted as the feminine/receptor side of our bodies—and the left breast closest to our heart.  The heart in so many women bruised, closed, and hurting.

Perhaps by addressing this fact, the pink parade will somehow translate their consumer fluff into joy.  Pink products will be designed with the sole concept of bringing joy, for what women need most during recovery is the best heart-healer of all – the belief in and the experience of joy.  No strings attached complete and pure – JOY.

Stay True,

M

As autumn rolls around it reminds us up here on the grade (this is how we who live here refer to Harrison-Grade Road) that there are so many things to be thankful for in Sonoma County we begin by recognizing the bountiful harvest that is seen in our artisan farms, vineyards, and apple orchards.  We celebrate the abundance of the season by gathering with our friends for one last outdoor dinner party, one last dip in the river, or the neighborhood pool.  Each of us acknowledging how blessed our lifestyle is, how precious our friendships are, and how we like the seasons, change.

For the past three years I have been a very lucky girl up here on the grade.  My neighbors are a group of organic farmers and remarkable chefs who have created Sol Food Farm, a sustainable farm and CSA (community supported agriculture) serving western Sonoma County.  It was as if the gods magically and strategically placed them right next to me , arriving during one of life’s difficult moments—they brought with them beauty, joy, and their tender friendships.  The gods are always full proof—immediately creating conditions that necessitated the building of true friendships.  They in desperate need of more well water, me offering use of my well which, in turn, led to gates being cut into our fences, and they rest they say, “ is history.”

We became a family overnight.  Sharing our lives, our stories, food, wine, water, and Zane (my son) duty.  They changed my life, as an on my own parent in the country I suddenly had help, a safety net, for my home, my animals and my son.  Yes, very much to be thankful for indeed

This summer we’ve taken to making dinners and sitting out underneath our nighttime sky until the wee small hours—merrymaking, dancing, and singing. Our time has been even more precious as like the summer sun, they will be moving on, all of them.  Some moving east for cheaper farmlands, and a more dynamic CSA agriculture scene, some onto MBA degrees, and some may stay in the county, but not next to me.

How grateful I am during Sol Food’s last harvest this year to have been touched by young organic farmers, working each day to make a difference in our community and in our world.  Each committed to sustainability in all facets of life and nature, although the thought of them moving on leaves me with a heavy heart, I will look back on our times together as one the best . . . . . in gratitude—

Stay true,

M

At first I stopped into Albertsons, but they didn’t have what I wanted, so I thought to try Safeway, but they didn’t have it either.  Hmmm, what was this elusive product that was not upon the shelves in these two conglomerate grocery competitors?  It was simply a bottle of sparkling Crystal Geyser water (berry-flavored).  I was certain both stores used to carry Crystal Geyser; after all it is a local company.  But to my surprise neither corporate grocer had this item on their shelves.  It seems that in the ever-increasing world of choice, the larger the venue, the smaller the choice.  (I found my coveted Berry-Flavored Crystal Geyser down the road at our little produce stand, “Andy’s Market”).

Don’t get me wrong these large, tumbling over grocers would like for their consumers to believe they are offering us choice, especially when there are rows upon rows of the same brand only in different flavors, shapes, and sizes.

Consider Crest toothpaste; I’ve noticed they are the masters.  They disguise the reality of choice par excellence.  Walk into any chain drug store and check out the toothpaste aisle.  Witness how many rows are devoted to Crest.  There is a row for super strength, seniors, extra fluoride, kids, and on it goes until just about one half of the toothpaste aisle is taken up by, well . . . . .  Crest.

Pretend Choice is what I like to call this marketing ploy.  Consumers are lead to believe that they do in fact have a wide-variety of choices, but in truth it’s

basically one brand in different packaging.

In our global economy choice today is something to be revered, to support, and use.  I suggest shopping local, keep your choices real, and understand it’s the handful of wholesalers in America who only want to move products—choice for the public at large is not part of their agenda.

Stay true,

M

So many of us with children joke that they are born with a computer chip, as technology seems to be a given with them.  When my ipod isn’t working properly or when I can’t figure out a new setting on my mobile phone I ask my 12 year old son for help.  If after about 5 to 10 minutes of playing around with my phone, computer, or ipod he can’t fix it then I know I will have to give in and call tech support—and we all know how much fun this can be!

Let’s face it though, tech geeks are in demand.  Geeks are hot.  Geek-chic is taking over, “Dorothy we are not in Kansas anymore”, these guys are wearing hand-embroidered $600 jeans, uber cool glasses, and Italian shoes.  Instant Acquired Wealth Syndrome is something that I’d say 9 out of 10 cases refers to the geeks who have made an enormous amount of money with their tech-based solutions—- solutions that continue to bring us all a little closer. . . . .

Personally, I am fascinated with their language, their creativity, and brains.  True every career has its own language- the language of finance, economics, medicine and whatnot, but geek language is continually being created and defined—it’s astoundingly fun!  I think geeks at large are having much more fun than their image allows us non-techies to believe . . . . .

Last week at the Microsoft WPC (World Partner Conference) in Denver, 10,000 or so Microsoft business partners met up to exchange tech solutions for just about every type of business you could think of—their was even a taxidermy solution, for well taxidermists.  I have to admit that I found all these “solutions” fascinating (once you figure out what in the hell they are talking about—get a geek to put what they are doing into lay terms there is no going back – I keep telling my friends they are just so damn creative).

Within a few short hours, after roaming the Expo Hall, I realized that there are very few of us left on earth who could live without Microsoft.  Let’s see how easy it would be for us to navigate our business worlds without Microsoft for a few days . . . . .  which has me wondering could Microsoft become part of our DNA?

Stay true,

M