Don't mess with the GPS

I remember the first time I saw my sister's leather purse that she brought back from Spain. I instantly broke the 10th commandment, "Thou shalt not covet they neighbour's house, wife, manservant, his ox, his ass, or anything that is thy neighbour's." In my case, my neighbour was my sister and her manservant the purse.

So when this morning she was telling me a story about how over the weekend her family all took a bike ride to the beach and she threw the little purse into the bike basket, fully loaded with her iPhone, her daughter's Blackberry, a couple of credit cards, and $80 cash I knew there was going to be a horrific ending to the story, involving the little purse that I had so secretly wanted as my own. You are probably wondering why anyone would need to take all these essentials (credit cards and $80) to the beach, but hey, who knows what spectacular purchases might be available along the way.

She started telling me how when they arrived at the beach and parked their bikes, her daughter Emmy handed her the purse, which Pam absentmindedly sat on the bench next to her. As they enjoyed the sun, the water, the gorgeous Santa Barbara day, it was soon time to go home, leaving my little dream purse alone, on a bench, to fend for itself. Oh, all I could think was “I knew she should have given that purse to me!”

They got back to the house and Pam said to Emmy, “Where is my purse?” The natural progression of blame started in, "you did, I did, why did, how did, and on and on." Hopping into Emmy's Prius, back to the beach, praying and cursing all the way that the purse would be unharmed, waiting to be rescued by it's rightful owners. Upon arriving, they checked the bench, the area all around, no sign of the purse. There were a few people nearby, according to my sister, they were "scumbags" and I believe she also used the term "white trash." Two guys and a girl. Age, approximately late 20's early 30's. Pam approaches the "scumbags" and asks if they have seen the purse, or did they see anyone at the table, anyone? "No, sorry." They didn't see anyone or have any knowledge of the purses whereabouts. Now, let me back up a bit. Pam is married to a big, strong, though peaceful and kind looking man, and also has a big strapping hunk of a son who has the same kindly traits as his father, yet physically he can appear a bit menacing, you wouldn't want to mess with him. But did they accompany the women to the beach as part of the search and rescue team? No, they instead choose to stay home and make popcorn and watch some program on the large screen TV.

Frustrated, angry at herself, in a state of upset, she returned home purseless with her daughter who was in a panic because as most of you know, an entire life is contained on your iPhone, all of your contacts, important correspondence, paperwork, photos of the last spring break party you attended that should never be released to the public, unless a lucrative deal was to made with "Girls Gone Wild". A light bulb went off in Pam's head as she remembered that there is a GPS on her iPhone. All she had to do now was go home, get online, pull up her phones GPS. “Find Pam’s Phone” and voila, she would find it. She is brilliant I must say. A real Charlies Angel.

So as the "boys" are enjoying their popcorn Pam and Emmy are on the computer frantically tracking the phone. Just like a CSI episode, great minds at work. Up pops the screen with the location of Pam's iPhone. Right on the beach, right where they left it. Okay, boys, get in the car, you are coming with us. The four of them are off again to the beach. Luckily when they arrived the "scumbags" were still there and Pam, who is a petite thing, with an angelic face and kind demeanor, turns into her pit bull self (I have witnessed this transformation a few times and I must say, it is as impressive as Superman in the phone booth, I love it when she does this!) She goes up to the group and tells them that the GPS tracked her phone to their location. Meanwhile, my big strapping, sometimes scary looking nephew, casually pulls out his phone and dials her phone number, and lo and behold it starts ringing in the girl scumbag’s backpack. "That's my phone!” Pam cries out. Without hesitation, they return my beloved purse to my sister, and apparently they hadn't even looked inside yet, the cash, cards and both phones were still intact. I guess the purse alone was worth coveting. Yes, I can relate.

They turned and left without saying a word, you don't need to say much when David is standing next to you, and off they rode into the sunset. If I would have been with them, I know I would've ended the day on a more dramatic note. I would have at least spewed some choice words at them and then, like a Hollywood hero, kicked sand in their face, all the while knowing I was in the safety of my kick-ass sister and protection of my "don't mess with me" nephew.

So future criminals, you might want to be aware that these "fancy" phones have a GPS. And actually from past experience, even if the phone doesn't, law enforcement does. They can track your phone to any location via satellite. You might want to think twice about taking what is not yours. And you surely don't want to mess with my sister's iPhone - unless you want to mess with her entire family, the eSopranos of Santa Barbara.

iPhone - $400, day at the beach - $100, watching Pam & David kick ass, priceless.

Online and off limits

Moms with their Blackberries, Dad's with their Droids, children entertaining themselves with a Starbucks Frappuccino or a McDonald's Happy meal.  You see it everywhere and yet yesterday I saw it more than I wanted to, another one of those "signs" of mine, and obviously a sign of the times.  This sign had to do with being present, paying attention.

We were down on Hawthorne Street in Portland, doing a bit of thrift store shopping when we ended the day at the corner Starbucks.  After getting our drinks we decided to take a table and actually enjoy our drinks on site instead of racing off to the car with them.  Next to our table was a Dad and his, I'm guessing here, four year old daughter.  Adorable daughter at that.  They apparently had ridden their bikes as she was still wearing her pink flowered helmet.  Dad was eating a piece of banana bread, drinking his coffee, and either checking his email, Facebook account, Craigslist, porn sites, or who knows what. All I do know, for a fact, is that we sat next to them for at least a solid 15 minutes and he did not speak one word or even look up at his little girl, not even a glance. I looked at her, plenty.  I really couldn't keep my eyes off of either of them as I kept waiting to see some sort of interaction between the two.  She looked around, looked at me, and when our eyes would meet I would give her a little smile but she would quickly look away.  Maybe that was from the old "strangers" message we send to our children at a very young age.  Whatever.  I just know that I was disturbed by this now prevalent trend, this new attachment, the addiction du jour, of being in a constant state of connection, but not with the people around us, but cyberspace to be more exact.  In all fairness, I am sure they interacted, talked, hugged, laughed, etc. plenty on their bike ride over and the morning spent together, but as I watched them my heart seemed to ache a bit for this little girl, whose eyes darted back and forth, her "a bit too big" helmet slipping from side to side, looking uncomfortable and I wished Dad could have at least removed it for her while she was inside enjoying her adult snack.

Later in the day we had to run to the mall, against my better judgment but I needed to pick up some Evian water at Nordstroms.  We were all hungry by this time and decided to visit the dreaded food court.  As we all went our merry way to scout out the many offerings we then returned to a table where next to us sat a Mom and her young son.  She had her cellphone pressed up to her ear, talking on her phone while the small boy entertained himself by putting his head between the railings they were sitting next to, staring at people, fidgeting around with his food, fidgeting around with his body. They even got up and changed tables, mom never missing a beat on her phone conversation, and what a conversation it must have been, because again, she was on the phone the entire time we were eating and never once said a single word to her son.  Not even when his head seemed stuck between the protective guard rail.

You might be thinking that I spend way too much time judging, staring, and otherwise involving myself in the business of others.  You might be right.  I know my daughter Olivia thought I was obsessing a bit. I just couldn't help but think how lonely a feeling it must be to lose a parent to a video game, a cell phone, the Internet, TV soap operas, or the numerous other mind numbing distractions out there.  I remember being young and at times our Mom telling us to "find something to do" or "go outside and play", but it wasn't so she could spend time playing Farmville on Facebook or talking for endless hours on the phone to friends.  It was usually because she was busy doing something for us, whether it was cooking our next meal, putting the groceries away, changing our sheets, you get the idea.  I just remember that when we were in her presence, she was present. And I'm not against parents having their own time, I just don't think there "own" time should be spent while in the company of others.  There really is enough time to take care of all the trivial things but the time we have to interact with our children, to engage in a conversation no matter how simple it may be, is time both precious and fleeting.  There will always be a new Farmville to play.

Red, white and summer blues

Call me unpatriotic, anti-social, bored with the whole "pollute up the air" fireworks, but Independence Day has never been anywhere near the top of my list of favorite holidays.  Maybe because it falls in summer. I don't eat hot dogs, not too fond of jello salad, can't stand the noise from the neighborhood street firecrackers and the late night pan banging and bottle rockets that interrupt my already restless sleep.

But, as usual, I am harassed by friends, or perhaps I should use a less harsh word, let's try nudged, by my best friend Virginia in particular, to engage in the festivities, oh it will be so fun!  She promises Sangria, her killer potato salad (which it was) sun, pool and laughs (which were many).

Sangria, anyone?

Last year I decided to attend her 4th of July BBQ, she lives in Roseville, and from Napa it takes me about an hour and 40 minutes to get to her house.  After the long day's festivities I decided to drive home and was stuck in traffic that made my one way drive home an obnoxious 4 hours long.  Imperfect ending to a perfect day. I swore I would never get anywhere near I-80 again on a holiday, or I might even go so far as to avoid I-80 for the entire summer. It would just depend how well my memory would serve me.

I-80

So this year, same invite to spend the 4th with Virginia.  I decided to spend the night this time, enjoy a leisurely morning with coffee together on the patio and that way insuring an easy ride home.  Yes, I'll show them.  While all of you folks are back working on Tuesday, me and my smug self will be zooming along in the fast lane, making record time, thrilled at my good fortune of having the luxury to come and go as I please.  My mistake, apparently everyone else had the same bad taste in their mouth from their previous holiday road trips and decided they too, could take an extra day off work and beat the rest of the crowds at their own game.

I'm not sure the reason, but Cal Trans always seems to schedule major road construction during the summer (which I've never understood, since we have extremely mild winters here and the work could be done anytime during the year) but they seem to be particularly fond of holiday weekends.  Really hot ones.  Where the sun beats in your car window and even with the A/C blasting a chilly 59 degrees, you could still get 3rd degree burns on one side of your face, your one arm, throw in a thigh.  Maybe they resent having to work during the heat of summer  - you know, misery loves company.  If I'm going down I'm gonna take you with me attitude.

So, it's bad enough that there is traffic, construction, and temperatures hovering around the 100 degree mark.  But the drivers, OMG, the drivers! I realize that I do obsess about this subject matter from time to time, but I can't help but be amazed that a driver's license is so easy to get.  For one thing, I would think if the general public has grasped the concept of "tall, grande and venti" that by now they should understand, "slow lane, fast lane, and the harmless middle of the road lane."  But apparently not.  There is nothing worse (I know that isn't a true statement, of course there are worse things, but the statement is for effect) than being trapped behind someone driving much too slow in the fast lane, you can't get around them, because car #2 in the lane next to you is mindlessly keeping pace with you.  There is no way out, you are stuck driving behind "I obey all speed limits" and wedged next to the car in the middle lane who could care less about your dilemma.  Frustrating to say the least. 

I have mentioned before that I am a Fire Monkey in Chinese Astrology and one of the first mentions of the monkey personality is that they have "superiority complexes" - I don't really see it as a complex, it just is what it is.  I know how to drive.  I pay attention, not just to the road in front of me, but the drivers behind me, on the side of me, I check my rear view mirror frequently, check to see who is merging on the freeway and make room if need be.  I guess though, that my expectations of others are too high - I expect them to drive like I do.  Sometimes I can get a little high strung in the car - which can be intensified if say, someone like "Nine Inch Nails" comes on the radio - and I need to remind myself, "find better station" and "breathe, just breathe".

But on a positive note, and I am working this to find one, as I was crawling along, barely moving, a good sized dragonfly was flying along side my car, at eye level and just stayed with me for maybe 5 minutes.  Here on this late hot morning, on a polluted freeway, this little creature stayed with me, kept me distracted and it made me recall a time when it seemed dragonflies were all around me, I would see them in the yard, on a book jacket, on a piece of artwork, and I looked up their meaning.  The dragonfly is symbolic of renewal, positive force and the power of life in general. Dragonflies can also be a symbol of the sense of self that comes with maturity. As a creature of the wind, the dragonfly frequently represents change and maybe most importantly, as a dragonfly lives a short life, it knows it must live its life to the fullest with the short time it has.

Alright little happy dragonfly, I will try and heed your message.  Which I am taking as "quit complaining, grow up a bit, and enjoy your life, even if stuck in traffic."  I guess if you look around a bit, side to side, instead of always straight ahead, lose the tunnel vision, there are many good things worth seeing, even on the congested freeway of life.

Making my way back to happy

When pulling yourself up from the bottom, when it requires tremendous effort just to face the day, swallow a piece of toast, shop for groceries, there occasionally comes brief flashes of joy - somewhere from deep within, a strength that shows up, feeling empowered for the moment.  You want to put on "I will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor or "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele and just scream out the lyrics.  Music can and does change everything.  If I could just play a continual soundtrack of kick ass Beyonce, "You must not know 'bout me, I can have another you in a minute" - I'd never look back.

So, while in the midst of recovery, (and I am calling it that because I am beginning to wonder if I've been addicted to the drama, pain and excitement of my relationship maybe more so than the love, the actual person), it is the little things, the simple things that bring light back into our world.  Last week I had many glimpses of such simple things, reminding me that  brighter days are in my future.

Simple things such as; upon waking I knew the weather was going to be absolutely beautiful, the week had in store a warm and crisp 78 degrees, tops, the weather man promised.  Now this is what I'm talking about.  This is the Napa weather that I love.  Better yet, I went to throw on something to wear to the dentist, put on my white cotton men's shirt, and lo and behold, my jeans were a bit too baggy.  Into the drawer of  "someday these will fit agains" and with ease, my jeans from last year just slid right over my hips, zipped up with no problem, no horizontal positioning required.  Talk about happy.  Who knew what five pounds could do for a mood, much more effective I'm sure than any mood elevating drug out there.

Then, I went to the dentist for a cleaning, first time in 6 years, - yes I was surprised too when the hygienist said I hadn't been seen by them since 2005 - "Really"?, I exclaimed, shamed and feeling like my dirty laundry had just been exposed to the world, I knew it had been awhile.  "Have you been getting your teeth cleaned elsewhere?", she sternly asked.  No, no, I swear, and even though that was the truth, I felt guilt burning all across my face. After the cleaning and exam, to my surprise and hers, she said my teeth looked like I had just had them cleaned recently, and, no cavities!  "Keep up whatever you are doing", she said as I jumped out and up from the chair, excited, feeling like I could take on the world.  Yes, simple things such as dropping a few pounds or a great dental checkup, can propel you forward, make you feel hopeful, on top of the world, for the moment anyway.

Now my dentist, who I have known now for many years had tried to set me up with a friend of his years ago.  At the time I was already involved in my soon to be Jerry Springer worthy relationship so I had to pass.  One of his first questions during my exam, "You have a man in your life?"  Sadly and under my breath "No, not any more, just recently ended."  My dentist, "Hmm, who do I know that I could set you up with?"  I told him, "Listen Rob, that's the last thing I need right now.  And before you even think about that I have a whole list of requirements, things that I definitely do not want in a relationship."  Shared laughter.  He started to tell me a story about a friend of his whose list was so impossibly unattainable that she had been single for the past 30 years.  I assured him I wasn't that bad, all I was asking was he not be an alcoholic or display any sociopathic behaviors. "Can he at least have a glass of wine?" the dear doctor asked me with a grin, remember, we live in the Napa Valley.  "I can handle a glass of wine or two, that would be fine, its just the finding half empty vodka bottles shoved between the cushions of my sofa instead of the remote or spare change, not so much."  Shared knowing sad smile. He hugged me when I left. And that simple exchange, his kind words and a simple hug, made me feel less alone.

So the bottom line here, if there is a bottom, is that things do start to look up, it's just a matter of how you look at things. It's hard not to go to those dark places, those sad places, regret, wishful thinking, wanting to go back to the way things were, patch up the quilt, because it is what we know, it is comfortable.  It is our life.  It might not be the best life, or the one we are deserving of, but it is ours.

When the tide turns and it sometimes feels like we are left to drown, it is hard to view loss or unwanted change as a blessing, and yet that may very well be what it is.  Sink or swim.  In the really difficult events leading up to this moment in time, what he gave me was my freedom, he took the noose off my neck, or actually he dropped me to the ground and then I took the noose off myself.  I read somewhere to be thankful for our blessings, for all that we have, but to be equally thankful for the things we are denied - we may never know the reason, but we may have very well just dodged a bullet. 


(P.S.- thanks for all the kind comments, and ELL, I appreciate your prayers :) - they all helped immensely

Brokeback Camel

Relationships are tough.  Just watch episodes of Sex and the City or any Lifetime movie and you'll know it to be true.  More than likely you don't even need to turn on the TV, you have your own front row, first hand experience to go on.

My relationship came with many red flags, actually they were more like giant red banners flapping in the wind and even presented themselves on occasion as huge red blimps, flying overhead.  Unfortunately for me, my squinted eyes viewed these red flags with curiosity, mystery and above all, flags that could be removed, or with the help of the DIY network, bleached out and dyed a nice loving shade of pink.

It is unpredictable and often baffling to determine what will be the "straw that breaks the camel's back" in a rocky relationship.  When you have so many straws, entire hay bales at times, added to the overall burden you've been carrying, it seems you always think you can attempt to take on one more.  Testing our own limits?  Resting in our own fear?  Not wanting to fail, give up, let go, to start over again? As in all matters of the heart, it remains a mystery. I remember years ago telling my brother that I felt that this relationship could destroy me, that I would be hurt, that it was as if  I was tying myself to the railroad tracks and just waiting for the train to run over me.  His response was "then why don't you get up?"  Good question.  But one I couldn't answer.

From the outside looking in, which is where I have been for many others, I have too often been the one that just can't understand how someone could stay in an unhealthy relationship. I have offered my flip remarks, such as "dump the bastard" to "get rid of the loser."  Thinking it a no-brainer, a matter of logic, removing the heart from the picture completely.  Like a surgeon, a job to be done, don't get emotionally attached, give the patient a number instead of a name. But when you are the patient and it is your heart, the strings pulled can be excruciatingly painful, ripping at your love, your history, your hopes, your dreams.  And as humans, we do whatever we need to do to avoid pain, all you need to do is visit a pharmacy to see that.  So at times it is a matter of which pain you want to deal with.  Stay or leave, they both have their side effects.

Battling my own mental war here, my mind won't settle and jumps back and forth between the right and the left brain, strong, determined, and logical to the weak, confused and emotional (insert whiny, "but I love him").  When our insides hurt, it is often times more painful that any physical pain we have endured.  This makes things difficult because the world doesn't slow down or make allowances for a beaten up, wounded heart that is bleeding to death.  There are no broken heart hospitals. People want you to move on, go out more, get a grip, meet someone.  Then we will be better.

So how do you heal a broken heart?  I tried finding how others that have been betrayed have dealt with it, Googling Sandra Bullock and Shania Twain, to name a couple, thinking this could be a short cut I could take.  But broken hearts are like weight loss, there is no magic pill.  We are a nation of "now" - we want immediate results, speedier speed, we'd rather replace than repair.  Well, you can't replace the heart, well not true, I guess you can, but it takes a while to get on the list.  And repairs can sometimes be lengthy and come at a great cost.  But time is the only solution.  We want it to rush by, or wish we could hibernate for a few months, come out of our cave to see everything new, green, in bloom and possibly ten pounds lighter.  But that isn't what we get.  We get long agonizing days that we just want to end, just want it to end so we can sleep, and more often than not that sleep is disturbed and restless, only to begin another long day of thinking, feeling and dissecting our way to an emotional meltdown.  How can the heart overtake us like this, be such a powerful force?

Well my camel's back broke the other day. My endurance ran out and I collapsed.  So now I have to play the miserable waiting game, and as anyone who knows me knows, I am not a game player.  Hate games. Please don't ask me to play scrabble with you. And I'm not that great at waiting either, patience isn't my strongest suit.  But lucky for me, what I do have is a very strong supportive back brace, in the shape of my friends and family, who will hold me up, make me see the humor in it all, and I know they will help me, remove the straw, one stick at a time.

99 bottles of wine on the wall

I had the most pleasant surprise last week.  I went to a friends over in Corte Madera (that is in Marin County, only 35 miles from where I live in Napa, and yet a world away).  When I arrived at her house she had made us a light lunch and then offered me a drink.  A glass of ginger minted iced tea.  How utterly refreshing!

You'd have to live here to understand.  Where?  Ah, here in the Napa Valley.  The perfect place for the "wine lover" to blend into the landscape, the vineyards, into the "grapeness" of it all.  The longer I live here, and I've lived here over 20 years, I am still amazed how wine, the area's biggest industry, permeates everything about the valley.  There isn't an event you will attend, a street fair, ladies luncheon, an art opening, a school fundraiser, where wine is not being served and celebrated.  It isn't so much that there is wine present, it's just
that there is nothing else offered.  Recently we attended an unveiling for one of our artists at an up valley winery.  Well of course they are serving their wine, and only their wine, but when I asked for water, the server seem baffled and said she had to go "search" for hopefully a hidden stash in some back room, probably in the employee refrigerator.

Welcome to the Napa Valley

Glorious hillside

The Napa Valley, the wine country, with it's celebrity chef restaurants, glorious vine studded hillsides reminiscent of a dreamy Italian landscape, is a fantasy lifestyle that many dream of.  New wineries seem to pop up more frequently than a pimple on the face of a high school freshman.  For me, wineries do remind me of high school, they are all about name, reputation, competition, and all of the other things that I hated, they are all wanting you to vote them Prom Queen (aka good review from Robert Parker).  But if you aren't already a wine lover, here you will have the opportunity to grow and mature into a functioning alcoholic that is accepted by all, loved by everyone, with a lifestyle to envy, a glorified street wino, driving the streets in a Range Rover instead of walking the streets with a paper bag.  It can happen so fast you won't even see the bottle that hit you over the head.

I realize there is a lot of wine drinking in other parts of the world, on a regular basis, even children drink their wine at lunch.  It is a part of life, part of the celebrated dining experience. But over there wine is usually diluted.  And because grape sugar content tends to be higher in California, our wines often have a higher alcohol content (up to 14%, compared with French wines' usual 12%), translation, quicker buzz.  Our children here in the valley are denied any alcohol of course, which makes it all the more appealing and desirable, but what must they be thinking when all they see are their parents and their parent's friends drinking on a regular basis?  Drinking a lot, I might add.  It sure looks like good times ahead, children learn what they see, hear and live.

I guess it is the double standard again that gets on my nerves, that civil rights activist that lives deep inside of me.  In the local paper all the DUI's are printed every month.  The name of every poor SOB that unfortunately had the bad luck of getting caught.  And most everyone of those names is a Hispanic surname. Well from the looks of it, you would think that the Hispanics are the only drunk drivers in the valley.  Shame on them.  Disgusted and placing blame, it is just one more stereotypical negative we can add to the list. Well, I happen to know from experience, having a friend who received a DUI, that if you are lucky enough to be able to hire yourself an attorney to appear with you in court, one of the requests that attorney will make is to keep your name out of the paper.  Oh well, now it is making so much sense.  There are just as many white "upstanding" citizens in this community, and you know who you are Dr. XYZ, driving with a blood alcohol level that would make you shiver at the though of them sharing the same road as you.  They get away with it.  I wonder if they get away with the court ordered classes, court fines and all of the other disgrace bestowed upon a person who has received a DUI as well.  The real truth of the matter is, almost everyone I know has at one time or another, taken that risk of driving after having a bit too much to drink.  And this valley makes it easy.

I like a glass of a full-bodied Cabernet or a crisp Sauvignon Blanc as much as the next guy, but here in Napa, it is easy for a person to hide behind the hundreds of wine labels, tasting, enjoying, drinking to excess, denying that there might be some kind of problem, .i.e., alcoholism, and instead substituting the word wine connoisseur.  No different from opening a bottle of gin or vodka, if people were drinking it everyday, at every opportunity, and in the same quantity, I believe we would be whispering behind those people's backs. Rich wine drinker or a poor paper bag wine drinker, a drunk is a drunk is a drunk.  Bottom line, we are all drinking way too much - maybe it's time to call a spade a spade and put a cork in it.

I'm turning Veganese

I'm sick of hearing myself complain about everything - from the weather, bad drivers, politicians and their "secret" children, to my own health woes.  Ah, I'm too fat, my knees ache, my head hurts, my eyes burn, I'm guessing your sick of hearing me too.  So today I'm taking the bull by the horns - I intend to make some changes.  First things first, I need to get healthy again, mind, body and soul.  I will first attempt the body.  If I look better I believe it is natural that feeling better soon follows.

A very do-able taking the bull by the horns

Last night as I was mindlessly flipping through the TV channels, I came upon the last few minutes of a PBS special, Kickstart your health with Dr. Barnard.  I didn't get to see much, but what he was touting was a Vegan Diet.  And not just to lose weight.  The benefits were much more impressive than just being able to slip into that old pair of "skinny jeans" we all keep stashed away in the closet.  He talked about how it can reduce your blood pressure, reverse heart disease, tame your diabetes, reduce or rid joint pain.  I felt like I had just slipped and fell into the big fountain of youth.  Too good to be true?  I'm not sure but I want to try this one. In the past I've never wanted to entertain a vegan diet (no cheese, yogurt, eggs?), but my aching joints and squeaky knees are begging me, "please, please, please?"

Instead of pledging $100 to obtain the book and also do a great service by supporting public television, I jumped on the computer, pulled up Amazon, and purchased the book for $9.99.  Do I feel good about myself?  No, not at all. But I will get over it.  One thing at a time, body, then mind and soul.

Dr. Barnard's book

The Kickstart your Health plan is a vegan diet.  He has you try it for 3 weeks, 21 days, and see how it affects you.  I think I can handle 21 days.  Of course, there will be interruptions.  Next weekend I will be in Portland and it might be difficult to avoid some of my favorites.  Oh wait, Voodoo Donuts make vegan donuts!  I'm in heaven.  And between all of those food trucks I'm sure there are many that dish up a delicious vegan speciality or two.  The following week I have a wine and cheese tasting that I need to attend.  Maybe I can just lick the cheese between swishing and spitting my wine.

The Flavour Spot food cart Portland - Vegan maple sausage waffle!!!

Vegan donuts at Voodoo Donuts in Portland

I don't have my book yet but I wanted to start this morning so I just went ahead and Googled "vegan diet".  So far so good.  I just got through one meal.  Banishing my half and half to the back of the refrigerator, I had my coffee with almond milk, it was fabulous.  Made some oatmeal, added sliced almonds and 1/2 a banana, a little agave nectar and a splash of almond milk. Wow, breakfast was easy.  Hmm, now, the hard part, what to have for lunch?

(FYI -  Noting or commenting on the state of affairs of the world, of others, or of ourselves does not necessarily constitute "complaining" - it is mere observation- thank goodness for that, otherwise I'd have nothing to blog about)