The Not So Secret Garden

Morning!

Spring has certainly sprung in this neck of the woods! Little buds are popping out everywhere, the new grass is starting to fill in those dead winter patches, and I am trying to figure out what to do with my ramshackle garden. One thing I learned about myself when I became a first time home owner: gardening is not my forte. In fact, it is a downright chore. I'd much rather be reading, walking, even doing laundry.

Still, I try to make gardening interesting and fun since I have a little girl I'll call "Sweet Pea". Like most children, Sweet Pea loves digging in dirt, finding worms, chasing lizards, and picking flowers. So every year we plant something new and hope for the best. No science here. No landscape architecture. No magazine worthy floral arrangements. When a seed goes in my dirt, I might as well read it its last rights, "Good luck little seed. See you on the other side." If you take a look at my garden, in fact, you would say to yourself, "Yeah, it sure looks like Cheryl is hoping for the best with this mess."

Mind you, some plants DO thrive here. It is just they tend to either grow insanely wild, or not at all. The happiest of my plants and trees grow without my help at all! Here is a virtual tour of my garden. First, there is my backyard. I love that it is a simple, square shaped grassy area surrounded by peach, plum, orange and kumquat trees. Last year we had hardly any plums or peaches (but that could be because my husband went nuts with trimming branches so that we could fit a bouncer on the grassy area. The bouncer fit, but my trees had a very bad haircut day!)

There is one corner of my backyard I call "Dead Man's Gulch." Nothing grows there. NO-THING! I have tried sun loving plants, shade loving plants, flowers, shrubs, ferns, you name it. Everything croaks a sad, pathetic death. I have both a rose bush and bird of paradise near that haunted corner and neither of them bloom. Itty bitty bugs fly around that corner, too. Obviously, there is bad karma in that area, probably a dead body or something underneath. Next Halloween, perhaps, I will conduct an archaeological dig...

My successes, however, include a lavender plant near my door that started out as a tiny wisp of a thing from the market and has turned into a colasses. I love to cut it and create a sweet smelling bouquet now and then. I also have a rosemary bush that is the happiest plant on earth -- it thinks it owns the place, and could probably star in a science fiction movie titled, "The Rosemary Bush That Ate Santa Clarita." My sweet little lamb's ear plant with leaves as soft as, you guessed it, a lamb's ear, competes for sun and space with the rosemary bush. I could swear I've heard my lamb's ear plant scream in a tiny voice, "Help Meeeee!" I also have iceberg roses -- you know, those white, bushy roses (very popular in Santa Clarita)that grow to reach amazing heights. I have two of those low maintenance rose bushes near my daughter's window and they offer shade in the summer, as well as a prickly protection from any possible intruders.

An aloe vera plant in a pot flanks my side path. The aloe vera came with the house and has come in handy a few times when I needed a sunburn cure (cut a leaf and use the "gel" inside the plant -- it works wonders). The miracle in our garden is a tiny pine tree that took root last year. It is unabashedly adorable, like a puppy that will turn into a monstrous Great Dane. We had to transplant the baby pine last year, and I was afraid we would kill it, but fortunately it made the surgery and is still going strong. I love to imagine that one day it will rise to glorious pine tree heights!

I guess that I actually do love my garden. Just writing about my defeats and victories makes me realize my garden and I have been through a lot together. Just last week, Sweet Pea and I planted sunflowers (the mammoth ones! Yikes!). We have also cleared a large area of some old plants and we are going to attempt our very own pumpkin patch there in the next week or so. By now, you can see there is no rhyme or reason to my gardening methods. It is solely for fun, it is an experiment, it is a work in progress. A little bit like life, in fact!

Alrighty, then. Time's awastin' and I wanna git me some weeds. Now where did I put my shovel?

Okay, here goes my blog on weight loss...

Happy Spring!

We all love the sound of birds chirping, the sight of flowers blooming, the smell of salty sea air at the beach, and the feel of our bathing suits skimming over our slender, toned bodies as we wade in the surf...well, um, maybe the first three, right?

Yes, for me March is always the month to awaken both my inner gardener and my panic stricken "it's going to be pool/beach time soon" weight watcher. Right now I have two strikes going against me: one, my mid-life hormonal shift in full swing and second, my Russian heritage genetic tummy propensity. What the?

A long time ago, my great, great, great grandmothers who had to rough it out in sub-zero Ukrainian winters were HAPPY to have a few extra pounds to help ease the seasonal lack of food. They worked hard on their farms in the spring and summer, but ate like horses in the fall so that they would have enough "storage" to survive the harsh icy spells. Of course, we all know that I am not living in Russia, or on a farm, and food is never scarce (fortunately) in this neck of the woods.

Hence, the problem. America is the land of plenty...and the land of gargantuan portions that are unhealthy and fattening. Did you know that McDonald's is going to have a special this summer: buy any size soda for $1. Righty-o, if your heart desires, you can get a humongous sugary soda for only a buck. Such a deal! But, the cost is what calories you pay in sugar and other additives.

There are a billion books on diets out there so I will not say "eat this, don't eat that." Naturally, our bodies want us to eat as healthy a diet as possible -- whole foods, not too much sugar, smaller portions. This hearkens back to one of my previous posts on moderation, too. Currently, I am reading a book by the Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, called "Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life." I haven't finished it yet, but I read something last night I wanted to share with you wonderful people out there.

I can only speak for myself when I say that often I will eat "just because" the food looks good, is there in front of me, for social reasons...etc, etc, etc. This book is all about making conscious decisions about food and taking the time to feel your body's hunger and satiety clues. One tidbit of advice he gives: breathe.

Just breathe. I will quote from the book: "The essence of mindfulness is to come back to dwell in the present moment and observe what is happening. When body and mind are one, the wounds in our hearts, minds, and bodies begin to heal. Then we can truly begin to transform our weight issues." Breath is the ticket to self-awareness and transformation. Lovely idea, right? But does Hanh have kids to take care of, housework to do, an overabundance of female hormones, or a nine-to-five job? I should say not. However, I do believe he is right.

We do need to slow down. Take a deep breath and appreciate what we are doing with our time, with our hands, with our eating habits. I have started replacing most refined foods for whole grains, for instance, and weening (slowly) my sweet tooth cravings with a bit of dark chocolate. Here is a meditation Hanh suggests when we want to feel "in touch" with our bodies:

"Breathing in, I calm my body.
Breathing out, I calm my body."

The breath is the key to mindfulness. It is important to stop for a few moments and center ourselves before we make decisions we might regret later. Slowing down. Not rushing our food...or our lives, for that matter. Not an easy thing to do nowadays, is it?

The other day I did an experiment at Starbucks. I ordered my usual: tall, decaf latte and then just sat down and drank the darn thing, sip by sip. As I did this, I watched other people come and go. The majority of people grabbed their drinks and quickly ran out the door as if they were trying to catch a plane. Everyone else sat down and drank their coffees and teas while reading a newspaper or working on their computer. No one else besides myself just sat there and drank their beverage. We are definitely a multi-tasking society, indeed!

I love one thing Hanh writes, "Following our breathing, we can collect our mind, body, and breath, and they will become one. We will feel warm and and soothed, like someone sitting indoors by the fire while the wind and rain are raging outside." Such a beautiful metaphor, to feel spiritually calm and safe and warm and fuzzy inside so we aren't influenced by "outside" distractions, disturbances and the usual stormy goings on of daily life.

I will be calm, I will just breathe...okay, now that I've done that, it's time to clean my house!

It's St. Patrick's Day and Guest Blogger Day!

Top 'o the morning to ye!

Today is a special day...we are supposed to wear green or we get pinched (actually, that doesn't sound so bad). Yes, I am bringing in some sugary green cupcakes to my daughter's classroom. And yes, today my husband, a big history buff, is giving a personal perspective on St. Patrick's Day. Let's give a hearty Irish welcome to my guest blogger, Steve H. Thatt!


I asked Cheryl if I could write a blog about St. Patrick's Day and she gave me "the green light." While Americans of all backgrounds enjoy celebrating the spirit of the holiday by imbibing spirits, our family prefers a more sobering favorite, green bagels and cream cheese, sold only in March, an example of unbridled capitalism and multiculturalism blended together.

Besides the obvious festive aspects of St. Paddy's Day, there is a deeply-felt side to the holiday for many Irish Americans which I found as a guest at a faculty party many years ago. Before the first round of drinks were consumed, one of my colleagues proposed a toast to the Irish who came to America starving and destitute, but overcame their misfortune to make major contributions in the fields of politics, public service, and industry. As she shared this history, she started to choke up. Others in the room of Irish descent were visibly moved as well. That night, there were toasts for Presidents Kennedy, Nixon and Reagan, the Boston Celtics, even Gumby and Mr. Potatohead.

When it was my turn to propose a toast, I raised my glass to Chris Magee. Now, if you don't know who Chris Magee is, you're not alone. Neither did anyone else at the party! In fact, most Americans have never heard of him unless of course you regularly watch the History Channel and saw a documentary on the Black Sheep Squadron, a legendary group of rowdy U.S. Marine Corps pilot aces who fought in World War II. But, "Wild Man" Magee, as he was known by his fellow pilots, not only did his part to win the war in the Pacific, he also played a significant role in the history of another nation.

After the war, he answered an ad looking for bush pilots to work in Alaska, but the employment office was located in Palestine, and Chris, along with other American volunteers, became a flight instructor and early pioneer of a small, fledgling flying club later known as the Israeli Air Force.

So on St. Patrick's Day when you're drinking a pint of ale, eating a green bagel, or waiting at a railroad crossing that an Irishman had built, know that one Chris "Wild Man" Magee followed a rainbow not to a pot of gold, but to a pot of chicken soup in a land far away.

Teenagers Then and Now

I am blessed with a teenage son. He is eighteen years old, on the cusp of adulthood. If he knew I was writing this he would shake his head in disbelief and walk away.

As a substitute teacher I see the best and worst in teenagers. By the best, I mean amazingly sweet, caring, intelligent young people with a curiosity for learning and a respect for adults. Once I was teaching home economics when I saw a completely blind boy nonchalantly chopping vegetables. I was floored, and admittedly a little nervous (I checked to see if there were any band aids, but didn't need them). When I can carry on a thoughtful, interesting conversation with a young mind, or witness a remarkable feat, such as that of the blind boy chopping away, it is truly a wonderful feeling and makes teaching worthwhile. The news is filled with stories of industrious teenagers who are involved with the community and go out of their way to help people.

On the other side of the spectrum, however, there are some kids who are rude, insensitive and obnoxious. I am not pulling any punches, here, as you can tell. A lot of the time their attitude is non-verbal, with a roll of the eyes, a nasty glare, or a turn of the head (mostly a girl's form of communication). Boys tend to shout, stomp their feet, throw things, or just completely ignore you. Sometimes they curse out loud and think it's funny. When confronted with these defiant actions, what is a person to do?

Unfortunately, I believe the odds are against adults these days for two reasons. The first is an over abundance of instant gratification and distractions. It is too easy nowadays for kids to "tune out" -- with the iPods, cell phones, etc., that lure kids (and some adults, too, while we're at it) away from their studies and meaningful human interaction. Isn't it a no-brainer that many teenagers turn a deaf ear to an adult when they can find solace in their music or texting? I have even given up monitoring the iPods and cell phones in classrooms because they are so prevalent; it is "mission impossible" trying to control technology without losing my mind.

The gadgets that define this generation are a paradox. They have provided both a depth and breadth of information and knowledge way beyond the encyclopedias of yore, yet, at the same time, they have isolated many people and stunted their social growth. In schools, this social deficiency manifests in a lack of manners and basic human decency. Sometimes I find myself sounding like a little old lady when I solemnly proclaim, "Back in my day, students treated their teachers with respect."

Which leads to problem number two. I DO remember sitting in my seat, obediently facing front and taking notes while my English teacher, Mrs. Young, lectured to us about "Wuthering Heights" and "The Scarlet Letter". We didn't dare interrupt her, question her authority, or throw things...we were SCARED of her! We were terrified of getting into trouble! By the way, Mrs. Young was not a mean person, either. We just knew she was the Boss. All of my teachers were the bosses.

Today many teachers (and parents!) are afraid to exert their authority. They want to be liked by their students (children) and will pal around with them in a way that was uncommon in my day. (The exception to this was my journalism class, where our teacher was considered "cool" before it was in for a teacher to be cool; she let us do whatever we wanted as long as the newspaper got done right and on time. But we were still respectful, responsible, and always did the job...) The pendulum has swung from the days of corporal punishment to a complete abandonment of discipline and fear of authority. I see it all the time by the way students walk into a classroom and goof off or the way they address me as if I were one of them.

So has a lack of authority combined with technology led to the downfall of today's youth? I don't know. Most students I encounter fall in the middle somewhere -- nice kids who just want to get through school the best they can. The majority of students do not want to get into trouble, really. There is such an emphasis on "State Standards" these days; perhaps I will become an advocate for "Manner Standards".

I'll start my research by googling "Emily Post" and then I'll text y'all what I find. That will be sick, dude!

Swimming Upstream in Down Times

Greetings!

About a month and a half ago I had a lot of spare time on my hands. Work had been almost nonexistent for months, and my family was healthy (i.e. no need to take care of sick children). At that time a random thought came to mind, "What the hay, I'll try blogging. It's a constructive way to spend time, honing my writing skills. I have nothing to lose." Well, wouldn't you know it, the minute I decided to go with the flow and begin my blog, the phone started ringing with jobs! All that time I had been wondering what to do with myself, and now there was too much to do.

I was confronted with one of those laws of nature, that the harder you fight against something, the more resistance you encounter. The minute you change your mindset, then everything seems to fall into place. I will back up a minute and explain that for the past two or three years I have had a lot of career disappointments. (And I know I am one of millions with this affliction right now!) Budget cuts at every corner have made my once sought after job as an English teacher become a dead end. I have applied for more jobs in these past few years than I ever had to in a lifetime, or so it seems. It used to be easy -- I'd apply for a job, and I'd get the job. Alright, it is my turn to eat humble pie!

Besides blogging to keep my mind active, I decided to read myself silly. Last fall, I immersed myself in Victorian literature with "Jane Eyre" (500 pages), "Great Expectations" (500 pages) and Wilkie Collins' "The Woman in White," at a whopping 600pages. I could feel my brain stretch! I also read a New Age book about intuition by Char Margolies, a noted psychic. I found the book to be a bit simplistic and ho hum, but there was one line that resonated for me. She said that sometimes when it seems that though we are doing everything right, our paradoxical karma is "swimming upstream against the universal flow." I am paraphrasing her, but she hit the nail on the head for me. I had been trying and trying and trying, like a salmon swimming upstream, to no avail.

What I took away from Margolies profundity was that I had been trying too hard. I needed to relax my own "great expectations" and come to terms with the fact that getting a job (other than subbing) was not in the cards right now with the economy the way it is. I took another look at what I do and finally saw the cup half full: a flexible job where I can work when I want. No papers to grade. No pressure to meet state standards. Sure, there are some bad(!) days, but overall, as my husband has said to me, "It's not boring." The job certainly keeps me on my toes and is grist for the mill. Perhaps one day I will write a novel about a substitute teacher who goes insane...

Okay, now, Cheryl, calm down.

More and more, I am trying to follow these little mind adjustments and swim where life takes me. Another example of going with the flow, is the noted chef Alice Waters (of Chez Panisse fame, and a pioneer for organically grown food). Alice had been enrolled in Paris' world renowned Sorbonne art school, but ditched class her very first day so she could fully enjoy her baguette with butter and jam. Now that is AWESOME! There she was, all set to take art classes in Paris, and she made a major career detour in an instant! Following her gut, literally, Alice became a tour de force in the food world. A similar story is Julia Child, who also fell in love with French cuisine and just started to follow her natural instincts.

So let's all go to Paris! Oui! Oui! Well, not really -- we have families and jobs and pets and homes and chores -- but it is nice to think that sometimes we need to do something off the cuff, so to speak...go with the universal flow. Many people now are forced to change courses. Layoffs and hard times have made many people, like myself, adjust our ambitions, tighten our purse strings, and rethink our career options. If you have been fighting against something for a long time, and things are not going your way, perhaps it is best to look at the situation with new eyes.

As Alice or Julia might say, I'm offering you some "food" for thought.

Ciao!

Cookies and me and mindless eating

In the beginning, there were cookies. It all started when I was a wee thing about one year old.

I was not interested in walking, and my father had an ingenious idea about how to get me off my butt and on my feet. Yep, folks, my dad stood a short distance away from me and held out a cookie. Now, I ask you, how smart is that? I needn't tell you that his plan worked splendidly, and I got up off all fours and toddled over to that cookie so fast it would make Linda Blair's head spin. My dad loved telling me that story.

Ever since that definitive moment, cookies have led me astray. I have branched out, too, over the years, and have probably sampled every dessert known to mankind. As much as I love fancy sweets of all sorts, I will admit that chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven are my greatest weakness. Ever. I could rewrite FDR's famous Great Depression era speech and say, "We have nothing to fear but cookies themselves."

Seriously, I don't know how anyone can pass up a cookie! My son and daughter, who take after their mama, will gobble up the first post-oven batch like sharks in a feeding frenzy. On the other hand, my son has a friend (a skinny friend) who is cookie resistant. On a few occasions, the friend, Cameron, has come over to our house just when I have pulled a batch of chocolate chip yummies out of the oven, and when I offered him some he has simply said, "No, thanks, I'm good." He's good? How can he be good? How can he turn down a freshly baked cookie? I would love to know his secret. I asked my son once, how can Cameron turn down a warm cookie, and my son replied, "Cameron only likes bland food."

Which gives me an idea: perhaps I should write the Bland Food Diet. Would that be a best seller? Would a bland diet rival Atkins or South Beach? I seriously doubt it. I know another woman who confessed that though she could live without sweets, (hard to believe, I know) she could not be left alone with bread and butter. We all have our food nemesis, it seems.

I was talking to another friend of mine recently who is also in the cookie-craze category. I instantly recognized a kindred spirit when she admitted, "I can't have just one." My kind of woman! We sighed together as we agreed that it is so much fun to bake cookies with our children, but once made, they are like fat modules piled on a plate.

I have painfully, regretfully come to the notion that it is healthy neither to deprive oneself nor indulge oneself. Here comes that pesky concept -- moderation. If we can say hello to our little friends (I mean cookies, here) and enjoy one, or two, and then move on, then we can retrain our cravings. The trick is to eat slowly and "experience" the taste -- or so I have been told.

One tidbit I read once sticks with me when I am about to consume a goody too fast. Imagine that you are asleep. When you wake up you are told that in your sleep you ate the most delicious treat imaginable. Naturally, you would be disappointed that you didn't get to experience that taste, and you are only left with the calories. Technically speaking, when we eat mindlessly we are indeed sleep eating.

I am trying harder this year to pay attention and slow down. Smell the roses and taste the cookies. Weirdly enough, it does make a difference when I sit down with whatever it is I am about to eat and enjoy it. Food tastes better. It does work. It does take effort. And it especially makes me wonder what would have happened if my dad had held up some pureed spinach on a spoon to get me to walk those many years ago.