Me lika Mizuna

To be honest, I'm not a foodie; I wish I were. I admire foodies. They seem like cool people who never have to say they're cool to be cool. They just silently take in the moment, taste it for all it's worth and notice the fine nuances. I'm not that subtle and neither is my pallet. Since I can't really smell anything, my schnauze ruins most things I really want to taste. I use my eyes more in the eating experience because of this. It's why I like color and contrast on a plate. Still D holds firm to the idea that he can expose me to the finer foods in life.



A few weeks ago, he took me out to the incomparable Mizuna for dinner. It was inspiring to say the least. Upon sitting down, I felt like we were whisked away in to a dream of what you imagine the most wonderful date dinner to be: a quaint, hip restaurant; a friendly waiter; unbelievable food presented in the most interesting ways; long-legged wines courtesy of a well-seasoned sommelier; and the sheer joy of a full belly of good food and drink as you sit across from an attractive companion.



Since D knows so many people over there, we were visited by faces entrenched in the scene. It seemed like clockwork the way the evening flowed and they stopped by the say hello. It was impressive; I told him later in the meal, if we weren't married and just on any old Friday night date, he probably would be getting lucky.



This was food and ambiance as an art form. It was taken to a high level by people who perfect what degree to prepare the food at, how to make it unique and interesting, how to seamlessly deliver the enjoyment of the experience to your own personal space within their confines. Every person is at the top of their game: mastering their profession, believing in the company, helping people enjoy a night out on the town. Who cares if it's cow town Denver; I felt like we were in Manhattan. Good meals have no boundaries.



In fact, I was nervous that I wasn't sheik or foodie enough to rise to the occasion. D grimaced at the idea of me taking photos of the courses. He made me promise no flash (please, I don't shine my gold teeth in public). Still, I'm left wanting when I sit reviewing the night in photos. The experience itself is one beautiful photo in my head though I wish my morsel memory was stronger. I wish I could remember the flavors more distinctly and how the wine accompanied them. I wish I was savvy enough to order a five-course meal in perfect, complimenting flavors to match the standards of what each person in that restaurant brings to the table. To say to the staff, I too like food as much as you. But I don't understand food the way these people do. It made me feel lacking - in a good way; in the way I get inspired to be a better person in my daily life when I'm faced with people flourishing passionately in theirs. In the way it made me go home and want to make flavored butter to serve on the table to my guests.


If as Bonanno says, "Every night is theater; we’ll want to give a better show next time". I say, it was all I could do not to walk out of Mizuna clapping.

Quack It Up

Since I haven't been able to sift through the California pictures quite yet, I'm going completely literal with the Photo Friday posting this week. I'm including what we were doing exactly one Friday ago. Sophia and Little L took us to feed the ducks. L was half way through throwing the loaf of bread while miss M just stood there eating a slice and watching all the flapping. Those birds are fed well and have no sense of personal space. It was pretty awesome.


Sophia caught this shot of all four of us, which I love. 

Sweet Love

Lucinda Williams

I was all tied up in Valentine's Day this year. To be honest, I directly attribute it to wanting an excuse to make some badass sugar cookies. I'm talking fluffy, iced with sprinkles, shaped like little pieces of clouds from heaven, sugar cookies. My inspiration: those uber-processed, delectable treats you find at any grocery store. You know the ones: they have frosting colored to accentuate the holiday and sprinkles reminiscent of the season's decor (like green icing with clover sprinkles on St. Patricks Day). Eating one gives you a headache for hours. I can never eat just one. I pride myself that mine were genetically cloned to these Supermarket delights, which is why a few days after Valentines Day I was pretty sure my teeth were literally rotting out of my mouth.


I made two heart shaped cookies: one for my man and one for my girl. I wrote them cards and gave them a storybook they could read together. It's about a father farmer taking his little girl out on a tractor (it's just their speed). Gingy didn't bode so well this year in the Valentine department but the old girl bodes well most days so she took a raincheck.



In any case, the day proved to be a delight. D came home with the most outstanding bouquet; truly the prettiest flowers he has ever given me. He topped it off with a six pack of Sierre Nevada. It doesn't get much better than that. I felt a little lackluster in my shameless effort looking over at his lonely candybar and oversized heart shaped cookie as I sipped my cold beer...but I got over it. Our little family, nestled in for the night sharing the love.


Can You Feel The Love


I'm not a big Valentine's day person. It's a fun holiday but I've never really felt the love; it's more like a processed, contrived emotion to answer the call of social marketing. Though this year, I have felt inspired. I directly attribute it to my designs to make the best sugar cookies around and then camouflage them in the mix of a holiday (more on that later). In any case, I have been prepping for the day for about a week now, which is UBER-proactive for me.

Can you imagine my surprise when I found an old Valentine in one of my dad's yearbooks at Tricia's house? I assumed it was her creation until I looked at it. I think I was in second grade. They matched us up with an eighth grader and we both made a Valentine together. In any case, Trish was stuck with it. I thought the find was well timed with my affinity this year. My favorite part is the little heart house with heart smoke coming out of the chimney.



Happy Valentine's Day!

Tutu Cute




This is the finest example of me living my childhood dreams through miss M. I never had a tutu and, truth be told, I have been wanting to get her in one since the day she was born. I know it's a little pathetic but I was excited to see how she would feel about it. She loves it; the way any little girl loves something frilly and colorful around her waist. I've found that the joy I longed for as a child in a tutu is directly transferred in to adulthood as I watch her play in this little number.


Lucky Now

Ryan Adams

I’ll come right out and say it, “I’m the vision board type”. I’m not necessarily proud of it but it’s there right next to the socks I sleep in because I get cold at night and still listening to too much classic rock. I like positive messages, words, and images and I collect them, pieces of them, and post them around as reminders to me of the good things.

The past few weeks I’ve been meditating on words to focus on in the new year. It started when a friend was talking about trying to be more “brave” this year. I thought it was an interesting goal. I like words as mantras: Open. Breathe. Feel.

So I began to make a list of words I wanted in my life this year: gentle, inclusive, light, healing, trust, attract, healthy. I threw in some things I wanted to incorporate more in my everyday: write, antioxidants, exercise. I created a Wordle for my desktop and considered it an unfinished piece.

Creating a list led to me over analyze some words, like “genuine”; I get it a lot and I take it as a compliment but I picked it apart as a possible weakness. Why? Because it might mean simple-minded; as in I'm not savvy enough to monitor myself around others. This lead me to consider “trust”, my Achilles heal.

As I grow older I realize how much we don’t honestly open our hearts to each other. We protect our truths from those around us because we live in a competitive society and there is a chance our weaknesses will be used against us. So we act in ways that represent who we want to be, rather than who we are. I'm all about faking it until you make it, but I'm also all about being authentic. 

The other day I watched a TEDxHouston presentation, Expanding Perceptions 2010 presented by Dr. Brené Brown, a researcher professor at the University of Houston, Graduate College of Social Work. This brought a whole new perspective to light; which is to say data supports how utterly important it is that we embrace our vulnerabilities and open ourselves to each other in an effort to connect.


I have never been comfortable experiencing vulnerability; so much so, I rarely let it happen. I'm too fascinated with analyzing and controlling outcomes to be open as me, to connect with others, and to let the chips fall where they will. Last year though, I became so fluidly vulnerable there was nothing to do but soak in it. And when I was fully saturated, I then got scared my exposed vulnerability would disappear. I felt so raw I couldn’t do anything other than stand in the moment: good or bad (sometimes it is about 5 minutes at a time). I welcomed the change even though it also meant sitting with my history about how I have acted and what I had done to other people. Are we really who we used to be? Am I really who I was? It also meant letting others in, trusting them, and seeing people with open, honest eyes rather than how I wanted them to be or how they wanted me to think they were.

More words were added to my list after listening to Dr. Brown's insight: vulnerability, compassion, courage. Courage as the ability to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. Wow - what a great definition of a word. Worthiness; which right now seems so much more powerful than any other word I can come up with in the English language. Am I worthy? That's a silly question. But more accurately, how long have I felt I wasn’t worthy?

Love. Belonging. Wholehearted. Joy. Gratitude.

It’s all good and well to have great mantra words and a positive persona online but what about in the physical and emotional reality of every day? With the emphasis on vulnerability I have to ask myself if I can handle moving forward with an open heart. Me? I’m so proud, so silent, and so untrusting. I’m so vulnerable that I won’t let myself be vulnerable. I think of it as a dirty word = Dark. Negative. Weak.
Vulnerable:
adjective 
susceptible to physical or emotional attack or harm: we were in a vulnerable position | small fish are vulnerable to predators.
ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from Latin vulnerare ‘to wound’ 
Predators. Yeah I know them and at some point I've been one too. It doesn’t feel good either way and in some cases, it is necessary for our survival, right?! But I’m more utopic than that when it comes to my approach to life. For all my vacillating, all my struggling, I am an optimist at heart. Deep down at the bottom of the well, the foundation, I believe that good prevails. I also understand now that pain, hurt, and anger are valid and necessary and as much of a part of who we are as bliss.

I don’t think I have ever said “I love you” to someone before they have said it to me. I rarely put myself out there because of my trust issues. I certainly have extended the olive branch but never time and time again until the other person is finally ready to move forward. Perhaps someone else knows more about it than me, or perhaps they are right and I am wrong. It comes back to worthiness. 

So here I am: I'm sorry if I have ever hurt you. And I'm sorry if you have ever hurt me. As humans, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm giving up my quest for perfection. I now stand with a stake in the ground, holding hard and true to my worth in an effort to feel love and belonging; in an effort to connect.