Nick Jr. is running a video called, “City Symphony.” It points out how the everyday noises of the city create a beautiful song. You can see it here.
Each time I see it, I agree with the sentiment that the city is a vibrant, energetic and musical place. Every day when Baby A and I stroll around Westwood Village, we take in all the things presented. There are times when I wish he had a quieter place to live, but this two-minute story-poem makes me happy that he doesn’t.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have incredible ability to put away gobs of ice cream in a single sitting. Lactose intolerance, be damned. I never have been able to figure out why I can’t stop myself from shoving in the creamy good stuff, not stopping until I hit the bottom of the carton. It’s strange but while I’m scooping away I’ve always felt that something in my brain clicks off and all eat-right bets are off.
This morning I received the explanation of my binging ways, courtesy of the UT Southwestern Medical Center PR department.
Apparently researchers at this institution have found that fat we eat—specifically palmitic acid, which is found in foods such as butter, cheese, milk and beef—travels to the brain and causes a communication break down between our cells and the hormones leptin and insulin, which suppress appetite. The bottom line: Our whole brain chemistry can change just by eating something delicious. These fatty acids make us resistant to the every mechanism that tells us not to overeat.
Ah-ha! That clicking in the brain wasn’t just my imagination. Thank you for clearing that up.
In fact, I didn’t realize what day it was until Mo at The Daily Snark tweeted this post at Undomestic Diva. How stupid am I? But while I have no idea what day it is, I can say that I can remember with eerie clarity waking up the morning of September 11, 2001.
The clock radio came on blaring NPR and as I was awakening from my slumber I thought I was either still dreaming or listening to “War of the Worlds” except the players were airplanes, the Pentagon and one of the Twin Towers.
“Are you listening to this?” I asked my partner.
It was no dream. We rushed out of bed and turned on the television just as a commercial plane hit the second tower. (It’s an image I still cannot bear to watch or erase from my memory.) From there, the rest of the day is a blur. It’s the emotions I remember: the sadness, the anger, the vulnerability.
I haven’t felt that way since that day eight years ago. And it isn’t because I’ve done anything different, it’s because of the men and women who serve our country in the military and law enforcement—from our local police, CIA, FBI and Treasury Officers—that I haven’t. I know that I am not the only one who is thankful to those people for keeping us safe. The next time you meet (or see) any one of these public servants, thank them. It can be verbally or even buying them a drink (or picking up their tab). In my opinion, they have earned not just our gratitude but our respect.
Last night I saw Tori Amos at The Greek Theater in Griffith Park. I love going to see musicians perform. There’s something about experiencing the rhythms and the melodies in person that can’t be beat.
However, there can be some drawbacks. Specifically, people taking pictures with a flash was extremely distracting. If you’ve ever seen Tori Amos in concert, you know that she is an impressive keyboardist. She plays two of her three keyboards simultaneously (there are two on her right side and one on her left and straddles the piano bench) while singing. As you can imagine the flashes were like a strobe light. So I closed my eyes.
As soon as I did, her voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I could feel the drums’ beat travel through my body and each note that the keyboard chimed dropped like dew on my skin. For the first time during the concert, I really heard the music. I wasn’t distracted by the people and what they were doing.
To me, this is the way to enjoy some concerts. And Tori Amos was just incredible.
This week Baby A and I went to the farmer’s market in Santa Monica. It was his second, but the first time that he was in the Baby Bjorn carrier. This give him a front row seat to all the action: the farmers, the fruit, the flowers and the vegetables. He loved it, sampling nectarines, berries, basil and oranges. He even picked out his own tomato, which he carried and chewed on as we shopped.
I have always enjoyed the market. I love the way it smells. I love talking to the farmers about how they grow their food and why they do so. I love the food when I get home. It tastes better than anything I ever buy at the grocery store and, as a result, I eat more fruits and vegetables. It has always been a time investment in my health. Now, that Baby A is enjoying it too; it feeds my body and my soul.
Note: The title of this post may seem a bit weird. It comes from M. who asks each time I return from the farmer’s market if I bought a farmer.
A few days ago, Phoenix had the luxury of rain. It isn’t quite monsoon season here, but lightening lit up the sky and water fell from it. When it first began, there was just enough water for everything to soak it up. The only evidence that it has rained was the smell—a wet, earthy one.
I remember it from childhood. I also remember how much I didn’t like it. But now that I’m older, there is something intoxicating about it. Maybe because it symbolizes nature being replenished or the air being washed of pollution. Whatever it is, I miss it. Because since the rain is gone, so is its scent.
For the last three evenings, I’ve been drinking the same bottle of wine. Tonight I’ll finish it. Each night the 2006 Clos du Bois Pinot Noir tastes better. The air brought out its favors—blackberry and a hint of vanilla. I enjoy the wine; I savor the wine. Smell its bouquet. Taste the red elixir on my tongue. In return, each sip reminds me to slow down and pay attention. Breathe.
My glass of wine each evening started as a healthful way to wind down. Red wine contains the antioxidant Reservatrol that has been shown in scientific studies to help you stay thin, stop aging, block food-borne bacteria, and protect your heart, breasts and liver against disease. But it has become something much more poignant in a life that is full of taking care of family and working. And it just struck me—it’s my time.