The Non-Monogamous Nature of Socks

I’ve determined my socks have serious commitment issues.   They just won’t stay together.   This got me thinking about why that is.   Sure, when they’re brand new, they look so happy together in their crisp package, lying side by side, bright and full of promise of many happy miles together.   But after a few times around the block, a few spins thru the wringer and some tumbles, both high and low, pretty soon, one of them is no where to be found.  Its abandoned partner lies hopefully to the side while the laundry is sorted and folded, hoping that somewhere in the pile its elusive mate will surface.  But after the last shirt is folded and even the dishtowels are neatly paired up with their matching washcloths, all that remains are a few mismatched socks, forlorn, at the bottom of the basket. 

 Like the Island of Misfit Toys, the Mismatched seek solace with their abandoned kindred.  Even a left-behind pink footie can find solidarity with an equally abandoned purple one on occasion, though typically only acceptable in the dark.  Unless the owner is too hung over to care or liberal-minded enough to make a statement and dares to wear them in the light of day… GASP!  together!  Meanwhile, their more footloose former companions are sometimes found hiding under the bed, behind dressers, or even behind the front door.   Clear evidence of their desperate attempts to escape.   The most rebellious sometime find shelter in an interior pocket of a gym bag or buried in the underwear drawer where no self-respecting sport crew should ever be caught. 

Maybe they just like the rush of the constant spinning of the dryer and wedge themselves inside the drum to cycle round and round and round till they grow tired and eventually re-surface.    It’s hard to tell what motivates them.   It doesn’t seem to matter whether they are classic white cotton, or high end wool, they all do it.  But is this really infidelity or simply an adherence to a more basic nature?   Can we fault them for a desire for more?  For the different? For the exotic?  Hardly.  


Are we no different? Do we not bury our true natures behind forced, companionable smiles, but inside, really think:  I wish I was a sock…..oh, the liberation I would have THEN!?   But we are not happy for long.  Maybe that’s what differentiates us – our need for the perpetual search to be joined with a soul mate vs. their perpetual searching for more, more, more….alone.

This leads me to only one conclusion - there are no sole mates in the Footwear Kingdom.   Think I’ll stick with flip-flops and avoid the issue entirely.  I’m glad I’m not a sock.  Aren’t you?

Two for Tea?

A steaming cup of tea has always been the go-to remedy for a range of ailments from physical maladies to broken hearts.  Clearing the head, settling the tummy or just soothing the soul with its healing vapors, the face cannot help but relax into a slow smile upon the first delectable inhale.  Somehow, with that first whiff and a deep sigh, we know that all is right with the world.

Jazz Bouquet Floral Shop & Tea Café in West Sedona, caters to that ahh moment with its High Tea offering, served daily from 2-4pm by reservation.   A beautifully crafted selection of tea sandwiches artistically prepared, mouthwatering scones and petit fours await in 3-tiered glass trays as the soft strains of light jazz surround you.

Owner, Kim Roda knows her stuff when creating ambience and meticulous attention to detail.   If you feel the urge to unwind, slow down from the hectic pace and stop and smell the roses for a bit, literally, all of those are easily accommodated.  It’s a warm, cozy, space with a small, welcoming staff that makes you feel you are having a cup of tea at your best friend’s kitchen table.  Sharing space with the floral studio, tiny café tables beckon “Come…sit for a bit…let me get you some….tea….” as the sunlight streams into the window, the whole room is infused with cheerfulness and light.  Who could resist such a respite?

Initially, I found myself  going in to buy flowers and learned of the high tea offering, chatting with the owner.  I decided to return and check out the experience myself.  Approximately once a month, they have live jazz music.  As luck would have it, my timing was perfect and one such special event was coming up the following week.  Live jazz music that day was provided by Bill Barnes and inspired a bit of a sing-a-long to old favorites among the enthusiastic patrons.  

From an extensive tea menu (my favorite is the Moroccan Mint), there is sure to be one for every palate.  The chef typically prepares different creations for special events.   Almost too pretty eat.   Too mouth wateringly tasty not to.

That day, the featured tea sandwiches were ham with cream cheese and cucumber, an out of this world brie in puff pastry, greek with feta cheese, chicken salad, and pimento cheese with candied pecans, as well as a Cajun shrimp cucumber canapé.  My taste buds were in heaven and doing somesaults and trapeze acts in my mouth in jubilation!  Little did they know what they were in for next. 

The second tier featured their housemade scones that are perfection in a pastry.  Moist and crunchy in a beautiful balance, enhanced only by a delectable cream and housemade preserves.   By this point, my taste buds were in near full-swoon and I was ready to propose to that scone, right then and there.  I didn’t care that it wasn’t an actual person.  I’d found my true love.

The top tier completed the rapture.   A lovely collections of shortbread cookies, carefully hand decorated alongside an assortment of meringues and candied nuts.

All in all, an event not to be forgotten and often to be repeated! 

A perfect way to celebrate a special event, birthday, anniversary, a romantic date or even just a “just because” day.   If you don’t have time or are not up for the full tea, lighter teas are also available featuring a smaller assortment of sandwiches or just stop in for tea and a scone anytime.  No reservation required.  Reservations for full tea are requested to allow for sandwich preparation.  While you are there, after having sipped the last bit of liquid happiness out of your cup, consider allowing, Genie Bramlett, the delightful resident tea leaf reader, to peer into your cup and your future.   Appointments are recommended.  Call for availability.

Jazz Bouquet is located in the Basha’s shopping center across from Beall’s (40 Coffee Pot Drive, Suite E-106, 
Sedona, AZ  86336) and is also a full-service florist, including 1-800-Flowers and FTD, and specializes in weddings.  Website:  http://jazzbouquetfloral.com. 

Phone:  928-204-1091.   Hours:   Mon-Sat 10am-5pm.  Closed holidays.

A Whopper of a Mess

Recently I found myself, yet again, overcommitted, with too many things to do in too short of a period of time.   And hungry.  Famished. You know, that borderline feed-me-now-or-you'll-be-sorry-when-I-bite-your-arm-off-if-you-get-near-me state?  Being the overly efficient planner and scheduler I am, my solution was to avoid making the healthy lunch I'd originally planned but rather indulge my ultimate no-no of convenience - the Burger King drive-thru.  I try to eat healthy.  I really do, but there are times where its tantalizing allure is too much and the craving must be appeased, in all of its greasy deliciousness!  I don't know why Burger King, but it's the only fast food I ever really crave.   Occasionally, I allow myself this.  And now, it would be mine!  I had decided!  

"I know," I thought to myself delusionally, "I can run all the errands and still make my appointment on time, if I just eat in the car!"   My chronic multi-tasking and compressed schedule is the perfect foil for my irrational justification - I gotta eat something, right?  I quickly discovered that my brilliant time saving plan worked much better in my head. 

Taking the first scrumptious bite, I pulled out of the drive-thru line and maneuvered thru the first round-about.   Have you ever tried to eat a hot burger while navigating thru a maddening number of roundabout turns between Sedona and the Village of Oak Creek?   I would not recommend it unless you don't care about arriving at your destination covered in Whopper innards.  Illogically, I thought to myself, "I'll just be careful."  Yeah, right...tell that to the Whopper who was hell bent on attacking me.   The bun began to slide.  No, no, NO!! I just managed to catch an escaping pickle as the onion made a clean getaway and landed somewhere beneath my lap.   I could only assume that's where it was, as I could hardly search for it, my eyes clearly on the road to ensure I stayed on it.   And another round about was coming up.  No chance to search for it now.  Pausing to take my next bite till the curve was complete, I still managed managed to lose more of the sandwich to my driver side floor board.

I dated a guy once who refused to eat at Burger King.   That was almost a deal-breaker were it not for his compromise of allowing me to at least go thru drive-thru to get something for myself.   How is that even possible to not yearn for the savory egg and cheese croissants and steamy cup of coffee on an early morning drive when you're not quite awake yet?  No surprise we're not together anymore. 

A sane person would've, at this point, conceded defeat and put the sandwich down and waited until arriving at their destination.  Clearly I did not fit that profile.  Not when it continued to taunt me with its "Come hither" smells.... Possessed, was I, by the devil burger!  I took another bite, a pickle fell onto my jeans, the fries took a nose dive and scattered all over the passenger seat in their attempt to flee.  Damn roundabout!  But I found myself laughing at the absurdity of it all.   I no longer cared that I looked and smelled like a deep fryer had exploded on me.  It was worth the mess and my stomach had finally stopped growling.   I was content once again and the craving was satisfied.....for now.

Solstice Reflections

Well, we made it.   Got thru another year with all of its ups, downs, sideways and all to often upside-downs and inside-outs.   Congratulations to us, though, we may still have a few remaining scars and scratches from that tumultuous ride.

Was it worth it?

It's a question I seem to ask myself every year around this time.   Despite all of our modern technologies, electricity, wifi and artificial environments, our beings are still called to honor the natural cycles.   To slow down.  Reflect.  Breathe.  Give thanks.  Take stock.   Look forward in hope.  Today, it's an opportunity to remember that we, too, are still part of the natural world and honor that tug to align to those cycles.  We feel it in our bones, as we want want to rush less, rest more, be more quiet.

So today, at the threshold of a new season, and conclusion of an old one, I allow myself that period of respite to mentally take stock of all the things that happened, the things I've learned, the things I've gained, what I've let go.  And I'm amazed.  It's been one heck of a year.   Each year I'm blown away with where my life ended up from where it began that previous January.  We get so caught up in the current crises of the day we often forget just how far we've come and lose our sense of time.   The current drama hasn't been going on forever, it just feels like it.   We've overcome much larger obstacles than these - we have the proof.  And we've had far greater victories.  We just need to remember.  Today's a good a day as any to do that.

So I dust off the memory banks and endeavor to relieve the highlights.   As I go thru my mental checklist of all the "big things" that happened this year, I'm a little shocked to see a fairly clear trend emerge.   If I had to assign a theme to this year it might be "stand up, speak out, stream line, clear out, get ready."    For what?  I wonder.  It seems, intuitively, I'm preparing for a big change on all fronts.   About clearing out the debris in my life that doesn't positively impact me, getting rid of what I no longer need - attitudes, doubts, fears, non-contributing relationships, situations - and taking active steps to alter those that I can in ways that are more in line with what I need.

Sure, there have been some sadnesses as well.  Some losses.   Some disappointments.   Though, really looking at those, they all had a purpose with something positive to take away - no regrets.   So not sure they really count as bad. At the time they might've felt a bit overwhelming but now, looking back on the entire year, they are far outweighed by the good.  Or maybe I've just learned to see something good in them and recognize the opportunity in them.   Opportunities that helped me recognize and align to the next really good thing coming around the bend.  It's that perception thing again that seems to turn the tide.  Nifty little trick, that positive thinking thing.

Maybe that's what the Mayan's meant -  that the negative world as we know it will end and we will choose to see a new world with new eyes?  I dunno.   Probably not, but that's how I'm choosing to interpret it.  Because clearly, we're still here on this "end of the world" day.  The ground did not swallow us up, the aliens did not come to take us away on their space ships.  We did not physically ascend anywhere, yet, perhaps we are internally transformed.  Maybe just a little.

I, for one, am glad for this down time today, on the shortest day of the year, to take a slight break.  To catch my breath, to give thanks for where I am, how far I've come and take a restorative break to prepare for a a new year filled with opportunity, creativity and a likely roller coaster of changes in the coming year with all kinds of new opportunities, changes, challenges and adventures just waiting.  I can sense it.  I can smell it.  If it's anything like this year, I'm going to need an extra seatbelt and a safety harness!

But, yes.  It was definitely worth it.  I'm glad the Mayan's were wrong and we have a new day for new beginnings.   I'm absolutely ready to do it again......

Happy Winter's Solstice!  May the blessings of yesterday provide building blocks to an even brighter tomorrow!

The Flight of the Butterflies

When a flock of butterflies are doing a flying trapeze act in your stomach, your fingers tingle with electricity and there's clearly no power cord coming out of your butt, you gotta wonder:  What's going on here?  Do we automatically assume we ate too much spicy food or do we actually slow down long enough to listen to our body to consider it could be something else?

Often we've been told "trust your instinct," to "go with your gut", act on what "feels" right.  However, we immediately start masking it with seemingly rational, logical explanations, dismissing what we already know subconsciously to be true in favor of some outside option instead of listening to ourselves, the best source of what's real for us.  Why is it so hard to trust that we know our own minds better than anything or anyone else?  Our bodies are wonderful alert systems - if we let them be.  The basic "fight or flight" response depends on it.   

Early cavemen knew that.  They likely didn't to stop and think and analyze if there were truly butterflies in their stomach or if they had perhaps put too much spice on the woolly mammoth steak they'd had for dinner the night before.  Their instincts were all they had and it was vital that they trust them or they would quite literally be eaten by that which would otherwise become dinner.  Though the stakes are no longer quite as high, since we are no longer in danger of killing our prospective meal before it makes a meal of us, we still have plenty of other decisions to navigate without complicating that process by consulting self-help books, Dr. Phil, Dr. Oz, therapists, support groups or psychics when we already possess the most reliable decision making tool available.  Yet, too often, we ignore it.   

When our brains push the override button, that mechanism to discern shuts down, buried under a pile of logical justifications, mental red tape, obscuring what's real.  As with any muscle, without use, atrophy sets in.  It becomes as hard to to get a straight answer out of ourselves as it is to get honesty out of a politician.  And just as convoluted.   In all of our consulting of "reliable" sources, we wind up with no real trustworthy information at all.  And how do we know that?  Our gut tells us.   Because the butterflies are still restless.  So we chalk it up to indigestion and take an antacid to shut them up.  And wonder why we still don't know.  And unrelentingly, they continue to nag at us, trying to deliver their message.  Thank goodness they don't give up on us as we've given up on them.  But it doesn't have to be this hard.

Some call it intuition, sixth sense, or simply the common sense of heightened awareness of one's surroundings, but there's no denying that something is happening, physically. Our skin starts to tingle, the hairs on the back of our neck start to rise and something in the air seems sharper, something almost tangible.  Similar to the feeling of walking down a dark alley, late at night when the air feels charged, awareness is on high alert and we can "feel" the presence of a stranger behind us.  Why?  Because we "know" if we whirl around unexpectedly we could touch it.  We know this, for fact, because our body cues us with a sense that is keener.  Primal, even.   It's like we can smell that something is....up.  And it scares us.  So we hind behind our mind again and start consulting our sources.  We've become so far removed from ourselves we know longer recognize it, let alone trust it.

The answers are already there, if only we'd look.  If it feels bad, it's a good bet that it is.  If it feels dangerous, better consider looking over your shoulder and be ready to pop the threat in the head with a good right hook.  If it feels good, it probably is or we'd have sensed the "wrongness" of it - there's no need to second or third guess it, and immediately assuming we don't know our own minds so need proof before we believe ourselves.  When did we become our own enemy?  The mind has nothing to do with it.  The mind tries to rationalize the irrational.  But our gut knows. And doesn't waste a lot of time in philosophizing or justifying.  It just states the facts.  And we tell it to stop being rude.  

Have you ever met someone that, on immediate introduction, your body just recoils and you cannot get far enough away from them.  And it has nothing to do with whether they ate garlic for lunch.  They say the right words, are perfectly polite, don't do anything considered offensive yet, for an inexplicable reason you want nothing to do with them and feel a seemingly irrationally threatened?   But how irrational is it, really?

Instead of trusting our gut, we chastise ourselves for being impolite, lecture ourselves why we shouldn't feel that way - "you have no PROOF!" we argue with ourselves, "Stop that nonsense and be nice - what's wrong with you?" ("Not a damn thing" smirks our indignant gut.  "It's so CLEAR!").  "Hush!", we say.  So we feel guilty at our uncharitable attitude and resign ourselves to smile and make nice, all the while still not sure.  And the butterflies nag at us some more.

Pretty soon, we no longer know what we think, why we think it, all we know is something's not jiving.  We start to wonder if it's us and we redouble our efforts to rationalize or explain why we should instead of accepting what is.  We let fear and mistrust win.  The mind taunts us, while the butterflies get buried by layers of logic.  We start seeking therapists to help us understand why these relationships don't make sense.  We start to listen to our friends, well meaning, but not qualified to inform us about what we are really feeling.  They are, after all... not us.  And even if we could hear them, the butterflies are no longer talking.  Their wings are laden down with the weight of too much logic and rationalization, tangled in circular arguments until they too, have a headache and given up.  Our faith in the truth, misplaced, no longer rests with ourselves.  In our quest to fit in and not appear selfish, or worse, irrational (gasp! What would people think if I did that?!) in our choices, we follow advice of what others think we should do and ignore our own instincts.  We tolerate that which we don't want and makes us uncomfortable and run from that which we do, all for the sake of appearances and misguided trust wires.  Along the way, we've forgotten to trust ourselves as navigators of our own lives.

Maybe we can try to remember that the next time the butterflies do their dance in our bellies.  Instead of reaching for the nearest antacid and the therapist's number, maybe we can just listen and not try to censor them.   Because they won't let us rest until their message is delivered, anyway.  Might as well just listen to them in the first place, and save ourselves a lot of time and angst.  If we can do that, our instinct muscles will strengthen and we won't need so much validation - and maybe we can finally remember that we already had the answers in the first place if only we'd asked ourselves and actually listened, without judgement.

Nature's Changes and Natures of Change

Without warning, it seems, winter has arrived.   Felt my first snowflake of the season yesterday.   For me, that's good news.  I've always found the first snow to be a little thrilling and it always brings with it a happy, surreal hopefulness.

Seems like we were just fanning ourselves against the heat and now we're eagerly reaching for coats, gloves and hats just to feel that warmth again.   The seasonal changes affect us all a little differently but there is one commonality we can't avoid:  When nature transitions, so do we, whether we want to or not.  And it got me thinking about the nature of change and why we try so hard to resist it.

It's an easy delusion to fall into to think we can control our world with our modern conveniences of artificial lightening, air conditioning and heating.    We don't have to change what we wear, or what we do.   We can stave off the night by turning on flood lights and continue wearing t-shirts in December and our favorite sweaters in June if we really want to.  We reason, if our environment is the same, then everything in it can remain the same and we don't have to look at our issues, make real decisions or, gasp! change!  We like it that way - nice and tidy - and everything humming along at the same pace all the time.  Change is scary, after all.  And we had enough of that with that spooky October holiday.

Whether we want to admit it or not and no matter how desperately we try to preserve the status quo, there is no denying the reality check that first cold burst of air delivers, squarely knocking the delusion right out of our head.  Nature smacks us upside the head with the icy cold blast, "Hey! Wake up! Pay attention!  Something's gotta change!  What are you gonna do about it?  You can't just sit there pretending it's not there and freeze, after all!"  And we grudgingly go get our coats and mumble about how cold it is, completely forgetting the same mumbling we did back in July that we now seem to be longing for.  But it is neither the heat nor the cold we really object to.

If we are willing to be truly honest with ourselves, we recognize that transition is all there is. There's no getting around it.  We can't stop the changes in our lives any more than we can stop the leaves from falling and the cold wind from blowing.   But we can decide that it's not a threat and choose to see it as an opportunity to discover new paths we'd never considered.

Winter, by its very nature, is a period of slowing down.  Trees go dormant and animals hibernate, preserving their strength for the spring.  Even the days don't work as hard, providing less hours of sunshine than they do the rest of the year.  We often forget that we're part of that natural environment, too.  Maybe we should take the hint and stop pushing so hard to maintain the "sameness" of our lives.  Maybe a chilly cold blast of the first snow or a snowflake on our tongue is what we need as a reminder that we are not isolated from the patterns of nature as we might like to think and embrace the opportunity to put on the brakes a little bit - and see what kind of chilly inspiration and insight we might find if we can just stop resisting transition for a little while.

When the cold wind blows, maybe we can greet it with delight, instead, and the thrill of knowing it brings with it the promise of new springs - if we're willing to let it.

Season's Creepings, One and All!

"See the eerie Darkness fall...
Hear the raven's Chilling Call...
Feel your skin begin to Crawl...
Season's Creepings, One and All!"

And so reads one of my favorite Halloween cards.

What is it about this time of year that makes us shiver with such frightful anticipation?  Perhaps it is the distant howl of the wind, its icy fingers inching up our spine.  Our senses, heightened by that anticipatory delight, relish in the stillness that is a bit too still.  Not fully understanding for what, we wait, our hearts racing for the unseen to become seen.

We fix our eyes into the darkness, searching in the shadows that are not shadows, our heart skipping a beat, but we see only the tricks of the moonlight.  We wait and watch, unaware we are holding our breath, in the not so stillness of the unseen, which is almost seen - in the imperceptible, that is almost tangible.  If we reached out our hand we could touch it.  But we do not dare for fear of what we might find.

The moon mocks our fear, as we laugh off our uneasiness and let out our breath.  Though, warily we keep one eye over our shoulder, just in case.  The chill in the air settles in our bones, along with the realization that perhaps we do not know what we think we know.   That perhaps we are not what we think we are.  That all that is cozy and warm is an illusion.  And our imagination begins to take flight and rides the whipping wind thru the screaming trees, higher up across the sky and plunges rapidly into the depths of the blackness of night.  The familiar looks unfamiliar now and our lighthearted laughter dies in our throats.

Strange singing is heard in each rustle of leaf as it begins its downward spiral dance of fall.  In a play of light, a sudden movement catches the corner of our eye.  We spin around, ready to confront our follower, yet, nothing.  Or something?  We no longer know.  Our trust of the known has abandoned us and we begin to see that nothing is as it seems, ourselves included.

Our noses, burning with with the scent of mystery and magic in the air, smell the possibilities where everything is possible.  And we can be whatever we want to be.  We revel in the exhilaration of that freedom!  A wildness overtakes us and we uncross our arms, and toss back our hair.  Embracing this new vision of ourselves, we face the wind with a boldness of challenge and the moon smiles at our courage!

Tomorrow, the trees will return to being just trees, the wind will once again blow gently on our skin and we will return to ourselves and all that is cozy and warm.  But for tonight, just this one night, we, too, meld with that mystery where nothing is what it is seems and exhilarate in the thrill of that freedom.   A smile slowly spreads across our face as that familiar shiver of delight, again creeps along our bones.

Happy Halloween!