Mash (sans bangers)

There is no end to the fun you get when you have a British friend. We get to entertain ourselves by shaping her idea of American culture through films like Heathers and previously mentioned trips to the donut factory, and she gets to make fun of our 'colonial English.' This means she teases us for leaving letters out of words like programme and colour. 'Tis the Queen's English, you know. Of course, sometimes the lessons go terribly awry and she winds up loving Lite 98, or K95, and we have to spend a little time in a kind of cultural rehab, banning that number on the radio dial. Last night, she brought me a particularly wise, well known British observation, 'Red hat, no knickers.' Consider yourself warned. Ahem.

The best part is that she is vegetarian too, and is going to teach me how to make a proper (and somehow still meatless) shepherd's pie- just in time for winter! I am planning a kind of 'Lord of the Rings' marathon, eating and drinking proper hobbit food, which in my head is shepherd's pie and Guinness- However, I may be sorely mistaken. Admittedly, the last time I read any Tolkien I was in the fourth grade, and I still have yet to see any of the films in the trilogy. I feel like hobbit-ness (hobbititude? hobbitiosity?) is one of those archetypes that remains with us though. Maybe just for creatures like me. In any case, I have been planning this hobbit festival for years- somehow winter has always passed by without it actually happening. But this year, I will have all of the proper knowledge and materials to make it happen. (read: food) Such lofty goals, I know.

Tofurkey Blues

I am considering breaking up with Thanksgiving. Not that I don't love it. I do. For goodness sake, it is a holiday all about food, and people and love and gratitude. There are pumpkins involved, and sweet potatoes, and (if you are lucky) a Tofurkey. I love that it is such a cozy day. Yet, on that day, one of the most traditional days we have, I realized that I have rarely celebrated Thanksgiving the same way twice. I am not getting what I need from Thanksgiving. It is just not treating me right, and I am starting to take it personally. I think I fell in love with the potential of the day, and of course that never works out the way I want it to.

They have been fun, don't get me wrong, the Thanksgivings of my past. There was the one in Santa Fe, where none of us really knew how to cook. Or the time at the farm when I couldn't wait and we had Thanksgiving in September. Oh, and in Napa, we ate Thanksgiving dinner outside- so gorgeous. My aunt's Thanksgiving menu reads like the finest restaurant in Eden. I have barged in on several other families' Thanksgiving dinners, hoping to get that thing- that beginning of winter, this is what Thanksgiving is all about, here are our family food stories thing. And those families are always so gracious and willing to share those things- but they are not mine. And, if I can't claim them, I don't think I want to chase them anymore. So this year, (thank goodness) we going to Mexico, where there is no Tofurkey, but there is family. And this one is mine. Maybe Thanksgiving and I will reconcile one day. I do hope so. But this year I think I will be happy to get some sun, drink tequila and shout Spanish war cries with my peeps instead. Viva con viva!

Irony can be Delicious

Some of my dearest friends are runners. This cracks me up because, as a rule, I don't run. Runners is a puny word for who they are, really they might as well be the bionic woman, incarnate, each one of them. Two of them run marathons. One of them is an Iron (Wo) man. That is right- a triathalon so huge that it starts out with a two mile battle in the ocean, then eases into a thirteen mile bike ride, and finishes up with a full scale marathon. No problem.

I love going out with these girls because they can EAT. We went to Krispy Kreme once, and you would have thought that we had landed in Santa's workshop. There were squeals and giggles, and they weren't all coming from me. Really.

I also love them because they each have their secret strong will, bound up close in their minds, and no matter how hard I search, I can't even see it. It is theirs and theirs alone, and that, to me, is awesome.

Burning

I have been overwhelmed as of late with the pull of desire. Every experience I have makes me want more- I positively ache for what I do not have- an asparagus bed, a pomegranate tree, pumpkins everywhere. A fire in the fireplace. A reason to go to Bali. I only realized this as a potential problem last night, when I was eating an amazing chocolate cake and I realized while I was still eating it that I wished I had the whole piece left, that I could keep eating it forever- I wondered when I could have it again. I had to consciously stop and remember that I had the cake in front of me still, that I would probably get to have cake again. So, now I am trying to counteract my heart pulling desires with a big dose of gratitude and presence. One day, I shall have my asparagus bed, my healing garden and some very happy chickens, I am sure. Right now though, I still have a lot to learn.

This weekend was intense. It started out with a strange desire to GET OUT. I love Richmond, but sometimes its familiarity becomes stifling, So, this was one of the rare times that I am happy that KT lives so darned far away- I can get a good, long gorgeous drive in. A head clearing drive. A drive leading to the sage embrace of the mountains in autumn. I love that drive. For half of the four hour drive home in fact, I could not have any music or noise of any kind playing in the car- I drove in absolute, perfect silence, admiring country garden decor and appreciating the many farmhouses with tin roofs. I spent the time just looking at the light, trying to let all of the information and energy I had encountered this weekend settle into something I could recognize. I am still a recovering introvert, you know.

I will keep the introductions of our teachers short, because I am not sure that I have actually processed their lessons, even in part. Basically, KT and I were the sole recipients of herbal, historical, magical knowledge from some of the most intense, cerebral people I have ever met. The Feral Intellectuals, as they are affectionately known, include two Hellenistic astrologers, (also former St. John's students) one Medieval astrologer, a Cherokee medicine woman, and Matthew Wood, an amazing herbalist and healer. I am sure that I am not representing their credentials fully, but you get the idea. Intense. Intense and wonderful, an experience supporting my desire for more knowledge with an incredible sense of gratefulness. For now though, I will rest.

It is always Christmas

At least that is what it feels like at this time of year. Usually, the amount of hoopla kind of annoys me, but I have FINALLY overcome my personal grinch. I waited until after at least Halloween to tell you all this, but we have been preparing for Garden Fest, (the garden's winter extravaganza) for weeks now, and it has me all spirited. The best part, (are you ready for this?) is that we are to build little hobbit houses for the train exhibit. That is the wording in the press release. Hobbit houses. What a trip!

So, if you are around the Richmond area between Thanksgiving and New Year's, check out Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. It is so gorgeous, it exorcised my Christmas grouch. (Not an easy task- I even thought I liked him a little.) There will be tons of botanical displays, and lights everywhere. There will be a bonfire with S'mores, hot chocolate and, of course, hobbit houses. If you can guess which house is mine, your prize will be a glass of wine- with me. Hee.

Oh, but if you can't make it then, you should know that we also planted 2,000 POUNDS of spring blooming bulbs. Yep- one ton of narcissus, crocus and tulips. Do come and see. Good gracious.