Chihuly Evolution

I have a history with Dale Chihuly.

It began in Venice, my favorite city in the world. I had expected to dislike Venice. I have a severe mold allergy and imagined that a decaying, canal-laced, island would be no fun for me. I was so wrong. I arrived at sunset and stepped from the water taxi onto a bridge and was smitten with the light, the old buildings tilting into the canals, the romance of the gondolas, and the pealing of the church bells. And the romance! One of my favorite captured moments from that first trip was watching a couple rise from their table on Piazza San Marco, step onto the piazza and begin to waltz to the jazzy tune the small band was playing. They were not a young couple, both fairly tall, and were oblivious to those around them, having eyes only for one another. I promised myself I would return to Venice and I did a few years later. I was taking a sailing cruise around the Adriatic and the cruise embarked from Venice. On the ship I met a man and discovered he collected glass and had just been on Murano, a small island and glass making center near Venice. He shared that he was a collector of glass art made by Dale Chihuly. I was fascinated by his passion and wanted to know more about this artist.

As the universe often provides, upon return to Dayton I discovered that there would soon be an exhibition of Chihuly’s work at my home museum, the Dayton Art Institute. Chihuly himself would give a talk at the show’s opening. This talk is forever embedded in my mind. Chihuly was in a traffic accident and lost the use of one eye. As a consequence, he now does the sketches, paintings actually, for his art and due to his vision problem has artisans create the glass work. He had large scale exhibitions in Ireland, Israel, and… Venice. His slide presentation showed magnificent, chandelier-like pieces hung over the canals. How I wish I could have seen them in place! The most extraordinary part of the lecture was when he read from letters he wrote to his young son while traveling to mount the shows. He was a relatively new father and his young son would not understand the letters even if read aloud to him. But can you imagine how his son would later treasure this documentation as to how much his father loved him and wanted to share his life work with him?

I have one of the Chihuly paintings, a design for one of his Venice pieces. It is wildly free, well representative of the artist’s passionate nature and serves as a reminder for me to live full out, be fully present in each moment.

That exhibit was in 2002. This year the Dayton Art Institute had an exhibit of glass artists prominently featuring Chilhuly. I have followed his work, noted the progression of his designs, and have several books about his art that I enjoy perusing. This time I was able to introduce my son to Chihuly’s glass. He sees the painting every day but had not seen any of the glass. This was his favorite piece.

It was a well-curated show, including the works of many fine glass artists, but for me the Chihuly pieces were the anchor. What bliss to be with my friend and fellow creative Lori, and my much-loved son, in the midst of such glorious art. These experiences feed my soul, inspire my work, and increase my daily gratitude for my beautiful life.

Full Bloom

These spectacular tulips greeted me at the corner of Riverside Drive and Monument Avenue at Riverscape Metro Park in Dayton, Ohio. I was stopped in my tracks by their gorgeous full blown beauty.

Our culture is obsessed with peak beauty, youthful beauty. We hear the phrase "past its peak," the implication being that the most beautiful moment has passed. 

But is that true? Take a closer look.

More is visible when the tulips are fully open. We can see and appreciate what's inside.

What if we begin to look at one another that way? Recognize that a mature woman allows us to see beyond the perfection of youth. There are few things more attractive than a woman fully present in her body, fully aware of her power and creativity.

Let's go forward today and look for those women. When you see one, share that smile, that look, that glance, that says I see you and you are gorgeously in full bloom.

May = Farmer's Markets

Here in Ohio May signals the beginning of open air markets. I am fortunate to have a delightful one within walking distance of my home. Well, it is about a mile and a half away, an easy distance there but often a challenge back. Not everything fits easily into a backpack!

This is especially true at the beginning of the season when many of the offerings are plants. Right now is the time to stock up on lush hanging baskets, heirloom tomato plants, flats of flowers and vegetables and perennials for the garden beds. You can easily see the transport issue! I compromise by walking to the market, usually accompanied by my Yorkie Buddy,  leave my purchases with the vendors, and drive back later to do pick up.  I've considered a wagon but then couldn't manage Buddy and he really loves being a market dog. Have you noticed that many of the folks who shop at farmer's markets are also dog lovers?

Spectacular hanging basket

Last Saturday, in addition to some chartreuse hostas, lavender, and three huge geraniums, I bought fresh eggs, granola mix, and some delicious crusty bread. Next week the first of the season greens will be available.

It's good to know the people who care for the chickens who provide my eggs!

Cooking with Amber

The market has a new feature this year, Cooking With Amber. Amber has a small cooking spot set up and creates a dish using what is available at the market that day. The latest offering was French Toast made with eggs from National Trails Farm, Challah bread from Rinaldo's Bakery, and served with several vendors' local maple syrup, jam, or honey. To everyone's delight Amber had a sous chef this week, her darling baby on her back.

Don't you just love farmer's markets? Food for the body and food for the soul!

Czech Mates

Helena and Matej

A few years ago, when my friend, colleague and author Jed Diamond invited me to a party in Willits, California to celebrate completion of his Ph.D. I met his and Carlin's son Aaron. Aaron composed a song in Jed's honor that was such a generous act of love that I asked to hear it again later. At the time, Aaron was engaged to marry a woman from the Czech Republic. Jed emailed Aaron about my trip and I received a lovely email from Aaron full of suggestions and tips for my stay in Prague. Aaron's now married and living in the CR. His wife, Helena is a school teacher and volunteered to play tour guide and take me outside the city on the day her school was closed for a holiday.

Helena is warm and witty and generous with her time. Seven-year-old Matej practiced his English with me. Czech schools begin English instruction in the second grade. Our first stop was a brewery tour to the Staropramen Brewery. I was so impressed with the interactive videos, as good as any I've seen at Disney World.

Multimedia Presentation

We drove out of the city to the former site of the village Lidice. I say site because it looks like this.

Where Lidice once stood

In 1942 the village was mistakenly identified as having an association with one of the men who committed the assassination of Reich Protector Reinhard Heydrich.  As a collective punishment for the assassination, the village men were lined up and shot. The women were separated from their children and sent to a concentration camp. The children, except for a small number of young children selected to be raised by German families, were kept for several weeks before being transported to a different camp and gassed. The village was set on fire and then destroyed, literally leveled to the ground. The museum on the grounds had photos of everything as it was all documented by the Nazis. Most heart rending were the letters from the children begging relatives to send them food, clothing and essentials. The children were told they were at camp. There was video of a few of the women who survived the camp and children who had been raised in German homes. If their mothers survived the camp, they could not communicate with their children because the children now spoke only German while the mothers spoke Czech. Can you imagine not being able to talk with your own child? The empty fields are haunting. The sculptures of the eighty-two children gassed will tug at my heart for years to come. A new village of Lidice was constructed nearby after the war, but this memorial will forever bear witness to what happened here.

Bronze sculptures of the eighty-two children

To counteract the sadness of Lidice, Helena took me to see two castles. Years earlier, Helena was a tour guide at the first in the village of Nela Hozeves, birthplace of composer Antonin Dvorak. His talent  was first nurtured here.

Nela Hozeves

Antonin Dvorak Statue

The second castle, from the 1800's, was a hunting lodge. The photo of Helena and Matej was taken in the wooded area leading up to the castle.

Veltrusy

  On the drive back to the city, Matej began to tell his mother jokes. He would tell one, she would translate, and we would all roar with laughter. It has been a while since I had the pleasure of second grade humor and it was a treat to watch this mother and son interact. I am so grateful to Helena and Matej for their kindness in sharing their beautiful country with me, and to Aaron for sharing his family. The best way to learn to love a country is through its people.

The Pear

I'm blogging today at  the Story Circle Network on their blog,  One Woman's Day. Please click here to read my post about this ornament. May all your holiday memories be sweet ones!

Winter Solstice Sisters

In 2009 I held my first winter solstice gathering. The Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year, from that date forward, there is a bit more light every day until the Summer Solstice in June. It was such a success that I have continued the practice of hosting my treasured friends for a ceremony and meal to celebrate the return of the light.

We begin by creating a sacred space, passing a light until all candles are lit. Each woman speaks in turn, naming what she wants to leave in the darkness and what she wants to embrace in the coming light. Each woman also chooses a word as her focus for the next year.  Part of the magic is how intently we all listen to one another, honoring that woman and her choices.

 

This year I provided Sharpies, markers, pastels, colored pencils, magazines for collage cut outs, letter stamps, and glitter glue to decorate package tags with the chosen word to use as book marks or to tie onto a gear shift or mirror. There were also round balls that could be decorated with the word and hung on the Christmas tree.

Both the tags and the balls were creatively done!

As in the past, the celebration concludes with a shared meal. This year's menu included antipasto, Joy Behar's lasagna, vegetarian acorn squash lasagna with walnut cream, three green salads and a delicious lemon cake. It was an evening of food for the body and food for the soul.

Winter Solstice is a time for contemplation and renewal. It's a time to appreciate friendships, open our hearts to the possible, and state our intentions for the year to come. I'm grateful to have these women in my life.

Reasons to Be Happy

Katrina Kittle takes on big issues in her novels. I've blogged about her previous book The Blessings of the Animals, tackling grief and healing post divorce. Her three prior novels dealt with AIDS, child abuse, and  deceit. Reasons to Be Happy is her first book for younger readers and I wondered if she would stay true to her big issue pattern. I was not disappointed. Addiction, in the form of bulimia, is the core of this story but it is beautifully and skillfully imbedded in a tale of conflict with parents, dealing with mean girls and peer pressure, first love, and staying true to one's self.  So how do these serious issues end up being such an engaging and uplifting book? 

Well, the main character, 8th grader Hannah, kept a list in a purple journal of her Reasons to Be Happy.   This list gives us insight into Hannah before she changed schools, before her mother became sick, before she lost bits of herself to peer pressure. By the end of the book, she has traveled full circle back to herself. Along the way she meets a young man passionate about music and secure in himself, orphans in Ghana who teach her about what matters, and artists young and old dedicated to their craft. Each meeting reminds her of parts of herself that she has abandoned and gradually reclaims. 

We are a culture that reveres thin. Pressure to be thin begins young and continues... forever. We are so concerned with "outside" that often who we are is lost. It is all about how we look. It is heartbreaking to realize how objectified women are. And it's not just the males who are doing this. We do it to ourselves. How many catty remarks do women make about other women's weight? How much time is wasted worrying about how much we weigh? What if we devoted that time to creative pursuits?  What could we accomplish? What problems could be solved? The basic fear is... Am I good enough? We are looking for validation outside our selves. 

Addiction is about numbing pain, tamping down fear. The market is saturated with books, television shows, and magazine articles proposing that food is often the legal "drug" used to achieve this. It seems the more we focus on losing weight, the heavier we are all becoming. I'd so love it if we could accept and value each person for who she, or he, is. Unconditional love and acceptance, now there would be a wonderful reason to be happy.

Rue Dumaine - C'est Magnifique!

As a committed life long learner, I enjoy taking and moderating, classes at UDLLI (University of Dayton Lifelong Learning Institute). One of my favorites this session has been the Dining in Dayton Sampler. Each class features speakers from one or two local restaurants who share their restaurants' history, menu options, and specialties.

Anne Kearney, Chef and Owner of Rue Dumaine

Today's presenters were Anne Kearney and Tom Sand of Rue Dumaine in Centerville, Ohio. Anne was charming, inspiring, modest, and... brought delicious food to share. Tom, her husband and fellow owner, added insight as to the business and beverage (They have great wines and innovative cocktails!) side of the restaurant as well as some wry humor. This American Bistro has many French influences and they thoughtfully include a small glossary of French terms on the reverse of the menu.

Anne's "Food of Love" began at fourteen as she took over making the family dinner when her mother began to work outside the home. She experimented with family favorite recipes and had even catered a wedding before she graduated from high school. After a year of college, she began to pursue her true passion at the Greater Cincinnati Culinary Arts Academy. I especially love this part of her story. Too often our culture dictates that you must have a college degree to be successful. It is one of my hopes that we again begin to value the artisans who prepare our food, repair our cars and plumbing, build our homes, create stories, plant gardens, and follow their passion in a myriad of other ways that do not require a college degree. I loved college but do not think it is the only way to prepare for a life of passion and worth.

Some of the seventy participants in the Dining in Dayton session

From Cincinnati, Anne moved to New Orleans where she was sous chef at Peristyle and both cooked and helped develop recipes at Emmeril's. She later purchased Peristyle, where in 2002 she received the James Beard "Best Chef Southeast award. It is our fortune that Anne and Tom returned to the Dayton area to be near both their families. In 2007, they opened Rue Dumaine.

Their passion for food, ambiance, and innovation is evident. As Anne prepared a fall salad and a gluten-free dessert, a slide show behind her added a visual feast of the plated meals, glassware, hanging meats, fresh vegetables, and even one of the farms that make Rue Dumaine special.  

Slide features Michael Malone of Hungry Toad Organic Farm

Tom remarked on the richness of the Dayton area with regard to restaurants, excellent markets, and availability of local and organic meat and produce. Post cancer, I have deliberately sought restaurants that use local, organic foods. Rue Dumaine's weekly menu lists the local farmers and artisans they have as suppliers for that week. Each dish is prepared when ordered so substitutions can be made to accommodate customer needs or preferences.

It is a lovely thing to spend a few hours listening to two people share their passion for both their restaurant and for Dayton. It is always energizing and inspiring to be in the company of folks following their dream. 

Yoga From the Inside Out

Because cultural messages about our bodies are so strong and the forces that work to destroy our self-image are so pervasive, having others in our life to mirror to us acceptance and encouragement is crucial.


Christina Sell, Yoga From the Inside Out

I've had an off again, on again relationship with yoga. I first tried it in 1974. I knew nothing about yoga, was just curious. I was new to Dayton and had not yet found a job or made friends and my then husband was completely self absorbed in his first year of law school. I was lonely and thought maybe I'd make some new friends. I found it, well, embarrassing. Way too much attention to the body for me. I felt exposed. I was thin so it was not about the size of my body. It was about not feeling comfortable with my body. As I knew no one in the class or for that matter anyone else doing yoga it felt even more isolating than being alone. So I dropped out. End of yoga

Then, in 1985, after having my first ever massage with a very lovely woman who was also a yoga instructor and was looking for a place to hold a class in my part of town; I volunteered to host a yoga class in my home. This time I made it through all the sessions. It would have been awkward to not participate when it was in my house! The teacher had been trained in Yoga for Round Bodies but I did not know how to ask for help. I was kind of getting the hang of it when she found another, more public, location and I did not move on with the group. I believed I was not a physical person; I did not yet realize that yoga is a spiritual practice too.

In 2002 a friend's daughter was working toward her yoga teacher certification and needed a class to garner teaching hours. This time it was three couples doing downward dog in my living room.  By then I was embarassed by my size so I always took a place behind the others. I found the poses too revealing. Again, once the class was finished, so was I.

Then in 2005 I went to Kripalu in Massachusetts for a weekend class on animal communication. There were free yoga classes every morning so I thought I'd give it another try. The instructor, a normal sized person, said something that stopped me in my tracks. We were doing a twist in a seated position and she said, "Now gently move your tummy to the side and deepen your pose." What? Move your tummy? She did not appear to have a tummy to move! One of the reasons I did not persevere with yoga was because I always felt my stomach got in the way. I had never heard of someone "moving their tummy." This was a revelation. I could adjust my body and do the pose comfortably! It never occurred to me that a normal weight person had to adjust her tummy to do a pose. I thought it was a problem for me because I was overweight and I just had to feel terribly squished to even attempt the pose. Another example of the bad body messages I carried around; since I am heavy, I will suffer. The realization that even thin people might have a tummy to move and that adjusting the pose is normal made me weep with insight and relief.

Now, in 2011, I have another friend doing her yoga teacher training. Lori has taught me that yoga is for everyone and the emphasis is on you and your body, not on doing the perfect pose. And, that yoga is as much a spiritual practice as it is a physical practice. She also keeps reminding me that it is about practice, not perfection. Lori is teaching me to be fully present in my body. I do not think I have ever really done this before.  She introduced me to the book, Yoga From the Inside Out, quoted at the start of this post.

Lori

And that brings me to a sunny day in Dayton, Ohio. I'm sitting on my deck after my morning yoga, savoring some fresh fruit, and writing some notes from Yoga From the Inside Out into my journal. Now that I understand that yoga is both a spiritual and physical practice, with emphasis on the word practice, and that I can adapt that practice to me and my body; yoga feels right for me.

While in Florida recently, my goddaughter Kate and I went to  Yoga On the Beach,  morning yoga classes on beautiful Siesta Key Beach. She, and Lori, are part of my tribe who offer the acceptance and encouragement every woman needs about her body. And I am so grateful...

A rainbow backdrop for yoga on Siesta Key

Tea Time

I drink tea. And I love High Tea. And I love wearing a hat. I know that in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales both men and women take time for tea but here a High Tea is most often a ladies' event. My friend Pam's daughter just announced her engagement and as she studied in England, High Tea seems an appropriate bridal shower theme. For the sake of research, Pam and I made a reservation for High Tea at Eleanor's Tea Cottage in Troy, Ohio.

This was a true High Tea, beginning with fruit, then scones with real cream and fresh jam, followed by a delicious chicken divan soup, then chicken salad, pimento cheese, and cucumber sandwiches, and finishing with lemon pie and chocolate peanut butter cupcakes topped with with crunchy little bird nests filled with tiny eggs.

A sweet little pansy topped the whipped cream

Three kinds of sandwiches

Charming little nest cake toppers

 Our hostess was gracious and skilled, allowing us time to enjoy each delicious course and feel completely pampered. It was a delight to pause, savor a friendship, and plan a shower for a lovely young woman.

About wearing a hat... My mother used to say, "Wear a hat, you'll feel better." I remember seeing a large group of women of a certain age all decked out in purple outfits and red hats at an Olive Garden restaurant. These ladies were talking and laughing and living out loud. They made me smile. They were, of course, members of a Red Hat Society inspired by the first two lines in the poem Warning by Jenny Joseph, "When I'm an old woman I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me." For my mother's 91st  birthday we had a tea party and asked the ladies to bring their favorite tea cup and to wear their best hat. There were some pretty extravagant hats because many of these gals attend the Kentucky Derby, a hat lovers' paradise. My mom wore a shocking pink, petaled hat that she designed and made herself. Now that I'm sixty maybe it's time to let my creativity loose on my hat selections. And when better than to debut a new hat than at a High Tea!

Storm Body

Judy Abrahamson (writing)

Hurricane Faye

Wind
Refreshing, caressing
Blowing acceptance over naked skin
Lightning overhead, surf below
Healing coolness all around
I am at peace
My body is my own.

Judy Abrahamson

I met this poet several years ago when she shared Hurricane Faye at a writing workshop. I was just beginning this journey to connect with my body and her poem struck a deep chord. It made me cry. I loved it so much that I asked her to submit it to Story Circle Network's annual anthology True Words from Real Women, 2008. I was editor that year with my dear friend and fellow writer Becca Taylor.

What resonated most was the line, "My body is my own." I was feeling so bad about myself and my body. So unloved, so rejected, and so disconnected. That wild hurricane, her oneness with it, the peace of laying claim to her own body made me aware of what I didn't have and what I both want and need. It is a long journey from living and being mostly for someone else to recognizing and honoring myself. To knowing my own beauty and value. To claiming my own power. It is not an easy journey. It is not quick. It is not finished. But words like these heal and encourage and inspire.

When ever a storm rolls through Ohio, accompanied by thunder and lightning and wind, I remember this poem. And I take time to connect with my own storm body, to appreciate who I am and who I am becoming.

Cheat Sheet for Life

 Katrina Kittle is one of my favorite authors. She has four published novels thus far, each one taking a "big" issue and skillfully weaving together a story with vivid characters and poignant subplots that deepens understanding and evokes reflection.  She had me with her first book,  Traveling Light, about a woman, her much-loved dying brother, AIDS, and the question of who we are and why we make the choices we do. Over an eighteen month period, I'd lost a brother-in-law, a teaching partner, and a fellow doctoral student to AIDS. Katrina got it all exactly right: the frustration with the disease, the disheartening lack of compassion juxtaposed with the extreme kindness of others, the pain and heartache, the grief, and the lessons experienced.

Her latest book The Blessings of the Animals is about the end of a marriage, grief, healing, family, and the powerful role animals can play in our lives. Having recently experienced extreme betrayal and divorce... this one hit home too. A dear friend invited me to her book club meeting where Katrina was the guest author while we discussed this book. The facilitator had unique discussion starters. Katrina's books are laden with rich nuggets that inspire mind forays out of the current story. This passage, about an interaction between the protagonist's teacher brother and one of his students, is one of them.


"Nobody gets the good stuff all the time...Remember that." He wished he knew something more comforting to offer. He wished... he could spare them, his students: that he could pass them the cheat sheet for their future lives. 


 The facilitator posed the question, if you could provide a cheat sheet for life, what would you share?

Mine was "Face what you know." I've learned, the hard way, that ignoring the elephant in the room leads to heartache. That while it is difficult to face unpleasant truths, it is better to face them right away as delay increases the cost and wastes precious time. Your body is recording and experiencing the problem even if you are not allowing the thought to surface. I mistakenly thought that focusing on the good meant ignoring the bad. I know now that you can celebrate the good and still name the difficulties and treat them with loving kindness. Problems are not failures, but ignoring them will lead to failure.

Katrina's was, "Always make make new mistakes." As soon as she said it I felt my gut clench. I've been trying to not berate myself for the mistakes I made with my ex, for tolerating too much for too long. For taking care of him and his needs while sacrificing my own. I kept hoping that he would see what he was destroying and join with me to rebuild. And so I became afraid of hope and afraid of making more mistakes that were detrimental to my physical and emotional health and well being. I learned that hope can be life affirming when I hope for myself, for what I can choose. Pinning my hope on someone else is  giving away my strength. Hearing "Always make new mistakes" turned another page. Mistakes are part of life. The trick is to make new mistakes. To be trying new things that may or may not work out perfectly but are still learning experiences. What I was afraid of was making the same mistakes. As I realized that, I felt my gut unclench and my center fill with... hope, peace, possibility. Yep, this definitely goes on my cheat sheet.

At 60 - Find Your Way

In December 2009, while shopping at a lovely artist's boutique at the DVAC Gallery for Christmas gifts for my creative kindred spirits, I discovered the fused glass jewelry of Diane Zubrick and fell in love with this pendant and bought it for myself. I've since worn it quite often.  I love the idea of having a travel permit, or passport, entitling me to a creative journey. 

Last week my friend, Jewels, noticed it and asked to take a closer look. She handed it back to me casually mentioning how appropriate it is that the  return fare is 60, as in Sensuously Sixty, and the final words are, "Find your way." I never put that together. Here I am, at sixty, finding my way. Perfect.

Bonne Chance Marite!

I have always regretted not speaking more than one language. Last fall I mentioned to a friend that I was planning a trip to Paris and wanted to learn some conversational French. I had borrowed some CD's from the library and was listening to French music, especially Edith Piaf, but was longing to find some conversation partners, somewhere to immerse myself in the language. She knew of a local French Club and gave me the contact information. I called the day of the meeting and had by telephone my first encounter with the human dynamo named Marite!

Marite

She was welcoming and encouraging and insisted I come to the meeting that very day. I felt that deep recognition in my body, that thrill when you know something perfectly wonderful is about to begin. Do you know the feeling I am talking about, when a surge of energy pulses through you?

French Club is exactly what I had been wishing for, a group of lively, funny, bright people who gather weekly to speak all things French. At that first meeting, they very kindly introduced themselves in English so I had some context about each person's life. Then the rapid fire French began! By the end of an hour my head was spinning. Quelle surprise!

Members bring items to share or a story from their life. Sometimes Marite will have a question she poses to each of us or will suggest we question one another. Sometimes folks just have something to share and we talk about that. For instance, we discussed a newspaper article one woman brought to class about bilingual people faring better when struck with Alzheimer's. Or if someone has recently traveled they will share their vacation pictures and experiences. This is great fun! The French skills of the members are varied. Several are fluent, some are easily able to comprehend and to make themselves understood. As a beginner, my comprehension skills have taken a huge leap forward and I am taking tentative steps into speaking.

Marite is the spark for the group. She has razor sharp wit and a joyful take on life that keeps the energy of the session high. As her husband has just retired and they will be traveling frequently, she is handing over the club to another member. Today was our farewell luncheon for her.

The French Club

I know people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. The reason she was in my life was to encourage me to pursue my dream of becoming bilingual. While she was present for barely more than a season, what she began will be with me for a lifetime. Merci et au revoir Marite!

Breathe in Serenity

Valentine's Day can be strange when one is not half of a couple. So many of the advertisements are about giving her the perfect diamond, gold heart, lingerie, or box of chocolates. The implication is that Valentine's Day is for lovers. And I agree. But I have a much expanded notion of love these days. Post betrayal and divorce and post cancer, I find myself a lover of life. And a lover of experiencing life sensuously. My senses are more acute, including my sense of smell. So, I am aware of aromas that enhance my sense of well being.

This Valentine's Day I decided to try my hand at making aromatic mists. My favorite scents are lavender and a combination of eucalyptus and spearmint, so I began with those. This was amazingly easy to do. I purchased four ounce bottles and atomizer sprays on line. I bought the three essential oils and googled scent recipes.

For lavender, I used 20-30 drops per four ounces of distilled water. The number is not exact because I kept losing count of the drops. No matter, I just did test sprays until it smelled good to me. Combining the eucalyptus and spearmint was a bit trickier. I thought the eucalyptus would overpower the mint but the reverse was true. I ended up using about a 2/3 eucalyptus, 1/3 spearmint mix. Again, for each bottle I just mixed and spritzed until my nose approved.

To customize the bottle I created my own labels. I arranged some stones into a heart shape in the snow and then took a dozen or so pictures, playing with shadows and distance. I chose two of the photos, one for each scent. I added the word serenity because I am going to suggest my friends keep them in their cars and spritz when they feeling rushed or stressed... instant serenity.  After printing the photos at the local drugstore kiosk, I trimmed them to label size, used spray adhesive to attach them to the bottle, and voila!

I'm really pleased with the final product. I'm giving them to the people who put love in my life. And I am wishing you a sensuously perfect Valentine's Day!

Winter Solstice Meal

The Winter Solstice Sisters

After the Solstice ceremony, the revelry begins! It is a time to embrace the feminine, enjoy good food, celebrate friendships, and share creative endeavors and plans. This year's menu included peach sangria, sparkling waters with fresh fruit, regular and vegetarian chili, spring greens salad with cashews, cranberries, and garlic vinaigrette, country rustic and corn bread, and for dessert, Lori's amazing Italian Cream Cake. The only thing richer than the food was the conversation. The creativity and passion of each women enriched and inspired us all.

  

Lori and her Italian Cream Cake