Under a Red Roof

Tomorrow Makes Five

April 8, 2009 in Eating by Colleen | 3 comments

Hello friends!

I thought I would give you a little update on my quest to give up sugar. The verdict is pretty darn good! Since I last wrote about it (five weeks ago tomorrow), I have had a bite of chocolate, a bite of peanut brittle, and in a far weaker moment, a slice of peach pie. However, as karma and my conscience would have it, the pie was not so good. The peaches were hard and the crust not up to snuff. Even as I ordered it, I thought, “What are you doing?” Life teaches us the way.

I think I told you that I had given up sugar before, even going for eight weeks once. Those times, however, it was with a particular end date or goal in sight, then I could have more. This time, I hope to just let it go. I am actually quite surprised at how easy it feels. It used to be that I would get a craving and fight, fight, fight it. Then I would set a time limit. Okay, Colleen, you think you want it now, so why not wait an hour or two and see what happens? I’ll tell ya – when the inner timer went off, I scrambled to the kitchen to make cookies, a cake, a pie, or sometimes, when we were out of the usual ingredients, a weird concoction only an addict would enjoy.

I wish I could say exactly what button has been pressed to make me lose the obsessive feeling, but I can’t. Now, I am enjoying fruit – fresh or dried, and when I feel a little more desperate, which thankfully isn’t that often, a glass of chocolate hemp milk (I’m also consuming very little dairy) sweetened with agave nectar or brown rice syrup. Just in case you are wondering, I haven’t replaced the sugar with artificial sweeteners either. For one, the ingredients terrify me – chlorinated sugar? Um, no thanks. Two, I’ve never liked the taste, so in the foods where I used to sprinkle sugar, like my morning bowl of grains, I use a little agave and some sort of fruit – my current favorite is dried blueberry. Yum.

I really like the ripple effect of this change. I know I’m doing something good for my body. I’ve lost weight, feel stronger, have more energy, and feel that my usual effervescence and love for creation is heightened. I sleep less without feeling groggy or crabby. The best part, however, is not having the feeling that I am missing something. I have all I need, and that includes you, my blog friends. Thanks for sharing the journey.

XO –

Colleen

First Warm Day

April 6, 2009 in Being, Gardening + Nature by Colleen | 1 comment

Today was the first time this year it’s been over seventy degrees in Portland and boy was it glorious! The sun made me feel energized, getting all manner of tasks done – laundry, weeding, cleaning house. Ahh, everything is easier when it is warm. Some highlights…

Clothes on the line and cushions on the furniture…

The spirea and maple budding to life…

Solar light and gazing globe in the garden – a sure sign of spring! The peonies are coming up, too…

Cats and people enjoying the sun…

The scent of daffodils and hyacinth filling the house. Thanks Martha and Alan…

I hope everyone had a wonderful day!

The House of Meetings

April 3, 2009 in Reading, Spotlighting by Colleen | 1 comment

“It is nothing.”

These were the words uttered rather non chalantly by a Russian neighbor when I expressed my delight at her beautiful carnations. I had some, and they just didn’t look like hers, despite trying several methods to make them flourish. I was bugged by the answer.

Then, I started to notice this was a trend among those I encountered from former Soviet States. It is nothing is like a mantra, the go-to answer for accomplishments large and small. I didn’t really get it until reading The House of Meetings by Martin Amis. The novel describes the life of two brothers in 20th century Russia: their love for the same woman, the wars, life in the gulag, life afterward.

The novel is a long letter from a father to his daughter, confessing his crimes, and describing his love for his brother Lev and his wife Zoya. What really stands out for me is the it is nothing aspect. The lives of the people of Russia have been so tortured (quite literally) and on the precipice for so long that nothing is truly valued, for if this were to happen, it would make the loss more unbearable. There are marriages, children, wars, rapes, thefts, and squalid conditions, but with them only a vague sense of gratitude, joy, remorse, or loss. It’s very strange.

The novel itself is a pretty swift read, smart, well researched, and even humorous at times. Though I did have to make stops at the dictionary for these words: pelf, rictus, cloacal, scrofulous, and lachrymist. Golly, does Martin Amis have an enviable vocabulary – it is something. On the whole, I liked the book it and found it rather enlightening. I appreciated the fact that it was so detached, as, sensitive girl that I am, I certainly could not have stomached the work had the narrator been passionately engaged and vividly describing the events of his life. On the other hand, I cannot help but feel sad that one could live this way, or treat others in such a fashion, as cold as the Siberian plain. I doubt I would last very long.

A Cascade of Memories

April 1, 2009 in Being, Receiving, Remembering by Colleen | 1 comment

Yesterday at Nia class, my instructor Margaret mentioned Silver Falls State park here in Oregon, and with it came a cascade of memories for me.

The spring after we first moved here, one of Greg’s colleagues participated in an exchange with someone from Daimler-Chrysler to further the relationship between companies. Ron went off to Germany and Hans came here.

I think, quite possibly, he was the best gift we had in that first year. We’d had a rough start with the house (the furnace and oven breaking, plumbing problems, etc.) and I couldn’t find work as a teacher (a long standing trend!). One night, after a particularly bad day, we had Hans over for dinner, and his presence was like a light shining down on us – warm, friendly, and entirely good. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Hans became a near constant companion. We did every manner of activity together. We explored the McMenamin’s kindgom, had downtown adventures, threw parties, went hiking, took in movies, enjoyed great conversations, the works.

But these memories are the ones I hold dearest to my heart, for they are the most “Hans”:

Hans dressed in what I consider a pretty typical German fashion. Stylish with a dash of kookiness. He loved character socks. He once wore his favorite pair, Popeye, with sandals, to the waterfront for the Rose Festival. Also, he’d never owned a dryer before, and the one in his apartment was like a revelation. “Did you know it can dry pants in only half an hour?” Um yeah, but for every half an hour, you seem to lose a quarter of an inch in length, Hans. No matter. He was the happiest guy in high waters and Popeye socks. Definitely.

Hans always wore a button down shirt, always. In his left breast pocket he kept a small spiral notebook and pencil for new words and phrases. Often times, he would bring out the notebook for us to help him with something particularly unusual that he couldn’t suss out with his dictionary. The best was when he learned “spam sucking trailer trash” and “son of a bitch,” and in a rather serious tone, asked the G-Man and I: “Which is more worser?” The two of us nearly died with laughter, explaining that it really depends on the audience.

Hans was a master at cards. He could figure out any game in a matter of minutes and play joyously for hours. In particular, I loved to watch him shuffle. I have only recently become even remotely efficient at shuffling. I can’t really say why. I used to think it was my hands being small, but then we met Sandeep, and despite his fingers being a full inch shorter than mine, he was like a dealer in Vegas. Amazing. Anyway, Hans had this curious way of doing it, basically mixing up the stack, not actually shuffling. It was crazy how quick and efficient he was at it. You’d never imagine it would work, but it did.

Finally, the memory that started this all. On one of our many adventures, we went to Silver Falls State Park for a hike. It was a cold day, a bit drizzly, but exceedingly beautiful. The water was high and the falls in their full splendor, loudly crashing into the river below. As we hiked, we took a path that was further from the falls, deeper into the forest. Imagine the quintessential Oregon forest – redolent with the scent of clean air and earth, full of moss, ferns, evergreens, and the lacy branches of deciduous trees clamoring for the sun. We were happily chatting and walking when Hans suddenly stopped. I kept speaking for a moment then realized what it was about. Silence. A void of sound of the most profound variety, like none I have experienced since. For a full five minutes we stood in utter stillness and wonder that the world could be so beautiful and quiet and we could be so privileged to share in it.

There are many other wonderful memories of Hans, as well, and sometimes, when I need a little pick-me-up, I gently unpack one and smile that such a wonderful man came into my life all those years ago. Life is good.

By the way, I could not find the picture from that day, so this one has to suffice. The day was cloudier, but the landscape quite similar…