A Love Letter to my friend Linda from her husband

"And today it was raining and it started to rain a lot.

 I was walking to the subway and there was this old lady with
a cane walking real slow, getting all wet, and she didn't
even have a plastic head thingy that old ladies usually have.

 And so I gave her my umbrella and she was so happy and smiley and a
couple behind me looked at me in amazement as I quickly got drenched.

 I did it because you have made me better and more considerate.

So I give you credit for another good deed (and because we’re the same).

It was a good umbrella and I don't know where it came from and I think
it was yours, not sure, but I will replace it.

Maybe we should have a reserve of umbrellas for occasions such as this."

Randy Pausch

I am hoping as you read this you will have already heard of Randy Pausch, the professor from Carnegie Mellon who gave a speech last September to his students on overcoming obstacles, realizing dreams, enabling the dreams of others and living in the moment. I have been wanting to write about him for the last few days and am now finally getting to it. His book, "The Last Lecture" has just arrived to me via my mom in the mail. I have already downloaded his speech and PowerPoint presentation so I can use it one day to motivate some unsuspecting company and my daily journal is filled with notes I took when I watched his recent interview with Diane Sawyer. His original lecture was just supposed to be for his class, but someone posted it on U tube.

Why am I so fascinated? Because he is yet another teacher who has found a way to get his message across, reminding me (us) what is important. For me, during chaotic times I need to be reminded of that message a lot. Unfortunately, Randy is dying of cancer and has less than six months to live, but his message is a strong one and I think, I am not sure, his message would be the same regardless of the cancer. So, without further adieu, here is my interpretation of his message:

He talks about telling the truth- all the time. He talks about finding something great in each day. He talks about accepting the cancer and inevitable death, but not living out his last days in sadness. He wants these days to count just as the days did before his diagnosis. He talks about the Serenity Prayer,

" God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference."

--Reinhold Niebuhr

He talks about letting go of being arrogant and the importance of holding on to childlike wonder and imagination. (His parents let him paint whatever he wanted to on his walls as a kid. He painted rockets and planets and even an elevator.) He also talks about brick walls, which I found particularly significant. He sees brick walls that you stumble across in life as an opportunity for you to figure out or challenge yourself how you are going to get around them. He also sees them placed there to keep those who should really not be there, out. He talks about being given the option of taking small risks or big ones. He says always risk big. If you fail, you will also learn big rather than just taking a pass at the mediocre. He talks about being earnest over "hip" any day. He also says, TALK ABOUT THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM.

He says that we should stop telling people how to live their lives, but instead tell them stories of lives well lived. Lead by example. Lastly, he talks about the end goal: It is not about how to achieve your dreams, it is about how to live your life.

Again, I have heard all of these messages before in a variety of iterations, but the difference this time is that this is an average guy going about his business living his life and he managed to impact over 10 million people so far without even trying. He created this speech and this book for his family and relayed it to his class, no one else. It caught fire on its own. - For me, there are not enough good stories being told.

The other significance of Randy Pausch to me is that I have recently been in the presence of two extraordinary men in the last few years who have affected me immensely and remind me exactly of Randy. They have changed the course of my life; Keith Hunter and Bob Lazzarini. Keith was a colleague at Rhythm and Hues who joined me on a leadership project. He came in quietly, listened and when he finally decided to speak, his words were filled with passion, truth, empathy and they were exactly the answer to the problem we were trying to solve. Keith was brilliant and shared it everyday, but was egoless. He was humble, giving, practical and he too possessed that childlike wonder. I would often see him wandering the halls with his remote control airplane, a drum or riding his razor scooter in the parking lot. On occasion he would bring his young son Max to work and when I heard them talking it was usually about robots or building some new cool thing. Keith also wrote children's book and was an accomplished artist. Keith died of cancer in 2007. It was very hard to let him go, but to see that he had impacted so many people while he was here made me rethink why I am here and how I want to spend my time. Sometimes when I am caught between a rock and a hard place I see a little version of Keith on my shoulder and then I know what to do.

About the same time I knew Keith, I was going to school and met a professor named Bob. He taught my Personal and Professional Effectiveness class using Stephen Covey's, "7 Habits" book. That class and Bob were the catalysts that changed my career. Bob, like Keith, listened, had empathy, strength, and courage to be who he was at all times. Bob taught about values and doing the right thing. Somehow he had just the right balance of pc needed for the workplace and gusto to tell it like it is. He never offended anyone. In my opinion, he just did/does the right thing ALL OF THE TIME. Bob just had surgery for pancreatic cancer in January. He is recovering, but it is a very slow process.

I know this is all just a coincidence, these three men, all having such an impact on me and all being sick. I know there are many more people out there that are just as amazing, but these people have somehow crossed over into my life and as sad as it is for the families and everyone involved, I am so glad to have known them or in Randy's case, known of him.

Link to Randy Pausch's speech:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo

I Fell Down...Off My Kayak

It is the most amazingly beautiful day here in Redondo Beach, CA - right in front of my house. It's 82 degrees, sunny and the water is perfect for dipping. So, I decided to head down to the beach with my kayak and makeshift kayak carrier ( a child's red play school wagon). Little did I know that there was a surfing competition going on and hundreds of people blanketing the area (my backyard!). The first thing I had to figure out was where I was going to get in (launch) because I did not want to hit anyone if my boat became a little surly in the water. Well, it did not take long for me to make this happen. I quickly found a break in the people, jumped in, started paddling as fast as I could and the first set of waves descended upon me. I got through wave one and two, but wave three threw me. It rushed me backwards towards the beach, out of control. I am hoping that anyone wading nearby will get out of the way and I eventually fall out of the boat and it lands nicely on top of me as I make it to shore. Yes, embarrassing. No injury or pain, just a little humiliation. However, I have been in this philosophical place lately so I just stand up, get back in and try again. No skin off my back. Thankfully though, there was a nice guy and his daughter watching my little adventure. He offered to help give me a start through the next set of waves once I got settled and then I was finally off on my way to calm waters.

Now I am sitting peacefully out in the middle of the water, looking at kelp beds, watching birds, viewing people from a distance, and just being. I am lying- I am little freaked out. Is there a shark around? Is he angry? Does he eat blue boats that look like skinny whales? Hmm... how long should I stay here and is the tide going to pull me out? Okay, I guess it's time to go in so I can relax where something is not moving, which was my intent for coming out in here in the first place. Falling off the boat must have gotten to me more than I thought.

This time I am much more methodical in picking my place to land and possibly crash into the shore. I see a nice area that is relatively uninhabited and I can actually ride a wave in, jump off and cool off before I have to pull it out of the water and up the beach. I have drifted a few hundred feet so I will have to do some slogging through the sand to get back, but at least no one will get hurt and I will not have to face anyone who might have seen my original ascent.

Perfect! I am gliding in and jump out. I am pulling the boat up and there arrives a neighbor from down the beach. "Boy, who knew that wave was going to get you so badly. I was sure you had it made. You really took a tumble!" Great...

What I Did on My Spring Break

Well, there is one good thing about having time off (while waiting for phone calls and such), I have plenty of time to do things like - seeing the California Poppies in The Antelope Valley. About 30 miles North of Los Angeles, every March and April the wild flowers bloom for about six weeks in a variety of colors throughout the desert. At the suggestion of my friend Babett, (the girl with the cat who can only eat if there is a sock in his food bowl), my boyfriend Majid, a couple of family members and I drove up to the poppy reserve and walked the numerous trails. The high wind made it super cold, but it was bright, sunny and well worth it. In one direction we saw oranges and yellows with smatterings of purple, white and pink and then in another direction we saw snow-capped mountains. It amazed me once again that California has so much natural beauty to offer. I had recently made a drive up to Carmel. The Pacific Ocean was on my left, brilliantly blue and the hillsides to my right were blanketed with heavy green-like carpet and fat brown cows. And there was so much wide open space, making me think about when the settlers first came out West. (I wonder if some of it still looks as it did then?)

Anyway, back to the Poppies. We also saw blooming Joshua Trees and tons of purple Peas. We drove back through Lake Elizabeth, stopped by the historic Rock Inn for lunch and headed home via horse farms and oak trees, eventually making our way onto the lovely 405 freeway, which, by the way, passes right by the Getty and Skirball museums. (Another great day adventure.) I am telling you, Southern California may have a traffic problem and a few too many celebrities, but it really does get an unfair wrap sometimes. Today it and "mother nature" got very high marks from me.

I Am Being Such A Pain…To Put It Nicely

Have you ever had one of those moments where you were saying something to someone, and at the same time you were out of your body, listening to yourself say what you were saying and then you say to your out of body self, “What is her problem? Why is she behaving like a spoiled child who just got the larger half of the chocolate-chip cookie and is still complaining?” That is me. Right here, right now, admitting that I have finally lost my patience in this process.

Since August of last year I have been looking for what I consider the perfect job in my field. This perfect job in order for me to be happy has to be: non-profit, communications training related, the people have to be down to earth and creative, the pay has to be great and oh, I must be able to work virtually! (Yeah, right.)

Seriously, I have been looking for a job since August and have stumbled over many interesting opportunities, but because I am an idealist, I have been saving myself for the likes of Oprah and Habitat for Humanity. (Again, yeah, right.) In order to pace myself while waiting I have reintroduced meditation and yoga into my daily routine. I am reading a lot of Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer about the power of intention. I am being proactive yet letting go. I am asking for what I need and then not thinking about it anymore. I am acknowledging patience or the lack of it in my personality and I am learning humility big time. I am also learning that as spiritual as I am for the amount of knowledge I possess on the subject, I can still act like a bitch. Or maybe the more appropriate way of saying it would be…

I am a person who is really quite nice and loves her friends like family, but is feeling anxious and her fuse is much shorter than it used to be. I am a person who is normally very careful about choosing her words, but has no more words to describe what she is going through and how sucky it feels sometimes, so her unconscious self grabs the closest word off the shelf, regardless of how it is going to sound coming out. I am a person who feels that holding out for the right job in order to be able to give back most effectively to the community was/is the right thing to do, but I am now also kind of feeling the “nice guys finish last” syndrome.

So, as I wait one more day for that phone call from that company- they know who they are- my friends and family kindly check in and ask what the update is and I kindly, yet flatly reply the standard answer. Hopefully the conversation does not go anywhere where conflict could arise, ‘cause as soon as the door squeaks open allowing me to vent the slightest little bit…BAM! I knock one out there. Score card these last 7 days: Got mad at Babett twice, Casandra once, Alex once, and Majid more times than I can count.

Yes, I am being (you fill in the blank). I know it, I am sorry, and I hope and pray this will all be over soon because I’d really like to have a celebration dinner once I land my dream job and I’d like to not be the only one at the table.

“Waiting For My Life to Start”, told by Marilyn’s couch.

Get up! Get up! Get up! Why is she on me so much lately? Does she have any idea how heavy she is or how long it takes me to re-fluff and smooth myself out after she has laid on me all day? It was bad enough when she was in school and spent countless hours cross-legged on one of my corners, dropping food crumbs in between MY pillows and writing on me with her highlighter. (She swears it was an accident.) At least then she was gone during the day so I could get some peace and quiet. Now, with her new “sabbatical” schedule, her routine is not routine at all. She naps when she wants, throws the pillows on the floor to supposedly meditate; of course she has to sit on me to be more comfortable and now I have to be next to the hard floor! Then, to top it off, she has the nerve to allow her friends and family to use me as their sleeping apparatus when they come in to town. Don’t they know when they cover me with sheets and blankets I have difficulty breathing? Anyone ever hear of dust mites? Does she forget, I have feelings too? When was the last time she asked me if I needed to be dusted and smoothed or wanted a night off?

She seems to get “nights off” all of the time. And she goes out of town with no notice! Just when I am getting used to the everyday wear and tear schedule, (I wake up about 15 minutes before her so I can get prepared), she disappears without a trace. I usually find out she’s leaving because she pulls the suitcase out the night before, leaves it in the living room and he tells me so. He’s normally the quiet type, but he kind of gets excited when he gets to go on a trip and then blabs the details.

Anyway, I can’t wait ‘till she starts this new job of hers, so then we can go back to the way things used to be. Fifteen minutes in the morning while she drinks her coffee. I am fine with that because then I am off the rest of the day. A couple of hours at night when she gets home to unwind…then off to bed. Perfect!

-When will she learn that inanimate objects have lives too?

The Shelf In My Fridge

“What type of bread do you want with your cheese?” I asked my aunt as I searched my tiny kitchen for breakfast items. “Oh, any thing you have will be fine sweetie.” She said.

While she sat at in the other room and began telling me stories of her life in Tucson, I suddenly realized I wasn’t listening. Instead my sole focus became the entire bottom shelf of my fridge. It was filled with bread. “Wow! What a revelation!” you are probably saying to yourself. But no, this was not just any bread. These breads represented the sites and smells of the world; India, Former Yugoslavia, Iran, Mexico, Greece and yes, the USA. But how did they get there? I’m just a seemingly average girl, from a small town in Washington State, with a safe job at the local library, the same friends I’ve had for the last 15 years and a dog named Mush. How did I come to have six different cultures in the shape of bread in my fridge?

Was the Pita (considered in Greece a pie or bread) on my shelf because of my longing to visit this most picturesque of countries and if I kept it as a reminder in my fridge long enough I would finally buy a plane ticket? Or was it there as a memento of that cute guy with the dark curly hair and olive skin I met at my first dance who swore he would call, but never did- instead he told my friend to let me know he had the mumps and couldn’t go out. Permanently?

And the Tortillas, (unleavened flat bread for those of you have just recently arrived on Earth)…They seem to have become the replacement for wonder bread. Most every American refrigerator that I know of has a package somewhere. Is it just me that thinks it’s easier and safer on the clothes to eat peanut butter and jelly rolled up tight, rather than oozing through the pores of the bread or out the sides? I think the 10 years I spent in Texas near the Mexican border, eating burritos in taquerias at 4 in the morning after being out at dance clubs all night might have something to do with my adoration. By the way, after years of heating them via microwave or with grease in a pan, my new favorite is holding them over a stove’s gas flame for about 10 seconds on each side. A Bunsen burner will also do the trick just fine.

Now the Kakooli (a sweet round bread) - that’s an easy one. I know why it’s there. I may not be able to spell it right or make it, but Majid’s sisters introduced it to me last week while they sat cross-legged on top of the kitchen counter pounding out the dough and folding it into little balls before covering it with yogurt and then baking it in the oven. They were making enough to feed seven families, so I ended up with a few. Who is Majid and what does he have to do with bread, you ask? He’s my Persian boyfriend who brings me to meals with his family every week where I get to eat things called Gorme-sabzi (spinach, meat and beans), Shirazi salad (finely chopped cucumbers, onions, tomatoes and parsley), and Fesenjoon (ground walnuts, pomegranate juice, beef and spices). However, I am a vegetarian so the sisters are not exactly sure what to do with me, and since I don’t speak Farsi and they don’t speak English, we just smile at each other and I sneak in a bean burrito before I come over.

The Potiča (Slovenian holiday cake) is actually an experiment. It has been sitting in my refrigerator for over 3 weeks now and I have been afraid to open it. My best friend Renee made it and sent it to me as a Christmas present, but when it arrived it was wrapped in tinfoil, weighed at least 5 pounds and resembled a deflated football. This is quite normal though, not the Potiča or its interesting shape, but the sending of experiments that we try out on each other, year after year. We started out baking the simple things like banana and short bread and eventually got bold and made hand-dipped chocolate truffles and home-made cheese. Anyway, back to the Potiča, I have decided to try it out with our other breakfast items this morning and see how it fares. As far as its shape, I think I’ll reform it into something recognizable once I heat it up. Presentation is everything! (Oh, and I do have a story about my senior trip to Yugoslavia, falling in love with Dubrvnik and my more recent excursion to Bosnia with a military general, but I’ll save that for my next short story.)

Naan- now that’s a harder one to trace back to its original journey into my grocery bag. I do remember my friend Tamiza when I was working at Peace Corps who held a party at her house after coming back from India and creating this huge feast while she told us stories and passed around pictures. Or was it my summer spent in DC, asking cab drivers from all over the world for good food recommendations and eating at every ethnic restaurant in town? Actually, now I remember. It was a friend who had heard I was going camping with a bunch of non-vegetarians who gave me some packets of Indian Food and Naan as an alternative to the standard beef jerky and hotdogs that the rest of the crew were going to feast on. The Naan and the packets worked out so well on the camping trip I decided to make them a part of my regular grocery shopping and now eat it at least once a week.

The sixth and final bread item in my refrigerator is a 7 grain wheat bread, made in California. It is the most commonly associated as an American staple in the bunch. I don’t really have a story for it except that I do love a good grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup on a cold day and cheddar cheese seems to melt the best on bread like this. The top gets all crispy/golden brown and it holds up well when you dip it. I could also make something up about how when the pilgrims first arrived at Plymouth Rock, they fervently strew these luscious grains of…No, we know how it really went. Not good, even for a story about bread.

So, as I write this and think back on memories of food, cultures and other experiences I conclude that I am not as conservative as I thought, that I am more adventurous than I appear, not only with food, but with people, and places I travel as well. Oops, there’s a knock at the door. Oh, it’s Majid with his hands full, carrying bags from In & Out burger. “Come on hunny-bunny”, he says. " I’ve got a double-double in here for myself and some rabbit food for you. Let’s eat!”