Farewell to Summer

Summer 2009 left today. The end of summer is always a little bit melancholy. I noticed the transition Sunday morning when I racked my bike in the pitch black for the Trek Triathlon. There was nervous chatter about the lake temperature (cold). I have noticed lately that mornings have a chilly bite and it is harder to leave a warm bed for a cold run or swim. The farmers' markets are chock full of this summer's harvest. My internship starts Monday. There is transition everywhere. Summer 2009 was a great summer. The warm days resulting in vegetables, herbs, fruit by the basketful. We ate well. There were bike rides: on Cape Cod, in Boston, in Bellevue, in the mountains. There were sunrise runs where I could leave my fretting and worries out on the road and out of my house. There were swims in the pool, in the lakes; black water and brilliant blue sky. There was a perfect day of hiking and pondering on Whidbey Island where I had nowhere to be except there. I had driven P up to a cancer retreat and my sole purpose for the day was to simply be until she was ready for a ride home. That day was a gift. A gift to spend a day celebrating the beauty that surrounds us all in this corner of the planet.

 Last night Ken and I biked down to the lake and watched the sun set over the Olympics. Chasing Ken's bike home down along the lake through the fading golden light and shadows with the bunnies bounding back into the bushes was the perfect last summer night. He promised me that soon there will be pumpkins and squash at the markets. There will be holiday gatherings with friends and family. There will be snuggly sweaters and the magic golden light that only happens in the fall. Yes, fall is coming and all will be well but for right now, I am cherishing these last final (literally) minutes of summer.

Addiction in the kitchen

Today I spent my last day at PMSC as a volunteer. PMSC is a day shelter for adults over 55. Many who visit here are homeless. This is a place where you can get a hot lunch, often a hot breakfast, classes, or just a sense of warmth and safety. For 2 years I volunteered in the kitchen and then facilitated a diabetes support group. Managing diabetes when you don't know a) what your next meal is or where it will come from b) when you might have a kitchen to call your own c) security and stability is a challenge I cannot begin to understand. The stories are funny, tragic, often long-winded, and always wildly entertaining.

Today as I walked in the kitchen I asked one of the staff members, J, "how are you?". "Homeless" was the answer. He is 3 months out of a stint in rehab so I stopped and talked. "How long have you been homeless? What is going on? Talk to me." He talked. He talked matter of factly as they all do about rehab, about how noone wants to rent to a junkie, about his regrets for the drugs, prison, the relapses, all of it.

He talked until my single attendee for the diabetes group stopped by and yelled into the kitchen. "Misha, I NEED you. My blood sugar is over 200. WHEN are you starting the group?? I NEED you." I have never had that reaction before, and I was wary of what state of sobriety (or not) this gentleman might be experiencing. Actually I was pleased. As grumpy as I was due to yet another eye infection and as many times as noone has showed up: today was great. I felt useful. We talked. We talked about specific choices for snacks, for fiber, and how to manage in a candybar now and again. The candybar is not going away anytime soon and we both knew that. More calm, he left for his walk to get his blood sugar down below 150 before lunch...... and a donut.

Back in the kitchen, L, grumps at me about where have I been, and why haven't I been working in his kitchen, and have I been off sleeping and being lazy. This is his way of saying I have been missed. When I share that my internship is starting, he gets somber. "Good luck with that. Noone deserves it better. They are shutting down the Lazarus shelter and this place is about to get crazy. Best that you not be here when THAT happens" When I ask why they would shut down a shelter just as the weather changes he gets even more gentle. "Baby girl, noone cares about the homeless in this town. There is only one you." I will never hug Leroy. When I try and tell him thank you for teaching me so much he grumps and walks away. That is his way. But he knows that he means the world to me. And I know I mean the world to him.

While I have not yet gotten permission to tell their stories and give a voice to their experiences, I carry their stories with me. I carry their kindness and laughter with me. I learned more about drugs, poverty, how to get a bed in a shelter, and which pawn shops carry the best selections of TVs in that kitchen than I ever thought imaginable. I never expected to volunteer so long at this place. I never expected that some of my greatest teachers would be the old, the addicted, the recovering, the crazy, the forgotten. But they were and they are, and I will not forget them.

I found the prototype for the herb garden of my dreams. In the courtyard of the Inn at Langley, I found nirvana. Diamonds of herbs bordered by boxhedges. Tomatoes protected from invaders by cosmos loaded up with honeybees (I recently read that caterpillars and some nasty bugs are afraid of buzzing bees - who knew!) I wandered around sampling a leaf of this, a leaf of that. THIS I could do in my yard. Langley is basically a giant garden trying to be a town so it is no surprise that I found an herb garden that knocked me off my feet. Later in the evening I found a vegetable garden so wonderful I spent more time in it than at the wedding reception I was attending. I got home to stare sadly at my pots of herbs that are picked clean. I am just fresh out of herbs. Even the spearmint has been completely used up. The chives are hiding among the patio squares to avoid the same fate but their days are numbered. As the summer threatens to wind down transform into fall I am again considering my garden. In my newfound favorite magainze "Herb Companion" I am finding all sorts of resources, along with more sorbet recipes to make with herbs, to soundbites for why to incorporate as many herbs into all aspects of daily life as possible. The soundbites remind me of what I have just finished reading in The Body Toxic, by Nena Baker - yikes!

I'll leave you with pictures of what a herb garden can be....and what mine will look (vaguely) like..in time.

ABCs of Mindful Eating

"Tell Me What You Eat and I'll tell you who you are." Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.

I want you to think about eating differently. No, wait, let me back up. I want us all to re-examine the what, when, why, and how we eat. There are countless blogs about this food and that nutrient: this supplement and that miracle cure. I spent the weekend up on Whidbey Island; the woo abounds in every corner shop. Take the right pill, use the right soap, chant the right mantra, and hallelujah, amen, you will be perfected.

Forgive me but I think it is a whole lot simpler than that. And a whole lot harder.

One of my favorite books is "Eat, Taste, Heal", by Thomas Yarema, MD, Daniel Rhoda, and Chef Johnny Brannigan. It is an "Ayurvedic guidebook and cookbook for modern living." There is a section on the ABCs: Ambiance, Blessing, Consumption. Me, being me, desperately wants to change it to: Ambiance, Blessing, Companionship. Get THAT straight, and the eating will come, in time. So let's chat about the ABCs.

Ambience: How often do I eat in front of the nightly news, in front of my laptop, in my car, standing over the sink? How often am I frantically squishing a Hammer gel in my mouth mid-run, mid-tri, sprinting into the locker room before a hellish Wade workout. Now, let's flip it. How often do I cook slowly, light candles, set a table? When was the last time we had company over for dinner? When was the last time I had a delightful time chatting with dinner companions I had never met before? I give myself a score of about 50/50. This summer we have been blessed with a farm dinner, family dinners, amazing dinners. This summer I have also blown through a lot of hammer gels: I think I like the espresso flavor best but then again I am not entirely sure gels have flavors!

Blessing: I have blogged it before, and I'll blog it again. I believe in the case for grace. If nothing else - inhale your breath before you inhale your food. At a wedding this past weekend, I slipped away into the vegetable garden and prowled among the late harvest berries. I experienced full-on basil envy. I was amazed at the drifts of parsley in the small orchard. I believe if we each had a small garden - either a pot of herbs or a garden with rows of chard and tomatoes, we would eat with more gratitude. I believe the old adage "never go to bed angry" is wrong. I believe the adage should be "never eat angry". I truly believe you do more harm eating angry than sleeping off a rage.

Companionship: We enjoyed one of the Dog Mountain Farm dinners and had a delightful time with two sweet ladies who shared the secret of the Mercer Island Fig Festival, and secrets of growing some herb that I can't remember. Earlier this summer a nephew spent an entire Sunday cooking a meal for us that was beyond heavenly. I have taken a lot of meals to a lot of people this summer facing a health crisis. Funny - we instinctively know to take food when someone is in crisis. The challenge is this: how often do we offer food to avoid a crisis? I believe in more picnics and dinner parties, and less dinners alone with Channel 5. Consider this part of health care reform.

To follow the ABCs, the basics takes time and thought. Time and thought is something that as a culture we don't equate with food. We think of fast food, convenince paks, take-out. It is time to re-think how, when, what, and why we eat. It is time to re-think of who we are.