Photos courtesy of CBB... We were up at 5 30 a.m. for the hike every day- no hair brushing, no mousturizing... I haven't gone that long without looking in a mirror in ages.
As much as I sort of poo pooed the level of exercise at that place- I did have a weirdly amazing ski day following my trip. I'm telling you, I was a Mexican Lindsay Vonn.. Maybe it was the m&ms.
The Ranch has a class called "taking the ranch home with you"; a seminar filled with tips on being healthy at home. This of course I did not attend, but as much as I hate to admit it, I am taking some knowledge home: First- canned garbanzo beans are good for hummus, you don't need to use dried and soaked. Also buy the trader joes pre peeled garlic for roasting. Spread on toast! You don't need to peel it yourself! The mind reels..
Anyway I learned that at the cooking class, which was great, and not just because they snuck in a little beer.
What I really learned while
under deprivation however , is I am a "radical moderate" (trade mark!) . I am radical in my moderation; and this is why I didn't last 24 hours without m&ms. It is also why I only ate 10 of them in three days (I bequeathed the rest to heather).
I am moderate about sleep and exercise and booze and chocolate. But I am also incredibly steady- never too far off the middle. And do not- I repeat, do not ask me to veer from that path. The locals are still laughing at the gringa in spandex and a pith helmet wandering the dusty streets on day one for sustenance. (Fiona described me as having mosquito netting over my face but this is of course a total exaggeration.)
The only thing I am not middle of the road on is love. And I do love those crazy girls.
Whenever we get together, it seems
one of us is in a mild crisis- financial or romantic or child related. And we put the afflicted on the couch for group therapy; until one of us starts cracking jokes about the bleakness of it all, or a shared memory, or someone (me) spills coffee on herself without cleaning it off, and pretty soon we are helpless with laughter.
In Buddhist Pema Chödrön's wonderful book she says :
"Never have expectations of other people. Just be kind to them."
And that's what these women have always done- expect nothing from me but a little of my time, and a partially hydrogenated, artificially flavored snack in my pocket.
I promise I will add more details later today... but using one's phone is semi verboten, as are chocolate and cheap Mexican vodka - none of which we feel applies to us.
This is my first spa foray and I seem to have an instinct for revolution. Seriously - I am the Che Guevara of rancho la Puerta-fomenting revolution at every turn.
Under my leadership we have encouraged several women to give up their dream of weight loss and/or de toxing, to join our cause.
Fiona gave me the greatest compliment I have ever received when she implored me not to leave tomorrow- she said "but you are our glue! And you make us popular with all the other guests!"
What's not to love? I have the stash of m&ms.... More in a few xx
Below: us on a very, very early morning hike; and us with a few frocks for four days in Mexico as we cross the border (!)
The Burke's girls and I are going to a spa in Mexico to celebrate Mindy's birthday. Last night I found this picture, which says a lot about our childhood together...
All three of them: Cath, Min and Fiona, are looking at me in various states of disbelief as I lay out some plan to climb into the neighbor's house in scuba gear to steal chocolate.
By the way I am holding back my cheap Dorothy Hamill hair cut, however, it seems even I have my doubts- as if I 'm saying: "Wait a minute- anything over 1,000 bucks constitutes a felony, right?"
This is the way it often was-me on a makeshift Mussolini balcony in tomboy clothes giving a little speech. They-ever patient, ever incredulous, but ever game.
The girl in the green was someone from the east coast who came to Stinson that year for the tennis camp. I don't remember her name, but she was wonderful; and clearly ballsy-because she is the only one telling me I am crazy, it will never work. (This threw me because I was not used to dissent). She was rather New York cool- I mean she had the rope bracelet and drank vitamin smoothies every day. I, by contrast, seem to be wearing Andrew's pants.
What I find so poignant about the image is that it shows how little has changed, despite the fact that so much has. Something has endured. I am not sure what to call it-but it is that thing that makes you want to sit around and talk to each other long into the night. That thing that makes you laugh harder with them than anyone else. So that is what we are going to do...
Because this is my first spa experience, I am apprehensive about the caloric restrictions; but have a plan in place to break out of jail if the situation gets dire. My cohorts are more concerned about the negative attitude at the Spa towards alcohol. But we are ready-
Fiona has been designated wine finder, and Min (our beauty, our angel, the one I cast as cinderella to mine and Alexia's ugly step sisters in my play) is stashing vodka in her carry on. Vodka, after all has the most alcohol per calorie.
Chico sent this today; thought I would share with his groupies.
It looks like Russia, where this blog is, apparently, huge. (Insert smiley face).
He is writing a big paper on religion, so my little left brainer called and asked if he could Skype with his semi crunchy new age mother to review some basics. (!) This was noteworthy because it was literally the first time I have ever helped him with homework. Too funny. He quite likes the class; but is so uncomfortable with the question, which was to discuss how he "felt" about his family's religion.
Unless an anvil falls on his foot, Feelings are rather difficult for him to describe.
Jack Herney told us to go see Spotlight- saying it is as much about Boston as it is about the church. Tonight we did....now so should of all of you. It's a must.
Xx
Night San Francisco
Post Script
The next day I asked F what his basic thesis was, and this was the text:
"Too long to text but it involves comfort, brunging family together on holidays and the starting point for life's mysteries".
I did not take this picture; and in any case it did not look this romantic when we dropped F off in the dark, cold night.
He was apprehensive, but ok. At first we were hesitant to help him with his very heavy suitcase up four flights, until I thought about what CAB would think of bowing to the opinions of pimply faced SAT acers. As I always tell F: it is they who should be worried about looking cool in front of me.
I'm the cool one.
So we did, and he even let me change his bed and then he hugged us and went off in search of friends.
I see why not everyone wants to do this though- it can't be as easy as sleeping in your own bed with parents and El Salvadoreans and dogs to nurture you. Also it is f ing freezing.
As we were leaving I saw a post it note on his door. It said "eat healthy and get lots of sleep". I asked him about this, and he answered: I tried to think what you would have told me mommy" .
This literally killed me.
You mother someone because you hope that someday, somehow, they will get the hang of it- and learn to mother themselves.
Anyway, it's a little step, a little lurch towards something good.
Skiing is a dance, and the mountain always leads. ~Author Unknown
Forgive the title, but I tend toward the melodramatic when the Lech vacation ends and Russians replace us in the tages bar. Nothing against Russians; (they add a certain dramatic flair to the sauna) but they are not the faces of my friends...
Had an interesting last day with Lisi. (Ya just knew she wasn't going to let me off easy.) It was me and F and Sophie, age 10, who skies like the wind. There was no visibility and plenty of ice and bad skiers; so both Thomas and Lisi warned me to be extra careful. Lisi even told me that the first and the last days of one's ski holidays were notorious for accidents. Then she took away my poles and sped off.
After about an hour of me following 20 seconds behind everyone in the fog, Lisi pulled me aside and asked what the hell I was doing.
"? I'm being careful.."
Then she proceeded to give me a pep talk that sounded somewhere between that of Knute Rockne and George Patton. She told me that I was "such a good technical skier"; she told me that she could see the Harumi influence in me (that's when I started licking her face); but then she told me quite simply to step on it; this was no time to be comfortable-she wanted me to be uncomfortable- with the crowds and ice and fog and pistes littered with injured bodies...I should feel that discomfort.
I am not making this up. First she tells me that the last day of skiing is the most dangerous; then she tells me to man up and ski faster. Chip chop and no you can not have your poles, and shut up about the ice. She is quite mad that woman; I love her so...
I have not even told you about the day she got me up early, mumbling something about a hike in an area far from here. The next thing I knew I was being pulled along with my skis on -like a deer after he has been shot... but is now water skiing. (So he is dead and scared.)
It's called a ski-do and I had never seen it before. One remains on one's skis and then a semi drunk looking local arrives in a "quad" with treads on the bottom of it and a large group of skiers grabs the rope.
The guides are screaming something into the wind about DO NOT ACHTENFLUGEN or you will SCHNIZTZELCARPEN! !
'WHAT??" Don't do WHAT???
But there is no time for instructions because the driver takes off at high speed, turning this way and that on the icy, bumpy road. I am loudly praying that the person in front of me doesn't fall. Because if he does, I will have to react quickly enough to ski around him, or risk crashing. And then I will be left to die in the woods. I survived this ordeal, only to find Lisi had planned a three hour walk over hill and dale; skins on, skins off; skies on skies off until i considered crying for my mother. Who am I kidding? I was crying for Frau Schneider.
Despite the hell of it all, here is the reason why I do it- here is why people ski:
Skiing reminds you that your instincts are sometimes, exactly wrong:
To be safe in skiing, you have to throw yourself a bit down the hill; you have to lean off the cliff; lean towards the fear, even though you have doubt.
And this I believe is called faith.
I was recently reading an article about happiness, and it seems happiness is a simple two part process (who knew?)
Feel the pain
Dissolve the pain
Do not skip a step.
That's pretty much what I do with Lisi and Harumi: I experience doubt and fear and pain. And then I get lunch.
So onward to 2016!
Here's to more adventure, more love, more tiny victories over the mind and body, more time together;
pain,
dissolve,
repeat.
See you soon xx
ski-do skeptic
Me, my underage bartender and my nose ringed dancing partner....
We have had New Year's; and it was the most fun New Year's eve in a long while...lots of dancing, and no hangover, so all around excellent attempt.
Why is it happy people dance, and unhappy people don't?
What is it about dancing that separates the men from the boys in the mental health department? Of course the lone exception is Thomas who is uncomfortable on a dance floor...but that is the German in him. Can't have the same person who builds your rocket invent new dance moves. But newly minted lesbians, hopeless romantics, Canadians, and international divorcees, all flock to the tiny Almhof floor. It's the best; or the best of the worst dancing you have ever seen. Oh sure, we could use a few more (some) black people....but in the right light, a sunburnt Austrian looks almost comfortable out there. Oh my God! the plans we made! They keep coming up in the cold light of day. Here is a partial list:
My 50th will be in Cartagena and will be attended by Canadians AND the very cute underage bartender with the weird name (mentor?) from the Almhof. I just remember thinking as he hugged me for just a tad longer than Mrs. S would have liked, that this special bond must be celebrated in South America.
The new Lesbian crowd here will alas not be in Cartagena, but not because we are anti gay. Or anti gay dancing...no. It's just that the lesbians hog the floor and make me dance with them and thomas was getting irritated. He claims one of them-a twenty year- old kept singing my praises ("your wife is SO great") and lord knows I try not to brag...but she is thirty years younger..
Next year's New Years eve will be a buffet -followed by a fondue. Or maybe it's the other way around.
There are more, but they are only fuzzy at this point...
The photos of course tell a different story..mon dieu. Why why why did I not use powder? and why did I think lipstick was enough?...eye liner! more eye liner was needed! I honestly think I need to jump off a high ledge. Maybe tomorrow...reminds me of my favorite Annie Lammott quote:
I want to kill myself but I need to lose five pounds first.
Oh before the dinner and dancing we had a pre party in curlers which is always my favorite part....bunch of crazy women; a few husbands pop their heads in, but retreat like moles in daylight when we screech our greeting. Wouldn't even stay for a picture.
Tomorrow is last day with Lisi..I didn't even tell you about our insane day of hiking. But I will.
More soon. Ski must now.
xxx
