Precious

berry, berry good…

May 28, 2014

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they’re here! they’re here! the berries are here!

every summer, when our blackberries make their annual bloom, our old, beat-up, seen too many days in the sun, backyard-wall gets a vibrant coat of green, purple, and pink.

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no paltry, orange county-starved housewife looking berries for us; these juicy gems are plump + fat with the perfect tart to sweet ratio which makes not eating them straight off the vine a lesson in self-control and willpower.

as you’ve read before, i’m not one who’s been able to master the art of meditation.

this morning, the mindfulness i used to not apply sunscreen to my toothbrush {as has happened 4 times over the last 30 days,} was the equivalent of a mumbai ashram internment; my teeth and gums are fresh and clean, but unlike yesterday, they are subject to sunburn.

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 there’s something about berry picking though; getting my actual hands on the prickly bush, fingertips grabbing pretty stains of magenta, butterflies humming around the berry blossoms, and the gentle, warm weather we’ve been having of late beckoning me to stay outside longer than i typically do—it all charms me into my own meditative trance.

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speaking of unbreakable catatonia….this one did not bat one inky eyelash off her mamma.

the fear of missing a fallen berry is paramount in priscilla’s world.

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meanwhile jones just helped himself straight from the vine.

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i wish i could say i whipped up a fantastic berry fool {aptly named, yes?} or that i swept hunkiest off his feet with a homemade blackberry cobbler {the one dessert i can make.}

but alas these popcorn-size bites of blue-violet bliss barely made it to the sink for a wash, before i gobbled them down like a hungry, hasty giant.

one need not have their own blackberry vines to experience the joy of the berry season. get thyself down to your farmers market {such a blogging cliché i know–i just gagged on my own vomit.} farmers markets are teeming with berries right now and it will make you so angry and guilty to see how much less expensive and better tasting they are than the stuff in our commercial markets {yes i’m talking about YOU whole foods!!!}

so talk to me goose: what’s your favorite ways to eat blackberries?

a berry-good wednesday m’loves.

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thou shall not……

February 18, 2013

monday peace and love to you my kittens. 

my sweet, hard-working, deep-feeling readers, did mr. weekend give you the reprieve you had so greatly needed and deserved?

as of last friday, my heart had been vitamixed into a questions-unanswered smoothie determined to unpack its suitcase in the center of my throat, where it filled out change of address forms, and put up ikea closet shelves. 

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  via loads of task, toil and clock-punch, i was able to evict said habitant-heartbreak.

whenever i’m sad or mixed up, my go-to mode is head down, pile on the busy.

i just startled myself with the sound of my laugh as i wrote those words, and realized that the last few years have been a maniacal, rainman-like {sally dibs, dibs sally} assembly line of me trying to cram in as many units of occupation and grind as possible. 

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i’m terrified to step off this hamster wheel. one of my biggest fears is laziness. deep down i fear that i am lazy.

lazy. that word creates russian meteorites in my stomach. i’d rather be called superficial or pointless; just not lazy.

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if there is any catholicism still left in me, the sloth commandment inflames every guilty cell in my body, sending me into a penance of plate spinning, while trying to wildly tap-dance silently on a tile floor. 

even when i attempt to revise my world for more downtime and slumber, new sardines {clients, a new class i can’t say no to, a writing opportunity} always have a way of seducing me with their distracting, less attention on me and my foot-in-my-mouth adventures, more focus on my external world, where i try to help others feel more vital and hopeful in their lives, and less lazy.

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this is where i heal my heart; where i find the salve for my sad soul: on the bike, on the mat, at my desk, thumping away at these keys like they were a piano concerto i can never quite master.  

today, monday february 18, 2013 my once, heavy, melancholy self now feels much better. happier, more grateful and present.

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so i guess what i’m saying is “thank you” m’loves. thank you for providing me an outlet to mend and balm the hurt. thank you to my classes and clients for offering up buckets of mind-opened and arms wide.

so much love and gratitude,

katie

there has been a fund set up for laura schneider’s children. to donate, contact: Robert Sackler at Wells Fargo Advisors 9665 Wilshire Blvd. #1000 Beverly Hills, CA 90212. Please reference Julian Miller, Cordelia Schneider and Roland Schneider

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So Precious

November 17, 2009

i was fine. it was just a saturday night movie. sat between three i love, the rest strangers. i was fine. i ate my peanut m & m’s. got good and cranky at the twits behind me talking during the previews. made a mental note to see penelope cruz’s new movie.

movie started. no surprises…….. i knew. i was fine. mo’nique will certainly win the oscar. i think…….. how did she prepare? who was her coach? what did her trailer look like?…….. technical things………….. lenny kravitz didn’t seem to have a line on his face…………….. gabourey “gabby” sidibe has the whitest teeth…………… i think paula patton and i have a mutual friend.

i was fine. it was a hard movie, but i was fine. actually felt a little let down at the flatness i felt. thought the movie would have moved me more. hmmm?

sunday morning. tree decorated. laundry folded. errands to be run. i reach for my necklace beads. i start to cry.

i see her beautiful, precious face and those sad, sorrowful eyes. those eyes. eyes lidded so heavy with pain they don’t blink, widen, or tear.  i see her wearing her necklace beads, each day a different color strand, matching her massive sweaters and jackets; a small effort, but an attempt nonetheless. anything to help diminish the horror of her reality. a reality that i know exists for so many.

all around me i know there is the silent suffering an abused child.

i can’t stop crying.

i feel stupid. i am spoiled. i feel stupid and spoiled.

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