Current Quandary

Since I’m starting school today (in Chatham’s Master of Arts in Food Studies), I thought it an appropriate time to explain what I did this summer that kept me from blogging. I co-wrote this book:

You wouldn’t think a little 48-page book could monopolize my time so, and yet it did. But I’m happy with how it turned out, so it was worth it.

The book was written for participants in ChangeRx corporate wellness programs, but it’s available to anyone and everyone should read it (just my opinion). Here’s the back-cover copy to peak your interest:

The truth about food can be hard to swallow.

But you’re ready. You’re no longer satisfied with soft sell and half-truths, pep talks and small changes. You want the straightforward, no-holds-barred facts on what and how you must eat for a lean, healthy body. You hunger for A Mouthful of Truth.

Part how-to, part choose-to, this eater’s manefesto is built on 15 simple and sometimes surprising truths. From “The Potato Isn’t the Problem” to “Fast Food is No Excuse for Fat Food,” the sooner you accept the truths and start living by them, the sooner your body will transform into a healthy being.

For anyone who is confused about nutrtion — or who knows what to eat but rationalizes poor choices — A Mouthful of Truth is a heaping helping of reality, divided into easy to chew chapters. This slim book says a mouthful about food, habits and the accountability we must all accept. With our nation’s health and healthcare both in crisis, it’s a truth we can’t afford to ignore.

I hope you’ll buy a copy (it’s only $9.95), read it and (if you like it) write a review on amazon.com extolling its virtues. You — yes YOU! — could be part of this little book’s journey into the hands of more and more readers, changing more and more lives, until we’re all eating healthily and living happily ever after.

The End.

After a long life filled with family, professional success, travel and golf, Ralph O. Boldt passed away peacefully surrounded by loved ones in Carlsbad, CA. Ralph was a Naval Air Pilot during WWII and served for 30 years as a Trustee for the U.S. Bankruptcy Court of San Diego County. Many will miss his entrepreneurial spirit, his stories, his wit and wisdom, and the sparkle in his eye.

“He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and women and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to express it; who has looked for the best in others and given the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; and whose memory is a benediction.”

— A.J. Stanley

My 92-year-old stepfather Ralph entered hospice care this past Thursday. For the last six months, as his body was deteriorating, he’s been saying that he’s ready to go. He’s lived an incredibly full life, with his health only beginning to fail once he hit the age of 90 (he didn’t even retire until he was 80).

When he first entered hospice, the doctor didn’t think he’d last more than a day or two. Three at most. “Should I come out?” I wondered. (I’m in Pittsburgh, my folks and two of my sisters are in San Diego.) “Wait,” was what we all determined. Ralph was mostly unconscious. I could be more of a help after. Plus, my nephew Tyler is staying with us this summer. It seemed better not to disrupt our household routine just yet. And I had said my goodbyes during my last few visits, most recently over Memorial Day.

Now we’re on Day 5. Some days Ralph is awake — rarely able to speak, but aware of the presence of my mom (even puckering up for a kiss), my sisters and brother-in-law, their kids, his grandson from D.C. Over the phone yesterday, I teased him that he’s holding court just like he’s always loved to do.

It feels strange not being there. I’m going about my regular life routine while most of my family has halted theirs and huddled together to make sure Ralph’s last moments on Earth are enveloped in love. I have to fight feeling guilty and wondering if I’m doing the wrong thing, waiting. I remind myself that there is no right and wrong in these situations. That no one is judging me. And, most importantly, that it’s not about me at all. It’s about Ralph, and he’s surrounded by a roomful of family. He is loved and cared for. And when it is his time to go, he will, knowing that I love him, too.

And so I wait.

I’m reading Daniel Pink’s new book, DRIVE: The surprising truth about what motivates us, in which he explains how we’re driven less by extrinsic motivators (money, goals, rewards) and more by intrinsic ones (the joy of creating or solving). I get that. Boy do I get it.

Here are the various creative endeavors I have going on at the moment (and for which I’m not getting paid):

• Revising my novel, Maharishiville
• Writing a screenplay, “One Woman Farm”
• Co-developing “know your food” video shorts
• Co-writing Eating 101 for this little publishing endeavor Brian and I started called Not Long Books
• Finding ways to promote the first Not Long Book, Fat, Dumb and Lazy
• Posting to my blog (not nearly often enough)
• Coordinating a Farm-to-Fork lunch with go-local guru Jamie Moore speaking
• Co-chairing the 2011 Pennwriters conference
• Oh, and considering getting my masters in Food Studies at Chatham’s new program

That last one is the what has me awake at 3:30 a.m. writing this post. I went to the open house yesterday. Food Studies is a brand new program starting this fall (one of only 3 in the US), and the farm campus is practically in my backyard. I feel like this is a sign. Plus, on Friday the Martha Beck Quote of the Day was this:

“Your next heroic task may be to have a baby or change jobs or stand up for yourself. The key is to follow the call — the impulse to do something extraordinarily inconvenient and demanding. You’ll regret accepting the call a thousand times. Only when it’s over will you truly realize how grand your adventure felt, and what an awesome story you have to tell.”

What the heck would I do with a Master of Arts in Food Studies? I have no idea. I don’t really want a traditional job nor do we really need the paycheck (well, except to pay back the school loans!). Maybe the degree is to give me the credentials to write about food and health. Maybe it’s to guide me in turning our 130 acres into the something special I can’t quite envision yet. Or maybe I won’t even complete the degree — maybe I’m just supposed to connect with the people there for some reason.

Lately I’ve been trying to be open to whatever the universe brings me that feels right. Thus the overflowing feast of creative endeavors listed above. I find myself thinking, “I’ve got too many things on my plate! Jack of all trades is master of none!” I’m already behind on my projects (albeit the deadlines are self-imposed). But here’s a thought: maybe the Food Studies wouldn’t be just another helping on the plate, but rather the thing that holds all my creativity together — the plate itself, to extend the metaphor. That might explain why, while I usually feel overwhelmed and pulled in too many directions, this spring I instead feel a growing sense of anticipation.

But this just in from my over-thinking brain: Am I’m going back to school just for some structure in my creative, willy-nilly life? And if so, is that a valid reason or just plain pitiful? And for God’s sake, Julie (yes I’m now talking to myself), don’t you realize that many people would love to have your free, unstructured life? Are you ready to give that up? Going back to school involves real deadlines. Commitment. What if you can’t hack it?

Then again, here was Martha’s Quote of the Day on Thursday:

“Trying yields either success or an opportunity to learn; not trying has no positive result besides avoiding mockery or envy that (research shows) wouldn’t be nearly as big or bad as we fear.”

Saying no would be easier and yet I want to say yes. So yeah, I guess I have the kind of drive Daniel Pink is talking about. I just wish I new what I was driving toward.

Just a quick update (for those who’ve asked) about my life using all-Apple technology: LOVE IT! The iPhone is a beautiful thing to look at and to use. In fact, if I thought I could do it I’d have baked this iCake in its honor:

I’m not that talented, but I did bake this much simpler beauty, layered with lemon custard and topped with cream cheese frosting.

Bake it, photographed it and email it all by myself.

Okay, so I had some help from my niece who will soon be majoring in culinary arts at Johnson & Wales.  I did, however, take the photo all by myself on my iPhone and emailed it lickitysplit.

So far, my all-Apple world is nearly exactly as I dreamed it would be. My emails, calendar and contacts sync magically between iPhone and iMac. The one exception is my email account from my business website. It arrives on both devices as unread unless I’ve deleted it and doesn’t show replies, etc. I think the fix would be to forward my website email account to the Mobile Me account, but then I’m afraid when I reply it’ll look like it’s coming from my Mobile Me address instead of my business address (thus defeating the entire looking-professional point of having a website). My only other hitch is finding what I need to use the iPod portion of the iPhone in my car (the phone works via bluetooth). But I know the guys at the Apple store will help if I pop in, or I can call AppleCare. The people are very helpful in Apple world.

The only piece of the Apple pie that I’m missing now is the iPad. I ordered the 3G version, which isn’t out until later this month. It feels very odd to be, for once in my life, an Early Adopter (aka Geek). Did you see this week’s episode of Modern Family? Poor Phil. I feel his pain.

Today my life grows a little sweeter, for I have fulfilled all of my Apple desires: iMac. iPhone. iPad. All purchased and soon to be delivered…

I’ve long been an Apple girl living in a PC world, which meant that while I loved my PowerBook, the rest of the technology in my life never quite synced up to my expectations. Oh, how I’ve dreamed of pure wireless integration. No hookups. No hick ups. Just an organic intuitiveness between gadgets and among apps.

Now, my friends, that day is here (or drawing very near).

So enamored and hopeful am I in my new Apple world, that I am taking a leap of faith: I’m quitting Microsoft Office (gasp). No more Outlook. Goodbye Word. Hello iWork.

Yes, I realize my all-in-for-Apple might be a bit pie-in-the-sky. It’s this kind of idealistic thinking that often leads to my feeling deflated when reality can’t live up to my anticipation. But let’s give it a whirl.

I’ll keep you posted as the adventure unfolds. In the meantime, let’s drool over some photos:

iMac

iPhone

iPad

The news stations yesterday reported that Tiger Woods will return to golf in three weeks at The Masters. Then they went on to “report” on a variety of details: Will it hurt his chances? Will fans heckle him? How will he handle it if they do? Will Elin be by his side? What if she’s not?

Here’s an idea: How about we learn what happens when the event actually occurs?

We’ve become a society that runs at such high speed that we get ahead of ourselves — ahead of reality, actually. Who has time to wait for an event to actually take place? Let’s pretend it’s already occurred and follow every branch of potential outcome.

Take press conferences, for example. By definition, this is an event where an announcement is made and questions are answered. But have you noticed that these days all the details are already shared in advance of the actual press conference? Often reporters don’t even couch it with “is expected to announce,” instead launching into what will be announced, what it means, how the opposition reacts, who benefits, who doesn’t. By the time the press conference actually occurs, there is no news, except old news.

It’s hard to believe, but there was a time when we got our news after the fact, post event. Then real-time reporting came along, which was tremendous (although sometimes inaccurate). But now adays, real time is for amateurs. Now events happen before they happen. And we get reactions from people on things that haven’t even occurred. “How will you feel if you take home the Oscar?”

No wonder we all have trouble living in the moment. We’ve already pre-experienced the moment yesterday.

I’ve been going back and forth all day, trying to decide whether to haul my laptop with me to the Turks & Caicos Islands or abandon all attempts at productivity.

I always envision getting some writing done when vacationing — on the plane, in the early morning — yet somehow it rarely happens. By the time the flight gets to laptop-allowed altitude and I get into a groove, it’s time to put it away. Once at our destination, instead of my fingers on the keyboard I find my toes in the sand and my nose in a book (and quite often a frozen drink by my side). So then my laptop sits in the corner of the hotel room, like a slab of guilt weighing down my vacation. Who needs that killjoy?

Still … we’re talking three days of unscheduled opportunity — I could get so much accomplished. If I felt like it. Will I feel like it? Minimally, I could keep up with emails and the online class I’m taking. But is that worth schlepping a laptop to paradise?

And it would be nice to simply relax, and to not have any distractions from relaxing. It’s important to be in the moment, right? Especially when the moment is here:

Okay, that’s settled.

When he’s done playing in the snow, Wilson knows just what to do:

Those six words just won me Narrative Magazine’s Six-Word Story Contest. So there’s already something good resulting from my mother-in-law moving in 12 days ago.

In the interest of full disclosure, I need to state that the contest’s six-word limit forced me to take some creative liberties. For one thing, she is not under our roof, she is in the cabin we built next to our house. For another, “sanity” isn’t really the right word, because my mother-in-law (from here on out I’m referring to her as MIL or maybe Milly) isn’t really driving me crazy (honest). But the word “sanity” packed more of an emotional wallop than “adjustment” or “personal growth” (which is two words anyway). And I fully recognize that it isn’t just “my” adjustment — all three of us are adjusting, MIL perhaps most of all — but the narrative arc of my six-word story necessitated the use of that particular possessive pronoun.

Okay, so I got all that out of the way and if MIL ever reads this (hopefully never) she will forgive me for exaggerating for the sake of entertaining.

What’s it really like having your mother-in-law next door? In our case, I think it’s as close to parenting as two non-parents can get. It’s like having a teenager off on her own and under your roof both at the same time. There was this sense of excitement as we moved her into her new place. And a sense of concern those first few nights. “Do you think she’s okay over there by herself?” (As if she hadn’t been living on her own across town for decades and been perfectly fine.) “Should I take her dinner?” (”Don’t set precedent!” a friend said, but come on – she didn’t yet have groceries!) Helping her decorate and set up our cabin was fun, until we realized it is no longer our cabin but her personal space and, as such, what she hangs on the walls and accumulates on the coffee table is not within our domain of control (no matter how hard my husband keeps trying.) Thank goodness we all have a sense of humor. When Brian was explaining (okay, maybe lecturing) to MIL how she ought to do something, she responded with: “Goodness, how did I ever raise you without you to tell me how to do it?”

But like parenting, I think having MIL next door might end up being “The toughest job you’ll ever love” (oh wait, that’s the Peace Corps). In my heart, I know this is a good thing not just for her but for us. This is an opportunity to grow as a couple. To put another person’s needs above our own, at least some of the time. To endeavor together at something important. There will be boundaries to determine, and privacy to respect, and yes, perhaps, at times, even sanity to test — on both sides of the driveway. But in spite of all that, we’ll be glad we did it.

Oh God, at least I hope so.