Current Quandary

Remember how I rearended a nun’s car? In my family, something like that is hard to live down. It’s just too big of a target for teasing, even on the holiest of days. Particularly when the Christmas dinner is hosted by my sister-in-law Lynn (the one who drove the nun home) and her sister Mary is in town. The Sherwood Sisters are known for their somewhat harsh (some would say sick) sense of humor, which often involves pranks and props. Thus, throughout Christmas dinner I found several dozen of these miniature nuns (note the raised arms, as if I’ve moved from vehicular assault to robbery):

There was a nun in my appetizer, at the bottom of my wine glass, under my napkin. I found them in my coat pocket, in the Tupperware holding my leftovers and, of course, in my new car. In fact, I’m still finding them in my car.

Actually, I’ve grown kind of attached to the nuns. I’ve left one in the cupholder of my car, arms upstretched, beseaching me to never dial and drive again.

Yesterday I got into a car accident. More accurately, I caused an accident. I rear-ended a nun as I was trying to dial my BlackBerry. I thank God (and I do mean that literally) that no one was hurt. Emergency vehicles arrived (five total). Hands trembled (mine). Tears flowed (mine). Professionals soothed (mostly me). Cars were towed. My sister-in-law drove Sister Marion home (she was, as you’d expect, quite forgiving).

The ironic thing is this: I’d recently included the statistic “dialing while driving increases the risk of accident threefold” in a business parable entitled Fat, Dumb and Lazy (guess which this falls under). The book was just printed on Tuesday. In fact, six boxes of said book were in the back of my SUV at the time of the accident. The firemen helped me unload them, along with my gym bag, yoga matt and three shopping bags from Nordstrom.

Oh no, it’s not at all humiliating to hit a nun’s borrowed compact with your big shiny SUV while dialing your BlackBerry when she doesn’t even own a cellphone and then have to unload your shopping spree in front of her. I think the phrase you’re looking for is, “adding insult to injury.”

So how was your day?

It’s going on noon, and this is the full extent of Wilson’s activity so far on this leaf-soaking drizzle of a day: snuggling into the chair in my office to snore in peaceful slumber. Oh to be a dog today. (In actuality, he does this every day. But today I do so want to join him.)

1. When your cousin in Iowa suggests she and her hubby come to Pittsburgh, say YES!

2. When she wonders about bringing her folks, say YES!

3. Invite your sister Susan from San Diego, since her son is off at college. You know she’ll say YES!

4. When she says YES! (see?) and asks if she should bring your folks, say YES!

5. Call and invite your sister Cindi in Kansas City, who (what d’ya know), says YES!

Hooray, they all arrive tomorrow!

Do we have enough beds? NO!

Have I figured out what I’m feeding 10 people for 4 days? NO!

Will there be enough hot water? NO!

But who cares? Family is coming. Laughter will flow. Life is good.

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing author Elizabeth Gilbert speak at the opening night of the Drew Heinz Lecture Series here in Pittsburgh. Oddly enough, I’d had a hard time finding a friend willing to attend with me. I thought every woman had enjoyed  Eat Pray Love, her memoir of getting over a broken heart and nasty divorce by traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia, but several of my friends either hadn’t read it or found it “whiny.” (Whiny? Hello, she was desperately searching for salvation!) Fortunately, my fellow writer friend Carrie Kennedy loved the book as much as I did so we went together.

Ms. Gilbert was funny and self-deprecating and thoroughly down to earth. Even our nosebleed seats up in the overheated second balcony were enjoyable the moment she took the podium . We were the first audience to hear her read from her upcoming release Committed, her memoir about deciding to try marriage again (to the guy she met at the end of EPL).

As she finished taking questions, Carrie and I rushed down the four flights of stairs and got in line for autographs. The cherry on top of the evening was Carrie asking Ms. Gilbert if she could give her a copy of her just-published book on Greek & Roman mythology, Panorama, “because it’s my first book and I know you know how it feels.” (That’s the wonderful effect Elizabeth Gilbert has on people: you feel like kindred spirits. That, and she’s incredibly approachabe.) She graciously accepted — she didn’t even take Carrie up on her offer to mail it to her instead of having to lug it around on her book tour — and in fact comented on the beautiful cover design. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she drops Carrie a note later to say she read it on the airplane. That’s how lovely she was.

you have a prescription that needs to be taken every 12 hours on an empty stomach, either 1 hour before or 2 hours after meals, and you can’t seem to work it into your day. For every 12-hour cycle I’ve attempted, at one of the scheduled times I am either eating or have just eaten. Or I’m sleeping. So I’m a glutton and a sloth.

You may know that I’m a huge fan of author and columnist Michael Pollan. The Omnivore’s Delimma opened America’s eyes to the problems of our industrial food system. “Farmer & Chief” outlined how the president should change our government’s agriculture policy. “Out of the Kitchen, Onto the Couch” pointed out that American cooking has become merely a TV spectator sport. And he’s such a great writer that learning these tough truths is fascinating. And inspiring.

Pollan prompted me to eat local through Community Supported Agriculture. He put the moral question in my head that’s at the heart of the new novel I’m researching. And, to that end, he is why I went to work on a farm. Well, for two days, anyway.

This week I spent some time at One Woman Farm in Gibosnia, PA. The woman is 24-year-old Margaret Schlass, who, after falling in love with agriculture on a trip to Peru and then interning at and managing farms in New York, this year started her own farm just a few miles from my house. It was kismet my learning of One Woman Farm, because the protagonist in my novel is close to Margaret’s age and starting her own farm — albeit without Margaret’s experience and with dubious results that I’m sure won’t befall One Woman Farm.

As busy as Margaret is running a three-acre farm all by herself — seriously, she is the entire staff — she still agreed to let me come visit. I couldn’t profess to be much of a farmhand but I did promise not to whine. And I didn’t. Not even while helping her load up and then spread a truckload of horse manure with a pitchfork (thus the blister on my thumb). Thank God Margaret loaned me a pair of tall rubber boots — that manure pile was 15′ high and soaked with three days worth of rain.

I also got to pick a few tomatoes, clean carrots, wash and package eggs, cut flowers for market, carry some buckets, and ride around in a real pickup truck with the windows down. I left with mud caked on my jeans and sweat soaked into my “Life is Good” cap. I would have stayed longer but I had scheduled a session with my trainer (for a workout I no longer needed) — a fact I was too embarrassed to admit to Margaret. She works that farm 13 hours a day. Farmers do not go to the gym.

I probably couldn’t last working on a farm for long, but I gotta say, I want to go back. I really loved the experience. Blister and all. And I have Michael Pollan (and One Woman Farm) to thank for it.

Dewey & Lilly

A belated welcome to the two new members of the Lynn & Allen Long family: French bulldogs Dewey and Lilly. Dewey is the pup on the left. Madame Lilly, on the right, is four years old.

Our English bulldog Wilson is quite taken with his cousins. Lucy, as one might guess, despises the French as much as she does all dogs, so family gatherings have been limited.

These little Frenchies are so dang adorable. Dewey is growing so fast, I have to show a couple more photos of him…

I’m begging you, please go see Food, Inc. at your local theater (in Pittsburgh it’s playing at the Manor Theater in Squirrel Hill through this weekend). The documentary takes a look at our industrial food system and its effect on our health, environment, economy and workers’ rights. It’s startling. And scarily important.

We’re heading off on an Alaskan cruise tomorrow! And it’s 6:00 p.m. and I’m not packed! I do, however, have the laundry done, and dog Lucy bathed one last time for her skin condition, and the ointment swabbed on her crusty back, and notes all over the kitchen instructing the dogs-and-cat sitter, and the 4 last-minute copywriting projects completed, and bills mailed, and dinner baking. So I’ve got all that going for me. Now if I can just find the hiking boot that dog Wilson confiscated (hopefully it’s not chewed to rawhide status and buried outside in the mud). Then I’m off to the last great frontier! Just like the goldrushers. Only on a cruiseship. With internet access. And a spa.