Tuesday, May 31, 2011

New Moon

Today at 5pm is the New Moon for this month...and an eclipse. Lunar. Time to be clear on intent. Ask for what you want. Change direction. Make a decision. Toss it out. Clear the decks. Be prepared. Pay attention. And plant something in your garden. Or in a pot. Or on your fire escape but spend some time outside. All of the answers we seek are in nature. Less force, more flow.

Monday, May 23, 2011

The Naked Chef

May marks my official 4th year of living in the country. I don't always notice the changes that have taken place but if I look back at who I was in 2007, I see the difference. Instead of training my staff about Viognier vs. Albarino, or the benefits of grass fed beef, I'm training my chickens to not eat my beets. I'm not saying which is easier.

I spend more time outdoors than in. I "shop" in my yard where I forage for edibles, herbs, medicinal roots. I'm in bed when I used to be sitting down for dinner. Things that I used to love (high heels, cheese dip and margaritas, sleeping with the gardener) no longer serve. Like, at ALL. I don't know if it's the full moon in Scorpio we just had (on my birthday no less) or that the End of Times malarky came and went but the planets seem to have shifted but I feel like I've wandered out into the road with no clothes on.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011


When I was in my 20s, I lived in this really cool warehouse on the 'wrong' side of the tracks in Atlanta. It was sort of a commune experiment. We all had our own loft spaces but outside was the group gathering spot. A Le Jardin Industrial Park vibe. A deep south Algonquin round table. A lot of big ideas were fueled by too much hooch but hey. That's what you do in your 20s.

Out front a tall chain link fence revealed a loud and dismal view of MARTA tracks beyond, and there we grew a big garden where we all contributed, some as growers and some as cooks. In the middle was a deck platform with a long hand made picnic bench where everyone gathered at the end of day to drink beer or cop wine from a neighbor. You get it this time, I'll get it next. A convenience store across the street that we called Mr. Lee's---where most of us ran a tab, had all of our needs. Charcoal. Big bottles of red. A turn the other cheek attitude about Sunday liquor "sales". We were musicians, photographers, art curators, yogis, hippies, a speech writer, a Canadian comedian, artists of all types (real and imagined) advertising writers, a few resident loonies, about 18 Weber grills and lots and lots of dogs.