The Rose Bowl

I went to the Rose Bowl last year. Badgers on the field and Midwest spirit in the air, I found it hard to believe I was in LA. Bratwurst grilling and beer stained shoes seemed too familiar. However, a couple weekends ago I went to the Rose Bowl for a different reason: the Rose Bowl Flea Market.
I was new to the scene; live entertainment, handcrafted, handmade, American flags and window panes. In awe. I could have wandered for days.

It's as if everything there had a story to tell. One thing I need to work on next time is bargaining. I ran across a license plate from Wisconsin circa 1930.

"How much for this license plate?"
"Fifty"
"What if you're from Wisconsin?"
"It's from 1930, kid."

He didn't say "kid" but it was implied.

I left empty handed. However, the antique, the old and the rustic sparked my imagination and a spark to the imagination is priceless.

Two bottles of wine at dinner with the family and I'm left with two empty wine bottles. So, I soaked the wine bottles under hot water until I could easily peel off the Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio.; they are on the roof as we speak. I'm hoping that the salty sea breeze will weather the glass. In the meantime I used two different bottles as vases for this hell of a rose from the garden.

I thinkI'll be back to the Rose Bowl soon. If the Badgers don't get me there this year, the flea market will!

James Garner & Elizabeth Taylor

"So I just wanted to know what it was like when you were growing up and you were my age?"

Evelyn Anderson, getting ready for the day, routinely curls her hair as she responds to my question: "Well, how old are you?"

"19."

"I had already grown up."

She graduated high school when she was 16 and with Elizabeth Taylor-like features, worked on the 57th floor of the Chrysler building. Evelyn or "Nana" is my grandmother. Impeccably smart with a anything west of the Hudson is Hicksville tone, she caught the eye of a young fellow at a Pan American cocktail party in 1951.

The young fellow, Joseph Anderson, is my grandpa and I’m his one and only “favorite granddaughter.”

“What would you consider the most important thing in life?”

“Self-satisfaction, happiness.”

Joe strikes conversation with the passerby, the dog and the window cleaner. He’s been mistaken for James Garner and is accredited now and then for his service in World War II. After a spurred conversation with a no name this morning, I think Joe re-gained that “self-satisfaction.”

“90? I’d say you were in your 70’s, I mean look at that hair! Are you a veteran?”

“World War II Marine Corps.”

“Thank you for your service. Now, I’m going to say something and I mean it in all sincerity: you’re one great son of a bitch!”

A hug and a tear rolls down my grandma’s face

A farm family adopted Joe and I assume this is why he hates cheese; he’s a hamburger, bun and ketchup type guy. As he spoke about hitchhiking cross-country Minnesota to California, making a quantum leap over to the island of Guam during the war or writing for the sports section at the University of Minnesota, the reassurance in his eyes made an imprint, snapshot in my mind. I hope that when I’m 90 years old I can tell my story; a great love, a priceless struggle, a series of invaluable events, with that same look in my eyes, a tint of satisfaction.

Dedicated to Nana & Joe
I love you.

The Good Stuff

ALL RISE, the farmer's market is now in session.
One day, I will have a garden filled with the reds, blues, yellows and greens of the produce aisle at the local supermarket. I will no longer make a shopping list, peel stickers off my lemons or answer the question we all know too well "paper or plastic?" Fruits, vegetables and herbs will be ready for the picking at my own convenience. But for now, I get just as much satisfaction from strolling through our local farmer's market here in Laguna Beach. I spot the ripest peaches for an afternoon snack, the most attractive strawberries for homemade jam and the biggest smile for a loaf of banana bread.

If you love to cook like I do, do yourself a favor and put down the cookbook, recipes off of Food Network and turn off the TV. Let the market decide what's for dinner. Today, I noticed a stand with solely produce for Asian inspired dishes. I had never heard of half the ingredients but all you need are your senses. When you have some of the freshest stuff in town it's hard to be disappointed.

Support families, small farms, local vendors AND surprise yourself with a breakfast, lunch or dinner made entirely with the good stuff.

Be a local, buy locally

Allí Nuí

Allí Nuí: greatest royalty

According to our capt'n on the way over to Molokini, the name of his boat translates into "greatest royalty" for those of us on the mainland. If you haven't caught on, I just got back from Maui, paradise in my book. Two weeks of good food, good people and a couple waterfalls definitely makes our concerns as humans seem like minor speed bumps in a life that's yours for the taking. Of course, I had my camera around my neck at the dinner table as well as on our way across a river with numerous FLASH FLOOD warning signs; I apparently am of Japanese descent according to our tour guide. I didn't want to set the camera down; it's Maui! However, one thing I realized wading in the water watching the sky fade from shades of blue and pink into Maui gold or taking the last breath before I scream bloody murder plunging into the depths of the waterfall was the notion that life is fleeting. There are moments in my life I will remember forever. Not just people or places but feelings, taste, texture, love.
I put my camera down every once in a blue moon but when I did I made sure to take a step back so I could feel with the bottom of my foot, the palm of my hand. Fully embracing that moment...you can't beat it.

The picture above was taken on our first hike. The rocks wrapped in leaves symbolize safe travels. Who put them there? I let my imagination wander.

Aloha