Once Were We Hotties

Last weekend I tried on wedding dresses with my long time friend Lynne. Six years ago I went through the same process for her nuptials, so it's an intimate ritual which we share. For her wedding we were giddy 30 something women, fresh to marriage and thrilled with our perspective men. 6 years later, she's the mother of twins and we've both experienced 7 plus years of suburban domesticity.

Living a life with a man, house, career and all the responsibilities in tow has kept us apart from our normal weekly dates. Moreover, the arrival of twins has all but nixed our juicy confabs in person. So for the first time in 2 years we have a date to ourselves to play dress up and release dark thoughts into the safety of our friendship. And yet, we slip easily into the sisterhood of our single years. We reminisce about our frolics in Hoboken, the losers we dated, the girls we used to be. We admire each other. I, her flat stomach sans stretch marks after twins! She, my gravity defying breasts. Once we used to sip each other's cocktails, now we sip each other's bottled water. Once, we used to dream about the lives we would lead with the men of our dreams. Now we live lives with men that far eclipse our dreams. Once we were hotties. Now we are women.

Is This Woman Indian?

Shopping at the garden center in Clifton, NJ. One of my favorites due to the extraordinary selection of Perennials. My intention is to grab a few robust annuals to replace the expired pansies in my potted containers. I realize I will need more than two hands to hold half a dozen pots of Portulacas. So I gingerly ask the cash register guy if I may leave my plants on a pedestal contraption near his machine. He's a short brusque man of Indian descent with a sharp face, and no doubt equally honed mind to be the owner of this well visited establishment.

"No," he barks. "Nothing here. Nada! Nada!" Now first of all I'm not deaf. Secondly, I"m not Spanish, although I certainly understand his meager attempts at the language. At first I'm incensed that this man, while probably not from the same state as I'm from in India, is certainly of Indian descent. So why can't he tell that I'm from the same motherland? I'm still gibbering in anger when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. Red tank top, jean skirt, hair piled high in a pony-tail. I look very much, um, darkish. Very much like a woman of mixed Latino, Indo, Caribbio descent. In other words, no I don't look Indian.

This got me thinking about my ancestry. Do I honor my Indian-ness? Well sure I do. I cook fabulous curries, I dress in saris for special occassions. I speak my native tongue, Telugu albeit haltingly with my parents and family. Isn't that honor enough? Should I emulate my mother and wear a sari when in public? Should I do as my parents and speak Telugu to each other in public?

I think not. I think I'm a woman of a rich heritage who happens to live in the U.S. As such I mix one with the other, taking the best of both worlds and merging them into an existence that could live nowhere else on earth.

So to the annoying cash register guy, I AM Indian dammit! And I make no apologies.

Red Hawk Down

Sometimes, despite the grime and traffic and human congestion, I love New York. Today is one of those days. Not just because I'm swooning from the new moon in Gemini or from the breezy 60 degree June weather. My appreciation for NY rejuvenated itself upon reading this headline in the Daily News: "Stranded baby hawk brings midtown to a screeching halt". Apparently a baby red tailed hawk (not the offspring of Pale Male and Lola) took his maiden flight on Tuesday night. Disoriented by the storm that ensued that night, the wee raptor was unable to ascend back up to his parent's nest atop the building near the Ziegfeld Theater. Apparently first flights are notoriously perilous. The parents of fledglings usually feed the chick until it is strong enough to continue the flight and return home. Although a hawk was spotted circling the chick, it did not descend due to the host of people crowded around the disoriented baby, who huddled against the wall.

Well, New Yorkers are nothing if not opinionated, action-oriented, and soft hearted. So the hue and cry went out to anyone and everyone. Call in the cops. Call in the Parks Department Rangers. Call the Bronx Zoo. Don't forget the Audubon Society or a hawk rehabilitator! The Rangers won out and swaddled the little guy in a blanket, checked for injuries and will return him once he's properly hydrated and fed. Can't wait to see the party they'll throw for him once he's reunited with his parents.

Garden of Eden

Many of you may or may not know of my favorite Astrologer - Rob Brezsny creator of the Freewill Astrology website and many dictums which inspire me. Such as Pronoia: "The belief that the whole world is conspiring to shower you with Blessings." Or the Beauty and Truth Lab. Or Rob's notion of Lesbian Men:

"It means embodying feminism as a man without becoming a wimp. It means holding the masculine sacred, but in such a way that the feminine is glorified and enhanced. It means being a macho feminist. It means promoting the feminine archetype and the redemption of the feminine mysteries which have been so degraded, promoting and working on that with a masculine, aggressive, style."

In this week's newsletter Rob mentions a devastating loss. The Garden of Eden, believed by many historians, scholars and archaeologists to be located in modern day Iraq was reputed to contain one of the greatest icons of Judeo-Christian antiquity. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Rob reports that one of his Beauty and Truth researchers who lives at the very juncture of 2 ancient rivers: Tigris and Euphrates has been tracking this very tree. Until the U.S. invaded Iraq in 2003 it existed close to Nasiriyah, a gnarley stump probably closely guarded by folklore, believers and skeptics. Surviving over 6000 years of religion, history and mankind. However today, nothing remains but a huge crater, evidence of the US's disregard for antiquity and perhaps the holiest of gifts from God to man - knowledge.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Diet

As you might remember I embarked upon a low carb diet several months ago. While it did re-focus consumption of comestibles, sadly it did not help me achieve the pre-wedding goal of 15 less pounds. However, as with any diet, consciousness is key. So I'd like to share a few epiphanies unearthed during the course of Atkinsing.

Foremost, white food such as rice, pasta & bread, while tasty, comforting and an ideal base for tapenades, is useless caloric intake. Not only does it load on the pounds, it offers the body no nutritional value. Now if you're Lance Armstrong you will need pasta for immediate body fuel. If you're not Lance, as I am not, and you sit on your ass for a better portion of 8 hours a day in front of a computer, then your body does not need this immediate fuel. If you're serious about losing weight, especially around the gut area, drop white food off your menu. With the exception of seafood lasagna or Singapore Noodles on the rare occasion.

Many diets proclaim this next one and with good reason: less processed foods are better for you. Think low on the food chain, unlike, say, pate. The simplier the composition, the better the item. Add to this the more complex and fiberous, the better. So here's a list of my power foods: almonds, blueberries, beans (apparently the darker the better), brown rice and other grains such as faro, barley, millet. While you might read this list with disdain I'll remind you that with a complex grain as a base, you can top it with almost anything. Coming from an Indian background, curries comprise of the quickest and easiest recipes. Substituting rice, you can use any of the previous grains as a base for some phenomenally tasty and nutritious meals. So then you say, what recipes? Aha, soon to come is a page with many of my favorite South Indian recipes. So stay tuned.

Unfortunately, dropping sugar from your repertoire will greatly increase you chances of losing weight. If you're like me, chocolate simply can't be replaced by carob or waxy non sugar substitutes. So eat a little Dove bites once in a while to appease the hunger or else you'll end up like these excerpts from my journal:

February 10: Drank a diet Sunkist with salad for lunch. While I appreciated the sweet orangeness, the aspartame became bitter and began to lend a salty quality to the beverage.

March 4: Had a piece of Peppermint Trident for dessert. Still chewing.

March 17: Looked at a Hagan Daz ad for Belgian Chocolate Chocolate really, really long.

Finally and I say this one with great pain, give up alcohol. At least until you reach your desired weight. Cause surely as Big Pharm is the cause of most American maladies, alcohol adds weight to the body. How can it not with the yeast and carbs in beer? Or the sugar in wine. Even no cal, no carb booze such as vodka bypasses the digestive process and races to the front of the digestive line to be processed first. Which means everything else takes a back seat on your back seat. And anyway, everyone needs detoxing now and then.

But let me not leave you on that sad note. Years ago I received probably the funniest cookbook in history, that of French existential philosopher Jean Paul Sartre. So I'd like to share that with you now. Bon Appetite.