Lion's Roar Outreach

No surprise to anyone that I'm a dog lover. And while I've adored big cats from afar I recently had the opportunity to get directly involved. My friend Laura Simms, storyteller, humanitarian and profound activist undertakes many projects to feed her substantial talents. Several years ago I heard of one that deeply moved me.

The project is called Lion's Roar a wildlife zoo located in Buhusi, Romania. This is how Laura describes it:

When I first saw the zoo in 2002, told about it by a Roma woman and Leslie Hawke, director of Ovidiu Rom, I was deeply distressed by the state of the animals. An uncanny silence hung over the Park, and as I walked, cage to cage, animals moved to the bars and stared out listlessly. I saw a little girl watching a large lion nearly the size of his concrete Enclosure. The misery on her face reflected the sadness of the lion. I thought, if someone improved the life of the animals, the children would be happy.
- Laura Simms

Laura and many volunteers worked diligently on behalf of the animals in this tiny zoo that is being shut down since it doesn't meet EU standards. Take a look at the some of the inhabitants; dingos, bears, baboons, dogs, cats and of course, Lions. The mighty felines pictured above are Gypsy and Romany, a couple who were badly malnourished as cubs which resulted in spinal deformities. The couple along with another lion named Bella will be killed if they are not moved to a sanctuary.

If you are interested in donating to Lion's Roar you can do so here. Please send the word along to any people or agencies you know that could assist this noble cause.

Rekha's 7 Layer Christmas Crack Cookies

In the 3rd grade, my best friend Denise Yaag gave me a recipe that I've used till this day. Actually, Denise gave me 2 recipes that I still use. The first was melted Swiss cheese atop toasted bread. Before you nourish thoughts of ridicule for my early culinary efforts let me tell you this. I cooked my first Indian meal, completely unaided, in the 3rd grade. It consisted of Keema curry with the traditional green peas served over hot rice. Did I follow a recipe? Was I supervised? Nope. I just hit the fridge and concocted the meal to surprise my parents for dinner on a school night. Mom and Dad gushed over my budding skills as they chowed on a hot Telugu meal. Thus my culinary precociousness was born.

Anyhoo. The other recipe Denise shared with me was a recipe she called 7 Layer Cookies. The first time I tasted them I knew I would arm-wrestle to the death to own it. Luckily Denise was not a stingy or possessive friend and gladly wrote the ingredients in her curvy, very feminine handwriting. The first time I made them was a culinary coup. They surpassed even my puerile curry attempts. After tasting the cookies (odd for a cookie, even to an Indian family like us whose only notion of cookies were shortbread biscuits so stony they had to be dipped in hot milk to consume) the family sat around the table and stared at the baking sheet. Could something this sublime be composed of chocolate, crumbs and milk? More importantly, my family acknowledged for the first time that smack-your-lips delicious food could come from a country other than India.

20 years later... ahem, I mean 30 years later I still make them every Christmas. The house smells like chocolate, butterscotch and oddly, sex. Or perhaps it's just my perception of how the cookies make me feel. For those of you who don't like chocolate (aghast!) or sustain allergies like my walnut-averse friend Sheila, please substitute at will.

Ingredients:

1 12 oz bag 60% Cacao Ghiradelli chocolate chips. Nestle's semi sweet chocolate can be substituted and indeed I used the old standby for decades until I got turned on to the superior depth of Ghiradelli. You can find these in most supermarkets these days for the same price.

1 10 oz bag Nestle Butterscotch chips.

1 stick salted butter melted

3 cups Graham crackers ground in a food processor.

1 can sweetened condensed milk. Either Eagle or Carnation is fine.

1 cup chopped walnuts. Pecans, almonds, pistachios or other nuts can be used as well. If you're an aficiendo of nuts, use more than a cup if desired.

Directions:

Pour melted butter in a 16 x 9 inch baking sheet with at least 1 inch raised edges. Distribute butter evenly. Scatter cracker crumbs evenly across sheet. Sprinkle Butterscotch chips in an even layer. Sprinkly chocolate chips in an even layer. Then scatter nuts evenly. Evenly pour condensed milk over entire confection slowly so that thick ribbons cascade over the layers. This is important as the milk must penetrate through all the layers or else the cookies will not stick together.

Bake in a preheated 325 degree oven for 25 minutes or until cookies are a light brown but not burnt at the edges.

If you're paying close attention you might notice I've only listed 6 ingredients. There is an additional layer and that is sweetened coconut. However I've always felt it pushed the limits of this sweet over the top and do not include it in my concoctions. So! as they say in the biz, the 7th ingredient is love. Awwwwww.

Winter wonderland my ass! or Damn my thin Indian blood

The hammock curves under the weight of an inch of ice frosted with hardened snow. The deck has become a skeetway of 3 inch ice, on top of which Duke and I both flail and skid. The sun umbrella broke at the base, listing atop the garden table like a macabre parasol. The dog steps gingerly through his yard, his playground now a obstacle course of jagged ice, frozen leaves and plunging icicles.

Neither of us love the winter. His excuse is purely physical - not so much playtime in frigid weather. His shearling coat doesn't allow optimal movement, his feet got cold fast. And yes, I have heard about dog shoes, or sled shoes as the huskies of the Iditarod use. However I was a bad dog mother and didn't order a pair in late November this year (which is when winter began) so Duke doesn't have footies to brave the cold streets of Passaic Park.

My dislike of winter could stem from my thin Indian blood. I mean I'm from the south of India, for God's sake, I never even saw ice until I lived in Poona. I remember the incident clearly. My parents filled a bucket with water one night and left it on the front porch. The next morning the bucket was frozen solid, baffling a country chickling like myself. However my cousin Suji, who was born in the same area of India LOVES the cold. Matter of fact she wants her ashes scattered over Everest when she passes. Who, pray tell, will scatter them I wonder?

Complicating matters is the theory that my blood has thinned not due to the deep Telugu blood flowing through it, but due to the vast quantities of vodka I consumed during my school years. Come off it! I was a young girl released from the chains of Christian church school, who wouldn't party it down on a campus as notorious as University of Maryland's? Earning me the rather amusing nickname of ahem, "Chedalavodka".

Either way you slice it. Thin blood. Thin blood.

Photorefractive Keratectomy

Been laying low the past few days due to eye surgery. PRK to be exact. While I was hoping for the more cutting edge (literally) procedure called Interlase , the curvature of my cornea prohibited this surgery so I opted for the less invasive PRK. Downside being the recuperation time which can last up to one week. That and the bile-tasting eye drops that drip from your eyes into your nasal cavity and mouth. Oh, and the not so chic wrap-around blue black glasses meant to diminish light.

So bear with me as my eyes become reacquainted with vision without the assistance of glasses or contacts. Something I'm quite looking forward to as I've been working the librarian look for the past month. Which, let me tell you sucks when you're watching the Hitman in a theater full of juiced up boys and girls. Or when you're attending an OK magazine party in the meat-packing district.

Soon, very soon I'll be blinking these brownies unimpeded.

Piglet Cubs

While I'm not thrilled with the CNN redesign some aspects I find valuable. For example, the featured videos appear to include more animal-centric stories. Like this one titled: Tiger befriends piglet in the zoo. Lot more to the story as you can guess. Apparently the death of cubs depressed a mother tiger named Sai Mai in a Thailand zoo. Her health flagged so the zoo keepers searched for surrogates. The only ones to be found were baby piglets so in a stroke of brilliance they dressed the wee pigs in tiger-striped outfits (look at the vide!) and presented them to Mama tiger. Apparently Sai Mai found them palatable (excuse the pun) and proceeded to nurse the tiger pigs.

Rhapsodize all you want of human intelligence. Nothing beats the majestic power of motherhood.

The God Within

The frigid temps, early snow and blustery wind had me huddling in my bed yesterday with a small dog seeking refuge under warm down covers. It was a day that my friend Lourdes and I agreed upon - melancholic. But sometimes you need to reach blue depths in order to sustain those flights into the stratosphere.

Reminds me of one of the inspiring lines from Elizabeth Gilbert's book - Eat, Pray, Love. In it she describes a simple mantra: Om Namah Shivaya which translates to "I honor the Divinity Within Me". What could be simpler or more powerful? Funny thing about meditation. The act itself of stilling the mind brings about the exact result that one is usually seeking. In my case, respite from the scatty, bratty thoughts roaming my mind. A cease fire or sorts that allows purity of focus. Ah, could there be such a thing? There could and is. It just requires the removal of mental detritus to get there. And to remove gunk you've got to be very still, very quiet. Banish thoughts of what to wear tomorrow. Rid thoughts of what to prepare for dinner. Forget the dentist appointment. And finally it's there.

Om Namah Shivaya - try it sometime.

Thanking the Kardashians

Surely you've seen the latest in the silly string of reality celebrity TV shows - Keeping up with the Kardashians. I managed to watch one episode and was impressed. First of all that I could stomach an entire half hour of socialites trying to advance their social status. But I actually found a bigger payoff. While watching the antics of amazon-sized Khloe, petite Kim and Kourtney I realized something unique in the E! obsessed media. These girls are not, nor will probably never will be Paris pencil thin. Matter of fact, these girls revel in their fat, round asses and lush (albeit, saline altered breasts).

And you know what? They look great! They flaunt gorgeous dusky rose skin, inherited from their Armenian ancestry. Big brown eyes and glossy brunette manes. Matter of fact, they are the anti Paris. And I for one am thrilled. If those girls shake those abundant booties, which make mine look modest by comparison (not taking into account the extra 10 camera pounds) then why the hell do I slam out hours on the Elliptical? Hell, I'm gonna lay off the afternoon salad and hit bottles of champagne with dinner.

I'll say this, good thing mamma Kardashian can't cook as well as my Mom.

A Holiday of Excellent Excess

Thanksgiving has always possessed special significance for me since it falls close to my birthday. Special means while the family gathers for the 3 - 4 Thanksgiving functions, my birthday is always cause for celebration. Now you ask, why would you have so many Thanksgiving dinners? Silly, so that all the members who arrive from out of town can congregate at Aunty Ardys' one day and Aunty Lilly's the next.

This year was no exception, delightful chow at Aunty Edna's for the big turkeyday fest. And yes, we did have a turkey, currified and delish along with spinach balls and divine coconut rice. Matter of fact, so much did I partake that all I could manage that evening was a Telegu movie with the parents, the names of the actors I can't remember but it did feature 2 young kids - Siddhu and Hasini gamboling in a modern Hydrabad Romeo and Juliet.

Friday was devoted to shopping - cashmere cardigan, blue topaz ring and a stunning tri colored gold necklace compliments of Mom and Dad. But in the evening we hoofed it over to our favorite South American joint Azucar for Golden Margaritas (best in the DC area), fish stew, ceviche and the side salad for no reason but the tangy lime buttermilk dressing.

Saturday was lunch at Aunty Jaya's for sour rice littered with fried cashews and onions. Two types of gongera (a sour leaf much like spinach) curry - meat and vege and a glorious Oreo ice cream birthday cake. Hanging with my guy cozs Amit, Anup and Chinnie and running Duke ragged at the local Elementary School. Did my heart good to see him crashed on his bed half an hour later.

That evening, to further celebrate my birthday on Saturday, many of my cousins (12 to be precise) joined me for dinner at Rice on the very chicly renovated 14th Street. Dinner was followed by a live performance by my cousin Rekha at HR 57 . Tons of fun as Rekha fronted piano for her newly formed East Coast band to perform some original and her own jazz. A second chocolate mousse birthday cake was passed around to all the friends and family who joined the celebration.

Sunday was all about Mom. Crunchy dosas the size of tires accompanied by chutney compounded with tomatoes, chilies, onions, garlic, chana dahl and the skin shavings from a bitter gourd. Simply the best dosa and chutney you'll ever have. A chapatti or two thrown in with a brinjal mutton curry while sipping coffee. Raking the leaves (what else is a Rekha to do?) and then I was off with cousin Suj back to New York.

Long, delectable weekend.

Local Gem

It's certainly not the kind of place you'd expect in Woodridge, NJ. Or anywhere in NJ for that matter. But Martini Grill does reside on hilly street and I can tell you it serves up the best Martini's ANYwhere in the tri-state area. That's saying a lot since big sister - New York City - is merely miles away. How can a tiny joint so ostentaciously named shake such a bad boy Martini? Well it starts with a bad ass owner, this one's named Aret Cakir (that's French and Armenian, and yes, he's as sexy as he sounds). Aret impeccable training (French Culinary Institute) and apprenticeship (Maxine's in Paris, Le Cirque in NY) shows in his nouveau Mediterrean menu. And even more so in the cocktails. Well-aged mixologists Al and Tommy blend innovative top shelf vodkas with fresh juices and liquors into frothy fantasy martinis. Even better, they use fruits and garnishes the likes of which I've not seen anywhere except perhaps the Sonoma County rage Cyprus Restaurant . Like Scott Beattie , the bartenders at Martini Grill use the freshest, juiciest, highest quality mangos, pears, citrus, edible flowers and berries. I've seen blackberries the size of a kiwi!

The distinguishing factor between Cyprus is the use of locally grown ingredients, a practice that mixologist extraordinaire Scott Beattie vehemently endorses. How else could he come up with cocktails using opal basil or red Hawaiian sea salt or lollyberries? But since I can't hoof it over to Cyprus (located in Healdsburg, Sonoma County) anytime I've got the hankering for freshly muddled Ciparinas, I'll stick with my local Martini Grill for a Jackie O or scrumptious Peartini.

Here's the info for Martini Grill:

187 Hackensack Street
Wood Ridge, NJ 07075
Tel: 201-939-2000

Oil: the Great Evil

So how long have men been fighting over that Texas gold? And I don't just mean George senior and junior. I'm talking about the Far East, which religious claims aside funnel down to one factor: possession of oil-rich land.

But if you think oil wreaks havoc on land, just wait till you see what it does in the water. The inhabitants of San Francisco Bay had that unfortunate honor when the container ship Cosco Busan rammed into the base of Bay Bridge's western tower November 7th due to radar failure.

Governor Schwarzenegger suspended all fishing in areas affected by the Bay spill, accounted as the worst in nearly two decades. The type of oil that spilled "bunker fuel" is sticky, packed with pollutants and slow to break down as reported by AP. "Bunker fuel is the dirtiest fuel on the planet," said Teri Shore, campaign director for the marine program at Friends of the Earth, which has started a petition drive seeking a ban. Accordingly to environmentalists, it's an ecological nightmare for the water, environmentalists say. The spill inspired the group Friends of the Earth to ask Congress to ban the use of bunker fuel.

For those of you interested in the plight those animals injured by the spill, or wish to donate funds or your assistance, here are a few links:

Donations
Volunteer to help
International Bird Rescue

Winter in the Garden of Evolvement

The first freeze hit my garden this weekend. The coleus were hardest hit, their fragile "stain-glass" leaves shriveled and brown from the frost. The Portulacas - succulent by nature also wither in the frigid climate so removed from their native Mexico. However the Geraniums thrive as hardily in frostiness as well as they do in the burning heat of summer. The silver dust Cineraria with uncanny lacy but robust leaves is another survivor.

So I am left to play one of two roles; Circumspect Gardener who tends to the needs of the flora as determined by the seasons. Or the Goddess Gardener who allows the whims of temperature to destroy or incubate as it will. Think I'm shooting for the latter.

The Apple Tree

One of the most endearing traits of nature is finding it in unexpected places. A bunny rabbit in your boxwood hedge. Deer grazing on the Garden State Parkway. Cosmos growing wild in a highway median. I was able to catch nature at her stealthiest on a bus, no less. All throughout New Jersey run little buses that shuttle passengers from the garden state to New York and back. These buses are labelled "community transportation" and are usually run by someone of Latin descent. I call them Merenge buses since they blare loud Latin music and are used by members of those communities.

One fall day we idled in Union City, the city closest to the Lincoln Tunnel. For those of you familiar with Union City, it's not a place you wish to idle for a long period of time. But I was at the mercy of traffic and the bus driver, a man intent on squeezing as many passengers as humanly possible in the 20 seater. I happened to look outside the window and what did I see? Not bumper to tail light traffic vying for a spot in the Lincoln Tunnel. Not an accident nor a police incident. I saw an apple tree - 10 feet tall and bearing green apples that would shortly be blushing pink and crimson. Don't know about you but that thrilled me to my bones - unexpected nature.

Om is where the heart is

Om seems to be a trend of late. I've written about the birth of a wee boy name Om. And this weekend I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing a tuning fork set to the frequency of Om. The location was Newark, NJ - my friend Lourdes' home. I know what you're thinking - driveby gunfire, car alarms, thugs on the street corner. Oh no no no. First of all, she has priviledge of living in the uptown part of Newark. More importantly, her home couldn't be further removed from inner city violence and ugliness. Imagine an English cottage garden in the front yard. Think on flowering perennials and herbs tilting in the breeze. Sage so pungent that she dries and ties it with string for homemade smudges. Then picture a cosy house painted in brilliant colors and festooned with Disney characters. How un-innercity can you get? Moreover, the staggering supply of crystals, dieties, candles and assorted talismans keep this home as safe and protected as the Rosetta Stone.

It was in this setting that Lourdes brought out the tuning fork, informing us that it was set to the frequency of Om. Of course we had to test this declaration by thumping it vigorously to hear the low decibel vibrations. Placed to the hand the emissions went straight through bone and muscle. We thought it capable of breaking up muscle distress, memories and even disease. Perhaps you would like to try it yourself?

A Child is Born

My dear friends Rupa and Kiran welcomed their second child into the world yesterday. While the wee lad doesn't have a name yet, he certainly does possess a personality - at only 18 hours old! He fluttered his wispy eyelashes, although infants can not see until a few days after birth. I was so moved by watching the new mother, battered by the ravages of birthing and yet proud of her grand creation. The father was also exhausted but soberingly vocal while speaking to a group of visiting men.

"You can't imagine how much a woman goes through. You can't imagine the pain she has to endure. I couldn't handle it myself at first. Imagine having to endure that for hours is crazy."

Hats off to Kiran for voicing a tribute the creative force and endless strength of womanhood.

But the visit wasn't all about the gore of delivery. There were sweet spots. Rupa's aunt bringing in a tupperware full of her favorite Kitchadi, sour rice flavored with nuts and seasonings. Kiran's brother and fiancee - looking longingly at the little man with cherished dreams of their own. Rupa's father, cradling the newborn after swearing he wouldn't touch him until the age of 6 months. And Rupa herself, reigning over her guests as majestically as a queen. Handing out Indian sweets - Misurpak, Ladoos, Rasmali - as is the Indian custom. Sweets made from milk and sugar to celebrate a birth.

And as I finished this post I got a call from the happy Mama, notifying me that baby was indeed christened with a name, that being Om. The all-encompassing symbol of mystical entity. How fabulous is that!

Amidst the Chaos

Don't know about you but it's draining to ride the waves of transformation these days. To that end thought I'd share some information, guides, assistance that I carry around in my toolbelt these days. In particular I'm excited about a remarkable woman named Laurie Bloom who also goes by the moniker: Ajnira. She's a tremendously talented healer, teacher, channeler. She must be feeling the pull of the chaos as well because she is now offering classes to contend with the personal planetary onslaught of these days. Check her out.

Laurie Bloom - Ajnira at the Healing Zone

Introducing our New Class Schedule. Become your own healer in an hour with a simple, easy to use healing method. Become part of the global movement for direct healing. Step by step demonstration makes removing anything from viruses, bacterial, fungal, microbial, parasitic, flus, colds, chronic conditions ( pain, allergies, addictions,
STD's), a reality. From simple to complex conditions and disease processes. Get health-wise. Can curing Pathology really be this simple ? Simple and fascinating. Come join Ajnira and lead the way to true health Security in your family, friends and communities. We will send you home curing yourself and your loved ones.

This will be the first of of a 3 class series, repeating monthly. Each class building on the basic concepts introduced in:

Class 1 beginning Monday October 22, 2007 7-8:30 PM
Class 2: Monday November 26, 2007 7-8:30 PM
Class 3 Monday December 21, 2007 7-8:30 PM

Ajnira Lauire Bloom, MS is a practicing nutritionist, energy healer, hypnosis professional and intuitive. She has been self-healing for over 20 years.

Develop your Intuitive Skills. Educate your intuition and awaken true intelligence. How to begin or deepen your comfort and skill with divination. We will explore the unseen realms of information, wisdom and spirituality together. Demonstration of different Approaches, including creating your own system of tools. These can offer practical solutions and insights To the Cosmic nature of your life that can help create a new level of empowerment.

This will begin a series of 6 classes repeating monthly, each class progressing to new levels of development using your intuitive tools and understandings.

Teacher: Ajnira Lauire Bloom. MS psychic reader, healer, and intuitive channel
People in all age brackets from all walks of life find my readings interesting and relevant to the questions they are asking in their lives.

Call for Space: 973-509-8908
$33 per session
Classes held at The Healing Zone
127 Valley Sacred Space
Located at: 127 Valley Road, Montclair, NJ

4 Women in a Jetta

One of the joys of life has to be Girls Night Out. Imagine girls night out with your favorite women. Then imagine not only one night out but 3! Such was my weekend. Cousin Radha's birthday and she visits NY/NJ to celebrate. Cousin Suj (from NY) and cousin Patty (from Baltimore) all join in the festivities.

While I constantly embrace friendships and the sacred feminine, I must say the added dimension of family raises the bar for feminine bonding. There we were, 4 Indian women eating dim sum in Chinatown. Browsing tchakis in little shops. Drinking margaritas and snacking on goat cheese chorizo empanadas. Reminiscing about our childhood. Petting adorable dogs named Mia that stop to talk to us. Making it from Northern Jersey to the city in less than 5 minutes! Sipping shots of Limoncello. Discussing the men in our lives. Getting roses thrown at us by effusive Italian men. Reading Tarot cards at 3:30 am in front of a roasty outdoor fire. Nibbling on a trio of Italian sweets. Remembering how goofy, beautiful, reckless, bold, insecure we once were. Appreciating how much we love food! Embracing the women we've become. Thankful for the bond of sisterhood, adulthood, womanhood.

As they drove away in the black Jetta I knew I had another precious chapter to add to the family story.

Why music vidoes are a great expressive medium

Do you remember the first music video? Video killed the radio star by the Buggles. Those were the days when MTV actually played music videos instead of the tripe served as reality shows. Who cares what STD Brett Michaels is catching these days, eh? It was my belief then, and still is, that videos are a fertile forum for self expression. You can capture your dreams, fantasies, philosophies and just plain thoughts and transpose them into a musical story for posterity. How great is that?

I recently caught a video that manifests this belief. It was by an unknown band, the best I can manage was that their name began with a C. Any musical detectives out there wanna find me the band name? The protagonist of the story was a centaur, barechested, foot stomping. You get the idea. He charges to save the heroine, a mermaid who has been captured by an Octopus. Now remember I did say videos vent fantasies. Come now boys, an octopus? 8 tentacles? a beautiful mostly naked girl? Anyway, the centaur battles the octopus, thus freeing her. At the end of the video the centaur holds the mermaid in his arms as they stand atop a craggy cliff, watching the sunset. How much more primal and mythical can you get? He becomes his true self - a stallion. And she turns into, well. A fish.

7 Things That Don't Suck

The priest of cosmic parody, Rob Breszny of FreeWill Astrology entreated readers in his newsmail to make lists of this very thing. In honor or Reverend Rob, here's my list of things that don't suck. Send me yours.

1. Google. On top of making my day with slams against Dubya, Google delights in playing with their own logo. I believe the above is Canada's homage to Autumn Google. US Google actually depicted a Horn of Plenty on the Autumnal Equinox on September 23rd, but foolishly I didn't capture it. If anyone out there finds it, please shoot it my way?
2. Lucinda's Burrito Truck. I've been meaning to write a piece on the culinary delights of those mobile units that dispose of quality eats. Lucinda's is one of those. Always someone interesting standing by the yellow retro logo truck while I'm waiting for my breakfast burrito. The size of a grenade and about as heavy, this egg, cheese and chorizo filled beauty warms the belly with a perfect blend of tastes and textures. Voluptousness wrapped in a tortilla.
3. Ugly Betty. Just caught the season premiere which only solidified my belief that this is the best written comedy on TV. How about that portrait of evil fashion editor Wilhamenia Slater with Dick Cheney? Come ON! It's freaking brilliant.
4. Energetic Body Massage. Owner Isabelle Dassinger of the Healing Zone in Montclair, NJ hires some of the most talented alt healers this side of Deepak Chopra. Ask for Andrea.
5. The Thorns Never would have thought to band this bunch of guys together, but glad they did. As far as rhapsodic road music goes, these guys rock.
6. Although Autumn brings the strange inclination to stuff my face with meats and sweets my body seems to handle it well. Doesn't hurt that I exercise 5 days a week and take hard core AB classes to boot. Highly recommend Vanessa's or Miquel's Core Ab Classes at the NYSC at Harborside, NJ.
7. Storks. My commute happens to take me by the NJ Meadowlands Center in Lyndhurst, NJ. I'm usually able to spot red-winged blackbirds, herons, storks, ducks and swans. Today I spotted dozens and dozens of storks feeding in the early morning marshland. They so didn't suck.

Takes a Village

While my blog has been silent for the past few weeks rest assured that its creator has not been. Came back from a restorative week at the beach. Cape May to be exact. Now Cape May is one of my favorite beach towns for several reasons. You know food's gotta be one of them and it sure is. The great shopping is another reason but the real allure is that Cape May is a dog beach town. It has a long expanse of beach in which dogs can cavort and rest their salty wee paws in the Atlantic.

I was accompanied to the beach by my friend Nina, a dog lover and karoke singer. You should hear her do La Bamba. what a Mexican yodel! Watching her play with Duke I realized why I've never desired to raise a child. I can't fathom doing it by myself, the thought alone exhausts me. And by alone I mean with a father and parent to my child, but we are still only a couple. What Nina showed me was a remembrance of how Indian children are reaised by aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, grandfathers. All pitching in to watch the baby so she doesn't totter on unstable legs and fall on her face. To feed the wee one so Mom can eat. To keep her amused, thereby connecting with the energy of another human being. To punish her when she's naughty. To admire, croon, shower love so she grows up thinking she is a magnificent creature. If I had that kind of support I'd have squeezed out a dozen kids. But my life as it stands only offers the prospect of support in the form of expensive daycare and even more expensive nannies.

But this became clear to me. Does it take a village to raise a child? Hell yeah!

Jonathan Stealing Seagull

Many of you might remember the book in the 70s titled Jonathan Livingston Seagull. The book was written by Richard Bach in what he called a stream of consciousness from a higher source. Of course this comment caused an uproar in the fundamentally Christian community in which I was raised who lived by this dictum: if it's not from God, it's from Satan. Now why Satan would inspire a writer to capture the higher aspirations of a seagull, I don't know. But it blew me away. I was just a wee lass enthralled by nature and thrilled by the fact that an animal, much less a seagull, was the protagonist of an entire book.

Some 30 years later and once again I'm impressed by a seagull. Although perhaps not in such a noble manner as Jonathan's. This clip came to me from a friend as a joke but I was so taken with it, I wanted to save it as a screen saver. If I could figure how to use it as a backdrop for my phone I'd do it. Calling all techies. Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?

So here's the story behind the clip:

A seagull in Scotland has developed the habit of stealing chips from a neighborhood shop. The seagull waits until the shopkeeper isn't looking, and then walks into the store and grabs a snack-size bag of cheese Doritos. Once outside, the bag gets ripped open and shared by other birds. The seagull's shoplifting started early this month when he first swooped into the store in Aberdeen, Scotland, and helped himself to a bag of chips. Since then, he's become a regular. He always takes the same type of chips. Customers have begun paying for the seagull's stolen bags of chips because they think it's so funny.

Bless them Scots.

Pups in a Cup

As the days shorten I can feel time slow down. Shift from frenetic to slower, more leisurely days. And thank the Gods for that eh? As summer wanes and the chaos of these the past months disintegrates into the ether, I find myself drawn to a "comfort food" state of mind. Ergo the cup of pups. How much more comforting can a cup of pups be, tell me?

The Day After

Sometimes we get caught up in the antics of the universe and pay the price of heady association with such celestial bodies like Venus or the Moon. Thankfully, the luminaries slow down and give us a chance to recuperate from their antics. Today is such a day and I for one am excited with the prospect of a long, slow day in which nothing happens other than an evening of leftovers and television.

9/11 Solar Eclipse

Fitting that I haven't written for 2 weeks, exactly since the last eclipse. But then, who can expect to churn through the waters of ultimate transformation AND blog at the same time? And for you show-off out there who can, please write and tell me how.

While this eclipse hasn't been as devastating as the last one, I thought I'd offer a few links to navigate it nonetheless. check out my favorite site on the undulations of the moon, Mooncircles. Also helpful is The Daykeeper Journal.

Lunar Eclipse Portal

Yes it's eclipse time again. Lunar at that! Oof. To ease you through the inevitable stress, drama and emotion of the squares, grand crosses and just plain weirdness here's a list of great resources.

Of course the DayKeeper Journal on the Pisces Lunar Eclipse.

Also insightful is the Mooncircles website.

Alas, poor weather prevented inhabitants of the Far East from witnessing the event this year.

A Little Levity

Don't know about you but I'm pretty exhausted by the antics of the universe these past few months. So I've decided to focus on nothing but fluff and levity today. Bill Murray provided much of that in this news item on the Huffington Post
Bill Murray Pulled Over In Golf Cart, Smells Of Booze, Refuses Breath Test in Sweden. How can you NOT love that? Apparently scoring high on a breath test in Sweden could result in a prison sentence, much like the sentence for kissing a member of the opposite sex in India, so beware you western smoochers! Detective-Inspector Christer Holmlund of the Stockholm police indicated that most likely the Lost in Translation star will get fined. Talk about Caddy Wacked...

On Friends and Psychics

No I'm not talking about psychic friends network. (speaking of, whatever happened to Dionne and her buddies?) I'm talking about people who possess and practice tremendous skills like Reiki, Angel Consultation, Energetic Healing, traditional spa therapies, non traditional spa therapies, psychic consultations, past life regression and so on! This weekend was steeped in many of these practices. Since I had such a faboo time thought I would share the services here:

Reiki healing and classes. My friend Lourdes Lebron teaches and practices 3 types of Reiki; Usui, Traditional, Karuna. You can reach her at 201-341-6083.

Julie Lindh, the gorgeous lady in the pix is not only an exotic looking chick (Swedish and Indonesian), she has developed the regimes for many of New York's most acclaimed spas. Check out her website or one of the spas at which she works Townhouse Spa. She will launch a new product line shortly, look for lindhlogix soon!

Danny Amaral is an international spiritualist that uses angels to guide him in his meditations. Check out his site . He does workshops in the NYC area which I highly recommend. Based in Montreal, Danny is available for phone readings and group sessions. Ask about his house cleansings! Will clean any clutter, past or current life away.

Last entry to this list is a newly discovered talent that blows me away. Laurie Bloom is an integrated healer who uses tools for personal transformation such as Hypnotheraphy, Soul Technology & DNA Activation. Not to mention the more mundane (in comparison!) disciplines of tarot reading and relationship RX. All electrifying and promised to yield inspiration, no matter where you are in your life. She can be reached at laurie.bloom@gmail.com.

Farewell Turd Blossom

Fun and games in the White House this week. Dubya's contracted Lyme disease. The French First Lady Sarkozy stood up Bush and Laura during a luncheon. Rove resigns! Newsweek devoted pages of commentary and critique to the life and times of the Satan seed. Did I yell that out loud? Only regret? Took too long coming. And now
YouTube's running a fascinating video taped in 1994 depicting Dick Cheney warning the US about going to war with Iraq.

300 At Last

Finally caught the much hyped movie 300 and have to admit, it was a stunner. The visual effects, the stop photography, the lush settings set against an eternal sepia toned world was remarkable. But let me not forget what will undoubtedly be the biggest draw for the female audience - the beefy, Mars-driven insanely hot men. These boys are not just sporting guns, they've got cannons for arms and hams for thighs which are conveniently displayed in tota thanks to the Spartan 'uniform' comprised of a itty bitty leather brief and a red cape. Which makes me wonder, were Spartans so damn confident of their military prowess or were these outfits historically inaccurate? I'm guessing the latter. But no matter. It doesn't hurt that the teeth baring, apple chomping King Leondies played by a very unGrecian actor sporting a Welsh? Scottish? accent swaggered into the role with arrogance befitting a king. The soundtrack was also evocative. Orchestral with fantastic Middle Eastern tracks and the obligatory heavy metal guitar during the battle scenes.

In all, a totally fun time, despite the headcount and blood loss. Gather your girl friends, serve pita pockets, hummus, red wine and savor this homage to the strength and violence that is manhood.

In Defense of Arranged Marriages

Having been raised a fundamentally Christian Indian, the dating scene was basically jinxed for me. As an Indian girl I wasn't allowed to 'date'. As a Seventh Day Adventist, I wasn't allow to have pre-marital sex. What chick was worse off than me? So understandably when I came to the permissible dating age - 35 - I made quite a few mistakes due to the lack of chops. Which is why I will endorse the practice of arranged marriages. Now I don't mean arranged in the sense that my Mom heads off to India and scouts Andhra Pradesh for suitable husbands for her finicky daughter. Actually, if memory serves correctly I recall that my grandmother used to collect lists of marriageable men for my surveillance. It was quite touching, that is when I wasn't laughing my ass off. She was quite resourceful, my maternal grandma. Capturing the man's stats on the back of a glossy 8 1/2 x 11 color picture. One guy in particular I remember vividly. He was a dentist that lived in Switzerland who cherished cats and had a passion for Jayaprada, a popular Telugu actress. I don't recall his name but I do recall the glossy photo of him. A 30 something man (keep in mind, I was only 17. ewwwww) with a crest of black hair, big bucky teeth and, wait for it, a monstrously hairy chest. Wirey black hair sprang from under his long sleeved shirt, under his chin. Now this wasn't any old hairy chest, this guy would make a Yeti proud. This guy was a Brazilian bikini waxer's virgin dream! But unfortunately for the poor sot, not mine.

Although I passed on every single one of the hand selected men Grandma sent for my perusal, I now look back at that interval wistfully. Because they were guys she took time to hunt down, investigate and finely filter through her rigid criteria. Did he come from a good family? Was he educated? Did he hold a good job? What was his religious background? Did his community speak highly of him? What were his interests? What were his goals? All these inquiries factored into a single goal: Would he be a good husband for me.

Which is why I'm a proponent of utilizing dating services. These folks take on the duties of Moms and Grandmas, sifting through the streams of potential mates based on indepth questionnaires, compatibility criteria and age/income/location demographics. The questions they ask are akin to something a parent might want to know for their offspring. Like: What's the candidate's ability to resolve conflict?
It is important for him or her to take time to "smell the roses"? Not to mention specific interrogations as to sexual principles. Is chemistry important? If so, how much? This is a sticky point for as writer Regena Thomashauer suggests, there is no such thing as chemistry. There is only desire and dedication know your partner and learn what pleases them most.

More likely than not, the couples who unite using these dating services are so thrilled at finding a compatible partner that they worry not one whit whether 'chemistry' exists. They create it. Take for example my friend Julie who met her beau through one such service. She's been so happy since she met her jet-setting guy that she can barely contain her joy. To extend her happiness she tries her hand at setting me up using her own psychic algorhithms, which I'm sure go something like: Does he like to eat great food? Can he keep up with Rekha's energy level? Does he like wiggley puppies? I just wonder if she throws in glossy pix like my Grandmother did.

Thank God it's August

Don't know about you but July was a brutal month. Found out my finance might be deported. Had to postpone our wedding. My car was stolen. Lost a good chunk of change to an ex-friend. My mother was diagnosed advanced with rheumatoid arthritis of the lungs. Experienced the crazy energy of 7/7/07. Experienced the transcendant but disturbing energy from Fire the Grid on 7/17. Did I mention having to postpone my wedding?

Come August and yes, hotter days, but hopefully calmer energy. Good news for those Sagittarians out there. Jupiter goes direct after 4 months of retrograde action. Venus has been retrograde in Virgo of all places, Ick! But goes direct on the 8th so all those misunderstandings between you and your beloved should begin to iron themselves out. Expect a lunar eclipse on the 28th to highlight any emotional issues on your radar. And everyone, can we have a little less drama?

Another Hawk Tale

A colleague of mine, Erin told me this hawk story in the midst of a chaotic, heart-wrenching week.

His bride of 2 weeks called Erin at work, informing him that a baby hawk had crash landed in their backyard. The little guy (dubbed Beaky) lay on his back, fluttering but unable to right itself. He messed about during the day until Erin returned home from work. Worrying about predators, Erin gently righted the fledgling and allowed it perch on his arm. Now Erin is a guy with a penchant for winged creatures, you might call them his totem. So the companionship of a wee hawk destined to be a magnificent creature with a wingspan exceeding 6 feet thrilled him to his toes. In his droll manner Erin described it this way: It exceeded expectations for my day.

Despite the bonding and mutual admiration between hawk and man, the little guy was still unable to take flight. Summoned were the ASPCA people who arrived to inspect his physical state - bones, pinions, feathers and make sure he was hydrated and fed. They plan to release him in the same location tomorrow. Hopefully Mama or Daddy Hawk will spot him and assist in his ascent back to the nest.

If I hear more, I'll let you know.

SAJA News

As a South Asian (the politically correct way to call an Indian in America) I'm always seeking organizations with like-minded/colored participants. 7 years ago I came across SAJA, the South Asian Journalist Association while browsing the Columbia University Graduate Writing Program. I had the opportunity to speak with the founder of SAJA - Sree Sreenivasan, Dean of students & Professor in addition to being a Tech Reporter for WNBC. Not only has he established one of the most powerful forums for South Asian Journalists, he happens to be a remarkably gifted networker.

One of the forums Saja has created is the Saja annual convention. This year conducted July 12 - 15 on the campuses of Columbia and CUNY. Keynote speakers were Bill Keller, Martin Bashir (infamous Michael Jackson interview), Rena Golden - CNN International. I had the chance to join a seminar wtih Bruce DaSilva, award-winning writing coach for AP, in which Mr. DaSilva reinforced my favorite dictum: it doesn't matter what you write it's how you write it. Best of all for you Heroes fans was the guest appearance of Sendhil Ramamurthy, otherwise known as the dishy Dr. Mohinder Suresh.

Other resources of note include blogs such as UltraBrown with homages to Apu of the Simpsons and UberDesi.

Simpsons Mania

Good news for fans of the Simpsons. Lots of treats coming your way in anticipation of the Simpsons movie, debuting July 27 this month. We always knew the writers of the show were brilliant but who knew they had such advertising chutzpah? To celebrate (and largely advertise the movie) the publicity team had an artist create the granddaddy of all tributes to Homer Simpson, right next to the pagan, time honored Cerne Abbas Giant.

ABC News reports.

"The Cerne Abbas Giant, a chalk outline of an aroused, club-wielding man dating to at least the 17th century, is a revered symbol of fertility among pagans. It is Britain's largest chalk drawing, carved into the natural chalk rock beneath the turf. Its new neighbor is Homer Simpson, proudly wielding a doughnut and clad more modestly in an enormous pair of Y-front briefs in the adjacent lush, green field.

While keeping with the Simpson's cheeky shenanigans, other publicity efforts include the tranformation of 7-11s into the fictional Kwik eMarts of the show. I've had the opportunity to witness one such one in New York City on 42nd Street and between 8th & 9th Avenue. Wanna visit one yourself? Have a look at the locations. Rumor has it that the owners of the 7-11s, who are largely of South Asian descent are working closely with Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, owner of the show's Kwik eMart and voiced by Hank Azaria.

But wait, it gets even better. On Wednesday night, the Daily Show proudly featured Matt Groening, Simpson's creator. To say Jon Stewart was excited is an understatement. You might say he giggled like a little girl. Catch the interview.

Fire the Grid

In case you haven't already heard of the remarkable story of Shelly Yates you can catch it on YouTube. In essence, Ms. Yates is encouraging the entire world to send blessings of love and healing to the earth on 7/17 at 7:11 EST. It might already be past the alloted time but I encourage you to spend a few moments today to send this small planet appreciation for its water, air, plants, creatures. I was rewarded on the ride to work by a brown pelicanish creature waving his bat-like wings as I whizzed past. Tell me your stories and experiences on this magical day.

Dog Whisperer Week!

If you haven't fallen in love with Caesar Millan, the "Dog Whisperer" you'll get your chance tonight. Matter of fact, all this past week. The National Geographic Channel is airing Dog Whisperer Week, with back to back episodes of the award-winning show. You can catch previews on the site.

A little help for the Earth, please?

The excitement of Live Earth was somewhat tainted by the results of the Wimbledon finals. But from first hand reviews, the grass-roots, artist supported bash achieved one of its primary end goals - raise awareness of the earth. The brainchild of Al Gore, (God bless the man for reinventing rejection of a presidency into the most urgent movement of the new millenium) Live Earth proved what the current presidency has tried to deny: the people have no say.

If you missed the fete, check out the concerts on demand and check the other ditties on the site such as green celebs, eco tip of the day, join the green community and register to win an eco trip to Australia.

Hawks and Goddess Demotions

Mention of Goddess anywhere in modern media always catches my eye, so when I saw this headline: Nepali "living goddess" fired after U.S. visit, I had to check it out. Sajani Shakya of Nepal was granted the status of Kumari, or living goddess at the age of two. What exactly are the duties of a child goddess? These wee dieties abide in temples blessing devotees until they reach puberty. Then they are able to rejoin their family and lead a normal life. But temple life can be restricting, especiallly for a 10 year-old girl. So she embarked on a trip to the United States. To go to Disneyland? No. To visit Paris Hilton? No. Sajani departed with the best of intentions - to promote a British-made documentary exploring Nepal's traditions and contemporary political turmoil.

Apparently the Kumari management administration didn't care for Sajani's motive. "It is wrong and against the tradition for her to go on a foreign tour without any permission," said the chief of a trust that manages the affairs of Bhaktapur's Kumari tradition. "This is impure in our tradition. We will search for a new Kumari and install her as the living goddess." Hmmm. I wonder if it's against the tradition to accept increased donations?

In other news, as I was watching a replay of a Wimbledon match a plump pigeon interrupted play. The heavy pigeon, swatted about the arena in an attempt to exit the stadium. Apparently the eats at Wimbledeon are pretty good for the pudgy bird oafishly fluttered about for quite a bit. While the proper Brits hemmed and coughed in amusement the commentators seemed perturbed. Where's the hawk? Mary Carrillo asked Luke Jensen. I've heard of Hawk-eye but just a hawk? Apparently Wimbledon employs the services of an, er, professional hawk. Known as the All England Club's Hawk, this raptor is released upon the hallowed tennis grounds every morning to frighten off plump pigeons and other unfortunate avians. Woe to the pigeons.

Ballad of El Paso

As dive bars go, Cornerstone is a Guinness World Record winner. A dark interior showcases a musty sticky bar crowded by worn stools. On which sit the salt of Jersey - policemen, construction workers, and on a balmy Sunday afternoon, a guy named Cowboy. He looks like a leaner, meaner Kenny Rogers - graying ponytail pulled back from a tanned, craggy face. Loves country music, says he, especially the Man in Black. Fan that I am of Mr. Cash, I'm more in a Marty Robbins mood. So off I shuffle to the state of art jukebox - mystifying in a bar that hands out bags of Wise potato chips for happy hour. The moment the guitar strums the first chords of El Paso I'm transported back to the first time I heard the song.

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Nighttime would find me in Rosa's cantina
Music would play and Feleena would whirl

The song eclipses all cowboy ballads. Wikipedia has this to say: "Widely considered a genre classic for its gripping narrative, haunting harmonies, and the eloquent Spanish guitar accompaniment that lends the recording a distinctive Tex-Mex feel."

The nobility of the song is slightly marred by my first experience of it. I wish I could say I heard it on a cowboy trail while the cowhands crooned to the setting sun. Or that I actually witnessed Marty performing his remarkable ballad. Alas, it was neither. It came about through the unlikely personage of Steve Martin. In the 70s and 80s, after the world discovered the wild and crazy Mr. Martin, he began testing the boundaries of his talent. Ergo the music video King Tut. The tiny, jewel of a book - Cruel Shoes. And his Saturday night specials. It was on such a special titled Comedy Is Not Pretty that Steve contrived his homage to Robbins via the unlikely conduit of, um, chimps. Yes, chimps. Steve positioned himself as the hero of the song while casting chimps as all other characters, including the black-eyed, lipsticked Feleena. Even the shennagians of the skit could not dwindle the impact of the soaring lyrics or the marvelous Spanish guitar.

As Cowboy said to me after the hero bid Feleena good bye, "now that's a song!"

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.

Newsy

Enjoying the news mags today. Newsweek runs a 5 part series titled A Pampered Pet Nation. Slate on Newsweek on Bush's very own Monica - Gonzales. CNN on Cindy Sheehan who's hanging up her antiwar crusade for marital, financial and health reasons. Favorite would have to go Bill Maher in Newsweek for bitch slapping the American public for equating Hillary with the with the much maligned French.

Star Wars Turns 30

A long time ago in a state far, far away, I hated science fiction. But my big brother, a saint of a guy by any means, dragged me kicking and screaming to watch a movie called Star Wars. Wha? Ick. I don't want to watch cold science stuff. Luckily, he wasn't deterred and forced me to sit through the mind boggling experience. Well, you know how this story ends. I'm a hard-core convert, sharing my experiences and theorems on this epic saga of a heroes journey. Matter of fact, after viewing the movie my perception of God altered dramatically. The Judeo-Christian God of Moses, Abraham and Solomon was replaced by a more expansive entity that perceived the world in shades of gray, not good and evil, not black and white. I was so moved by the revelation of a Force that governs the universe that I wrote to head Pastor Londis of the Sligo Seventh Day Adventist Church in Takoma Park, MD to share my new views.

This weekend Star Wars celebrates turning 30. Celebrates influencing not only a entire generation but a fickle movie industry. A plethora of specials celebrating this fete are being broadcast. The History Channel will debut a documentary "Star Wars: The Legacy Revealed." Cinemax will play all 6 episodes tonight! Apparently Hasbro has created 30 year anniversary action figures for the ocassion. Quick, somebody get me Hans Solo frozen in carbonite. Check out the Star Wars interactive quiz to test your knowledge. Beware, it's not for sissy Jedites. I scored a measley "Padawan Learner" level for my efforts. Finally, for some fun check out the now defunct but hilarious blog by Jedi Master Yoda.

100 Things to Eat Before You Die: 21 – 30

I’ll devote this list to dives and mall venues.

21. Blackened shrimp on white beans at The Cornerstone Bar, Carlstadt, NJ
22. California Chicken burger at Red Robin, Clifton, NJ
23. Buffalo Blue Cheesesteak sandwich, Ledos, Silver Spring, MD
24. The Antipasta Platter at Papa Razzi’s at Garden State Mall, NJ
25. The Chicken Empanadas at La Isla, Hoboken, NJ
26. Slice of cheese pizza at Rays on 12th Street, NY
27. Atomic chicken wings at Backstreet, Lyndhurst, NY
28. Sweet potato fries at Candlelight Dinner, East Rutherford, NJ
29. Roasted duck at 69 Wong, Chinatown, NY
30. The mussels marinara at Crow’s Nest, Hackensack, NJ

A grayer shade of green

My Republican father (otherwise adorable) gave me a fright this weekend upon telling me he rates Dubya as his favorite president. After the sputtering and ranting subsided I began to see why he would foster such a sentiment. Coming from a background which honors male authority figures, my Dad has always lauded authority. The pastor of the church, policemen, government officials. Matter of fact, Dad reads like the demographic bible for southern left wingers. Luckily, not everyone thinks as he does. Former president Carter lambasted the Bush administration calling it the "worst in history". Amen.

California governer Arnold Schwarzenegger laid into the adminstration for it's dismal environmental policy. It gets even better, Arnie said his administration will sue the Environmental Protection Agency if it fails to act quickly on the state of California's request to regulate greenhouse gas emissions from automobiles. EPA Administrator Stephen Johnson said the EPA would "move expeditiously, but we are going to be moving responsibly." Read that as we'll take our own freaking time, thank you very much.

Meanwhile, on the East coast Mayor Bloomberg stated in 5 years the entire fleet of New York taxicabs will be hybrid. The most logical republican around made this comment, "These cars just sit there in traffic sometimes, belching fumes." The fuel efficient hybrids get 36 miles to the gallon whereas the standard yellow cab vehicle, Ford Crown Victoria performs to a measley 14 mpg.

By the way, my Dad drives a Toyota Corolla but he once owned a Crown Victoria. Proof that there's always hope for change.

Dancing with the New Moon in Taurus

I've recently discovered what all the hoopla about Dancing with the Stars is all about. And it's all due to Laila Ali. Read what Mooncircles has to say about the beauty of a confident woman. Also watch the incredible Mambo by Laila and partner. Checkout what Dana Gerhardt has to say about Venus-ruled Taurus. It's a time to revel in all of the 5 senses so go out and celebrate something that smells divine. Taste something delicious. Touch something that makes you tingle. Listen to something that fills your head. Go see something that blows you away. And even if you can't dance (much like me, I can barely polka) celebrate the movement of your body and dance under the stars during the Taurus new moon.

Now That’s a Death Wish

Facing execution, I’m sure Philip Workman had no clue how compelling his last wish would be. Rejecting anything as mundane as a steak dinner, Workman requested for a vegetarian pizza to be delivered to a homeless man. Quite an astounding request from a man who was convicted of slaying a police officer in an armed robbery at Wendys in Memphis. Aggravated by the fact that Workman was strung out on Cocaine. Given the severity of the crime you would think the guards at Riverbend Maximum Security Institution would be touched into compliance. After all, here’s a man who’s seen the consequences of his actions and repented to the point of self denial. But the officials of Riverbend didn’t see redemption, or if they did, were not moved to concession. The denied his request on the most absurd of grounds; they don’t donate to charity!

So Workman was executed by lethal injection without his dying wish granted on Wednesday, May 9. While his request left the maximum security prison cold, a host of other citizens were moved to action. The first good Samaritan was a radio station in Minneapolis which spent the majority of the morning discussing Workman’s request on air. They donated 17 pizzas in his behalf. Donna Spangler collected $1,200 to buy 150 pizzas, which she delivered to the Nashville’s Rescue Mission. Ingrid Newkirk, President of PETA ordered 15 veggie pizzas to be sent to the mission. She is quoted as saying, “kindness to all living beings is a virtue.” Another 17 pizzas arrived at Nashville's Oasis Center, a shelter that helps teenagers in crisis. More pizzas were delivered anonymously on Workman’s behalf. Philip Workman died after years of being confined, (some evidence indicates wrongfully) for years on death row. But how amazing that his death brought sustenance, joy and hope to a small throng of people. He will not be forgotten, nor should he.