The kiss that shocked India and aggravated everyone else

I am a bit embarassed by the ceaseless publicity following Richard Gere's kiss to Shilpa Shetty. The sad part is the incident was borne from a good cause. A very good cause in India. Gere and Shetty (UK's winner of the reality show Celebrity Big Brother) were appearing at an AIDs awareness rally in front of New Delhi truck drivers. While he dipped her, ala a scene from Shall We Dance, he planted a kiss on her cheek, mind you! Now several things come into play here. Apparently Indian lorry drivers are notorious for their sexual promiscuity, ergo the AIDs awareness campaign. Secondly, for those of you unfamiliar with India and her sexual deportment rules, kissing is not allowed in public. This means no smooching in movies, on TV or by the general public. Now I can attest to the fact that I have indeed kissed my male relatives in public in India. My grandfather, my uncles and so on. Of course I did not dip them but how would you expect a 5 foot 2 girl do manage such a feat? And let me tell you, I did NOT get hauled into the local precinct for indecent behavior.

Gere hasn't fared as well. He has officially been charged indecent public conduct under sections 292, 293 and 294 of Indian penal code. If found guilty he could face up to 6 years of imprisonment. And the recipient of the kiss? She's under a restraining order. You know this makes me wonder how slow the Indian news scene must be faring at this time. Nothing better to feed on than this? Given the public's lust for celebrity-related news, makes me think we should harness this phenomenon. Sales from news such as this should be donated to dire causes that never seem to generate such fervor - such as AIDs, protecting farmland and rain forests, curtailing urban sprawl and combatting global warming. And to the land that hosts over a billion citizens? To a land that's over populated from what guess what? Sex. To the land that gave the world its most treasured sex manual of all time, the Kama Sutra. Shame on you.

100 Things to Eat Before You Die

All the hubbub about Patricia Schutlz's bestseller has got me thinking about the things I'd like to do before I expire. Topping my list of course is food. So I'd like to begin my list of 100 things to eat before dying. Let's start with the first 10.

1. The molten chocolate cake at Legal Seafoods
2. Sangria at Cibeles in Lyndhurst, NJ (fruit qualifies it as food)
3. My mother's vegetable biryani
4. The seared tuna at the Twisted Vine in Santa Rosa, CA
5. Masala dosa from the shop next to the taxi stand in Nuzvid, India
6. The pumpkin ravioli at La Dolce Vita in Soho, NY
7. Roasted salmon in a pea puree from Max's, Brattleboro Vermont
8. The lobster roll from the food shack next to Plymouth Rock, MA
9. Ledo's pizza in Silver Spring, MD
10. My chicken curry.

Would love to hear about your favorite eats.

Houston

Been a long week since I wrote so I'll give a short blow by blow of the week. Wed, the 18th flew to Houston for client meetings and presentations. My colleagues, experts in the field of web globalization comprised of Simon and Melania, both from Ion Global. While our endeavors in Houston were very successful, and while I stayed at a rather posh but decaying Omni, I got absolutely NO sleep. Good news though was I ate rather well. Dinner at a steakhouse (yes, I HAD to eat steak in Texas!) called Flemings. I had the Beef Flemington, encased in a pastry shell and doused in a madiera wine sauce. You bet it was tasty, especially paired with a lush raspberry noted Cabernet that wine-collector Simon selected. Good call. Hit of the evening was the dark chocolate souffle that was devoured not only by the women, but the guys as well.

Thursday after work was followed by drinks at the hotel Derek where my colleagues were staying. Although we were in Houston I distinctly felt as if I were in a club in the Bronx, due to the heavily infiltrated rap guests who were in town for a Big Joe/Little Wayne show. Wait a minute, didn't I see that top at Leslie Joyce? Then off to an art exhibit and hear a loud live band. Ah, the hip Houston art scene. Met a talented jewelry, handbag, furniture designer named Melissa who had the impeccable taste to take us to El Pueblito for dinner. Aye, che wow wa. Crisp fresh lime margaritas. Tangy white fish seviche. A cheesy live band singing every Santana song they could remember. Sangria and the biggest glass of water I've ever seen. All experienced from a lush cabana furnished in wicker and white pleather. Wait, I forgot about the Fish Tacos. Only the best I've tasted in my not so short life. And this was reinforced by a more well traveled person than myself, and also happens to live in Cali, where the Mexican food is unanimously better than in New York.

Final presentation on Friday was a success. Flew back to NY dreading the cold after 70 degree humid Houston temps but was pleasantly surprised by the 50ish weather at Newark. Duke greeted me rapturously as I try to pay the cab driver. And promptly begged for food as he had been on a hunger strike since I left. No worries, he ate 3 bowlfuls that night and slept smack in middle of the bed.

To celebrate Earth Day weekend I stayed in bed and connected with the feather pillows. Sunday I succumbed to the lack of sleep with bad air hangover and developed a cold. A really bad cold. By the way, in case you're an incessant insomniac such as myself, here are a few non medicinal methods to counteract sleeplessness by medical intuitive, Donna Eden. Check them out when you're tired of counting sheep.

Power of Prayer

The last couple months have been tough on my mother. She was hospitalized for complications derived from a bout of Dengue fever, which she contracted in India. The fever excerbated her aging bones which apparently have gone from kinda soft to they can barely support your body anymore. Latest of her trials was the development of rheumatoid arthritis not only in her joints, but in her lungs.

She and I discussed her health. At first I am ashamed to admit I was rather punitive, blaming her for a life of martyrdom, caring for others more than herself. Then it occured to me that while she has truly forfeited her health for the well being of family, friends and possibly her mistaken perception of God's expectations, she was admirably poised to learn the lesson of self love. So I've taken it upon myself to walk her down a path of self celebration, the first time she might have done so in 65 years. This is not so easily done with a woman who believes "Only God can heal me." Yeah, right.

My friend Lourdes, a healer of remarkable power gave me exercises and rituals to perform to assist Mom on her journey. Yesterday I shared these with Mom, along with a prayer she requested. Having grown up fundamentally Christian I have always accessed prayers. But they were the prayers of my elders, long wind-blown affairs that mourned the weaknesses of men and the supremity of an almighty God. That's not how I pray anymore. My communings are more along the lines of acknowledging my own spark of divinity and sharing myself with the universe, whomever might be listening at that moment. And so I prayed for my mother, asking the angels and healer guides to systemically remove pain and return her body into a state of health. Mom's not used to my freewheeling prayers which can be lyrical and downright fun.

She called this morning to tell me she feels better.

When Happyness is Depressing

Finally caught the Will Smith vehicle - Pursuit of Happyness. Watched it during the nor easter the east coast was treated to on Sunday. So amidst howling wind and torrential downpours the man, the dog and I snuggled to watched the film. It wasn't until after watching the film that I began to appreciate it. During the film you're enmeshed in the hero's dilemmas, and let me tell you there's a whopping lot of them. Wife leaves, back account cleaned out by the IRS, kicked out of your home, kicked out of a hotel, $21 dollars in your pocket with which you have to exist for months AND take care of your adorable toddler. Yikes! It was truly exhausting and yes, depressing. But afterwards, when you're able to appreciate the journey, then you pay attention to the gift called your life. Of course I wish I had more money. Of course I wish I were taller and thinner. Of course I wish I had a villa on the Amalfi coast, or even the Jersey coast. But at least I am healthy, have a job, a wonderful partner, an adorable dog and a damn beautiful home. So if you'd want a dose of "remember how great your life really is" check out Pursuit of Happyness. Guarantee you'll go home and kiss your hubby or honey and tell them how happy your are.

The Bent Trees

I see them everywhere, although two stand out with peculiar regularity. Bent Trees. Shrubbery that for some reason has been dented, shifted, bent to either wind or car or manmade object. There's the 10 year-old Crabapple tree on Route 3, just before the southbound Rutherford exit. 5 years ago it was a mere sapling trying to branch out in a pollution riddled highway. One day I drove by noticing that the lovely darling had been almost completely knocked over. Tiremarks burned into the soil bore evidence of the culprit. An car. From the looks of it driving far too fast to make the 30 mph curve. So instead it smashed into the tree using the youthful shrub as a blockade. I feared the tree would die but miraculously it didn't. It leaned almost 45 degrees to the east but its roots must have still maintained contact with the earth. In late spring it bloomed into light pink blossoms. In summer it sported luxuriant leaves. Fall they changed to a glorious burgundy. Although it never did bear fruit, probably due to the fact that an appropriate boy or girl tree was not within easy pollinating distance.

Then there's Cypress, a mere shrub really that I see on my morning commute on the NJ Lightrail. In front of Pavonia Mall the cypress, along with a half dozen more span the entrance to the parking garage. At some point the wrought iron railing between the garage and the shrubs fell over, its entire weight resting on one cypress in particular. The first day I saw it I wanted to leap up, rush off the train and hoist off the offending rail. But I didn't. Proof that good intentions and kind hearts are not enough. As time passed I watched the cypress with sadness, until one day the railing had been righted. The shrub still tilted inwardly like a broken finger unable to mend. It's rust color indicative that it is now an ex-cypress, a dead cypress. A sad reminder of the bent tree syndrome.

Jupiter Retrograde

Have you been feeling it? After a couple weeks of intense energy and movement, something went kaput. My friend Athena felt it in a relationship that was a Nascar race, and now is dwindling down to a what? where? I feel it in my motivations, which was out there! out there! in typical Sagittarian fashion but has now depleted into contentment to watch from the sidelines. This is how it goes. But it needn't be a continual miasma, as cousin Cynth puts it. Understanding the meaning of Jupiter in retrograde can give us perspective, if not consolation. As with all retrogrades, this is not a time for action but for retrospection.

Artcharts.com tell us now in the time to go inward. Review your Jupiter-sized goals, the really big ones, not the 'I-won't-eat-chocolate-today' ambition. Take a look at that goal and list the steps necessary to achieve it. Of course, listing is only one step. The next is to act upon them. Enter that contest, submit that photograph, attend that 12 step course. Off to the lists!

Sister Goddess Date

Saturday night, four women meeting to celebrate each other's beauty, minds, and unique gifts. No guys, don't get your cameras out. This was the inaugural sister goddess date from the Passiac, Rutherford, Newark, North Arlington chapter. Phew! Following Regena Thomashauer's excellent recommendations in her Mama Gena books, we gathered for a night of festivities. Lovely we all looked and despite a long work week (and an extraordinarily exciting week by one who I will call Athena), we were all up for playful and somber talk. Perhaps the somber bit isn't actually in Mama Gena's recommendation. Her mantra (or womantra, as she would put it) goes: fun and pleasure are the source of a woman's true power. When a woman is at her juicy best, there is nothing she can't do. Indeed. I look forward to rejuvenating my own juiciness after a frigid, drought-inducing winter.

Would you believe April flurries?

The first time I experienced snow was in the S-Klein parking lot in Langley Park, MD. Having just moved to America with my family I was as popeyed to my new surroundings as any 5 year-old. It must have been late fall for I don't recall the heft of a winter coat nor had my hands ever experienced the cloak of gloves. My dad and an uncle had just purchased an item from the psuedo low-end discount mart. As we were about to step into Dad's 1963 moss green Chevy convertible with beige canvas top I noticed a peculair occurance. Bits of paper were falling from the sky. "Dad," I exclaimed, "who's throwing paper from the roof?" Chuckling Dad announced, "It's snow!" Well if the roof hadn't already fallen it did then. What a treat that ephemeral white fluff.

Although I love snow, especially when romping in its chillen glory with Duke I wasn't loving it today when it materialized in whirling dervish of a cloud. While waiting for the 5:17 train. Did I mention it descended on a vicious wind swarming over my thin Easter jacket and oncovered head? The upper northeast got clobbered, wacked by a spring storm. I highly doubt any kids rejoiced. I watched a gaggle of ducks furiously quacking to each other. They must have been saying - you said it was time to come back North. What's the deal? This has become a grim reminder that sins upon the planet must be redeemed.

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, comprised of international scientists, issued a dire report that confirms the world’s climate is warming, human activities have contributed significantly and the trend will “continue for centuries.” Finally, indisputable authority from the experts. Not everyone accepts this news with cries of woe is this world, what are we to do. The publication of the report was marred in its entirety by requests from diplomatic delegates from China, Saudi Arabia and guess who? United States who requested that the harsh language be toned down to less punitive terms.

While Greenpeace said "This is a glimpse into an apocalyptic future," conservative organizations like myheritage.org spew affronted stories claiming to debunk Global Warming. What punishment should be meted out to folks who stubbornly cling to the Republican rhetoric that none of this means anything? And if it did it certainly wouldn't mean a decrease in driving their sleek gas guzzling car or lowering there thermostat to conserve oil. Or should we allow them to escalate the downfall of mankind for yet another era?

A Coyote Walks into Quiznos

To the amazement of passersby and the glee of animal enthusiasts a coyote sauntered into a Chicago Quiznos. No worry, no hurry, the fella simply slunk in and hunkered down in the open refrigeration system for sodas, juices and the like. The handsome chap simply cooled his heels. Watch him in action. In this day and age when a woman tries to sell her 7 year-old daughter on the Internet for sex and British naval officers are held prisoners for invasion of water space, this makes for refreshing news. Moreover, since the coyote is such a revered symbol in the animal kingdom, I wondered what such an occurance might portend? What symbolic message would a coyote offer to jaded humanity?

The folks at www.linsdomain.com say this:

If a Coyote totem has appeared in your life, be prepared for "Murphy's Law" to enter your life with a vengeance. Your sense of humor will arise full force in keeping with the things happening around you. Blind dates, things that suddenly don't work, all this is Coyote humor. You need to learn to laugh at yourself and Life's irony.

This coincides with the coyote's reputation of being the Trickster of the animal kingdom. They bring about the lesson of Trust and Seeing through Illusion. Could it be this lone coyote is reminding us of the constant transition in our lives? As spring comes our way to be aware of illusions within ourselves, the unwanted, unneeded aspects on a personal level as well as a planetary frequency. Or perhaps to reveal how close our animal brethern truly exist to us. In any case, we are grateful for a glimpse of this fascinating totem.

Grape Hyacinths

The snow didn't destroy my croci, it only delayed their emergence by a few weeks. The endive sized purple beauties have sprouted everywhere in the front and back yard. And for the first time in 2 years the grape hyacinths have bloomed. Delightful blue clusters expanding and releasing their fragrance. Since the ground thawed and still retains moisture I transplanted a floundering Hydrangea from the shadies corner into a more sun-exposed corner.

One trend I have noticed in my neighborhood is the tendency to cut down huge trees because they have become too cumbersome. The list of reasons for tree demise runs from home threatening to the mind bogglingly stupid. When a tree uproots your yard, sidewalk and front porch, I might understand the need for serious action. However when you're not fond of the leaves and "stinky stuff" a tree deposits on your car, some might think their resource would be other than chopping down a 100 year old pine. Does moving the car come to mind? If people feel inclined to saw down a 100 year relic that cleanses the air, reduces sound pollution, and provides shelter for avians, then they should at least be tasked with replenishing the neighborhood with another tree. Even just a wee one that doesn't distribute pollen or sap on their precious vehicles. One great source is from the revered Audobon Society. Another baby tree destination can be found at Michael Chiarello's Napa Style website. A conservation group aptly named American Forests has created a historical tree program from which you can select famous saplings such as the Walden Woods Red Maple, Thomas Jefferson Tulip Poplar and my favorite, Ladybird Johnson Southern Magnolia.
Check them out.

Sangham

The thing I remember most vividly about my parents differs from day to day. I've heard it said that eventually we all become our parents, a comment that vividly plays in my mind these days as I catch myself doing little things that my Mom used to do. Such as save eggshells for my rosebed, yell at my honey to make the bed and save plastic sour cream containers. Lately a ritual that both my parents used to indulge has become more meaningful to me. As long as I can remember, whenever I left their home my parents would stand on the porch and wave until I was out of sight. For years I used to think they were just being dramatic, trying to catch the last glimpse of their only daughter. Or that they were so emotional they didn't want to miss a single bit of me (ok, that's a conceited reason but if you knew my parents...) But what I recently discovered, compliments of dear cousin Patty, is that our parents stand and wave to us for a reason. A reason called sangham. It's traditional for an Indian host to wave their blessings to a guest until they fall out of sight. So my parents stood and waved not because they couldn't bear to lose sight of me, but to send me on my way with blessings.

You're thinking, now that's a great ritual to follow. And yes it is but oddly enough, I adopted the practice before I knew the reason behind it. I would stand on the porch, usually with Duke my Jack Russell prancing about the lawn and wave till my guests faded from the line of vision. It just felt right that I should continue the connection to my guests until they left the zone of my home. Now knowing the logic and beauty of sangham, it feel even more poignant and powerful. For all the times I wished my folks would just go inside, now I feel significantly more humble. Seems like the older I get, the more that sentiment pops up.