Cookie baking, champagne chugging, tree dressing time

Chopping walnuts, softening butter. Singing along with that a-cursed 24/7 Christmas station. Can you remove Bon Jovi from your playlist, please? Hunting down sentimental Christmas ornaments. Hanging up Mom's gorgeous wreaths. Actually buying a tree! This weekend was a flurry of last minute holiday prepping. So last minute that Duke and I coudn't fit in our Xmas shoot, so you'll have to do with this one from last year. I think it captures our exhaustion perfectly.

I'm calling it Bushwacked. Duke's calling it damn-it-to-hell-all-the-lobster-boiling-pinetree-dragging-redbow-wearing-forcing-me-to-be-cute-crap.

The Eclipses are Coming!

No need to get verklempt. Matter of fact I'm rather looking forward to the December eclipse. Having been in a vicious holding pattern for the last 3 years I'm tickled over the prospects of this era-ending eclipse.

When? December 10, 2011 9:30 am EST

What? Full moon lunar eclipse in Gemini. Gemini is ruled by Mercury so expect lots of chattiness, monkey mind or over analyzing. This I know as my big bro is a Gemini. Never a shortage of discourse, or mind changing. Which is appropriate as Gemini is the twin. Need two of everything: choices, cars, options, dates...Not that he dates, being happily married for 30+ years!



What to expect? Talented writer and astrologer Dipali Desai says this:

With this revved up Full Moon in Gemini, it may feel like a very tumultuous high tide within the emotional energy body. Like rocks being tumbled in a river, we may feel a bit jostled and tossed about too. Yet we may just feel polished and shiny when all is said and done.

I'm all for shiny. Read more at Celestial Space

NEWLY ADDED

Also read Maharani Rutan's beautiful essay on this momentous eclipse: Total Lunar Eclipse December 10, 2011: The truth is revealed . What are her insights?

This eclipse is geared to transform mutable signs: Pisces, Gemini, Virgo & Sag. Think back at how life was 19 to 20 years ago. Many people will revolutionize their plans for the future by looking at all the things/people that have not met their needs - and held them back for so long to obtain their sublime bliss.

This eclipse is predominantly relationship oriented – and our associations with others can be disconnected, challenged, or suddenly welded back together as shock calls one to action.

To fully appreciate the potential in the lunar eclipse, we must explore both houses and signs that are brought into play. Where the Moon (Gemini-communication and fickle-mindedness) is – we can confront our demons, old behaviors and doubts, and where the Sun (Sagittarius-truth and learning) is we may find the means to embrace a release from whatever repression we experience in life through our creative efforts. In any event, there are opportunities for deeper understanding, and finding balance in our lives.

Maharani is the bomb!

The Barbershop and Leeann Tweeden

My Dad's been fighting a haircut for months. His balding hair is getting long and straggley in the back and still he resists a trip to the barber. "You cut it," he requests. Which I've done in the past I'm ashamed to admit. Not that it's horrendous, but I just ain't no hairstylist.

This weekend was the end of the road for his graying elf-locks. On the way to a birthday party I pulled up in front of a turquoise blue shop. "Chello!" I commanded in my bossiest voice. (Note: not that I have one, I must have conjured it from the ether...)We walked into the shop which was populated by three men casually lounging in barber chairs. It's a little dingy, sagging floors, pictures of thong-clad girls pasted on the walls. Red Bull and Gatorade's litter the counter. It looks just like a scene from the Movies - Barbershop 1 - 5.

"We'd like a cut and clean up for my father" I tell the guy clearing a chair for us. Sure he replies, indicating that Dad be seated. But Dad isn't paying attention. He's rifling through the magazines for something to read. His eyes light up and he clutches one as he's seated. It's a Playboy. A freaking Playboy. With Leeann Tweeden on the cover. Who the hell is Leeann Tweeden and why is my Dad checking out her tatas?

Julio expertly trims and buzzes Dad's coif with masculine ritual. Say what you will about women and their nails, men are just as habitual. And Dad's greatly enjoying this ritual. He graciously thanks Julio for an excellent job. I handsomely tip Julio who smiles like a gentleman but still checks out my booty.

Dad is all smiles as he checks out his 'do. "We'll come again," he says. I'd like to think the lure is the pampering, not Leeann...

No Fooling - This Could be Big

The 3rd highest topic trending on Twitter is 11.11.11. Being a fan of metaphysics and all that goes with it, I'm deeply interested in the symbolism of this date and strategies to leverage the monumental energy. Veils thinning between the worlds: life and death, yin and yang, what we want and what we need. Chironic healing of lifetime long wounds and karmic flaws. Scorpio & Vesta - symbolic of the sacred union of human & divine invoking transcendent sexuality.

But the experts can explain much better than I can. Here's Elizabeth Jones of Astrology of Light.

My friend and bad ass astrologer Rex Estell had this to say:

Neptune, the planet of compassion and romance, goes Direct today, after months of being in reverse (phew!), so life gets easier with this placement. The Moon enters earthy Taurus, meets up with lucky Jupiter, and harmonizes with the repairman Pluto, in the sign of success, Capricorn, which means we shift out of the past, and our latest dreams can begin to manifest now that we've eliminated all that doesn't work

Dream big. Demand and believe you are worthy of the most abundant life imaginable. The juiciest, most blissful love and the most worthy and enduring partner. Refuse to be anything but the most authentic you, and get richly rewarded professionally and intimately for being just that. Don't let fear or ego keep you from what or whom you want. Matter of fact, go for what you crave most.

Let's rock.

Editorial Note
I received some requests for contacting Rex directly. Rather not publish his phone but you can email contact him via his Facebook page. If you're FB challenged (who ARE you?) then reach Rex on his website. Sign up for his daily video forecasts. Matter of fact, call him for a reading. It's like 5 years of therapy rolled into 1 hour. And Rex's code of astrologic ethics as almost as binding as a doctors. He listens to everyone but divulges nothing.

Nothing in the Middle But Me

The setting is St. John's Lutheran Church on Christopher Street in the West Village. I'm a little late and Cary Cooper has already begun her set. She's wearing short sweater dress over tights and boots. Cowboy boots I'm guessing as she is a Texan. It's been a while since I saw Cary perform, the first time seeing her gig solo. The voice I've always enjoyed. Part little girl, part rebel, part philosopher. All dissolve into pure woman when her Texan twang meets heart softening lyrics. Like my favorite new song: Nothing in the Middle.

I don't wanna give up my story
I don't wanna give up my pride
I don't wanna give you the glory
If I could I would let you inside.

Peel back the layers
What do ya see?
Nothing in the middle but me
Nothing in the middle but me.

If I had to give up my story
If I had to give it to you
Would you hold on to it for me
Would you know what to do with the truth?

If you had to unravel my story
Would you be ok when you see
Do you think you would be sorry
When there's nothing in the middle but me.

Peel back the layers
What do ya see?
Nothing in the middle but me
Nothing in the middle but me.

Now imagine this backed up by a Ukele. That's right you heard me. Oddly fitting for the frolicksome songs this elfgirl wrote for her third album: Pink Umbrella. Performing live she's backed by Ritt Henn whose plucks on the double bass provide a gentle cushion for the lilting melodies. Then there's the drummer playing the underside of a tambourine with drum brushes. I've heard his named whispered before. Jagoda's playing on the album or he's producing the new song. Jagoda turns out to be a surnameless musican with an eerie affinity for rhythm, drumbeat in particular. That and a wickedly dry sense of humor.

That they are exceptional musicans is obvious. The ease with which they perform blows me away. Cary owns the solo limelight with the casual confidence of a longtime pro. The stories she scatters between songs mark her a true folk singer. Like Left You for Jesus with the hilarious line: "Till another fella broke your your spell." What poor sot has a chance against Jesus? Even if the son of God isn't that romantic and doesn't party much?

The timing of this solo tour is perfectly timed. Cary and husband Tom Prasada-Rao both appear on CW's Troubadour, TX. A reality show about Texan singers. Finally the big bad world gets to hear my favorite male vocalist! Topped off with the beauty and winesome charm of Cary, methinks there's super stardom brewing for that family.

If you don't catch Cary live you can check out her albums, listen to snips of her latest stuff and watch the latest episode of Troubadour, TX. If she does drop into your neck of the woods, give her a listen.

Cary Cooper

The Libra Way

The month of October has been a balancing act. Career, relationships, energy, pace. Some aspects illuminating, some exciting, some disappointing. This quote about patience adroitly sums it up: Patience is what you do when you wait for something to happen.

October was always the month devoted to my mother. Mostly because Mom was such a high maintenance woman. I've been called that at points in my life (really? because I won't drink a Zinfandel with seafood?) But my mother was the maintenance queen. She was a Libra and most of October was spent figuring ways to celebrate her birthday.

This year she would have turned 70. A fact I tended to in the most secret spaces of my heart, chosing to be with my father for the event. Strange thing happened. He didn't remember. Just like a man! At least he didn't appear to. We had dinners with family. Visited a suddenly sick aunt in the hospital. Ate the delish chicken curry and coconut rice my cousin Arun made. The bomb baby, the bomb. Look for a cookoff very soon...

Dad appeared content to play with the dogs, play passenger for long drives with me, shop on rainy days. Then my aunt called from India. This is my mother's big sister, the one I call Peddama - Big Mother. She is more like my mother than anyone else alive (with the exception of her little sister whom I call Chinnie, little mother) and gets all due to her for that title. She tells us 'I'm giving away saris to the poor villagers in your mother's name.' My father is touched and says - that's right, it's Mom's birthday. That's all.

Odd thing happened to my father after Mom's death. He doesn't remember much. He doesn't remember what happened last week, or what will occur next week. He just knows what's happening right now. I'm thinking this is a blessing. It would be criminal for the man to remember 50 years of marriage with searing clarity. Time has been kinder to him. Thankfully he lives in nothing but the moment. And each moment is just swell. Time with his grandkids. Luncheons with his siblings. Excursions with his son and daughter-in-law. Phone calls - albeit short with me. Not that I don't like to talk on the phone. Lord knows that's not the case. But Dad has never been what you would call chatty. Sometimes he'll get tired of a conversation and just hang up. Kid you not. And I find it kinda charming. A father who never has much to say giving life to a daughter who never has trouble with self expression.

A friend of mine hosted a Jewish funeral this summer. Interesting enough that a gentile sit shiva. Even more intriguing was what the Rabbi told him:

If you have one foot in the past and one foot in the future, you piss on the present.

My father lives entirely in the moment. And with touching courage. Something I fervently hope I am not forced to learn from either death or despair.

The Second Bloom

Every spring my mother and I would plan each other's gardens. A Joseph's Coat rosebush - petals altering from pink to orange to yellow - in her front yard. An indigo Butterfly Bush for the hedge next to my driveway. Tulips and Lillies for the borders and the glorious annuals to spill over terracotta pots.

Her absence this year made me lazy. Or perhaps I didn't have any nourishment left for my garden. I didn't buy any new flowering shrubs, didn't split the Tiger Lilly bulbs, didn't prune the Lilacs. I only potted half a dozen Cannas from bulb, hoping they would flame into bloom in the small corners of my garden. Somehow they did, despite my shoddy fertilizing and negligent watering. Were she here they would have feasted on egg shells and decaying banana peels. They and the other critters she tolerated in her yard.

Her death reminds me that healing comes in waves. 7 months later I still have a lot of grief in me. But nature is kinder if you pay attention to her symbolic story. Magic trumps sorrow. Take my century old Cherry Tree, the one Duke lounges atop its crusty branches like a Cheetah at high noon. The rains have stripped away all her leaves. But this week as we enjoy an early Indian summer the tree burst into bloom.

This story I understand.

The Eclipse Giveth and Mercury Taketh Away

August was the most disruptive month. After a juicy June and a chock-ful-a-fun July, August cowered into silent oblivion like an old photograph faded from too much handling. The June eclipses, 3 in one month to be precise, heralded sweet unexpected beginnings. To find someone who not only matches you but reflects back the things you love most about yourself is truly the most precious of gifts. July transported the momentum on a wave of salty fun - the ocean is not enough!

Then August hit and dammit if the month didn't move slower than the Garden State Parkway on a Friday night. A fact I'm blaming entirely on the August 2nd Mercury Retrograde. This one in Virgo the planet of service and hard work. The power of this bad boy turned working hard into hardly working.

Some indications of Mercury Retrograde: snarl-ups in technology - both my cell phones died mysteriously. Computer crashes (both of my laptops suffered the blue screen of death kiss). Loss of Data: Lost a key document moments before having to present it to senior execs. Physical snafus: a game changing case of tennis elbow bringing my bi-weekly tennis fests to a halt. Let me tell you for a girl with 4 planets in Sagittarius (one being Mars!) the loss of a physical outlet is devastating. So much aggressive energy and no way to channel it. More retrograde shenanigans; Dropped phone calls. Lost texts. Bumpy relationships: baffling and sad endings.

Things didn't improve when Mercury stationed direct on August 26. The face of my fancy Swiss timepiece shattered precisely at 6:00 pm when Mercury went direct. Time slowed down even further? Even worse, time stood still. Then Irene shimmied up the East Coast, dumped 18 inches of water in my basement, took out my hot water heater, washing machine and 500 square feet of hardwood flooring. Oh, and my karaoke machine. Really?

While the water dries at the slow coaxing of 8 fans and a dehumidifier, the storm leaves vestiges of drama. My dog ventures outdoors gingerly. The near fatal encounter with a plunging tree branch has taught him a fear he's never known. Gangs of indoor mosquitoes roam my basement seeking bare limbs to lustily suck. Mold slithers beneath my floorboards and creeps up the perfect cinnamon walls. I can feel it. My throat is coated and sore from too many late nights wading through still basement waters bestowing upon me the vocal undulations of a phone sex operator. Imagine Brenda Vacarro talking to Marge Simpson. I make crank calls just for the fun of it.

But the retrograde always accomplishes its work. What old patterns can I release? What old wounds am I ready to heal? We go deep, fearlessly deep for a 4 Sag girl is always a warrior. Illumination isn't always pretty or easy. Loss and regret abound.

I'll say this - next retrograde I'm hiding in a cave in the mountains. Oh and buying a generator.

The First Chutney

The thing I miss most about my mother is her chutney. Drop to your knees tangy, mouthwatering, with texture that delights the tongue. Truly the condimente of the gods.

I watched her make it many times. Roasting whole cloves of garlic, hunking chunks of onion, tomato on a pan that had already fried mustard & coriander seeds and chana dahl. Then it got tricky. Chilies red & green, hot and mild for depth and heat. A little tamarind, stalks of coriander and methi seeds - or was it dhania? Then shavings of doskai - ridge gourd that she packed in ziplocks in the freezer. At the very end coriander and fresh mint leaves before grinded in a blender into margarita-like consistency. For the faint of stomach she would sometimes add fresh coconut flesh to temper the sting.

I roast low and slow. I toss in seeds and pinch leaves - weighing them in my culinary mind against what she would do. Finally I grind and serve to Dad. He dips his idli into the chutney and eats quietly. My father is a reserved man so I'm not expecting squeals of delight. He finishes and sighs. "Good breakfast."

It's a start.