Erin Street

Blogging from the Genius Bar (by a Non-Genius)

I'm sitting in the Apple Store as my new Iphone syncs with my PC. Why do I feel like such a dork bringing in a PC to an Apple Store? I feel like wearing a sign that says, "seriously, I am a Mac girl, and if y'all would just lower your prices I'd be there." So the Geniuses are looking at me suspiciously as I sit at the Genius Bar syncing. I think I like real bars better.

I've been dodging bullets lately, but friendly iPhone has not.  After all the places I've been with it in the past year it was the kitchen floor that delivered the final, shattering blow. But there are far worse things, which is what I keep repeating about a lot right now.

And many good things. I'm counting down the days to Thanksgiving in New York -- the first time I've celebrated the holiday there. Can't wait to watch Nate experience the city for the first time. It's a much needed trip.

Last weekend we had fun at Hoover's Moss Rock Festival, where I bought a new Paul Cordes Wilm painting (one that is further transforming the house into the mid-century modern salute to Pop Art). Photos to come at some point.

This one has a distinctively Southern twist -- it's an image of the famous Piggly Wiggly Pig. Not sure where it will be hung, but a place of prominence for sure.

(Also finally got the paint to start painting the dining room gold, which I'm hoping to do before Christmas as to best showcase the Elvis tree.)

Getting to know Alisa's baby Graham during their visit the past few days. Watching our kids play together has been fantastic, if a little surreal, since it feels like she and I were just being goofy kids ourselves a few years ago. Um, try 15 plus. Graham is absolutely adorable and I've loved getting to hug on his cute self, and watch him and Nate interact.

I particularly enjoyed my little rocker educating Graham in the finer points of guitar playing. Alisa and Jeff may never trust us to watch their baby again!

Their visit has been a blessing in the middle of the storms that have been brewing around me. As the leaves turn and we brace for winter, it's friends, family, travel and art that keep me warm.

All Saints Day

All Saints Day

The bottled orange sodas were still cool, long after the ice melted around them

In the silver tub on the porch. So I took one, squinting in the sunlight, legs achy from running.

And dumped the laundry into the washer, jeans and mismatched socks and towels that had grown into

mountains over that week.

The children were beaming, holding their plastic pumpkins, grabbing fistfuls of Tootsie Rolls, and

running away.

 

Nicholas of Myra, Anthony of Padua, Raphael the archangel, all of them patrons

Saints to protect travelers, and this is their day.

It is a holy day of obligation.

I decided not to read the news reports,

the speculation and  updates.

Candy corn,  cooling nights and

sticky fingers were more important.

If I can smile through this

I can move through anything.

By planning parties, making mixes,

carving pumpkins, removing their seeds one

by one.

Watching the leaves that line the

parkway.

Change.

Viva Starbucks Via

In my previous job, there was a Starbucks across from my office. As in literally. Even more dangerous, I didn't even have to go outside -- I just walked across the hospital hall and voila, instant gratification. And instant addification -- my skinny vanilla soy grande lattes got to be quite the expensive habit.

Fast forward a bit, and there's no Starbucks in sight near my office (without having to drive there). Until now. A few weeks ago, while on the road, one of my colleagues introduced me to Via, Starbucks' new instant coffee.

Being a bit of a coffee snob I was a little suspect of the tiny packet filled with instant coffee (which the Starbucks people dub as "not your mother's instant coffee.") But I was holding yet another cup of bland Hampton Inn java, so why not.

Oh. My. Coffee.

 Granted, it's not a skinny vanilla soy grande latte, but it's good -- a world away from Nescafe. I like the Italian Roast, which is strong, dark and delicious. (Of course I do doctor mine up a bit to make it a tad sweeter.)

Via is much appreciated for a traveler who isn't always near a Starbucks (incredible but true). I've started keeping them at my desk and in my laptop bag, so when I need my Starbucks fix it's right there. Like most Via drinkers I know (many of  my friends who travel are getting on the train) I'm still into my annoying sounding fancy Starbucks concoctions, but Via is a close second.

It costs $10.95 for 1o individual serving packets, and the three pack is $2.95. A decaf version is scheduled to hit stores November 17.

Have you tried Via? Thoughts?

Related Links:

Starbucks Gossip

Cooking With Amy -- how Via was born

Giving in to the Fall

Curled up in bed this afternoon I listened to the neighborhood boys playing across the street. They seemed to play for a long time in the cool fall air, and their sounds were reassuring.

It's no secret I don't like the cold. Having grown up in the mostly 70 and 80 degree weather of Florida, it always seems like an affront when the temperatures begin to drop. If I could hibernate for the winter I would, safely ensconced under my electric blanket. Wake me up in time to catch the first plane home.

Then I shake myself for the ridiculousness of it all -- it is Alabama, the Deep South. It could be so much colder. So I am digging out the winter coats and reveling in the changes of the season I do like. Putting up Halloween decorations, lighting the fireplace for the first time, eating delicious curry lentil soup from a colleague. It's better to not fight it.

 As the seasons change, so do we. Those are lyrics, right? We painted the family room last weekend, a rich, smokey taupe that makes the room so much more inviting (photo to the left is before and photo to the right is after -- minus window treatments and art -- to come).

I'm doing more reading and less getting on planes (at least in the coming weeks).  I am continuing to grow stronger, albeit with a few setbacks along the way (the root canal today was not fun).

Other highlights of the past few weeks:

• Visiting with some of my best friends -- Renee and Kai in DC and Stephanie in Atlanta

• My first photo shoot for the magazine with Nate (yesterday -- he was was a complete ham)

• Welcoming back Mom and Dad from their Panama Canal Cruise. Thankfully Dad survived his encounter with Colombian guerrillas!    

And celebrating Nate's three and a half birthday last weekend, complete with a chocolate cake and some serious swing time.

So maybe the fall isn't that bad. But I'll still take a blanket.

Oh, I have a story in the November issue of the magazine about a hula hoop studio in Nashville. Click here for my first person story of learning to hoop ....       

Fire! Fire!

Last week Shane taught a group of tough cookies: 100 preschoolers at Nate's school. As you can see, he had a helper, who we will call a "very young graduate student."

Turns out that of all the "magic tricks" he brought, kids are most impressed with fire. Good to know -- and slightly freaky!

(Of course Nate quickly got over his father being the center of attention and turned to his own demonstration of throwing his beloved "soft" for his classmates to see.)

Shane did a great job making science understandable for a bunch of squirming kids.

Yeah, definitely way cooler than hearing from a mom with a job as say, a magazine editor. I kid, I kid.

 

She Dated Elvis

Fresh off the 11th Annual Sidewalk Film Festival, I am still giddy about meeting Carol Connors.

Not going to lie, I had no idea who she was until yesterday, when I saw her in a screening of "Courting Condi," which bills itself as the "greatest docu-trago-comedy musical ever made," while being a scathing commentary on our former secretary of state.

• Carol Connors wrote the theme song to the movie and is famous for the following:

She co-wrote the theme song to "Rocky"
She dated Elvis (as well as Burt Bacharach and many others)

She has a famous dolphin call.

Needless to say, she's my new hero.

Courting Condi: Official Link

Wordless Wednesday: If I Had A Daughter

OK, how about not so many words.

You can fill this one in.

"If I had a daughter ..."

(spotted at Bed, Bath, Beyond during the great rainstorm of September 2009)

Too fancy for you?

How about this one spotted at Walgreens?

It's what everyone is getting for Christmas. Anything with "Bag 'O" in the title is a fashion must.

Namaste Nook: Savasana Suburban Style

After nine days of shingles-induced rest, I've had some serious time to think about how to do what my doctor ordered: de-stress. As soon as he took me out of commission I got aggressive about this whole stress-less plan, which is a little funny, but how else would I approach something like this.

At first I thought about running off to an Ashram Eat Pray Love style, but that's not exactly realistic. So I've brought the ashram to me. Savasana suburban style.

Here are some of the things that I did:

Slept -- For hours on end. The first days were a huge blur, and then later I forced myself to give into the sleepiness. I even had a huge stack of books and magazines -- good ones -- but didn't have the energy to read much, so I slept to the point of days running together, except for the rhythms of my family, which reminded me which side of the day was up.

Had my first acupuncture appointment

After I started taking my medication, this was one of the first complementary therapies that came to mind.

No better time to try out something I'd wanted to for a long time, so I booked an appointment with a local Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner. She told me that I was full of what the Chinese would regard as fire (surprise) and placed needles all around the affected area, which she called "quieting the dragon." I don't know if it was this or the Western medicine, but the pain has lessened considerably. 

Visited an incredible yogi nun (yep, Catholic) 

Sister Mary was gracious  in listening about my challenges. We talked for an hour as the rain poured down on the monastery, talking about yoga, writing, and what I might need to help me continue to address the stress underlying this illness. We talked about the writings of the Buddhist monk Thich Nat Han, who is one of my favorite writers on Buddhist philosophy.

We also spent a lot of time talking about my yoga practice, which I have neglected the past year. No guilt, just the truth. I told her how the times I feel most centered are when I'm doing yoga and writing. She replied, "Well, you know what to do. Now do it."

Sister Mary advised one way to do it is to create my own nook at home for quiet time.

Hence, the Namaste Nook.

Which is what I have named the cutout in our bedroom that, until now, was just home to a couch and an assortment of piles of clothes, legos, photographs to be filed, and an ever-rotating set of suitcases. It's the perfect place for a continued quiet, even when I go back to the busy days I am used to.

First step: yesterday I took one of a pair of lamps to Home Depot to match the orange colors -- this is the orange I want for the Namaste Nook walls.

It's just a start -- will see if it works with the rest of the room.

Ideally, this will be a place where I work on my yoga practice, write, and just exist. I agree with Sister Mary that without a few minutes of real rest -- not just sleep -- but conscious quieting of the mind -- we never get close to an optimal state of functioning.

OK, I sounded like a vitamin commercial there, but I believe it. Now time to do it. I'll keep you posted.

Related Links:

Shingles And Ready To Mingle

Roll Tide Roll

Nate and Grandpa take in the North Texas game - Roll Tide!

I Have A Bell, A Hammer, And A Song To Sing: Thanks Mary Travers

One night back in the late 80s, when I was in middle school and we still lived on Southridge Drive in Clearwater, I got a call from my Dad. He and Mom had gone out for a nice seafood dinner, except that Mom didn't yet know she was allergic to shrimp. Their date night askew, he said he was bringing her home and asked if I would like to go see "Peter, Paul, and Mary" playing at Ruth Eckerd Hall.

Peter, Paul and who?

At that time I was floating musically between whatever Casey Kasem was playing on his long distance dedications, the vinyl in my Dad's collection and some disco records I got at a garage sale. Don't ask where that came from, seeing as how I was born in 1976.

So Dad had an extra ticket, and I eagerly climbed into the station wagon to head to see Peter, Paul, and Mary.

I heard all their classics: "If I Had A Hammer," "Where Have All The Flowers Gone," "Leavin' On A Jet Plane," "Lemon Tree," "Puff The Magic Dragon."

At 11 or 12 there was something about this music that got to me. I didn't understand it yet, but I just about stood up in my chair when I heard that there was a hammer and a bell for justice - yes! If they needed someone to sing out about love, their dreams, their brothers and their sisters, I was the first one in line.

And when Mary's strong voice sang about soldiers not returning from war, it gripped me in a way that I couldn't explain then. I knew nothing about war. Vietnam was just a little more than a decade before, and had touched my own family, but to a kid in suburban Florida, it seemed like so long ago.

Racism? Unjustice? Mere concepts to me at this point, sentences from school books. But the undertones of those words moved me, made me take note that I would one day have to respond to these ugly realities. Would I be on the right side?

Interspersed with sometimes haunting, other times upbeat harmonies, they were stories that would resonate with the generation still processing the tremendous change of their youth. My Dad's generation. "Oh when will they ever learn, oh when will they ever learn?"

I probably nodded wisely and naively with my little blond bob. (Too bad I didn't  veer into a complete world of acoustic singer-songwriter study, cause soon after I would sadly purchase a Milli Vanilli tape). But two decades later the words still ring true. The mysteries of violence, the sting of leaving people you love behind, and  the hopes of childhood and a forgotten dragon -- they all resonate more than ever.

So thank you Mary Travers. I didn't fully understand your words then but I heard your powerful voice, and  it is one that I will play for my son.

Epilogue:

By the way, if you care about the music of Mary Travers' generation, and its impact on culture and music to come, check out my Dad's "Boomer Top 100." It's a list he's been making for several years and he wants input to help him figure out the most influential songs of that generation.