Save the Chocolate, Save the World
This is my cheater post that I'm really doing on Friday but Saturday is my no computer day.

This is about two things that earlier I thought I would probably not write about because I wasn't sure how they would sound.

#1 — is my bad customer service experience. I had planned to never mention it again, but I'm going to tell you the outcome. The company is called Moonstruck Chocolate and if you want to buy your fancy chocolates from a company who cares a great deal about customer service, this should be your first stop.

This is a Portland based company. I've never tried them before and I stopped in to pick up something for my chocoholic husband for his birthday. I was unhappy with the customer service which I thought was subpar especially for something like chocolate. Have you ever been to See's? If not, I'm very sorry. Those ladies practically vault over the counter to hand you a free sample of super butter chocolate brickle surprise and ask you if you're familiar with the cherry-chocolate white truffle rum-raisin delight or the new sparkling butter-fudge ripple nut spectacular. I'm a See's girl.

But I wanted to try something new for Bob and I purchased a pre-made box and jetted off an email complaining about the customer service which I characterized as unenthusiastic and uninterested or something like that.

Not only did I receive an apologetic email. I got a phone call asking all the details of my experience which made me a teeny bit embarrassed since I was young once and I'm sure I had my worthless moments when I was manning the register for the Jack-in-the-Box on Kanan Road in Agoura. The point is: they made a major point of wanting to make it right so I will fer-sure be going back although I hope those kids don't look me up and throw rocks or drinking chocolate at me if they see me in the future.

#2 — is even harder to explain without sounding a teeny bit like an asshole. Like those actresses who tell about how hard their life was because they were so beautiful or rich people who go on about their difficult life with money floating into their hands.

From about age 15 to 35 my feelings about my weight were something that colored every aspect of my existence. It was the extra 15-40 pounds that killed my life. How that changed would be a ten page post that I'm not going to get into right now. The short version is that lots of inner work and yoga and a great spouse and just time healed all that and several years ago I finally settled into a weight that felt like it was right for me. No more agony of worrying about losing weight.

Then last year at this time my digestive system melted down and it became much more difficult to overeat or even enjoy yummy stuff that's fried or fatty or I feel awful. For example, Bob's birthday celebration was at a Mexican Restaurant and they brought out the giant plates of chips with huge globs of heavenly melted cheese and I ate like 4 bites and had a hard time falling asleep later with all the churning in my innards.

This week I ran into my favorite clothing stop Ann Taylor Loft where about 80% of my wardrobe comes from because those clothes fit me and because my Mom gives me a gift certificate there for xmas every year. I had an adorable young girl named Jasmine helping pick out stuff.

I explained to Jasmine that I needed everything because by this cruel twist of fate, the Universe was making me lose weight easily now that I was old and married and didn't care quite so much and none of my clothes fit me. She gave me this horrified look of betrayal and said, "My Mom said it was harder when you got older." And I said, "Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

We picked out a boatload of pants and tried them all on and they were too big. She came in to see how I was doing and I said I had to try a size smaller and she said: "You have to tell me about this yoga class you're taking."

I don't think it's all me. I think the clothing industry is insane and just keeps making stuff up to massage the American woman ego. I read somewhere that a movement to follow the European standard was quashed because an American woman would never buy a size 32. I would ! I would love to not spend the first 30 minutes of every shopping trip just figuring out what my size is.

I'm not going to make any excuses about being comfortable about my weight since it was a long, hard journey to get here and with all my other head trips, it's not like I'm frolicking in an eternal unicorn paradise. But whenever I feel like some goal is completely impossible, I think about how many years I thought I would never feel normal about eating and body image and it feeds my hope.

Yesterday's photo was from last years dahlias and today's is a photo of the rocks in Dillon Creek, California.

What a long and hectic week. One night I got home at 5:30, two nights I got home after 8 and last night I got home at 9:30.

Domestic chaos abounds.

However, the sun is out and the garden calls so I'm off to the garden center.

I leave you with this thought about Battlestar Galactica.

I can't remember exactly but I think there are only 40,000 humans left. Yet everytime President Roslin does a press conference, there are like 40 reporters. Does that population really warrant a press corps of that size? There must be plenty of other jobs that need doing. Manufacturing. Everybody needs clothes and toothbrushes and soap. Where is that stuff coming from?

Yes, I realize this line of thinking is very Clerks but my mind actually works this way. Like the cyclon Six and her fancy underwear after her romps with Gaius? Where did that come from? I realize the cylon manufacturing would be separate from the human, my point is: who has the time and energy to make silk lingerie when you're fighting in space?

Witchy Woman
I had a such a great sleeping week last week I thought I was home free but this week my body's alarm clock is back on 4am except for yesterday when it was 3am. Maybe this is seasonal. Maybe I'm supposed to be coming out of hibernation and getting up early and plowing my fields and bringing calves and lambs into the world. I'll have to go to Fred Meyer this weekend and get some.

Today's technology gripe: don't you hate it when you do something like send an email, post a comment, or publish your blog and your computer says: Wah! That didn't work.

Then you do it again and now you've done it twice? That happens to me all the time.

There was a day when I loved to fire off a bad customer service complaint letters but these days I often find that I'd prefer to use my time and energy for other things. However, on Monday I had a bad experience that rubbed me the wrong way enough that I wrote a toasty note about it. It wasn't a huge deal but it was an expensive item and I had trouble getting help and when I did the person was completely worthless to the extent I thought I should apologize for bothering her.

I sent an email and my computer freaked out and said I wasn't allowed to do that which seemed odd. I waited 24 hours and heard nothing so I resent the next day. I still have heard nothing and now I'm sure both messages went through and they think I'm a shrill harpie with nothing better to do than complain about their $7.80 an hour staff.

Well maybe I am.

Best Day Ever
Yesterday morning I took the bus because I was meeting Bob downtown later and he could take me home.

There was a passenger who broke the all time record for shortest time period before I want to strangle a complete stranger. She could not stop talking to the lady next to her and there was nothing too boring to skip over.

She had a catalog and went through it page by page: "I have a sheets like this. Mine are 400 count and a lighter blue. I paid $89.99 which was a great deal. Usually they're $109.99 but I had a gift card and a coupon and I used them together. At first they weren't going to let me but I made a fuss and they did it. The edges are started to wear. And it has a coffee stain. It made me so mad. Gladys and Wilbur Hinkewiggle and their daughter Penelope stayed with me. They didn't watch for things. They stayed for 10 days. We went to Mt. St. Helens. It was raining. We had pancakes for breakfast. I had blueberry syrup … ."

Are you ready to brain yourself yet?

She didn't wear a wedding ring and I wondered if she ever stayed up late on a Saturday night talking to her cats and wondering why she was still alone.

I left the office at lunch time and met Bob at South Park for a fantastic fancy lunch. I had the steelhead special which was served with potatoes and these roasted onions that came with long green stems and were delicious but hard to eat. At one point I had a big blob of onion dangling down my throat half gagging me while the rest of was stuck in my mouth and had to resort to drastic measures which were pretty gross to avoid choking or gakking up part of my lunch. If you happened to see that, sorry. I was truly embarrassed.

After lunch we stopped by the museum to see the Elliot Erwitt exhibit which was excellent and then back over the river to El Presidente where Bob had an informal birthday party. A whole bunch of people stopped by to wish him well and eat nachos and drink margaritas. Excellent celebration day.

Happy 50th Birthday Bob!
You are my favorite person on the planet. I wish you the best birthday ever.

Photo by Jim Hughes

HA!
Look at these beautiful loaves. They aren't crusty sourdough, they're squishy buttermilk wheat but they look pretty and taste wonderful. So wonderful that I ate about half a loaf with butter last night and then felt too full and uncomfortable when I went to bed. The chocolate cake also turned out good although now we have a giant cake leftover that we've got to get people to eat. One of us will have to take it to work.

Bakasana
One hour shouldn't be a big deal but I always feel ripped off on the day we start Daylight Savings time. I'm already behind before I even get out of bed.

This morning I decided to linger in bed to read since I haven't read a book in a couple of weeks. Then Bob brought me some chai and the free donut that comes with it so I ate that. So now I'm more than an hour behind and wired on sugar. Yay me.

This month is eleven years since I started taking yoga classes. Before that I noodled a bit using pictures in a book but never had anything resembling a real practice. It took me a couple years of classes before I developed a solid home practice but when we moved into this house 9 years ago and I had my own space, that's when I became more dedicated.

Yesterday I did a new yoga thing that I've never done before. From downward dog you jump your feet up and float yourself into crow pose.

This my teacher Bill demonstrating crow. There was no boulder involved in my pose. Several years ago when Bill introduced the float into crow in class and I thought it was impossible. How could you possibly land on your arms like that without falling forward on your face?

Bill's teaching philosophy goes something like: it doesn't matter if you do the pose, just have fun trying. He says to try it three times a day and maybe a week, maybe a year, maybe 10 years you'll be able to do it. This is well suited to my learning style because if I thought I had to do it all right away, I'd never have stuck with it.

Ever since my first class there have always been yoga poses, even beginner poses, that seemed impossible. I spent a great deal of time during my first three years of practice wishing I started yoga earlier so I could do these poses already.

Even now after all these years, there are always new things to learn.

With the floaty crow pose I'd practiced not three times a day, but regularly and for a long time it remained something to try but not to do. Then one day I landed my legs on my arms but my feet still touched the floor. Suddenly, this pose was a possibility in my mind. I couldn't do it yet but I could see how it was possible.

Then it was more fun to practice and I kept at it until last week I floated into it except for one toe that grazed the floor. So close. Yesterday I knew was going to be the day and on my second try I jumped, I floated and I landed on my arms. And then I kept doing it over and over with about 50% success until I rubbed half the skin off the back of my arms.

The point of me telling this whole story is I think there is a metaphor about life in there somewhere.

(Top photo is from the farmer's market last year. The bottom image used without permission from Bill.)