Its a Pooh Thing

Recently I was reading my facebook stream and a good friend of mine posted a quote from Winnie the Pooh to another friend.  This quote was and is my all time favorite quote and I had over the years forgot about it, well, put it this way, its been stored in my mind bank collecting dust for too many years.

Christopher Robbins to Pooh: "there is something you must always remember...you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think"..."


Day by day, our lives change, no doubt.  Sometimes they are dramatic times, sometimes they are good times and sometimes they are times which pass us by without us even realizing what just happened.  Do we take the best of times for granted and dwell too much on the hard times?  Perhaps.  I often think as to why those hard times take so much of our energy to process and disclaim.  Its the good times we look forward to and what make us happiest, yet we tend to let them fizzle out of our core too quickly.  


So, after being reminded of the words of Christopher Robbins last night, the first thing that came to my mind, frankly, was being a child and dandelions.  I had friends when was I was just a kid, many of them.  We were all about the same age and lived only steps away from each other.  We had the best block in town!  Everyday after school we gathered around a light post in the corner of Vincent's yard and gathered our teams together for a game of flashlight tag or hide and seek.  We played until our parents stood at the end of the driveways and yelled for us to come in for dinner.  After dinner, we were right back at that light post to resume where we left off.  


On the weekends, it seemed, there were less of us around to congregate into enough teams to get any sort of game going, so I would venture off on my own into the woods, fields and swamps.  I had great adventures trekking through thick brush and tracking Bigfoot.  I would build forts to hide out in knowing I would be camouflaged from the world outside of the forest.  It was so much fun jumping from odd humps in the swamp as to avoid falling into the murky, smelly water.  I would rescue rabbits from snares, albeit they were already dead, but nonetheless, they were "rescued".  Picking cattails and yellow swamp flowers became a gathering expedition and tearing off Springs giant pussy willow branches from the enormous trees for which they grew all in order to bring them home for my mom.  If I recall correctly, she would make me leave them outside - bugs and all.  Frogs would lay huge puddles of eggs wrapped in clear, jello-like casings.  These would be the great find and after gathering them in ice cream buckets I would take them to the garage and watch them hatch into tadpoles.  Now that I think about it, I'm not sure where they disappeared to after they were tadpoles.  I guess its one of those things that parents take care of for you without making much fuss.  Put it this way; I was carefree, without worry and always dirty.  


 Like I said, dandelions were part of my childhood and I am sure I share this with each and everyone of you reading this.  Taking over all the lawns on the block, dandelions were this dreaded weed that every homeowner acknowledged in horror when they began to bloom.  However, as kids, we would relish them as a pretty flower for which we could use to play games.  One such game was called "Mommy had a baby and  her head popped off!".  We would take the dandelion in the palm of one hand with the bloom nestled on the fatty part of our hand between the thumb and index finger.  Then, using our thumb, we would recite "Mommy had a baby and her head popped off" and when we got to "off" we would pop the bloom from its stem...and laugh and laugh.  Another game, if you will, would be taking a dandelion and holding it under a friends chin.  Asking each other if "you like butter".  If the dandelion reflected yellow on your chin's bottom, then YES!! you liked butter.  Um, yeah, it always reflected yellow.  Simple times.  When the dandelion flowers turned into a fragile puff of white seeds, it was time to use them for something much more meaningful.  You know what I'm talking about don't you?  We would use the flowers in there last state of bloom to make wishes.  Crazy wishes like; "I want a horse" and "I want a pair of Lee jeans" and "I wish for 5 bucks so I can buy 20 packs of Charlie's Angels trading cards".  Wishes, simple wishes. 

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So, going back to the words of Christopher Robbins to Pooh;  As a child I was very brave, brave enough to hang out in the woods wishing to catch a glimpse of the unseen Saskquatch, braver than I believed.  Also, I was much stronger as I seemed when I climbed those grand trees to pluck the best lilac and pussy willow I could find.  Even more so,  I was much smarter than I thought, as I would have the best hiding places during hide and seek (most often lying flat on rooftops, where bravery and strength both came in handy).  As a child I made wishes for only what I knew as a child.  As an adult, with spring upon us, its hard to walk past a dandelion without reaching down and blowing it with a wish in mind.  Our adult wishes are a bit  more complex, but they are still wishes, beliefs, strengths and smarts.  


In case you were wondering:   I never did see a Bigfoot, but I believed it to be real.  

Love It..Hate it..Can('t) live without it

There are things I notice, things I love, things I hate and things I can't live without.  I thought, pondered and even stewed about letting in a bit of mixed culture into my home and life, you know, to stir things up a bit and create new vignettes and moments into my everyday life.  I have thought hard and deep and realize that those things that I like, even love, have no place in my home or work life.  For instance, I love when great photos are perfectly framed and hung cluttered on walls.  I especially love when photos are clustered on walls from floor to ceiling.  However, I just don't like it in my home, at all.  Perhaps its the clutter?  Perhaps its the daunting task of the actual act of hanging them all.  But, in thinking hard and deep and even laying out a perfect plan to hang the collected works of photography and art, I happen to realize that I just don't like pictures.  I have one photo picture of an old French, 1930's mannequin set upon my mantle at a resting tilt.  That is my extreme of photos.  No friends and family pictures clutter my tables or walls either. I find them to be freaky and weird as they stare at me in the same gaze day after day, so they all have been edited to a box in the closet.  Thus, I love a good wall of pictures hung in perfect harmony in someones home, work or hotel, but I will never allow such wall covering in my home.

Green Walls!!! I LOVE them! When the color green is the perfect blend of depth and vibrancy, magic happens and life begins. Again, not in my home please.  I have admired walls like these since, well, I think I was a teenager.  I love the guts it takes to take a white wall to big levels. This boldness acts as the walls make-up.  Its like that daring green eyeshadow I have seen only a select few women wear..and it works for them.  I prefer a muted color palette in my home and I go as bold and deep as warm charcoal Grey.  I have often collected deep, bright paint swatches and hung them in all rooms in my home thinking I would jump off the pantone bridge.  I always come back to and realize my daily waking, occasional lounging and peaceful slumber requires paint colors of timelessness and understated composer. 

My all time favorite, as a guest in a home or hotel, is white furniture. Clean, bright, aloft...white furniture is, to me, an all time F you to commitment.   I get it, yes, some love to live a life of bright white and void of color, much like those who choose black as their safety zone.  I, on the other hand, prefer, again, muted colors or textures like Belgian linen and colors like coffee, grey, taupe and dove.   I was once told that the color white is the beginning of making decisions, a non-commitment, the start of moving forward or changing.   Could it be that the homes of white and  hotels of the same decor are places of rejuvenation and self-discovery?  Not sure about that, but I do know its not right for my home and I will admire it from afar.  Side note: I love white sheets if that matters.

Finally, flowers.  Okay, about a decade ago the trend to tilt flowers en mass from the tops of vases became all the rage and still, to this day, I have noticed that many of my colleagues still choose this design to create "edgy" and "big statement" event decor.  HAAAAAAAA!!! I laugh at them all.  A couple things before I digress into dogging the competition: First, I love the was this flower design looks at the George V in Paris.  Its truly amazing and a must see on anyone's visit to the City of Lights.  Why it looks good there?  Because of the generous budget. Also, I like Jeff, the designer behind the global trend.  Here, hotels/floral designers, copy the "look" halfheartedly.   How boring to walk into a hotel and see the same flowers as the competing hotel around the corner...ahh, yawn. They clearly don't have the budgets to perform a ballet of en mass "tippy" flowers, thus losing the impact and "wow".   Same goes for weddings and events, if you're going to do it at all, do it right or leave it in the pages of a book.  I don't even attempt this design for the main reason of not copying someone's signature design.   I choose to create a style of flowers that are more beautiful and just as interesting.  So, again, although I admire the work of Jeff Leatham, I won't tip my flowers. 

I sometimes wish I could paint a room grass green and load the walls with pictures and paintings and fill it with blank faced furniture and red roses bundled and tipped to one side out of a vase on the coffee table, but as I look around my environments, I take pride in my solace and simplicity.  In fact, because I have a muted private world for which I live and work, I am more creative, more ambitious and more focused.  Those are the integrated "who I am's" that I can't live without. 

Wait a Moment

Lately I have been asked what defines my style and outlook when creating either interiors or floral sculpture/designs.  I respond slowly, trying to find the quickest,easiest translation without trying to sound pompous or overly descriptive.   Its a task of organizing, in my head, the correct response without spewing out contradictory points of creative, pointed arrival.  I have finally found my response: My thoughts and designs are composed in "Moments".

Now, let me take a moment to explain the moment of conception and throughput.   My second job was when I was 15 and I had crossed the street to work at McDonald's (my first being at Hardee's where I was fired for "not being cut out as a burger flipper").   While at McDonald's,one of my jobs, if you will, was working the drive-thru.  We were told that when we told a customer "please hold a moment", that meant we had exactly 1.5 minutes or less to return to that customer for service.  The Old English "moment" was 1/40th of a minute and today's modern "moment" is any express time limit - I call it quickedness.  I never loved the process of interior design because it took too long to come to fruition and then, at that point of arrival, something would fail and minds would change.  Therefore; I found complete satisfaction in the moments created when I design with flowers.  The flowers are bought fresh in the morning, designed soon after and sent out for exhibit immediately after completion.  I don't believe in or have coolers for this exact reason.  Nothing prolonged, nothing over thought, nothing left for debate; just a guttural response to my medium.   

I have never been one to like the confusion of walls, corners, floors and ceilings being cluttered with "stuff" to fill in the blanks.  I design for creating moments.  In a home, for example, we take for granted our space and walk by many of our possessions because we forget to stop and admire their beauty or story.  Empty walls with a single great piece for furniture that hold a simple vase of a single Japanese maple branch lit like a work of art: is a moment....to stop what you are doing, look at it and continue with your day.  More compulsive would be a stone dish holding a topple of goats milk soap set next to your tub waiting for its dip into a hot bath of inviting water.  Yes, I have that stone dish at the ready for my next bath.  And, admittedly, it is compulsive and obsessive, but it makes me happy while I scroll it over my limbs into cleanliness.    

Its a simple way of living when life is racing around you.  My dad always said that when I trip or stub my toe or fall down when rushing, its life's way of telling me to slow down for just a moment and "smell the roses".  As life gets faster and people walk quicker and cars race frantically and media bombards us with chatter, why not take those moments, less than a minute, of each of our days to stop and look at what makes our living so great.  I have always said: I don't care if people love or hate my flower designs.  What is important to me it that they stopped and looked at it.   I have created moments in my home that make me happy when I glance at them.  I love the way a floor lamp in my dining room stands proud at the tables end and the way the ghost chairs surrounding  my table float as if they aren't really there.   The charcoal walls and the grain of the table play off each other like a leaf to a tree.  And I love the odd, teardrop shape of the matte white vase that holds a single giant leaf.  Nothing cluttered, nothing overly thought, just plain simplicity which slows down my always tumbling thoughts, for just a moment.

                                                     photo courtesy of: Dries Van Noten

My favorite designer of his fashion shows is Dries Van Noten - simple moments with lasting impressions.  That is life!! That is living!! Sounds simple. Because it is simple.  I urge you to take a moment of each of your days and enjoy it.  Find those things you forgot to look at yesterday and within less than a minute of your time, you may just change the outlook of  your entire day.

Midnight Snack. Snack?

Its one in the morning and I am awakened by the grumbling in my stomach and the screaming of my taste buds.  I am definitely having a snack craving.  We've all been there.  Its an occasional yearning for me and it never seems to happen when I go to bed hungry, rather, it happens when I have eaten my fair share of food for the day.  Last night I woke up at 11pm.  I had only been sleeping an hour or so when the urge to stumble squinty eyed into the kitchen and ravage the fridge and pantry for a remedy to cure my food craving. Earlier in the evening I had a great salad and a filling protein drink. I had made Snickerdoodle cookies, only 3 so I wouldn't gorge myself and I froze the remaining dough for later indulgences.  However, my cravings were stronger than the cookie which stared up at me, lonely and single on the plate for which it rested.  I needed something  more, something, well, satisfying.  I kept opening the fridge thinking something would appear magically, you know what I'm talking about.  I only clicked the overhead light of the stove for my late night scurrying.   My contacts were taking there time getting adjusted to my sudden leap out of bed.  I have a few favorites for these moments.  A few food finds that I try to keep stocked in case such an emergency should arise.  The first is ice cream, preferably coffee ice cream.  After opening the freezer door no less than 3 times, it became reality that I had not stocked that option.  I needed more anyway.  I needed salt!

I had some 2 day old Brioche left over from a way too greedy shopping spree at the bakery.  I knew I had cheese but wasn't sure of its pasture.  Digging through the fridge in search of a perfect cheese combo to complete my ingredients for a grilled cheese sandwich, eyes squinted, I only came up with bleu and swiss cheese.  Nope, neither were appetizing this late.  The time clicked by during my search and 11:30pm was now upon me.  A midnight snack was closely reporting for duty.   My craving for a grilled cheese had consumed my mind and for a mere moment, I almost got dressed and ran to the grocery store for the right cheese.   I love my grilled cheese with Gruyere and/or white cheddar and mustard.  I couldn't justify a lazy approach to curb my pangs by using Swiss cheese.  I shut the fridge door, then opened it quickly just to see if perhaps I missed anything.  Nope.  The wilted fennel was still there...alongside eggs...hmmmm, eggs. 

Eureka!!! I love scrambled eggs as a midnight snack.  (Sidenote:  The best eggs on the market are Phil's, unbelievable flavor and the brightest orange/yellow yolk ever.  No, I am not being paid by Phil's to say that, yet).  I pulled the eggs, one at a time, out of their snuggled up, cold container being careful not to drop one.  My cravings were to too strong for a splattered egg on the floor.  I grabbed the milk, some herbs; parsley, thyme and tarragon and the remaining "dash" of grated Romano cheese all out of the fridge and I was set!!.  Ahhh, herbed scrambled eggs, perfect.  I heated my non-stick fry pan, dabbed in a little butter and began to assemble my eggs and herbs.  My eyes had lifted by now.  I scrambled the 3 eggs in a bowl, added salt,pepper and the chopped herbs and a dash of milk.  Ready, set, go!!! Into the  hot pan, the smell immediately filling my nose, mind and stomach.   I prefer my scrambled eggs a bit on the runny side, not soupy, just creamy.  I stirred them as if they were going to be my last meal, ever so careful to create the large sized scrambles I love so much.  Ahhh, the smell.  12am on the dot, I plated my eggs.  Leaning against the kitchen counter I ate with restrain savoring every mouthful.  I was satisfied.  Midnight craving subdued, I headed back to bed.  I tossed and turned until I finally gave in, again, and got up.  I made my coffee, checked my mail, watched the news and sat frustrated that I couldn't get that sleepy feeling back.  At 5am, I thought to myself; "I wonder how many more eggs and herbs are available in my refrigerated section of my kitchen?" And, without much thought, I marched right back and made myself another healthy portion.  So started my day.   

Hush and Slush

Many great things come from the quiet squall of winter.  There is snuggling to a cozy fire, house cleaning and warm cashmere sweaters.  There is also pot roasts and pot pies, homemade hot chocolate and in-home dining.  Also, covering most of the land, is snow.  Its truly amazing how the city can go from green in the spring and summer, to shades of auburn and copper in the fall and then head first into a white wonderland come winter.  Snow, for some, is inconvenient and depressing.  Snow for others means skiing, snowmen and ice skating.  Waking up very early in the morning as I do everyday of the week, I often get the opportunity to sit in the hush of a sky dusting the city with snow.  White and pure as it falls from nowhere, up there; it seems to quiet things down.  As the snow falls, I seldom hear birds chirping, cars screeching or people yelling.  The trees even seem to stand still and accept their icing.   When it snows, its always just cold enough to keep the snow from melting before the ground stops it, but not so cold you aren't able to go outside for a walk and catch a few snowflakes on your tongue or cheek.   My favorite site as the snow walls atop previous resident snow, is the look of things untouched and unblemished.  Foot tracks are covered and all the cars look alike blanketed in the white, heavenly powder.   I have a large window in my kitchen that looks east towards another building.  In between me and the neighboring abodes there is a large space where the snow is able to fall and blur out my view of that building.  As I bake or cook and while its snowing, my tendency to slow down and revel in hand squeezing lemons or mixing pasta batter with my hands is heightened.  Being the favorite room in my house, the kitchen during a snow shower is the hub of all my senses.  The stove is warm, the food is hearty and full bodied and the fruit that perfumes the batters seems much more vibrant.

Now, understandably, the snow melts.  Salt is poured on it from loud oversized trucks and the sun tans it to a slush.  Its this turning point that the beauty of the fresh snow becomes gloom  of brown, impassable, wet globs of distraction.  Cars begin to pass you by throwing muck from its tires onto your pants and coats.  People are hopping in an obstacle course of puddles as they try to avoid making the wrong sinking step into an existing, camouflaged puddle.  The slosh of the city gets louder and louder and the quiet of what began the day becomes the chaos that keeps the city alive.  

Hush or slush; winter seems like a renewal to me.  Its a few months of starting over in a sense.  When everything is living and blooming and hurried during the first 3/4's of the year, the land and we the people are in need of a rest come winter.   I view it as a kind of retreat.  All things become dormant.  The land, trees and animals rest.  People hide and re-nourish.  And, in time, it begins again.  I look forward to Spring this year, but I am not ready to hurry up winter.  I still have a few more roasts to cook and chili's to make.  I also have cupboards to be cleaned and walls to paint.  These are just a few of the things that I need to accomplish so I can enjoy the Spring, the Summer and the Fall without chores and bores.   So, in good  humor, I write to the snow: "Good day snow!! Thank you for the hush. Please don't stay too long into the Spring.  And, be kind to me as I walk sidewalks and drive roads.   I appreciate your momentary presence and look forward to your return long, long, long after Fall has ended". 

Bikram and Beyond

Yesterday started the first day of my 30 consecutive days practicing Bikram Yoga!! Its an exciting endeavor and I look forward to every drop of sweat, every nauseating ache and every mind clearing revelation.  I have been practicing now for over a year and besides an occasional back to back class, I have never taken on this sort of responsibility.   Yes, a responsibility.  I owe it to my body, my mind and my spirit to take better care of all three.  After  not being in the studio for the past 3 months, this first night back was quite a comeback on  all fronts.  First, my body has changed since the holidays of 2010 began.  Being up front at the mirror confirmed how much I love Christmas cookies and stews.  Second, my ability to really stretch has tightened up a bit, well, a lot.  But, I retrieved the memories of when I could do a standing head to knee with my leg straight out in front of me and it gave me hope for the upcoming classes.  Third, and most importantly, I revealed my ability to forgive myself.

Okay, I know this is going to sound as if I may begin preaching about self consciousness, but bear with me.  As I was lying in Savasana (dead man's pose), breathing in and clearing my head, I came to realize an important lesson.  Let me premise this by telling you that I had recently ended a relationship that had a very strong impact on me and I had been going through a process of guilt, sadness, anger and self healing.  So, as I lay breathing and clearing my mind, a song kept running through my mind like a roaring stream after a hard rain.  I couldn't shake it no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on letting it go.  It, in fact, grew louder and each word became more and more pronounced.  It goes like this:

" I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason,
 bringing something we must learn 
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you"


It goes onto say:

"And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend.........
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you 
I have been changed for good"


I know, it's a great lyric isn't it, just not so great when you want to clear your mind instead of think, think and think.  I skipped the next two poses as I felt crippled by my thoughts and song.  Funny how it made such clear sense, however.  As my breathing slowed and my mind's song began to fade and as each drip of sweat, mixed with tears, continued to scrap across my temples and cheeks, I remembered the reason why I find solice in practicing Bikram Yoga.  There are days I forget to breathe as well as fleeting moments I forget to capture.  There are voices purging and I forget to sometimes listen. There are clues I overlook and shoulders I refuse to lie my head upon.  Solice is, for me, Bikram.  90 minutes of just me.  The 105 degrees that I find lovely and cleansing.  Bending, twisting and breathing until things start to make sense.  My body throwing out unneeded feelings and confusing thoughts.  My toxins which pour out of every pore begin a renewal of my spirit. I remember who I am during this time.  I recall what makes me  happy and peaceful and it makes me more aware of the things I am forgetting to pay attention too.

Well, I look forward to my next 29 days and beyond with Bikram.  I encourage everyone to try it at least once.  If nothing else, come into the room and lie down, sweat and think.  You will be surprised, when you let yourself  believe in yourself, the things you can do.

By the way, Happy New Year!!

Mike

A Quiet Thing

It seems to me that we forget about what is important this time of year.  Sure we should be spending more time with family and friends and, of course, there is food to prepare and frolic to be had.  But, we also need to take care of ourselves.  Selfish? Why, yes. I thought it would be great to end the year with a few of the ways to indulge a little bit more, laugh a little bit louder and find those quiet moments that seem hidden from our reach.  So, here is my list of what makes for a better life, selfishly. 

1.  Buy more flowers! Okay, you may think I am trying to meet a sales goal or something of the like.  Not true, sort of.  Flowers make you feel better.  This past year, as I taught flower class, I expressed to each and every student that flowers are here to make you smile.  They make you stop for a moment and feel good about your pause.  One or 5 dozen, a flower will truly lift you up and you don't have to wait for someone else to buy them for you.  

2.  Enjoy a monthly massage.  This may seem excessive and overly luxe, but it is a time you can spend feeling pampered without loud noise or sirens, etc.  Its your time.

3.  Cook.  Don't know how? Buy a cookbook and start.  All of your senses are aroused when you cook.  Your fingers holding and touching the food, perhaps squeezing a tomato or kneading a bread dough.  The smells uplift you and tingle in your nose.  The sound of a crisp chop when your knife runs through a vegetable or a fruit. And, the reward of the feast when the oven has exhaled its last warm breathe as you  pull your hard work from its dark cave...whew, that was a bit like soft porn.  Anyway, get in the kitchen, turn off the world, roll up your sleeves and cook.  

4. Enjoy an easy lunch at a cozy hangout by yourself.  Indulge in a daily special or,hell, order a glass of champagne and pluck away at all the appetizers offered on the menu.  Why not, right? 

5.  Exercise!! It makes a person feel so good.  Even if its just a walk. 

6. Spend more time with friends who make you laugh.  Afterall, they say its the best medicine. 

7. Bed linen!! You spend most of your quiet life sleeping or at least in your bedroom.  So find really good linen, spend the extra bucks and make all of those hours sleeping the best time of your life.  There is such euphoria in anticipating bedtime when you know there are soft, luxurious, clean sheets and bedding awaiting your arrival. 

8. On that note of beds: Stay in bed on a Sunday morning, get the NYTimes and a cup of coffee (best when someone else does it for you) and perhaps a warm croissant, whatever.  Truly, truly, truly, this is one of my MOST FAVORITE things to do whether I am traveling or at home.  For some reason, it kicks starts your day like nothing else. Ahhh, bliss

9. Neutralize your life.  Get rid of all the crazy colors.  We are going for harmony and self-peace here so take this for what its worth, but trading in your bright colored walls for a neutral palette will create a space of endless possibilities and calm.  Here are the my favorite neutrals: Chalk white, Dove Grey, Dark Chocolate and Slate.  Note the last color please.  I was once told by a very wise woman that I was to surround my life with Slate, both the color and the stone, because it evoked harmony in my mind and soul, even touching it would create that peace I so long for at times. It is my opinion, that bright colors in your home create loud confusion in your mind and body.  Neutralize your life and I bet you'll feel like a brand new person.

10.  Finally, enough with the preaching, hey!! Here it is, my final word for the year:  Be true to who you are, what you are and what you want to be.  Get rid of the toxic people in your life, take care of those who bring you joy, laugh loudly with those who will listen and believe in those who don't always believe in themselves.  Be your own brand and enjoy the time you have with yourself because at the end of the day, that's all you have, you.  Bump in the road? Fill it up and move on.  My point is this, simply, if  you can't be happy with being with yourself, then you can't be happy for the people who need you most.  When my dad was dying, he asked for only one thing from me and that was that I take time to appreciate the moments that are good in life.  Much like stopping to smell the roses.  I try very hard to abide by my promise to him and to myself.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Be good to yourself, first. 
I'll see you in the New Year,

Mike