A Slice of Life

photo via Jeff Finlin

The Big American dream is dead. It’s hanging over them like a corpse swinging in the poplar tree out back. They see their quandary and they stand there in that awareness.  They have fallen back on banjos, sustainable food, craft beer and a hipster ideal.  On some level, behind the handlebar mustaches, tattoos, gauges and ego identification is a sensibility grounded in something more important than money and success. Can it be obnoxious sometimes—yes.  But I feel in some ways it’s a hope for the future that might have the potential to make America somewhat great again.

Jeff Finlin 

In one of my other lives, I worked as a waitress and then a cook at a restaurant called The Slice of Life in Nashville. The restaurant was on Music Row, and we served vegetarian food, mainly, to music industry professionals and celebrities. I waited on folks like Emmylou Harris, Garrison Keillor and once, Bono. The restaurant was owned by a crazy Korean woman who loved us as if we were her own but who chastised us as if we were her own, too.  She has since died, unfortunately, but working there was wild.  Being Korean in the eighties in Nashville, TN was certainly an oddity, and The Slice (as we affectionately called it) served homemade kim chi, scallion pancakes and other Asian delicacies, as well as hippie dippie natural food. All the baked goods were whole wheat, we had a juicer for carrots, and when I moved into the kitchen as a cook, I was trained by a guy named Paul who was the chef on work furlough from prison, where he'd been serving time for murdering his wife.

Anywho.

One of my favorite people at The Slice was a fellow waiter named Jeff, and like most waiters at the Slice (except for me), he was a musician -- an extraordinary drummer, songwriter and singer. We all grew up and moved on, and Jeff became quite a well-known musician. He's writing a lot now, too, and this morning I opened up his blog and read one of the most interesting and visionary things I've ever read about the youth of our country. It made my heart soar, and I think you should read it right this very second. Then you might want to click on over and listen to Jeff's gravelly, soulful voice and call it a very good day.

Here's the link.

Day Four of Wringing Out the Gratitude

Today was an easy day to feel grateful because I personally met one of my favorite writers, Brittany Tuttle who blogs as Vesuvius At Home but also has a book up her sleeve and a short story soon to be published.  She drove up from her relatives' house where she and her family were staying, and I drove out to Santa Monica, and we hugged each other and were both sort of embarrassed and then we started talking, and we didn't stop for another few hours. I loved her immediately but especially so when she ordered a beer and chocolate cake. She ate some of my sweet potato fries, too. She's beautiful and brilliant and funny and sweet, and while I figured out that I'm old enough to be her mother (and NOT a teen-aged one!), she felt more like a little sister to me, and now I wish that she lived closer so we could talk some more. You know, I've met a handful of bloggers in person, and I've yet to meet one from whom I'd run away and hide. I'm grateful today for my perfect score of loving bloggers in person as well as on the page. And mark my words, you're going to be hearing about Brittany Tuttle one of these days, well beyond the scope of a moon, worn as if it had been a shell.

1. I'm grateful for my strong and healthy constitution.
2. I'm grateful for the card that Ms. Moon sent me of the Airstream trailer on the beach that now graces my blog and that is testament to our friendship.
3. I'm grateful for the opportunity to go to the movies on a Saturday afternoon, especially when it's a perfect movie about love, longing, regret and is directed by and stars Ralph Fiennes.
4. I'm grateful for my perfect score of loving bloggers in person as well as on the page and for getting to personally meet one of my favorites today, Brittany Tuttle.

Believe

Yosemite, 2009

I realized that perhaps the solution for me was not constant vigilance and action but instead a blend of thoughtful pursuit and deliberate inaction, with a complete trust that the universe will engage. 
For me, when things seem difficult and it feels like I am fighting the world, this is a reminder to me that I need to stop doing. I need to just "be" for awhile and allow the universe to help me. When I work with nature and allow my intellect a break from steering the ship, things always seem to get a little better. The solution always seems to come, surprisingly landing in my lap with no effort on my part.
My advice to you dear friend, for what it is worth, is to just stop for a moment. Begin a short period of complete inaction. Take a breath and ask the universe for help. Believe that it will come and it will.

Lisa Peters

I got the above comment on my post from the other day that chronicled a bit more of my fruitless efforts to find the proper medical marijuana for Sophie's seizures. It stopped me in my tracks, not by its novelty but as a reminder of what I know to be true, what I've experienced over and over and over again.

Thank you, Lisa, for the eloquent reminder.