Wide Awake

Now having spent a couple of weeks surrounded by the smells, sounds and tastes of Italian eats, I've been keen to expand my culinary horizons and further immerse myself in all things edible. Starting most days off with chocolate coffee is always a solid start, but I'm pretty sweet already and could use a little salt -- apart from the shake I lick before my tequila shot goes down.

Spending most of my time in Kits, home to one of my longtime foodie friends -- who just so happens to be an internationally-renown chef -- I decided to let him work some of his infamous magic on me.

In one meal, I was taken to Spain, France, Italy -- and that was with the olive oil tastings alone. As I've oft seen with anyone who can cook decently well, no matter how perfectly-chosen the oil, almost everything still needs butter.

We feasted on grainy mustard-salt-rubbed flank steak, filleted with artistic flair only someone who truly loves what he does would bother with at home. A shallot-egg-balsamic confection and garnish of home-grown watercress were the final accouterments.

I learned -- among many lessons -- my taste in wine is more finely-tuned than I thought; he paired our meal with two bottles of wine -- both of which I buy on a regular basis, one I brought to complement cheeseburgers at a recent barbecue...my fantastical career in wine sales might be more of an imminent reality than I thought.

The greatest lesson of the evening came to fruition during my noon practice the following day. Taking one of Christian's hotter-than-hell, deeper-than-I-ever-want-until-it's-over classes with a full bottle of wine coursing through my veins -- not awesome; feeling like a human again after final savasana, a cold shower and a smoothie -- divine; reminding my body and mind about the element of balance in all aspects of life -- absolutely necessary.

As I dragged my bittersweet hangover through 26 and 2, it dawned on me I'd been consuming an awful lot of the vine's sweet juice lately and might benefit from a hiatus -- perhaps a day or two, because it's important to be realistic when setting goals.

Realistic: pretending to give up or decrease my consumption of mochas is never anything but pretending -- this is the sweetness in front of me right now.

Realistic: men seem to find it incredibly difficult to be "just friends" with women -- just because I bring dessert, doesn't mean I want to be dessert.

Painfully realistic: actions without words often merit a swift slap and a timely escape; words without actions cease to have meaning, no matter how much we want them to hold -- but those of us who fall hard with open hearts would still dive right in all over again.

Morals of the story: cook alone unless you're looking for heat beyond the kitchen; if you can help it, don't go into the hot room a hot mess; it takes more than one person to keep two people on cloud 9.

Healthy Hindsight

Eventually, at some unforeseeable -- but real -- point in the future, I'll look back on the past year and smile.
June in Vancouver -- even on the grayest days, it's still a dangerously alluring place. Surrounded by the deepest, darkest blue, the lushest green and the sweet pink of cherry blossoms sprinkling the streets -- I can't help but dismiss the out-of-reach real estate and imagined air of superiority.
Taking class this morning on Commercial -- always thick with sweat and struggle -- a gleaming group of satisfied minds and bodies carrying each other through the dimmest places under the light...it was, as it most often is, completely magical. Another practice = another day I have freed myself from the limits, either self-imposed or otherwise, with which so many exist.

It's strange for me, meeting such a plethora of people everyday, observing those who choose to live shackled by the limits they have either created or accepted. As always -- open to every possibility I can or have yet to imagine -- I am feeling my way through the professional options that seem to exist for someone with my particular skill set and interests in Vancouver; I'm still teaching of course (because that is what keeps me emotionally satiated) and have recently ventured into the restaurant scene...an excellent place to quickly gain back lost heartache pounds.
5 nights a week, I play hostess with the mostess to a unsurprisingly rather affluent room of diners. Greeting hungry guests at the door, I can't help but take a quick peek right through them to catch a glimpse of what lies beneath. Those who truly sparkle are governed by the hidden gem tucked away beneath the Prada -- the truest ruby -- often forgotten by the bachelors and bachelorettes dining solo at the bar night after night. I notice the limited souls shelling out hundreds like they're never going to run dry in part because I am deeply fascinated by the human condition -- and in particular, because of the year I've had.

June in Edmonton -- spent pretending I was not about to jump off a cliff into the treacherous waters of marital separation...followed by dragging my breathless body ashore to find the sweetest sunshine bathe me in its warmth.
By August, I found reincarnation as a single mother (still a bizarre term to me, which really fails to do the reality justice). September, October and November split my heart, mind and body between two very different places. The months that followed gave me love in hopeless places, took it away and brought it back. I gained friends and lost others I probably should have denied entry in the first place. I laughed -- a lot...I cried...less. I danced in happiness -- the kind that makes you fly while your feet touch the ground.
I lived without limits.
This summer and beyond, I'll have another healthy dose of the good stuff, just a dash of the bad -- got to have some of the latter to appreciate the former -- and keep allowing the most important muscle I've got to do it's worst.