Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Namaste and Its Many Meanings

Some folks celebrate this word, Some used it with serious reverence. And upon hearing this work, some folks fearing its "pagan" origins flee from the room.

Which makes "namaste" a truly fascinating word as it is both a blessing and a greeting derived from the Hindu language and religion.

I was taught that namaste means "I honor the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace. When you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is one of us."

What a lovely spiritual way of thinking of our relationship to others and to ourselves! This message encapsulates the magical sense of union we can share with others. It encourages me to see the good in others. And reminds me to strive to live centered in love, light, truth, and peace.

This gentle nudge may not seem to have much to do with going to the grocery store and scrolling through the Internet.

And yet, those moments of being centered in spirit are important to me. Actually, they are vital. Namaste reminds me to go to that place and linger a while when I can. Sometimes, just a few centering breaths are aenough to reawaken my yoga mind.

At Mountain Yoga, namaste is the last word said in class. The teacher intones, the class participants echo. We're already settled into our final savanna and the instructor leaves the room. Ahh. Delicious. During this time we catch our breath, start to cool down and let our body, mind, plus spirit bask in the glow of yoga.

I liken "namaste" to the ubiquitous "God bless you" said often in my birth religion, Catholicism. Another phrase, "et cum spiri tu tuo" is said during the Mass It means, "may the spirit be with you" with the response being, "and also with you."

The common response when a person sneezes is "God bless you." It's said by folks around the world, and most likely by plenty of Hindus.

I'm not a student of the many varieties of religious greetings, but I assume they all convey an uplifting and lovely message about recognizing the spirit.

If the word namaste makes you uncomfortable, you can do what one friend does, which is to respond with God bless you. The message is similar, the language and culture are different. Both convey love and light. And what we strive for in our humanity.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Cesium and mood swings

I had never heard of cesium until I visited my friend Tyteeka. Well, perhaps I'd heard of it in a college chemistry class and vaguely knew that this unique element, number 55 on the periodic chart, was used in the atomic clocks stored at the Bureau of Standards in Boulder, Colorado.

At the time I was talking with Tye about a supplement company I'd gotten involved with. Odd how things turn out. I didn't "click" with the supplement business opportunity, but it lead me to learning about cesium drops and to a major shift in my personal health and wellbeing.

Before I could mention the the word supplements, she excitedly announced that I was the first person she was testing and had placed copper rods in my hands that were attached to her new biofeedback vibration machine. As she clicked through possible vitamin and mineral deficiencies, the machine was silent until it suddently buzzed and beeped with high excitation as it scanned for cesium. We both looked at each other and said,"What in the world is cesium?" She pulled down a massive tome from the shelf, which informed us that cesium was used medicinally as an anti-convulsant.

At that time in the mid 1990's I was taking an uncomfortable anticonvulsant medication to smooth out mood swings. I hated depacote. My hands shook, my hair was falling out, and curling. My joie de vive was joie de gone and my life force energy had flat-lined. I became so frustrated with the medication and my supposed need for the medication that I had written an affirmation, "My brain chemistry puzzle is solved and resolved." It became a personal mantra which I chanted often while praying for a healthy way to get off depakote and a less annoying wellbutrin.

I watched in wonder as Tye and the machine personalized homeopathic drops for me that contained cesium and another ingredient, NADH. NADH is a highly bioavailable form of niacin - B3, that is essential for healthy brain neurotransmitter functioning. Actually the drops didn't contain those substances, instead the drops contained the vibration of those substances. The machine said to take 10 drops 3 times a day. I would have taken almost anything to stop the shaking that made it impossible to successfully deliver a forkful of food to my mouth because my hand shook so much. I figured I hadn't much to lose. It would be a miracle if the drops worked, if they didn't, something else would show up.

Within in a couple weeks I was able to stop taking the depakote and my mood swings didn't return. Magic. A miracle. I had crossed over from the land of traditional medicine into the universe of holistic healing. My mind, body and spirit vaulted into a place of infinite healing potential. Healing was possible, not just the mitigation of symptoms. I didn't think less of traditional medicine and doctors, instead I knew there were lots more choices than I had ever imagined. Within weeks, my hair grew back straight and shiny. I was managing a fork with ease. I was easier to live with, and it was way easier to inhabit my skin. I once again, made sense to myself and was bouncy and cheerful.

I took the drops for years, visiting Tyteeka as a patient at her naturopathic clinic every couple months. Each time, the vibration machine could produce drops that healed colds, adrenal fatigue, bacterial infections, and other minor maladies. In all that time, I never had side effects. And every new set of drops delivered healing vibes. Good vibrations.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Health and the Laws of Thermodynamics

Yes, this sounds too heady. I've been thinking about the Laws of thermodynamics for a while now. Well, abstractly since my Chemistry-major days at CU-Boulder. But these past couple weeks in a very personal way.

The first law states that a body in motion tends to stay in motion while a body at rest tends to stay at rest. Also known as the law of inertia. Applying that to the present day situation, a person who stays in motion, tends to stay in motion. A person who lounges too much, tends to keep lounging. Of course, you know I'm talking about exercise. The more you do, the more you benefit. The more you lounge around and sit, well, the more you want to lounge around and sit.

A couple weeks ago I downloaded an free app, MapMyFitness. I've been recording my Pilates reformer classes, Bikram (hot) yoga classes, general Hatha yoga classes, and mountain hiking. One cool factor is that the app has GPS reckoning and maps our hikes plus records how many miles, how long we hiked, and estimates calories burned. Of all those forms of exercise, guess which one burns the most calories per minute? Not what I thought. It's hot yoga at a whomping 673 calories per hour. General Hatha yoga is 471. But alas, the Pilates reformer class only burns 236. Hiking with a light pack is about 475. (the app doesn't account for changes in altitude. Yet. I am certain I burn more calories on steeper hike.)

Not that I care so much about calories as the mere counting gets crazy-making if one is concerned about weight. I still find that eating 0-5 (eat when hungry, stop when comfortable) works easily, as does eating the amount of food equal to the size of my fist 3 or 4 times a day.

The Hot Yoga is more super powerful than I thought. As it feels so good and soothes brain chemicals. meaning stress and anxiety, too.

In tracking my exercise over the past month or so I've discovered that if I reach 4 hours in a week, I have more energy. On my skimpy weeks of only 2 or so hours, I have less energy and want to lounge around more. Notice I'm not doing "killer" aerobics or running. I'm doing "doable" and accessible and relatively inexpensive exercise. My knee that was scoped over 20 years ago thanks me.

The second law of thermodynamics states that a system in order tends to go to disorder. Meaning that if your house is clean today, it won't be within a week. Everything and everybody needs maintenance to stay in good working order. After thinking about this a while, I've added a new category to my "to-do" list - the "maintenance" category. Get the car serviced, delete old emails, get hair cut, clean out closets.

I've also noticed that an "older" person needs more maintenance that a younger person to stay "in order." Not only more exercise, but also more attention to health matters, to eating healthier food, to getting plenty of high-quality sleep, to having more fun. To maintaining relationships with family and keeping current with friends. I don't mean taking the lazy way out and using Facebook. I mean phone calls in which one actually talks to a live person. Add to that parties, activities, and old-fashioned socializing.

The maintenance could include face "inject-able" scheduling, new forms of pampering like massages and classes, new hobbies and puzzles for brain sharpening. My list seems endless when some days are filled with scheduling and doing maintenance. Weeks without scheduled maintenance make me feel as if I'm in 30's and 40's.

We were taught in Physics 101 that the Laws of Thermodynamics were immutable and constant. What they didn't teach us was that these very laws have great impact on our lifelong health and well being.

Have fun being well.

Lucy Beale Partridge

Friday, October 17, 2014

A Sweet Break Up with Whole Foods.

Whole Foods just moved into my very suburban neighborhood. It's small. The big store is downtown Salt Lake, about 25 minutes away. I once lived across the street from Wild Oats in Denver, which later became Whole Foods. It was paradise to walk across the street for all-natural meat, vitamins, and a quick salad bar lunch. The local joke was that every employee had to be highly tattooed, pierced, and under thirty.

Things have changed. I once had a personal sense of romance shopping there. I assumed the products are healthier, the bulk foods sections well maintained, and the employees highly knowledgeable about wellness and nutrition. My assumptions have no basic in reality any longer.

Our neighborhood store doesn't carry many of the products I like. What no fresh ground cashew butter? The answer from the sparse staff is always, try the downtown store. What, no chocolate-covered espresso beans? Try the downtown store.

Last August I found the most delectable Chauo dark chocolate-coated honeycomb candy

in BULK at Whole Foods in Sedona, Arizona. They don't stock it in Draper, Utah. In fact, they don't stock it in Utah. In fact, they can't order it for me. With a shrug, the store buyer suggested I phone the Seattle store. I followed up with an email to someone who monitors the website and never received a reply. Oh, well. Next time I get to Sedona I'll fill up the car with this heavenly candy and pray the air conditioner holds on the 10-hour drive home. Or I'll learn to make it myself. So there!

What's interesting about my quest is that it's not for healthy food. It's for CANDY. Which I'm not really supposed to eat except in small amounts occasionally. There's a point to this. Virtually all of the processed foods at Whole Foods that contain more than three ingredients contain sugar. It may be labeled as "evaporated cane juice", or cane sugar, or sugar. But it's still sugar.

Yes, they've figured out that sugar sells. Mary Poppins is so right. A spoonful of sugar can work wonders. It sure does for processed food sales.

I spent an entire year (2013-2014) not eating sugar. In anything. No barbecue sauce, homemade salad dressings only, no store-bought spaghetti sauce. Although spaghetti is a problem because of the wheat in the pasta. Instead, use spaghetti squash. I ate no processed foods. NO, I didn't lose weight. Instead I lost allergies. I still love sugar, obviously.

The other problem with staying faithful to Whole Foods is the competition. The nearby Costco and home-grown Harmon's offer healthy meats, eggs, butter, vegetables, and fruit, plus Harmon's has a fabulous bulk section. And the folks there are super helpful. What the competition doesn't have is Whole Foods superb and appetizing collection of take-home items.

I still shop there. But I'm no longer feeling the romance.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Writing Lucy's Letter

Welcome back to Lucy's Letter. You may have received my letter as an email newsletter before the days of blogs. You may have attended one of my workshops on Body, Mind & Wellness, been with me at a Mannatech event, or learned how to be Naturally Thin. Or you may not know me at all.

I'm continuing to write to you in blog form. This past weekend, I was at a sewing retreat with the Utah chapter of the American Sewing Guild. After we each introduced ourselves, one of the participants later asked me if I was the same Lucy Beale. She had received my email newsletters for years, printed them out, and kept them in a 3-ring binder for reference. She'd attended a talk I gave at Orrin Hatch's Annual Women's Conference years ago.

My emotions flew through amazement, incredulity, thankfulness, gratification, and satisfaction. Also sadness that I had discontinued writing the newsletter. Some of you found it valuable. I loved writing it. So it's back.

Here's my update: I've written 12 books on wellness and weight loss. Many of them are cookbooks: Terrific Diabetic Meals, Low-Carb Meals, Anti-Inflammation Cookbook, Glycemic Index Cookbook, Glycemic Index Snacks, Feeding Your Family on a Budget. You can view all of my books at Lucy's Books. (This is a link to Amazon.)

I'm still learning about and researching health. So much has changed in our levels of knowledge, while plenty has stayed the same.

I still do a couple Pilates sessions weekly. I add in a weekly hike or snowshoeing adventure with Pat in the Wasatch mountains close to our home in Utah. I do Body Rolling to successfully manage/heal some plantar fasciitis in my right foot. I also use the Ma Roller for ultimate relaxation and rest. The Body Rolling system has added a routine to renovate the face -I'm using the Yamuna Body Rolling Save Your Face Kit . The first person to see a difference was my husband, then the gals at the Pilates studio. Then my hair stylist. Fewer wrinkles. No more need for Botox. Tighter skin. What more could a gal ask for?

After a year-long allergy treatment with LDA - low-dose-allergens, I am quite pleased. My skin no longer itches, I can wear makeup without itching - yes, even mascara but only if it's Tarte Cosmetics Gifted Amazonian Clay Smart Mascara 0.24 oz. I concoct my own face oil for a moisturizer - argan oil, with drops of lavender, sandalwood, sea buckthorne berry, and clary sage oils. I add a bit of DR. HAUSCHKA Translucent Bronzing Tint, 1 Fluid Ounce if I want some color.

I'm no longer allergic to basic foods, although I need to avoid wheat and dairy. I still love sugar and chocolate. Stayed off sugar for over a year. Oh, but I did eat chocolate. I found a couple of really good 100% gourmet bars. And ate them slowly. Very slowly as they are so intense. If I needed a bit of a sweet chocolate taste, I added boiling water to unsweetened chocolate pieces with a stevia tablet. It's OK, but not enrapturing.

My husband had patiently - rather, mostly patiently - endured my weird diet. But I do feel better and that makes him content. I mean, he still makes homemade ice cream. I just don't eat it. And I still bake up my special brownies for his office from time to time. And again, don't eat them. But I might take a taste.

The biggest news in wellness for me this year is discovering that I have the 677T homozygous MTHFR mutation. This didn't mean anything to me either when my doctor suggested the blood test. Since that time, I've been taking the dietary supplements of methyl folate along with methyl B12 - I have tons more energy, am more emotionally balanced, have surprisingly clearer vision, In fact, with all that additional energy, I am writing this blog, traveling more, renewed my interest in sewing (avidly), writing a second blog on sewing at www.lucybeale.com, and have more energy to keep up with my husband who has infinite stamina. His kids used to call him the "camel."

Much of our family has the mutation so many have been tested an are on the supplements with varying degrees of enhanced health.

In this blog, I'll be posting new info on wellness, and weight loss, just as before. If you're curious, I seem to have shrunk an inch to 5"7". My weight still ranges between 127 and 130. With size inflation, I wear a size 2 or 4. Which is silly to me. I add color to my roots and no longer streak my hair, so it's brown.

I am so excited to be writing to you again. Please send your comments to me at: lucybeale@gmail.com.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Losing the Anxiety

I've had a rough up-and-down ride for a couple months on methyl folate. I was so cranky, irritable, and off-center. I couldn't find my core, my place of stillness. I felt manic. And I couldn't figure out how to make it better. I kept reducing the amount of methyl folate I was taking. and the amount of methyl B12. But I was still uncomfortable. My attention span was marginal.

I tried using niacin, thinking that the methyl folate was creating SAMe. It didn't work.

And then, one day as we were driving along, my husband said, "What if it isn't the methyl folate that's making you uncomfortable? What if it's something else?" He'd asked the magic question.

For years, I'd been taking 2 tablets of 5 mg NADH every morning and it really stabilized my moods. After starting on the MTHF, one of my alternative health practitioners suggested that I cut back to just one. Could this be the cause of my discomfort?

The next day I upped the amount to 2 tablets and the anxiety stopped. Stillness returned. I could focus. Odd noises no longer upset me. My husband became a loving person again. I could get things done. The mania stopped.

I don't know why NADH works for me. But it sure does.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Taking Methyl Folate for MTHFR C667T mutation

Three and one-half months have passed. I've been methylating and having amazing results. I take a nutritional supplement, Methyl CpG,with breakfast. I has 2000 mcg of methyl folate and 1000 mcg methyl B12. in the evening I take Thorne Basic B which contains 400 mcg methyl folate and 200 mcg methyl B12 plus additional B vitamins. If I start feeling that deep exhaustion, I'll add about 1250 mcg methyl B12 lozenge. I break up a 5000 mcg tab into 4 pieces and let one peice dissolve under my tongue.

It took a week or so figure out how much to take. My doc gave me a sample of the prescription drug, Deplin 15. I took one a day, I was flying my the end of day 3. I was looney. Playing bridge with some friends, I just couldn't focus. Too much Deplin was weird. Everyone noticed. But I didn't do anything extreme or peculiar. The next day I cut back to the Methyl CpG and seemed to find a balance.

My doc told me I didn't need much. She was so right.

In the past 14 weeks, here are the results I've seen:

Not feeling the deep exhaustion.
Seldom take naps, whereas before methylation supplementation I was taking 2-3 hour naps 2-4 days a week. I may still nap at times, but only 20-30 minutes 1-2 days a week.
My vision has dramatically improved. At the eye doctor's, I can read two lines lower than I did last year. I find this amazing.
Not as anxious. One day I missed taking my morning supplement and began to feel that old familiar body agitation and anxiety. But fortunately, within 20 minutes of taking methyl folate, I was back to my MTHFR-adjusted self.
Stayed awake and active with dinner guests until 11 pm. I only yawned once and didn't feel drained, anxious, and eager for them to say their goodbyes.
I approach day-to-day chores with calm and clarity.
I no longer feel overwhelmed by too much to do.
I am setting up more social activities for us than before. I now have the energy and interest to go out 3-5 nights a week. Before methylation 2 nights a week was max. My husband loves to socialize and to go places, so he's more content. And I'm finding that I love it.
My hair is growing faster, so are my fingernails.
Had white bumps on upper arms for years - like whitheads - they're gone.
More muscle tone and stamina.

As I read back through my journal, my body took a while - between 2-3 months to adjust. plus my brain and being have taken a while to adjust to methylation. I had ups and downs, doubt and reassurances. But today, I'm quite pleased. And joyous.

The MTHFR mutation - methylation deficiency

What? A genetic mutation could affect my personal health and well being? Not only that but I received a double dose, meaning the mutation at my MTHFR gene is homozygous, I received one copy from my mother and one from my father. This inherited error means that I have "methylation deficiency". After hours of research and googling, I have learned that thwarts many of my metabolic processes and explains many of my odd body things - I get weird if the dentist gives me laughing gas. I have moments of seeming depressed or maniac, but I'm not really. I'm often tired such that I eagerly nap for a couple hours a day even though I sleep soundly at night. I have a plethora of odd allergies to foods, inhalants, chemicals, dogs and cats and more. It explains why there are at least 3 alcoholics out of 7 members in my family of origin. and why my mother had extreme anemia, yet the B12 she took (cyanocobalamine) didn't give her more energy. But had she been given methylcobalamin, she may have been healthy and energetic.

The mutation explains why my son who also has 2 mutated genes (homozygous)- one from his dad and one from me - was born with learning disabilities and ADHD.

Now my challenge is to do what it akes to methylate myself.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

I forgot I love to sew

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I’m on my way to San Francisco. The plane is on the runway, the flight crew is in a small city 100 miles north of here. They couldn’t land in the Salt Lake fog. We wait. We change gates. Our 8:35 am departure stretches to noon.

Seen on Market Street, San Francisco

I’m thrilled to be attedning an art class while visiting the city of crusty sourdough bread, great seafood, palm trees, trolleys, a certain laid-back hippie-style ambience, fabulous chocolate bars, and the best fabric store in the world: Britex. Four floors of silks, wools, cottons, and linens. My grown-up sense of being patient gives way to little girl fretting. I calculate how many hours I’ll have left to shop given the location of our flight crew.

I sewed and tailored most of my clothes most of my life. Then about 15 years ago I grew disinterested and over time forgot that I love to sew. Today, my vintage 1977 sewing machine is newly oiled, awaiting gorgeous fabrics for stitching. Patrick bought me an IRON for our anniversary. Stupid, in a guy I-love-you sort of way, but smart. We saw it at the January home show and it’s the perfect sewing steam iron.

Oh, gosh. My blood sugar levels start to dip and my hunger is high. Lest I enter planet hypoglycemia, I pull out some all-natural beef jerky and an apple. Yoga meditation breaths soothe my spirit. As does a largish square of dark chocolate.

We take off. We land. I almost run the mile from my hotel to Union Square and Britex. It smells just as I remember. My eyes well up. I truly had forgotten how much I love to sew.

In the narrow, high-ceiling first floor, bolts of solids, plaids, and printed woolens are stacked up to ceiling, accessed by library-type pull ladders. The tables in the center are piled with rolls of luscious silks from Italy, France, the Orient.

I forget how to start. Then along comes Pat, a country and western singer on weekends, who knows exactly how to help. In the solid silk section we find apricot, pink purple, marigold, and rose crepe-backed satin for blouses and tops. A heavy black silk with lycra for slacks. She knows how many yards I need of each. I find 4-ply navy silk charmeuse for a dress. A silk metallic bronze with black brocade for a sash to dress up simple slacks and top for an evening out. I purchase an entire roll of black crepe-backed silk for harem pants, tops, a skirt, and whatever else I may think up. Then we find paneled silk pieces printed in teals, greens, bronzes that are perfect for scarves. I shop until I slowly fade to blubbering. I leave empty handed. Britex ships.

silks and first blouse sewn

I attend art class for two days. Then, on my last day, I’m drawn back to Britex. On the remnant floor I find marigold wool double knit for a winter outfit and crisp linen for summer T’s. The vast notions floor outfits my upcoming sewing safaris: pins, pincushions, snippers, buttons, trims, tape measure.

In San Francisco, I ate Crab Louis salads, palm trees delighted my eyes, the chocolate was amazing. The folks in my art classes exuded the flavor of laid-back California days. But none of the sights spoke so directly to my heart and the fiber of my being as my moments at Britex. I love to sew.

Chocolate Brickle Recipe

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Jungle Dance by Lucy Beale

I’m excited to share this recipe with you. Yet, I hesitate. I have a pure love affair with these treats. They’re a bit crunchy, taste a bit like toffee, are coated in rich chocolate and are salty. So why do I hesitate? Because some folks have a love-hate affair with them. Meaning that some of the gals at Pat’s office request that he not bring them in to work. Not ever. Not ever again. Why? Because when they know the treats are on his desk, they make excuses to go to the 6th floor to visit his treats. Seems they can’t resist eating them. They insist the treats beacon to them – and in English, of all things. The claim is that they put out a siren call. “Come to me,” “Eat me now.” etc.

I think this is a good thing. Could these folks be so self- deprived of such luscious taste combinations that their senses cry out for more? Mine sure do. Which is why I store them in the freezer. That way they need time to thaw before I can eat them. I defrost only 2 or 3 of the broken pieces at a time. And that’s part of the allure. You can’t cut the treats into orderly squares – you need to break them. All those ragged edges and crumbs are disordered and so, even more alluring.

Cook up a batch for your friends and family. Dinner guests will ooh and ahh over your culinary expertise and creativity. They’ll inhale these treats when you serve them for dessert with a side bowl of ice cream or sorbet.

My joy in preparing these treats is out-of-bounds. For a mere 20 minutes in the kitchen, I feel like a true domestic goddess. With only 5 ingredients, you, too, can bake up these heavenly treats.

PS. I’m not a domestic goddess, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend. I’ve only been on one cooking show in my life. (KSL-5 in Utah) I wore a flouncy orange ruffled apron and was outdone by the perky morning talk show host who did all the talking for me. But alas, later that month, the pharmacist mentioned the show when I picked up my Rx for bio-identical hormones. Ah, fame.

Saltine crackers – about 1 to 2 sleeves

1 cup sugar

2 sticks butter

1 tsp. vanilla

3 cups bittersweet or semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil. Arrange saltines in a single layer on the foil. In a small saucepan over medium-high heat, melt butter and sugar, stirring constantly until mixture bubbles, about 2-3 minutes.

Remove from heat. Stir in vanilla, then pour mixture evenly over the saltines. Spread with a spatula to evenly cover the saltines. You don’t need to be precise here, just make sure each saltine gets some sauce on it. Place in oven and bake for 7-10 minutes.

Remove from oven, sprinkle chocolate chips evenly over crackers. Let sit for 1-2 minutes to let chocolate melt. With a spatula, spread chocolate over crackers.Cool for 20 minutes, then place tray in freezer. In 3-4 hours, remove from freezer, peel off foil, and break into treat-size pieces. Store treats in freezer or refrigerator.

Variations:

Use milk chocolate chips. Top the melted chocolate with slivered almonds or chopped pecans or walnuts.Top melted chocolate with crushed Heath Bars or Resse’s peanut butter cups.

Let me know how you would describe these treats and also what you would name them.

The Forgotten ID Solution

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Pat at Seaport, San Diego

Our plane was scheduled to depart for our 4-day San Diego vacation at 7:30 am. We needed to be out of bed by 4:30 am. Pat didn’t get home until 1 am because his business flight was delayed due to snow falling in Salt Lake. He drove home 19 miles in the storm. The snow was so thick that the car couldn’t climb up the driveway and into the garage. We slept fitfully as people often do the night before traveling.

We left the car in the driveway, put our bags in my 4-wheel drive Santa Fe and braved the icy highways in the dark. Within 35 minutes we were at curbside check-in. I’m standing on the sidewalk with the bags, as Pat gets ready to go park the car. I have my driver’s license and a 3-dollar tip in hand.

Sluggish and dopey from jet lag and lack of sleep, he says, “Lucy, get back in the car. We can’t fly. I don’t have my driver’s license.”

“Huh?” was the only response I could think of. My feet were glued to the pavement. I couldn’t move. I also knew I couldn’t hear well. “Huh?”

“Lucy, get back in the car.” I stall. I don’t move. There’s gotta be a way. Somehow there has to be some sort of ID somewhere. I’m dulled witted, but not so dull witted that I’m willing to give up sun, clear air, the ocean, and radiant warmth. Snow keeps falling.

Think, Lulu, think. My brain starts to synapse. Pam. Going to the Cotswolds. Six years ago. “Xerox your driver’s licenses, passports, and credit cards before each trip abroad.” At the time she was leading 12 of us to art class in the UK. “Just toss the papers in your luggage. Just in case.”

That’s it – in case. The papers are in my case. Suitcase. Do you suppose TSA would accept them? We park, pull out the papers, and cross our fingers. The amazingly generous TSA agent looks at the Xeroxed papers and waves Pat on through.

We phoned our neighbors from San Diego and asked them to secure the wallet and lock the car doors. The sun was shining. The air was clear. The ocean was softly roaring. I’m so happy I know Pam.

Snowshoe- Digging Out

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Pat snowshoeing

‘Shoeing the Sunday after my swoon on the trail, this time up Big Cottonwood Canyon. Roaring sunshine, azure skies. And sparkling glorious bright white fields of snow. We climb through a large stand of pine trees and boulders to a vast meadow sprinkled with stands of white-bark aspens. I’m feeling ecstatic and totally in love. With everything. With life.

We traverse down and across a wide valley and head back on a path through chalets and cabins. Further down we espy a field of pristine untouched snow. It’s squishy like walking on fluffy pillows. I gain energy and joy with each step. I go faster and faster, my arms poling so rapidly, that I feel I’m creating my own breezes.

I’m sure Pat’s right behind me. I stop just before I reach the road, about one-quarter mile from the car. Joyfully breathing hard, I lean against a large snow-capped boulder and pull some dates and dried sour cherries from my pack.

I look back up the hill and don’t see Pat. As I relax, I feel the calmness and sense the glow. I figure he’ll be coming around the bend following in my snowshoe prints. Or he’ll be walking down the road carrying his equipment. No Pat. Could he somehow be stuck up on the trail? I sure hope not. I tell myself that most likely he’s OK. It’s been ten minutes and he’s not down yet. I’ll give it 5 more minutes, then go look for him.

Pat & Lucy Snowshoeing

Phew, he soon appears walking down the road. Looking comfuggled. Rather than step on the trail I carved, he’d ventured into the soft snow to etch his own way. That fluffy and soft snow. It didn’t hold him and he sunk almost up to his waist. This isn’t supposed to happen with snowshoes on. In fact, it cannot happen when wearing snowshoes.

Even though this could not happen, while I was resting on said boulder savoring sun, fresh air, cherries, and dates, my sweetheart was digging himself out of a big fluffy accidental snow hole. I suppose it’s good I wasn’t there. I would have thought he did it on purpose to amuse me. As he neared, he didn’t look amused.

His journey out of the snow hole wasn’t funny then. But it is today and will be tomorrow. On the drive back home we both smiled. Ah, sun, snow, fresh air, and snow holes.

Tale of the Christmas Tree

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My husband won the office raffle for an elaborate Christmas tree the company had purchased at the Festival of Trees. All porceeds go to Children’s Primary Hospital in Salt Lake.

Tree in Garage

It graced the 7th floor reception area and delighted everyone.

The artificial tree was thick with huge peach, gold, and auburn hand-painted and glittered glass balls, crystal points streaming from flocked and glittered silver leaves, and plenty of tiny white lights all wired onto – you’re not going to believe this – rebar. The kind they use to hold up concrete basements for construction. It didn’t take 2 guys to lift it – it took 3 or 4.

After the haulers delivered it to our garage, the tree stood solidly abandoned and well wrapped for nearly a year until Christmas-party season approached. Pat cleverly scheduled a poker night at our house. His buddies didn’t seem to mind hauling the tree from the garage around to the foyer after the requisite pre-card playing take-out dinner of barbeque ribs, coleslaw, and baked beans. The tree is 9 feet high, and wider at the base than the front door. The fellows only busted off a couple glass balls getting the tree in the front door.

Oh, but that tree was a wonder! Pat loved it. Our party guests oohed and awed. I don’t like the tree so much. The colors are too muted for my outgoing tastes. I consider it to be Pat’s tree. As the weeks went by, I grew to like it less and less. It was like a houseguest who overstayed his or her welcome. Christmas became Epiphany (Jan. 6) became NFL playoff season.

We couldn’t figure out how to get the tree back into the garage. We can’t remove the ornaments since they’re hard-wired on. We can’t pack it in a rolling tree bag, as the bulbs will break. The tree has to be carried out the front door basically as it is.

The freezing temperatures of early January iced up the streets and sidewalks. The tree was too large to take the stairs to the basement. Heck, we couldn’t even figure out how to wrap it for storage. Pat’s plans to find a big roll of that sticky saran wrap caused comic miscommunications.

On January 18 the tree bags I ordered finally arrive from Amazon.com. Pat climbed a ladder and lassoed the bag onto the top of the tree. The bag was tall enough to cover the tree, but not wide enough. With some real-time scissor cutting-and-pasting, the tree was covered. We only thought we had secured the bag to the tree with packing tape.

Pat put out a call for another poker game. Not enough guys could play. I’m biting back tears. I want my house back to normal. I want that tree out of my foyer. I figure the guys instinctively glean that moving the tree is part of the poker-game agenda and find better things to do.

The next Friday’s game is on. Getting down on my knees in prayer did the trick. Miraculously, Friday, January 25, is warm and the ice melts from the street and sidewalk. The guys move the tree. They only break off 3 or 4 bulbs. During the process of carrying the tree out the door stem first, the bag slowly peeled up the tree with each step they took. The tree now stands in the garage somewhat askew. The tree bag covers only the top 3 feet of the tree. Pat can’t pull it down as the branches and packing tape get in the way. I frantically caution my husband about the possibility of all sorts of creatures building nests over the summer in those gorgeous sturdy branches. Engine dust and car fumes could ruin it.

By February 1, Pat mentions he has a huge roll of industrial strength saran wrap coming any day. Fingers crossed it arrives before the nest-building creatures discover some new real estate in Pat’s tree.

The Snowshoe Swoon

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Star Flurry by Lucy Beale

Last Sunday, for the first time in my life, I swooned. We were 20 minutes into our weekly snowshoeing trek and I felt funny. I told Pat I needed to stop for a moment. Just standing still didn’t help. So I said, “I’ll sit down now.” Right on the side of the trail. I was thinking, “I wonder if I coming down with that flu stuff.” Pat was thinking, “I wonder if Lucy’s coming down with that flu stuff.”

I sat for 5 or 6 minutes, then stood and brushed off my snow pants. The swoon had ceased. Pat said, “Let’s go back down now.” I ‘shoed cautiously through the aspen grove and the pine forest, over the bridge and back to the car, feeling like a super outdoors-person failure. Swooning on the trail? It’s not, well, it’s not what folks around these parts do. I think they’d rather just throw up or whatever and then get on with the trek. But turn around? NEVER.

On the trail, I’d breathed my first fresh air of the week. Down in the valley, we have a January situation that the politicians call low-cloud cover. The rest of us call it heavy-deep-smog pollution. Pat’s and my weekly winter trek fills our lungs with fresh pure mountain air and lets our eyes see the bright REAL sun, which is very different than what shines from my light-box every morning next to my computer screen.

As I progressed to the car. I was not my perky self. I was afraid of what I might have. At the car I mix a packet of raspberry Emergen-C into a bottle of water . It contains all those important electrolytes and minerals. I’m hoping it’s good for me. Pat drives us down Little Cottonwood Canyon and in 15 minutes we arrive home.

I wait for something more to “happen.” We eat a little lunch, read a bit of the paper. Nothing’s wrong. I feel totally normal. The drama of the swoon faded away. I don’t come down with anything.

We have a great rest-of-our-day. We even go out to restock our pantry with “Costco” luxuries that have now become necessities before I hunker down with the Sunday New York Times Crossword puzzle. Relaxed and in a sense glad that I finally know what a swoon is all about. Not much for now.

Point Zero Painting

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Wild West by Lucy Beale

This process, Zero Point Painting, is designed to provoke pure creativity and bypass my vigilant critical artist self. In childlike mode, my brush paints all manner of oddities: spider ladies, a buccaneer pushing a skeleton overboard, a nun and priest tossing a pilgrim into the fire of the Inquisition. A child calls out from inside a bomb shelter. Crocodiles roam through frozen water. Leeches or fish entwine in primordial cells. The program creator, Michele Cassou, tells me to keep my brush moving. I ask how did all those paintings come out of me?

Lunchtime nears. I look around for the person I’d most like to lunch with. The tall serious blond with pinned up long hair says sure. At the corner health food grocery (this is San Francisco), we eat salad bar in cardboard take-out containers. She’s a chiropractor from Marin county. And in a couple weeks she’s on her way to Utah for a two-day session with a top-notch chiropractor. I pay close attention. This guy is worth 2-3 days of her time and I assume plenty of her money. And he lives in Utah! I jot his name in my iPhone.

Toward the end of keeping my brush moving for two days I’ve painted detritus from the rafters of my childhood attic, ridden into the depths of weird untested inner canyons, and returned unscathed. I have a dozen or so paintings to take home. (Patrick later said he was concerned that so many monsters appeared. I love those monsters.)

At the wrap-up session, some participants quote their favorite flower-child genre poems about transformation and risk. This is so California. I don’t recite mine. But I’ll share it with you. By Apollinaire,

Come to the edge, he said.
We are afraid, they said.
Come to the edge, he said.
They came.
He pushed them.
And they flew.

Secret Fudge

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: Lucy Beale

Secret 10-minute fudge. Sshhh!. DO NOT share this. It’s our secret. Try this super delicious fudge for your family, for guests, for potlucks, and for hostess gifts. No one will believe it’s so utterly simple to make, and so elegant to eat.

[1/4] cup real butter
2 rounded cups chocolate chips, or cut-up chocolate. Use dark, bittersweet, or milk.
1 tsp. vanilla extract
[1/4] tsp. salt
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1 cup walnuts or pecans, optional

Melt the butter in a saucepan over low heat. Place the chips in the pan and turn off the stove. Stir to melt the chocolate. Add vanilla and salt. Remove from burner. Stir in sweetened condensed milk. Add nuts. Spoon into 9×9-inch baking pan lined with aluminum foil. That’s all. Let it cool a bit.

Another secret: there are lots of enticing variations:

Peppermint fudge: omit nuts and top with crushed peppermint sticks.
Penuche: substitute butterscotch chips for chocolate pieces. The fudge will be softer, but oh, so delicious. Add pecans.
White fudge: use white chocolate chips. Add pecans, or flaked coconut. Or both.
Sea Salt: Sprinkle tops with large grains of sea salt.
Toffee: Top fudge with toffee chips.
Cocoa nibs: Sprinkle top with cocoa nibs. Warn guests they could be very crunchy.
Fruit and/or nut: add chopped dried cherries, apricots, cranberries, raisins to batter.
Orange: add candied orange peel to batter.
Ginger: add chopped candied ginger to batter.
Other possibilities: top with toasted sesame seeds, serve with a dab of wasabi, serve with jam or chutney. Use as a layer between two cookies.
More possibilities: use your imagination.

My Best Friend

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My best friend Heather’s husband, Quinn, thinks I’m a bad influence on her. My husband thinks I am, too. I consider that a compliment, you guys. It’s about time I badly influence something. So there – Catholic school upbringing!

Blowing in the Wind – woven watercolor

Heather and I are thick in a simpatico kind of way. If she says it looks good on me, I go ahead and buy it. And vice verse. We feel things the same way. I attribute this to astrology: We each have 7 planets in the same signs. Otherwise, we are polar opposites. I workout almost every day. Occasionally Heather is a drag along to my Pilates classes. I thrive on healthful foods, fresh veggies, fruit, fish, roasted meats, and purified water. Heather has a healthy appetite for pastas, breads, cheeses, creamy soups, and purified water. She draws the line at dark chocolate, though she loves my cookies. She works about 25 hours a week from home, I write from home when a book contract finds its way to my in-box. Then I write non-stop for 3 months.

Her bustling home contains said husband, two full-grown adult children, sometimes an aging father, 2 dogs, 2 birds, and 5 or 6 televisions. Patrick and I rumble through our home by ourselves, our children live out-of-Utah, we don’t own a TV, and our only animal was a recently dead and flushed guppy. Our home is usually serene and non-confusing.

Heather & Lucy in Sedona

Heather and I like to go on girlfriend trips. One summer we spent a week at art class in Vermont, another at art class in Sedona, and on yet another, 4 days in Vail. Although, Vail WAS a working vacation and cost each of us only $100. (We stayed at a timeshare, gas was $85 and we shared meals at fine and some not-so-fine restaurants. Clothes were extra.) Every evening, we huddled over her laptop converting paper accounting trails into the miracle of Quicken. In Sedona we drove around for an afternoon trying to locate a cow skull for Heather’s daughter. At the magnificent rock formations and vortices in Sedona, we felt the energy and wisdom of the ancients. Woo-woo. We are nutty, but we draw the line at batty.

Heather has one thing I want that I can’t buy. She has a grandchild – Nellie. I have even tried bribing our three sons. In the past, my husband and I have treated them plus wives to cool vacations. They ho-hummed and yawned while touring the Vatican, the Acropolis, and Pompeii, but savored the opportunity to learn to party in a new language at night. They hinted they preferred the beach to the ancient wonders of the Mediterranean.

So I said to Christopher, “Your Dad and I are thinking of taking ya’ll on a beach vacation.” His eyes lit up. I continued, “Once we have a couple toddlers around to enjoy it with.”

Speaking for all concerned parties, he said, “Lucy, it ain’t gonna happen.” Meaning I’ll have to stay jealous and borrow neighborhood kids to take to the zoo. (I’m still hoping.)

Heather and I are contemplating our next trip: a 10-day art class in Sicily for September. Both our husbands agree, “It ain’t gonna happen.” (I’m still hoping.)

Perfect Blonde Brownies

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Perfectly satisfying blonde brownies. Yum. I’ve never found a great recipe for these, so I decided to create one. I’m so excited -they are wonderful. Dinner guests can’t get enough. They request take-home boxes. They eat crumbs from the dish. I haven’t noticed anyone lick their plate yet, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.

Lucy’s Blond Brownies are crunchy on the top yet chewy inside. The ingredients tantalize all of one’s taste buds, bitter chocolate, sour dried cherries, sugar for sweetness, salt, an egg and garbanzo bean flour for umami – the protein taste. I didn’t use that all-time tummy thickener – wheat, and instead use oatmeal for health, walnuts for crunch, flavor, and omega-3 essential fatty acids. These brownies are tongue, health, and dinner guest pleasers.

Bake them in an edge brownie pan that looks like this: it’s a super clever design that assures each brownie has at least two crusty edges.

Preheat oven to 360 degrees. (I live at 4700 feet altitude. If you live in lower lands, you may need to lower your oven to 350 degrees.)

[2/3] cup real butter
[1/2] cup dark brown sugar
[1/2] cup sugar
1 egg
1 TB. vanilla extract
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats (if you need to avoid gluten, substitute 1 cup almond flour)
2 TB. bran, either oat, corn, or wheat
2 TB. garbanzo bean flour
[1/2] tsp. salt
1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips
[3/4] cup dried tart (or sour) cherries
1 cup walnuts (I like mine in large pieces)

Cream butter and sugar, add egg and vanilla. Stir in oatmeal, bran, and bean flour. If the batter is too runny, add another tablespoon of bran and/or bean flour. Gently stir in chocolate chips, cherries, and walnuts.

Spread batter in a buttered or oiled “edge brownie pan”. Bake for 25-30 minutes. (If you live closer to sea level, your baking time could be shorter – 20-25 minutes.) When done, the top should be lightly browned with the brownies beginning to separate from the sides of the pan.

When mostly cool, eat deliciously and slowly so you can sense all the gustatory delights of these winners. They are so appealing that I strictly limit myself to one largish 2×2-inch square a day after my evening meal. Or maybe two.

Yoga by the Bay

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Whoa! Everyone in the hotel is dressed in odd clothes. NOT in the San Francisco flower-child hippie look or in elegant opera duds. They’re dressed for a Yoga Convention – lycra/spandex tights and bare little tank tops, toting rolled-up yoga mats. They all have cute butts. The kind we all covet. Isn’t this why we do yoga and Pilates? This aspect of a yoga body may not be the ohm of the universe, but it’s good to know that yoga offers so many benefits.

On Saturday afternoon, I hurry back from art class. Something tells me a TREASURE is awaiting me at the yoga exhibition hall. I embark on my search.

Ohm Concert

I sit upon meditation pillows called zafus. Too heavy to haul home, but since Pat and I are studying meditation, it would make a good free-shipping purchase from Amazon.

I always stop by jewelry booths. This jewelry will give me high chi. It can clear any bad mood or negative energy with a magic (very expensive) gold or silver charm worn on my left wrist. Only a thousand or so. How many would I like? If only it were that easy.

I sniff essential oils, but I’m already onto this TREASURE. I clean my house with them, use them in my homemade skin oil (sea buckthorn berry, sandalwood, and lavender in a base of jojoba oil), put drops in my bath water (clary sage and cedarwood), and overall think they’re wonderful.

I sample green drinks (I love mine for balanced energy) and herbal teas (I’m already a believer.)

Yoga Wrap

And then I find the TREASURE I NEED. A Yoga Wrap. It’s a cleverly made wrap covering a foot-long round foam cushion about 2 1/2 inches in diameter. The wrap attaches to the back of a chair. The middle of my spine is lightly leaning on the yoga wrap as I write this and it truly does reduce computer sitting fatigue and corrects that hunched over posture. Relaxes my shoulders, too. Lightweight and it fits into my suitcase. Looks a bit weird on my desk chair, but hey, this whole exhibit is truly out of the ordinary. It has a mystical quality. I was definitely in San Francisco and not in Utah.

I elevate to the lobby and order a Crab Louis salad to take to my room. I’m gleed up at the unusual sights and wonders I’ve seen on my TREASURE hunt. And pleased as ohm that the restaurant doesn’t add slices of irresistible sour dough bread to my to-go box. I’m eschewing wheat and starches for a week to see if it affects my allergy level, mood level, or creaking joints and tight muscles. It’s too early to tell. But I’ll keep you posted.