Speaking of oranges ....

Suppose you selected a nice bright orange from the stand at the farmer's market.  When you cut it open, you'd expect to see juicy orange sections inside?  You might wonder if it would be sweet or sour, but otherwise, you'd feel pretty confident about what you'd see.

Even if you had never seen an orange inside, the match between the outside and inside would make it a pretty un-surprising experience. A no-brainer, so to speak.

Now take the kiwi.  Its fuzzy, rough, exterior gives no hint of the sweet, juicy, bright green interior.  Someone seeing a kiwi cut open for the very first time would be understandably surprised. But we're all kiwi sophisticates here, right?  We know about the secret green interior, so we're not fooled at all. We have experienced kiwis before. It may have taken a few times, but we're ready for it now.

Now suppose for a moment, that you went to that farmer's market, and you selected a big orange.  And you cut it open, only to find that instead of the orange segments, there was a soft green interior.   A kiwi center in an orange wrapper. Even a sophisticated, in-the-know kiwi pro would be shocked at this point, right?

I was thinking about oranges and kiwis after I stopped for a snack at a neighborhood fast food place the other day.  Ahead of me, heading for the entrance door was a young man wearing what most people would consider gang or street attire.  His pants were half way down his behind, with his underwear showing.  The hat, shoes, shirt and jewelry were all what we have come to expect from young men in what are called "economically challenged" neighborhoods if we're PC or "slums" if we're not. And truth be told, the neighborhood where I had stopped would fit either description. 

As I approached the door behind this young man, he stopped, waited for me, and held open the door.  I thanked him, and he replied "You're welcome, ma'am" and smiled. 

And that got me thinking.  

If I was to look at this young man like the orange, I would have expected his insides to resemble his outside.  I might even have been afraid or at least nervous when he stopped just ahead of me, expecting an action to match his attire and his surroundings. Many people are afraid to stop in or even drive through poorer neighborhoods, because they are absolutely sure the inside and outside are the same. 

If I knew the young man, over time I would have learned something about him.  And based on those experiences, I might have understood that the exterior concealed something entirely different inside. I might have, like the kiwi-experienced, known what to expect. 

But this was something entirely different.  This was the orange outside, with a surprising kiwi inside. And it was wonderful because it snapped me out of my complaisance. 

So now I'm wondering... how often do we act on the basis of our orange or kiwi experiences -- believing we know what's inside. And how often are we wrong, but don't stick around long enough to find out? 

I'm not sure it's even possible, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we could approach each exterior, whether it's a person or an experience or a challenge without being so darn sure we know what's inside?  If we could suspend our judgement, even for just a minute, and wait to see for ourselves with fresh eyes. 

Bloggers, a weekend and a wonderful lunch

This past weekend I went to a bloggers conference in Miami Beach (for those of you who might think this involved lots of travel, getting there consisted of a 23 mile drive each way.  Yes, I am blessed!)

At the conference I met some amazing people who are leading the way in blogging, online marketing, and community-building.  I have PAGES and PAGES of notes to go through, all filled with great ideas for making blogs, websites and social sites better, more appealing and more useful.  I have a stack of business cards to look at and wonderful women to connect with over the next few weeks.

One of the most inspiring speakers was Guy Kawasaki, who used his new book "Enchantment" to offer ideas on making a business truly speak to its customers.  He even gave out copies of his book (thank you Citrix for sponsoring that bonus!), so we could continue the conversation after the conference ended.

 It's amazing what a difference it makes to spend time with other people who are sharing a part of your path.  Talking with these women (it was a women's blogging conference, by the way, although there were a few brave men who defied the label and shared the event.  Bravo to them!) reminded me of goals I'd pushed aside or forgotten, opened my eyes to new possibilities for both my personal and company blogs and social sites, and inspired me to step outside the box and try some new tools and techniques.

It's that way in so much of life, I think.  We sometimes get so caught up in our own view of a project or a life event or even a spiritual practice that we forget that there are others out there traveling that same road.  A few days -- or even just a few hours -- with our fellow travelers can do wonders for opening up new possibilities.  Sometimes it even reminds you why you started on that path to begin with...a fact that can be easy to forget amid the details and struggles of any journey.

One more thing....I have seldom (maybe never?) endorsed a business on this blog, but I have to make an exception for the restaurant where I had lunch on Saturday.  Pasha, a delicious healthy Mediterranean cafe on Lincoln Road was one of the most delicious places I have ever tried.  I ordered a lentil yani (stew), and was presented with a bowl of fragrant, delicately seasoned vegetable and lentil stew, accompanied with perfectly cooked basmati rice.  I also ordered a side of hummus, and was delighted with the hot, puffy fresh pita bread that came with it. The only negative was when I asked for a refill on my iced tea, and then discovered that I had been changed another $2.00 for it -- and it was 90% ice.  Uncool, especially on a hot Florida afternoon!

But iced tea issue aside, I sat there, at a shady table under the palm trees, and ate incredible food, browsed through a magazine, and thanked my lucky stars for all of it.  The conference, the food, the weather, the setting...it just doesn't get any better than this.

The dance of every day life

I was leaving Panera this morning, my glass of half-iced-tea-and-half-seltzer in hand (yes, it is strange, I know!), when someone in front of me held the door for just an instant until I could reach out at hold it myself.  A common gesture.  One we do, or experience every day.

But today, the movement and the grace of that single act caught my eye.  Un -choreographed, unplanned.  It was a pas de deux between two strangers, but in its own way, as elegant and graceful as a moment in any ballet.

That instant, I realized that there is a dance of every day life.

I started to think about other examples....the cars moving among one another on the highway.  The way a family works together in the kitchen moving around one another, as they prepare dinner or do the washing up.  We move in and out, step around, turn and reach.  There is a beauty in that interaction, that interweaving of motion that we (or at least I) have missed until now.

When you go about your day tomorrow, pay attention to the dance.  It's there.  Notice the effortless way in which we move around one another, the ways our movements connect and separate.

See the dance.

Oh no, a Nook is NOT the same as a REAL book!

Call me a ludite.  Say I'm hanging on to the past.  But I will not give up my old-fashioned, paper and print books.


I looked at the Nook with my 13 year old the other day... 

She went on and on about how wonderful it would be.  I thought about how I couldn't risk tossing it in the beach bag along with my sunscreen, a still -slightly sandy towel and a cold water bottle.

She talked about how great it would be to be able to put so many books on one reader.  I thought about how it would be impossible for those "books" to ever acquire that wonderful "old book smell" that makes used bookstores so enticing.

She showed me how she could change the font and the amount of back light.  I thought about how it would mean the end of stumbling upon that old once-upon-a-time favourite book that got wedged in the back of the bookshelf, and just begs you to put your feet up and re-read a book that feels like an old friend...again.

She showed me how she can even go on Facebook, right from the Nook.  But all I could think about was how a good book, a glass of lemonade and a long summer afternoon alone under a tree would never be the same if you had to worry about the charge on your "book's" battery running out.

I am not a computer novice, nor an Internet neophyte. My career is online.  I use every social network there is, and some that are still in Beta releases.  I write, code and link for hours every day.

But when it comes time to read the latest mystery by my favourite author, give me a paperback, a patch of grass on which to stretch out, and a cool drink close at hand.

In the end, we left the bookstore without a Nook.  Our family will have to remain Nook-less for awhile longer.  But we did have 3 new, REAL paper and print books. I have held off the electron tide for another day...happily.

The end of year one. The start of something deeper.

My husband and I are coming to the end of our first year of marriage (although we've decided to continue to calling ourselves newlyweds indefinitely!  It's just too much fun to give up!)

We have not had the typical first year of marriage.  Instead of just two of us, my new husband went from a lifetime of being single to suddenly having a wife...and kids...and a dog...and two cats. And then there are the scrapbook supplies and the books...Especially the books (Hi, I'm Lindsay, and I'm a biblioholic...) I know he didn't count on the books! (Although to be fair, if he had just counted the bookcases in my old place before we got married....)

The economy and jobs meant that we didn't go from the wedding to a honeymoon.  In fact, we are still waiting for that...maybe later this year.   And then in January, my husband had to move to another state to take a job so we are temporarily living in separate states and only see each other for about one weekend a month.  THAT sucks...seriously.

In other ways, we are typical.  We've spent time this year getting to know what it's like to live with each other.  We've started learning how to meet each other needs, and balance that with our own wants and needs.

We've negotiated the important issues like how to load glasses in the dishwasher, and exactly how long it really takes to get everyone out the door and into the van.  We've talked about the house we want, the trips we hope to take, and the things we want to do together in the years ahead. And it has been getting better and better all year.

But the other day, something big happened.  

My husband is home for one of our all-too-brief visits, and we were talking.  The subject doesn't matter.  But I was so certain I was just plain correct about something.  You know that feeling, right?  You are just absolutely sure that you have all the facts lined up, and that there is NO WAY you could be wrong.  Yeah.

And then he started to talk about the subject from his point of view  And I was stunned into silence.  I heard the words, but I heard something else that meant so much more....I HEARD his love.  The subject wasn't love.  But the words were.  The ideas he was sharing came from a place of love.  His ideas were different than mine to start.  And then he brought in what I had been saying, and pointed out how we were BOTH right.  And BOTH wrong.  Suddenly, being right didn't matter at all.

At that moment, when I sat there listening to his words, and the meaning behind them, the love I felt grew infinitely deeper. I actually felt the the connection between us strengthen.

In that moment, my love for him went from what I THOUGHT was a lot to something I never even imagined.  

Something so small...the discussion wasn't about anything life-shattering.  Something so big...the words my husband lovingly chose shifted everything so dramatically.

Monday will be our First Wedding Anniversary.  But you know what?  I already got the very best gift.

Texture...close up

Barbed wire, Odessa , Texas 

I LOVE texture...I love surfaces that show something about their age, or their experience with the elements.

Fishing net and sea shells, Fort Lauderdale, FL

I love things that have different textures, the smooth, with the rough, the natural with the man-made, like the net and the sea shells...

....or when it's unexpected like this flower I spotted on the 200+ year old porch of an old Pennsylvania house.

Flower on the wooden porch of Rockford Plantation, Lancaster, PA

The cool, fluid contrast of rain drops on a metal chair was enough to make me reach for my camera, even if it means getting soaked and having to go back to work looking like a drowned rat....like I did when I took this shot.

Rain-adorned chair, Sunrise, FL

I know, there are some who appreciate the pristine smoothness of a modern table top, or a Scandinavian dresser.  But for me, it's the surface that begs to be touched, to be experienced with my fingertips...or my camera...that gets me to stop and look.

How about you?  Textured or smooth?  New or old?  Freshly minted, or well-aged?

Pink memories of a baby doll -- and a lesson

I am camera-less for now, so my Pink Saturday post has to rely on words and other people's images.  But the memories are all mine.

I was thinking the other day about a doll I used to carry around with me, a pretty little doll with a pink outfit I loved...Baby Cuddles.  (I'm amazed that I actually found a picture of her online!)

Lots of little girls have memories of a special doll that they loved.  But this was different.

Cuddles taught me a lesson I've never forgotten...you see, I really wanted that doll.

I REALLY wanted that doll.

And then a few days before my third birthday, I saw a box on the dining room table that looked like the doll box (At almost 3, I couldn't yet read the cursive writing on the box, but I remember it looked as pink and pretty as the doll box in the store) ... and so I peeked.  I lifted up the bottom corner of the box, and looked inside. It was the doll!

But instead of feeling good, I felt awful!  At 3, I knew I had cheated, and on my birthday morning when I had to pretend to be surprised, I felt even worse. 

I had the exact doll I had wanted, but my peeking had stolen some of the joy.  I loved that doll (I still have her, in our storage for now) -- but I never forgot the lesson.  On that spring day, I learned that some things are better left for the right time and place. And over and over, throughout my life, I've stopped myself from "looking ahead" or trying things that were best left for later...all because of Cuddles.

It's funny how a small event early in life can teach us so much.  I've met so many people who have equally memorable -- and meaningful -- early memories.Events or words that shaped them for years after.

But this was such a little thing.

If it was a major event, I could understand the lasting impact.  But this was small.  And my parents never knew, so there was no punishment or scolding to make worse. So how could that small action have so much impact?

Maybe it's because we are a tabula rasa at that point, and in our uncluttered state, the little things mean more. Or maybe it's because we are still so fresh from G-d, and open to the lessons.

What lessons from childhood have you kept in your heart?

Happy Pink Saturday!