Life is Sweet

What makes you happy?

Watching the whales?

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A garden with trees and flowers?

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Going to a concert?

Seeing a Mariner’s game (especially when they win)?

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The Seahawks in the Super Bowl?

Celebrating an anniversary? (Our 36th is coming up in May)

Spending time with family and friends?

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Your doggie?

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A beautiful sunrise/sunset?

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A walk on the beach?

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Counting on a friend?

A hike in the mountains?

 

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If you’re like me, the list of what makes you happy just goes on and on. Life presents us with problems for sure, but it also surprises us with some wonderful gifts too. It’s important to be thankful for all of it. So today I’m going to be happy because of all the seemingly small things that give me joy. Life is so sweet.

 

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Make a Splash

 

 

Take each day by the scruff of the neck, throw it to the winds, and make a splash! Whatever happens, happens.

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As I learn and grow I realize that I can take on more of what life has to offer, and make it into more of what my dreams are made of.

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Lately I’ve been asking myself, “Why not work on appreciating all that you have?”

It’s a good day? Great! It’s a bad day? Fix it. And if I’m blessed, there will be another day coming. One that has nothing in it yet. Think I should just make a splash!

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I want to be better at making each day what I want it to be. Even when I have tasks that aren’t that much fun and can even be considered downright awful, there is more to any day I’m given to make into something better.

 

I’ll set aside some time for the not-so-fun stuff and give myself the rest of the day to experience joy–in whatever form that is for me. Reading? Doodling? Sewing? Camping? Walking on the beach with my dog? Body surfing? Making dinner to share with friends? Writing? Oh, and there is always napping!

 

I love my options.

 

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Okay…let’s let the day begin. I’m alive, alert, awake, joyous, and enthusiastic about life!

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All the photos are from 9 Palms on the East Cape, about a 3-hour drive from our home.

Life can certainly be good.

Willpower

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April 2015 marks my 36th year of sobriety. You could say that demonstrates that I have pretty darn good willpower. And certainly I do as far as staying away from alcohol. But life presents me with many other temptations for which I could improve my willpower.

 

 

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Who among us can resist a piece of chocolate?

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The so-called health experts even suggest that chocolate may be good for us. Great news! But they aren’t talking about eating a lot of chocolate (darn); think moderation. In fact, moderation is the key for many things. How are you doing with that? I vacillate with the whole moderation thing. I need more willpower.

 

habits of thought

If you’re like me you have good and bad days. Maybe even a little of the in-between, right?

 

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Here’s what I want: To experience more good days, when I have sufficient willpower to take better care of my mind and body. I’m after more balance.

Recently I have been doing some reading and have come up with a few ideas for myself. If you’d like to join me, that’s great. Maybe you already have lots of willpower and you don’t need anymore ideas. That’s great too. I guess you could stop reading at this point.

 

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Four areas where I’m starting in order to gain more willpower:

  • Meditation daily
  • Exercise smarter
  • Sufficient sleep: Some experts suggest seven hours of sleep, and to include a one-hour daily nap.
  • Chunking–take big tasks, goals, dreams, etc., and chunk them into manageable pieces.

You’re probably thinking this is all merely common sense. Certainly it is, but even so, how much of this do you incorporate into your life? I’m pretty good at exercising everyday because I have a dog that loves to run on the beach at least twice a day. I have to admit I did a lot more exercise in my former life: in the gym when I lived in Washington.

Daily exercise is a good habit, everyone knows that. But it has to fit in one’s life plan, and that means sticking to a goal of actually doing it. This is where good ol’ willpower fits in.

Sometimes we get lazy, but more importantly we aren’t making our own health and well-being a priority. But even when I went to the gym everyday, I wasn’t as fit and happy as I am today. I’m no expert, but my educated guess is that I fell prey to the demon that’s known as STRESS. Most of that came from my work. Even though I loved being a teacher, there are many things about that profession that caused me great stress.

 

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But back to the present: I’m getting older and it is even more important than ever to use my willpower to make sure I stay as healthy and happy as possible. This is where I feel meditation can have the most impact in the quickest and most satisfying way.

There’s only one way to say it: I am a novice when it comes to meditation. In my researching that I did online (love the internet), I found a site that is helping me; it’s called HEADSPACE. I signed up for a ten-day trial, and I am on day two. I’ve been guided in meditation for 10 minutes a day (for two days of my ten so far) and it’s FABULOUS. Ten minutes is do-able. I don’t know if I’ll sign up to continue once my free trial is over, but at this point I am impressed.

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I am encouraged that I will finally learn how to meditate and the even better news is that I can be comfortable while doing it. I can sit in a chair to meditate, instead of trying to sit like a pretzel on the floor. Maybe you don’t have a problem with sitting on the floor in an uncomfortable pose, but I do. Maybe that’s why I avoided meditation for so long.

 

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Life is good, even when it’s not.

While I’m still here, I’m going to work on getting better, instead of letting myself down.

It’s going to take willpower, and I’m going to garner more of it. Join me?

 

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Heat

Dedicated to women of a certain age and those who wish to understand them.

 

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I remember with shame the weakness of my first attempt to embrace my victim. In the beginning, my pitiful gift of heat came as merely a rush of energy — almost a pleasure to her. The failure to cause her proper torment showed my weakness.

On my second go, I resolved to make her miserable. Determination brought forth my strength—bit by bit, and with practice I had my victory! Pride filled me when finally my blast incinerated her.

Since then, always somewhere in the middle of her chest I take hold. I hunker down for a while gaining strength. She feels the flame of my evil intent. I know she does, because she fidgets, pulling at her clothes. It is her feeble attempt to get some air movement between her skin and her garments. My vehemence occupies all of her—tissue, muscles, veins, cells, and best of all, her confused, unhappy mind.

I move faster and farther, invading her arms, shoulders and neck before flushing to fill her cheeks. Her ears turn red; she is engulfed, sensing nothing but the burn now. Next, I race from her upper body, pulsing down to her toes, before rising again to disrupt her brain. I bring wicked waves of heat and she knows not how to rid herself of me, her uninvited visitor, her bringer of change.

It gives me great joy to know the ride with me forces her to burn in a hell of my making. In her ear I hiss, “Nothing can stop me.” I laugh as her hair forms into ringlets. Drops fall from her face onto her white blouse. Drip. Drip.

She focuses every ounce of her resolve, longing for relief from my hot, tight grasp. Ha! She can’t get to the window for some sweet air or rip off her outer layer fast enough. She’s frantic. “Open the window for God’s sake. Where is the damn fan?” I do so relish the time we have together. Her body is my vessel; I am her furnace.

But it is enough for now. I am bored with her, though satisfied with how pathetic she looks flapping her fan, pulling at her clothes, soaking up hot sweat with a handkerchief. Her fever lessens as I release my grip, but I can’t resist jeering. I vow to occupy her again. Soon. How I cherish knowing she dreads my return.

For weeks, months, possibly years, she will suffer with anticipation of my inferno.

Does she realize how proud I am to be her beast of misery?

National Poetry Month

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In the USA, April is designated as National Poetry Month. Perfect. I think I’ll write a poem. This one is me talking to myself about my own poetry.

 

 

Your Poems

~

They’re not all good—your poems.

The earth won’t move in

a different direction

an upside-down message of

~

extraordinary news

come to save us from ourselves.

They’re not all bad—your poems.

They rest on pillows of ideas

~

ready to spring and cause

a commotion somewhere on

somebody’s front lawn

as the sun explodes in through

~

the crevices you didn’t know

even existed there.

Maybe they fall short—your poems,

of making other poets weep

~

or laugh or smile outwardly

at your ordinary rhymes and words

set down with pen on paper,

meant to please or even to 

~

enlighten a preacher—a teacher

a drunk—a seamstress.

Maybe if you scatter words like

pebbles in the sand and

~

send them out with some smooth 

jazzy sounds of a saxophone,

we may feel a little better then,

riding two inches off the ground.

 

Pirate Ships and Poems in Pescadero

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Some young Mexicans built this pirate ship at the beach at Los Cerritos. They rent surfboards here and live in it (and a tent) with their two sons, one is about four and the other about 6 months old. Who’s to say this isn’t the way to live? What a creative couple.

They even have a rooster and a chicken in a crate to provide a breakfast of eggs. There is a blanket over the chicken coop crate to keep the critters settled down at night, but that rooster wakes up early and crows for all to hear. Los Cerritos’s morning surfers will attest to this.

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I have a feeling the “ship” isn’t finished yet. But whose ship is ever finished?

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The “chicken coop” is off to the right in this photo.

 

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Close up side view

 

 

I got to thinking about how writing poetry is a personal thing like constructing pirate ships and choosing how to live. Maybe my poems aren’t all good, but on the other hand, maybe they just might do the trick (sometimes).

 

 

They’re not all good—your poems

the earth won’t move in

a different direction

an upside-down message of

extraordinary news

come to save us from ourselves.

They’re not all bad—your poems

they rest on pillows of ideas

ready to spring and cause

a commotion somewhere on

somebody’s front lawn

as the sun explodes in through

the crevices you didn’t know

even existed there.

Maybe they fall short—your poems

of making other poets weep

or laugh or smile outwardly

at your ordinary rhymes and words

set down with pen on paper

meant to please or even to 

enlighten a preacher—a teacher

a drunk—a seamstress.

Maybe if you scatter words like

pebbles in the sand and

send them out with some smooth 

jazzy sounds of a saxophone

we may learn to feel a little better 

riding two inches off the ground.

 

My Baja World: A Morning Walk in the Hills

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On some roads behind our house, Isabela and I take off for a morning walk. This time we are avoiding the beach because yesterday afternoon she had her flea and tick medicine applied. This means she can’t get wet for at least 24 hours.

As it turns out, a walk in the hills is just what we needed. Isabela loves to chase rabbits (conejos), and nothing I say can change her mind. What great control I have, huh? We encounter several of them this morning, and my pup is getting in lots of running.

 

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The clouds are beautiful and the farmer’s fields are lush and green.

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We encountered only one other person–a woman and her tiny dog–and all we heard was a little construction and lots of singing birds. Nice way to start the day for sure. We made a big loop and I got to see our house from on high.

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Our house is grey, so it blends in pretty well. It’s between the orange house and the last white one you see toward the point.

 

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We are truly blessed and enjoying our retirement. I’m lost in the fantasy of what I imagined it would be. Life is good.

Let’s Swim with Whale Sharks–La Paz, BCS

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Our captain, Israel, can maneuver without hands apparently!

March 11, 2015

Our excursion on this wonderful day was my husband’s idea. He knows how much I love to do things like this (even if I am a little bit of a chicken). I’m ecstatic when he suggests it and we went on a hunt for two more passengers for the boat. We settled on two of our adorable friends who have never met one another–Katie, a local surfer girl, and Blaze, our next door neighbor–both of whom are single. It wasn’t a set-up though, honest.

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Greg, Blaze (on the bow), me & Katie

Our guide was Paula, from the Todos Santos Surf Shop. She and Carlos own the store, are both surfers, and we know them to be super good people. Carlos had to work at the shop, but we are in good hands with Paula, who has a degree in marine biology, and has taken lots of people on this trip. See them at: https://www.facebook.com/explorabaja?fref=ts

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Paula, who is originally from Uruguay

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Say adios to La Paz, we’re heading for the whale sharks.

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The cormorants know the way as well.

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Both of these photos are from online, because I don’t have mine yet.

Our guide, Paula, took some with a go-pro, but she hasn’t sent them to me yet.

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First things first: I was a little nervous about getting in the water with these behemoths. I always experience a bit of anxiety the first five minutes I’m out snorkeling. I don’t have mucho experience, and it is a wee bit of a stretch for me. Throw in a GIGANTIC fish, and my adrenaline reaches its peak.

I am intellectually aware of the facts: these creatures are filter feeders. But the me, whose stomach is churning, is a little afraid of swimming with an animal that can reach 40 ft. in length and weigh up 20+ tons. Might they just like a retired teacher for breakfast? It doesn’t seem to matter to me that I am not plankton, which is this fish’s diet.

Soon I settle down, and though the visibility isn’t all that great, I can see them. And they can see me.

Can I just say, “Oh my God! What a thrill.”

Here are some facts from See the Wild Wildlife Conservation Travel. You can find them at http://www.seethewild.org/shark-facts

Whale sharks are the largest fish on the planet. These gentle giants are filter-feeders and are harmless to humans. The enormous whale shark, which can reach lengths of 40 feet or more, feeds on the tiniest of ocean organisms, plankton. 

Whale sharks are striking in their appearance not only for their size but also for their unique pattern of spots and bars covering its gray body.

More facts found at http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/fish/whale-shark/

The whale shark’s flattened head sports a blunt snout above its mouth with short barbels protruding from its nostrils. Its back and sides are gray to brown with white spots among pale vertical and horizontal stripes, and its belly is white. Its two dorsal fins are set rearward on its body, which ends in a large dual-lobbed caudal fin (or tail).


That was exhilarating, but we have other places to go. Off to a sweet, almost secluded spot to have lunch. But first, we swim with sea lions about 20 minutes from where we swam with the whale sharks. Now I honestly think I have died and gone to heaven. This is beyond a wonderful experience. I have been around sea lions my entire life, living in San Diego, CA and then in Western Washington, but I have never been in the water with them. These particular sea lions don’t mind people at all, which is not the case in the other places where I have encountered them, so I’ve never been swimming with them before.

I couldn’t get over how effortlessly they moved through the water, like a ballet. You can’t tell me they weren’t having fun while they are swimming with us. Maybe it’s just me projecting my own understanding of what it’s like, but I swear they were having fun, all the while showing off their water ballet skills. Fascinating to observe.

 

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 These guys were taking a nap.

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The sea lions share this spot with lots of birds.

After a satisfying swim with these guys, we headed to an almost deserted beach for a lunch.

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Put out the anchor, we’re going ashore!

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There we are, all set up on the whitest beach I’ve ever seen.

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Oh, not just any lunch. No. This was gourmet!

Ceviche and delicious burritos:

some with beans and cheese and some with beef, beans, and cheese.

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I’ve had a lot of ceviche, but this was the best I’ve ever had. I think it was the mango and pineapple addition to the raw fish, chopped tomatoes, onions, and cilantro.

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What would you like to drink?

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Complete with tablecloth!

We spent about an hour wandering around on shore before packing everything back into the boat and heading back to the marina.

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Blaze, me, and Greg

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This is the view once you climb up the white sand hill.

 

 

 

 

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I can mark this off my bucket list. I swam with the whale sharks and enjoyed a beautiful day with all sorts of creatures and some of my favorite people. What could be better?

El Pescadero, Baja California Sur

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El Pescadero as seen from the highway

Our little piece of paradise where we live is all we need on most days. Pescadero is a fishing and farming community with lots of ex-pats of the American and Canadian persuasion.

Most of us foreigners live closer to the beach, but the Mexicans have the right idea. They live inland where the pueblo action is, and they can walk to just about anywhere they need or want to go. We, on the other hand, have great views and proximity to the ocean, but the salt air is eating our house.

Who knew it would be so rusty around here. (Apparently I’m not the only thing that is getting rusty.) Daily I probably sweep more sand out of my house and from our cement walkways than most people see in a year. Okay, that’s hyperbole, but we do more cleaning and maintenance here than we ever did on Whidbey Island. Whew!  Retirement is not supposed to include so much manual labor, is it? But for the most part, it’s worth it.

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We get most of our produce from Fidel, who has a roadside stand in Pescadero. He’s the one in the sunglasses and stripped shirt. Fidel is a very cool guy and he knows his produce. I can pick out a cantaloupe and he will tell me when it will be ripe. He’s always right.

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Our pup, Isabela, loves the sweet potatoes.

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The farmers grow a lot of chili peppers and onions, but it is the basil that graces us with its heavenly scent. Hmmm. I’m walking on the beach in the morning and it wafts in from the nearby fields.

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Can you smell it too?

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This is Danito, one of our neighborhood farmers. His cherry tomatoes are to die for. He lets us have them for free. We get our eggs from his sister Bianca’s chickens.

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Another one of our friends, Pepe, brought me a basil start about 6 weeks ago. I had to harvest my plant this morning. It did so well I made enough pesto to last us two years.

I used almonds instead of pine nuts, as I don’t have any pine nuts. I added lots of garlic and parmesan cheese to the blender with the basil, olive oil and almonds–presto pesto!

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Here’s a dollop!

I cut a large roll in half lengthwise and slathered a heap of pesto onto it. Then I added tomato slices, avocado slices, and crowned all of that with cheese. Then I put the creation into the oven at 425 degrees F for 12 minutes. Oh my! So tasty. You ought to try it.

I would suggest some toasted sunflower seeds after the pesto, but I didn’t have any, so we had to do without. I know how good it is with them though, as my son and his wife made me this sandwich with sunflower seeds when I was visiting them in San Diego recently.

Stay tuned. I’ll have more pictures around El Pescadero soon. Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Failure is not a permanent condition.

Successful people know this.

Repeat after me: “Failure is not a permanent condition.”

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“Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.” – Winston Churchill

Celebrate and Sing Yourself (like Walt Whitman in “Song of Myself”)

Donsie's rose

When I was a teacher, I gave my high school juniors an assignment to make a collection of poems in different categories as a part of an introduction to a poetry unit. Two of the ten poems were to be original, and the rest they were required to gather from books by other authors. The students had to thoughtfully comment on each of the poems, including the two they wrote themselves. One of those original poems had to be a poem that celebrates who they are. This was to be a spin-off of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.”

It got me to thinking about celebrating and singing myself, and how many of my family and friends have inspired me and guided me to look for, and feel, the positive in life. I learned from them that we should celebrate ourselves regardless of what is happening in our lives…sometimes in spite of what is happening. No matter what the circumstances, no matter how easy or difficult the experiences, it is all worthy of celebration. Life is just life and life is good! I celebrate myself and sing myself.

The tune of my very own song is a joyful one, full of laughter and mystery. The people in my life surround me with love and I face my challenges with competence and confidence. I’m secure in the knowledge that failure holds the promise of true and pure learning. Oh yes! Lots of that!

I have a big, round life. Just when I think it’s going nowhere, it circles around and makes a satisfying a tie-in to its previous self. This is not a life that is going in circles though; it is a life full of valuable, interesting and sometimes happy connections.

Mine is certainly a life worthy of celebration. And in addition to the inspiration from family and friends, I owe a lot of my energy for perseverance to nature. Those palm trees and other plants that, not only survived the hurricane five months ago, but are going strong, growing new branches and hanging in there, are great mentors telling us, “Don’t let life’s storms get you down.” Consequently, I think it wise to stand with my shoulders back and my head held high. Why not greet each day with a happy dance? Gloom is for cowards. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. It’s easy to let difficulties get us down. The heroes are the ones who say, “Okay, bring it on! I can handle this.”

My father-in-law is a perfect example of this. He has stage 4 colon cancer and the doctors tell him to get his life in order, eat and drink anything he wants, and enjoy what’s left—six months to a year. I can only imagine how overwhelming and sad it must have been to hear this, but he is taking it in stride. What a great guy, to be thinking of others, especially his dear wife, and making arrangements for the inevitable. He says, “Well, if it weren’t to be this, it would be something else. I’m 84 and have lived a good life, and I’ll keep on living as best I can till it’s over.” His “what will be, will be” attitude is inspiring to friends and family. Bravo, Dad. You demonstrate real grace. You are my hero.

Somewhere inside each of us is a place we can retreat, be still, and listen to our own hearts. Then we can muster the necessary tools to dance with whatever life presents. Celebrate and Sing Yourself. Oh, and it might help to hold each other’s hands. What do you think?

 

Here’s the beginning of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
See the poem in its entirety at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174745

Baking a Red Velvet Cake in Baja

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As it turns out, baking a Red Velvet Cake in Baja presents a challenge for

Susie Homemaker.

The recipe calls for two cups of cake flour. Can’t find any around here or in Todos Santos. What is cake flour anyway? How does it differ from regular flour? I go to the best cookbook ever, The Joy of Cooking, for the answer.

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Apparently, cake flour is made of soft wheats with less expansive gluten. It is not making me happy when I find out that the flour I have is in no way going to give me the results I’m after. But hey! You do what you can, so I followed the substitution directions to use one cup, minus 2 tablespoons of flour to equal one cup of the real thing.

There is no buttermilk to be found around here either. The substitution for this is to use milk and add vinegar to it. Okay, I’ve used this before with satisfactory results. It is clear I will not be working for perfection here. 3/4 cup of buttermilk coming up.

Oh no! The recipe calls for three tablespoons of Dutch processed cocoa and all I have is Hershey’s (that I brought from the USA). I’m three for three.

The rest of the ingredients are in my pantry or refrigerator, so I’m going to give this a go and make the best of it. It’s only a cake after all.

Ingredients:

3 medium beets

3/4 cup unsalted butter

juice of one lemon

2 tsp. of white vinegar

1-1/8 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1-3/4 cup sugar

3 eggs

Rather than using a bottle of red food coloring (yuck), I am using three medium beets. Yep! That’s what I said. I roasted the beets yesterday and after they cooled, I peeled them and put them in the refrigerator.

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Beats are tasty, but I never thought of putting them in a cake. They have a pretty earthy flavor. Wow! These guys (the beets) are super red. Deep purple—almost. This reminds me of a rock band from Great Britain back in the 70s. I can’t name any of their hits, but I remember the group—Deep Purple, and that they played hard rock.

I hope my cake isn’t hard as a rock.

This cake is a challenge for me here in Baja. I do not have all the key ingredients, or a food processor, and I don’t have any round cake pans (or any cake pans at all). I will be substituting square pans that aren’t even the same size as each other. And I’ll be using a blender instead of a food processor. Oh well.

I will call this a Deep Purple Substitute for a Red Velvet Cake. It is making me happy to merely “go with the flow” like this. It shows that I’m not a perfectionist, which, if you know me, is not news. I have been known to be picky about some things, but I am not seeking perfection in anything. In fact, the older I get the more I tolerate imperfection in my life. I like that saying, “It is what it is.”

Lest you start believing I am a Polly Anna, I want to set the record straight: I used to be a Polly Anna, but no more. I have seen what evil lurks in the hearts of men (and women), and I am a realist now, or as close to that as I can get. You might say I am a recovering Polly Anna.

Enough of that. Let’s whip up this (substitute) cake. First, wash your hands. Prepare the cake pans (or whatever you’re using) and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Blend (because remember, I don’t have a food processor either) the beets, buttermilk (my substitute), juice of a lemon, vanilla, and (two more teaspoons) vinegar. Set this aside.

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Sift the dry ingredients and the cocoa into another bowl. That means I’ll be using two ingredients in this part that are posing as the real things—reg. flour and Hershey’s cocoa. This also means there is yet another bowl to wash.

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Beat the butter and sugar together and add the eggs one at a time, scraping the bowl between each addition of egg. This part is my favorite because it comes out so creamy and pretty. I like the sound of the beater fluffing everything up.

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You start with a little of the dry ingredients in the mixer, then add a little of the beet mixture and lastly the fluffy part: eggs, butter and sugar. After alternating like this, adding a little of each, you end with the dry ingredients.

Once it is all mixed together, you pour half into each of your cake pans (my two square pans that aren’t the same size). I put parchment paper in the pans first and the cake will be easy to remove this way.

parchment in pans

 

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Lovingly place these into the preheated oven and bake for 20 + or – minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. I had to bake mine for 30 minutes.

 

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These did not rise very well and the cake is spongy and dense, not crumbly, which is because I didn’t have cake flour I suppose. However, I am moving forward, letting the cake cool in the pans completely before frosting.

Cream cheese frosting is so decadent.

1/2 cup unsalted butter at room temp.

1 lb of cream cheese, also at room temp.

6 cups (I used 3) of powdered sugar (In Mexico they call it azucar glass.)

powdered sugar

1 1/2 tsp vanilla–here I am proud to say I have the real thing.

vanilla

Mexicans cook with real vainilla (Spanish spelling–pronounced vah ee nee’ ya) instead of that horrible bourbon vanilla from Costco I used when I lived in the States. Believe me, the difference is amazing.

After you cream the butter and cream cheese together, you add the vainilla and azucar glass. I used my mixer to do this and the icing is divine. Plenty of sugar even cut in half. Next time, however, I am going to use some lemon peel in it. I think it would be even better with the lemon flavor added.

 

frosted cake

 

My husband said that after all the trouble HE went through to get the powdered sugar (it isn’t easily found here), he wanted a piece of cake BEFORE dinner. Not a chance, Gregorio! You have to eat your dinner first: Shredded beef with horseradish sour cream, garlic mashers, cherry tomatoes, and picked beens and asparagus (thanks to our next door neighbor’s “Blaze’s pickled veggies.”) Not a tough thing for him to swallow, so he didn’t protest. I, however, do not eat meat, except fish, so I had left-over tequila lime sauce on fish, instead of beef. Yum. BTW, when you heat something with alcohol in it, you lose all the alcohol. Not to worry–I remain sober! (36 years in April)

*****

 

Here’s the cake with some pieces out of it. It’s pretty. It’s tasty, but I’m not as happy about it as I could be. It’s too dense (I relate) and I think it’s “the flour business,” plus the fact that I think I used too much of the blended beets. I was supposed to blend them first and measure out a cup. I didn’t do that. Shame on me. Because I just threw in all three medium beets with the rest of the liquid ingredients, I probably ended up with 2 cups of beets. That’s my guess. I also have a feeling that my baking powder is old. I bought it here in Mexico and it isn’t labeled with an expiration date that I can find.

cut cake

 

It’s definitely not the worst cake in the world, but it’s not the greatest one either. Will I make it again? Probably, but not for awhile. Maybe I’ll make one for Mom when I visit her in San Diego for her 99th birthday. She was born March 16, 1916. Wow! It will make a nice birthday cake with all the correct ingredients, and I’ll measure the beets next time.