Refresh Your Creativity At Lunch

I tend to have "my regular" order at every lunch spot near my office: a veggie plate at the K&W cafeteria, a calzone at Vic's, a veggie-on-sunflower sandwich at Logan's, the tunafish at the snack bar at the Federal Building next door, etc.

While I do enjoy these little traditions, it's nice to startle the senses occasionally with something new. So last week at the Museum of the American Indian in Washington, I ate at the cafe which serves only traditional Native American food, with different serving areas for different regional styles. For example, the Northern Woodlands area was offering cornmeal crusted frog legs, which appeared to be very popular (dish on right). The tamales (tamals, they were labeled) of the South American Indians were cooked and served in corn husks. The smoked squash and raisin dish was excellent. The pine nut and rosemary tart was terrific. There must have been 50 exotic-to-me items available that day. The cocoa guinea hen I will have next time.

This was a super-refresher of the tastebuds. But I find that simply eating something different at the local beanery is enough to give me a slightly new view of the possibilities in life.


If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Adding a Flourish

I like the idea of making activities and places interesting that don't "have to be." For example, our culture pretty much expects us to tack up something appealing on our walls. But we're off the hook when it comes to decorating ceilings. Here are some particularly noteworthy ceilings I saw in D.C. last week.

The first two of these are both at the Museum of the American Indian; the other two are Union (train) Station and the oddly shaped ceiling of my funky old hotel room near George Washington U. Of these two last you can probably tell which is which.

I once shared a house with a woman who decorated the walls and ceiling of her bedroom with floral sheets. On the walls the fabric was tacked down smooth like wall paper. For the ceiling, she attached only the corners of the additional sheets and left them loose enough that the centers billowed and swooped downward a couple of feet. She was an art professor at Meredith College. Her room was otherworldly.





If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

My (Upcoming) Year of Cutting Loose

My New Year's Decision of three days ago is bearing its first startling fruit.

That resolve, you may recall, is to follow the will of God.

Just now at my dentist's office I felt an intimation of what that will is for me today. I was breathing nitrous when I sensed this, so you may find the guidance suspect, but I don't.

First a bit of background that regular readers likely already know: I have what I ever refer to as "a touch of OCD," or obsessive compulsive disorder. It's not the hand-washing kind that is the most well-known. I'm mainly what's called a pure obsessive, and my specialty is (has been) scrupulosity: anxiety about the possibility of doing something wrong. I worry about accidentally poisoning or infecting people, burning their buildings down, or worst of all: saying the wrong thing.

I have also, for years, literally "kept tabs on myself" in a niggling guilt-ridden manner that would make Dicken's Uriah Heep look like a benevolent god. My personal ledger sheet, always in my pocketbook, tracks how much time I've spent on every project this week and how much exercise of what sort and how much I've read French and how much I'm behind on everything, etc. And there are rewards and penalties attached. Enough said.

This afternoon in the dental chair when I sucked in some anxiety-relieving gas and, for a change, relaxed, here's what God-within-me had to say:

Toss the Ledger Book.

Did you hear that satisfying ripping sound when I paused after typing the foregoing sentence? That was the end of the ledger; its shreds are in the recycling bin.

There was a second part to the wisdom I received, and it arrived in the words of Jamie Foxx when he accepted his Oscar for best actor in the movie Ray. I'm spelling his line the way I heard it, the way he made a point of pronouncing it, in the Southern accent of his youth and mine. Foxx quoted his grandmother whom he credited with teaching him to act. She told him:

"'Ack like you got some sense.'"

This is my new plan. Instead of tracking myself, I'll make reasonable choices in the moment and hope for the best.

This is pretty much what I reported my therapist advising me a couple of months ago. He said get rid of your superego, your values will guide you. Since then I'd been feeling a significant falling-away of the weird charge attached to my "requirements."

Now I've tossed them. Not just for the day, but at least for the year. Even if I get quite nervous about this a few days or weeks from now, I will stay unfettered and unledgered at least until the end of 2008. Then I'll see if I've become someone who misses deadlines, has weak core muscles, and a dwindling grasp of French. Or if,on the other hand, something interesting and peaceful emerges. I have great hopes for this. (At the same time, I do mean to continue taking my medication.)

If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.