Marti’s Biz Buzz – Oh! Chocolate

This week, we move from soap to chocolate and my favorite is Oh! Chocolate.  

Seattle locals have three locations to go to get a fix on some aMAZing chocolate confections – Mercer Island, Madison Park, and Bellevue Square Mall.  My daughter and I discovered Oh! Chocolate through a Groupon for a chocolate dipping class.  We immediately fell in love with the instructors who happen to be the grandsons of Oh!’s founder, Gertie Krautheim, who opened her first shop at the Mercer Island location some 50 years ago.

Whenever we walk into Oh! Chocolate we are greeted warmly and invited to  try samples – not just a smidge of a truffle that’s been cut into pieces – the whole truffle!  The staff – very often the grandsons or other extended family – take time helping you make your choices and wrapping packages bought for gifts.  Casual, friendly talk invites you to linger and as you reach for the door to leave, you’re already planning to come back.

One time when the Bell Square location was still setting up after a move within the mall, I popped in to scoop up a few boxed truffles for end-of-school teacher gifts. The gal working said they weren’t quite ready for  business yet, but on faith, she let me take several boxes AND still found sample truffles for us!  When I went back a week or so later to ante up, there was mild shock, followed by a huge smile, that I actually came back to pay.

This was awesome in itself, but just a wonderful life lesson for my pre-teen daughter to witness such open trust in this world and a stunning example of good business and why it’s important to continue to support it.

So it’s week two of the Biz Buzz and I’m still working on the pants image but that won’t stop me from giving Oh! Chocolate 5 Martipants.  

What Comes of Dreams

So what happens when we finally find the courage to make our dreams into reality, it happens, and then, it stops happening?   When universal forces flex their will and things must change course?

Honestly, I’m not writing this from a standpoint of being in that place – at least not on any grand scale.  I’m writing from a standpoint of a witness – a witness to the building of something magnificent, but seeming to end, at least in its current form, and change the form of the original dream.

I think the collective ‘we’ – the participants and the witnesses – are sad for the change of the form of the dream but in this initial mourning, we may be missing, or just momentarily forgetting, some of the absolute splendor of what the dream brought along the way. 

Often we see the form of our dream in the physical, solid state – the place, the people, the work.  We also feel the feelings of those solid states – the joy, the love, the bliss.  But what about the rest of that dream?  What about what else – so much else – that came to fruition because of the realization of that dream?

There may be countless new relationships with genuinely wonderful people who touch and invigorate our lives.  Connections to people we may never have met.  Growth in self, spirit, profession.  Cultures lived, foods experienced, languages learned.  All these riches gifted, but not without first a dream.

Because of a dream and a path chosen with heart, we are here.  And because of a path chosen with heart, the dream will go on.

Viva the dream.

Marti’s Biz Buzz

And now for something we hope you‘ll REALLY like… ~ Rocky & Bullwinkle

Okay readers, time for something new.  I love when I find a great business or talent and I always wonder how I can promote their work and bring attention to the goodness they’re putting into the world.  And DOH! I remembered - I have a blog!  And people actually read it!

So I’m introducing Marti’s Biz Buzz.  Mondays are usually kind of ho-hum and no one’s real stoked about saying good-bye to another weekend so I figured talking about something happy would bring a little lift to the day.

My first buzz goes to my favorite soap-maker, Rusty Beaushot, The Montana Soap Lady.  

So why are Rusty’s soaps THE BOMB?!  I don’t know how she does it, but she makes soaps with wonderful natural fragrances – unscented options are available too – and she uses the best oils for moisturizing the skin – coconut, olive, shea butter, castor, palm fruit, almond.

Not only have I been buying handmade soaps for years, but awhile back, I used to make my own too.  I’ve never come across any soap so emollient and long-lasting, that doesn’t dry out my skin with a rich, foamy lather.  I have even used it on my face where my skin is pretty sensitive and approaching an advanced age.  I’ve given her soaps as gifts and months later when people finally use the ‘special’ soap, I get comments like, “I LOVE THAT SOAP!”  and “I have to get more!”

Rusty’s a great gal – super friendly and very focused on customer service.  Visit her site and if there’s something you’re looking for but you don’t see it, drop her an email and ask.

For this first Biz Buzz, I’m giving Montana Soap Lady – drum roll please…

Alright, hold the drum roll.  I can’t get the images to do what I want.  Hopefully I’ll work out the kinks for next week’s edition so I can give a proper Martpants rating.  This week, Rusty gets 5 pants!

BLISSfully Awarded

Starting my Friday with a 6AM circuit-training workout was wonderful but I had no idea what kind of fabulous news was waiting for me when I got home and logged on to email.

Viva Institute announced it’s first Viva Bliss Awards recognizing bloggers who actively seek bliss in their lives and inspire others to do the same and to my utter surprise, Martipants made the first cut!

 

As part of the bliss, recipients are asked to answer the following questions.  So here goes:

• What color and flavor is Bliss? 

Hmmm, color for me, is ocean blue, but bliss has many flavors for me -dark chocolate, cold water, fresh cilantro, the salty-sweet taste of my husband’s skin.

• What is the most unexpected time or place that you found Bliss?

About two months ago, I started working out after a long hiatus.  It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but something I had to do because I didn’t want to keep gaining weight and feel out of shape.  I never thought I would come to LOVE working out let alone look forward with anticipation to it, but from my very first small-group personal training class, body completely spent, reaching for my inhaler, sweating from places I didn’t know had sweat glands, I FOUND BLISS!

• What’s your superhero name?

I’ve been given the name Captain Resilience by an awesome, inspiring resilient gal in her own right.  

So readers, what does bliss look like in your life?  Who inspires you toward blissful living?   Take a moment to share with us, but more importantly, I hope you’ll take a moment to tell that someone how you’re inspired by him/her.

Books, Beaches & BFFs

My favorite summer memories almost always include three things:  the beach, books, and my BFF, Michelle.  Michelle’s mom would take us to the book trader and we’d load up stacks of books, but no matter what, I never had enough money for all the books I wanted.

Come Saturday morning, Michelle’s mom dropped us off at the park-and-ride where we caught the 7AM shuttle to Island Beach State Park for the astounding bargain price of 50 cents -round trip!  We rode in a comfy Greyhound with air conditioning and sailed past the line of cars waiting to get into the park which was already filled and no more cars were permitted until some started leaving.

We’d lug a small cooler with drinks that started out cold but were warmer than soup by 10AM, and PB&J sandwiches that became soggy and crushed.  Sometimes we’d have a radio if we could scrounge up enough batteries,  and our beach bags with towels, maybe some Sun-In or plain lemon juice to streak our hair, Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil and books.

Michelle was a much faster reader than I was and she read more sophisticated material while I floundered in teen romance and young adult mysteries by Phyllis A. Whitney.  Remember her?  Some of you do!

We’d leave  in the afternoon, sticky from salt and tanning oil, and shiver on the ride back because that once wonderful air conditioning was now just a harbinger of the start to the burn-tan-peel process we did every week.

Friday morning, it was a balmy 43 degrees in Seattle, yet I’m daydreaming about summer.  And even though I probably won’t hit any white-hot sandy beaches, I’m always toting a bag with a notebook and a book – sometimes two.

This year, my summer benchmark is fairly low – more sun than we had last year.  For the reads, I’m starting the second book of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series for the take-me-away fictional escape.  For learning and exploring, I’m still deciding between a Phil Jackson read about his Zen practices and Malcolm Gladwell’s The Outliers.  If I’m diligent, I may finish both!

SPF 45 has replaced Hawaiian Tropic and if I’m packing music, at least I don’t have to worry about sketchy reception or dying batteries with the iPod.

The one thing I wish was the same is spending the day with Michelle.  With four kids and two time zones between us it’s a challenge but we’ll do it one of these days.

So tell me, what’s in your beach bag?  What are your reads for this summer?

The Secret of How

For two years, I’ve been wondering how am I going to survive the immigration process?  And I’ve spent a lot of mental energy trying to answer that question.

I’ve been blessed to meet some amazing people who have astounded me with their accomplishments.   I hear their stories and I shake my head in wonder and ask How do they do it?

My friend Helena has an aggressive form of cancer and she’s chosen to heal it through alternative therapies.  For the past 3 months, her wife, Leigh, has been getting up early enough to prepare coffee enemas to administer to Helena beginning at 5AM.  They also run a spiritual retreat center and a number of online classes and workshops that have continued throughout this time.

My husband, Jaidiby, an elite distance runner, has been training hard to qualify for the London Games, running on average, 40k per day.

Marisa, a personal trainer and fitness instructor, begins her classes at 6AM during the week, 7AM on Saturdays, and 10AM on Sundays.  And her days don’t end at 2 in the afternoon.  Oh no.  She teaches well into evenings too.

How do they do it?

I woke up this morning, after spending the evening with Marisa and other inspiring women, and the answer came to me.

After all the stress and worry about how am I going to pay all the bills, send money to my husband, take care of myself and my daughter,  I just realized I’ve BEEN doing it!  For 2 years, without fail.  Maybe through pain, tears, and fear and it took fair amounts of humor, prayer, tenuous faith, medication, therapy, liquid courage, and supportive friends – but I did it!

The secret to how is there is no how.  There is no secret.  You just do.  You set the alarm, it goes off, you get up, you go.

Starting now, today, I am not asking how anymore.  I’m just going to do and let the how answer itself.

The Depravity that is Rush Limbaugh

Like many Americans, I am disgusted by Rush Limbaugh’s denigrating comments last week towards Sandra Fluke who voiced her support for contraception to be covered as any other prescription under healthcare plans. But more troubling is the number of Americans who are not disgusted by those same comments.

Rush Limbaugh’s demand that Ms. Fluke – or any woman – who uses contraception covered by standard prescription benefits, to video herself engaging in sex and post the videos online - because there has to be something in it for him and his tax dollars - is not just outrageously wrong, it’s depraved.

 
This isn’t the first time Limbaugh has framed political issues into sexual context and it surely won’t be the last. His continued fixation with sex in political discussions and discourse – as a “conservative” – cannot continue to be seen as outspoken, entertaining firebrand rhetoric. It’s sick.

 
To those who voiced tepid displeasure over Limbaugh’s use of “slut” and “prostitute” with words like “unfortunate” and “inappropriate”, George Will summed it up best, “Using a salad fork for your entrée, that’s inappropriate.” Thank you, Mr. Will.

 
To every sponsor who hasn’t pulled advertising, every station who continues to air Limbaugh’s show, everyone who keeps tuning in to listen, I simply wonder, why?

Youth in Asia

My daughter’s been resisting my recent efforts to build her vocabulary with my own list of words given five at a time expecting her to look them up, give me a sentence for each, then I quiz her for spelling.

In short, I’m ruining her life.

We do this in school!

No you don’t.

We have vocabulary and spelling.

Why can’t you spell?

I can spell, I just don’t when I’m texting.

She’s in seventh grade and still confuses there, their, and they’re.

I’m a writer.  That’s unacceptable. 

But there’s more to my motives than grammar and spelling.  It’s exposure.  I want to broaden her everyday knowledge so she understands more of her world.  I don’t want her to be unaware and embarrassed because she wasn’t exposed or introduced to the world outside her home, neighborhood, and zip code, like I was.

My parents worked blue-collar jobs.  Their education level stopped at high school.  One didn’t even graduate.  They didn’t talk with my brother and me about what was going on outside of our own little world – politics, news, social issues – none of it. 

I didn’t know the differences between Democrat and Republican – i.e. liberal vs. conservative platforms- until I was in my 30s and started to pay attention.  Until then, I didn’t vote along party lines, just for the candidate I liked. 

 We didn’t talk about what other people did for work.  I knew about lawyers, accountants, doctors, teachers, housekeepers, carpenters.   Those were obvious, even to me.  But others were not.

I had a friend or two who said their dad was an engineer.  I was clueless.  My tiny world view only knew engineers  of the train-driving variety and the jingle from Good & Plenty candy still sings in my head at the thought – “Charlie says, ‘Love my Good & Plenty’…”

I was in my 20s when I started dating a guy who said he was an engineer.  A mechanical engineer.   Still not much closer to understanding.  I finally got up the courage to ask the guy what exactly what is an engineer.

As a senior in high school, I took a writing class. There was an assignment to pick a subject that had pro and con sides to the issue and write a supporting essay for the side we choose.  To this day, I cannot remember what I wrote about.  But I remember my utter shock and confusion over another student’s essay.

Chairs in a circle, Dana read her essay to our small class.  As usual, my mind was elsewhere, processing the home drama that plagued my entire high school years but hit a crescendo my senior year.  I wasn’t paying much attention to Dana, a junior, who was much brighter than me and already on her way to greatness.

Then some of her words filtered into my reverie.  Youth in Asia…were dying…choosing to die…people, government, churches trying to stop them, trying to help them.

What? Kids in Asia dying? Why did they want to die? Of course government should stop that.  Why would their friends and family help them?

I listened to comments and discussion afterward.  I was still confused, yet something told me, Do not speak up.  There was a knowing that I would be asking the ‘stupid question’ if I dared to speak.  I was treading unfamiliar territory.  I kept very quiet and was extra grateful for the bell at the end of the period.

It took another few years to understand what Dana’s essay was about.  It came to me when I was reading a newspaper, just because it was there and it was more interesting than the cereal box.  An article about the right to die – which I’d known about for years, even in high school, but only knew it as the right to die debate, not the more educated euthanasia.  It took my brain a few moments to process this unfamiliar word – sound it out, eu- like Europe, the context – A ha!

Immediately, I was back in that classroom circle of desks, and finally understanding what Dana’s essay was about.

Whether she likes it or not, my daughter will not get to adulthood – or even high school – and be completely unaware of issues like euthanasia.

What is Good, What is Bad, What is

Nearly two years after my second hip surgery, I still struggle with pain.  Every day, at some point, there is pain – sharp or dull, ache or burn, morning or night.  I can’t plan for it and although weather can play a factor, there is no rhyme or reason, no particular triggers like heels or flats, activity or none, yoga or not.  Being someone who has a very large comfort zone in planning and predictability, this has been unsettling and flat-out annoying.

Yet there are glimmers of lessons starting to present themselves.

Being present to this moment.  This moment with pain, this moment without.

I’ve been waiting, too, to be better, to be pain-free and completely able to resume full activity as I choose.  But after two years, the question recently popped into my head, “What if it doesn’t get better?”

Now, I often hear the reverse asked when people are, say, afraid to take a big step in life, the What-if-I-fail paralysis.  Then someone wise counters, “What if you don’t?”

This is different.  This feels more akin to waiting in vain.  Waiting for a boyfriend of 10 years to pop the question telling oneself, “Anyday now.”  Uh -huh.

There’s a feeling of reckoning slowly dawning – acceptance of what is and acceptance, too, of what might never be.  Not to say there is no hope or possibility, but rather than expectantly waiting – as in a holding pattern – for that path to clear, go to the path that’s open now.

No, it’s not the path I was looking for, but it’s what’s being presented.  I don’t know where it will lead me, but waiting isn’t leading me anywhere at the moment.

It’s not good, it’s not bad.  It’s a matter of accepting what is and the possibilities, the gifts, the lessons, and the blessings that come with it.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. ~Serenity Prayer

Bricks and Stones

Here I am, at my 50th post.  I wondered the last few weeks what it should be about.  After all, it’s the 5-0, a golden milestone.  Alas, there was no planning.  After a series of events and processing, the words started flowing just as soon as I had both eyes open.

Relationships.  Series of long – or short – events determining the vitality and strength of the bonds with others.

Some events are like paving stones being set in a path that bring you closer, others are like bricks building a wall.  Some events that initially add to the barrier, find resolution and understanding over time and become a stone in the path.

That argument over the extra high visa bill?  Brick.

Learning about being bullied in school?  Stone.

Those fights about your mother-in-law coming to visit for two weeks – staying one week too long – every  Christmas?  Brick. Brick. Brick.

Understanding why songs cause a bad mood, a parent’s harsh punishments, or a painful break-up? Stone. Stone. Stone.

Bricks are so easy to come by.  Impatience, lack of communication, insult – intended or perceived, fear – all those ego-driven behaviors and reactions.

Stones take work.  Patience, kindness, being strong enough to be vulnerable, hearing the words with ears, but understanding them with your heart – all while telling ego to pound salt and stay out of it.

There’s no winning or losing.  If a brick is laid, then there’s work to be done – more talk, more listening, more love, more understanding.

If a stone is set, there’s still work to be done – more talk, more listening, more love, more understanding.

If there’s still a relationship, the building never stops.  It’s just a question of in which direction are you building.