“…I am August…” ~ Whitman.

Imagine if you were! I know I wish I could make my every day feel like a late summer afternoon simply by being me…. That would be just fine.

Some days I make sweet iced tea in the afternoon, and we eat fish tacos or similar for dinner. Maybe I’ve been lazing on the sofa too, stretching out my toes in the morning sun. Daydreaming of being by a river, the air perfumed from all the juicy greenery that surrounds… I guess being August is having the feeling you garner from that be your default disposition.

Today though, we have a nice Spring day. We have fresh air flowing through the apartment and I am art journalling for the first time ever, thanks to McCabe! It’s been really good to just get messy.

Also this week, much to Andy’s horror, I discovered that I could stream country music stations over the web! I am apparently behind the rest of the world in finding out about this, but there we go. I was sat at my desk on Wednesday night, and my cursor got curious and tap-tapped the radio function in iTunes, and then…. Voila! A whole new world was opened to me, just like that… One hundred (no less!) country stations await me, at any one time.

This week’s playlist on my iPod is:

> Julianne Hough – That Song in My Head
> Heidi Newfield – Johnny & June
> Danielle Talamini – Pack My Bags
> Carrie Underwood – Wasted
> Dixie Chicks – Taking the Long Way
> Kellie Pickler -Don’t You Know You’re Beautiful
> Miranda Lambert – I Can’t be Bothered
> Brad Paisley – Mud on the Tires
> Dixie Chicks – Favorite Year
> Julianne Hough – My Hallelujah Song

It occurred to me that many of the things I buy, I treasure. Many of the things I partake of, I treasure.

From the necklace Andy bought me some years ago, that I never take off, right through to the American Ziploc bags we picked up last time we passed on through (laugh away, but they are so good! I reuse the bags time after time, I use them to hold all sorts of things, settled in a basket). I treasure the phone calls I have with my Dad every Tuesday night. He makes me laugh without fail, with his stories and expressions.

I have not always been close to my parents. It seems to be a growing thing, especially as I come to realize the gifts they gave me – of growing up on produce sourced from our back garden, of eating freshly prepared meals every day, of being taught good manners and kindness. I went to school across town with families far different from my own. Friends parent’s worried about them visiting me as we lived in a rougher area of town. I worked on the farms surrounding home from early on, then the local newsagent before moving on to being a waitress when I turned 15. My dad would stay up until 1am to come pick me up after my shift. He’d complain I smelled like a fish and chip shop, because one of my last jobs of the night was to wipe a vinegared cloth over the bread plates.

After my first year of university in London, I got a transfer to the University of Sydney for my second year. I signed up for subjects like Local Government in Australia and Land Law in Australia. I got so bored. I wound up moving down the coast, and living there, taking a 3 hour train ride both ways to attend the few lectures I had each week. I had tried to get work in Sydney, but I’d show them my passport with it’s student visa (which allowed for part time employment) and they’d shrug their shoulders and pass it back to me, walking off with some excuse or another. One day, on my way elsewhere from Central Station, I bought a one way ticket to Melbourne for very soon after. I never did go back to university and I never did go back to the Law. My parents have only just now, ten years on, almost forgiven me (I hope). It doesn’t come up so often in conversation now, like it used to come up every time I saw them. I was going to be a Lawyer, and instead I’m a…. Potterer. I potter about doing office work that pays the bills and lets me save some for travel and fun. I potter about making calls to friends abroad. I potter about passing days with a friend who otherwise feels lonely looking after her one year old daughter. I potter about with my camera, and writing for my own amusement. I potter about meeting friends in cafes and restaurants on the weekend, allowing for spontaneity. This weekend, I shall be art journalling. I treasure these days.

One night, at a friends party back in London, I was asked where I’d be and what I’d be doing if anything were possible. The answer was immediate, but surprising for those around me. I imagined myself in Italy, somewhere in the South. I was sweeping the kitchen floor, listening to the local radio station, breathing in the air perfumed from the lemon tree just outside. I felt how I’d treasure that moment.

It’s all so easy to treasure the things which happen once, like a gift or a holiday. I find myself more and more treasuring the things I enjoy day to day. Today I have treasured the sound of the Tui bird outside the bathroom window as I took a shower. A coffee bought for me by a nice colleague. The cubes of Swiss Emmental I put into my salad for lunch. Listening to a new album on my iPod as I copy-typed up mundane routine minutes for a colleague. Andy making Albondigas Soup for dinner, whilst I listened to a streamed country music radio station via iTunes. And the ribbon I reused, which arrived with me as part of a package, to hold my index cards together.

The more clutter I clear, the more time and room I have to enjoy these treasures.

What have you treasured today?

I sit here, on a Saturday night, at my desk – the dining room table. Last week we were in a restaurant with friends, eating good food, laughing. Relating.
It’s a cold, wet, windy night out there. It’s been a very long Winter.
Last night we were awoken every twenty minutes or so, as the rain hit hard against our windows, and the gales jolted our floors.
We had another little earthquake earlier. The clouds had just cleared (making way for another cold night). The sunlight streamed patterns on our wooden floors, and the quake made them dance.
I sit here drinking bourbon. It feels so good.
I’ve not had any in a long time, trying to be good.
I sway between being light and healthy, and taking great comfort in people watching in bars, bourbon in hand. Like I sway between country music and French folk. I love the idea of the quality of life that would come from being clean and hard working. I take great comfort in sitting in diner style cafes. The random places you come upon along the freeway, lights blazing. Or the brasserie you always go to, where the tables are in booths. The comfort, the privacy and the time. The perky waitress or the tired waitress. The watercress soup or the coconut pie.

I have a friend who informs me that my comfort side is just the devil on my shoulder. It’s taking me, away from me. She says this to help me, in the best of intentions. I can see her point, but every now and then, I feel like I need it. It’s like I get to finally put my feet up. I stop with the to-do lists that play on my mind. The to do lists that keep me working, and reading How to Pick a Peach instead of what I really feel like – Straight Up & Dirty. And so I excuse myself, and I take a night off. I’ll write that grocery list in the morning. Right now, it’s me, my bourbon, my wandering mind and I’m listening to:

Gretchen Wilson – The Girl I am
Brad Paisley & Alison Krauss – Whiskey Lullaby
Carrie Underwood – Jesus, Take the Wheel
Faith Hill – Let Me Let Go
Garth Brooks – The Dance
Kelly Willis – What I Deserve
Gretchen Wilson – When I Think About Cheating
Dixie Chicks – Landslide
Trisha Yearwood – Believe Me Baby, I lied
Garth Brooks – Wild as the Wind
Brad Paisley – Somebody Knows You Now
Gretchen Wilson – Come to Bed

Whilst I undoubtedly have some Englishisms about me, until recently, I had never been labelled as an “old-fashioned Pom”. A ‘Pom‘ is what the Aussies and Kiwis refer to the English as. It was not the Pom part that I was surprised about, it was the old fashioned part. We were talking about food, or more specifically, she was talking about her vegetarianism, and pointing out the trouble with eating meat. I referenced that I enjoyed chicken liver pate from time to time. And right then, knowing next to nothing about me, she took the opportunity to box me in as an old fashioned Pom.

I think about this sort of programming a lot. When faced with another race, people often seem to make assumptions from what they’ve read or seen in the media. A lot of the television New Zealand imports and shows at prime time is the sort of stuff that is akin to hanging ones dirty laundry out to dry in public. Programmes such as The Blue Planet are pushed aside. By importing only the kinds of programmes which make spectacles of members of the general public, I think it gives people here an odd perspective as to what the English are like as a whole. They don’t always get to see the good stuff that comes out of the country. I have been told on numerous occasions by people who get to know me here, that I cannot be English, because I am nothing like the sort of family they watched on TV last night. I think the same happens for Americans. I have heard so many times the opinion that you cannot get good food in the USA. Hilarious, right? But people honestly believe this to the point that when a colleague took her children to LA last year, they packed all their own food. This was down to the cans of peaches and breakfast cereal, as she did not want her children having to eat poorly on their holiday. She came back touting stories of the obese people they’d seen there. Given that LA has a large health conscious population, how did she miss that entirely?

I am not suggesting that there are no obese people in LA, or that the English generally prefer ‘Blue Planet’ to ‘Wife Swap’, but I do feel that there are the same kinds of people everywhere, and that nationalities can be pushed aside to an extent. Whilst I listen to the criticism of the overweight Americans and Brits, I also look around and see a lot of obese Kiwi’s. We are – as a whole – reflections of each other. Why try to avoid seeing that?

I’ve been trying to clean up my diet for some time. It’s not that it has ever been particularly bad, but that it has not been light and clean either. I’ve been mulling this over for some time. Usually eating well for a few days, and then succumbing to one too many Lindt Lindor chocolates or having left over pizza for breakfast.

I wanted to incorporate more healthful food in to my life, to reach optimum health. I have always been squeamish with anything medical, so it seemed to me that a good way to avoid having to put myself in that position, was to take good care of myself.

I started by reading Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone and similar titles, but it was Heidi’s Super Natural Cooking that really made the change for me. Whilst I have not cooked many of the dishes from that book, it did put me on the path I am now on (as did her fantastic site, 101 Cookbooks). I set out reading Renee Loux’s Living Cuisine and The Balanced Plate. Both of these made complete sense to me, but the lists of ingredients I found daunting. To cook this way was going to be no easy feat. I pondered and pondered, as I made her soups, milks and juices. Honestly though, I never got much further than that, other than reading her words, taking those which resonated with me and felt right in my body, and then trying to incorporate in to my daily life in a way I had time for, and enjoyed. For me to cook this way felt forced, for the situation I was in. Looking back, I guess I feared that such food would raise eyebrows and change the status quo, and I just did not have all the answers for those inquisitive questions. Meaning, I did not know for sure myself if it was a sustainable way to be. I pressed on with Raw Food Real World, and soon after discovered Natalia Rose.

I think we all react and absorb information differently, even when the point is the same. Whilst Natalia has not been easy for some people I know to read and digest, it went down very easily for me. I have now read her first two books numerous times, as well as her blog. I have just started her third book. Now, when people come to me for information or to ask what I’m doing differently, I feel far better equipped to explain it as I understand it, and have been able to absorb and consider the information for myself very easily. It just felt natural.

Last week, on one of our evening walks, Andy asked me many questions about what I’d been learning and uncovering for myself. At first I felt like I had to be on the defense, but time we were not far from home, the discussions were really helping me too. He is not as interested as I am, but I note (and joke with him) that as much as he complains about the green juice, he still wants me to make enough for him too!

I am changing my diet gradually, and so far one of the biggest changes for me was giving up soy products. I’d been having one soy latte a day for the last couple of years, and on my birthday I stopped. I changed back to full fat milk at that stage, and lost weight without even thinking about it (I looked at the scales thinking how did that happen?!). Now I no longer have a latte a day, and further weight is sliding off. It amazes me what these small changes can do. I still feel free to have a coffee when I feel like one, such as at brunch on a weekend, but it is no longer an every day habit. There is a section in Natalia’s first book, detailing how soy is one of the most mucus forming foods on the planet. After reading that bit, it dawned on me. There I was eliminating processed foods from my diet, but I’d missed one of the biggest in my life – soy milk!