toast

Walking scares me, yet I practice it every day.

Of course, the actual motion of moving one foot in front of the other, swinging arms, smiling at the dog by my side, feeling the cool San Francisco fog on my face and appreciating the rising rosy sun isn’t scary.

But my walking thoughts are.

What, for instance, would it be like to trade places with the pelican swaying above me right now, showing off its ability to use the power of the wind while eying me with beady distain? If I were he, and he were me, I’d ignore such a useless two-footed creature, stuck in slow motion on a hard surface at limited eye level with the grace of a tree stump.

I’d soar above the blue gray water to search for the tell-tale scaly flash and YES, point my long sharp beak straight down to smash past the wave, grabbing my meal in one sharp swallow.

Instead, I swallow my disappointment that, in my human form, only dry toast with some sticky peanut butter awaits my slow-footed return to home.

I wonder, if only I tried harder, I could learn the secret of how to release my lighter, brighter soul, the “it” inside of my tree stump of a body, and zoom up and away, exploring the underside of the Golden Gate Bridge, past the Farallon Islands, cross the endless miles of melodic monotonous ocean waters, mingling with the other endless souls released from bunioned toes and stalky legs.

Zap…NO! I don’t want to be released yet from these mortal coils, I scream silently, holding on to my soul like a woman holding down her hat on a too windy day. I’ll stick with the crackling knees and blistered heels, the chapped red knuckles and running nose, the stress of too little time for a deadline-heavy day, and the pang of missing family who live on the wrong coast. I want to continue enjoying the glory of the left coast with sunsets and fog horns and handheld hikes with husband along the soul-drenched waters of life.

The dog tugs and suddenly my thoughts are leashed to the day ahead, the bread to toast, the office desk to manage, the bills to pay, groceries to buy, phones to answer, news to digest, rugs to vacuum, and words to write.

Until tomorrow morning – and another scary walk.

What about you? How scary are YOUR walks?

I used to fix myself a bowl of cereal every morning.

I hate cereal.

I hated it as a child; I hated it when I fixed it for years as an adult; and I hate it now, whether Cheerios or Shredded Wheat or Raisin Bran.

My mom is the reason I hate cereal (she’s smiling and protesting at the same time as she reads this, I bet.) But really, that’s what our “big fights” were about when I was a teenager.

“Pammy, you can’t go to school without breakfast.”

“I hate Wheaties,” I’d moan.

“Wheaties are good for you. Look at your brother – he’s on his third bowl.”

“Well, he’s a champion. I’m not,” I’d retort. Sarcastic for a 15-year-old, but my brother was a successful swimmer – trophies all over the house – so a bit of sisterly bile sprang out sometimes.

Maybe he’s the reason I hate cereal!

No matter, at 16 I discovered chocolate Instant Breakfast. I’d drink it at 7:30 am in front of my mom’s scowling face. She’d explain to my dad: “At least she’s not going to school on an empty stomach.”

And then, fast forward to years later.

I found myself making my children eat cereal before school. The difference was that they LIKED it. I still didn’t, but I felt like I had to be a good role model, so I’d scarf down a small bowl while my son and daughter cheerfully compared cheerio holes every gosh darn morning.

Until suddenly, a year ago, I stopped pouring milk into my shredded wheat bowl mid-stream and said out loud: “why the hell are you doing this?!” I threw out the cereal and milk and the next day bought a fresh loaf of wheat bread.

Now my routine is a slice of toast with a dollop of peanut butter and strawberry jam on top.

I’m sure there’s a bigger message in here somewhere, like:

we adults get so stuck in our routines, we need to stop and think about what we really want. Or,
life is short, give up what is unnecessary. Or,
live life to the fullest – enjoy every minute, and every morsel.

But really, all I’m saying is that I’m so much happier with my mornings.

What gets YOU going first thing? A bowl of Fruit Loops? A piece of chocolate pie? I dare you to divulge your breakfast secrets here.