May 30 2011

Conflicted.

Yesterday I pulled 49 books (mostly hardbacks) from my belongings and donated them to a nonprofit.  I’ve done it dozens and dozens of times.  And just as many times I have sworn to get a library card and vowed to read more books.  You, too?

I did pretty much give up TV over a year ago with this goal somewhat in mind.  Business reading and facebook, however, quickly filled the freed hours. And today where I am?   Undeniably drawn to two books, reviewed in The Week. One The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman and the other The Subtle Body:  The Story of Yoga in America by Stefanie Syman.

It is a holiday.  The library is most likely closed but not Amazon.com and Powell Bookstore (the largest privately-held bookstore in the country and just minutes walk away). I could use the walk and fresh air.  Then again, maybe a better choice might be to stash the review away for another year and start the running program I’ve been thinking about this weekend or suggest both books to more compulsive book buyers or …

I am a conflicted human being. Choices, though, are sure nice to have, don’t you think?

Make the best of what you pick! Trix


Dec 27 2010

The company of strangers.

December 27th, 2010

“We are going to ride the streetcar! We are parking the car so we can catch up with it.”

On Lovejoy Avenue, just outside Sammy’s Flowers, I was stopped by a little boy colorfully dressed in waterproof clothes.    His sandy-colored dreadlocks swept  his shoulders with each wisp of breeze .  He was either an articulate three-year-old or a petite four-year-old.   He told me more about his plan.  I shared with him my idea of sometime just riding the streetcar until it stopped and seeing where I ended up.  As I watched him walk off with his family for their Sunday adventure,  I thought of my son at that age.  He is 23 now and lives in Tulsa, the city where he was born, the city where I spent all of my adult life until late 2008.

It was Sunday.  For two hours I had been walking a corner of Portland’s Nob Hill Neighborhood and the northern part of the Pearl District. Oddly enough I was thinking about all the ways to get around as I wore through a bit more shoe rubber.  I’d passed boats, cars, buses, streetcars, trains and lots of walkers and cyclists. The public transportation in my neighborhood is a chief reason the Pearl often places in the top five places to retire.  What other things go into deciding where to live?

A bit of goggling and I found sites with questionnaires to help a reader decide where to live.  Factors to consider included work location, cost of living, climate preference, cultural amenities, outdoor scenery, health care access…  I have tallied up pluses and minuses for both Portland and Tulsa.   There isn’t a clear winner.  My marriage brought me to Oregon.  My business client base is still in Tulsa.  I visit Tulsa monthly and still put full-time effort into staying connected to the community.  On Thanksgiving I passed the morning with an iPhone in one hand, a coffee cup in the other – texting and calling over 70 people – many of whom hail from Tulsa.  That Thursday night I dined with Portland friends.

I grew up living on four different continents and an island in Indonesia.  I don’t know that I need to be with someone to feel connected, especially not in this technical age.  Because I work from home, one thing I know I need throughout the day -as much as oxygen and food – is regular brushes with people, opportunities to smile, chances to exercise.  I meet the eyes of each fellow walker, chat with neighbors on the elevator, at the dog park, in the market…I wave as I pass businesses and store fronts to acknowledge the owner of Green Grocery, the designer at Smash Cut, the associate at Umpqua Bank, the concierge at Park Place… I wave back at people on passing trains.  Each walk is energizing.  Each  lifts my spirits in any kind of weather and collectively they’ve helped me shield some (many) pounds!

As I sat waiting for my Mac to boot up to begin writing this entry, I glanced over my left shoulder through my south window.  A neighbor standing in her living room folding linens,  stopped to wave.  Turning back to my screen I looked up and a 12th floor neighbor on his balcony smiled and nodded.

Making your way on your own can be daunting, exciting, scary, overwhelming and confusing – every day!  When you are ready to choose where and how to live, try to embrace it as an opportunity to find a good fit for you.  Listen to one voice – yours.  Make this your time.

And for fun: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FE_9CzLCbkY&feature=player_embedded#!

Always, Trix

Trix

http://web02.bestplaces.net/aarp/ls/


Dec 27 2010

Exhale.

December 26, 2010

Most probably wouldn’t listen to a yoga class CD sitting bound in sardine pose on a packed Southwest Airlines flight between Phoenix and Portland during the holiday season.  Big mistake on their part.  Lifesaver for me.

We had pushed back from the gate only to return; mechanical problems – more delays.  I thought of work- tasks piling up while I flew between Tulsa and Portland on my monthly compute.  I thought of the house sitter who would have walked my two Whippets for the last time as I boarded and then gone off to work for eight hours, unaware of my dilemma.  A new version of Home Alone was surely in the making before I would land in PDX.  Bliss eats books when rattled.  And Leo?  Well, he does three-legged dog to make his statement.  As I imagined what was ahead, the two little boys under three years old seated next to me were warming their vocal chords for a grand aria.

Acquiring a yoga CD was my answer to maintaining my new habit of regular exercise while traveling for over a week each month.  Postal delays got the CD to me just in time for my return flight so there I was, plugged in and listening to a yoga class with my seat in its upright position.

The audio instruction began with breathing – deep, calming, audible breaths.  Even with the instructor announcing his name and the class first, a  giggle welled up in me.  I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, which is too often shallow.  As I continued to listen to the CD  I was led at just the right pace by a confident voice walking me through the process of inhaling to “fill the belly” and “exhaling to empty.” Instruction and encouragement were delivered with a minimum of words. Just listening suggested the  pace gave time to work in each pose, gave time to breathe. Standing poses came next.  Still the focus was on breathing. Nothing was rushed.  I knew, for the first time, I had a chance at a home practice – a practice guided by a voice that seemed to be in the room, reminding me to breath first and foremost and giving enough pointers about the poses that I didn’t need a classmate nearby to follow (or mistakenly compete with).

As the teacher spoke of mind traveling, fantastic voyages and returning focus to the practice my three seatmates demanded attention.   The mom allowed me to hold the 1-year old.  I walked the aisle of the airline.  Together  he and I interacted with other passengers unable to resist the wonder in a 18-month’s eyes.  He was a doll! I enjoy traveling.  The last leg of my recent journey was especially nice.

A few minutes of yoga turned a delay around – letting me be in the moment completely, thoughtfully contributing.

Breath! Take it all in. And get yourself a CD!

Trix

www.bradkeimach.com and on facebook at Beach Yoga with Brad.


Nov 28 2010

Take a bite out of life.

November 28, 2010

Yesterday I was jamming and juicing on a foggy Saturday in Portland.  Breakfast and music and dancing!

As I tilted my head back for a big sip of plum-colored smoothie (banana, mango, cherry, blueberry, orange, pear and pomegranate seeds) I spied a patch of blue sky outside my window, just past the 13th floor balcony. Had my attitude made it materialize? Does just a gaze in a different direction change the landscape?

The benefactor of my weekend Reggae soundtrack was a man from Africa I met on an American Airlines flight.  He traveled with a heavy, bulging piece of luggage filled with music CDs.   He had to have his music with him at all times, just as I have to have dancing room.  Late one night earlier in the week I had swayed to the music of Omara Portuondo, a popular Cuban vocalist.  When I started I was just shy of the 10,000 steps a day the Japanese (and American Heart Association) suggest for good health.  A rumba here, a bolero there and I was at 10,452 before midnight.

When was the last time you danced?    Why not try it today?  Hope someone IS watching, that you start something delightful.  If you like Buddy Holly (“Maybe Baby”) slip into a hula hoop and call it exercise.   If the weather or your day has zapped you, be still and simply listen to the music.  Try Cleo Laine singing love ballads while you unwind late at night in a softly lit living room, put your laptop near your nightstand and drift off to sleep listening to a new artist on Pandora radio or get dressed up and go downtown for the symphony. No one will notice if you close your eyes in the concert hall to really hear every note of Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 10 in F-sharp minor.  I promise you will be energized for a later dance.

Life can be challenging.  Don’t short yourself on fuel. Take it one song at a time.  Try a little finger food before noon or perhaps  a “Grand Slam”… eggs, bacon, baguette (fig jam), coffee, juice … The choices are yours.

Take a BIG bite out of life and chew slowly, thoughtfully until full – then dance!

Always, Trix


Nov 23 2010

Change is good.

November 23, 2010

The experts say habits take as little as 21 days – to break, to form, to change.   There are 37 days until New Year’s Day. Why wait?  Balance the books  this Thanksgiving.  Count your blessings then take a stab at a personal inventory.

Pick 1, 2 or 3…

“I <eat, sleep, shop, drink, work, swear, cry, fight, smoke, worry, procastinate, complain, watch TV, ..> too much.

I don’t <exercise, praise, express love, volunteer, daydream, spend time with family, floss, eat healthy, call friends, laugh, save, practice random acts of kindness, clean house, accentuate the positive, trust, smile, sing, read, cook..> enough.

21 days. Just 21 days.

About 30 days ago I personally and quietly picked two of the most time and lifestyle entrenched habits to tackle.  I instinctively  thought about what not changing could or had cost me and how good positive change has and could make me feel about myself.

I think you will be surprised at what you can do in 21 days.  Living is indeed a journey, not a destination, but it feels good to be in the driver’s seat, it is wonderful to see how change for the good has a fabulous ripple effect throughout the rest your life.

From a friend up north:  It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change. Charles Darwin

Some resources I found today:

http://zenhabits.net/two-simple-ways-to-form-new-habits-without-really-trying/

http://www.iamthankful.com/science/21-days-to-form-a-habit-you-can-do-it

http://www.thinkbigmagazine.com/mindset/167-empowering-your-life-habits-form-patterns-in-our-energy-beliefs-thoughts-and-emotions


Nov 14 2010

Yoga guy.

November 14th

The Yoga Guy wasn’t married to the Yoga Gal.  For the 25 years Joel and I were together, he alone was devoted to practicing but I now wish he’d left behind a mat and blanket.  I have a yen to move a painting and do a headstand against a wall, in a carpeted room.  My bed quilt might double as a prop but there is living alone to consider.  At just 52 I don’t want to be saying, “Help me. I’ve fallen and can’t get up.”  At age 2 our son Clay succeeded in dialing 911 (when there was no emergency); the Whippets at 6 probably would only lie on top of me if I fell out of an inversion into a injured state.

It’s been 10 years since I stood on my head.  The perspective and experience I once enjoyed.  Lately I ponder, “If I turn myself on my head, will everything else in this wackadoodle life right itself?!

About 17 years ago Joel began phasing out teaching ballet at night and on weekends to teach yoga.  I appeared at the first venue wearing my publicist hat; the article published in GTR Newspapers was a very readable, humorous, good-natured account of my first yoga class.

In subsequent years I contributed by buying, washing and folding dozens of blankets and mats Joel hauled around from one class venue to another.  I also was the photog for every image that appeared in his monthly newspaper column, Yoga Forms.  And I gave up traveling that wasn’t to a yoga workshop or certification destination – for Joel.  I had periods of showing up for class.

I was on a roll in 2000 (and last on my head) until faced with taking several weeks off from work for surgery and recovery…The good habit broke, the work ethic hit overdrive (I am Bob Medaris’ daughter).  I missed classes to get ahead at work.  In the end I bounced back to work 9 days out from hospital (Joel’s as good a nurse as yoga teacher) but only to sit in Swastikasana on my desk chair.

Human Nature LAX Exhibit by Annie Buckley

I’ve taken 5 yoga classes in the past 10 years- all have been this year.  My sixth will be at 9:45 today at LA Fitness.  Less travel would boost my monthly tally to 4 or 8, depending on whether the Sunday Yoga Guy at LA gets the rumored Friday class.  Then again, a lot of crazy stuff happens in my office on Fridays…

I won’t fib. I’ve no more gotten discipline than I’ve gotten religion (decades ago I gave up mass for lent). Inversions remind me of happy days.  As a child I spent a ton of time hanging upside down on monkey bars and jungle gyms.  Last month on a Sunday I rushed to a beach yoga class with a college friend hooked on the experience, describing it “like church.”  It was heavenly. I bent over and saw the Pacific Ocean, as the surf encircled me.  Some sort of toxic bundle of stuff inside me dissipated, replaced with a joy, a calmness, a confidence.

The practice of asanas purges the body of its impurities, bringing strength, firmness, calm, and clarity of mind. BKS Iyengar.

Joel and I separated immediately after the 2009 holidays.  This first round of holidays alone in a city that is still pretty new to me won’t be a picnic but I’ve got Sunday yoga and the welcome anticipation of standing on my head.

Gotta run.  Find something that makes you glow and stick with it!

Trix

Until I can publish links to  Joel classes in Tulsa, as well as Maridel’s classes in Springfield, may I suggest:

http://www.theyogaroomtulsa.com/The_Yoga_Room/Welcome.html

http://iyengarnyc.org/

http://www.yogapearl.com/schedule.asp

http://www.lafitness.com/Pages/ClassSchedulePrintVersion.aspx?clubid=438

http://bradkeimach.com/yoga.html

http://anniebuckley.com/html_03/art_bio_09.html


Oct 16 2010

Add it up.

October 16, 2010

(Reading this is greatly enhanced listening to music links @ bottom of page – if you can multi-task!)

On days when it seems the good outnumbers the bad – DON’T STOP TO COUNT!

I was diagnosed this week with skin cancer (1), then arthritis (2) and wore my heart on my sleeve, when it might have been better closer to the vest (3). If less-than-wonderful things happen in three’s, would it be okay to ask for wonderful things in groups of 7 or 9, one of my other favorite numbers??  Three is becoming a wee bit of a crowd.

Speaking of numbers.  I took myself out for Chinese in Tulsa.  My fortune cookie read, “Your ability to find the silly in the serious will take you far. Lucky numbers 9, 13, 18, 24, 33, 46.  I went back to snag another cookie.  “Do not mistake temptation for opportunity.  Lucky numbers 18, 23, 32, 34, 39, 41.”  Woo Hoo!  Goal was to find one listing 52 (got a birthday ahead) but the 18th is right around the corner.  I am getting up early 10.18th to enjoy my double dose of luck!

The bad stuff, I figure, is the dues I gotta pay for the good.  Does that add up? My sister years ago, during one of the many times she tried to soothe my heartache or disappointment, insisted being happy all the time would be boring.  No it wouldn’t.  Bored is just not in my vocabulary and a charmed life would not invite it into my emotional 36 expressions. I think it’s a bit like the idea of heaven.  Great spin to put on dying.  Little wonder I gave up mass for Lent decades ago.

On a perfect 10.10.10 day (last Sunday) in a so-so warrior pose (and crescent pose) I was reaching for the stars to bring a bit more heaven to the beach. Stars, the way we envision them, are bright, pointy like things. One I snagged poked a bit of a hole in my tender heart but years earlier in another fun, unexpected, moment – dressed in flats and pants,  stacked up next to some hot babes (dressed differently) and facing an all-male judge panel (cruise ship experience – if you must know) I won the lip syncing contest prancing around to I Will Survive (my son Clay has since recovered from that experience of mom on the dance floor.)

The Trix is still here, dancing and singing and come the 18th, it won’t be just any Monday.  I got a loverly slice of heaven at a great price the last time I stretched.  I am reaching for the moon next time (and warming up at Sunday 9:45 yoga class in the Pearl)!

Look up to the sky tonight.  If you don’t see enough starlight, go where it is darker.  You will find there are more stars up there than you can stay awake to count. That is some kinda wonderful.

Postscript:  Two super people recently sent this info to me – This October has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays, all in one month.  It happens once in 823 years. Add it up!  And then November 1st is my birthday.

xo, Trix

Follow these 5 (!) leads to good things:

Loverly ~My Fair Lady: http://youtu.be/T-2CnRuk6Nk

36 Expressions ~ Funny Girl: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRbIjcKB_CY

Yoga ~ http://www.yelp.com/biz/beach-yoga-with-brad-santa-monica

Some kinda wonderful  ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RijxCw2NZH0

Add it up ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=am8qrrZAtP4


Aug 14 2010

Closer than you think.

Think about the drive to work today, or the drive home.  With or without a mobile phone in use, how often were your thoughts somewhere else?

We often cruise familiar turf preoccupied with thoughts outside the present moment and space.   Could it be we are similarly programmed to look elsewhere for things that perhaps are right under our nose?

Take hiking and coffee. The airplanes are full this time of year with travelers headed to Oregon to enjoy the state’s trails and java shops.  Since moving to Portland I’ve even taken up hiking. It bares a strong resemblance to what I once called walking, but the scenery is different and I do it regularly with friends – something I never did in Tulsa.  “In Tulsa,” I have explained, “the harsh weather keeps us inside socializing over food and wine.” In Portland I feel like a kid again, playing outside with chums.

I Goggled hiking Tulsa and got 322,000 results.  I Goggled coffee houses Tulsa and got 45,800 (substituting Portland for Tulsa yields 2,140,000 and 290,000 results respectively.)

Clearly I could have hiked in Tulsa everyday of the over 30 years I lived there. And despite 107 degree weather this month, I did – twice! Not with the same companion both times but that’s beside the point.  Come October, I am confident both will consider joining me again.  Both my August outings acquainted me with Turkey Mountain on the west side of the Arkansas River.  I’d only been there once before though I still own a house just three miles west on 71st Street.  With a heat index of 115 degrees, you may wish clothing was optional but the tree canopies protect you from the sun; bottled water combats the heat.  And (thanks Julie!) I learned a simple way to navigate this unfamiliar urban wilderness: consistently climbing up hill not only provides a better workout but makes later finding the parking lot and your car as simple as walking (excuse me, hiking) downhill. In Portland’s Washington Park, my strategy is simply to follow whoever is ahead of me and keep tabs on my off-leash Whippets.

When it comes to coffee, my approach is equally simple.  I usually get my daily dose brewed at home in one of those noisy “by the cup” machines that will wake the dead in the morning but yet go relatively unnoticed by chatty dinner guests many hours later in the day. Though I live in Portland, where Starbucks coffee beans are roasted, I buy Topeca Coffee in Tulsa and cart it home in my suitcase.  (Each and every time I open my suitcase to find an airport security inspection notice. I can only figure I am suspected of using coffee beans to throw off the hounds sniffing for other substances.)

I buy Topeca coffee as much for the story, as the taste.  Topeka was founded by John Gaberino and his wife Maria, a woman from El Salvador whose family has owned and operated a coffee plantation for six generations.  I remember years ago when John used to serve up samples of the coffee for Petty’s shoppers.  When the coffee market hit one of its lowest points, the Gaberinos and Maria’s relatives had determined the best way to continue the business for another six generations was to take the product from the field to the consumer, a process they dubbed “seed to cup.” This last trip to Tulsa I finally met Maria. It’s an easy task to find her in their relatively new cafe downtown.

When the Mayo Hotel in downtown Tulsa reopened after 30 years -sporting a $50 million plus renovation, Topeca Coffee opened a cafe on the ground floor.  It’s an inviting spot with glass table tops resting on trays of coffee beans, comfy leather sofas and over-sized photo portraits of plantation employees, like Miguel, who works on the patios. As the portrait label reads, “Topeca uses a traditional method of sun-drying fresh beans on large patios.  Beans must be raked and turned often to ensure all moisture is gone.” In Tulsa, beans from El Salvador are roasted on site daily and freshly brewed coffee is served with an assortment of pastries and sandwiches. I’ve read the Starbucks story; I don’t get the same feeling from it as I do talking to Maria or John.

The next time you are yearning to explore or wishing for a change of scenery, try looking at home with fresh eyes.

Always, Trix

My finds:

http://www.topecacoffee.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turkey_Mountain_(Oklahoma)

www.washingtonparkpdx.org/map.htm


Aug 7 2010

A reflection between junk & funk.

“She’s started dressing differently.”

Dress composed by Kristin Olson-Huddle using records, dufle bag, bed skirt, cassette tape.

I hadn’t noticed.  I was preoccupied, struggling to understand a wife married to Richard Gere being grossly unhappy.  The movie was Unfaithful (link below).     My movie companion went on to say, “She’s dressing more like a French woman.”  Ah!  A woman in love and feeling attractive equals French, not American, style.

Tell me what you think!  Do women dress for men? Do they dress for other women?  Or – do they dress consistent with their self image and / or mood? And do the French women have a certain Savoir faire?

A reader sent me a NY Times article.  I read it on the run, getting enough of the jest to be  disturbed.  Pause to imagine a middle aged woman with a home office confronted with what to wear to a business conference when her professional clothing wardrobe had been neglected for years.   As I recall she took us on her shopping experience before concluding  “who cares what potato sack this aging gal wears? I am no longer noticed.”

“Pooh,”  I thought.  Last summer dating rekindled my interest in dressing. Walking (the one exercise form French embrace, other than sex) in Portland had freed me of 17 menopausal pounds.  That dip also changed things and propelled me back to more fitted clothes, higher heels and girly stuff over a strictly functional wardrobe.  The biggest change in my style, however, was in my gait.   I got that swing back! Heels or not, I walked taller.

ReBrewed. Dress of used coffee filters collected by designer Adrienne Duckrow.

I seek a style that is comfortable with a little something to stand apart in a crowd. There is a line given to Maria Callas in Terrance McNally’s play Master Class that even my son at age six understood (he bestowed the advise on a NYC waiter during after-theatre dining).  “You don’t have a look.  Get one!”

Returning to PDX (Portland airport) at midnight recently I happened upon an exhibit called Junk to Funk.  I easily could have been happy wearing all but the window blind dress.  When wearing high heels it is nice to be able to take a load off your feet periodically and that dress wasn’t gonna let me though it did a great job of hiding ample hips!

This week, put on your Sunday clothes and stride down the street.  It’s a great feeling!

Always, Trix

Dress made of window mini blinds. Junk to Funk PDX exhibit.

http://www.filmsandtv.com/movies/dianelane.php#n37

http://blogs.fashionclub.com/my_weblog/2010/04/recycled-fashion-show-at-portland-airport-junk-to-funk.html


Mar 28 2010

Okay to cheat.

March 28th, 2010

If you are reading this, you have at least considered cheating. The kind of person that gives in and then truly enjoys the experience guilt free is my kinda person!  Life is short and self control, according to Switch authors Chip and Dan Heath, is an exhaustible resource.   Liberate yourself! Confess with a post on this blog wall (emailing me doesn’t count). “The last food craving I surrendered to was….”

I may have outgrown it but there have been a few late nights, often after a healthy dose of culture, when I have wanted and had a chili cheese omelette.  The addiction started nearly 30 years ago in the French Quarter restaurant the Coffee Pot (thanks Lisa and Chris).  Before that in college I was known for dunking Pepperidge Farm Nassau cookies in a tub of Cool Whip.  Disgusting?  Which story?  Got me beat? Prove it, I say!

The trigger for this self confession was my last indulgence.  Earlier this month, I was cruising down Memorial Drive in Tulsa.  That’s when it hit me:  the scent and then the idea of a hamburger!   South of the two miles known as “Auto Row,” the heavily traveled street is peppered with fast food establishments and retail.

Now back when he was dancing with Ballet West in Salt Lake City, Joel hit Wendy’s regularly for a double cheeseburger.  When we met, however, he was living a beefless life.   “I am  sure to sprout feathers and gills any minute,” I told my mother, commenting on our dinner menus after a few months.  Somewhere in the first year that changed. When I was pregnant we each had an emergency Burger Street cheeseburger in the freezer.  At the red light I texted Joel.  “Carving a hamburger.”

Typos are my trademark; Joel knew what I meant and accepted the assignment to find the ideal Portland burger for Wednesday night. By holding out 48 hours I was contributing to my knowledge of my new hometown, not just given in to a craving.

Speaking of research, many people may not know the shapely, dancer-looking author, publicist and NPR commentator Connie Cronley (Sometimes A Wheel Falls Off is a delicious read) has a hamburger named after her.  I suspect as many people don’t know the hamburger was invented in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was! If Michael Wallis says it was (and the Dallas Morning News publishes it), who dares question his powerful, deep, entrancing voice that can only be the voice of authority?

Michael knows his stuff;  Athens, Texas can only lay claim to a “patty melt,” which is ground beef served between two pieces of bread.  Doesn’t count.  No bun, no burger.  Michael’s research revealed Oscar Weber Bilby was the first person to serve a real hamburger.  The date was July 4th, 1891 – how American!  But wait; does this dethrone the hot dog?

When Wednesday found me back in Portland we took a cab across the Willamette River to… Burgerville.  Not the Tulsa legendary Weber’s in Brookside but a Portland icon, Joel assured me.  The Yukon Gold Fries were very tasty but my money’s still on the burger at Blue Hour.  And in Tulsa, it is hard to beat a Baxter’s Interurban Grill Theta Burger – my way, sans pickles.

Bon appetite!  Trix

www.burgerville.com www.webersoftulsa.com www.bluehouronline.com

Tidbit: In French literature, Blue Hour means any time of heightened emotions.

www.baxtersgrill.com

www.conniecronley.com/about.php

www.michaelwallis.com/

www.chrisbrogan.com/switch-a-book-review/