A Trip To Trader Joe’s

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Dallas was all abuzz a few years back at the news we would be getting Trader Joe’s.  I had no idea what the fuss was about until we visited my cousins in Arizona and every delicious thing she made came from Trader Joe’s.  When they finally opened in Dallas, I was thrilled to discover they were like a cross between Whole Foods (or “whole paycheck” as is often joked) and maybe an ALDI.  My little one was even more little then and she LOVED pushing the kid’s cart around.  We definitely needed the one with the flag as a warning to others though!  She had just learned to walk so she wielded it somewhat drunkenly around the store.  Tenacious little thing; she refused to let me help.  I even have video of her unloading all the food from her little cart by herself so S L O W L Y and the darling man was just smiling and waiting with the patience of a saint for her to finish.  That’s when I really fell in love with Trader Joe’s.  Their food was great (we only buy organic), their prices were great (half the cost of Whole Foods) and the people MADE it by being so consistently kind!  Everyone knows kids love stickers.  And I happen to love samples.  So the little one and I enjoy shopping there for both the former and the latter, among other reasons.  Here it was the day before St. Patrick’s Day and this cheery, kind woman was handing out samples.  When I explained my little girl could not try any because of her gluten/dairy/egg intolerance, she came out and asked Maris if she liked stickers.  Not only did that cheer her up, the woman proceeded to take the lighted shamrock necklace she was wearing and insist upon my little girl having it.  What a kindness.  Such a sweet thing to do when she certainly did not have to.  Another clerk overheard about her food allergies and went and found us two complete lists of everything in the store they offer that my little one can have!  He went out of his way to help and did so cheerfully.  Neiman Marcus knew the real secret to success was great customer service.  And Trader Joe’s should be commended for consistently hiring happy, kind, kid-friendly, educated people who genuinely care about what they’re selling and to whom they sell it.  That is indeed a rarity in today’s world.  Mother Teresa said, “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”  God bless you Trader Joe’s for making a four year old’s trip to the grocery store so happy.

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I Can See Your Heart Beat

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“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart.  It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” ~ American singer Judy Garland

My little one recently had to have a chest x-ray.  It has been something of a shock that for four years my baby has barely had a sniffle and within the past few weeks we have discovered she is gluten, dairy and egg intolerant as well as asthmatic.  My response to the latter was:  “she’s got five belts in karate; she CAN’T have asthma!”  Well she does … for now anyway.  And she is handling it like a boss.  They wanted to make sure she did not have pneumonia so we went in for a chest x-ray.  The sweet woman explained everything she was doing and I promised my baby girl it wouldn’t hurt.  I told her it just takes a photo of your insides.  She held her breath as they took pictures of her little body and I held her small hands while they did it.  Thankfully her lungs are officially clear and they have improved by 25% since she started her breathing treatments a couple of weeks ago.  Looking at the x-rays I almost started crying.  “Mama, what’s wrong?” my little one asked.  Holding back tears I explained the last time I saw her heart it was beating inside my body.

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Class Snack Week

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I was so excited!  It was finally my turn to shop for the class snacks for our daughter’s school.  Each kiddo has one week where they provide for their class’ snacks each day and also fresh flowers, which I adore.  They have little vases all around the room and they get to practice flower arranging.  Plus I was not aware whomever brings the snacks gets to designate a snack helper (a big deal when you’re four) and they are in charge of placing the snacks out each day for the week.  Our little one was so excited!  Ironically we started the year with no food allergies except a mild one to cinnamon.  In the past several weeks, as I have blogged, we have discovered she is gluten intolerant and cannot have dairy or eggs either.  And yet prior to this I can guarantee I would have looked over the allergy issues list and carefully shopped for ALL the children.  For instance, someone is allergic to peanuts so I simply would not have bought any peanut butter or anything else made where there are peanuts.  Other parents have not been as considerate and my child got sick THREE TIMES from eating cheese, dairy and gluten.  How is a four year old supposed to know there are eggs in brownies?!  So I have brought mine her own snacks and her teacher was sweet enough to make her a special basket that has her name on it.  My heart hurts at the thought of any child being left behind or singled out.  And now it is personal.  So we went to Whole Foods and we got “our” pretzels (which I defy ANYone to say they can tell any difference), gluten free applesauce, the Pirate’s Booty that does not have dairy, bananas, mandarin oranges, and hummus that says for sure that it is gluten free.  Not only was it not that hard, I felt great knowing EVERY child in that classroom would be safe eating the organic, allergy-free food I had provided.  And, best of all, mine would be serving “her” food that they could all eat and she would not be left out!  Oh how we forget what it was like to be little.  Our little problems are their big ones.  I cannot change every week for her but I am getting to change this one.  It will be a glorious week where my girl serves the same great food for all.  Pope Francis said:

“We must restore hope to young people, help the old, be open to the future, spread love.  Be poor among the poor.  We need to include the excluded and preach peace.”

My daughter already knew the importance of compassion.  Now she knows first hand what it is like to be on the other side; sadly a part of everyone’s life at some point.  But no one will be excluded on my watch:  personal or not.

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Burning The Candle At Both Ends

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I do tend to get up early (no later than 5:30 a.m.) and go to bed a little late (around 11 p.m.) but I have always known the importance of sleep.  Today is Daylight Savings Time so we “spring forward” to lose an hour of precious slumber.  In the autumn we “fall back” and “gain” an hour.  I have never found an attribution but I have heard it said many times than an Indian (Native American) once said, “Only a white man would believe you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.”  I think Daylight Savings is ridiculous and actually detrimental.  And WHY must they always make it before church?  Daylight Savings Time is not observed in Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, or the Virgin Islands.  I think they’ve got the right idea being on “Island Time” which, by the way, is no different than being on “Indian time”.  It means things get done in their own time.  Arizona also does not observe DST and neither does the Navajo Nation.  In Europe they simply call it “summer time” and it begins at 1:00 a.m. Universal Time (Greenwich Mean Time) the last Sunday in March and ends at 1:00 a.m. the last Sunday in October, which makes infinitely more sense to me.  The very term “savings” is a misnomer given that no daylight is being saved.  Regardless, the cycles remain the same.  Mother Moon follows Father Sun and they rise and set each day.  Our bodies know this.  So while I am feeling pretty accomplished right now I know the need for sleep will catch up with me.  And I will listen without shame.  Sleep is not laziness; it is God’s way of helping calm us, rest our bodies, and rejuvenate our minds.  In the meantime I think I shall pour myself a second cup of coffee.  God bless caffeine.

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Seville

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Our last day was spent in the capital of Seville.  After the “discovery” of the Americas, it became one of the economic centers of the Spanish empire with its port monopolizing the trans-oceanic trade.  As a person proud of their Native American heritage, I confess this particular city did not sit well with me.  I understand it happened in the past, but, for me at least, it still seriously rankled.  We all know Christopher Columbus set sail for the “New World” and hit land in 1492.  I wonder how many know of the heinous atrocities committed after he landed?  He and others such as Hernando de Soto and Cabeza de Vaca slaughtered thousands of innocents and enslaved the rest searching for riches not theirs to be plundered.  It sickens me.  And then there was the dreaded encomendia system which whipped Native Peoples into submission and enslavement all under the name of God, King and Country (Spain).  If you care to research this further, do yourself a favor:  they say history is written by the victors.  Do not read some glossy bio of the “great explorers”; rather I encourage you to look deeper and find reading material giving a more truthful historical account of what Europeans did to Native Peoples.  I created my own minor at SMU in Native American studies and if anyone is really interested I can send you book titles.  But I digress.  This day we would see the Seville Cathedral, the largest gothic cathedral and the third largest church in the world.  I had a visceral reaction to seeing Christopher Columbus’ crypt.  I just remember lots of gold and silver and felt I should leave because it was not good to be filled with such hatred in a house of God; really anywhere for that matter.  Outside it was hot — sweat trickling down your back hot.  I found myself worrying about the horses who were giving carriage rides at the Maria Luisa Park.  Pictured here is the Plaza de España complex, a huge half-circle with buildings continually running around the edge.  It is surrounded by a moat accessible by several beautiful bridges.  In the center is a large fountain and the walls of the plaza have tiled alcoves, each representing a different province of Spain.  Last, we visited the Alcazar of Seville.  A royal palace originally developed by Moorish Muslim Kings, it is renowned as one of the most beautiful in Spain and regarded as one of the most outstanding examples of mudéjar architecture found on the Iberian Peninsula.  The main entrance to the Alcázar takes its name from the 19th century tile work inlaid above it, a crowned lion holding a cross in its claws bearing a Gothic script.  I loved the rounded doorways and the dark blue tile work.  The gardens were beautiful, as was the reflecting pool.  I found myself idly watching the koi swirling their tails languidly in the heat of the mid-day sun and missing our own koi at home in our beautiful, tiny pond.  With this, I knew I was ready to come home.  As our van wound its way back up the sharp twists and turns of the cobblestone streets of Vejer past the white washed buildings for the final time I was looking forward to one last sangria and cigar.

“Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault.  It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.” ~ Austrian-born former managing editor of Time magazine Henry Anatole Grunwald

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Tangiers

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It would be my favorite city we visited on this trip.  Clearly visible from the southern tip of Spain, the continent of Africa could be seen.  And by that I do not mean Sarah Palinesque; you really could see it!  A short ferry ride later and we were in Tangier.  Morocco!  Of course they speak French so I was thrilled.  It holds a rich history beginning with being a strategic Berber town in the 5th century.  In the 19th century it was considered to have international status by foreign colonial powers and became a destination for many European and American diplomats, spies, and writers.  I have read romance novels where the heroine gets lost down some narrow alleyway.  I could certainly see that happening if one veered off the wide, main street.  But cool, narrow alleys darkened by shade shielding against the afternoon sun beckoned with the exotic.  There were spices of every conceivable sort, silks, and trinkets behind heavy rugs that covered some of the vendors’ openings.  If one gave into temptation, as did I, it was incredibly easy to get disoriented with all the twists and turns.  One shop blended into the next and before I knew it I was beset upon by three charming, very smart, very persistent little urchins.  They hit me up for money in perfect English, French, Spanish, and German before I finally gave in.  The trio could not have been more than seven and they KNEW women would soften seeing their dark, puppy dog eyes peeking up at them from beneath long black lashes.  The youngest one started crying because he said I didn’t give him any money — when clearly I did.  That’s when I realized the little stinkers were professionals.  And they were good!  I shelled out more dirhams before I realized I’d been had.  When I narrowed my eyes and told them in French that was IT the oldest gave me a knowing look and they all scampered off.  Making our way back to the main part of the medina, we sat down for some Moroccan mint tea — my absolute favorite.  I thought it was strange to be drinking hot tea in the middle of a hot afternoon but it was delicious.  When I quietly remarked to my husband how charming the little glasses were with their colorful peacocks on them our sweet server gave mine to me to keep just before we left.  I still have it and I cherish it.  We went through the old Kasbah and I found myself unwittingly thinking of the ’80’s punk rock song “Rock the Casbah”.  We also visited the Kasbah Museum; the former Sultan’s palace.  It contained a collection of artifacts from the Phoenician to modern times as well as a beautiful garden.  We were there during Ramadan and our lunch was a light one.  I remember leaning back against the velvet, colored cushions of my second story window seat looking out over the Grand Mosque of Tangier.  Listening to the beautiful, lilting sounds that were the call to prayer coming from loud speakers throughout town was one of the most moving experiences of my life.  Perhaps even more surprising was seeing the Anglican Church of Saint Andrew coexisting peacefully not too far away.  They seemed to love Americans and Morocco was the first country to recognize the United States in 1777.  Locals would stop us just wanting to talk.  I could not leave without purchasing a beautiful, cobalt blue hanging lamp.  We always keep it on with an electric “gas” light.  American writer Paul Theroux said:

“The two impulses in travel are to get away from home, and the other is to pursue something — a landscape, people, an exotic place.  Certainly finding a place that you like or discovering something unusual is a very sustaining thing in travel.”

In Morocco I found exotic wares, welcoming people, and a landscape framed by the foaming waves of the sea.  It was lovely, memorable, and sustaining indeed.

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Cadiz

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The port of Cadiz was our next day’s excursion.  Founded 3,000 years ago, it is the oldest continuously inhabited city in Spain and is situated on a narrow slice of land surrounded by the sea.  We visited an archeological museum called the Casa del Obispo.  Just outside the Cathedral of Cadiz’s eastern exterior wall there was an expansive museum of glass walkways that took us over excavated Roman ruins and spanned events in Cadiz’s history from the 8th century BC up until the 18th century.  It served as a Phonecian funerary complex, a Roman temple, a mosque, and then became Episcopal in the 16th century.  Each of the different peoples who settled the city left an important cultural imprint.  Their influence still remains in the character of its people.  What I remember most is our obese, sweaty guide attempting to lead us through the (essentially) nude beach in order to observe one of the cities ancient fortifying walls.  Something tells me it could have been viewed elsewhere and Burk and I decided to sit that one out.  Call me a prudish American but it was just too shocking with everyone exposed like that.  All the men wore thongs with the tiniest scrap holding the front of them in … sort of holding them in.  It was worse than any Texas strip club and frankly I found it traumatizing.  I was not about to schlepp in between naked people fully clothed — history lover or no.  The English poet Robert Browning said, “Perhaps one has to be very old before one learns to be amused rather than shocked.”  All I can say is it was an eye opening experience.

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Roman Ruins Near Tarifa

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There is something beautifully haunting about ruins by the sea.  It’s the juxtaposition between the ephemeral and the eternal.  This day was a scorcher and we were in Tarifa.  There were only a few people wandering about as the pillars cast long shadows over the ground.  Inside a museum held all sorts of interesting artifacts unearthed in the dig.  Baelo Claudia was an ancient Roman town whose history was with the trade routes that served Europe and North Africa.  The town’s strategic position near the Straits of Gibraltar made it a crucial stopping point between the two continents.  It derived its wealth from the fishing industry and supplied garum (fish paste) to the whole Roman Empire.  Apparently it was a popular delicacy.  The ruins boasted an impressive temple, forum, basilica, and — the town’s livelihood — a large fish salting factory.  At the top was a theater and we walked along the stones against a stunning backdrop of golden sand and blue sea.  I could hear the waves crashing and I thought once again of history and time.  Nations rise and fall but the ocean remains, withstanding the folly of man and bearing testament to it all.  The 18th century French political philosopher Charles de Montesquieu said, “Luxury ruins republics; poverty, monarchies.”  But the tides roll on.

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A Palomar And The Rock Of Gibraltar

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This day we headed out to see an ancient dovecote.  I thought it was so cool until I found out they raised the birds to eat them.  I figured they were used as carrier pigeons.  Apparently they were also utilized for their eggs as well as their dung.  It is in the Guiness Book of World Records as the largest dovecote in the world with 7770 clay nests.  Active until the 18th century, now it was mostly empty.  I learned something else new as well; I had always heard of the Rock of Gibraltar but had no idea we were fairly close.  Never having been on British soil, I wanted to visit.  I remember being so excited to get another stamp on my passport and they didn’t even do it!  It seemed so out of place to see the Union Jack flying everywhere, double decker buses, and people driving on the left side of the road.  There were police with their high, rounded hats and others with large guns at the border.  The highest point of the rock rises almost 1,400 feet above the strait.  Approximately 40% of Gibraltar’s land was declared a nature preserve in 1993.  I so wanted to see the famed Barbary macaques but we ran out of time.  We did get to admire the peaceful botanical gardens which were both quiet and cooling.  English novelist Graham Greene said:

“The border means more than a customs house, a passport officer, a man with a gun.  Over there everything is going to be different; life is never going to be quite the same again after your passport has been stamped.”

As our driver took us back to Vejer along the high, curving roads that lined the sea I realized that although my actual passport stamp had eluded me, I now carried with me the stamp of being forever changed and I looked forward to what else this trip had in store.

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Jerez de la Frontera

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It was our first full day in Spain and we were off to visit the city known for horses, sherry, flamenco and motorcycles.  We would experience the first two on this day and began by visiting the Jerez Horse Show.  The Andalusians were stunning but I was not sure how I felt about watching the beautiful creatures “perform”.  I understand it originated for training in battle and has since become more for pageantry of heritage and tradition now.  It is dedicated to conserve classical and country dressage, the breed of the Spanish horse, and the and culture.  As a native Texan, I know hot.  I survived the heat wave of the 80’s and would carry my child during the hottest summer on record.  However, thank the Lord we have air conditioning.  It was Texas hot minus the coolant.  Next we were off to visit the famed sherry vineyards of Tio Pepe.  The lush canopy of green vines provided a respite from the heat and looked like a magical forest.  During our tour we learned the area has a long history of wine production.  Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, and Moors all brought with them their own wine making techniques when they occupied the area.  The development of sherry reflects the development of Spain itself.  The grounds are composed of several bodegas.  One of the largest, built in 1857, is Los Apostles named for the great central cask “El Cristo”.  Smaller casks flank it, each bearing the names of the Apostles.  There is also La Concha, built in 1862 and designed by the famed Gustav Eiffel.  Flags show each country that has imported their sherry.  In addition there is the Bodega los Reyes bearing the signatures of royalty who have visited.  Others cellars boast the sketches, dates, and signatures of famous artists.  We sat down for a private wine tasting mid-afternoon.  As a vegetarian, I was coming to discover much to my horror that the Spaniards adore prosciutto.  I mean they serve it at every meal and with everything.  The trouble for me was I kept looking for some olives at least.  My husband will not eat anything cold and when he is displeased his lips turn down just like Beaker on the Muppets.  Displeasure for him is having nothing to eat — or in having it served cold.  We sat in tables of four under a tent and I remember praying our sherry tasting would at least cool me down a little.  I cannot remember our fourth other than they were not drinking along with my pouting husband.  But four different bottles later my grandmother-in-law pronounced she was more charming and beautiful than ever.  That woman matched me drink for drink and she was in her early 80’s at the time.  She also spent a considerable amount of time imitating her grandson which made me snicker.  The best part of the afternoon was visiting the final bodega and seeing a wine glass full of sherry with a tiny ladder leading up to it.  It was said there was a mouse who kept chewing through the casks so they began leaving him his own glass.  I could not get a good picture in the dark cellar but it was charming.  We made our way back to Vejer and I decided to enjoy our balcony view and indulge in a cigar.  It was peaceful and I would find myself making the nightly climb to drink in the sights pictured above and to reflect on each day.

“Humans are the only creatures with the ability to dive deep in the sea, fly high in the sky, send instant messages around the globe, reflect on the past, assess the present and imagine the future.”  American Sylvia Earle, first female Chief Scientist of the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

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