January 11

Ten year ago today, I handed out the keys, cookbooks, recipes, employees, customers and the fruits of many years of my life to a man I barely knew.

At 5 PM on January 11 2000, I walked out of La Vie en Rose Bakery and forgot to take all my heart with me. It took a few years and many small trips to get the rest of it. Most of it.

A Magical Encounter and The Last Plane

After looking at my car and doing a little bit of tinkering, the thickly accented mechanic tells me to get in the car with him and go for a ride "so I can hear what he hears."

I get in through the passenger side.

He slides behind the wheel and hands me twenty dollars. He says that he found it on my seat, earlier.

I sit for a second with the sweet appreciation of his honesty.

Moments later, he sees the stacks of matched books on my back seat and I answer his silent question. I tell him that they are mine, they are the book I wrote.

He tells me that he would like me to help him write a book.

And then the words spill out.

He is Armenian. Born in Iraq (EERAK). Moved to Beirut. Left in 1975. Has so much to tell. Tells me a little more and soon, his story makes "The Kite Runner" seem cheerful.

Then I think for a second and I ask: "1975... didn't they stop flying out of Beirut in 1975?"

He turns to me and says: "right after our flight left the ground, they closed the airport. For 15 years."

Dating.

There is no French word for "dating."

Wiped Out - Part II - The Gift

In the last two months, my own personal mental hard drive has been been wiped out pretty clean.

Much of what I "knew" no longer applies and I am treasuring this new way of being.

Sharing this lack of "knowing" has been a gift as well.

And now, I understand the computer thing.

I understand that as much time as I spend in my relationship with my little white Mac (listening to music, writing, studying, communicating, working, banking, teaching, learning, discovering, discovering movies and more), it makes such perfect sense that ITS hard drive had to go as well.

The Old was ... old.

And so now, the New is slowly trickling back in. At its own pace ...

I like that a lot.

Wiped Out

I have - completely - erased my computer's hard drive.

Just reading these words as I write them makes me feel... strange.

Everything is gone: photos, programs and of course... my website. Not to mention my books-in-progress and who knows what else I have not yet thought about.

I sit here and try to observe my thoughts: some of them are of panic. Some of them are numb. Others, I barely glimpse at may be of something akin to ... excitement? Could that be?

I know that everything has a darn great reason for happening. I know that I create my own reality.

I don't know why I picked this. When I do, I will let you know.

Until then, I oscillate between lots of "doing" (calling data recovery services, thinking about what else is gone) and "being" (taking a bath, thinking that maybe I will forget the whole thing and apply for a job as a school bus driver).

This is a strange time.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

As I was getting ready to shove a thyroid pill down our dog Roxy's throat, a couple of weeks ago, something in the way she looked up at me made me pause.

She and I have a very strong bond and I usually relate to her very much the way I relate to the people I love.

Which does not include shoving anything down their throats.

So, I stopped, placed the pill on the floor and simply asked her to please eat it.

Roxy looked at me, sniffed the pill and turned away.

I asked her again. I reminded her of how much better she had been feeling since she had been taking it, these past few weeks.

She looked at me again, walked back to the pill ... and ate it.

Just like that.

And so, this is how it has been ever since. Twice a day.

Easy. Fully connected, trusting, respectful.

And yes, I know that "you can always sneak it in her food" but just as I don't sneak spinach into my kids' food ... well, I like this so much better.

To Party ... or Not to Party? - That Was the Question.

I moved to the US a few days after finishing high school.

This was not an intended move and in fact, I did not think that it was a move, only a visit.

But this is another story. One that has been slow to heal.

My parents, in an attempt to get me socially connected to "their new country", introduced me to a young man who invited me to "a party."

Having not danced in a few weeks, I was looking forward to it.

As I walked into the house where the party was held, I noticed that it had not yet started: people were still standing around the living room, talking. The lights were bright. Some people were sitting on the couch and everyone seemed to be drinking - a lot. Many of the guests seemed a little bored and I could not wait for the fun to start as this certainly held no air of what I thought of as a party.

A couple of hours later, my date told me that it was time to go home.

"We are going to leave before the party starts???"

He looked at me, confused.

"This is the party. We have been at the party." he answered, looking at me strangely.

My heart grew heavy as I realized that I would not dance after all. It grew heavier as, that evening, I became aware of the difference between the lives of French teenagers and American teenagers.

I had spent my teenage years going to weekly parties where we danced all night, lights turned low, strobes turned high (this was the 80's...) and - to my recollection -  never a drop of alcohol in sight. There was laughter, playfulness and well, FUN.

I had seen none of it that night.

Addendum:

A few weeks later, that same boy invited me to the movies. He did not mention anything about "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" being an atypical show. As we left the theater, grains of rice in my hair, I knew for sure that I hand landed in a different planet. A planet where not only did kids not dance but adults felt compelled to act out every movie they watched. I could not wait to go back home to France.

Which, as it turns out, I never did.