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Posted on by Melanie Ormand - 1 Comment on Taking Flight for Tea

Taking Flight for Tea

Last week I celebrated an anniversary.

This week I celebrate a find: the best green tea on the planet.

After my stroke in 2012, much changed.

Coffee sickened me. I switched to green tea. In low doses, its natural properties protect the brain and fight premature aging. Emphasis on former, not the latter.

Now, roadtrips demand daily green tea. Non-debatable.

In Vienna, Austria, a tiny cafe offered a wall of overstuffed couches but no green tea (“gruner Tee”). DH knew enough Austrian German to translate chai tea latte and order two drinks.

He also picked up a single slice of Vienna’s national treasure. At first taste of the oh-my-god Sacher Torte, all tea cravings vanished.

Five years later, that single bite of dark chocolate remains a heart-stopping memory. Yes, that good. I’ve sought to replicate the experience stateside. Failed. Every. Taste.

A summer later, iced green tea called my name at Denver’s Tattered Cover bookstore.

A brief moment in time, it flooded with crisp Rocky Mountain air and mild June temperatures. An odd perfection ensued, the world dissolving between the first sting of ice-cold green tea and the opening words of a brand-new book. 

Last Labor Day, Steven Smith Teamaker of Portland, Oregon delivered a first-ever Tea Flight.

Each large porcelain bowl delivered nirvana in a two-handed grip. Four varieties of green tea ranged from bitter to sweet and heavy to light. A different galaxy came to life in each bowl. 

So unexpected was the experience, DH and I sipped and giggled amid our overwhelm—a tea flight, and every one is excellent! Who-da-thunk-it?!

The experience laid shame to all previous tasting flights involving beer, wine or mini-desserts.

For this West Coast adventure, think entirely new universe of life experience. As in the best green tea on two continents.

It changed our day, this intimate, circle-around-the-sun journey unfolding in a tiny, quiet shop, hidden deep in Portland’s warehouse district. To think we only navigated it because of an insistent bus driver.

Last week, we returned to Portland while never leaving.

At the old Waldo’s teahouse, we discovered a revamped cottage. Inside EQ in the Heights, we found new paint, new interiors, and a new menu.

On a side shelf sat our old friend: Steven Smith Teamaker.

I ordered a teapot of Jasmine Silver Tip and enjoyed, once again in a special teahouse, the world’s best green tea. 

Memories returned. I smiled, giggled, then sipped some more. 

Ah, the joy of unexpected delights. 

NOTE: I’ve never met Mr. Steven Smith. He’s not paying for this over-the-top product endorsement. I pay fully for any of the tea I buy regularly from his company. Just sayin’, friends.

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - No Comments on The Zoo Road

The Zoo Road

I can’t stop walking. I walk around the neighborhood. I walk around the park. I walk when I am running errands in the neighborhood.

Thanks to gastric sleeve surgery and physical therapy for my “arthritic knee”, I have lost weight and can walk for a couple of miles at a time without any pain or discomfort. Please get out of my way and don’t slow me down.

The other day my Dear Friend and I went to the Houston Zoo. They open at 9:00 a.m. and we were there walking around by 9:30. It was cool and the sky was overcast. There was a nice breeze. What’s not to love?

Our first stop was the area that housed the elephants. There were no elephants. I am guessing that elephants are not morning critters. Bummer. I love elephants. DF and I kept walking.

We came upon the cougars. I love big cats. Let’s see the cougars! There were no cougars. Apparently they were up late last night partying with the elephants. I wish I had been invited to that party!

Finally we walked into a building that looked out on the gorilla section. Seems as though the gorillas were not invited to the elephant/cougar party either, because there were several gorillas looking wide awake and enjoying a leisurely breakfast. They didn’t seem to mind that we watched them and took pictures.

It was just DF and I and the gorillas. We could dawdle and slowly observe these magnificent creatures. They ate lettuce and drank from coconuts.

As we continued walking through the zoo we saw more and more animals. There were many flamingos. They had just finished their breakfast and were strolling around their area visiting with some ducks and other birds that came by for a visit.

I had never seen so many pink flamingos together in one place. Why yes, I did see a couple that stood on one leg. Did you know their knees fold backwards?

It was about this point when DF and I noticed that we were no longer strolling along without any other zoo visitors. Mothers were also strolling pushing baby strollers. There were parents with toddlers. Then there was one school group…and then another. Quickly the children were greatly outnumbering the adults.

One of our last stops was the giraffe area and these wonderful animals did not disappoint. There were several giraffes of various ages and sizes along with some ostriches and one zebra. I had never noticed before that both giraffes and ostriches have long necks. Who knew? Well, I guess I knew, but had never had cause to stop and think about this before. I had never seen them standing side by side for the comparison. The zoo is so full of all of these educational experiences. Unfortunately there was only one zebra. I wondered if there was another zebra who had partied with the elephants and cougars and was still asleep.

We weren’t able to visit with the sea lions, because several school groups were getting a private showing of the water creatures. Then the closer we got to the front there were groups and gaggles of students everywhere we looked. All ages and all sizes plus teachers and parental escorts. Adults were seriously outnumbered. Time to go.

After walking around for an hour, we had not seen all the animals we had hoped to see. Not a problem. This just meant that we get to go back for another zoo walk to visit the elephants and lions and tigers and bears! Oh My!

Until next week.….

Posted on by Melanie Ormand - 11 Comments on Goodbye to Annie Annys

Goodbye to Annie Annys

In the brain aneurysm community, we know her as Annie.

You don’t want to meet her. But I did — seven years ago this weekend.

My Annie was a triplet.

The first aneurysm sat in the back of my brain. Her twin sisters parked themselves above my right ear.

I knew nothing of them until Annie #1 blew up on April 20, 2012.

She exploded when I was on the road. DH and I had flown to his Nebraska hometown to move his parents into assisted living.

I knew there was a problem when, at age 55, I wet my pants in front of my mother-in-law. The ER doctor took one look at the MRI and ordered me flown to Omaha for emergency brain surgery.

Later, I read get well messages on the computer. My voice went on vacation, forced mute by an emergency tracheostomy.

I got worse before I got better. Unexpected complications set in.

Doctors put me in a percussion bed. It rotates as it thumps your backside. The neuro team induced a coma.

Later, I landed in rehab back in Houston with only three tubes remaining in my body. I relearned how to walk, talk, shower, dress, and feed myself.

Our dog, Rudi, loved rehab visits. His version of wheelchair healing delivered tears of unabashed joy.

I remember little of that cruelest month-plus.

Pictures fill the memory blanks. The photos exist for one reason. Early, I suggested to DH: “take lots of pictures. I might need them for a book or something.” 

Here we are, seven years later. The book is in the pipeline.

I share my Annie misadventure because this Easter weekend, my head buzzes with a seven-year-itch.

It’s time to close the books with this anniversary.

A ruptured brain aneurysm and a single surgery devolved into 15 hospitalizations and four brain surgeries. Amid the health crises, we buried ten family members during those years.

I call them my anni horribiles, or horrible years. Queen Elizabeth’s bad 1992 offers chocolate cake with sprinkles compared to these last seven in my tribe.

The word “seven” bristles with universal meaning.

Seven days of creation. Seven days in a week. Seven seas. Seven continents. Seven colors in a rainbow. Seven chakras. Seven Wonders of the World. Seven deadly sins.

Even my car hit a notable seven yesterday. Ah, the lucky power of timely observation!

Ancient Greeks and Romans believed seven-year cycles guide every human life. They named it the “hebdomadal system.” Mystic Rudolf Steiner modernized the concept in 1924. Some believe the human body renews all its cells every seven years (a myth, by the way).

The seven-year theme echoes across religions, economics, politics, even writing. The Roman writer, Censorinus, made a powerful, primal connection. In A.D. 238, he linked these life cycles to Nature: “seven years…a turning point and something new occurs.” This link offers hope, stability, and an ending.

Pema Chodron aces the message with words of her own: “Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.”

What learnings can I share from these past seven years?

  • Let your team help you survive. Return the favor often.
  • Let your life purpose rise up; it’s waiting to guide you.
  • Let your body tell you what it needs. Listen well.
  • Let your mind and soul offer thanks. Daily.
  • There are no lessons, only learnings. Use and share them. Wisely.

I’m packed and ready for the next cycle.

Bigger, braver roads beckon me forward, onward.

How about you?

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - No Comments on When The Road Changes

When The Road Changes

Things change. It’s inevitable.

I visited the Houston Arboretum and Nature Center again this week. The purpose for this particular road trip involved a photographic expedition. I wanted a location where I could find interesting pictures of light, sunshine, shadow and nature. It was a partly cloudy day where the sun came and went behind the clouds which kept the light changing throughout the morning. I took many pictures of the varieties of light available to me that day.

I also took pictures of several of the critters I found while walking around the various trails. It seemed as though the animals were cooperating with me most of the time. Some of them even seemed to pose while I took a number of photos.

A long time ago I developed a year-long habit, or meditative practice if you will, of walking in the Houston Arboretum routinely once a week. I started this in the month of January and kept it up all the way through December. I had great fun watching nature go from one season to another. I watched wild flowers bloom in the spring and I watched great numbers of monarch butterflies as they migrated. I got to know the animals around the pond. A couple of turtles and I were on first name basis. One time I saw a poisonous snake swimming across the pond.…..thankfully away from me.

By the time the year was up, I knew the Houston Arboretum forwards and backwards. You could drop me down onto any trail and I could find my way out. Several times I would help guide folks who were walking around looking very lost.

But not anymore. The Arboretum is getting updated, upgraded, made fancier? Whatever you want to call it, my beloved Arboretum is changing. There are now two entrances. A new office building is going up and a new education center. Trails are changing…I think. There are more ponds. There are a couple of spots where I was used to seeing a particular tree leading to that particular trail that I can no longer find. I actually had to use a map to find my way around during this last visit. I found the largest pond that I was looking for, but I could almost swear that a smaller pond disappeared in that one spot that I was used to visiting.

Unless you are a member, there is now a small charge for parking. Of course if I wait just a couple of weeks then I will qualify for a “Senior” membership. I will get free parking and a discount in the gift shop. Who says life doesn’t keep getting more exciting as you get older?

There was one thing that I was very glad to see had not changed. There are still turtles in the large pond. There were at least 10 of them sunning themselves on various logs in the middle of the water. None of them waved at me or asked me where I had been, but I was delighted to see them anyway.

I’ll use a map until I learn the new layout and pay attention to detail so I don’t get lost. The trails are being improved and there are more benches so a writer can sit down and create in the middle of nature. I may not visit weekly like I used to, but I can see myself showing up there maybe monthly.

And I like to hug the trees. Yes, I am a tree hugger. Yes, they hug back. It’s all very nice.

Until next week,.„„

Posted on by Melanie Ormand - No Comments on Spring Trips: As Simple as A‑B-C‑D

Spring Trips: As Simple as A‑B-C‑D

A random burst of spring decluttering (aka: anything-but-writing-That-Scene) led to rediscovering this relic.

From a bygone era, it’s an engraved sterling silver baby cup. Look closely and you’ll recognize the name.

When I first opened the box, years of accumulated tarnish hid the baby’s identity. Extended elbow grease reminded me of two things: 1) why I’d stored away this boxed cup, and 2) why I do not use, collect, and will-never-in-any-way amass pretty, shiny, high-maintenance metal things.

Even so, the oddest experience unfolded as I admired the newly-cleaned silver piece. Words dropped in—A Baby’s Cup of Dreams. As simple as A‑B-C‑D.

Messages from other places. That happens sometimes. It’s a weird writer, woo-woo thing.

When the voice speaks, I listen. Then launch.

To my writing space, I ran. My fingers grabbed specific tokens, all stand-ins for my authorial adventure. I moved intuitively. No second-guessing permitted.

Items included a miniature Christmas ornament, Novelist pin, a Glimmer Train magazine, a TRHOF pin, a tiny silver shell engraved “Touch Hearts,” a gratitude blessing circle, and a “Let’s Go on a Road Trip” sticker.

A few days later, my dear friend Pat Clark (a fellow Road Broad who you read here last summer) gifted me a most groovy Road Bag.

That two-lane highway is only part of the bag’s glory. Check out those colors! Every character in my novel is represented.

Ahem, and uh, no. Most writers don’t color their characters. I’m not every writer. I am my mother’s daughter, my own person as she was herself. 

Such an attitude matters in this world of color-by-other’s-numbers.

What also matters is recognizing the road signs that arise on the journey.

I see signs daily, each echoing springtime on my four mile walks. When the ancient baby cup resurfaced, I recognized the sign of something old, granted in a new season.

The zipper bag landed as a sign from an old friend, a woman I’ve known since 1984 as journalist and now, fellow writer. I recognized her gift as something new for how I’ve long traveled: on many roads.

Arriving home, I realized the new bag needed old supplies. Not mere symbols of meaning but useful tools to bring dreams to life through renewed storytelling.

Journals.

Pens.

A closet dive reminded me I’m well-stocked. Embarrassingly so.

There’s nothing I need.

I’m ready.

I’m supplied.

A‑B-C‑D is going places this spring season, journeying into my field of dreams.

How about you?

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - 1 Comment on On The Road With Scooters

On The Road With Scooters

Keep Austin Weird!

No, I am not being rude. Maybe you’ve seen the t‑shirts. Anyway, it’s an official slogan that was adopted by the Austin Independent Business Alliance.

And keeping Austin weird is fun. When I was there a couple of weeks ago for a book launch, I had the grand pleasure of staying at the Driskill Hotel. Yes, I have a weakness for historical and haunted hotels. Unfortunately I did not meet up with any ghosts while I was there, but I did spend a lot of time walking around downtown Austin. If you are familiar with the neighborhood, I walked up and down 6th Street, Congress, etc.

My Dear Friend and I walked carefully. To avoid all the scooters. Downtown was crawling with them. Apparently you only need the right app on your phone to rent one. Both citizens and tourists were riding them around the downtown area seeing what there was to see. Then when folks were done, the scooters were left on the sidewalk. There seemed to be an amazing lack of rules to this. Kinda like bumper cars except that half the folks were going 15 miles an hour on two wheels and the rest of us were walking on two legs.

Do you notice the nice gent in this picture driving his scooter down the street? Well, most scooter riders weren’t like this nice person. Most scooter aficionados traveled in packs. Sometimes they traveled on the streets and sometimes on the sidewalks. Sometimes they stopped for red lights and stop signs and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they went the wrong way down one way streets. They were wild boisterous packs of swarming scooter hordes.

In this picture it looks like the red scooters are taking aim with a cannon on a lone green scooter. Of course the statue helped by lighting the cannon. I wonder if the green scooter did some egregious act to rile the ire of the red scooters? I asked, but neither the scooters or statue would talk about it.

Many of the fun loving speedy scooter critters were young. I’m guessing a lot of students and recent alums from the University of Texas cruising the bar scene on 6th Street. But I also saw a lot of grey hair flying in the breeze as a gaggle would soar past. Was this part of a mid-life crisis ritual? Go to Austin, ride a scooter, drink beer and bemoan a lost youth?

I only got almost hit once. According to the traffic light, I had the right of way to cross the street. I began walking, my Dear Friend tugged on my arm. I stopped just in time to see a woman careening around the corner.

And finally I leave you with this picture. Was this scooter on sale for $5? Was it free as long as it was adopted into a good home? Who can tell. Maybe there were rules to this sport that I just didn’t have time to learn.

Back in Houston we don’t have scooters flying around the streets of downtown. No one wants to keep Houston weird.

Until next week.….

Posted on by Melanie Ormand - No Comments on When the Road Goes #&$^%!!

When the Road Goes #&$^%!!

Sometimes, the road fails a broad.

A weekend excursion to a Houston-area arts market beckoned. A knee-high pile of to-do’s flashed yellow. Is this really what you need to be doing today?

I printed a cursory Google map—home to market—and announced, “we’re set.”

We parked at the recommended parking garage—free parking! I turned us left onto the street, chatting like a bird as I followed my phone’s blue line.

Ten minutes later, DH-with-the-built-in-satellite-dish-in-his-head asked, “We’ve been walking a long way for the short walk you promised.”

I shoved my iPhone in his palm. He coughed.

We were 10 minutes in the wrong direction.

Twenty minutes after we began, we spied the art market.

And spotted a block-long row of walk-this-way cones.

Another half block and more orange soldier-cones later, navigation time arrives. The electrical cords on the sidewalk offered one challenge.

But the power saw laying on the concrete only ten steps later?

Across the street—where the multi-colored tents stand—we found one food truck for the multiples promised on the website.

The art was well, bleh!

That’s tough truth coming from a woman who loves to support local artists. None of it—acrylic paintings, drop earrings, and enlarged photographs—was what either of us wanted, needed, or craved.

The best site was this sculpture. What is it? A vertical bike offering a ride to…? And those bonus parts are…?

I smiled.

Sometimes a single piece of art can turn around a moment-in-time.

Turning to my right, I spied something to widen that smile.

The wall’s simple, powerful message bettered an entire day. A fierce reminder for each of us, if we choose to see it.

Leaving the art market, we spotted a heretofore hidden parking lot across the street. One left turn and 30 seconds later, we stood before our car. Well, duh!

DH mentioned hunger. 2:30 in the afternoon. He chose a burger bar nearby for linner—as in a lunch/dinner combo. It was millennial-loud. He ate what they advertised. I chose greens

We reviewed how south the excursion had gone. How do you rescue a Road Trip Gone Bad? We embraced four learnings:

Rescue your Emotions. Slow down.

Revise your Map. Double-check details.

Reorganize your Agenda. Get flexible.

Return to your Passions. Find new haunts.

To close the day, we relaunched with that last learning. A final round of googling and we discovered a rebranded tea bar. There, we read novels for the rest of the afternoon.

Delicious details on that part of this road trip next Sunday. And it’s a first.

A to-be-continued blog post.

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - 2 Comments on Road Trip to a Book Launch

Road Trip to a Book Launch

What a spring time! What a weekend! What a life!

I felt excited about all three of these as I spent the weekend in Austin, Texas. Another road trip for this RoadBroad! Usually it is just fun to travel to Austin and soak in all the “wierdness” that is the State Capitol of the Lone Star State. However, I had a very important reason for this most recent trip.

My dear Friend and I went to Austin to visit the Book-Woman and enjoy a book launch for an exciting murder mystery called Death Unchartered by Dorothy Van Soest.

I met Dorothy last year when I traveled to Boulder, Colorado for the 10-day writing intensive with Max Regan. It was just after my retirement from local government and I was beginning to make my way as a full-time writer.

Dorothy lived in Austin for a while when she served as an associate dean and professor at the University of Texas School of Social Work before she became the Dean of the University of Washington School of Social Work. Turns out we knew some of the same folks in the Social Work field.

Dorothy has already published 10 books and Death Unchartered is the next one in the series of Sylvia Jensen mysteries. This is my first Sylvia Jensen mystery and I can’t wait to read the others. If you like mysteries, you will find this to be a real page turner!

The book launch was a success. The crowd was all but standing room only and Dorothy kept us all captivated as she shared several short readings with us. The story opens with a murder and gets more exciting from there. I won’t say any more, because I don’t want to spoil it for you. Believe me it is good!

Several of us writers traveled from Houston to Austin for this book launch. Melanie was there dressed in her traditional orange. RoadBroads are nothing if not loyal and supportive of each other.

Actually I am delighted to know that I am a part of a really great team of writers. Between Max Regan’s Colorado retreats, classes with the Spectrum Center Writers Guild, and weekly writing get togethers, we are at all stages of our writing careers. Some, like Dorothy, are old hands at the publication game and are willing to help those of us who are just now beginning to send out essays, short stories, and the like.

From Spring 2018 to Spring 2019, I have written a lot (but never enough!), I have submitted pieces for publication and occasionally get accepted, and continue to develop my writing chops. People like Max, Dorothy and Melanie have helped me transition from being a retired Social Worker wanting to write to being a full-time writer and hanging out with writing friends at book launches.

Thanks to Dorothy Van Soest for coming to Texas for a book launch of Death, Unchartered! You can find it on Amazon, you local bookstore, or wherever you get your books! You can also check out Dorothy’s website at dorothyvansoest.com.

What a great Spring! What a great life!

Until next week.…..

Posted on by Melanie Ormand - 2 Comments on When Sex & Allergies Collide

When Sex & Allergies Collide

When the Yankees take on your pollen count, you know the joke’s on you.

Houston’s pollen count — 2536 spores for oak trees alone — led the nation last week.

That translates into more sneezers and wheezers in the Bayou City than anywhere else in America.

Nowadays on my daily walks, I see sights like this pile of oak tree pollen on every sidewalk and driveway. Emphasis on every sidewalk, every driveway. For four miles.

These piles congregate to pollinate. In other words, it’s plant sex.

Holy moly, are they promiscuous!

The yellow wormy, stringy things are called catkins, also known as the flowering male of the tree. They morph into pollen then ride the wind, hunting receptors known as stigmas and pistils (the flowering female of the tree).

When male pollen grains meet female flower stigmas, voila! Acorns (as in: nuts!) sometime result.

That Mother Nature recreates this act every spring amazes, in and of itself. But that She, concurrently, creates allergic misery for so many of us humans strikes me as the epitome of irony.

Who’s in charge, you say?

Copyright, Sig McKenna Izbrand

My San Antonio friend Sig McKenna Izbrand dubs this year’s agony “Pollengedden.”

One photo from her backyard illustrates why.

Would you want to swim in those inviting waters after seeing that line of pollen?

The line resembles a crossing-of-the-Rubicon of sorts: what’s in the water, what can I not see? 

What’s a RoadBroad to do?

Pack eyedrops, an extra wad of tissues plus sore throat drops then hit the sidewalk.

Sagging senior thighs outrank four miles of sniffles.

Posted on by Ellen Seaton - 1 Comment on The Floor Show Before The Show

The Floor Show Before The Show

Theater or Theatre? Does it matter? No. I don’t even get confused when I go to the Houston Theater District to enjoy a play at the Alley Theatre. I’m so smart.

All I know is that one of the best reasons for living in Houston is the Houston Theater District. This includes 17 blocks in downtown Houston that houses 9 professional performing arts organizations. My Dear Friend (DF) and I go to as many performances as possible.

However, if you think the only performances worth writing about are found in venues such as The Wortham Center or Jones Hall, then you would be mistaken. Just the other evening DF and I decided to go downtown for dinner before attending a performance by the Houston Ballet.

We decided to eat at The Blue Fish. If you have never been there, it serves a wide variety of Japanese dishes that will delight both the meat-eater in your crowd as well as the vegetarian. I personally swear by the Agadashi Tofu and the Grilled Veggies. However, this most recent visit had us placed at a table where I could observe the bar area, the reception area and one of the doors that led to the kitchen.

What a floor show! The choreography displayed by the staff could rival anything I have seen created by Stanton Welch (Artistic Director of the Houston Ballet). Movement never stopped and I only saw a waiter hit the kitchen door once during our visit.

Why such a display of ecstatic waitstaff dancing? At night when several venues have scheduled performances, most of them begin at either 7:30 or 8:00. That means that everyone who wants to enjoy dinner before their show gets to the local restaurants at the same time. By 6:15 the tables are filling up fast. There is a line of customers coming in the front door. Everyone wants to get to their theater performances on time. No time for dawdling!!!

Water is delivered to the tables, orders are taken, the bartenders are shaking their martini shakers, sushi chefs are slicing and dicing, and customers are chomping and imbibing. I couldn’t even get a decent picture of the bar staff, because they were moving too fast. Once all the shows begin there might be a lull until later when everyone who didn’t have dinner before the show enjoy a light repast before heading home… or elsewhere.…..it’s not for me to judge.

When our dinner was over, DF and I made it across the street to the Wortham Center in time to enjoy another wonderful performance by the Houston Ballet. After the show, DF and I made our way back to the car as we observed another round of theater-goers making their way into the Blue Fish. I hope they enjoyed the floor show as much as I did.

Until next week.….