Flavor #19 - Start One Day at 4:00 am On Purpose

Start one day at 4:00 am, on purpose - Catherine Ramirez, Houston TX

4:00 am

I awoke with squinty eyes and a grouchy scowl on my face. My body was NOT done sleeping. I slapped the snooze on my alarm and laid there in the dark. There was no sound but the birds chirping outside and a few voices of those who were either leaving for work or just coming home from the bar.

This was not natural.

I awkwardly propped myself up, held the position for a few seconds, then with a groan, flopped back into my pillow. Flashbacks of delivering newspapers on Sunday mornings, in the dead of the Idaho winter, darted through my mind. It had taken me years to forgive my parents for putting me through that torture, and several more to retrain my body to sleep in on Sundays, so why was I doing this to myself on purpose? I took a large breath, mustered all of my will, and tried again. My back clung to the mattress in defiance, but somehow I managed to roll out of bed onto my feet. I knew from several recent spit baths that if I laid there any longer, I would fall back asleep.

4:20 - 5:00 am

The house itself seemed to still be asleep; not even my roommate's cat was up. I splashed cold water on my face and slipped back into my room, acknowledging the day with a flip of the light. With all of this extra time, I figured I better start the day off right. With a sigh, I tumbled to my knees and thanked God, as I've done so many times this year, for my 31 Flavors and the opportunity to learn so many new and interesting things. After this 30 second formality, I proceeded to the more enthusiastic part where I rattled off the list of needs and wants. Spiritual quota done for the day, I was about to jump to my feet, when it occurred to me that it was four in the morning and there wasn't anything to rush into. And because there was no bus to catch, no job to hurry to, there was certainly no excuse for another generic prayer. Sheepishly, I turned back towards my bed, and once again bowed my head. I don't know how long I sat there, truly reflecting on my life, the people I couldn't imagine being without, the person I was and the person I wanted to be. I opened up my heart and started to fill it with thank yous for the amazing journey that I was apart of and the inspiring people who have supported me along the way. My heart swelled with gratitude until spilled over, flooding into the rest of my body and making me feel more centered and happy than I've felt in a long time.

Prayer and meditation done, I cautiously returned to my bed and propped my pillow against the head board; I figured I should make a rough draft of the day's schedule, otherwise I might be tempted to nap by 9 o'clock. Balancing my notebook on my knees, I scribbled my goals for the 19 hours I had left. The pencil scratching across the paper was almost deafening against the surrounding silence.

5:00 am - 6:00 am

After working on my insides, I felt that needed to do a little maintenance on my outsides as well. Pilates was the exercise of choice because I didn't want to wake my roommates, or the downstairs neighbors. It was odd doing my hundreds and single leg stretches in silence; usually I like to try to make my mind forget that I'm exercising by drowning it in music. This morning, I was forced to listen to my body instead, and continue the inner reflection that I'd been enjoying. As I was lying on my stomach in the swimming pose, my box turtle, Epoch, came out of his hiding place as if to say, "What are you doing up?" My arms and legs stopped their syncopation, and there we sat, face to face, blinking at each other. I smiled and affectionately stroked his neck. My mornings and evenings have been so rushed lately that I had failed to connect with him in quite a while.

6:00 am - 7:30 am

Because I was already being active, I decided to tidy up my room. I'm a pretty neat person, but my 31 Flavors had definitely taken its toll on my living space. Because I had some extra time, I decided to sweep my floor, which turned into sweeping the bathroom floor, then the living room and kitchen floor. The crisp whooshes of the broom and creeks of the floorboards were my only company.

7:30 am - 8:30 am

After cleaning the entire house, I decided a long, leisurely, shower was in order. My typical morning shower is about 10 minutes, just enough time to soap up and rinse off. This time I just let the water rain down on my head, penetrating my skull and drowning any thought of what I needed to accomplish. Reluctantly my inner timer collapsed along with my eyelids, and I just stood there, absorbing the heat. That tranquility lingered as I thoughtfully put myself together: clothes, makeup and all.

8:30 am - 9:30 am

Usually I grab a bowl of sugary cereal at work and gobble it down while juggling the phone, mouse and keyboard. Today I cooked a healthy tofu omelet with squash, broccoli and peppers. There is a certain satisfaction that comes from creating your meal from scratch. I casually chopped all of the vegetables and put them in a skillet; the sizzles and pops were a rare, pleasant, morning sound. Appreciatively I scooped my healthy meal onto a plate, and then did something that I never do: I sat down and ate at the kitchen table.

9:00 am - 10:00 am

I had already accomplished quite a bit, but I actually felt like the day was getting away from me, so I quickly fed Epoch, and gathered all of my things. On the way out the door, I ran into Kristine, my roommate. I was about to throw a quick goodbye over my shoulder, but decided instead, to linger in the hallway for a pleasant conversation. My rushed mornings very rarely consists of complete phrases, so all of this felt very foreign to me.

I took my time walking to the train. I may have even strolled, which confused my inner, city girl, pace. In the station, when I heard the familiar roar of my train arriving, I didn't charge up the stairs to catch it. There would be another train along soon enough.

10:00 am - 11:30 am

I arrived at the library at 10 o'clock on a Saturday. This little fact was nothing out of the ordinary, but the fact that I'd already been up for 6 hours was an amusing thought. All of the practice rooms were already in use. Normally this would annoy me, but today I had time to wait. I sat outside the music center with a content smile on my face. I felt like I had a secret that no one else knew: "Look at me! I am a morning person!" Oddly I felt a sense of importance, like my triumph over early morning hours lumped me in with Pulitzer Prize winners and Olympic Gold Medalists.

I was pleased to get Practice room C; it had by far the best piano. Touching the keys is always a beautiful experience, one that unfortunately doesn't happen as often as I'd like because I don't have a piano at home. I belted out some of the past songs I had written to get me in the creative mood, then moved on to the song that my sister and I are collaborating on. Up until then I'd been trying to imagine the harmonies by plucking notes out on my iMac, but nothing takes the place of a full keyboard. Without the pressure to figure things out quickly, my fingers lovingly explored the black and white playground and let the harmonies unfold naturally.

11:30 am - 1:00 pm

I jumped on the train and took it all the way around the loop, taking time to gaze out the window and revel in the splendor of the buildings around me. I wasn't in a hurry, so when the train stopped, I patiently let others get off before me. Thoughtfully I strolled across the bridge to my office, taking in the view of the river winding down the business district. This may have been the first time I didn't throw worried glances at my watch or look for ways to cheat traffic.

My office was dark and unusually quiet. I left the lights off and basked in the eerie glow of the computer. I located the flash drive I had accidentally left there the day before and churned out two resumes for some upcoming theatre auditions. An inconvenient trip to the office might have bugged me on any other day, but today it was just one more hour, of which I had plenty.

1:00 pm - 4:00 pm

The next few hours seemed to pass by like minutes. I stopped at State Street to soak up the brassy sounds of the Memorial Day parade, bought some sunglasses, boarded the train back up north, returned something at the Container Store which conveniently was having a sale on travel items, bought the perfect purse for my trip to Germany, dropped by the pet store and picked up some worms for Epoch, and walked home.

4:00 am - 5:00 pm

When I got home, It was hard to accept that it was officially still the afternoon. It was light outside, although my body passionately disagreed. I put my dinner in the oven and actually sat down for a while. I considered finishing the nap that I had started on the bus, but I resisted. I'm not very good at taking short naps on a regular day, so apart of me knew once my head hit the pillow, I would be down for the count. Once again, I sat at the table and ate a lovely dinner of Salmon, Couscous, and a garden salad. It's amazing how healthy you can eat when you're not constantly on the go.

5:00 pm to 6:30 pm

My energy dwindling, but my goodwill strong, I once again emerged from my apartment and hauled some clothes down to the Salvation Army. This process of lugging large bags onto the bus is a tiring process all by itself. The fact that I had been up for 13 hours and my body considered it to be 9 o'clock at night, made the trip that much more fun. To reward myself for being so charitable, I stopped by my favorite candy shop and let two scoops of Elephant Stampede and Mint Chip accompany me home.

6:30 pm - 10:00 pm

I have trouble remembering the next few hours. The evidence suggests that I worked on my blog. Surprisingly, the entry actually makes sense. I do remember attempting some German but my mind barely computed die Worte, so basically, I relaxed with some TV because I could do nothing else.

When my head hit the pillow, I was surprised to find that I still felt like there there wasn't enough time in the day to get everything done. It also occurred to me that maybe I had spent this day all wrong. Maybe I should have used my 19 hours to achieve something more exciting, like taking some sort of road trip, or having a day of leisurely fun. Then I thought of Cathy, the past roommate of mine who suggested this flavor. When we lived together, Cathy was always the first to rise. While I ripped like a tornado through the house, Cathy calmly started her day, the right way. For her, it wasn't about fun, it was about seizing the day and accomplishing everything she wanted to.

Before drifting off into the deepest, most satisfying, sleeps I've had since college, I concluded that my day truly had been seized.

Cathy would have been proud.

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Flavor #18 - Learn to Play Golf

Learn to Play Golf - Bob McGuire, Oswego IL

I was pleased that the Diversy Driving Range was within walking distance from my apartment. At that point, that was the only thing I was pleased about. I was on my way to my first golf lesson, and I was pretty sure I was going to hate it.

I'd played some miniature golf; I'd even hit a rather complicated hole-in-one (by complete accident), that I bragged about from time to time; however, these encounters were brief and usually involuntary. The truth is I had no desire to watch the game, and even less desire to play it. But, the whole point of my 31 Flavors project was to explore new things, so there I was, at the Chicagoland Golf Academy, "exploring."

The women of Women in Golf 1 were huddled just outside of the main office. A man with a gold name badge and crinkly eyes introduced himself as Ed Oldfield, our instructor. He handed me a left-handed iron and a paper badge to write my name on. It was about this time that my foot started cramping and would not let up.

Even my body seemed repulsed by the idea of playing.

After the rest of our class arrived, Ed asked us to gather on a little patch of lawn outside of the actual range. I forced a smile and limped over to join the circle of about 10 women. Ed welcomed us with a warm smile and an brief introduction. He had played golf most of his life and had been a golf instructor for much of the latter portion of it. Turns out his dad was also golf instructor, so you could say that golf was in his blood. His list of clients was long and varied, one of his most famous being Ronald Reagan, whom he taught for 3 years.

He went around the circle asking our name, age, job, and why we were there. Ages ranged from 22 to 68 and backgrounds varied from Event Coordinators to Stay-at-home Moms. Most of the women had a husband who played, or wanted to use the skill for networking. One girl, Danielle, admitted she was single and was using it as a way to meet men. I liked her instantly.

Ed announced that we weren't going to do any hitting today. Instead we were going to start with The Address, or set-up position. He explained that 3/4 of the golfers out there don't know how to stand properly, so if we got this part down, we were already ahead of the game.

He went on to explain how the grip and stance effect the angle of the swing. Most right handed players tend to do a swing called a slice, where the ball veers to the right; a swing that veers to the left, is called a hook. If you veered too much to the right, most likely your ball would end up in the trees, so Ed made a joke, a little too loud, that it was better to be a hooker. The type of swing we wanted was a right-to-left swing called a draw.

Ed said there were three kinds of grip that were most commonly used in golf: the Baseball Grip, the Overlapping Grip, and the Interlocking Grip. In order to get the draw, Ed recommended the Interlocking Grip. I was the only left hander in the group, so I had to transpose everything in my brain.

The Grip:

Grip handle with right hand, v between thumb and pointer finger pointing towards left shoulder.

Grip left hand just below right hand, left pinky finger interlocking with right pointer finger.

The Stance:

Inside of heels same distance as outside of shoulders.

Foot closest to target (in my case, my right) pivoted outward

Back foot (my left) square.

Ball just a little left of center

Knees slightly bent

Body weight on the balls of your feet

Flat back

Bottom out

He tactfully commented on two things that men don't have that women aren't quite sure what to do with, and said that we needed to play over them.

The Address:

Ed had each of us take turns stepping to the middle of the circle, to present our newly learned address, and receive feedback from the rest of the group. It was easy to spot the narrow stances and rounded backs on others, but correcting those flaws in your own stance was more difficult.

When it was my turn, I felt that I was doing everything he had instructed and was surprised when he said I needed to bend my legs more. When I bended them as much as he wanted, I felt like I was squatting. Years of dance have instructed me to keep my pelvis tucked, so sticking my bottom out felt very foreign and silly.

Once we had the stance down, Ed decided to quickly touch on the swing, without using any balls.

The Swing:

Start in Address: interlocking grip, head inline with spine, iron next to ball

Wind up, twisting upper back away from target, transferring weight to left foot and swinging club over left shoulder, almost parallel with the ground

Untwist, driving club downward to make contact with ball

Follow through, pivoting the back foot and transferring weight to front foot, as swing continues over right shoulder

Again we each took center stage and attempted our own version of the swing. Most of what I observed was that some of the women weren't bringing the swing back behind the head and parallel with the ground. Ed joked that he wouldn't want to be standing next to Danielle during a lightening storm because her rod was vertical instead of horizontal.

When I stepped to the center, I had the same difficulties as some of the other women. Maybe

it's all of the years playing softball, but after unwinding, my club didn't want to go back behind my head; it just continued outward like I'd hit a ball to right field. After correcting the final position of the club, he worked on the rest of my body, prompting my pivoted back foot up farther, forcing me to transfer my weight to the front foot, and squaring my hips so that my belly button faced the target. Within two minutes my body was already memorizing the movement.

The lesson was over and I had survived. As I walked back home, I reflected on all of the rules I had digested in 90 minutes. The trick, as I had experienced, would be to incorporate those rules into my body. The reason Ed had asked our ages, was because golfers usually play into their 80s. So, it turns out that I had another 50 years to perfect my squat.

Ed had mentioned this was one of the hardest games you could play, and I believe him; however, I wasn't as miserable as I expected. While I'm not eagerly anticipating the next class, I'm not dreading it either. We'll see how I feel after actually hitting the ball.

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Flavor #17 - Take a Helicopter Ride

Take a Helicopter Ride - Jon Moran, Elmhurst IL

The traffic had been grueling and we were a 1/2 hour late, but we had made it. Nick may or may not have driven the wrong way down a one-way traffic detour to get there, but we had made it.

The GPS guided us up a circular driveway to a brick building. For a moment, we questioned if we were in the right spot. The GPS said we were at Schaumburg Regional Airport, and just beyond the building we could see a variety of planes, but the sign on the building read, "Pilot Pete's: Steak, Seafood, Pasta."

After confirming with Chris, our Bachman Aero contact, that we were indeed in the right place, we entered the building and headed downstairs to where a man in a black baseball cap and green coveralls was waiting for us. He introduced himself as Tony, our pilot. I must have had an anxious look on my face, because Tony assured me that there was nothing to worry about. As he led us out onto the tarmac, I informed him that this whole thing had actually been my idea, but I don't think he believed me. We hopped into a doorless jeep, and zoomed across the wide field of cement. Scenes from several Air Force movies flashed through my mind, and silently I wished for some inspiring patriotic underscoring.

Within seconds we approached the sleek, compact bubble that was our helicopter. Chris welcomed us, and took us into the hanger to go over some standard rules and to sign something that basically stated that if we died, it wasn't their fault. Once all of the legal stuff was taken care of, Chris led us back out to the tarmac. Tony was already in the pilot seat. We approached the helicopter from the left, crossing in front and around to the right. Chris emphasized that you never want to enter or exit toward the tail rotor, because even though it was red, it was hard to see when it was moving.



We had decided that Nick would be the first to fly. I smiled as he folded his 7 foot frame into the two-seater cabin, like a clown cramming his way into a clown car. Quickly, I snapped a couple shots, then followed Chris off the tarmac next to the hanger.

The helicopter sat silent, so I kicked back in one of the chairs and lifted my face to a couple planes zooming through the first patch of blue sky we'd had in weeks.

Suddenly, the main rotor whirred to life and the three blades dissolved into a noisy blur. I watched in awe as this hunk of metal cautiously let go of the launch pad and crept upward into the air. As it balanced there, so graceful, it reminded me of a dragon fly hovering over a pond.

Then unexpectedly, the "dragon fly" banked to the right, halted, stumbled backwards, and halted again. It looked as though it was having trouble making up its mind, and it finally occurred to me that Nick had probably taken the controls. To my surprise, swung around to face me and through the tinted glass, I could faintly see Nick's goofy wave.

After a few more minutes of flight instruction, the movement became more fluid. Eventually it turned back to the runway, and with a exaggerated rev of the engine, took off into the distance, slowly climbing until I couldn't see it anymore.

Nick was the perfect guy to share this kind of experience with. He was quirky, clever, and had a way of making crazy situations sound fun. This knack for persuasion made his job as an Internal Sales Rep very fitting. In fact, it was he who had sold me on the idea that taking the controls, if only for a moment, would be much cooler than a cramped view of the Grand Canyon.

After about 20 minutes the helicopter returned and it was my turn. Nervously I grabbed onto the side of the door and pulled myself into the cabin. Chris buckled me in like a toddler, and I put on the headset, immediately hearing Tony's magnified voice in my ear asking if I could hear him. My voice replied back to him in clips that seemed far away.

The cabin was a like something from Star Wars. Glass boarded the fronts and sides and in the middle was a panel full of complicated looking dials and other instruments. Directly in front of me was a very large joystick called the Cyclic Control. Tony instructed me to rest my right arm on my right leg and lightly grip the controller. As I felt him barely shift it from side to side, he directed my attention to the rotor. Squinting I could faintly make out the gray edge of the blades responding to Tony's subtle movement.

Tony increased the torque of the rotor and we levitated off of the platform. The sensation reminded me of a ride at an amusement park, but unlike a ride, we were completely

unattached and weightless. After some instruction and much needed encouragement, Tony removed his hand from the control. In that instant I understood the delicacy of it all and forgave Nick for his shaky attempt. My hovering was nothing like a dragon fly. Instead, I'm pretty sure it resembled a June Bug, bouncing and

dipping through the air. It was so easy to over correct, and although we were just a couple feet off the ground, it was nerve-wracking.

Gratefully the hovering lesson only lasted a few minutes, and we realigned ourselves with the runway. After Tony made a quick call to the tower and looked behind him for traffic, we were off. The takeoff wasn't like on a plane with that crushing force pulling you backwards; instead it was a steady drive upwards. As the houses and trees grew smaller and smaller, I had to remind myself that I wasn't on a ride at a theme park; this little bubble called a helicopter was actually climbing into the sky.

Schaumburg isn't a volcano in Hawaii, but from the air it was quite beautiful . The neighborhoods looked more like villages, made up of multi-colored patches, boarded by a ribbon of winding asphalt. I gazed out the window, soaking up the lush green fields and Tony commented that it was a shame that not very many people had the opportunity to see Illinois from his point of view.

We were on our way back to the airport, when Tony mentioned that Nick had steered for a while in the air. The competitive side of me kicked in and though I really didn't want to, I decided to steer as well. The idea was the same as the hover, except, tilted every so slightly forward to move the helicopter through space. A couple times, the wind rocked us, and my heart jumped into my nose, but for the most part the ride was smooth and breathtaking.

As we landed, I felt a mixture of sadness and relief. It was so calm and serene up there with the birds, but I was also a little nervous the entire time. Unlike an airplane which is basically a bus flying 30,000 feet above sea level, the helicopter, which was 1500 feet, made me feel more connected to my surroundings. And it was that awareness that made me feel more vulnerable. There wasn't a whole lot between me and the open air, and after the hovering, I was very aware that one drastic move could send the whole thing crashing.

Nick and I bid farewell to the Bachman Aero crew and returned to the building. We decided to check out Pilot Pete's which turned out to be a hopping place. With all of the adrenaline coursing through our veins, it was hard to figure out what we wanted to eat, but finally I settled on a salmon sandwich and Nick, a meatball sub. As we munched on our food, we dissected our adventure, contemplating things like how it must be to fly a combat helicopter, when it was so hard just to try to stay still.

Outside the window to our left was the tarmac filled with several planes of all shapes and sizes. Watching them take off and land, I found myself asking, "What prompts someone to become a pilot?" I, like most kids, used to wish that I could fly, but flying like Superman and flying a hunk of metal are two very different things. Today, for a few minutes, I had the chance to fly a hunk of metal, and what it comes down to, is that I am content to be just a passenger. I'm very grateful for the experience and would love to do it again over the Grand Canyon or a Volcano in Hawaii, but I'll leave the flying part to the birds or someone with more nerve and less nerves than me.

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Flavor #16 - What's Your Flavor?

What's Your Flavor? Campaign

Dear family and friends,

Today marks 31 days until I turn 32. I can't believe that my 31 Flavors project is almost over. It's been one of the most interesting, frustrating, rewarding, years of my life, and I'm so grateful to all of you who have supported me in all of my quirky ventures.

Though I'm a tad behind in my writing, I'm actually pretty close to finishing. To date I've completed 18 flavors and I'm in the process of completing 6 more. That leaves 7 other flavors to accomplish in 31 days, and I'm determined to make it happen.

Even if I don't quite make it, this year has changed my life forever. Now, juggling lessons may not seem like life-changing material, but it's small triumphs like that, that have taught me that unexpected things are possible, and that it's never too late to explore knew things.

The fact that I had people like you choose most of those learning experiences for me, forced me to step outside of my boundaries and see things from another point of view. Because of you, I've found joy in things that I never expected...and harsh confirmation that I'm truly not meant to do other things...like unicycling.

Learning truly is living, and in the spirit of never being too settled or too timid to try something new, for my 16th flavor I'd like to give you a tiny lick of what I've been experiencing over the past 11 months...

In the next 31 days, I challenge you to accomplish a flavor of your own, and enter your flavor in my "What's Your Flavor" campaign. I'll review all of the submissions and decide which flavor is the most amusing, inspiring, etc. The winner will receive a $31 Baskin Robbins gift certificate from yours truly.

To enter leave a comment on this posting "Flavor #16 - What's Your Flavor" with your name and a short summary of the new flavor you tried.

The deadline is my birthday, JUNE 11, 2010.

Much love and thanks to you all!

Kelsey