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Chasing Rainbows Throughout California

Written by Braiden on February 25, 2011

We spent eight inspiring days in northern California over the holidays, with five days in Carmel and three in San Francisco.

On Christmas day in Carmel, we decided to take an early-morning beach walk, even though (in retrospect) it seems like a silly, if not downright stupid thing to do, since the local weathermen kept warning about the high winds and heavy rain that were threatening to hit the Monterey Bay area that morning.

Things looked okay when we left the hotel, umbrella in hand just in case.

But by the time we walked down Ocean Avenue to the beach, things had turned ugly.

It was so windy that sand was blowing up onto the path above the beach where we were walking. The pelting rain obscured our glasses and made it almost impossible to see. Tree limbs blew wildly around us. Even the seagulls on the beach seemed surprised as they were buffeted about by the strong winds.

Undaunted, we plowed through to the end of the beach, stopping for photographs of the angry seas and even a 30-second video or two of the wild display of nature around us.

Once at the end of the beach, we gazed back toward Pebble Beach Golf Club from whence we had come. And we were rewarded with this: a rainbow! Our rough journey had more than been worth it to capture this once-in-a-lifetime image.

Memories of the Christmas-Eve rainbow lingered in our minds during the rest of our stay in Carmel. We even toasted to the rainbow that evening over dinner.

Rainbows were still much on our minds by the time we arrived in San Francisco for the final three days of our trip. We did all the normal touristy things–Ghirardelli Square, Fisherman’s Wharf, North Beach, Golden Gate Bridge, the Ferry Terminal.

But by our last day in Baghdad by the Bay, we wanted something a bit more esoteric. So we headed out to the De Young Museum to see the Impressionist exhibit there. Of course, we hadn’t checked online first, so it was sold out until 6:30 that evening, when we had dinner reservations elsewhere.

So, deciding to make lemonade out of the lemons we’d been dealt, we toured the museum’s general exhibits and enjoyed a leisurely lunch.

One of my favorite paintings as we strolled through the spacious galleries was none other than another rainbow, which I offer up here for your viewing enjoyment. I didn’t get the artist’s name, or even know what period it’s from. Sometimes just better to revel in the image itself and not overthink the moment.

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My First Grade, First Taste Memory

Written by Braiden on February 22, 2011

Always tall for my age, I’m in the back row, third from the right (not counting Miss Heeter), in the red blouse and plaid jumper

One day, my first-grade teacher, Miss Heeter, brought a small, brown coconut to class, cracked it open, and extracted and grated the meat.

Next she whipped up a batch of vanilla buttercream icing, mixed in the coconut, and spread the fresh coconut icing over Nilla Wafers.

Six years old, living in the safe confines of suburban Philadelphia in the 1960s, I had never tasted anything so seemingly exotic. . .or so good in my young life.

I thank god for Miss Heeter to this day, for she awakened in me a curious palate, which eventually led to my choosing food and wine as my life’s career.

Have you had a Miss Heeter in your life, a valued teacher who awakened a passion in your life?

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Not an Orphan Now

Written by Braiden on February 18, 2011

A few weeks ago, I got the sad news through a colleague of mine from my other life (as a food and wine writer) that Norene, a mutual friend of ours in Canada,  had recently lost her beloved mother.

I smiled as I remembered all the good times Norene and I had had at culinary conferences throughout the years, and how she’d done some tough recipe testing on my most recent cookbook.

Concerned and worried because I knew what a soft heart my friend is, I e-mailed Norene with my condolences and to let her know she was in my thoughts.

In typical Norene style, she responded immediately and shared this anecdote with me. I knew it would make a perfect Five More Minutes With Editor’s Note, and she graciously agreed it was okay for me to share it.

After my mother died, my brother told me, “You’re an orphan now,” Norene said.

I replied, “It’s not so bad becoming an orphan at the age of 70. I was lucky to have my mother for such a long time.”

Do you feel lucky to have the people you love in your life? Do you tell them that often enough? Do they know you feel lucky?

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More stories from: Editor's Notes,With My Mom

Thank you for making me who I am

Written by Donn on February 17, 2011

If I had five more minutes with you daddy, I would have taken the time to tell you what you have truly done for me.

You always inspire me to be the best person I can be. To give of myself, to share everything I can, to keep my emotions in check, and to be thankful for everyday.

I would have told you how much I truly appreciated more than you can ever know, all the sacrifices you made throughout my life for me.

You gave up so much. You worked so hard, never went on vacation, never took time off to just relax and enjoy.

You were always working to make a better life for us. I don’t think I had the opportunity to say thank you.

Most of all, I would have told you how very proud I am to be your daughter.

I love you so very much and I miss you.

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More stories from: Featured Story,With My Dad

Announcing Our Lost Love Memory Contest Winner!

Written by Braiden on February 14, 2011

It seems only appropriate that on Valentine’s Day we are announcing the winner of our first-annual Lost Love Memory Contest: “Veronica.”

Mike wins the lovely keepsake Chocolate Cherry Heart Box from the Chukar Cherry Co.! Looks like a cherry, shaped like a heart, filled with a favorite Chocolate Cherry Quartet including Amaretto Rainiers, Cherry Bings, Classic Milk and Cabernet cherries.

Thanks to everyone who entered. We’ll be announcing more exciting contests and prizes on Five More Minutes With shortly, so please stay tuned.

Meanwhile, here is Mike’s prize-winning Lost Love Memory–”Veronica”–for all to enjoy once again.

***

Veronica. My one true love. My only.

For 10 years we tried to connect…never did.

After another 10 quiet years, through the magic of the Internet, we reconnect.

My life is a million miles away and she, now, is finally ready.

But I am not.

If I had five more minutes with her…it would be those last five minutes in 1997 when she left my loft and we didn’t speak for a decade.

I’d take those five minutes and change everything.

For to this day, I burn for her.

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Lost Love: Rambo

Written by Karrie on February 13, 2011

I have had a really tough few years.

I broke up with my ex, moved out.

Was in the middle of a huge argument with friends and eventually lost them.

Rambo came home with me January 1, 2008. a new start, a new friendship.

I still had my friends when he came in my life, but there was so much drama that we needed to take time off from each other.

Rambo saved my heart. I would have become really bitter and would have had no room for love my in heart if it would not have been for him.

I started to work out often (going to my fave places in the woods to walk out stress with Rambo). Ihad even started running for the first time in nine years (after a pretty bad accident I had to stop running).

When things got bad, I just turned to him and he made the world better. He was two when I got him and unfortunately he passed away June 26, 2010.

It was cancer. the hardest thing I have ever had to go through, and I lost a sister when I was six.

My heart broken completely, I could not understand why this was happening. Why after just a year and a half together was my best friend leaving me???

Rambo was a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. a cousin of the pitbulls but one of the top five dogs in the world for families.

He was exactly like me, not really a fighter unless he had to, really even tempered and very patient. He was truly my best friend.

Memorial day, two of my friends that I had lost, came back in my life, one being my best friend since high school.

I am so grateful for her being back in my life. Taking the time apart allowed us to really grow as people, but it still didn’t help the question of why?

Why did this happen?

It hit me driving one day as I was praying, more like talking to God. just repeating that I needed strength to carry on, to calm myself down.

But why did this happen to us?

Things happen. It sucks, and sometimes feels unfair. but overall there is always an end.

What if God always knew Rambo was going to get cancer. What if He knew that my best friends would not be in my life for that period of time?

I really really truly believe that God put Rambo and me together because He knew what was going to happen.

Rambo would need someone like me to take care of him, give him the best life he could possibly have while he had remaining time on this earth, but He knew my friendships would be nonexistent for that time.

Here it is the middle of February, and I am still just as heartbroken as I was in June.

A month after he died, Rambo was featured in the Maryland Pet Gazette. My mom has made me a scrapbook of our life together, and my stepmom had a painting done of him.

Apparently, the artist says its her best work, so she is featuring him in her art gallery.

I hope that when people see Rambo’s picture, they feel the love that he gave to everyone and anyone.

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Lost Love: Veronica

Written by Michael on February 12, 2011

Veronica. My one true love. My only.

For 10 years we tried to connect…never did.

After another 10 quiet years, through the magic of the Internet, we reconnect.

My life is a million miles away and she, now, is finally ready.

But I am not.

If I had five more minutes with her…it would be those last five minutes in 1997 when she left my loft and we didn’t speak for a decade.

I’d take those five minutes and change everything.

For to this day, I burn for her.

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More stories from: Featured Story,Lost Love Memory

Lost Love: Missing Tony……My Funny and Beloved Friend

Written by Dawn Faust on February 11, 2011

I just lost someone this week that I wish I had five more minutes with. He was a high-school classmate that I reconnected with on Facebook in the last two years. We made that connection right before we BOTH were diagnosed with cancer, I with breast cancer and my friend Tony with colon cancer.

We spent last year encouraging one another and keeping our spirits up. Tony had an infectious laugh and hilarious sense of humor. So between cards and e-mail messages, we kept each other in stitches and our mind off of our woes.

I finished my treatments this past summer and went to see Tony as soon as I got the okay from my doctor. Tony’s cancer was a little more resistent then mine. But by December 2010, the reports from the doctors and Tony were sounding good.

I went to visit my kids in Philadelphia for the holidays and had hopes of stopping to see Tony on my way back through Maryland. Ultimately, I stayed a bit later in Philly then I intended, which put me into Maryland at an unreasonable hour.

I called Tony in the morning and explained why he would not see me that trip. All was good; I figured I would catch him on the next trip in a couple of months.

I spoke to Tony the first week of January and he said that he was having shoulder pain. An MRI was scheduled and he said he would call me after the results came in. I never heard from him again. I called him a couple of times but only to get voice mail. My gut told me that something might be wrong. . .

I got distracted with a full work schedule and throwing a 50th birthday party. The Monday after my birthday my phone rang and it appeared that Tony was calling me.

I figured Tony was calling to tease me about my advanced age or something. But it was not him; it was his partner calling me to tell me that Tony was in a coma and not expected to live more than a day or two.

I found out that the MRI revealed bone metasteses, and a very agressive chemo regime commenced. The chemo completely wiped out Tony’s blood cells, including his platelets. Before his partner realized what was happening, Tony had a brain bleed and slipped into a coma.

I miss my friend and feel at times that I failed him in the end. I know he would not feel this way, but I wish I had five more minutes to thank him. . .to express how much his support and friendship meant to me at a very difficult time. . .to hear him laugh and take a bite out of life.

The world is a little less funny this week. I really miss my friend, my very funny and brave friend.

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Lost Love: My Pete

Written by Tara on February 9, 2011

Peter Paul Kelly, my Pete. Gone at only 18.

First love, stealing glaces at Easter dinner, shy introductions, teenage gossip, whispers, dreams, next encounters, sharing, learning, first touches, exploring, new sexuality, passion, diamond earrings shared, dinners alone, presents, gifts, notes, handsome, strong, funny, caring, honest, stubborn, a July Cancer, poetic, beer, cigarettes, heavy metal, surfer, Irish, strong father, rehab, separate, self-destructive, yearning, running, secret meetings, embraces, kisses having to last for weeks, tender, eternal, tortured, soul pain, a fight, a break, sadness, split in two, the call, the news, the shock of death, dreams, memories, angel touches.

A once-in-a-life-time love; a one-in-a-million kind of man.

Twenty-two years later you are still held in our hearts.

We’ve had our five more minutes.

I know you and you know me.

Simply, I love you.

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Lost Love: A Bond Forged Over Gourmet Food and Wine

Written by Virginia on February 7, 2011

A year and a half ago I lost one of my closest friends to a particularly aggressive gliosarcoma, a brain tumor.

From diagnosis to her passing was just over four months, and most of that time was defined by challenges: Once an actress with a beautiful voice, she was robbed of her ability to speak and write; she could understand language, but could not express herself.

She couldn’t feed herself, and walking was all but impossible.

When she passed–suddenly one June morning–a week after her 56th birthday, she had been making small strides of improvement (following two surgeries, radiation, and chemotherapy).

As fortune would have it, I had seen her the evening before, and we’d had a good visit with much laughter.

Our relationship had centered around good food and wine. She loved to cook and loved to experiment–on me, her best “foodie” friend.

She’d ask me over for dinner, I’d bring a great bottle of wine, and we’d talk for hours about everything and nothing: She was a wonderful listener.

If I could do anything with her, I would take those five minutes and share with her the Greek-style lamb-and-mixed-veggie grill she made so beautifully paired with a wonderful Cotes-du-Rhone, one of her favorites.

Just as I’d done a hundred (or more) times before.

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