On the Secret (of the) Garden

Privy Only to the Gardener.

Just last month, I was a Gardener for the very first time, when my new neighbor left town and asked me to watch over her sacred kingdom while she vacationed in Hawaii for two weeks. I accepted immediately but was plagued by images of wilting cherry tomatoes and petal-less roses, at the mercy of my green-less thumb. (I only grow "plants I can't kill" and, yes, I've killed the impossible: the cactus.) But then something changed. After just a few days, the lifeless lettuce sprung back to life, a bright red strawberry appeared, and my childhood backyard after school adventures flashed before my eyes - morning glories! And just like that, the garden and I came to a tacit understanding: I would protect it from the harsh heat-waving sun (100+ degrees those weeks) and, in return, the garden would shower me with confidence, memories, and hope for a future with 'plants I can kill.' Enjoy!

On Cutthroat Street Etiquette

And Hailing a Cab.

There's an art to securing transportation in New York City, where car ownership is rare and transit fares are a constant subject of debate. For buses and trains, good timing and marathon sprints are almost always involved, whereas with cabs it gets personal. Cabs, which cost ten times more than their alternatives, offer luxury found in little else: arm space without the infringement of runny-nosed neighbors, a cool breeze far superior to the underground air conditioning constantly recycled in the lungs of dirty strangers, and a view of the city that tourists travel great lengths to see. It's no wonder that competition is a hurdle to overcome, often in the form of frenemies who look just like our siblings-on opposing street corners attempting to outsmart the location of your hail, even though you know better and will use your elbows if you have to. In New York, what's often mistaken as an inherent bad attitude is really evolution's survival of the fittest, of which us natives have simply had more practice. And if you still don't believe us, good luck getting your own cab (back to wherever you came from). Enjoy!

On the Summertime Blues

When Beach Bums Bum You Out.

With all the temptations of the Big Apple, summertime is not always its strong suit. Sweltering subway heat, grimy beaches, and bumper-to-bumper weekend traffic can drive locals to relocate out west and summer vacations an excuse to escape. But for those who stick around, the options are limitless: picnics in the park, movies under the Brooklyn Bridge, and weekend excursions to nearby hiking trails. And before you know it, winter will be the new rage of the elevator commute and drinking beers on the Staten Island Ferry will be a place to stay warm instead of cool off. Until then, walk home for a change and treat yourself to the ice cream cone you've been eying because, hey, it's freakin' hot in New York and you might pass out if you don't. Enjoy!

On the Motorcycle Diary of a Cougar

When All You Need Isn't Love.

While the Beatles echoed the naiveties of inexperienced, first love, thrusting aside all the formulaic necessities that make romance actually work (commitment, compatibility, and trust, to name just a few), Tina Turner was asking the right question: what's love got to do with it? Once the daze of first kisses, surprise texts, and unexpected compliments wears off, the substance leftover is what love has to do with. If you're lucky, you have something to work with, and if you're not, write a song about it and move on. Enjoy!

On Bonding in Montana

During the Teenage Years.

While our relationships with the parentals can range from tender to tumultuous depending on the given moment or point in time, the teenage years are notorious for the latter. And the culpability lies not in the hands of beholders but, rather, in the hormones that runneth over, and the patience that (inevitably) wears thin. So when the calm(s) between the storms take longer than usual to retreat, these are the moments worth savoring until these years, too, shall pass. Enjoy!

On Singing Your Song

All By Your Lonesome.

Gone are the days when folks are content with time alone with their thoughts (the horror!) or loved ones (even worse!), evident in couples driven to counseling where negotiations hush the nagging blackberry (often during meals, with a clear beginning and end) and managers pass around 'cell phone bowls' to ensure employees are moderately present. But when the phones are switched to silence or temporarily (and resentfully) relinquished, the mind wanders anyway, to what's being missed or waiting urgently for a reply, even though what's actually being missed is often right there in front of their eyes, ears, and fingertips. Enjoy!

On Seduction, in the Most Unusual Places

The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants.

So, what's in a voice, anyway? Apparently, everything, at least at the beginning. Research shows that men can predict the symmetry of a woman's face (which is linked to attractiveness) just by hearing her speak. And likewise for women: a man's voice reveals both his level of attractiveness and body mass index. And the effect is trickling. Men with symmetrical faces, who are deemed 'more attractive,' appear to be more confident and secure, which are characteristics women often look for in men. Not surprisingly, Brad Pitt ranks a 9.3 out of 10 on the face symmetry scale, while his counterpart, Angelina, falls short at a mere 7.6. Despite breaking all the laws of scientific reasoning, we might conclude, then, that Brad Pitt would be a killer navigator on the cross country road, as long as we stay focused on what's important. (The directions? Yeah right.) Enjoy!