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Archives for 2012

Driving Miss Lucy. And Miss Annabelle….

January 18, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

I had just returned from my hair appointment, which is a Happy Day in my book. But because of my hair appointment, I was running late for a very important date. Lucy and Annabelle were booked for a week at the pet lodge, and I had exactly one hour to walk, feed and drive them across the city in time for small dog group play time this afternoon. They needed to check in today, as I was leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning with my mother. We were road tripping back home to Arkansas.

Yes my dogs were a wee bit spoiled, but they were so darn cute was it any wonder? And they couldn’t stay just anywhere. They stayed in the French Quarter suite at the pet lodge which was roomy and bright and airy. Seriously, if there was a House Hunters for Dogs on HGTV, this would be the winning selection every time. Although the location is geographically undesirable, we can’t possibly book them into a new place. They like it at the pet lodge. They know the humans there. They get excited when we drive up. Of course they are always excited…

They knew something was up when I started to pack their blankets and a few favorite toys. I strapped Lucy into her booster seat in the back seat of the car. Yes, she has a booster seat. It allows her to look out the window at people, cars, dogs, etc. I was a bit worried about handling them both at the same time in the car and briefly considered crating Annabelle for the drive. But I dismissed this idea deciding with Lucy in her booster seat, Annabelle would be perfectly fine up front with me in my lap.
Lucy checking out the view!
One block from the house, Lucy had nearly hung herself. Something was faulty with the strap as the booster seat had practically collapsed leaving Lucy dangling and balancing on her back feet. I quickly pulled to the curb and unhooked her with one hand while holding Annabelle with the other. Lucy was glaring at me, while Annabelle licked my face. As I reached for Lucy, I almost pull a piece of fat in my back but luckily yoga has helped with my overall flexibility. Yoga comes in handy daily. This is the moment I should have turned the car around, retrieved both dog crates, and started again…but I didn’t.
Now both pups were balanced in my lap, draped across my left arm, looking out the window. Please do not let me pass a cop, I thought. I was certain I would be pulled over just to confirm there was in fact a human in the car, as the dogs were almost blocking my view and looked as if they were driving.
Road work ahead. There was a lane closed near Baylor Hospital. I maneuvered through the orange cones with one functioning arm and one schnauzer arm. I hit nearly every red light which was actually a good thing.  I used these red light opportunities to shift the dogs and message my numb arm. I drove through downtown Dallas.    
I made it to the other side of downtown and took a deep breath. I was almost forced to merge onto the Dallas North Tollway which would not have been a good thing. Fortunately I was able to veer into the correct lane to avoid a side trip to North Dallas. What was that noise?!? The back window was suddenly open.  It took me a second to process this. Annabelle had stepped on the button and opened the window.  The wind was blowing in and the traffic noise was loud as cars whizzed by us. I rolled up the window at the next light and readjusted. My knuckles were white, and I think I was grinding my teeth.  Not too much further. I was comforted by the fact that I passed by no fewer than 5 hospitals on my journey to the pet lodge. I knew if I was somehow ejected through the moonroof, I would be only seconds away from a world class emergency room.  The dogs might not fare so well.
Up ahead was a giant flashing road closure/detour sign. OMG. I slowed to assess the situation. Luckily the road was not closed. Instead, the lanes merged from four to one. Why are people so rude and impatient about this? No one wanted to let the schnauzers merge, like this was really going to significantly slow them down on their way to Taco Bell. How often does one see dogs commandeering a vehicle?  Obviously these dogs had somewhere to go! Suddenly, while attempting to cue up into this one lane without causing road rage, the passenger window opened. My nerves were totally shot. Was there danger of Annabelle opening the car door too?  I left the window down, as I could not possibly free my paralyzed limb to address this.  
Finally I saw the pet lodge up ahead! My final maneuver was a U-turn across three lanes to get into the parking lot. As I braced myself I yelled, “Hang on, hang on, hang on!” Lucy and Annabelle shifted in my lap, scratching my legs through my jeans. By the grace of God, we successfully turned into the parking lot with the air whooshing through the back window. The dogs were so thrilled to see the lady at the front desk. In reality, they were probably relieved to be free from their crazed mother who was ready for a cocktail.
talya

Musical Pairings:
Talking Heads, “Wild Wild Life”

Getting My Glow On

January 18, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

No one in my family needed one single thing for Christmas this past holiday. We are lucky and blessed and wanted for nothing. In the spirit of downsizing our “stuff” and constantly attempting to simplify, my husband (who is a most excellent gift-giver) gave me the perfect Christmas present – a gift card for a facial at my favorite spa. Totally consumable!

I like to get facials about twice a year. No matter how much home cleansing, steaming or exfoliating, the results are no where near the same as having a professional properly pamper your pores. I decided to go in for my facial the morning of my anniversary. This would be the ideal time to de-clog, deep-clean and walk away with squeaky younger skin – just like the day I got married. Ok well maybe just like the first time I got married… when I was much, much younger.

I scheduled my appointment online and selected the Brightening Facial. It was described as a fine line-erasing, dark spot-removing, brightening skin booster to “get my gorgeous glow going”. I could certainly use this miracle treatment for my bone dry skin which had spent way too much time baking in the sun in the 1970s. This was pre-sunscreen.

As I relaxed in the dimly lit waiting room in my comfy robe, I sipped green tea and allowed my mind to clear. After only a few minutes, my aesthetician with absolutely perfect peaches-and-cream skin and natural Angelina lips floated into the room. She had long, straight, shiny blonde hair. I gave a passing thought to my dirty hair in desperate need of a wash,cut,style,color,etc…. She seemed very sweet. As we walked to the treatment room, (I walked/she glided) she commented that my hairstyle was cute. Ok, so she was stunning but obviously the elevator didn’t go all the way up. Not only was my hair dirty – I was sporting my yoga hairdo which consisted of 2 dog-ear ponytails (not attractive or appropriate on a 49-and-a-half-year-old but convenient for yoga). This veritable veela had no pores which was an excellent advertisement for her skill.  I too would leave with no pores. (The last facial I had was administered by a girl with an unfortunate case of either rosacea or acne. NotAVeryGoodSign… Although I did not leave with rosacea, I left with the same enlarged pores I arrived with – clean but enlarged.)

I love these treatment rooms. They are so tranquil. I think they must diffuse a calming agent throughout the air vents to make it so peaceful. I wonder if I could book space for a 30 minute nap sometime? Just a nap. I hopped up on the table and buried myself under piles of thick heated blankets. I practiced my deep breathing exercises from yoga class while she stirred up magic potions behind me. There was a relaxing new age type music playing softly in the background. The lights were low. I could smell lavender.  Heaven.

With a gentle hand, my aesthetician began cleansing my face and praised my selection of the brightening facial, adding it would be fabulous for me – “but it might tingle a bit”. No worries. I’ve given birth. Twice.  To big babies.  I have a high tolerance for pain.  It’s all good.

The brightening miracle cream smelled like roses. It was cold and felt nice on my skin. She spread it evenly on my face and down my neck. It did have a slight tingle which meant it was working its magic, right?

Within three minutes time, the slight tingle had turned into a full scale burn on my skin. I was quite certain the poison she was applying to my face would soon ignite. “Ummmm this is really starting to sting,” I told her with a sense of urgency as I squirmed on the bed which suddenly seemed hard. She disregarded my obvious pain, patting my shoulder condescendingly, “Only 2 minutes to go sweetie”. Two minutes and I’ll have 3rd degree burns! She fanned my face which helped a tiny bit and removed the hot steam machine that had continued to blow across my body, fueling the flames. FINALLY, as I began to practice patterned breathing exercises not used since hard labor 18 years ago, she started to remove this vile venom. “Can I have some ice chips or dunk my head in a toilet?” I gasped between breaths. “Hahahaha you are sooooo cute,” she purred. I wanted to slap her but my hands were constrained in warm massage mitts. Were my feet in stirrups?

After lying on this wooden rack with cold towels on my face for several minutes, I felt I might survive, with the exception of my nose which most certainly was bleeding. Did I do something terrible to this woman in another life? “Bless your heart your face is really red. I hope you don’t have anywhere to go.”  She actually sounded concerned. OH HELL NO it’s just my anniversary, I think to myself, unable to form actual words as I am totally concentrating on calming my heartbeat. “You are going to LOVE the results!”  She was just so giddy. “Is my face going to peel?  I didn’t want a peel!  I have a party on Friday!” I panic.  “Oh no honey, you may just have a few flakes…” Ok that really did not compute in my melted brain. Fry = Peel. It just did.  

Surprisingly, after coming down from stroke mode, the remainder of the facial was quite normal. I even fell asleep near the end of the session and awoke myself with one of those startled jerks. Or maybe I had passed out from physical and psychological trauma. As I readied to leave the torture chamber, she reminded me over and over again not to be shocked at how pink my face was, but added “it has calmed down a lot already.” As I walked toward the dressing room I moved slowly as if I had in fact given birth.  My head was swimming – probably from the heat radiating from my body. I was pretty sure I was suffering from hyperthermia. Shouldn’t I be in the recovery room? She asked me if I wanted hot tea.  Hot tea! Really? She was an idiot.

In the dressing room I assessed my face. It was swollen and red. Big time. Every single woman who walked into the changing room did a double-take. One thing was certain – this facial was aptly named. I could guide Santa’s sleigh with this bright face. And just as I had hoped, I had no pores as they were all completely swollen shut. Even the lady at the front desk who had the nerve to collect my gift card payment felt sympathy – it was obvious by her gasp which she tried to stifle but couldn’t. I drove home still feeling uneasy from the heat and certain that I would have a wreck, leaving me standing on the side of Central Expressway explaining my dirty ponytails and cherry kool-aide face to a skeptical police officer. Thankfully I didn’t have far to drive.

I walked in the kitchen door, fighting off my very strong urge to jump in the pool on the way inside. John asked, “Wanna go to lunch for our anniversary?”  “John, I can’t leave the house! My face is as red as a baboon’s ass.”  He tried not to laugh, but he did.  “We’ll pretend you just returned from a ski trip in Aspen,” he suggested. I was very reluctant, but we did have to eat, right?  And it was our anniversary.  So after an icy shower to restore my body temperature and a dusting of pale mineral powder to dull the reflection from my swollen nose, we were off to lunch.  I’m sure everyone in that restaurant was jealous of my healthy glow from the slopes.  

talya

Musical Pairings:
Saving Jane, “Girl Next Door”



You R What U Eat

January 17, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

I attended elementary school in the 1970s, in a quaint little town in northeast Arkansas surrounded by cotton fields and towering cottonwood trees. In the fall, as the farmers hauled trailers to the gin, cotton fell along side the roads giving the appearance of an early snowfall.  In the spring, the female cottonwood trees shed cotton, turning the playgrounds and nearby lawns white, and wrecking havoc on every one’s allergies. I can smell the aroma of that school cafeteria where we were served wholesome food by our substitute hair-netted grandmothers. On the wall there was a large poster with the Food Pyramid and the saying, “You Are What You Eat”. I always found this fascinating.

Ok, I must briefly interrupt this bucolic scene to inject that to our delight, we did have fried bologna cups every other Friday – not our most wholesome fare and definitely canceling out any healthy food we managed to consume the prior few days. These gray-haired cooks were so ahead of their time. This recipe would easily win the fried food competition at the State Fair of Texas, falling right in line with fried butter, fried bubble gum and chicken fried bacon.  In case you haven’t fried bologna in a while, or EVER, as bologna sizzles in the skillet the edges brown and curl up, forming the perfect cup in which to hold a scoop of mashed potatoes with a slice of cheese (American, of course!) melting on top. And voila – the 1970’s Bologna Cup. But I digress as I disgust.


Apparently the phrase “you are what you eat” has been around for a very long time. It was referenced in a 1820s French cookbook “Dis-moi ce sue tu mangoes, je the dirai ce sue tu es.” (Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are.) As my personal food tastes, ideas and ideals have evolved – in part out of necessity – I understand the wisdom in this saying. Food should be an offering to the body. It fuels the body. It can heal the body and even reverse the signs of aging. Alternatively, it can age the body, harming the organs. We should all slow down and enjoy meal preparation. Take the time to actually feel the textures of the food. Smell the food. Vary the colors of fruits and veggies for maximum benefit. Arrange the meal on a favorite plate and sit, relax and enjoy. No distractions. If you chew slowly, you will actually taste the flavors. You are what you eat. Bologna cup notwithstanding.

talya

Musical Pairings:
Louis Armstrong, “What a Wonderful World”

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Hi! I'm Talya Tate Boerner. Writer, Reader, Arkansas Master Naturalist / Master Gardener, Author of

THE ACCIDENTAL SALVATION OF GRACIE LEE (2016)

GENE, EVERYWHERE: a life-changing visit from my father-in-law (2020)

BERNICE RUNS AWAY (2022)

THE THIRD ACT OF THEO GRUENE (coming 2025)

Recent Ramblings:

  • Sunday Letter: 03.29.26
  • Sunday Letter: February 22, 2026
  • Our Garden Mission Statement
  • Goodbye, 2025. Hello, 2026.
  • Sunday Letter: 11.23.25

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