I have a gorgeous turquoise ring my mother gave me. Her mother gave it to her. She used to wear it almost every Sunday. Every time I look at my right hand, I see her hand wearing the familiar ring. I remember sitting in church next to her on most Sundays, holding her always warm, soft hands. I would pet the back of her hand, marveling about how smooth her skin was. I liked the way I could push wrinkles across her hand and smooth them back out.

Now that my hands are nearly 40, and my skin is now smooth and getting thinner, my hands feel and look exactly like hers did back then. I often sit alone with my thoughts pushing wrinkles across the back of my hand, like I used to in church with mom. In a very real way I feel like I am right back there with her, leaning against her arm and holding her hand.

It is a gift that her ring and my own hands connect me to her so easily. Today I am aware, though, I need to do more than imagine holding her hand. Its coming on past the time for a sojourn to Texas so I can hold her hand, live and in person. Soon.

Well, this was a timely Plinky Prompt. I am going to fire off a quick answer before going to bed in lieu of the post I planned to place. I just spent 3 hours writing something that got lost in the internet ether. sigh. Maybe I dodged a bullet, it was a pretty steep subject. As to the question at hand:

I say it all the time. I am the most extroverted introvert in the world. I love people, but too much external stimuli "shorts" out my brain. It leaves me unable to form sentences, remember things and keep a positive attitude. When I feel like my brain is a jumbled mess of voices (crazy, much?) the ONLY way I have found to regroup is to unplug the phone and retreat.

After some time, usually no more than a couple of days, I can jump right back into the fray.

I have been thinking a lot on this subject and have tried many times to go through an Outlook Development "Choice Process" on the subject. I dutifully write "Forgetting things and Needing Phone Vacations" on the line next to the prompt, "What outcome do you want to change?" But every time the process takes me to a completely different topic.

Yesterday it clicked for me as to why. I can't find a negative belief that is causing this because I am already doing the things I need to do to mitigate overload. I am making real changes. I am getting rid of all the "mind noise" I can by reducing my possessions by 50-75%, eating an all raw-food diet, shunning smoking, fixing my finances and following my passions (music and writing).

By drastically reducing the stress and simplifying my every day life, I feel confident I'll have a lot bigger capacity for remembering details and handling external stimuli. The tricky part is is this is a massive project and as with most profound improvements, things tend to get worse before they get better. I believe I am almost to the top of the hill.

I am excited to crest the mountain and sail my way through to March 21st. Naive? Perhaps.

My first reaction to this question was, "I don't like any food that's been in the street." But then I realized what the real question was. sigh.

I've never been much of a consumer of food vended by street merchants. For many years, Salt Lake didn't have any. Where I lived in Texas didn't have any, either. And then I started traveling overseas.

One rule I stick to (whether it's true at the time or not) is that I always let everyone know I am a vegetarian. That way the chances of eating any "funky" meat goes out the window. I have a wicked black mold allergy which also makes me extra cautious about raw food on the road. So, with those two things in mind, street vendors aren't really an option in places like Indonesia or Costa Rica.

Because of this, when the street vendors came to Salt Lake I honestly never considered patronizing one. It wasn't because I consciously thought they were unclean or whatever, it was just that I never thought about them at all. And they've been here for years.

All that changed a couple months ago when my friend John (who lives in NYC) took me to his favorite street vendor in Salt Lake. It was the most delicious Mexican food I'd ever had. I ate a burrito that was literally the size of my head. And it was cheap!

Leave it to me to need a New Yorker (originally from Idaho) to show me something about Salt Lake that I'd been missing. The taco cart I'm talking about is on State St. and about 8th South. In the Sears parking lot facing East.