Guest House

My home is happy when it's full of company. It's the Oscars of the domestic craft and an opportunity to practice my life's motto "what's mine is yours". More than orchestrating an elaborate welcome committee of ironed linens and luxurious goodies, when it comes to making your guests feel at home it's truly the thought that counts.

My strategy is always motivated by what I would love as a guest. As much as I crave the familiar when I travel, I also love taking advantage of being away from my routine (and my comfort zone) to indulge in things that I wouldn't normally be inclined to enjoy at home. I think the key is to think both inside and outside the box. Yes, you need to have a spare toothbrush and toothpaste on hand, but what about all the little things one forgets to pack? A stroll down the travel sample aisle can alleviate the need for your visitors to ask you for a razor or some shampoo. House all of the necessities in a basket and you'll be giving your guests permission to help themselves without having to say a word.

My favorite part of preparing for my guests' arrival is being creative in how I display all of the wildly indulgent accoutrements I've gathered for their stay! I like to find unique and unexpected containers from around my apartment. I bought this old tack box from Smith and Chang in Jersey City and stuffed it with a turkish hammam towel from my travels, a sea sponge and some soaps and oils for the bath.

A small vase of flowers next to where they sleep is a simple and beautiful way to let them know you're happy they're there. It doesn't have to be a grandiose display...in the photo below, one stem cut from my flower boxes did the trick.

I like to save unsuspecting treats like perfume and lotion samples, which are fun to experiment with when you're away from home. They feel decadent when displayed on a silver tray.

I keep a pile of magazines and books in an old french market basket next to their bed.

A tour of the fridge and a pot of coffee made the night before allow your guests to wake up without you. Have fun with the preparations and let your enthusiasm infiltrate everything you do. "Love and beauty are within you. Try to express them through your actions and you will definitely touch the very source of bliss." -Amma

Friendly Mantras

If I'm having a bad day I usually call up one of my girlfriends to remind me that my life is actually a bright and sunny place. They're remarkable, good friends, because they know exactly how to snap you out of it. Truth be told, our friends are usually a heck of a lot nicer to us than we are to ourselves. If we asked our friends to describe us they would make us blush. We might be told that we're compassionate, strong, beautiful and inspirational. If we asked ourselves we would probably just go on and on about how we're not good enough and it would be as if we were talking about a completely different person.

The problem with this unending negative chatter is that all of those seemingly innocent, self-deprecating thoughts string together to create deeply-rooted beliefs about who we are. After all, a belief is just a thought we have over and over again...it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Borrowing from neurologist Dr. Joe Dispenza in the brilliant (but weird) documentary, What the Bleep Do We Know, our brain releases thought-specific chemicals that circulate through our bodies and are absorbed by our cells. Every time we think "I am not enough", our cells are swimming in our negativity. The cells divide and their sister cells are born with more receptors to accept these popular chemicals. Addicted to our own mantras, we become what we think.

What would your friends have to say about all of this?! They would slap you across the face and tell you to quit making your body a breeding ground for such atrocities! Your inner circle is potentially the most accurate reflection of your true Self. They're able to see through your cloud of ignorance and identify you as a keeper. They've earned access to your heart with their consistent support and encouragement of the you you're often quick to shoot down. They walked you down from the ledge of "not enough" and empowered you to embrace your potential.

Your homework is to meditate on those positive mantras. Close your eyes and ask yourself what your friends would say about you and then create a mantra using their words. Every time you observe yourself undermining the words of your girlfriends, image what they'd say to get you back on track ("Snap out of it!"). Visualize your friends circled around you, each one reflecting the real you back to you. "I am wise. I am strong. I am beautiful". Repeat and be prepared to smile.

Yogi Dinner

Hell froze over last Saturday when Billy (carnivore and hater of green vegetables) suggested I cook gluten-free pasta for our friends Katie (vegan with a gluten allergy) and Keith (vegetarian). This coming from the man who drinks Coca-Cola to stay hydrated - I almost died from the shock. "Hey, if it's bad we can always just order a pizza." I appreciated his flexibility but that's not how I roll. Then again, I had to admit that vegan and gluten-free cooking was beyond my comfort zone of butter, flour and cream. Plus, I had a busy day on Saturday and needed to find something quick and easy to cook after teaching yoga for eight hours. I was hoping that with a little finesse I could make this gluten-free pasta work.

I needed maximum flavor in the form of vegetables (in any color other than green). My saving grace came in the form of cherry tomatoes. Roasted for twenty minutes at 400 degrees, they pop and ooze and (when drizzled with olive oil) make their own perfect sauce. I sautéed some shallots in olive oil and said a little prayer as I threw the DeBoles Gluten-Free Multi Grain Penne into the pot. The box said 12-15 minutes which sounded suspicious so I set the timer for 8 minutes in the hopes of catching it before it got soggy. No such luck. After 8 minutes it was pretty mushy but it didn't really matter once I doused it in goat cheese (for the non-vegans)! Goat cheese makes everything taste better, especially with the roasted tomato/shallot combination. (Note to my readers: You can obviously make this dish with any pasta you want. The roasted tomatoes are like candy and the goat cheese just melts in your mouth.) The final product? Billy went back for seconds! Katie was happy and I was thrilled that I'd managed to pull of a tasty meal without the use of butter.

I had set the table the night before knowing that there wouldn't be enough time when I got home from work. Instead of buying flowers I just used things already in my home. The thyme plant looked rustic and wild in the center of the table and I threw some lemons in an old ironstone bowl for color. I served my new favorite Cabernet, California Karma, which was a cheeky addition to our yogi dinner. There was no time to cook dessert so I bought fresh cherries from the farmers' market.

More than the food, I truly enjoyed the gift of a relaxing evening with good friends. We talked from the heart and laughed till we cried. Ellie loved being the center of attention and was so excited to play with her godparents. She collapsed at the end of the night, exhausted from happiness.

Lipstick Kick

As many of you know, I've gone off the lipstick deep end. I find this to be noteworthy because for years I was unconsciously convinced that yoga teachers didn't wear makeup. I'm not sure where I picked this up, but I've been obeying my self-imposed uniform for years. Tired of my neutral palate, I dove into color and I finally feel like my lips match my mood! This post is dedicated to those of you who've asked me to dish the make and number of my new favorites. Hey, yoga teachers can look good!

On the far left is the perfect neutral pink; Chanel Rouge Allure #82. In the middle is a bright but clean color from Chanel; Rouge Coco #34. The one on the far right is a "won't lose you in a crowd" fuchsia that I adore (which I'm wearing in the above picture); Giorgio Armani, Rouge d'Armani #514. I apply the lipsticks with a lip brush for a more casual look (no pencil). You're gonna look so colorful demonstrating handstand!

Strawberry Delight

It's that time of year, when strawberries actually taste like strawberries, and the Union Square market is overflowing with them. Nothing goes better with fresh strawberries than fresh rhubarb and I happen to have a fantastic recipe for a compote involving the two. Spoon it over vanilla ice cream and you get this melted strawberry rhubarb concoction that's to die for.

The measurements are haphazard at best, so you can channel your inner chef and just throw things together without a care in the world. Cut up your strawberries into halves or quarters (whatever you like) and cut the rhubarb into 1/2 inch pieces. Dump them into a pot with 1/2 cup sugar and 1/4 c water, letting them simmer over high heat (stirring every once in a while) until the rhubarb becomes soft (you should be able to break it up with a wooden spoon). The timing really depends on how ripe the rhubarb is, so it could take anywhere from 8 - 15 minutes. Let your compote cool a bit and then pop it in the fridge.

I like to serve this dessert in clear glasses so you can see the colors oozing together, savoring the experience with your eyes as well as your stomach.

All Hail the Kale

I've always wanted to love kale but we've never really met under the right circumstances. It's just so darn large and leafy (and boring). Steamed kale is chewy. Raw kale is awkward. What's an amateur health nut to do?

Cut the kale into friendly, bite-sized pieces, of course! Think coleslaw - thin strips of green goodness without the mayo. I tossed in some black-eyed peas (the food) and parmesan cheese (cut into small chunks) to add texture and protein. A lemon vinaigrette was just the tang it needed (1/4 c lemon juice, 1/2 t salt, 1/4 t pepper - whisk in 1/2 c olive oil). I'm obsessed with my new creation and pretty excited to have found a way to love me some kale!

Vive la France! Dimanche

There's an infamous sutra in the first pada of Patanjali's text which describes our thoughts as either painful or painless (sutra 1.5). I feel most connected to this concept when I'm on vacation, where the bliss of one's arrival is swiftly replaced by the dread of going home. I hadn't really felt the pangs of leaving until Sunday, which is a testament to how much Paris holds my attention in the present moment. I'm so completely and utterly content that nothing exists beyond the splendors of my surroundings. The sights, the smells, the tastes...they cast their spell on me and I'm as bewitched as I was the very first time I discovered a croque madame made with goat cheese.

I can document my trip with sutras the way some might illustrate with postcards. Carrie Owerko discussed sutra 3.1 in a teachers' workshop earlier this week. "Dharana (concentration) is the binding of the mind to one place, object or idea." It's no wonder, given this idea, that I felt so clear, bright and still over those four incredible days. Granted, I was on vacation, so there were no bills (foreign currency to me is like Monopoly money), no responsibilities and no stress. It's a bit like fantasy land, and yet, nothing feels more real to me than being at home in a place and with people who reflect my true image back to a heart that sometimes feels lost. "The seen exists only for the sake of the Seer" (sutra 2.21).

So, how to spend our last day? At the flea market, of course! This time we perused the goods at Marché Vernaison Saint-Ouen de Clignancourt. The prices are more expensive than those at Porte de Vanves, mainly because vendors rent stalls instead of occupying a piece of sidewalk, but you can find great deals on amazing french housewares like linens, china, and classic french bric-a-brac (think big espresso bowls and red-striped dish towels). Billy tells anyone who'll listen about the time I spent two hours pouring over stacks of antique linen sheets in stall 141 only to have the owner remind me "vous pouvez revenir madame". Oh, and I certainly did. I outfitted every bed in our apartment with vintage monogrammed sheets (some might see this as a strange and troubling issue but let's be honest, you're now secretly hoping to score an invite to sleepover). This trip was equally as successful. I shopped victoriously, scoring a tiny silver tray and some serviettes de visages (lintless towels made especially for the face).

Our next stop was a tour through Le Marais, one of the only neighborhoods open on a Sunday. It's the Soho of Paris, only more french (obviously) as evident in the quaint gardens, medieval stone buildings and chic boutiques. I happened upon a great clothing store named Claudie Pierlot where I bought a beautiful navy blue silk dress (those perfect dresses only arrive when you're not looking). A park bench in Place des Vosges provided the perfect place to rest my legs. The hours passed by as we wandered hand-in-hand on this quintessential Parisian Sunday. A late lunch of moules frites hit the spot and signaled our eventual return to Hôtel Verneuil.

Our evening unfolded at Deux Magots for wine and dinner (salade de fromage). We sat outside and soaked in the crisp night air and the buzz of Boulevard Saint Germain. I felt bold in a bright orange dress and stop-you-in-the-street-"I love your shoes" stilettos. It was exactly how I dreamt our last night would be. I wanted to take a piece of this amazing place home with me, but then I remembered that home is where the heart is and I smiled with delight.

"By contentment, supreme joy is gained" (sutra 2.42).

fin