Day 20: Dear Simon

By Cal Orey

For those who love dogs, it would be the worst form of a lie to call any place where dogs were banned "Paradise." Certainly no loving God would separate people from their canine friends for eternity.

Stanley Coren, dog psychologist

Dear Simon,

I've been trying to telepathically communicate with you. At times I feel we are connecting, other times not so much. With tears streaming down my cheeks I never ever thought the day would come. I thought you were immortal. Well, admit it. You were the healthiest, strongest canine companion I've ever enjoyed in my life. There are dozens of photos of you at your happiest moments, year after year, 12 years plus one half.

Quality Time Together We did have an amazing life together, though, yes? Back in the day of snow at Lake Tahoe, you loved running up and down the berms.  Remember when we'd walk to the campground during off season in autumn and spring. You'd jump over the huge pine tree logs again and again. Not to forget taking you to the Lake. I know, the water was too cold for you to go swimming...but you loved the sand, sun, and looking out at the water and Canada geese. Ah, the winter nights under the full moon, you walked with me on the fresh snow after visiting your best dog friend. It was bliss while we were in the hot tub and you and "Rat Boy" played non stop outdoors and indoors. I can still see your beautiful smile--and as I view so many photos you were happy, a happy, balanced gentleman with stable energy.

...On the Road And the book signings you escorted me to were fun, yeah? As a puppy in Carson City's Borders you were so cute (I was pleased by your perfect presence) and as an adult at Chico's Barnes and Noble--I was also so proud of you. You worked the crowd and acted like a therapy dog. Don't forget we ordered a third bed for you in the hotel...but you snuggled and slept with me (under the covers often) as you did for more than a decade. 
Not to forget you kept me company day and night, on errands, walks, writing books, photo shoots, and my true soulmate with paws. We got each other. And hey, you were famous! Yes, your photo and feats graced msnbc.com to The Writer and and Complete Woman magazine (right below Oprah! in the TOC) for being a seismically sensitive pooch partner in my forecasting earthquakes to simply being my best friend during the best and worst of times. 
Not to dismiss the time when a cameraman let you and Seth outdoors into the wild. Before the on-camera interview I was scared at least one of you would head near the highway or Lake and never to be found again. But I followed our normal walking path and there you were--taking care of your younger sidekick whom you bonded with ever since. You were the wise, balanced one out of your comfort zone all alone.

Dog Days, My Best Friend
Okay, I won't dismiss a few close calls: There was the time you sprained your foot in the snow--but you healed quickly! A few teeth cleanings; you ended up having 38 out of 42 pearly whites! Amazing. When we evacuated the chaos of the Angora Fire, not only did you stay centered for me in a Reno hotel--you got bit by something in the foreign grass. One nose surgery later. You healed. And when you were 10 1/2 I found the little lump on your forehead. Both our vet and I were concerned. Surgery ASAP. Benign. We were elated with joy, despite the scarring. But your beautiful fur grew in within weeks! My canine warrior lived on for two more years (about 14 in human years). And I am so grateful for the time we spent together from beginning to the end...

I know you loved your canine pals--Zorro, your sweet Rat Terrier BFF with Type-A energy; and Seth, my Brittany pup whom you raised. He loved you more than you know. You two bonded and despite being from different lines--you looked like one another. You sensed when his health took a turn for the worse just as my Aussie and Siamese noted you were not yourself.  I sense they miss you, especially Skye, whom you helped socialize with strangers and allowed you to maintain alpha dog; he played with you so gently even though he knew and I knew you were growing older, growing frail. He is trying to behave like you did when we lost Seth--strong for me (but I confess, he's a bit clingy). 

Saying Goodbye  You are in every room: Posters of us at bookstores, in my magazine articles, books, plaques, and dog bones. My pen names are connected with you Calliesimon and I cannot delete them because it's my lifeline to you. Your fave comforter is on the love seat. I want to smell your scent and will not wash it. I feel your spirit is in the air. How I long to hug you, kiss your nose, and tell you how much I love you as I did every day.

In the past months I knew you were slowing down but as we age it happens so I tried to go with the flow of Father Time.  When I returned from the out of country trip, it was evident. You weren't yourself. How it hurt me to put the pieces together: You staring at walls, getting disoriented behind chairs, unable to do your dog business, sleep cycle off, and forgetting all of your commands--worse, not knowing who we were or who you were. Lost and I feel lost without you, the way we were for years and years.
It was difficult for me to face the facts that you were slipping away. But I knew on Friday, October 23rd, when all of the classic canine dementia signs came together. You told us--all of the people who adored you--it was time to go. "I'm tired. I don't like the way my mind is not clear. I'm anxious. I'm scared. I'm confused. I want to go where it's safe and peaceful." I saw you had left me in your eyes and felt your spirit had left me when I hugged your body. Goodbye Dear Simon. No words needed.  

Touched by an Angel with Paws

Guiding, guarding, warning, comforting and

teaching—are these animal angels?

By Cal Orey

My healing Aussie Skye "Protector"

Did You Know?  An estimated 69 percent of Americans believe in angels. Do you?

 Recently, Jude Balthis had a dream. Her cat Satie appeared on her bed, green eyes staring down at her owner. “It was clear that she had a message,” Balthis says. “She told me she knew I had done the best that I could to protect her.” The large calico had just died a month earlier.

            “I felt very guilty about her death,” Jude recalls. “In her later years, she wasn’t able to defend herself as well as when she was younger. I had secured the porch from other animals by installing gates, but it wasn’t enough.” One night, while Balthis and her family were away, racoons broke into the barriers and killed Satie.

Zen sensed and warned me that
my dog Simon was ill

            Upon awakening from her dream, Balthis felt instantly that Satie had absolved her from blame. “I didn’t cry, even though I was on the verge of tears, because the dream allowed me to understand that she was in a safe place.”

            Companion animals bring us comfort and love, but are they also spiritual messengers who understand more than what seems possible?

            “An angel cat would be a messenger who would help you to know that love is all around you and that miracles are possible,” explains Linda Anderson, coeditor of Angel Animals, Exploring Our Spiritual Connection with Animals. Bernard Ward says in his book Angels: They’re All Around and They’re Watching Over Us, “Angels are here to guide us, warn us, comfort us, teach us or just be a friend and companion.”

ANGELS AMONG THE LIVING

Replacement kitty rescue--rescued me after
losing 14 year old cat

            Years ago, when Stephanie Laland was in her 20s, she was distraught about her life. She remembers sitting on her bed and crying. “Suddenly, my two-year-old calico cat Yoko jumped up on my lap and put her paws on my face and licked the tears away,” she says. And while some cats are deeply affectionate, Laland confesses, “this wasn’t the sort of action that my cat would normally do. At that moment she was my little angel.”

            Since then, Laland had turned her life around. She is the author of Peaceful Kingdom: Random Acts of Kindness by Animals and Animal Angels, and teaches workshops for people wishing to boost their bond with animals. She feels she knows firsthand how it feels to be touched by an animal angel.

            Many of the stories in her work suggest that the notion of animal angels isn’t merely whimsy. Take, for example, the story of Mrs. Sweeney, an elderly woman who had always welcomed animals in need into her home. One winter evening, she became ill and wasn’t able to move from her bed. As the fire from the stove went out, the house grew deathly cold. Too feeble and ill to move, she was sure she would freeze before daybreak. In the morning, when her neighbor came to check on her she discovered the freezing temperatures and raced to the old woman’s bed, fearing the worst. But Mrs. Sweeney was safe in bed, very much alive—and not cold at all. She was quite comfortable, with seven cats and a dog draped over her warm body like a fur blanket.

            Many near-death survivors have reported feeling a sensation of leaving their bodies—or traveling through tunnels of light.  Some people report encounters with relatives or even family pets.

            During a down-and-out period, reports Anderson, Debi Reimann, a legal secretary from Lacey, Washington, felt herself floating through a gray mist. She recalled seeing light and feeling an overwhelming sense of love. She saw a vision that appeared old and wise. Even though the “being” told Reimann that it wasn’t time to die, she didn’t want to go back to her painful existence in life. The “being” turned her around, directing her toward the tunnel that would take her back to life. At the other end she saw her cat, Missey Kitten, waiting for her. “The cat was the one being on earth that could touch her heart, and Debi made a decision to come back,” recalls Anderson.

AFTER-LIFE STORIES

I telepathically communicate to my
Brittanys on the other side

            Eventually, Missey Kitten, the cat who’d given her owner the will to live, died. About a year after her death, Reimann was in her car and stopped at the traffic light. “Suddenly,” Anderson explains, “she heard purring next to her in the passenger seat. Turning to look, she saw Missey sitting on the seat. Mesmerized by this vision, she just stared, ignoring her green light. Seconds later, a drunk driver plowed through the red light on the other side. Reimann, who was too preoccupied to enter the intersection, never came in contact with the out-of-control car, and drove away with a memorable vision and her life. Some would say Missey Kitten used her angelic powers not once, but twice to save her owner.

            These afterlife stories, where cat angels come back from death to visit loved ones are more common than you’d imagine. Laland tells the story of Olivia, a friendly white cat with blue eyes who’d won the hearts of her owner and the other two cats in the household.

One day, Olivia was killed by a car, Laland explains. Everyone seemed depressed at her passing on. Even the other two cats in the household seemed lost, and they took to hanging out in Olivia’s old favorite spots.

            “One night after Olivia had been dead for some time, Olivia’s owner looked up from her reading to see Nell, one of her other cats, standing outside the window. Nell didn’t seem to be trying to attract her attention, so she continued to read. Suddenly she heard this great ‘woompf,’ as though the window was going to cave in. She got up and went to the window, hoping by her stern expression to convince Nell to be a bit more patient,” continues Laland. “Nell was no longer there. Instead, she saw a little white cat. She felt thrilled, hoping for an instant that somehow the little white at buried in the garden was not Olivia. But when she ran to the back door to let her in, the cat was gone.”

            The cat owner felt Olivia was admonishing her for not treating her other cats with the same lovingness that had come naturally with Olivia. “Her husband said later that the loud noise as the sound of a cat so spoiled that they threw her out of heaven,” adds Laland, “and she landed on the patio steps.” But, she writes, “I think Olivia wanted to give me one more chance to remember her as she was, instead of as I saw her when we buried her under her favorite dwarf maple.”

            So, was it Olivia or just her owner’s imagination?

            After Gandalf, my lovable 18-year-old gray-and-white cat died, I missed him and so did his cat-pal, Alex. While Gandalf had been bold, brash, and affectionate, Alex was shy, gentle, and aloof. However, just months after Gandalf’s death, Alex’s personality changed. He began to chase the dog, and nudge strangers. I like to think that Gandalf is still visiting us, although some might say that Gandalf is now a part of Alex.

ANGELS IN DISGUISE

            Many animal experts believe that there is a link between life and death. “Cats are so special and have a spiritual nature. And because they are so open spiritually they can be conduits for this unconditional love that comes from God or the creator or spirit,” says Anderson.

            Laura Pasten, a veterinarian from Carmel, California, adds, “A guardian angel is a companion animal. A cat that just comes into your life quickly and leaves is an angel that comes in for a purpose.” Some people believe that an angel is just supposed to point you in the right direction, or make a point and move on.

ARE ANGELS FOR REAL?

            So, what about the absurdity of it all?  Is it possible that a four-legged, furry feline could be a messenger of God? “It’s logically possible,” says Mike Meyer, PhD, professor of philosophy at the Santa Clara University in California. “Santa Claus is possible, although we have lots of good reasons to believe that he doesn’t exist.”

            But what would be a sign that a cat is a real angel? “It would have to be something pretty incredible,” he says. “If a cat parted the Red Sea and helped all the felines in Egypt escape, or lifted the Empire State Building—that would be a miracle,” says Meyer.

            Regardless of your beliefs, if you listen to the stories, each tale of animal angels led their owners to a spiritual connection that provided comfort and guidance. You, too, may experience an animal angel encounter—whether it’s a short-term sighting or a long-term gift of unconditional love. When you consider that Jill Hartman claims in All About Angels: A Biblical Look at God’s Messengers that an estimated 69 percent of Americans believe in angels, it just might be worth paying attention. 

Fall Apple Pie Paired with Coffee or Tea

By Cal Orey

Holiday goodies are making the rounds in the sierra. I see it. I smell it. I feel it. I taste it. And Christmas is coming, another snow dusting has arrived. Cookies, cakes, pies, and breads—all kinds—are circulating in homes, stores, parties, and businesses. 
On the south shore, soon red, blue, green, and white Christmas lights dot houses and stores. The excitement takes me back to childhood when I was a kid (who still believed in Santa Claus) in the suburbs of San Jose, California.

When I was nine, my father brought home a flocked white tree, big. We’d decorate it with blue and silver bulbs, colored lights, and candy canes. My mother, the baker, would be busy making Chocolate Pinwheels and Bourbon Balls. Parties at our house were plentiful. Wrapped packages were piled under the Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve, we could unwrap one gift; we sipped egg nog, and left cookies and a mug of milk for Santa. Early in the morning, my two siblings and I gather around the tree and give each other presents. Then, it was off to church. And home, a magnificent dinner awaited: Ham, sweet potatoes, greens, rolls, and pecan pie.

Today, things have changed. In the sierra, I reside with my two furry kids. I may or may not do a tree (I thought about it), nor will I shop. (Well, I did buy a set of dishes, a goose down comforter, and clothes for our upcoming winter.) So, here’s a semi-homemade Christmas Apple Pie that appeases my taste buds—and warms me up.

Holiday Apple Pie

5 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced thin

½ cup premium fresh cranberries, chopped

2 tablespoons European style butter, cold, cubed

¼ cup granulated white sugar   

½ cup brown sugar

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon orange rind (optional)

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice (optional)

2 store-bought premium pie crusts (or homemade; recipes in The Healing Powers of
Olive Oil book)

4 tablespoons half-and-half (1/2 for apple mixture; ½ for crust)

2 tablespoons each, raw sugar and cinnamon (for crust)

In a large bowl, combine sliced apples, cranberries, butter, sugar, spices, and citrus if preferred. Place in one pie crust. Put other pie crust on top. Flute edges with thumb to give it a homemade, imperfect rustic look. (If pieces break, use warm water to mend.) Brush top with half-and-half. Sprinkle sugar-cinnamon mixture. Cover with foil (so edges of pie crust don’t burn.) Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes, then bake for another 45 minutes. Cool for one hour before cutting. Sprinkle top with chopped walnuts and serve with a small scoop of all natural vanilla ice cream or warm it up with a piece of melted cheddar cheese.  Serves approximately 10.

This charming pie is sweet and tart and doesn’t look like a cookie cutter one packaged one in the store. It’s good both warm or cold. The cranberries add a festive color combo to the green apples.. And, the raw sugar gives it a super crunch.  While you can overindulge in cookies and candies, a slice of fresh fruit pie paired with hot herbal tea or gourmet coffee, will give you a nice holiday fix and has some health perks, too. Whether you’re alone or with friends and family, this Christmas Apple Pie paired with coffee or tea and honey will feed your sweet tooth, fill you up, not out and boost your spirit.

Motto: Holiday blessings come in all ways, shapes and sizes. Sometimes, tradition is fun and other times it’s exciting to follow your heart and soul while dancing on your own path.

— Cal Orey, M.A. is an author and journalist. Her Healing Powers series include fall and holiday recipes (Vinegar, Olive Oil, Chocolate, Honey, and Coffee) published by Kensington. The Healing Powers series was featured by the Good Cook Book Club, and the series is sold at Walmart stores nationwide. 

Day 8: Grieving for My Soulmate with Paws

By Cal Orey

Day eight. Today marks one week since my canine soulmate has been gone--to the other side.  I have been here, done the grieving game with many dogs and cats but it never gets easier. Here's how my hellish week went. Thinking of the heartbreaking film Still Alice but in dog...

Happy, healthy, balanced with two dogs

Day 1: No eating. No bathing. Crying, crying, crying. On Saturday the day after the event, I got out of bed, walked like a zombie to the dining room drawer; grabbed dozens of pictures from more than a decade...


Photos of me and my dog named Simon. I should scan all the images but my energy level is low but up and down on the grieving scale. One call to the Crisis Center surprised me. The counselor said I was no longer an 8--"in shock" but slid down the slippery slope to a 5 on a 1-10 scale of doing superb while dealing with loss. I am still here...my dog is not.
The first night in bed I tossed and turned. I couldn't sleep. I called my understanding ex love of my life (who knows the real me and my real love for dogs and cats) and we talked and talked as he promised me I'd get through this challenge like the others. But then, the intense headaches like I got before the Loma Prieta earthquake and vivid nightmares followed. A telephone man/part-time cop who fixed my phone said I was suffering from PTSD as if I didn't know it while holding an icepack on my forehead when I answered the door to let him fix the phone filled with static (somewhat like putting the pieces together of diagnosing my dog's demise).

Day 2: Forced myself to eat a veggie sandwich. Drink water. Savor tea. More tears in the kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom, and bathroom--everywhere my dog had been for 12 years...and now nowhere.  Gone. Another ring to the Center with people who have become my lifeline. Some listen. Some dish advice, others not so much.  
I work the psychic networks and read people. I get it. Strangers with woes can be angry, sad, rant and rave or even hang up on you. I now had become a caller with loss--unrequited love because my dog can no longer love me back.  Still in shock. Dementia? My brilliant Brittany's brain was fried.  Images of the mean-spirited infected dogs in I Am Legend come to mind. I am now the man played by actor Will Smith in the film who had to let his best friend go because his canine was attacked and morphed into an evil monster.
Oddly, my body felt like someone bandaged it from head to toe like a mummy. I felt so tight. Aches and pains paid me a visit. Stress, I wondered? I took my blood pressure (usually 117/72/58)--now 158/90. Fight or flight response also came to me as well as isolation. I didn't want to be around anyone with two legs. 

My sleep mate for more than a decade

Bonded

Day 3: I go through the hours day and night that feel like eternity. Motions of life...to feeding my cat Zen and dog Skye...Both sense change in the household. Minus one dog and being calm for one unbalanced alpha leader--me. Our home has been hit by an earthquake of sorts: The diagnosis of canine cognitive disorder is one shaker to process, not to ignore the death of my canine with mush for his brain. He did not know who we were. My once strong canine has been sliding back to puppyhood, bit by bit, like the big fish devoured in Hemingway's tale.  

Our bond is unbroken 

My healthy, strong boy

Hellish Days:  I see me running away or to hike somewhere, anywhere but here, like angry Cheryl, the character in the film Wild. I watch the movie (each night) and flip through the pages of my graduate school thesis novella "Blood Tie"...
Ironically, it's the same story. My mother died. I took her small brown wrapped box of cremated bones and hitched and hiked with my dog. We traveled from Northern California through the Mojave Desert. Mission: To deliver daughter to mother--my grandma. It is a story of loss and trying to find inner peace while I stumble through the stages of grief and acceptance.

Bliss to Purgatory: Images of the past days before I left to Canada in early October and after I returned haunted me. My cat Zen sensed Simon was no longer Simon. My once centered canine was hyper aggressive with food and my zen-like cat. He was staring at walls, getting stuck behind furniture, and ran 10 circles like a show dog in a ring when he had to do his business (but usually it was on my rugs), sleep cycle off for months--but we all thought it was just aging as I was awakened at 5 AM every day to let him outdoors. My dog had lost memory of day and night, most commands. He did not recognize my sibling at the vet who announced to me: "Canine Cognitive Disorder" as I looked at my paper with the words scribbled "Dementia?" and "Is Simon okay?" We were on the same page. The diagnosis was bad; prognosis worse.  The end was near.
No longer in denial. As a caring soulmate I got it. His body was atrophying, he had a difficult time climbing onto the bed (the stool I got did not help). The bones in his face protruded. My dog, my best friend was an aging 12 1/2-year-old canine who was tired. He was telling us telepathically the confusion and anxiety he felt was too much, too much to endure, hour after after. He was done. 

There was a better place. I knew this earlier in the day when he laid next to me. I knew because of our bond and communication without words. The truth was an epiphany that hit like a sharp jolt, an earthquake. Light shed on the reality now that the pieces of the puzzle completed the picture. My soulmate with paws' spirit was absent. A limp, lifeless body was all that was left for me to hold. We made the decision. It was time. It was time to let go. It was the humane and selfless thing to do. No indecision--it was the right to decision to say goodbye to my canine soulmate. And the painful departure followed as I knew it would one day but tried to tune out reality: dogs are not immortal.

One Week Later:  Eight days. I'm still alive. Simon's death did not kill me. I survived the crisis.  Yesterday I forced myself to swim in the morning. But at 4:00 PM it hit me. I forgot to bathe and brush my teeth. I go through the stuff we do in daily life but my heart and soul are in another place. I'm here physically but spiritually I feel an enormous hole. How I yearn for my soulmate with paws to touch me.  I gave my heart to a dog and despite the extreme pain of loss I have no regrets. 

During a photo shoot for Complete Woman 

Today, the last day of October it hits me. I lost my other Brittany, at six, two-and-a-half years ago to a neurological disorder--it was fall, once my favorite season. Here I sit and images of my dog Simon visit me like waves in a tsunami. As a puppy at eight weeks he was a joy to love. At six months my brother took him for walks in the snow. At two I walked with my boy in the autumn, off season at Tahoe. He'd leap over logs at a campground (no tourists, ours). At three he met his best friend forever--a Rat Terrier--they'd play in the snow and house of my neighbor. Hours and hours. His energy was boundless. 

Memories of a Canine Companion: Of course, there were the book signings he'd accompany me at, from Borders to Barnes and Noble as well as hotels. As a pup and adult--he was a gentleman. Simon was seismically sensitive and helped me sense oncoming earthquakes. So, I am a News Segment Guest on Coast to Coast AM and tagged an "intuitive"; plus this four-legger evacuated with me during the Angora Fire and other challenges in life. He was my constant. Not to forget he raised my Brittany Seth (whom thought he was a God)--and helped me grieve when we lost him; and did a repeat of surrogate alpha trainer with my "healing" Australian Shepherd pup. Enough of good and bad memories, my heart is heavy. Our bond is unbroken.

 A pup to love, a dog to cherish for 12 1/2 years

Zen is no longer hissing, walking on counter tops and hiding high up on the furniture. And the Aussie has adapted to the fact that his alpha leader (he allowed him to keep the position to the end) gets it. Simon is not coming back; his fur friend is gone. We are now moving forward to the next chapter. 


But I sense my feline, young pooch, sibling--all of us--will never forget the Brittany that was loving, intelligent, alert, balanced, good-natured for 12 years, and a strong force in the family.  A wooden plaque "A house is not a home without a Brittany" stays on the wall. Simon's spirit is still present. Our bond is eternal. We will remember Simon, my rock--my soulmate with paws.

A Tribute to My Dog in the Hereafter

By Cal Orey

“The universe, I'd learned, was never, ever kidding. It would take whatever it wanted and it would never give it back.” 
― Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

Simon, a dear canine companion
A true gentleman, my muse
my best friend, my rock
May 28, 2003- October 23, 2015

A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING...

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die...

--Mary Frye

Cal's Earthquake Cake: SoCal Shaker Coming? Blame it on El Nino

By Cal Orey
Update: New NASA study: Earthquake likely due to rubber band theory...comparing rubber band to earth's crust and quakes are breaking rubber band. Also, La Habra March 28, 2014 5.1 earthquake at 9 PM may be primed for a repeat. Think: Chocolate Lava Cake after rain, mudslides upcoming 2015/2016.

SoCal + El Nino Rainfull + Rain-induced
erosion loosens faults

No shaking in October at Cascadia Subduction Zone
when I was there on the 29th hotel floor room

When I was in British Columbia early this month, I saw the film San Andreas while in my room on the 29th floor overlooking the water, part of the Cascadian Subduction Zone. As a native Californian from the SF Bay Area it would be a mortal sin if I didn't watch it. Yes, I did have chocolate. Worse, at home I viewed the quake movie two more times (three times less the price). 
Currently, we're having an earthquake swarm in the East Bay, San Ramon to be exact and on the Calaveras Fault near the deadly Hayward and San Andreas Faults. Think snakes. While it could fizzle, as swarms often do, it could shake more. After all, yesterday was October 17, the day the Earth rocked back in 1989 (predicted by geologist Jim Berkland and noted in my book The Man Who Predicts Earthquakes); and on October 30, 2007 I, the intuitive, did forecast the 5.6 that hit in Alum Rock and was reported felt throughout NorCal.

200+ earthquake swarm in SF East Bay
 Calaveras Fault

As one who survived the Loma Prieta shaker, a strong foreshock two months prior, two rolling Livermore quakes in a week, and a 6.2 in Morgan Hill, as well as predict a 4.8 shallow but very strong Reno-Tahoe quake in 2008, earthquakes are nothing new to me. And back in April before it hit, Gemma Sciabica, olive oil guru and cookbook author, whipped up an Earthquake Cake for me (and she sent me chocolate biscotti) so I could deal with our hundreds of quakes here in the Reno-Tahoe region. Caveat: Dark chocolate can help soothe rattled nerves and high anxiety when Mother Nature makes moves. Chocolate (in many forms) is the 21st century nature's finest remedy for coping with earthquakes. (It used to be popcorn.)
So, I'd like to share Gemma's recipe--straight from my timeless book The Healing Powers of Chocolate (Kensington, 2010)--formerly purchased by the Good Cook Book Club, One Spirit Book Club, Crafters, Mystery Guild, featured by Newsmax, and translated in three languages. 

* * *

Cal's Earthquake Cake

2 cups whole wheat flour

2/3 cup dark cocoa

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cup sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup Sciabica's or Marsala Olive Oil

2 eggs

1/2 teaspoon Danish pastry extract

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup raspberry-cream filled chocolate squares (chop)

1 large banana, mashed

Cheese Filling

1/4 cup ricotta cheese

1 egg and 1 egg yolk

1/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease well or use cooking spray in a 10-inch bundt tube pan. In mixing bowl, sift dry ingredients together, make well in center. Pour in buttermilk, olive oil, eggs, and flavorings. Stir until smooth. Add chocolate pieces. Pour half the cake batter into prepared pan. Spoon the filling mixture evenly over the layer of batter. Carefully pour second half of batter over the filling. Bake 55 or 60 minutes or until cake springs back when lightly touched in center. Cool cake on a wire rack for about 20 minutes before removing from pan. Cool completely before glazing. Glaze as desired, or, may be sprinkled with confectioners' sugar. Serves 12.

Coffee Bliss in Pacific Northwest

By Cal Orey

The Canadian Coffee and Tea Show on the waterside

Last week I was planning and preparing for the Canadian Coffee and Tea Show. The day of departure, as usual, I woke up to a fresh 12-ounce cup of flavored mocha premium coffee made in my trusty Mr. Coffee maker. A large splash of organic 2 percent low-fat milk is par for the course and back to the cozy and warm waterbed with a hot cup of joe is a ritual that I love.  And it ended Friday October 2...

Different than nestled amid pine trees

Timeless book on perks of coffee

On Saturday morning, I awoke at 7 AM in Seattle and at a hotel I love because I know what I'm getting--usually. I ordered a carafe of coffee (3 8 ounce cups, sort of), fresh squeezed orange juice, and a toasted bagel with honey. Total: $24. And I cannot forget despite the tab included a tip, the gentleman who brought me my "continental" breakfast said he could use more money. Couldn't we all. I needed coffee and my solitude as I handed him bills and away he went down the elevator. The java was doable (yeah, I'm a coffee snob after writing the book on its powers) but nothing to write home about yet no caffeine withdrawal so it worked.

Instead of the train, this time around I took the glorified bus (found at Amtrak) to Vancouver since this way it gave me more than less hours of sleep.  By the time we were close to the Canadian border I was thrilled the driver stopped at the "duty free" shop.  I went inside looking for crackers or bread to settle my stomach from unexpected motion sickness. Ironically, me, the author of The Healing Powers of Chocolate was welcomed by chocolate, chocolate, chocolate... Nothing else. It was surreal.  And it wasn't even the quality kinds.

Worse, still confused by the currency exchange, I spent more than less when I purchased 8 dollars worth of the sweet stuff. I gave the cashier a 50 dollar Canadian bill. Mistake. Should have used U.S. money. I ended up spending more than 20-something on the low grade items. I gifted it to the kid behind me who was also paying it forward and giving it to his girlfriend. Also, a follow-up conversation with the aloof woman behind the store counter didn't help. At all.  The bottom line: I lost (like so many others crossing the border), she won. Evidently, the owner of the shop is AWOL forever.

Hello Vancouver

Wanted rain, settled for awesome city/water

Once in a new and different hotel on a very high floor I was pleasantly surprised by the view scene via two windows. I was seeking gloomy, rainy skies but the sun was big and bright and temps in the high 70s. I left to get coffee. Downstairs I ordered a vanilla latte and it kicked in a bit despite I was still trying to get my balance from cabs, the shuttle bus, two planes, bus, and a cab I had to fight for and finally was rescued by a driver. After the coffee did its job and picked up my mood, I realized the only thing I ate was the 24 dollar bagel; so at the downstairs bistro I ordered a comforting grilled cheese with tomatoes on whole grain bread and fries (there are no baked potatoes in B.C. or so it seems). 
When my meal was served and I took the first bite I was rudely awakened by the flavor of smoked cheese. Not my fantasy. I settled for the fries sprinkled with herbs and a baguette (I loved it.) After my "dinner" I walked and walked (they do this in Vancouver for the health of it, they say). Ended up in my room with a "million dollar view" and purchased the San Andreas film for 20 bucks. I was homesick. (No quake yet at the Cascadia Subduction Zone.)

Good Morning
While the view was breathtaking and took my breath away; I forgot to mention if I hadn't opened the brown curtain, the night before, I would have never noticed there was a third window boasting a huge panoramic view. It was a pre-birthday present for me two days before the big event when I grow older like my senior pooch back at home.

Skies with coffee are unforgettable

For some reason, I was hoping the Earth would move or a wave would hit like in the earthquake movie. But adventure was lacking--even with a different environment in a different country. So I settled for going downstairs (29 floors) and ordering two (not one) mocha lattes. And back up to the room I went to prepare for the Canadian Show. After all, I was on a mission to learn about the tea industry.
Yep, the coffee did its work and I consumed info on why tea is hot around the world and how to make it even hotter, from type to presentation, season and more. Yes, I did get it and put it to work later on the trip. 

Tea tales will be shared in tea book

The next day for my coffee consumption, it was a Groundhog Day movie repeat but I asked for extra oomph. The bistro barista added something (I forget--did she say espresso?--because I was still half asleep) but it did seem to add a kick. Back to the Coffee and Tea Show for tea tasting tidbits. This session was enlightening and I certainly can use the "notes" in my forthcoming book on tea.  Note to self: I should have ordered the white tea. But I have a lot in my pantry to savor.


Tuning into the entertaining and tea-savvy speakers, I found myself envious of their travels and it made me ponder: "I should have gone farther; I've been to Canada." After networking with some folks at their exhibits, I needed an exotic atmosphere. (I missed my two dogs, one cat, and fish.)  Took a detour to the Vancouver Aquarium and visited the birds, snakes, monkeys, otters, and fish. It made me want to go to Brazil, Mexico, or back to Hawaii. But I was in Canada.  And I continued on with my tea journey in Vancouver. (That's another story and a happy one.)

Bluebirds are symbolic for happiness

Back to the USA:  Awake in Seattle
On Tuesday it was up at 4:30 AM to catch the early train back to Seattle. Now, I could have used the hotel room coffee machine but there wasn't any cold fresh milk in my room (oops, I forgot); and the coffee containers (I tried tasting the drink the night before) weren't my cup of coffee. 

• Keurig single cup coffee maker with complimentary coffee
• Stainless steel kettle with complimentary tea (I did adore this baby.)

So I waited until I boarded the train. 
The nice guy behind the food counter promised me my cuppa joe (more trustworthy than the past men in my love life) was Seattle's best coffee and he did use real milk from a carton. By the time I finished half of the beverage my heart was racing. He was right about the caffeine but I craved my joe back at home in the land of bears and coyotes--Lake Tahoe.

My bedroom with a view

Once in the city, I was back at the hotel I love. In fact, for my birthday I was comped my favorite room to rave about and once there it's difficult to get out and about.  It feels like home but more elegant, less earthy.  I walked to Pike's Place and ended up at Starbucks on Pine Street. I ordered a salty caramel coffee concoction with mocha sauce, coffee, milk, whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and sea salt. (A special fall treat but the sugar and calories are off the charts.) It was oh so sweet and made me feel energized and on even keel. 
Finally, the weather was grey and cool--the way I like it. After tripping around up and down the streets (like San Francisco, sort of), a few locals talked to me and I felt a sense of belonging. "If I was staying where you are," one woman said, "I'd go back and chill rather than to the Space Needle for dinner."  
Back in my room, a card next to chocolate was on the desk below in my "study"... Not to forget the amazing tea setup. (Another story to share.) I plopped on the bed and ordered the film Jurassic World and watched it on the flat screen TV. The mean-spirited dinosaurs entertained me; as did the doorbell when I was served real grilled cheese and fries. No baked potatoes. Maybe there is a shortage of potatoes in the Pacific Northwest. But sitting on the top floor room with more than 800 square feet overlooking downtown Seattle, Puget Sound, and the Cascades--potatoes weren't on my mind anymore. I was in heaven. 

Later, in the deep soaking tub I soaked and the thought hit me: "I want to hike the Pacific Crest Trail like the Cheryl in Wild or perhaps go to Alaska." But then I mulled: "Maybe taking a small plane in the wintertime to Victoria--back to Canada--for tea will suffice." Meanwhile, enjoying the suite with amazing views of the city and bay, I looked forward to a large latte and cranberry lemon scone at SeaTac at 5:00 A.M. And I fell asleep.