Ten Things I learned From Watching "10 Questions For The Dalai Lama"

1. The Dalai Lama has a way better sense of humor than the Pope.

2. The Dalai Lama sounds a lot like Yoda.

3. Monks could kick some serious ass if not constrained by the excessive cloth of their robes and their strict adherence to non-violence.

4. The Chinese have turned Tibet into a dim sum platter of prostitution and consumerism.

5. I need to work harder to accept the lazy, unfriendly checker at the market who forgets to give me my cash back and tries to use plastic bags instead of the canvas ones I’ve brought.

6. “Shut the hell up” is not a good mantra.

7. While opposed to violence, the Dalai Lama believes one should defend oneself.

8. On the subject of birth control, the Dalai Lama believes in quality over quantity.

9. The Dalai Lama can fix your Tag Heuer while you wait.

10. Yak butter sucks.

Smells Like Nirvana

If you want to soothe away just about any aggravation, stress or injustice, gin will work, but breathing in the scent of lavender is a lot easier on your liver. You can get your fix in a hundred different ways, lotions, aromatherapy, candles, lavender pillows, lavender slippers, you name it, but I discovered the very best way last weekend in Sonoma. It’s a beautiful, hidden gem of a place called Matanzas Creek Winery in Bennett Valley where, for the small price of free (wine tasting is extra), you can spend the afternoon in blissful serenity listening to the happy hum of a hundred thousand or so bees, feeling the pleasant touch of valley heat on your skin, and inhaling the sweet smell of over 4500 lavender shrubs.

If not for a helpful concierge, we would certainly have missed this place. It’s about ten miles out on a winding two-lane farm road well off Sonoma’s beaten wine path Highway 12. If you're coming from the North, it’s about five miles south of Santa Rosa on a smoother stretch of highway. Either way, it’s worth the drive. We spent most of our time in the lavender garden, but it’s best to start in the tasting room and gift shop then linger in the garden until the last moment possible. Pause for a moment to watch the blue dragonflies buzz the koi pond as you walk up hill to the tasting room, which is housed in an understated aged wood building that feels a bit like a tree house.

It smells like a spa inside with all the lavender gift and goody items. The deck overlooks the valley and there’s a nice spot there to sip some wine. You can also take a picnic and some wine to a shady oak grove where they provide tables and a view of a small lake, which is actually their wastewater pond, but you don’t need to know that. BYOP (bring your own picnic) as they offer only the occasional cheese and fruit plate, which they were out of on our visit. Finally, walk the gravel path lined with native grasses and wildflowers out into the fields, quiet your head, watch the bees, smell the lavender, and forget all the stuff that winds you up. This is bliss at its purest.

Crazy, Sexy, Cool Limoncello

This time last year, I was enjoying the warm Umbrian sun, marveling at sweeping views of vineyards and sunflower fields, and discovering the joys of Limoncello. An Italian liqueur best enjoyed at the end of a great meal on a hot summer night in a setting like the one above, Limoncello is like neon sunshine in a glass, only ice cold. Served straight out of the freezer, it’s a refreshing little shot of contrast, sweet and tart, a little syrupy, slightly reminiscent of Lemonhead candy.
It’s quickly replacing Absinthe as the hip drink among the young, beautiful and willing to try anything. And for good reason. Limoncello is much tastier and won’t turn you into Edgar Allen Poe. It’s just a simple concoction of alcohol, lemon and sugar. And apparently very easy to make at home. I found this recipe that looks easy, but since it takes a week of steeping, I’ll have to post the results later.

Danny Devito is a big fan of the lemony potion as he proved in his infamous appearance on "The View" last year. He’s even launched his own brand of Limoncello. If this becomes a trend for celebrities to capitalize on their indiscretions by launching products based on their personal vices, can we expect to see a line of crack pipes from Amy Winehouse just in time for Christmas?

Dream Big

A Hong Kong jewelry store known internationally for its lavish lavatory built from six tons of gold has begun cashing in on its coveted crapper. With gold prices topping $900 an ounce, the monument to movement is being melted down and sold off piece by piece. But owner Lam Sai-wing insists the enclave of excrement’s crowning glory, the toilet, will remain intact. He’s not giving up on his dream to one day s*** a gold brick.

You Won't See This On Staycation

Thanks to historic gas prices and a tanking economy, this summer’s buzzword is “staycation.” Taking a vacation right in your own backyard. Everyone from the "Today Show" to CNN to Home Depot are pushing it as the hottest travel trend. A Google search yields more than 216,000 references. In true American fashion, we’ve taken a negative, “you can’t afford a vacation,” and turned it into a positive. Turn that frown upside down, America. You’re going on a fabulous “staycation.” That’s right, a whole week camped out in your living room with a bucket of KFC (extra crispy), a liter of diet Dr. Pepper and a stack of DVDs.

It's not the economic meltdown that's making it tough to get away this year. It's just that there are plenty of ways to spend that stimulus check right in your own neighborhood, right? If they really want to sell the American public on a stay-at-home vacation, give it some appeal. Where’s the sizzle? The word “staycation” sounds more like a kennel for obedience-challenged dogs. Why do I want a “staycation”? A moratorium on chores, or “choreatorium” as it's been dubbed, hardly stacks up against maid service, breakfast in bed and poolside umbrella drinks arriving at my bidding. Choreatorium is just a really weird way of saying I’m staying at home in a dirty house with dishes piling up. Sweet. Bring me another “Cheaparita.” Oh yeah, I have to get it myself.

Since we stayed at home over the Fourth of July holiday weekend, I guess one could say we indulged in a staycation. As staycations go, it was pretty freaking awesome. We attended an outdoor San Francisco symphony concert and fireworks extravaganza, lounged by the pool, ate at some nice restaurants, went kayaking, took a bayside stroll, saw “Get Smart” and “Wall-E,” breakfasted on the patio. I cheated and did a little laundry, but still a pretty good non-get-away. Next weekend, I’m thinking about dragging a mattress out onto the deck and sleeping under the stars for a staycation camp-out. We can make hibachi s’mores.

Will all this staycationing be good for the economy? You bet. With all the money you're saving on airfare and hotels, you can go ahead and get movie candy for the whole family, buy that tricked out backyard grill, and pick up a whole slew of travel DVDs so you can plan your next paycation.

You might not see great works of art, or broaden your awareness of other cultures while on staycation, but you will discover the intricacies of your own neighborhood and, if you're lucky, find out who's been letting their dog crap on your lawn.

Summer Bliss Squelchers

If only my cat could manage to park her breakfast without getting it all over the fur on her hind end, which ultimately ends up in nasty little kitty skid marks all over the living room rug, I wouldn’t have needed to go to Target for another can of carpet cleaner where, upon seeing the summer clearance already in progress, I fell into a deep depression over the fact that I have only just found my swim suit for the season, which according to the people at Target, is already over.

All the summer items were on clearance, relegated to a few overcrowded, disorganized shelves. The watering cans, the colorful outdoor pillows, the decorative Indonesian carvings, the bird baths and reflection globes. Even the lawn gnomes. Meanwhile a couple of burly red-shirted guys were busy clearing out all the patio furniture to make way for, forgive me for saying it, Back To School stuff. Target has truly harshed my summer buzz.

It’s not even Fourth of July, Target managers. I haven’t even been to the beach yet. Haven't had my first taste of summer watermelon or nectarine. My first grilled burger. I've barely begun to enjoy the long amber-tinged evenings, the wearing of sandals, the scent of jasmine drifting in through the open window as I fall asleep. My first pedicure of the season is hardly showing any wear. I've almost no tan. I haven't even begun a trashy novel. What sort of insidious plot is this?

I vow not to set foot in a Target until at least the third week of August when Back To School will begin to seem like a light at the end of a long, hot, PS3 filled tunnel. Until then, there’s only one phrase more hated in our household than “back to school” and that’s “where’s the carpet cleaner?”