Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Italian Sorbettos and the Illusion of Control

Just a few doors down from the gallery I worked at in Santa Fe there was a jewelry and gift shop with a great little coffee bar in the back. It was there I fell in love with Italian sorbettos in the form of a slushy iced coffee drink that was highly addictive, at least for me. I arrived at the gallery early enough to make a quick run before people made their way up Canyon Road.  On my weaker days, and there were far too many of those, I also got a cranberry/orange/pecan muffin. These were not your ordinary COPM's. These were from The Chocolate Maven, over on Second Street. They take baked goods to a whole 'nother level.

One summer, the Italian sorbetto machine went on the fritz. Beside myself with grief, and heading into withdrawal in what can only be described as delirium tremors, I almost grabbed Bill by his lapels and threatened to do him or myself bodily harm if a solution couldn't quickly be found. 'Wheeeennnn?' I whined, to no avail. One more day, I told him, and I would be out on the street corner asking everyone who went by if they knew where I could score an Italian coffee sorbetto.

One day after another went by. Still, no sorbetto machine. The Fixer couldn't fix. One week turned into two weeks.  Summer was going by.

I would drive up Canyon Road to spend my days among beautiful and interesting art created by some very cool artists from all over the country, meeting amazing and interesting people from all over the world. You know, Michael Caine, Chris Rock, Woody Harrelson, Valerie Plame. Like that.

Eventually, I almost forgot about the broken sorbetto machine.

Here is where my story becomes somewhat more interesting: every day that I walked into this shop and made my way to the back for my fix, or to check when my supplier would be back in town, I walked by a display of wooden wall hangings. These were not your ordinary wooden wall hangings. They were painted with the magical images and words of  Brian Andreas. I was like a child, face tilted up, mouth undoubtedly agape, eyes glued to the small and deeply true stories they told. They always caught my attention and they always had a message I needed to hear. I even learned to listen.

One day, I realized I had let go of my belief that I needed Italian coffee sorbettos.

I was free!  Free!  Free at last!

And then the machine got fixed.

But, by that time, I didn't need them, and only wanted them now and then.

Here is Brian's little story, in animated form, that helped me get through that difficult summer:


  1. I love it, Teresa. "Just let the wind carry you."

    Is that like saying yes?

  2. That was the cutest little video. With the biggest of messages! I've been trying to free myself from the illusion of the need for Starbucks coffee. The cost of a tall has prompted me to start brewing at home...but I drive white knuckled past them on almost every corner. Thanks for talking me down. Thanks for such a fun post.

  3. luv'd the video/great message. My weakness is for the frozen cappuccino at Quicktrip...gosh, I'm right there, aren't I??? This summer, their machine was making it tooo slushy, so I "feel" this post. Teresa, you worked on Canyon Road??? One of my favorite places to visit....

  4. Linda, Yes! :)

    MG, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's kind of fun to grind the beans and brew at home. And, far less costly. I swear Starbucks adds something to their beans to make it even more addictive!

    Lynne, Sounds like you got it bad... :)
    Yes, I worked at an art gallery on Canyon Road as an art consultant, i.e. salesperson, from the summer of 2002 to late fall of 2008. A grand time in my life. This is a good time, too.

  5. They (whoever the they are) say coffee is bad for you. One of my students has a 102 yr old grandmother who has only drunk coffee her whole life. If they ask her the secret to her longivity she says, "Never drink water, only drink coffee." So go figure. :)

  6. Cute story. I think I would be like a delirious junkie if my iPhone or computer decided to go on the fritz.

  7. Manzi, "They" seem to have no true idea. It's constantly changing, isn't it? Someone behind the scenes stands to make some huge money with the "info." from the new "study." I believe, we can learn to listen to our own bodies...

    Gail, I can relate. I went without my computer for a few days and it took some getting used to. :)

  8. I might have withdrawals from my blog, but then I'd find something else to do, but for a day or two it might be bad. Ha.

  9. What a sweet little video. Nice gig, selling art on Canyon Road! I remember sitting down to do the paperwork on a small purchase and noticing that Barry Bostwick had signed the guestbook, apparently just moments before. What is it about celebrities that makes us feel more important just to sit where they may have sat?

  10. Linda, yes, I can relate.

    Blissed-Out Grandma (Nancy), The thing I have found interesting in meeting "celebrities," is having the opportunity to see them as real people, with real lives.

  11. Sorry, but I had a good old belly-laugh from your poor withdrawal episode! Have never had a sorbetto but now I really want one.

    Manzanita's grandma rocks!

    Brian Andreas is such a great talent. I've got just one print of his that our daughter gave us one year for our anniversary. It says, "We had gone far enough listen easily in the quiet places."

  12. Cheryl, I'm glad you got some chuckles over it. I had it bad... :)

    I love Brian Andreas perspective on life. What a gift.