growing curious

offensive cookie cutter

This cookie cutter offended my mother-in-law.

L. didn't like it and told my daughter E. that it was not a good cookie cutter because it wasn't balanced.

Actually, this is my very favorite cookie cutter among dozens because it doesn't pretend to be balanced.  It makes cookies you want to eat because the shape of the tree looks so happy.

I got this cookie cutter from my mother, who saved it from my paternal grandmother or maternal grandmother.  It may be even older than that.

I love my mother-in-law and have grown to be patient with her fetish for everything balanced, predictable, and Catholic (in the narrow sense).

Once, she was frustrated because I chose a Crape Myrtle tree that was not perfectly balanced, especially when I placed it askew purposely.  She's very concerned about the Eucalyptus tree that bends.  She often worries about E's mismatched socks even though, by now, she has given up her commentary about them.

But L. is a great egg.  Look at here here, entirely involved with E and patient in spades.  I love L. even though she hates my favorite cookie cutter.

kid has success with sewing machine

My mom got E a children's sewing machine for Christmas. We used it for the first time today, and she created this.  She did all of the design, all of the sewing, most of the fabric aligning (after much discussion each time about right and wrong sides and about speed bumps/extra layers of fabric), some of the cutting, most of the guiding of the fabric, all of the putting fabric in and pulling it out of the machine.  I did the ironing, needle-threading, and straightening of the edges.

Can you believe it?

Forgive me for indulging my fantasy of making quilts with my daughter someday... or at least of making them side-by-side.

secret garden saturday

Today was weird and broody and also so wonderful.

I stopped into the Pearl District to have a perfect cappuccino at Barista before heading off to take a friend to the airport.  These cappuccinos from Barista reawaken taste memories from Berkeley cafes in 1983 and 1984. 

After I returned from taking my friend to the airport, I raced back so that E and I could use the no-rain to harvest our wreath materials.  We did that, and the hens followed us down to the creek, and it was wonderful to see them hop up to participate with us. When I snipped off a branch, one of the Buff Orpingtons was hopping up to taste the cedar or the hawthorn.

E and I gathered a lot of stuff, and it's drying in the garage.  (I also gathered two stray zucchini from plants I haven't pulled yet.  They were perfect, and I used them in the soup.)  She and I are excited to make a wreath for the front door from stuff around our house.  It will look spastic, and that's a feature.

Then D took a nap by the fire,and E and I cuddled up and watched The Secret Garden. It captivated both of us.  I got some knitting done because I was interested enough in the film that I didn't fall asleep.

A very good day here.

on a sunny fall day...

 

She looks like a big girl there, doesn't she?  E loves school and keeps growing like a weed.  Today she surprised me by drawing some very representational pictures of a house/birthday scene and a building/halloween scene.  When she goes outside with the chickens, she sings to them and gives them herbs.

I'm still sick so today we snuggled and watched old episodes of Fraggle Rock.  I still think Margory the Trash Heap is the godhead.  Marjory loves trouble and woe.  She says, "I am orange peels.  I am coffee grounds.  I am wisdom."  Since I spend so much time with our own compost pile, I know she's right.

first day

yay! 

Now... onto other things...  like what on earth will I do with all of the energy and relief I feel?  Should I clean the bathrooms, go out an weed (necessary if you look closely at the photo up there), or go off on an adventure by myself today?

certifying the kitchen #3

As I appended to my last post, the kitchen inspector wasn't able to visit earlier in August.  She is scheduled to come here on Tuesday, the morning after I teach a fermentation class.

I made lasting progress for the inspector's last scheduled visit.  There is some extra cleaning that needs to be done, that *always* needs to be done when someone comes over, but I'm not worried. 

However, since the last big go-around of household/pantry/closet re-organization, I realize that I don't have a perfect solution to separate business and household stuff through their entire life-cycles, and I think that this will be what the inspector will try to teach me about next week.

I have separated out ingredients and equipment, but I have four places where I store business equipment.  Maybe this isn't okay.

Also, since I'm not in production mode right now, I don't know where I'll store bigger amounts of finished product.  Even if I'm not ready to produce large quantities, I think the inspector might want to know where I think I'll be storing product before it goes elsewhere.

So this morning -- in between looking for a lost chicken -- I re-arranged the long-term pantry so that there's more enclosed, separate space to hold finished preserves.

It's really weird to think about how your family stores things, from an outsider's perspective.  I keep realizing that there are huge fields of things I haven't even considered yet.  I am being as anal as I can possibly be, and then there's another entirely obvious thing that I hadn't considered before...  ho hum...

a big, weird blessing?

I haven't been sitting around spinning my belly button lint.    We've been busy while we wait for the sun to show up.

My daughter now reads comic books in bed:

She also talks nonstop from sunrise to sunset.  It's wonderful, creative, and it's making me a little crazy.  I can't believe that she soon will be in school from 8-something-am until prettymuch-3pm every single week day for the next 13 years.

I pray that the universe and the economy work with me so that I can make good progress for our family while she is busy at school.  I continue to explore how to certify our domestic kitchen so that I can make and sell pickles and preserves.  Aside from the catastrophic weather-related problems most farmers are experiencing in our region right now, Curious Farm is making quite a bit of progress all around.  Crops might not be growing properly, but we are working through a massive heap of kinks that aren't related to the weather.  So maybe this spooky weather is a big, weird blessing? 

ham-in-training

E took an acting class (Acting ABCs) from the NW Children's Theater this spring.  It was a very positive experience for her.  D would take her down there to give me precious time to myself so I tried to remove myself from the whole adventure, but she came home so energized.  (Her teacher was a young man named Noah, in case your child ever has an opportunity to take a class there from him.)

Earlier this week the class gave their final play, and David recorded the performance and uploaded it (with fatherly pride) to YouTube.   E played Mr. McGreeley --in the overalls and red straw hat.  (Please don't feel you must watch this because I put this link here mostly for my family.)

We were pleased that E seemed so engaged in the play onstage.  But the weirdest thing happened last night:  she took center stage in the living room and did the entire play -- including narration, all parts, and all physical movement -- solo.  She had memorized the entire thing with emotion and inflection.  It almost seemed like she was relieved finally to get to play all of the parts.

She's been listening to lots of long books on tape, and we've been reading chapter books to her at night.  However, I hadn't realized how carefully she's able to track a narrative already.  Obviously, I'll need to keep feeding this fire. 

paying attention in new ways...

 

 Ready for an all-over-the-map post?

I have been cleaning and painting part of the garage so that it can be a good, clean place to prep vegetables and have transactions with customers someday. 

You say, "Why are you doing this now when there are so many important things you haven't done?"

The thing I know from the garden before it became a "farm" is that sometimes a vegetable bounty can come upon us suddenly, and we need to be ready.  I want to be ready to sell extra peas, herbs, and greens soon so I'm getting my systems in order.

Also, I'm painting the garage because moon/biodynamic calendars tell me that these last few days have not been optimal planting days.  I'm not ready to go full-on biodynamic yet, but I'm easing into it, I guess.  Mostly, I'm tired of things not germinating well so I want to optimize conditions on every level possible.  Right now that means that I need to pay attention to the moon as much as I can.

What else?

I haven't painted in a few years, and it's hard to tell I have white paint in my hair because the paint blends in with my gray hair.

Painting uses different muscles than digging does, and I am sore.  However, I have retained my focus and have accomplished a lot (while parenting a 5-year-old and cooking and doing laundry) during the last two days. 

I looked at the front berm today and thought, "My god!  I just weeded that mound!  How dare it..."  Then I looked at the weeds that are going berserk and discovered that they're mostly wild lettuce.  Do you know about wild lettuce?  It helps cranky people.  Do you know any cranky people?  And why might this plant be growing all over that cranky person's property?

That's what the goddess/god does, friends.  She puts the problems and the solutions right in front of our faces, and it's up to us to connect the dots.  I am grateful that I know enough about the universe now that I don't automatically kill or remove weeds and other things that seem hard or undesireable.  I look at it all pretty closely these days for deeper information on moving forward with more heart.

I think my wild lettuce/motherwort infusion is ready.  Hopefully it will put me to sleep.  The day has been challenging, and I'm tired.

conversation with 5-year-old spirit...

We were driving along, and an old song came on the radio... "Hey, E...  who's this on the radio?"

"I don't know.  Is it the Beatles?"

"Well, it's one of them...  it's Ringo all by himself."

"I forget... Who are the Beatles that are alive, and who are the ones in heaven?"

"John and George are in heaven."

"Jesus is in heaven, too.  And so is Buddha!"

"Yes.  That's true. But you can invite Jesus and Buddha into your heart and have a conversation with them right now."

"Oh, I don't need to do that because they're sitting right next to me.  They're my brothers.  Did Jesus die before Buddha?"

"No, Buddha lived and died before Jesus was born."

"And what about Ganesha...  when was he alive?"

"Well, the thing is that Ganesha is an idea of God.  He didn't really live in real life, but Jesus and Buddha were real people who had real lives."

"But Ganesha got an elephant head when his dad made a mistake!  That was real!"

"Well, no...  that's a story to teach us something.  Ganesha is like an important character in a story so that we can learn about the world and about God.  But Jesus and Buddha had real lives, and there also are stories about their lives."

"And they are God, too, aren't they?"

"Some people believe that.  They both certainly had great ways of teaching us how to be kind and loving."

"But Jesus and Buddha and the Beatles were alive after the dinosaurs, right?"

- - - -

Later this afternoon E brought her notebook outside so that she could record new animal species she "discovered."  She kept coming up with wild, pretend names for different kinds of birds that do unusual things.  When she was looking at the chickens in the run, she said, "And these are the martyr chickens...  they don't die when you hurt them."

D and I looked at each other... "Where did that come from?"  I wonder if some stray bit got lodged in her mind when she went to church with Grandma on Good Friday?

chickens here, wow!

D and E brought our first chicks home last night.  There are 16:  4 buckeyes, 4 buff orpingtons, 4 black barred rocks, 4 australorps (these last are 3 weeks old instead of 1 week old).  D got them at Naomi's and was very happy with the interaction there (even though they were busy again).

I can tell the breeds apart, but I can't tell the chicks apart yet.  I hope that will come.

I had never held a bird before last night. 

Tomorrow, if it's warm enough, we might let the older australorps spend some time on the grass.  Take a look at this picture of E sprawled out on the grass  (I think she looks like an Easter egg):

 

I wonder if I'll let her do that once the chickens start ranging?

We are broker than broke, but I feel so blessed by the life, love, and potential right here at home.  Spring has sprung, man.  I have sap running all through my veins.  I want to plant every single happy, hopeful feeling I have so that I can grow more.

From now on, I'll probably post more about the chickens at Curious Farm.  They belong to the farm, not to me.  But I wanted you all to know that they're here, peeping away in the brooder just a few steps from my computer.

why i love my husband...

This morning, D took E rollerskating at Oaks Park.  Can you imagine having your dad take you rollerskating?  I can't.  I love and miss my dad, but he never did things like that.

Afterwards, D thought they would head over to the farm store to get some baby chicks.  Can you imagine being 5 years old and going with your dad to the farm store to get baby chicks?

I really love D.

This morning, while I've been alone at home (don't feel very well -- tired from the digging and other things), I've been thinking about how well D and I complement one another with our gardening skills.  He's patient with the process of propagating starts.  He's good at testing the soil and mixing amendments so that they work well for us.  He's been building the coop almost single-handedly (thanks again, JL and S).  He brings me tractor-fuls of compost whenever I ask and dumps them right where I want them to be. 

He would hate to be digging, and that's why I'm doing it, and I don't care that I'm doing it because I know he would hate it.  You know?  He would last 10 minutes with that job, and I've been doing it for a month.  I'm really tuned into the plants themselves and am good at direct sowing.  I'm sensitive to what a plant might need while it's growing in order to improve its flavor.  He pays attention to broad trends in the garden and takes the time during my witching hours (late afternoon/eve when I'm making dinner and feeling cranky) to spray horticultural oils out on the fruit trees and stuff.  (I have never sprayed horticultural oil in my life.)

He and I do different kinds of research.  He researched coop structure, basic chicken requirements, and spent an entire season planning out the coop before he started it.  I researched coop design and different breeds of chickens in order to find some that might work for us here. 

Sometimes I'm amazed by how well we work together.  I couldn't do Curious Farm without him.  But, mostly, I can't imaging raising E without him.  He is such a good dad.

my 5-year-old garden spade

So I was outside moving the 3' x 10' mound of dirt I made in the garden and had begun to double-dig the whole area instead when 5-year-old E came out chattering about digging and our Farm .  She said we'll have chickens and she'll have to learn how to be with them, and we talked about 4H and learning how to be a young farmer, and then she told us she's going to move away to her own farm just a couple of days after the birthday when she becomes a grown-up. Then she decided to help me with my digging, and she told me that our farm is not the Curious Farm yet -- it's the "We're Learning to Be a Farm " Farm.  After we earn our Curious Farm by digging hard, we can call it the Curious Farm, but not until then.  I agreed with her because she is more wise than I am, and I was pleased and energized by her thoughts and feelings.  After feeding the imaginary goats, she went off to sing to the real blueberry bushes and raspberry vines.  I continued digging, and dug for two hours.  She helped me.

wildwood conversation #26

E and I go to the Arboretum all of the time.  It's free.  It's beautiful.  We walk and talk about the plants and the seasons.  This morning we got there at 8:30 and did a 3-mile hike on the Wildwood trail  (she kept going at a steady pace for the whole time, which I thought was wonderful because she's not quite 5).  We went from the Cherry Trail to the Wildwood trail and then up through the Winter Garden (the viburnums and witch hazels are blooming...  not yet the daphne...) and then onto the Beech trail.

Today we were focused on the surface of the path itself because it was so cold and so early that there were icy spots, even though the texture of the path was rough.

E:  "What are those blue dots on the path?"

Me, after some struggle to figure out what she was seeing:  "Oh, those are little rocks poking through the dirt."

E:  "Why are they blue?"

Me:  "Rocks are different colors depending on what minerals they have in them.  We have minerals in us, too, and we need them to be healthy, just like vitamins."

E:  "If we have minerals in us, then why do we get sick?"

[D is very sick, as I wrote about before.  It's hard to know where the physical crud ends and where the emotional crud begins.  I told him I feel like a widow, and E has mostly known him as a pillow or jungle gym for the last two weeks because she can only interact with him by climbing on top of him or cuddling against him.]

Me:  "Well, actually, we get sick so that our bodies can figure out how to grow stronger.  You know how you were sick earlier this month?  That is how your body learns to grow stronger so that maybe you won't become sick with the same thing again.  If we really feel and understand the sickness we're having, then we have a chance to grow stronger.So you know how Daddy is having lots of feelings right now and also lots of coughing...?"

E:  "So Daddy must be really, really growing stronger right now!  He's really really sick right now so he must be getting a *lot* stronger right now!"

Me:  "Yes, sweetpea, and we can help him by being gentle and patient with him and by inviting him here for a fun walk as soon as he is ready!"

applesauce

This weekend I am making applesauce.  There are 80 pounds of apples in my kitchen -- Jonagolds, Cameos, Fujis, Pink Ladies, and Fortunes. 

Have you ever seen a Fortune apple?  Here is one of them next to a fairly large Pink Lady.  The Fortunes taste rich, actually, and that is an unintended pun.  Fresh, they taste rich, warm and "cooked."  That flavor depth may go away when they're actually cooked down into sauce, but I'm hopeful.

I haven't been writing here very much because... D and E keep getting sick, and then after I help get them well, they get sick again.   Do I get a chance to get sick?  Nooooo...    In fact, I told D that I was going to drink wine tonight while I was peeling apples so that maybe I'd cut my finger off and have to go to the hospital for awhile so that I might be forced to rest.  He said, "Okay!" and then went down to watch Frosty the Snowman with E (after I made them dinner and cleaned up from it).  Yes, I'm irritated...

Today I got some dirty looks and comments at school for the way E continues to cough and I continue to send her to school.  She did stay home.  She stayed home from school two days.  She hasn't had a fever this whole time.  She has a bad-sounding cough and a ton of her usual energy and mental alertness.  I kept her home on the days when she was obviously sick and the days before and after that really sick time.  Should I keep her home all month?  If she's like her father, she'll have this cough the rest of December.  Ho, ho, ho.

So... 25 pounds of apples are on the stove, beginning their journey to sauce (all that will fit in my big soup pot).  I went out in the freezing dark to dump a second pale of peels into the compost pile, came here to say hello (and have a glass of wine), and now I will head back into the kitchen to peel more and load up the crock pot for a round of apple butter.

I made good applesauce last year so I'm hopeful this time around.  I've never made apple butter so we'll see about that.  In any case, I hope it snows a lot tonight and tomorrow because I think I'd like to be trapped at home with applesauce on the stove, you know?

full moon

Full moon in Gemini, my natal sign...  I should have known...  I should prepare far in advance for this somehow so that I don't give into temptation... 

I want an outrageously huge bowl of pasta, followed by a few pickles, followed by something like pumpkin bread with cream cheese frosting.  I'd like to open my pantry and eat an entire jar of chutney -- hot, sweet, sour, tangy.

I don't think about astrology very much these days, and I don't follow moon cycles as closely when I'm not planting and tending the garden.  But today I feel like a huge yawning, ever-yearning pit of need.

D and I were resting on the bed, catching the East Coast feed of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. He said I was snoring, but I was listening to most of it.  When it was over, I wanted the pasta.  I asked him if he'd make it for me, but he didn't take me seriously.  I ate some wheat crackers and cottage cheese instead, but it didn't satisfy.  I keep wanting to read Deborah Madison's new book What We Eat When We're Alone:  Stories and 100 Recipes.

E may be sick.  Today we tried to do everything healthy, and I gave her tea and miso soup.  I rubbed her head, shoulders, ears, cheeks, and forehead.  I read her folktales about the Winter Solstice from around the world.  We bundled up for a good, hard walk in the sunshine and late-fall breeze.  Yesterday when I was parent helper at her school, I had to clean up way too much green snot from the faces of three kids who went to school anyway.  There is no green snot coming from E's nose, but she has a stray cough that could turn either way.  I hope tomorrow brings calm health.

bad day, bad mom

Today *sucked.*  I was not a great mom today, and my kid was not well-behaved today.  She broke my heart a hundred times by saying mean things or by dismissing or ignoring what I was actually doing for her.  Every intersection was a battle.  I wasn't a sucker, and she had some time-outs, and she's not happy with some of the consequences that came down on her, but these power struggles aren't fun for me either.  I am drained and feel much less hopeful about life than I did when I woke up this morning.

Here is what a good mom does, I think:

• She makes a toy theater out of a moving box
• She goes with the flow beautifully when it's raining outside
• She makes a card game for her children out of pressed leaves
• She lets the kids make pancakes

It isn't helping that D has been buying some interesting new things to play with E when he comes home at night (like a train set and a Wii and and and...), but that's not all that's going on.  I have become so much the bad, boring, no-nonsense parent that I don't even exist as a person in her realm.  I am just a structural form to bounce against -- physically and emotionally. 

The whole time I drove her to school yesterday, she fantasized about what it would be like when Daddy can drive her to school *every* day.  I'm not sure where that fantasy has come from because she and I have talked a lot about how I will walk her to school when she can go to the neighborhood public school.

She is almost 5.  I realize there are some normal development issues going on here with her beginning to have a sense of herself as separate and as an individual all to herself, but I am not sure how much longer I can take being the bad guy 90% of the time. 

Tough skin, I have.  It's hard-won.  But this dynamic with E makes me feel hopeless.

survived...

Do you see this child?

 
I couldn't put it off any longer.  She's We've reached a point where it's obvious to both of us that I can't play with her in the bestest way.  I'm still good for making cookies and art projects, but I kinda suck at really fun play because I have so much on my mind.

So...  I decided to court disaster (or at least my own fear) and invite two *boys* over for a parent-free play date that included lunch and two snacks.

It went well!  She had fun!  No tears!  I survived!  We're having cold sandwiches for dinner, and I'm letting her watch cartoons now before D comes home, but I managed a successful playtime at our house.  I feel like crying from relief!

If you don't know her real name, can you guess which famous children's book character inspired E's name?  This picture here captures that character better than any other photo I've taken.

My gosh...  she's not yet five years old...  that gray hair is gonna start coming in even faster...

evil spawn?

We got a note from E's teacher today, mentioning how well she played with others this morning.  Apparently, she set up a hospital and was helping people push in their belly buttons, and -- if they were good -- they could have jello.

When he got home, D mentioned that he heard she played nicely with others.  She was surprised and sort of slunk around the house in a shy or sneaky way.  She said to me, "But I didn't play well with others..."

"Well, should I believe you or your teacher?"

"My teacher.  No, me."

Finally she came up to where I was working in the kitchen and pulled me down to whisper in my ear, "Actually, I wasn't playing very nice today.  I was killing people in the hospital."

I laughed.  I couldn't help it.

hope

This morning, E and I went up to my mom's house to bring her some pumpkin soup.  After all of the Halloween hoopla, E decided to wear her new special holiday dress and her new cowboy boots to show Grandma.

E twirled and stomped.  My mom couldn't get enough of her and almost lept from her watching spot to give E a big hug before we left.  That was more emotion -- emotion of any kind -- than I've seen from my mom in years. 

yodeling

Ah...  a good day...  I felt good, happy (!), empowered, clear, energized (except for -- or because of? -- the nap in the afternoon), busy, even chatty for goshsakes.

More days like today, please!

• Took child to school.
• Had productive conversations with two fellow parents while there.
• Came home and talked to D and watched the fireplace workers install our wood insert (reason why D was home).
• Went downtown.
• Had tea at a cafe and read a book about making dolls.
• Went to therapy.
• Raced back over the hill to meet the Azure Standard truck in the nick of time.
• Picked up E at school.
• Hung out in the forest for an hour and talked to cool kids and cool parents.
• Came home and ate a snack.
• Put away food from Azure Standard truck and tried to figure out what to do with 10 pounds of gorgeous beets and 20 pounds of Liberty apples.
• Took a nap.
• Cleaned beautiful antique canning jars.
• Ate homemade pickles.
• Called my newest kimchi student to tell her that her batch of kimchi was ready.
• Uncrocked and packed up the kimchi for this nice lady and saved a little in a bowl so that she could try the results before she got back in the car with her two young children.
• Nice lady said she could smell the kimchi before she crossed the front door's threshold! (Glad D and E were gone on errands!)
• Re-arranged cabinet spaces in pantry and kitchen so that there is room for the big bowls I'm using now.

At therapy, we had a really difficult talk about the journals and letters for ten minutes.  Then I spent 40 minutes sharing about the people I've been talking to this week, what I've been learning, what I hope to do in the near future, and what's getting accomplished at home (like the fireplace is done so that means the living room is done...  like the bookroom will be done as soon as the window seat cushion is ready).  K helped me see all that I'm harvesting right now after much work and waiting.

This evening, D took E to Concentrates to get some cover crop seed so that I could stay home and work in the kitchen.  He took her to the Original Hotcake House for dinner because it was nearby, and he figured she'd eat some bacon there at least since she didn't eat much today.  You would not believe the swirling, twirling, yodeling young daughter who bounced into the house at 6:30.  She told me all about the PANCAKES with WHIPPED CREAM and STRAWBERRIES she had eaten, but she also "had eggs for protein...  and BACON!"

I told her tonight that I always wanted a yodeling daughter. (Truth, actually.)  She seemed worried...  "What if I forget how to yodel tomorrow?"

But she twirls and swirls and jibbers and jabbers and then yodels, and I think she's a whirling dervish who knows much more at the Universe than I do.

Today on the way to school she said, "You have a lot more things to discover before you die, right?  And I have even more to discover because I'm younger than you, but I discover things all day like when we went to Hawaii I wasn't thinking about a pool being there...  I was just hoping to see turtles!"

ptsd

I am fine.  Now.

It happened 38 years ago, 36 years ago...  33 years ago...  and in the fuzzy, weird times in between.  I made myself forget.

So then there was the silence...  Then there was angst and struggle in my young adult life.  I broke apart.

I tried to do therapy about concrete things in the present tense, and then uncomfortable things bubbled up.  I ignored them.

Finally, after much angst and acting out, I found good teachers and therapists who helped me see that the way out of the pain was through the pain.

I did that.  And I did that.  And I did that.  I have beautiful, sad journals stretching back twenty years.  I was so brave in those journals.  Just seeing the pictures I made splits me:  I am the sad person who created the journals, and I am the editor/creative-coach who is stunned by the real journey being shared (by me).

I have made a beautiful journey, but it has not brought me freedom.

I think I need to torch it all.  Every time I find these boxes that hold pictures, journals, correspondence, I feel re-injured by what happened to me.

It's time to move forward -- all around.  I can't let E find these journals.  She's starting to read.  In fact, just tonight we sounded out the word "hit."

moody pie

While packing suitcases on the bed tonight, I looked up and noticed that E had snot hanging out of her nose so I did the mom-thing of dealing with it.  She took offense.  She said, "Don't do that shoot shoot thing!" 

I said, "But you had snot!"

She said, "but I'm tired of you being a shootie shing dang."

I said, "Well, don't be a silly dilly then!"

She said, "Well, then you shouldn't be a moody-pie!"

Hot damn.  That is the best description of me ever :  moody pie.

nectar

A friend and I both took advantage of the great deal Azure Standard offered on organic nectarines, and today she came over to can some of them in syrup.  I was so inspired by what she did that I made a few jars of my own.  Pretty, yes?  Like jewels.  For all my jam-making and pickle-making, I don't have a lot of experience canning fruit in syrup, but I'm inspired by the possibilities in such a simple way of saving fruit.

Last year I took advantage of this deal on nectarines, too, and D and I froze most of them.  (We cut the nectarines in half and froze them on cookie sheets before bagging them -- perfect!)  Tonight, I'm using a bunch more to make BBQ sauce, and I think we'll try to dry some, too. (I'm imagining making a special granola that has chunks of dried nectarine in it...  can you imagine how great that could be?)

Yesterday was a hard day.  I have been buoyed today by the comment made by Taylor (she of the amazingly helpful aching muscle elixir):

"...my son has heard from his infancy  'Not right now...we have to weed/harvest/plant/can this food so we can have it later.' ... I DEEPLY believe that his understanding that we work for food, that we inconvenience ourselves in order to have deep nutrition is actually good for him."

I think "I inconvenience myself in order to have deep nutrition" is my new mantra for the rest of the harvest season.  This is big.  It's not what we can grow in our gardens but how we can work with our gardens to sustain us.

I appreciate having a blog today.  Yesterday, I felt helpless.  There was something in what my mother said and how she said it (there were other bits that didn't make it into the blog post) that made me feel really icky.

I realized today what I wish my mother would say to me:  "Wow, Cathy...  this food preservation stuff is so important to you, and you're working so hard right now.  Could I come over for an hour tomorrow and entertain E while you get a little more done?"

I'm 45, and she's 67.  Every time I talk about something I'm doing that is challenging to me, she finds fault with my aspirations and my process.  She also tries to scare me by telling me I'm ruining my marriage, my relationship within the family, and now my bond with my daughter.  She has been doing this since I was E's age.

This week I have been working with:

• 40 pounds of nectarines
• 20 pounds of peaches
• 20 pounds of apricots
• 10 pounds of kale
• 10 pounds of figs
• 30 pounds of cucumbers
• 10 pounds of carrots
• a 4-and-a-half-year-old child

I kinda, sorta think that would challenge anyone.  There is long-term value in what I'm doing.  Tonight E and I cuddled and read a chapter in Beezus and Romona -- about what happens when Romona takes one bite out of each apple in the crate. E and I are still connected even though I sometimes ask her, "Why don't you do watercolors in the kitchen while I work on these nectarines?"

today on my own

I could paint a broad landscape about what life has been like here lately, but -- even though I'm married and the life is shared -- it's not my story to tell. 

So I will tell you that after no break from the kid for many days, I got to spend today doing my own thing.  It was nice.  I ran errands with a friend, visited her garden, and then went off on my own for awhile.

When I got back in the evening, I had to cook those two hapless folks some steamed veggies and tofu because they had been down to the Bite and had eaten ice cream and steak sandwiches and candy and stuff all day.  D said, "Well, at least I kept her away from the fried food!"   And I said, "Great!  But if you're watching E, then you need to make sure she gets real food, too, or we both pay the price."

[Last week his mother surprised me by volunteering to take her to a children's play and then kept E out until the early afternoon.  When they got back, both of them were shakey from low-blood sugar.  Like, duh...  So I had to feed them both an emergency, high-protein snack.  Where is the relief for me in these sorts of outings?!  It always ends up being more work for me in the end.  Things need to change big time because I am out of energy.]

But I could see my words going out his other ear before I finished saying them.  He is on another planet these days (that is a reality I observe and can share here).

Hopefully, this next week, we can sink into some healthier living for awhile.  I hope to have a little more flexibility.  I'm at the end of my rope.

messages from the universe

I'm listening...

"Wow...  I find it hard to believe that such a creative person such as you would 'fall back' on a job that doesn't seem very satisfying.  Why wouldn't you do something with your creativity?"

"I think you're really busy right now pursuing lots of different paths, and many people are using you/depending on you for too much.  What you're trying to do right now seems much harder than if you had a full-time job, and you're not getting paid."

A dear friend in the Bay Area sent me a box of her newest preserves with an encouraging note. 

A warm thank-you note from another woman in the Bay Area who learned how to make jam and chutney with me last month.

I just don't know how to put it all together yet so that I can make money, feel inspired, and still keep the house/family responsibilities humming.  I'm touched by my friendships and the unexpected sweetness that came in the mail today, but I feel like shit because I don't know how to make money right now.  I don't even have time to problem-solve about it.  If I'm lucky, I may have three kid-free hours tomorrow.  Maybe I can come up with a solution for the rest of my life then.

I'm pretty tired of banging my head against this wall.

right now

Got E set up painting in the creating room so that I can think about cleaning out the art closet.  Big job.  Things have been smashed back there in an unorganized way for awhile.

It's cooler today.  My to-do list is long.

fourth

Do you remember this photo that I posted in April?  I mentioned that I thought the plant in the center with reddish leaves was a volunteer lettuce or a volunteer chickory.  It was chickory.   When it bolts, it sends out curly things with sweet blue flowers all over that the bees love, love, love.  This is what it looks like now:

And here is another photo:

Life still feels electric and heightened.  I'm not up or manic, though.  In fact, I'm feeling quite a bit of physical pain lately.  Everything feels big -- important but hard.

Tonight we're heading up to my mom's house because she's got a good spot for watching fireworks from all over the area.  I made hummus and raita, picked some snap peas from the garden, gathered some other vegetables, and stocked up on whole wheat pitas.  I don't like fireworks (hello?  PTSD and fireworks don't mix), and I feel cranky and hormonal, but my chores are done, and I'm trying to get mellow so that I will be pleasant to be around this evening.  (Isn't it sad when we have to try to be pleasant?  I even put perfume on this morning before walking in a neighborhood parade because I feared I just stunk wretchedness.)

Here is a picture of our zen berry picker.  She just tunes out the whole world, becomes one with the bees, and sinks into the raspberries.  It's pretty amazing to watch her work.  Sadly, the results are always in her belly -- even when she goes out with a container to pick berries for later. 

  

punishment

I am now having "quiet time" in my room because I said the F-word.

Maybe I'll say it more often. :)

a sunflower

Where have I been?

I feel like crying.

I am so overwhelmed...  by life...  by challenges...  by gratefulness...  by worry and angst.

I can't decide how to catch up here.  Do you want the details or the nitty-gritty?  I also want to share my new method for making beans.  Maybe I'll share that in a different post.

The need to cry?

Today E finished her first year of preschool.  There was an awesome moment when the older "graduating" Sunflowers gave the younger Rosebuds (E's group) real sunflowers, signifying their transition into the next Sunflower class.

This transition has been very meaningful for E.  Here are just a few of the things she said to me today:  "I'm going to make poops in the morning when I'm a Sunflower...  Mamma, my arms are longer now that I'm a Sunflower!...  My voice is deeper now, isn't it?...  Can I walk outside for awhile in my old Rosebud shoes, just to remember?"

I love that her teacher and classmates created enough kid-centered ritual for today so that she could feel the transition.  That's so powerful, and it's something I hope we can build upon as she grows. I didn't have that recognition of transitions when I was growing up because events and growth weren't celebrated like that in my family.  This is why I studied ritual and meaning in college.  I craved it.

I'm proud of E, of course, but there's been a confluence of end-of-school year challenges for both of us so the need to cry is more about me, I think.  For instance...

• Is this stupid?  I didn't know how much *energy* end-of-school events and responsibilities require of a parent.  Granted, it's a cooperative school, but this is preschool for goshsakes!  Was I doing something wrong?  Every day for the last month has felt huge, overwhelming, loaded, political, spiritually-challenging, and just plain busy because of school stuff.  Why?  Am I weird?  Did I take on too much?  Does it get easier when the kid gets older and goes to public school?

• One of my parent jobs for the year was to create a DVD of the schoolyear.  This was challening for me because I had to learn new software and publish something in a different medium.  I put so much energy into this project (see above), and I was crushed when the teacher turned the DVD off half-way through the show so that she could move onto other things.  I felt so embarrassed, as if I had failed.  I tried so hard and wish it would have captivated the kids' interest even though they were crazy-full of energy.  Unrealistic, yes, and "adult Cathy" understands the teacher's decision completely, but I had hoped to succeed, and I feel I didn't.

• However, the school year is really over now, and that damn DVD project is over, too, and I feel ugly-weird-huge-naked RELIEF!  Like, okay...  I got a C-, but at least I get to graduate or something.  Shit howdy!  I'm free!

• D and I have been working like crazy so that we can host an end-of-the-year gathering for some families at our house on Saturday.  This is what I mean about a confluence of events and energy happening...  the gathering is so that I can teach a few mothers how to make jam, and it's part of a whole year of food preservation coaching I offered to the school for its fund-raising auction.  I didn't have anything "real" to donate and searched my life for something to offer up and realized I could teach people how to make jam and pickles.  So I've spent the last two months figuring out how to make this work, and now three other mothers are coming over on Saturday with their six kids (and one husband to help D watch them all) for jam-making.  I'm pretty scared, and we've been working so hard to kid-proof our yard and house so that seven kids can run around and celebrate the beginning of summer vacation while I try to share what I know.  (My mother-in-law has been coming over to weed and "clean up" our yard because she's embarrassed at how bad our yard is...  it's that sort of thing going on over here...)

• And my dad is dead, you know?  I've been thinking about that a lot lately.  I don't know what I feel about it all.  I'm still glad for him to be released from his pain.  My mother is not well now, and she's being stubborn, and a new level of worry for her is sinking through my psyche despite the chaos here.

Enough, I think.  Time for summer.  Time for swimming and gardening and letting go of some responsibilities.  Time for new things to bloom.

tea at the Heathman

E and I had a free day today.  No school or rec classes.  The grandmas didn't need help.  What should we do?

We went to the Art Museum and looked around -- $10 for me, free for her, seemed reasonable all around for a special treat.  We saw lots of naked bottoms.

We really enjoyed the Buddhist and Hindu art and learned more about Ganesha and dancing Shiva.  We wandered upstairs and got sucked in by a painting about Jesus dying on the cross.  She asked a lot of questions, and it was hard to answer them all in short whispers.

We met our old friend P later in the afternoon on the Park Blocks and decided to go have tea at the Heathman.  We didn't have a full tea, but P and I have birthdays next month, and we wondered about having high tea for our June birthdays and inviting our girls along.  Might be fun.

E drank a lot of orange tea and then had a special dessert.  I'm not sure what I was thinking.  I must have been delirious from spending time with an old friend.  I thought the tea was an herbal tea when I ordered it, but it was an orange-infused black tea instead.  I actually don't mind too much if E has a little tea from time to time.  She loved it and said, "Did you know there is cinnamon in this?"  It was at the Heathman, so her teapot came with its own little jar of honey.  She was in another world of joy for awhile with her tea and honey, and P and I had some time to talk.

GOOD DAY.  good day.  Proud of kid whispering in the Museum.

Momma needs to connect some recent dots between the ongoing interest in Dancing Shiva, the idea of Ganesha, the pain when Jesus died, the spaghetti at Grandma's church, and what to do about sad Mary.

Another day.