growing curious

grief again...

We still miss our old dog friend.

A dear friend who is devoted to her animals said that -- in time -- we would be relieved of the hyper-vigilance we've had to maintain with A.  Yes.  I look forward to feeling this relief someday because I don't like how I felt I had to be in order to cope with A.  But now, when I'm reminded that I no longer need to over-worry about where the dog is and what he might be doing...  right now I just feel so sad.

Today I was cleaning the laundry room and had to stop.  I wasn't ready to clean off the spray of mud he shook over the cabinets in there a little over a week ago.  (Embarrassing to report, I suppose...) this afternoon I vacuumed for the first time since A left, and I wondered how (in)frequently we'll do that now that he's gone. 

The weather report made me want to cry from relief!  Four or five days of very little rain.  We'll get some stuff done in the garden!

now dogless

This is a photo of our old friend A.  We found him at the Oregon Humane Society when he was six months old, and we took care of him for six years.  After an incredible amount of heartache this week, our vet agreed to take him and find an appropriate home for him.

Here are some things I can tell you:

• I miss him and feel incredibly sad that we weren't able to care for him in the way he needs.
• I've had a constant, throbbing headache for the last four days.
• After his aggression escalated this week, I was ready to put him to sleep because I felt we all deserved peace. I did not feel equipped to find the right home for him, and -- after this week -- we were unable to keep him here until we could rehome him.
• I am humbled and grateful for our vet's compassion and willingness to take him on as a special project. She's equipped to understand his complicated needs and find a home where he will thrive.

The thing about A is this:  He has tremendous energy, is unable to play nicely with other dogs, and --when he is amped up -- he doesn't listen and can't be controlled.    We did okay with him with our large, fenced yard.  Keeping him in the yard was a constant vigil, but we did pretty well.  A couple of weeks ago, however, he found a weak spot in the fence and kept getting out.  D kept fixing it, but A became more confident and began climbing up and over 5-foot fences.  He also began climbing trees near the fence, perching on tree trunks like a goat and then jumping over the fence.

Over the weekend, he got out like this (five minutes after D fixed the fence again), and attacked a dog walking across the street.  It was a frightening situation.  The other dog was on a leash, but A would not back off despite the neighbors' efforts.  He was just berserk, and my usual efforts at distracting him weren't working.  Finally the neighbor man got hold of A by the neck and brought him over to me.

In the five minutes when this was going on, I realized these things:

• I don't have the strength to yank him out of a fight like my neighbor does.
• There is no way we can keep him in our yard if he's climbing trees to jump over our fences.
• If a child had been walking with this couple, their dog would have tried to protect the child, and A would have gone straight through the child to get at the other dog. When he gets in that fenzy, nothing but brute force will stop him.
• I am unable to risk the next violent encounter. I am unable to risk the next aggressive act. I love the dog, but I can't let him hurt anyone or another dog.

So I spent a lot of time calling shelters and hitting road blocks.  Bonnie Hays Animal Shelter said they couldn't take A if he was violent, and they told me to contact our vet for euthanasia.  Okay.  I understood.  When we went to the vet to explain what had been going on and to ask for help, the vet pushed back.  She didn't want to euthanize him.  She said she'd keep him for a couple of days while we explored other options.

I didn't sleep.  I kept making calls.  The OHS was no help.  They were too understaffed, and from what we could understand from their online materials, we didn't believe they would take him anyway because he wouldn't pass behavioral tests.  I felt sick.  I kept calling people, leaving messages, hearing people say, "Well, we can't help in this situation," while this beautiful dog that I love was sitting in a crate at the vet's office.  I wanted resolution and peace for all of us.  I was overwhelmed.  He couldn't come back here.  I didn't know how to find that special, strong family who could work with him.  D and I were having some really hard arguments.

Finally, D went to the vet's office again to explain that we kept hitting road blocks, and we didn't know what else to do.  And she said she'd take him.

We're grateful.  I'm humbled.  I'm mad at myself for not being able to handle this dog.  I have a lot of experience with dogs, but this one scared me too much, and I never was able to manage him in the right way.  I feel mean...  how could I give up on a dog?  I feel protective of E and other children because A's aggression was escalating.  I know myself, and I would not be able to live with myself if my inability to control A led to any person or dog being hurt.

I am exhausted from thinking and feeling so much.  I am exhausted and relieved that someone we don't know very well (the vet) helped us because we've had a lot of shit happen to us recently, and we've felt pretty alone with it all.  For her to take over responsibility for him...  it's a huge thing.  I'm exhausted and wrung out from helping E understand why A has to go live somewhere else.  She had a horrible nightmare last night about it all and had to sleep with us...  but she was so distraught that she was in physical pain and couldn't calm down until after midnight.

I say to myself, "It's right for me to understand my limits and to see clearly the danger that was on the horizon.  We did the right thing."  But that doesn't stop my head from throbbing.

And now we are dogless.  Heartbreaking.

to be fierce

To be fierce, one needs to love.  "Fierceness" without love is just aggression.

When I think about the difference between me now and me ten years ago, I see fierceness.  In certain situations, I make quick, clear, unrevokable decisions.  They are the right decisions, and they are not easy to make usually.

I can become a "mamma bear" really fast.  I'm surprised when this happens.

I had to do this today, and I'm heartbroken over the whole situation that required it. I might write about what happened another time.  Right now I'm trying to figure out how this fierce mamma part of me came to be and how she knows when to take over.  You know?

It's exhausting when she comes out.

My adrenal system is shot.  I've spent hours going over every part of what happened (and I'm really good at raking myself over the coals, just so you know), but fierce mamma bear handled it all just fine.  My heart hurts, though.

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.

the quickening of light

On February 1st and 2nd, many people celebrate St. Brigid's day.  Here is a post I wrote last year about Imbolc, Candlemas, Brigid's Day. 

This is a pagan/Christian time to acknowledge the stirring of seeds in the ground -- real and metaphoric.  It's a time to set intentions and appreciate our creative energies.

For the next three days (today, Monday, and Tuesday), I'm going to work outside as much as possible at the Curious Farm.  Also, if D is able to move some things out of the garage and into the shop, I will continue deep-cleaning the garage so that we can set up our seed-sprouting area.  These seem like natural and appropriate ways to focus my energy and honor the earth's deeper rhythms.

I invite you to think about new projects you're beginning or hopes that you're holding deep in your heart.  I celebrate your light and your creativity.  Blessings!

digging deep

I did a lot of digging and moving dirt today.  (I made the 10' by 3' mound in the picture above by shoveling dirt from elsewhere and heaving it over here.  I know it doesn't look that big in the picture, but it is that big.  I measured.)  I wrote about this work over at curiousfarm.  I like digging.  I like doing the heavy work in the garden more than I like to fuss over delicate pruning and stuff.  I'm sore, though.  I'm sure I'll be more sore tomorrow.  I'll use Taylor's gardening elixir tonight before bed!

*I* am still feeling very good -- relieved, at peace, excited -- about our new venture.  D has had a hard couple of days, though, and I'm not sure how to help him through these feelings.  I'm at a place in my own life where I don't expect concrete answers from anyone or anything.  I work through my angst (which is just noise sometimes) by working hard on the house or the yard and by going on a walk.  I don't dismiss his anger and feelings of being lost after the lay-off.  I've experienced this, too.  It's just that I don't know any way through that pain and ickiness except by getting busy with real things.  As far as I can see, the vegetables, chickens, and dirt don't play petty politics.  I trust them not to screw me over intentionally.  So, while I'm tender, it makes sense to give my energy to the garden. However, this week, D isn't finding the joy in that.  

For me, my goals are simple:  really work the garden this year and spend as little money as possible doing so.  We'll have to make some investments (seeds, blueberry bushes, chickens, maybe some soil ammendments), and we'll have to be smart about these purchases.  We won't be getting any doo-dads or implements to make our work easier.  We'll have to use our muscles and our minds to make this all pencil out.

If the only things that happen this year are that we grow most of our own vegetables and sell a couple of dozen eggs, then I will count this venture as a success for the year.  We can build on that success for next year -- when, hopefully, we'll get into a good rhythm with selling vegetables and eggs and finding our niche.

There are many challenges ahead of us in order to grow just the vegetables we need.  We have never been the best carrot growers, for instance.  Our cabbages sucked (very sad because of the sauerkraut and kimchi-making I do).  The beets I grew were more minerally than sweet.  And you might remember all of those green tomatoes?  So I have a lot of drama swirling around in my heart as I move forward with this intention of growing substantially more of our produce than ever before.

But I feel good.  I think we can meet my goal.  We have come so far already in the almost seven years we've lived here.  We've been building the soil religiously.  Every year we grow and save more.

Now that E is older (she turns 5 on Friday!  She wants her cake to say,  "I want a fine birthday!" ), D and I are able to work out there while she does her own garden projects.  She's very aware of how important the garden is and enjoys helping.  She's also very smart about it all and comes up with connections and insights that blow me away.

My energy (physical, mental, spiritual) feels more focused and free now that we have a shared vision for what we want to do.  D and I argue and challenge one another over little things, but we both share the hope that our garden might sustain us more deeply.  This is very good, and I am very lucky.

curious farm

I'm excited!  Our Curious Farm came out of the closet today.

There's more to say, but about all I have energy to say right now is Yippie!  I'm tired.  Word Press, wild hopes, deep thinking, a full heart, and some weeding have done me in for the day.

But please think good thoughts for us.  We're tired of putting off this daydream.  We just decided to begin right here, where we are, in the best way we can today.

pickle love

Oh man...  I might need to head down to the Bay Area again soon.  Here is an inspiring video about the Cultured Pickle Shop in Berkeley.  Alex Hozven is doing what I want to be doing.  It's amazing.  I'm inspired.

dogwood fun

It was time to prune the dogwoods.  They leaf-out early, and I wanted to coppice them this year in order to force the plants to grow long, straight branches that I might be able to use in basket-making projects.  When Amy Whitworth and I took that class with Margaret Mathewson last summer, Amy told me that our red osier dogwoods would be good for making more vine cages.

So I hung out outside all day yesterday -- pruning and cutting.  Any gardener will tell you that it's magic when busy schedules and the weather open up a sweet spot for gardening in the middle of January.  It felt heavenly to be out there working, breathing in the cold air.

 
I decided to cut off the side-shoots from the branches and salvage as many long, straight branches as possible from the pruning.  I wasn't sure if they could be worked into a project, but look:

 
I did it!  I made another cage! (The photo is blurry because I worked in the pouring rain.)  It only took an hour, too!  And, yes, I'm going to remove it from that grassy patch as soon as possible so that it doesn't root in place.  Dogwoods want to root almost as much as willows do.  That could be a perk in some instances, I'm sure, but I'm not ready for a permanent, living garden structure in that spot.

Wow.  So fun!  Want to do more!  Won't the sugar snap peas look pretty growing on that?

at the heart of art and creation

I really loved this interview of Dan Wieden (of Wieden and Kennedy) and Tricia Snell (executive director of Caldera) by Janna Mock-Lopez in Portland's Goodness Magazine. 

They discuss the mentoring that happens at  Caldera, a non-profit that mentors youth in Oregon.  Wieden shared a story about how a teacher from Columbia University tried to inspire other teachers to help young people write from their hearts.  At the end of this story, Wieden says,

"Being creative sometimes is not making up some wild thing that never existed before, but having a unique individual understanding of your own world, what matters to you and expressing it clearly, whether it’s in paint or words, or whatever."

big love

I have been trying to figure out how to explain why I love HBO's "Big Love" so much.

Big Love:  a modern polygamist family struggles to live right and find meaning in modern life with one another, with their children, while they try to separate from abuses and permutations of polygamist culture in their past.

For me...  the polygamy is a lens that lets me see into the different ways people can be fulfilled in marriage.  Each of the women married to Bill has an entirely different relationship with him.

I also appreciate the ongoing theme of how each female character (the main characters but also the younger and older characters) deals with patriarchal culture (small and large) in her own ways.  I don't see these sorts of themes explored on other tv shows.

Each of the women asks for companionship and space in different ways.

That's why I like it.

a different kind of flashback

Tonight D and I were watching The Daily Show, and one of the "correspondents" was standing across the street from one of the Connolly's Pubs in NYC.

Me:  Did I ever tell you about the really bad, embarrassing date I had at that place once?

D:  No...  I don't think so...

Me:  I was with this guy, and he was really boring, but I was in my naive, accommodating mode and kept assuming I wasn't working hard enough to make the conversation work.  I finally decided to step inside the ladies' room to splash my face and try to make my eyes look perkier.  When I came out...

...the stupid guy said:  Blah, blah, blah.

Young Me:  What?

Stupid Guy:  Blah blah blah.

Young Me, leaning into him in a warm, coy way:  I'm sorry...  what did you say?

Me, to D:  This went on a couple more times.

D:  Was the place crowded and loud or something?

Me:  No, it was right after work, and the place was empty.  The guy was just one of those stupid, mumbling assholes!  Finally, I laughed and leaned even closer into him...

Young Me to Stupid, Mumbling Guy:  I'm really very sorry, but I'm having a hard time understanding you...

Stupid Guy yells:  You have a bunch of fucking toilet paper stuck to your boot!

Young Me, turning beet red:  oh.

D:  No, you never told me that story.

Me:  Well, he was an asshole.

It's interesting...  that used to be one of those memories that made me turn red and want to shrink into a corner whenever I thought of it, even 15 years later.  I used to swear at myself for being so unaware, naive.  Tonight, though, I just thought about what a stupid jerk that guy was -- not because he told me about the toilet paper but because he was #43 in a long line of mumbling, uncommunicative, unkind assholes I dated 15 - 30 years ago.

Thank goddess I'm a middle-aged, happily-married woman who gets to relax next to a sweet, communicative man and chat while watching The Daily Show.  You know?  Life is good. 

flashback

The pot roast?  D liked it.  I could tell I did a good job with it; however, I had to leave the house because the smell overwhelmed me.  D, E, and my m-i-l had a good dinner.  After a couple of days of eating it, he confessed that he's not really into beef that much anymore and isn't sure he wants to add it back into his diet in a regular way.

Oh well.  I'll give myself an A+ for effort and execution.

I can't sleep tonight.  I've been listening to the wind for days, have enjoyed being out in it, have loved how it leaves me so breathless and pink-cheeked.  Now I'm starting to worry about some of the trees in the yard.  I wonder how much more they can take.

I stopped at the grocery store for a couple of things today and saw a young girl (8 or 9) having a panic attack/meltdown at the check-out counter.  She was crying, heaving, sobbing, and screaming for her mother to stop touching her.  It sent me into a flashback, and I had to work hard to calm down and get my breathing back to normal.  The jolt of adrenaline made me sweat and stink.  I don't think I ever did that out in public as a child, but I used to have heaving sobbing fits when I was young.  I felt so much compassion for that young girl.  Her circuitry just went haywire today -- whether or not it was provoked by something concrete.  I also felt compassion for the mother but wondered why she didn't immediately pull the child out into the fresh air.  She let her daughter melt down at the counter for about ten minutes, and the door was just a few steps away.  My parents never knew the right way to help me through panic attacks either, and in the middle of the heaving sobbing fits, I'd get so angry and then worked up even more that my parents were being so stupid. 

(I don't assume that the girl in the store suffered from what I did as a child.  Listening to her, I felt my heart break for myself because I remembered what it was like to feel so trapped.  Many times my parents' treatment of me brought on these panic attacks/sobbing fits; yet, in the middle of the upheaval, I'd be desperate for them to *help* me through the panic.  To hate them but to need them all in the same crazy, throbbing moment was overwhelming to me as a child.)

I've done such a good job this year of staying in the present.  I never thought I could be as free of the PTSD stuff as I have been since I burned the journals and said goodbye to my father.  It surprised me to have such a full-on flashback after so long.  There were years when I had them daily.  The PTSD colored all of my relationships and many of the professional choices I made.  I haven't really thought about it much lately so today was interesting -- definitely hard to experience a flashback again but helpful to realize how rare they've become.

The wind has died down some.  Now I hear rain.  2am.  Still not sure if I can sleep.

the beef post

When D went to the naturopath last week (a new thing for him to go to a naturopath for himself), she said he was of a constitution to need much more red meat -- specifically beef.  Since I mostly give him tofu and fish, this presented a problem.  I haven't eaten beef in 30 years and had been refusing to cook beef here inside the house (even though I've been cooking a lot of bacon this year).

But now is a time for many changes.  I went across town today to procure a really good cut of meat from a cow that had a very healthy life.  Tomorrow I will make pot roast in a cast iron dutch oven that my mother gave me (which I haven't used yet because I wasn't looking forward to deep-cleaning all spiritual residue of animal flesh that had been cooked in it).  My mother used to make very good pot roast in this pot, and she's given me all of her tricks.  The roast will be very good, I imagine.

So today I took care of myself and made a pot of beans for me to eat the rest of the week -- black beans, red beans, pinto beans cooked to perfection in the bean pot, in the oven.  I can't say enough good things about this method of making beans.  They are perfect beans, so easy, and so deeply flavored because they relax in the oven for hours.  D and I had these beans for dinner, and now I'm turning some of the cooked beans into a spicy chili for me.  I added some of the leftover pulp from this summer's tomato-juice-making, and I'm going to let it simmer all night.  I enjoyed making the chili as spicy as I want it to be, and I look forward to having this around while they're eating leftover pot roast through the weekend.

I can't help my reasons for not eating red meat.  They aren't political.  I just feel very squeamish.  I do feel a strong (perhaps political)  need to make sure that we buy healthy meat if we buy it.  It was no issue for me to drive across town for this meat.  I was sad that New Seasons was out of rump roast for the next week or so, but I had no problem calling around and finding it elsewhere.   If we will be cooking more beef around here (and that's probably cheaper and better in the long run for David and Ellie if they get deep nourishment from food that makes them feel good), then I'm glad to scope out places from which to procure healthy meat.

It's a big deal for me to cook this thing tomorrow, though.  My friends have heard about the "beef issue" for a couple of months because D has been pining for a pot roast all autumn.  I came up with all sorts of ideas like "Maybe you could cook it at your mom's house!"   When the time of big changes began last week, I realized I needed to accomodate others more.  I realized that I'd be happy to designate my mom's dutch oven and my pressure cooker to any of D's meat needs (I make beans in the oven, after all, and don't need a regular pressure cooker anymore).  He can continue to use the BBQ for steaks and anything else.

I have never been more prepared to make a dish than this pot roast.  I have talked and talked and talked it over with everyone I know.  I have learned all of my mother's tricks.  I remember (fondly, in fact) how my mother's pot roast tasted, and I know I can coax every possible goodness from the healthy meat, organic vegetables, good stock and good wine that I will use.

So this is how I will say good bye to 2009...  In this year, I still grieved my cousin who died late last year.  My dad died .  I had to make my own funeral for my father.  My mother shut down and shut me out.  My brother exploded in grief and rage.  I burned the journals.  We had profound issues with E's school/her changing needs and had to delve deeply within ourselves in order to solve them positively (and this was a subject I couldn't write about here because it involved others here in the community, but we're incredibly grateful for how the issues were worked out in the end).  D's work situation went from toxic to worse and then to lay-off (another subject I didn't feel able to write about here but that colored the last two years in miserable shades of angst).  I gardened and learned how to make real pickles.  I even taught a few nice people how to preserve and to ferment.  I made a vine-cage!  I learned how to say no, and I learned how to give my daughter space to be herself.  I learned how to be grateful for big, hard changes -- even death -- because there's some freedom to be found even when beloved people/things/situations fall away.  I learned how to be stay in the present moment.

To acknowledge all of this, I will cook pot roast for D, E and my mother-in-law tomorrow, and I will marvel at what is now okay with 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!"

so...

...it goes...

My ill, broken-hearted husband sleeps all night and takes at least two long, long naps each day.  I would respect his privacy about this, but I don't think this degree of no-energy is good for anyone so I'm outing him. 

I understand about falling apart.  I just think one needs to keep showing real ground to a young child so that she knows where the real floor is and can imagine her father landing there soon.   It's more frightening to a child to see a parent lack enthusiasm for anything than to know a parent feels lost after a lay-off. 

His release from the big engineering company?  We are better off away from that awful place.  No question.

I am grumpy, patient, impatient, tolerant, indulgent, sad, worried, overwhelmed. 

eve

Today I sold more herb tea.  To a friend.  I guess that still counts.  I trust that she wouldn't have bought some for her own holiday gifts if she didn't love it.  Maybe this is how all businesses get started...  you give away the goods for holiday gifts for a few years, and then sometimes people want to order more to share with their friends.

I also made five nectarine-oat coffee cakes to give to friends and relatives today.   Perhaps you remember the nectarines I canned with my friend S?  I also froze some, and boy do nectarines ever freeze like a dream... 

For the coffee cake, I modify Deborah Madison's Oat and Brown Sugar Coffee Cake recipe from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone.  The batter is sturdy enough with the oats that I am able to make a couple of layers of batter/sliced nectarines before I put the streusel on top. 

It felt weird to make five huge coffee cakes, though.  I never bake in an organized way.  The house smells amazing.  I am *exhausted.*

Soon we'll go up to my mom's house for a relaxed dinner and let my nephews and E open up a couple of presents.  My mom says my brother is bringing lasagna -- a big wow on many levels.  I made a salad (and I'm okay with that small contribution because I've been up since 5am making coffee cakes so that a few people I love can having something sweet and sunshine-y tomorrow morning).

The trip to the coast requires another post probably.  We made a good try there.  The house was amazing, but it felt icky to us.  We realized too late that the house's owners weren't yet comfortable having people stay there even though the words coming out of their mouths made us think we were truly invited there.  We ended up spending most of the time being afraid to use the bathroom, over-cleaning the place (like removing our germs and a lot of theirs, too), and wishing we were back home.  There also was a mildew problem in one of the rooms downstairs that made it impossible for D and me to sleep anywhere but on the very uncomfortable couch in the living room.  So we didn't sleep very much for a couple of nights, and we're even more tired than two really nice middle-aged people who just got the wind kicked out of their stomachs would be otherwise.  We don't blame our friends because we understand how difficult it is to trust and to share a living space, but it helped us understand how much we really needed a soft, welcoming landing-spot for a couple of days.  We'll create our own soft cushion instead.

I wish you much hope and warmth as the year ends.  I hope next year is good for all of us.

the waves are making me wonder...

We took my m-i-l and snuck away to a friend's house at the coast for a couple of nights.  There's so much to do at home and so much to think about that it seemed healthy to force ourselves to get some fresh ocean air and some crashing waves.

One thing I'm thinking about as I look out at the ocean...  I had been thinking that, of all of the people for D to be married to during this difficult time -- I'm the perfect person because I *know* what it's like to fall apart and become more true and whole in the healing process.  After so much falling apart, I don't take it personally any more.  I just do the work and find the joy in simple things along the way.

However, D is a *man,* and I wonder if it's different for a man to fall apart?  If so, is this a fleeting, superficial difference?  Or is the whole falling apart and recovery different for women and men?

grateful

It's Friday after a long, life-changing week.  D lost his job on Monday, after working there for 13 years.  It was icky how it happened so there's still a lot of slime to wash off.  My heart is broken for him because of how challenging these last two years have been.  It's sad that they were resolved like this.  I'm really proud of him for how he kept his heart and values even though he wasn't treated fairly.

But...  there is resolution finally.  He no longer works for the Death Star.  Over time, after we scrub off the muck and figure out how to stop our heads from spinning, relief and freedom will creep in.  Happier, more productive challenges are in the future.

I am grateful that the pantry is full, that we saved so much from the garden, and that I'm really good at cooking beans.  I am grateful that E is at such a sweet spot in her development that she is quite content to be pulled out of her school (as long as she can still have play dates with her friends).

So now we keep paring down to the essential in all things.  Lots of changes ahead. 

60 pounds of apples down...

Man...  I'm tired.  It's a good thing I'm open to the idea of some peel in my applesauce because my hands, wrists, feet, and hips ache from standing at the sink and peeling all those apples.

60 pounds of apples made 18 quarts of sauce and some undetermined amount of apple butter that is still cooking in the crock pot.  I had one exploded, broken jar during processing (was just processing two jars at the time so it wasn't a huge disaster -- just messy), and that was a first for me.  I'm listening to the last of the jar pings right now -- an affirming sound.

I make great applesauce, btw.  I suppose it has to do with the apples and just cooking them really slow.  I was working with 20 pounds of apples at a time, and each batch took 12 hours on the stove's lowest setting.  I don't put sugar in the sauce -- just apples, spices, and some lemon juice.

Apples make me want to cry in a happy, the-world-is-good sort of way.  Applesauce is medicine and hope in a jar.

Today I have been thinking about the Isle of Mull in Scotland and wishing we were there again.  D and I went on that trip five and a half years ago.  There were so many magical (hate that word, but it's appropriate here) places we visited, but I always feel the strongest pull toward Mull.  I want to go back and eat the cheddar cheese, see the hairy cows, appreciate the changing weather (much like here in Oregon, actually), savor the amazing mushroom soup at the Old Byre Tearoom in Dervaig, and feel the peace that comes from hanging out with the standing stones.

I felt a lot of openness and wonder on that trip.  We didn't have E then.  She was conceived a couple of days later on Skye, which is sort of weird and embarrassing to admit on a blog  (... as if we were doing some weird science experiment in a B & B in the Inner Hebrides...  or perhaps embarrassing because the science experiment happened so infrequently that I know exactly when conception occured...  or even weirder because there was another time when I conceived and felt the special flutter so knew immediately when it happened in Scotland, even though D didn't believe me...).  I mean, it's important to me that I know when and where she was conceived, and I believe the magic in Mull helped open my spirit so that E could come to us. 

I had a moment in the standing stones near Dervaig that was just for me.  D was there, but not really in my way.  He let me be.  I felt fluttery.  The stones made me feel happy.  The stones were so old and craggy, but they were surrounded (almost engulfed in some spots) by gnarled trees that -- in relation to the stones -- were incredibly young.  And there I was feeling so at home in that space, so free in spirit, and so much younger than even the trees (but feeling so old-old-wrinkly-old because I was going to turn 40 in a couple of weeks).

I don't know...  sometimes I think there's magic in a place.

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?

garden hope

A non-gardener might look at this pile of damp hay and see something ugly.

To me, it looks like hope.

This is the asparagus patch, put to bed for the winter.  It won't be long now before the first spears poke through the ground.  You can bet I'll let you know when they do.

There is hope.  The world moves in cycles that include us but that are far bigger than us.  For that, I am thankful.

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.

full

Everything worked out okay today except for the carrot salad.  The turkey, the gravy, the stuffing, the company and conversations, the pace.  It was all great.

My mother came, brought wonderful dishes, and stayed longer than I anticipated.  When I called later in the evening to check in with her, she told me that today had been hard for her.  I understand.  How could it not have been hard?  She also was around more people than she's been with in a few years.  And I'm sure that -- despite her natural grief -- it felt awkward to have Thanksgiving away from her own home because she's had a strangle-hold on this holiday for years (I say with affection).  I am pleased beyond measure that she came, stayed for two hours or more, and managed to sit at a table with 9 other people.

I am not as tired as I might be because D has been giving me foot rubs for the last three evenings.  I am incredibly grateful to him for his foot-rubbing skill and for his patience with me.

Right now I am thankful for this:  My kitchen is sparkling clean.  I am grateful to D's mother for staying an extra couple of hours to entertain E while I cleaned up (because D took one of those long "man naps").  I also am glad that the refrigerator is stocked with great food.  I imagine just kicking back and knitting for the next three days.  I have no agenda.  Even the bathrooms are clean, for goshsakes!

I am feeling full and happy.

menu

Appetizers

• roasted hazelnuts
• cheese, crackers, chutney, salami
• carrots, tomatoes, olives, pickles

Dinner

• turkey
• gravy
• mashed potatoes (brother is bringing)
• cornbread dressing
• spicy cabbage salad (mom is bringing)
• two kinds of cranberries (mom and friend are bringing)
• green bean casserole (brother's girlfriend is bringing)
• rolls (mom is bringing her famous rolls)
• Moroccan carrot salad
• pickled beets
• roasted sweet potatoes with a balsamic-maple glaze
• applesauce

Dessert

• pumpkin pie (mother in law is bringing)
• fudge (mom is bringing)
• fresh pears, dates, dried nectarines, almonds, cheese

cleaning the kitchen

I'm being a lot like my mother this weekend, but I'm not stressed out.  I've been deep-cleaning the kitchen -- oiling the cabinets, dusting every nook and cranny, cleaning the stove, re-arranging the cookbooks.  It feels good.  It was time to do this.

The last time we had Thanksgiving here, I think E was an infant, and the house was still rather chaotic from renovations.  More family members came than I had anticipated, and I had to pull out some plates from the back of the cabinet.  I didn't realize that those plates were covered in a film of sawdust until someone was about to fill one up with Thanksgiving dinner.  I caught it before my guests noticed, but I felt pretty icky that I hadn't made sure everything was perfectly clean before the guests arrived.

So...  because it is time for this sort of deep cleaning around here and because I want to feel as relaxed as possible this week, I am leaving no stone unturned.  I have pulled out everything from the cabinets and am washing it all and wiping down the insides of the cabinets.  I'm sorting through plates and baking dishes and have a new donation pile growing in the garage.

I had hoped it would only take a day to finish this job, but I think it will take two and a half days.  I'm tired, but this feels very good -- connected in spirit to the burning of the journals and even the emergency laundry room cleansing that happened earlier this week.  I am getting rid of yuck and all sorts of negative energy.  I am clearing space for creative, happy work.  I am dusting off old treasures and getting rid of things that don't serve me anymore. 

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.

found the bug orgy...

I finally found the source of the little flax seed-like bugs that have been crawling all over the laundry room:  the box of dog biscuits.

I haven't been feeling well so I tried to delay the upsetting chore of figuring out where they were coming from, but I saw one crawling on the hallway wall, and I knew it would be just a day or two before they were in the kitchen.  Had to do it today...

I pulled out the most-likely-offending cabinet from the wall, emptied its contents, and then I found the squirming mass of little flax seed creatures eating, mating, and pooping in this box -- drilling holes in the dog cookies for gosh sakes.  I worried that they were coming from the dog food itself because we had seen some of these bugs in the dog food bucket, but no...  this box of cookies wasn't enough for these disgusting bugs so they went looking for more food and took vacations in the dog food bucket.

Every surface in the laundry room has been washed with bleach now.  I smell like bleach.  My hands are cracked from the bleach.

One of the wonderful things about living in Oregon is that it's *really* hard to have cockroaches here.  It's not impossible, but it's pretty hard to get them.

These bugs reminded me of the little baby cockroaches that used to run along a little cockroach freeway near my pillow when I lived in a UC Berkeley co-op.  My room was right above the pantry, and right outside the trash bins.  So sheltered was I (my mother was extremely anal about cleaning household surfaces), that I had no idea what these little bugs were that crawled so near my head while I slept.  I learned later what they were when I became a cook at another Berkeley co-op and saw how brazen cockroaches can be in a kitchen run by busy, young (read: stupid) hippie students.  They were everywhere and had no shame. Once there was a lazy cockroach on the wooden spoon I was about to use to stir a pot...

The bugs in the laundry room have reminded me of the cockroaches that used to roam around my apartment in Brooklyn.  I kept it cleaner than clean to minimize the problem (I learned from my mom how to be completely, crazily obsessed about cleaning up every speck of ick), but the man who lived downstairs in filth shared my front door and bathroom so my efforts couldn't stop the bugs.

I have a young child, a husband, a big dog, a big garden, a house in the middle of many messy projects, two older mothers who need extra attention sometimes, school responsibilities.  I have hormones and fatigue.  Do you think I have time to clean up a bug infestation these days?

I may have to throw away the flax seeds that I have in the fridge.

funny tummy

My systems seem to have broken down.  I have a funny tummy, no energy, and am having a really difficult cycle.  Since Friday morning, I've had three small "mealish" things, a few apples, some saltines, ginger tea and ginger ale, and lots of water.  When I eat a "mealish" thing, I have to be horizontal for awhile because my legs want to go up to the ceiling, and the food wants to leave, too.  On Friday afternoon, when D, E, and my MIL were off on an adventure downtown, I just sat in bed and sobbed.  I don't know why I cried.  I probably needed to cry because I haven't cried very much in the last year or two, but these tears came from some far-away place.  Off and on for the last few days, I've had hot flashes and "cold flashes."  Abdominal cramps turn my insides upside down.  I'm a little concerned by how this is playing out. Since no one else over here seems sick (and no one I've been in contact with in the last couple of weeks has had these symptoms), I'm thinking this is hormonal weirdness now, and I'm a little wigged out.

This is what is giving me hope: 

• I will take a well child to school tomorrow, and I will have 3 hours to myself at home before I pick her up. I will use that time to hide under blankets and drink more tea. (I am very grateful that E's health has held up as well as it has... I think the elderberry syrup is helping a lot.)
• Thanksgiving plans with my unusual family are evolving in a very sane, low-stress way. Family members are acting very generous, grounded, helpful. It would behoove me to make a couple of batches of cornbread this week so that I have some extra around for stuffing, but there isn't a big list of things for me to do yet. We'll only have 9 people here that day, and I have a short list of house-cleaning chores to tackle next weekend. (Please note: this does not mean that my house is clean. It means that I'm being realistic about what is truly necessary for me to accomplish before Thanksgiving. However, I reserve the right to go completely berserk about cleaning bathrooms next weekend.)
• Two more people have expressed interest in learning how to ferment vegetables. One woman is a massage therapist who might barter massage for kimchi. Can you imagine this alternate universe where such a trade could happen happily?
• I had a chance to check in with a few people about some issues with E, and I feel better -- more confident in what I'm seeing, less frantic about forcing a solution. I hope that a natural solution works itself out. For now, I appreciate other peoples' insights and suggestions.
• My husband is really nice, smart, and patient. When I am stressed out or not feeling well, he rests his hand on my back, and I just float away.  He's my plumb-line to goodness, groundedness, and hope.

 That's a lot.  I had some snarky things to write here, but I deleted them.

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...

honest husband, a treasure...

Conversation over breakfast at Slappy Cakes (make your own pancakes on the griddle in the middle of the table!  fun!)...

Me:  Hon, do you think I should color my hair again?

D:  What purpose are you trying to achieve?

Me:  Well, I want to look better.  Is the gray working for me right now?  I wonder if there is enough gray now that it sort of "works" these days?

D:  Well, if you are trying to look less like a grandmother, then you should color your hair.

Me:  oooph!