Dustpan Alley

Small Accomplishments Are Enough

2010-03-09T16:43:16Z

In preparing pieces for my fashion-only blog I have been digging up some old sketches and photographs as well as diving through my giant binders of page protected magazine pages of fashions that have caught my eye over the years. This sketch is from my final project for my "Design and Line Development" class at FIDM that I did in either 1988 or 1989. I designed an entire line of holiday-wear in one night. A night of frantic hell- not going to sleep at all but sketching and costing my line through the night hours into the pasty painful morning when the assignment was due.

I'm sure I had done much of my preliminary work before that horrid all-nighter but I remember berating myself for having left the assignment for the last minute. What fashion student worth their salt doesn't do well in a class like this? As it turned out I got an A+ on the assignment as well as getting an A in the class which not everyone got. In fact, plenty of people didn't do nearly so well.

This is my passion. I suppose one could say I have many passions but this is my earliest one. I always knew I was going to be a fashion designer. My mother has claimed that there never was a time when I wasn't certain of it. See how divergent life paths can be? How far I am from that wild fast paced fiber-centric universe now! Even so, this passion, like writing, is in my blood. There is no washing it out of me. I don't love fashion for any kind of status that clothes might be capable of imbuing a person with, nor do I love it because I think women should be obsessed with their looks. I love fashion for the color, the texture, the fit, the cut, the way a particular pattern line can cause a fabric to become as fluid as water. Fashion is sculpture with fiber. It's taking a very practical necessity and elevating it to art.

While getting my printer set up to work with my laptop so I can make fashion montages for the new blog, and also working to get Stitch and Boots moved to Movable Type, I have also been rediscovering my Rebel XT camera whose lens Philip fixed for me. Things getting fixed in our life is good because things have also been breaking at record speed.

The car is now dead. We have only the car and the scooter. We don't know what's wrong and because I am buying tickets to New York this week instead of fixing the car we are having to figure out how to do things without a working vehicle. Most of the time we don't really need the car but going to Kung Fu twice during the week is the exception.

So we've decided to fix the scooter finally which will inevitably be way cheaper than fixing the car. Everything must be weighed, juggled, and given a priority number.

Here's what's broken: dishwasher, garbage disposal, stereo (blew up the day before the car died), both showers (leaking causing dry rot), scooter, and car.

Normally I would find all of this depressing but I am learning to put things into better perspective. The dandelions are thriving in my monastery garden and I harvested a bunch of roots because I want to make a spring tonic to help cleanse my body. Dandelions may seem like a noxious weed to many people but we are all lucky that they grow so easily and are so hard to get rid of. They offer powerful yet completely safe medicine. If you need to detox your body don't go buy expensive herbal teas or bottles of capsules. Really. Just harvest some dandelions. You can use the leaves in cooking (don't need a lot and you wouldn't want a lot because they are bitter!) or you can dig up the roots and use those either fresh or dried.

Quite a few of the garden pests we people are used to spending either lots of time or lots of chemicals to eradicate from our gardens are strong safe medicines. Plantain is one. Chickweed. Stinging nettles. This pleases me hugely. In Kung Fu last night our Sifu was talking about the real life need for self defense. He was talking about the earthquake in Chile and how he'd heard from a friend that there was such horrible looting down there that people were gathering in gangs to protect their resources and supposedly people are having to kill others to protect themselves.

I'm not sure I believe the killing part but disasters do tend to cause chaos and people who might, during peaceful safe times, be peaceful and law abiding become opportunists. Looting is an inevitable result of a crumbling city. It happened in San Francisco after the Loma Prieta quake. It happens everywhere.

Our Sifu was merely pointing out that to take self defense, to hone one's ability to protect one's self against the unknown is powerful. He started talking about preparedness in general. This is a favorite topic of mine in spite of the fact that I really don't believe in an Armageddon-type scenario. My Sifu is an extreme man. I like that about him. He is 100% genuine and committed to the things he believes. He could probably kill a small army of men with his bare hands (seriously, you've never been "gently" punched by him when he's holding back. Cause if you had you would know that if his holding back can feel like iron...him not holding back must be very very scary) yet he also is very committed to having guns and teaching as many people as he can to respect them and learn to use them.

You all probably know that I hate guns. I think guns were the worst weapon advancement that mankind ever made. In spite of my feelings about guns though, I respect my Sifu's point of view. Guns are everywhere. He thinks people should actually learn to use them properly and safely. I know people who have guns who shouldn't have them and that makes me scared.

I stopped being friends with just such a person. A person who may or may not read my blog. A person who sent me two post cards recently even though I absolutely made it clear we were to cut ties and I never gave this person my new address. A person who is racist, unstable, and in desperate need of psychiatric help. This person with a gun has sort of lived on the edge of my mind as a potential danger.

Until I started taking Kung Fu. Periodically we get exercises in disarming people with guns. This is one of the advantages of taking martial arts from someone who is also expert in gun use. I am learning to use my hands to break bones and deflect knives. I am learning to be a weapon and also to make weapons out of sticks and anything handy. I wish everyone I knew would come take these classes with me from my Kung Fu school. I don't believe that most martial arts schools really prepare their students for real life fight situations.

That's all beside the point I'm trying to get at which is less of a point and more of a thought. My thoughts are running towards this place of security in simple things. Having some bulk dried goods and home canned goods on hand makes me feel prepared. I'm not a hoarder but I like having more on hand than I could use in a few weeks alone. I feel good pulling "weeds" up in my garden to dry that can be used to take the swelling down on injuries (plantain) and drying foraged nettles from the woods that are so full of nutrition that it's almost like a growing multivitamin. I feel peaceful cutting dandelion leaves to add to a bean salad. These are small things but they make me feel capable and strong.

A dishwasher isn't so important. Neither is a garbage disposal. The car is useful but a scooter will do for most things. Life just simplifies itself for me and I'm trying to go with it. I stop and I smell the pollen filling the air as my whole town explodes in blossoms. I resist the urge to climb up into the trees to get closer to it*. I take my cameras everywhere to catch the grains of life opening and closing and though I don't get nearly enough done in my own garden I am not letting that become my permanent dialog with myself (as in: why do I never get such and such done...there is so much stuff to do...I will never catch up...there isn't enough time....) and instead I am doing what I can and feeling good about those small accomplishments.

*Because ass is still the size of mammoth watermelon and would most likely cause me to fall out of trees.

Comforts and Philosophy

2010-03-03T16:51:01Z

I don't know if I've mentioned this before (and why would I?) but I am not a fan of spaghetti noodles. I find them too thick which vaguely offends me. I much prefer vermicelli or angel-hair noodles. In fact, angel-hair pasta with almost any sauce on it is one of my greatest comfort foods. This past weekend I made a marinara sauce using the more expensive canned tomatoes and I'm sorry to observe that it is truly superior to the cheap brand I've been forcing myself to buy lately. So much so that I now can't go back to the cheaper brand whose slightly smoother texture and darker color and more muddled flavor I suspect is due to a much higher content of insect parts...just a theory of mine.

There are people out there who hate to be figured out. To be truly known. Who despise the idea of other people being able to predict anything about them. Who are obsessed with the idea that they are one big package of interesting human mystery. They like to confuse, confound, surprise, and defy classification. If you ask them a straight question they will give you a circuitous answer that leads no where. If you ask them if they're gay or straight they'll answer with "I find that all sexuality has its axis off-center from the societal expectation."

I just want to say that a) I classify such people as arrogant for thinking that their human heart beats any differently than the rest of mankind's and b) their very obsession with not being classified or labeled or known is a predictable pattern in itself.

I got to thinking about this particular type of personality while composing an article in my head for a fashion-only blog I'm working on developing. It arose when I suggested in my imaginary article that if you show me what you wear I can show you who you are. There are a lot of people out there (I've met many) who hate the idea that their choice in clothes gives anything away about who they are. It's nearly always intellectual feminists who claim the most vehemently that fashion doesn't matter, that it doesn't matter so much that they don't care at all about it and people who do are shallow inferior beings. Seriously, there are lots of people who think this.

Aside from the fact that I can't consider any garment which shields me from the cold or protects me against sunburn as being "frivolous". People need clothes not because of biblical shame but because most of us have ceased to live in super warm climates where all we need is a bit of loin cloth to keep the flies from biting our privates. Most of us require clothes to protect us from the elements. If we choose to take the opportunity to enjoy using these necessary objects as a vehicle of enjoyment, a way to celebrate texture, color, and beautify ourselves with all our little findings- it doesn't render the clothes less necessary.

But all of this is simply to say that I got to thinking how the people who vehemently despise the idea of their clothes being able to say something about them personally really have the same kind of personality that refuses to allow their choice in mate, literature, religion, job, or music define who they are. All these things do, in fact, tell a lot about who a person is. Just as clothes do.

Humans are, on the whole, pretty transparent. Sure, everyone has their secrets, the things buried so deep we can't detect them beneath the bucle wool coat. Even so, the person who protests the loudest about being labeled is often the most easily labeled. I think that's ironic.

Meanwhile...the general restlessness for spring is boiling over the ether. Everyone is drumming for sun and relief of this grey cold last stretch of winter. My season is approaching it's end which always makes me feel deflated and a little abandoned. I live on the hope for snow, which is now looking less and less likely. The air has been mild and my roses are enthusiastic about it. I planted some lettuce, some seed potatoes, and I watch my elderberry sprigs every day to see if they're making progress in rooting.

I do love spring. I have come to appreciate all the seasons of the year. Even summer (though it's the one I inevitably complain bitterly about while in the middle of the heat). But winter is my nucleus. The time I look forward to the most each year. So forgive me if I hold off a little on this chant for spring. I'm not done with winter yet. Yes, if I had thought more about it all I might have planned my move from California better- would have chosen a place which has a longer colder winter than I did. I didn't study topography closely enough. 12 hours north doesn't necessarily mean a bitter cold winter.

Ah well. I am not fighting life so much these days. Scrambling to hold everything together (as usual) and to move forward, but there is a better flow to our lives than we've had in a long time.

I hope you are all hanging in there, I know you are all holding your breath for spring (except for Kathy!) and it's coming. It really is. If you are feeling blue with cold then fix yourself up a hot cup of ginger tea with lemon and wild unpasteurized honey. It will revive your spirit and bring calm to your mind.

World Domination

2010-02-28T19:26:52Z

My to-do list for world domination:

Scrap this whole crappy stupid anti-war ideal.

Do the dishes. (Even world dominators have to do their own dishes before they acquire slaves)

Reduce size of ass by half so fit on plane to NYC this summer.

Do laundry so family stops bugging about no clothes...must have space to think about ruling the world!

Cease idolizing Miss Marple*. Try relating more to Hillary Clinton in spite of plodding dowdy wardrobe...(Miss Marple much better dresser but not world leader)

Eat handful of raw almonds for superior breakfast every morning- will sound healthy for inevitable Vogue interview.

Construct panic room/nuclear fallout chamber. Just in case plan goes bad.

Take copious notes while people talk to unnerve them.

Pretend not to like chickens.

Install spy devices in all jewelry.

Train Chick to carry secret messages in manner of homing pigeon.

Wear more red lipstick.

*For visual- refer only to Joan Hickson version of Miss Marple- smashing hats and suits! Other portrayals are flighty, scattered, frumpy, and not indicative of razor sharp logical mind nor of neat and tidy dress typical of person with orderly mind.

Pet Peeves: there are always more of them.

2010-02-24T16:44:28Z

She likes to be near me even when I'm feeding and hanging out with the hens.

Photography Pet Peeves:

a) Why do all pregnant women insist on misty photographs being taken of them holding their stomachs? We all know there's a baby in there and that you're excited but for God's sake, can we please come up with a new pose that tells the world how maternal you're feeling? Always the hands on the belly. Oh, and then there's the other one everyone does (everyone but me and Philip) where both prospective parents have the hands lovingly cupping the belly.

b) When the infant is finally born it proves irresistible to recreate that image of parents finger with baby's hand wrapped around it. Oh, or to put ridiculous headbands on baby girls with bows and/or flowers. Sometimes really giant flowers. I hate, have always hated, headbands on babies. Sweat-bands were never chic on adults, why replicate the ridiculous style on babies? If you want flowers on their heads just put a damn hat on their head!

This reminds me of how much I LOATHE sun visors. Which is a visored hat with the crown removed. They look stupid. Just wear a hat. Or sunglasses and sunscreen. But I suppose the worst of all is when people wear those "hats" that have the full wide brim but are completely missing the crown. This style invites the evil genius to perform some sort of experiment on the wearer's exposed head. The style practically screams out "Mess with me! Grab the exposed hair on my head...I don't care as long as the sun don't shine in my eyes!"

On to other things...

I am obsessed with pocket food. I now understand why the freezer isles of the grocery store are packed with all kinds of foods wrapped in dough. Pizza pockets, salami pockets, cheese pockets, ravioli, calzones, pot pies...

What food isn't improved by being hand-held? I made two batches of calzones this week that turned out so good I'm thinking of them all day. Imagining filling up my freezer with them to make convenient lunch food for Philip to take to work or for me to drag out of the ice for a fuss free lunch at home.

The calzones I made were filled with ricotta and winter squash mixed together with caramelized onions seasoned with oregano and nutmeg, with some jack cheese spread underneeth. The first batch I made the dough with all white flour and glazed the tops with an egg wash. The second batch I made with part multi-grain flour and didn't do the glaze. The first batch was better.

In other food news...Max actually asked to try a blueberry shake* (he will usually only drink strawberry) and he liked it! Well, the next day he enthusiastically asked for another one and then claimed it was funny tasting and suggested it was because of his cold. But for one shining moment there my son actually consumed some antioxidants! And he also spontaneously asked to try something new. In the life of an extreme picky eater- this is pretty amazing!

I'm off to pour some more coffee and look around for my next favorite thing to photograph.

Have a great Wednesday!

*We also engaged in a discussion on the true definition of a shake and Max insists that a shake must have ice cream in it. He thinks the "strawberry shake" I make him is really a smoothie. While he may be perfectly correct, most smoothies I've ever met don't have any added sugar because the concept is to keep them healthy. My "shake" may not have ice cream in it but it has milk and sugar in it which is largely what goes into ice cream. The only real difference is that it's the frozen fruit producing the thick cold frostiness.

A Very Full Weekend

2010-02-22T16:58:58Z

This weekend was gorgeous. Sunny but not too warm. Philip planted a total of 24 asparagus crowns in two 8x4 beds and I cleared and mulched the blueberry patch. It felt so good to get some garden work done. I had to be very careful though because my back has been twingey and my ankle started hurting again. While weeding, as often happens, I got all philosophical and then wrote a huge post about it on Stitch and Boots. What Does Your Garden Say About You?

Sunday we went up to Rainbow Lake again and Philip and Max found a deer skeleton. I find these skull markings both fascinating and kind of unsettling. Did nature design this skull to be seen, because it sure looks arty to me!

We had to buy a bunch of things from the farm store and while there we took a look at the chick schedule and chose two possible dates on which to acquire 6 new chicks and I wrote an exciting list of the varieties we can choose from this year. We are definitely getting two Araucanas because we've had one before and love them. But what else shall we choose? Welsummers? Sussex? Blue Andalusian? I have some research to do! Meanwhile, I came home and spent some time with my girls trying to capture their charm on film. I could almost swear they are superstitious and think the camera is trying to steal their souls.

Chickens never look funnier than when they're looking straight at you. At all other times they actually look rather clever like the dinosaurs they evolved from or mean, if you're scared of them, or curious the way they tilt their heads sideways the way birds do to get a better view of your most bizarre human form and to admire those shiny orbs that ought to adorn their nest...

I also unearthed my Rebel XT which I set down a year ago after breaking my favorite lens. I didn't like using the other lens I had. Philip and I got to talking about cameras and I pulled it out and can't believe I let it sit for so long. It's such a great camera, even with the lens I don't love. I also found pictures on the memory card that I had never uploaded. This is one of them. Taken during a crazy snowstorm, the one that started three weeks of being wonderfully snowed in! It's not looking like we'll get more snow this year.

Am I the only person in the world who suspects that Poirot and Hastings might have had a little more than solving crime going on between them? I'd also like to know how come Miss Lemon never has a beau?

Crafters: please don't call tutorials "tutes".

I've been saving money I made from my Etsy shop to buy a plane ticket to New York so that I can attend the Blogher Conference. I have a close friend I can stay with in the West Village who swears she isn't bothered by snoring (but Philip says that's because she never goes to sleep before at least 4am) and I almost have enough. It was a really close thing there because this month we had to lay out another hefty sum for some dental work for Max and I was certain it would decimate the modest sum I'd saved. However, the blessing of being paid hourly wages is that a couple of times a year you get an extra paycheck in a month and I think that's what happened. Either that or Philip's overtime paid off.

The point is- it's looking much more like I might be able to go.

But I can't go to New York unless I lose weight.

You think I'm being vain and that's so unkind. The real reason is that my ass is so fat now that squeezing it into those little tiny airline seats is uncomfortable. I don't like to make constant contact with total strangers via my thigh fat. Dudes! It's truly not chic!

Oh never mind. I really am vain and I can' t stand the thought of going to a conference with 2,000 other bloggers who all have cameras. Pictures will be taken. I don't want to look like a slab of pork next to all those cute chicks. Especially not the ones I work with. No way.

I really want to make a declaration that I will lose ten pounds a month for the next 6 months. The problem is that every time I make such a declaration I gain 20 pounds. People do this whole losing weight after looking like a 256 pound sausage all the time. Why can't that be me? I'd still be chubby but wouldn't have to rub thighs with strangers on airplanes or have to buy a larger size of underwear, or hire a special aid to tie my shoes for me.

What would it take? I have been getting more exercise but we all know, all of us who watch the train-wreck I am, what stands between me and getting my metabolism to actually do some work again.

BEER.

If I want to achieve this goal it will mean practically giving up all beer for several months in favor of wine, and not too much of it either.

The only problem I can see with this is that all of my blood has already been replaced by beer. If I stop drinking it- won't I die?

I know I will feel vast shame if I arrive in New York just as I am today and not just because of the other bloggers at Blogher, but because my close friend (the one who says she won't mind my snoring) is like a Pre-Raphaelite painting (though she doesn't see it) and I don't want to be the curiosity walking next to her through the West Village.

I must take this opportunity to work harder at changing the thing I've come to believe cannot be changed. There is a reason why my little New York nest egg was spared being handed over to the dentist.

I must go meditate on how I might muster up and then maintain motivation to accomplish this possible feat.

Around the Farmhouse: Mostly Food

2010-02-20T19:50:20Z

My CSA produced some astonishing rutabagas- the one I picked out is the size of a baby's head. I still haven't decided how to prepare it yet because the thought of cutting into it is intimidating! It sits on my kitchen counter mocking me. I think roasting it is the answer but with so much of it to use I could easily do something else with it and I just don't know. I have provided you with a picture of the rutabaga enjoying a ride in my bicycle basket. You will surely agree with me that that is an obscenely sized root?

This is my favorite food right now: grapefruit and avocado salad. I posted the "recipe" up on Stitch and Boots if you'd like to make it. Please observe the strange absence of cheese. I ate this one vegan-style. I have to admit that it was very good without cheese though it causes me slight pain to admit that a meal without some cheese was really that good.

These grapefruits which Lonnie sent me are so good I have inhaled most of them already. After cutting out the segments for salads I squeezed out every last drop of juice so that nothing was wasted. Luscious fruit! You want some don't you?

The garden is absolutely crackling with impatient growth- the inevitable stirring of warmer days to come and the intense blossom-fest of spring. The fruit trees and roses are all covered in buds and the Japanese Snowball tree is also ready to burst with them. I absolutely love late winter in the garden. It still looks decimated with all the dead plants I never clean up in fall and the branches are still bare of leaves yet everywhere I look there is the enthusiasm of the plants gearing up for the equivalent of the opening night of a play.

There is buzzing all around me, the plants practically talk to me, I hear them moving without seeing, and each one is reaching and vibrating with spazzy anticipation. People often think the winter is a dead time in the garden and early winter is- early winter is about leveling the field- killing the weak off to make more room for the strong. Early winter is nature's time to clean house and, like new parents putting up a nursery for their first offspring, to build new rooms for emerging life. Mid-winter is quiet, a time for roots to get stronger in hibernation deep beneath the soil. Everything sleeps, but not a dead sleep, it's alive with cell building and the architecture of growth. Then late winter is when all the sap rises in the wood and the twigs and the stalks and the still branches.

I love winter.

Philip is back from New York and I'm happy he's home. Max is happy he's home too. We function better as a group. This week Max said "Mom, I'm really glad you and dad have OCD too." I asked him why and he said "Because you never make me feel bad for needing things to be a certain way. You understand me." I don't relish the moment when he figures out that he's got OCD BECAUSE OF US. But perhaps the way we're raising him, to value being different, will cushion the blow. He told me he likes that our family is weird because he thinks we're cooler than other families. But he already feels the pain of being the way we are too and after Kung Fu on Wednesday he was looking upset and I asked him what was wrong and he said he couldn't really explain and said "Do you ever just feel sad, like sad in the spirit? For no reason at all?"

Just go ahead and stab me a little harder in the heart, universe.

Yes, kid, I have experienced it my whole life and it's called Major Depressive Disorder.

I wonder if it will help him to have a mom to guide him through those dark waters, a mom who has been through them over and over herself? Or is it always strictly a solitary hell that each of us must muck through without a hand to hold, without someone else's hope to grab onto? I like to think that Max won't have to struggle as hard as I did because I know things that can help. Because I know there are lifelines out there amongst friends and amongst professionals and if necessary with medication.

Right now I feel good because I am no different than the rest of nature. I am an animal just like the rest who have been hiding mostly in shelter, listening to the wind howl, and then smelling the soil warm up ever so slightly during my dream filled sleep, and my sap rises involuntarily with the rest of nature. My blood vibrates and anticipates. Today is full of sunshine and I plan to go spray my fruit trees with dormant oil, plant some lettuce seeds, and get my chitted potatoes in the ground where beans grew last year.

Max doesn't have these excitements, these revels of spirit connected to the seasons, he doesn't feel it like I do. Maybe someday, like many warrior-men before him, he will balance out the sharp blades and urges for battle with the business of tending dirt, caring for roses perhaps (the rose business is riddled with men), sowing plant seeds*, growing food for himself and food for the insects he does already appreciate and marvel at.

For some of you out there it is still solid ice and snow and it may be hard for you to believe that anything could be stirring beneath the frigid temperatures. The stirring may come late for you. Different regions have their own clock. So if you're buried in thick winter with no buds breaking yet- be patient! Curl up a little longer in dreams and read your seed catalogs and plan and enjoy the warmth of your fire or your favorite comforter. Relish the quiet, the nesting, and the waiting because it will inevitably lead you straight into the spring you're dreaming of. There will be little rest later so build it up now.

Winter is kinder than most people think.

*I specify plant seed, of course, because it is hardly a nurturing act for men to spread their own seed. That is simply impulse and pleasure without the need to hover, to care, to water, to weed, or to feed. Women do that.

Single Parenting: What I Learned In One Week

2010-02-19T02:25:54Z

(He makes it look like I'm a great parent. Thank you kiddo!)

Philip, who rarely goes anywhere without me and Max, went off like a gay flower to frolic on the gritty gum-spat streets of New York City. Well, that's what me and Max like to say, but really he went on a business trip to the Toy Fair and hasn't had a day off in 10 days (until today). I have to admit that I've managed to get away more than Philip and until this week I've never had to be the only person parenting Max for a whole week.

I know, sob me a few rivers. I have known many single parents in my lifetime and I have never once imagined that their situation was anything but hard work so I hope no one will throw stones at me for complaining about my one solo week of parenting.

I feel like I'm dragging my knuckles on the floor in exhaustion. Obviously if I ever find myself in a single parenting situation I'm going to get rich quick and hire a nanny because being the only person available to meet a child's every need all day for seven days in a row is brutal and mind numbingly tedious. Yes, I know, children are awesome and sweet and funny and also, due to their being not fully grown human beings, they need a lot of assistance!

While it's true that I already do the slightly larger share of keeping up with my child's daily needs what has always kept me (relatively) sane is having Philip to take over when I feel like collapsing. He does the bed time routine and he plays an important part in the morning routine and on weekends he spends quality time with Max so that I get some breaks. When he's gone there's no one to give me breaks.

What I learned in one week of single parenting:

It sucks. Anyone who's raised children by themselves successfully deserves a medal of honor and just as soon as I'm done raising mine I'll make you one personally.

Bed time never comes soon enough. Our kid has a very particular bedtime routine that must on no account be messed with and there's just no getting mentally ready for it.

It's lonely parenting alone. Max made me laugh so many times this week (we did have some good times together) and then there was no one to share the excellent quotes with and now I've forgotten them all.

This mother needs lots of little helpers. Mine is fizzy and comes in dark bottles.

It is essential to have play-dates planned. It's amazing how quickly a child gets tired of his own parent when there's only one and she has to fold laundry all afternoon.

There's no such thing as a single-parent-fairy to take your child on a magical vacation when you're ready to enter a catatonic state and I think that's a real shame.

Philip comes home late tonight. I'm still hoping to make it to the Blogher conference in New York City this summer and if I get to go I'll have a lot more respect for the kind of week Philip's going to have and perhaps I will take the time to cushion their week by getting food cooked, laundry done, and the house cleaned so that while Philip is losing his mind he won't do it in a pig sty.

Valentine's Day Cards

2010-02-12T22:36:36Z

Last night I made Valentine's cards with Max for his class party. It's been a long time since he's done any crafty activity with me. Warriors aren't much into paper and glue, so it was a real treat. I didn't come up with this brilliant card idea, it's my version of this Valentine Card. "Made" is one of the blogs I read for work and it's full of really great craft tutorials and ideas.

Max and I both wished we had printer ink so we could have printed these up from her pdf file because the design is so great. We had to ad lib instead. I had a bunch of vintage die-cut reprints of Valentine boys and girls and also a bunch of cute dogs and cats, so we used those.

Max did all the gluing and printing out his classmate's names by hand. I realized that since we didn't start making these the previous week there was no way Max, who writes very slowly, would be able to also write out "From Max" by hand so I used my letter stamps and made a stamp instead.

Inside each heart is a butterscotch hard candy and a Jolly Rancher. I bought a small stack of stock paper intending to use pink and cream but gave Max the choice and he chose blue and green. I couldn't decide if I wanted a straight stitch or zig zag so I let Max decide and you can see what he chose.

It took three hours to make these. At least. We made 27 of them. But because Max writes and glues slowly it was all time we got to talk about cats and dogs, kids, guns, video games, friends, favorite colors, and how nearly everyone in his class has got their very own special spellings of their names and we both agreed that it would be stupid to spell Max "Maxe" or "Maxx".

Thoughts on Thursday

2010-02-11T21:00:16Z

A slightly rambling sampling of what's in my head today and a chance to admire one of my silver plated spoons.

Can anyone tell me why red velvet cake is so popular? Is it the food coloring that makes it so exciting? I have to say that the idea of artificially coloring cake really puts me off. I've seen a lot of recipes out there for rainbow cakes and cupcakes: brightly colored swirled cake...completely garish and frightening.

I have used food coloring in frosting before but I have to admit that even that seems kind of creepy to me.

I really never used to think about food coloring much at all because I don't eat too many things that have it (except for natural coloring like annatto in cheese) but when Max was a toddler and would eat thickly iced cookies at parties (like Halloween ones with black and blue frostings) or when he ate the hideously blue frozen Yoplait yogurts his poop would come out a very disturbing blue/green color and it then came home to me that this stuff is coursing its way through his little body and having to be processed by his liver and kidneys.

That reminds me how glad I am to be done with diapers. I haven't had to change one of those in a lot of years and I never stop being happy about it! (I don't mean to be insensitive to my friends who aren't going to be done with them for a long time. You all know you'll be happy to be done with them too.)

I am fascinated by all the things people can never admit to without being deeply mistrusted by others.

For example, it occurred to me as I was writing about being happy to be done with changing diapers that some mom out there might read that and think "What's the big deal? I don't hate changing diapers." Right. I didn't really hate them either. BUT you can't say "I'll miss changing diapers!" because what kind of freak ENJOYS wiping bottoms and dealing with other people's poop several times a day. Maybe some people do, but those people usually have to find very special life partners or clubs that let them be themselves because you can't admit to loving or even liking to change diapers.

Just like you can't admit to not liking being a parent. You just can't. Try it. At the next party you go to just say "You know, having kids is great for populating the planet and all, but being a parent really sucks." If you make a rash statement like that it is imperative to qualify that statement with a "sometimes" as in: ".....being a parent really sucks sometimes."

I have always loved the line in "Bridget Jone's Diary" where her mom is talking about all the years she didn't do anything for herself and says "you know, having children isn't all it's cracked up to be..."* I love it because I think a lot of parents do feel that way but none of them are ever supposed to admit to it.

Alexander McQueen is dead which makes me really sad. Rumor has it that he may have committed suicide but since the police haven't released any details- who knows? It makes me sad because so many of the big designers have become stodgy, unimaginative, and really gross. I have more to say on this but will write a post especially for it.

I have to go turn the soundtrack to "Amelie" up really loud and do some dishes before the kiddo comes home.

I think I may not have mentioned it but the kid has been so sweet lately and he made a really funny comic that I will photograph and share with you another day. His vocabulary never ceases to surprise me and he's got a more sophisticated sense of humor emerging out of the dregs of gross little boy humor. Oh, he's still got plenty of that to share, it's just that there's something finer, more subtle, and dry surfacing which I'm really enjoying. Nine is a great age to parent!

Around The Farmhouse: The Chickens Are Busy

2010-02-09T20:32:01Z

The hens are busy laying now. We are going to have to build the new coop soon because baby chicks start coming into Wilco soon. We are going to get six more. Hopefully we will get one or two Araucanas, a Black Australorpe, a Speckled Sussex, and then maybe another Rhode Island Red and another Sex Link.

My quince tree is budding out. It's one of the things that will have to be moved to accommodate the new coop. I hope it transplants well because it's such a beautiful little tree and it made a lot of new growth last year. Everything about this plant is exquisite. The leaf buds emerge in a fuzzy whorl catching the thin winter sunlight and a little later the flower buds will open like delicate blushed silk arranged in the most painterly composition. The fruit, when it matures is a matt fuzzy irregularly shaped fruit that doesn't invite taste with its rock hard flesh...but once cooked by the intrepid it releases all its charm in a summery perfume of apples pears and spice.

I am preserving the lemons I got from Lonnie using Riana's instructions using salt and lemon juice. Except that I'm doing them singly in small jars so I can give a few as gifts. I know I won't need a lot of these myself. I will be using them in cous-cous with vegetables and I think they'd be marvelous in a beet salad with feta and Kalamata olives.

Sweet Bay Laurel. There are a lot of different Bay trees out there and some of them are poisonous to consume so before you use them in cooking, be sure you know which ones you're picking. Sweet Bay Laurel is said to ward off evil if planted at the entrance to your house, near your front doors being an ideal location. It is full of historical and mythical symbology but of course I plant it for its culinary uses. Bay is excellent in stocks, soups, and sauces.

I know you may roll your eyes at me when I say this, but it is 100% true that growing your own will revolutionize your experience of using it. I have never seen dried bay leaves in the store that weren't old, dusty, and scentless. When you dry them yourself they retain much more of their color, their scent, and heavenly flavor. What's on the grocery shelves is a ghost in comparison and always left me wondering why I bother to use it at all when it imparted so little to my dishes. The first time I used a fresh bay leaf in soup it was obvious why it has been so popular an herb for so many centuries. Then I dried all the leaves I trimmed and used those and they retained so much of their flavor it was just amazing! Then I ran out of my stash of home dried, and then my one bay plant died. I haven't used any bay leaves in my cooking since and I miss it.

So last summer I bought two new bay plants and they have lived, held their form, all this time without putting off a single fresh leaf of growth. This is because I failed to repot them. Just last week Philip and I managed to get out in the garden to clear some beds for spring planting and he asked what else he could do to help and I begged him to repot the bay in two much larger pots we had available and he did. This week they show signs of fresh growth!

I'm feeling a lot of anxiety right now about keeping Max on track with school, with Kung Fu, with all the little things kids need us to stay on top of. I'm trying to keep on top of baking so that he gets a little extra nutrition through his sweet tooth.

I'm also feeling anxiety over trying to change my own habits- trying to develop new healthy rituals of behavior in my weekly routine.

Good things are happening. I think all the misfortune and the downward funneling we have gone through as a family has brought a lot of necessary things to light. Through all the misfortune we have learned so much about who we are, accepting who we are, and discovering what we can change that we don't like about ourselves and what we can't change. And then making those possible changes. Kung Fu continues to be a guiding light, a centering activity for the three of us.

What I keep having to remind myself is to be patient and diligent. Change is a long process. Change is more arduous than stasis. To establish change into a new steadfast routine takes time, repetition, determination, and building the strength to hold change in place until it becomes so much a part of you that you no longer have to think about it all the time for it to become as natural as breathing.

I have to recognize the progress I've made in the last few months and give myself some credit for how much I've been working on it all:

I had gotten very sporadic about taking my meds, I now rarely forget to take them and have added some fish oil and vitamin D supplements to my daily dose of psyche meds. This is very important for my mood stabilization. I have been doing much better since getting back on anti-depressants and all of the other progress I've been making in my life wouldn't be possible without it.

I am riding my bicycle again to run the majority of my errands. That means I'm getting somewhere between 12 and 18 miles of bicycle riding in every week that I wasn't getting just a couple of months ago. When I first started running my long errands on the bike I would dread it but now it isn't really dread anymore, just an awareness that I will be tired when I get home but that I can do this. I can ask this of my body.

I routinely go 3 days a week now with no alcohol, sometimes 4 days. That's huge. I'm still drinking quite a lot on the days I do drink and there's a long way to improve in this department but for years I wanted to have the discipline to simply not drink every night and couldn't do it. Since August we have been working on this and it is tremendous to be accomplishing this.

Eating something not too long after I wake up- something with protein- I don't like eating early. This is so hard to do. If I eat early I don't really want a big does of nuts or beans or eggs and cheese. I like to eat a huge breakfast in late morning but this isn't ideal. I'm supposed to break my fast early and eat 5 or 6 smaller meals through the day rather than the 2 huge ones I've become accustomed to. I have finally discovered that making almond biscotti is the key. I can eat biscotti with my coffee and get that little boost of protein. That may not be big progress, but it is progress.

Keeping on top of Max's school experience. Max needs a lot of help remembering to bring homework home, in doing homework (he doesn't actually need help understanding most of it, he needs someone standing over him to keep him on task. Otherwise he cannot concentrate enough to get the smallest assignment done. This is ADD and not willfulness.)

Those are just a few of the things I'm working on. You need to do this too- give yourself credit for the progress you're making in the changes you're trying to bring to your life. You need to remind yourself to be patient with the process and to just keep at it. Every single time you "mess up" or veer off the new path you're creating, just get back on. No self bashing. Don't give yourself time to let the hopelessness seep back in. That's perhaps the part I'm working hardest on.

Holding the deep sense of hopelessness I have felt at bay. One of the best resources for this aside from the antidepressant medication is my garden. Seeing plants renew themselves reminds me that I can renew myself too. Being in the garden, connected to the earth; putting impossibly small seeds in the ground and a week later seeing tiny seedlings emerge from the damp dark ground is life affirming.

So many of my friends and family are ready for spring. Ready for the light to increase and burn warmer. I love spring too, but it's in late winter that I feel the most life stirring. In this last quarter of winter the sap is rising, leaf bud is emerging, and deeper down roots are building and new shoots, that we won't actually see until spring, are already forming. So while the landscape is still cold, for some it's still completely buried in ice and snow, the whole northern hemisphere is actually teeming with fresh life. All the growth we associate with spring starts now, in late winter. Winter is the mother of new life.

Winter is the mother of me.

Maybe I still don't believe that things in my life are going to get substantially better than they are now, but winter has delivered hope back to me. Just a little.

That will have to be enough.

Cricket and Gray: An Outline

2010-02-07T08:19:41Z

Cricket and Gray
(the first real outline I've written since high school
which, for any math impaired people, was 23 years ago.)

1. Cricket's father dies
      a. broken shovel digs a grave
      b. death taxes presume
      c. the 45 caliber resume

2. Meet Gray with knife at his throat
      a. neighbors with no benefits
      b. preparing for the job
      c. tangling with the devil

3. The wrath of Ruth
      a. meddling with personal poison
      b. holding up the walls with tape
      c. the radar is a limbo line

4. The convoy with a princess and a prince
      a. Gray guards the priceless "goods"
      b. Cricket babysits the precious "delivery"
      c. delicate females bake petit fours for war

5. Siege
      a. guns wake the guard
      b. Kung Fu is better than bullets
      c. the dowry is saved and virtue is wrapped in cotton

6. A temple of sins waits for the precious
      a. flesh delivered first and fires fail to ignite
      b. syrups for alleyways, medicine for the damned
      c. the long ride home

7. Minstrels at campfire
      a. beast of burden loses shoe south of city
      b. shaky whiskey and Irish ballads
      c. warning comes in morning, with notes

8. The mighty arrest
      a. melancholy reflections
      b. cousin-kissing skeletons
      c. further revelations about a bride

9. The crooked and the crooked waltz
      a. retro mustache takes a fall
      b. if ghosts weren't ghosts, they'd bleed
      c. a Mayoral ball skids with bullets

10. Cricket mends a shot shoulder on the acre
      a. comfrey rising in the season of death
      b. her kingdom for a cuppa
      c. a bunker for a prince

Writing the new book commences. The first time you write a book it's like the first time you do anything: sharp edges, rounding empty hallways and suddenly smashing into the milling masses, the shock, the deep unquiet hours, the excitement of laying down not knowing if you will rise again, the exploration of your tolerance, the plumming of your black heart to find what still thrives at 3 am.

Maybe the first time you square dance isn't quite as electric.

It's possible that your first cup of coffee, like mine, wasn't earth shattering.

But I say that writing your first novel is 100 times more life changing and imprinting than the first time you have sex.

The second time you write a book you have your skin on. You have more purpose but a freer spirit.

I wrote an outline to try and guide my words. I wrote it to help organize my story, to solidify its direction and I ended up writing it as a kind of abbreviated word roulette.

Music is integral to my writing. I cannot write without a soundtrack. Clearly proof that I'm no Jane Austen. My first novel was punctuated by my friend Tara's introduction of "The Walkmen" to me, heavily peppered with Bob Dylan, and my friend Lucille's introduction of "Kitka" to me.

My friend Taj has already underscored the flavor of the new book, nailing the mood with "Devotchka" and most particularly her favorite song "Commerce City Sister"

Cricket and Gray. Life without petrol. A pre-apocalyptic story.

Play-dates Should Be Reciprical: Are you putting out too much for your kid's friends?

2010-02-05T23:40:30Z

Everyone knows that it is not my life's ambition to be surrounded by children. If it was I would have done one or more of the following:

a) been pregnant many times
b) become a school teacher
c) run a daycare center
d) started a cult

Instead I had the one kid and embarked on a life in which I get to experience the great things about family life, completed the over-rated "circle of life", and still hold onto a little shred of my identity outside of my role as "mom". To my way of thinking, and for my own needs, this was a good way to go.

One of the many advantages that only children have (that children with siblings don't have) is their parents undivided attention. I'm not saying one way is better than the other, just that there are advantages either way you choose, and yes, this is leading somewhere quite specific. I estimate that Max has had more personal attention from his parents than the majority of his friends have had from their parents. It isn't a question of other parents not wanting to give all their attention to one kid- wait, actually it is...I mean obviously when people have more than one kid it's because they want to spread their love around. What I'm trying to say is that it's just a different style of parenting. I'm not going to enumerate the advantages of having more than one kid at this time because almost everyone is already bent to think that most of the advantages are on the side of larger families.

As Max has developed friendships I have been happy to have his friends hang out at our house. Most of the time I think of his friends as a great benefit to our family life. If you have an only child it's important to encourage strong friendships between them and other children so that they have peer support and lively age-appropriate playtime.

What I never intended to do was to collect other people's children like little sheep glued to my side. What started out as a tendency for Max to prefer to play on his own turf (agoraphobic tendencies and OCD are implicated: "his house always smells funny" and "there are too many kids there" or "his yard is too small" and "I like it best at home" and "I'm only comfortable when I'm at home" and whatever other reasons he frequently comes up with) and my general wish for Max to be happy and comfortable combined with the lack of mutual invitations extended to Max to come to his friends' houses has led to a situation that is becoming increasingly unacceptable to me.

I am practically running a daycare.

Max has five steady friends. What's really strange to me is that the only one he enjoys a reciprocal playing relationship with is the one who doesn't live in town here. Our very close friends in Dundee invite Max over and we have their kid over pretty equally and it feels really good. More than that, these friends send some food with their kid to make sure he eats what he wants and while I don't expect it, compared to my experience with the other kids who come over, I've come to value that little caring detail.

Of the other four friends there are two who have slept over at our house between 50 and 100 times over the past two years respectively. That doesn't include all the non-sleep over afternoons we've had them here. Of those two very close friends of his only one of them has invited him to spend the night-exactly two times. It must be admitted that Max refused because after the one time he slept over at that kid's house he decided it was much too chaotic and uncomfortable for him there. The other friend's parent has invited Max to play at their house about 5 or 6 times with not one invitation to sleep over.

Why do I care? At first I didn't. Like I said, it's a boon to have Max's friends come over. When Max doesn't have friends over he expects us to be his full time play-mates. There is no sibling to force him to go play with. There is us and there is him. We like our cozy little life together but a kid needs age appropriate friends to play with (this becomes especially true when they are long past the toddler age) and I am not a little boy, I am my son's mother. The time for playing Legos with him is done.

Over time however I have begun to mind. I have begun to mind a lot. First of all, as we have become more and more strapped for cash it has become an issue that these kids come over and raid our snack pantry. I have practically had to put a big padlock on the cabinets to prevent them from just coming in and taking what they want. It's expensive feeding a picky eater. In essence I have also provided snacks and meals to two other children who aren't mine an average of two times a week. Maybe it doesn't seem like much and if Max was being invited to go to their houses to play and share their snacks I wouldn't think twice about it.

But he's not. He's not being invited to their houses.

One boy (who isn't one of the close friends of Max's I was just mentioning) has been trying to come over as often as possible for play-dates now and never invites Max over to his house. He doesn't even get along with Max that well and he practically begs me to let him sleep over.

And I want to shout out "ENOUGH!"

If you are a parent who is sending your children to someone else's house to play and you don't at least offer equal invitations to that kid to come play at your house then you are taking advantage of the other parent. It's truly in poor form. It is more like you are using your child's friends as a daycare opportunity.

And why are these kids clamoring to spend the night here all the time? Why are they practically begging to be here? I am a dragon. I am hardly a child friendly sweet playful fun parent. When 9pm rolls around and Max and whatever friend of his who's here aren't getting quiet in his room in preparation for sleep...I get MEAN. Still, they want to come back. They talk to me too. These kids. Eagerly. Like they're hungry for adult attention.

I try to be kind and patient and understanding and all that. But the truth is, when these kids are here, I don't want to be like a second parent to them. I'm tired. The parents of these kids are getting breaks from their kids that I'm not getting. I need breaks too!

I don't get breaks from parenting like parents with multiple kids do. My kid never runs off to squabble with siblings. It's me and Philip and Max all the time. So now, instead of finding that as Max develops friendships I get some breaks as he goes to other people's houses to play, I have become the dumping ground for three other children.

Reciprocity is the cornerstone of good manners, of community, of good will.

I want some reciprocity.

I think it sucks that if I want it I'm going to have to talk to these other parents and explain that I don't run a daycare. That I love having their kids over from time to time but I want them to have mine over just as often, or at least offer just as often as I do. I want them to feed my kid and referee rough-housing and to be responsible for my kid for a few hours every week. Cause otherwise I'm going to have to start charging them for the time I spend smoothing play-time out, keeping an eye on everything, negotiating toys and activities, and monitoring snack eating.

The fifth friend of Max's I mentioned is a new friend. Or rather an "old" school friend that Max has been trying to get his shy phone-phobic mother to arrange a play date with for months. I finally achieved contact with this kid's parents and I invited the kid over. What I have learned not to expect actually happened- this kid's parents extended an invitation to share the day of play between our house and theirs. It was refreshing and wonderful. Max went off for a couple of hours to this friend's house and played and romped with some of their neighborhood kids...got out of our house into a new environment and had a great time.

It can take me a long time to get mad about something (no one I work with will believe this) and usually by the time I do I've already let myself get taken advantage of. What a mess.

So all you parents out there- think about this: Are you putting out for your kid's friends too?

Note: I realize that there's a serious potential to piss people I know off here, but if any of the parents I'm talking about read this and feel like I should have said something before, I can only defend myself by admitting that asking other parents to reciprocate play-dates (or to at least offer them), interferes with my pride a little because this is something I don't feel I should have to ask for. The ones who aren't reciprocal with offers to have Max over aren't close friends of mine, I don't know them well, and being a person with social phobias and great difficulty dealing well with confrontation are all factors that make it unlikely that I will bring this issue up in person. Writing is one of the few ways I know how to say what I mean without fear and as everyone who reads my blog knows I manage to get myself in plenty of trouble with my writing.

Favorite Things: My Steyr Bicycle

2010-02-03T18:06:22Z

Some time in the late 1990's Philip found this bicycle at the Goodwill in Petaluma California where we were living. The only thing wrong with it was two flat tires. Philip brought it home and fixed it up and has been keeping it in good shape for me to ride ever since. It's made by Steyr which is an Austrian company. I don't know exactly when it was made but most likely in the early 1970's (or late sixties?) before the company stopped making them.

Philip equipped it with collapsible wire baskets in the rear years ago so I could go grocery shopping on it. Just this Christmas he bought me front and back lights so that I can ride at night more safely. It's a great bicycle and feels like an old friend.

I rode this bicycle to do my grocery shopping and to acquire plants for our first herb and vegetable garden in Santa Rosa. This bicycle took me all over town on strange little housewife missions...visiting friends, going downtown for coffee, through my lovely neighborhood to look at all the gardens developing, and to and from the Junior college where I took fencing, math, and French classes. Riding my bicycle meant I never had to worry about parking- the steady loud student lament at the junior college. Maybe I was a little smug from time to time, but I promise that I would always do something stupid the minute I felt smug, like crash my bicycle into a retaining wall in front of 50 students.

When I was pregnant I rode this bicycle until it hurt too much and my sense of balance was thrown off by the giant stomach I had grown.

The minute Max was able to hold his own neck and back up* we put a front facing baby seat on my bicycle so I could take Max everywhere on it. We went grocery shopping together with Max on the front and our groceries in the saddle baskets in back. Without being smug at all I felt sorry for all the moms at the grocery store wrestling with multiple kids who couldn't just get on a bicycle to do everything the way I could. I felt free and light and capable. Max loved being on the bicycle looking in front of us with the wind in his face and the world whizzing by him.

He was able to ride in front until he was about three and a half years old at which point he was on a tricycle. Then I would ride my bicycle slowly next to him on the sidewalk all over our neighborhood and sometimes I'd ride on the street and give him the space to really get going.

When we moved here my bicycle riding was curtailed for a while. Partly because Max decided he hated riding bicycles to get places. That was a really hard period. I felt so much more trapped with him refusing to go places on the bicycles.

I am having a little renaissance of bicycle love because I am once again using it to run most of my errands. In all weather except ice/snow. This week I've been watching a lot of episodes of "Foyle's War" which is a detective show set in Britain during World War II. Because of petrol shortages the show has a lot of people riding bicycles. I feel close to that. I feel it coming to us again. People having to get on their bicycles to do a lot of things they used to do in their cars. My bicycle may not have been made in the 1940's but it looks classic so that when I'm riding around on it I can pretend that I am riding because I can't get any gasoline and I'm shopping frugally because food is much more scarce and doing these things because it's the life you believe in and not because the government is making you keeps it from being depressing.

This past month hasn't been as tight as the previous several months have been. I could probably set some money aside to fix my scooter wheel and not have to use my bicycle anymore. But as much as I love my Vespa, I don't want that to be my primary vehicle. I like having to ride my bicycle everywhere. I'm riding between 12 and 18 miles a week that I didn't used to do. My plan is to eventually fix up my Vespa as an emergency vehicle and to use it when I have to take Max to the doctor or when I need to make a run to a farm for 100 lbs of tomatoes.

I love my bicycle. It has a Bambi bell on it that Max and Philip bought me years ago. It's red and cute and totally beefed up to carry up to five bags of groceries. It doesn't require gasoline and it's helping to improve my heart health.

It's like an old friend now.

*I think he was 3 months old when I first started bicycling him around.

Kitchen Gardening: Garden Fever Has Begun!

2010-01-29T17:53:24Z

The sap is running. It's not spring yet. This is midwinter for most of us (except for Simply Belinda and a very few others who visit here) but it's in the deep cold that many trees and some plants begin to stir under the snow, rain, sleet, grey, or whatever other weather you are most likely complaining about right now.* In my area the most notable trees to show signs of life when the threat of a cold snap is still a real possibility are the lilacs. Right now their leaves are budding on the stems.

Roses, being rather reckless plants, are also budding out right now but it isn't remotely safe for them to shoot tender growth out this far before the spring. Yet I find their wild desire to get down with the business of growing charming, like your favorite train-wreck aunt who drinks cocktails all day and is the life of the party even though you all know she's going to crash and burn because no liver can take that much abuse...and you love her just the way she is because we all love to see people live without rules. This one is an antique rose that bounced right back after being transplanted in the brutal heat of summer.

If anyone ever tells you roses are finicky delicate plants they are lying to you. They are only difficult to grow if you are trying to maintain show quality foliage with no hint of powdery mildew or black spot. Good soil management and feeding schedules will keep those two famous rose problems in check. Roses want to live. More than any other plant I've ever grown I've found roses more willing and able to rise from their own ashes again and again. (I know that they are much more difficult to grow in extreme climates and people living in those climates are the only ones who have a right to call roses "difficult".)

It's still pretty cold out there but there are ladybugs everywhere! I love them. Not because they're cute. Their larvae are vicious hungry aphid eaters. They don't look cute at all. They look like tiny alligators. I love these guys for the hard work they do in my garden.

(I will admit to enjoying the fact that they are polka dotted.)

I want this to be the year I kill my lawn. I plan to do it ruthlessly and hideously with a thick layer of cardboard over every surface of it. I refuse to mow a lawn again. So I need to get cracking on this really soon before the grasses start to grow. I probably don't have to remind anyone that grass has super-powers that are hard to fight here in Oregon. It can grow several inches in one day. If you don't believe me I invite you to come watch it in two weeks.

I'm thinking about what I want to concentrate my planting efforts on this year. I know I want more beans. Lots more beans. I want cucumbers that do well. Both slicing and pickling. I want an acre of tomatoes. I want lettuce. I want more carrots. I want- ASPARAGUS DAMMIT!!!!- it's been an unsuccessful ambition of mine for about 5 years running.

(The reason I can't let go of the idea of asparagus is that I have an ever so slight tendency to plan my garden around apocalyptic circumstances in which fresh food might not be available unless you grow it yourself...early spring is the harshest time to find fresh food and asparagus starts coming up in spring. Though to be honest I have to admit that here in Oregon it doesn't really show up until mid to late spring which would be too late if you were starving in early spring. Asparagus living in California shows up early because otherwise it gets too hot to prosper.)

That was a parenthetical worthy of Gertrude Stein's approval. (If only she weren't dead.)

Potatoes. Organic potatoes are a must. One of the most sensitive plants to pests for commercial growers and therefore one of the most heavily sprayed, they retain more toxins than many other vegetables. If you buy only one vegetable organic, make it your potatoes.

I must grow many potatoes. And fava beans. Fava beans are wonderful fresh (the only way I like them). Peas! Oh...fresh peas on pasta! Fresh peas eaten right off the vine! A bowl of fresh peas boiled lightly and touched with butter, salt, and pepper...

(Ooops. Pardon the obvious salivation.)

I want to know what all of you are going to plant this year. C'mon- tell me all about it!!

*Except for Kathy, of course. You know I'm not complaining about you complaining because I do the same thing in the summer. It's alright. If you want to hug it out- that's cool- just let me grab a beer first....**

**It's only 3:29 as I write this. I'm not really grabbing a beer right now. But if you really want to hug this whole weather thing out I'm going to need fortifications.

Baking For The Picky Bairn

2010-01-27T19:19:57Z

I've been baking lately. I am tired of my kid eating so much packaged crap. (I've been tired of it for a long time) I know I let him do it because otherwise we would be having fights every day, all day about what he eats. That's no way to bring up a kid to like food. And yes, I do try to limit which packaged things he eats. I definitely try to keep the high fructose corn syrup out of my house.* I do try frequently to get him to try organic "natural" snacks and I do always have healthy options available. It's exhausting. My resentment for all those parents out there who simply have to say "EAT!" and their children will eat snails and spinach and brown rice with chard and quinoa pie for dessert....is not gone. Far from gone. I still love you guys, I really do, but I am a bitter mother hen when it comes to food.

Every now and then I get a little extra energy and a tiny little surge of hope shoots through my veins and I think "Maybe if I bake it he will eat it!" Why I think this might be true is beyond me. It's never been true before.

My first commitment has been to not buy him packaged cookies again. I try to make sure that most of his desserts are home made and contain extra protein or other nutrients. I periodically slack off and he requests a box of cookies and I buy it for him. I know some of you will want to say "Give yourself a break!" and I know your heart is in the right place. Thank you. But if the only thing home made that he'll eat are cookies I make myself and tweak a little...I need to do it. I have precious little control here.

In the cookie department I've had one failure to two successes. Those are actually pretty good odds. The snickerdoodles I made were rejected with a very descriptive facial expression. Since I myself don't like snickerdoodles I sent them off with Philip to work where I hear they were greatly appreciated. I even got compliments from someone whose favorite cookie happens to be snickerdoodles. For that one I used a recipe I found online (Joy of Baking).

The first success I had was making a very fancy cookie. A cookie which required two parts being assembled. I did it because the recipe called for lots of peanut butter. Peanut butter has protein. My picky bairn doesn't eat enough protein. The recipe turned out phenomenally and they were fun to make. I got the recipe from Buns In My Oven.

The next success was gingerbread cookies. With 3/4 cup of molasses. Molasses has things like iron, which my kid also surely needs more of seeing as he eats nothing green. I know I'm grasping at straws here, but you can see that I'll take what I can get. I used the Cook's Illustrated Recipe which was so dark looking I really thought Max would reject them. Instead he loved them!

Today I think I'm going to make shortbread dipped in chocolate and then next I'm going to try making walnut sandies to try and get some nuts in that boy. But the real victory would be if I could make savory cheese crackers. We have single-handedly kept Pepperidge Farms in business by buying 1 ton of their "flavor blasted" goldfish. I'm heading into cracker country, folks.

Last night I made Smitten Kitchen's cheese straws. They were insanely salty even though the recipe only called for 1/2 tsp salt. I'm thinking my cheddar must have been dosed up, plus I know my butter was salted. I liked them but Max didn't like them because a) they made him thirsty and b) they weren't crispy enough. All crackers need to be very crispy.

In fact, a tiny bit of moisture on one cracker (which makes it soft-ish) will make him lose his appetite for any more food for at least an hour. (This is one of those OCD texture things which I can hardly blame him for but which makes me want to tear my hair out). I'm beginning to suspect that the only thing to do is to make crackers using cheese powder. I know it can be had without a bunch of crap in it because I've seen it. I just missed my chance to buy with my bulk foods order so now I'll have to wait a month. I am determined.

The important thing to note here is that my kid is actually agreeing to try all these various things I'm making him. This hasn't always been the case. So if nothing else, the progress is in his willingness to put something in his mouth that there's a 99% chance he'll regret having put in his mouth.

I will forge on bravely! If nothing else I will become the best damn baker this side of the Cascade Mountains!

*In case anyone has forgotten....it's EVIL.