empress of dirt

glimpses #8

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 17:29:24 PST

We made our annual trip to uptown (which is our city's downtown). I like to have a good look around every so often since I'm entirely out of touch with civilization. I can tell you every nook and cranny of our rural trails and woods, but ask me what shops we have in town and, well, I'm clueless. I am so not a shopper or browser. And my days of lingering in cafes while I worked on The Great Novel are long, long gone.

I heard the new skating rink is open so we had to have a look. I'm sure National Geographic will be knocking on my door for the rights to this photo:

Have I ever told you I like to read signs. They amuse me. I like how 'all day' is immediately limited on this one:

The other funny sign of the day (not shown) was the one outside the dry cleaners, which you see all the time: BLOUSES 20% off. You know, why not take it all the way off? I think if they said, BLOUSES 80% off and things could get interesting.

It's solstice and the days are dreary but the sky is still perdy.

Ok. I did manage to get more of the skating rink. I think I spent 97% of my childhood winters on ice skates. The other 3% was spent scurrying home from the pond to use the washroom. But that was in another little town.

This new rink has no washrooms either. Eye-yi-yi. The urge to pee and skating go together like _____________________. I'm still thinking up my analogy. But they go together.

Coming up on xmas day I have a lovely gift for all of you. Manley, the girls and I posed for an unprecedented family portrait. Of sorts. I think you'll like it. Stay tuned....

the kitchen drawer

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:48:22 PST

I've been going through some old, lost posts while I decide what's next for me and blogging. I'm itching to make some changes, but holy cow: is it ever hard to find a good blog name. Every time I come up with a new concept and check the availability: already taken. There is nothing new under the sun. Back to the drawing board.... I used to love to rearrange the furniture in our house. Now I like to change up the blog instead.

This old post still holds up fairly well with a bit of tweaking here and there. I can live with these opinions and ideas expressed some years ago. It's a mish mash of things from my inner kitchen drawer:

How to decide anything
The answer to at least 2 of these 3 things must be 'yes' to proceed: Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it true?

If that doesn't help, I usually go with, If I think the answer is no, the answer is no. I am reminded of couples thinking of getting married who go around asking others if they think they should get married. If you have to consult with others outside your relationship for the answer, the answer is no. I personally rely heavily on the Big Yes, as I call it. It's an inner green light that guides all sorts of my decisions from minor to major. It could all be delusional but it's served me well so far.

Orientation
You are here.

Be here now.
My way or the highway.

I am intolerant of intolerance. Yet political correctness feels like a cage looking for a bird.

The Photographer
This is me when I was three. It was the 60's and the man who took the picture wore a long white robe with a rope belt, and had long brown hair, a full beard and mustache. He didn't say much but seemed very kind. Influenced by some hokey illustrations in Bible story books, I was certain he was Jesus. I don't recall anyone ever setting me straight on this. I remember telling my nursery school friends that Jesus had taken my picture and he did a very good job.

All Things Must Pass Except...
I believe that no matter what cool and amazing technology comes along, nothing will ever replace books. We will always want to hold the printed pages in our hands.

That said, when I recently read Queen Elizabeth: The Queen Mother by William Shawcross, this one thousand page missive had me longing for a Kindle. That's a lot of book to hold! It was like weight lifting and reading all in one.

When I Was Your Age
I tell my girls, when I was your age:
-pasta was called 'noodles'
-migraines were called 'headaches'

-we played outside all day long, alone! No parents hovering nearby
-there was no such thing as fast food or if there was, we didnt' have any
-most clothes were hand-me-downs
-we didn't have cell phones, vcr's, camcorders, home computers, or rotatoes -and worst of all, we had to get up to change the channel on the tv.

How many ply?
When I was in nursing school we had a wonderful bacteria-obsessed professor who dreamed up a multitude of ways to pass on her obsession. In one lab experiment, we had to determine how many layers of toilet paper it actually takes to form a sufficient barrier between the hand and the nasty stuff. I think the answer resulted in a lot of clogged toilets: 16 layers. Yes, a minimum of 16 layers of single ply toilet tissue is required to keep the hand protected from the germs. And, of course, proper and frequent handwashing is essential, regardless of the number of plies, since everything you touch (before, during, and after using the washroom) is suspect as well.

Soul Sista
My soul sista Meg is a singer/songwriter. When she moved West, I lived alone on her houseboat for a summer at the Toronto Islands. It was a summer of solitude. I worked as a unit clerk in an ER/Trauma Unit on weekends but would go the other five days a week without social contact, without speaking, quietly painting pictures and paddling the kayak around the islands. The extreme beauty and isolation of that summer was life changing. And it firmly squashed any ideals I had about becoming a monk. I gradually realized that a less than perfect community is far better than no community at all.

Call Me Cruella
When I was pregnant with my youngest daughter I was very ill with an assortment of problems throughout the nine months. I'm well now but still have a couple of souvenirs (besides the kid): several giant freckles that appeared on my face, and half of the hair on the top of my otherwise dark blonde head turned pure stone gray. Those hair colour companies that boast that their products have excellent gray coverage have not encountered hair like mine.

Past treasures
I love to read about life from around 1700 - 1900. I never tire of stories of pioneers traveling to land claims and creating new lives for themselves. When I heard stories of explorers in school (Grade 3), I thought the implication was that there is still much of the world to be discovered and the history teacher was essentially passing up the torch. I didn't realize until years later that the geographical maps we have now are pretty much complete. I still hold out hope that there's undiscovered parts to the earth.

As much as I love old things (housewares, clothing, art, toys, architecture...), I also have future envy. The last 100 years brought so much change: some good, some bad, some intriguing, some baffling. I love to imagine the possible technological and other advancements of the next few hundred years. I can't imagine we can continue to trample the earth the way we do and still expect this planet to sustain us.

Up, Up, and Away
I suffered from horrific nightmares when I was little. When I was around age 5 or 6, my brother Steve taught me how to "wake up" in my dreams. Waking up within a dream meant I could consciously control the plot and characters: I didn't have to fall prey to the monsters that were haunting me. I also realized that I could choose to fly in my dreams, leaving attack dogs far below, snapping at my feet. Now I rarely dream without flying. Sometimes I have many dreams within dreams, where I'm waking up to find myself in another dream to wake up from, and so on. Once I counted 16 awakenings before I was actually finally physically awake.

Oh, Rob!
I grew up certain that my adult life would be like that of Rob and Laura Petrie: getting into some goofy antics by day, and pushing those two single beds together at night. Come to think of it, Manly and I are not too far off that prediction.

Zoom Zoom Zoom
I thought the technological wonders of the Jetsons was more like a promise than a fantasy. I grew up certain that by age 25 I'd have my own little environmentally-friendly spaceship to get around in.

Beauty Begets, Beauty Forgets
When I was little, men used to fawn over my mother in the grocery store. That's Elizabeth Taylor pictured here and that's what she looked like to me (and some men, apparently). She was not at all a flirtatious person and used to ignore their advances. I remember one time a man walked right into a steel pillar in the middle of the store at a fast pace because he was so intent on gazing at her. His head actually clanged. I remember thinking, this whole obsession with looks is a strangely powerful force on earth. And perhaps not such a good thing. I used to write sci-fi stories as a teenager imaging that everyone goes blind and loses recall of all faces they have ever seen. What a different world it would be....

I know therefore I am
When my oldest girl was starting out in school, she was very quiet. Her teachers would always say, she's so bright but she never puts up her hand in class. I asked my girl why this was so. She said: if I know I don't know the answer, why would I put up my hand? (Which I took to mean, why would I make a wee fool of myself. Point well taken.) And, she said, If I know I know the answer, why would I put up my hand? (Which I took to mean, if I know I know, why seek the external validation. Point well taken again.) For the sake of school-life survival, I gently suggested to her that her teachers will need to know what she knows to best work with her. She felt that was acceptable, though she's still mostly quiet in school.

Aesthetics 101
William Morris said, "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." I worked with this a few years ago when I decided to seriously declutter our home. I found that my version of hoarding involved keeping a lot of things that could be useful one day. When you have a artsy-crafty family, this can mean a huge amount of stuff gets saved for One Day art projects and whatnot. Letting go of stuff has been one of the kindest things I've ever done for myself. Someone told me that for every 100 things you get rid of, you might recall twenty and regret a few. That's easy to live with when you know you could replace the items if you had to and in the mean time do not have the burden of finding space for them and keeping things in order.

This is it
Everything I've learned about life is in my garden. Birth, death, cycles, rhythms, community, interdependence, influences, seeds, pollination, blossoms, fruit, beauty, decay, renewal. Effort, control, letting go, compromise, and accepting circumstances beyond my control.

Twice the woman
In my outer life, I'm married and a stay-at-home mom with two daughters. In my inner life, I live a very different fantasy life that explores all the roads not taken this time around (I could go on and on with the details.) I was amazed recently to learn that my husband doesn't live one of these parallel lives. I thought everybody does.

Maternal wisdom
If you ever have brain freeze from a milkshake or ice-cream, take one tiny additional sip/lick. It goes away instantly! My mother taught me this when I was little. A practical genius she is. And never one to waste a good milkshake.

A Sweeping, Sexist Generalization
Men don't work until they've rested, and women don't rest until they've worked. There, I said it. Sue me.

Rant
It drives me nuts when toys are 1) deemed 'educational' and that 2) 'educational' means 'better'. It's ludicrous. First of all, what isn't educational? I mean, think about it. What can't you learn from? And second of all, why is this word 'educational' such a strong selling point? Why can't a toy just be a toy, a kid a kid? What are we really hoping the toy will do? There is some major chillin' to be done in toyland. And I hope you found my little rant to be.. well.. educational.

And while I'm at it, I've always wondered about calling certain experiences 'spiritual'. If you believe that we are souls in bodies, and the soul is spiritual, then what part of being alive is not spiritual? I mean, isn't everything?

Hmmmm.... And what exactly did you think I keep in my closet? Whatever you do, don't go in there.

Truth or Fiction Game #1 answers part b

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 14:35:36 PST

The answer to 1. is here:
http://empressofdirt.blogspot.com/2009/12/truth-or-fiction-game-1-answers.html
It was one of the most embarassing moments in my life so it earned its own entry.

And now for the rest of the answers:

I wrote:

2. As a young adult, I used what meager amount of money I had beyond paying rent to sponsor a World Vision child, join Amnesty International, and subscribe to Ebony magazine.

TRUE

While I appreciate my younger self's drive to do good in the world, what astonishes me now is how I truly lived pay cheque to pay cheque, if that. With quirky perks like Ebony magazine thrown in.

National surveys today in Canada indicate that most people have enough savings to live about eight days without a pay cheque. Yikes! I would have definitely fit in that category back then. I can remember a year or two where I earned enough to get me through approximately twenty-seven days of the month. For the remaining 3-4 days, I fasted. Yup. Seemed like a logical solution at the time. When the food money runs out, drink tea and water.

Rent was always paid on time. My own basic needs were secondary. And I never considered giving up things like the child sponsorship or writing copious amounts of letters to evil dictators on behalf of Amnesty. To me, those were essentials.

I threw in the Ebony part because, while true, it does seem funny now since I'm white and (now totally) unfashionable and the rest of my money went to more altruistic outlets.

The greatest part of this? I never perceived myself as poor. I had a part-time job that paid 5x minimum wage. I could earn in two days what my peers earned in five. I used my days off to work on my art, alone in my beautiful little corner apartment surrounded by big, old trees. And, in those days, without tv and radio (by choice: I'm not that old!), or cell phones (it was the 1980's), silence and peace seemed much easier to find. It was a rather magical era in my life with many highs and lows and lessons packed in. And when you're that naive, things seem to take care of themselves. Later, when you know better, you have to do better, or it all goes to hell in a handbag.

3. In my one and only childhood attempt to run away from home, I hid in a basement cupboard within ear shot of the dinner table, listening in on the meal time conversation. Upon discovering that dessert would be served, I leaped out of the cupboard and ran to the table. I don't know what was more disconcerting: that a) my family hadn't even noticed my absence, or 2) that I almost missed a rare, midweek dessert.

TRUE

I had many typical childhood fantasies about running away from home, hoping to find out I was adopted, and the ultimate, getting sent off to a fabulous but strict boarding school. But in truth, I never even got the running away from home part off the ground. I intended to hide in the closet until dark and then make a break for it, but when I overheard that dessert would follow dinner that night, I abandoned my plans.

4. I was kicked out (made to stand in the hall for the morning) of my class in Grade 3 for laughing at a substitute teacher. Why did this extremely shy and quiet girl have such a boisterous fit of laughter? Because the teacher was wearing his wrist watch around his ankle and every time he wanted to check the time, he raised his foot up to eye level, shook his pant leg away and viewed the watch, never engaging his hands in the process. In my opinion, he looked like an ostrich.

TRUE

I even remember the teacher's name: Mr. Evans. He was young, handsome, and wore his freaking wrist watch around his ankle. And he really did look like an ostrich when he'd raise his leg up to view the time.

I later learned that he claimed to have skin problems around his wrists so the next best thing was to wear the watch on his ankle. God forbid he put it in his pocket! That was one time in my life where I laughed so hard I thought I'd faint and, sadly, no one else found it that funny, hence the privilege of standing out in the hall for the morning by myself.

5. I used to earn extra cash reading tarot cards and palms.

TRUE

I used to go to parties with my best friend hoping to meet that special someone. Because I was shy, quiet, and did /do not drink, I used to pretty much sit in a corner alone and watch and listen. Well, if you do that for an hour or two, you can pretty much 'read' anyone's palm. People disclose a lot of information at social gatherings. And when they're pie-eyed, they don't really notice the big boobed blonde sitting alone in the corner eavesdropping on their conversations.

At one party my friend kiddingly told a guy she was pursuing that I had visionary powers. And that launched my short-lived career. Crack open the tarot cards and hold out your hand! For $2 I could tell them all sorts of things about themselves, based on what I overheard, what I could tell from their appearance, the leading questions that they would ask me, and lucky guesses. To my customers, I was a-mazing. In truth, it's all based on the evidence right before us. Or it sure was as far as my 'visions' were concerned.
It was fun, profitable, and no one got hurt. I liked to be the fortune teller of good things to come. I see good things in your future....

6. I once had a summer job which involved asking people who could not communicate what they wanted for lunch. Every single day.

TRUE

I worked as a nursing assistant in a palliative care hospital during one summer when I was in high school. Most often I worked on a ward with stroke patients and some others who were medicated into a non-functioning state due to severe mental illnesses. Yes, it was very sad.

My job included going to each patient in the ward and asking them what they would like to order from the next day's food menu. While it sounds rather odd when a majority of the patients are unable to communicate, and I think it kinda was, once you spend time with people in that situation, you really want to figure out what they really want.

They were all confined to bed and most would not even make eye contact. With permission from the Head Nurse, I would sit and chat with some (gently, one-way), give hand massages, and brush hair. Anything I could think of to give comfort without being overbearing, the way, quite honestly, I saw many nurses being. I also skipped my lunch breaks so I could see the nurses feeding the patients. Food reactions gave big hints as to what I should check mark on their menus.

There was one woman I think of all these years later. Her name was May. Her stroke left her unable to talk but, as we accidentally discovered, she could hum songs. Bingo! It was very evident that she enjoyed my daily visits and her cognition was sound. I heard her humming as I came into the room one day and from there we started humming songs together.

Realizing what we just stumbled upon, May's face lit up and she started humming, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, over and over again.

Bonnie. That was name of her daughter. I had read it in her chart.

May: are you telling me that Bonnie is coming to visit you today?

Yes, her eyes flash, that's it! And from there on in, she would hum whatever song she knew that had the lyrics closest to what she wanted to tell me. She was from Scotland and knew a lot of old church hymns and folk songs so I had to do some research at the library to keep up with my sweet, humming friend. I could be a little slow to figure out what she was getting at sometimes, and my ineptitude would make her laugh, which often came as tears (a common occurence with stroke patients). We also came up with some pretty funny tunes to express our mutual disdain for the hospital food. It was very funny. I started out dreading that job for a whole bunch of reasons but it ended up really changing how I see things, in a very good way.

7. I once seriously pondered the possibility of becoming a prostitute to earn some substantial cash during a very broke time in my life.

TRUE
I laughed when I saw that no one chose this one as FALSE. But I suppose it's not that uncommon to ponder what seem like easy ways to earn serious money. At least from the outside.

I was attending my first year of college, and, having just worked two jobs, seven days a week, for three months straight to earn enough for tuition etc., I was very tired. I knew I couldn't do a full course load if I also worked, so I decided to live on my meager savings for the year and put my efforts into doing well in school.

Part of my frugal living plan included walking about a mile each way to school to avoid paying for public transit. It wasn't bad except for the fact that I had to pass through some prime bottom-of-the-barrel prostitution areas to get to and from school.

Every day on the way home, I would be propositioned many times. As a woman alone in a city, you know to ignore these shout outs. But as the school year went on and my savings were dwindling down to nothing, the dollar amounts the Johns offered seem to get higher and higher. I was stretching five hundred dollars over eight months and they were offering near that for a couple of hours of my life. Granted, a rather grotesque few hours, but hours nonetheless.

While I can't say I ever really, really, truly imagined myself doing The Big Deed for dollars, I have to say I spent many walks home seriously pondering the possibility, wondering it I could conjure up a less intimate win-win situation to get those same big bucks.

In the end, I chose the way of the pauper and left the heavy lifting to others. But I certainly empathize with others who fall into the temptation when standard earning avenues seem too slow and difficult. Being poor is not fun.

8. I once ran for City Council in my little city and lost. Unless you count 27 votes as a win. Or nine votes if you deduct family members who voted for me.

FALSE

Anyone who knows me would laugh out loud at the mere suggestion of such a thing. Why? I'm quiet. I'm shy. I loathe public speaking. I have panic attacks in groups of more than five people. I'm a hermit. I'm anti-social. I'm impatient. I put my foot in my mouth with great frequency. And, well, I doubt I'd even get 27 votes.

9. After attending some peaceful protests requesting the release of Nelson Mandela (1980's), my phone was tapped for several weeks.

TRUE

Sylvain the Sleuth asked how I knew my phone was tapped. Good question. The short version is, I noticed clicking sounds on my phone line during conversations with my friends. A friend in the police force was able to confirm for me that I was indeed being followed, wire-tapped, and on a Watch List of sorts. After a few weeks THEY figured out that I was just a peace-loving goody-two-shoes who wanted nothing more than for Nelson Mandela to be free and world peace. At least I got one out of two.

10. I earned more per hour as a babysitter when I was a teenager than I have in any other job since then.

TRUE

Unfortunately. When I was a young teenager, I babysat for a couple with two little girls. I didn't know it at the time but the mom was dying of cancer. The dad was a pervert who was always hitting on me (I was 13 or 14 at the time). They were always out separately in the evenings. Whoever came home first would pay me. For reasons I do not really understand, they would both just shower me with money. Always in multiples of twenty. An hour or two of babysitting could net $40, $60, or $80. Occasionally it would be $100. While I've had some pretty good jobs, I can't say any of them averaged that much per hour, tax-free cash.

And there you have the true and the false. Thanks for playing. And congrats to Ladyk73 for guessing correctly.

linky dinks #24

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 13:13:26 PST

Hello my sweet plums,

I'm still exercising every day and eating a scrumptious mostly-raw vegan diet [see my progress reports here]. I like to find inspiring stories online to keep me focused on my own goals. I also love getting emails (three so far this week!) telling me that some of you, dearest readers, are on your own missions to improve your health. It's all we've got, people. Defend yourself against the tidal wave of seasonal excess and take good care of yourself! Then there will be less to mop up in January....

Meagan from Not Martha on losing weight slowly
Exercise and eating in moderation left her 25 pounds lighter this year. We both use Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred workout DVD [see it at amazon]. [read it at Not Martha]

I listen to Jennifer Polle's CD Clearing Emotional Blocks every night as I'm falling asleep. It's wonderfully relaxing and helps me have a very soothing, deep sleep. [read more at Jennifer's site]

Interview with raw vegan chef Ani Phyo. I find her quite inspiring. [read it at Get Fresh]

crazy, sexy inspiration with Kris Carr and Doctor Oz via Oprah
Kris Carr has cancerous tumours on her liver and lungs. Yet she's healthy and kicking ass using food as her medicine. Be inspired and do what you can to prevent illness and thrive:

free e-book: what matters now
one page essays from 71 different thinkers/authors [pdf file at sethgodin.typepad.com]

And always make time to create something. It pays it forward.

amazing sand sculptures [see them at mercola.com]

Now, go get your heart racing. Go!

PS: The rest of the answers to Truth or Fiction #1 coming tomorrow. Someone guessed the correct FALSE statement....Have I hooked you in yet?

glimpses #7

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 12:57:00 PST

One of the best parts of walking to school each day is the dogs that we meet. This old guy is a sweetheart. One day when I get a dog, I want one just like him. In fact, I want him.

Is it considered dognapping if the dog follows you home? And happens to stay. A very long time?

What I love about this dog, who I call Pup, simply because he seems really old, is the fact that he naps in snowbanks. His fur must be really warm because it's nothing for him to tuck into a good pile of snow and dream away for a couple of hours.

But he's never too tired to come over for a good petting. We've had some good conversations over the years.

I hope my One Day Dog is just like him.

vegan recipe: donut holes

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 05:00:41 PST

This recipe is a variation on raw chef Ani Phyo's donut holes. At this time of year when there's a plethora of junk food every where you turn, I like to make raw vegan treats to avoid any temptation. Refined sugars and flours and I do not mesh well, causing headaches, menstral pain, and fuzzy-headedness. Occasional alternative treats like these donut holes made from raw, whole foods are delicious and nutritious. And there's no baking involved.

I always have raw (not roasted, or oiled, or salted, and no additives) nuts on hand for snacks. I keep them in the freezer to extend their freshness.

Donut Holes
2 cups assorted raw nuts & seeds (almond, cashews, macadamia, pecans, sunflower seeds)
1/2 cup ground flax seed meal (optional - excellent source of omega 3 fatty acids)
1/2 cup shredded coconut (make sure you buy a brand that doesn't contain sulfites=can trigger breathing problems and other reactions, otherwise use fresh, shredded coconut or leave it out: they'll still taste great)
2 cups pitted dates

Chop up the nuts and seeds until they are fairly fine. I use the food processor for this.
Add the pitted dates and blend until completely combined. You can do this by hand or with the food processor. If the mixture is too crumbly, add dates. If too sticky, add more nuts and seeds.

Blend in the coconut.

Form into bite size balls.

Store in the fridge up to one week.

Yum.

PS: I find one is all I want to eat. Plus a cup of mint tea and I'm satisfied.

True Confession #3

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 15:16:43 PST

lights in my neighbor's backyard

So far I've confessed #1 taking revenge on someone who taunted me in high school, and #2 kidnapping a two year old (mind you, I was just three years old at the time)....

Today's confession is...I don't like Christmas. I know I'm not alone in this feeling but it can seem like it at times.

Here's the situation. I loved Christmas as a child because it meant copious amounts of chocolate, excitement, stockings, and gifts. I would have insomnia for weeks leading up to the big event in anticipation of the fun we would have. I was never disappointed. We had a big family and it was always a wonderful time.

Somewhere between then and now, it went sour on me. During my years working in hospitals and offices, I felt weighed down by the obligation to attend gatherings, give to the commanded charities, and have gifts ready for unsuspecting do-gooders who would surprise me with various trinkets. Why is it always the ones you hardly know and don't really get along with who get so perfect at Christmas time and give fancy gifts?

I also find it nearly impossible to drown out the emotional, mental, and physical clutter: that horrific avalanche of blah blah blah blah from ads and stores, the ridiculous cliches about what to buy for whom, and the push to get you opening your wallet and losing your senses. I think it's that stuff more than anything that annoys me. The rest of the year I can tune it out, but at this time of year, it all really irks me, pushing me to the edge of depression. In years gone by it would bite me pretty good but in recent years I've learned to play offence and keep the emotional wolf from the door.

Now happily self-employed and basking in the eternal uncertainty of when and if the next pay cheque will arrive, we no longer have to face the Will we go to the company Christmas party this year? debate. Thank goodness. Rubber chicken and drunken co-workers are not really my idea of a good time. Though some of their confessions get pretty juicy.

But where's the real meaning of Christmas in all of this, you ask? Well, I guess it depends on your belief system. I'm not a religious person so Christmas for me means exactly what I experience every day: time with my family. Only December means it's accompanied by a barrage of external noise and ridiculousness and waste.

The waste is a biggie for me as well. I can't stand seeing how much garbage Christmas generates. My mother was an environmentalist way ahead of her time and growing up she would carefully ensure that we could reuse every sheet of gift wrap (this is just one small example of many good deeds she made part of our home routine over the years). What a shock to the system to go from that to the world at large where reams of the stuff is used once and then thrown out, along with mountains of boxes and packaging and leftovers that don't get eaten.

The world cannot afford this kind of waste anymore. Reuse and recycling should be our last resorts. Reducing by not consuming in the first place is the goal in my tiny corner of this world.

There's a lot of things we've done in recent years to make it better. We've essentially peeled away the excess, blotted out the noise, and enjoy what's left.

We stopped acting on imposed obligations. We cut out almost all gift giving. We stopped getting together with people we don't really enjoy spending time with. Toxic people are toxic people whether you are related to them or not. Our self-employment released us from the office expectations.

From a health perspective, I cannot afford to over-indulge at Christmas time or any other time of the year. If I stray from my usual eating and sleeping routine, I feel awful. I do not wish to stray from my usual frugal spending habits. When you're self-employed without a company pension, it's all hands on deck to ensure a secure future. And even if I was the richest man in Babylon, I do not want to buy stuff for the sake of buying stuff to temporarily 'make' someone happy. I enjoy giving thoughtful and wanted items to our kids (and spontaneously to others when the whim strikes me), but beyond that, we're all drowning in too much stuff as it is. I always give to favourite charities throughout the year when the timing seems right. I do not appreciate the social pressure to donate to favoured groups now or ever. I like to do my good deeds privately for personal reasons.

The whole decorating thing is a bottomless pit. There's no ending to how you can dress up your house, inside and out. I decided a few years ago that our money and energy (pun intended) could be put to much better use. I decided that we could make-do with the decorations we had acquired over the years and stop buying more. There's always something newer and better each year but where does it stop? I was happy to convert to LED lights for the energy savings and safety value, but besides that, we don't need the best and biggest and newest. What we have will do. The kid loves to make stuff for the tree each year and that is a beautiful thing.

I'm probably sounding like Major Debbie Downer to some of you. And perhaps I am. My family certainly pokes some fun at it. But it's a touchy subject because the sad part of it is how that aforementioned avalanche of commercialism and obligation can really bring me down if I let it. And since I cannot drown my sorrows in excess eating or spending, I'm left to really deal with it and find my own way.

I do love the time we spend together. I like it that we get through the season without the regrets that excess and overindulging can bring. I consider it a fine feat when I weigh the same on January 1st as I did on December 1st. If not a little less. And I really love the lights our backyard neighbor puts on his trees, like a secret gift just a few of us share. But all the rest of it, I would be happy to package up in a giant box and send away for ever.

As far as consumerism is concerned, our society is nuts. That emphasis on shopping is a year-round plague now, spinning off each of the 'holidays' sprinkled throughout the year. But Christmas time brings on the Motherload. As far as gratitude and 'spiritual experiences' go, those happen all year long. It's all always right here before us. Right now. Quietly awaiting us beneath the noise.

Truth or Fiction Game #1 answers

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 06:50:23 PST

It's time to spill the beans.

In Round One of Truth or Fiction, I wrote this:

1. During a typing test for a job interview, I got trapped in a hole in the wall and couldn't get out. The interviewer came in the room to see how I was getting along and, realizing that I was gone, started telling the other staff that I had skipped out on the test.

TRUE

Here's what happened. I was being interviewed by a headhunting agency for a job and part of the process included really long written tests that involved grouping shapes into categories and answering logic puzzles which took almost three hours plus a typing test. I mention the part about the logic puzzles because I like to think I was not in my right state of mind by the time I began the typing test portion of the day.

This was the golden era of the electric typewriter. Which didn't really matter since I told the interviewer that I did not actually know how to type. (I have since remedied this problem.) She said that some people who hunt and peck have really fast and accurate typing skills so it was still worthwhile to do the test.

Ok, I said, but don't say I didn't warn you.

I was taken into a little room with nothing more than a table, chair and a big IBM Selectric typewriter. Man, those things were huge! The room was right in the middle of the very large reception area for the agency and seemed to be an afterthought with irregular walls on two sides and full glass panels plus the the door on the other two.

There was a little round, white kitchen timer on the table and the script I was to type on a stand to the left of the typewriter. At a glance I saw that I would be typing out a sales pitch by a shoe salesman at Simpson-Sears. Yes m'am.

Sydney, the interviewer, got me settled in my seat and with some reassuring words, she set the timer for five minutes even and put it back down. Just do your best, hon, she said as she left the room. The latch on the door went CA-link behind her and it was just me, the timer, and the typewriter. The typewriter that was so enormous that it sat about nose level to me at the table.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick. I get nervous at illogical moments. (One day I'll write that list and you'll see that I am a freak of nature.) I knew I wasn't expected to do well on the test as I had already professed my pathetic typing skills, but I still felt daunted in front of this giant, deluxe typing machine. Even now when I can type over 90 wpm without any problems, I still get a claustrophobic feeling when put to the test. Like I'm being put in a box without any air and must prove myself.

I had my own little manual Underwood at home but I had never actually used one of these more expensive machines. Powered by electricity and all. At least not one big enough to add wheels and become a subcompact car.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick. Sixteen seconds into my five minutes of testing, I went to turn on the typewriter. Except I didn't know how. There was not a key with the words ON or OFF on it. I glanced through the glass into the reception area. No one was there. I know I can do this. Millions of people use these machines: it's got to be easy to turn on. I examined every key. Where the heck is the ON switch? After reviewing and pressing every key on the surface of the machine, I stood up and started hunting for a switch around the sides or the base.

Nothing. It was beginning to get a little bit unfunny.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick. Once more I ran my fingers across the surface of all the keys. Wow, these machines are smooth. Nothing like the muscle power required with a manual typewriter! But still, no ON switch. No power. No action. No words typed.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick. Do you know how many times in my life I have been certain that I am being filmed for Candid Camera? Way too many! I glance around and there's still no one in the reception area. No one to signal for help. I imagine them all huddled in an office, viewing me on monitors, giggling away. And then it occurs to me. No power: check the electrical cord. A-ha!

I reach behind the machine and find the cord. It's running along the table, down the side and into a hole in the wall. I tug on it and the prong end comes flying out of the hole. No power because the darn thing wasn't even plugged in!

I go down onto my knees to plug in the machine. It's very dark in the hole. Once I'm down there I realize it's not exactly a hole. It's more like a tunnel. A small, deep, bizarre tunnel, intentionally built with the room.

I reach my hand into the dark and feel along the tunnel walls for an electrical outlet.

Nothing.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick.

The tunnel is large enough for me to crawl into it with my back touching the top and my hips rubbing against each side wall. Great: a tunnel just my size! Cord in hand, I go in. I feel the walls as I go. There has got to be an outlet in here somewhere.

The bulk of my body plus my skirt hanging down completely snuffs out any trace of light. After scurrying about five feet (not unlike a plump rat in a narrow pvc pipe), I swear I feel cobwebs on my face. Panic! And I've run out of cord. If I pull any further, the typewriter is going to slide off the table, crash, smash, and I'll be on the hook for this piece of equipment that probably cost more than they're actually willing to pay me for this stupid job I actually know nothing about even after four hours of interviewing and strange logic puzzles quite similar to the ones I used to do on very long car rides with my parents which is the only reason I could race through the thirty-nine pages of them without leaping out the window.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick.

I decide to back out of the tunnel and admit defeat when my hair catches on some sort of tack on the ceiling. Ow! I'm stuck.

DING!

Times up.

Oh.my.sweet.lord.

I am five feet inside a one-way tunnel leading to who- knows- where in the wall of a typing test room in a psycho babble headhunting agency on the 23rd floor of office hell and I can't get out. May I be excused now? Please?

CA-Link. I hear the latch on the door release and the door opens. I put my head upside down on the floor, pull my skirt up and peer back through my legs. I see Sydney's feet come into the room. Oh boy. She turns around and walks out again.

Just as the door goes CA-link again, I hear her say to someone in the reception area: She's gone. She's walked out on us! And then some mumbling I'm thankful I cannot hear.

Someone please help me now. By this time I am sweating profusely. With cobwebs in my face. I reach up to try and release my hair from the tack on the tunnel ceiling and there my hand feels an electrical outlet. Victory! Late, but victory! I fumble around to find the orientation of the cord prongs versus the orientation of the outlet and, after three tries (and without electrocuting myself), get the cord plugged in.

PURR-RING! I hear the typewriter start up. With a tug and a modest volume of hair loss, I am released from the ceiling and begin my backwards decent from the tunnel.

It feels good to inhale oxygen once again.

Back into the basking glow of the fluorescent lights, I sit back down at the table to put myself back together and get out a tissue (from inside my bra!) to wipe the cobwebs from my face. I have sweated through my blouse and some of my hair is in a lump on top of my head from the tack attack.

Just then Sydney comes back in the room. Oh, there you are! Good lord this woman is perky. So, how did your typing test go?

=======

Well, it went great except for the typing part, I said. I confessed about my inability to turn the machine on and told Sydney about my subsequent journey into the tunnel to try and plug it in. With a laugh she pointed out to me that there was another outlet on the wall behind the table. Why the cord wasn't in that one to start with, I'll never know. I assured her that, since I really did not know how to type, I would be happy with a zero typing score for the purpose of applying for this job. Sydney said that non-typers tend to score around 25 words per minute, so she'd give me that. Tired and befuddled, I thanked her and went on my way before she thought up any more psychological tests to give me. (The following year while taking Psychology 101 in university, I encountered all the same tests from this job interview. Minus Pavlov's dogs. Silly era for finding suitable job candidates, methinks.)

The next day Sydney phoned me. She said my adventure in the tunnel was now their top favourite interview story ever in the history of that headhunting business. Everyone was talking about it. I'm so flattered, I said. And she told me my test score on the logic puzzles (with so much grouping of shapes and Is- this- a- witch- or- a- glamorous- woman ink splots that I thought my head was going to blow off and I would thereafter lose any brain functioning whatsoever) was one of the highest she'd every seen. No doubt, I thought, because a normal human being would have walked the heck out of there after the first hour and forty three minutes instead of staying for twice that long and seriously contemplating pulling the fire alarm and running to the nearest bakery to overdose on chocolate eclairs.... She then proceeded to offer me the job. Wow. At this point in my life, it never occurred to me to negotiate a salary or conditions of a job. I was just always happy to be hired which seemed to always happen despite my antics. I mean, it must mean something if they think I'm right for them, no? It was the same way I seemed to get boyfriends: he's cute, he likes me: we're a couple. Fun. Wow. The rest will work itself out, right? Youth is so very seriously wasted on the young.

She told me the name of the business, the address, and the person I would be reporting to on Monday. She said it was the biggest stockbroker in the city. Oh, great, I said and then paused. What's a stockbroker?

Sydney laughed. You're such a cut up, Melissa.

But you want to know the really funny part? I honestly didn't know what stockbroker was! But that's another funny story for another day.

And that, dear readers, is the story of me getting stuck in a hole in a wall that turned out to be a me-sized tunnel during a typing test. I typed not a word, never did figure out what the ON switch looked like (until years later: it's the one with the circle and the dash. Now a universal symbol of panic in my books.) and and yet I still managed to get the job. Whodathunk. I bet the competition was really fierce for that one. Not.

Stay tuned for more revealing answers from Truth or Fiction #1.

glimpses #6

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 02:34:00 PST

Did you know that although December 21st is the winter solstice and hence the day of the year (northern hemi) with the least amount of daylight, that December 8th actually had the earliest sunset? It's true. The reason is due to the tilt of the earth and the shape of its orbit. [read more at the University of Waterloo Weather Station Blog] . You can thank Manly for passing along this tidbit of interesting info. He's a human fact and statistic machine, that one. Thankfully, I frequently find it enjoyable.

Today's glimpses certainly show our disappearing daylight. This is from our morning walk to school. The sun looks like it's trying to ignore its alarm clock and snuggle back under a warm cloud:

The kid loves winter. I love the kid. I love winter too. I just don't like the scary slippery driving. Other than that, I can dig it.

See the little pine tree? For the last couple of years someone has decorated it for the holidays. Last year it had lights. I have no idea how they were powered but it looked very sweet. I keep checking it this year to see if it will be dressed up once again.

This next one could have been taken in any 12 hour span. It's yet another squirrel doing bird feeder ballet at the kitchen window. The screen lets them hook their toes in and do the craziest positions. My girls always want to open the window and say hello and offer treats (No, says Mum.). I'd like to knit little hats and sweaters for them.

We're not even home from school yet and the sun is well on its way to the southern hemisphere. Of course, technically, the sun isn't going anywhere but it should be noted that our language is based on unscientific perceptions of the solar system (i.e. there is not really any such thing as a 'sun rise' or 'sun set' etc.) since our dear star is burning in its place and we're the ones whirling around it. No matter, it's sure dark early now.

The picture (or movie) I wish I'd taken:
Last night Eli (pet rabbit) stole an ornament off the xmas tree and was running around with it hanging from his mouth. He did his happy bunny kick in the air as he ran, denoting much pleasure in his own antics. Then he pushed it around the floor with his nose. The fun never stops when you're a rabbit.

PS: Join in the game of Truth or Fiction. See which statement you think is a big old fabrication of my imagination.

can she do it? #8

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 04:31:19 PST

Day 31
The mission: to feel fit, filled with energy, strong
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (25 minutes a day, 1 day off per week) plus healthy eating

CORRECTION: ~~Can she do it?~~ She DID it!

Ding ding ding ding ding!

Yes, my sweet peppers, time flies and it is 31 days since I started my new workout regiment.

30 minutes a day
I used Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. I thought it seemed do-able because I'm done in under 30 minutes a day (including setting up and sweating in my after-glow) and I was right. In the past I've done longer exercise and yoga DVDs that require a significant time commitment. Inevitably, days will be missed. And sometimes days string into weeks and months. With this one, it seems feasible to carry on. At some point I will know every workout by heart and be sick of hearing the same phrases over and over again, but I hope by then I will have found something new to dive into. For now, I'm happy to be shredded.

progress
The DVD does circuit training where you switch between cardio and strength training. I confess, a combination of bad memories of Jack Lalanne in his polyesteresque workout outfit from my tv viewing childhood and my extraordinarily mean-spirited Grade 4 gym teacher still gets me cringing at the words 'jumping jacks' and 'push ups'. And this DVD starts with both at Level One. But guess what? I quickly got over that mental block and felt really proud each day as I confronted my Jumping Jack demons and my Push up insecurities, gradually huffing and puffing a little less and able to lift my own body weight a little more.

As I've mentioned ad nauseum, at the start I could not do a modified push up. At all. Now I'm up to 14 in round one, and 7 in round two (during the same workout). I have impressed myself.

I did Level One all but two days where I ventured into Level Two. It's pretty wicked but I'm sure I will be able to kick its butt if I carry on. Some days I think about doing the workout twice but I haven't put thought into action yet. I'm always amused when my mind seems to come up with these ideas without my consent.

so what has changed?
I feel much better. My lungs were lugging around some congestion from a flu/cold in October and that seems to be gone. I always find aerobic exercise is good for releasing lung congestion. But then again, I'm the girl who swam her way out of mono, so my remedies are definitely unconventional.

I'm feeling much more muscular and I know I'm burning more calories because now when I get hungry, I get HUNGRY. I'm eating lots of fresh fruit and veggies, nuts and seeds, and some grains. I always have my next meal or snack planned and ready so I can eat the right things when I need them.

One really nice change is that my middle is tightening up. I'm busting the gut, people. The goal is always to have one's waist measurement not more than one half of one's height. In other words, if you're 63" tall, your waist should not be more than 31.5". Some doctors now take waist measurements during physicals because it's more telling than just about anything they can measure. You're actually allowed to suck in your gut while measuring it because that indicates useful toned muscles buried in there.

I have a phobia of weighing scales but if I was a betting woman I would say I've lost about six pounds this month. There's lots more where that came from but honestly, that's not a nagging concern when I'm in The Groove. By that I mean, when I'm getting daily exercise and eating well, I feel very content knowing that I'm doing the best I can do. Time will take care of the excess pounds. I just need to take care of the present moment.

I allowed myself one day off a week from the workouts but for the past two weeks I haven't felt like taking a day off. I look forward to the workout and the good feeling that comes after it. Years ago when I was into running, I had to take days off or I would get what my doctor called 'runner's insomnia'. But the 30 Day Shred is just enough that it's not too much for each day of the week. It is always good to know that I could take a guilt-free day off if I so choose.

emotional health and well being
It's basic math. When I am taking really good care of myself, I feel better all round. And to top off this whole experience, I resumed listening to my favourite hypnosis CD again when falling asleep: Clearing Emotional Blocks by Jennifer Polle. This topic deserves it's own post so I'll hold off saying more for now. The teaser is that a) I honestly don't even know what hypnosis is and was very skeptical about it, 2) I never would have listened to the CD if I hadn't received a free review copy and 3) it was a wonderful experience that brought very positive changes and experiences to my life (both waking and dream life). Once again, this CD is delivering me into deep, blissful sleep, night after night.

what's next?
I see no option but to continue until I can easily get through Levels Two and Three. I haven't even viewed Level Three to see what's in there. With other workout dvds I feared the higher levels and when I finally got to them I actually found them easier than the lower ones. Smoke and mirrors. Fears are funny fish, don't you think? We sure do a good jump making up new ones all the time.

As for food, I've been doing a lot of reading to get some ideas on what I think my ideal food plan is. I know it's vegan as I have a natural aversion to meat and I don't digest dairy products well at all, so it's just a matter of honing in on how much raw versus cooked food I want and to come up with some basic meal plans to make shopping and food prep simple. In our house at any given time there can be a carnivore, vegetarian, vegan, and raw vegan to prepare food for, so the simpler the better.

and finally
Thank you, my little tiddly winks, for cheering me on. You said you thought I could do it, and you were DARN TOOTIN' RIGHT!

Linky Dinks
Jack Lalanne shows are online [see them here]
Jillian Michaels [official website]
30 Day Shred [see it at amazon]
Jennifer Polle - Clearing Emotional Blocks [read more here]
Here's where I first started listening to the hypnosis CD [raw intuition]

linky dinks #23

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 04:25:32 PST

If you haven't played Truth or Fiction yet, please get your vote in. I'll post a revealing followup when there have been some more guesses.....

Letters that keep on giving (and taking)
I used to write a lot of letters to friends. Long, detailed, funny (I hope) handwritten letters about everything and anything I was thinking at the time. Nothing makes me squirm more than when I hear from an old friend and they say, I've saved all of your old letters. They were so much fun to receive....

HELP. ME. While I don't exactly regret writing them, I can't even bare to think what ridiculous drivel is in there. I was an idealistic, insanely boy crazy, witty, nut bucket. I wish each and every letter had been burned after reading. But instead, the existence of these awkward, embarrassing missives keep me from ever stepping on the path of fame. Ok, I'm kidding. Fame is not in the forecast but imagine stuff like that showing up in a national publication because your 'friend' sold you out. We see it happen every single day.

That said, after I'm dead is another matter. I wouldn't mind at all if they showed up on a site like this: letters of note

Have you ever had a private letter used against you? I sure did. A friend of mine was visiting her parents. Her mother snooped through her suitcase and found a letter penned by me. The mother read the letter, was appalled by what she read, and then told my friend that she has sinful judgement in acquaintances and must never allow me in their home again.

What irked me the most was that my friend reported this to me without any objection that her mother had violated her privacy. Apparently it was acceptable that Snoop Mommy Mom had done this and the wag of the finger was aimed at me. Sheesh. I scoured my brain to recall what I had written and, knowing that the skeletons in my closet are particularly meager, and apparently that mother and I have very different ideas about what constitutes a sin, the best I could figure what that I was prattling on about some boy I was in love with. A boy who was far, far away. Perish those lusty thoughts!

Anyways, the whole thing pissed me off. I was disappointed in my (adult) friend for not defending her privacy and mine, and for her telling me this at all, and disappointed in myself for allowing myself to feel like a dirty crumb for writing it. And the mom for being such a busy body. And the spotlight, once again, perhaps shining on the wrong infraction. Hrrmmph. Thank goodness I was too young for digital teenage years.... This world is not big enough for me and the wayback machine.

kathy freston
Top 10 (Recent) Developments On Factory Farming And Vegetarianism
I do not think it's a random coincidence that what's good for your body is good for the earth....
[read it at huffington post]

and lots more articles by Kathy Freston
She's quite inspirational if you're interested in revamping your eating and health.

Nathalie Lete Live Painting @ Tokyo, Harajuku.watch as she paints a shop window

nathalie-lete.com

Would you like to live in a home like this? I wonder how good the temperature regulation is. I'm not a basement kinda person but the interior seems to defy its setting in a good way:
[underground swiss home]

Peace out, my little ducklings.

Truth or Fiction Game #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 14:49:00 PST

It was fun playing along with Kelly, since she's had a fine and adventurous life thus far, so now it's my turn.

Here's how it works. One of these tales is not true. Put your guess in the comment box. We'll see who wins this guessing game. Admitedly, going for a wee bit of shock value is part of the game.

1. During a typing test for a job interview, I got trapped in a hole in the wall and couldn't get out. The interviewer came in the room to see how I was getting along and, realizing that I was gone, started telling the other staff that I had skipped out on the test.

2. As a young adult, I used what meager amount of money I had beyond paying rent to sponsor a World Vision child, join Amnesty International, and subscribe to Ebony magazine.

3. In my one and only childhood attempt to run away from home, I hid in a basement cupboard within ear shot of the dinner table, listening in on the meal time conversation. Upon discovering that dessert would be served, I leaped out of the cupboard and ran to the table. I don't know what was more disconcerting: that a) my family hadn't even noticed my absence, or 2) that I almost missed a rare, midweek dessert.

4. I was kicked out (made to stand in the hall for the morning) of my class in Grade 3 for laughing at a substitute teacher. Why did this extremely shy and quiet girl have such a boisterous fit of laughter? Because the teacher was wearing his wrist watch around his ankle and every time he wanted to check the time, he raised his foot up to eye level, shook his pant leg away and viewed the watch, never engaging his hands in the process. In my opinion, he looked like an ostrich.

5. I used to earn extra cash reading tarot cards and palms.

6. I once had a summer job which involved asking people who could not communicate what they wanted for lunch. Every single day.

7. I once seriously pondered the possibility of becoming a prostitute to earn some substantial cash during a very broke time in my life.

8. I once ran for City Council in my little city and lost. Unless you count 27 votes as a win. Or nine votes if you deduct family members who voted for me.

9. After attending some peaceful protests requesting the release of Nelson Mandela (1980's), my phone was tapped for several weeks.

10. I earned more per hour as a babysitter when I was a teenager than I have in any other job since then.

Submit your guesses! And if you decide to play on your own blog, let me know so I can play along. Once you start writing them, lots more come to mind!

Follow up:
The answers are here and here.

glimpses #5

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 13:49:39 PST

This pig has the right idea. Sleep through the winter:

I start to really miss the garden at this time of year. See you in six months, dear friend!

The grasses got very tall this year. We approve:

We're just getting flurries so far. Knock wood.

That flying saucer in the pond is a little heater. I'm going to use it this year instead of keeping a pump going. If the label is correct, it will use less electricity for the same purpose: keeping the pond from icing over. Why? For the health of the fish. If there isn't an air hole in a small pond, toxins can build up in the water below the ice. An air hole keeps it all fish friendly.

The fish definitely like the heater. They sleep just below it. It provides a good protective hiding spot.

We're very fond of our (six) fish. They're a happy little gang.

the gingerbread girls

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 07:50:55 PST

The gingerbread girls were having fun yesterday:

Eli stayed nearby with his nose wiggling: What is that I smell?

The house is rather spiffy, don't you think? Enter if you love diabetes!

I buy a prefab kit when I know it's not going to be eaten so there's no real point in wasting good ingredients via home baking it....

Eli amped up his queries. What's that I smell? What's that I smell?
Here, Eli, it's gingerbread. Go nuts, young man.

He rubbed his scent onto it, realized no parsley was involved and hence it was inedible, and took off for more interesting rabbit business. Meanwhile, the first gingerbread girl of the day was unveiled:

Girl power! Times two! You'll have to imagine the boy cookie for yourself. Funny they don't show these ones on the box.

I love my ~~boobie~~ gingerbread girls.

can she do it? #7

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 06:27:31 PST

Day 25
The mission: to feel fit, filled with energy, strong
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (25 minutes a day, 1 day off per week) plus healthy eating

Let's get right to it, people:

12 pushups. Yes, you heard that right. TWELVE. Twenty-five days ago? ZERO. This is what I call real progress, as opposed to what is commonly called progress in our culture but is really the mass destruction of resources. In this case we are building up real strength. And to that I say, woo hoo and double woo hoo!

Here's some observations:

When you start exercising more, the body will first look a bit worse before it starts looking better. Whenever I start a new workout routine after some slacking off, muscle and fat start to form separate teams and the contrast between the two starts to get very apparent. When one is unfit, the two kinda meld into undefined blob-dom. But once you declare that fitness should be the boss of your life, excess fat kinda puts up a good, ugly fight but starts looking so out of place. But not to worry. I am not daunted. Every day I work out, I am closer to escorting the fat to the door. One jiggly step at a time.

I'm at an age where my middle seems to thicken at the slightest provocation and I find it terribly distressing and unattractive. Hence, the line has been drawn in the sand to reclaim my body and build up great core muscles. Life is too short to lug around spare tires.

Another funny thing is stamina. It really varies. I'll have a couple of days where I can really lift the weights and plough through the strength exercises and then Wham-o, my arms are suddenly weak and wimpy. The weights feel like someone added a few pounds onto each one. I know this has to be part of the process of building up strength but wow, it feels unprogressive sometimes. Like I'm back at square one. But then, I'll have a day where I feel stronger than ever and it's onward and upward. It's kind of a three steps forward and one step back phenomenon. The funny thing is how I can feel my triceps when I'm doing stuff like typing this now. They definitely feel more defined but they're hidden in there. Don't fret, muscles! We'll see you loud and clear in a few months. I hope. When the flubber has diminished and your brilliant goodness can be in plain view.

Previously I threatened to go to Level Two of the dvd and I did actually do it one day. Some of the exercises were way beyond my ability thus far (and made me worry I would injure myself trying them at full speed) but most simply made me work a lot harder. Yikes! Now what? I have this goofy reluctance with really hard exercise that I admit may be partly me being a lame ass and partly based in solid reason: I don't like to exert myself so much that I'm wiped out for rest of the day. If I really go for it, I can barely get through all the other stuff I have to do in a day and find my eyelids heavy by dinner time. I have to think this one over.... What if I really kicked it into high gear and the fallout was that I let home life go to hell in a handbag for a while and I don't get any work done? Is that really a problem? Maybe it's a short term loss for a very major gain: a huge increase in my fitness level and weight loss. All it would take really is to consult with Manly, who will inevitably say, Go for it, Baby Dude! And then it's all up to me. No one really cares if the 3145 daily household chores get done or not but me. As long as they find food when they want it. So. Well. Yes. I could kick it up and see what happens. Oh my.

I think I just boxed myself into a corner. A mirrored corner called Confronting One's Inner Demons. And they all have faces like Jillian Michaels.

PS: A big happy shout out to Kelly who has stuck to her plan to take stairs instead of elevators whenever she can. It's all good. Feel free to join in. Especially at this time of year when the forces of ill-health are in full swing.

linky dinks #22

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 18:27:05 PST

Hello again my little chestnuts,

I hope this message finds you well.

I suspect you don't have to be a baby fanatic like me to be completely endeared by this movie trailer:
babies

Oddles of webcams situated all around this nutty planet:
earthtv.com

dear god, what are thou?
I know stuff like this makes some people crazy, but I enjoy reading about attempts by scientific researchers to study and measure the invisible worlds within us (real and/or imagined, and does it matter?)
studying belief in god and religion is a figment of the imagination

home to the world's undiscovered artists
putITon.com
I wish there was a directory for the world's undiscovered bloggers. You know there's got to be a lot of great ones out there just waiting for your adoration....

Now, if the babies made you feel happy, go watch them again! Nobody gets too much heaven no more....

linky dinks #21

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 10:26:21 PST

hello dear people of the earth,

today's linky dinks have something in common! I think this is the first time. Mind you, it's a broad category: video. I hope you will enjoy the silly kitten, the vegan rancher, and a kindred spirit who loves this dear old earth.

your daily kitten
it's short and sweet

what happens when a meat loving man goes vegan for one month
diet is the key to turning around many health issues

a landscape photographer celebrating beauty, lamenting thoughtless development of rural lands
I share the same concerns where I live. sigh.

A Walkthru with Kathleen Connally from squigglebooth on Vimeo.

May the road rise with you.

glimpses #4

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 18:31:03 PST

I had an afternoon alone with Manley at the marsh. Fall keeps on going and going this year.

As you can see in the above photo, the beaver population seems to be thriving...

It was a particularly unbirdy day. Just some Canada Geese and the incessant yakking of crows off in the distance.

Even the marsh trees were downed.

With this much evidence I was hoping to see at least one beaver. But perhaps they were secretly convening to review their next Plans of Destruction. And consequent construction.

No woods in this area are complete without a fine old car. This sporty model had moss growing on the dashboard. Nice touch.

can she do it #6

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 07:54:42 PST

Day 20
The mission: to feel fit, filled with energy, strong
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (25 minutes a day, 1 day off per week) plus healthy eating

Progress Report
-I'm still on Level One, though I've been toying with the idea of starting Level Two tomorrow. Perhaps I'll have an executive meeting to review the situation.
-9 push ups, people. NINE. In all actuality (I used to have a friend who used that expression so often it went right past annoying to Very Funny), Level One has two sets of push ups in the strength building part and in Part One I can do nine, That's NINE, people, and in Part Two I can do 6.8. That's six. point. eight. Pretty good considering day one was a big fat zero with extra zero's on it.

Ever notice how I like to give Ungrammatically correct upper case designations and bold type to certain words? Well, good for you.

-Overall, I feel much (ha, at first I typed 'mush') more muscular and I believe I am burning more calories simply by existing because I'm getting those deep I've Been Exercising Hunger Pangs where I crave something really healthy and delicious but FAST. Pretty good for only adding 25 minutes of exercise a day. The DVD says twenty minutes but I stopped being fooled by that after a few days. I count the cool down since time is time.

-So far in these 20 days I've had 3 days off (one day a week). Onward and upward. I feel good.

In other news:

Imagine Joan of Ark as an angel but as beautiful as Elizabeth Taylor and wearing a long flowing gown covered in glistening stars, landing down bearing a gift, at just that perfect moment. That's my mother! She reads my blog so I had to make it cheeky. She gave me my xmas present early and, since it was paper and money, I was able enable to replace my computer yesterday.

The old one was dying for some time, having come from someone's garbage a few years ago. I wasn't able to do any work on my Fabric Dyeing 101 book last week because it was pretty much toast. Now I'm back in action and my excuses for avoiding writing the book have all disintegrated. Maybe I shouldn't thank her! That said, it's got Windows 7 and it seems that having a working mouse and speakers is an oxymoron at times. There's a few weird system things to look into, but I am free to write and get on with things without lengthy reboots and Tech Prayer and Voodoo Sessions. Amen. (Yes, MAC lovers, I would have loved to jump ship but my budget was 1/3 the cost of the cheapest MAC so that dream will have to wait.)

Memory Lane: I bought my first computer in 1987. It cost half of my annual salary (for the computer, WordPerfect software, and printer. Remember all those diskettes? Remember DOS? It seems archaic now but it was so much fun.). I really wanted a colour monitor but it was just not worth the extra cost. When I met Manley a few years later, he had a colour monitor. I was smitten from then on.

When did you get your first home computer? Anyone use BBS's back then? Anyone else exercising?

linky dinks #20

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 03:39:00 PST

Greetings fellow earthlings!

I hope you have been kind to your body and our dear planet this American Thanksgiving weekend. And every other day, for that matter.

My favourite links this week are the first two:

whole health for the whole person
This is one of my favourite health essays of all time:
"...In a recent study published in the Archives of Internal Medicine, CDC researchers found that individuals who adhered to four healthy lifestyle habits had a 78 percent lower risk for chronic disease, including diabetes, stroke, heart disease, and cancer. The four factors were...."[dr mehmet oz: huffington post]

building new homes from discarded and old building materials
functional art at its finest [today.com video]

home and garden eye candy
house fronts:[studio g]
a meadow for a garden: [sfgate.com]

creative billboards
Remember when I hosted the seminar in the bathroom for learning how to change the toilet paper roll? [dear family...] Well, it was seriously underattended. In fact, no one showed up. Perhaps I could have used this to draw attention to my cause: [huffington post]

Happy trails,

gobble gobble

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 09:32:02 PST

Happy Thanksgiving, to my American friends. Be kind to yourself and enjoy!

can she do it? #5

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 07:25:26 PST

Day 15
The mission: to feel fit, filled with energy, strong
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (25 minutes a day, 1 day off per week) plus healthy eating

Progress report: 6 push ups people, SIX. On Day One, I could do zero push ups. Full disclosure: they are modified for one very practical reason: I feel like I might fall right on my face when I try full push ups. Though technically, I would fall on my front, not my face, but it still feels dangerous so I modify for now.

Next goals:
-20 modified push ups, then moving into full push ups.
-Getting to Level 2 of the workout. My weights are 5lbs (instead of 1 or 2) so some of the strength exercises are harder than they should be at the start but I shall carry on. I'm not phoning it in, Jillian.
-weight loss is always welcome. Consider this an embossed invitation, body.

What I've noticed so far:

-the muscles around my hips are really responding / tightening. It makes the fat there look rather...silly/excessive. Ok, you can erase that image from your mind right away. I hope to erase it from my body.

-my arms feel mildly buffer (long way to go, but buffer).

-when I'm out walking, I sometimes feel a big urge to run. I don't try running when it's cold out because unless I'm warmed up, I get ferocious shin splints. But I think I have to start planning ahead and taking time to warm up before I go out. My body is obviously craving more aerobics. Years ago I got into running after my (then) daily step aerobics stopped satisfying my desire for a racing heart. I would love to get there again.

-Ultimately, I hope to do regular aerobic exercise and yoga (which can or cannot be aerobic, depending on how I approach it). There is no euphoria* like that from a yoga session. (*ok, maybe some things....)

-last winter I ate an entirely raw diet consisting of vegetable, fruit, nuts, and seeds. Ironically, when the weather improves and produce becomes local, I start craving soups and other cooked foods. Backwards, I know. Well, winter is coming and that desire for raw foods is coming again. We'll see. I feel very good on raw foods but always have to take extra iron and B12 (regardless of what I'm eating).

Eating mostly or all raw foods can do amazing things for one's health. Here's a few examples:
When I stick with it, my psoriasis clears up and I don't need my eye glasses.
Perspiration is gently sweet-scented, not offensive, and my thinking feels much clearer. I look better, I sleep better, I feel better.
The list is much longer than this. It's very interesting. A lot of people turn to a raw diet to resolve or slow a disease or health crisis. Type two diabetes is well-controlled with a raw diet [Raw for Thirty Days].

I got into raw foods when I was having some health woes two years ago. I'm not a fan of bandaid solutions and medications to mask symptoms. I like to do what I can to get to the source and do whatever I can to control my health and wellness through natural means and common sense. [I blogged about it here.]

Why raw? The idea is that foods are most beneficial when they are consumed in their most natural state. While some raw diets include meat, I opt entirely for fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds. Fresh-picked, unprocessed foods are the most nutritious. Cooking and processing, depletes the benefits of the food. In our culture there is an incredible disconnect between the fact that much of our health is within our control. What could affect our bodies more than what we eat, how we feel, how we move, and the environment we live in? Food choices have an incredible effects on us that can improve or destroy the quality of moods, sleep, outlook, life.

Here's some inspiring before and after photos and stories: we like it raw

Also:
Kris Carr's Crazy Sexy Life
The Fresh Network
There's tons of good info on line. Some of it is pretty airy-fairy. Much of it is grounded in good sense. Take your pick.

What the heck does a raw foodist eat? Raw 'uncooking' brings eating to a whole new level in taste, pleasure, and health. There are dozens of gorgeous recipe books, ranging from very simple to complex. [try searching 'raw food recipes' or 'raw food cookbooks']
Some popular picks are: RAWvolution, Ani's Raw Food Kitchen, Raw: The Uncook Book

If you want some cooked foods and or meat in your diet, but want to strive for optimum health:
Mariel Hemingway and Carol Alt will show you the way.

The good news is, you don't have to do it 100% if you don't want to. Every healthy choice counts. If you're not happy with your health, changing up what you eat is the easiest place to start turning things around. Start small. Start reading. Get ideas. Take it one snack or meal at a time. Once you get going, you'll be amazed by the way healthy really feels.

random nots #1

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 17:37:14 PST

I am not afraid of spiders. One of my girls is, the other is not. Are you or are you not?

This is rain, not snow.

The pond is not frozen. This is not like last November which left me feeling hoodwinked by snow and cold that went on and on and on.

Cool nights and perfect afternoons. We do not disapprove.

antique circular knitting machine

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 10:43:11 PST

A few years ago when I was hit by the Must Knit Bug, I dove once more into the Yarny Side Of Life. I had avoided it for years because, quite frankly, during my formative years (how funny is that expression?), I used to have a terrible time understanding most written instructions. I couldn't understand sewing pattern instructions, so I just made up my own. I couldn't understand most recipes, so I cooked and baked ad-lib. And I could not for the life of me follow a knitting pattern, so instead I would decide what I wanted and make it up as I went along. It was a frustration that I just learned to live with because I could still create stuff, though my means may have been unconventional.

At some point in my unformative years (adulthood), I decided to give instructions a second chance. I began by forcing myself to follow recipes the whole way through without second-guessing or variations. It's amazing how things turn out when you do that. I made myself sew a Vogue pattern. It was emotional torture, but I did it. And I started trying knitting patterns from sources like Knitty, to get my creative groove on. I had apparently outgrown the comprehension problem. I was already in a full-on romance with quilting, (which I always do freeform with no measuring, patterns, or instructions), but I wanted something more portable to work on when I couldn't be at my sewing machine. Knitting is a natural choice because it's not only portable, but very relaxing yet engages the Cellular Matter of The Brain. I wanted to master the basics (knit without tears) and then branch out into my inventing my own creations.

A few weeks into this newest fetish, I was gradually accumulating the best needles and all sorts of gorgeous yarns and I started getting Really Wicked Hand Cramps. A few minutes into knitting, my hands would seize up in a claw-like position and I could not relax them again. Long story short, I ended up consulting my doctor, having a variety of tests, trying all sorts of exercises and dietary changes to see if I could sway it, but no luck. I knitted, I cramped up, I knitted, I cramped up.

I tried switching to crochet, embroidery and other hand sewing, but no such luck. My hand cramps apparently had no medical explanation or remedy other than to avoid fine hand work. Piff!

While surfing for possible answers, I stumbled upon a website showing antique circular knitting machines (also referred to as 'circular sock machines' or CSM's). There was mention of CSMs being easy on the hands for someone with arthritis. Admittedly, knitting wasn't my prime attraction at this point but rather the existence of this beautiful, old machines I had never heard of before. I have a small collection of sewing machines from throughout the 1900's (that I got before I gave up hoarding-ish behaviour and are, dear readers, most deserving of a future blog entry all their own) and this type of machine fits in my favourite category: the ingenious mechanical workhorses of the Victorian era. They are both beautiful and useful and will outlast us all.

That page led me to some online discussion groups about these machines and triggered the relentless desire to have one of my own. In those days I attended a lot of country auctions with all sorts of weird machines and gizmo's coming up for sale, but I could not ever recall seeing or hearing about a circular knitting machine.

I scoured eBay and other online ads and sources, but was disheartened to find that a refurbished machine could cost upwards of $800 U.S. (This was about six years ago). And some crooked sellers were selling damaged machines that would and could never work again (mail-order buyers beware: research your seller). I may be enthusiastic but I'm not crazy or rich. That was just too much money to risk on something that might not work.

But, as tends to happen in this whacky life of mine, serendipity stepped in.

I was attending an auction with my mother and lo and behold, I was looking through some boxes of 'junk' before the bidding started and there, distributed between a few boxes, were all the parts of a 1885 Improved Creelman Money Maker. The grandmommy of antique circular knitting machines.

Bingo!

I thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. I knew I had to have the machine but I also saw that a few other people were looking it over during the auction preview (did they even know what it was or what it was for?) and, more pressingly, my budget was very limited. I had to play poker face, seem disinterested, and buy that 'junk' for a song. If it was in working order, I'd be fine but if it was cracked or damaged (which is not always apparent upon first inspection), I would be investing in useless junk.

My nerves got the best of me and I asked the auctioneer to have someone bid on my behalf, known in the biz as an Advance Bid, even though in this case I would also be present for the auction. The way it works is, you just tell him your top price, and one of his staff will bid on for you until you max out. It sounds potentially crooked, but it's not. They just join in the bidding like any other customer and bid in a fair fashion. After all, they're doing it in front of everyone so they can't exactly slant things to bring in more money. They just go with the flow. It's a great option for a nervous buyer and wannabe Cranker, as circular knitting machine knitters are fondly called.

I knew if I bid on my own behalf, I was going to draw unwanted attention to the potential value of the machine. And make a bloody fool of myself.

It sounds kind of silly now but I was so excited at the prospect of having that machine but so freaked out that some other enthusiast might be there and out-bid me, that I could hardly hear the auctioneer because my heartbeat was pounding in my ears.

As it turned out, my competitors really just wanted interesting boxes of mysterious junk at a really cheap price, and when the bidding reached $30 CAD, the machine and accessories were mine. Yippeeeeeee! Sold to the woman with her heart pounding right out of her chest.

I was delighted to find notes from the original owner (circa 1898) stuffed into the box and the original manual, which was too torn to use but fun to have anyways. (I since found a scan of it online.) Most of these machines were originally purchased as potential money makers (hence the name), where the knitter could (theoretically) crank out an assortment of knitted goods and mail them into the company as wholesalers. Or that was the sales pitch, at least.

Online discussion groups led me to information on cleaning the machine (it needed it), finding suppliers for new needles and weights, and within a few weeks I had the machine in fine working condition.

As you can see in the photo, the machine itself is not that big. It mounts to my little supply table, constructed by attaching a board to the seat of a folding stool.

CSM enthusiasts (Cranky Knitters) are a very kind group of people. One person sent me a homemade video on how to operate the machine (which gave me all the starter help I needed) and one very nice guy sent me a pair of socks he made on his machine (based on my actual foot measurements) so I could see how they were constructed. Comfy! His fine work encouraged me to really work on my cranking skills. My novice efforts produced a pair of socks in just under 45 minutes. It's fun, fast, and hand cramp free. We like it!

I went sock crazy for a while and then branched out into mittens. From there, my quest for the perfect thumb led to a lot of experimenting. I would try new ideas and then frog (unravel) the yarn after each trial, reworking the same yarn over and over again. I was knee deep in glove instructions about two years ago when life took me elsewhere and I put the machine aside.

I thought of all this the other day when I was reading Miss Mel's blog describing her recent (hand) knitting projects. I went upstairs to visit my CSM in my closet, deciding it was time to take it out again and play some more.

The original instructions from the 1890's promise that an assortment of items from bloomers to bonnets can be made on the machine. But they also say, We do not wish to insult the intelligence of the reader by explaining how to make these items. ..'. No: really, insult my intelligence and tell me how it's done! Fortunately, CSMers share all this stuff online now so I have all the resources I need. My hands still cramp up with any fine motor skills but at least I can still get cranky.

Knits from my early learning-to-knit days

My first attempts with the circular knitting machine:

Plus one final greeting from my favourite (then) little model:

can she do it? #4

empressofdirt@gmail.com (M.J.Will) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 14:40:55 PST

Day 10
The mission: to get fitter, as opposed to having a fit
The means: Jillian Michael's DVD: 30 Day Shred (20 minutes a day = no big whoop)

I've had just one day off so far, and I see good progress already. Get a load of this: I'm up to three pushups. Three! Three! Three! That's three more than I could so when I started and just seventeen fewer than I hope to be able to do...eventually. Wow. I'm impressed.

I'm actually not kidding. It's amazing how quickly the body gets in shape if you give it the opportunity.

I had pretty good excuses to skip exercising today but I couldn't miss it. I wanted to do it. I wanted that good feeling that comes midway and after the workout. In other words, I'm being pulled to the other side.

It feels good. I knew that it would.