Venn and the Art of My Maintenance

Creative Juices

2011-12-12T17:20:00.000-08:00

I want my son to be a creative guy.

I believe that every last one of us is a creative soul and if you don't happen to think you are it's because some mean and stupid person made you feel that way when you were young.

Not way, no how for Mr. Oliver.

His creative soul will be given many mediums for expression.

I was thinking this just now as we sat on the kitchen floor. I was slicing apples for making apple chips and to keep him entertained put out a few pots and chopsticks.

He has a thing for rhythm so we often entertain each other by banging on things with our hands.

And so it went with the chopsticks. Fun, laughter, rhythm and yes, noise.

And so it will go I think.

Creativity isn't clean and pretty and properly volumed. Its messy, loud, and perhaps even ugly.

Ugly can be beautiful.

After a long break...

2011-12-06T17:34:00.000-08:00

I want to write again.

I have long believed writing can be therapeutic. Creative writing, venting, poetry, letters to friends can all feel good and clear the webs.

Sometimes it can be helpful to hear responses from people with shared opinions or opposing points of view. Other times just the process of getting it out can make things more clear.

Alice Walker wrote about how writing saved her life. She's described times when she has been backed into dark corners and how picking up a pencil and just writing has carried her out of the dark.

I want to write again.

When I was in high school my close friends and I had a few shared journals that got passed around. When I was around 7 or 8 I got my first journal, a diary, at the time. My years of journaling stopped sometime in my twenties. It started when there was a man more regularly by my side at bedtime and in the morning. Those were my frequent writing times. So, its faded. But...

I want to write again.

I have so much to write about at this point in my life.

I am Oliver's mother. And I love it.

It's the most beautiful, meaningful thing I do every day.

At times I am bored. I miss my work. I miss my team. I miss going out at night, catching up with friends, dancing, drinking, sleeping and all that good stuff that we take for granted until they aren't so easy to do anymore.

At times I am lonely. In the early months it was so easy to scoop him up and go do something. He was lighter to carry and slept so much of the time.

Well, the times have changed.
He has opinions.
He is awake more.
Its true that all of these things make being with him more fun.
The joy of discovering the world through a baby's eyes, your baby's eyes, is unimaginable, pure, gorgeous, lovely...maybe beyond words.
But its also been limiting. I get out less. The day slips by and his schedule, which has come to be important on many levels, rules my day. The lack of sleep gets to me more now than before.

I think the honeymoon phase has past. I think the first 8 months as a mom, I was blissed out. I am still in love with it and with him but the beer goggles are off and I am feeling the impact of my life being out of balance.

Not enough working out.
Not enough creative time.
Not enough sleep.
Not enough time with my love.
Not enough sex.
Not enough time following my whim as to where to go and what to do.

This is it. I am in a huge life transition and the rest of my life will be determined by the choices I make, the patterns I get into in this new me.

So, all those not enoughs are just me defining, writing, getting out into words where my imbalance is. And now I can do something about it all.

I've begun recently to take steps.

I joined a gym with child care.
I've been talking with my love more about what he can do to help.
Action is started.

It's pretty funny that my first time writing here in so long is about the challenges I am encountering rather than all the amazingness that has been this year with Ollie.

That'll come.

For now though, I'll write my way out of a dark corner.

Opinions Running Rampant

2010-05-18T20:22:00.000-07:00

What are you gonna do?
Everyone has an opinion.

I am reminded of a walk and talk with my friend Jessica when she was pregnant where she shared with me the wisdom of this fact. It was something along the lines of--everyone has an opinion about how things should be done in pregnancy, with babies and with children. The hard part is not falling into the trap of the "I know best" mentality, and imparting your "knowledge" on others.

Its true.

You can do your best to shrug off when others impart their "wisdom" on you as the right way, the only way and definitely the best way. But the challenge on you is not to fall piece by piece, inch by inch, hair by hair, into the path of telling others how they should do it--whatever it might be (names, sleeping, feeding, discipline, etc).

Goodness, I am only 17 weeks pregnant and it has already begun. It makes me not want to tell many folks we are planning on a home birth just to avoid the comments, paranoid questions and most of all, the opinions.

Pete and I were laughing today at how many people react when we say we aren't going to find out the gender of the baby until it is born. Even this simple choice: you either find out or you don't, brings on unwanted and unbridled opinions.

"Oh wow, I could never do that".

"Oh good for you, I would never do it any other way".

"I think its silly not to find out. It makes everything so much easier".

"I think you should find out. It helps the bonding process".

Goodness. Its pretty comical. Why do people have to always make it about them? I don't really care if you did it that way or if you found out as soon as you could. Great. No judgment here. You did what was right for you and that is all that matters. I support you honoring our own judgment and your own decisions and if its different than what I choose it doesn't make me think you were wrong in any way whatsoever.

I am on a bit of a soap box at the moment...apologies.

The take away for me comes back to what my friend said way back before this pregnancy/babies thing was even a reality for us.

Our challenge is to stay clear, open and not take the opinions people share (however strong and pushy they may be) as a test of our choices. Because ours may not be "right" choices for someone else but they are, thank goodness, ours and ours alone to make. And the bigger challenge is not to do this to others.

Can't you picture it? A year from now a friend is pregnant. I am excited for her and she is sharing with me that they are considering whether or not to find out the gender of their baby. Can't you see how easy it would be to tell her she should definitely wait? There is a different way though. That of sharing our experiences while acknowledging that it worked for us but doesn't for everyone...

Its a good reminder to do our best to be aware of this in general...for all of us.

A good challenge.

Week 8: Wiggles and Prayer

2010-04-17T18:15:00.000-07:00

Week 8 has been alright. Still puking nearly daily but the number of things I can tolerate going down my throat has increased for sure. Maybe I am getting more optimistic since I'm about to be at 9 weeks and the countdown to end of awful illness is likely within a few weeks...hopefully, I should say, not likely. I can only pray, or intend, as is my kind of praying.

Taking a rest on the mac and cheese and ramen and eating things like fried rice, potatoes, pizza, bagel with peanut and apple butter and of course my middle of the night and early morning rice cakes to absorb some of that plentiful stomach acid that leads to the nausea and pukes.

Fruit is good but still no veggies. Julie's Organic frozen yogurt, blueberry flavored...yum. That was my nighttime snack for a bit but now I am out. What I wouldn't do for a personal food shopper and a personal chef (they'd have it pretty easy right now) and fresh beverage provider and I worry that Pete is wearing out though he promises he's fine. He has had entire charge of dish duty for the past month since being at the sink and smelling the food on dirty dishes brings me running to the toilet.

He is a rock star.

Yesterday we had our first big appointment. It was a rough start to the adventure and as soon as the ferry landed at Coleman Dock in Seattle I was headed for the bathroom to have the most embarrassing puke session thus far. I made it to the toilet fine but there were women in and out of the stalls next to me who clearly heard my hacking upchuck sounds. Lovely. It made me think of the few times in the past I've heard someone puking in a public bathroom and my thoughts went immediately to drunk or bulimic for some sick reason. More likely is the pregnant puke excuse. I'll forever be more sympathetic in public rest rooms I swear.

Pete and I were equally disgusted by how cold and unfriendly the nurse tech was who called us into the office, took my blood pressure and weight and told me to put on gown open in the front. She walked out and Pete just looks at me like "what was that?"

Whatever, I tell him. We've just got to figure out a midwife soon so I can stop coming to this baby factory for check ups.

Next the nurse practitioner came in. Her name was Lucia (pronounced Loo-sha). We liked her. She did an exam and talked to us forever about birth options. We told her we'd likely be using a midwife when we found one and she was supportive of that. She told us that Swedish has nice birthing rooms with tubs but that their C-section rates were right at the national average of 20-30%.

Yeah, unless we are at high risk for some reason later in pregnancy, we will go with mid-wife and birthing center or home birth. Good to know your options though and if it has to be a hospital, Swedish is a great one: Pete was born there.

Lucia puts the magic wand in the magic hole and there we see our little embryo. Its head is half the size of its body and right about where head and body meet, yeah right there, you can clearly make out the flutter of the beating heart. Cool. She points out that its wiggling. I see it. Kinda. Pete imagines a little wave and immediately is calling it a he.

If its gonna be a boy we are gonna have to come up with some names. I think we are set with a girls name. Love it.

Speaking of praying...there is a job opening in Redmond that could mean a move back to Seattle for us. I told Tara that I was gonna google "effective praying techniques" because I want this job to work out so badly. I was kind of kidding but...what the heck?

Here's what I found. According to some person on some website that talks about prayer and relates it to quantum physics, prayer releases an energy that emanates from the human mind and has a direct effect on the environment. Okay. I believe that. Quantum physics has shown us that we change the basic nature of matter just by thinking about it and the human mind releases an energy radiation that is capable of interacting directly with matter. Whoa.

It says that with a basic understanding of the mechanics of prayer, we can use this knowledge to help us pray more effectively. Cool. I know nothing about prayer besides: "Please G-d, let that cute boy not be at school today or tomorrow or at least until this huge zit goes away". Everyone knows that kind of prayer. But I mean real prayer. The kind that heals people.

Here are the supposed keys to effective prayer:

Key One: Adding positive emotion to the energy of a prayer improves the outcome of the prayer.

When you pray, think about an event that is positive and emotionally meaningful. This event should be something that makes you feel good no matter what you were thinking about before the prayer. Research shows that this type of positive imaging improves the power and focus of the prayer.

Key Two: Repeat a prayer mantra focused on your desired outcome.

Mantras are ancient tools that are designed to empower the force of prayer. The rosary is one good example of a prayer mantra. Repetition amplifies the force of a prayer and gives it more power. Some mantras have been repeated millions of times and have a great deal of standing force attached to them. Adding your prayer to this standing force field can greatly increase the chance that it will be answered. The mantra need not be long and you don’t even have to speak the language for it to be effective. Here are some examples that you might find useful.

"AUM GUM GANAPATEYE NAMA”

This is the Ganesh Gayatri Mantra. It has been spoken for thousands of years as a tool for removing obstacles to progress and achievement.

Key Three: Pray for others; especially strangers.

When you pray for others, the energy of the prayer automatically benefits you. Most people do not know this and tend to pray only for themselves and those that they know. Praying for others, especially those that you do not know, releases a powerful force from the unconscious that benefits you as well as the recipients of the prayer.

Key Four: Pray while meditating.

While you are meditating, the mind is much calmer. The calm and focused mind generates a great deal of positive divine creative force. By praying while meditating, we take advantage of this force and make our prayers much more powerful and effective.

******************************************************************************************************************************

Alrighty then. These are the laws of effective prayer as described by some guy named Mitchell Earl Gibson, MD. I left stuff out that didn't resonate with me or, in other words, was a bit too cheesy.

With this in mind maybe I'll have a go at some prayer. I do after all have a lot to pray for right now: healthy embryo soon-to-be-fetus and some day baby, Pete staying healthy and alive to help raise this kid, my preggie-sickness passing sooner than later and with all the world troubles there's always plenty to pray for in the way of selfless prayer.

I'll give it a shot. All this down time (ouch my ass seriously hurts from being on it just too much) has got to be good for something besides reading about pregnancy and watching every show I've ever wanted to see and then some.

Notice the ultrasound that looks like a blob of nothing. Translation: See the dark oval at the bottom left of the picture? Thats the outline of my amniotic sac. Inside it (the dark area) is amniotic fluid and in the middle of all that is the embryo (two more weeks and it becomes a fetus).

See there are two little plus symbols and a dot in the middle of those marking head to rump distance (21mm or 0.8 in). From the dot up to the right is all head and from the dot down and left is rest of body. The nurse practitioner could see arms and legs moving about. We just nodded along "sure"..."right". The resolution is not so good but in a month we'll pay a bit extra for the better machines and therefore higher resolution image. What the heck right?

Transformers GO!!

2010-04-14T10:16:00.001-07:00

I had a dream last night I was a transformer. Remember those guys on the cartoon when we were kids? There were names like Decepticon, Megatron, Optimus Prime, Cybertron and more.

In my dream I am an autobot incarnate as a motorcycle. I have a vivid image of my front wheel following a narrow road for a ways until I get to a place where I need to go up some stairs. As a motorcycle this would be hard, but as a transformer all I need to do is transform and voila, I can walk up them.

The dream was a middle of night dream so I lay there briefly grinning at the subject of my dream and since I went back to sleep I don't remember much more.

The comedy is that I am taking a generic form of Zofran (anti-emetic drug) called Ondansetron. Now if that's not a transformer name...

Guilty

2010-04-08T20:31:00.001-07:00

Thats us during the guilty weekend.
Its funny shit actually.
We spend 13 months having at it during the time when its supposed to make something happen and for 12 of those months nothing happens.
I make a commitment to a more holistic approach, order books from Amazon and expect its gonna take a while.
Pete gets his army tested and we find out all is good there.
I make arrangements for a procedure that shoots die into ya thang and makes sure it goes through those hopefully nice and clear tubes.
We have a long, serious and fun conversation about adoption.
I feel more and more okay with the possibility that we will have a baby whether it comes out of my body or not.
The procedure can happen in month 12 but my gyn is unable to do it and I'd have to do it with doc I don't know.
I decide to wait a month so my doc can do it.
I'm supposed to call and set up the appt. the first day of my new moon.

The weekend before I pop the egg Pete and I head up to Mt. Baker to spend the weekend partying with his Mercer Island crew for some birthdays.
We party all day...all weekend long.
We do it a bunch.
I hit my head on the low ceiling of our room.
This is my blowout before I begin this awesome get clear and healthy as shit plan. Monday the egg pops.

I burn through two big books in like 3 days about getting healthy and vital and letting your body do what it needs to make a baby.
LOVE the books and start up right away.
Imagery first thing and last thing each day, no sugar, no crap, lots of veggies and fruits and yoga and dream writing.
I do this for two weeks.
I feel amazing.
Better than I have in a long time.
I am feeling very confident that doing this for a while, my body is bound to make a baby.
Or if it isn't that will be okay too.

The day my moon should arrive I wake up at 6:30am.
No alarm, just hot and anxious.
I take my temperature as I've been doing for years: first for birth control and now to understand my cycle in a way to help bring on birth.
It's higher than its ever been in the four years I've been taking it.
In fact its higher than its ever been for about 4 days now.
I can't wait for the missed moon.
I go to the bathroom and pee on a stick.
I'm supposed to wait 3 minutes for the result.

It comes in 30 seconds.
Pregnant.
I stare in total disbelief.
No fucking way.
I don't smile or giggle.

I'm protecting myself.
What if its wrong, I ask myself?
That doesn't happen.
Not this way anyhow.
False-negatives, sometimes.
False-positives, not possible unless you are on drugs that I am not.
What if I am dreaming, or tomorrow it will be gone or something.

I walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen where I hear Pete getting ready to leave. He sees me in my robe and looks at me staring at him with a weird look on my face.
He apologizes for the Indian music he is blaring and asks if it woke me.
I say I don't give a shit about the Indian music.
He asks whats wrong.
I step forward and hand him the stick.
He looks at it, and then me, and says oh my god a few times before stepping forward to hug me.
I tell him not to get too excited.
I don't know why I say that.
I'm protecting us both.
Pete leaves after kissing my face and kissing my belly and being a perfect husband.

I go for a long walk.
I do yoga in an abandoned cul de sac.
I am late to work and don't give a shit.
I still have the WTF-holy shit look on my face.

I have a seriously stressful day at work that involves high winds and rescuing children from areas where trees are falling down.
I think I am going to die numerous times.
I go home thinking that the stress may cause me to miscarry.

I pee on another stick the next morning.
It says I am still pregnant.
Holy shit.

That was a month ago.
Still pregnant.

Alien Inhabitant

2010-04-07T19:12:00.000-07:00

You know that last post? The one about the amazing, healthy, delicious waffles? I just re-read it and it made my mouth water with queasiness. Actually the thought of eating those is pretty freaking retched. Why?

Because I have the big lie of a thing called morning sickness. No, no, no. It's not morning sickness but rather sick or close to being sick all day long broken up by small periods of time where I feel okay enough to do something.

And so I am here at my computer rather than laying still and moaning quietly to myself because I feel alright for the first time today. What brought me from crumby to alright? Freaking Ramen noodles!

If you know me you know the concept of Ramen noodles is something I left behind in, oh early college long before my undergraduate studies in whole foods nutrition. See, I know better than to eat crud like that. Its processed, nutrient empty fake food. But for me, right now, the question is pretty much what can I actually tolerate putting in my mouth? Vegetables? Barforama! Whole grains? Same, unless they are pressed into a rice cake or a cheerio. The best nutritional things I have going for me these days are chicken and cheese. Other than that it seems to be only nutrient empty-ish things like mac and cheese, ramen, cheerios and the occasional burrito, heavy on the cheese light on beans.

Lovely right? Hell, its good f-in thing I have been eating quite healthy for some time and have been on pre-natal vitamins for about 15 months (can't tolerate those right now either).

In addition I had go on a magic little anti-nausea/vomiting pill called Zofran. The first evening I was on it I had secret musings about naming our child after it. Zoffie or Frannie, Zof or Ofran. Uh...maybe not. Anyhow as it turned out the stuff works but not as great as I had hoped. Still quite nauseous through more of the day than not and still puking, though not every day now.

The plot thickens because guess how Zofran works? It inhibits serotonin production. Do you know what serotonin does in your body? Oh, about a zillion important things like mood regulation, appetite, sleep regulation and the biggie...intestinal movement. Oh really? TMI? Just wait. I'm talking non-existent poop for like 5 days now. And the bits that have come in that time are hard, dry and tiny though for how long they take to come out you'd think they were logs to be majorly proud of. You know the kind where you feel 5 lbs lighter afterward? God I miss those.

Prunes aren't working so now I am on to other ideas I've heard on the pregnancy chat rooms: apple juice and stool softener. Hoping for a miracle.

Through the haze of puke, nausea, food issues and constipation I catch glimpses of the excitement of pregnancy. Looking forward to being able to sit with it longer term in 5-7 weeks. Dear Goddess help me get through this.

Fertile Soil

2010-03-08T20:42:00.000-08:00

The image came to me today on my way into work. I was rushing in, eating while driving (bad habit I know). Every bite of the waffle I ate was fully enjoyed seeing as I spent most of my day yesterday preparing the stinking things. See, these waffles ain't no ordinary waffles. These waffles are teeming with love and nutrients. Funny that the recipe is one of the few good things my ex gave me. Oh well. They are good.

What's in em? Buckwheat and rice flour, ground flax and cashews, apple sauce and grated carrot and zucchini. Yeah, I know, right? Amazing. I added a bit of cinnamon this time round and bingo, made 'em even better. Threw a half in the toaster oven this a.m. and spread a bit of almond and apple butter on top. Holy goodness. Worth the 20 minutes they each took to actually cook. Note to self: might need to make the batter thinner next time round.

Anyhow, back to the drive and the image that came while I drove. I was thinking about this new life plan I'm on. It involves no alcohol, no (or very little) processed sugar, no caffeine, limited animal products and a lot of whole grains, beans, fruits and veggies.

The image I had on the way to work was really rich, dark, sweet, and fertile soil. I could practically feel it as I drove, imagining it falling between my fingers. What is all that beautiful soil good for? Growing new life. What am I wanting to be good at? Growing new life. Therefore the analogy fits so nicely.

Do I pour red wine or whiskey around my new kale starts? Nay. Do I sprinkle coffee or black tea atop cilantro sprouts? Heck no. Am I mulching with hamburger meat or even chicken breasts? That would be weird. It would make the soil filled with bacteria and acidic funk.

What do I put in that sexy soil to make it extra fertile? Lots of composted vegetables, bean and grains, among other things.

It made this new plan of mine feel even more right. In fact, I think my body is screaming for it. How to make a baby? Make the soil the baby needs to grow in re-he-he-he-he-ly luscious and clean.

Here's to adzuki beans, quinoa, kale, shitake, and carrots.

A picture can tell a story better than a thousand words...specially when you know the story...but sometimes even when you don't

2009-09-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

An angel on Obstruction Island

Nourishment on top a Volcano

Hopeful Love on a Country Road

Family Bonds Grew as We Watched

Twas a Brutal Battle Tween a Lichen and a Moss

Bearing Witness to the Promise of Commitment

Tom Ka Gai. First Attempt. Absolute Success.

Ole Fashioned Love Song

Guess Which Two Became Dinner? The Boys Silly.

Fungus loves Lacey loves Fungus

2009-09-04T21:25:00.001-07:00

These photos are in honor or my sweet sister love, Lacey Bediz. Thought I might lure her out here by showing her the likes of what treasures we can go seeking if she comes out here this fall. October tends to be pretty good. She loves her a good found food. That lobster mushroom was pretty delish with a tad bit-o-garlic and olive oil.

Confrontation

2009-07-02T21:19:00.000-07:00

In certain circles its avoided at all costs. Others over do it. Too much of it can become annoying or provoking. But too little of it? Well, that can turn into self-sabotage: torturous, painful, sickening. If one doesn't confront someone who hurts them, what happens then? It depends, I guess. Either we let things go or that person continues to hurt you over and over simply because something wasn't put to rest.

I have felt the pain that comes from hiding from anger, hurt, or frustration. I know what it feels like to be angry at someone who has hurt my feelings and instead of talking to them about it, sitting, frozen, in a whirlpool of words and phrases I want to say . Silence begets silence. It has a tendency to expand exponentially and the longer you sit, cold in the water, the deeper and deeper the words fall away from your tongue, the faster they swirl around you.

Ouch.

I can remember exactly when, in my life, that all began to change. It was during a class i took at Burlington College in VT. A three or four day-long class about dreams that took place at our professor's sweet green-roofed home in Lincoln, VT. We had to stay over, in tents, in his yard. We spent time learning about how different cultures view dreams and practiced remembering and writing down our dreams. We learned various ways of understanding the messages in dreams as well as practicing intention-building dream rituals.

I had the honor of being the focus of a dream/healing ritual where I sat in the middle of the circle of about ten people. They drummed and chanted while sending the intention of movement, of awareness, of opening, of healing.

It was incredibly overwhelming. As I sat there, my throat tightened and tightened and began to pound. All I could do was open my mouth and quietly cry. I honestly don't think that group had any idea what they were in for when I sat down in the middle of that circle. The ceremony ended with them walking me outside to the door of the dream hut. You are supposed to go into the hut with a journal, pen, and water. Nothing else. You are to pose a question and ask for a dream to give you what you need to know.

I was gifted a dream that changed everything. There were all these distinct characters: a wacky and wild short-haired blonde woman with glass in her lip, a young girl inviting me into her home, another woman being incredibly helpful and kind and my teacher with his hands on my back, helping/healing.

The night in that dream hut left me with some heavy realizations. Mainly that I had a lot of work to do. That I didn't want to live my life afraid to confront anyone. That the relief of getting something out was worth the discomfort of the process.

That was 14 years ago. One of my colleagues told me I was the queen of confrontation the other day. He said it because I handled some things at work that weren't easy and that he was struggling with. When he said it I had a moment of connection to my life as a whole. I saw how much I had grown since those days in Vermont. And I thought back to all the teachers along the way: my aunt, many different friends, teachers, boyfriends...

I have much gratitude to all the people who showed me that confrontation can be done safely and respectfully and is always worth the effort.

It brought back one of my favorite quotes that I memorized when I was in high school:

"The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear."
— Stephen King (Different Seasons)

Hal Hillman "Papa" 1926-2009

2009-02-04T19:51:00.000-08:00

That's my Papa. He was a very handsome man. He meant many things to me as a young woman and his vital role in my life changed over the years. I learned at a very young age how to tell if it was a snuggle-Papa-like-crazy day or an avoid-Papa-at-all-costs-day. He, like me, was never good at hiding what kind of space he was in. If he was in a happy space everyone knew it. He showed it by laughing loudly, squeezing your butt and making a sound something like "bahhhhhruuuuch!!". Sometimes it hurt but you still loved it because he shined so brightly in those moments. You were special. You were loved by the Pops.

He was an incredible cook. He was extra proud of his spaghetti and clam sauce and boasted that his were the all time best pancakes ever made, any where. I will admit that everything he made was delicious especially those pancakes which he filled with fresh blueberries, bananas and walnuts.

He showed love freely and openly and I'll never forget the feeling of kissing the skin on his paradox of a face: scratchy-scruffy but smooth and soft. His smell...which Nana says can not be attributed to any one cologne since he used a wide variety, was markedly delicious. Nana says it was just his smell. His smell which I can still remember and hope to never forget. While all the kids were in Florida, after his passing, I walked into his closet and caught Jason smelling his clothes in search of at least one shirt or jacket that held on to even the faintest trace of him. No such luck. It was his secret potion that disappeared from his clothes the moment he took them off. The magic of his scent was emmanated from him and him alone. No cotton or polyester could fake the glory of Hal Hillman. No way. Even so, I joined Jason in the search and was equally disappointed to find no trace of him.

My memories are plentiful and yet lacking. He was a regular part of my life from day one and therefore melts into the background of days gone by. Lots of memories of breakfasts and dinners with he and Nana. Many of them also include Charlie, my cousin closest in age. A whole bunch of sleep-overs at their house where Nana would lay talking to me until late in the night before retreating to sleep in her own room. When I was younger, he often gave me a hard time about something or other. In elementary school it was my average grades, in high school it was the way I dressed or my hair which needed brushing (it did). But his hard words were balanced with praise for my art work which he and Nana loved. I gave most of it to them over those years. Once Papa gave me the oil paints he bought for an art class he took. He didn't end up using them too much and was frustrated with his inability to create the way he wished he could. He was always a little jealous of my ease with drawing but praised me just the same. He had many talents of his own.

I have some memories with him that were hard. Getting slapped in the back seat for giggling too much (I was young and giggly with Charlie), getting an earful about how I was "in never never land and didn't know the real world which was not all peachy creamy like I thought it was" (I was happy and cheerful and he was clearly not that day), hearing him say something totally racist about a family that walked in front of my car (we are Jewish for goodness sake). I was afraid to say anything to him as a kid when he was said things that were mean or that I felt were wrong, but as I got older I found that I had to. I couldn't hold back. He started referring to me as the district attorney. "Anyone's getting picked on and here's Maddi to defend them". He said it jokingly but it was true and I heard it again and again. Many times my responses to him were as simple as "Papa!!" And he would mimic me but I know it seeped in a bit.

It was hard for him later as he was often so uncomfortable with back pain or neck pain or leg pain and would be grumpy due to that. I would go behind him and place my hands on his shoulders and massage him. Sometimes his pain was too intense and in those moments I would just sit my hands on his shoulders and pray for the pain to calm down. He always thanked me and said I had magic hands. Love IS magic.

How do you absorb the fact that a very loved one is gone? And what comfort do you find in their passing? They are no longer in pain. They are at peace. They lived a good life and were loved by many. Yeah, it helps. It has been a hard 15 months for my family and especially my grandmother. How impossible it must be to watch your husband of 60 years nearly die and then improve and then get worse and then improve and then finally, to die. I think of her every day. I think of my aunt who now goes to work everyday knowing her father isn't upstairs in his room. I think of my mom who struggled with loving him and hating him most days of her life. I think of his mother who died when he was three. Is he with her now? Is that true? Is he with his grandmother who died when he was 13?

Amazing that he created such a legacy out of such a broken family. He held family above all else and taught that to us well. Thing is, we now have to learn how be family without him. Not that we don't know how. The bonds in our family are strong; we are solid and love one another deeply. Its just weird to think of it. It saddens me greatest to think that he won't meet his great grandchildren. I laugh at how many times I actually wanted to have a baby right away for him to enjoy meeting and cuddling. I wasn't fast enough.

I didn't want my writing here to be sad or depressing. I just wanted to write about Papa. I will miss him so much. I will save the voicemail on my phone for as long as I can: "Hi darling this is Pops. I just want to find out how everything is. Miss you, love you, and goodbye". I will hear his whistle or his silly songs, I will smell his cologne or his delicious cooking, I will hold on to my love for him for as long as I live. And I will tell my kids about him and they will know him through our stories. And his memory will live on through future generations.

What a sadness in his eyes in the last year. Where I just wanted to jump in that bed and squeeze him so hard he would fill up with love and relax into it. His eyes, with the respirator down his throat...I heard them cry for release. Like my sweet dog Cass, when she was roaming around looking for an entrance into the woods and I forced her back into the cabin so she would rest. That look of being done. Of being so uncomfortable that death seems a gift and all that you held near during life are miles away, hidden behind layers and layers of the nagging distraction of discomfort. I want to remember him different than that and I do. It is just hard to forget the look.

He did have time though. He had time to apologize to my mom for being so hard on her. I got to tell him how much i loved him, how he was such an important father figure in my life, how grateful I am for that. He was still mean to Nana for too many visits. Even then, he couldn't see what he had. Dementia was setting in, they said. He was wiping at things that weren't there and saying things that didn't make sense. This was so hard on Nana...how strong she is, how much she loved him through all the muck and mire. Her advice is good. How do we respond to the hard times with our loved ones? The good times are easy she said...wow I love that woman. I pray to God that she stays healthy and gets to know her great grandchildren like she should.

I miss her. She is so far away. I am so thankful she has Pete, her little dog.

How quickly it must go. Our lives which seem so long at times. When you have reached the end, it must seem that only yesterday were you riding your bicycle or kissing your girlfriend or bouncing your grandkids on your knee. A flash of light brings it back and then all is quiet. The here and now will finally catch up to you. I hope his passing was painless. He saught relief from that pain for so, so long. I hope that in the end he was calm and that he looked up at the nurse that was with him and I hope she was beautiful.

Kisses to you Papa where ever your spirit dances. You are loved and you are forgiven for all your punky times. Just hang out with Nana for a bit if you can. She'd love a sign of your presence, but if not, just be there and help her feel that you are there, that you adore her, that you thank her for all she gave you.

HOPE: Si Se Puede!!!

2008-11-04T17:58:00.001-08:00

Check out my sweet friend Simmy feeling the love, feeling his future, begging the nation to evolve.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXTK2by8dLI

Here we are, 6pm PST election night. We got PA! I am hopeful and still there are butterflies galore in my belly. Remember the last few times? I thought we had it...and then we didn't. But who's to say? Who knows? Destiny is strong. Perhaps Bush had to make such a mess of things to wake up enough of those red folks. I mean, really, Sarah Palin? That feels like begging to lose plenty of those republican votes, you know? Is this where we get to a place in the VERY YOUNG history of the U.S. where the nation finally grows a few inches?

Its a hard day. One doesn't like to get our hopes so high to only be crushed by a nation of lie-believers. Come on, Barack Obama a terrorist? A crack-cocaine addict? A murderer? People....seriously? And you have the right to vote? Whew....scary.

Okay, I'll take my nervous excitement to the house down the road to a house with friends, a TV and some warm stew.

Before I go, a prayer:
Dear God....Sweet Spirit...All that is right, all that is just, all that makes a child giggle...that which binds us with love to ourselves and each other and all the critters hunkered down for the cold, rainy night....please, let freedom reign.

End of the Line

2008-10-29T17:14:00.000-07:00

Well it's alright...riding around in the breeze
Well it's alright...if you live the life you please
Well it's alright...even if the sun don't shine
Well it's alright...we're going to the end of the line

We will to work together to reach our greatest potential.
We will support one another as we embrace our truth.
We will honor and embrace the challenges we pose to one another.
We will work together to envision the future we hope for and welcome the lessons that come.
We will seek balance between nurturing the self and nurturing our relationship.
We will celebrate life's blessings together and laugh together when shit happens.
We will work through our challenges and disagreements with respect, compassion and love.
We will apologize when it is necessary and accept apologies when they are offered.
We will make tradition, ritual and connection to Spirit an integral part of our lives and the lives of our children.
We will be tolerant with the parts of one another that are challenging and patient as we learn to embrace them.
Together we will plant seeds and sing songs.

Well, don't wanna make a big fuss or anything but I am now a married woman. Don't feel terribly different really. The process of becoming married was beautiful and special and does require words more meaningful than I have the time to write at this moment. In fact I am off tonight to go celebrate my marriage again. This is celebration number three. Cool right? Different facets of our worlds who want to honor us. Geez how incredibly lucky are we?

Give thanks.

Reuniting the Masses

2008-05-08T20:51:00.000-07:00

And so it begins. The request has been dispersed for family and friends to join Pete and me on Orcas Island in September.

These invites took some time. I folded them from old National Geographic magazine pages. Lace helped a bit, but besides that I did them largely on my own. I loved folding them. Most of them were done watching August Rush and Darjeeling Limited (both really good movies) and flying to and from Tara's wedding in FL listening to Oprah and Eckhart talk about living a life that goes beyond our over-caffeinated minds. It was the best use of time in the sky ever.

The envelope folding was Zen. The print carving was super fun too. I messed up the first one but the second came out perfecto.

So now we wait until September for the gathering of the peeps.

Just back from Jason and Nesreen's wedding on Sanibel Island. My oh my...sun, sand, mojitos, late nights with old friends, dolphins swimming near us as we lingered in the perfect temperature Gulf of Mexico. It has been probably 20 years since I visited this island and I look forward to returning soon.

So many highlights and I haven't the creativity at the moment to do them justice. The picture of Eva Luna Cohen, the daughter of my beautiful friends, Susie and Sean tells the tale well I think. Smiles and warm, melty chocolate. Nourishment, nurturing, indulging...a lot. So many friends I miss that live scattered around this country and others.

Some of them have little ones and I am sad to not be a regular part of their lives. To see them grow and take first steps and learn new words. Sydney said 'bubbles' this weekend and 'yellow'.

Eva Luna (chocoface) told me a story about running and jumping into a pile of clothes she had just inherited from a bigger girl friend who outgrew them. She told me she squealed while she jumped and demonstrated the squeal. Priceless. She danced with us for hours to the movin' rhythm of the salsa and reggae beats. Amazing little expressive people they are becoming.

I miss my friends that are scattered. There are those that come in and out of your life and you think of them on occasion. But some come in and stay, no matter where they are. Some you think of often, even if you don't speak often.

I've always hoped my wedding would be a time to reunite my masses...my people...my sweet and important roots.

The people that helped me be who I am.

Some will make it, some won't. I am from all of them.

Round Rooms

2007-10-15T20:19:00.000-07:00

Once i followed a man to an island.
He found us a round room to live in
surrounded by potatoes, rasberries and greens,
twin blonde horse beauties on a diet,
and a long steep dirt drive.

In the beginning it was wet.
Awefully wet for summer. And cool.
And the stove, meant to keep us warm, filled the round room with smoke and paraffin fumes when we used it.

One day I burned a fire until all the paraffin was off the stove.
I sat outside and played guitar
imagining the purification of that round room.

My lungs slowly started feeling better.

We dug up a patch of grass and planted stuff.
Built a fence with sticks to keep the dogs and deer out.
It didn't work too well.
The deer laughed at it.
The dogs didn't even see it.

We pooped in a bucket that sat under a bench and toilet seat.
My favorite part was the ceremonial spreading of cedar sawdust over the poo.
That was neat.
My least favorite part was the dumping of the bucket when it got full into the compost heap.
That was scary.

Pete did it most of the time. He's sweet.

My days consisted of guitar, walks, swimming, dog play and meeting the folks that lived on Tap Root Farm past the garden. Lu Lu, Sarah, Andrea, Thomas, Jen and Anne, Makala, Nathan.

Then I got cabin fever.

It took a month of nothing I "had" to do before it came on.

It was weird because there I was in a beautiful place with a beautiful man and gradually I went from feeling beautiful and free to feeling quite ugly.
Angry. Obsessive. Understimulated. Frustrated. Suffocated. Those are other things I felt at times.

So I got myself some work.
Three jobs actually.
I cleaned some houses
and washed some dishes
and waited some tables.

It helped. I like people.

We learned some guitar and banjo duets. That was cool.

I did learn that I can't be someone's everything.
It starts to get hard to breathe.
I start to feel the walls moving in.
I know the feeling well.

Vescica Pisces.
The vessel of the fish.
The place where two separates intermingle,
a symbol representing sacred marriage.

Ahhh, yes, the marriage, rather than the merging of opposites.

The struggle to not lose one's self, but retain individuality.
Retain personal power and gifts.

Ahhh, the reward for finding balance in this way.

Beauty, creativity, and grace
flow from this union because
of these differences.

Round rooms are nice and circles can bring strong lessons.
Its remembering those lessons that can be the callenge.

V'im lo ach-shav ay matay
(If not now, when.)

At-One-Ment

2007-09-30T15:12:00.000-07:00

Crap. I missed Yom Kippor. The one day of the year when I fully embrace my jewish roots with fasting and reflectiion for 24 hours.

Usually, I head to a forest with a river or lake and I spend the day walking, writing, listening and being intentional about what I want my next year to hold.

Yom Kippor, or the Day of Atonement is my favorite Jewish holiday. I find it incredibly helpful to take a day to myself in order to reflect on my past year and thoughtfully create the next one. There's no food in my gut to weigh me down.

Anyway, food is not what you are supposed to think about on this day (hard as it may be when your belly growls and mind gets spacey).

Moments by the water are most powerful for me. This usually comes later in the day, after I have pin-pointed the things in my life I would like to change...or what aspects of my self are no longer helping me and my chosen path.

Water is incredibly cleansing and transformative so I ask to the river to take them away. River stones work beautifully for holding and asking for transference of old emotions or patterns that no longer suite me.

Spending the day in Synagouge never suited me. My temple is the forest, the river, the trees, the sky. That is where I connect to G-d. That is where I feel most fully grounded and most fully my self. In my temple, I can not pretend. It is impossible. I have tried, believe me. Looking back on times when I tried to convince myself that everything was fine, when it wasn't; that we loved each other and it would work out, when it couldn't; that the path I was on was right for me, when it wasn't. When I am in my temple, the truth always wins.

The one and only thing I miss about the traditional day spent in synagouge is the sound of the shofar. It is a truely soul shaking sound, and it is repeated numerous times throughout the service.

This brings me to WHY I missed Yom KIppor. My father came into town for the weekend. That needed to be prioritized.

Luckily this practice is something that can be done on a different day, but Tommy in town is less flexible.

If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
But if I am for myself alone, what am I?
And, really, if not now, when?

Here is to At-One-Ment.

Ayer y Hoy

2007-09-08T06:02:00.000-07:00

A Beautiful day yesterday in Grado at the beach...truly stone-cold chillin'.

Not the most beautiful beach I've ever been to (that was hands down north of San Juan del Sur on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua at an ecotourist lodge...cliffs, sand and colorful rocks; water you could look at and be in for hours) but a much needed day in the sand and sun.

The beach was followed by getting lost in the car on our way back to a brown risotto with clams, stir-fried eggplant and peppers, ensalada and two kinds of cheese that are local Friulini cheeses.

All of this with the fabulous Ilivio that we have bought three bottles of as it is not available in the states. Ilivio turned into sipping different types of Amaro (bitters) and another Felluga that sounds like its named after a Rabbi, Rosenplatz. A bottle of a beautiful lambrusco was then topped with an 11 year old burghandy that Matteo offered out so we could taste some aged wine.

Ay-yuy-yuy. I slept hard last night.

Today we go the mountains for the night. We've only been seeing them from a distance. More on that to come. More on everything to come.

The morning was spent strolling through Udine visiting the market, and stopping at 12:30pm for an apperitif of wine and bread/cheese/meat (hell if I don't go home 5 pounds heavier). This is what made me smile. Every table had wine on it. Matteo said they'll have some wine and then head home for lunch. What a social, sassy and styley place this was!!! Next came the gelato.Wow.

Mi Coneto con il mio Leone

2007-09-05T10:46:00.000-07:00

Matteo, my Leo friend. Its fun to see him again and be in his world of little Italy. I say little because I havn't seen anything big yet. Small towns, small vineyards (people's yards, really), short hours for any business, small and fabulous and warm colored.

These pics are from a strolling adventure me and Lace took today. Our plan was to bike, but after too much time trying to fill a tire and move a seat lower for my little legs, we just walked. Threw some beautiful, moldy cheese, olives, cherry tomatoes and carrots in a container, grabbed a bottle of Susso...a red made by Livio Felluga (where Matteo works), and a glass jar from the recycling box to drink it with. Alas, we were on our way out into Italy.

Strolling on small streets with expansive views of fields of corn, wine grapes and cute houses with clay tile roofs we looked, chatted and smiled. Yee haw. Hello Italy.
Ciao. Took a turn up what looked like a park or trail system. Couldn't really read the sign, but it had the feel of an interpretive sign you'd see at the entrance to a park, so we headed up. At least there wasn't a no tresspassing sign which I've come to recognize.

Corn, love, goats, and ideas sprinkled into the corn as we walked by like dust that lifts as we walk. Every step we take, every day of our lives moves some dust into the air that was previously stagnant. We are energetic beings and as we move dust and settled molecules, it sets other things in motion. Movement begins.

And never ends. Every time we move: follow a whim, move a few extra steps to smell a flower or touch a stone we create change however small you see it. It moves and keeps moving.

Every choice, every deep breath, every arms-lifted stretch of your spine creates change. Even thought is movement. "If thoughts can do that to water, imagine what they do to us". Masaru Emoto's studies of human thought on water molecules is outstanding. Check it out here if you haven't heard.

On our way back we stopped at a "bar". They didn't have much but Lace wanted an espresso. So I joined her (this travel is all about indulgance). I also got some wafer with chocolate-hazelnut filler that was delightfully dipped in the holy-strong-and-bitter-espresso, or as Matteo told us later, its just known as a cafe around here.

Moments filled with cameras, food, drink and relaxing today. What will tomorrow bring. I am going to drive in Italy. Scary. These folks drive like new Yorkers but crazier. We're going to visit Matteo's vineyard tomorrow and tag along while he does a tour and tasting with some foreigners.

Me, Yo, Self, I, Reflection

2007-08-24T19:51:00.000-07:00

I kind of like the self-portrait challenge I've seen on some friends' blogs. I'm not entirely sure what its all about but...I like it. Maybe its the leo in me. I like me. I like to see me and I like to think about me and what I have done and what I will do and what I can do to make me a better me. It sounds selfish...maybe. Maybe. Its art though and its moments caught that noone can know but me.

There are stories behind the photo: the photographer, the background sounds, smells, and feelings. I like looking and remembering, tasting, smelling and feeling the moments. Was I happy? Healthy? Busy? Relaxed? Sad? ? In love? Out of sorts? In my body? I Like the idea of posting a picture and writing about some aspect of that picture. I like challenges. I like being asked to think and go inside and share. The vulnerability is scary, but what the hey...

Orcas Island August 2005:

With every slam into the earth a bit of my anger was absorbed by her. What the heck was I so angry about? Mad at Pete, or so I thought. Slam! He's so.... Slam! Why does he... Slam! I hate when he... Slam! What was it? Was I being sensitive? Over analytical? Stubborn? Can't remember exactly. I was mad and hurt by something he hadn't a clue he did.

I loved cutting into that grass, imagining the rocks that would sit in the hole I was digging. They would be very hot rocks...carried from a big, erratic flame by a piece of metal and dropped into the pit I was creating.

They would burn the soil when placed there.

There would be a smell that would only be familiar in ancestral parts of the brain and the rocks would sit there red and sizzling and waiting.

That was me. Red, hot, angry...waiting for something. Then the moment would come when a group of people would surround the rocks, naked, with intention. Intention for cleansing, healing, challenge, pain, renewal, newness...a feeling of comfort with the naked bodies and spirits around them. Monumental. Unforgettable. Life changing. Perspective offering. Sweat.
Somehow the act of creating the sweat--structure and vessel--gave me the perspective I needed to stop being angry. To put the tool down and walk over to the man I love and say, from the depths of my heart, "hey...lets talk, I am feeling hurt".
The conversation did happen, on a huge trampoline. But thats another story.

A Gardenlicious Dinner for Four

2007-08-24T08:28:00.000-07:00

Can you see the love that went into these beauties? It is an incredibly rewarding feeling to put hours and hours of time, sweat, thought, care, money, and soul into creating a garden and eventually taste the fruit of your labor. Charlie and Emily were going to come over after a visit to Hurricane Ridge on a beautiful August day.
With this in mind I, excitedly grabbed Finny and entered my crazy overgrown garden of gratitude. First, I entered the forest of the tomatoes. The Sungolds have been feeding us sweet goodness for a while now, but the heirlooms are just beginning to ripen. I nervously harvest our very first one! Wasn't sure how to tell when they are completely ripe. Ah, but isn't it a beauty!
When I wandered over to the two fading potato plants, I made a big decision: we needed potatoes to go with dinner and its time to dig in to the earth and see what these odd plants have done. And then I wondered about the many ways I could prepare them. In my creative state, picturing, tasting, imagining how they would taste best, my eyes caught the basil glistening in the sun...PESTO!!! I had just made some the night before...perfect. This particular kind of harvest was a new experience for me. I carefully loosened up the soil with a hoe, hoping that I wouldn't damage the starchy, purple, swollen root balls. The absolute best part was diving in, hands first into the sea of soil and curiously swimming through it wondering what I would find. I really didn't know. There could have been a couple of golf ball sized taters or bigger. With no expectections I swam, I sifted, I moved the earth, seeking its kind creations. And a proud mama I was indeed! And the meal was perrrrrrrrfect!

Sunflowers in the Midst of a Sun Starved Summer

2007-08-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

This summer has been challenging. The challenge exists in a number of forms.

One is that I worked hard. And by hard I don't mean I worked my muscles and bones and sweat hard. Working hard, in this case, meant running around making sure everything was in order and stayed in order so that families and kids were happy with the programming we were providing. I coordinated the hell out of summer programs. I rocked those summer programs and now I feel worked. Working hard meant playing less though. Weekends were far and few between and when they came, they seemed to leave again far too soon. And now we are here in August, almost the end, and finally, finally things are slowing down.

A second challenge was the weather this summer. We are having an unusually cool, wet summer here in the Northwest. I know it's not true for all Northwesterners, but many of us NEED the warm, dry days of summer to finally get the cool damp out of our bones and help us feel alive and healthy. The balance of the seasons here is part of what I love about it. Cool, damp, green winters give way to warm, dry and still-green-with-speckles-of-a-zillion-flower-colors summers. What will I do if the warm days dont come and bathe us throughout September?

I will go to Italy and France.

I bought myself a huge birthday present with some birthday gift money, and other money I simply don't have, but will have to manifest for this special gift to ME. Warm Italy calls my name in such a big way I can hardly stand the wait...ten days from today I fly out to Paris. Hope to grab Lacey and head south to Italy to see Matteo and hop around Italy. Time will tell how that adventure unfolds.

I live for a thousand reasons but most vividly, these days: my garden and Mr. Finno (and P,J&T of course). That's Huckberry Finn, the sweet super feline who Jedi has fallen in love with and Tallis is still deciding how she feels about. Here is a glimpse of the sweetness that melts my heart when this kitten and dog play.

The heirloom tomatoes in our garden are beginning to show some red and purple hues to their skin. A sign of the deliciousness that will come. Shit, I hope I am not away for their ripening. The sungolds are so wild they are knocking over my homemade support network. Little green moons everywhere that sleep in a green bed by night and turn into bursts of orange and yellow when the sun peeks its pretty face.

A real deal compost palace. Pete wants to name it Cedargrove...I told him someone already claimed that name, but he didn't care. Thing is, its literally in a cedar grove. The picture is Pete's desire that it look like the old logging pics where the people look serious about their tools and their work. The only thing I am serious about is composting a shit-ton so we can feed our garden with it next season.

Okay I am also serious about other things like wanting to begin work on our house and having a baby in the next few years and living abroad and eating healthy food and living somewhere I can afford and being less stubborn in disagreements with my sweetie and believing and trusting and accepting and loving and being wild and being silly and being creative. I am serious. If I am serious and I will it and I trust it and believe it, anything can be.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

2007-07-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

We'd like to introduce the newest addition to our lovely home, Mister Huckleberry Finn. He is 12 weeks old and a purring machine. Finn entered my world at the PAWS adoption center here on Bainbridge Island. I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for a trap to get the last feral kitten out of Islandwood and into a safe home. I was talking to the woman about how to get the little rascal that kept getting away from us and oh, wait, who is THAT cute muffin-head? That was it. Pretty much sealed the deal. Pete didn't require any convincing. His response was: okay, I'll meet you at PAWS at 5pm tomorrow to meet the little bugger. In fact its quite hard to type as he is on my left shoulder purring in my ear.

He's here for many reasons. One, I love cats and haven't had one since I left home at 18. Two, my body and spirit wants babies, but we aren't ready yet. Finn will be our baby for a while. Pete wants another male in the house. Cats are fun. I guess that about sums it up.

What else is a happenin? Pete got a new job in the big city. Sounds amazing. We'll see. The garden is fully fabulous. We munch from it alot and can't wait for the tomatoes. Big and fun plans arising for the house. Summer programs are nuts at IslandWood and I have working my booty off. We set a date for our wedding August 30th 2008. It's gonna rock. Pez.

Enjoying the Fruit of Our Labor

2007-06-07T21:14:00.000-07:00

Okay world, he is back. Final project is done and Pete is now officially a graduate of a Masters in Urban Planning program. He is slowly realizing and integrating his freedom. Why, just yesterday I watched him dancing naked in the backyard with a rooster mask on howling at the moon.

Well, maybe not, but the change is dramatic for both of us and we are enjoying life in our peaceful home.

Here is the BIG BIG news though. We just harvested our first tastes from our garden. There I was building this trellis for the sweet peas and low and behold I spy 3 peas. Only one was ripe for the chowing so...Ohhhhhhhhhh....peas.........Yum!! Oh yeah! Wow, and strawberries. Two were perfect for tasting. They are amazing. Just little younguns and producing sweet berries.Pete is really in bliss right now. Enjoying all his senses. Enjoying being outside away from his dreadful computer. Tasting our baby arugula.

Again. Wow. All of it tastes amazing. I am so very excited to enjoy the nibbles and meals this lovely garden will bring. Just planted some onions, so we'll see how those come up.
Finally my very own little piece of land to grow food on. Next year, chickens for sure.

The Man I Love and His Upcoming Release From Prison

2007-06-03T22:35:00.000-07:00

What is this guy doing??? Taking a crap? Peering at something in the water? Pooping his pants? What does all this have to do with prison?

Well, this is Pete. The man I love. The man I will marry and raise children with. He is a total....goofball. This is a picture of why I love Pete. He makes me giggle. He lightens my moods. He sees birds feeding on the shore and runs over to imitate them (too bad I didn't get the bird in the shot). He is a ray of sunshine. Purely good intentions lead him through his days and his interactions. I am a blessed woman...a damn lucky woman. And even more wonderful is that by the end of this week he will be back in my loving arms and free from prison.

Okay, okay, so he hasn't actually been in prison, behind bars etc. An though he has been in my loving arms, he hasn't beenable to truly be there. He has had a heavy, pending project looming over his shoulders for over a year now. He has been waking before 6 a.m. to work at his computer for a few hours before gulping down breakfast and throwing on a nice shirt to get to work by 8:30a.m. Then comes his lunch hour. A quick drive to the library gives him one hour of quiet work time, only to rush back to work, no lunch in belly, no break having been had, and jump back in to reviewing permit applications and meeting with desperate parties. When 5:30 p.m. rolls around he is wiped. Some days he can manage to get some more work done before bed, but most days he comes home barely able to talk let alone do any of the many things that nuture his spirit (banjo, juggling, dog play).

So, this has gone on at varying degrees of intensity for months and months. The project, his final project for his Master's degree in Urban Planning, has been hovering for over a year. This is the prison that he is about to be free from. Tomorrow he meets with his advisor and hopefully gets a signature. Then he takes the 300 page document to be bound. And then, he will get back on the ferry towards Bainbridge Island. He will most likely have a beer and watch the water as the giant vessel glides over it feeling the wind on his face. He will feel a weight lifted and see the prison bars in front of him dissolve into the air. The walls also become thinner and thinner the closer he gets to the island. The salty air filling his lungs will soothe his tired soul. He will arrive to Bainbridge and drive home. He will lay on the floor and get attacked with kisses from our dogs. I will nourish him with a yummy meal and some after dinner loving. And then he will sleep. In his sleep his body will begin to understand that he can truly relax again; that he doesn't have to think about this project anymore. The added stress of his job dissolves as well. No thoughts, only rest.

And I will kiss his sweet face while he sleeps. He has been amazing through all of this. He is truly a warrior. A brave, strong, courageous, warrior. If it were me in his shoes, sitting inside all weekend, every weekend for months, while the sun shone bright and warm outside and my lover built a garden, it would have left me a depressed blob. He's an angel and I am incredibly proud of him. His work ethics and resilience are outstanding. Go Pete. Glad we won't have to have anymore conjugal visits. I await the real and whole man back in my arms.

The Women who Raised me

2007-05-21T22:04:00.000-07:00

I was raised by two Leos and a Scorpio. They are beautiful women who have taught me who I am and who I am not. I love the picture below. It shows a bit of how much I am loved by that crew. Leta, Beth and Irma surround me with a striking amount of respect and pride.

Spring Break 2007 Girlz and Boyz Gone to the Family

2007-05-20T22:13:00.000-07:00

That's me and the women that raised me: Aunt Leta, Mom and Nana

A week of fun in the sun with my family left me seriously sad to come home. My grandparents had their 60th wedding anniversary this year and brought all of us together to celebrate with them.

Aunt Leta, Nana and Papa, Me, Lihn and Asia after Charlie's BD dinner

Other really awesome stuff that happened while we were there:

1. Jay and Nez became engaged!!!!!

2. Charlie turned 30 over a delicious dinner and evening with friends and family we saw old friends like Jeff and Tara Ziecheck and Charles Corbin!!

3. Pete met much of my extended family.

It was a blast. We all stood in front of my grandparents and told them what we have learned from them that has made an important impact in our lives. From the bottom of my heart I said:

One big thing that has come to me as I've been pondering what to say to them is how they have been
such involved grandparents in our lives. So many of my friends don't understand what that is like. Their grandparents are people they had to put their nice clothes on for and visit on weekends or a weekend per month. But Nana and Papa have always been there and always involved. Though I'm sure they wouldn't have minded if we put our nice clothes on for them and brushed or cut our hair for them. (It might have spared us some comments.) Sometimes their level of involvement
was to my dismay when I got in trouble and had to hear it from too many adults. Other times I felt the luckiest because I received praise and support and kisses from so many. The lesson for so many of us has been the importance of being close with each other. That has trickled down from Nana and Papa. Perhaps had they been more distant, our mom's would have been more distant and we, as kids, wouldn't have been together so much. Our lives would have been very different in many ways. I feel very lucky and blessed to have grandparents who always have been and are still very aware of most things that are going on in my life. They care. They inquire. They express their opinions....their concerns....their pride. This has been very meaningful to me and taught me the value in a strong family community.

The whole ceremony was awesome. My youngest brother couldn't make it because of bad weather in Dallas. My older brother stood to my left sobbing quietly. It was soooooo sweet. Everybody spoke from their heart to N&P in front of all their friends and our extended family. It was a fun party followed by a brunch the next day and a huge passover sedar the day after that.
Good times.

Tara and her sweetie Brett--T-dog's my lady from high school. We were joined at the hip for years.

Shannon & Shannon--Other good friends from high school. along with Mel Tiz we lived together in our first grown-up home rental.

New Post, New Blog, Hard Promises

2007-05-20T16:05:00.000-07:00

It's pouring outside. Fits my mood so it feels good to me.

Also saves me having to worry about all those fragile, young seedlings outside in my garden. They are getting loved on with all that rain.

Vulnerability: I am a moody one lately. After much pondering I have come to some big realizations about my job. I love where I work, but I am not feeling challenged these days. There is no part of my current job description(s) that has anything to do with what I love to do. I am not an administrator and that is all I am doing these days. I am an educator. I am a naturalist. I don't mind the administrative stuff as part of what I do, but here I am, fresh out of a zillion years of school to prep me for this?
Good experience I told myself. In the door it got me. Gone with the flow I have. Kudos to me for being so willing to do whatever and be flexible I've heard. Yeah, thanks. But now here I am not doing what I want. I have decided to advocate for myself. I will talk to my director this week and take some action toward change. I'm feeling it bigtime. Truth exaggerated by hormones. Go with it.

Now for my very time consuming spring project.

Shared Blog to Come: Me and two friends have made a promise to not buy anything new for a year. There are lots of exceptions making it not so, so hard core of course. We can buy consumables, services, and things we can't get used like a bettery or car oil, etc. My weddign is on the exception list, but with a promise to try as hard as possible with being sustainable. And our house remodel project aslo on the out list. I am not buying used skylights. Who gets rid of functional skylights? Anyway, even with all the exceptions it will be hard none the less...especially given our love for shopping. We'll be getting together and creating this blog some time this week. There we'll document successes and difficulties. I've already got a few.

My garden is a beautiful living breathing example of reuse/salvage/recycle. Sure I had to buy some things: compost and soil for one. Unfortunately the perfect sunny spot in our yard is also right near some creosote logs that hold my neighbors fence up. That and the fact that our soil absolutely sucks (is full of rocks and clay) led us to build raised beds and buy soil to put in them. Creosote in my veggies? No thank you. We also bought a few starts, the squashes (because the greenhouse at work was having trouble starting them), and some chives cuz i saw them next to the squashes and wanted them. I also had to buy deer fencing. Its possible that I may have been able to find something used for deer fencing, but truth be told I was getting it before I signed the contract and I needed to get it in super fast so I could proceed with getting things in the ground before it became too late.

Okay. Enough confessions. The beautiful and fun stuff I did is as follows:

1. Went to forest land just cleared for a horse farm by some folks I know and was able to get a bunch of cedar side cuts they
were about to chip to make 3 of our beds, our berry bed frame and our cold frame.
2. Took down a retaining wall in our yard and reused the concrete blocks to make 3 more beds.
3. Used the old ugly curtains that were in our house when we moved in for:
1. Barriers between the grass and the soil in our beds
2. Bed covers that protected the seedling when they were newly placed in the beds and to keep the soil from drying
out before the compost mulch was added
3. Stakes for securing the deer fencing into the ground.

It was awesome tearing up the curtains that seriously noone in their right mind would have bought from GoodWill to reuse. But even more satisfying was sitting with my needle-nose plyers and bending all the little metal z shaped peices of the curtain set into stake shapes (as shown in picture).

Trying To Get Around a Promise: With the successes comes the challenges. So, one of my coworkers gave me a brand new Kombucha mushroom. I am very excited and am vowing not to mess this one up. However, I needed a gallon sized glass jar with a wide mouth. Don't have one and don't live in Seattle anymore where I can easily go to some thrift stores and find some of these. Made the tea yesterday and had the day to find a jar while the tea cooled. Figured out that grocery stores get their olives and pickles that they use at their salad bars in these jars. They took my name and number and should have two for me by mid week. Shit! Can't wait that long for this batch. So I found one of those big glass jars with a spicket for making sun tea. Bought it with my tail between my legs knowing that I was breaking my contract. Decided I'd return it when these other used jars come through in a few days. Then came home and Pete wants to keep the thing for making sun tea. He'll buy it so its not on my conscience. IS this okay? Well, after a few mintues of considering I decided its not okay. That could snowball, I decided, into.."hey babe, can you buy those awesome new Danskos for me cuz I can't buy them myself". So, I know it still breaches the contract, but I have the $5.99 jar of tea (which kills me for a zillion reasons, biggest one being that bars and restaurants and delis around the country dispose of these everyday and I have to go spend 6 bucks on one with sunflowers painted on it for sun tea cuz all the used ones are disposed of). Not okay. Anyway, I am rambling here, but the bottom line is I am bringing the jar back as soon as they call me with a ready to use old olive jar. Conscience slightly relieved.

Starting a Garden

2007-05-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

I am at the beginning of what I can see will be a continuous project. Perfect. I am the queen of starting a project and either getting it done super fast OR while I am on my way to grab a tool that I need, I see another potential project that grabs my attention and I leave the other behind for a while. Being like this leaves my home with many projects happening at once. What does this say about me? Well, some might say I have attention deficit. That is a matter of opinion. Funny to refer to something so harmless inthat kind of way. Another way to see it that I like to get stuff done. When I have ideas, I like to act on them. The started project reminds me of what I want to do AND it helps my environment reflect the remainder of what I want to do. That's a nicer and far more biased way of seeing it. Luckily Pete doesn't mind at all. He loves all my projects. He helps with the ones I need help with.
I built a little cold frame. In it are all my babies. Babies I will care for and nurture and feel proud of when they grow and look beautiful and provide us with tasty, nutritious food. Not ready for real babies. This is a perfect substiture for now.
Just read Lacy's blog about her B&B in France. Sounds dreamy. Thinking of how I can possibly go visit her this summer.
The cold frame is for my varieties of kale, collards, chard, carrots, tomatoes, sugar snap peas, golden beets, cilantro, dill, fennel, blueberries, rasberries, strawberries, chives, sunflowers, nasturtium, basil...wow its fun listing it all out. Makes it seem so much grander than the 1-5 inch babies most of these are.

It's fun to watch the containers for any sign of germination. The soil raises a bit first I've noticed with bigger seeds like sunflower. Like its peeking out to make sure the coast is clear before pushing the soil off it's helmetted head....really slowly of course, just so the deer don't see.

Since I have to document this somewhere I also put in 2 vine maple (sweet native tall delicate shrub that turns fabulous colors in the fall) another lilac, california poppy, fox glove (another sweet native tall pink spotted bell flowers on a stalk), and a whole bunch of amazing succulents in cool shallow pots. We built a bench in the front yard. Totally rustic. A slab of cedar atop two cross sections. I am starting a black willow stake in a jar of water (just for fun..not to plant I don't think). can't wait to see the nasturtiums flowing out of the half barrel I planted them thick into.

I know I am being a dork about all my plants. I am obsessing about it right now and I love it. Coming home, having dinner and working in the yard until dark is th best post-work therapy ever. It's the best post-anything therapy really. Lot's of black-capped chickadees coming and visiting our feeders. Something else came yesterday, not sure. Got to find some good quick reference posters to hang by the doors.

Plus, the shoveling and moving of soil and placing of plants in the earth. It is a mitzvah. It is doing good for the planet. It is tikkun olam...healing the earth. So much bad done elsewhere. Least I can do is love my little parcel thoroughly and whole heartedly. Share with it some salt with my sweat. Feed the squitos with my blood and give the plants the nourishment they need so that we might trade someday. Works my body too. Good for the heart...spiritually and physically.

Buenas suenas

Chalomot Paz

Sweet dreams

Pictures to come

Jedi: Female Sock Specialist

2007-03-01T19:01:00.000-08:00

This is Jedi. She's two. Her favorite things in life are socks, wet feet, her sister, and balls. She spends her leisure time searching for socks within reach that she can pile into her mouth and move to a better location. By better location I mean: a central place where all can admire, sniff, lick and shake the socks. She doesn't seem to notice that no one else does. She feels better when all socks are cleared from random dark corners such as bags, baskets, beside beds, laundry piles (clean or dirty), shoes, etc. Jedi will find socks anywhere she goes. She doesn't injure the socks. She loves them too much to tear them up while she uses no discretion with other things.

Occasionally, however, her sister Tallis will not realize exactly what Jedi has in her mouth and just assume it's something worth tugging on. In these instances, Jedi loses all focus, forgets that it's a precious sock in her mouth and play session begins. After some time of growling, shaking, tearing and a moment of the T-dog hip dance, an occasional sock gets lost in the moment. I am sure Jedi is sad about it afterward, but she is afterall, a dog. And a moment seized is a good moment. There are worse things in life than the end of the life of a sock. It happens. It's the cycle of life.

The wet feet fetish is another one that belongs to her alone in this family. It's a bonding thing between her and Pete. Every shower, without fail, Pete walks out of the bathroom, gives Jedi a little call and she wanders over and immediately starts licking his wet feet. He purposefully leaves them wet just for her. It's cute. It's their thing. Like how Tallis lays on my head every morning as if it were the most natural thing to do in the world. As if my head were comfortable.

Jedi deserves a story about her. She's funny. She's quirky. She's loud and a spaz sometimes. She's very sweet and cuddley and loving. She cleans her sister's ears. She's skiddish with new dogs and plays hard to get.

When she was a pup, the dogs at the dog park used to bully her like crazy. They would corner her and bark and bite at her. Tallis, they ignored or played with, but Jedi, most of them bullied. It was sad to see this little pup run from bush to bush and roll over to submit to them constantly. Somehow those dogs knew something about Jedi and Tallis instantly. It has caused Jedi to not trust other dogs, while Tallis shakes her butt in excitement during encounters. Dog psychology is interesting. Now she bosses Tallis around. She tends to be more the alpha, while Tallis just goes along with things. She gets bitchy occasionally about a toy or treat and Tallis just takes it, never bitching back.

The picture is taken on Hood Canal at a park. I love how the photo shows all the elements in some way: wind is moving through Jedi's fur, water behind, rocky earth beneath and fire, well just look in those eyes.

Stories and Knitting: An Addition to my Winter Addiction

2007-02-24T15:46:00.000-08:00

It started with a sad story. A friend recommended the book a while back. (It's sad that I hesitate to say friend, being that we aren't speaking at the moment. A weird reality that I thought I had abandoned in high school. That current reality aside, she is a friend, and hopefully we will muster the courage to reconnect soon.) Anyway, this friend recommended a book a while back: The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold.

"These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections — sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent — that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous lifeless body had been my life." – Susie, page 320.

Heavy, beautiful, scary, and moving story of a 14 year old Susie Salmon, her violent murder and her persective from heaven of how her family deals with their grief.

My winter addiction has been knitting for a while now. I like to do it while watching movies. It's easy to do. I mostly listen, with brief glances that let me follow along just fine. Then I got tired of watching so many movies and realized it had been too long since I read a book. Books on CD, placed on my ipod have been magical. I get to listen while I clean, while I walk (I have walked miles around Bainbridge and Seattle just listening), while I knit. I am loving it. My imagination gets to be tickled by the pictures I create in my mind while I listen. It's more slow-paced than a movie, which is welcomed. I tend to internalize movies and they stress me out too much. Not to mention eveyone loves to be told a story. Storytelling goes back forever...long before movies and books. Of course, the people narrating the stories is very important. Noone wants to listen to some dull, monotone voice tell a story. Well, I have been lucky so far. My knitting ordinary things like hats and scarves and mittens has moved into a love of felting, or more correctly, fulling (knitting something huge and putting it in hot water and agitating it to shrink to the perfect size--or in some cases a very abnormal size, depending on success).

The Lovely Bones accompanied me through the creation of this awesome felted bag.

Here it is huge and funny looking. I wore it to work and got some "...uh, thats a nice bag Maddi, its a little big, but very nice.."

And here it is in a normal usable, won't-drag-on-the-ground-if-I-put-anything-in-it size.

I had every intention of making that cool branch button, but got lazy when the knit store sold it for 3 dollars.

After Susie Salmon and her Lovely Bones, I decided to move into more fantasy and magic. Not so heart heavy listening. Another friend wold me about The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. Sounds silly right?

Totally Silly!!! Laugh out loud silly. Will leave you saying things like Ahhhhh, wailey, wailey, wailey. Thanks Sarah G! It's about a young girl, Tiffany, who finds herself training to become a witch. The Queen of the Elves (not a nice queen) has attempted to invade Tiffany's world by stealing children and infesting dreams. With the help of the Wee Free Men, or the Nac Mac Feegle (very little men with thick Scottish Gaelic speech whose love in life is "stealin', fightin', and drinkin'"), 9-year-old Tiffany Aching finds out that her grandmother (Granny Aching, the shepardess who lived and worked in the hills with her two sheep dogs Thunder and Lightening) used to be the witch of the Chalklands, and that she has inherited the trade. When her baby brother is stolen, Tiffany, with the help of the Nac Mac Feegle enter the elves' world to steal him back.

This story led me through the creation of these awsome Fibertrends Felted clogs. Here they are pre-felt.

So, remember whats supposed to happen when you felt? Things are supposed to shrink down to the perfect size. Ahhh, well, not always. These things just wouldn't shrink any more than this:

After ALOT of time online trying to figure out what to do, how I could fix these ridiculously big slippers, I went to the knit store for guidance. Turns out the problem had to do with weight. I used a great New Zealand wool I had a bunch of from an old project that was about 200 grams. The pattern called for doubling up your yarn. Trouble was, that I neglected to consider, the yarn it calls for was about 100 grams. I followed the pattern and doubled my yarn, which basically doubled the weight/thickness of the slipper. When I felted, they were so thick, they had no room to shrink. So, I have these slippers that wouldn't fit anyone except a clown.

I bought new yarn and am in the process of making new slippers. My poor feet have longed for these slippers all winter. Just went to library and picked up the Lord of the Rings, which I have never read. Very excited to give it a listen. They are my favorite movies so I will enjoy the expansion of the story.

More to come when the slippers are done.

David: From Tallis to India to Tanzania

2007-01-27T18:53:00.001-08:00

Can't blame him really. If you saw her you'd fall in love too. Those sandy eyes that flirt with every slow and deliberate blink; those beautiful and full hips that are suprisingly small under all that thick fur; that sweet smile and funny, expressive groan sound she makes. David was there in the beginning as he was a housemate when I first brought Tallis home. Bringing her into my life was a totally spontaneous thing and I didn't have a chance to ask any of my four housemates. She was just a ridiculously cute pup who stole my heart with one little lick on my hand amongst a crew of hand-chewing pups. Her colors caught my eye: spotted sandy and flowing, golden cream, like a perfect cup of chai tea. Picking her up into my arms pretty much sealed the deal. I missed having a dog (my familiar) in my life after the love of my life, Cass, had been gone six months. Anyway, David was sweet and played with her and was patient when various items went missing from his room or two puppies were taking over the living room (Pete got her litter-mate-sister; the whole reason I was in the puppy-filled situation to begin with). He fell for her from the beginning.
There we were, almost 2 years later on the Olymic Peninsula at lower Lena Lake on one of the too-few hikes I took last summer. David was trying to get Tallis to pose with him for a picture. What followed was a series of adorable scenes. See for yourself in the pictures below. I posted these mostly for his viewing. He has been traveling in India since October and has now arrived in Tanzania where is living in Jane Goodall's house and volunteering in her Roots and Shoots program. In this program he will be working with youth of all ages to take action aimed at improving our world through service learning projects that promote care and concern for animals, the environment and the human community.
Learn more about Roots & Shoots: www.rootsandshoots.org
Go David! Love you.

2007-01-27T18:40:00.000-08:00

2007-01-27T18:36:00.000-08:00

A Taste of Sweet Cheese

2007-01-23T21:00:00.000-08:00

Cuteness and Destiny

2007-01-23T19:52:00.000-08:00

Pete and I met on Bainbridge Island in June of 2004 in the exact spot shown in these pictures. We recreated the moment for Pete's sister Laurie in late December...hence the photos. I was working when we met, sort of. It was a blazing hot day and I needed some cooling down time. I was sitting on the log watching my students play a game called camoflauge in the shade of the forest. Pete was getting a tour of IslandWood's campus by one of our Americorps volunteers, Kai. They came over and we met. Our eyes met and with that one glance we "took a lichen to each other." Well, actually thats not how it went at all, at least for me. Pete says he did, but I wasn't paying any attention to the cute man across from me except for business-related reasons. My heart was heavy with grief at that time and not interested in romance. The sweet soul and first true love of my life, Cass, had just passed away.
Pete was persistent though. He tracked me down months later and what followed is a longer story, but one worth telling someday when Frita doesn't await me. Anyway, a little piece of the story surrounding these damn-cute pics.

Making it Happen: Going Off!

2006-12-14T19:22:00.000-08:00

The Legend of the Eagle and the Condor
(As told by John Perkins of Dream Change Coalition)

The legend of the Eagle and the Condor goes back a very long time in the Andes and in many other parts of the world. In the Andes it is expressed as coming at this time of the new Pachacuti. A Pachacuti is an interval of roughly 500 years. It was known for a long, long time before it happened, that the fourth Pachacuti, which began about the 1490's, would be a time of turmoil, of struggle, of conflict. In addition, at the fifth Pachacuti, which began in the late 1990's, it would be a time of coming together, of partnership, of union, and particularly a time when the Eagle of the North will fly with the Condor of the South.
It is known that there has been unbalance and tremendous conflict throughout the Americas to all the indigenous peoples during the past 500 years. The Eagle Power, the Eagle Spirit which is very mental, and very materialistic has really outweighed and dominated the Condor Spirit which is very spiritual and very much from the heart. Now it is time for the two to come together and fly in the same skies as equals so that energy can be balanced out. You can also look at it as the balancing of the male and the female or the yin and the yang.
All this was predicted in many other cultures throughout the world. The Mayan people in Central America have very, very similar prophecies and timing. The Dalai Lama said they too have a prediction that there is a new period upon us, and that the 14th, current, Dalai Lama, will be the last from the Himalayas. The next will probably be from the Americas and the best bet, according to them, is that he or she will be from the Andes. A few years ago, the Dalai Lama was in the Andes and he and other Lamas did a ceremony to transfer from the Himalayas to the Andes, the responsibility for taking care of compassion amongst human beings.
So this idea of the new Pachacuti, of a new era, the new age if you will, and of the coming together of the Condor and the Eagle, of them dancing together and soaring together, is a very old one and it's shared in one way or another by many cultures all around the world.

This is a small piece of what was talked about at a symposium I attended in Seattle last weekend. It was called Awakening the Dreamer, Changing the Dream and was put on by the Pachamama Alliance. The purpose of the symposium was to discuss the current health status of our planet (holistically--meaning the health of the waters, the land, the animals, the air, inter-relationships etc) AND to discuss how we as individuals and communities can assist in bringing forth an environmentally sustainable, spiritually fulfilling and socially just presence on our planet. It was interesting indeed. It started with the current status and was alot of doom and gloom: fish are dying, water is polluted, animals are dying (including us) air is nasty, people are hating and killing etc. BUT... it went on into interesting dicussions.
We brainstormed about all the major, mass shifts in consciousness that have occured on this planet since recorded human history. Paradigm shifts if you will (some smaller than others, but all affected much of the earths population in some way). Times when the unthinkable happened. Some examples:
1. The earth went from being flat to becoming a sphere.
2. The Berlin wall was felled.
3. A group of farmers, in 1776, escaped the world power of that time, England, to create a "new" world.
4. End of Apartheid.
5. Slavery abolished.
6. Civil rights movement=women can vote.
......the list goes on......I was blown away by all the things people came up with. We spoke of hope (a thing often left out when discussing the current status and what we all must do to move towards a sustainable world).

People spoke of things that are happening now that bring them hope:
1. Animal rights
2. Recycling
3. THE EARTH CHARTER ( a declaration of fundamental principles for building a just, sustainable, and peaceful global society for the 21st century www.earthcharter.org/)
4. Increase in green buiding
5. Teaching young people how to make a difference
6. The fact that there are hundreds of thousands (bordering on a million) of organizations on the planet working towards creating a more sustainable planet and working for environmental and social justice.

Watch this really short video:
http://www.global-mindshift.org/memes/wombat.swf

Again, the list goes on. The take-away is that we all really, really can make a difference. On our own and especially when we join with others in our communities who also want to do the same. The other take-away is that if you want to be a part of the momentum towards change the steps beyond recycling and buying local foods and products, etc. is getting involved and supporting a local non-profit. An hour or two of your time once a month really does help. OK, off my soap box.

New Life in New York

2006-12-04T22:03:00.000-08:00

And now a more fitting picture for an entry about my sister: her and her new and amazing creation, Hannah Grace. (The picture of the cute guy with the dashing doggies is Pete. I am still learning how to organize this site here). But on the topic at hand: Hannah was born on December 1, 2006 at 7:15pm. She was born under the sun sign Sagittarius. By nature she is positive and optimistic. She has a bright outlook on life, is enterprising, full of energy and vitality. Versatile, adventurous and eager to expand her range beyond the comfortable and familiar. She'll enjoy travel and exploring, and her mind will continually search for new experiences. She is ambitious, optimistic, and nothing will seem to get her down. She is an idealist, and this will seem to keep her going even when there are disappointments which change her plans. She'll have a tendency to get over zealous when she is interested in something. She is a believer, and what she believes in, she will be willing to fight for. She is both loyal and independent at the same time, managing to balance both traits (she'll have to teach me her secrets on how to do that like a star). I look forward to getting to know this little angel. Welcome Hannah. Amazing Jodi!

This one goes out to my sista whose about to burst with new life

2006-11-29T10:23:00.000-08:00

Jodi was my hero growing up. She was good to me even though I am sure I was annoying at times. We shared some rough family moments together and few people in my life really know what they were like. But Jodi was there sometimes. And she tried to make me feel better. She usually said things out loud that I was too scared to say. And I'd think about how brave she was. She had a layer of protection (opposite of Cinderella) called being a step-child. Didn't mean much to me, except I didn't see her as much as I wanted to. I always adored her and wished she could be around more. We'd take turns scratching backs before going to sleep. I learned to be a great back scratcher because of Jodi. Later in life, when talking as adults, we both learned how wrong we can be. How we can create stories about how the other side is better, when in reality it just wasn't. It's funny. I don't even talk to the father that made us step-sisters anymore. I haven't since I was 18. And my ties to Jodi and her brother Billy are less frequent than I would like. Geography being one big reason. They are extremely close to my heart though. They are absolutley my siblings, my family. They are both wonderful people with great, big hearts. I hope that now that we're all settling into our lives with spouses and children, that we can stay in better touch. That our children will know each other well and we can make it a point to gather every few years at least. I love you Jodi, and I'm coming apart at the seams with excitement for your new baby girl to come into this world. She will be a gem, just like her momma.

Comedy Skit

2006-11-28T21:38:00.000-08:00

OK, imagine this: some kind of old time instrumental music playing while the footage is sped up to increase the comical effect. She gets a call. The new neighbor is pissed off that they parked in front of his house and he reemed her man about it. Great. She plans a quick walk to the car and exit from the neighborhood. Can't walk quick cuz the ground is solid ice. OK fine. She walks slow to the car. Gets there and puts the key in the lock. It won't go in. Shit. She tries a few more times and carefully waddles to the other side. Key goes in. Whew! But it won't turn. She tries in both directions many times. The key starts to bend so she stops. She imagines the mean old neighbor coming out and yelling at her and her having to throw a snowball at him. Then she imagines a complicated but possible entry through the hatchback, removing the dog gate, climbing over the back seat and unlocking one of the front doors. She goes to the rear of the car. It unlocks, but is frozen shut. She grabs her water bottle and pours it around the doors edges. Thinks she's smart. The door still won't open and the water literally freezes within 5 minutes. Shit. She tries kicking the door a few times to, you know, wake it up and tell it to open the fuck up. Suprisingly it doesn't work. Carefully she walks down the street and down her long driveway back to the house. Fills up two big bottles with hot water and waddles back to the car. Pours the hot water all over the hatchback and it actually opens. Yes! She climbs in the back wondering if that angry neighbor is watching this long scene of her quickly removing her car from in front of his house. Oh well. Crouched in the back of the car she takes off the dog gate and climbs over the seat unlocking the back door and pushing it open. Makes her way out and its hard to, but she eventually pulls the frozen door open. Leans in unlocking the driver-side door and starts the car. Thank Goodness it starts. She goes around to close all the doors and the door she originally opened won't close. Shit. She tries to mess with the latching mechanism, but it doesn't work. Now an hour late to work she laughs about what a story this will be as to why she is late. There's rope in the back, she remembers. She'll just tie the door shut for now. The hatchback, however, is very frozen shut again given all that water she poured all over it. So she climbs over two rows of seats and finds a bungee cord. The only way to get it to work is to bungee one rear door to the other. This actually works and it actually holds all day long. She is thankful that she laughed her way through this challenge. She thinks about how this might have been received on the wrong day. But the sun is out and snow is everywhere and whats the hurry anyway. Thankful, she moves on with her day.

2006-11-26T21:54:00.000-08:00

Snow Falling on Cedars..no really

2006-11-26T13:43:00.000-08:00

I hope this to be the beginning of a glorious relationship. Perhaps I'll finally learn how to type correctly which would make my work, email and other much more efficient. I used to write a ton. Years and years of journal entries about dreams and thoughts sit in a box in my new officina from my first journal in 3rd grade. What happened to all that writing energy? Boys I think. Yes, I fell in love and my writing nearly ceased (except in crises and Yom Kippor when I spend the whole day fasting and writing). I noticed it was happening, but when faced with the choice of whether to go walk in Ravenna park or sit and write, I had to choose the walk. Too much time sitting as it was. More time choosing other things like grad school, raising puppies, getting to know my friend and lover, Pete. My creativity has been starved though and I am setting up pmy new home with the intent to change that. And that brings me to the snow. Here I am sitting on a hand me down couch, in our newly purchased home, cup of tea before me on a hand-me-down coffee table, watching snow fall outside on the variety of ages of western red cedars that line our newly fenced yard (for the pups of course). This is the first chance I have taken to sit and be peaceful in far too long. Many chapters are ending in my life and its time I gave some attention to how to write their conclusions. I think thats where I'll start.