Friday, January 28, 2011
New Blog Site
I know, it's been ages! That's because I have been blogging elsewhere and had forgotten my password so I could let y'all know about it. If you used to follow me here, thank you! Scoot on over and continue where I left off.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Comfort Food
Today was a roller coaster of emotions. I started the day by attending a suicide prevention presentation on post. The presentation was up my alley: four actors played out different scenarios, then a facilitator interrupted at various choice-points and discussed different ways soldiers could react in the scenario, and what the possible consequences would be. I found out about the presentation last Friday when I saw Killer Joe at the Hyde Park Theatre in Austin (Capital T produced the show) and met one of the actors who also does the suicide prevention show.
I found the show to be pretty effective; while the scenarios kept the soldiers awake, their attention turned rapt when the facilitator told his own story of his time in the Army, and his close calls with a .45 before he sought out help and support. When he asked how many soldiers have broken a bone and not sought medical treatment, the number of raised hands astonished and educated me. Asking for help takes a kind of courage that they are not used to employing. Secrecy, stoicism and denial are traits encouraged by command and peers alike.
This afternoon, I was notified of a death on post. Suicide likely.
I wish these men and women felt like they could ask for help more easily. I wish I knew how to make it easier, but I know that's an idealistic, narcissistic fantasy. An entire culture is changing, and a tortoise moves more quickly. All I can do is be here when one of them is ready to come in.
So tonight I sought out some comfort food. Now, I love to travel and experience new cultures - including the local food. But I'm also a high-maintenance eater, dealing with allergies to gluten and dairy as well as sensitivities to sugar, caffeine, eggs and soy (oy!). Back in the 90's when I spent a year and a half on the road, I quickly learned the "Starbucks factor" - the simple comfort I could find knowing that, in any North American town, I could walk into a Starbucks and know that my latte would always be made right - no cow's milk to stuff up my sinuses or caffeine to ruin my slumber. For someone with so many food restrictions, it is an incredible comfort to know what's okay to eat without too much thought.
So I hiked it on over to Harker Heights tonight and found my favorite fast food, Chipotle. Not only do I know that the food is safe for me, but I can also rest easy knowing that the food has been locally sourced and naturally raised. The locavore in me gives a big thumbs-up!
My longtime mentor and friend, Bob, told me that a military installation would be the "realest" place I'd ever spend time, and he was right. Life gets distilled. Comfort comes in simple packages, met with gratitude.
I found the show to be pretty effective; while the scenarios kept the soldiers awake, their attention turned rapt when the facilitator told his own story of his time in the Army, and his close calls with a .45 before he sought out help and support. When he asked how many soldiers have broken a bone and not sought medical treatment, the number of raised hands astonished and educated me. Asking for help takes a kind of courage that they are not used to employing. Secrecy, stoicism and denial are traits encouraged by command and peers alike.
This afternoon, I was notified of a death on post. Suicide likely.
I wish these men and women felt like they could ask for help more easily. I wish I knew how to make it easier, but I know that's an idealistic, narcissistic fantasy. An entire culture is changing, and a tortoise moves more quickly. All I can do is be here when one of them is ready to come in.
So tonight I sought out some comfort food. Now, I love to travel and experience new cultures - including the local food. But I'm also a high-maintenance eater, dealing with allergies to gluten and dairy as well as sensitivities to sugar, caffeine, eggs and soy (oy!). Back in the 90's when I spent a year and a half on the road, I quickly learned the "Starbucks factor" - the simple comfort I could find knowing that, in any North American town, I could walk into a Starbucks and know that my latte would always be made right - no cow's milk to stuff up my sinuses or caffeine to ruin my slumber. For someone with so many food restrictions, it is an incredible comfort to know what's okay to eat without too much thought.
So I hiked it on over to Harker Heights tonight and found my favorite fast food, Chipotle. Not only do I know that the food is safe for me, but I can also rest easy knowing that the food has been locally sourced and naturally raised. The locavore in me gives a big thumbs-up!
My longtime mentor and friend, Bob, told me that a military installation would be the "realest" place I'd ever spend time, and he was right. Life gets distilled. Comfort comes in simple packages, met with gratitude.
Friday, July 31, 2009
On The Needles
***WARNING***KNITTING GEEK BLOG ALERT***
I'm in a mode of not actually getting a lot of knitting done, but wanting to knit almost every pattern I see. I think it's because my current OTN (on the needles) project is this cute Scroll Lace cardigan
, which requires more attention to detail than I'm used to giving. It's really fun to knit - don't get me wrong - and I'll be so excited when it's done. My first pieced FO (finished object)! That means that the back, front halves, and sleeves are all knitted in separate pieces, then sewn together. This summer when I was at Squam I took two days' worth of classes from Sally Melville (I am not a person who gets easily starstruck, but she did it for me) and she talked about how seamed garments hold their shape much better than those knitted in the round, because they have the seams to act like a skeleton to the garment. Made a lot of sense, so I'm giving it a go! I hope I can actually see it through and sew all the pieces together. It's not like machine sewing at all - each piece is hand-sewn with yarn and a big tapestry needle. It's tedious, but I think I can make it work for me. Find a rhythm and sink into it.
My eyes are popping to knit this sweet coat for my niece;
the pattern is "Roo" by Kate Gilbert. Isn't it pretty? At first I thought I might make it out of the 3 skeins of Cascade Yarns Eco Alpaca I have, but now I think it won't be enough - plus I'm not sure that giving alpaca to a child is a good idea care-wise. Now I'm thinking I'll go with some Cascade 220 Superwash, which will produce a warm woolen, but washable coat. I bet she would love it in a prim winter white, or her favorite color, pink. My niece, by the way, is the craziest 4-year-old fashionista I have ever met. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she grows up to be the next Kate Spade...mostly I'm a little jealous that she can put together a better outfit than I can.
My awesome friend Lisa turned me on to the Twist Collective website, by the way, and that's where Roo and this next one are available. I haven't read much about them yet, but it sure sounds like a cool way to go into business for yourself. I like the idea of collectives, which is why I am naturally sort of steering the theatre company in that direction. After several years in private practice, I relish and so enjoy the camaraderie we have created with the theatre, especially our weekly staff meetings which I really miss out here in Tejas.
Back to knitting...the other pattern I'm salivating over is Mr. Boy by Cristina Shiffman. This one
will be for my nephew, who has up to now been the unfortunate recipient of only one FO, my first knitted gift - a button-on scarf made in stiff, itchy Debbie Bliss Donegal Chunky Tweed. Poor kid. I'm trying to make up for it with this one, which I plan to make in either a cream like in the picture, or a forest green. Because he runs hot, I am going to follow the pattern's recommended yarn and use cotton, or maybe a cotton-linen blend. I looked at CotLin by KnitPicks, but wasn't thrilled with the palette so I'm going to check out the LYS (local yarn store) that I found last weekend in Austin, Hill Country Weavers. I'm trying to frequent the LYS's as much as possible to support the local businesses. In this economy, my dollar is my best political voice, my best social and environmental soapbox. Which is why I've gotten much more strict with myself about what I buy, and where I buy it. But that's probably a subject for a whole other blog entry, so for now I'll leave this as-is. Next time, more about my time in (but not really) the Army culture, and maybe a bit about how the depression - sorry, recession - is changing me, for the better and hopefully for good.
I'm in a mode of not actually getting a lot of knitting done, but wanting to knit almost every pattern I see. I think it's because my current OTN (on the needles) project is this cute Scroll Lace cardigan
, which requires more attention to detail than I'm used to giving. It's really fun to knit - don't get me wrong - and I'll be so excited when it's done. My first pieced FO (finished object)! That means that the back, front halves, and sleeves are all knitted in separate pieces, then sewn together. This summer when I was at Squam I took two days' worth of classes from Sally Melville (I am not a person who gets easily starstruck, but she did it for me) and she talked about how seamed garments hold their shape much better than those knitted in the round, because they have the seams to act like a skeleton to the garment. Made a lot of sense, so I'm giving it a go! I hope I can actually see it through and sew all the pieces together. It's not like machine sewing at all - each piece is hand-sewn with yarn and a big tapestry needle. It's tedious, but I think I can make it work for me. Find a rhythm and sink into it.My eyes are popping to knit this sweet coat for my niece;
the pattern is "Roo" by Kate Gilbert. Isn't it pretty? At first I thought I might make it out of the 3 skeins of Cascade Yarns Eco Alpaca I have, but now I think it won't be enough - plus I'm not sure that giving alpaca to a child is a good idea care-wise. Now I'm thinking I'll go with some Cascade 220 Superwash, which will produce a warm woolen, but washable coat. I bet she would love it in a prim winter white, or her favorite color, pink. My niece, by the way, is the craziest 4-year-old fashionista I have ever met. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she grows up to be the next Kate Spade...mostly I'm a little jealous that she can put together a better outfit than I can.My awesome friend Lisa turned me on to the Twist Collective website, by the way, and that's where Roo and this next one are available. I haven't read much about them yet, but it sure sounds like a cool way to go into business for yourself. I like the idea of collectives, which is why I am naturally sort of steering the theatre company in that direction. After several years in private practice, I relish and so enjoy the camaraderie we have created with the theatre, especially our weekly staff meetings which I really miss out here in Tejas.
Back to knitting...the other pattern I'm salivating over is Mr. Boy by Cristina Shiffman. This one
will be for my nephew, who has up to now been the unfortunate recipient of only one FO, my first knitted gift - a button-on scarf made in stiff, itchy Debbie Bliss Donegal Chunky Tweed. Poor kid. I'm trying to make up for it with this one, which I plan to make in either a cream like in the picture, or a forest green. Because he runs hot, I am going to follow the pattern's recommended yarn and use cotton, or maybe a cotton-linen blend. I looked at CotLin by KnitPicks, but wasn't thrilled with the palette so I'm going to check out the LYS (local yarn store) that I found last weekend in Austin, Hill Country Weavers. I'm trying to frequent the LYS's as much as possible to support the local businesses. In this economy, my dollar is my best political voice, my best social and environmental soapbox. Which is why I've gotten much more strict with myself about what I buy, and where I buy it. But that's probably a subject for a whole other blog entry, so for now I'll leave this as-is. Next time, more about my time in (but not really) the Army culture, and maybe a bit about how the depression - sorry, recession - is changing me, for the better and hopefully for good.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Life On Hold. In Texas.
I'm on a new adventure, and have been wondering how or what I'll blog about it. The adventure is this: for six weeks I am living in a hotel in Killeen, Texas. During the day I work at Fort Hood, available as a counselor to soldiers and their families. I've been brought here as part of a "surge team" to tend specifically to those who returned from Iraq within the last six months, because now's about the time when the honeymoon period wears off, real life kicks in, and memories aren't as easily kept at bay.
It's very interesting and rewarding work, and I'm the kind of person who sort of enjoys culture shock (I love learning new cultures - see all previous posts about my obsession with Ireland and the Irish language - and no, the Irish don't call it Gaelic, they call it Irish) and I'm getting a two-fold shock. There's Texas. That's a whole culture in and of itself, and I'm sort of glad that I'm stationed in a place like Killeen where the Texas in people is full-strength, as opposed to my current Emerald city of Austin, where people are a lot more like me.
When people say that everything is bigger in Texas, they are dead serious: so far I've noted that parking spots, bathroom stalls, portion sizes, and houses are all bigger here. Last weekend I had dinner with my sweet friend Barbara-Anne, at The Oasis on Lake Travis. This place is a study in Texas Big...and, probably, Texas oil money. The restaurant seats about 2,000 people. No, you read that right. It was crazy. I don't remember the last time I ate at a restaurant with a gift shop and crafts bazaar on the premises. In Killeen, if there is a tourist site it's probably the Fort. Or the mall. I imagine that the monster truck show is a big draw here, and I don't mean that at all tongue-in-cheek. It's a rough-and-tumble town, heavily and publicly Christian, with a fairly strong anti-Obama sentiment. None of that visits me at the Fort - political discussion is strictly forbidden there (it is against military law to speak out against a commanding officer or elected official, and Obama is both) and my focus is on my work, which is much more real, black-and-white, life-or-death than the latest Obama blunder. Kind of refreshing.
I've tipped over into the second culture-shock, which is the Army culture. I did not grow up in a military family or with any close military ties, so learning about the military culture has been fun, interesting, intimidating at times, and it will probably be many more assignments before I feel comfortable with my level of understanding. The soldiers here are fairly tolerant of me, but every time I make a mistake (such as when I called First Sergeant C. "Sergeant" on my way out the door) I know that it's a chance for them to dismiss me as ignorant of their life and therefore not a worthy person to open up to. It's a tricky balance, to be a civilian - but an educated civilian - on post.
For many reasons, I won't be able to blog about my work much. I need to maintain confidentiality not only of my counseling work, but I think there is an unspoken rule that what happens on post, stays on post. We are not allowed to take any pictures on post except at the museum; our contract holds us responsible for "proprietary information" that we learn on post, etc. So since I don't know what's okay to talk about, I'm going to revert to the subjects I usually talk about on here anyway: food, craft, love. And culture. Today I've done my fair share in the culture department, so I'll leave it at that. But I'll share what I have on the needles and in my fridge, and what it's like to be away from my beloved for an extended period of time. Be back soon.
It's very interesting and rewarding work, and I'm the kind of person who sort of enjoys culture shock (I love learning new cultures - see all previous posts about my obsession with Ireland and the Irish language - and no, the Irish don't call it Gaelic, they call it Irish) and I'm getting a two-fold shock. There's Texas. That's a whole culture in and of itself, and I'm sort of glad that I'm stationed in a place like Killeen where the Texas in people is full-strength, as opposed to my current Emerald city of Austin, where people are a lot more like me.
When people say that everything is bigger in Texas, they are dead serious: so far I've noted that parking spots, bathroom stalls, portion sizes, and houses are all bigger here. Last weekend I had dinner with my sweet friend Barbara-Anne, at The Oasis on Lake Travis. This place is a study in Texas Big...and, probably, Texas oil money. The restaurant seats about 2,000 people. No, you read that right. It was crazy. I don't remember the last time I ate at a restaurant with a gift shop and crafts bazaar on the premises. In Killeen, if there is a tourist site it's probably the Fort. Or the mall. I imagine that the monster truck show is a big draw here, and I don't mean that at all tongue-in-cheek. It's a rough-and-tumble town, heavily and publicly Christian, with a fairly strong anti-Obama sentiment. None of that visits me at the Fort - political discussion is strictly forbidden there (it is against military law to speak out against a commanding officer or elected official, and Obama is both) and my focus is on my work, which is much more real, black-and-white, life-or-death than the latest Obama blunder. Kind of refreshing.
I've tipped over into the second culture-shock, which is the Army culture. I did not grow up in a military family or with any close military ties, so learning about the military culture has been fun, interesting, intimidating at times, and it will probably be many more assignments before I feel comfortable with my level of understanding. The soldiers here are fairly tolerant of me, but every time I make a mistake (such as when I called First Sergeant C. "Sergeant" on my way out the door) I know that it's a chance for them to dismiss me as ignorant of their life and therefore not a worthy person to open up to. It's a tricky balance, to be a civilian - but an educated civilian - on post.
For many reasons, I won't be able to blog about my work much. I need to maintain confidentiality not only of my counseling work, but I think there is an unspoken rule that what happens on post, stays on post. We are not allowed to take any pictures on post except at the museum; our contract holds us responsible for "proprietary information" that we learn on post, etc. So since I don't know what's okay to talk about, I'm going to revert to the subjects I usually talk about on here anyway: food, craft, love. And culture. Today I've done my fair share in the culture department, so I'll leave it at that. But I'll share what I have on the needles and in my fridge, and what it's like to be away from my beloved for an extended period of time. Be back soon.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
When It Rains It Pours
Another month has gone by since my last post...well, if that's what I get done, that's what I get done. I'm hitting a pretty zen patch these days, learning that everything truly is just fine and perfect as it is. Learning to see success in every moment, regardless of whether or not my ego likes it. So, for now, my blog-posting frequency is perfect.
I find myself getting creative all over the place, though not where I would have expected it a couple of months ago. My art supplies are still in the box that my 3-year-old niece so beautifully packed for me on moving day, and the sewing machine remains in its box under the desk. But I have four creative projects to share, and that rare proliferation is so exciting to me! Here goes.
I had a rich, lovely month of rehearsals for the current musical, and opening weekend was a great success. I find myself enjoying performances, but grieving the end of the fertile creative process that rehearsal was. Sure, there's much to mine in performance, but the rehearsal process is that place of pure...process. It's where you find and try and stretch and fail and dive deeper. I love it, and understand more consciously the pull to get right into another show once one opens. I imagine it's much like the impulse new parents feel to "do it all over again". Well, some parents. I hear.
There are two raised garden beds behind the garage at my new home. There are so many things I love about my beloved, but from the very start I must admit I coveted his raised beds. He graciously gave me carte blanche to plant the vegetable garden of my dreams, and all of the tender seedlings went in last weekend after a few days of letting the new amended soil settle and cool off. In went onions, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, zucchini, cucumbers, pole beans, acorn squash, chard, and nasturtiums. I got really excited to finally try out my dream of planting morning glories and moonflowers side-by-side on a trellis to cover the garden shed. I hope this works, and I can experience gorgeous palm-sized blooms both night and day come summer.
In Craftland, two projects came off the needles. After 13 months and much cursing and fist-shaking, my first sweater was born. This was a late birthday gift to my guy, and I'm kind of proud of myself for making a couple of modifications to the pattern that actually improved the fit of the sweater for him. Doesn't he look handsome? The pattern is "Cable Guy Sweater" found in Debbie Stoller's latest book, Son of Stitch'n'Bitch. The yarn, Andean Silk from KnitPicks in Pitch, was pretty good to use although it does shed like crazy. But the softness and sheen are lovely.
About ten days earlier I worked a "Children's Cotton Hat" from the fabulous book Last-Minute Knitted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson. This hat was a gift for Pixie's beautiful baby girl, and I couldn't believe how quickly it came off the needles. After much tossing and turning one night, I got up at 1:30am, put on an episode of Cast On and said, "Okay, I'll just get
started on it." Four episodes later, I finished the hat and fell asleep as the clock ticked 6:15am. Kind of thrilling, actually. It's a beautiful color and texture thanks to Mission Falls 1824 cotton yarn in Lemongrass.
All in all, it's been a rich month. It's not long until Squam now, and I am beyond excited. Until then, though, I am on the lookout for all the unexpected places where creativity finds me these days.
I find myself getting creative all over the place, though not where I would have expected it a couple of months ago. My art supplies are still in the box that my 3-year-old niece so beautifully packed for me on moving day, and the sewing machine remains in its box under the desk. But I have four creative projects to share, and that rare proliferation is so exciting to me! Here goes.
I had a rich, lovely month of rehearsals for the current musical, and opening weekend was a great success. I find myself enjoying performances, but grieving the end of the fertile creative process that rehearsal was. Sure, there's much to mine in performance, but the rehearsal process is that place of pure...process. It's where you find and try and stretch and fail and dive deeper. I love it, and understand more consciously the pull to get right into another show once one opens. I imagine it's much like the impulse new parents feel to "do it all over again". Well, some parents. I hear.
There are two raised garden beds behind the garage at my new home. There are so many things I love about my beloved, but from the very start I must admit I coveted his raised beds. He graciously gave me carte blanche to plant the vegetable garden of my dreams, and all of the tender seedlings went in last weekend after a few days of letting the new amended soil settle and cool off. In went onions, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, zucchini, cucumbers, pole beans, acorn squash, chard, and nasturtiums. I got really excited to finally try out my dream of planting morning glories and moonflowers side-by-side on a trellis to cover the garden shed. I hope this works, and I can experience gorgeous palm-sized blooms both night and day come summer.
In Craftland, two projects came off the needles. After 13 months and much cursing and fist-shaking, my first sweater was born. This was a late birthday gift to my guy, and I'm kind of proud of myself for making a couple of modifications to the pattern that actually improved the fit of the sweater for him. Doesn't he look handsome? The pattern is "Cable Guy Sweater" found in Debbie Stoller's latest book, Son of Stitch'n'Bitch. The yarn, Andean Silk from KnitPicks in Pitch, was pretty good to use although it does shed like crazy. But the softness and sheen are lovely.
About ten days earlier I worked a "Children's Cotton Hat" from the fabulous book Last-Minute Knitted Gifts by Joelle Hoverson. This hat was a gift for Pixie's beautiful baby girl, and I couldn't believe how quickly it came off the needles. After much tossing and turning one night, I got up at 1:30am, put on an episode of Cast On and said, "Okay, I'll just get
started on it." Four episodes later, I finished the hat and fell asleep as the clock ticked 6:15am. Kind of thrilling, actually. It's a beautiful color and texture thanks to Mission Falls 1824 cotton yarn in Lemongrass.All in all, it's been a rich month. It's not long until Squam now, and I am beyond excited. Until then, though, I am on the lookout for all the unexpected places where creativity finds me these days.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Valentine's Day Project
I know, I'm a bit late in reporting on my Valentine's Day project - a totally fun adventure in paint, tissue paper, words, and gel medium. I worked a layer a day, in small chunks of time that felt manageable and not too much. I knew what I wanted when I started out, but over the several days of work the collage informed me what it wanted too, and I was in a nice place to hear it. My beloved really enjoyed it, and miraculously he had also made me a lovely collage. By the way, if you want to nominate a name for my beloved, I'd like to hear it. He's trying to convince me to call him Mo Golden on this blog, but I'm not sure that name gives the right tone.
Lately I've been enjoying podcasts about the creative process. Creative Thursday by Marisa Haedike discusses how to step out of fear and into courageous faith in your creative potential. It's important for me to hear over and over again. I'm realizing how, when I start to dream of making my living from creative pursuits, the money fears make themselves known. When did I start needing so much money? How can I scale back and need less? Or is now the time to really put my nose to the grindstone and make (and save) as much as I can? Can someone in her 30's actually work less, make less, and enjoy more free time? Or isn't this the time for paying dues, working hard and long so I can "deserve" an easy retirement?
It's interesting to lay out all of the thoughts and beliefs that come up around living a creative life. I notice, looking at the last paragraph, that there wasn't any room for making a wonderful, abundant living as a creative. Well, why not?
For the last several months I have been catching up with the wonderful podcast, Cast On with Brenda Dayne. Brenda brings to knitting philosophy, community, history, archeology, anthropology, science, and art. It's great fun and I only wish I had more time to listen to it when I can actually sit and knit along. Most of my listening happens on the way to and from work.
The next week leaves me no time to paint or collage, but I am rehearsing the next show, and there's some wonderful creativity going on there. We'll see what April brings.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Stirring
I've started on my first visual-arts project in years. I notice a little of the old rigidity-leading-to-frozen-nothingness pattern, but surprisingly quite a bit less of it than I remember. In contrast is an inner freedom that's small but hopefully pushing through - the freedom to try this or that paint and just see how it goes, or to play with images or words I like to make them fit my vision. I'm watching with considerable joy. I'll show pictures when it's done but for now it's under wraps!
Today I got my confirmation for the Squam Art Workshop and actually felt giddy at the thought of it being only four months away! I got all of my first choice workshops, which means one day each of fiber, fabric and paint. Checking out my workshops again I came across the website for one of the teachers (www.creativethursday.com), and you have got to check this out: since sometime in 2006, she has created a painting a day. I am just enamored with the sweetness and depth in these paintings. I hope you enjoy them too.
Today I got my confirmation for the Squam Art Workshop and actually felt giddy at the thought of it being only four months away! I got all of my first choice workshops, which means one day each of fiber, fabric and paint. Checking out my workshops again I came across the website for one of the teachers (www.creativethursday.com), and you have got to check this out: since sometime in 2006, she has created a painting a day. I am just enamored with the sweetness and depth in these paintings. I hope you enjoy them too.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Groundhog Day
The groundhog may have said we're in for six more weeks of winter, but inside my soul spring is stirring. The ground is thawing, and I'm aware of some dry earth in need of "mois-tening" as my sweet friend Pixie puts it. It may be dry but it is fertile ground within, and after a weekend with my very own personal muses, the Elements, I'm excited and inspired to dig in.
I've decided to revive my blog; for now, the purpose is to give me a canvas of some sort to watch my creative journey, and this year I intend to keep it pretty much focused on the many varied creative stirrings. I expect you'll hear about the belated-birthday sweater I'm pushing to finish for my beloved (whose blog-name I've not yet chosen) even as I curse myself for thinking it clever to present a gift in pieces. You'll also hear about the adventurous retreat I'm taking in June to Squam Art Workshop in New Hampshire, where I'll revel for three whole days in all things fiber. Along the way, I might share some particular inspirations in the kitchen or at the sewing table, and you might even get to see and read about what comes of my luscious trip to the art supply store - a branch of creativity that I am not familiar or comfortable with at all, but that I somehow feel inspired to dip my toes into.
I'm not promising anything. Keeping up a blog can be trying for me at times. But the possibilities...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
On Love
I've come to my blog a number of times over the past few months, with a mixture of wanting to contribute again and not knowing where to begin or what to say. What started out as a fun way to chronicle my journey became a public record of the surface of my life for the last year; in the meantime, the depths went ignored, then acknowledged, then denied, and finally accepted. I guess I wasn't, and still am not, really interested in setting out such things for the consumption of others, but it leaves me in a bit of a quandary as to what this blog is ultimately about and what it would mean for me to continue. After all, if it is in part about "the constant journey inward" then those depths deserve to be given space here. I'm not sure it feels right, though; it's certainly safer to stick to posts about raw milk and my latest knitting project. Safer isn't always my cup of tea, but maybe for now it has to be.
Love has taken me by the scruff of the neck so far this year. Descartes will no longer be featured on this blog, and out of respect for him that is all I will say on the matter. Someone else may be discussed at some point, but for now I will focus, if and when I discuss it, on how I feel I have been changed by the experience of deep, profound love; love that gave me no choice but to love, that dunked me in deep water more times than I care to admit, and somehow left me more alive and grateful for it than I ever thought possible.
I recently pulled out my copy of Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" and read the section about Love. I remember reading it in the past and shuddering at the thought. But now I glimpse the tip of understanding of what he meant, and I thank my lucky stars for the chance to feel it all.
"On Love" ~ Kahlil Gibran
Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Love has taken me by the scruff of the neck so far this year. Descartes will no longer be featured on this blog, and out of respect for him that is all I will say on the matter. Someone else may be discussed at some point, but for now I will focus, if and when I discuss it, on how I feel I have been changed by the experience of deep, profound love; love that gave me no choice but to love, that dunked me in deep water more times than I care to admit, and somehow left me more alive and grateful for it than I ever thought possible.
I recently pulled out my copy of Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" and read the section about Love. I remember reading it in the past and shuddering at the thought. But now I glimpse the tip of understanding of what he meant, and I thank my lucky stars for the chance to feel it all.
"On Love" ~ Kahlil Gibran
Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Sorry I've been away for a while...things have been a bit upside down, and unfortunately this blog has had to take a backseat to some major reordering. I may blog in the future about all that's going on, but today is not the day. I thought, however, that I would share some photos of my recent crafty jag. I'm finally working on two projects for myself, but it's been a lot of fun making things for loved ones.
Above left is the Sexy Apron I made for dear Julie, one of the juiciest women I know. Sorry the picture is small; I had trouble with the file. But you get the idea - hot pink printed fabric ringed in frilly black organza.
To the right is the Golden Compass hat I made for my niece.
This is a pattern based on a hat in the film of the same name, and I just loved the whimsy of it - especially the pointed top that spikes off her crown like an elf's ear.
Bottom left is a chunky tweed Never-Get-Lost scarf for my nephew. It actually buttons on with
a big black button (a vintage find from my mother's button box) so he won't lose it. I stole this idea from Julie's friend Justine, who had a button-on scarf when I saw her in November. I just thought it was the cleverest thing.
What's in the works now? A skinny scarf made of the softest chenille you could imagine, in all shades of purple. And a simple, short black poncho to keep my shoulders warm on chilly February nights. When I wear them both I shall look a bit like a bruise, which would actually be quite fitting considering my emotional state these days. But I'll be the most fashionable bruise!
More soon...thanks for dropping by.
Above left is the Sexy Apron I made for dear Julie, one of the juiciest women I know. Sorry the picture is small; I had trouble with the file. But you get the idea - hot pink printed fabric ringed in frilly black organza.To the right is the Golden Compass hat I made for my niece.
This is a pattern based on a hat in the film of the same name, and I just loved the whimsy of it - especially the pointed top that spikes off her crown like an elf's ear.Bottom left is a chunky tweed Never-Get-Lost scarf for my nephew. It actually buttons on with
a big black button (a vintage find from my mother's button box) so he won't lose it. I stole this idea from Julie's friend Justine, who had a button-on scarf when I saw her in November. I just thought it was the cleverest thing.What's in the works now? A skinny scarf made of the softest chenille you could imagine, in all shades of purple. And a simple, short black poncho to keep my shoulders warm on chilly February nights. When I wear them both I shall look a bit like a bruise, which would actually be quite fitting considering my emotional state these days. But I'll be the most fashionable bruise!
More soon...thanks for dropping by.
Friday, November 30, 2007
I Have Jags
I just learned this word while reading a magazine article about a local foodie. A jag is apparently an obsession, or as dictionary.com put it, "a period of unrestrained indulgence in an activity; spree; binge." This seems to describe me quite well - much to the chagrin of many of my loved ones. I get on jags, I collect them, I circulate my jags and give them time to breathe. Like shoes. If I stick with a jag too long, it loses some kind of magic for me, but coming upon a fresh jag (or better, coming back to a pleasurable old jag) keeps things lively.
So, my local-food jag isn't necessarily gone, it's just getting freshened. I'm proud of the local-foods movement for taking the prize as Oxford American Dictionary's Word of the Year. I'm still keeping an eye on where my food comes from, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that most of the food I buy is already local - as long as I shop at the co-op, the farmer's market, and my CSA, it's quite easy actually. Trips to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's or (eek!) Safeway throw the whole local-food thing out of whack - it's nearly impossible to find things made locally and, even when I do, I know that it can't truly count as local because even if the food was made by my next-door neighbor, it's still traveled an average of 1500 miles to a distribution center in Austin or Monrovia or Salt Lake City before coming back to my neighborhood.
But back to my point about jags. Because folks, Mama's got a brand new jag. And it's an old one, one you might remember me blogging about this past spring. But I believe I have finally found my knitting legs, so to speak, after many attempts. I credit Debbie Stoller and her awesome book, Stitch'n Bitch, for me finally understanding how to tangle yarn artistically. And I thank Lisa and Martha for inspiring me.
Reconnecting with knitting has reconnected me with the deep feminine urge to create useful things, and to do it beautifully. And to do it for others. I can't stop thinking of things I'd like to make for people close to me - right now I have no plans to keep any current projects for myself, and this is a really pleasurable departure from my usual narcissism. Thus, I have decided to make as many Christmas gifts as I can this year, given my schedule (in rehearsals for maybe the best play ever and preparing to go tropical for the holidays with Descartes) and how quickly my fingers can work. There will be sewing, baking, slicing, dicing, and yes, knitting. None of it can be displayed here until after gifts have been given out (who wants to spoil the surprise?) but believe you me, my camera will be busy documenting the fun. Isn't it lovely when a gift can bring pleasure to the gifter and the gifted?
What's your latest jag?
So, my local-food jag isn't necessarily gone, it's just getting freshened. I'm proud of the local-foods movement for taking the prize as Oxford American Dictionary's Word of the Year. I'm still keeping an eye on where my food comes from, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that most of the food I buy is already local - as long as I shop at the co-op, the farmer's market, and my CSA, it's quite easy actually. Trips to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's or (eek!) Safeway throw the whole local-food thing out of whack - it's nearly impossible to find things made locally and, even when I do, I know that it can't truly count as local because even if the food was made by my next-door neighbor, it's still traveled an average of 1500 miles to a distribution center in Austin or Monrovia or Salt Lake City before coming back to my neighborhood.
But back to my point about jags. Because folks, Mama's got a brand new jag. And it's an old one, one you might remember me blogging about this past spring. But I believe I have finally found my knitting legs, so to speak, after many attempts. I credit Debbie Stoller and her awesome book, Stitch'n Bitch, for me finally understanding how to tangle yarn artistically. And I thank Lisa and Martha for inspiring me.
Reconnecting with knitting has reconnected me with the deep feminine urge to create useful things, and to do it beautifully. And to do it for others. I can't stop thinking of things I'd like to make for people close to me - right now I have no plans to keep any current projects for myself, and this is a really pleasurable departure from my usual narcissism. Thus, I have decided to make as many Christmas gifts as I can this year, given my schedule (in rehearsals for maybe the best play ever and preparing to go tropical for the holidays with Descartes) and how quickly my fingers can work. There will be sewing, baking, slicing, dicing, and yes, knitting. None of it can be displayed here until after gifts have been given out (who wants to spoil the surprise?) but believe you me, my camera will be busy documenting the fun. Isn't it lovely when a gift can bring pleasure to the gifter and the gifted?
What's your latest jag?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Priority Shift
I'm a few weeks into my 100-mile food challenge, and I am nowhere near eating 100% local. But my awareness is growing keen, and for better or for worse, I am ten times more conscious of my food-miles than I was before I started.
Descartes is overwhelmed at work and feeling sick and tired all the time, and I want to help him at least hang onto some health, give him lots of options for quick, healthy foods that he can pack with him, or eat in front of the fridge when he's in between jobs. If I can stave off his recent habit of downing boxes of Cheez-Its, sandwich cookies and pizza, I do believe he'll feel a little better.
So last night after he'd gone to bed (at 9pm) I made a list of foods I planned to buy, and I emailed it to him (yes, I really did) for approval, which he gave. I thought of every good/quick food I could, being mindful of foods he won't eat - like meat or bone broth, or most things containing coconut - and foods I won't buy - soy and sugar. Here is my list:
hard-boiled eggs
apples, pears, oranges, bananas
raw veggies - sliced peppers, cherry tomatoes, celery and carrot sticks, cucumber slices, etc.
cottage cheese, mild cheddar & monterey jack cheese, string cheese
nuts (will be soaked and dried)
smoked salmon (Descartes makes this every year for Thanksgiving and it's delicious! we'll make extra this week)
hummus (homemade)
spicy bean dip (homemade)
salsa
corn chips
whole wheat bread
canned tuna/salmon
veggie soups (homemade and packed in single-serving tupperware)
whole-grain crackers
(After much hemming and hawing, I removed "smoothies" because these actually take time to prepare, which is unlikely to happen anytime soon, and because the way I make smoothies nutritious drinks (rather than liquid sugar) is the addition of coconut oil, raw milk (yogurt, kefir or coconut milk will also work), raw egg yolks, and both veggies and fruit. This will probably not go over well, since Descartes is still very much afraid of raw dairy and raw eggs.)
Anyway, you can bet I was a happy girl when I got the OK for this list, and I set out today to fill the kitchen with healthy fast food. I quickly realized that this trip would be a real departure from recent trips to the store, in that buying local wasn't going to be my only priority today. So far, if I've wanted something that can't be found locally, I've gone without. But going without for Descartes means leaning back on Cheez-Its and the like. So my priority was 1) local, 2) organic, 3) the best version I could buy, preferably from a small company. I ended up buying probably 25% local (but probably 50% in-state), and maybe 65% organic. All in all, it wasn't my ideal trip to the store, but if I can help get Descartes back on his feet, well, I suppose that's one of my highest priorities.
As I was looking for a picture to go along with this post, I found a cartoon of the earth with a heating pad on its head and a thermometer in its mouth...I wish all my priorities could be happily met without feeling that one has sacrificed another.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Week Two: Getting Better All The Time
This week I spent more time at home, thus more time in my own kitchen, therefore more time preparing food the origin of which I could know and control. This turns out to be a boon for someone who cares where their food originates. On Monday night I made dinner for a plumb-tuckered Descartes: salmon, green beans, and mashed potatoes. The salmon was a pre-commitment buy from Trader Joe's, originating in Chile or some crazy far-away place like that. But the rest came from our CSA or the co-op. To the mashed potatoes I added coconut oil, Clover butter, salt & pepper, local thyme, and both yogurt and cheese from my new raw milk suppliers in the foothills. The result was tangy goodness if you ask me; Descartes isn't partial to the very-sharp cheddar, but I love it.
On Tuesday I learned, while buying an onion at the co-op, how important it is to know the geography of your foodshed in order to stay in it. Was Hollister within 100 miles? Surely, no. How about Malaga? I didn't know. Taking a chance, I went with the Malaga onion...sorry to say, but it turns out Hollister is closer by 27 miles or so. These are times when I could use my Dad's new GPS device, which he has named Bitchin' Betty, both for its coolness and for the annoyed tone that the female voice takes on when he misses a turn..."Recalculating..."
Wednesday was Halloween, and a doozy of a day if you're looking for local treats that a) aren't chock full of high fructose corn syrup, hydrogenated soybean oil, and other outstanding food-like substances that just belong in a child's body, don't they??? And b) aren't homemade, since I don't know a single parent who will allow their child to eat a homemade treat from a neighbor they don't know. After much deliberating, I decided not to include Halloween candy in my 100-mile diet challenge...after all, I wasn't going to eat those treats, was I??? (I plead the Fifth.)
Instead I focused on what I was going to eat that night...that afternoon I had picked up my CSA box to find a bunch of radishes with greens intact for the second week in a row. An internet search to figure out clever ways to use radishes turned up an intriguing Radish Greens Soup, which was highly-rated by the one person who rated it. I decided to give it a try - off-the-cuff inspiration from Descartes turned it into a Coconut Curry Greens Soup...delicious. A friend dropped by for a minute, and when he came in he said, "It is your house that smells so good! I can smell it from the street, it smells amazing out there." I was proud. I couldn't resist taking a picture of the finished product. My friend found it amusing that I take pictures of dishes that turn out well (especially since I've recently recovered my camera). I guess I used to think it was weird, too, before I got a blog.
The rest of the week has gone fairly well...not perfect, but better. I think I'm getting the hang of this. More soon!
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Week One of my 100-Mile Diet
started off poorly...I forgot how many breakfast, lunch and dinner meetings I had scheduled with friends and colleagues. Friday night was date night with Descartes, during which I managed to have no earthly idea where my food had flown in from. Saturday morning was my beacon of light (more later) but by Saturday night I was dining at the local sushi place with a good friend, eating fish that was likely caught in a far-off land, and likely not even caught, but farmed and harvested. Sigh. Monday was dinner with two old friends, at one of those newer theme-chain restaurants (the theme is something like French or Louisianan, but honestly the theme should be the Home of Giant People Who Love Giant Muffins). The rest of the week fared much better, with home-cooked meals and Wednesday's pick-up of our new CSA box - I could have sworn I read somewhere about using pomegranate seeds in a sauce...anyone?
But back to Saturday morning (please note my attempt to keep the farm and its owners anonymous and untraceable - see my most recent post about the growing hostility toward raw milk suppliers in CA). I left early-ish for my first visit to the local farm that would, hopefully, soon be my supplier of pastured dairy, eggs and meat. It was a clear morning, and after an uneventful drive south to Stockton, I headed east on a highway that wound its way through flats, then mounds, then hills and finally rolling, oak-covered foothills of golden grass. The scenery undulated under me as I took in the fresh country air, the Gold Country scenery, and finally the sign that indicated I had reached my destination. Two large, muddy dogs greeted me with a wary welcome, circling me until the farmer called them back to him. He was the only one awake so far this morning, and needed coffee. He called me in. After a half-hour at the kitchen table I knew far more about his work history and health issues than I had intended, and I found the conversation refreshingly slow-paced. "Shall we go visit the animals?" Sure.
Outside the bedroom window I met the cows, calves, chickens, goats, and pig that bed down each night just a few feet from their human stewards. Midnight, Lucy, and others nudged me and accepted my hand on their noses. The pig sniffed my purse for food and left muddy nostril marks. The goats jumped the fence and one another to get to the haypile near a second pen, which holds the steers and geese. "The steers are going to market next week...it's time," said the farmer in a way that was neither nonchalant nor nostalgic. I looked in their faces, determined to keep my eyes open through all parts of this farm tour. As I've said here before, if I'm going to eat meat, I'm going to be conscious of where it's coming from.
We moved back to the house to discuss business; the farmer's wife was up by then, and it turns out she really supervises things around here. These farmers are clearly nervous about the ramifications of selling raw milk in California, and determined to know me before signing a milkshare agreement. A milkshare is just about the only way for these farmers to sell the delicious raw milk, cheese, and butter that Lucy et al produce from the 103 acres they graze from day to day. I was ready to sign, but they wanted me to take home some of each and try it first, so I'll know what I'm getting. Turns out the wife talks a blue streak too, and she proceeded to tell me much of her work history and health issues, many of which led this family to retire from the city to the country, and return to the farming lifestyle their parents and grandparents had taught them. "We're not in farming to make money," the wife told me. "We have this farm so our children and grandchildren will always have good quality food no matter what. You benefit from the leftovers." Fair enough.
I left with a trunk full of food - a gallon of raw whole milk (the sweetest I've tasted), 1/2 pound of raw butter, a pound of the sharpest cheddar ever to pass between my lips (the farmer's wife made it three years ago and has been turning it over once a week since then, to keep it aging), a dozen eggs with deep orange yolks, and a pound of stew beef. All this, plus a promise of raw goat's milk once the goats have birthed their kids in January. My milkshare will be goat's milk, supplemented with cow's milk whenever the goats are dry.
I set out on a country road that winds its way along the edge of the foothills, north again toward home. I took all the historical routes, through Gold Rush town after Gold Rush town, feeling fulfilled and excited about my first local-food adventure. And then, just when I thought it couldn't get better, it got better. I spied a sign for fresh, homemade ravioli, at a little box of a building along the road. I don't know how long Vinciguerra Ravioli Co. has been gracing Jackson with its pillows of goodness, but I bought four boxes to add to my collection of local foods in the trunk.
By the time I got home I was hungry and ready for some yum. I cooked up a box of pumpkin ravioli just like John Vinciguerra instructed - at a slow boil, for only a few minutes so the ravioli don't burst (I only had two casualties). In the meantime I melted some butter with garlic and some sage from my side garden. Tossed together and sprinkled with grated Romano, it was heaven on a spoon. A rewarding end to an adventurous day of food.
But back to Saturday morning (please note my attempt to keep the farm and its owners anonymous and untraceable - see my most recent post about the growing hostility toward raw milk suppliers in CA). I left early-ish for my first visit to the local farm that would, hopefully, soon be my supplier of pastured dairy, eggs and meat. It was a clear morning, and after an uneventful drive south to Stockton, I headed east on a highway that wound its way through flats, then mounds, then hills and finally rolling, oak-covered foothills of golden grass. The scenery undulated under me as I took in the fresh country air, the Gold Country scenery, and finally the sign that indicated I had reached my destination. Two large, muddy dogs greeted me with a wary welcome, circling me until the farmer called them back to him. He was the only one awake so far this morning, and needed coffee. He called me in. After a half-hour at the kitchen table I knew far more about his work history and health issues than I had intended, and I found the conversation refreshingly slow-paced. "Shall we go visit the animals?" Sure.
Outside the bedroom window I met the cows, calves, chickens, goats, and pig that bed down each night just a few feet from their human stewards. Midnight, Lucy, and others nudged me and accepted my hand on their noses. The pig sniffed my purse for food and left muddy nostril marks. The goats jumped the fence and one another to get to the haypile near a second pen, which holds the steers and geese. "The steers are going to market next week...it's time," said the farmer in a way that was neither nonchalant nor nostalgic. I looked in their faces, determined to keep my eyes open through all parts of this farm tour. As I've said here before, if I'm going to eat meat, I'm going to be conscious of where it's coming from.
We moved back to the house to discuss business; the farmer's wife was up by then, and it turns out she really supervises things around here. These farmers are clearly nervous about the ramifications of selling raw milk in California, and determined to know me before signing a milkshare agreement. A milkshare is just about the only way for these farmers to sell the delicious raw milk, cheese, and butter that Lucy et al produce from the 103 acres they graze from day to day. I was ready to sign, but they wanted me to take home some of each and try it first, so I'll know what I'm getting. Turns out the wife talks a blue streak too, and she proceeded to tell me much of her work history and health issues, many of which led this family to retire from the city to the country, and return to the farming lifestyle their parents and grandparents had taught them. "We're not in farming to make money," the wife told me. "We have this farm so our children and grandchildren will always have good quality food no matter what. You benefit from the leftovers." Fair enough.
I left with a trunk full of food - a gallon of raw whole milk (the sweetest I've tasted), 1/2 pound of raw butter, a pound of the sharpest cheddar ever to pass between my lips (the farmer's wife made it three years ago and has been turning it over once a week since then, to keep it aging), a dozen eggs with deep orange yolks, and a pound of stew beef. All this, plus a promise of raw goat's milk once the goats have birthed their kids in January. My milkshare will be goat's milk, supplemented with cow's milk whenever the goats are dry.
I set out on a country road that winds its way along the edge of the foothills, north again toward home. I took all the historical routes, through Gold Rush town after Gold Rush town, feeling fulfilled and excited about my first local-food adventure. And then, just when I thought it couldn't get better, it got better. I spied a sign for fresh, homemade ravioli, at a little box of a building along the road. I don't know how long Vinciguerra Ravioli Co. has been gracing Jackson with its pillows of goodness, but I bought four boxes to add to my collection of local foods in the trunk.
By the time I got home I was hungry and ready for some yum. I cooked up a box of pumpkin ravioli just like John Vinciguerra instructed - at a slow boil, for only a few minutes so the ravioli don't burst (I only had two casualties). In the meantime I melted some butter with garlic and some sage from my side garden. Tossed together and sprinkled with grated Romano, it was heaven on a spoon. A rewarding end to an adventurous day of food.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Raw Milk in Jeopardy in California!
URGENT: Some serious deception has just taken place in the California Assembly, and Californians who value raw milk (and all its health benefits) need to take swift action to stop it!
Read all about it from Mark McAfee's point of view here, and also check out David Gumpert's excellent analysis here. Then write letters! Send them! And post a comment here letting me know that you did! I'm doing a mailing in the morning, and I'll post once I'm done, too.
Thanks, y'all.
Read all about it from Mark McAfee's point of view here, and also check out David Gumpert's excellent analysis here. Then write letters! Send them! And post a comment here letting me know that you did! I'm doing a mailing in the morning, and I'll post once I'm done, too.
Thanks, y'all.
Friday, October 19, 2007
100-Mile Diet
I'm inspired again. Aaaaaahhhhhhh! It feels good. As you can see, I haven't written here in a while; I've been somewhat wrapped up in figuring out what foods don't agree with my body so I could stop eating them. Well, that turned out to be harder than at first it seemed, and took some of the fun out of food for me. As a bit of an obsessive personality when it comes to health and food, I recognized the pattern and decided to cool it a bit. Basically, my body feels happier when I cut down on grains and sugar...big surprise there! It's only what I've been reading for the last, oh, ten years or so. So white sugar is out of my life, except for the 1 cup a month that I need to keep my kombucha thriving. And grains are a few-times-a-week proposition now.
But that's not what has inspired me - I just figured I'd quickly account for my absence. What does inspire me at the moment, is the 100-Mile Diet. I've been very intrigued with the "eat local" concept, but failed miserably at the September challenge set forth by Locavores. I just didn't keep track at all. But I think I'm ready to go there, and commit myself to a 100-mile foodshed as much as I possibly can. Since I live smack in the middle of northern California, I have a fabulously diverse foodshed - I can hit the coast, and I can hit Nevada - so I really can't complain!
So with Samhain around the corner, I set forth my New Year's Resolution: For the next year, I will source as much of my food as I possibly can from within my 100-mile foodshed.
What does this mean? Well, I'm finding out (to the relief of my internal perfectionist) that there is no one right way to do this. Everyone is creating their own version of the 100-mile diet - some making exceptions, some going whole hog, others going a week or a day at a time. So I'm laying out my own personal plan for the next year, and I intend to use this blog to hold myself accountable to it. I'm excited and nervous at the same time! What will this be like? How will I feel if I fail? What will my biggest challenges be? Am I too close to winter to do any canning or freezing prep? Okay okay, enough worries, on to the plan.
HerbanGirl's Year of 100-Mile Food
1. Weekly produce from my new/old CSA. Distance from home: 51.5 miles (pick-up on Wednesdays, 1/2 mile from my office)
2. Supplemental produce from the downtown farmers market on Sundays. Distance from home: 1 mile
3. Milk, eggs, and possibly cheese and beef from a family farm near San Andreas. Distance from home: 71.1 miles
4. Fish and seafood from our local fisherman, Brand Little, available at the farmer's market or co-op. Distance from home: 1-2 miles (Brand fishes off the SF coast: 80-100 miles)
That takes care of the basics - fruit, veggies, dairy, eggs, meat. Then there's the question of prepared foods, ingredients, etc. I really feel so lucky to have so much close to me. Lundberg has been growing rice in my town for decades, and Full Belly Farm grows and sells wheat. Organic cultured butter from Clover is only 80 miles from home. The abundance of crops at Apple Hill is only 50 miles away. We are absolutely surrounded by wine country - Napa Valley and Sonoma to the west, Amador and Shenendoah to the east. We have spices and herbs a'plenty at home, but when they're used up I will have do make do without (sniff) cinnamon, nutmeg, or cardamom...my very favorites.
As much as I admire the original 100-Mile Dieters, I don't know that I can succeed at eating 100% within my foodshed for the year. By now I am quite familiar with my limitations and weaknesses, and I would hate to mentally throw away a good idea just because I can't do it All. The. Way. So I'm giving myself five "wildcards" (this is the lingo, apparently) to keep myself sane.
Wildcard #1. Coconut products. These have become an important part of my diet, and they're doing much for my health so I'm keeping them.
Wildcard #2. Salt. There is no natural source of edible salt in my foodshed, but good sea salt is incredibly nutritive and important. So I'm keepin' it!
Wildcard #3. Cocoa. This seems a bit silly considering how little I eat it, and I may regret the choice, but I'm keeping it as a wildcard so I can have my occasional hot cocoa or square of deep, dark chocolate. And I bet when I get to making my own ice cream I'll be glad I kept it!
Wildcard #4. Vanilla. I bake. 'Nuff said.
Wildcard #5. Baking soda. See above.
In addition to my wildcards, which I consider near-necessities, I'll also give myself some permission to not become local-uppity or rigid. I will not turn down any food that is offered to me in hospitality (that comes from Jessica Prentice and I think it's beautifully put). When he makes it, I will drink Descartes' homemade beer without asking where the barley came from. Anything that's already in the house today doesn't count, but I can't replace it when it's gone unless it's local. And when I go out to eat or when I'm traveling, I will do my best but not drive myself crazy.
There. It's set in cyberstone. Hold me to it, y'all!
Now, anyone know a good local substitute for cranberry sauce?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Food Is Fun Again!
Well, my food allergy blood test showed "about as clean as I've ever seen," as my naturopath put it when he called with the results. Tiny reactions to dairy, and no reactions to anything else - even wheat. This is a little bit frustrating on one hand, because it doesn't help me solve my questions about why my body reacts the way it seems to. Can it be...as Descartes insists...all in my head!?!??!!? Criminy, I hope not!
But there's nearly always good along with bad...the good being that I can start adding back some of my beloved foods. I'll keep doing challenges first - eating a food all by itself on an empty stomach and then watching for reactions over the next 24 hours, before adding it back into the diet. I had a glass of raw milk this afternoon as a bit of a celebration challenge, and so far so good. I think as long as I don't have dairy every day, I'll be okay. And what about my GI issues with wheat? Well, a conversation on MDC revealed that the blood tests don't test for intolerances, so I may have to look there next. I also celebrated by making my own mayonnaise today...with real live eggs! Food is fun again! Tonight I think I'll make salmon fajitas to use up the beautiful onions, peppers, and tomatoes we've been getting from our CSA the last few weeks.
But there's nearly always good along with bad...the good being that I can start adding back some of my beloved foods. I'll keep doing challenges first - eating a food all by itself on an empty stomach and then watching for reactions over the next 24 hours, before adding it back into the diet. I had a glass of raw milk this afternoon as a bit of a celebration challenge, and so far so good. I think as long as I don't have dairy every day, I'll be okay. And what about my GI issues with wheat? Well, a conversation on MDC revealed that the blood tests don't test for intolerances, so I may have to look there next. I also celebrated by making my own mayonnaise today...with real live eggs! Food is fun again! Tonight I think I'll make salmon fajitas to use up the beautiful onions, peppers, and tomatoes we've been getting from our CSA the last few weeks.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
When Food Isn't Fun
I'm on yet another leg of my long journey with food. A couple weeks ago I read this book on the recommendation of a new chiropractor, who told me that I've been eating too many fermented foods (could it be my favorite summer lunch of salami, cheese, olives and pickles?) and that I have some food allergies that are interfering with my digestion and organ functions. Rad! So I'm on Day 12 of an elimination diet to figure out what foods cause reactions. I've also taken a blood test to determine the same thing, and I should have results back in the next few days.
What does all this mean? Well, for the last 12 days (since an absolutely gluttonous weekend including two birthday parties and a wedding) it has meant no dairy, eggs, gluten, soy, peanuts, corn, or sugar. It has meant lots of yummy vegetables, some fruits, and some meat and rice. It has meant that meals out with colleagues or friends have generally veered toward sausage and potatoes with fruit for breakfast, or sushi with salad for dinner. I know, if it has the word "sushi" in it, it can't be all bad! Well, it's been all right. Lemon juice is a surprisingly tasty substitute for soy sauce on my Rock'n'Roll.
But I miss some of the foods that I've been eating a lot of this year, in order to build up a good supply of Vitamins A, D, & K2 and healthy fats before we start trying to conceive a babe of our own: namely, my beloved raw milk, butter and cheese, and the dozen organic pastured eggs we still get weekly from our CSA. These foods have helped me feel healthy this year, although I have carried a layer of fat on my body that appears to be melting away, and which according to the book I read is not fat, but water that the body retains to protect from molecules of foods it isn't digesting well. Which makes me sad that maybe these foods that I love are doing harm as well as good and may need to be minimized or even eliminated. Sure, I'm still taking my cod liver oil a few times a week, and I put coconut oil in where I can, but I've slacked off on the bone broths and I need to pick up some liverwurst to make up for all the vitamins I'm not getting from the surprisingly Standard American Diet this book has me following.
(If you haven't been following this blog so far, and are wondering what the hell kind of food I'm eating and why, visit this website to find out more.)
So, why this post then? Well, I guess I'm having a bit of a rant as I anticipate once again having a limiting relationship with food. One of the most healing aspects of this year of traditional foods, has been that I've let go of a lot of my rigidity and isolation around food. I've felt more free to eat what is given to me with gratitude, to become more connected to the food I buy, and to be much more open and adventurous with what I eat. I feel a joyful relationship to food again, for the first time in such a long time...and I'm afraid that having real live food allergies finally diagnosed will throw all this into chaos again, at least for a while. I have long known that gluten makes my intestines swell and...well, other GI problems further down the tube. I have long known that dairy makes my body puffy and my nose stuffed. (This has been better since I've switched to raw, but it hasn't gone away completely.) I guess I just hoped that someday my body would get used to those foods and stop causing trouble, and that maybe if I supplemented my GI system with the wonderful microbes from lacto-fermented foods and such, that I would be okay. Well, I guess we'll see what ultimately has to happen, and I intend to work very hard to maintain my joy of food, because food is friggin' awesome and so much fun!
If you live with food allergies, I want to hear about it! How do you deal with it, get around it, not let it come between you and your connection to your food and food sources? Whether you do or not, I'd like to hear from you. I could use some advice and propping up. :)
What does all this mean? Well, for the last 12 days (since an absolutely gluttonous weekend including two birthday parties and a wedding) it has meant no dairy, eggs, gluten, soy, peanuts, corn, or sugar. It has meant lots of yummy vegetables, some fruits, and some meat and rice. It has meant that meals out with colleagues or friends have generally veered toward sausage and potatoes with fruit for breakfast, or sushi with salad for dinner. I know, if it has the word "sushi" in it, it can't be all bad! Well, it's been all right. Lemon juice is a surprisingly tasty substitute for soy sauce on my Rock'n'Roll.
But I miss some of the foods that I've been eating a lot of this year, in order to build up a good supply of Vitamins A, D, & K2 and healthy fats before we start trying to conceive a babe of our own: namely, my beloved raw milk, butter and cheese, and the dozen organic pastured eggs we still get weekly from our CSA. These foods have helped me feel healthy this year, although I have carried a layer of fat on my body that appears to be melting away, and which according to the book I read is not fat, but water that the body retains to protect from molecules of foods it isn't digesting well. Which makes me sad that maybe these foods that I love are doing harm as well as good and may need to be minimized or even eliminated. Sure, I'm still taking my cod liver oil a few times a week, and I put coconut oil in where I can, but I've slacked off on the bone broths and I need to pick up some liverwurst to make up for all the vitamins I'm not getting from the surprisingly Standard American Diet this book has me following.
(If you haven't been following this blog so far, and are wondering what the hell kind of food I'm eating and why, visit this website to find out more.)
So, why this post then? Well, I guess I'm having a bit of a rant as I anticipate once again having a limiting relationship with food. One of the most healing aspects of this year of traditional foods, has been that I've let go of a lot of my rigidity and isolation around food. I've felt more free to eat what is given to me with gratitude, to become more connected to the food I buy, and to be much more open and adventurous with what I eat. I feel a joyful relationship to food again, for the first time in such a long time...and I'm afraid that having real live food allergies finally diagnosed will throw all this into chaos again, at least for a while. I have long known that gluten makes my intestines swell and...well, other GI problems further down the tube. I have long known that dairy makes my body puffy and my nose stuffed. (This has been better since I've switched to raw, but it hasn't gone away completely.) I guess I just hoped that someday my body would get used to those foods and stop causing trouble, and that maybe if I supplemented my GI system with the wonderful microbes from lacto-fermented foods and such, that I would be okay. Well, I guess we'll see what ultimately has to happen, and I intend to work very hard to maintain my joy of food, because food is friggin' awesome and so much fun!
If you live with food allergies, I want to hear about it! How do you deal with it, get around it, not let it come between you and your connection to your food and food sources? Whether you do or not, I'd like to hear from you. I could use some advice and propping up. :)
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The Spirituality of Food
I've been interested in learning about food since I was a junior in high school, when I decided to become a vegetarian. I don't remember it being an abrupt decision; somehow I had gotten a hold of Francis Moore Lappe's classic, "Diet For A Small Planet" and read quite a bit of it. I was disturbed by the environmental damage occurring as a result of animal farming (which I now realize is not animal farming in general, but specifically factory farming), and about the world starvation problems that could supposedly be solved by the worldwide adoption of a vegetarian diet (further reading has convinced me that vegetarianism would not stop world hunger). But mostly I got hooked by the recipe for an open-faced apple/cheddar sandwich, cleverly broiled to melty, slightly singed perfection. I stopped eating meat not so much out of a great conviction about it, but just because it felt good to not eat it.
This winter, after 17 years as a vegetarian of one sort or another (I never could keep all the labels straight), I declared myself an emerging omnivore. I read another book that had a deeply profound impact on me and the way I view food, farming and animal husbandry, and nutrition. I now read everything I can get my hands on about traditional, sustainable, humane omnivorism. Look for a bibliography at the end of this post.
Sure, I feel better. I eat a diet now that consists of about 30-50% of my daily calories from fat, and a lot of that from saturated fat. Unthinkable in our mainstream culture! I no longer fear real food - on the contrary, I am enjoying food more than I ever have in my entire life. I feel creative with it; I feel close to it; I feel deeply fulfilled in a way that I never could have imagined.
Almost every time I work with food in our kitchen now, I find myself tapping into a deep soul-satisfaction, a feeling that I'm exactly where I belong and doing exactly what I am meant to do on this earth - break open the secret nectars of nutrition in our food and provide my family with those nectars. Feeding myself and Descartes well and treating the planet, plants and animals with deep respect has become a kind of spirituality for me. The meditative quality of preparing food. The consciousness with which I contact each element in each meal and the gratitude I feel in knowing how this food has reached us and that it blesses us. The quiet joy I feel when we take the time to eat together at the dining table or in the backyard and really connect. (This heightened awareness and reverence for our food makes me want to celebrate it rather than gulp it down in front of the TV, which all by itself is a huge blessing.) I feel like I am training to learn how to provide our baby with excellent health when she or he arrives. Hestia visits me regularly now, in my kitchen chapel, and she whispers in my ear as I chop and sautee, bake and ferment. When I first started this blog, I wrote of my hope for something like this, but I am pleased as punch at how it has manifested. So I say to Hestia, "Journey on with me! Bring me in deeper!" I never dreamed home could be more fulfilling than career, but am I ever glad I was wrong.
***How to be an omni-sustaina-humane-loca-vore: A Reading List***
Essential reading:
Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon
Nutrition And Physical Degeneration by Weston A. Price
Recommended reading:
Full Moon Feast by Jessica Prentice
Real Food: What To Eat And Why by Nina Planck
The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan
Wild Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz
Eat Fat Lose Fat by Mary Enig and Sally Fallon
Next on my list:
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, Camille Kingsolver & Steven L. Hopp
This winter, after 17 years as a vegetarian of one sort or another (I never could keep all the labels straight), I declared myself an emerging omnivore. I read another book that had a deeply profound impact on me and the way I view food, farming and animal husbandry, and nutrition. I now read everything I can get my hands on about traditional, sustainable, humane omnivorism. Look for a bibliography at the end of this post.
Sure, I feel better. I eat a diet now that consists of about 30-50% of my daily calories from fat, and a lot of that from saturated fat. Unthinkable in our mainstream culture! I no longer fear real food - on the contrary, I am enjoying food more than I ever have in my entire life. I feel creative with it; I feel close to it; I feel deeply fulfilled in a way that I never could have imagined.
Almost every time I work with food in our kitchen now, I find myself tapping into a deep soul-satisfaction, a feeling that I'm exactly where I belong and doing exactly what I am meant to do on this earth - break open the secret nectars of nutrition in our food and provide my family with those nectars. Feeding myself and Descartes well and treating the planet, plants and animals with deep respect has become a kind of spirituality for me. The meditative quality of preparing food. The consciousness with which I contact each element in each meal and the gratitude I feel in knowing how this food has reached us and that it blesses us. The quiet joy I feel when we take the time to eat together at the dining table or in the backyard and really connect. (This heightened awareness and reverence for our food makes me want to celebrate it rather than gulp it down in front of the TV, which all by itself is a huge blessing.) I feel like I am training to learn how to provide our baby with excellent health when she or he arrives. Hestia visits me regularly now, in my kitchen chapel, and she whispers in my ear as I chop and sautee, bake and ferment. When I first started this blog, I wrote of my hope for something like this, but I am pleased as punch at how it has manifested. So I say to Hestia, "Journey on with me! Bring me in deeper!" I never dreamed home could be more fulfilling than career, but am I ever glad I was wrong.
***How to be an omni-sustaina-humane-loca-vore: A Reading List***
Essential reading:
Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon
Nutrition And Physical Degeneration by Weston A. Price
Recommended reading:
Full Moon Feast by Jessica Prentice
Real Food: What To Eat And Why by Nina Planck
The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan
Wild Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz
Eat Fat Lose Fat by Mary Enig and Sally Fallon
Next on my list:
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, Camille Kingsolver & Steven L. Hopp
Thursday, July 26, 2007
An Honest Chicken
Yesterday I treated myself to lunch at the Co-op, which has a really nice, fairly local and all-organic deli. It's a nice walk from my office, about 15 minutes from door to door, and this summer has been so mild so far (knock on wood) that I could walk it fairly comfortably at 2pm on a July day. I took advantage of the hot bar, which featured Mediterranean potatoes, Spanikopita, creamed lentils, and Greek chicken - everything looked and smelled delicious. As usual, I sat down in the dining room and spread out my current read, The Omnivore's Dilemma, just above my plate so I could read and eat.
I'm nearing the end of the book, and started reading Chapter 18, titled "Hunting: The Meat". In this section, Michael Pollan recounts his first day hunting pigs in the hills of nearby Sonoma County, as part of his analysis of a completely hunted and foraged meal. I felt a little unsure about reading this section while eating, but I figured I could stomach it.
Somewhere around the time he was describing his friend's kill, I looked down to cut my chicken thigh, and the skin, which I suddenly recognized entirely as skin, slipped off the meat, revealing the plump, smooth, white muscle underneath. In a flash, I became acutely, sickeningly aware of exactly what I was eating, in a visceral way that I don't recall experiencing before. As someone who was a vegetarian for the better part of 17 years, and a vegan for some of that time, I've avoided this feeling by abstaining from the practice of eating meat, but at the beginning of this year I decided to become an omnivore again, for various reasons. I'd started out with barely perceptible meat - chunks of beef stuffed neatly away in a burrito, or sausage or liverwurst which has been fairly disguised. But now I had graduated to the kind of meat that is unmistakably animal.
I thought very hard about looking away, putting my fork down and leaving the remainder of the thigh, but this book made me think twice about it; if I'm going to make the conscious decision to eat meat again (which I have), then I'd better be as honest as I could about it. If I couldn't eat this chicken with full conscious knowledge and respect for the animal whose life ended in order to nourish me, then I didn't want to do it at all. So I finished my slice through the flesh and skin, almost bionically aware of each cut fiber, and ate another bite. Strangely enough, I enjoyed the flavor, and felt a strong spiritual gratitude surge through me. I felt that I needed to honor this animal's life by eating every bit of meat that I could cut off the bone; that it would have been disrespectful to be at all casual about what I was consuming; so I cleaned it thoroughly. I also felt grateful that even the last bite felt slightly uneasy. It was the most honest chicken meal I'd ever eaten.
Tonight I felt compelled to write about it, and even as I write I'm surprised by the power and profundity of yesterday's seemingly simple, everyday lunch. I hope I don't forget it.
I'm nearing the end of the book, and started reading Chapter 18, titled "Hunting: The Meat". In this section, Michael Pollan recounts his first day hunting pigs in the hills of nearby Sonoma County, as part of his analysis of a completely hunted and foraged meal. I felt a little unsure about reading this section while eating, but I figured I could stomach it.
Somewhere around the time he was describing his friend's kill, I looked down to cut my chicken thigh, and the skin, which I suddenly recognized entirely as skin, slipped off the meat, revealing the plump, smooth, white muscle underneath. In a flash, I became acutely, sickeningly aware of exactly what I was eating, in a visceral way that I don't recall experiencing before. As someone who was a vegetarian for the better part of 17 years, and a vegan for some of that time, I've avoided this feeling by abstaining from the practice of eating meat, but at the beginning of this year I decided to become an omnivore again, for various reasons. I'd started out with barely perceptible meat - chunks of beef stuffed neatly away in a burrito, or sausage or liverwurst which has been fairly disguised. But now I had graduated to the kind of meat that is unmistakably animal.
I thought very hard about looking away, putting my fork down and leaving the remainder of the thigh, but this book made me think twice about it; if I'm going to make the conscious decision to eat meat again (which I have), then I'd better be as honest as I could about it. If I couldn't eat this chicken with full conscious knowledge and respect for the animal whose life ended in order to nourish me, then I didn't want to do it at all. So I finished my slice through the flesh and skin, almost bionically aware of each cut fiber, and ate another bite. Strangely enough, I enjoyed the flavor, and felt a strong spiritual gratitude surge through me. I felt that I needed to honor this animal's life by eating every bit of meat that I could cut off the bone; that it would have been disrespectful to be at all casual about what I was consuming; so I cleaned it thoroughly. I also felt grateful that even the last bite felt slightly uneasy. It was the most honest chicken meal I'd ever eaten.
Tonight I felt compelled to write about it, and even as I write I'm surprised by the power and profundity of yesterday's seemingly simple, everyday lunch. I hope I don't forget it.
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