Sanguine

2010-04-16T20:08:00.000-07:00

Um... whoops?

Dear Reader, I am clearly and 100% incapable of holding to my word when I say I'm going to write. I'd show you my sheepish face, but my camera's over there and I'm over here and I'm pretty sure I haven't brushed my hair in a few days.

I have no topic today other than what it is I've been up to. Obviously it's half-past April, not so obviously, unless you live here, the weather has been flat out wacky, full stop. Two weeks ago we had several days of 80-degree weather, back to back. Mom and I took Ro down the canal trail to look at turtles and let me tell you, don't wear mohair socks in your hiking boots when it's hot out. That's a life lesson, kids. Needless to say, all the flowers are up (forsythia! rhodies! dandelions! violets! creeping charlie! magnolias!) And the tulips are already in bloom and I have no idea what that means for the Tulip Festival this year, but I'm still planning to take Ro, like usual. It's not May without an obligatory splash around the Moses fountain. (Charlton Heston, eat your heart out. I prefer this guy.)

Easter came and went without too much crazy. Ro's sudden obsession with Hello Kitty had us in the clutches of a far more character driven holiday than I'm normally bound to gun for. In her Hello Kitty basket she had Hello Kitty pajamas and in her Hello Kitty shaped eggs she had Hello Kitty socks. Oh, God bless Target. (No, really, have you seen the Liberty of London line? Forget about it. Goodbye, paycheck. I knew you, once.)

...Oh right, hah. I don't have a job. Silly me. I guess sending out three resumes a day is just a hobby.

We spend a lot of time at the playground now that it's warm out. A lot. Ro makes roughly three single-serving friends with every visit and I wonder if it's a good idea or not to do that to her. But when I see how well she does socially with other children- (very talkative, engaging, patient, doting, and so sympathetic when they fall down and get hurt.) I keep thinking serious, serious pre-school thoughts. Obviously rethinking the homeschooling idea all together. Oh well, no denim jumpers and prairie skirts for us.

As well as playgrounds, warm weather inherently means it's gazebo season. I helped JG put ours up last week and now that the furniture is all situated inside Ro's been busying herself with making fairy houses by the old tree stump and getting yelled at when she ventures beyond the shed towards the road (of course!) Oh, to live on a quiet street in a set-back neighborhood, oh to have a fence. Me, it's a repeat of last year- sitting out there with my sewing basket and hand finishing the edges and trim and embroidery on umpteen SCA garb projects in anticipation of War of the Roses at the end of May.

This year Ro is getting a new kirtle (unbleached muslin with grey wool trim) and surcote (soft pink linen with chartreuse mohair trim and a tiny pewter button shaped like a bee.) Both are slightly oversized and will probably fit her until she's seven, undoubtedly. She's also getting a black wool hooded liripipe capelet, lined in chartreuse silk. My stuff is mostly finished, I worked on it over the winter. I have a beautiful cream colored cotehardie, a longbelt embroidered with tiny vines to go with it, and a forest green velvet cloak with a chocolate mink collar and bright gold buckles to close it with. (Yeah, Salvation Army curtains!) Photos to come, most assuredly.

(Those of you wondering where the photos of the snow queen I said I was making are, she's not done yet!)

Nothing much else to say other than the fact that I made a pretty bangin' stromboli for dinner, full of hot sausage, pepperoni, onions and peppers. Man, I love the versatility of pizza dough.

2010-03-25T23:57:00.000-07:00

Click here to view my photos from Ian & Christine's wedding.

The meaning of home.

2010-03-25T15:37:00.000-07:00

(I used to long to see my city's skyline, heart aching. The sparkle of it from over the river, looking from a hilltop in East Greenbush. I'd come visit and get teary-eyed when I drove by, without fail.)

"They say you can never go home again," Amanda said to me the other night as we perched on the edge of her bed after not seeing one another for a little too long. "I know so many people who have gone back to where they grew up after being away, at that college age, and it's not the same, and the people they were friends with are totally different and it's like 'what happened?'"

What happened?

I acknowledged to her that she and my mother are the only reasons I would stay if I were inclined to stay, but I'm not. I'm not.

I can't believe how different it is, here. And I'm saying that publicly for the first time. In my heart, New York was a very different place. The reality of New York is that it's a brick that I carry and refuse to let go of for sentimental reasons. I love her, this place. I love New York and I probably always will, but the truth is, I outgrew New York, and I should not have encouraged my husband when he asked me how soon we could move back here.

But I did, because I wanted to come home, and maybe I needed to know the cold and bitter truth, that 99% of the friends I thought I had here are actually just acquaintances, and as fond as I am of them it doesn't change the fact that they're not enough to tie me down.

Here is what I know. I did not go away to college, like in Amanda's example, but I did go away, and I was away during that same squishy college age where you form your adult self and turn around one day and aren't sure who you are or how you got there. Instead of going off to college, I went off to become a grown-up. I moved into a house, had a baby, got married, became a woman, with different priorities and different values than the teenager I'd left behind.

("Look at what you've done, all you've accomplished," Steve said to me last week...)

I came back here expecting to embrace that teenager, see her again, remember her, her ideas, her dreams, but it turned out... she was a stranger to me. I have changed.

Back in Arizona I left a family. I was talking to Taylor about this just the other day, as we spoke about how Arizona seems to be drawing us both back, kicking and screaming. "We're family," I said to him, "whether we like it or not." And that's true.

I built my family out there with my bare hands, from my sisters to my brothers, and my nieces and nephews. Even new parental figures in the moms and dads of my close friends. There were even people I was just getting to know and love, and people I felt like I needed to get back on the ball with.

It took me the better part of four years to figure out how to live out there, but once I got it straight, I fell in love with it. Did I want to come home? Of course I did. Only I'd been so busy pining and mourning after New York I didn't realize I'd made a new home right there in Mesa. One it would actually break my heart to leave.

They say the grass is always greener on the other side, but I just spent two weeks rolling around in all that green grass and let me tell you how easy it was to breathe, how effortless it was to smile, how good it was to be back.

Home.

Liz, a friend of my husband's, said to me, "You can't ever really go home, as much as you might want to. The wheel keeps turning though, just as the seasons keep changing. Each step you take is a step towards a new you, a different you. But you couldn't be where you are now without the steps you've already taken."

I keep thinking of a quote from one of my favorite movies, Zach Braff's Garden State. "You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your stuff, that idea of home is gone. You'll see one day when you move out. It just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know? You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know? Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

My best friend Kerry, she spoke words never truer: "Thinking about ... your musings on where is home, it's clear that these people [in Arizona] are your tribe. However, that's tricky, because no matter where one finds a tribe, that's always changing- people move, people enter different life situations... everything's constantly evolving. The magic won't ever be the same, because it can't be, because you and everyone else is different."

We are all changed, but the feelings we have for our homes and our families- blood or otherwise- will always be with us. Part of being a grown-up is figuring out what to do with those feelings and which way to turn when they blindside you at three am... or while on a cross-country journey. Love and peace are all that matter at the end of things.

(Now, I find myself wistful for the summit of Red Mountain, peeking over the rooftops of northeast Mesa, vermillion and glowing, on fire in the light of the setting sun.)

More photos from the trip.

2010-03-25T14:11:00.001-07:00

Photos from the trip sofar.

2010-03-04T17:53:00.000-08:00

2010-02-25T10:48:00.000-08:00

You might notice I've been posting every other day- been getting ready for the trip to AZ which we leave for next week. As you can see by the complicated, color-coded list above, I tend to be a bit persnickety about my packing process. It usually starts two weeks in advance and comes together slowly. If I didn't do it this way- I'd forget something. Plus, this allows for emergency last-minute Amazon purchases of things I can't really travel without (rechargeable batteries for the new Kodak I got from a friend, a Built NY neoprene laptop sleeve to hold my laptop together in transit (yes, together, I mean that,) a copy of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle to ~~have something to read on the plane~~ qualify for Super Saver Shipping...)

Anyway, I always start to get anxious the week before a trip. Bad anxious, like airplanes are far too risky for me. (I watch a lot of Lost, okay?) Especially, this time, with 45-minute layovers. And I don't know if anyone remembers what happened last time I was towing a toddler and had a layover less than an hour long, but I wound up missing my flight because Ro took a faceplant on the escalator and I was making her run with blood gushing out of her face, had to stay the night in Cleveland on vouchers because I had no money, and Ro spent most of her time naked because I only had a couple hours worth of diapers in my tote bag (and it was the one time I opted not to carry a carry-on.)

Ahem. I hope to avoid that happening again.

We're flying Delta, which means we don't have to deal with everyone's new and improved baggage surcharge, and it turns out I really can pack for two weeks in a reasonably-sized suitcase for each of us. Remarkable! This time I won't shirk the carry-on with changes of clothes, just in case those layovers do come back to bite me, but who knows how lugging that duffel bag and Ro with her own backpack will slow us down.

I'll try my hardest not to be disappointed of we find ourselves having overnight adventures in Detroit, though I can't exactly say it's the one place I always wanted to visit. Yikes. Anyway, the whole point of this rambling diatribe was to explain why I'm less than chatty and will likely be even less so in the next three weeks. I'll post when I can, though. I'm sure to have a ton of photos, at least. =D

(Ro tries on her flower girl dress.)

Always a few of these kicking around.

2010-02-23T16:27:00.000-08:00

Nana brought a new pile of magazines with her on Sunday.
There's another month or two of reading in the tub after Ro goes to sleep. =)

A visit.

2010-02-21T18:23:00.000-08:00

The Dabbler.

2010-02-20T15:47:00.000-08:00

A Jack(ie) of All Trades, is that what I am? I often wonder how people decide what it is they're supposed to do with their lives. How it's remotely possible to wake up one morning and intrinsically know what you plan to spend that forty-thousand dollars in college tuition on as if it was never a question. If it'd been up to me, I'd have spent that ten times over by now, trying to perfect everything it is that I ever wanted to do. As it is, I did not ever get around to graduating high school, much less venture into the wide world of higher education. And honestly, I'm not always convinced that I envy my friends who have.

(Exhibit A: The Dabbler.)

When I tell you I have done, considered and perused everything, I am so not lying to you. If it remotely involves creative endeavors, I have sought to attempt it. Art teacher, Waldorf teacher, Adobe Creative Suite teacher, author and illustrator of children's books, toymaker, graphic designer, blogger, web designer, artist, illustrator, writer, seamstress, historical costume designer, jeweler, silversmith, photographer, interior designer, doula, midwife, professional organizer, professional organizer who specializes in hoarders...

Seriously, I have no idea what to do with myself. I ebb and flow like the tide or whatever dainty poetical term you want to call the fact that I can't ever seem to get a grasp on the one thing that I really, truly want to do. Because I want to do it all, of course. No aspirations here, just the obsessive drive to be as diverse and wacky as possible.

(Exhibit B: A sample of The Dabbler's 'serious' photography.)

I mean, I feel like somewhere in there I've been all of those things this whole time. I grew up with a remarkably creative family on my father's side, and I'm pretty sure it's just there, in my blood, and I don't have a choice. The problem is- I need to choose. I'm not going to be a Stay at Home Mom forever, not by any stretch of the imagination, but neither am I content with being a secretary for the rest of my life, you know? My lack of schooling sees to it that I am destined to never make more than fifteen bucks an hour no matter what job under The Man I happen to have. My only way of getting around this AND being happy forever, it seems, is to branch out on my own.

(Exhibit C: Notebooks.)
(I did not take this photo and for the life of me I cannot figure out who to credit for it, regardless of my Google-Fu.)

I have a stack of notebooks about the size of Rhode Island (come on, that's a reasonable size!) Because my best friend in highschool and I spent about three years writing ...possibly more than was healthy for us. Late nights, not paying attention in class, daydreaming, all attributed to spiral bound notebooks from the school store. She nurtured in me a love of writing, and it is because of her- and one other friend I happen to consider a best- that I am still writing to this day.

At this very moment in time I am thirty-five chapters into the second draft of my novel. I spend all of my free time parked right here in front of this laptop with a candle lit ~~banging out the story meats~~ fleshing out/cannibalizing the skeletal cremains of a story I wrote on and off for the past three years. I'm almost five-hundred pages completed and it's starting to look like a series. A whole series.

Between that, and this blog, and the frequency with which I update my LiveJournal, am I allowed to call myself a writer, now? Or do you need to be published to make that distinction? I suppose I've written about twenty informative articles (via TextBroker) that have been published on the internet and I've been paid for. So that's it, then? I'm a writer? Let me take a bow now, before it's too late.

(Now if only I didn't have to worry about my laptop falling apart at every turn. I can't keep this thing together with gaff tape much longer.)

(Exhibit D: Sterling & CZ solitaire ring made by The Dabbler.)

But wait. I've also been paid for jewelry I've made. Toys I've made. Clothes I've sewn. Websites I've designed. Art I've drawn. Does that also make me all of those other things "professionally"? When am I ever going to get a grip on this?

(Look, Ma! My bracelet, featured on Etsy's front page!)
(It never sold. I kept it for myself and passed it on a few years later to a dear friend along with the mermaid necklace below.)

So what makes a person what they are? How do you define yourself with any seriousness? How do you say "I'm a writer," without getting laughed at? I have a friend who is a brilliant artist. He worked for Marvel for two years (and incidentally went to the same college at the same time in the same program as my father.) He can now go around saying "I'm an artist" because he has the professional and educational credentials to back his claim. But what about the person who just sketches something in Photoshop every once in a while, but never had a job doing it? Is she allowed to say she's an artist?

My father worked as a graphic artist, went to school for art, has professional and educational credentials, but is less talented than I am- (no offense meant, dude, you said it yourself for years.) Does that make him more of an artist? A different type of artist? Less of an artist and more of a person who can ~~handle responsibility~~ manage to get more done? Where are the answers, universe?!

(These were gifts. No professionals here.)

It seems to me that I'm destined for the rest of my life to be the girl who could have been a hundred things but never got to be any of them because she couldn't make up her mind. But would I trade that? Would I ever trade that to be the person who went to college, got one degree, went out and used that degree to become one thing? I get to be fifty things! I am fifty things, and how cool is that?

Fifteen years later, "So, Ali, what do you do?"
"Oh, you know...

...I dabble."

Snow day.

2010-02-19T02:15:00.000-08:00

You know what they say about everything old...

2010-02-18T12:13:00.001-08:00

I'm calling it the new old fashioned, and really, what other phrase could you come up with to explain the delicate balance with which women (and even men,) in my age bracket are embracing today's technology while basking in the simple joys of our great grandmothers?

You know who I'm talking about. You might even be one of them. Stay at home mothers blogging about their vintage Pyrex collections from their shimmering ice-white Apple computers, regaling the mommy masses with their low-downs and recaps of flea-market crawling, library hunting and farmer's market finds. No, no WalMart, Barnes & Noble or megalomaniacal grocery chains for these women. They're doing it grandma style.

I won't bore you with photos of my Mason jar collection, ripe for next year's canning spree, but I will admit to being among them. Yeah, that's me with my great grandmother's rose-printed tablecloth employed as a curtain, and I won't lie about the glee her soup tureen gives me, the bread I learned to bake and the fact that I don't smother the ground under the tree with presents for my kid. So what is it about this back-to-basics approach that seems to be grabbing the 20-something moms crowd by their thrift store scored shirtcollars and leading them down the path of the been there, done that?

Is it our newfound appreciation of all things green? Our sudden and intense drive to become eco-savvy, eco-friendly and, frankly, eco-overindulged? Are we embracing our generation's economic depression? Or is it something simpler than that? If you were to ask me, I'd tell you that I'm pretty sure it has everything to do with the fact that we're just too damn technologically advanced for the comfort of our own psyche. That our experience as byproducts of this system have warned us away from the always plugged in, always on the run familial lifestyle the 80's, 90's and even the past ten years awarded us.

All of the sudden we're joining cooperative preschools and buying homeschooling course materials, we're laying down the (Newton's) law on our living room floors instead of in public schools. We're joining community garden plots and communing with our food and grinning ear-to-ear when we dig up potatoes because we've realized they grow in the ground! And at the same time we're really glad we have the internet and our Kitchen Aid stand mixers, aren't we...

(Okay, I don't have a Kitchen Aid stand mixer... ::fist shake:: I had to make that bread by hand! Why, when I was your age... !! ...Hold on.)

We've caught on, America! We're turning our backs on the mainstream, inventing our own veritable potpourri where we're able to strike a happy balance between the iPods, Kindles and Canon EOS Rebels, and our packets of jam pectin, embroidered tea-towel aprons, and hand-knit diaper soakers. We're living the dream, we've got the best of both worlds, and who's to tell us we can't?

Oh, it's not me. I say let's go.

(Potatoes, you guys!)

Freecycle, freeduce, freuse?

2010-02-17T11:36:00.000-08:00

Somewhere out of the dark recesses of commercialism, beyond the money-hungry moguls squeezing every average American for every last penny they earn in their aimless and dry lives, there is a beacon of hope. They call it Freecycle, and it, like Craigslist, is an affront to The Man, daring to let the people take care of their own business, be it for money, for services, for barter or, in this case, for free.

(How Anthony Bourdain did that sound? Whoa.)

I myself am a rabid proponent of Freecycle, I subscribe to the list, I hungrily look over everything as it comes through my inbox, because you never do know what you're going to find. I've used it to rid myself of perfectly good clothes I don't wear anymore, and through it I've acquired fashionable work clothes, brand new tennis rackets and a can of balls, a brand new LL Bean messenger bag/laptop case (which I promptly gave away to someone who needed it more than I did,) and most recently, much to Ro's delight, a new set of Duplos and several pairs of Hanna Andersson organic cotton underpants in her size.

I have a few people whose names I watch out for, because they always seem to be giving away something good. A Vegan professor who lives in Troy and has a daughter around Ro's age is always listing things that make me jump up and go "Ooh!" You never know if you're going to be the first person to respond, so you never know if you're going to get the item or not. It's a little bit like free-stuff roulette, always a thrill.

Just yesterday someone posted a Pentax Asahi K1000 to the list, and I, unfortunately, was about the 20th reply. I've never been in love with a camera the way I am with the K1000, but you win some, you lose some. What pleases me is that it doesn't seem to matter. Everyone operates on an honor system, and watching it in action is heartening. Knowing that somewhere under our dark exterior, the people in this country really are okay with giving, with sharing.

Personally I can't wait to get all my stuff unpacked so that I can start giving back. It's kind of hard to list stuff to give away when you're living out of one room and don't have anything in there in the first place. =)

Ro and her free Duplos.

The Toymaker strikes again.

2010-02-16T10:19:00.000-08:00

I painted a flock of wheeling wooden dinosaurs- or are they dragons? For a friend's baby boy. They need to be finished with beeswax before I can send them out, but I'm in love with these colors!

Starting Over

2010-02-15T16:32:00.001-08:00

I originally started this blog as a means to keep in touch with my family who were back in New York while I was stuck in (what I felt at the time was) very miserable Arizona. As you've heard me say about twenty times by now, I tend to let it go for weeks at a stretch.

This is less of a New Year's Resolution (uh, seeing as how it's now the fifteenth of February.) But more of a promise to myself. I'm planning to make an update to this blog every single day in the hopes of getting back in touch with my inner blogger. You might noticed I changed what the banner up above says. No longer a thinking girl's foray into raising a daughter, but now a thinking girl's foray into everything. I'm planning to blog more about life in general, what I'm up to, what I'm cooking or making or doing, and not as solely about Ro anymore.

I think several things prompted the motivation for this. First of all, Gmail implemented Buzz, which is more or less the equivalent of Facebook's Wall, or Twitter. Because I'm a religious Gmail convert from 2003, I was happy to see that I wouldn't have to visit any extra websites, because I really don't like Facebook, and I really, really don't like Twitter. Keeping up with LiveJournal is enough for me, and I clearly can't handle this blog, more or less eighteen different social networking sites. But when I noticed that Buzz imports Blogger posts, I thought, maybe now's a good time to get back on track.

Secondly, in about fifteen days, Ro and I are traveling back to Arizona for the wedding of Ian and Christine (of Aqua Vitae fame, though not so active there these days. Ian is the little brother of Steph of Little Stuff of Life, who I will also be seeing, along with the rest of the Sunday Pancakes crowd.) Ro will be the flower girl, and I have been asked to do the photography, a great and nerve-wracking honor.

Arizona is where this blog was born, and thinking of going back put me back in the mindset that I still do have family who reads here, and they still expect to see something turn up every now and again.

That being said, we're starting over, here. Reenvisioning it as something necessary.

Communication.

2010-01-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

I miss my sewing hutch. Yes, that one right there. I miss a lot of things about Mesa lately- namely Fresh & Easy- but- whoa! Off topic. Not the point of this post. I know the above photo doesn't look very organized, but I assure you it's quite the contrary. Here at Mom's I have all my sewing things crammed onto a desk with my art things and my jewelrymaking things and my laptop things and it's... kind of a bit of an-eleven-letter-word-I-shouldn't-use-in-public. Ahem.

Anyway, as is wont to happen during the holiday season and when holed up for a week on a sofa with back issues of Martha Stewart Living and Amanda Blake Soule's newest publication, I get the overwhelming urge to sew little things. Of course, checking up on everyone's blogs from the past month, I stumbled upon this little gem in my good friend Ashley's blog.

A snow queen! And how sweet she is. Now I'm sitting here making elaborate plans for the tiny scraps of white and ice blue silk I have stuffed in with endless lengths of wool yarn and sparkly white and silver beads... What a good idea I have. I can't WAIT to make Ro her own Snow Queen- put it away (with the rest of the Christmas stuff that I took down and stuffed- much to its protest- back into the storage bin this afternoon) and bring it out as a surprise next year when we're having Yule in our own home again and I have somewhere to put the glittering advent cupboard and...

A Snow Queen to set on top.
I'll be sure to have photos when she's done.

2009-12-31T00:18:00.000-08:00

It's gearing up to be one quiet New Year's Eve at my house. No parties, no dressing up (well, maybe I'll toss on the red heels and my vintage rhinestone bracelet with my pj pants- just for midnight...) Nothing but our small family, champagne bejeweled with pomegranate seeds, jalepeno poppers and egg rolls, and likely many, many rounds of Memory and Pictionary. Hey, don't judge. Just ask my Grandma Lettie. Pictionary is awesome.

2009-12-30T17:33:00.000-08:00

One thing that comes inherently with the holiday season in my family is the celebration of Nana and Papa's wedding anniversary. Usually it's a subdued affair- a phone call and/or card from my mother. But this year was... a little different.

December 19th, 1959.
Judy Huff, a sixteen year old bride, and Jimmy Loucks, her twenty-three year old Navy beau, get married.

(You might notice Jimmy's goofy looking older brother George standing behind him. With ears like those, how can you miss the Loucks boys in a crowd?)

She loses her engagement ring in the snow and a panic-driven search ensues.
She finds it. All is well.

Fifty years later, their very small family schemes a dirty little plan to kidnap them from their cozy apartment in Schoharie Valley, New York and haul them down to New Paltz to wine and dine them at the wonderful Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz.

It was a long evening of ridiculously delicious food, strolling long corridors, tea and cookies and toasting ourselves by huge fireplaces, gleefully browsing the gift shop (and coming home with pine cone ornaments for each of the women,) and dancing at the end.

2009-12-29T20:55:00.000-08:00

But if you really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm.

2009-12-27T07:50:00.000-08:00

The post-holiday quiet. Grazing on the half-eaten trays of cookies. Toys from one end of the house to the other. A seemingly permanent uniform of pajama pants and slippers. Cups of coffee and reading new books. The tiny chatter of a little girl playing with her new dollhouse.

A Bevy of Salt Dough Ornaments

2009-12-23T17:21:00.001-08:00

2009-12-23T15:32:00.000-08:00

I admittedly did not have sun fuzzies when I first heard about Ni-Hao, Kai Lan! I have reprehensible disdain for Dora the Explorer/Go, Diego! Go! and thought, really, this is just Chinese Dora. This is ridiculous. It happened to be on yesterday morning and I had not yet had coffee, so I just let Ro watch it. By the time I settled onto the sofa with her, they were into the second segment where Kai Lan and her friends are preparing for the Moon Festival. Immediately I felt kind of nauseated because whenever I think of the Chinese Moon Festival I think of Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club which I've read about ten times and it's so fraught with tragedy and sadness that it always makes me feel a little queasy.

Anyway, I was thrilled to see that Kai Lan actually managed to do Zhongqiu Jie some justice! They spent the day preparing dumplings, making paper lanterns, and helping bake moon cakes at the bakery to fill the orders from the neighborhood. Then they waited for the sun to set, gathered around the table, ate their dumplings, had a lantern parade to the top of the hill, made a wish on the moon and they all shared cakes.

Xie xie, Kai Lan. You do me proud.

2009-12-22T11:00:00.000-08:00

I'm a mom. I will definitely be the first to admit that there are some days when I can't get anything right. The three year old is so three and won't listen to a damn thing you tell her. The cookies got burned all three times you tried baking them. The cat decided she was mad at you because her dish was empty and peed right on your good down comforter. The dishes seem to self-replicate overnight. You've changed four pairs of pee-pants today alone.

The shower is the only place you can hide. I mean, sometimes you can squeeze in a minute (like this one) where a bowl of Goldfish crackers and a Wow Wow Wubbzy DVD on Daddy's computer are enough to get you some peace and quiet. If only for a moment.

It's barely two more days 'til Christmas morning and I don't have my gift for my secret Santa finished, I haven't gotten the groceries for Christmas dinner (easy this year, just a big pot of my killer chili.) I haven't watched Love Actually yet and, uh, I'm reasonably sure that none of Ro's presents are wrapped.

However, I have baked a few batches of cookies that didn't burn, I did make about twenty salt dough ornament blanks that I've been painting with Ro and the rest of the family, the tree is up, and there's a glimmer of hope for snow after all.

Being home fo- ...ahem... ♫ I'll be home for Christmas... you can count on me... ♪
Being home this year is something I'm sure to be thankful for.
And especially ♫ dreaming of a white Christmas... ♪

2009-12-22T08:50:00.001-08:00

Blessed Yule.

Solstice fires burn bright as newborn stars
shedding warmth where frost-wolf's icy breath
silvers streams, kisses each leafless branch,
making the eternal mother yield.
Frosted buds glitter like frozen tears
as nature mourns the mother's little death;
dark demons spread a heavy shroud to blanch
colour from the woodland, heath and field.

But of each thing a little spark, preserved
and tended by the ones who serve the flame
survives to light embryo season's birth,
'til life returns one more, vibrant and green.
Reaching higher each day the pale sun curves,
not strong enough to set the sky aflame.
So while nature languishes in dearth,
this darkest night the solstice fires burn.

Solstice Fires by Ian R. Thorpe.

2009-12-14T23:19:00.000-08:00

First snow, first snowman.
So happy to finally be sharing a 'real' winter with her.

Autumn Recap in Photos

2009-12-14T22:51:00.000-08:00

Time for vaccinations.

A few last bike rides before it gets too cold.

A furious artist.

The season's first pumpkin from Nana and Papa.

A visit to the State Museum in Albany.

Practicing for the day when her lord wins Crown Tourney and she gets to be Queen of the East Kingdom.

Summer Recap in Photos

2009-12-14T22:40:00.000-08:00

Playing at the playground and splashing pool in Waterford.

Discovering things at the Science Museum in Troy with Uncle Chris.

"Swimming" down at the pond.

Making her move at a friend's birthday party.

2009-12-14T22:30:00.000-08:00

After a four-month hiatus, I think I can safely say the holiday season has piqued my interest in writing here again, as it did last year- perhaps I find myself stuck in Autumnal writer's block. It's hard telling.

I feel overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have to write about, but I think most of the story will be told in photos until I get to the part about Yule and baking cookies like a madwoman.

Speaking of madwomen...

Now we are Three!

2009-08-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

2009-08-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's been the weather- a cruddy, cold and rainy kind of summer, thick with horrendous mosquitoes and breeding the blight that destroyed all of my heirloom tomatoes. Maybe it's been how rough things have been since Zack lost his job, even though he had a flawless record with his previous employer doing the same job for the same company. Maybe it's just been total ennui, but I haven't wanted to write and for that, dear reader, I apologize.

Since last we spoke, the garden has done a combination of boom and die, the herbs and eggplant are happy and huge, and the tomatoes were doing wonderfully until the blight set in. Now I have no tomatoes, and I'm terribly sad.

See how pretty they were?

Anyway, we haven't been outside much, we haven't been doing much of anything, much. Ro's third birthday came and went with three separate celebrations, we had visits from out of town friends, but it's mostly been quiet. I spent a long morning looking through old magazines- Martha Stewart Living, Everyday with Rachael Ray, etc, and tearing out recipes to keep and recycling the rest, and I gotta say, I am stoked for the fall. And then the winter. And then Christmas!

First time in four years, I can barely contain myself. Mom asked me where we were supposed to put the tree, which, in this house as it currently stands, is a very good question. But it doesn't matter, because my kid is going to get to play in the snow, and that? That is fantastic.

2009-07-14T10:35:00.000-07:00

Going to camp! Be back on Sunday!

A little cooking on the side.

2009-07-14T10:26:00.000-07:00

To some, this may be the most horrifying sentence you ever read:
I love pickled eggs.

I do! My Nana used to make them constantly when I was little, always with a can of beets in the pickling liquid. Who wouldn't want to bite into a bright magenta egg, all sweet-sour and garlicky, taking just a moment to behold the beauty of that deep pink against the bright yellow of the yolk before finishing it off- three bites! Yum.

So when Nana brought us four dozen eggs from the Ferris farm in Schoharie Valley, and we balked and asked her what we were supposed to do with them, she gestured to an enormous jar we had on hand and insisted I pickle them.

Brown ones with speckles, blue ones from Arucana hens, all of them, into the pot.

(Alas, I had no beets.)

I don't think I can wait the two months to taste them!

A slapdash alteration:

2009-07-14T08:48:00.000-07:00

I bought this bag from Old Navy because I find more and more that I favor two things: cross-body bags (I have no shoulders!) and linen. However, when it arrived I realized the strap was TOO short- I'd have to practically put my hand in my armpit to reach in- and there were no extraneous pockets.

Ignoring the mortifying quality of this photo (and the fact that that pocket is only gaping because it was FULL of stuff,) what I did was take a cotton print from India I had kicking around and extended the strap so that it was adjustable by tying it through loops, and cut open a welt pocket on the front of the bag (it was lined and interfaced, so it was easy to slip a pocket under the top layer of linen without it feeling funny on the inside.) I lined the pocket with the same fabric as the strap so that it matched, and used the same dark vermillion-red thread when I did my topstitching. A button and a loop to close, and the bag is perfect now.

Great for trekking into the woods with snacks and trekking back out with feathers, pinecones and stones!

2009-07-14T05:42:00.000-07:00

When they ask to see your gods

your book of prayers
show them lines
drawn delicately with veins
on the underside of a bird's wing
tell them you believe
in giant sycamores mottled
and stark against a winter sky
and in nights so frozen
stars crack open spilling streams of molten ice to earth
and tell them how you drank
the holy wine of honeysuckle
on a warm spring day
and of the softness
of your mother
who never taught you
death was life's reward
but who believed in the earth
and the sun
and a million, million light years
of being.

Catechism for a Witch's Child
by J.L. Stanley

2009-07-11T14:13:00.000-07:00

Clova Ann Hollowell
Shown holding Ro the morning she was born.
March 1948 - July 2009

My mother in law passed away on Thursday after a three year downhill struggle with brain cancer. We found out she was sick on our wedding night, when Ro was two months old. She was blessed with premonition as her mother and grandmother were before her. In November of 2005 she dreamed that her mother, Thelma, came to her cradling a baby with brown eyes and curly hair. Four days later I found out I was pregnant with Ro, my brown eyed, curly haired girl.

I'm very glad she got to know her, if only for a little while.

Some Summer for a Second

2009-07-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

The Greenness

2009-07-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

I've never tried to evaluate just how green I am, but I found myself thinking about it today while sitting outside and reading an issue of MSO's Body & Soul. It's a great magazine which I awesomely get for free as a hand-me-down from Nana.

I found myself thinking about what I do to be eco-friendly and body-friendly, what I'm working on doing more and more, and what I'd like to do eventually.

What I do:

We used cloth diapers for two and a half years, saving about 4,500 disposable diapers and $2,000.
All of Ro's drinking cups are glass.
All of Ro's toys are wood or cloth.
We use all natural soaps on Ro, without SLS, Parabens, DMDM or artificial dyes or fragrances.
We have omitted HFCS and artificial coloring from Ro's diet.
We started a small garden, growing tomatoes, strawberries, herbs, eggplant, garlic and peppers.
We forage black raspberries from the surrounding forest.
95% of our wardrobe is cotton, wool or silk.
We recycle everything we can.
We compost anything we can.
All dish and laundry detergent we buy is bio and eco-friendly.
Instead of paper towels, we have a hoard of tea towels and cloth napkins. We use the old, holey and stained ones for cleaning counters/stovetops/etc and we use the nicer condition ones for wiping faces/hands. I use TP instead of paper towels when cleaning the toilets, then flush the mess.
We spend a lot of time in nature, and I believe that witnessing helps with respecting.

What I'm working on:

Ro's snack bowls and silverware are plastic. I'd like to get small, lightweight metal bowls for her. She's almost old enough to use grown-up silverware without a problem.
Our garden is small, I'd like to expand it to provide produce for a family of 4.
I'd like to remove all unnatural fibers from our wardrobes.
Reducing, because recycling is only slightly better than throwing away.
Cleaning up litter where I find it in the woods or bodies of water.
Eating only local or kindly raised meats.
Omitting as much meat and cow dairy as possible.
Eating a plant-protein based diet instead of an animal-protein based diet.

What I'd like to do:

Buy a Brita pitcher or Pur faucet attachment and a stainless steel drinking bottle for each member of the household, omitting the use of plastic bottles.
Find ways to incorporate solar power into our home.
Purchase compact hybrid cars.
Contact the local company who owns the free-for-all pond behind our house and ask them if I can make "No Littering" signs.
Omit the use of plastic storage containers and collect vintage glass refrigerator boxes.

This list is very partial! I know there's more I can do, want to do, and am doing. I'll use it as a missive and add to it as I think of things.

More photos from the 4th.

2009-07-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

2009-07-04T20:58:00.000-07:00

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Photos taken at the Waterford NY fireworks display, by me.

2009-07-04T14:10:00.001-07:00

And she got glasses, and it was good, because she stopped missing her turns because she couldn't read roadsigns.

2009-07-03T16:57:00.000-07:00

And the rain rain rain came down down down and flooded the heck out of the yard/garden/leaky roof.

2009-07-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

I discovered Waldorf education inadvertently, when I was very young. Being very young, I was, of course, an idealist. All I noticed about Waldorf was all I gave a care about- the fairies, the myths, the art, the colors, the wood. This is all I held to as I grew, and all I thought Waldorf meant.

Naïve of me, I suppose. Naïve to assume that Waldorf was school for kids who liked to play pretend in the woods, sew dolls and build tiny beds out of moss and leave them on windowsills. School for kids who liked to write stories, paint pictures, care for plants and believe in the Earth as a mother.

This, remarkably, is not all that Waldorf is, though it did take me the better part of fourteen years to notice. Every so often I'd hear a friend remark that Waldorf had a cultishness to it, which I brushed off as paranoia- after all, everyone is wary of that which they are ignorant of.

I suppose it was the fact that I thought Waldorf to be rooted in Christianity that first made me uneasy. This isn't to say, as I've said before, that I don't want Ro to learn about Christianity, I simply don't want her to learn that Christianity is all there is. I was concerned that she wouldn't learn about other religions with an even keel. I want no one "truth" to take the fore. I want them to all be given equal respect, equal acknowledgement.

This was where I began to wonder about Waldorf- wonder if it was right. Even now as I write this I'm not convinced one way or the other. That the children don't learn to read until they are seven- was I alright with that? They aren't to listen to any music that is not acoustic- am I okay with this?

Ultimately, I found, that the answer was "no" more often than it was "yes." There was so much I loved about Waldorf, but enough I didn't love to make me reconsider my burning desire to send her to a true Waldorf school. This struggle went on for a few months until I surmised that maybe I was wrong. Maybe Waldorf isn't right for us.

So for the past few weeks I've been filling a five-subject notebook with a curriculum. A curriculum that I'm writing myself, taking cues from the things I love about Waldorf, about Montessori, about early 20th century public school standards. I've been slowly writing page after page of what I consider to be the ideal broad and impartial education for a child I would want to know and be proud to have raised.

A curriculim unbiased and fair. From Kwan Yin the Chinese goddess of compassion to Sun Tzu's Art of War. From the mathematics I never quite grasped to the art I excelled at. From Newton's laws of physics to Poe's poetry, French to Latin, cooking to astronomy, history of religion to history of women. From Paganism to Judaism, chemistry to economics, photography to literature and so much more.

It has now become my mission to provide my daughter with the utmost and be with her every step of the way to make sure she understands and to hear her when she tells me that this is what she wants- or doesn't want. To be ready to send her wherever she needs to go, or give her whatever she needs to have to excel. To be her very best self.

This has become our reality; we are a homeschooling family.

2009-07-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

A day at the Albany Pine Bush Discovery Center with a new friend, hiking and learning about plants and creatures, and a stop in to see Grandma Lettie who lives a few miles down the road from there. Just so happens these are the same crayons I used to color with when I and my cousins were little children.

2009-06-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

We can reject everything else: religion, ideology, all received
wisdom. But we cannot escape the necessity of love and compassion...
This, then, is my true religion, my simple faith. In this sense, there is no need
for temple or church, for mosque or synagogue, no need for complicated
philosophy, doctrine or dogma. Our own heart, our own mind, is the temple.
The doctrine is compassion.
Love for others and respect for their rights and
dignity, no matter who or what they are: ultimately these are all we need.
So long as we practice these in our daily lives, then no matter if we are
learned or unlearned, whether we believe in Buddha or God, or follow some
other religion or none at all, as long as we have compassion for others and
conduct ourselves with restraint out of a sense of responsibility, there is
no doubt we will be happy.

Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama

The Sweetness

2009-06-21T20:04:00.000-07:00

2009-06-21T11:12:00.000-07:00

♥ Happy Father's Day to Zack ♥

2009-06-20T19:44:00.001-07:00

Part of standard Waldorf philosophy is the "Seasons" or "Nature" table. This is typically a tabletop surface somewhere in the family's home that is decorated with trappings of the season; small wooden figures, bits of dyed wool or silk made to look like outdoors scenes, rocks, pictures, candles and bits of flowers and plants from outdoors. They much take after an altar in this fashion, they are meant to collect and celebrate things that remind us of the season and to pause and reflect on the joys and bounty of that time.

This "May" table is courtesy of my friend Ashley, who is a Waldorf/Enki homeschooler.

While we were in Arizona, I didn't feel that Ro was old enough to understand, and here in New York we don't yet have the space to create a seasons table, (although in the cold months I may very well attempt to throw one together on the deep windowsill in Ro's room.) So today, while we were outside, Ro and I put a small one together in the gazebo since she's always bringing me odds and ends she finds around the yard!

2009-06-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

Ro sews.

I'd been whip-stitching panels of Mom's curtains together and Ro walked up and grabbed the needle and thread and proceeded to sew the curtains together, no joke. She didn't do a very good job, she just sort of made a large foldy lump out of them, but she occupied herself for a half an hour and only poked herself twice.

Last week I cut a piece of scrap cotton and threaded a large needle with strong button thread for her and she's been "sewing" it all morning. She told us she was making a dress for Toastie, but it looks more like a lumpy biscuit. She puts the needle in wherever she wants, and pulls it out wherever she wants, which of course results in something that looks more like brains than a dress.

Anyway, she's so good about it, and I'm by and far impressed with her. Who knows what's next?

2009-06-16T12:10:00.001-07:00

Toastie is Ro's best friend. He was given to her on her first visit to New York in February of 2007 and they've been inseperable since.

However, needless to say after two years of love and washing and abuse, Toastie was getting ...a little floppy.

So we dug up a plushie from my childhood- a black and white Pound Kitty named Humphrey, and decided to sacrifice his stuffing to the greater good.

This, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like when you gut a cat and stuff it into a bear. Now he sits upright, and can come to the table to have dinner cooked for him. And Toastie is incredibly fond of wooden eggs benedict with toast (lightly browned, of course) and a slice of felt cheese! Luckily Ro's quite the chef when she feels like it.

2009-06-16T11:54:00.000-07:00

The garden (and what a terribly modest one it is,) seems to be at long last shaped up. I cleared a large area along the side fence and moved over a long bench on which to set my pots of herbs.

While clearing (left to right,) I found about a hundred snails, which I collected in a pan, 'cause really, what else could I do with them...

Once I was finished clearing, I made a small plot to the side for the garlic and red peppers, in addition to all of the tomatoes (some heirloom, others not,) and eggplant given to me as gifts.

Someday I'll have a lovely little harvest, but for now, all there is to do is water and wait and look out for slugs.

Now if I could just manage to stop running into Poison Ivy...

That 70's Post

2009-06-09T12:14:00.000-07:00

While helping my mother dig through umpteen boxes of things, we came across an issue of New Ingenue magazine from 1975- the final issue. I read through it and thought it was probably the best thing I'd seen in a long time and thought I'd share some favorite pages with you- I'm especially loving the "Exotic" kimono outfit and that awesome resin bracelet with the big rose on it- I'd wear those right now!

In the garden, in the yard, in the woods.

2009-06-04T20:47:00.000-07:00

Garlic.

Lemon balm and cilantro.

Teeny tiny baby basil.

Picking the very first strawberries of the season.

2009-06-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

I have a soft spot for strong women in animated films. I'm not a rabid feminist or anything, it's just that a good heroine is hard to find these days. I really like medieval stories, especially, or pre-medieval, even, so I guess I got pretty excited when I heard about Disney-Pixar's The Bear and the Bow, which is due out in 2011.

I guess it's no secret that I kind of hate Disney and I kind of hate Pixar and I really seem to hate 3D animation (because it's pushing 2D trad off the drawing board and making me pretty cranky. Disney's even picked up Rapunzel- my favorite fairy tale of all time- You guessed it- 3D. At least, though, they're attempting to give it a 'painted' look, which may prove to its benefit, as I tire of the overly-smooth look CG animation tends to have.)

I need (NEED) my animation to be reverent- a true art form. This, perhaps, is why I seem to lean toward the work of Japanese animation studios, and away from Americans. But perhaps it isn't Americans outright that are the problem. After all, some of the animated films I hold in the highest esteem are results of the talented people at Dreamworks. I mean- Prince of Egypt? Road to El Dorado? Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron? I think there's no argument that these films have managed to be both artistically stunning and devoid of talking animal sidekicks.

Those gargoyles? Ruined Hunchback. Ruined it.

Call me a curmudgeon but I require some semblance of respect. Any Joe Shmoe can pick up the classic works of Victor Hugo, but it takes someone great to give it what it deserves. Disney are not those people.

And this, perhaps, is why my excitement over Bear and the Bow is apprehensive; what's being set up as an excellent bold-daughter story (albiet redundant of Mulan) taking place in medieval Scotland is beyond a shadow of a doubt going to be annihilated by something akin to a stone sculpture with Jason Alexander's sense of humor, or a little red dragon with Eddie Murphy's wack fabulosity. Perfect.

Give it a rest, Disney! Take a clue from Hayao Miyazaki and the fine folks at Studio Ghibli and show these stories some degree of seriousness- if you honestly think they wouldn't sell you wouldn't have imported Spirited Away in your own name. COME ON.

Pardon my cranky, but as much as I did love Mulan and as much as I had chills and tears in my eyes when all of China bowed down to her, I would sooner set my daughter in front of Princess Mononoke or Kiki's Delivery Service than make her watch that. Hua Mulan was a real woman who did great things and Eddie Murphy shrieking things about egg rolls does not do her justice.

I think my favorite (and most accurate) depiction of a woman in an animated film is likely that of Zipporah, Moses' wife, in Prince of Egypt. But, like I said, Disney isn't responsible for that, and god forbid they should ever take a character seriously. It's enough to make me want to plunk Ro down in front of some Cowboy Bebop or Aeon Flux and worry about the consequences later.

Honestly.

2009-05-31T17:03:00.000-07:00

I took this photo on Friday after an entire day's worth of rain- a double rainbow over the river, the purest form of the Greek goddess Iris, the messenger. I find it touching that I saw it, and then several other symbols as I was out of the house- a red fox trotting up to the car, a single bottle of Ommegang Rare Vos ("sly fox") sitting all alone (something I associate with my dear friend Jeffrey,) and a generous gift from a complete stranger of a reusable shopping bag that I had long been in search of- the design on it was drawn by a child in crayon, and is of an earth-mother goddess figure in a night sky.

For this, I leave the world with Neil Gaiman's Blueberry Girl, a gift he wrote for his good friend Tori Amos' daughter Tash before she was born- a gift, in fact, for all girls.

Ladies of Darkness, and Ladies of Never-You-Mind,
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl;
First: May you ladies be kind.

Keep her from spindles and sleeps at sixteen;
Let her stay waking and wise.
Nightmares at three, or bad husbands at thirty;
These will not trouble her eyes.

Dull days at forty, full springs at fifteen;
Let her have bright days and true.
Let her go places that we've never been;
Trust and delight in her youth.

Ladies of Grace, and Ladies of Favour,
and Ladies of Merciful Night,
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Grant her your clearness of sight.

Worlds can be worrisome, people complex;
Motives and manners unclear.
Grant her the wisdom to choose her path right,
Free from unkindness and fear.

Let her tell stories, and dance in the rain,
Somersault, tumble, and run;
Her joys must be high as her sorrows are deep,
Let her grow like the weed in the sun.

Ladies of Paradox, Ladies of Measure,
Ladies of Shadows-That-Fall;
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Words written clear on the wall.

Help her to help herself, help her to stand,
Help her to lose, and to find.
Teach her we're only as big as our dreams,
tell her that fortune is blind.

Truth is a thing she must find for herself,
precious, and rare as a pearl;
Give her all these, and a little bit more,
gifts for a Blueberry Girl.

2009-05-28T09:53:00.000-07:00

I guess I knew the day would come eventually.

I was a weird sixteen year old, admittedly, but I still knew I'd have to wear glasses at some point, and I kind of liked the way they made me feel. Bookish.

I mean, I like glasses, but I think I liked them more when I didn't actually need them. Wearing them is fun... when you're playing dress-up. But once you realize you've had a nausea-inducing headache every day for the past two years, you've gone through about a thousand doses of Excedrin, (hello, allow me to compromise the integrity of my kidneys, shall I?) You can't focus for crap, especially in the mornings. (...not to mention the fact that every single person in your family has glasses. All of them...) It's time to face the music.

Ali? You need glasses.

...Especially if you plan on finishing that novel.

Summer, you're here!

2009-05-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

Swimming at the pond? Check.

Eighty gallons of home-made salsa? Check.

Enough Simply Lemonade to fill a small pool? Check.

Picnic lunches in the grass? Check.

Ah, oui! La vie, c'est magnifique!

2009-05-22T06:59:00.000-07:00

I heard a rumor that my fan base often worries about whether or not I've fallen off the planet, so I thought I'd make a post even though I don't have a subject matter that is genuinely particular to write about.

I've been embroidering. Weird, right? I know. I don't embroider, it requires patience. Guess what I don't have a lot of? Anyway, I took it upon myself to start a project simply chock full of patience-trying needlework. (It's my intention to enter it into the Arts and Sciences competition at a future SCA event.) It's a heraldic belt purse with my house device on it, which is, incidentally, a medievally-stylized version of a dancing bear with a flower garland; a la the Russian Tea Room.

I've also been sewing, working on a court-formal cotehardie, but the fabric I chose is driving me crazy. Velvet is very unpredictable in that way.

Amidst all this craftiness I've been thinking a lot about gardening- Ro and I have a small container garden that's slowly squeaking up- we're currently growing garlic, basil, cilantro, thyme, chives, parsley, lemon balm, cosmos and daisies. I have a bunch of other things up my sleeve for the future- maybe next year if I have success this year. I'm kind of still learning the ins and outs of gardening. I'm trying to map a garden that would feed a family of two for a year- Zack, after all, has no interest in fruits and vegetables.

I'm also considering what is and is not practical to grow in a container- blackberries, for example, are wild and sprawling and perhaps not a good idea to try and confine to a pot, whereas blueberries stay (mostly) in one place. =) All this leads to the ideas of learning to can so that I can store things like jams and pickles all winter long, and making dandelion wine, or may wine, or mead to enjoy throughout the snowy season.

Another thing that's been on my mind is schooling. As everyone well knows by now it's long been my intention to send Ro to a Waldorf school, though it seems unless something really changes sometime soon, it might be financially impossible. Between being a one-income household and buying our first home, we're simply not sure how we're going to afford it. This is in conjuncture with the idea of having a second child and having to find a way to make a second income from home (still working on that YA novel...)

So that brought me to considering homeschooling which is wonderful, but I so want Ro to get to have the experience of Waldorf, the home-away-from-home, surrogate family that she'd find there, the wonderful learning experiences and friends she'd make. I want that for her, so here I am, in a mental knot that currently seems immovable.

Other than the little fretful things, life is good. We're wrestling through potty learning, but coming along fine, we're spending every day outside, swimming in the pond, and drinking a lot of lemonade. Not to mention all the Oswald and Toot & Puddle that gets watched around here on rainy days, and all the toys that exist in the world...

...I love toys.

Le Printemps

2009-05-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

The HMS Beanshine

2009-04-26T18:21:00.000-07:00

JG and I crafted a seaworthy vessel for Ro to play with at the quarry pond. It's about ten inches long, a decent size and a sturdy little boat! It was a project that lasted a whole weekend, but handmade toys truly are the best. Godspeed, little yellow boat.

Modus Operandi

2009-04-24T17:50:00.001-07:00

I often feel bad, or in the very least, ungrateful when I bring this up, but it's harder now that we're living closer to so much of my family and others who would otherwise be interested in buying a gift for Ro. She didn't receive presents too often in Mesa, so I thought I'd reestablish my guidelines for her gentle, natural and sustainable upbringing.

When choosing a gift for Ro it's good to remember that she has so very many toys right now, and she doesn't play with them very often as it is. It's best to choose books or art supplies. She loves to color and she loves to read. She also loves to play outside, so pails, shovels, seeds, etc, are all wonderful things.

If you're truly intent on getting a toy for Ro, please refer to the following:

No plastic. This is my strongest rule. Plastics are made cheaply, often in Asia, and are full of toxic chemicals- not to mention that after Ro's done with them, they'll probably spend the next several thousand years in a landfill. Wood, cloth and metal are best, and the kindest for the earth.
No characters. This especially refers to Dora the Explorer and Elmo. I have a personal exception to this rule, which happens to be Yo Gabba Gabba, (but the majority of things I purchased with/of Gabba characters were for our roadtrip cross country and kept Ro occupied, happy and sane.)
Handmade is wonderful. It's so important to me to support local and independant artists and crafters and not big-name companies. Any local bazaar or craft show will be full of tons of wonderful playthings, not to mention all of the thousands of talented crafters you can find at Etsy.com.
Along the right hand side of this blog are also links to Oompa, Magic Cabin and Nova Naturals. They are all toy companies that I have done business with and am enormously pleased with!

The way we give gifts at home is on Birthdays and the Pagan sabbats, in addition to Christmas morning. Ro has a rectangular basket that we fill with playthings and books, some that are fun, some that pertain to the holiday. There are often plenty of treats inside, and natural treats are important to us. They're pretty easy to find at any grocery store, now that organics and naturals are so popular! I have two rules when it comes to candy and foods for Ro:

No artificial dyes (this includes food coloring.) Europe is in the process of outlawing several food dyes because of their effects on child behavior and I back this decision 100%.
No high fructose corn syrup.

I'm a firm believer that there is more joy in a handful of high quality sweets than there is in five pounds of cheap chemical-laden candy or cookies. The best treats Nana brought this Easter were bundles of beautiful home made sugar cookies, crisp and sweet and asking for a glass of milk! I couldn't have wanted for anything else.

All this to say that gifts are always appreciated and never expected. I just want Ro to have the best and healthiest childhood she possibly can, and anyone willing to help me see that through is certainly a hero to us all. One thing of quality given plenty of thought is priceless compared to mass produced things that will see out the majority of their lives in a landfill.

Thank you so much for your understanding.

2009-04-24T17:28:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that this is life, now. It feels so much like vacation, like camp, like a dream. I realize with acute precision just how dry and calculated and manmade synthetic my life in Mesa was. Planned roads, planned neighborhoods, planned shopping, planned time- and all inside, in the air conditioning. No room for this easy, sweet, day-to-day kind of fairy tale.

I'm loving afternoons by the pond, eating snacks and watching geese and trains go by. Gathering chives in the woods and taking them home to make soft egg sandwiches for lunch. A glass of wine in the gazebo with Mom. Lazy sun-dappled swings in the hammock. It's all way too good to be true.

We miss everyone, though. Wish you were here.

2009-04-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

The list of things Ro says that we don't know what they mean continues to grow: there was "Oh, promise!" and "Ohm, sah-wee, sah-wee." Now we have Sippakuk.

Sippakuk.

Roary, what's a sippakuk?

2009-04-15T13:19:00.000-07:00

God bless the daylight, the sugary smell of springtime.

Today it was 60° out and sunny, so I washed our big quilt, just like I said I would, and put it out on the line. Ro helped me dig up some loamy soil from underneath the row of tall, old pines and fill a planter which we planted our herb seeds in. We opened all the windows and aired out the house, had mustardy egg salad sandwiches on nutty bread, and spent a good long time just soaking up the warm sun.

Eostre

2009-04-12T12:38:00.000-07:00

Ro's first Easter here was everything one could expect from a holiday with my family- my grandparents in particular. Food in excess, a thousand desserts, baskets brimming with candy and gifts aplenty. I have a few favorites of the things I was given, though I think I'm most excited about the basket itself. It's ideal for berry picking (and washing) this summer when everything is ripe. In Ro's first, smaller basket, she recieved a few eggs filled with yogurt raisins, bug-shaped graham cookies and organic fruit ropes. There was also a copy of Douglas Florian's Mammalabilia, and the Melissa and Doug Slice & Bake wooden cookie set.

There were dozens of dyed eggs (see photo,) which means lots of egg salad in the weeks to come, and among the various (various, various) other foods, an impeccable savory corn pudding that I think I might eat again in a few hours. Ro, much to what's normal for her, did not eat much of anything besides grapes. I'm pretty sure I'm raising a fruititarian. A fruiti-yogurtarian.

Nana passed on to me a set of enamelware that's been sitting on top of Mom's fridge since they lived here three-and-some years ago. It's a lidded milking pail and a kettle, both in atrotious shades of 1970's green, lined in bright, clean white. It immediately made me wish I had a milking animal so that I could keep the good, raw milk right inside.

When Ro was dedicated at her blessing ceremony, I chose Ēostre as her patron goddess. Aurora is the Roman goddess of the dawn, and Ēostre is the Germanic goddess of the dawn. Though there is some debate as to whether or not Ēostre was an invention of the fifth century monk Bede, her image, and the Pagan counterparts of the spring equinox celebrations, are still synonymous with the holiday. (Surely no one thinks that bunnies and eggs have anything to do with the ressurection of Christ.)

All this to say that by association, Easter has somewhat become Ro's holiday. Were we any mote of Wiccan, we would believe that this was a deeply powerful day for her, but as we are not, I simply treat is as one would any particular saint's Feast Day. A Feast Day for Eostre. A Feast Day for the followers and children of Eostre. A Feast Day for Roary.

Ideally I would have liked to have had Ro help me prepare a small bowl of milk and honey and feed it to a budding plant- the lilacs or peonies, perhaps, or the rows and rows of lilies of the valley. This didn't happen, as I spent the whole weekend unpacking all of our belongings into the house and not worrying about the deep personal meanings of Easter day.

Instead, my stepfather assisted me in making a compost barrel. He had an old Rubbermaid trash can with a locking lid that we drilled holes in to allow for ventilation. I emptied into it the full mini compost pail from the back of the kitchen that I've been slowly filling all week, and to mix it I was gifted with Papa's makeshift gardening tool that consists of a walking cane with a hand cultivator duct taped to the end. It's actually brilliant and works very well. Plus, I can always tip the thing on its side and roll it!

I'm pretty excited about it- baby steps towards a great vegetable, berry and herb container garden. And even though it was free and made with old junk we found in the garage, it was my favorite Easter present.

...Okay, maybe second to the savory corn pudding. And being with my family again.

Signs of Spring

2009-04-09T15:22:00.000-07:00

Images from the Road

2009-04-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

2009-04-06T21:45:00.000-07:00

We've only been here for four days and I'm already fed up with the weather. This is irrational and unfair of me- I spent the past four years being endlessly frustrated with Arizona's seemingly relentless sunny skies. I guess I just thought as soon as we got here I'd have the opportunity to let my kid play outside in the sunshine without having to worry about heat stroke or dehydration. Alas, it's been nothing but a cold rain.

I'm looking forward, far forward, to the late spring and summer, when we can splash in the river and pick the blueberries, raspberries and strawberries that grow wild in the woods behind the house and along the banks of the quarry pond. I want to string a hammock up between the two old pine trees and read books while Ro kicks a ball around, I want to wash my bedding and hang it on the line in the breeze and the sun and fall asleep that night with the smell of the wind infused into the crisp cotton quilts.

I'm eager to throw open the windows and let the linen curtains flap in our new bedroom, filled with the scent of fresh lilac flowers, but for now the windows are closed and locked and the rain is still coming down, and it's still cold and I'm still a little disappointed.

But then I remind myself that it's getting into the nineties during the day back in Arizona, the skies are blue, the clouds are fluffy and everything is perfect. I realize this moody rain and swollen river is everything I wanted for the past four years. And that's the truth.

2009-04-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

The drive through Kansas was poorly planned and by 2am I was hugging a pillow and nodding off in my seat- pretty glad I wasn’t driving. I didn’t unpack anything from the car besides our bedding and the cats and we fell straight to sleep without thinking twice about it.

The next day was the drive to Indianapolis. We made two stops to eat- first to Steak n’Shake, because Cairenn insisted I eat there. My burger really was very tasty, and Ro sat and ate all of my fries, so overall it was a win. Zack, on the other hand, was adamant that we find a White Castle for dinner. We drove through some moody rain and found a White Castle just outside of Indy where we indulged in many tiny, soft burgers soaked in onions and mustard. They were pretty darn tasty, I must say, but made me feel sick for days. I doubt I’ll ever eat them again.

Ro and I were alone in our hotel room in Indy for most of the night. Zack went out to Muncie to meet up with his best friend from High School and go have beers at their favorite bar. Ro and I watched episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras and 18 Kids and Counting, both of which are misfortunes of society (uhoh! I’m going to get lynched for that.) And we were on our way again in the morning.

We got to my friend Ashley’s place outside of Cincinnati around lunchtime. It’s in a darling neighborhood lined with frothy white flowering trees. Zack took a quick nap on the sofa while Ro played with her new friends, Liam and Isla. I was so excited to see their new home and the impeccable decorating job that Ashley had done. The playroom is beautiful and the kids had such a good time.

While the kids were playing, my camera became a casualty, as Ro fell down the back stoop while she was holding it and the entire focusing mechanism and lens snapped right off, so we had to run to the nearest WalMart to purchase a replacement.

We went to dinner in Cincy at Ashley and her husband’s favorite pizza place. I had an amazing salad with fresh goat cheese, roasted peppers and rosemary on soft, warm bread, set on a bed of greens tossed with tarragon dressing. Flawless. It was delicious. We wandered over to Graeter’s for dessert where I had black raspberry ice cream in a waffle cone with chocolate chips the size of postage stamps. Back at the house we watched the new episode of Lost and fought my damn cats, who kept escaping the basement.

We woke up to discover they’d both snuck into bed with Ashley and Liam, and none of us knew how bad Liam’s cat allergy was until then. It led to him getting very sick, so we left around 11:30 with me feeling rather sad about that!

The drive to Ohio was pleasant, and we made it to Chagrin Falls around 4:30 in the afternoon. We met Bodhi right in the town square (triangle…?) And he and Ro walked to look at the falls and the ducks on the water and play on the playground together. She was so thrilled to have another new friend! Afterward we walked around to this fantastic little wine and beer shop that was so diverse and well stocked. I found some Ommegang and bought that to drink that evening.

Back at the house Bodhi cooked pasta for dinner while I unpacked the cats into his old truck where they stayed the night because of Bodhi’s lady Beth’s dogs in the house. I had a couple of beers and we put in Colonial House to watch/make fun of the contestants. Ro didn’t make it to bed until 1am and spent all that time playing with Bodhi and Beth and her amazing collection of vintage Fisher Price toys.

Zack didn’t make it through the evening so easy; he suffered the same fate as Liam had. Zack’s allergic to dogs, only we didn’t know how bad. He took Benadryl to stop his sneezing, but failing to expel the allergen triggered an asthma attack- his first since High School- and I found myself at a CVS at 2am buying an Epinephrine inhaler.

In the morning Beth was so sweet to cook Ro a slice of Ezekiel toast and a scrambled egg which she ate up with a glass of orange juice. Afterward she sat with her in the rocking chair and read books to her- her mother was a librarian. Beth is indeed one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met and I do hope to have the chance to spend more time with her.

Once packed and on our way again, the drive through New York was grueling. Raining, pouring, and the Southern Tier does nothing but twist and turn. My hackles were up all the way to Oneonta. We arrived at the diner without a hitch, though, and had a pleasant dinner with Nana and Papa. Ro was enamored by the fish in the big aquarium by our table, and my French onion soup was exactly what my sore throat and rainy day needed.

We made it into Mechanicville at 9:45, (after battling fog like chowder along I-88,) fifteen minutes off schedule. It was nearly a perfect road trip, with Liam, Zack and my Camera the only things that went any degree of wrong. Though I don’t look forward to doing it again anytime soon, at least I know that if we wanted to- we could. Even with two cats and a two year old in the back seat.

2009-04-03T17:03:00.001-07:00

Dinner at the Neptune Diner with Nana and Papa. Then the last drive of the trip: we're going home.

2009-04-03T10:59:00.001-07:00

Welcome to New York.

2009-04-03T08:42:00.001-07:00

A tasty breakfast in a cozy kitchen, a rainy morning, a happy daughter. Onward to New York!

2009-04-02T16:43:00.001-07:00

Warm pasta and cold beer in a beautiful, cozy house full of people I love.

2009-04-02T15:11:00.001-07:00

A charming stroll through sweet Chagrin Falls with Bodhi, ducked into the amazingly diverse beverage shop for some Ommegang.

2009-04-02T08:44:00.001-07:00

Imperitave stop at Potbelly Sandwich Works for lunch. Then on to Bodhi in northern Ohio.

2009-04-02T06:21:00.001-07:00

Had a wonderful time with the Parker-Skaggs household. It was by no means relaxing, but the kids had a blast!

2009-03-31T18:16:00.001-07:00

Midwest culinary objectives complete.

2009-03-31T16:49:00.001-07:00

Zack's desperate search for White Castle continues into Indiana...

2009-03-31T16:35:00.001-07:00

Broody stormclouds and rain in eastern Illinois. It's oddly comforting.

2009-03-31T09:52:00.001-07:00

Lunch at Steak n' Shake as per Cairenn's direct orders before leaving Mesa.

2009-03-31T09:40:00.001-07:00

Every time I go under an overpass I assess it for how well it would protect me in the event of a tornado.

2009-03-31T09:05:00.001-07:00

Dropped dead into our KOA cabin at 3am. Woke up to a frigid Kansas morning. Now, on the road again.

2009-03-30T22:44:00.000-07:00

Last night on the dark drive to Raton from Albuquerque I wrote a fairly long post about everything so far, but I didn’t save it and then my computer lost power and I lost it, so here I am, on the morning drive from Raton to Denver, trying to type it again.

When we left Mesa, it honestly could not have been soon enough. I was so livid over everything that had transpired with the landlord, his criticism and judgment, and I just wanted to be gone. I wasn’t even able to mourn leaving my home, or say goodbye. We left as soon as humanly possible, which was still three hours too late. Our late lunch at the Duck and Decanter was also fairly rushed, and my beautiful duck, cranberry, cream cheese and watercress sandwich was not able to be savored- I could barely taste anything anyway.

It was too late to do anything in Sedona by the time we got that far north, and we accidentally missed the exit anyway, so we just kept driving, winding up in Flagstaff before nine. We settled into the little cabin quickly and ate a quick and cheap dinner of little chicken tacos and root beer before finally having to force Ro into bed so we could get some sleep.

The folks in the cabin across from us were incredibly nice- an older couple from Utah who just loved Ro and talked to her and played with her while we were getting the car packed up. She carried on quite the conversation with them, and they gave her a banana and were generally wonderful. I always feel the guilt associated with taking advantage when that sort of thing happens, but I need to learn not to. I want to nurture a world where people do help each other because they can and because they want to- where they trust one another and can lean on one another.

Even though it was 38 degrees outside, I bundled Ro up in her socks and boots and coat and scarf and hat and two layers of shirts and she went out to the playground with Zack while I tidied up the cabin and got ready. She had so much fun and didn’t even think twice about the cold. She’s such a little explorer. Bravely marching forward. That morning we crammed down Odwalla bars and canned Starbucks coffees full of energy vitamins and I drove the entire six hours from Flagstaff to Albuquerque while Zack napped.

I had researched the best and most authentic New Mexican cuisine in the city long before leaving and one name kept coming up: Sadie’s. It was very easy to find and the portion sizes they gave us were ridiculous. I had the most perfect and beautiful chile relleno I’d ever seen- or tasted- and because I knew I wasn’t driving the evening I paired the endless, fresh salsa with a great margarita and there was delicious squares of sopaipilla with lots of sweet honey to finish. It was amazing and I was forced to put my comfy pants on before getting back into the car.
The drive to Raton was quiet- Ro took a very brief nap and watched the Babar movie over and over, we got to our hotel around nine and all three of us managed to be asleep by midnight- Zack only after gleefully trying out the steam bath in our room.

We woke up at 9, Zack missed his continental breakfast and was very sad, but we needed the sleep more, I’d wager. Another breakfast of Odwalla bars and Starbucks it is. It’s now quarter after eleven and we’re right in the midst of the storm sweeping across Colorado. It’s 28 degrees outside and the whole countryside is blanketed in snow. It’s surreal- I haven’t been a part of this in years. Zack’s driving this whole way, as he learned to operate a car in Indiana among Midwest winters and I have no idea what’s what in a snowstorm.

I hate to say it, but the portable DVD player is possibly the best decision I made when considering everything about this trip. I very carefully planned everything out, worked on timing, made reservations, everything came together. But choosing to trade my big DVD player for the little portable one was the unforeseen mark of brilliance, here. Ro is happy, quiet, and fully immersed in her own little world back there. This morning she was asking to get BACK in the car. We thought we were going to have to fight her tooth and nail to get her back into her carseat, and here she is, excited to just be able to get back in here and turn Babar (or Gabba, or Sesame Street) back on.

Also, the Gabba figurines and the Foofa talking and singing doll were another stroke of genius. They, along with good old Toastie and Natches, have become Ro’s best friends for this journey, and as long as everything is right where it belongs, she’s as happy as you could ask her to be- and, being strapped to her seat, means she can’t get into any trouble. I’m a happy Mama.

2009-03-30T17:33:00.001-07:00

Kansas: now with 50% less NOTHING.

2009-03-30T16:01:00.001-07:00

Dinner at Casa Bonita with Zack's friend Chris. Lots to see and do to tire Ro out. Now, the greuling push through Kansas.

2009-03-30T11:45:00.001-07:00

Colorado reminds me almost convincingly of Switzerland.

2009-03-30T11:02:00.001-07:00

Stopped to get de-icer and a scraper. Bring it on, winter!

2009-03-30T09:30:00.001-07:00

I missed taking a photo of the 'Welcome to Colorful Colorado' sign because my can of Starbucks exploded in my lap. Damn altitude.

2009-03-30T09:13:00.001-07:00

Good morning, icy cold world! One hour off schedule, but we needed that sleep. Onward to Denver!

2009-03-29T17:01:00.001-07:00

Dinner was amazing- full and cozy in our comfy pants we press on to Raton.

2009-03-29T16:27:00.001-07:00

Oh my word, there's sopaipillas with honey, too.

2009-03-29T16:08:00.001-07:00

A margarita, fresh salsa and chiles rellenos at Sadie's. Hits the spot!

2009-03-29T15:15:00.001-07:00

Just drove the complete leg from Flagstaff to Albuquerque myself. First snow sighting at the border! Now, dinner.

2009-03-29T10:46:00.001-07:00

Detoured to see Meteor Crater but were thwarted by exorbitant entry fees. Space cows will have to suffice.

2009-03-29T09:49:00.001-07:00

Only a half hour off schedule, greeting the day with optimism. We're en route to Albuquerque now.

2009-03-29T07:51:00.001-07:00

Between the altitude and the space heater, we're feeling dried out. It's 35 degrees out, I have to put a coat and hat on Ro so she can go play!

2009-03-28T21:52:00.000-07:00

After roughly an hour of being lost, we finally found the KOA here in Flagstaff. I'm beyond pleased with the accommodations, a sweet little wooden cabin with a front porch that has a swing and a bench. There's a little table and a set of bunk beds for Ro to climb all over and a nice wide bed to sprawl on after all these hours in the car.

The stars out here are amazing, and the air is clear and cold. Ro is pretty excited about the whole thing- from being able to watch Yo Gabba Gabba in the car, to her new toys, to all these new places and the knowledge that every day brings us closer to "Meme's House."

The cats are doing very well, Raisin escaped the cabin, but we got her back rather fast. They're both eating and using their litter box here in the cabin. Loki's a little edgy- hissing at Raisin and hiding under the bed, but they were both only slightly vocal in the car and seem to be adjusting pretty well.

Zack and I are both in pretty bad pain from head to toe from so much moving, and we look very much forward to a long rest after I get the past few day's photos uploaded. Nothing like free Wi-Fi to ruin the Ingalls-esque atmosphere of this charming little house in the big woods of Northern Arizona. =)

Oh my does that pillow look tempting...

2009-03-28T19:17:00.001-07:00

So tired- bypassed Sedona and headed right for Flagstaff. Tall pines, woodsmoke and skunk- it smells like heaven!

2009-03-28T18:33:00.001-07:00

Elevation steadily increasing, temperature steadily decreasing.

2009-03-28T17:11:00.001-07:00

Hasty dinner at the Duck & Decanter, Zack and I's 'spot' since we first began dating. The first time we had the joy of Ro joining us.

2009-03-28T16:04:00.001-07:00

Text your messages to us on the road at 480.297.4558!

2009-03-28T16:02:00.001-07:00

An awkward haggling war with the landlord over the security deposit. The worst is over. We're on the road to Sedona now.