Let's not talk about bombs

Marty Metal Storytime!!!

2011-11-18T21:11:00.001-08:00

For the last month or so, Marty has been volunteering at the elementary school library. He's hosting a sort of group reading and discussion of mythology, and this week they discussed Cronus. Most of what I know of Cronus (aka Saturn, if you're Roman) from being an art geek is that Goya painted him on the wall of his house when he was hearing incessant ringing in his ears and thinking he was losing his mind.

I figured if Marty ever wanted to get out of his sweet volunteer gig, he oughta run into the library with a doll's leg hanging out of his mouth and say "Raaaar!!! I'm Cronus! Run children!!!!"

but that idea was taken, sadly.

Anyway, it wasn't "scare the children" exciting, but they all had a good time anyway. There was much discussion about how Cronus' kids survived his stomach acids to eventually rule the seas, the underworld, the hearth, the seasons, the skies, all that. I think the picture they had for reference was slightly less disturbing than the Goya, so Marty is invited back next week. Hopefully the club will continue into next semester since I think he looks forward to it as much as the kids.

Bad Eighties Conditioned Response

2011-11-13T13:36:00.001-08:00

I realized this morning that my internal alarm clock is conditioned to wake me up at 5:15am no matter what time I really need to get up. I also figured out that it is set to a really terrible radio station. I woke up panicked, thinking that I was sleeping through my alarm because I heard that song "Your Love" by The Outfield. I hate that song. The alarm was set for 5:30am - it was 5:15 and no music was playing. Stupid Outfield, getting in my head for no reason. That song has been running around in my brain all day.

This has happened before. Different songs, but the same thing - I panic, thinking I'm oversleeping, and then realize it's 5:15am and there's no music. Sometimes it's "Sunday Bloody Sunday". Other mornings it's "Walk Like an Egyptian". My alarm is set to Bob FM because that's one of the few stations I can receive that doesn't have obnoxious morning shows. My bashed up Hello Kitty teacup alarm clock has limited capabilities, but Bob is still only slightly less obnoxious than the buzzer, which probably resulted in the teacup radio bashing. Why won't my internal alarm play Sonic Youth or something?

Number is the ruler of forms and ideas, and the cause of gods and daemons.

2011-11-07T22:49:00.000-08:00

Last week I enrolled at Austin Community College. I turned in the paperwork months ago, but it wasn't official until I sat down with an advisor. Because my math was rusty, she recommended I take a test to see if I can handle the Elementary Statistics class required for the degree. I went to the test center, signed up to take the test the next morning, and went home. After looking at the sample questions, I froze. I had forgotten all of algebra.

It was a shock. I took math through Trigonometry and finished with an A. In college, I took Modern Logic and got a C, which is pretty good considering I had already lost interest in every subject except for art. On the sample packet was a link to math tutorials at the Khan Academy website. Here's an example of what they offer:

...and I watched about thirty of these things the morning of the test while eating breakfast, biked to ACC Eastview, took my test, met the requirement, and got home in time to watch Young and the Restless, but still fascinated with the site I checked out videos about Calculus, Statistics, and art history. And this:

Maybe this math thing is less dreadful than I initially thought.

Mathematics is not a careful march down a well-cleared highway, but a journey into a strange wilderness, where the explorers often get lost. Rigour should be a signal to the historian that the maps have been made, and the real explorers have gone elsewhere.
W.S. Anglin, in Mathematics and History, elucidating the symmetry between the creative and logical aspects of mathematics.

The news is lame.

2011-07-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile, I know. I've just been wondering lately why it isn't obvious to everyone in the world that as people we need to focus less on dogma fights and political power and more on how we can live in harmony with nature so we don't die in as many floods and earthquakes and nuclear disasters, or of preventable diseases caused by nutritionally vacant food and being sedentary, or of self medicating to counter stress, sadness, and being human? There's no need to shoot anyone. Why all the craziness?

How about this - if those who lucked into office by the grace of their corporate sponsors tear down our social services, kill our education systems, and wreck our air, let's opt out and become wandering nomads. We'll share knowledge and trade books, art, plants, and food. Let's just adapt to what is and let the powers that be figure out how to live on their useless money. I'm ready.

"Truth has nothing to do with words. Truth can be likened to the bright moon in the sky. Words, in this case, can be likened to a finger. The finger can point to the moon’s location. However, the finger is not the moon. To look at the moon, it is necessary to gaze beyond the finger, right?"
~ Sixth Patriach Huineng

Bruce Lee said it too, but differently.

Things we don't get to discuss at the dinner table in polite company

2010-11-07T20:55:00.000-08:00

"When concern for others' feelings and welfare is missing, our activities tend to become spoiled. Through lack of basic human feeling, religion, politics, economics, and so on can be rendered dirty. Instead of serving humanity, they become agents of its destruction. Therefore, in addition to developing a sense of universal responsibility, we need actually to be responsible people." - Dalai Lama

This was in my feed because , well, you know - the Dalai Lama and I are good pals and he sends me his brilliant thoughts through Facebook. I think this is particularly relevant now since in the interest of "keepin' what's mine" there is a bold movement against sharing with others - and religion, political designations, economic models, and other favored propagandas are being used as a wedge to drive us apart by people who have not studied any religion, socio-economics, political theory, propaganda devices in any kind of proper context (instead picking and choosing verses that fit propagandist needs, discounting real historical facts, and turning something that should be personal into a device to manipulate people who just don't want to go to Hell). I ask that those yelling the loudest please ask yourselves what is the purpose of government, religion, economic systems? Are they for people or corporations? Is it to control us or uplift us? Is it a safety net or an abyss? Can it be used for good, or are we so caught up in being burned in the past that we'll let it be taken over by corporate interests? I ask that we try not to be manipulated - that we be responsible people, seek truth, look objectively at the things we hate and ask ourselves why we hate that. It's one thing to take to heart the words that mean something and resonate as true. It is quite another to let an entity of any kind lead a person on a path of anger and hatred just because of promises of heavenly reward or fear of hellfire. I'm not coming down on any religion - but I believe many religions are being used to further some unholy behavior because there are big numbers to be had at the polling booths. These are quick incoherent thoughts before I have to jet off to work, but if I need to clarify something, or if you have something to add, I'd love to dive into this and discuss.

note - this is a repost from my Facebook notes, Friday, September 3, 2010 at 10:30am. I put it here so my stuff would be all in one place. Convenient, no?

And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to your life?

2010-11-07T20:42:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the dam busts and all my concerns flood out so fast I can barely make sense of them. It is like that in my head all the time, naturally. I've learned to focus more on what is in front of me, and what i can directly control. When I cook, read, draw, write, knit, repair broken action figures, make origami cranes, cut old cookie boxes into shadow puppets I have intense focus - but lately what has been in front of me is the computer, and I can't stop looking at it and worrying. It is hypnotic - I am becoming well informed and immobile, and kind of a downer - reposting links to the most heartbreaking shit and then tra-la-la, going on about my day. None of it sinks in anymore because there's so much of it. Oh - they're bulldozing the world again. And I'm crazy to be concerned.

If quality of life is one of my concerns (and it is), then all this depressing computer screen reading can't be good. This can only be cured by surgically removing the computer from my eyeballs. Yesterday I found myself reading Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer (had an advance reading copy and never got around to reading it. The first two chapters are unlike anything I've read, and I'm fascinated) and Maus by Art Speigelman (I have only thumbed through it in the past. The kids picked it up at the library and I snagged it from them). They might not necessarily be considered not depressing reading, but they are real, and they fell in my lap around the same time, so it's probably an omen. I think reading about people who made it through horrifying times with heart and humor intact is healthy, and since healthiness improves quality of life, then...

I could just go on all day typing until my fingers drop off, but I got stuff to do, books to read, action figures to repair, art to craft, quality of life to reconstruct.

To meet the pelicans

2010-07-09T16:30:00.000-07:00

Nearly all of my family entered this country through the Gulf of Mexico, some through Galveston before the hurricane destroyed much of the island, others through New Orleans - they left during the Irish Potato Famine, and before they could fully settle in, the Yellow Fever Epidemic wiped out roughly 20,000 people along the lower Mississippi. Others may have been here longer than that. A few cut through the country down the Mississippi after being expelled from Canada, and ended up on the Gulf. Most members of my family have not lived more than 60 miles inland of the Gulf for any length of time since arrival, tending to stay near the ribbon of I-10 from New Iberia, La. to Houston, and dropping down 288 to 35 all the way to Corpus Christi. We are Hurricane People. Flood People. Beach People. Industrially Polluted People. Gulf People.

The Gulf of Mexico links the coastal people of Florida, Cuba, Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama - when a hurricane is coming, we all batten down hatches or head for the hills, and when there are huge deposits of oil hidden deep beneath the water, along with methane gas under 100,000 psi of volcanic pressure - never mind that - there's oil, right?! And jobs! Yet, getting at that oil has cost us a thing we all love, we all share, we all have in our souls. It has cost people of many professions their livelihoods, health, happiness, and has created an incomprehensible death toll among all the wildlife living along the coast, many of the animals already teetering back and forth on the line between "Endangered" and "Protected" because of severe industrial pollution, fertilizer runoff, and past oil spills. What we share now is the grief and anger, and we share it with people far beyond the Gulf.

So much about this has made me angry.

In response, I've been painting out my frustration. This painting is based on the State Seal of Louisiana, which is based on The Pelican in her Piety - a symbol of self sacrifice. According to legends from medieval Europe and India, her chicks had been killed (several variations as to how, but most relate to rough treatment from the parents). She stabs at her chest with her beak to revive the chicks with her blood. I've heard variations of this story my whole life. They are fascinating birds - large, ancient looking, and graceful when they fly, but are somewhat silly looking otherwise.

"A wonderful bird is a pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week;
But I'm damned if I see how the helican."

"The Pelican" (1910) by Dixon Lanier Merritt

Liberation and happy clouds

2010-05-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

I have dropped a shift at work. It's one shift in the middle of the week, and my other two days off now include a weekend day. I'm expecting to be much more relaxed and friendly because of this, but there might be a little anxiety about payin' the bills at first. That's why I have A Plan. I just came up with it a few minutes ago, but it's GREAT! For Serious. Wanna know what it is? I know you do.

My bonus day in the middle of the week has one rule - make an attempt to make up for the loss of one day's pay - hopefully by shillin' my art, though I'm not opposed to yard work. The first part of the plan is to ... make some art. It will be in a variety of media and price ranges out of materials I can afford (Series One will be called "Old Cabinet Doors and Crusty Neglected Art Supplies"). I have only given artwork away, so I'm not sure how it will go - I feel weird selling things to people I know, and a little funny about strangers having something I made on their wall. This means I'm crazy, which only adds value to my art. No worries about being rusty and supplies being crusty, because I have a bonus day. Every Week. We won't starve or be late on the bills. I want more flexibility so I can do more positive awesome things. Bonus Day.

Tomorrow is a sketchy painty day. I'll hook y'all up with my Etsy link when I get it all worked out.

2010-05-07T11:34:00.000-07:00

Golden living dreams of visions, mystic crystal revelations, and the mind's true liberation

2010-05-06T19:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know how or why this star shit makes sense - I used to take it more seriously, and then I convinced myself that because the world and our perception of it is so complex, anything can have meaning to a person - if they think it is directed to them. Carl Sagan would shake his head at me, but I love this hocus pocus, don't take it too seriously, and still find it pretty relevant. Who knows how, why, or if it "works" or is "real" - better to let the mystery be and not over think it. I'm tucking this gem into my blog and my psyche for inspiration, annotating and bold printing because I'm too lazy to write a real entry....

From astrodienst

Personal needs

Valid during many months: This influence will give you opportunities to assert yourself and your individuality and do things that you have never done before. The keynote of this period is "freedom to be myself!"

YEAH!!!

Your physical energy level will be stimulated, so that you will be able to work quite hard at any task you want to do.

When?

You will not be in the mood for disciplined, self-sacrificing kinds of work. It is not that you are feeling selfish or self-indulgent but that you really understand your personal needs and are unwilling to compromise. You may be suddenly released from restrictions that have been holding you back from many activities you would like to engage in that would truly help your personal development, and this will give you a new freedom to act. At other times you may have felt the need to lash out and rebel against obstacles in your life

Damn Straight!

but now that is not necessary

What a relief.

The opportunities to get rid of the obstacles arise of their own accord. However, the opportunities carry an obligation to take advantage of them in order to understand more completely what you are capable of doing.

That's the hard part for me - these opportunities generally have a social component that conflicts with the comfort zone of hard wired loner. I grew up in the country, was dosed with hard core antihistamine injections regularly when I was really little, was a latch key kid from third grade until graduation, and was super shy growing up. I garden at home but not in group settings. I bike happily alone, but the idea of social cycling makes me anxious. Not good at parties, but don't mind hanging out with small groups. I overcome this when I can, but people are fascinating and weird to me, and this probably makes me come off as a little strange. My social skills are not like those of my children, who are far, far beyond me.

This influence will enlarge your idea of your capabilities, which has probably been too limited in the past. You will enjoy taking chances and risks even if you have always acted conservatively, and you will probably discover that you have been too careful before. Freedom is important to you now in every way. You will probably be attracted to others who have experienced similar restrictions in life, and you will work with them. If you have ever been attracted to movements for social reform and change, it is especially likely that you will do this now.

I am very attracted to movements for social change! I've made a study of them, but that doesn't do much good without active participation, and I am painfully aware of that. Still, if change comes from within and if I should be the change I wish to see in the world, and yadda yadda etcetera, I'm happy with my progress on that path so far, and I don't see the end of it.

Having found out more about your capabilities by getting rid of restrictions, you will enjoy stirring up others so that they can find that out for themselves, too. However, you must recognize that the limitations you have encountered in life were not put there solely by powers beyond your control. You at least acquiesced to them, either out of fear, a sense of personal inadequacy or a desire to be careful.

Ridiculously conscious of that. The outstanding student loan to the school not of my choice is a very unpleasant reminder of how doing what I'm told is not always the smart thing to do - for one example.

Transit selected for today (by user):
Uranus Sextile Mars, ,
activity period from beginning of April 2010 until beginning of March 2011

If you read this far, I hope the fact that the words "Uranus" and "Sextile" ended this post made it all worthwhile. Now back to science.

a week off in photos part one

2010-04-30T19:23:00.000-07:00

book larnin'

bike ridin'

plant procurin'

unloadin'

Unfortunately I didn't get pictures of the happy hour send off for D-Lux (dead as hell battery), but I'll just say it was the first time in about a year or maybe more that I had a little trouble biking home.

Today I learned that kids seem much more obnoxious when I'm hung over. ow.

I read this today, and wanted to remember it...

2010-04-10T14:56:00.000-07:00

A leader is best when people barely know that he exists, not so good when people obey and acclaim him, worst when they despise him. Fail to honor people, They fail to honor you. But of a good leader, who talks little, when his work is done, his aims fulfilled, they will all say, "We did this ourselves."
~ Laozi

Yards -vs- Lawns

2010-04-07T12:04:00.000-07:00

The day before yesterday we were cleaning the living room, and I asked my twelve year old daughter Zelda to take the Stratocastor rug out to shake off the dust and pencil sharpener bits and confetti. While she was out there, a fairly well-to-do couple from a couple of blocks over walked their dogs past the house. One dog was on a leash, the other was not, and the unleashed dog started peeing in our yard. Because the same dog has left worse things in ours and our neighbors' yards in the past, and the owners have never cleaned up after them, and Marty has had the misfortune of steppin' in it, Zelda asked that they call their dog, indicating that they let it go across the street in the empty lot (as they have been told in the past). The woman, who always has this vapid smile no matter what the situation (we've met. I think she's on antidepressants or 'luudes or something), said "It's only salt water!" The man said "You call that a lawn?" Then they walked off laughing. Zelda came back in the house, and looked baffled and a little angry. She told me what happened.

Indignant for many reasons which I had no time to quantify, I grabbed her hand and fast walked her out into the street. "Which way? Is it them?" I asked, pointing at a couple off in the distance. She nodded, and I shouted "Hey! If it's just salt water, maybe you wouldn't mind if I pissed on your fancy lawn!!!" I don't know if they heard me, but I know my neighbors did.

After stewing on this and kicking myself for not hopping on my bike, catching up with them, and sharing my feelings about their irresponsibility, disrespect to my child and my yard, and ignorance of science, I cooled off and thought about the semantics of the exchange.

"You call that a lawn?"

Okay, no (bitch). It's a yard. We play in it. We dig it up. We plant flowers, vegetables, and herbs in it. What grows there grows naturally. We don't buy chemicals at the hardware store to keep it green and weedless and insect free. There are toys in it. We don't compete with our neighbors for prettiest lawn awards. So no, it's a yard (bitch). And it is not now, nor will it ever be complete. It will evolve and change over the years as it has in the last eight years, and will get better, more productive, and more beautiful.

Coincidentally, my friend Theron and I had already planned to look over the yard and figure out project designs. He's studying permaculture, I want to get as much as I can out of the yard, so it's almost like the stars aligned and the pissing dog motivated me to be anti-lawn with an intensity I've never felt. He came by yesterday after work to tour the yard. I think it went well, the space is full of possibilities, and best of all, as much as I want to be above it all, released from pettiness and spite, I know that my yard will be able to kick any lawn's ass (bbbbb-itch).

http://ecfoodnotlawns.blogspot.com/

He-e-ey, I got that PMA

2010-03-26T19:00:00.000-07:00

I gotta find something productive to do besides work for a livin'. I have repetitive stress injuries of the brain.

My blog is falling into disrepair, and all I do is post my daily dose of eerily accurate pseudoscience. Forgive me Dr. Sagan. I'll chant billions and billions of Ave Marias

2010-03-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

The following is an astrological influence it would be silly to dismiss. This was on Astrodienst. Hopefully this is the crowbar that will pry me out of the ditch.

Pluto Conjunction Med.Coeli

This is an extremely important influence that will affect the entire course and direction of your life and what you will actually accomplish. It is also a rather long lasting influence, whose effects will be manifested over a period of up to two years.
The central issue here is your life direction. Where are you going? What are you doing? How are you going about doing it? This is a time of vigorous scrutiny when you will probably examine everything that you have done with your life up until now and ask a number of questions.

First, do you really feel that what you have been doing is valid? Don't think solely in terms of your job, although that is certainly an important part of the question. Many people's true vocation consists of what they consider to be an avocation.

Second, are the means you have used been appropriate to your ends and to your own inner being? This is an extremely important question. With this influence, what is required is not just success; it must be won properly. If you have had to violate the rules of your game in order to win, this influence is likely to bring you crashing down in failure.

Your response to this influence depends on your answers to the above questions. If you discover that you are not fulfilling your true calling in your work or another area, this influence will bring inexorable forces to the surface that will drive you out of your present position. You may leave voluntarily, or you may be forced out by being fired or laid off. If this happens, let your inner feelings guide you in an entirely new direction.

If you have been on the proper course all these years, this influence will give you a massive push to succeed. Only watch out that your push doesn't arouse too much opposition from above that could slow you down. The forces set loose by this influence are often very difficult to handle. Also be careful about breaking the rules of the game as mentioned above, for this can destroy your efforts.

Transit selected for today (by user):
Pluto Conjunction Med.Coeli,
activity period from beginning of February 2010 until beginning of December 2011

Walking with headphones on a beautiful day like today...

2010-03-10T23:13:00.000-08:00

It's a gorgeous sunny day.

I recently got my first operational mp3 player. It isn't fancy - being new to mobile electronics I'm not really picky, which is good, because I'm pretty broke. Walking outdoors with headphones and 4 gigabytes of random music I love on the way to pick up the kids is sorta beautiful.

1. Going, Going, Gone - Richard Hell
2. The Ballad of John and Yoko - John and Yoko
3. Black Mirror - The Arcade Fire
4. Queen Jane, Approximately - Bob Dylan
5. Just Like Heaven - Dinosaur Jr.
6. Roll With the Changes - REO Speedwagon
7. Let Me Go, Lover - Wanda Jackson
8. Baby, It's You - Smith
9. Lord, Mr. Ford - Jerry Reed
10. Winnebago Warrior - Dead Kennedys
11. The Fairest of the Seasons - Nico

This isn't on the way to school, but I walked by this place today, and it relates more to the music theme than the walk.

Oh, and "Ballad of John and Yoko" is fun to walk to, in case you're needing to get somewhere on foot and have a persecution complex.

assimilation is imminent. resistance is futile.

2009-12-06T19:23:00.000-08:00

I love last.fm right now - my station's on a roll. I used to take great joy in crafting mix tapes and thought that all this technology took the fun out of things, but I'm digging the randomness. It's a little creepy how few times I've skipped a song tonight. I've been using last.fm for a year, and it's got a lock on my brain now - it is totally intuitive. How long before it makes me a sammich?

I don't think computers will take over and rule the world - they will just become these weird extensions of our psyches. They become a fully customizable comfort zone.

Wow. That's scary. Makes me wanna go outside and do stuff.

punkass social network.

2009-12-02T04:55:00.000-08:00

Facebook posted my retroblogs. I did the RSS thing again, and it reposted some old stuff and hid the new stuff like a bungling new receptionist who doesn't get the file system. So, this is a test to see if it is going to behave itself, and if we go back in time again, I'll know I discovered a rift, and we'll all just keep this a secret from NASA. If your eyes were burned by twice baked entries, um...oops!

Amnesty, because I just wanna get along.

2009-12-01T19:53:00.000-08:00

I've been having weird interactions with people lately. People. Plural. Weird, as in uncomfortable, or cold, or whatever - just irritating and inscrutable, and some of them petty. My stupid girly feelings make me concerned, when I'd rather be punk-ass about it and not give a damn. I know it would be wise to just let it go - and generally I do. Unfortunately, either I've been unusually sensitive lately or really perceptive, and there have been too many of these uncomfortable situations. I am trying to figure out who I pissed off, and how, so I hope to analyze this objectively and get it purged from my head. In the bargain, any poor soul who happens to read this will be subjected to all this reflective garbage. Forgive me. I'm nearly forty. This is an effort to put away childish things - as soon as I'm done with this entry.

So, these are my self-centered observations:

1. My interactions with the people in the kitchen at work, the people in my family, my close friends (meaning, the people who interact with me for hours on end, who know me best) are very positive and rewarding. I adore all of 'em. I think it's probably mutual. I take from this that I am not a complete asshole - not a lost cause. Or maybe they are good actors.

2. My interactions with people in general are mostly positive as well, including old friends, complete strangers, my neighbors, my former neighbors, and even bill collectors.

3. There are many people I like and respect as human beings who just rub me the wrong way, and if I am not good at hiding it, I'm sorry. Be assured, your humanity is still important to me, and if you were on fire I'd still put you out without a second thought or a regret. I would hope you would do the same for me or anyone else. If you wouldn't, let's not pretend to be friends. If you would, I got your back, and I'm a good ally.

4. There are many people I like and respect as human beings, and for whatever reasons, though we aren't close, they interest me. Not in a creepy way, but because I maybe perceive some sort of community, understanding, unity, comfort. I am glad these people exist, even though we run in different crowds, have different interests, or don't really know what to say to each other. Unfortunately, my ridiculous shyness makes it really hard to make immediate small talk without feeling dorky, and often I avoid it altogether if I can. I'll try to overcome it, but until I do, don't be surprised if I'm a little spazzy.

5. I don't often have a chance to be in social situations anymore, and while I find that it denies me the chance to get to know people I would like to know better, I know I've chosen well. I brought four children into the world and I take my role as a mom very seriously, despite the fact that I am not a conventional mother (whatever that is - honestly, I think they are rare as unicorns, and therefore not conventional at all. What a conundrum...). My children are my most profound joy, my first priority, and my greatest responsibility. My hope is that they will be creative, conscientious, happy, capable, interesting adults. Every day they delight, amaze, impress, and teach me. They have courage, insight, humor, drive, brains, hearts, and style. I could go on forever with this, but I think it is fair to say I love them above all else. Nothing and nobody means more to me than them. Laugh if you want, but I know you expect your own mother to feel that way about you.

Incidentally, the perceived petty crap hasn't come from any parents, or anyone over 35. None of us have time for that shit - if we did, we'd be all over it.

6. There are issues which are nobody's business, and I'm leaving them out. Most likely, if I'm giving off bad vibes, I'm thinking about my own complex Gordian-knot-like issues, not how I feel about the people around me who have nothing to do with them. Maybe I want to save the rope instead of wrecking it. I'm sure everyone else carries some crazy scrambled Rubik's Cube of a personal puzzle in their head. Maybe it's missing a couple of stickers. May we all work them out.

7. Today, when I saw the question "What is your chief complaint?" on my Facebook feed, I pathetically answered, "I am on a shit list by association." I found the response surprisingly helpful - "Laurie, wrestle with a turd and you'll get shit all over you." BL, I don't know you that well, but that actually helped. Thanks, dude. The Magic Eight Ball ain't got nothin' on you.

So, consider those turds wrestled. Now I'm gonna go shower off the stink. Peace.

Ain't it strange

2009-11-30T18:31:00.000-08:00

When the Salvation Army relieved me of my gas swillin' 1980 Chevy Scottsdale pick-up (15mpg, with recalled-but-not-returned dual exploding gas tanks - the American response to the 70's gas crisis), they took with them the book that rode behind the driver's seat. This was the book I read while sitting in auto repair shop waiting rooms, camping at the beach, before sleeping in the camper wherever I was parked for the night, and waiting for the tow truck time and again. It rode between the jumper cables and the bottle of motor oil, cradled by the threadbare brown and blue plaid flannel shirt I used to wipe my hands when I had to do roadside repairs. Yellowed, butterfly paged, crackling at the edges, my blown out copy of The Life of St. Theresa d'Avila by Herself had a photo of a statue of the Carmelite on the cover, chiseled in marble by Bernini, beautiful ecstatic face lit by the sun. It smelled like sunshine and old farm truck. I have kicked myself repeatedly for not retrieving it.

I'd like to read it again while listening to Patti Smith's "Radio Ethiopia." They would go together like The Wizard of Oz and The Dark Side of The Moon (I still haven't experienced that combo, but I hear it is pretty special). Patti's ecstatic poetry and Theresa's mystical visions all at once might just light the match that sets off the fireworks my consciousness has been lacking lately. Maybe I'd finish a painting as a result.

Could Patti Smith be the reincarnation of St. Theresa d'Avila? Ask the Angels.

Let nothing trouble you,
let nothing make you afraid.

Don't you see when you're looking at me
That I'll never end transcend transcend

The Superstar, a mysterious vintage bike

2009-11-29T16:53:00.000-08:00

Recently while excavating the shed behind our house after years of former tenants, I found a cute red bicycle under piles of firewood and old garden tools. My daughter Zelda immediately fell in love with it. Yesterday, I pumped up the tires and tested it. It spins beautifully and rides fast and smooth, which is awesome, aside from the fact that it has no brake cables, and I had to leap off while it was going. The speed took me by surprise - which is another reminder that my bike is crappy and slow.

I'm pretty clear about what needs to be fixed and how, but I'm really curious about this bike, since I have found next to nothing about it online. It is made by a West German company - Faehnrich, and it is a Falter Superstar. The decals have lil' butterflies on 'em. My guess is that it has been modified - I still haven't found any images that have a banana seat and chopper bars. I love and am really curious about this cycle. It's a folding bike, with hinges fastened with wing nuts in the frame to fold it down for storage. Any info would be greatly appreciated - please forward to your geeky-pedal-happy-techie friends with big encyclopedic bike trivia brains.

I'm sorry Mr. Sagan - I had to look.

2009-11-22T22:04:00.000-08:00

Deeper understanding

This quality of time will help you to develop a deeper understanding of those psychological areas that are connected with the experience of pain, suffering and rejection. This influence is especially well suited to so deepening the understanding of these interrelations that the first inklings of how to carry out a healing can be perceived. During this phase it is important to talk to other people who are interested in this theme. This time is well suited to penetrating the complicated connections and dependencies between human behavior, the psyche and early injuries - to differentiate between cause and effect -, whether for yourself or for someone who has confided in you.

The interpretation above is for your transit selected for today:
Mercury Trine Chiron, , exact at 05:54
activity period from 22 November 2009 to 23 November 2009

From Astrodienst

workweek's end

2009-11-17T19:53:00.000-08:00

Maybe today was exhausting. Maybe the last day of the work week was just one too many. Maybe the idea of meteors flying over my head whether I see them or not is overwhelming, and missing the show makes me a little agitated. I wish I would plan for these things. I miss being in the sticks sometimes. Just for a few days I want different dirt under my feet, and a dark sky full of stars and big, shiny, fast-traveling space rocks.

It isn't in the cards right now though. The week has been eventful enough at home and at work, and all I can really handle now is sleep (though internet radio, beer, and typing are so entertaining). A cluster of days full of irritating, inconvenient, petty, dumb crap - but getting through it is sort of satisfying. I feel stronger. A million tiny things came together to create a string of days crammed with so much intensity that today, on my Friday, my body, mind, and bicycle fell apart. Maybe that's over dramatic. Yes, it is. I don't want to relive it all by cataloging it on my blog, except the last part: I got a flat tire on the way home. Instead of cursing the universe for not giving me a break when I so desperately needed one, for not sending the Luck Dragon to fly me gently to my house and tuck me into bed, for putting that damned flat head screw in the road and making me run over it, I just flipped the bike upside down on the sidewalk and changed out the tube and rode home.

So, I'm thankful I had that spare tube in my backpack. It saved me having to walk back to work, cash my vacation-$-not-being-used-for-vacation-again advance, and buy a new tube at Ozone (no cash on hand. Not even $5 for a tube. How irresponsible of me). So that was planning ahead. It wasn't all bad. I made some new friends. That's pretty cool. There have been several good conversations about heavy, intense philosophical stuff with a few people I don't know very well, including a really cute nine year old customer at work who wants to be a cook when she grows up. The week wasn't bad, just complex and interesting - in a really messed up challenging sort of f'ed up sort of way. Glad there were sympathetic/empathetic people around to make it run smoothly.

I need to shut down and restart.

In my soul I'm juggling fire

2009-11-16T23:44:00.000-08:00

There is so much I want to write, but it's late, and I'm sleepy. I'll say this - my 30 minutes a day of Dostoevsky is probably the best soul food in a book I've had in my life. I knew there had to be something in it - I was bugged about it so much for so long by a friend who never steered me wrong in a book recommendation. I wish I had read it in my twenties - but I didn't, so here we are.

Fire Juggler, Pecan Street Fair, 2009

I dream in color

2009-11-12T08:06:00.000-08:00

Last night I dreamed that I had just started working at an open air, mostly outdoor restaurant. I was the FNG - the 'effin New Girl. It was all gardens and picnic tables and orchards. Part of my side work was tending to the flower vines, taking cuttings, finding new walls and trellises to train passionvines, moonflowers, morning glories, and sweet peas. When I wasn't doing that, I was baking double crust pies and pastries from scratch, as in, picking the fruit from the trees, cutting cold butter into the flour, rolling the dough on a big floured board, and on and on. There were a few scary parts of the dream, like when I lost a whole bunch of moonflower seedlings, and when my wagon of just picked blueberries tipped over, but nothing like werewolves or bloodthirsty marauders. It was sort of boring, but it wasn't bad - the picnic tables were full of happy people eating fresh food, and there were pretty flowers everywhere. Of course, I was at work. Whatever, it's a livin'.

I think I must've accidentally accessed one of my great-grandmother's May Day celebration memories. That, or a day of gardening followed by Lagunitas Brown Shugga' Ale is the stuff of happy dreams.

art stuff

2009-11-08T16:51:00.000-08:00

Lately I keep thinking about how fulfilling it would be to make my living making art instead of vegetarian chili. I think about it almost every minute I spend at work. I love the people I see every day at work, and I enjoy my job, mostly, but there's not much room for creativity, and I find it stifling. Don't get me wrong, in this economy, I'm glad to have work. I understand that I'm lucky to have an income and benefits. I work with people who have diverse interests, who are fascinating, who are funny and insightful. I get it. I'm fan-freaking-tastically fortunate. I just want MORE!

So, I'm working on alternate ways to earn income. Eventually, I want to be able to buy a day off every week, doing something I love. If I'm painting, then I want to sell a painting for a days pay. If I'm doing photography, then I'd like to be commissioned to artistically document events. If I'm writing, maybe someone will read it (whatever it is - it's a good thing I'm not a writer, or I'd be bitching about being blocked). I want to see where this takes me.

Nature's Seedy Underbelly

2009-11-05T00:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I revisited the first place I ever rode a bike in Austin - the Zilker Hike and Bike. Back then, I had just bought a brand new black Mongoose Switchback. It hung from the ceiling in my kitchen for a couple of weeks before I finally worked up the nerve to ride it on the road. I lived close to the trail back then, so one morning, day off, bored, frustrated with the universe, I hopped on and rode fast. It was incredible - the weather was gorgeous, it was early Spring, and when I got to the trail, I saw flowers, turtles, ducks, people running with dogs, people cycling with children.

So yesterday, Zelda was performing in Stringfest (AISD and surrounding orchestras play a lunchtime show in the park). I biked there, watched my kid and a gazillion other parent's kids play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," "Chopsticks" - pizzicato style, and some other songs. Then I hit the trail, walked and took pictures, rode and listened to the birds, stopped and soaked in the views. I love the turtles.

my bike, The Red Ninja

the floating city

books

2009-10-29T08:13:00.000-07:00

Ideally, what should be said to every child, repeatedly, throughout his or her school life is something like this:
"You are in the process of being indoctrinated. We have not yet evolved a system of education that is not a system of indoctrination. We are sorry, but it is the best we can do. What you are being taught here is an amalgam of current prejudice and the choices of this particular culture. The slightest look at history will show how impermanent these must be. You are being taught by people who have been able to accommodate themselves to a regime of thought laid down by their predecessors. It is a self-perpetuating system. Those of you who are more robust and individual than others will be encouraged to leave and find ways of educating yourself — educating your own judgements. Those that stay must remember, always, and all the time, that they are being moulded and patterned to fit into the narrow and particular needs of this particular society." ~ Doris Lessing, from the introduction to The Golden Notebook

On my growing stack of books I want to finish before starting a new one sits The Golden Notebook. I love Doris Lessing's writing, but have never finished anything of hers. I'm feeling a bit more confident now though - I've gotten farther in The Brothers Karamazov than in past attempts (I think the translation I have was written for a different audience - probably Americanized from the British translation, but still very awkward language - I'm considering switching to a newer, fancier, more modern translation), and maybe it's time. I love her philosophy of reading,

There is only one way to read, which is to browse in libraries and bookshops, picking up books that attract you, reading only those, dropping them when they bore you, skipping the parts that drag — and never, never reading anything because you feel you ought, or because it is part of a trend or a movement. Remember that the book which bores you when you are twenty or thirty will open doors for you when you are forty or fifty — and vice versa. Don’t read a book out of its right time for you. ~ Doris Lessing, from the introduction to The Golden Notebook

...but it is satisfying to actually finish something.

uphill, downtown

2009-10-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

I waited for the bus this morning at 12th and Navasota, only to have some kindly gent inform me that on Sundays the #6 does not arrive until 7:59 am, an hour after I am to arrive at work. I said "really?" He said "yes." So. I shut my book and ascended into the morning city lights to catch the #1 (or #3, I'm not picky) and remembered that they do not stop in the same place anymore, so I would have to choose. I chose the #1, because I knew where the stop was located. I stood next to a grandmotherly woman with a pink scarf. She was from Lubbock, but she moved here to take care of her brother, who was in a rest home (and they weren't doing enough to help him there, according to her). Then her car was repossessed. Having few friends in town she could ask for rides, she learned the bus system, and to her frustration, she learned it is a harsh cruel thing! After she told me that the bus wouldn't be there until 7:45 am, 45 minutes after I was to arrive at work, she lent me her phone to call and inform my coworkers of my stranded status, and tell Chad to whip up some eggs. Then she told me she had to fight a girl gang at the laundromat - for her own clothes. She said "I stood my ground, and said "your abuela would be so disappointed." I liked her, and I hope she gets her transportation situation fixed, because the Capital Metro Transit System is not friendly to the people who need it most.

I am in such ridiculous muscle pain from biking on a broken bike, and walking steep hills didn't help. The ride home after picking up the ninja was incredible. It must've been really broken before, because even biking in the wind, I could handle it. Even in my busted up, sad bodied state, it was not that painful. But walking is hurty.

you better wise up, build those thighs up...

2009-10-24T16:03:00.000-07:00

My bike is broken, and I have to ride the bus in the morning. On a Sunday. The buses are so unreliable and stupid on Sundays.

My bike was still giving me trouble on the way to work. By the time I got there, my legs were just screaming. I was near tears. Okay, so things are tough all over - I know, and even though this is a minor thing, it is a minor thing on top of a million other minor things and a few major ones as well. I felt like this would be the very thing that breaks me in half. Anyway, Beau, the guy who picks up the out of date food for the shelter, asked "How are things?" as usual, and I told him that my bike was causing me much pain and frustration. I thought maybe it was the rear axle. He offered to take a look at it, and I said "Would you? Please?" He came back and said "Your brakes are a little tight - no big deal if you have a hex wrench."

I happen to carry one in my purse!

During my break, bike inverted, I tinkered with the brakes. It still didn't seem right. They were sticky, and they didn't go where I wanted them to go. I loosened the cable a little, tested them again, and it seemed maybe possible that we would make it home... hopefully? There wasn't a wobble in the wheel, but I wasn't really convinced. I sat and ate my breakfast, and read what so far is my favorite part of Brothers Karamazov (when Smerdyakov argues about faith that moves mountains being rare, if not nonexistent), and drank my coffee.

After work, I made it about three blocks before hearing the howl again, and walked the squeaky lil' Ninja to Ozone. Busted. Rear. Axle!!!!! That's all those groceries I carry around. This happened a couple of years ago, too. Guess what? Faith doesn't move broken bicycles. Mechanics do.

When's the last time that nasty bike had a shower?

2009-10-23T20:02:00.000-07:00

For weeks I've been feeling really sluggish on my bike. I wondered if it was me or the squeaky Ninja? Am I just wearing out or something? Breaking down? Or is it finally about time to repair/replace the bike? Yesterday's fun mud-filled excursion downtown wore me out, and so did the trip to work, so on the way home when the bike was creaking up 30th Street, making a howling, rattly sound on the back tire, I was actually a little relieved. I don't know how I can get much healthier than I am without making myself obsessive and dull. Being able to blame it all on my dirty bicycle and my laziness (or overwhelmed-ness with a million other priorities, maybe?) made it all better.

I got home, unloaded my bike, hosed it off, took it apart, and cleaned and oiled it this afternoon. It was horrifyingly muddy and gross. For some reason my rear brake cable was all askew, which explains the howling noise. I hit a bunch of bad road yesterday, maybe that's why. It's all smooth running and happy now though.

I don't have to spend money!

And I'm not falling apart!

Afterwards, I took a three hour nap. Riding a raggedy, nasty bike everywhere is a bitch.

You can't fight City Hall if you don't know where it is.

2009-10-22T10:46:00.000-07:00

First things first - 301 W 2nd Street.

I know that now. Today I looked at my Facebook, and saw that there was a call to action to go to City Hall and sign my name to support a 3 foot passing ordinance. I had maybe 45 minutes to get there in time, but I live close to downtown, so it wasn't unreasonable at all. Easy advocacy - just the way I like it. Anyway, I ride my bike every day, and the fear of getting slammed by a vehicle is so much a part of my life that I don't really fear it as much as accept it as a companion. Oh - fear of death or injury, we meet again - that sort of thing. Because of this, I completely support any measure to promote alternative transportation and awareness and acceptance of the reality that we are all on our way somewhere (I'm usually not joyriding on my bike, though the commute is fun) and shouldn't have to fear for our lives on the way there and back just because we want to earn a living or buy groceries or see a show. Unfortunately, I don't get out much to sign my name to things or voice my opinion because I dunno, I'm a bum.

Today would be different - I had nothing better to do, and when you have nothing better to do you have no excuse. I posted the FB invite, got off the internet, and headed out into the cold, misty world on my bike. On the East Side I had to go around some big trucks that were unloading scrap metal with giant magnets on cranes, downtown I was mesmerized by all the tall buildings and construction, and I went to the spot where I thought City Hall was, only to find a gaping hole with a bunch of construction workers and equipment and jackhammers. Oh. This was when I realized that watching channel 6 City Hall hijinks is not the same as being there. To be there, you have to know where it is.

Then it started raining harder and the wind picked up.

I knew I was in the general area, so I biked around a bit, and then realized I had run out of time already. I biked home (when did they rip out the bike lane going east on 4th?), the sun came out, the rain ceased, I bought a newspaper, and went in the house. On one hand I felt like a complete shmo for not knowing the location of City Hall. On the other, I had a fun bike ride, saw lots of cool stuff (of course my camera was at home) and learned that the part of downtown where I was biking has a long way to go before it is "Bike Friendly."

You know what's really dumb though? City Hall is right near where Liberty Lunch used to be - about a block over. I should've known that! You'd never know with all the dang tall buildings hoggin' up the place. I wonder if the ridiculous guitar statue with the whirligigs is supposed to be a memorial? I didn't realize City Hall was on 2nd - I thought it was on 4th - I went as far as 3rd and said "screw it."

Anyway, now that I know where it is, I'll be there more often I guess (heh - more often than never...), and from now on, I won't "Get off the Internet!" until I've hit GoogleMaps.

okay...

2009-10-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

Today is kind of beautiful. Luck is in my favor. I have air in my tires. I feel slightly more alive than usual. Not sure why that is. Weather? Consciousness shifting? A good book? A present in the mail? Not sure what to make of it or where to go with this. Not even sure what happened. Totally baffled, but strangely comfortable with it. Future days should be as good. To the multitudes who made this possible, thank you.

Today is the day I am periferal to the world that is stupid football, the greatest thing in the universe

2009-09-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

Football is interfering with my life, and I don't even watch it on purpose. It's just everywhere and leaves its refuse and stink all over, and I wouldn't mind it except it won't just let me be. UT and Tech if you didn't know. I bike past UT on the way home from work - on game days it's an effort to keep a cool head. There are tank-like cars all over our neighborhood. People are driving actual personal vehicles the size of tanks down narrow streets lined on both sides with more tank-like personal vehicles. It's obnoxious.

Biking through on the tiny amount of pavement left tested my patience and found it lacking - anxiety, bike rage, fear of being doored by someone off in their own world of football and Big Gulp induced euphoria, acceptance that the traffic flow is so slow anyway that being doored wouldn't really be such a huge deal - breathe, keep it cool - I can't finish the sentence, there's no rhyme.

Eventually there was an opening, and I broke through, speeding toward the little road that runs through Oakwood, shaking my fist and shouting "Go Sooners!" at confused Raiders and Horns on opposite sides of the street. I united them briefly, becoming their common enemy, and honestly, I'm not a Sooner fan either - nothing against them, just ... you know, don't care. None of this football business matters much at all to me. College or pro. I'd watch a local league probably. And the Saints - but other than that, oh, I hope your team wins, if it makes you happy. Yawn.

Don't be offended. I'm sure I could bore you senseless with my interests.

Back to today. Today! Everyone is wearing the same color, and it is repellent. unattractive. fugly. And everywhere.

Tonight a guy *peed* on my neighbor's front lawn - while my family and I were cooking out in the yard, taking dramatic photos of broken action figures, playing Jedi -vs- giant bugs, enjoying the weather. It was over before we realized that happened - "did you see that? should we tell our neighbor, or would he rather not know? Do we issue the public urinator a strong reprimand or do we just say "ew!! Nasty!"? Life is far too complicated sometimes.

Parachute Day

2009-09-16T21:55:00.000-07:00

Alex is sick (fever, chills, aches. sick), but he insists that he can go to school tomorrow because they are making parachutes in Art. I hate having to keep my kid home on parachute day! The world just isn't fair!!!!

Maybe he can help me with the action figure project (which is postponed due to sick kid sleeping in living room where I was setting up).

Portraits of Broken Action Figures in Dramatic Poses

2009-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

This morning, with the help of a batch of cold brewed coffee that I forgot about three days ago and strained this morning (!!!!!!!!!!!!!), I started cleaning the house to prepare for a new photo project. This one is inspired by the piles of broken action figures we have accumulated over the years, (especially the ones designed for Marvel several years ago - the ones with finger joints and something like 36 points of movement), The Velveteen Rabbit, and a photo I took of Beast in an open window on a stormy night, candle-lit and looking like he is quoting Shakespeare. It is called "Portraits of Broken Action Figures in Dramatic Poses." I start today. I have backdrops and everything - it will be flippin' sweet.

Today...

2009-09-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Today Logan and I planted a garden.

I walked to the school with umbrellas to pick up the kids and we bought treats at the PTA bake sale. We never had to use the umbrellas.

Zelda was issued her home practice cello for her orchestra class. She carried it home, grinning manically. While I took a nap, she practiced her scales. It rumbled the floor. I like the cello.

I watched the Presidential address, and blew a ton of time on Facebook, playing Mafia Wars and commenting and cracking wise.

And I'm still awake.

Dear Jeez-Louise,

2009-09-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

When is it gonna be "our" world and not just some wealthy person's "my" world?

Sincerely,
L

Triumphant video!

2009-08-31T17:01:00.000-07:00

With that in mind, here's Marty Metal, playin' like Eddie, singin' like Dave.

The video is up, and I want to talk geek for a minute

2009-08-30T14:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, it is entirely possible to edit video in Ubuntu - I figured it out. Kino didn't work for me. PiTiVi isn't finished, and aside from having buttons and commands to play with it is imaginary and a waste of time so far. Kden is AWESOME!!!!! If you download it the "normal" way (like say, you go to Synaptic and download it, or however you do) it will crash every time you try to do ANYTHING. If you run Ubuntu, download from the sunab repositories - instructions are here.

Anyway, the following is unretouched, unmangled, minimalist, and dang it, done - finally. I swear the whole process of setting up the computer was starting to really make me CRAZY!!!

Still, it's set up now, and I know how to do this. Sweet victory. I love open source software! Enjoy the tunes!

Geeks for Rock 'n Roll!

2009-08-28T16:02:00.000-07:00

This weekend (meaning my days off, Wednesday and Thursday), I engaged in the sort of Linux geekery that grows you up a little, and came through tattered, worn, but still alive - mostly.

First, I'll lay down some back story. Over a month ago, Marty played one of the many last shows at Room 710, and I recorded it on my lil' mini dvd camcorder, intending to upload a most triumphant video to YouTube that would rocket him to superstar-employment. It's awesome - we watched it on the Playstation, so we knew the disk worked. Since my computer didn't have a dvd drive, I sent Marty to the Best Buy with a printout of the drive I picked out, and when he came home, I cracked the computer case open to find that this computer is set up for PATA cables, and the drive was SATA.

I didn't know there were different cables! That's sneaky. Anyway, he went back this week to exchange it (and with the change, he got The Five Deadly Venoms), and I installed and tested it. As Howl's Moving Castle lumbered across the screen, I sat back in awe at how pretty it is on a computer monitor compared to a crappy old television. Then I put in the minidisk with Marty playing "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang" and nothing showed up - there was no disk icon, nothing. I opened VLC, and was able to watch it, but I couldn't download it or anything. I figured I needed some sort of special codecs, so I popped open Synaptic, downloaded some codecs, and nothing. I downloaded MountManager, and then I locked myself out of the system forever. Then I took a shower and cried a little. Okay. Better. Time to start anew. In the new drive went the Live Ubuntu Jaunty Jackalope (yes. Jackalope.) disk and from the desktop, I loaded all my important documents, family photos, and 8,000-odd songs onto a removable hard drive. Then I wiped the system, restarted, and rebuilt.

I've done this a couple of times now - there's always a new and better way to fuck up my system, and eventually I'll do just that. Off to the Ubuntu forums I went, ran the terminal, copied and pasted sudo commands until I was crosseyed, and set myself up with fine multimedia machine with Ubuntu Studio software. Then I learned how to edit my fstab. I don't really know what an fstab is - I just know that someone suggested that UDF disks (which is how my minidisk is formatted) and 9660iso's have special issues in placement or whatever, so I switched them and restarted. Boom! There's the disk on my desktop! It only took two days! I have to switch it back and restart if I want to play Howl's Moving Castle again. That's irritating. I downloaded the triumphant vids to my backup hard drive (after moving all my music and pics back to the new system), and now I have something to work with tonight.

So, when you see Marty Metal performing "Mean Streak" and "Somebody Get Me a Doctor," please realize that some geek went to a lot of trouble to get this shit to the public, and would appreciate it if somebody with a big huge brain at Canonical would make it so that UDF and ISO can easily co-exist on the same machine in the same session. Thank you.

"In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. In life may you proceed with balance and stealth." - Patti Smith

aerial photography and ravioli

2009-08-14T18:46:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamed that I was working at Miller Blueprint again. I was pulling aerial photos from the files for a customer, and was happy because I was having really good luck finding the exact ones he wanted. I laid them out evenly on a light table - perfectly square black and white photos with numbers in the corners, representing parts of Austin in different decades, in two scales. It pleased me aesthetically - I found it rather fetching. Then I started to ladle ravioli with marinara in the upper left corners of each of the six photos, sprinkled lightly with shredded parmesan, followed by a spinach salad with minced kalamata olives, roasted asparagus and spring carrots with the tops, and crusty garlic bread, cascading down the right side of the photos. I was really very happy with this. It was normal, natural, and I didn't question it. Then Marty accidentally woke me up when he was going to bed after watching football, and I recalled the dream perfectly. That in itself is unusual for me - I don't usually remember my dreams anymore.

The one thing that has really bugged me about this is that aerial photos would make the worst paper plates ever, especially for ravioli. Getting all that food off of the light table would've been challenging. I'm a little glad I woke up, but I sort of wonder how things would've played out if I stayed asleep.

Links about food

2009-06-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting much about food lately, and most of what I post is positive and probably includes a recipe. The following links are more informative, and though they are a response to a negative reality(and negative realities are unpleasant and nobody wants to spend their fun online time on that sort of thing), they affect us all - and they will change if we face them, and we'll benefit hugely. As a group, we have buying power. If we refuse to purchase things we know to be harmful to our bodies our grocery, convenience, and discount superstores will have to listen to us to be profitable. I'm very lucky to live near and work at a cooperative grocery store, but most of the rest of us have to work with what we've got. Get to know the grocery managers where you live and bug them for organic produce, grass-fed beef, free range eggs, hormone-free dairy products, locally grown/made/processed food and body care products, fair trade coffee and chocolate, and cute cloth bags to carry it all home. Or go to the farmer's market and meet the local producers yourself.

10 Simple things you can do to change our food system

Child Nutrition Act Reauthorization Petition

Local Harvest -

"The best organic food is what's grown closest to you. Use our website to find farmers' markets, family farms, and other sources of sustainably grown food in your area, where you can buy produce, grass-fed meats, and many other goodies."

I love this site - I just found it, and I quickly found a farmer's market on Bilbo Street in Lake Charles where my Aunt Mary can get fresh everything! I should visit her and make dinner for her.

I'll post more links later - I feel like I've been on the computer too long today.

This morning, Logan and I were playing on the swingset and thought it would be a good idea to plant the rest of our veggie garden seeds around the poles. We planted tiger eye beans, blue corn, sunflowers, and bird's nest gourds, and then I chased him around the swings with the water hose while he giggled and squealed. Good times.

Why our food choices matter...

2009-06-17T13:44:00.000-07:00

From PBS - Now

I went to the market to realize my soul

2009-06-13T15:49:00.000-07:00

..but then I found I had no cash.

My most recent meal from the free box was

delicious,

and almost completely free,

and my little boys ate it without once asking

"What's this?"

We had

fresh rigatoni and spiral pasta (free from the cheese department)

topped with

a sauce made from

crushed fire roasted tomatoes and tomato sauce (decanted from dented unsellable cans)

slightly out of date Turkish garbanzo beans from the deli (chick peas with a ton of paprika, olive oil, oregano, marjoram, plus Dijon mustard, dried Turkish apricots, and kalamata olives).

served over

baby spinach

with a side of garlic bread made from a day old sourdough baguette.

I paid real money for the olive oil, the salt, the wine, and the spinach.

Oh yeah.

This has inspired a pasta sauce recipe.

Map to the new place...

2009-06-10T15:11:00.000-07:00

The Serious Blog

It's not that serious, and the name probably won't stick, but that's where it is. Follow me over there!

Put up your dukes...

2009-06-06T15:24:00.000-07:00

...let's get down to it. I haven't had much time to write, and at the moment I have time but can't really recall all the stuff I've been wanting to say. I honestly don't know how writers make a living once the children are born. Since I never made any kind of living as a writer, I guess maybe my drive to create tangible permanent things isn't as great as it could be. I can whip up salad dressings and sandwich spreads and tofu variations and salsas without thinking about it, but making art and writing essays and blogs and stuff has never paid the bills. When I've done it, I've done it because I felt like it. Often I've written things better kept to myself or attributed to a fictional character. Other times I was just dumping out every stupid thing that was in my head.

There have been times I've written things that I like to read later - things I love, that are real to me. I'll re-read them later and wonder how that got written when I'm having such a hard time expressing myself now. It is always loud here, I need to pay attention to the kids, or there's something on the stove. Then there is the lull when the kids are reading, drawing, making bead necklaces. The time when I collapse on the porch steps in the sun with a graphic novel and homemade sangria, bliss out on the birds singing, and feel the clouds dissipate. I want to write but I don't want my writing to get in the way of having experiences worthy of recording later.

I have wanted to write an essay based on Plato's Republic for several months now - after re-reading it (not just the sections assigned in Heritage of Western Culture 22, but most of the rest of it) I'm finding that Socrates would've probably found cooperative economics very natural. He also would have killed his television (read The Allegory of the Cave - which was required in HWC22 ). I just don't have all my backup research done yet. I may not know what I'm talking about. It's cool. I'm not afraid to run my digits all over the keyboard anyway. Look for it - it's in the works. I need to read the boring parts I skipped before I feel comfy discussing, but if you have a perspective on this, I'd love to hear it.

My feeling is that though we have some ridiculous technology, ethics are still ethics, and I guess that my interest in reading all these dusty textbooks and translations stems from that. People have written about ethics since people have been writing. What have they said, what do we say now, how has it changed? Why do I care?

Okay, I'm hungry. I want some udon.

This is the last entry in this blog except for the one where I post a link to the new blog. Why? Because...

2009-05-21T21:13:00.000-07:00

I don't wanna not talk about bombs anymore. I wanna not talk about other stuff. I'm starting a new blog soon. This one is old and I filled it up. The next one will be a little less personal day to day stuff, and a little more of how all the stimuli processed and stewed in my head over the years comes together in a blob and over time gets pressurized into diamonds. All the religious teaching, all the undergrad philosophy, all the half read books, half watched movies, all the trips to the art museums, the movies watched alone in empty theaters, the thrift store finds that mean something, and all the stuff I'm working on that never seem to be finished will be amassed into one huge work in progress. It won't be about current events - it will be about all of time existing at once. And recipes.

But for now, I have this blog, so ...

Today, the Kealing Middle School Choir and Piano Recital was held at the same time as the Blackshear End of School Program and Art Show. How awkward! I filmed Zelda playing a song from Pochahontas at the Kealing extravaganza. I've never heard her play - we don't have a piano here, so she practices at school. She's really good - I'm so proud of her! She got a bitchin' trophy for her efforts this semester. While that was going on, Marty filmed Alex singing "Apples and Bananas," and Ursula hamming up "On Top of Spaghetti" with much drama and feeling. Logan was really bored during the Middle School recital, and I swear whenever there was a pause he would say "Is it over yet?" or "Can we go home now?" loud enough for the cheap seats. To be honest, after Zelda's performance I really wanted to cut out, but one of her friends was playing last.

The kids brought home all of their artwork for the year in portfolios, so I hung up all the best stuff in the livingroom. I'll have to post a picture of that when I take one.

I talked to my dad today. He's a silly man.

a summary, or compilation, or anthology of all the many fragments of unfinished blogs

2009-05-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

I start so many blog entries, but I never get around to finishing them anymore. At first this upset me, but not after giving it some thought. I've been engaging in "real life" more - by that I mean talking to people in person instead of emailing/blogging/socially networking (I've never been that good at casual human interaction, but I should maybe practice so I don't get too weird), drawing on paper, writing in my sketchbook, reading handhelds that require actual page turning, playing with the kids, walking, and joybiking. The computer has become more of a storage device for photos, a jukebox, and a telegraph. I'm not off the stuff - I still check my Facebook and email, but I'm not as sucked into the interworld as I was when I was working at night and coming home to a sleeping house.

To catch up, in the last couple of months I have been thrown from my bike, lost my cat, thought seriously and desperately of alternative ways to earn an income and maintain a flexible schedule, felt exhausted and frustrated and burned out, sliced the tip from my middle finger, gotten a tetanus shot, figured out how to get Linux to work decently on both of my old iMacs, watched my house transform from a dirty grey-green broke down shack to a beautiful green and red fancypants home (Marty and his mom painted, we have a new roof, and the broken wall is fixed), spent more time with my beautiful children, and had my first vacation in years. I read books and finished them, reorganized my art supplies and found that most of my paint stash is still usable, bought more paint anyway, and started two canvases and an empty sketchbook I carried around for a couple of years. I became obsessed with drawing sentient tornadoes, revisited robots and scarecrows, and backed up the saved copy of Ghost Arrow before I purged my old computer. I think maybe I'm ready to start working on again. Parts of it are actually pretty good, but there will be heavy edits.

I read Buddha by Osamu Tezuka (the creator of Astro Boy). It's the first of a series of eight manga novels about the life of Siddhartha Gautama. The main characters are fictional (so far), and I couldn't put it down, and neither could Zelda. I'm picking up the second one later this week.

We took the kids to Pecan Street, and I filmed a fantastic street juggler in widescreen, and the kids played in the magic jumpy castle, ate raspas and popcorn, and played the golf video game at Casino's (I know it's a bar, but it's also sort of like a Godfather to them, and they are respectful).

Also, I talked to my kids about loss and broke it to them that Artemis probably wouldn't be back. That was how I started my birthday, and I had to keep it together while allowing my kids to cry it out. That night she came back skinny, flea infested, and weak - but when she saw Alex and Ursula leading her to the other side of the fence, her eyes widened and she pranced up to the gate for them to let her in. After being home for more than a week she is putting on weight, playing, and I'm relieved. I missed her. The kids think it was a miracle.

I voted, and now I'll have to vote again, because I must've tied it up. I noticed that the bicycle contingent was well represented - there were several people in line at the polls with bike helmets, and the racks at the Carver Library were full when I left. I had a little flutter in my heart about that, which I guess means it's still alive (moody, I know. Back and forth, and not dealing with it. Okay).

For Mother's Day, my kids made me beautiful pictures, cards, and bracelets. They did the dishes, folded their clothes. I brought home fancy snacks to share with them.

Zelda decided to become a cryptozoologist when she grows up. Alex will be a comic book illustrator and a rock god. Ursula will be an artist, fashion designer, cheerleader, and comedienne. Logan will be a high flying pro wrestler "like Jeff Hardy."

I'm back at work, and things are less awkward and more awkward. I'm trying not to feel uncomfortable, but honestly, the kitchen feels cut off from the world and I miss people. I miss conversation and fun, but I no longer have much time outside of work to catch up, even online. Maybe I just need to relax.

Oh, and we got some good news at work - Ricky's brain surgery was successful and he should gradually regain most if not all of his eyesight. That's fucking amazing to me. It was good to hear his voice on the phone this morning - I couldn't stop smiling. Send good wishes to him and Beverly.

You SPEEDER!!!! You...person-who-drives-too-damn-fast-in-my-neighborhood-like-she-doesn't-give-a-good-goddamn-who-she-runs-over!!!!!

2009-04-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

To whom it may concern,

Today your silver, late model Audi was speeding through our neighborhood (East 13th). My family recognized the car, since we often pass your house while we walk the kids to school. It's a lovely vehicle – I would've loved to have seen it as less of a blur. I don't know if you realize how fast you were going, but honestly, I have never noticed anyone speed through like that during daylight hours – not even when chased by a cop (and we do have the occasional high speed chase).

It was disturbing. This is a neighborhood, we have children, pets, cyclists, elderly people, junkies - basically, there are people in the road at all hours of the day. Most of us don't even have sidewalks over here. It's not like a school zone where you have sidewalks and rules and flashing lights – there's no protection from fast cars other than the speed limit and other basic rules of the road.

Whatever your views are on society (and I wouldn't presume to guess what they are), I know at least this: if you are in such a hurry, you certainly don't want to have to stop to scrape someone else's guts off the front of your pretty car. Nobody does. It is so avoidable, and seriously nightmarish to consider. Please be careful while driving. You were given a license to manipulate a fast, heavy piece of machinery. Take some pride in that. Go slowly in your fine car – it won't make you look bad.

Cheers!

The people

who gave you incredulous looks

as you sped by

So, I'm considering putting this in the mailbox of the perp. The trouble is, my computer and printer aren't communicating properly and it keeps printing up super tiny. It would make a lovely sticker. I am trying to get the printer thing configured, but I don't want to spend the afternoon on this...so I'm asking... Is this wrong to do?

Honestly, I wanted to address it "Dear Assface" but I figured that would be rude.

Bike wrecks, omelets, co-ops, and a lil' PSA

2009-04-14T10:48:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile. There are many reasons, much to write, and not enough time.

After a couple of weeks in the new kitchen at work, things are getting a little more organized and slightly easier. I say "slightly" because it was a shock to me how difficult it was at first. I got really organized in the old kitchen when I was trying to minimize supply runs outside, and having all my stuff within a three foot radius made it easy to knock out a ton of food in a short time. Now that everything is indoors, the equipment works, there's more space, certain things are easier, but figuring out how to manage time when there are more duties has been a little challenging. It's really quiet back there too, except the vent hoods. I'm getting used to the pace, my overtime is decreasing (love the pay, but I'm tired, so that's good), and the case is full.

Last week, after agreeing to pick up a shift for Ricky (he's having his knees drained. Sounds like a hoot), I started my week by flipping my bike on the way home from work - in front of a police officer. There's a construction site on 31st and Speedway, and there's a big wooden pallet in the middle of the bike lane - designed to block off traffic. At night, it is really hard to see. I saw it, and hit my brakes really hard. I had gotten my bike tuned up not long before, so that was sort of worse than hitting the pallet. I flew over the handlebars, and like a good little ninja, tucked and rolled. There was almost imperceptible road rash on my left shoulder, and my helmet never even touched the ground as far as I could tell. The officer put on his lights, helped me with my groceries (squished), chit-chatted about bikes, and offered to call me an ambulance. I felt fine, so I declined, and I biked home and took a 500mg ibuprofen and went to bed. The next morning I was sore from my shoulder to my lower back, and my right wrist is still feeling really twisted and sore from breaking the fall. I thought ibuprofen was the answer, but it sort of has a tequila effect on me - it makes me want to fight for no good reason. I could only stand it for a day. Tiger Balm has been The Answer. I love Tiger Balm.

Bike wrecks always spur weird behavior in me. I don't often wreck - less than once a year maybe - generally from a new brake job and a heavy foot. The flight over my handlebars forces me over an unexpected threshold every time - luckily one that doesn't include stitches, the ER, and broken bones (I wasn't the only wreck last week - Amie in produce busted herself up pretty horribly, and luckily livd to tell what she can recall of the tale). Aches and pains are enough to remind me of how easy it is to go from feeling really healthy and strong to feeling completely like crap. Then I started craving omelets.

All I could think of were omelets, and how I make a seriously incredible omelet - it was my favorite thing to eat when I wasn't such a strict vegetarian, and I got really good at it. I haven't made an omelet in years, since giving up dairy and eggs.

So, being so obsessed, I figured I needed to get it out of my system. On Easter, after my shift, I bought a dozen brown, cage-free, hand gathered eggs, some sharp Vermont cheddar cheese, and organic buttermilk. I didn't fall far from the wagon. Some, who know my usual vegan eating habits looked at the contents of my basket and then at me with wonder and surprise, as if seeing a unicorn or a leprechaun or a wookie. I just explained that there is no way to make a satisfying omelet without eggs and cheese, and that's that.

For Easter dinner, I surprised and delighted my family with homemade hash browns, and a delicious omelet stuffed with spinach, leftover grilled red peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms, and tortillas. Well, stuffed in tortillas, not with.

I don't think I'm vegan anymore. Labeling myself based on food preferences has always bothered me anyway, since my switch to a more plant based diet had more to do with an egg and cheese addiction than it did with an ethical stance. I think that the meat, dairy, and egg industries are pretty deplorable, they treat the animals with cruelty to extract commodities from their bodies, waste resources, pollute the environment, and value profit over the feeding people quality food. Conventional agriculture is just as horrifying, unfortunately.

This is sort of scattered - I'm short on time, and my only blog time is fast, on the fly, before work, but here I go anyway. Apologies - I have stuff to say.

Making informed food choices is not just elitist yuppie snobbery. It is a light that goes off in the brain when a person realizes that in order to continue to live well on this planet we need to support sustainable local agriculture, establish fair trading practices, stimulate our local economies, and work together to build communities. There is no need for massive feed lots, injected foods, genetic modification, and unsustainable, land-raping agribusiness. Take charge of your groceries and open a co-op if there isn't one in your community. Unfortunately, Wheatsville Co-op is the only grocery co-op in Texas. I would love to see co-ops pop up in other communities - the Gulf Coast, where I grew up, would have amazing co-ops if people would get over the idea that they are hippie-commie devil worshippers and realize that co-ops can be social hubs that empower the local economy. My dad lives near Garner State Park and has to travel at least an hour to buy a cart of groceries. If Concan, Utopia, or Leakey set up a co-op, they would serve thriving communities and have tons of local agriculture to offer, and maybe my dad would use a little less gasoline. Seriously, choosing what gets stocked on the shelves in your local grocery is rewarding and fun and healthy. You support your neighbors' farms. You get to try tomatoes you only see in seed catalogs. It's bomb.

Tomorrow (maybe...if I get to it) I'll do a walk-through of how to install Linux on junky old computers. I was planning on doing that today, but I have to go to work. I'm typing this from my old iMac, running Linux Debian, and it's really super-fantastic! The dumpster iMac is also running Debian, but I need to get more RAM to speed it up before I let the kids loose on it.

SPRING!!!!!!

2009-03-25T23:27:00.000-07:00

yes!

Last week was Spring Break, and the kids went out of town. The weather was cold and gloomy for the first couple of days, and then magically, every day was warm and sunshiny. I woke up on my day off, a Thursday, stuck my bike on the bus, and checked out Texas Thrift. I'm not good at reviewing stuff - I usually just say "well, that was nice," or "Yeah, I'd go back," or "It kinda sucked." There's complexity in thrifting that makes reviewing a store a little tricky. I make practical decisions because otherwise I'd have a bunch of clothes I never wear, a ton of clutter, just stuff. I generally weigh price, presentation, uniqueness, sentiment, fit, and general awesomeness against a whole set of questions geared to make me put things back. There are sometimes wonderful things that catch my eye, and I have to ask myself "In twenty years, will I look at this thing and wonder what possessed me, or does it just flat out bring me joy no matter what?" "Is it beautiful?" "Is it functional?" "Is it super-neato?" Then there's pitting organization of the shop (arranged by size, or all thrown together in a big bin?) -vs- the value of time over money (if it's organized by size, you can make a quick trip and get something nice, but you spend more money. If everything is thrown into a bin, you pay less money, but you spend more time and effort). A successful thrifting thing doesn't always entail lugging home giant bags of stuff that fit perfectly and bring out the color of the eyes. Sometimes one perfect item will make the whole trip worth it.

Texas Thrift is really inexpensive (few things over $3, and they have half off sales and color coded tag sales if that is too much), the clothes are super organized so you can find everything quickly, and I found a few things I really like. It isn't a pretty place to shop, but it has a ton of good stuff.

I'll do a philosophy of thrifting entry another day, maybe after I do the Controversial God essay. I have a whole big religious extravaganza blog entry a'brewin' in my head - briefly, I'm having a slight problem with the ethics of my mom paying my children cash to learn Bible verses. Does this mean I can pay them to memorize Crime and Punishment so that they can recite it to me - since I can never seem to finish the damn thing? Will they see my mom's religious beliefs as a cash cow that they can use to bilk her out of her retirement? Is she inadvertently training them to be Republicans? Oh Lordy.

Back to Spring...

It was SXSW, and all week long I could hear music from my back steps. I worked mostly, but on Thursday, Marty and I walked to Red Door Pizza and had calzones (yeak, I'm a bad vegan), and gawked at the tourists. Friday, Marty and I went downtown, camped out a little while at Casino's and got fed Irish car bombs* while watching Shakes the Clown and talking to Marty's Norweigan tourist friends. We saw Dixie Witch at Room 710, ate some pizza, and started walking home. I noticed flowers blooming, and leaves, and green-ness where a week ago everything was dead and brown. When we were passing El Milagro's, I wanted to buy tortillas, and the owner went inside, came back, and gave us a stack of fresh, still warm corn tortillas, and smiled and waved us off. At Rio Rita's, we looked in, scanned the menu, waited a little, and decided to come back another time when it was less busy. It was just starting to get dark, and we got to Miss Jewell's new place. She was in the yard, so we chatted about all the excitement in the neighborhood, and she pointed out the houses that were having parties, the places where bands were crashing, and suddenly I realized how much I miss her living next door. Minutes later we were home, and I fell face first on the living room futon, and slept until I had to go to work.

The kids came back while I was at work, and when I got home, we decided to walk down the street to Snake Eyes Vinyl, where we saw one or two of the afternoon bands in the Saturday SXSW lineup below (not sure which band yet - sometime late afternoon). We looked like we stopped by the punk rock show on the way home from church, because the kids were still wearing their "visitin'" clothes from being at my mom's.

The kids had a blast running all over the parking lot, dancing, playing with other people's dogs. We saw Ethan Suplee - the guy who plays Randy Hickey on "My Name is Earl" - in the crowd. I had to hold the kids back when they recognized him. I think he sensed it, because he took off - but then, he might have been going to Waterloo Park to see the Circle Jerks play. I told the kids that they ran him off, and they replied "Nuh-uh!!!"

So much more to write - so much converging at once. Back later!

*Welcome to the first installment of "How occasional drinking can be educational!"

When I got home from work on Saturday, I decided to look up "Irish Car Bomb" on Wikipedia. I learned that some people find the name of the drink offensive (offensively delicious!) and some pubs refuse to serve it. This led me to look up "The Troubles", since I began to realize that there was a lot I didn't know about what went on back then. I still need something more in depth than Wikipedia for this, though my opinions about it have only changed a wee tiny bit. The list of things to study only grows and grows and grows.

Press on

2009-03-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

So after tapping out yesterday's entry, the weather dropped twenty degrees in about five minutes, the wind started blowing the rain every-which-a-way, and the children and I got our umbrellas and walked to school. It took longer than normal, because I kept having to turn their umbrellas right-side-out, and then I remembered this - my springtime monsoon mantra:

"There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything."

~ from Hagakure, as quoted in Ghost Dog

So we folded our umbrellas and pressed on.

To correct my last post, Alex had just turned six when we took him to get tested. He wasn't five. Not only am I a horrible mom for not giving him proper civics instruction by the time he entered first grade, I can't even remember how old he is. With so many, it's hard to keep track.

Which reminds me - it's Marty's birthday, and I am baking an amazing cake. It's a chocolate cake, with Dagoba cacao powder, coconut milk, and Casa Brasil coffee, and iced with German Chocolate icing made with hazelnut milk, pecans, and coconut. If it's as good as I think it will be, I'll post a recipe. The cake is modified from my favorite cake recipe in The Voluptuous Vegan by Myra Kornfeld, and the frosting is modded from the one Mindy dug up from the recipe graveyard at Wheatsville (thanks!).

At work, the kitchen moves on Monday. I am both excited and a little worried. After all the dust we've swallowed on dry days and mud we've slogged through on wet, the increases in production and the cracking down on overtime, the frustration, the exhaustion, the feeling that it's never enough, I'm looking forward to things being a little easier. At least we won't be off-roading a grocery cart outside in all weather through rubble or muck or construction to get to the fridge and the pantry anymore. I'm worried that the culture is being squashed or phased out though, which makes me think I just want the old crappy kitchen back. I know I've been more grouchy at work, but it's not just me. Nobody knows what to expect. The unknown makes people cranky and weird, and it's hard to figure people's moods.

Education frustration

2009-03-11T03:08:00.000-07:00

It's early, and in an hour I will wake up the kids and walk them to school.

I will state this because I have sound evidence and know for a fact it is true - my kids are damn talented geniuses. I'm not bragging. It's true. Zelda's in the magnet program, one of the few neighborhood kids in the program (most kids in the program are bussed in from around town), and being around kids who are into the same things she's into has done wonders for her attitude.
...okay, this is a cute Zelda story. I know - I interrupted myself, but I can do that because I make the rules in this space. Zelda has the ability to mimic dance steps, bake cookies, write stories, crack jokes, and do reasonably well in school. She's athletic, good hearted, and damn near fearless. She never could figure out how to snap her fingers, much to the amusement of her younger siblings, who could, and would joyfully demonstrate in front of her that they could do something she couldn't. Last week she was talking to some friends at lunch, and she was telling them she couldn't snap her fingers, and demonstrated her inability...only she didn't. *SNAP!* JOY! Ever since, she can't figure out how she was getting it wrong. When she tries not to snap to show how she couldn't, she snaps anyway. She's so excited about it she can't stop, and she gets this manic grin and starts snapping all over the place. It would be irritating if it weren't so damn hilarious and adorable.

Ursula is happy where she is, so we're happy with where she is. She is Marilyn among the Munsters.

Alex is done with his weekly packet of homework by Monday afternoon at 4:30 (after a snack). He's officially in first grade, but he reads and does math with the second graders, and occasionally reads stories to the kindergarten class. Last year we took him to get tested out of first grade, and he drew detailed pictures of superheroes for the test administrator during the breaks. The administrator loved him. We were told nothing of the results except that he missed the parts of the test about government officials - things like "what does the mayor/governor/senator/representative/etc oversee" and suchlike. On one hand, I'm a little embarrassed that it never came up in conversation with my then five-year-old son (I'm only half sarcastic). On the other hand, if his reading comprehension level is as good as they say it is, what makes them think he wouldn't retain a little civics instruction on the fly? He was five, and reading and writing and absorbing information. I walked him in the first day of school, and had no idea what his grade would be or who his teacher was. When Mrs. Madlock introduced herself as his teacher, I had to ask "forgive me for asking, but what grade do you teach?" She looked a little puzzled, and said "First." "Nice to meet you." I left the school thinking "Maybe he wasn't ready." All year since, he has proven himself more than ready by blazing through his assignments and acing his tests, and getting irritated and bored.

Now he wants to be homeschooled, and has thrown "Zelda got to!" at us a million times. I have complete confidence in his ability to teach himself and expand his mind outside the confines of the school, but I'm not sure about pulling him out. It doesn't help that when we go to the teachers (who send him up a grade for certain units of the class) about recommending an advancement, they send us to the principal, who refers us to the testing center, the same one which said a year ago that he wasn't ready for the class he is currently acing. I just want him to be happy. I want schools to encourage learning instead of being afraid of learners. I keep talking about wanting to join the PTA, but I sort of wonder if poorly planned fundraisers is all they are about...the pressure to change it would be great, and I don't even know if I have the time to pencil it in, much less attend. It's really confusing. I have met the kids' teachers, and they are mostly wonderful people who really care, but they aren't administrators, and they can't just say "Alex gets to skip a grade" because they feel like it.

This took too long, and I only wrote it to stay awake to walk the kids. My feelings about public school are both idealistic and sadly disappointed. I know that public school doesn't have to be a soul sucking meat grinding institution. Unfortunately, I don't think they are set up to help kids become adults who use critical thinking skills or run with creative impulses - we do that at home:). It could be better, and I feel like everyone knows it. My mom (a former teacher) knows it, the kids' current teachers know it, I know it, you know it, everyone knows. What to do?

superball

2009-03-07T17:33:00.000-08:00

It's all the physical exertion. Forgive me. I think I've finally hit a point where I need to bounce up. It had to happen. I think what set me over the edge a little was the idea of a proposed policy change I am probably not supposed to know or talk about or think about...rumors of rumors and all that. That's why the protesty feelings. This is not relating to my informal performance evaluation - I'm exhausted, and it had affected my work, and it's cool - I'll do better.

Here's where I ricochet...

... if it's too quiet in the back store, I think we should all sing. Loud. Whether we're good at it or not.

Where there's a whip, there's a way.

2009-03-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

I'm learning a few protest songs...

nice weather, huh?

2009-03-06T14:20:00.000-08:00

Okay, today is better. It was beautiful, and Logan and I played outside.

Movin' on up

2009-03-05T08:56:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling a little detached from people lately. I find everyone exhausting, and I never know what to say. I think it will pass. Life has been unusually frustrating and overwhelming, the flu, the rash, the renovation, the kids, the man, etc. My focus now is on simplifying further.

Generally when I make attempts at simplifying, I end up complicating my life.

I won't go into the mp3 player fiasco I'm dealing with at the moment, but if any Linux geeks read this, I sure could use some help.

I haven't had the time I crave to do artsy craftsy things, but the sewing machine is accessible and ready to go when I am. My knitting sampler grows, though.

Anyway, sorry if my blog has been a rather boring read lately. I'm not up late and bored after work anymore, and my waking hours involve more human interaction than they used to. I'm also burned out and run down at work and my morale is only kept afloat by the benefits, the pay, and the people. I know all this sounds depressing, but I feel like I'm movin' on up.

attachment to things will only lead to stupid stupid conflict....

2009-02-27T23:06:00.000-08:00

...and just because you tried them on and they fit doesn't make them yours.

Recently we received the IRS refund, and as usual, we paid off some bills, put aside some for the holidays and a new oven, and I now have a decent fund for the household. I decided to go to Target to get some kitchen stuff (new coffee maker!), replace my ratty underwear, and get something frivolous and cool (mp3 player - welcome to the future). After trying on a few things, locating the stuff on the list, weighing pros and cons, I went to the electronics section to pick out an mp3 player and check out. I tried to pay with a check, and that sent off all kinds of alarms. After retrying the transaction, I called my credit union (they say I'm good for it), the check security company that Target uses (they have a guy at a call center who is overwhelmed), and talked to various managers. The bottom line was, my check was flagged because I never use them for amounts over $100, and today's check was around $270. The guy at the security company said I had no bad history, I just need to establish some history before they will trust my checks. His bright idea was to separate my purchase into amounts under $100 and write a new check each time. It sort of worked - I got the mp3 player, the coffee maker, the kitchen crap, the USB cord. The check for the clothes and the underwear was stopped though, and it was my last one. I just left the stupid clothes, thanked the patient guy at the electronics desk for helping me and being so understanding when I leveled barbs of logic at the security guy on the phone. There was nobody who could fix it who I could reason with or yell at, and that was frustrating - just the human shields who are just doing their jobs. They went beyond the call with the helpfulness. We were trying to outsmart a computer generated trend watcher, and for a couple of transactions, we did.

But waaah! For once I can afford a few new things, and my money's no good at Target. What the fuck? I know - antiquated methods of commerce like check writing are being phased out. It helps me keep track of my finances though. I guess I need a debit card.

I should've been happy to go home with new things. I was a little disappointed about the clothes - I spent time trying things on, found things I liked, and my day was once again chewed up by something stupid. Dejected, I stared out the window of the bus, and as I neared my stop, I saw Treasure City. I had cash. It was fate. Pulling the cord, yanking my cargo over my shoulder, I hopped off the bus, and went in. It's so homey and relaxed, and reminds me of the Wayback Machine in Houston (like, 16 years ago...). I wish I had a little more time today. I found a western shirt, a Pirates jersey (which I got because it fits, was two dollars, and said "Pirates" in big letters - but I don't have the attention span for watching pro baseball, and don't really have a team preference. I just like pirates. Yaaaarrrrr), a lovely frock, and some weird pajama pants.

I can't believe my weekend's over. Burnout has been a constant for weeks.

Cookery

2009-02-27T04:50:00.000-08:00

We had a kitchen meeting yesterday, and saw the new kitchen equipment, still wrapped in plastic and put in roughly the places where it will eventually live. I've never been so jazzed over a three drop sink and a vent hood, but there you go - maybe I'm getting into this cooking thing in a geeky, gear oriented way. It's not all about the food. I'm sure that the first time I chop red bells and sweet potatoes in there, it will all seem more real, and less like a trip to Futureworld.

Anyway, after the meeting, I picked up a few groceries, talked to some friends, and biked home. I made tacos, not in the "tacos again?" sense, but in a "our normal tacos are getting dull, and I want to make these awesome" sort of way. I didn't take pictures this time, but I can go into procedure a little just for fun...it was nothing fancy, but it was easy, fast, and delicious. I still have sort of limited space and equipment at my house, but I guess that's fewer dishes to wash. I used two skillets and the junky piece of flat metal that serves as a tortilla warmer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prep:
3 medium russet potatoes, 1/4" dice (this is the most important part - big chunks take forever to cook all the way through), rinse, coat with 2T sunflower oil, a clove of crushed garlic, 1/2 t mustard powder, 1/2 tsp paprika, sea salt, cracked pepper (I generally mix things like this by shaking them in a lidded bowl, but do what you want). Set aside.

1 medium yellow onion, 1/2 red bell pepper, julienned, shake with a little oil, salt, pepper, garlic. Set aside.

3 small zucchinis, cut in half lengthways, and thinly sliced on diagonal, the other 1/2 of the red bell, 1/4" dice, 5 shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and thinly sliced, a crushed clove of garlic, a splash of salsa (I used Texas Texas Scream), salt, cracked pepper. Set aside.

Refried beans - if you don't have any leftover slow cooked borracho beans floating around (I didn't. It would've been nice, but I had dinner to make and kids to put to bed, so I didn't have time to cry about it), a couple of cans of refrieds can be doctored so that they are pretty damn tasty. I got the Amy's with the mild green chiles (it was on sale!), and threw it in a bowl with a little veggie broth, salt, salsa, cumin, and mushed it all together.

Two seasoned cast iron skillets

Cookin':

Heat one of the skillets until a drop of water explodes on contact, dump potatoes in it, cut heat to medium, and shake or stir to keep from burning.

When the potatoes are about halfway done, heat the other skillet, dump in peppers and onions, and cook until carmelized. Check potatoes - if they are soft and crispy, dump them into the pan with the carmelized peppers and onions and stick on the back burner (continue to cook low and stir).

In the empty (but still hot from potatoes) skillet, dump the zucchini and mushrooms, sear. When done (did they touch the hot skillet? They're probably done), make room in the other skillet and dump in the veggies (mix 'em up or keep 'em seperate - whatever).

In the empty (but still hot from veggies) skillet, oil, and refry the refried beans. Warm the tortillas on a dry, flat skillet, and assemble tacos. Serve with chips and salsa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole process took less than 30 minutes, mostly prep. It went way beyond expectations for deliciousness. Oh joy.

Hi.

2009-02-24T10:58:00.000-08:00

Everyone got the flu this week. After the allergy explosion, the flu was just dandy. I'd write more, but Logan's bored and needs me to get off the computer. Have a nice day.

My allergy medicine makes me see God!

2009-02-21T12:26:00.000-08:00

He's not so famous if he's in my living room.

The itching sent me home today. I'm not really sure how I got breakfast made without a scratching break, but I did it, and then my hives took a mind of their own and pedaled me home. They seem to be taking power. There was probably a pun in there somewhere. Anyway, Marty picked up some knock-off Claritin to help me resume control over the Histamine menace. It's the kind that melts in your mouth. I think it also makes bored mothers-of-four in depressed economies trip a little. We'd trip on other things and review more interesting stuff, but we have to buy shoes (St. Vincent DePaul has higher quality shoes than PayLess, and sometimes they've never been worn) and backpacks (backpacks with cartoon characters on them are too weak for the job of carrying Middle School books) and stay lucid during the holiday play. But I don't wanna talk about the economy. Or bombs. Or the holiday play. I want to bitch about my allergies, and scream at God some more. Allergies? Good God, y'all. What are they good for?

See, God, this is the kind of thing that pisses people off and makes them stop donating to the Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows Sacred Basketball Gym To Keep Kids off the Street fund. This makes them have more faith in empirical data and indisputable fact!!!! I know! Crazy! Can't you just claim credit for science and be done with it already? You don't have to know what it is, just get your followers to believe it so we can put our energy into healing, feeding, and empowering each other and stop all the angels dancing on the head of a pin crap.

My views on God have been heavily influenced by the following webcomic:

Sinfest, Tatsuya Ishida

I love that God has a stash of hand puppets... how silly of me, of course God has a stash of hand puppets. He's probably got the kind of Claritin that makes you completely normal - no itch, no head trip. He's also got the kind that makes you see pink unicorns, and there goes one now......

fighting the robot menace

2009-02-20T13:12:00.000-08:00

It's a beautiful Spring-like day, and my histamines have been very excitable lately. I have head-to-toe hives. I think the weird weather has confused all the flowering plants, so they're just shooting pollen everywhere, and being the nerd I am, I'm bound to be allergic to at least one variety. Maybe even all of them! I try to like beautiful, flowery Spring, but it generally does something very unkind to me.

I tried to ride it out most of yesterday. We made the duct tape dress form (all past body issues have been renewed by that little dose of reality), I had a couple of glasses of Pinot Evil, and then the itching got so intense I took a cheap Benadryl knock-off so I could stop scratching. I don't know if the itching stopped - midway through watching Tombstone, I conked out. I only took one - my tolorence of pharmaceuticals is pretty low. When I got up this morning, the itching was full swing, but I was too exhausted to scratch. Alex is home today with a flu-like thing, so we've been watching Sponge Bob Squarepants cartoons and trying not to fall over in our cereal bowls.

More muppets on bikes

2009-02-19T15:08:00.000-08:00

Logan spewed cranberry juice out of his nose watching this:

Metaphorical Hellfire

2009-02-19T11:01:00.000-08:00

If I still had a piano, I could make a big dramatic noise to express all the whatever it is that gets me all wound up and makes me grouchy and introverted. I miss the stupid thing. When I had a piano, the noise was produced thusly:

Daintily walk to the piano as if preparing to play in a recital
Sit delicately like a butterfly in baby's breath
Silently lift the lid from the keys
Poise hands in claw position above the keys at face level, face staring at invisible enemies sideways at about 45 degrees from the keyboard.
Channel every mad scientist ever seen in a movie and flash a fangy toothed grin
Hit keys once, use claws and face. Ahh, yes. There's a little rush and everything. Take that, middle school!
Dust off, ascend, curtsy, and walk away.

It gets it all out at once. Knitting works it out row by row, there's thinking involved, it's strangely meditative... but noise kills the ills instantly, for a few minutes anyway.

I'm reading a book right now called Anticraft - Knitting, Beading, and Stitching for the Slightly Sinister by Renée Rigdon and Zabet Stewart, and not only does it have some awesomely deranged knitting projects (a squid shaped Diva cup cozy? Dang - you can knit a cozy for anything! I love knitting!), it defines catharsis (and other fun words), and the definition made me laugh a little, so I thought I'd share:

catharsis (ka-thar-sis) noun
A purging or cleansing that brings relief, very often done through artistic expression.
Carrie knew raining down hellfire and destruction on her classmates was petty, but damn it was cathartic!

We don't all have hellfire to fling around, but artistic expression is sort of like metaphorical hellfire, right? That's why it's frowned upon in nice society. I look forward to an artsy-fartsy 2009.

What does DIY mean to you? To me, it means "amp cozy"

2009-02-18T10:53:00.000-08:00

The following video is part one of eight, and so far, the first four were pretty neat.

For V-D Day I got a teeny practice amp, a Danelectro HoneyTone. It's mint green, and cute as a button. I'm knitting a cozy for it - with devil horns like my SG, and a loop so I can hang it from my guitar strap and play. I'm thinking maybe if I combine my love of comics, textiles, art, and music, I might have some fun projects to keep me out of trouble. Maybe a series of paintings in comic form about how to knit, maybe other stuff - who knows.. I took a tiny internet vacation, and found it much less painful than expected, and got so much done. I've been practicing knitting - it's sort of a sampler because I'm rusty. The last time I knitted, Alex was about Logan's age. Here's a picture - it's Zelda's shawl, but she likes to make it a cat blankie:

I have to make a supply run before making amp cozies and DeFarge socks though. When is it my weekend?!!!

Let's end this meeting on a high note....

2009-02-13T11:01:00.000-08:00

Knitting while watching C-SPAN (or the news) makes me feel like Madame DeFarge.

"I lost a stitch. Cursed Aristocrats!"

I think my "getting back into knitting" project will be a pair of stripey socks like DeFarge's.

Marty and I are cloning me with duct tape this afternoon so that I can alter my clothes. Should be a hoot. I have been working on my grandmother's sewing machine last night and this morning, and I love it. It is a Singer 404 Slant Needle - one of the last metal sewing machines ever made. It only does straight stitch on its own, but my great grandmother was really into the cool gadgets in her day, so I have all the attachments - a presser foot that has cartridges that zig-zag and scallop, a ruffler, and tools, and everything is in solid, ideal, almost brand new condition. It's a 53 year old machine, as minty fresh as the day she took it from the box. I had it completely tuned up a few years ago, and it would work great, except I threaded it wrong after attaching the zig-zagger, and now it has heavy-duty coat thread wound and knotted around all of the internal bits, and this is why I'm not sewing as we speak. I just downloaded the manual, since that was the only crucial part missing from this machine.

20,000 Leagues under something something

2009-02-07T20:31:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Jules Verne's birthday. I hope y'all got him something nice. SInce the moon is on the full side, and Verne's so cool, here's a quote:

"The moon, by her comparative proximity, and the constantly varying appearances produced by her several phases, has always occupied a considerable share of the attention of the inhabitants of the earth. "

From The Earth to the Moon

I will have lots more reading time now - I bought a stack of books at Goodwill today and started reading them, but unfortunately, no Jules.

Also, Lux Interior died. I had just heard "The Goo-Goo Muck" in the kitchen at work. I looked at my MySpace when I was on break, and saw lots of RIP Lux's. I'm sure Casino's held a serious drunkening. I got a little teary about it, and that was a little surprising. That one has hit closer than many of the recent deaths of famous people I never met. I feel silly about it. But I love The Cramps. I listened to them when I was in labor with Ursula, and they've always been special for that reason.

Okay, goodnight.

Dressmaker's dummies - is there anything you can't make with duct tape?

2009-02-04T11:54:00.000-08:00

I was looking for cheap deals on dress forms, and they really don't exist... but if I plan to make stuff anyway, maybe a little internet search will turn up something useful...

Eureka!!!!

Dress Form Tutorial - make your own!

needles and pins

2009-01-31T09:38:00.000-08:00

Lately we've been cleaning and sorting things, and I've unearthed old knitting projects, saved fabric reclaimed from thrift shop scores, and my great grandmother's sewing box. Since I also have her machine and cutting table, I figured it was about time I started to refashion some old clothes. I worked on my messenger bag prototype yesterday (I feel like it is a practice run, and I'll probably use it, rework it, and pass it on when I figure out how to make The Bag), and spent hours drooling over Etsy, looking for ideas. I love the steampunk gear - it's like post-apocolyptic-cyberpunk-H.G. Wells-kaboomage.

I got my tax refund yesterday, and instead of buying new clothes, furniture, messenger bags, (the list of shit we need to replace and repair just goes on, let your imagination run free) etc, I'm going to thrift everything (as usual) and set up the crafty area to repair all the good stuff. I'm trying to enlist Marty into my unholy DIY army since his ironing skills and militant attention to detail are a premium commodity I don't possess. Plus he's unemployed, so this gives him flexible hours with the kids if he's good at it and wants to continue for profit. I'm not sure he's buyin' it, but he's expressed an interest in the sewing machine in the past (he wants to make jeans, and a cape), so I think I can rope him in if I buy enough beer.

The first goal is to orchestrate a serious cleaning in the house, and I think I will cart over loads of stuff to Treasure City next weekend if we're successful.

I'd like to be able to donate finished projects to an upcycler's benefit auction. That is, if I finish a project... anyway, I'm not sure if this is something that exists, but I know enough crafty people to pull something like this off by maybe December...

Anyone who wants to get involved with this, comment below. I need encouragement so I won't blow it all off by staring at Etsy and wishing.

recent photos I probably blogged about already

2009-01-30T11:21:00.000-08:00

...but if I didn't, and I should, let me know.

Apollo is just as geeky as everyone else around here.

kickin' it old school at the Blackshear Elementary holiday pageant

Zelda and Artemis

Christmas Eve Festival of Sugar

Sugarfest 2008

Ursula, garden clean-up-togetherness day

Alex, garden clean-up-togetherness day (he found a snail)

Logan, garden etcetera whatever day (the seedling buckets are playing football together)

Walking home from school last week (Ursula, Logan, Me, Alex - we weren't at the middle school yet)

Logan and Ursula, Carver library

Still life with The Dark Knight and dishes

Apollo, walking a mile in my shoes.

He likes it when I pick him up! He does!

relief

2009-01-29T12:46:00.000-08:00

Suddenly, it is easy to relax and focus.

I already love this new year. I can't count the ways - there's always one more to tack on. Spending time at home has started a process of patient, dedicated knot unraveling, when last year all I did was pull at the ends in frustration and create bigger and more impossible snarls. I thought I had paid enough in worry to be free from it, and then all I did in 2008 was worry and frown, and when I didn't, I felt like I was totally full of shit because I was angry inside. I could never keep up with the news sufficiently enough to calculate the horror, and could never see my kids enough to know why art and joy and music are totally worthwhile in the midst of it.

I thought that I wasted my major, that I had an opportunity to be educated enough to change the world for the better and I blew it and was left with insurmountable debt. In focusing on that, I failed to recognize that I am doing some of my part by encouraging my kids to be creative, compassionate, beautiful people, to be just and open hearted and free, and by recognizing that one day they will be adults. Expecting sheltered, uninformed, timid, incompetent children to navigate the world as adults is a cruelty to them and a disservice to the world. Also, my education is incomplete - my transcript says so. I have to navigate the world right now, with my limited skills.

This year I feel blessed - I have time now to go out with the kids on my days off, I can help with schoolwork, and we will grow and thrive. I look forward to making things with my hands, creating delicious meals, opening my house to friends, and laughing. This can only be good for us all.

the fabulous vent hood

2009-01-28T11:00:00.000-08:00

For our kitchen meeting last week, we went on a field trip. I took pictures for your enjoyment, so enjoy them.

the crew

the fabulous vent hood

it's beautiful, ain't it?

the walk-in, by butane-light

cool!

the new dish pit

a robot we don't get to keep, unfortunately

behind the plastic and plywood is the old deli, the fiberglass to the left covers the old meat room. We taunted the deli crew a little, just fer kicks.

freeform update

2009-01-26T15:33:00.000-08:00

Why do I write when have nothing to say?!!!!! Gah! My blog has been really sucky lately. Most of the time it's because I'm typing while making dinner and signing things for the kids, or answering questions, or the kids start fighting. Lately I've been listening to kid music (Muppet Radio, Last.fm!) while writing - not out of any love for Raffi (though "Bananaphone" is disturbingly catchy), but to keep Logan happily out of my hair and playing with his trains. It's starting to get to me. I've been humming "C is for Cookie" (you know it) and "The Curve of the World" (from "It's A Big Big World"). My new happy dance song is the theme from Pokoyo, which follows. Generally if I'm on the computer, Logan ends up in my lap anyway, so putting on kiddo music isn't really working:

So, everything is changing already. Look for pictures of the new kitchen soon (it's not done, it's just a bunch of cooks in hardhats staring reverently at an enormous vent hood, and looking like miners in a dark walk-in cooler and freezer with just a butane cigarette lighter for illumination...we weren't smoking anything, I promise). I'm still adjusting to the new schedule. I can't make myself fall asleep early enough to feel happy and joyful at 6am when the alarm goes off. The kids and I really missed each other, and this has been good for us all, so the early morning wake-up is totally worth it.

Biking in the dark morning is meditative, like biking late at night, only it's the beginning of the day instead of the end. That sounds dopey, but there's a big difference in the purpose of the ride. Instead of decompressing on the way home after working a shift hot on the heels of biking in student traffic, I have a quiet, but energizing bike ride to work. I make sense of stuff. It's more endorphine than adrenaline, and the effect lasts all day.

I missed being a morning person.

baked pasta, roasted broccoli, soup, Foreman panini, and catering the revolution - with a moment of lame civil disobedience tacked on at the end

2009-01-21T00:05:00.000-08:00

I haven't written about food in awhile, so here are some food related things from the last week or so:

Last Thursday, I made baked organic fusilli with a bechemel sauce made with coconut milk, cashew butter, and other stuff (I'll need to figure out what exactly happened in that recipe - it was inspired by the stuff I found in the free box on Wednesday), and it tasted exactly like vegan comfort food my grandma would've made had she been vegan. It had panko breadcrumbs and paprika sprinkled on top, and was baked until the top, sides, and bottom were crispy and golden. My kids, who are suspicious of any thing I make that is too "vegan," had thirds and want me to make it again next week. I'm not sure exactly how I made it though...

I had enough of the sauce left over to make a spicy dip with Ro-Tel.

Yes. Mac-and-cheese, and queso. Normally I don't like fake cheese bullshit, even though I make it at work. Even when I ate dairy, I preferred making mac-and-cheese and queso dip from scratch. I don't trust Kraft. I used to live down the street from one of their factories, and it was a flatulent smelling place. Oh, and I'm not being "rude to the food" regarding the fake cheese at work - I just don't think nutritional yeast is the body of Christ, that's all. Nutritional yeast should not be the main component of anything that is considered "food." It is a nutritional supplement. If I get kicked out of the Secret Society of Vegans for this, fine. It's how I feel, okay? Gah.

Cashew butter and coconut milk are fairly simple ingredients, but they are substantial and real, and that's what is so appealing. Vegan comfort food is challenging for me because I don't want something that makes me wish I could eat cheese without guilt or congestion - I want food that makes me happy.

So, I don't have a recipe, but this is basically what I did:

made a penny colored roux in a cast iron pot like a good lil' Cajun
slowly added a stock made with hot water, no-chicken broth powder (don't judge me!) and coconut milk, stirred until smooth
whisked in a huge spoonful of cashew butter, and decided it would be better with more, so added more (comfort foods need fats!)
added a can of crushed, fire roasted tomatoes (12 oz?), paprika, salt, and a splash of apple cider vinegar for sharpness
reserved half of the sauce for queso (to which I added an organic version of Ro-Tel), and dumped a bag of dry fusilli in the pot with the other half. Added more salt, broth, and water (for the pasta to absorb), and baked with the lid, checking occasionally. When the pasta was pretty much done, I pulled the lid, topped with panko breadcrumbs and paprika, and baked until crispy outside, and awesome inside. It reheats well, too.

Someone told me recently to try roasting broccoli (I can't remember who - I think it was more than one person), so I roasted it with garlic, sliced romas, criminis, olive oil, and oregano and served it with the baked fusilli. We topped it off with Natural Brew Root Beer floats. Soon after, the kids and I slipped into food comas.

Right now I'm eating out of date cabbage soup with ramen noodles added. I used the flavor packets too. It's way better than it sounds, especially served in a mug, with chopsticks.

For lunch today (while listening to inauguration related things), I made a sandwich on the Foreman grill my aunt gave me for Christmas about ten years ago. Sandwiches made on a Foreman grill are magically delicious. Today's was on rye, with dill pickles, tomatoes, spinach, Vegenaise, and Dijon, brushed with olive oil, and pressed flat.

Sunday morning at work, I listened to Hidden Kitchens on NPR, and the entire show wass fantastic, but what really stood out was the The Club From Nowhere - Cooking for Civil Rights, about Georgia Gilmore and other women in Montgomery, Alabama who sold their baked goods to raise money for the Montgomery bus boycott. This led to a few catering gigs for Martin Luther King's planning sessions. If you get a chance, listen to the story. I can't imagine how they must have felt - as a cook, the idea of catering the revolution is extremely appealing to me. Sorta makes the heart pound a little faster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight I was biking home, and stopped at the intersection of Comal and MLK. As I sat at the red light I stared above me at the street sign - Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd, and thought about the fantastic, beautiful day as I waited in the cold for the light to change. I had lots of time to think. I was sort of spacing out a little. That light doesn't detect cyclists, and there were no cars around, and I realized as I sat there...

I could blindly follow the law, ignoring my common sense, and freeze my ass off waiting for a green light that may never appear, or....

I could commit an act of nonviolent civil disobedience.

I ran the light. For Dr. King, Gandhi, Chavez, and Thoreau. And Yoko and Patti and Georgia.

oh, happy day

2009-01-20T10:56:00.000-08:00

It's overwhelming, it's fantastic, it's a beginning.

It's not that all our problems are solved, but the obstacles preventing solutions are being swept to the side, leaving a long, dirty path to something better.

We're breathing air in a different world from yesterday - it's not clean, but there's a chance it will be.

To go on dropping metaphor on metaphor (or releasing them like hot metaphorical balloons?), we were all locked in small rooms, and now we can walk outside into the world together and clean the messes we've only seen through sealed windows, joining those bloodied from busting their way out.

Maybe I'm over dramatic.

I just don't know what to say. I can be silent and speak with my eyes better than I can speak with my mouth, and I can work with my hands better than I can type.

To have a new schedule, a new president, a check in the mail, and so much to do...

I can't stop smiling.

Bush is gone, Barack is in, and I'm not sure what makes me more happy.

Get your work boots on.

time to get tough.

2009-01-19T14:57:00.000-08:00

January 26th marks the Lunar New Year, and appropriately enough, we are going into the year of the Ox. Currently, are enduring the Year of the Crazy as a Shithouse Rat (to be specific), but I'm no expert on Chinese astrology. Amazing things have started happening - the Rat is traditionally a transformative year, so that is to be expected - but it's exhausting, and news-watching is nervewracking.

I know it's probably all bunk, but I'm ready for the Ox year. It's all about hard work and determination in an Ox year, but hard work is necessary, and what better time than the present?

this blog took too long to write.

2009-01-15T12:58:00.000-08:00

started typing this the morning after the Clay Pit pachanga, but with the constant stimuli, it has taken until now to complete it, and at this point I'm wondering why I don't just start over - but I just want to see how it goes. Alfred says, "Some people just like to watch the world burn." I just like to see how things play out...

So, after I was worshiping heroes and blogging without a breathylizer, I slept, and then woke up to a delightful headache. It's my day off. I feel like my free time is actually more free now, like I'm on vacation when I'm not at work, and work is fun too, so everybody wins.

So, I decided to do something I haven't done since the working deli day day shifts back when I had regularly scheduled breaks, since riding the bus, since I had a few minutes a day that weren't full.

I'm going to finish reading a book.

I know!

I haven't done it yet, but this morning when I was drinking mugs of tea to rehydrate, I picked up that same book I've been half assedly reading since October, and started the chapters about Patti Smith. Please Kill Me is all interviews, cut and pasted into a timeline, focusing on this band/movement/bar/theater group or that, intersecting here, converging there, and basically it's all in the exact words from the perspectives of everyone who experienced it firsthand. Some interviews are bitter, some are funny as shit, most are brutally honest, some sound exaggerated, and others depend on the viewpoint of the storyteller, and the person being praised/badmouthed/worshipped/denegrated.

The whole tone of the book changes as soon as Patti Smith enters the picture. She was a hero worshiping kid, everyone adored her, thought she was brilliant, friendly, good-hearted. It is exactly the way I wanted to read about her. I really didn't like reading about Lou Reed so much, and I hoped that Patti wouldn't disappoint me. She didn't - I want to be her friend. I tend to worship heroes as well, and she's one of the major ones. To find out that she was a big geek like me was refreshing.

When I was pregnant with Ursula, I went to a rally with Jennifer, and we saw her perform and speak, and at the time I was used to hearing her growl and whine and shout and whisper on albums, I was used to seeing her looking underfed, angry, down, and serious. At the rally, she was smiling, and the smiles looked sincere, and even though I knew that she had suffered loss recently (Sonic Smith had died a few years before), she looked kinda....joyful. Grounded, but joyful.

Anyway, it made me think of how I've been feeling lately - circling, waiting to land, waiting for tomorrow, putting off everything good for later, enduring, and I was a little upset with myself. Everyone's situation is unique, and some are unique-er than others, but time moves forward and the future is unwritten, and being a patient lil' martyr hasn't done me much good . I'm working out some stuff, and I've worked other stuff out already, and I've used the difficulties as excuses for my surly bad attitude (it's subtle now, but it was getting worse). I'm not proud of it. Delaying being happy because conditions aren't perfect is stupid. I should be happy anyway whatever the situation. It's within. Maybe it's not so much "happy no matter what" - but a little inner peace never hurts.

I didn't make resolutions this year, but here are a few things I'll keep in mind (I'll have to write them down and stick them in my bag):

be the best mom ever, my way (root beer floats, field trips, projects, compassion)
meditate, read, take walks, go for bike rides, soak in the tub. Stretch!
don't be afraid of people - especially nice people who are already supposed to be my friends anyway, and new people who interest me.
have friends over more often (I'll have to do that after Marty gets his dental work - he's in pretty bad pain, and this probably explains some of our problems)
get rid of more stuff
make friends the Patti Smith way - "Hey! You're Jim Carroll!"
avoid being locked into a role - the things I do, how I feel, who I adore and worship, how I feed myself, and the people around me are aspects - they are not the whole.

This isn't a complete list, and this blog is such a mess because I'm typing amid noise and racecar set building and football games and giggling and crying from falling off the bed and cuddling Logan (who fell off the bed while pretending to be Rey Mysterio). Hopefully I'll figure out a way to fit blogging into my new schedule, but it will be a little more challenging.

Okay, that's all the damage I can do. My work here is done.

aside, and unrelated to anything...

2009-01-15T01:05:00.000-08:00

I love Yoko Ono (yes. She's awesome. Kiss my ass - I'm an art school girl), and I love Thurston Moore, and he loves Yoko too, and this is a quote I just read at 3am that made me laugh, because Thurston said it about Yoko, and I love them, in case I didn't make that clear.

"People say Yoko Ono broke up the Beatles. I don't know. I'm glad if she did. She should have broken up the Rolling Stones while she was at it."

Honestly, I think he's right. It might have done all of them a helluvalot of good to move on somewhere beyond "Some Girls" (I'd probably choose an earlier album, but "Miss You" is too funny... also, I love "She's So Cold" from Emotional Rescue, but it's a novelty love, and would be an acceptable reunion song had they broken up like they maybe should've). Look at the discography and tell me if I'm wrong - I can take it. I'm no baby.

It's okay -

2009-01-14T23:11:00.000-08:00

- I only had fourteen glasses of wine - I'm okay to bike....

...

the main danger in my situation is I might get lost in the biking and forget my way home....incline...booo! Decline....wheeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Obviously, I made it home okay. Relief sigh here (if you gots tha' strength).

Tonight was the employee fantastication, and it went well, though I think they called "last call" a bit early. It's cool. I dig. Things went on late elsewhere, but I'm a mother of four, and I have shit to do in the morning. I got purpose! Get some, suckas!

The fact that I can correct so many typos after such a celebration attests to the fact that I'm the shit when it comes to on tha' spot editing. I never make typos. This...before you read it........was jammed with fuck-ups. And....a delicate curtsey.

plans and planetary weather

2009-01-13T10:24:00.000-08:00

I was brought down low by the accursed and aforementioned swamp bug, and this only threw an exclamation point on something that I knew already - I should not make plans. The fates are dragging me where they will, and as much as I try to exert control, they laugh harder at my puny efforts. Fine. Whatever. I lived a pretty good life being impulsive, and I only felt the need to "plan" things when I started having children. Before "planning" I threw parties, painted pictures, and took road trips. Maybe "planning" isn't a natural thing for me. Maybe that's the whole point. Maybe my kids would have much more fun and we'd all be happier if I'd just get over this ridiculous need to plan.

Is this what it means when you are born with half of your planets in a retrograde cycle? I never looked into it. I figured it would mean I'd age backwards and it possibly explains the late blooming (I think most of my friends were adults before I really got into my teens, and by then I was in my twenties). Then again, I think a lack of focus might explain some of it. Oh, and time - I only recently had the schedule change, so my hours are more compatible with the long list of "to-do's," so impatience could be a factor.

...later...

Retrograde planets in the chart

Also...I didn't realize this until I looked it up, but Mercury went retro on Sunday. Wear your hardhats if you believe in that shit:).

I shouldn't plan things.

2009-01-09T11:46:00.000-08:00

My plan last night was to go to the party, but I was ridiculously pooped, and I dropped dead on the living room futon. Today I planned on taking Zelda to Yellow Bike on a fact finding mission - which I'm hoping will result in us having some time together volunteering, fixing up a bike more her size (she has a kiddie bike, and she's grown at least a foot and a half since receiving it), donating a little wee bit of my Christmas money to the building fund, and hopefully by Spring Break, we'll be biking to her school together before I work on Mondays, and in the mornings I have off.

If all goes well with this plan, this will be part of the Velasquez-Power curriculum, along with popping open obsolete computers for parts, breaking strings, and cooking for holidays we don't really celebrate, like Christmas (we're not very traditional, but we love cookies) or Lunar New Year's (we're Westerners, but get more meaning out of the twelve year cycles and the luck rituals - once when Lunar New Year's fell on Mardi Gras, I made a red-sugared king cake with a toy horse baked inside, thus covering all bases).

This morning, Zelda came down with whatever swamp bug they're passing around down by the Gulf, so I guess I'll go by myself. I'm so glad she didn't throw up on me like Logan did (he rolled over me and puked in my hair, pillow, and shoulder on Wednesday morning. Refreshing). Luckily, everyone's had it now, so that's one less thing to worry about. It only lasted a few hours for each kid. I showed her the following video instead, and made some miso broth for her to sip while watching.

Off to pick up the kids from school! Yay!

good vibes

2009-01-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

After a year of hard work and confusion and just exhausting intensity, I'm seeing good things ahead - a brilliant new president, better hours, more free time, less worry, and work that is meaningful and rewarding. There will be more to do, and more time to get it done - I know it. It's a little overwhelming. Renewal feels close. I feel good today, and I didn't realize how crappy I've been feeling until I started feeling good.

I'm exhausted, wo' plumb out, melting into a puddle of extreme relaxation(~.~)...

...and I have a dinner to go to tonight. It's the Deli appreciation dinner, to reward us for all our hard work and suff'rin . I need a teleporter. Free food and friends -vs- extreme relaxation puddle.....it's a tough call - I see those wacky people every day...

...okay

I'll liquify tomorrow.

More Muppets on bikes, because I just can't get enough...

2009-01-08T12:51:00.000-08:00

I saw The Muppet Movie with my dad the day it opened in Houston (I'm so OLD!!!!), and the following scene was all we could talk about later ...

The last year at work has made that clip even funnier.

So, how did Kermit ride the bike?

From MuppetWiki:

In 2007 , director James Frawley remarked:

Every time I show the film -- whether it's to film students at USC or UCLA or I'm going to a festival -- that's always the first question: How did Kermit ride the bicycle? And my stock answer is: I put him on a three-wheeler until he got his balance, and then I put him on the two-wheeler.

I'm still working on my song with the line "rollin' down the alley on my Raleigh..." I have a log of my guitar practice pending...uh, actual practice. I played some, and I tried to rearrange "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" so that it's more compatible with my basic early Ramones level of competency. It's now called "I Don't Wanna Be Misunderstood." 1-2-3-4!

It's hard to do with the house full of people because I'm fucking insecure. Gotta get over it.

How you can support cycling, a list of kid movies, and a cute picture that ties the unrelated topics together...

2009-01-07T00:27:00.000-08:00

Before I get into the blog I meant to do, I have a bit of business to conduct. If you are a local (to Austin, Texas - everyone's a local where they are, even if it's only temporary, but this is more specific) or if you are a cyclist interested in learning ways to encourage cycling in your own community (why not put that out there? It's worth a shot...), please click on this link to the Professor's blog to find out why you should do what you can to support the Yellow Bike Project, this link to Yellow Bike to find out how, and this link to learn more about YBP.

As much as I would love to have more to say about YBP, I have little firsthand experience. What I can say is that the ripple effect of Yellow Bike has been astounding and beautiful, and that it has influenced a thriving and diverse bike culture in Austin where it's not just about racing, commuting, and bunny hopping off of curbs - it's also art, engineering, and cooperation. Marty, Zelda, and I were at Star Seeds late one night about ten years ago (Zelda was really little - maybe almost eleven years ago?), and an old co-worker of Marty's came to our table to say hi and tickle the baby. He had a pin on his cap shaped like a tiny yellow bike, I asked about it, and he explained the concept to us. I don't think he told us about repair shops back then though. All I remember from the conversation was that he and his friends were going to repair old orphaned bikes and paint them yellow, and leave them all over town for people to pick up if they needed a quick ride somewhere. That was back when I still had my black Mongoose Switchback....sigh...I loved that bike.

Anyway, it has become something greater than its beginnings in a relatively short time, and I hope it only becomes bigger, better, and more easily accessable in the future. I know now that even if I can't make it to the shop, there are always people around me at work, in my neighborhood, and on my way to places who can help me out if I need an opinion or on the spot repair or diagnosis. Their knowledge of the workings of bikes makes me feel pretty secure about riding and repairing mine. DIY, kids!

Other than that, I probably have a backlog of blogs in my head that I planned to write over the holidays but I've been tired and all those blogs are dust in the wind now. Tough shit. Yesterday after the first day of my new schedule (a day shift! Yay!) the kids and I watched Wall-E. I have to watch it again, because I was pretty fruity from all the sleep deprivation. I did a turnaround - a "clopen" if you will, and when I should've been asleep the night before, I was cleaning bright orange clementine puke off of my son's bed - apparently he had about four of them at a sitting - on top of all the other food that he ate on Sunday (big breakfast and football day) and it didn't agree with him. After that, Artemis did her nightly walk around the house, which involved loud meowing and sudden scampering, and when she was worn out she sat next to the bed and loudly groomed herself. Then the alarm went off.

Yeah, so anyway, Wall-E surpasses anything I've ever seen from Pixar, and much as Disney pisses me off, I love Pixar, so I love, love, love Wall-E. Pixar regularly puts out movies for children about "fighting the power" through cooperation - at least, that's what I get out of them, but maybe that's what I'm looking for. Honestly, in the beginning, I watched Pixar movies cynically, expecting them to be some crappy toy selling propaganda. Yes, they do sell the crappy toys, but I will say this - if my kids are going to get messages from movies, they could do way worse. I'll watch it again and take notes.

I should do a blog just about kids movies eventually. I love them. Maybe a list of recommendations of kid movies adults can watch too (even if no kids are around)? I can do that right now, in no particular order. Some aren't even kid movies, but mine like 'em.

Time Bandits
The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
Anything from Jim Henson. I really love The Muppet Movie. Kermit rides a bike, Mel Brooks misspells "frog."
The Iron Giant - I could watch this one over and over.
The Princess Bride
Shrek - it's more fun with kids around because they laugh their asses off, and so far, all the sequels have made them pretty happy too.
any Pixar (sometimes the soundtracks make me roll my eyes, but the movies are good enough to overcome that)
Darby O'Gill and the Little People - scary banshees!
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
Back to the Future
Miyazaki!!!!!!!
Spiderman - "With great power comes great responsibility."
most Tim Burton movies are a huge hit around here too.
Okay, Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies, all at the same time.
LOTR, geeks. LOTR. It's a lil' bit scary for the younger ones...it's even scarier for the older ones though.

I'm sure I could go on with this, but since I've seriously fucked up my internal clock, I need to make myself go to bed or suffer the consequences. Goodnight.

no fun.

2009-01-06T11:32:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I'll pick up a book and instead of devouring it I'll attack it like a housecat trying to eat an elephant - a bite here and there as the opportunity presents. This has been how I've been consuming Please Kill Me - The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain - one band at a time. It's not a book to read around children - if I laugh, they ask what I'm laughing at, and I can't just come out and happily tell them "Nico just gave Iggy Pop the clap!" Also, they don't like the title of the book or seeing me read it - it scares them a little.

Today I was looking at the MySpace bulletins and saw that Ron Asheton, guitarist from the Stooges, was found dead today, apparently from a heart attack. I loved reading about him the most, probably. He seemed the most balanced. I don't have time to go into it before work though - here's an article.

punk rock boys

2009-01-02T22:20:00.000-08:00

I will enjoy and delight in my guitar in 2009, and as soon as the cut on my middle frettin' finger heals up, well, it won't hurt quite so bad. I think maybe this will be my only resolution. I had a good start, but playing with a bandaid is a little difficult. I tried reinforcing my pirate bandaid with a ninja bandaid, but the cut is still pretty tender.

I have been thinking about music more often than usual (which is a LOT!), and why I listen to what I listen to (while I listen to a million different genres all at once, this is specifically about punk), and I'm finding that a big part of it dates back to that guy on the bus with the spiky hair, jacket, and cuffs who was surprised I had no clue who he was and then apologized for sounding arrogant (though he was still irritatingly shocked by it all - I suppose he just assumed that my pink hair and thrifted knee-high boots gave me some sort of punk credibility and an encyclopaedic knowledge of local musicians who used Manic Panic. It didn't. It just meant my hair was pink and I knew how to shop).

This is the same fella I ran into at HPB, by the way.

I had listened to punk rock for years, loved its predecessors mostly, grew up with its children, appreciated the place in history, collected the songs on mix tapes and enjoyed the amazing vinyl collections of my friends. I loved The Damned. I loved a bunch of bands, but The Damned made me really fucking happy. So, of course I noticed the guy with the spiky hair, and I thought he was cute, though maybe a little high maintenance. I was amazed that he could keep the look going for so long (he's still doing it too - with less subtlety. I sorta wonder if it's a prison for him at this point - like the look controls him. At a club at night it's one thing - in a well lit bookstore, it's a little overpowering).

For weeks we rode the same route before we finally talked. Well... he talked. Mostly, he talked about The Clash, which I found fascinating. It was chilly, leaves were in the road, we walked to his house, listened to records, drank orange juice, and it was a nice and stupidly innocent afternoon. Somehow he unlocked something in my head that made me hear reality in the music - not just anger and grit, not just bad boys causing trouble, not just cynicism, but frustration, loss, despair, hope, desire. Here was reality - and I'm not even sure he heard it like I did, but I started to really hear it. Everywhere. I heard it in country, blues, metal, soul, and read it in old poetry. Some things I'd taken for granted had more meaning, other things that meant everything and caused me so much worry became stupid. Lots of shit was going on in my life at the time - I wasn't happy with my living situation, my old friends were pissing me off because they weren't nice to my new friends, I was planning to move but didn't know where. I ran into the spiky haired guy a couple of times after I moved, and we were always friendly, but it was hard to see us hanging out together. Much as I feel that the afternoon in his living room was a turning point, it also seemed like a departure, which worked out fine for both of us.

Weeks ago I wondered "What happened to that guy?" and days ago I ran into him for the first time in years and said nothing. Briefly, I kicked myself, but I got over it.

Anyway, nothing cures a "what woulda been?" like a sneak peek at a MySpace. Heh. Yeah, that wouldn't've lasted too long. I can barely even say I dodged a bullet, since I know we would've been racing to dump each other before any real shots were fired. I like his writing though. Once I found out "who he was" I noticed his by-lines in local publications, and sometimes read the articles. I guess if it weren't for him, I probably wouldn't be so into Elastica (he recommended them to me on the walk, and I've listened to them since). Listening to The Clash and The Buzzcocks in his living room a million years ago in South Austin was totally worth it and fun and a major part of my education, and I should've said hello in the bookstore, I guess, but I didn't. I'm pretty sure he remembered me, but I really don't think it matters one way or the other.

hold that tiger

2008-12-31T11:19:00.000-08:00

Marty's and my "Kids-out-of-town" excursion went pretty well, aside from the weirdness at HPB (which he found amusing). The bus ride there was fun. I gave him the tour of Austin (even though he's always lived here). The muzak at Goodwill was incredibly irritating - seventies soft AM hits, like Meatloaf's "Two out of Three Ain't Bad" and Tony Orlando's "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" were about as good as it got. It necessitated a trip downtown to Casino's, where we heard Les Paul and Mary Ford pickin' out "The Tiger Rag" about four times in a row. Meow.

At Jackalope an incredibly shitfaced young manchild (overserved maybe?) asked if there was any crustacean on the menu. I pointed out the crawfish po-boys, and he ordered one and then tried to buy my dinner for me. I politely shooed the po' boy away, and the guy at the register actually cracked a smile. We watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High, ate our food, and went back to Casino's. I finally remembered what really got me jonesing for a smoke too - when we were at Casino's the second time, they were playing Kung Fu Hustle, which features this lady:

...and that's probably me in the future if shit doesn't get fixed.

When I get off work, we'll go out early and beat the rush, then we'll come home. Marty's cashing in the contents of The Lucky Cat for New Year's celebrating. Holding Lucky over a plastic peanut jar as she shat out all of our loose change from the beginning of Summer felt sort of like the beginning of a really bizarre New Years ritual. I'm hoping we can collect enough before the Lunar New Year, since that was the whole point of getting Lucky in the first place.

Heh heh - I said "getting Lucky."

My resolution is not to be all crazy and shit next year. Merry New Year.

When the universe taps your shoulder and reminds you of its existence...

2008-12-30T11:26:00.000-08:00

...where will you be? Will you be thinking "What ever happened to ________? I haven't seen him in about twelve-or-so years. Did he move?" Will you be shopping for books and literally run into that person three days later, lock eyes, and pretend you didn't recognize each other though it is clear to both of you that you know exactly who was facing you a second before? Will you have to go outside and get some air? Will you not stop thinking about it, and smoke a cigarette outside a bar when you never go to bars that much and never smoke anymore? Will you wonder why it was such a big deal when you never really knew each other that well to begin with - just ran in the same circles and lived in the same neighborhood and rode the same bus and walked home together and talked, and used the same brand of colorful hair dye, and liked the same bands? Is that dude symbolic? Real?

Do these things happen to rattle the brains from long sleepy dreams and make them get up and do? Will I actually start playing my guitar more like I said I would? Would this count as a resolution?

This is all hypothetical, okay? It does not reflect yesterday's trips to Half Price Books (got Knitprovisation by Cilla Ramnek and pretended not to run into anyone), Goodwill (got a mermaid skirt and a denim jacket, and a vintage-esque blouse with cherries on it, and some jeans), Casino's (I get an "I Made Someone's Day" sticker for remembering Casino's birthday. I thought he was gonna cry, which made me wanna cry. I need to go in there more often), Jackalope's (veggie burger, waffle fries), and 710 (where they let me smoke a cigarette, because I quit smoking before the city ordinance, so I'm grandfathered in).

last week of the year

2008-12-27T09:21:00.000-08:00

It's so quiet, and it's the last week of the year...

I'm not making any real plans for the rest of 2008. This whole year my work schedule has been this huge obstacle in front of everything I wanted to do, and cramming everything I want to do in the two days off that are also the best times to see my kids has been exhausting. Editing my to-do list down to the bare bones makes me feel down - like I can't focus, don't follow through, failed. Being broke and tired on my days off doesn't help much. I don't want to be a downer, but last year was hard, and I'm glad to watch the clock tick down - 4 days, 12 hours, 28 minutes and 17 seconds - until 2009. I don't want to make plans - I just want to be.

I know time is an abstraction, and at eighteen seconds there won't be a fundamental shift in anything - the wristwatches will tick a second off as if it's exactly the same as the last one. All of this is symbolic. Time marches on, as usual, tick tick tick.

But not thinking about and accepting learned symbols is hardwired. We use them all the time - stop signs, letters, cutouts of gender specific people on doors to restrooms, roses, stars, crescents, crosses, rings, colors. Oranges are given for money luck because their gold color symbolizes wealth, yet we exchange dirty pieces of green paper as currency. With a dirty piece of green paper that symbolizes wealth, a person can purchase an orange to symbolize luck with dirty pieces of paper (or they can eat it, or maybe eating the orange is lucky...it's certainly healthy - I could really go in circles with this one)...

...and maybe it isn't so crazy to wait this year out - to take a break in the last week of the year. If time exists in Purgatory it is always the week between Christmas and New Year's where nobody really knows what to do with themselves. This year, with all of it's upheaval and exhaustion and insanity, has already dropped seeds on a ground waiting for renewal. Things have been bad, and I'm used to it. I know that sounds a little dark, but I'm not depressed about it.* I know that for me, it hasn't been all that bad really. My Gulf family didn't get much damage from Ike. I don't dodge bullets on my way to work. I love my kids, and they make me very happy. Marty and I have been able to work out a ton of stuff, and that makes things easier. I have many blessings to count. I'm just overwhelmed and tired, and every day there is some new problem that needs fixing and costs money we were planning to use on something else.

Next year (in a few days) my schedule changes, and I'll have more day shifts. We'll have a new president who will hopefully make it less difficult for people to live full, healthy, happy, productive lives. In February the Rat year (chaos, upheaval, strife, change, catalyst) will be replaced by the Ox (hard work, diligence, perseverance). I look forward to it. Maybe buckling down and getting serious isn't as bad as it sounds.

But...

while I wait for 2008 to END, I will take it easy. My kids are out of town until 1/2/9, but I won't party too much, won't take on big projects, won't worry, won't burn minutes being bored. I got new guitar strings in my stocking this year, and I might just hole up and wear them out. I'll figure out why my bike is acting wobbly. Maybe I'll get some panniers and a stick blender with my xmas money.

Enjoy the last week of 2008.

*although (I should write my blogs like a cluster diagram since I could easily go off on a million different related tangents...but that's not really eye friendly...) I wish that everything in my house would stop breaking - I don't know what project is more important - rewiring? Reflooring the kitchen before we fall through? Fixing the stupid bathroom? Getting an exterminator? Tearing it down and starting over?

2008-12-19T23:56:00.000-08:00

This morning, I woke up to the sound of my children fighting. Today was the first day of winter break, and I have learned that without school, my children are animals. I was going to take them to see Emmit Otter's Jugband Christmas at Alamo Draft House, but since Ursula and Alex just can't seem to stand each other, and are torturing us all with their bickering, we're going to do yard work instead. I think we need to build a little unity, and maybe a family gardening project will get them off each other's asses. Then again, maybe they'll have more to fight about. Either way, we get a garden, mwahahahaha!

To cheer myself up after biking home, back blinky batteries dead or maybe just not so waterproof, in the fog, with a mushy tire that I had to fill in the scary dark, and finding the house quiet except for snoring and fans, eating a bowl of ramen, typing stupid run-on sentences on purpose because rules are for squares, I watched the following videos on YouTube. I hope this doesn't break your computer while it is loading.

Dead animal stories two, electric boogaloo

2008-12-18T23:47:00.000-08:00

I'll skip the ones about the snakes - there's a whole theme to itself. Damp days like today made me think of all the snake stories, but since some of them are living, some are dead, and some are dirty garden hoses, I'll leave them completely out. This one is about ducks.

My dad's best friend Billy (Uncle Bill) figures into several animal stories (dead and living), one involving a gator! That's not this one. In this one, he showed up at the farm one day with a gift - a pair of cute, fluffy, yellow baby ducks. I was in love with those ducks - they were soft and cute, and cute, and cute!!!! I probably named them, but for the life of me I can't remember their names. It's probably better that way - at six, my naming skills weren't fully developed. We kept them inside until they were big enough to cause trouble, and then we let them have the run of the place. They were god-awfully adorable - friendly, smart, silly looking, lovable. Because they didn't have a mama duck, they followed my mom and me around, but if we weren't outside, they'd trash my dad's vegetable garden. They had a special taste for broccoli. No fence my dad would build would deter them from chowing on his broccoli, and it really pissed him off.

One night, while eating dinner, I took a bite of something ...it was fowl, but a little more oily than chicken... I asked "What is this?"

My mom looked uncomfortable, and my dad said between bites,

"Broccoli stuffed duck."

I love my parents, but I'd never pull that kind of shit on my kids. Seriously. Never.

Anyway, at that point I was sort of used to finding animals I had once named laid out on the dinner table surrounded by some sort of vegetables roasted in their juices. I just slumped in my chair and ate my cumin rice and green beans, and pushed the duck to the side. Poor little guys. I was gonna miss them.

The moral of the story? Keep your damn ducks out of other people's gardens.

Dead animal stories

2008-12-17T23:17:00.000-08:00

I had a friend in college who said I had the best dead animal stories of anyone she knew. City folk are adorable like that. I had the most dead animal stories of anyone she knew because I grew up in the sticks, and I only told her the best ones. I'll share a couple of dead chicken stories right now. They aren't the best ones - just the earliest I can remember.

When we moved to the country, my dad had a pretty good idea of how to run a farm, and over time and after several ... learning experiences, things started coming together. Daddy built the first of three chicken yards in the back corner of the yard, in the fenced area by the gate to the pasture. We bought a flat of pullets (young hens) and a rooster, and my dad made them a nice home in the backyard, protected by Shane (the dopey Irish Setter). We enjoyed fresh eggs for several months. I got to feed the chickens before and after school, sometimes I helped gather eggs, and my parents were very happy that I was getting fresh air and sunshine.

One day I got off the bus after school, ran to the backyard, and was intercepted by my mom, who was unusually pale and shaky. She ushered me into the house, sat me down at the breakfast table, and told me calmly that the stupid dog had gotten into the chicken house and tore shit up while I was at school and my dad was at work, and she didn't want me to go out there until my dad was finished raking up the feathers and bits of fowl. Later when she described it she used words like "bloodbath" and "massacre" and "feathers...everywhere." I'm sure the noise was traumatizing as well.

So Dad moved the chicken coop where the dog couldn't get it, and we started over with the chicks from the incubator (yes, we hatched chickens in our living room). One of the few survivors from the bloodbath was Rosie, who was sort of like Miss Prissy in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons:

Rosie was extremely friendly for a chicken. She followed us around and because she was a no-egg-layin'-stringy-tough-old-bird, she got to come and go as she pleased from the chicken yard. We were always amazed she didn't get eaten by a stray dog or a snake or something, but she didn't, so we got used to her survival skills and let her be.

One day she followed my dad to his pickup, and without his knowledge, hopped in the bed and rode with him to Houston. After going to his office, he kept hearing people talking about a chicken in the parking lot as they walked by, and soon he was able to piece together enough information to wonder if the chicken was Rosie. Rushing to the parking lot, he started calling her "Here chick-chick-chick-chick-chick!" but it was too late. Rosie had split. It was probably her, because we never saw her again. I guess officially it isn't a dead animal story - maybe she was taken in as a pet, maybe she got a job at a thrift store, maybe she lives in a box in Hermann Park. I sort of assumed she got squished by a semi though. Trucker movies were really popular then, so it was easy to picture it. I think that would be the only way to take her out.

Just a friendly heads up...

2008-12-16T23:55:00.000-08:00

Beware the deli free box. I've had some bad luck with it lately. For the third time in about three months, it has turned on me, the scoundrel. You'd think I'd have learned by now...

What I wanna know is...

2008-12-16T10:30:00.000-08:00

Where did Bush learn to duck like that?
Where did Muntazer al-Zaidi learn to pitch like that? Damn!

I had other questions after hearing about and then seeing the incident (after I stopped laughing so hard I was sneezing coffee for about fifteen minutes). Not "why." The answer to "why" is obvious and the question is moderately insulting. I just had stupid questions - like "Did he get his shoes back?" and "Does he carry a spare set?" I'm sure his mom wondered the same thing. I don't know if he'll get his shoes back once he recovers from the beatings and gets out of prison (I believe his arm was broken by Iraqi security, and the video I saw showed him getting taken down fiercely. I wish a speedy recovery for him), but if he does, I hope he doesn't sell them or stick them in a museum. He should wear them until they fall apart, and then he should display the remnants in his house as a visual aid to tell his grandchildren the story. It sucks that he missed, but it wasn't for lack of a good aim.

rural route

2008-12-10T23:46:00.000-08:00

When I was little, I spent lots of time with my grandparents. My grandfather, who I called "Heyho" because well, that's what I called him, was a sort of agricultural genius - he grew up on a farm, where he spent most of his time following Frog, another agricultural genius who showed up to manage the farm after Heyho's father was killed in a car accident. While tagging along, he developed a keen interest in all things ranch. He majored in agriculture at UT, was a rice farmer in Cuba until the revolution, and over time he grew to know everything fit to know about managing a ranch. In his off time he read books and magazines about farming and ranching, even though he hadn't owned land since leaving Cuba. When his brother-in-law died, Heyho and Grandmamma moved to New Baden, Texas to help my Aunt Pauline with her farm. There, he raised cattle, quail, chickens, trapped and released animals that threatened the coops, and did a bunch of other stuff I never thought to pay attention to because I was busy watching the chicks crack out of their eggs in the incubator, reading in the window seat while deer grazed just a few feet away, making terrariums and doll clothes with Grandmamma (and following her around the flower garden), asking "why?" about everything, and pretending to drive the tractor with my doll, Shelley...

Shelley and me, 1977

My cousins and I would visit, and he would drive us around in the pick-up, and we'd feed the cattle. He showed us how to identify animal tracks, and he taught us how to be non-threatening to animals so we could see them up close. Cliff and I still thought we could catch armadillos by chasing them, but it never really worked - they just ran under the "old" house (there were two houses on the property - the old one that was "dangerous" and "historical" and the new one where everyone lived).

I also lived on a farm, but it was on a way smaller scale. We had chickens, cattle, and vegetables, an Irish Setter named Shane, a goat named Ginger, barn cats, giant goldfish in the water tank, blackberries, rabbits (a sad story for later), and ducks (another sad story for later). My dad grew up on a farm, but was learning as he went. He was also commuting to Houston every day, and there was never enough time to keep up with the responsibility of a working farm. Unfortunately, lessons learned on new farms are harsh, and mostly deal with wild dogs, snakes, a tricky pump house, and bad fences. For my parents, this was incredibly stressful.

For me, it was awesome.

Squash

Feeding the chickens with my dad

Anyway, I've been wanting to write about the farm lately, but I'm a little tired now, so I'll get back to it. I'll try to get to the duck story next.

The stars at night are big and bright....

2008-12-10T22:54:00.000-08:00

I've had many warnings tonight that it is cold outside, that I am crazy to ride my bike, or brave, or stupid. I wasn't the only one out though, so I know I have good company out there - more crazy, brave, stupid people who aren't afraid of warming their muscles outdoors on chilly nights. I don't generally bike in hurricanes or sandstorms or blizzards or tsunamis or wildfires. That's for the true roughnecks and thrill seekers. I do bike in the cold though. I dressed warmly enough, and tonight on my way home I saw a sky crammed with stars, stars that the more sensible may have missed. Cold clear nights are perfect for stargazing, so I gazed at stars a little on the way home from work.

Until recently I was fighting some sort of infection that I couldn't make time to eradicate properly, so it lingered and annoyed, caused pain, made me ill a new way every other day - breakouts, aches, pain, congestion, irritability, multicolored viscous effluvia, and a special day of nausea and purgatory that kept me home. After awhile I just came to terms with it - it must be that I'm feeling my years, I thought. Well, I guess I skated by long enough, but I didn't think it would be that intense or early. I figured my good health would put it off a little longer - I'm not even forty yet. How do people feel so crappy every day? Will I get used to it eventually? Luckily, it turned out that I was just sick.

I feel like I'm supposed to now - good and healthy and better than I did at eighteen. I can breathe, move without clutching my back, lift Logan over my head, and laugh about stupid things. I still have a bit of a cold, but it's nothing like before. I biked the whole time I was sick, and worried that my cycling days were numbered. Now, if they are, the number is really, really high. It has been much more fun lately.

Sunday night I biked one of my favorite routes - North Loop to Avenue F-G, to Duval, and then home. I think I like it so much because it's a steady decline, there are few cars out at that hour, and it's like flying. It was clear and starry.

While I'm going on about the night sky, did anyone see the Jupiter and Venus convergence? If you were at Wheatsville on the loading dock around 6pm, they were directly over the billboard with the Hill family staring up at it - next to the moon, they were the brightest objects in the sky. If you were anywhere else, it was in the southwest part of the sky after sunset. This went on for a couple of weeks at the end of November and beginning of December. They're still pretty close, but they are moving slowly apart now.

comfort food

2008-12-09T12:26:00.000-08:00

So, what does a cook do on her day off? Cooks.

Last night I made a leek, white bean, and potato cassoulet - it sounds fancy, but basically it's a veggie stew with biscuits baked on top. The kids destroyed it right out of the oven. I wanted to take pictures of the process, but the kids were super hungry, and the house smelled like leeks and thyme, and we just wanted to eat. Next time I'll photograph the process - it was beautiful and delicious, so we'll definitely make it again. I got the recipe from The Veganomicon, by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero. Most likely I'll tweak the broth a little (I think a little white wine and more pepper - maybe white pepper? - would give it the bite and kick I like in damp weather comfort food).

For dessert I made a bread pudding-ish sort of thing with stale free box double chocolate muffins and coconut milk. I served it right out of the oven with free box "So Delicious" Neapolitan ice cream, and the kids were floored.

Then we all slipped into food comas.

For brunch (I got a late start this morning), Logan and I ate leftover cassoulet, reheated with a stock made with the odds and ends from last night's dinner. The biscuits were broken into lumps and mixed into the stew. Stews should have biscuits baked on top - why isn't this more common practice? For dessert, we had bananas.

I have a sourdough starter I've been working on since before Thanksgiving, and I'm baking today. This will be the second round of bread made with this starter - the first was chewy and really light for a sourdough. I made rolls in the cast iron muffin pan, and they were practically hollow like ping pong balls. Ursula said they were "cu-u-u-ute!"

I made a pot of Anasazi beans yesterday for dinner tonight, and I'd like to make cornbread, but I already have the dough for the sourdough ready... better planning next time.

Here are some foodie tattoos...

I can't wait to have day shifts so we can do this sort of thing more often (plan meals, cook new things...). I love cooking at home, and for the last year I've been mostly making sandwiches, tacos, and pastas, and not really getting creative with anything.

I used to be such a sweet sweet thing 'till they got a hold of me...

2008-12-07T23:10:00.000-08:00

Really. I was a regular little church girl. Then I figured out I didn't really need church to be a goody-two-shoes. In fact, I can pretty much do what I want, because really, it's up to me, and I'm pretty well behaved by choice. Whatever. I was listening to Alice Cooper earlier, and the line got stuck in my head, and it amused me. So I tried to incorporate it into a blog, and then I really wasn't feeling like going into it. It's all pretty dull and boring. Yeah, I'm typing what I'm thinking.

This is how much the world is changing for the better: X (the band, specifically the one from Los Angeles, not Australia or Japan - if you've never seen them live, don't think twice about buying tickets if they come to your town - you'll have fun) and Exene will be a Jeopardy clue on December 11. It's a Double Jeopardy clue. That's serious shit. I took the day off work, but that's not why - it's just a bonus. I have a film shoot at the elementary school - Alex and Ursula are in a Holiday pageant...

...except in theirs (it's the same every year - I've seen them four years in a row) they pretty much cover all bases and go around the world.

I'm in a better mood lately - I'm not feeling as run down, burnt out, beat, and tired. November was hard! It was completely stressful in every way. I thought I had lost all the zen I had, and I really thought that was something that didn't go away. I was desperately wanting vacation, time off, and I got sick and had to work anyway (bills don't pay themselves, unfortunately), and I felt detached from the kids and Marty - I felt like my night schedule was fucking up my life so badly. I called to schedule a little conference about it, and Merilee gave me the news that as of January my schedule is changing - three days, two nights. I'm so happy and relieved. This means so much - I really needed to be home more, and this means I can spend more time with the kids, and I can run my errands after work instead of on my weekends. I might actually have time to make things and do stuff on my days off. Marty can get a job! I don't know if that was the key to fixing my shit mood, but my shit mood seems fixed. I was really bummed for awhile.

Spiders

2008-12-05T23:07:00.000-08:00

This is the first time I've had a minute to sit at the computer in days. I've had a ton of blogs in my head that I've forgotten, but I'm a little tired, so I think I'll just narrow it down to one. I don't know where to begin, so I'll just get the spider dream out of the way, since I promised it, and now I've been called out about it more than once now. I hope I can do it justice, since the dream was from over a week ago.

Recounting dreams is tricky, mostly because they are hard to remember, but also because they are so specific to the dreamer that to relate to them, an outside observer (which doesn't really exist, but "audience" doesn't sound quite right either, and I really can't find the word...how about victim? Maybe I'm boring you with my psychic whatevers and ...oh, I'll just close these parentheses and let you figure out who you are in all this yourself) has to get into the head of the dreamer, and see the colors and shapes and action. Dreams are squishy, like oil paintings in the process of being painted - to remember a specific part of the process which was painted over requires a little more imagination, and we can't hit "record" and watch them later...

It took too long to get around to writing this, and I was hoping to draw it first, but this will have to do for now. Okay, I'll get on with it.

The Spider

I was in my living room, only it was wood paneled and the walls were shorter - it looked like the addition at my grandma's house - dark, the ceiling was white with that nubbly stuff on it and random hunks of giant glitter squares distributed sparsely. There was a ceiling fan, and the furniture was low to the ground, flat, beatnik, fifties modernish. The carpet was rust colored, the sofa was upholstered in a maizey-gold wool fabric. I had just finished cleaning the room, when I noticed a large spider spinning a web in the corner of the ceiling by the door.

It looked a little like this golden orb spider, only fatter, and unusually large.

It was spinning a cube shaped web, all corners, all sides meeting in parabolic intersections, hollow in the middle, concave all around, perfect, iridescent, fascinating. I watched as it connected these shapes, and I was able to see it from all angles inside and out with my dreaming eye. Then it descended on a thread of spidersilk and started making cubes on the ground. This is where it gets weird...

Yes, it gets weird!

The spider ascended up the silk rope to the ceiling, and created a sort of pulley, which it used to lift the cubes up to the ceiling. As I watched, it bricked up almost an entire corner from the top of the windows to the blades of the ceiling fan. I was really unsure what to do. On the one hand, I love spiders. I don't pick them up or pet them or anything, I just like to watch them. I lived on a farm when I was little, and had the opportunity to watch many varieties of spiders do their thing, some as small as the ball on a dress pin, some as large as both hands put together. They don't frighten me, and I generally don't bother them. I can't say that I've ever squished one intentionally. On the other hand, this particular spider, while talented, was taking over my house. I felt like I had to do something.

I'm not sure what I did to attract the attention of the spider - I might have hit the web with a broom handle. Maybe I yelled at it. I don't remember. Whatever I did, the spider was pissed, and it came after me, fast. It ran at me like a lion, determined to rip my face off. I didn't want to kill the spider, and I certainly didn't want it to kill me, so I jumped into a ready pose, and I was going to squish the little fucker if it got too close, and it did, and I raised the broom, and it ran closer, closer, and POUNCE!!!!!

Artemis sat there, spider legs dangling from her mouth, crunching, and meowing her hunter sounds. I was shocked that I didn't have to do anything, and yet I didn't get injured or anything. I woke up, and she was curled up next to me, sleeping, purring. I almost wonder if she jumped into my dream to save me from that insane genius spider. I'm sure she would if she could.

I looked online for geometric shapes that look similar to the web cubes in my dream, and the closest thing I found was on this page. It's not exactly what I was going for, but it's close. I might still try to draw it.