flo jo and the farm

we visited the farm in hartland last weekend. we saw cousins,

cows


cats


and combines.


life at 6 months old is pretty great!

we even got to see great-grandma florence, also known as flo jo! at least to us....

mother of all...

it was inevitable really. the first sickness. and believe me, this seems like the mother of all colds. matt's got it, jana's got it, and now avery's got it. it's so hard seeing your little one be miserable. and worse yet, being the only well one to take care of him. his runny nose. the coughing that becomes a gagging, then a horrible choking. the sneezing, the snot shooting out....i could go on. but i'll spare you the details. lets just say that when the hives broke out all over his poor, sad, little face and his eyes started swelling up, i did what any mother would do. i sprayed breastmilk all over his face, and in his eyes. and then i willed him to nurse and nurse until he fell asleep. the hives, gone. the eyes, not red or puffy. i offered matt the same remedy, which he declined, opting for some advil. oh well, i guess the mothering can only go so far. either way, the boys are now both fast asleep upstairs. it ain't easy being the mother of all...but it is rewarding. now time for a nice cup-o-tea and some much needed mothering of the mother.

he has arrived!

little wesley is finally here! and not a moment too soon! he is perfect and very, very small. he has lots of black hair and he snorts a lot! his big brother turns 6 today! happy birthday charlie! and happy birthing day amber! you are a birth warrior!

harvest

digging up muddy vegetables all day. pulling up the tomato, squash, and melon vines. feeding the heaping compost pile with rotten, squishy vegetables that were sacraficed in the frost. bumping around in the back of the pickup, down the dirt road to where we throw it all, until next year. laughing with others as we rake up mulch and dead tomatos squish between our toes. it's a dirty, hard job. but even now, after a long hard days work, more work lies ahead. my kitchen floor is covered in mud, brought in on dirty buckets. every space in my refridgerator is taken. every windowsill is crammed with tomatoes. there are herbs hanging everywhere to dry. cupboards stuffed with potatoes, onions and garlic. peppers strung on a line to across the kitchen window. acorn, butternut, delicata, and buttercup squash fill a basket. pumpkins line the front steps, wating to be carved. a pot of soup on the stove, the first of many to be stewed and frozen for the winter. i'm a bit overwhelmed, but there is no time for that. there is babyfood to be made (ave will soon be eating real food!), tomato sauce to be canned, pepper jelly to be created, and herbs to be made into tea. although my body is sore and tired from yesterday at the farm, i must press on. it's what women have done for centuries. and for the first time, i am honored to be doing this "women's work."

don't quit your day job

how many times have you heard this phrase? 10, 15, 115 times? yeah, me too. it seems everyone thinks this is good advice to tell young people. so we finish school, only to find ourselves in some job that pays well and somehow manage to find enough time to pursue what we love IN ADDITION to working a job that we HATE. artists and musicians know this all too well. i've never really considered myself an artist or a musician (thought secretly i aspire to be both), but still, i know how they feel.

but what does it really mean? that doing what you love is a luxury? that you'll never be able to support yourself AND do what you love? that we should just be miserable like our parents and toil away for years and years, only to find out that in the end none of that mattered?

luckily i never had parents like this. my parents are still both trying to figure out what they love. and my dad is STILL quitting his day job (way to go dad!) but luckily i also have friends to show me the way...

Paige
and...
Luke
and...
Matt
and...
Tia
and...
Jake
and...
Damanda & Andy
and...
Anne it's only a matter of time until this blog gets discovered and you can quit your day job!


and... maybe i won't be burning my work uniform in a large backyard bonfine (again, way to go dad!) but, i did quit my day job.

Dahlia Dreams

STATE FAIR DAHLIAS

isn't it amazing that people plant flowers?
there is no practical value in planting flowers.
it's not like growing vegetables to feed ourselves or planting trees so we can breathe.
unlike these, we don't need flowers to survive.

or do we?

is there a lessen in planting flowers? cultivating beauty for beauty's sake?
you must have to be a dreamer to plant flowers.
my grandpa avery was a dreamer.
he sowed under his field of soybeans to plant flowers.
gladiolas were his favorite.
but he enjoyed all kinds of flowers...I'm sure he would have loved these dahlias.
his wisdom was in that field of flowers. cultivating beauty.
but is it only the dreamers who are capable of such things?






if so, i'm dreaming of dahlias.

pickles and peppers and salsa oh my!

does anyone else want to have a harvest party? i think we should all celebrate the autumn bounty together. in our backyard. as in soon. before the snow flies. everyone who reads this is welcome to come. you just have bring something from your garden, or something you made yourself. we'll feast and feast. how about next saturday late afternoon/evening?

5 months old

ok, that last post was a bit depressing. however, this should lighten the mood a bit. avery at a few days old....and 5 months old. wow!

and these are a few of my favorite comments about my 22 pounder:

"he sure doesn't miss any breakfasts, now does he?"

"oh my god, you could enter him into a contest!"

"your arm muscles must be getting really strong."

"is that normal?"

"are you worried?"

no, i'm not too worried. as long as he doesn't keep up at this rate....he'd be 50 pounds by the time he was a year old! and now THAT would be something to see.

history and heaven

everything is dying. the minute we're born we are all only just getting closer to our own death. and it's this time of year that reminds us of that-that all living things eventually die.

our rituals are dying. all summer long avery and i have walked around the garden each morning to see what's sprung up overnight. but now, nothing is new. the garden smells of death and decay. there are only rotten vines going back into the earth. another tomato falls, another person dies.

the woman i've been is dying. and i need to talk to paige so bad, but she's not here. she's in colorado at yet another funeral (the fifth this year). because like i said, everything is dying.

my identity, like my garden is dying. both of which contain my past and my future. i'm at a crossroads. and it's somewhere between history and heaven.

the great minnesota get together!

matt and i had resolved to skip the fair this year. and as you all know, we are fair lovers. to simply say we are not going to the fair is an understatment. it would be like hemmingway saying he was simply not going to write another word. but with the diapers, and the stroller, and the sleep schedules to keep track of, would it be any fun anyway?!!!? we decided it would be too much trouble and we were coming to terms with our decision, until we saw a special on CBS Sunday morning on the Iowa state fair. after all the clips of huge pumpkins, and pigs and cows, and things to eat on stick, we looked at eachother and said "we're goin' to the fair!" so, with the help of my ma, we made the voyage to st. paul, armed with chew toys, wet ones and of course loads of cash. we ate ourselves silly and ave had a ball. as you can see....
he even got to sit with his papa where matt and his dad used to eat breakfast every year....yes breakfast at the fair, since they parked their motor home there all week.


and he bears a close resemblance to this giant pumkin
peg pushin' the pumpkin
and the last bite....a pronto pup
to hell with sleep schedules, this is the great Minnesota get together...and it only comes once a year!

good news, bad news

the good news is, avery rolled over for the first time.

the bad news is, it was OFF the sofa in the back porch.

the good news is, matt was home.

the bad news was, matt was home.....and had to witness my hysteria.

the good news is, there appears to be no signs of brain damage.

the bad news is, a big 'ol goose egg appeared almost immediately.

the good news is, mama has learned her lesson.

the bad news is, she had to learn it (and so did Ave) the hard way. i mean really hard way. as in right on the cement floor hard.

ouch.

more flowers...

the cake, the bouquet and the barn dance....check out the little girl in her party dress spinning. magic.

two weddings and a funeral

over the past two weekends i have done two weddings. meaning, i was the florist and arranged the bouquets, the centerpieces, the cakes, the corsages, the alter flowers, etc. both brides wanted organic, local flowers and that is how they found me. i used flowers from the farm and from the ditches on backcountry roads. i found the jackpot on valley grove road, on the way to an old church. it was full of queen anne's lace, swirling milkweed, and daisies. i cut from my own garden and my neighbor's gardens (i asked of course). i loved spending days in the field, cutting flowers, grasses, herbs and such to fill my house with enought plant material to pull off each wedding. one weekend was brutally hot. over 100 degrees. the next weekend was chilly and basically biblical flooding (ok, maybe that's a slight exageration). despite the weather, it was incredible. i felt so alive while arranging, despite getting up at 5am to start so the flowers would be fresh. i worked hard (as many of you know i'm a perfectionist) to get each bouquet and arrangment just right. after delivering each wedding i felt a huge surge of excitment, pride, and renewed sense of creativity. basically, i was in heaven.

and then sunday came. and it was back to work at the hospital. it smelled of death. literally and metaphorically. i think this part of me is dead. i feel that piece of my life coming to an end. sure it's a nice paycheck, but can it compare to pulling over on valley grove road at dusk to cut wild flowers? i don't even need to answer that. the flowers say it all.....

day at the lake

the company party at the lake was a huge success. everyone had fun wakeboarding, surfing and hanging out on the boat. Ave of course hung out under this willow tree and slept most of the day. however, he did wake up briefly to show off his new skills such as holding up his head, standing (with help of course) and smooching mama.

oh, and the scratch is from his fingernail, which makes him look pretty bad ass, especially in the surf shorts.

it's here and it's now

Upon further consideration, I realized that the revolution is here and now. Just because I am a mom, doesn't mean I'm not part of a revolution. Just cause I spend most of my days in the garden, digging up vegetables doesn't mean I can't change the world.

In fact, CSA farms were started by a group of housewives in Japan who wanted to know where their food was coming from. They started working directly with organic farmers...and soon the word spread and the CSA revolution was born.

And there are also mothers who are sending their breastmilk to Africa to feed the orphans whose mother's have died of AIDS. If that is not revolutionary, I don't know what is.

These women are revolutionaries. And they are moms. Huh.
Who woulda thought....

where's the revolution?

so, the other day i was talking to a friend. we were at the farm, sitting under the walnut tree. she was telling me about her new job and how she works with immigrants and fights for immigrants' rights. she is fluent in spanish. she speaks spanish to avery. i love that. i wish i could speak another language. but i can't. i can only arrange flowers.

so, as i arranged the flowers i asked her more about the life that she's living and the lives that she's changing. and she says that she mostly just sits in front of the computer emailing beaurocratic bullshit. and after that she said, "this can't be the revolution, can it?!" and i thought to myself, what revolution? is there a revolution happening?

so, it made me think about revolutions, and what happened to my inner revolutionary?

lately it's hard for me to think of being a revolutionary. i'm just so....tired. and the things worth fighting for now are my right to breast feed in public. my right to good, local food. my right to stay at home with my babe, or to work if I want to. but these are hardly the revolutions of my youth. nor the revolutions that my friend speaks of.

a boob revolution? a food revolution?

hardly new york times material. but i've swore off the media anyway, so why do i care? unfortunately, there is still a part of me that does. care, I mean. i want to start a revolution. but like i said, i can only arrange flowers.

break

my infofast was incredible. no tv, no news, no books, no mags, no nothin' for a week. and it was a really nice break. in fact, i sort of forgot to check in again after the week was up (sorry anne). needless to say, i enjoyed my free time. i actually slowed down and began to really think about how i wanted to spend my time. my favorite new past-time...watching avery sleep. i had always heard people talk about watching their babies sleep and i secrectly thought, "that sounds like a perfect waste of time, shouldn't you be getting stuff done?? don't you have a LIFE??" well, it is heaven. watching him sleep. and what's even better is watching BOTH my boys fast asleep...and so, after a week of living my own life, instead of being told what to care about, i finally found my own newsworthy story. and it was right here all along.

tmi

we had an interesting conversation the other night on paige's back porch. we talked about info. that is information for short. well, we got to talking about where we get our info., how we get our info. (print, web, t.v.) and how there is just way too much bad info. out there. we talked about how the media and context of our info. is so severely biased. and that we're bombarded daily with news and info. that other people think is important. but can we believe everything we see, read or hear? and is there just too much information?

what would it be like if we got our info. from our life experiences? what would it be like if people walked outside to check the weather rather than checking the local forcast? what would it have been like to learn about breastfeeding first hand, from other mothers rather than having to read a book? what if we all learned about the world from expereiencing it, rather than living vicariously through the info. we get on the nightly news, or in the paper?

then i started thinking about where i get MY info. there's the ellen show, and then the View (which i consider my "news" intake for the day). then there is the blog world, lots of info. to weed through there. and can't forget the monthly subscriptions: Dwell, Mothering, The Sun, Cookie. and, not to mention the 4 books i'm currently reading: Operating Instructions, The 7 daughters of Eve, Let my People go Surfiing, and Tracks. and of course, i balance all this out with the REAL source: MPR. But, with all this info., am I any better off? am i more informed? or am i just living less?

i think it's about time to get things straight. for myself.

in efforts to figure this out i'm going to challange myself to stop the info. i'm going for a WEEK, yes, a whole week without picking up a book, a magazine or turning on the tv (oh, and no blogs either) to see how well i can function in today's world without buying into the info. what will life be like without the info? i might just have to start thinking for myself (now that's a scary thought). i'll let you know how it goes. oh, and if anyone wants to join me, feel free. it may just be liberating!

how many signs does it take to get to the center of my tootsie pop?

i'm asking for signs. signs that will bring me to the center of myself. signs that will show me which direction to go. signs that encourage me, that inspire me, that invite me to look at my life differently. i want a sign. I NEED a sign. but how many signs will it take???

so far i've received 4.

4! you may ask yourself, isn't that enough? well, yes, for a normal person. but i am NOT a normal person. and i keep asking myself how many signs it will take. and also, how do i know when i get a sign. and what if i am missing the signs. afterall, i do need to find the center of my tootsie pop.

happy birthday Amber!

this time last year i was in thailand. and i missed my sister's birthday. i wanted to talk to her so bad it hurt. i wanted to talk to anyone back home. anyone to remind me of the life that existed there. to escape for a moment what i was seeing here.

it feels like a lifetime ago... yet i remember that night in perfect detail. walking around that whole island trying to find a phone that worked. my feet hurt from my flip flops and they were filthy from walking the dirty sidewalks and through the puddles because it had rained so hard all afternoon. and trying and trying the phones, but none of them worked. and jana just kept saying, "that's thailand." and i just kept wanting to scream, "how fucked up is that! if you are going to bother putting up phones and selling phone cards then, why don't you have phone lines?" and finally just giving up cause my feet hurt and my throat hurt from choking back tears.

and now looking back, thinking about how absurd it is to have phone lines across oceans. and people in the mountains selling pillows with stories on them to people like me who come home and put them on pillows that sit on nice couches. and what kind of world can this be i keep wondering? but, another year passes. and measuring my life in years is getting harder and harder to do because of all i've seen and heard and know. but a life is not only measured in years. luckily.

so, my sister is a another year older today. and the truth is, love transcends oceans....

lota

"It's Lota. rhymes with Minnesota," she says with a chuckle after an hour of visiting with her. by now it's 7:30 and we were supposed to meet friends at the pool by 6:30. but walking down 4th street we got side tracked by a woman outside her house watering the peonies. but not just any woman. and not just any house.

it's the house matt and i have coveted ever since we started looking for houses here 3 years ago. it's a sweet, low-slung, mid-century gem, tucked amongst the victorian mansions of the east side. it's car-port, slanted roof-line and vertical cedar-siding caught our eye immediately. and so did lota. i remember when we first saw her. she was outside in her garden, it was a hot summer day, much like today. but we didn't have the courage to stop then (we weren't locals yet).

but today, walking with our stroller, feeling very local, we meandered through the east side on our way to the pool. we found ourselves instinctively walking down 4th, to see our favorite house. and there she was. all 5 feet of her. not feeling shy at all we told her we loved her home and asked if she could tell us a bit about it.

lota moved in with her husband in the summer of 1961. they bought the lot for $1200 and had a local architect design the house. his name was bob warn, and he was a student of frank lloyd wright. she said it caused quite a stir in the neighborhood, but she never did care what people thought, she said.

i liked her immediately. lota. she was a spit fire i could tell. and she was 89. we talked a a bit more and then, just as we were about to start our good-byes, she did something incredible...she invited us in! wow, what an honor we told her. "i can sense something about you two," she told us. "a lot of people stop and ask about the house, but i can tell you're really interested. wait here i have to go 'round and unlock it." and from the moment we entered until we left we heard the most incredible stories. what a gift it was to go through this woman's home with her and have her share the intimate details of her life. we just kept looking at eachother in awe as she showed us around. not only at the house, but at lota.

and as we stood in the doorway to leave, she told us how after her husband died that dozens of realtors had called to see if she would be selling. "i was polite at first, but then i started to get really agitated. they are going to have to carry me out of here--in a casket" she finally told them.

and i guess that's the lesson of lota. seeing the humaness behind the house. i have to be honest. the thought had crossed my mind years ago, when we first spotted the house and the "little old lady" outside in the garden. you can see where this is going.

i used to really love this house. but now i love lota. in fact, i'm going to have coffee with her again real soon. she may have the best house in town, but it's her, lota, that i really want to live in.

Happy Anniversary!

here's a little kiss
for my little sis
who got married a year ago...








all i can say is...wow!

sleeping in the grass

how do you measure summer?

is it possible to measure summer? some people measure summer in t-ball games, in fish caught, or in trips to the lake. others measure summer in BBQ's, in shave-ices, or in country fairs. some measure summer in fresh tomatos, in lemonade stands, or even in mojitos.

i measure summer in tan lines....and seeing that i already have a flip-flop line on my feet (and it's not even june), i have a feeling this is going to be a VERY good summer.

is it possible to measure summer? if so, how do YOU measure summer?

things i've learned

so, Avery is 5 weeks old today. and it's incredible the things i've learned from this

little teacher

and not just the stuff they don't tell you about, or the stuff other mothers DON'T talk about. like the extremely sore nipples, the leaking boobs, the times when i'm alone with him and don't know where to put him while i'm pooping. and the days when i don't even get a chance to poop! or eat for that matter. or how much HE'LL eat. which is CONSTANTLY! or how milk drips into the creases of his fat little neck and begins to smell sour. and how you really use burt's bees lotion to cover up the sour milk neck smell and NOT for dry skin. and how unglamorous motherhood really is, despite everything i've seen and read in PEOPLE magazine.

and then there are the things that people DO talk about, but you somehow think YOU'LL be different. like the not sleeping. and the fatigue. and the "letting yourself go." and how you have trouble concentrating. and how you sort of forget about everything else in the world. or that there even is a world outside of the two of you. and how not a second goes by anymore that i don't think (i.e. worry) about him. and how my life is not really my own anymore. and how little you can get done in a day. other than just contributing to his growing "weight problem." oh, and did i mention the not sleeping?

and then there are the things that i wasn't AT ALL prepared for. like the way his little eyes search my face and make me melt. or the way his little mouth opens up when he's hungry and he looks like a little bird. and how i can't stop kissing him. and kissing him. and kissing him. and how he feels in the croock of my arm at night in bed. and how his warm little body nestles into me and my heart literally swells with love. and how the thought of losing him (god forbid) makes me break into a million pieces. or how surreal it feels to see matt holding him. and the pride i feel as i watch him grow, and smile and laugh...and get to know everyone that loves him. like cousin Charlie, who took a swing in the hammock and tickled his little toes. or that despite all the ways my life has changed, i really couldn't imagine it any other way. and wouldn't want to go back to the way it was.

and despite all the things i didn't know, the world IS beginning to make sense.


avery's in the hammock!

paige is in the hammock

i thought i would find the best hammock photos for my next few posts.

this was last year. it was may. i had just graduated. and we had all celebrated (with a keg in the garage) the night before.

so, the morning after the party, as we all gathered talking and laughing and nursing our hangovers....we couldn't help but wonder, where is paige?

well, paige was in the hammock. and as one would imagine based on this photo, she had spent last night in the

hamper

yes, paige was definitley in the hamper! i mean hammock.

nice shark

anne tells me it's the way of the future...to post videos on blogs. anne did it. tia's been doing it. and now paige has even posted a video! so, here goes! this may be my all time favorite video. charlie was only 3. it was the last day of July. it was hot, very hot. but we were in the shade, enveloped in a hammock where we spent all afternoon "fishing" for croppies, walleys, and even a shark. i'll never forget this day. and i can't believe how much fun i'm going to have with a boy!!!






nice shark from amandapettis

gravity

floating in the water, in this pool where we had intended to give birth, i contemplated the beauty of it all. Avery wasn't born into this water, but today, soaking in the warmth of the sun his mother was reborn. and nothing, not even gravity could have pulled me back down to earth.

pea pod part two

part three.....

part four.....

and he's just getting started.

pea pod

today i told rose ann i'd come out to the farm and help her plant peas. just imagine a little seed entering the earth and becoming this in a few short months....




but i don't think i'll make it out to the farm today. you see, i'm in labor. and yes, i'm blogging about it. just imagine my little pea will be leaving my pod very soon. planted many months ago, it's now ready. wish me and my sweet pea luck...

ultimate sacrifice

i couldn't help but write about the wise words of friends after my last post. not only did people comment on my blog, but my beautiful friends who are mothers called, emailed and even sent notes. a dear friend from oregon wrote to my question: "Is this what life is going to be like from here on out?" Answer: Yes. And no. Ultimate sacrifice meets unbelievable joy. Loss of freedom meets incredible peace. Tears meet laughter. Welcome to motherhood, Amanda.

i cried. i guess these hormones and emotinality also come along with motherhood. i cry a lot these days. sometimes my new found pregnancy giggle becomes so out of control that i begin to cry. and sometimes when i look at matt and think about him holding our baby i begin to cry. and yesterday, on Easter Sunday, i cried in church. right there, while singing "amazing love."

love is amazing. but it is a sacrifce. and then i got to thinking about the "ultimate sacrifice." you know the one. God sending her only son to die for my sins. and i don't even know if i believe in all that. but for some reason yesterday i began to wonder what it would be like if i did believe. with all my heart and all my soul. i closed my eyes and i thought of Jesus on the cross and for the first time understood in a whole new way how Mary must have felt. the sacrifice she made. in the name of love.

but when i'm in church i always wonder why we bow our heads in prayer. why don't we look up? i found myself in a room full of people looking down while i raised my head to meet a ray of sunshine that came right down to greet me as i prayed. mostly i feel unusual or different in times like these. like somehow everyone around me knows i haven't truely given myself over. have not accepted Jesus as my savior. but we all need salvation. we all need to believe.
but in what?

lately, with this life growing inside of me, i find myself closer and closer to figuring this out. and by "this" i mean life. i believe it is all about love. and for the first time in my entire 29 years of life i am finally experiencing unbelievable joy! do you know what that feels like?! so don't worry about me. i may be making the ultimate sacrifice, but i believe, with all my heart and all my soul that it will make way for even more unbelievable joy and love. amen!

slight crisis

there is a slight crisis happening...i am no longer single (going on 6 years now) and i'm soon going to be a mother-shit!
how did this happen?!

the crisis arises out of several events that have happened this week.

day one.

an invitation to take the train to milwaukee to hang out with my girls. "sorry, can't go. may go into labor right there on the hard vinyl seats." get a call from said girl. she wore satin gloves on the train. she met a boy. he was on his way to chicago. he rolled a cigarette just outside of milwaukee. she gets off there. he gets off too, to smoke. she says goodbye, starts to walk away, then sets her suitcase down, turns around and goes back to kiss him. she kisses him on the lips, then turns and walks away. she calls to tell me all the juicy details. she said it was the gloves.

meanwhile....back at the homefront.....i'm checking her back door to make sure it's locked. it is. i walk (correction: waddle) home in the rain.

day two.

get a call from another good friend. i answer excited. "hello!" there's a lot of background noise, but i manage to hear, "meet us at the stardust in 20 minutes." i think. hmmmmm. "did you call the wrong amanda?" i ask. "oh my god......" laughing histarically. "i'm in new york. i'm trying to get a hold of amanda _________. we're out here taking classes at the broadway dance center. we're done for the evening and going out. but anyway, how are you?" "great" i lie. what i'm really thinking is just great, another friend i could be with. you know i used to be a dancer. in a former life. at least it feels that way. i used to fly off to ocean city and new york to dance and perform. i remember those trips. what happened? "well, i really should get a hold of her so she can meet us." "have fun" i lie.

meanwhile....i'm sitting on my couch watching oprah. suddenly she's not that inspiring.

day three.

this time, i make the call to yet another friend. she's going to see

lisa ling

speak. she says she may be able to get another ticket. "can't" I say. i'm driving south on I35, heading to the farm. have to clean the horse barn. some guy is getting a divorce and needs a place to live. she meets lisa and gets her picture taken. she is having the time of her life.

meanwhile....i'm scrubbing shit off the floors and mildew off the walls.

is this what life is going to be like from here on out?! can anyone else see the crisis here?! all i have to say is this baby better be really damn cute.

thin mints

there is nothing thin about me these days. and at the rate i'm burning through the 7 boxes of girl scout cookies i ordered months ago, i'm bound to be even less thin. but dang, do i love those thin mints!

matt prefers the samoas (i did order him a couple of boxes) but the rest are all mine....thin mints.

i love how they crunch and crumble in my mouth. how the waxy chocolate coating doesn't melt in your fingers as you grip them. and the best part is, they come in convenient one-serving sleeves. that's right, i view the long roll of cellophane-wrapped cookies as a single serving. and if you try to tell me otherwise, i might just kill you.

i'm pregnant, hungry, and in LOVE with thin mints.

only 9 weeks until....

1. i can wear pants that zip
2. i can sleep on my stomach
3. i can drink a few (extra) glasses of wine
4. i can do forward fold in yoga class
5. i can put on my socks with ease
6. i can go for a run
7. i can wear a belt
8. i can quit wondering...boy or girl?
9. i can finally meet my baby!

round

one of my favorite photographers talked about her life in a recent PBS special. she is a strong woman who took photographs that changed the world. she was a hippie, a feminist, and a widow (she documented the loss of her lover susan through photographs). she is annie leibovitz, and she recently added the title "mother" to her incredible life story. the photographs she takes of her children are incredible. but her words are as powerful as her images. in talking about becoming a mother she stated, "my world used to be flat, but now it's round."

i understand now annie, my world is definitely becoming ROUND...

13 counts

it's winter solstice. the darkest day of the year. today is also the day the marines involved in the Hadetha scandal were charged with murder. 13 counts.

i'm so confused how men who go to war can be trained to kill, then, are left to navigate the messiness of who is friend and who is foe. after months at war, does everyone become a foe?

civilians are killed everyday in this war. it's ridiculous to believe that ONLY our enemies are being killed. but we don't call that murder. we call that spreading democracy.

does anyone else see how fucked up this is? that men at war are being charged with murder? isn't that the point of war? isn't it a bit righteous of our own governement to punish these men who they say got it wrong, when they got this whole damn war wrong.

a good friend of mine, a solider in iraq, ends every email with this message.

"People sleep peacefully at night because brave men stand ready to do violence on their behalf- George Orwell" i don't sleep peacefully and i don't want ANYONE to do ANY violence on my behalf.

so does that make him my friend or my foe?

a good thing

today is the last harvest at the farm. the zucchine vines are dying back, the broccoli is flowering out, and the cucumbers are slowly coming to an end.

an end.

somehow this ending stirs me. but i'm ready. to be honest, for the first time in my life, i'm ready for winter. maybe i'm tired of the pace of summer, the picking, the weeding, the canning. all of the energy it takes for one to grow their own food. but now, i can slow down. i can curl up on the cold morinings and not have to go out into the wet fields with my buckets and boots.
i can simply heat up the soups i've been storing and i can feel good. good about what lies ahead.

i know that if i lived a hundred years ago, the work would not be over. no, i'd be chopping wood, making bread, maybe even killing the chickens.

but of course it's not a 100 years ago and I'm a vegetarian so that's it. my work here is done. an ending is sometimes a good thing.

one small step

did anyone watch ms. curic become the first female to anchor the national news on tuesday?

i did.

i sang for joy when i heard her open the CBS evening news, the news i grew up on. i almost peed my pants. but at the end of her broadcast, she announced she was not going to come up with her own sign off, her goodbye to her fellow americans. she decided to leave it up to us. we can tell her how we think she should sign off by simply going to CBS.com and typing in what we think ms. curic should say. because obviously she cannot use her own words, her own voice. rather, she left it up to us.

Rather would never have done that. He knew what he wanted to say.

this may be one small step. but it may just be one giant leap backwards for womankind.

no bar code

for those of you HAVEN'T stopped checking my blog....

sorry it's been a few months. it's just that summertime seems to get away from me every year. by the time it's nearly septemeber i finally start to get my summertime groove on. and really summertime and blogging just don't seem to go together the way pepper jelly and cream cheese do. or the way cucumbers and dill meld together to make the most incredible pickles. which brings me to the "meat" of my post.

food.

working on a CSA (community supproted agriculture) farm these past two summers has completely changed the way i view food. recently, i learned that the CSA movement was started in Japan, by housewives who wanted to know where their food was coming from. so they made arrangements with the farmers themseleves. they call this arrangement teikei, or
"food with a farmers face on it."

i understand this translation now. how my energy, my sweat, and my care is in each vegetable i tend to. i understand this more fully everyday. and i realize that this is an important job. feeding 40 families is one of the most rewarding things i have ever done in my life. and to think everyone used to eat this way, live this way.

and then i begin to wonder where it all went wrong, where we lost our way. i wonder why food travels 1,500 miles before we eat it. why we export american grown food, only to import the exact same thing? and why the art of subsistance, of growing food, of preserving food, of putting food by for the winter has been lost?

and i wonder...what would it be like if all our food came with a
farmer's face on it instead of a barcode?