Back in the saddle

The cross drafts overnight were dazzling. Icy. It was so nice after the one-step-below-a-heat-wave that we had here for over a week.

As Barbra's visit/my vacation-from-life recedes in the rear view, I am settling back into the home rhythm. Tonight we host common meal. It will be a potluck as it is the fifth Wednesday of the month.

I was happy to have some strands come together organically as I lay in bed last night thinking about what to make. I landed on the thought: what do we have? Having picked up our farm share yesterday evening, we have quite a bit.

Zucchini, scallion, pastured eggs, fresh dill: a frittata.

Mission accomplished, I fell asleep. Shivering in summer bedclothes...gratefully letting go of my soul to be buffeted about for the night.

A funny thing happened this morning. I figured I'd find a zucchini frittata recipe somewhere in our cookbooks. I flipped through a few and then discovered a book I've wanted for a long time. A book I'd forgotten I'd acquired in the interim. The joys of having an ADDish mind: the rediscovery of things forgotten about.

And, indeed, it was in this book that I found a recipe for zucchini frittata.

I'm off to clean and cook. What are you doing?

pretty-in-pink pickled radishes.

spinach scramble with cayenne and black peppers.

iced tea in between guzzles.

dill and stock in a crooked kitchen.

pre-prep.

my newest baby.

Musing right now

In 420 characters or less (that's a Facebook reference):

health and fitness in my 40s and beyond...dancing amongst the fine lines between shuttin' it down and zenning out feeling less and less optimal.

Slideshow of B's visit

I didn't take a lot of pics, but here they are.

It's friggin' hot!

It's so hot and humid that I am air conditioning each room prior to cleaning it. I am presently waiting for the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom to cool down.

Auntie Barbra is coming for a visit. She arrives tonight from Oaktown. I am very happy :-)

Not everyone can do it, and not everyone would do it, but Barbra visits me/us, regularly, wherever we are. This time around she decided she wanted to enjoy some east coast summer warmth (she usually comes in the Fall or Spring) and boy is she going to get some. Temps are predicted to go up into the 90s this week.

We're doing an us-only overnight in Manhattan Thursday to Friday. My mom is away so we'll crash at her place. We're thinking MoMA, Central Park, The High Line, and a movie.

B and I both enjoy food, and we're planning on eating well. We're having lunch one day at Del Posto and dinner one night at Annisa, both restaurants I have wanted to try for years. (I've been saving my birthday money, holding out for something really special and dinner at Annisa will be :-)

I'd also like to hit Doughnut Plant (though truth be told my body is changing somewhat being mostly GFCF, and more recently, meat-free, and a doughnut doesn't have the same allure it did even a couple of weeks ago...) and B would love to find a yummy gelato place.

Making myself drool here.

It's so quiet here right now. Cap took the kids to the comic store so Gem could play the Pokemon trading card game with other kids (for the very first time). Sag tagged along to watch.

Back to cleaning for me. Peace and love.

Solstice

Celebrate the Light. The Sun. Be happy...know that you are part of One.

Had my eyes opened a bit last night talking to Andrea after watching True Blood together. Superego. A different lens through which to see/be seen.

Connected to multi-thinking. The cacophony in my head.

"Shut the fuck up, superego." (smile)

Old habits die hard. The Solstice feels like a good time to turn a new leaf...or rather, turn the leaf over again. I've been setting my alarm for 7am. While the rest sleep, the air is clearer and I can "do" with more ease, knocking "should" on its ass.

At the moment, the morning breeze washes over me and I feel adored. Yet it's a little lonely, being so alone. A familiar echo.

Revel in the replete. Good or bad, today is the day and the arc back to Winter begins again.

Comfort food

Double-toasted Gluten-Free Pantry French bread sandwich bread (made in the bread machine), garlic scape pesto-mayo, the season's first spinach, wilted, and pastured eggs, poached.

As I made myself food this morning, I realized that in order to practice Qigong more (which I truly want to do), I should transfer it in for cooking. Switching more definitively to Dragon's Way food would help this process.

The anxiety bubbles beneath the surface. Vinny encouraged me to come in for a booster session today, but I am car-less and feel substantial inertia. He's off next week so I will not see him for two weeks for the first time in a long time.

An opportunity to push myself, for sure.

I'll close my eyes

I ♥ food

post-birth day cupcake.

brown sauce made from roasted chicken drippings.

garlic from the Dutch oven.

steeping decaf green tea with agave.

garlic scape pesto.

the season's first kale.

leftover love in a bowl.

peanut butter-banana-chocolate chip ice cream.

peace on the rocks.

I'll be posting more deets on the GFCF blog in the days to come. Right now, I am savoring abundant well-being...experiencing such goodness and love. Someone once told me my posts always make her hungry. I hope my posts can sometimes feed you, too.

A is for Anxiety

Last night I went to bed earlier than usual. I was tired (have been for a long time), it was a quiet night (the kids were mellow, Cap was out at back-to-back meetings), and somehow, my body was more directive than my mind.

Over an hour after I lay down, I was still awake. Not only that, I was experiencing what I could only assume were symptoms of anxiety.

I could faintly recognize what I was feeling. There was some muscle memory of it from long ago. But, it was perplexing because I wasn't aware of what could have brought it all on. And, boy, I thought: there is such truth to the desire to want to speak only to someone who has gone through what you are going through when it comes to something like this.

The worst feeling was the emptiness full of cool, endless rushing whooshing through me from right under my ribs to down there. Yeah, I felt very vulnerable. It was like being on one of those amusement rides where the bottom drops out from under you and you fall. Except last night, the fall was endless. It wouldn't stop. It was that unnerving ticklish feeling. It was that being at the whim of gravitational force feeling. It was feeling completely not at home in the supposed comfort of your own bed.

I was at a loss. I tried rubbing all the soothing points I could think of, breathing deeply, and, once he was home, letting Cap in on what was going on. Nothing helped completely.

I was lucky though. Because my mind was fairly clear (though I longed for simply passing out into the bliss of sleep), I remembered that Vinny had worked on some new spots yesterday afternoon. The first one really hurt. He continued on to some other ones and was surprised they didn't hurt, too, and surmised that the first one had opened up the others.

I don't know if that first spot was a gateway or not, but it certainly let loose some stuff. My massage therapist used to tell me to drink lots of water after a massage to help any released toxins to flush out quicker and more thoroughly. I wonder what the equivalent is for Qi?

I noticed that my body, particularly my back, felt really tight. I pulled an old trick out of the bag and got up and rolled around on a tennis ball. You can do this against a wall, as well. It is a simple, cheap and awesome way to release tight spots in your back. While I was rolling I was reminded of a big white back roller I used to have (bought from my massage therapist in Sacramento) and called to to Cap to see if we still had it.

We did (see photo :-)

I massaged myself thusly (Cap had worked on me with the little wooden knobby thing prior...he was a big help throughout all this) for awhile. And felt relief being to flood my system.

We watched an episode of Party Down and went to bed. I tried to ignore my worry that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Luckily, I did drift off, not too long after going back to bed.

I began this post yesterday. Two days out, I'm home while Cap and the kids travel North to visit family. I'm giving myself (with Cap's blessing) the gift of a personal retreat. I feel very lucky to have this opportunity to rest and recharge. Clearly, I need it...but who doesn't?

I almost cried watching the kids drive off, but within an hour, I was giddy with the freedom of not having to answer to anyone but myself...till Saturday night.

I love not having an agenda. I love this elastic feeling of time. That it will accommodate whatever I want. There aren't meals to be considered, kids to monitor, messes that appear that only I notice (and therefore I clean or let it bug the shit out of me)...no interruptions of thoughts, actions, flow...I move through these rooms so in the present now that I am alone.

It's very interesting. My mind is pretty much only on what I am doing or thinking or feeling. There's no static, all of a sudden. I hadn't realized how much this denouncer of multi-tasking was mentally multi-tasking all along.

I'm well on my way towards living life without multi-tasking...now to think about ways to unhitch my mind from this way of being, too.

For now, I'm going to play my music in the kitchen and twirl and gyrate while I cook up some CSA greens and the 'goo' for the peanut butter-banana ice cream I'm making myself tomorrow :-)

When's the last time you had a solo staycation? I recommend going for it. It feels great.

The Soloist

Cap dropped the kids off at the home of friends and went to read on his own. I had another night of not enough sleep and woke with that hit-by-truck feeling. Low pressure systems, peri-menopausal stuff, seasonal transition...it's getting me down just a bit.

Zoned out and watched 3 movies today: State of Play, The Mothman Prophecies and The Soloist. For 'free' fare (of course we do pay for our cable package) they were watchable. The Soloist edged out the other two. I liked it quite a bit. Love the Downey Jr. :-)

Knitting mojo returns

A new knitting post!

Check it out

I posted a piece about Gem/parenting over at Every Day Eclectic.

He's 10

Naima

One of my picks for the June playlist. What are you listening to these days?

This week

Cap's coming home today (we're heading out to the airport in about 30 minutes). And Gem turns 10 on Thursday.

I don't think I'll be posting much this week. (Though this type of thing is often hard for me to predict...)

I am also thinking about shifting the paradigm a bit and drastically reducing my screen time. A scary thought which makes it already one worth trying. Scary in that light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel way...not in that dysfunctional self-sabotaging way...

This would probably not change things here much, actually.

Anyway, I am looking forward to a week of (re)connecting and feeling alive and well by and through what I am doing. I hope you have a wonderful and happy week.

Peace and love.

FYI

I posted a piece about Gem over at Every Day Eclectic which may be of interest. In case you're not a regular reader of that blog, I just wanted to let you know.

How does your garden grow?

I have grown to appreciate this hydrangea bush, and hydrangeas in general, so much since moving to NJ. I love photographing it through the seasons.

I don't know the name of these plants. But, my mother likes them and I think they are common in Japan. The first bloom came and went without photos. I noticed today there appears to be a second blooming on the way.



I think of these as wild roses though I don't know if they actually are. They bloom nestled in and atop the wisteria tree. They seem quite healthy in their symbiosis. The last shot gives you an idea of how hazy, hot and humid it has been the past few days.

Here's my Summer 2010 crop: cherry tomatoes. The two on the right I bought as little plantlings at a local garden's annual plant sale. I thought the one in the middle was a goner to the last frost (in latter May...it's been a crazy Spring here), but it's a survivor. If you embiggen the photo you can see how it's made its comeback.

The tomato plant on the left is a gift from Silke. I repotted it this morning and watered the bunch. I was happy to see some little green tomatoes. They are doing well despite my sometime gardening self.

I had a vague desire to grow herbs this Summer, but it hasn't happened yet.




I got these Cosmos at the same plant sale. Colorful annuals that make me smile.

My downstairs neighbor is planting some of these here and there. I don't know what they are, but I really like them.

I'm keeping it small and doable this Summer. How about you other northern hemisphere-ers?

How does your garden grow?

Ending busy

I don't like today's NaBloPoMo writing prompt. So I'm not going to do it.

I'm not inspired to write about anything. So, rather than busy myself with nothing, I leave you with a link to a piece at Zen Habits that was right up my alley this morning:

http://zenhabits.net/end-of-busy/

We seem to be harboring a low level GI bug. Social commitments are being slashed right and left.

We will run 3 errands this morning, cut down from 4. And have a quiet day at home.

The Scripps Spelling Bee is today, I hope to catch some of it (I'm recording it...geek alert!)

The kids have Night At The Museum from Netflix, I have episodes of Dr. Who. I'm planning on making baked ziti inspired pasta for dinner tonight (with ground turkey for the kids, homemade pesto for me :-)

Slow and steady for today, slow and steady.

Define freedom

I almost opted out of this writing prompt. To attempt to define "freedom" seems oxymoronic.

But, clear as a bell, something came to mind.

Access.

To me, freedom is having access. All us creatures are born with biological imperatives. And, like barnacles, various desires attach to us as we live and breathe. We convert thoughts and feelings into intentions and dreams.

But all of it has little to no meaning without an uncluttered path between point A and point B whether it be a synapse in the brain or wheelchair access or a heart unfettered by prejudice.

Next time you feel your freedom constrained, next time you find yourself judging someone else for (not) doing something, consider access. If you can identify what is blocking the path, for you and for others, I believe it will take all of us one step closer to ultimate freedom.

Sing it

Favorite poem

I discovered last night, after posting, that there's a website devoted to NaBloPoMo. And there are suggested daily writing prompts. Which is handy because I was wondering what the heck I was going to write about everyday.

Today's prompt is to write about your favorite poem. And if you don't have one, to write about why.

My earliest full memory of a poem is Casey At The Bat. I was in fourth grade, or maybe sixth, and our class had to memorize the poem and recite it during a school assembly. I did not enjoy the exercise. Nor did I connect with the material. But, there were sparks. Which is why I remember it so clearly.

I love taking part in choral expression. I've known this about myself in respect to singing, but until now, I didn't realize the same goes for recitation. The idea extends itself and I recognize my affection for chanting in a group.

In the thirty plus years since Casey At The Bat touched my life, I have not sought out poetry, for the most part. But, poems (and poets) have found me.

One such poem is Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver. I tend to like poems, songs and non-fiction writing that carry on its shoulders the mantle of the natural world. It's a vital point of arrival and departure. Of connection.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Washing the kitchen floor

I washed the kitchen floor this weekend for the first time in a long time. The last time was over a year ago, I'm sure.

(I am not a "good housekeeper". When I was a kid in the 1970s, my mom had a subscription to "Good Housekeeping" magazine. I remember feeling derisive about the whole idea of "good housekeeping" from a fairly young age. Things are different now.)

My mom spent some time with us in our place on Sargent Street after Gem was born. She was a huge help in every way. One of the things she did was get down on her hands and knees and wash all the floors with a washcloth.

Honestly, it comes as a shock to me often enough, so it will likely shock others how often I don't think of the obvious. My understanding of the practical world is a series of blind spots waiting to be filled in by images others present to me.

(I am a very intuitive person and tend to "see" things via connections invisible to the naked eye.)

Until I saw my mom in my apartment wiping down the hardwood floors with a damp washcloth, it just never occurred to me to clean my home that way.

(I like gadgets quite a bit, but I am also drawn to the inherent simplicity of not "reinventing the wheel", especially when money/advertising/consumer culture becomes involved. At that point my dance card had names on it like: broom, Swiffer and vacuum cleaner. With notes penciled in next to those names such as: not effective against dust bunnies, novelty wore off fast and too loud and heavy.)

Thanks to mom that day, technically, I no longer had a blind spot, but my mind layered another one right over it. This feminist princess was not getting down on the floor. Rationales blossomed from air.

(I have a long term partner, a man, who was raised by a feminist alongside a feminist sibling. He has no qualms about doing housework. Unfortunately, for me, his tolerance for dust and disarray equaled mine.)

Gem is turning 10 next week.

I've made some slow progress, at times the creaking of the rusted gears has been deafening, and over the weekend I got down on my hands and knees and wiped down the kitchen floor.

We're in a different apartment, two states removed. There's wall-to-wall carpeting which I am trying to restore (from damage inflicted by us) with the help of my Dyson, surface after surface get dusty pretty quickly and I intend to model "good housekeeping" as best as I can to two growing boys and grown man.

As I was back down on my knees in the kitchen this morning (once a gear clicks into place I sometimes become hyperfocused...I find gestalt irresistible), I saw Cinderella in my mind. Disney Cinderella. And I realized that a part of me equated housework as a prerequisite to the arrival of my Prince who would, not necessarily sweep me away, but signal the arrival of what's next.

And if the drudgery of housework was what came before what happened next, then it would not exist in the ever after. Of course, in my "before" my mom did most everything. And, I hit my "what's next" in very early adulthood (Cap and I got together in 1989). I left all thoughts of housework behind quite a bit before I was done thinking all my grown up thoughts.

So here I am at age 44, beginning to put some basic blocks of thought and action together. Focusing awareness and intention from within, outward. It's never too late.


(This is me "just doing (it)" NaBloPoMo. Thanks for the inspiration, Monica.)