It’s holiday time again. Again, people! God. Every corndog thing people have said to me about things accelerating as you get older, etc and blahblahblah - it’s true.

NC’s pretty sure that overwork is the reason I haven’t said much here lately. While I’ve had plenty of work - which I still quite enjoy, by the way - that isn’t why, exactly.

Oh - should I expound? Does anyone still even read what I write here? Hm. Just really thinky, really. The economic news makes me grouchy on several levels, but it’s tempered with the desire to DO MORE. Do more in the neighborhood, do more to get information to more people, try harder to get away from the machines for awhile and just take care of business. I don’t handle holding patterns very well, unfortunately, and while I’ve learned to deal with it on the job (more or less), my personal life is another thing entirely. This reconnecting with Real Live friends, neighbors, and kindred spirits and putting some ideas out into the community at large (and then having face-to-face dialogue come out of it) has been nothing short of awesome. It’s good to share and be shared with, and from where I’m standing (not sitting! So much sitting!) that means both doing the tappity-tap and dealing with the risks involved with sharing face-to-face.

[For the tappity-tap, I can often be found updating in bursts at Twitter. I’m Wordydiva.]

Getting through the next two years will require a certain amount of discipline, though, and I lack it. I’ve gotten comfortable, and that makes me uncomfortable. I get tired of having the bootstraps conversation with myself; I need new ways of motivating myself that don’t involve self-hatred or ulterior motives. Should be interesting.

So… go bake these, OK? They make a questionable day better. Just ask Kelly.

Mom’s Cinnamon Rolls 4 1/2 - 5 C (unbleached/organic, if you can) flour 4 t active dry yeast (2 packages) 3/4 C milk 1/2 C water 1/2 C vegetable shortening (part butter — also, I use Spectrum’s non-hydrogenated shortening — it works very well) 1/2 C sugar (or rapadura, or ecocrystals, or turbinado) 1 t salt 2 eggs, room temperature Measure 1 3/4 C flour into yr large mixer bowl. Add yeast and blend. Measure milk, water, shortening, sugar, and salt into saucepan. Blend. Heat until warm (about 120-130 degrees F). Pour into flour/yeast mixture. Add eggs. Beat 30 seconds with electric mixer at low speed, scraping bowl constantly. Beat 3 more minutes at high speed, scraping bowl occasionally. Stop mixer. Gradually stir in more flour (by hand) to make a soft dough. It will be rather sticky. Knead on lightly floured board or counter until nice an’ smooth, about 5-10 minutes (it’s good exercise!!). Cover with bowl or pan and let rest for 20 minutes. Shape as desired. Here’s what I do: I cut the hunk of dough in half, roll out one of the halves until it’s flat and rectangular and large, brush it with butter, sprinkle it with a cinnamon/sugar mixture, add raisins (sometimes), and roll it up. Then I cut off the ends and cut the rest into 1″ wide slices. They usually fit nicely into 2 9″ greased cake pans. Then I put them in a warm oven (I usually warm it to 200 degrees for a few minutes, then turn it off) with a pan of hot water under them and a foil tent over them and let them rise for 40 minutes, or until doubled. Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes. You can ice these with powdered sugar icing after they’ve cooled off, but believe me when I tell you that they’re wonderful just plain and warm out of the oven. Cool them on a rack. When they’re cool, you can wrap them in foil, and freeze. Just warm them in a 250 oven for about 45 minutes and oooh baby! It’s like you just made ‘em. Enjoy them — the recipe is from a cookbook called Homemade Bread, published by the Farm Journal folks in 1969.

Someone turns 10 years old today. This girl baby…

… gave way to this girl child…

… in what seemed to be no time at all.

Happy birthday to my darling girl, my Bunny, my Pookah, my Pumpkin, my Lilly Belle.

Things just speed right along. I finally got some carrots:

Let’s see. Since I last wrote:

1. I gave up eating wheat. Not gluten (too difficult, and not sure celiac’s my problem), just wheat (plenty difficult all by itself). After eight days fully wheat-free (I forgot I had a pita chip misstep last Monday), I feel so much better that it’s a little embarrassing. I mean… it was that easy? I don’t want to be perceived as a picky eater/food fusser/dietary evangelizer, so I won’t talk much about what I’m not eating here. I will say I’m going to miss eating certain stuff, but it’s also awesome to feel awesome, and as it turns out… there are plenty of other things to eat. I think it’s more of a mindset than anything else, especially in terms of getting past convenience food and understanding one’s body’s signals regarding hunger, etc. So. There’s that.

2. A Momentous Event is happening this weekend. Common Ground - the humble little food co-op that, in 2005, gave me my start into the world of Working for Something You Believe In and Getting Paid For It, Even - has relocated and expanded and will be opening to the membership on Friday, with its doors swinging open to the public for the very first time on Saturday morning at 8 AM. OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS.

I have a lot of feelings surrounding this. Back in early 2005, right after we bought 909 (our current residence), Jeanne the Now-Texan and Then-Board Member encouraged me to apply for that Outreach Coordinator job at the co-op. I was hired, and that job paved the way for some major life changes (without it, or her, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today, I have no doubt) for me. But the job was hard sometimes, the co-op was struggling with getting from mere daydreaming to structured visioning to actual brick and mortar situation, etc. I left the job in mid-2006, but remained involved by joining the Board of Directors, and buckled in for a bumpy ride. Less than two years ago it seemed like things might have run their course and come to a not-so-happy ending, but in February of this year we found our future home (that’s Cody mopping - he now has a real job at Common Ground), and thanks to some fundraising derring-do, membership generosity, Board dedication, and management/staff tenacity and genius:

From this…

To this…

… in six months, y’all, when there were times we weren’t sure it was going to happen. And that last photo, taken August 16, looks NOTHING like what the store looks like today, which will look nothing like what the store will look like Friday at 5, when the doors are opened to members. Check out the custom-built checkout counter!

This is what true investment and buy-in - by a group of people - into a concept can do, even when the answer is often “no”, or the comment is “you guys must be crazy” (we heard both a lot). Yeah, I’m maudlin. What of it?

3. Uh. I’ve run out of steam. So, quickly:

a) Remember that awesome outdoor dinner I went to back in July at Prairie Fruits Farm and Creamery? They’re doing several more through October, and you can reserve your space at any of them online;

b) U of I students return in force on Thursday and I shamefully have not yet purchased a single school supply or article of clothing for either of my offspring and school starts a week from today;

c) the Le Creuset set from August 5 was gone by the time we had the cash to purchase it - oh well;

d) Art Mart is pulling, IMO, the best espresso shots in town right now, not to mention carrying select owly bits;

e) drinking wine with good friends under a full moon until 2 AM every so often is worth the revenge it exacts.

Next entry: an interview with the young author responsible for this:

It was quiet in space. The shuttlecraft was still. Berry lifted her hands carefully off of her ears. “Ocea? Destiny?” she said to her team. “Anything broken? Everyone alive?” Juniper sighed with relief, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Anyone else been in space before?” she asked. There was complete silence and Juniper moaned inwardly. Great. Berry and I are in charge - again. “OK, girls,” she said decisively, “it’s patrol time.”

The Wordy Diva family is available right now, today, this very second, for the (temporarily? I don’t know) low, low price of TEN BUCKS! You’ll get a slightly cleaned up version of Wordy Diva, the brand new Wordier Diva, and Lilly’s font, Li’l Diva, to use however you want! Cool fonts are indispensable for use in making flyers, doing zines, creating blog banners (see above, though I would never recommend any of my “banners” as examples of how things ought to be done, because… whoa), making menus for your awesome catering company, adding a little sass to yr reports at work, etc etc etc. Chank’s got everything you need to know right here.



[Full disclosure: Lilly gets a cut of the proceeds.]

I have a big pile of work on my desk at work, because ‘TIS THE SEASON and all that, but getting any done today was hard. I was consumed with worry for my daughter, who has been sporting a pretty decent fever for most of the last three days, plus juicy cough, plus general malaise (but a decent appetite). I got home from work today and decided to just haul her in to the doctor’s office (fondly known as “Inconvenient Care” at our house) because, well, she had pneumonia when she was a babe and she’s always had some restrictive airway action as a result, and while no one has diagnosed her officially with asthma, I worry about it when she gets sick. I have to be pretty worried about my kids to take them to the doctor, and even more so to accept the doctors’ prescriptions, if any. To actually purchase the drugs… ! So my daughter is on a couple of drugs and is doing better, which means that I might be able to sleep tonight. Which means that I might be able to get some work done tomorrow. Whee! In other news, I really want this Democratic primary season to be over. Let’s get this show on the road.

It was a weekend filled with spectacular misfires (involving, among other things, an altercation with a dog, pampering a feverish child, and a busted water pump) and even more spectacular weather. I got to spend some time in the yard - we cleaned up last year’s unholy mess, moved a literal truckload of compost into the garden beds, and I planted a few things. People, I salivate (I know, ew) at the thought of truly fresh food. The neighbors’ asparagus is up, my greens have sprouted, etc, and after a conversation with one of the Market growers, I think it’s going to be a decent start to the season even though he is, by his estimation, at least a week behind. It’s going to be awhile before I eat anything out of my own garden, so BRING IT, market vendors. So then I went in to work for a half day (when the kids are sick, Jim and I split the days) and everyone wanted me, just like the Billy Squier song says. I guess it IS that time of year, but heavens. I got home and was fretting about my girl child, grocery shopping, and general WHATEVER. I think I ate something for dinner with MSG in it because this is exactly how I feel afterward - crabby, puffy and needing everyone to do my bidding (with ensuing crabbiness when they do not). Farewell, endless Monday.

3. The Chrysler, Failures and Sparks (2003, Galaxy Gramophone in the US) Sweet, simple and not a little sinister, like nights must have been in the canyons of LA on the back side of the good times in the 60s. I hear this and I hear what it smells like before a thunderstorm, or what brains are thinking before they bestow weird dreams. Acoustic guitar and some well-placed piano laced with the singer’s nasal, of-a-different-era voice call to mind what Joe Henry might sound like after being shaken in a time machine, stirred by Scandinavian sensibility. Expansive thoughts from me, but to Cody it just reminds him of having the stomach flu, Failures & Sparks on repeat. #################### When we came home from vacation back in February, there were little scraps of yellow construction paper all over the floor. Mr. Teacups, our youngest cat who is prone to such behaviors, apparently taught himself how to read in our absence, for he had shredded the following, created by Lilly on the cats’ behalf (behalves?): ######################### My ex-boyfriend’s sister designs shoes Sign up to help the Great Sunflower Project (well, all except Femme, who can plant something more to her liking, if she wishes) Gene Lodgson is re-issuing his much loved and long out-of-print book Small Scale Grain Raising Muxtape is made of awesome - thanks, Audra

November 2, 1998 was the day a page was turned, a light was switched on, a door was opened. We brought our new daughter/sister home and began a brand-new family life, and while it was very, very good, it was also damned difficult at first. We had to adjust to being four instead of three, and I know Cody, who was six when Lilly was born, had a rough few months of it before the edges smoothed enough to allow for some big brotherhood to creep in. He remained in school for the rest of that school year and all of the next, but came home after second grade…… and another page was turned, a light switched on, a door opened. The five years that followed were, frankly, some of the best years of my life so far. [Way more fun than hanging out with rock bands, that’s for damn sure. Seriously.] When Cody left school, that’s when the real education of my adulthood began. I see those five years as the core formative period for our family - constant activity (though it wasn’t always about learning), constant togetherness (though it wasn’t always fun), constant struggles to make ends meet (don’t ask me how we managed, because I have no idea. Well, I do). The kids had freedom to learn what they wanted to learn, and so did I. I have no doubt in my mind - none - that if Cody had stayed in school, I would never have pursued gardening, food, or cooking to the degree I did (and do). I would never have found the work I’m doing now - food system work - I know I’ll be doing, in some fashion, until I’m not working anymore and even then… I’ll be doing it. Homeschooling the kids for five years enabled me to learn how to learn again. It also gave me a chance to parent kids in a way I’d never imagined I’d be wiling to try. These two kids, who would never have attended the same school (and now that they’re in school, never will), grew up together respecting each other (for the most part) and being each other’s friend and partner in crime. They had easy access to an adult they were close to for a hug, some conversation, a game, whatever. Our family became closer-knit - we were one tight unit back then - but more welcoming, too, of friends and relatives and guests. Not having so many work/school demands was, in a word, awesome - that kind of freedom is unheard of in this culture, and I spent a lot of time explaining ourselves to people who were suspicious of all that “hanging out”. A lot changed when Cody went back to school in 2005, and more changed when I went back to work full-time in 2006. It’s complicated (what about families isn’t?), but it was time to do something different. The kids needed it, Jim and I needed it, and the family as a unit needed it. The whole career thing for me was terrifying professionally - what if they find out what an utter fraud I am? What was I thinking, re-entering the work force after 8 years? - and personally. What if putting them back in school was the wrong decision? I fretted. What if they’re bored or get in trouble? What if they secretly hate us for what we’ve done? What if they don’t value the time they had at home? What if family is no longer important to either of them? Or to us? I still fret about all that, even though they’re both very well-rounded kids who are solid parts of their school and outside communities. And intimidatingly bright and committed. What is my problem? I mean, life isn’t perfect by any means, but perfection would only serve to make me more anxious anyway. On the way home from Michigan this past Sunday, I stole glances at the kids while they did their thing in the back of the car, knowing that we’re on the back end of family vacations including all four of us. It hurt, which made me sit up and assess this new situation - that of the children are not babies, toddlers, or young children anymore, and holy freaking bats, I have a nearly-grown man as offspring. Tonight, we’re putting Cody on the Amtrak to be with his dad for Thanksgiving, and he’ll probably be gone for 9 days directly after Xmess. We’ll miss him, but we’ve been heading in this direction for awhile. He was gone most of this past summer, and plans to be gone all of next. He’ll be 16 in July, but he let me peck him on the cheek when I dropped him off at the high school in this morning’s pouring rain. That’s when I knew it was OK. Sometimes, I worry about Lilly’s feelings about the shifts in the family dynamic. It occurred to me that maybe she doesn’t really notice, or if she does, she doesn’t care. Maybe she wouldn’t show us if she does care, I’ve thought. But then I read this last night, excerpted from her current story:

Gwen took a deep breath. “You don’t know where your parents live?” Mysta turned to her. “I don’t know yet, but I can find them. If I wanted to see them, my longing would be so great that I would if it was the last thing I ever managed to do. If I really wanted to see them, nothing would dare to stand in my way. I would hunt them, stalk them, track them down if it cost me my last breath; hunt them not like prey, but out of love and devotion for my family.” Gwen was knocked silent by these words, although Mysta continued her lecture. “If I wish to do something I can do it. I would battle Tai, slash the Dark Riders to bits if I had to –” here Gwen shuddered at the gory visualization, “– and even battle the Lord Maskmei, high in his palace at the peak of Ghuandumar. I could do it. If it is out of love for my family and devotion for my friends, I would battle till my last breath to see or do what I really wanted to.”

Lisa B-K and her kids, Florida, 2007


I’m thankful for the political conversations. The phone calls reassuring us when he’s late. The love notes. The unloaded dishdrainer. I’m thankful for “Mom, have you ever heard of the Pixies?” and “I wrote Oma a thank-you note, and could you put a stamp on it?”. Gratitude abounds for games of Scrabble and Set, for LOtR movie night, for father/daughter basketball games and mother/son protests. I’m not going to hold on too tightly, because that makes them struggle to get loose. I know this. I’m just going to find deep peace in this period of time and enjoy my people. May you do the same.

I’m trying to get back into blogging without it being so… bloggy. You know what I mean? I know, I know. I’ve said that how many times since, well, my first and favorite old blog (Madame Insane, for those who’ve been around for a long time) bit the dust in, what, late 2004? Seriously, though - recently I’ve had several thought-provoking IM chats (I know - what are the odds?) with a couple brainy, inspiring broads (plus Amanda!). I’ve received old-fashioned US Mail from some seriously interesting women who make me feel all kinds of feelings - mostly the kind of feelings you feel when you hear from someone who’s known you best over distance and time. They’ve all reminded me that I write - even though I haven’t written well for awhile - without being overbearing or pushy in any way. I mean, even my mother doesn’t act like my mother any more - I should probably lose the chip on my shoulder, eh? I also went back to the saved archives I have from Madame Insane and I realized how much I’ve changed since that one launched in 2002. Clearly, writing on a regular basis at a “place” whose design I loved was good for me; the blogs that followed (MizUntitled and this one) never felt (or feel) right to me and weren’t (or aren’t) posted to nearly as often. Maybe it’s the Wordpress interface. Maybe it’s my total lack of design skills and color sense. Should either of those things matter? No. Neither should the pens I prefer to write with when at work or writing analog-style in my journal. But they do, they matter. Even though they’re distractions from matters at hand, they do matter. I turned 39 a few weeks ago and find myself at many, many crossroads - mental, physical, personal, professional… … and I feel that it’s time to incorporate some new keywords into the ol’ existence. Like discernment and focus and truth and momentum and breath and forgiveness. And principles - principles like count to ten before jumping all over The Teenager ™ and old habits die hard, but often it’s best to let them die and what you put out there comes back to you threefold and if it’s not working, do something else and less is more and fresh is best and maintenance, maintenance, maintenance. I’m coming off a month of terribly stressful work and other stuff, and while sitting around eating Halloween candy and opening the mental front door to give Despair the time of day is kind of appealing, I know it’s a recipe for disaster. Ergo, NO SOLICITORS. ****** In other news, Lilly turned 9 yesterday. She’s my youngest child - my baby - and she is a spectacular human being: Also, three years ago yesterday - on Election Day, no less - I put down the cigarettes for good. While I know it’s for my health and what about the children? and it’s a nasty, gross, and goddamn expensive habit were all rationales for quitting, here’s what pushed me over: Big Tobacco wants me to consume their products, possibly forcing me to use its buddy, Big Pharma, to stay alive someday. Pretty good racket, eh? No, thanks. Sally forth and conquer.