gratitude: for friends :Corvallis

For such an impromptu and short trip, this weekend up in Oregon felt slow, full, and intentional. Moments of sunshine, warmth (well...at least on the inside...), rain and cold. Brilliant green fields, glimpses of cloud-hugged mountains, and small-town sidewalks. Nourishing home-cooked meals, indulgent pizzas, and flowing beer (a true trip to Oregon must include it!). Two giggling girls, and many Anjali costume changes. A gratifyingly lengthy bikeride, and hours of conversation, scheming and laughter. We've been together often enough lately that open stretches of time pass in which we are not agape at our cosmic connections and epic, still-expanding story, but simply enjoy each others' company.

Walks, talks, and good folks.

Girls.

Quiet and sunshine. Stairs and Quito kitty.

shenanigans

A reunion of my tushy and a bikeseat for a delicious countryside ride.

Silly.

Below: awesome ladies' bathroom message in the equally awesome

Hopworks Urban Brewery in Portland

(Interestingly, we met the owner of this place on our return flight from Baja.

His personable modesty belied the hugeness and radness of his obviously very successful creation).

Perhaps my favorite...

"Perhaps my favorite...vacationy-type experience in Baja Sur"...

I had so much fun writing this as a reply to a question that Woo asked ~ of our recent "reconnoitering" trip to Baja which included much chill time with Arlene and Brian (and a brief but welcome cameo by Miles in the very beginning) ~ that I felt like sharing it here. We stayed in a couple of yurts in Buena Vista for a few days, then headed to Cabo Pulmo ~ at the end of a long, windy, bumpy dirt road, and a large tract of wildlife preserve, it's a village that includes a neighborhood of sweet rental casitas and a handful of rustic restaurants and one tiny mercado/tourist shop. Local population of about 300, Cabo Pulmo mainly attracts scuba divers as visitors. Our little casita was a few minutes' walk to the stone-and-sand beach and aqua blue Sea of Cortez.

Was the second evening we stayed at Cabo Pulmo, we walked through a (well-travelled) little hole in the fence next door to "Nancy’s" restaurant. On a bare-dirt farmish piece of property, it is a classic old-looking building with arched windows and thick thick stone walls, largely open-air, with a couple fireplaces. For the last couple days, I had noticed a paper plate clothespinned to the gate, which said in handwritten English "For Pizza and cinnamon rolls come to Nancy's house." (I was intrigued by having homemade cinnamon rolls at Nancy's house, but no one else wanted to take her up on it with me.. I suspected the place might not be open when we approached, thanks to those paper plate signs..) We found the whole place lit only by candles, and totally empty, save the cook in the (totally open) kitchen, Nancy (I assume)~ a friendly white woman with shoulder-length white hair probably in her 60's ~ and her adult daughter who were snuggled by the fire with their hands wrapped around warm mugs and their sandaled feet propped up on the hearth, talking intimately. Nancy greeted us warmly and turned back to her conversation. The cook lit the stove and switched on his tiny quiet radio, and handed us the menu ~ handwritten on a small notepad. We ordered and he got to work cooking us three different entrees with sides all by himself. Anjali dropped off to sleep in my lap and provided me with some nice relaxed adult time. The wind (it was very windy) howled outside, but inside these walls ~ which didn't even have glassed windows ~ it was cozy. The low light and quiet already present made it so that we felt like whispering too. The meal was warm and fresh and satisfying ~ veggies and fish, with a basket of piping hot tortillas nestled in a napkin. For dessert he flambeed bananas in cinnamoned rum for us. Wow. As we licked our forks, the cook was cleaning the last of the dishes, and Nancy and daughter were putting their jackets on to head to the house. The meal was definitely priced for gringos ~ but still not as expensive as the Bay Area places we love. I couldn't help but think that our dinner was the only one cooked that night, and that I was glad to pay for such a rich experience.

(oh geez how i hate the technical aspects of blogger that i don't know how to control!)

Gratitude: For Family

Was I talking about gardening in that last post?

Yes, that's a nice side story,

but.

This: THIS is what it's all about! I love these people.

Our first official, homemade Family Dinner in our new home.

Cheers!

Wake Up Call ~ part two

(soundtrack: India.Arie's "Strength, Courage, and Wisdom")

From my astrologer, Rob Brezsny (a recap):

Capricorn Horoscope for week of August 19, 2010

The poet Jean Perrin dreamed "of marrying the dawn with the light of the moon," and I invite you to do the same. The darkness you've been immersed in will leave you soon. As it does, please don't forsake the pale, moon-like radiance that has provided you with a bit of guidance and consolation. Rather, bring along what it has taught you as you head into the far brighter phase you're entering. In other words, retain some of the wisdom the dim light has compelled you to learn.

memento

In part one of this essay, I only partially responded to this thought-provoking horoscope from Rob Brezsny; I heard the good news, but I didn't heed the advice. What have I learned during this watery moon time? What wisdom will I take with me into the Sunshine?

It has definitely been a moon-centered time - creating and growing a child is all about dark feminine energy! Moist, soft, and fertile, quiet and slow. Many women grew up thinking of themselves as future mommies. But not me; it wasn't until I met the father of my child at age 29 that I even entertained the idea for any amount of time. Learning to trust that I was mommy-material took a huge amount of inner growth. Am I reliable? Am I trustworthy? Am I Responsible? Am I a worthy example to follow? These questions weighed on my heart. When my husband left to return to work mere days after Anjali emerged from my belly, I wept deeply with the intimidating task at hand, still very much recovering physically from a week-long labor and subsequent emergent C-section. Anjali was a patient but insistent teacher.
I am delighted to have this little person to share life with. Every day she blossoms more and more into herself. I marvel in her fresh eyes and creative wisdom. And I feel confident and good in my role as Mommy-guide-partner to this wondrous being. What a gift from the Moon!

I have also come to rest strong in my understanding of nutrition and good food. This understanding - that we are animals, just like every other animal, that evolved to eat a certain way to meet our bodily needs - makes ultimate sense to my core. We are not zebras, birds, cats, or even gorillas; we are humans with certain physiological characteristics and evolutionary expectations that demand for optimum functioning that we eat certain things. Our clever minds may talk us into believing we can do it differently. We might create things in labs that, on paper, seem to meet our needs. But Nature is magically holistic. We are not merely the sum of our parts or the end of an equation. As much as my herbivore-commiserate heart would love to believe different: To create viable offspring* we need to eat animal products. "Life takes life." This truth is no less Earthly than a migrating butterfly, a running cheetah, or a hitchhiking dandelion seed on the wind. It is not right or wrong or good or bad; it just is. HOW we go about it is what determines whether our actions have positive or negative results. And in the end the trees will eat us just as we have eaten.
(*whether we believe humans should be allowed to continue is another topic altogether. And in the end, we won't be the ones to decide, thankfully. "Nature bats last.")
The details - the what and the how - are what I learned and cooked for years as I studied the work of Weston Price and volunteered and apprenticed at Three Stone Hearth community-supported kitchen. Good Food isn't a fad or fashion, it is a way of knowing whereby our ancestors thrived, that was passed down to the next generation through culinary tradition. And though our lifestyle has changed dramatically over the last 100 or so years, our guts have not. Good Food tastes delicious and deeply satisfies our hunger because it meets our needs at the cellular level. This tradition of nourishment is my largest wealth of knowledge and my greatest passion. (For more of this hearty deliciousness, I invite you to step into my kitchen, food-a-file.)

What other knowledge can I take with me into the sunshine? I'm learning how to be my own friend. That my negative-feeling emotions aren't "bad" things that need to be stuffed, squelched, and hidden, but guideposts to help me hear my inner truth and how to take care of myself. I'm learning to listen to anger, jealousy, and fear to hear what they have to teach me. I'm learning to be less hard on myself, and also more gentle on my self. I'm learning that deep nourishment heals - it's no longer just something I "should" do, it's something I want to do. I even might be learning that the different phases of my cycle and the way they effect me can be gifts to USE instead of biological curses to rue. (maybe. ;)

A huge gift of knowledge from the Moon: I have Integrity. Probably I learned as a kid to perform in order to receive approval from everyone I met. I was a chameleon who lapped up praise and attention like a cat licks cream. But I didn't know who I was, or what I was or wasn't willing to agree with/to in order to gain that acceptance. I was a whole lot of fun, but I wouldn't call myself consistent or honest (perhaps especially with myself). I trust myself now. I know what I believe and I don't need you to agree with me to feel ok about myself.
Now I'm ready to be fun again. :)

good stuff here

I've been pretty lonely. The last few years have been solitary. But I've found that I have a few (wonderful!!!) friends, and I've even made a few. They have stuck with me even when I didn't feel stick-worthy. They have believed in me when I didn't believe myself. What a blessing! Mirrors to reflect my truth. Deep pockets of real wealth. Thank you! I love you!

Very importantly, I've learned to really trust my husband. Throughout our relationship I believe I have been testing him, possibly even trying to get him to go away. He is solid. He might not understand every aspect of my mysterious and watery being, but he supports me. He truly desires to help me be the best Me possible. At our best together, our strengths balance and enhance each other. At our worst - at least we are willing to stick it out together, and don't mind quickly kissing and making up, even when we agree to disagree. Ahhh. We are blessed.

Well, it sounds as if I *have* learned a few things! Moon Mother may I: please go play in the sunshine? (and from what I've been learning about Vitamin D - I'm hoping I can keep myself feeling sunny even far north of our tropical paradise! This sounds promising...)

gratitude: for friends

Ahhh. So awesome to have TT, Farhad, Mel, Phil, and Phil's mom, Sonya, "Me-maw," in the area for a while! Music, hookah, dance, laughter, bourbon, and late night (all-the-time, more like it) Indian food (well. . food. if we're involved, there's food involved) were all in abundance.

Ahhh. Good, old friends. And good times with good old friends.

TT!

TT and Farhad toast the oysters at Hog Island in SF's Ferry Building. 

Anjali and her new BFF, Ivy, from whom Anjali earned her first official nickname, Jolly (a common American mispronunciation of the tail end of her name, and more importantly, a fitting adjective). 

Me-maw! (not ours ~ Ivy's.)

A music rehearsal with Helm at the Shochats'.  

The melody from Farhad's tar was the theme of my head the whole time.  

Farm City

I've jumped headlong into another great new book.  Written by one of the women who work/own at the biodiesel station where we buy our fuel, Biofuel Oasis, I had heard about its emergence and awaited it eagerly.  Farm City The Education of an Urban Farmer, by Novella Carpenter, is the account of the real life adventures of the author raising produce, honey, eggs, and meat in a vacant lot in downtown Oakland.  Compassionate, frank, witty, and detailed.  With Sealion having just scoped out the "perfect" designs for our near-future chicken coop, and picked up the second-hand lumber this afternoon, it feels relevant.  And just plain fascinating.  

Now back to the book!     

MyFarm

Remember my friend and fellow Three Stone Hearth apprentice, Trevor?  Well, check out how far his business, MyFarm, has come!  I am so impressed, and so psyched for them and San Francisco.
 

gratitude: for friends

Today I'm giving thanks for our Family, Uncle Brian and Tita Arlene (known formerly on this blog with different names...)

We miss our family dinners with them so much, but that makes having dinners together nowadays even more special.

(Here we are enjoying a family dinner on our back deck.) 
With Family, you have full-on belly laughs like this.  I love this photo of Sealion because it is so genuine and full of joy. 
They're our partners in Good Food. 

(At Oliveto in Rockridge celebrating Arlene's birthday.)
And Tita enthusiastically comes to the rescue for a grumpy squirming Anjali.  (Here we're at the Big Kitchen in San Diego.)
Cheers!  To Family.  

Food, Inc.

I haven't done an advertisement in a while (and I've been brewing up a soapbox speech about plastics, but haven't found the time. . ). 

 Here's one worth watching: the movie, Food, Inc., due in theaters tomorrow.  If you have been wondering what all the fuss is about organics, food safety/security, "local" foods, and why it is they expect you to pay several times more for the "same product" if it is labeled organic, this will be a high quality introduction for you.  Seeing a movie is a pretty painless form of education.  From this interview by CUESA, it sounds as if most of the information will not be shocking to those of us "in the know" about food issues.  But I think it's always wise to keep myself reminded about why it is I do what I do, and don't do what I don't do, and to support the folks who are putting forth the effort to get the information out, also so that when someone says, "Whatta you think about this?" I can have a fruitful conversation about it.  Because what we eat is so important for so many reasons.  It affects everything.  

wine and chocolate

when the chocolate bar runs out,

you make do. 

wine and chocolate

Sealion has been working a slew of evening shifts recently.  Where he usually can count on a relatively balanced schedule among morning, evening, and night shifts (such is the nature of his profession), this last month was almost all evenings.  This month is not much different.  (We're thinking that this is what happens when a computer program takes over what a human used to do ~ juggling schedules.)  This means that Anjali and I have been spending afternoons and evenings on our own.  The daily family meal has become breakfast.  And I have developed a pleasant little ritual to transition the afternoon into evening:  wine and chocolate.

  

During my pregnancy (beside the fact that I attempted to avoid chocolate altogether), dark chocolate was too strong for me (horror!), so I had to switch to milk chocolate.  That was a fun side journey (my favorite is Dagoba's Chai).  Happily my taste and intuition have lead me back to the dark side (The Force is strong in me..).  Lately I've been sticking to straight dark chocolate with no mix-ins ~ Green and Black's 70% is what is open in the cabinet.  Needing only a few squares, a bar can last me well over a week.  Old vine zinfandel is my wine preference these days.  They call it "old vine" because the vines are. .  old, and they're gnarly from when they pruned them in the old school method ~ lopping them off at the top each year ~ instead of training them to trellises.  Supposedly their age makes them harder to work with, producing fewer grapes per vine, and of variable size.  I've also heard that this variety is trendy among folks like me, but ~ what a yummy way to be trendy; much better than, say, tight-rolling your pantlegs.   I'm satisfied with a pretty tiny portion (in our house we call it a "dot"), but it does manage to add a celebratory note to that time when the shadows are long and things are slowing but not sleeping and the house might be feeling a bit quiet.

I'd rather have the boy, but. . this routine ain't bad.