Remember that guy?

Let me start by saying that I don't EVER want to be a teenager again. Ever. No one could pay me enough to go through that swamp of hormones, angst, broken hearts, and dramatic days. Ever.

But.

I really miss some of the friendships. Recently Vanessa brought down a photo album from youth conferences and we pulled out mine as well and spent a good hour or two looking through them, putting names to faces and talking about where all these people went.

"Remember the night I couldn't sleep because of nightmares so you guys stayed up with me all night long?"

"Remember when we got kicked out of the no-talent show because we were laughing too hard and went and rearranged the messages written on the dorm windows with masking tape?"

"Oh my god! I remember that kid! He was so funny!"

"Oh damn. Flattering. That was taken after dancing for four hours straight."

"Hey, I remember this! This was that night we rented the hotel room after the planning meeting and..."

"Hahaha, I can't believe we actually got him to put that on!"

Along with all these come flooding in the secrets, the bonding, the feeling of total acceptance. That feeling of knowing that even though it was going to be at least 6 months until you saw them next, when you did they were still some of your best friends.

And then we all got old. We moved away, went to school, got married, had kids, started our own businesses, passed away, drifted into a life completely our own and totally separate and away from the places we used as a breeding ground of intimate friendships.

I miss them. Well, most of them.

Also, I still have all the pictures suckers! Expect some exploitation coming to a facebook near you.

Whoever created this universe is a Wild Guy.

"I think God loves bootleggers-defiant poets who ferment the air as they sing and lift the corners of our mouths. Words about God should never bore because God is the opposite of boring. And what we say about the Gorgeous One should make Him appear a knockout. Whoever made this universe is a Wild Guy. I think only our ecstasies offer any real clues about Him."
-Daniel Ladinsky in his book "Love Poems from God

Now, I have already admitted my discomfort with the whole patriarchy side of organized religion and the divine in general, but this is a definition that makes me smile.

It's raining outside. The smell of it mixed with the whimsical mood I am suddenly in makes me want to dance in it. Or at the very least, go for a run. I settle for tea on the back porch instead. As the neighbor kids run for cover and bitterly complain about this weather taking away one of their last days of summer, I chuckle. It's one of the many difference between kid-Amber, and adult-Amber I guess, the practicality of rain at this dry time of year makes sense.

The smell makes me nostalgic for the August days in the town I was born, it reminds me of my grandmothers porch, the way my cousins and I loitered out there constantly one summer, placing bets on which family members would cross the line between loud and obscene at the next family dinner, or sneaking off to puddle jump when Grandma wasn't looking.

It's amazing really, to look back and notice how gradually, yet also so suddenly, life went from puddle-jumping to job proposals, from playing house to keeping one of my own. When I was a kid, it felt summer used to stretch on endlessly. Days would creep by so slowly it felt like you lived an entire lifetime in a week. Now, I am worrying about making it to my daughters swim lessons on time, buying her school supplies for kindergarten, and compiling what resembles a menu for the week so my grocery shopping has some method to it, while maintaining laundry, playdates, and doing homework, all in one day, leaving me feeling exhausted at the end of the day.

Even this summer, despite my best efforts to leave it as structureless as possible has been too full of plans and obligations. Will Em be able to look back and have memories of building the adventure around herself like my cousins and I did as we pretended the lilac bushes were our pirate hideout? Will she remember the freedom of exploring the world around her like I recall?

"Mom, let's jsut go outside and build some fairy homes, that's all I wanna do."

With any luck, and a spirit like hers, I am betting she will.

In one end, out the other

One thing I have noticed since my mother moved in with me is the increased amount of waste that comes out of the house now. I never bought paper towels. I think they are kind of pointless. (Although it would be hypocritical of me not to admit that they are lately a huge convenience with a pup in the house. It makes me cringe to realize. And say. And do.) My mother on the other hand, will use at least one every morning in preparing her breakfast and or lunch. There is always one pulled off the roll sitting on the counter with a few smears of food, as if she puts one there just in case she needs it. My toilet paper is now the extra soft double rolls. My energy bill is almost triple that of what it was before there was another adult living in the house. All just small little changes, but they kind of bother me, because they add up, to more money and more resources. It also makes me realize how conditioned we all are to a lifestyle of convenience and that will be our nemesis to change in the end. In taking care of the clothes that are particular about how they are washed, we do twice the amount of laundry with loads sometimes that are just three or four articles of clothing (this is my pet peeve, I will admit. I have never been one to buy clothes that require special care instructions because I am impatient and I think it's a pain in ass, I am much more suited to half assedly sort my clothes and do laundry once there is a full load). In insisting that we smell good, have soft hair, and colorful eyelids and dark luscious eyelashes we use chemicals that aren't good for us, the environment, and make animals suffer to test them, and then wrap it all in plastic packaging that will be around much longer than we will. In order to only spend ten minutes cooking dinner for our families and feeding them (an act that should come out of love) we buy boxed noodles wrapped in plastic, made in China or India, sauce that has ingredients that have seen more of the world than we ever will, and vegetables that have taken more money and put out more emissions than I do in an entire year in bussing to school and back. But who really needs to cook when we can drive thru somewhere that has a meal ready in five minutes? Sure it clogs up our arteries and uses meat that is low-grade and is barely able to be deemed suitable for human consumption. Oy, see, food is my hot spot. Now that I brought that up...

Even when we think we are doing the better thing in buying organic, our values of variety over quality lead to us buying food that normally wouldn't grow here in whatever current season it happens to be, so we buy fruit from South America, or Asia. What is worse, buying local food that may not be organic? Or fruit grown on borderline slave labor conditions in another country that is starving to give us our organic pineapple in January? And then shipping it, flying it, somehow taking it thousands of miles from where it originated from. At least when we buy local, the impact we have is on our own communities, and not those of people living in conditions most of us wouldn't even dream of getting close to. Or the meat, that used to be an animal raised in something smaller than our home with hundreds of other animals, so tightly packed that they are covered in each other's feces, and there is no room to move. Not to mention the environmental impact of those kinds of farms (2,500 gallons of water per pound of beef we consume is just the tip of the iceberg). *it is at this point in my rant that I must be honest and also admit that I am an omnivore, and I eat meat. In my recent efforts to have less of an impact and put more thought to what I am really putting into my body I have discovered some wonderful local farms that have meat CSA's, where I can meet my dinner and actually explore the way they were raised. Yes, it is still consuming meat, which I have issues with, but I also have health issues that conflict with my moral issues sometimes, but that is a blog for another time...end honesty moment*

I guess, I am looking for simplicity. And looking reduce the impact my lifestyle has on other people. And I notice more and more all the time how serious it all really is...

Foodness

Sometimes I produce amazing food. As in cook, or bake. Yesterday I made vegan potato salad and it was awesome. It led to me realizing I have a new all purpose spice: cumin. Have you noticed how amazing cumin is? It compliments almost everything I think.

Anyhow. Potato salad. I used red and gold potatos, boiled them, tossed them with olive oil, vinegar (due to lack of lemons for lemon juice), and raw tahini. Then I added in a little garlic salt (another all purpose spice in my kitchen), pepper and cumin. Yum!

And, for the record, I make bomb chocolate zucchini cake. If you want the recipe, let me know. But it is absolutely amazing.

Hmmm, a blog about food following one about stress...do I smell a coping mechanism? Maybe. But, it could be worse. And I am generous with my food...so there.

Tides

Life has a way of surging all at once, and a tremendous amount of joy flows in.

My daughter is growing into such an amazing person, and I love that I get to watch her and discover life along with her.

My best friend has spent a good deal of time here with us this summer and it has been so wonderful to have her. We met at youth cons when we were about 15, have never lived closer than four hours away, which is the distance between us now, and sometimes have gone a year or two without being in touch. It is nice that our lives have reached a point in life where we are able to be a bigger and more regular part of each others lives. She has decided after spending so much time down here, that in two and a half years, when she has reached a certain point in her job, she will be moving down here. Yay!




We have a new puppy. Her name is Rosie and she is the cutest thing ever. Now that she has been here for a week we are getting more familiar with each other's rhythms, and its much more harmonious. It has been hard for Emily giving up the vast amounts of one on one time we have together. But all in all, she is a delightful addition to our little family.

But just as the joy rolls in, the tide goes out and in rolls sorrow and pain. Too many of my friends are sick. One has swine flu, another is dealing with the pain of losing her father at the worst but dealing with him being sick at the least (neither good options). Another has just been diagnosed for a second time with melanoma. There are so many people hurting. All at once.

It never seems to come in small waves, but just the big giant ones. At a time in my life where I am realizing how much fear I hold on to, and am trying to let go of, the influx of stress does nothing to help me.

Dear Emily,

It is just past midnight and as I sit at the dining room table doing homework I think I hear you mumbling in your sleep, calling out for a cuddle, or shuffling out here for a hug. Then I remind myself that you are at your dad's house and it feels emptier here without you. I can smell you on your pillow, in the blankets we curl up in. Your little drawings, letters, and dolls strewn about the house act as a reminder of you. There are bits of your personality and creations everywhere around here and it feels odd when you are gone. Part of me wants to jump in the car and drive to your dad's house just to smell your hair while you sleep. It almost aches how much I miss you during your seven days away.

And for every part of me that misses you tremendously and wants you home with me, there is also an acknowledgment of how lucky you are to be able to spend equal amounts of time with both parents. I am so happy that you have such a strong relationship with your father, it is something I always wanted as a child and feared you may not get. You are such a daddy's girl sometimes, and I mean that in the most affectionate of ways. He is your hero.

The other day you asked me why he and I weren't married and for the first time I was confronted with how to communicate the complexities of the situation to you. What it comes down to is this: We both love you more than words, and we always will. Your father and I are very different people, and sometimes that gets in the way, but there will never be a day where you won't be in our hearts. I hope that as you grow you will never feel like you must choose a parent. While your father and I have our disagreements, you should know that none of them are your fault, and that I will never ask you to choose one of us. I respect and value that you have both of us, and I hope it is always this way.

I am so lucky to have you as a part of my life. And I am so thankful and blessed for the chance to be your mom.

And I can't wait for you to come home!
Love,
Mom