All winter I dream of springtime.
It might be because my birthday is in March. There has to be some innate, subconscious connection between celebration and the pale green flush on every branch of every tree. Maybe that's why the Spring Equinox, Easter and Passover are all celebrated then, too. Oh, and May Day, the ultimate in flower power celebrations.
My flora fantasies are generally more mundane. I'm not the type to strip bare, make a garland of wildflowers and frolic in the fields of tall grass. I prefer to dig in the dirt.
Yup, all winter I think about my garden soil. I spy and occasionally pick up bags of leaves from other people's curbs. I wonder if I dug deep enough when turning the bed, knowing full well I couldn't get past the giant roots in my way or the thick clay a shovel-blade length down.
I wonder if my good hoe is sharp enough, and where I can get a pick axe, and if I can have a new handle put on that one shovel I broke last spring. I think about which seeds I will plant, whether I will put them straight into the ground or if I'll attempt to sprout seedlings.
Will it be a wet or dry growing season? Will the stink bugs and leaf-footed bugs kill the squashes and cucumbers again? Will I have blossom end rot on the tomatoes? Will the loofah bloom and fruit before first frost? Will the the opossum in the yard hiss at me again?
When I think of my garden now, I think of freshly turned soil, and the next day, when the dew shines on a myriad of horizontal spider webs, a feast of dirt bugs unearthed for the taking. I think of the never-ending parsley patch, green even in the dead of winter, hanging on for dear life in the underbrush of old stalks and stems, each with dozens of seeds falling with the strongest winds.
When I think of spring, I think of the herbs that will flourish first, of the daffodils and crocuses and irises I long to see all winter. I think of the color and the flavor, the heat and humidity, the sheen of pollen on every single surface. I think of the carpenter bees followed by the yellow jackets and mud daubers and wasps and honey and bumble bees.
I think of the ants that inevitably find the honey I put in my morning tea, and the lightning bugs that make their homes everywhere. I think of early morning walks and rising with the sun.
Springtime, you cannot come soon enough.
January 17, 2014
January 16, 2014
(Prep)rarin' to go
Life keeps me on my toes. I juggle three part time jobs, which often means I'm out of the house 12-15 hours per day between two of them.
I'm not complaining, life is good. My house, car and person are all in reasonably good working order. And, my fridge and pantry are full of good, farm fresh produce from Long Hungry Creek Farm. Actually, I have more food than I usually have the energy to prepare after a long day.
Most of my cooking is done on one or both days off per week. I tend to make one or two giant pots of soup or chili, a casserole or something else I can throw together and simmer for a while. Since I'm overwhelmed with sweet potatoes, potatoes and winter squash at the moment, most of my recipes contain one or more of each. I also compose something with beans and rice and dish everything up in portion-sized containers for the week.
Of course, eating the same three meals over and over all week can get a little old after a while. I mean, I am a creature of habit, but let's get real. You can only eat so many bowls of soup each week before you start to float away.
That's when I rally and make a stir fry. Okay, I know that's not ambitious. Ambitious is what happens when I literally have nothing else to do...or I have housework and don't want to wash the floors.
I know what you're thinking, why not go to the local Chinese take-out place? Y'all know I live in Nashville, right? Good Chinese food here is a commodity I'd be willing to pay for. In lieu of that, I make my own. Luckily, my brother and sister-in-law gave me a giant cast iron wok!
In 20 minutes, I cranked up the oven, cubed some tofu, laid it out on a parchment-lined baking pan and popped in the oven. While the tofu browned, I sliced up 1/2 and onion, a clove of garlic, a chunk of ginger, a carrot, a handful of asparagus and 1/2 a small cabbage. I also juiced a tangelo and pulled the tamari sauce and sesame oil out of the fridge.
You know the rest. De-lish!
Seriously, though. Cooking's not hard. You just have to figure out what you like that tastes good together, gather the ingredients, and roast, braise, stew, steam, bake, broil, boil, fry or grill it up! Now, get to it.
I'm not complaining, life is good. My house, car and person are all in reasonably good working order. And, my fridge and pantry are full of good, farm fresh produce from Long Hungry Creek Farm. Actually, I have more food than I usually have the energy to prepare after a long day.
Most of my cooking is done on one or both days off per week. I tend to make one or two giant pots of soup or chili, a casserole or something else I can throw together and simmer for a while. Since I'm overwhelmed with sweet potatoes, potatoes and winter squash at the moment, most of my recipes contain one or more of each. I also compose something with beans and rice and dish everything up in portion-sized containers for the week.
Of course, eating the same three meals over and over all week can get a little old after a while. I mean, I am a creature of habit, but let's get real. You can only eat so many bowls of soup each week before you start to float away.
That's when I rally and make a stir fry. Okay, I know that's not ambitious. Ambitious is what happens when I literally have nothing else to do...or I have housework and don't want to wash the floors.
I know what you're thinking, why not go to the local Chinese take-out place? Y'all know I live in Nashville, right? Good Chinese food here is a commodity I'd be willing to pay for. In lieu of that, I make my own. Luckily, my brother and sister-in-law gave me a giant cast iron wok!
In 20 minutes, I cranked up the oven, cubed some tofu, laid it out on a parchment-lined baking pan and popped in the oven. While the tofu browned, I sliced up 1/2 and onion, a clove of garlic, a chunk of ginger, a carrot, a handful of asparagus and 1/2 a small cabbage. I also juiced a tangelo and pulled the tamari sauce and sesame oil out of the fridge.
You know the rest. De-lish!
Seriously, though. Cooking's not hard. You just have to figure out what you like that tastes good together, gather the ingredients, and roast, braise, stew, steam, bake, broil, boil, fry or grill it up! Now, get to it.
January 15, 2014
All (green) thumbs
Every year since I got out of college (16, for those of you counting), I've had a garden. The first was a small patch that I painstakingly cleared and planted with onions and tomatoes. Three years later, I moved and had a small strip of garden, that was mostly in the shade, which I split into a flowerbed and a tomato and herb bed. In the five years I lived there, I even harvested enough oregano that I was able to give it as Christmas gifts to friends.
When I moved to Nashville, I started with potted tomatoes, then an arugula bed, and have progressed over the years to much larger spaces with everything from watermelons to pumpkins, yellow squash, zucchini, parsley, mint, sage, lavender, tomatoes, cucumbers, loofahs, green beans, soy beans, lentils, corn, peas, beets, radishes, chard, and whatever else I can fit into the space.
I even started a garden at my synagogue...which is turning into a true community garden.
All that said, I can kill a houseplant faster than you can say "potting soil."
I don't kill them right away, and I definitely don't do it on purpose. It's uncanny how I can make an outdoor garden thrive, even in the midst of weeds and invasive insects, and can just as easily over-water or under-water a plant to death in a matter of weeks or months.
I don't remember the name of the movie, but there was a guy who had to keep a plant alive for a year before having a relationship, as part of his addiction recovery. The point of the exercise was to show that he could care for something other than himself in a positive way, in a way that the plant needed.
While I am not an addict, recovering or otherwise, I often focus outwardly. I'd rather work on the garden than clean the inside of the house. I'd rather help someone with their issues than work on my own, and I'd clearly rather do anything than figure out how much water the plants inside my house really need.
I have successfully kept four plants alive for over a year. Two are in my bathroom, an African violet, and a Christmas cactus. Neither have flowered since I first got them three years ago. That might be because they've never been fertilized.
The other two are baskets of houseplants that a friend gave me when she moved 1.5 years ago. Not only are they alive, but they've grown. I put them in a semi-lit spot in my living room, and give them the remains of the glass of water I bring to bed each night.
Of course, since I got those two plants, I've also managed to kill an air plant, an orchid and am on the way to doing away with two of three papaya seedlings I got over the summer.
Still those two plants in my living room give me hope. They make me believe that I will be able to give others in my life just enough light and space and nourishment.
When I moved to Nashville, I started with potted tomatoes, then an arugula bed, and have progressed over the years to much larger spaces with everything from watermelons to pumpkins, yellow squash, zucchini, parsley, mint, sage, lavender, tomatoes, cucumbers, loofahs, green beans, soy beans, lentils, corn, peas, beets, radishes, chard, and whatever else I can fit into the space.
I even started a garden at my synagogue...which is turning into a true community garden.
All that said, I can kill a houseplant faster than you can say "potting soil."
I don't kill them right away, and I definitely don't do it on purpose. It's uncanny how I can make an outdoor garden thrive, even in the midst of weeds and invasive insects, and can just as easily over-water or under-water a plant to death in a matter of weeks or months.
I don't remember the name of the movie, but there was a guy who had to keep a plant alive for a year before having a relationship, as part of his addiction recovery. The point of the exercise was to show that he could care for something other than himself in a positive way, in a way that the plant needed.
While I am not an addict, recovering or otherwise, I often focus outwardly. I'd rather work on the garden than clean the inside of the house. I'd rather help someone with their issues than work on my own, and I'd clearly rather do anything than figure out how much water the plants inside my house really need.
I have successfully kept four plants alive for over a year. Two are in my bathroom, an African violet, and a Christmas cactus. Neither have flowered since I first got them three years ago. That might be because they've never been fertilized.
The other two are baskets of houseplants that a friend gave me when she moved 1.5 years ago. Not only are they alive, but they've grown. I put them in a semi-lit spot in my living room, and give them the remains of the glass of water I bring to bed each night.
Of course, since I got those two plants, I've also managed to kill an air plant, an orchid and am on the way to doing away with two of three papaya seedlings I got over the summer.
Still those two plants in my living room give me hope. They make me believe that I will be able to give others in my life just enough light and space and nourishment.
January 14, 2014
(Awe) inspired
My chosen profession, the community organizing part, affords me the privilege of getting to know people on a deep level.
I often start conversations by asking someone's background, what brought them to their professional or personal place in life, what drives them.
The answers are various, often profound, as often as not, the just decided it was time to follow their dreams, start a second or third career, or get involved in their communities because of an experience that impacted them.
My current organizing project primarily involves clergy members, and I am having a blast! I have never been so glad that I paid attention in Sunday School, Hebrew School, Jewish summer camp, and in my Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies courses. We have meaningful conversations about the nature of community, of faith, of clergy impact, of social justice, and of leadership. We also talk politics.
Some of you may know me from way, way back. Back when I used to refuse to sing in the Bearden Middle School Christmas concert because it had the word Christmas in it and we were singing Christmas carols in a public school. Or, when I protested the carol-ringing gigantic wreath hanging in Bearden High School, or drove off the youth pastors who decided it was a good idea to invite the Jewish girl to bible study during the week of Passover (my response, "No thank you. Would you like some matzah? Oh, and you need to leave school grounds if you have not checked in with the principal's office...and you cannot evangelize on school property, you are not a student. I'm sure you're a lovely person, but please leave or I will report you.").
I have no problem with churches or the state. I do have a problem with public institutions getting religious, and it seems like that is happening more and more.
I am truly in awe of the clergy members I get to speak and work with. They inspire me to learn more, to focus on things outside of myself, to look at the world through a lens of compassion, patience and respect. I enjoy our philosophical and spiritual conversations and wish I could carry the feeling of calm I feel with them into every interaction I have.
Pretty sure you're going to be inspired by them soon, too.
I often start conversations by asking someone's background, what brought them to their professional or personal place in life, what drives them.
The answers are various, often profound, as often as not, the just decided it was time to follow their dreams, start a second or third career, or get involved in their communities because of an experience that impacted them.
My current organizing project primarily involves clergy members, and I am having a blast! I have never been so glad that I paid attention in Sunday School, Hebrew School, Jewish summer camp, and in my Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies courses. We have meaningful conversations about the nature of community, of faith, of clergy impact, of social justice, and of leadership. We also talk politics.
Some of you may know me from way, way back. Back when I used to refuse to sing in the Bearden Middle School Christmas concert because it had the word Christmas in it and we were singing Christmas carols in a public school. Or, when I protested the carol-ringing gigantic wreath hanging in Bearden High School, or drove off the youth pastors who decided it was a good idea to invite the Jewish girl to bible study during the week of Passover (my response, "No thank you. Would you like some matzah? Oh, and you need to leave school grounds if you have not checked in with the principal's office...and you cannot evangelize on school property, you are not a student. I'm sure you're a lovely person, but please leave or I will report you.").
I have no problem with churches or the state. I do have a problem with public institutions getting religious, and it seems like that is happening more and more.
I am truly in awe of the clergy members I get to speak and work with. They inspire me to learn more, to focus on things outside of myself, to look at the world through a lens of compassion, patience and respect. I enjoy our philosophical and spiritual conversations and wish I could carry the feeling of calm I feel with them into every interaction I have.
Pretty sure you're going to be inspired by them soon, too.
January 13, 2014
(A) list(er) work
I admit it, I am list maker.
It's not that I can't remember things, I am just a visual learner. I absorb more from the written page than from auditory cues. My childhood skills tests prove it. Seriously. I always did exceptionally well on reading comprehension and was well below average on listening comprehension. Guess which skill I've been working on my whole life?
I know what you're thinking, "Miriam, but you've been a community organizer for nearly 12 years! Your whole job is to listen to people and comprehend what they're saying." Yup. I practice. It works.
Back to the lists. When I make lists, I do so with the intention that I will accomplish at least some of the items on it. If I get 1/2 way through a list, that is a HUGE feat. H-U-G-E.
My lists are compartmentalized most of the time into: what to make (foodstuffs), what to clean (parts of the house, or subparts like the coffee table or counters), who to see (Grandma, friends), other household chores (mow, garden, gutters, bills), errands (fill tires, return stuff bought last weekend) and what to purchase (groceries).
Each week, my lists make the all important transfer from one page to the next.
As I was cleaning off the coffee table this week, in order to pay bills (two things crossed off the list in one fell swoop!), I noticed a full notepad of lists. Making sure I had not missed something huge, I found that the notepad was filled with key information from one of my job interviews that will make work more streamlined when I bring it up again, and the name and phone number of the gentleman I met with last summer who negotiated my lower property tax rate for 2011 (more on that at a later date).
Several years ago, I read "Mountains Beyond Mountains" by Dr. Paul Farmer of Partners for Health. It was a book that all of the combined organizing teams read at my job with the Harvard Union of Clerical and Technical workers, and it made a huge impact on me. It taught me to take risks in order to change systemic inequities, and to always work for justice. It also taught me about the importance of lists.
Of course, my lists tend to be more mundane than Farmer's. I'm not trying to combat the rise of drug resistant tuberculosis. I'm just trying to keep on top of my dishes and laundry.
It's not that I can't remember things, I am just a visual learner. I absorb more from the written page than from auditory cues. My childhood skills tests prove it. Seriously. I always did exceptionally well on reading comprehension and was well below average on listening comprehension. Guess which skill I've been working on my whole life?
I know what you're thinking, "Miriam, but you've been a community organizer for nearly 12 years! Your whole job is to listen to people and comprehend what they're saying." Yup. I practice. It works.
Back to the lists. When I make lists, I do so with the intention that I will accomplish at least some of the items on it. If I get 1/2 way through a list, that is a HUGE feat. H-U-G-E.
My lists are compartmentalized most of the time into: what to make (foodstuffs), what to clean (parts of the house, or subparts like the coffee table or counters), who to see (Grandma, friends), other household chores (mow, garden, gutters, bills), errands (fill tires, return stuff bought last weekend) and what to purchase (groceries).
Each week, my lists make the all important transfer from one page to the next.
As I was cleaning off the coffee table this week, in order to pay bills (two things crossed off the list in one fell swoop!), I noticed a full notepad of lists. Making sure I had not missed something huge, I found that the notepad was filled with key information from one of my job interviews that will make work more streamlined when I bring it up again, and the name and phone number of the gentleman I met with last summer who negotiated my lower property tax rate for 2011 (more on that at a later date).
Several years ago, I read "Mountains Beyond Mountains" by Dr. Paul Farmer of Partners for Health. It was a book that all of the combined organizing teams read at my job with the Harvard Union of Clerical and Technical workers, and it made a huge impact on me. It taught me to take risks in order to change systemic inequities, and to always work for justice. It also taught me about the importance of lists.
Of course, my lists tend to be more mundane than Farmer's. I'm not trying to combat the rise of drug resistant tuberculosis. I'm just trying to keep on top of my dishes and laundry.
January 12, 2014
(In)somn(i)ambulator
I have never been much of a sleeper.
When I was a little girl, I used to ask for at least five glasses of water. Partially I was thirsty, the other part was not wanting to miss out on anything. As the youngest in the family, I was put to bed first, so there was always something happening after my bedroom door closed and the lights were off.
I quickly learned that reading was the trick to staying up until everyone else had to go to bed. It also kept me from having to take naps, or at the very least gave me the ability to fake a nap by just being quiet with my book.
In high school, my brother and sister were out of the house, but Mom and Dad were asleep, so I couldn't keep the TV on or listen to the radio. I would listen to my Walkman sometimes, but more often than not, I would play solitaire--with actual playing cards--until 2:00am. I also made my way through most of H.G. Wells' and Rudyard Kipling's works, as well as writing letters to friends around the country.
These days, I have no problem falling asleep. I welcome it. At the end of the day, I make myself stay up until at least 10:00pm, just so I don't feel like my grandparents, whom I used to watch fall asleep in front of the their evening programs.
The issues come in the dark of night, when the world is at rest, when no one is awake for me to call. A couple of years ago, I used to awaken in the wee morning hours due to stress. I was worried about finding a job, finding health insurance, paying my bills, keeping on top of my community organizing career. These days I just wake up. There are no thoughts in my head other than, "Oh, crap. Why aren't I asleep?!"
I know I should get up and do something else, but I always think that any minute now I'll fall back asleep. Any. Minute. Now.
When I was a little girl, I used to ask for at least five glasses of water. Partially I was thirsty, the other part was not wanting to miss out on anything. As the youngest in the family, I was put to bed first, so there was always something happening after my bedroom door closed and the lights were off.
I quickly learned that reading was the trick to staying up until everyone else had to go to bed. It also kept me from having to take naps, or at the very least gave me the ability to fake a nap by just being quiet with my book.
In high school, my brother and sister were out of the house, but Mom and Dad were asleep, so I couldn't keep the TV on or listen to the radio. I would listen to my Walkman sometimes, but more often than not, I would play solitaire--with actual playing cards--until 2:00am. I also made my way through most of H.G. Wells' and Rudyard Kipling's works, as well as writing letters to friends around the country.
These days, I have no problem falling asleep. I welcome it. At the end of the day, I make myself stay up until at least 10:00pm, just so I don't feel like my grandparents, whom I used to watch fall asleep in front of the their evening programs.
The issues come in the dark of night, when the world is at rest, when no one is awake for me to call. A couple of years ago, I used to awaken in the wee morning hours due to stress. I was worried about finding a job, finding health insurance, paying my bills, keeping on top of my community organizing career. These days I just wake up. There are no thoughts in my head other than, "Oh, crap. Why aren't I asleep?!"
I know I should get up and do something else, but I always think that any minute now I'll fall back asleep. Any. Minute. Now.
January 11, 2014
Soup(er Douper)
I admit it. I love soup. I've always loved soup.
When I was little, it was a treat to go to Harold's Delicatessen in Knoxville for a bialy and a bowl of vegetable soup. They even found some for me when it wasn't on the menu.
Matzah ball soup was has been on the menu at every family holiday meal. Campbell's was a staple growing up, supplanted over time by Progresso...until the day I found a bug in a can and couldn't open one again.
As I gained culinary skills, I started making my own soups. They weren't hard. Chop some things, put them in a pot with water, throw in some herbs and spices. Doneso.
Tomato basil. Chili with cashews. Chickpea and pumpkin. Coconut curried red lentil.
Most of my soups are spicy and hearty. If there's a noodle included, it's even better. But lately, I've found the one thing that really makes it sing. Potato chips.
I know, I know. Potato chips are not healthy. They're not conducive to a well-rounded diet. They're not good for you. I get it. That said, they taste exceptional floating atop my jalapeno butternut squash soup. That is no joke.
Potato chips are the new crackers. You heard it here first, folks!
When I was little, it was a treat to go to Harold's Delicatessen in Knoxville for a bialy and a bowl of vegetable soup. They even found some for me when it wasn't on the menu.
Matzah ball soup was has been on the menu at every family holiday meal. Campbell's was a staple growing up, supplanted over time by Progresso...until the day I found a bug in a can and couldn't open one again.
As I gained culinary skills, I started making my own soups. They weren't hard. Chop some things, put them in a pot with water, throw in some herbs and spices. Doneso.
Tomato basil. Chili with cashews. Chickpea and pumpkin. Coconut curried red lentil.
Most of my soups are spicy and hearty. If there's a noodle included, it's even better. But lately, I've found the one thing that really makes it sing. Potato chips.
I know, I know. Potato chips are not healthy. They're not conducive to a well-rounded diet. They're not good for you. I get it. That said, they taste exceptional floating atop my jalapeno butternut squash soup. That is no joke.
Potato chips are the new crackers. You heard it here first, folks!
January 10, 2014
Live and Let Go
My natural instinct is to dwell. I have always been a contemplative type. I had my first car for 14 years, the last three of which I looked for something else, the last one and an half of which I searched for the car I have now...six years later. Let's just say, I should've traded it in some time ago.
I have a photo album that contains my universal hall pass from my independent study teacher in middle school, and a picture of my friends from our lunch table in 8th grade. I have the good and the bad art I produced in college, the newspapers and magazines I've written for over the years, and the cassette tape of the interview I did with the Violent Femmes in 1991 for my high school paper.
I hold onto the past, but two years ago, I decided to let some of it go. That was one of my New Year's resolutions: let shit go. That, and get more books from the library. They went hand in hand, really.
I managed to stick to my resolutions, and I continue to try to let go of mental and physical clutter to the best of my ability. By doing so, I've allowed myself to see more clearly, to move things or ideas or people out of the way of my living a fulfilled life. Oftentimes, I have to move myself out of the way.
Yesterday started out with a minor crisis at one job and continuing crisis at a second job. I did what I could to mitigate the first while spending the bulk of the day at the second, making the most of that, too. Upon coming home and checking Job #1's email, not only did I find the crisis resolved, but in a way that buoyed my spirits and lifted my faith in humanity and those willing to take risks because I asked.
By letting go of my concern, I was able to enjoy the resolution of the crisis and look forward to a new work week, which is sure to have more crises, more uncertainty, more drama, and more fun.
Let it go, y'all. It feels really, really good.
I have a photo album that contains my universal hall pass from my independent study teacher in middle school, and a picture of my friends from our lunch table in 8th grade. I have the good and the bad art I produced in college, the newspapers and magazines I've written for over the years, and the cassette tape of the interview I did with the Violent Femmes in 1991 for my high school paper.
I hold onto the past, but two years ago, I decided to let some of it go. That was one of my New Year's resolutions: let shit go. That, and get more books from the library. They went hand in hand, really.
I managed to stick to my resolutions, and I continue to try to let go of mental and physical clutter to the best of my ability. By doing so, I've allowed myself to see more clearly, to move things or ideas or people out of the way of my living a fulfilled life. Oftentimes, I have to move myself out of the way.
Yesterday started out with a minor crisis at one job and continuing crisis at a second job. I did what I could to mitigate the first while spending the bulk of the day at the second, making the most of that, too. Upon coming home and checking Job #1's email, not only did I find the crisis resolved, but in a way that buoyed my spirits and lifted my faith in humanity and those willing to take risks because I asked.
By letting go of my concern, I was able to enjoy the resolution of the crisis and look forward to a new work week, which is sure to have more crises, more uncertainty, more drama, and more fun.
Let it go, y'all. It feels really, really good.
January 9, 2014
Hair Brain(iac)
The other night, I was bored. I mean, really bored. I couldn't get online, and had worked my part time desk job for 11 hours straight. I was restless and punchy and definitely didn't want to do any of the things on my list.
I wasn't paying attention to whatever was on TV, and I started thinking about the day before, when I was at my other, main, part time job at your favorite specialty grocery store, when I was making a mustache and a beard out of my braids. Let's just say the beard was pretty metal. The mustache was more like a giant curly handlebar gone awry.
Left alone (and did I mention, bored?), I went much, much farther.
My hair had been down all day, and it was lookin' good! The curls were keeping their shape, it wasn't too dry, it wasn't too greasy. It was the just right porridge of hair days...without the danger of being eaten by a family of bears.
First, I started making the mustache. I tucked the front strands behind my ears and took locks from either side of my head about two inches back. I double knotted them in between my nose and mouth and then wound one lock behind the knot so that they both stood out horizontally...making a long, lustrous mustache the envy of any hipster.
The beard was the next step. No easy feat. It took doing, but I finally figured out that an ascot-type loose knot was the winner to make me look full-bearded. Upon showing it to some coworkers the next day, one commented that I looked like one of the guys on Duck Dynasty.
I think that may have squelched my interest in sporting a beard. Then again, if there's another cold snap like the one we had this week, it could definitely add some much- needed warmth to my wardrobe!
I wasn't paying attention to whatever was on TV, and I started thinking about the day before, when I was at my other, main, part time job at your favorite specialty grocery store, when I was making a mustache and a beard out of my braids. Let's just say the beard was pretty metal. The mustache was more like a giant curly handlebar gone awry.
Left alone (and did I mention, bored?), I went much, much farther.
My hair had been down all day, and it was lookin' good! The curls were keeping their shape, it wasn't too dry, it wasn't too greasy. It was the just right porridge of hair days...without the danger of being eaten by a family of bears.
First, I started making the mustache. I tucked the front strands behind my ears and took locks from either side of my head about two inches back. I double knotted them in between my nose and mouth and then wound one lock behind the knot so that they both stood out horizontally...making a long, lustrous mustache the envy of any hipster.
The beard was the next step. No easy feat. It took doing, but I finally figured out that an ascot-type loose knot was the winner to make me look full-bearded. Upon showing it to some coworkers the next day, one commented that I looked like one of the guys on Duck Dynasty.
I think that may have squelched my interest in sporting a beard. Then again, if there's another cold snap like the one we had this week, it could definitely add some much- needed warmth to my wardrobe!
January 8, 2014
(Dis)connected
Who knew that a little piece of plastic and copper wire could be so important, or that I am such a complete neophyte when it comes to updating my access to technology and the outside world?!
Saturday afternoon, my modem cord died. That's right. I have a DSL modem. No router. It plugs into my telephone wire in my kitchen, and I only plug it into the wall jack when I'm using the computer online...which it turns out is not that often.
Although you read earlier this week that I am now a bit more solvent, I am loathe to spend $100 for AT&T to send me a new modem for lousy internet service. Of course, it's pretty inexpensive, but I could probably upgrade to something that lets me download videos in under four hours for less if I combined it with my cable service.
Fingers crossed that the new, free cord shows up soon, and that I enter the 21st Century before it's over.
Saturday afternoon, my modem cord died. That's right. I have a DSL modem. No router. It plugs into my telephone wire in my kitchen, and I only plug it into the wall jack when I'm using the computer online...which it turns out is not that often.
Although you read earlier this week that I am now a bit more solvent, I am loathe to spend $100 for AT&T to send me a new modem for lousy internet service. Of course, it's pretty inexpensive, but I could probably upgrade to something that lets me download videos in under four hours for less if I combined it with my cable service.
Fingers crossed that the new, free cord shows up soon, and that I enter the 21st Century before it's over.
January 7, 2014
Handy(wo)man
About a month ago I had a horribly clogged shower drain. It was the kind of thing you've seen in a horror film. Seriously. There was black sludge coming up from the shower every time I used the sink...and nothing would drain.
Of course, the tub was totally full because I'd taken a much deserved bath. I'd even bought new bubble bath and everything! Needless to say, the water never got really hot, and the plumber cost an obscene amount of money to pull out a giant hairball the next morning, so...it was not the relaxing moment I imagined when I went for the soak.
While he was there, and told me about the total repiping my bathroom needed, he also told me that I need to have the guts of the toilet rebuilt, too, to stop it from running. Prior to that, I simply jiggled the handle if it failed to fill properly.
I waited a few more weeks, and finally, just before having a New Year's Day open house, I flushed the toilet and couldn't get the jiggle to do the trick. Finally, I took off the top of the tank, moved the chain around so it wouldn't catch anymore and voila!
Um, yeah. Sure I need to rebuild my toilet. Sure I do.
Of course, the tub was totally full because I'd taken a much deserved bath. I'd even bought new bubble bath and everything! Needless to say, the water never got really hot, and the plumber cost an obscene amount of money to pull out a giant hairball the next morning, so...it was not the relaxing moment I imagined when I went for the soak.
While he was there, and told me about the total repiping my bathroom needed, he also told me that I need to have the guts of the toilet rebuilt, too, to stop it from running. Prior to that, I simply jiggled the handle if it failed to fill properly.
I waited a few more weeks, and finally, just before having a New Year's Day open house, I flushed the toilet and couldn't get the jiggle to do the trick. Finally, I took off the top of the tank, moved the chain around so it wouldn't catch anymore and voila!
Um, yeah. Sure I need to rebuild my toilet. Sure I do.
January 6, 2014
Sing(ling) Out
I've been single for a while, and living in my own place for even longer. So, I've developed some funny little habits.
Lately, I wake up singing. One day it was "You Give Me Fever." The next, it was "Missing You." Today it was "Good Day Sunshine" over and over and over again.
When I lived in Boston, there was a winter when I couldn't get out of bed in the dead of winter, and out from under my seven wool blankets, without doing the "Brr, it's cold in here. There must be some Toros in the atmosphere" cheer from "Bring It On." Seriously.
At least the songs have gotten better.
Lately, I wake up singing. One day it was "You Give Me Fever." The next, it was "Missing You." Today it was "Good Day Sunshine" over and over and over again.
When I lived in Boston, there was a winter when I couldn't get out of bed in the dead of winter, and out from under my seven wool blankets, without doing the "Brr, it's cold in here. There must be some Toros in the atmosphere" cheer from "Bring It On." Seriously.
At least the songs have gotten better.
January 5, 2014
Cash(ing) Out/In
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| Truer words were never neoned. |
I got close, though. I picked up additional work where I could, my salary increased over time, and I loved what I was doing. I loved it so much, I took another vacation (to a conference) in August 2011, and lost my job due to more budget cuts and my job being shifted to a Metro Nashville agency. Unfortunately, I had bought myself a seriously indulgent pair of fabulous boots while out of town.
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| Said boots. |
Let 's just say my credit card bills have been consistently above $0.00.
I was a regular payer. I was never late. I did have some anxiety, though. I do not like to be in debt. I have a home loan, but no note on my car. No college debt (thank you Mom and Dad!). I even paid off my car repair loan over a year ago. I did, however, have around $3000 in credit card debt, and I felt icky about it, to say the least.
Having gainful employment, affordable insurance, and manageable household bills, I decided it was time to nip the credit card monster in the bud. I used one of those 0% APR rate checks they send you with your bill to put my plan into motion. I figured out that I could pay off my balance over the course of the offer and as of this week, I have.
It feels good to start the new year debt free. I hope to be more careful with my spending, save up for the expenses I will incur on trips before leaving town, have cash on hand for impulse buys, and maybe, just maybe create a real budget for a change.
It's going to feel good to have money left over at the end of each month. Here's to solvency, y'all! And, hopefully, another vacation.
January 4, 2014
Grand(ma) View
Grandma and I talk about books a lot. Well, that and which parts of her ache these days.
I don't remember a time when Grandma didn't have a bag of library books by her chair. Even in the days when she still drove, even when she still drove golf balls.
For the past two or three years, she's been waiting for the last book in a trilogy by Ken Follett. The kind folks at Parnassus Books let us know it's not slated to come out for at least another year or so, but recommended another author who writes epic novels spanning the centuries. Grandma loves those.
We have a date today to peruse the offerings at McKay's, and grab an early dinner.
I'm hoping we'll find enough to keep her interested for at least the next year. We had lunch together on Christmas Day and joked that although she's ready to go anytime, that she had too many books she'd like to finish before the year is out...or at least too many to read until well after she turns 95 in March.
Let's hope we all find something worthwhile to keep us going in our old age. I can't wait to fall back on Grandma's favorites...and mine.
I don't remember a time when Grandma didn't have a bag of library books by her chair. Even in the days when she still drove, even when she still drove golf balls.
For the past two or three years, she's been waiting for the last book in a trilogy by Ken Follett. The kind folks at Parnassus Books let us know it's not slated to come out for at least another year or so, but recommended another author who writes epic novels spanning the centuries. Grandma loves those.
We have a date today to peruse the offerings at McKay's, and grab an early dinner.
I'm hoping we'll find enough to keep her interested for at least the next year. We had lunch together on Christmas Day and joked that although she's ready to go anytime, that she had too many books she'd like to finish before the year is out...or at least too many to read until well after she turns 95 in March.
Let's hope we all find something worthwhile to keep us going in our old age. I can't wait to fall back on Grandma's favorites...and mine.
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| Christmas lunch at Chinatown with Grandma |
January 3, 2014
Another Day Another Nap-ortunity
I have plenty to do. P-L-E-N-T-Y.
I could empty and refill the dishwasher. I could wash the kitchen and bathroom floors. I could start designing this year's Valentine's cards. I could read a book, finish knitting one of two half-completed scarves to donate next Christmas to homeless families, I could spend an hour honing my yoga skills. I could make butternut squash soup with the ingredients I left on my counter last night. I could read a book.
Instead, I took a nap. That's not to say that I won't get to some of those things today, on my day off. But, I may take another nap.
My first nap was only a cat nap. You know, the kind that you desperately need because your body is shutting down on its own anyway and you might as well save yourself some trouble by grabbing the nearest blanket (one of four in my living room) and curling up into the cushions of the nearest sofa.
If I snooze again this afternoon, I would go for the all out hour plus-er. Those are my favorites. They have the best dreams, the weirdest subconscious theories swimming to the surface, the most beautiful hopes and dreams evolving into moving pictures in your head.
Then again, there is always tomorrow.
Shabbat Shalom, y'all!
I could empty and refill the dishwasher. I could wash the kitchen and bathroom floors. I could start designing this year's Valentine's cards. I could read a book, finish knitting one of two half-completed scarves to donate next Christmas to homeless families, I could spend an hour honing my yoga skills. I could make butternut squash soup with the ingredients I left on my counter last night. I could read a book.
Instead, I took a nap. That's not to say that I won't get to some of those things today, on my day off. But, I may take another nap.
My first nap was only a cat nap. You know, the kind that you desperately need because your body is shutting down on its own anyway and you might as well save yourself some trouble by grabbing the nearest blanket (one of four in my living room) and curling up into the cushions of the nearest sofa.
If I snooze again this afternoon, I would go for the all out hour plus-er. Those are my favorites. They have the best dreams, the weirdest subconscious theories swimming to the surface, the most beautiful hopes and dreams evolving into moving pictures in your head.
Then again, there is always tomorrow.
Shabbat Shalom, y'all!
January 2, 2014
Bird is the Word
On my way to my second job today, I happened to see a GIANT bird of prey hanging out in the front yard of a mansion in one of the swankiest neighborhoods in Nashville. I wanted to stop and check it out, take a picture, sketch it, study it, or at least get a closer look to be able to ask someone if it was a hawk, falcon or eagle of some kind, but, I kept driving.
Instead of being sad that I couldn't commune with nature, I started giggling, remembering that one of my coworkers' dad's has decided to become a falconer. You know, the guy with the giant glove that has a bird that can peck his eye out if he looks at him funny on his hand. I couldn't wait to tell her what I saw and ask about the bird her dad has. Of course, I forgot as soon as I got to work and had to muscle my way into a parking space. That, and she wasn't there today.
That giggly moment made my day. I hope something majestic made yours, too.
Instead of being sad that I couldn't commune with nature, I started giggling, remembering that one of my coworkers' dad's has decided to become a falconer. You know, the guy with the giant glove that has a bird that can peck his eye out if he looks at him funny on his hand. I couldn't wait to tell her what I saw and ask about the bird her dad has. Of course, I forgot as soon as I got to work and had to muscle my way into a parking space. That, and she wasn't there today.
That giggly moment made my day. I hope something majestic made yours, too.
January 1, 2014
Intro/Extro-Spective
Not normally one for New Year's resolutions, I decided during the height of the holiday season to change my perspective.
It's easy to focus on the negative, to wallow in fear or loneliness or what you perceive as other people's judgements, but that doesn't seem to help anything. It doesn't make you feel safe or loved or appreciated. What it does is build up walls.
I'm a fairly open book to those who know me. I am an open processor, an over-sharer, and I have the kind of face you can read at 100 yards.
I also tend to think a little bit too much about my interaction with others.
Given that, I've decided to focus less on what I assume other people think this year and shift to a focus on at least one good thing each day.
It has been easy so far! This morning, I am am already excited about getting the chance to sleep in, having the time to do some yoga, put up a pot of Moroccan-inspired black-eyed peas to share with whichever friends and family decide to stop by this afternoon and got the notice the the city is picking up my giant pile of brush from the street in two weeks.
Good things don't have to be complicated. I'm looking forward to a year of focusing on the little things and letting the big things fall into place without over-thinking them.
Happy 2014, y'all!
It's easy to focus on the negative, to wallow in fear or loneliness or what you perceive as other people's judgements, but that doesn't seem to help anything. It doesn't make you feel safe or loved or appreciated. What it does is build up walls.
I'm a fairly open book to those who know me. I am an open processor, an over-sharer, and I have the kind of face you can read at 100 yards.
I also tend to think a little bit too much about my interaction with others.
Given that, I've decided to focus less on what I assume other people think this year and shift to a focus on at least one good thing each day.
It has been easy so far! This morning, I am am already excited about getting the chance to sleep in, having the time to do some yoga, put up a pot of Moroccan-inspired black-eyed peas to share with whichever friends and family decide to stop by this afternoon and got the notice the the city is picking up my giant pile of brush from the street in two weeks.
Good things don't have to be complicated. I'm looking forward to a year of focusing on the little things and letting the big things fall into place without over-thinking them.
Happy 2014, y'all!
October 19, 2012
Grateful doesn't do it justice.
A year ago, I was waiting to hear if I had breast cancer after having biopsies in both breasts two days earlier. I was lucky. My cells were normal, if unusual in a woman under 40 years old.
It was a terrifying 2.5 days of anticipation. I cried. A lot. I was also, thanks to a recommendation from my sister, who took care of me, that I get a serious pain killer, asleep for much of it.
I made a lot of phone calls when my sister wasn't sitting with me. I cried to my friends around the country, scared that after having an unbearably stressful end of a job I lived and breathed, I was in for something much worse.
I was lucky. My sister made sure I understood what the doctor told me before the biopsies, carted me home, and bought me lunch. She slept over, in case I needed anything. A wonderful friend brought me food, so I didn't have to cook. Another friend sent a care package from California. Yet another friend, from Boston, sent chocolate and a teddy bear.
I was surrounded by love and caring. I knew that no matter what, I was going to be okay.
I was lucky. I am lucky.
This year on October 17, I drove to Knoxville, in awe at the spectacle of autumn, spent the day with my mom at the University of Tennessee's farmers' market and McClung Museum, had dinner with she and my dad at one of my favorite restaurants, and had a surprisingly good blind first date. I say surprisingly, not because of him, or the childhood friend who set us up, but because of my legendarily bad dating history.
I hope that next year, as I approach the last of my every-six-month mammogram check-ups, that I am able to enjoy the fall colors, eat a fresh-picked apple, and spend the day with people I love.
Oh, and if you haven't done a breast exam in a while, don't be scared if you find something new; take a deep breath, call your doctor and get checked. Wishing everyone clear mammograms and strong support systems.
It was a terrifying 2.5 days of anticipation. I cried. A lot. I was also, thanks to a recommendation from my sister, who took care of me, that I get a serious pain killer, asleep for much of it.
I made a lot of phone calls when my sister wasn't sitting with me. I cried to my friends around the country, scared that after having an unbearably stressful end of a job I lived and breathed, I was in for something much worse.
I was lucky. My sister made sure I understood what the doctor told me before the biopsies, carted me home, and bought me lunch. She slept over, in case I needed anything. A wonderful friend brought me food, so I didn't have to cook. Another friend sent a care package from California. Yet another friend, from Boston, sent chocolate and a teddy bear.
I was surrounded by love and caring. I knew that no matter what, I was going to be okay.
I was lucky. I am lucky.
This year on October 17, I drove to Knoxville, in awe at the spectacle of autumn, spent the day with my mom at the University of Tennessee's farmers' market and McClung Museum, had dinner with she and my dad at one of my favorite restaurants, and had a surprisingly good blind first date. I say surprisingly, not because of him, or the childhood friend who set us up, but because of my legendarily bad dating history.
I hope that next year, as I approach the last of my every-six-month mammogram check-ups, that I am able to enjoy the fall colors, eat a fresh-picked apple, and spend the day with people I love.
Oh, and if you haven't done a breast exam in a while, don't be scared if you find something new; take a deep breath, call your doctor and get checked. Wishing everyone clear mammograms and strong support systems.
July 6, 2012
"Free" Time on My Hands
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| The rewards of gardening...and patience. |
I'm not saying it's fun to be unemployed. Far from it. I spend hours each day trolling employment listings and applying for jobs, making lists of who to reconnect with, wrestling with the unemployment website and telephone weekly certification systems, and deciding if I have the remaining funds to have a social life. That said, I have embraced a few minor luxuries.
One of the perks of being at home all day is that I get to do my favorite stress activity: COOKING! This week alone, I've canned 15 quarts of pickles, and made a batch of coconut, Benedictine, pecan, chocolate chip brownies; vegetarian kibbeh; 1/2 gallon of fresh squeezed lemonade; a gallon of chai; turmeric-vegetable bulgur wheat pilaf; roasted veggies and tofu; pizza with homemade dough; a loaf of oat bread; and summer rolls. And the week's not over yet!
To be fair, I had company on Sunday night, and have not finished most of what I made, the pickles are for sale and being gifted to helpful neighbors, and have been swimming and shoveling compost to work off the rest.
I've also found time to play a few games of Mah Jongg, participated in numerous community events throughout Nashville, caught up with former colleagues and current peers, advised the Southern Governors Association on a grant application, was quoted in the Tennessean for my work with the Cultivating Healthy Communities of Faith Summit, have had nine interviews with five organizations, sent out 45 resumes, had two blog posts published, chicken, dog, child and house sat, and am taking better care of myself than I have in years.
I am excited about what my future holds and am making the best of my current situation.
Let me know if you want to buy some pickles or want a well-seasoned community organizer to come work for you!
April 9, 2012
From (Food) Slavery Unto Freedom
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| This is as close as I got to the First Family...or the famed White House Garden. |
Last week I was one of 82 people, representing 21 organizations at the Jewish Social Justice Roundtable and White House Briefing. My place at the table came through my connection as an alumna of JOIN for Justice, where I earned my organizing chops.
As if it weren't enough pressure to be a currently former community organizer representing my work putting food deserts on the map in Nashville as part of Re/Storing Nashville and forwarding access to affordable healthy food through the Nashville Healthy Corner Store Initiative, I was the only person attending from Tennessee, and likely the only Southerner in the room. That said, I did everyone proud.
Following Mara Vanderslice Kelly's briefing, I presented her with the Re/Storing Nashville toolkit, "From Charity to Justice," which was created to shepherd congregations of multiple faiths to understand food inequity and work to change the current norm. She was impressed and anxious to pass it along to her counterpart in the USDA working on food access and the faith community. We also discussed the importance of a positive campaign to work towards change collaboratively, rather than fighting against anything.
As the day wore on, I was able to connect with some of the most passionate social change makers in the Jewish community working on universal issues: food justice, affordable housing, reproductive rights and worker rights
Our break-out groups proved to be both informative and engaging, and allowed for more in-depth discussions with administration officials who were bringing our issues and ideas to the White House. As a member of the food justice group, I brought to light the need to address xenophobia and structural racism that currently plague our food system and obstruct access to affordable healthy food for so many. My suggestion was that the administration support local efforts to legalize backyard chickens, community gardens and other means to encourage sustainable urban and rural agriculture.
One of the the key issues on the table was also the re-authorization of the Farm Bill which is slated to expire at the end of December 2012. While the text of the Farm Bill can be daunting, some of the topics on the table last week included: funding locally grown produce directly for disaster relief, sustaining S.N.A.P. benefits and programs, and cutting commodity crop subsidies in favor of supporting new farmer programs, and fruit and vegetable production.
I do not pretend to be an expert on the Farm Bill, but it is clear that if this piece of legislation is about more than just farms, and we should all be paying attention.
Upon returning from Washington, I began immediately to work on community seders at Congregation Sherith Israel, witnessing the joy of Passover and the greater joy of diners as they dug into the festive meal. The line "Let all who are hungry come and eat" rang especially true for me, as I shared parsley grown in my home garden and the synagogue's garden. I look forward to making that phrase into a sign with my Sunday School class...and then planting our summer crops.
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