I'm not a home maker!

I'm not a home maker? Why does that seem to be the default for the parent who stays at home? Even stay at home parent, house keeper...none of this rings true for me.


I'm an artist. Shut up. I am.

I feel like I have better things to do with my time even if that better thing is creating a killer looking magazine box with Sharpies.

Now the reality is that somebody has to do the dishes and clean the clothing. These things are important.

But our house is maintained by everybody who lives here. We all pitch in and we are all equally uninterested in cleaning.  In other words, we're all lazy. So we don't take much pride in how the house looks. I'm okay with that. Things get done in their own time.

It's not that resolutions are bad. Not at all. However it seems the expectation of new year resolutions is to fail. Why in hell would you make a promise to yourself that you had no intention of keeping??? I mean talk about your depressing defeats of self esteem. Why not just eat a cheese cake and go to bed?

Last year, a resolution was exactly what I made.

My hair was less pink then and life was about everything and everybody else and why life wasn't working for me. Indeed, it had taken me that long to realize that with Amelia in pre-school twice a week, I had time to be myself. I had time to work on a ll the projects and sketches I've been putting off. I can finally get the house in an order I can live with. I can finally spend the time to write or sing or jump or whatever it is moms do when they finally have the little bundle of joy shipped off to school. All of which never happened before she was gone 4 hours a day twice a week. In fact, it still hasn't happened

My resolution last year was as vague as possible. I want to find myself.  I mean "find myself"  in the most selfish and self centered way. What did I want to look like? How did I want to spend my days? What kept me from being what I want to be? Why didn't it just happen as life went on?

I discovered over the past year that experimentation with meditation and hair dye really changed my perspective.

Hope for Las Vegas

The time that has passed since my last blog isn't much at all. It's funny. My goals have not changed. I am working toward ridding myself of Christmas wrapping paper. I am so close. There's only a roll left. Whew. I have even sent a few gifts to birthday parties in paper bags. Personally decorated by my brilliant and creative daughter Amelia. I'm proud to have done so.

However I must admit my journey into the greener aspects of life have not been all consistent. Composting has gone by the way side. Oh it irks me so much. Do you know how much wonderful waste I throw in the garbage where it will fester to no good use??? My next house will have a good compost bin.

But what could be going on now? What has happened since we last met minds? Really, not so much. We have moved to a more southern point of Oregon. It is so conservative, I have compared it to Texas and also the Bible belt. But the fact remains we're in OREGON. I have powered through the Christian right wing here to force my non-theist views upon the very small public who would appreciate the message. I feel good about it. I feel very hippie and very righteous about my decision to stand up to the main stream here. What a wonderful affirmation of my newer personality.

And now we are leaving. Leaving this little town for parts unknown as yet. Maybe Las Vegas, maybe Washington, maybe Brazil. I'm hoping for something easy. I'm hoping for something that is right for me and my husband but most importantly for my son. For my daughter. I hope it's good for them. 

Compostable Christmas

I had grand plans to make all my xmas wrap this year. I bought used sheets to sew into differently sized, reusable bags. Then I could decorate them with the kids. I was going to give away all my wrapping paper ahead of time and force myself into action.

The amount of waste on average per person per day is 5 pounds. At Christmas, that amount can double and more. Think about some things that are 10 pounds: bag of flour, a three month old baby, a couple of bricks....it's a LOT.

So I have some guilt about throwing away that much trash. I thought that by eliminating the paper aspect, it would help. Then the reality of TOYS hit me. All the plastic molded to fit each little dog or block or doll, all the waxed cardboard, and the sheer amount of packaging!!!!!! It's enough to make you quit.

Then there is the experience of receiving a gift. I would much rather have a sensible, reusable bag of some kind. But my kids might not feel the same way. I remember how fun it was to tear into a present, so excited to find out what it is. The anticipation, so much more exciting than the gift itself. Does that excitement go away if it's simply a pull out of the bag? Am I depriving them of a classic Christmas experience?

Well, they have this year to tear into paper wrapped surprises and we'll find out if wrapping paper is compostable.


Good thing I never got around to giving it away.

Happy rampant consumerism season!!!!!!!!!

I know, I know. What a cynic right? That's not it exactly. I love this time of year, as much as anybody. This year, it's taken a new timbre.

A lot of you know that I no longer attend church or ascribe to the Christian spirituality. I loved being Episcopalian. I'm so glad I grew up with such a rich and wonderful religious experience.

But now I have a dilemma. If I wouldn't raise Amelia to believe in Jesus, why would I raise her to believe in Santa Claus????

I know these are both also historical characters as well, and I tell her about them as such. I don't want her to be ignorant, but I don't want to lead her on either. I asked her if she believed me when I told her a man would come down the chimney (then I explained what a chimney was) and leave toys under the tree. That he would make it to all the children in the whole world and give them toys. Her response was a "Mom" in the tone of "You're the silliest"

So then, what exactly is the point of Christmas? If there's no Christ and no Claus....

But there IS!!! A point, that is.

Historically, my feeling is that making it through the winter was a celebration in itself. The solstice is the half way point. This year, December 21 will be the longest night of the year. The day when the sun is furthest from us.  Days begin to get longer and, hopefully, warmer. I don't mind saying I celebrate AFTER I make it through the winter, but I appreciate the holiday breaking up the monotony of the long dark season. I think that a show of abundance is a fit way to celebrate.

And of course I love presents. I love giving them to my kids and watching the excitement they have dreaming about what could be inside those wrapped packages. I love giving at least one present to somebody who never would have expected it. I love making little treats for my friends. I love any excuse to make crafts. I love to get presents too!!!! I love that although the economy sucks, there are twinkling lights everywhere.

We read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" every year before bed on Christmas Eve. We turn off the lights, except for the tree and get into our jammies. Usually there's a fire lit and we all snuggle together on the couch, just like when I was a kid. Some how, that makes the night magical.

I hope that they love this tradition as much as I.

I hope they see Santa Claus and this whole holiday as a wonderful idea of generosity.

The Food and the Restless

Overly dramatic you say? Perhaps. Those who know me know one thing for sure: I love food.

I am not in any way shape or form referring to my ample waist line, though that may be considered proof. Also, I don't mean to imply that I have a lot of experience with many of the finer dining experiences. On the contrary, I love nothing more than a great pizza and a perfect beer. I would like to think I would know something was great cuisine when I tasted it. My point, should I ever get around to it, is that food is a great joy to me.

A couple weeks ago, my husband stumbled across an article on-line and it instantly clicked with him. We should eliminate gluten.

sigh

There are very VERY few forces on this world that could convince me give up pizza for any length of time.  My husband is one of those forces. I was further convinced by Lucky Charms.

My Tuesday morning is mine alone with both kids at school. Of course, I go right for the good stuff: Lucky Charms in a big bowl of milk. Mmmmmm. Until later that afternoon, that shitty little leprechaun turned on me. My stomach hurt so badly!  That was about a week and a half into the gluten free (er) eating.I'm a believer.

In any case, I am on my first trembly little colt legs on the journey of gluten free living. My tummy is feeling much better. My energy is up and I'm losing weight. I haven't explored much into the vast and complicated realm of baking yet, but our dinners have been mostly brown rice and whatever veggies we have and chicken with various seasonings. Not much sacrifice there.

So dinner is not so bad, but I'm home most of the day. Any person who has been home for any period of time knows the strange and secret power the kitchen has to lure you in with the promise of treats so lovely, so rare that you wander in several times a day. Perhaps such a thing has materialized! Well, there is nothing new and special, but I'll take some of these pretzels or crackers or whatever is most interesting. Only now, I have much less to choose from.

And honestly, I can't recall what I used to eat. I know that I miss it though.

The case of the haunted cat

Well, more like the inhabited cat. I had to take her to the vet for the first time in many a year. She's probably 10 years old? Carrie, do you remember?

And here's the story: I noticed a round wound near her left back leg. Odd, because when cats fight, a round wound is not what they leave behind; more like a torn ear or scratch. I thought maybe a stray bb shot?

I took her to the first vet that would take her which was the Alpine Animal Hospital in Hood River. After a little wait he took a look at her.

"Well, you certainly can't blame another cat for this one. It's a critter," Dr. Foss said.

He explained to me that while this particular kind of parasite called Cuterebra (look it up at your own risk-think Star Trek: Wrath of Kahn bug in the ear kind of gross) was rare in cats, it was seen commonly in rats and mice and VOLES and MOLES. We have our culprit. So I asked what we do now and he said he would take it out.

"It's alive in there," he explained.  While it doesn't eat, it creates massive pockets of infection. "You can actually see it move."

"Ohh, gross! Can I see it?" I asked. Come on, how often do I get a chance to see something like that? It was gross/cool.

"So it's not hurting her?" I asked.

It was hurting her. After picking her up, the Doc said she probably had it in there a lot longer than she had let on. They kept Grey and removed the little worm dude. She is shaved and stitched and she has a drain in her side for at least 10 days.

I love my kitty. She's been around longer than my husband. I was really worried about her. I know how scared she was staying some place strange with all kinds of strange smells. She may be a tiger to a vole, but she's a timid little thing most of the time.

She is staying in the basement because the drain is doing its job and I have a feeling whatever comes out will be easier to clean off concrete than carpet. I'm need to give her meds and a warm compress twice a day. But there is a problem.

THE SMELL

It is the worst smell EVER. Even with Vicks inside my nose I can smell it. How in the heck am I supposed to take care of her??? I am seriously worried I am going to throw up on her! How do I deal with this??? For 2 weeks!!!!

I love my cat. I love my cat. I love my cat. I love my cat.....

PS-I also love my husband who is helping take care of her while I attempt to quietly heave over my shoulder.