Comfort Kit

So, our kid is starting at a new preschool.

It's great. A pig, chickens and a huge rabbit are now a part of his daily encounters, along with as much outside play as he wants. By the color of his skin on this 70 degree spring day, I am going to guess he was out there for most of the day.

When we had out first tour and talked with the teachers they mentioned that we'd need to put together a comfort kit for out son. At first I figured they meant that it was a bag that had stuff in it that they could pull out when and if he got homesick or sad. That's great, I thought.

Then they explained more: It's a collection of food and clothing, a flashlight and a letter from you and family photos...in case of an emergency, like a big earthquake or other emergency that would keep you away for a day or longer (echo: a day or longer...a day or longer...a day or longer...a day or longer). I had a lump in my throat immediately. Like, if we died in a catastrophic earthquake and he was alone and afraid and would never see us again? Or if it took us a day or so to get to him because of unforeseen obstacles?

Commence absolute panic.

So now its a month later. Our almost complete comfort kit is sitting in front of me. It contains a fleece blanket he's had his whole life, a warm fleece outfit, hat and warm socks I got at goodwill, two Cliff protein bars, two chocolately Kind bars, two packages of banana/strawberry puree and undies and jerky. Still left to add: letter and photos. The thought of doing this is nauseating. But also so important. I want to write him a letter. I want to write him a good letter.  A letter that says everything I would ever want to say to him.  I want to add photos of so many things. I want to add stories of moments and games we play and our favorite things and to try to actually write down the incredible love I have for him. Just in case.

What intense shit!

I hope to all the Gods and Goddesses that exist and have ever existed that my child never ever has to even look at anything in this comfort kit. And I am grateful beyond anything I can even comprehend or imagine that this silly and sweet school is making us do this.

Stupid earthquake prone Seattle.

In the Lull

In the Lull

you forget the energy that fed you for weeks

you question

you imagine yourself living the dream and it feels unfamiliar; not possible

In the lull you worry

you doubt

you are thankful you paid for that workshop before the lull, otherwise you may not have done it

you worry more

you wonder if it was all some silly willy nilly excitement that was fun while it lasted but isn't real

you worry

In the lull 

you wonder what the heck you were thinking and, shit, you talked to so many friends about it (hello vulnerable) and your husband about it and what if its just not meant to be

In the lull you think

what if I am not cut out for this?
or its not right?
or it won't make me happy?
or it ends up being a waste of money AND I have lost my job (that you don't even like anyways)

In the lull

you are remotely aware of and thankful for the course which led you to this lull AND which told you it would likely happen, and what to expect, and not to be afraid or lose sight of your dream

In the lull

the challenge is

to be with it

to let the fears and doubts arise and not let them take hold

to sit with the dream and how it energized you

It was a vision of something good 

that led you to sign up for this workshop and buy a plane ticket and reach out to an old acquaintance from high school

to open up to the possibility that other dreams may be (are definitely) pulling you, and they may be (probably will be) in a different arena than the one you are currently in


As far as the lull goes

let it be

and do what you need to do

Intuition

I love the Mondo Beyondo course.

The assignment the other day was around intuition. We were asked to answer the following:

1. Where have your best impulses taken you?
2. Have you ever had a time where listening to your gut totally paid off? What was the situation? 
3. How did you know that you knew what to do next?

The act of sitting down and thinking back on some of my most powerful experiences with listening to my intuition, was really, really, really good.

I was reminded that I have a solid intuitive sense and I always learn the most and shine my brightest when I listen.

Some powerful things came to mind, both exciting and depressing:

1. I got it
2. I rarely take the time these past couple of years to let myself be QUIET enough to hear that voice, and trust it.
3. I've had some things bubbling up from the inside and waiting to come out for a bit now.
4. Now that I am aware of this, I am taking some actions to remedy this recent disconnection with self.

I loved a conversation I had the other day with one of my dearest ladies. We both tend to let our minds race and run all over the place. We talked about how hard it is to decipher what is inner wisdom and what is fear or anxiety or issues from growing up. With all those voices going, going, going where is the peace? Where is the opening, the clearing, the space for something new to arise? 

I am having so many potent self-re-discoveries in these past few weeks. I wish I was hanging out at a cabin in a beautiful forest or on a beach with quiet all around me throughout this course. I want to do all this work and let it all seep in during long and quiet and headphone-free walks. 

Maintenance

I am contemplating my blog's title. There's just something about the word maintenance. And then there's the use of a classic book title cleverly tweaked to become my blog title. Is that cheesy? Void of creativity?

Maintenance brings to mind someone who requires a lot of energy to have a relationship with. Ick. So,
I looked the word up to understand its roots. 

The english word maintain comes from the latin words manu tenere to hold in the hand. Thats kind of nice.

It means to: 
1. keep something in good condition by making repairs and correcting problems (very relevant.) 
2. to continue doing something (still relevant.)
3. to keep in an existing state; preserve from failure or decline (yup.)
4. to sustain against opposition or danger; uphold and defend (ok.)
5. to continue or persevere; carry on; keep up (definitely.)
6. to support or provide for (yes!)

I suppose the word Maintenance work here. What do you think?

A Course in Superhero-ism

I started a class this week called Mondo Beyondo. It goes for 6 weeks, five are left. I will explain what the class is since, given the title, you wouldn't know. But first I'll explain why I am taking it.

I've been intrigued by the prospect of a life coach for many years now. I worked as a care-giver for a time with an 8 year-old boy, Darren, who lived with Asberger's Syndrome. He was fun and strange and sweet and intense. His mama's name escapes me but I really liked her. She was either studying to become one or else already was a life coach. I'd never heard of that profession before and the way she described it interested me. I remember asking her little questions about from time to time to continue trying to clear up the hazy idea I had of what exactly she did for people. I've since gotten I better sense of what life coaching means and I think it a brilliant idea. As with any thing that exists that I can guess might make my sometimes confusing life a bit easier to interpret, I have wanted to give it a shot.

So here we are now. Darren is about 22 and we've long ago lost touch. A friend forwarded me a blog post a week ago. It was a story that made her think of me given the topic. The author had recently taken an online course about dreaming big and had managed to make a big dream become a reality. Her dream was similar to my dream of having an au pair, which is why my friend forwarded her story.
I was inspired by the story but more so by the class she referred to. I looked it up. I read the following:

6 weeks full of powerful stories, exercises, secret missions and audio interviews-- All designed to help you clarify your deepest dreams + begin to make them real. 

I was intrigued to say the least. The words life + coaching came up a few times on the website and in some reviews.

I began to ponder taking this course. I didn't have long to consider as it began in the next few days. The only reason I hesitated was the price, $99. And in the midst of my all-over-the-place mental decision-making process, my heart continued to chime in. I would get that upward breeze in my soul any time I held the possibility of being a part of the course. And that part of me would tell the mental part of me to get my priorities straight and consider how easily I might otherwise spend that $99 on a dress, or shoes or a night out or toiletries. Really? Do it.

So here I am in this course. One week down and I love it. I love the affirmations, the quotes, the core values I ended up with after one of the activies. I love where we are beginning to go and only just barely getting warmed up. I love the online class community. It's a brilliant and supportive and encouraging group of women (and a few men). I needed that. I needed them.

In fact, it's the weekend now which means I have to wait all the way until Monday to get the next assignment/activity and I am a wee bit sad about it. So I decided to go with the flow of this and begin writing about it. I want to document my thoughts about the class and some contributions to discussions and between a word doc and this old dusty blog I decided to go with this old slightly less dusty blog.

Creative Juices

I want my son to be a creative guy.

I believe that every last one of us is a creative soul and if you don't happen to think you are it's because some mean and stupid person made you feel that way when you were young.

Not way, no how for Mr. Oliver.

His creative soul will be given many mediums for expression.

I was thinking this just now as we sat on the kitchen floor. I was slicing apples for making apple chips and to keep him entertained put out a few pots and chopsticks.

He has a thing for rhythm so we often entertain each other by banging on things with our hands.

And so it went with the chopsticks. Fun, laughter, rhythm and yes, noise.

And so it will go I think.

Creativity isn't clean and pretty and properly volumed. Its messy, loud, and perhaps even ugly.

After a long break...

I want to write again.

I have long believed writing can be therapeutic. Creative writing, venting, poetry, letters to friends can all feel good and clear the webs.

Sometimes it can be helpful to hear responses from people with shared opinions or opposing points of view. Other times just the process of getting it out can make things more clear.

Alice Walker wrote about how writing saved her life. She's described times when she has been backed into dark corners and how picking up a pencil and just writing has carried her out of the dark.

I want to write again.

When I was in high school my close friends and I had a few shared journals that got passed around. When I was around 7 or 8 I got my first journal, a diary, at the time. My years of journaling stopped sometime in my twenties. It started when there was a man more regularly by my side at bedtime and in the morning. Those were my frequent writing times. So, its faded. But...

I want to write again.

I have so much to write about at this point in my life.

I am Oliver's mother. And I love it.

It's the most beautiful, meaningful thing I do every day.

At times I am bored. I miss my work. I miss my team. I miss going out at night, catching up with friends, dancing, drinking, sleeping and all that good stuff that we take for granted until they aren't so easy to do anymore.

At times I am lonely. In the early months it was so easy to scoop him up and go do something. He was lighter to carry and slept so much of the time.

Well, the times have changed.
He has opinions.
He is awake more.
Its true that all of these things make being with him more fun.
The joy of discovering the world through a baby's eyes, your baby's eyes, is unimaginable, pure, gorgeous, lovely...maybe beyond words.
But its also been limiting. I get out less. The day slips by and his schedule, which has come to be important on many levels, rules my day. The lack of sleep gets to me more now than before.

I think the honeymoon phase has past. I think the first 8 months as a mom, I was blissed out. I am still in love with it and with him but the beer goggles are off and I am feeling the impact of my life being out of balance.

Not enough working out.
Not enough creative time.
Not enough sleep.
Not enough time with my love.
Not enough sex.
Not enough time following my whim as to where to go and what to do.

This is it. I am in a huge life transition and the rest of my life will be determined by the choices I make, the patterns I get into in this new me.

So, all those not enoughs are just me defining, writing, getting out into words where my imbalance is. And now I can do something about it all.

I've begun recently to take steps.

I joined a gym with child care.
I've been talking with my love more about what he can do to help.
Action is started.

It's pretty funny that my first time writing here in so long is about the challenges I am encountering rather than all the amazingness that has been this year with Ollie.

That'll come.

For now though, I'll write my way out of a dark corner.

Opinions Running Rampant

What are you gonna do?
Everyone has an opinion.

I am reminded of a walk and talk with my friend Jessica when she was pregnant where she shared with me the wisdom of this fact. It was something along the lines of--everyone has an opinion about how things should be done in pregnancy, with babies and with children. The hard part is not falling into the trap of the "I know best" mentality, and imparting your "knowledge" on others.

Its true.

You can do your best to shrug off when others impart their "wisdom" on you as the right way, the only way and definitely the best way. But the challenge on you is not to fall piece by piece, inch by inch, hair by hair, into the path of telling others how they should do it--whatever it might be (names, sleeping, feeding, discipline, etc).

Goodness, I am only 17 weeks pregnant and it has already begun. It makes me not want to tell many folks we are planning on a home birth just to avoid the comments, paranoid questions and most of all, the opinions.

Pete and I were laughing today at how many people react when we say we aren't going to find out the gender of the baby until it is born. Even this simple choice: you either find out or you don't, brings on unwanted and unbridled opinions.

"Oh wow, I could never do that".

"Oh good for you, I would never do it any other way".

"I think its silly not to find out. It makes everything so much easier".

"I think you should find out. It helps the bonding process".

Goodness. Its pretty comical. Why do people have to always make it about them? I don't really care if you did it that way or if you found out as soon as you could. Great. No judgment here. You did what was right for you and that is all that matters. I support you honoring our own judgment and your own decisions and if its different than what I choose it doesn't make me think you were wrong in any way whatsoever.

I am on a bit of a soap box at the moment...apologies.

The take away for me comes back to what my friend said way back before this pregnancy/babies thing was even a reality for us.

Our challenge is to stay clear, open and not take the opinions people share (however strong and pushy they may be) as a test of our choices. Because ours may not be "right" choices for someone else but they are, thank goodness, ours and ours alone to make. And the bigger challenge is not to do this to others.

Can't you picture it? A year from now a friend is pregnant. I am excited for her and she is sharing with me that they are considering whether or not to find out the gender of their baby. Can't you see how easy it would be to tell her she should definitely wait? There is a different way though. That of sharing our experiences while acknowledging that it worked for us but doesn't for everyone...

Its a good reminder to do our best to be aware of this in general...for all of us.

A good challenge.

Week 8: Wiggles and Prayer

Week 8 has been alright. Still puking nearly daily but the number of things I can tolerate going down my throat has increased for sure. Maybe I am getting more optimistic since I'm about to be at 9 weeks and the countdown to end of awful illness is likely within a few weeks...hopefully, I should say, not likely. I can only pray, or intend, as is my kind of praying.

Taking a rest on the mac and cheese and ramen and eating things like fried rice, potatoes, pizza, bagel with peanut and apple butter and of course my middle of the night and early morning rice cakes to absorb some of that plentiful stomach acid that leads to the nausea and pukes.

Fruit is good but still no veggies. Julie's Organic frozen yogurt, blueberry flavored...yum. That was my nighttime snack for a bit but now I am out. What I wouldn't do for a personal food shopper and a personal chef (they'd have it pretty easy right now) and fresh beverage provider and I worry that Pete is wearing out though he promises he's fine. He has had entire charge of dish duty for the past month since being at the sink and smelling the food on dirty dishes brings me running to the toilet.

He is a rock star.

Yesterday we had our first big appointment. It was a rough start to the adventure and as soon as the ferry landed at Coleman Dock in Seattle I was headed for the bathroom to have the most embarrassing puke session thus far. I made it to the toilet fine but there were women in and out of the stalls next to me who clearly heard my hacking upchuck sounds. Lovely. It made me think of the few times in the past I've heard someone puking in a public bathroom and my thoughts went immediately to drunk or bulimic for some sick reason. More likely is the pregnant puke excuse. I'll forever be more sympathetic in public rest rooms I swear.

Pete and I were equally disgusted by how cold and unfriendly the nurse tech was who called us into the office, took my blood pressure and weight and told me to put on gown open in the front. She walked out and Pete just looks at me like "what was that?"

Whatever, I tell him. We've just got to figure out a midwife soon so I can stop coming to this baby factory for check ups.

Next the nurse practitioner came in. Her name was Lucia (pronounced Loo-sha). We liked her. She did an exam and talked to us forever about birth options. We told her we'd likely be using a midwife when we found one and she was supportive of that. She told us that Swedish has nice birthing rooms with tubs but that their C-section rates were right at the national average of 20-30%.

Yeah, unless we are at high risk for some reason later in pregnancy, we will go with mid-wife and birthing center or home birth. Good to know your options though and if it has to be a hospital, Swedish is a great one: Pete was born there.

Lucia puts the magic wand in the magic hole and there we see our little embryo. Its head is half the size of its body and right about where head and body meet, yeah right there, you can clearly make out the flutter of the beating heart. Cool. She points out that its wiggling. I see it. Kinda. Pete imagines a little wave and immediately is calling it a he.

If its gonna be a boy we are gonna have to come up with some names. I think we are set with a girls name. Love it.

Speaking of praying...there is a job opening in Redmond that could mean a move back to Seattle for us. I told Tara that I was gonna google "effective praying techniques" because I want this job to work out so badly. I was kind of kidding but...what the heck?

Here's what I found. According to some person on some website that talks about prayer and relates it to quantum physics, prayer releases an energy that emanates from the human mind and has a direct effect on the environment. Okay. I believe that. Quantum physics has shown us that we change the basic nature of matter just by thinking about it and the human mind releases an energy radiation that is capable of interacting directly with matter. Whoa.

It says that with a basic understanding of the mechanics of prayer, we can use this knowledge to help us pray more effectively. Cool. I know nothing about prayer besides: "Please G-d, let that cute boy not be at school today or tomorrow or at least until this huge zit goes away". Everyone knows that kind of prayer. But I mean real prayer. The kind that heals people.

Here are the supposed keys to effective prayer:

Key One: Adding positive emotion to the energy of a prayer improves the outcome of the prayer.

When you pray, think about an event that is positive and emotionally meaningful. This event should be something that makes you feel good no matter what you were thinking about before the prayer. Research shows that this type of positive imaging improves the power and focus of the prayer.

Key Two: Repeat a prayer mantra focused on your desired outcome.

Mantras are ancient tools that are designed to empower the force of prayer. The rosary is one good example of a prayer mantra. Repetition amplifies the force of a prayer and gives it more power. Some mantras have been repeated millions of times and have a great deal of standing force attached to them. Adding your prayer to this standing force field can greatly increase the chance that it will be answered. The mantra need not be long and you don’t even have to speak the language for it to be effective. Here are some examples that you might find useful.

"AUM GUM GANAPATEYE NAMA”

This is the Ganesh Gayatri Mantra. It has been spoken for thousands of years as a tool for removing obstacles to progress and achievement.

Key Three: Pray for others; especially strangers.

When you pray for others, the energy of the prayer automatically benefits you. Most people do not know this and tend to pray only for themselves and those that they know. Praying for others, especially those that you do not know, releases a powerful force from the unconscious that benefits you as well as the recipients of the prayer.

Key Four: Pray while meditating.

While you are meditating, the mind is much calmer. The calm and focused mind generates a great deal of positive divine creative force. By praying while meditating, we take advantage of this force and make our prayers much more powerful and effective.

******************************************************************************************************************************

Alrighty then. These are the laws of effective prayer as described by some guy named Mitchell Earl Gibson, MD. I left stuff out that didn't resonate with me or, in other words, was a bit too cheesy.

With this in mind maybe I'll have a go at some prayer. I do after all have a lot to pray for right now: healthy embryo soon-to-be-fetus and some day baby, Pete staying healthy and alive to help raise this kid, my preggie-sickness passing sooner than later and with all the world troubles there's always plenty to pray for in the way of selfless prayer.

I'll give it a shot. All this down time (ouch my ass seriously hurts from being on it just too much) has got to be good for something besides reading about pregnancy and watching every show I've ever wanted to see and then some.

Notice the ultrasound that looks like a blob of nothing. Translation: See the dark oval at the bottom left of the picture? Thats the outline of my amniotic sac. Inside it (the dark area) is amniotic fluid and in the middle of all that is the embryo (two more weeks and it becomes a fetus).

See there are two little plus symbols and a dot in the middle of those marking head to rump distance (21mm or 0.8 in). From the dot up to the right is all head and from the dot down and left is rest of body. The nurse practitioner could see arms and legs moving about. We just nodded along "sure"..."right". The resolution is not so good but in a month we'll pay a bit extra for the better machines and therefore higher resolution image. What the heck right?

Transformers GO!!

I had a dream last night I was a transformer. Remember those guys on the cartoon when we were kids? There were names like Decepticon, Megatron, Optimus Prime, Cybertron and more.

In my dream I am an autobot incarnate as a motorcycle. I have a vivid image of my front wheel following a narrow road for a ways until I get to a place where I need to go up some stairs. As a motorcycle this would be hard, but as a transformer all I need to do is transform and voila, I can walk up them.

The dream was a middle of night dream so I lay there briefly grinning at the subject of my dream and since I went back to sleep I don't remember much more.

The comedy is that I am taking a generic form of Zofran (anti-emetic drug) called Ondansetron. Now if that's not a transformer name...

Guilty

Thats us during the guilty weekend.
Its funny shit actually.
We spend 13 months having at it during the time when its supposed to make something happen and for 12 of those months nothing happens.
I make a commitment to a more holistic approach, order books from Amazon and expect its gonna take a while.
Pete gets his army tested and we find out all is good there.
I make arrangements for a procedure that shoots die into ya thang and makes sure it goes through those hopefully nice and clear tubes.
We have a long, serious and fun conversation about adoption.
I feel more and more okay with the possibility that we will have a baby whether it comes out of my body or not.
The procedure can happen in month 12 but my gyn is unable to do it and I'd have to do it with doc I don't know.
I decide to wait a month so my doc can do it.
I'm supposed to call and set up the appt. the first day of my new moon.

The weekend before I pop the egg Pete and I head up to Mt. Baker to spend the weekend partying with his Mercer Island crew for some birthdays.
We party all day...all weekend long.
We do it a bunch.
I hit my head on the low ceiling of our room.
This is my blowout before I begin this awesome get clear and healthy as shit plan. Monday the egg pops.

I burn through two big books in like 3 days about getting healthy and vital and letting your body do what it needs to make a baby.
LOVE the books and start up right away.
Imagery first thing and last thing each day, no sugar, no crap, lots of veggies and fruits and yoga and dream writing.
I do this for two weeks.
I feel amazing.
Better than I have in a long time.
I am feeling very confident that doing this for a while, my body is bound to make a baby.
Or if it isn't that will be okay too.

The day my moon should arrive I wake up at 6:30am.
No alarm, just hot and anxious.
I take my temperature as I've been doing for years: first for birth control and now to understand my cycle in a way to help bring on birth.
It's higher than its ever been in the four years I've been taking it.
In fact its higher than its ever been for about 4 days now.
I can't wait for the missed moon.
I go to the bathroom and pee on a stick.
I'm supposed to wait 3 minutes for the result.

It comes in 30 seconds.
Pregnant.
I stare in total disbelief.
No fucking way.
I don't smile or giggle.

I'm protecting myself.
What if its wrong, I ask myself?
That doesn't happen.
Not this way anyhow.
False-negatives, sometimes.
False-positives, not possible unless you are on drugs that I am not.
What if I am dreaming, or tomorrow it will be gone or something.


I walk out of the bedroom into the kitchen where I hear Pete getting ready to leave. He sees me in my robe and looks at me staring at him with a weird look on my face.
He apologizes for the Indian music he is blaring and asks if it woke me.
I say I don't give a shit about the Indian music.
He asks whats wrong.
I step forward and hand him the stick.
He looks at it, and then me, and says oh my god a few times before stepping forward to hug me.
I tell him not to get too excited.
I don't know why I say that.
I'm protecting us both.
Pete leaves after kissing my face and kissing my belly and being a perfect husband.

I go for a long walk.
I do yoga in an abandoned cul de sac.
I am late to work and don't give a shit.
I still have the WTF-holy shit look on my face.

I have a seriously stressful day at work that involves high winds and rescuing children from areas where trees are falling down.
I think I am going to die numerous times.
I go home thinking that the stress may cause me to miscarry.

I pee on another stick the next morning.
It says I am still pregnant.
Holy shit.

That was a month ago.
Still pregnant.

Alien Inhabitant

You know that last post? The one about the amazing, healthy, delicious waffles? I just re-read it and it made my mouth water with queasiness. Actually the thought of eating those is pretty freaking retched. Why?

Because I have the big lie of a thing called morning sickness. No, no, no. It's not morning sickness but rather sick or close to being sick all day long broken up by small periods of time where I feel okay enough to do something.

And so I am here at my computer rather than laying still and moaning quietly to myself because I feel alright for the first time today. What brought me from crumby to alright? Freaking Ramen noodles!

If you know me you know the concept of Ramen noodles is something I left behind in, oh early college long before my undergraduate studies in whole foods nutrition. See, I know better than to eat crud like that. Its processed, nutrient empty fake food. But for me, right now, the question is pretty much what can I actually tolerate putting in my mouth? Vegetables? Barforama! Whole grains? Same, unless they are pressed into a rice cake or a cheerio. The best nutritional things I have going for me these days are chicken and cheese. Other than that it seems to be only nutrient empty-ish things like mac and cheese, ramen, cheerios and the occasional burrito, heavy on the cheese light on beans.

Lovely right? Hell, its good f-in thing I have been eating quite healthy for some time and have been on pre-natal vitamins for about 15 months (can't tolerate those right now either).

In addition I had go on a magic little anti-nausea/vomiting pill called Zofran. The first evening I was on it I had secret musings about naming our child after it. Zoffie or Frannie, Zof or Ofran. Uh...maybe not. Anyhow as it turned out the stuff works but not as great as I had hoped. Still quite nauseous through more of the day than not and still puking, though not every day now.

The plot thickens because guess how Zofran works? It inhibits serotonin production. Do you know what serotonin does in your body? Oh, about a zillion important things like mood regulation, appetite, sleep regulation and the biggie...intestinal movement. Oh really? TMI? Just wait. I'm talking non-existent poop for like 5 days now. And the bits that have come in that time are hard, dry and tiny though for how long they take to come out you'd think they were logs to be majorly proud of. You know the kind where you feel 5 lbs lighter afterward? God I miss those.

Prunes aren't working so now I am on to other ideas I've heard on the pregnancy chat rooms: apple juice and stool softener. Hoping for a miracle.

Through the haze of puke, nausea, food issues and constipation I catch glimpses of the excitement of pregnancy. Looking forward to being able to sit with it longer term in 5-7 weeks. Dear Goddess help me get through this.

Fertile Soil

The image came to me today on my way into work. I was rushing in, eating while driving (bad habit I know). Every bite of the waffle I ate was fully enjoyed seeing as I spent most of my day yesterday preparing the stinking things. See, these waffles ain't no ordinary waffles. These waffles are teeming with love and nutrients. Funny that the recipe is one of the few good things my ex gave me. Oh well. They are good.

What's in em? Buckwheat and rice flour, ground flax and cashews, apple sauce and grated carrot and zucchini. Yeah, I know, right? Amazing. I added a bit of cinnamon this time round and bingo, made 'em even better. Threw a half in the toaster oven this a.m. and spread a bit of almond and apple butter on top. Holy goodness. Worth the 20 minutes they each took to actually cook. Note to self: might need to make the batter thinner next time round.

Anyhow, back to the drive and the image that came while I drove. I was thinking about this new life plan I'm on. It involves no alcohol, no (or very little) processed sugar, no caffeine, limited animal products and a lot of whole grains, beans, fruits and veggies.

The image I had on the way to work was really rich, dark, sweet, and fertile soil. I could practically feel it as I drove, imagining it falling between my fingers. What is all that beautiful soil good for? Growing new life. What am I wanting to be good at? Growing new life. Therefore the analogy fits so nicely.

Do I pour red wine or whiskey around my new kale starts? Nay. Do I sprinkle coffee or black tea atop cilantro sprouts? Heck no. Am I mulching with hamburger meat or even chicken breasts? That would be weird. It would make the soil filled with bacteria and acidic funk.

What do I put in that sexy soil to make it extra fertile? Lots of composted vegetables, bean and grains, among other things.

It made this new plan of mine feel even more right. In fact, I think my body is screaming for it. How to make a baby? Make the soil the baby needs to grow in re-he-he-he-he-ly luscious and clean.

Here's to adzuki beans, quinoa, kale, shitake, and carrots.

A picture can tell a story better than a thousand words...specially when you know the story...but sometimes even when you don't

An angel on Obstruction Island

Nourishment on top a Volcano

Hopeful Love on a Country Road

Family Bonds Grew as We Watched

Twas a Brutal Battle Tween a Lichen and a Moss

Bearing Witness to the Promise of Commitment

Tom Ka Gai. First Attempt. Absolute Success.

Ole Fashioned Love Song

Guess Which Two Became Dinner? The Boys Silly.

Fungus loves Lacey loves Fungus

These photos are in honor or my sweet sister love, Lacey Bediz. Thought I might lure her out here by showing her the likes of what treasures we can go seeking if she comes out here this fall. October tends to be pretty good. She loves her a good found food. That lobster mushroom was pretty delish with a tad bit-o-garlic and olive oil.