Jolly Green Man

Anybody else look at The Green Giant and see the Green Man?

From Jung.org:
One of these ecological myths is the story of the Green Man. He has been part of our Western heritage for centuries. Depth psychologist Carl Jung says that archetypes are embedded in our collective unconscious and these archetypes are shared by all. That is why we find very early images of the Green Man in Iraq and all over Europe. His face, which has leaves sprouting from his lips, eyes, nose and ears, can be seen on buildings and signs throughout Europe that date back to the Middle Ages. He is a combination of man and nature; he shows us that we can never be separate from the natural world, that we are part of the earth. He signifies irrepressible life and represents the human longing for the natural world. He is an image from the depths of prehistory and his origins are much older than our Christian era and he is still honored today in England and Europe in May Day festivals where he is evoked to bring in a bountiful growing season.

Jolly Green Giant in a dickie:

Life: It's Just One Thing After Another

The last few months have been a real struggle. I mean, hey, if I can't be honest here, what the heck. Struggle. Yes. It's been one.

My body is still recovering from the celiac, I think (and recover is sort of a misnomer, isn't it, since I'll have it for the rest of my life). I wake up from nightmares that I'm eating bread. I still get glutened despite my best efforts to avoid it. And my immune system is still wacky: I've had a sinus infection, a bladder infection, and an acne breakout. It all makes me feel real sexy! 

In addition, my team (yes, team) of mental health professionals is trying to figure out if I might have a mood disorder, which would not at all be surprising considering my family history; I'm currently on FOUR psych meds, although I'm trying to get down to two. Two seems reasonable, in comparison. But I can't tell if my emotional swings are related to celiac or not, and I suppose I will find out in a year or two (that's how long my nutritionist says it will take for full healing). 

So, for the time being, I self-medicate with youtube videos (babies and kittens, I don't know, who am I) and escape by reading (got a kindle for xmas from my awesome dad) and dig my fingernails in and crawl to the end of every week. It will get better. I know this.

Broken Promises

So I promised that this wouldn't become a celiac blog... but it turns out that eliminating (ha ha, no pun intended) my disease leaves me with, well, not a lot to talk about.

So here's the scoop: I'm out on disability. I am extremely lucky to work at a place that offers short and long term disability coverage, so I still receive a portion of my salary while I sit here at home and do my best to get well. If that wasn't the case, I am sure that I would be soldiering along at my job until I ended up in the hospital, racking up big bills that would lead directly to my existence on the other side of the social services table.

Instead I work at a kind, humane place that genuinely cares about the well-being of its employees, and I am incredibly grateful for that. Thanks to them, and to labor unions, and insurance. You all are the bomb diggity.

This is the third day of my disability leave, and it has become very clear to me why I've been struggling so much the last few months. Every day (so far) I have been able to get up to see the kids off to school, do some housework, take some light exercise (usually a walk downtown--a mile in each direction), take a nap, and prepare dinner. I've also caught up on some of that unpleasant adult-type paperwork that we all have to do--calling insurance companies, paying bills, etc etc. You know, the stuff that people have to do every day.

I was not able to do any of this while I was working, even when I reduced my hours to 20 per week. I would work for four hours and collapse into bed for a nap equal to that time, only to rouse myself for a doctor's appointment or to prepare a half-assed meal for the kids (or left them to fend for themselves with the frozen/instant equivalent of a meal). A good portion of my farmshare went bad because I didn't have the energy to prepare fresh food; this led to its own problem, as my weight continued to plummet (118 lbs at current writing). The housework fell to the side and the apartment collected several cats' worth of dust-kitties...and let's not even speak of the bathroom or the inside of the microwave. Twice my long-distance partner came to do a deep-clean of the apartment, which was awesome, and lasted for about a week.  Collection agencies started to call because I hadn't sent out the insurance information for medical procedures performed months ago. My teen (and the teen that is staying with us briefly) were acting out, a result, I'm sure, of the lack of attention I was giving them. I was depressed, feeling like I couldn't manage my life and that it was quickly spiraling out of control.

Not working has made this condundrum so much clearer. Here is a metaphor that I got from somewhere (post in the comments if I stole it from you, please, because it's a good one and it deserves attribution):

Imagine that everyone is given a certain amount of energy chips to get through the day. Every thing you have to do uses one of those chips: prepare a meal, spend a chip. Go to an appointment, spend a chip. An hour at work, a chip. Because my body is so malnourished and debilitated, I have fewer chips than the average person, and so I used them up faster. When I pushed myself to do more, I was borrowing chips from the next day (when I worked three 6 hour days in a row, for example, I had to spend the fourth day entirely in bed).

Now that I am not using up all my chips at work, I am able to not only accomplish things that I have to do in order to live, I have some chips left over to do some things that include healing myself so that I can get back to full energy--like some gentle yoga, learning to cook gluten and dairy free, and healing some of my relationships, and myself.

I am also learning to pace myself, as the most challenging part of this illness is the tsunami of exhaustion that would roll over me seemingly without warning--when my energy chips were gone. I'm learning the limits of what I can do, and to notice when there are tsunami warning signs.

I'm hopeful that a couple of months will be enough to restore me to good health. If it's not, I"ll ask for a couple more. I need to gain about 20 lbs and restore my low vitamin levels. I need to be able to have enough recipes under my belt (haha) to cook healthy gluten free meals every day without having to think too hard about it. I need to learn how to pace my workday, my appointments, my obligations, so that I don't drown.

I also need to find a way to incorporate art into my everyday life, because this gives me energy. Writing here is part of that, and so is cooking. I've been exploring some visual art as well, which is something that I haven't done in some time, but that I enjoyed very much.

I'll keep you posted, literally, on how this is going.  If you're not so into hearing about my process, I don't mind. Check out for a while and check back in at the end of November and see how things are going.  I'll be right here.

This sickness doth infect the very life-blood of our enterprise

I'm sick. This is going to be one of those personal self-disclosing medical blog things, so if you don't like those, you can go look at this instead. Really, I don't mind.

October 2009 (slightly over baseline: 155)

The last few years haven't been good ones for me, medically. I've had three surgeries in two years related to my endometriosis, and for longer than I can remember I've thought there was something wrong with my immune system--something that came and went. But it went often enough that I could sort of ignore it, and so I went with that.

Then, around Christmas-time this year, people started asking me if I was losing weight. I was pleased. I'd put on some weight at the desk job I had before this one (2008-2010), and was at the heavier end of my regular weight spectrum. And I didn't think much more of it. I figured my body was leveling itself off: I had had major surgery in September 2010, and I guessed it could be related to that, somehow.

July 2010 (About average: 145)

Until... (and there's always an until in medical stories, right?) I noticed that some glands were swollen on the right side of my neck all the time. And my weight kept sliding down, more and more quickly. I got thrush. I was exhausted all the time. The doctor kept testing me for scarier and scarier things. I got poked, prodded, CT scanned, X-Rayed, and had enough blood drawn to feed a healthy-sized vampire.  Nothing showed up. Nothing. And I wasn't feeling better. I started to relate to the people on MYSTERY DIAGNOSIS, which is never a good thing.

April 2011 (130 lbs)

I was shrinking out of my clothes, but the doctor seemed pretty sure that it was just stress, and it seemed plausible, because I've certainly had my share of that in the last 12 months.

So we tried a psychotropic med change, which is its own special kind of fun. Ha.  That helped my mood a bit, but not the appetite or the weight.

Then, in June, after sounding out my theories with my massage therapist and a couple of friends, I brought them to my doctor.
1. The estrogen prescribed to me wasn't working somehow, or the weight loss was a side effect.
2. Stress. Possible, although I'd never experienced this particular side effect of stress. Usually I eat a lot when I'm stressed. But I am open to the effect that emotions and mental health can have on the body.
3. Gluten. I can hear the collective eye-rolling. I have done some of that myself, which is why I never suggested it to my doc before. Gluten is the new darling of the health-food nuts. People want to connect it to everything from weight loss to autism. But several people said that they had friends who gained weight on a gluten-free diet, because the gluten was affecting how they absorbed nutrients. So I asked my doc, and she gave me the blood test.

June 2011 (125 lbs)

And guess what? My blood tests were literally off the charts: Celiac disease. Which explains a lot about the weight loss and fatigue (I've been literally starving), the immune problems, the bruising, the swollen glands.

I've been on a gluten-free diet since July 5, and I haven't gained any weight yet, but I'm hoping that it will help.  I still have some procedures to be performed (hello, invasive camera down my throat!). The fatigue was a LOT better for the first week and has come back, and I'm still learning how to eat in a brand new way. This causes me no small amount of anxiety, because my celiac symptoms are atypical--I don't get the GI symptoms that many people experience, so I don't have any way of knowing if I'm accidentally eating gluten and further damaging my insides. This is terrifying.

I'm also in a bit of mourning for the things I can't have, although there are now (expensive) gluten-free alternatives for most foods. But I'll probably not ever be able to leave my house expecting that I can just pick something up on the way someplace. I'll have to bring my own food to family meals (gluten AND dairy free is a lot to ask of someone cooking a big holiday meal). It's not the end of the world, but there's a definite sadness around eating right now.

 I promise that this won't become a celiac blog. There are plenty of those. But I may, from time to time, update my health condition here.  Mostly I don't think about it, except at meal times. I like the challenge of learning new ways to cook and eat, and I feel blessed that this is happening at the height of fresh food season, so I can gorge on fresh fruits and vegetables without completely breaking the bank while getting all the calories I need.

Also, big shout-outs to some gf friends who have guided me through this tough time. You know who you are. If you want to be known, post your links in the comments. :)

Impatient

I am feeling overwhelmed by a lot of stressors, so I'm trying very hard to consciously change the focus of my thoughts from the negative (so fucking easy to get stuck in) to being present and remembering positive moments.

Some of this week's:

Sharing unexpected sunshine and peace on a warm concrete step with a mostly nonverbal client.

Watching the tips of the branches pinken and swell.  There are leaves in there.

Finding the first shoots of the bulbs I planted last year (daffodil, tulip, and iris).

Seeing a badass tough guy client help another one who is extremely physically ill.

Waking up to heavy wet snow that is melted in an hour, and imagining all the maple syrup that is coming.

A cup of hot coffee at exactly the right moment.

Irish whiskey buttercream.

I don't think it's a coincidence that so many of these moments involve being aware of seasons/the natural world.  Remembering plants' steady process of growing helps me connect with my own slow and steady processes, and know that it is a process, and be OK with that.

Oh right

Things have been moving along at a steady chug for a few weeks... I'm working and adjusting to the work schedule, taking care of business with the Teen and some of her teachers, hanging out with the Princess and the cat, playing a lot of Super Mario Bros.  I felt like I'd reached some kind of balance, and felt, for the first time in a long while.... content?  sort of happy?

But then, for the past few nights, I haven't been sleeping well, and have been running around the house baking and cooking and cleaning as though I'm preparing for something. This morning it clicked for me--this is my aunt's birthday... the one who passed away in June.  Of course, I knew it was her birthday; my extended family is planning to get together later today specifically because of the date.  I baked things to take to the potluck.  For some reason, though, it didn't really click.

In fact, I had been observing my response to this sort of milestone with detached approval--look at how well I'm handling all this!  I can calmly organize a family gathering and clean my house and cook brownies and lemon bars and cleanthehouseandcookdinneranddoallthedishes...  Right.  Ok.  I need to stop for a minute and stop observing and detaching, and just follow this day where it leads.

I do have a treat set up for myself later--a friend with an infant is coming to town, and she's a great listener, and holding babies is a cure for just about any psychological ailment I can think of.  And I have knitted presents for this baby.

Also, relatedly, I've been thinking about some new ink to help me remember not to do this shit to myself.  Something like this:

via*

except definitely not on my chest and without the birds.  Maybe across my shoulderblades, since that's where I carry the weight of the bastardes (including myself: I can be the worst bastarde of them all when it comes to grinding myself down).



*It reads "Nolite Te Carbarundrume Bastardes," which yes, I know isn't real Latin, but is significant to me because of its literary and feminist connotations.

Employed

Two weeks ago, I got a job at the same homeless shelter where I've been working per diem.  This is wonderful. I am thrilled, love the work, love my co-workers, love the agency... and I'm also exhausted.  This particular kind of work is draining all by itself, as you can imagine, and making the shift from part time to full time work is also quite a transition.  I remember the days (just six months ago! imagine!) when I would work 8 hours and come home with energy to do other things, but I am out of practice, I guess.  I work and come home to cook and be with my family for the minimal amount that is decent, and then I go and sleep like the dead.

via

When I'm not doing these things, I don't have the energy to concentrate on reading much, so I've been playing video games.  The Princess and I are about 80% of the way to solving Super Mario Bros for wii, and that represents many many hours of playing.  Since Christmas. No matter; I'm sure I'll get my brain back someday.  My supervisor estimates that it takes new caseworkers about two weeks to adjust.  That would put me back to "normal" at the end of next week.

Yeah, I'll keep you posted about that.

via

When I was in high school I had a serious love affair with Mario 3.  I played it constantly, for hours and hours at a time, until I finished it.  And then I started all over again.  In some ways, this new obsession with playing reminds me of that time: I was the same age that the Teen is now, going through some life difficulties, looking for an escape that was interesting but didn't tax my mind too much, nor make me anxious.

Some other things I'm up to: trying to watch all the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars (4 to go!), trying to cook all of our winter CSA veggies before they go soft, buying the Teen some supplementary Xmas gifts because I have basically usurped hers (the wii).  And working. Yes  But every day I've been taking some time to hang out with Mario, and feeling pretty OK about it.

via

Observation

Week #3 of unemployment brings news of impending surgery next week, and some free time to observe the urban wildlife.

Just a few minutes ago, the Princess and I were sitting on the front steps, watching the ferries go back and forth in the harbor.  Our front yard is a common space between two rows of townhouses, and a pair of birds squeaked like rusty springs in the the almost-bare oak trees in the courtyard.

But I couldn't see any birds, and on closer examination we saw that the squeaks were coming from two squirrels, each perched in its own tree.  They shouted back and forth to each other, creaking and clicking from their separate branches.  They reminded me of my neighbors here in this low-income housing project, whose personal lives often spill out into the courtyard and prompt police intervention.

These squirrels are used to people, and will take peanuts and almonds from the fingers of a person who holds very still, and then shallowly bury the nut, pat pat patting down a thin dirt cover with their hand-like paws.  I watched one today place a peanut under a decaying plastic grocery bag and smooth the material over it like the squirrel was putting it to bed.  They will go through an open apartment door if its resident isn't nearby.

But the squirrels are not tame.  They are fidgety and darting in their travels across the courtyard, and always mindful of the human residents.

I don't like feeding wild animals: I think it's a bad precedent to set.  And yet, I have succumbed to the temptation to hold out a raw almond, keep very still, until the squirrel approaches and grabs it from my fingers.  It's hard not to anthropomorphize them.  They are so like us, with their trusting/terrified approach, their wary eyes, their courtyard squabbles.  Last week I was in my small, fenced backyard when a squirrel darted under the gate with a treasure to bury clasped between its teeth.  Our joint surprise at finding each other there was so familiar--"Oh, excuse me! I didn't know this one was occupied!" "Not at all, excuse me, I didn't realized you'd be coming in!"  But the yard is mine and the squirrel left to find another shallow hole for its meal.

Like a household pet, I am soon to be neutered, my ovaries and uterus removed and my shaved and de-sexed body sent home the same day.  Unlike a household pet, I will be given hormones to replace the ones that are missing, so I will not likely become overweight and complacent.  At least, not from the surgery.

This surgery is for no one's convenience (except possibly mine--who has been tormented for years by problems with those lady parts); it's not so that my wild behavior will stop or so that I will not come home full of unwanted babies.

But I can't help likening myself to the squirrels.  I am certainly human, with a thinking mind and thumbs to turn my thoughts into actions.  I am also an animal with a body that must be obeyed.

Pat pat pat.  Cover over the treasure.  I can find it here later.

That Time of the Year

My head is about to explode with all of the things that are going on.  This kind of tension and stress is cyclical: I guess I would probably not appreciate quiet times without it, right?  As in, I would probably give my left boob for a good night's sleep and some job security right now.  Alas, it is not to be.

(This is not my head exploding.  It's the view of the Jordan's Meat Fire from my backyard.

But this is 1) one of the many things I cried about yesterday, and 

2) exactly what the inside of my brain feels like)

Most of the stuff that keeps threatening to shoot out of my forehead in a giant smelly black cloud has to do with regular life kind of stuff: a tween who is tweening, funding changes for my workplace and thus job insecurity, car repair, wedding planning, mother's day.  The vaguely stressful stuff that is annoying but not life-ending.  

Which would all be fine except that my baseline stress level is increased by a hundred degrees to start with because I'm having another surgery on my lady parts in a few weeks.  It's going to be expensive (thanks for the ultra-expensive health insurance that doesn't, it turns out, cover much at all!), and of course I'm not looking forward to the pain and time off from work and helplessness of recovery.  But more than all that, I'm afraid that it won't work, and I will have exercised my very last treatment option.

So, I keep having breakdowns about stuff like whether I eat lunch alone, and who takes a shower first in the morning, and whether the cat is in for the night.  The princess has been remarkably patient, and in appreciation of her kindness I am not completely withdrawing into myself and becoming mute.  This is my usual tactic for stress, and she aptly calls it "turtling."  I resist turtling and she pats my leg and brings me a sandwich, which is, I think, a fair tradeoff.  And helps.  A lot.

How to Be Poor

I will write about the wedding, I promise... but something else is more on my mind for now.

Some background: while I was a student I applied for MaineCare for my daughter. I've been working full time for just over a year now, and at the end of December our transitional year of MaineCare health insurance ended. This meant that I would add the tween to my work health insurance.

Unfortunately this happened at the same time as a huge increase in insurance rates, so I am feeling the pinch. The increase in the cost of my own coverage plus the adding the tween's is costing me an additional $350 a month--and the insurance doesn't cover as much as I wish it did, leaving me with a growing number of medical bills.

This is a big hit for our family, and it comes in a year when we have a couple of major expenses coming up: the tween's trip to Japan in July, and the wedding in September. Forget tightening the belt--this is a heavy-duty corset situation.

So I polished up some of my college-era poverty survival skills, and after a few months of (painful!) transition I think I'm finally getting used to this much smaller budget.

I thought I'd share some of the tips I'm re-learning, in case the economic recovery isn't happening for you yet either.

1. Make everything do double-duty

Being thrifty means also being thrifty with my time.

• When I cook I make extra so that it can also be work lunches for the week.
  
  
• While shopping, I try to buy food in containers (glass jars, closable plastic containers) that I can reuse instead of buying disposable tupperware. I also keep a ceramic bowl and cup at my work desk because I don't like to reheat food in plastic.
  
  
• Food waste becomes nutrients for my garden in my backyard composting bin, so I don't have to buy expensive fertilizer and trash bags.
  
  
• The slow-cooker works at cooking food while I'm working at my job. This is the only way I've been able to use inexpensive and nutritious food like dried beans.

2. Buy for value

I don't always buy things that are cheap. Sometimes the cost of cheap things can actually be higher.

• Nutrition: Twinkies and snack foods can be inexpensive, but they're not very nourishing--causing poorer health. Less processed=better, and I buy snack foods only at discount stores like Marden's and Big Lots.
  
  
• Longevity: will it break right away (i.e., is it cheaply made)? Will it cause long-term consequences (as poorly fitting shoes or dollar-store medicines might)?
  
  
• Landfills: It's hard to think about sometimes, but I try to minimize the amount of waste that I create, because cleaning up the environment is going to be HELLA expensive in the long run. This just means simple things like using waxed paper or reusable containers instead of plastic bags.

3. Wants vs Needs

I'd gotten pretty comfortable over the past year being able to have all of my needs met--and some of my wants too. In fact, some of the wants started to feel like needs. I had to reconsider my casual spending habits (movie rentals, eating at restaurants, drinking at bars, convenience foods, spending to enjoy entertainment).

Instead I've been considering ways to get some of my wants met for free or cheap, so that I'm only spending money on things that I need (like food, shelter, etc.). I do this by:

borrowing movies and books from the library

• buying used whenever possible
• borrowing things like tools and machines instead of buying my own
• going on cheap dates, like the First Friday Artwalk (if you time it right you can get free wine AND snacks too!) and cheap night/matinees at the movies
• volunteering as entertainment
• avoiding restaurants

Some things tread the line between want and need, like my car, work clothes, and social time. I try to minimize spending on these.

4. Carry it with you

Convenience spending is one of my biggest budgetary downfalls. So I try to carry snacks and water with me--so that I'm not caught spending money on things that I could get for free or cheap at home.

The hardest part about all of this is having to think about everything all the time. Everything takes planning, and it's exhausting at first. For someone like me, whose brain runs a lot like an obsessed hamster in an exercise wheel, this is especially hard. I have to be careful not to be to rough on myself and to forgive small expenditures. Sometimes a cup of coffee with a friend means the difference between feeling sane and not, and that's value--and worth it.

And once this stuff becomes habit, it's a lot easier. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

UPDATE 4/9: After I read the great comments below, I feel like I forgot to say a couple of things... like, that the tips above ONLY help me deal with what used to be my discretionary spending.

To deal with other expenses, I eliminated everything even remotely optional. I canceled cable and netflix, lowered my credit card payment to $20 over the minimum, and cut the amount I put into savings in half. I'm trying to get my student loan payment lowered, and April looks like the month I'm going to start being carless. I might cancel my cell phone (the cancellation fee is heinous, but it's equal to about three months' payment, and I still have over a year left in the contract). Once you get poor, it's amazing how possible certain lifestyle changes look.

Symbolic

Is it significant that ALL of the pictures I've posted over the last 6 weeks are about food?

Oh yes

Not at all a representation of my incredible Sunday night, in case you were wondering. (via)

My million dollar idea

I think I'd like to start a new online business: comfort food porn.

THE AUDIENCE: Young adults who miss being home--homesick college students, young adults who moved across the country to be away from their families, traveling professionals.

THE SEASON: November-March

THE CONCEPT: Ultra-close photos of regular people interacting with their favorite starchy goodness.

• people in baggy sweatshirts holding bowls of tuna casserole
• slovenly parents in pajamas leaning over steamy crockpots
• women with greasy hair in ponytails eating mashed potatoes
• a closeup shot of a glistening peanut butter and margarine sandwich
• men leaned back in barcaloungers with the jar of salsa propped directly below their chins

Would you watch?

Gravy

My family doles out responsibility for Thanksgiving Dinner. One aunt is cooking the turkey; another is mashing potatoes. My dad brings yeast rolls. I had really been hoping to try to introduce non-starch vegetables again this year. I need them to soak up the massive amounts of sugar I'll be eating. I feel guilty eating so many carbs without even the tiniest hint of green (no, frozen peas don't count).

My "weird" food habits are more of an issue than my sexual orientation. Shave my head and bring a "friend" home from college? Totally fine. Bring roughage to dinner? Create a scandal that echoes for years. The fact that I don't eat dairy is a constant source of amusement and mystery, and I gracefully bear a lot of jokes about the beans I love to eat.

Last year, in my eagerness to share the joys of brassica, I brought sauteed kale with garlic and soy sauce for Thanksgiving. Everybody politely took a tablespoon of it and drowned it in gravy or vinegar. There was a lot of it left at the end of the meal.

And then I was late calling them back this year to choose a dinner assignment.

"I'll bring a salad," I said.

"Umm..." my aunt said. "That would be good, except I don't really know where I'd put a salad on my Thanksgiving dinner plate. "

I know what she means. In our tradition, Thanksgiving dinner is strictly meat, fat, starch, and sugar. Vitamins need not apply. And salad wouldn't really blend in, would it? Plus, the combination of salad and gravy is horrifying.

"How about an appetizer?" she said.

Appetizer. A snack. Harumpf. I wonder if I've been assigned the powerless task of appetizer on purpose so that I don't mess up anyone's carbtastic meal. Ok, but I could do a raw veggie platter, sneak in some broccoli and kohlrabi--

"But your other aunt is bringing cut up vegetables and dip, and celery with cream cheese and olives, so..."

Damn, now my crudite plan was foiled! I agreed to bring some kind of appetizer, and hung up in a panic. What was once a simple food assignment is now a mission--a challenge from the foodie gods to find some possible compromise that will be not only vegetable, but acceptable to my family's specific palate.

After a week of frantic internet-recipe surfing (interrupted only by critical Gaga infusions) I think I've come up with the perfect compromise: Bacon-Wrapped Brussels Sprouts.
They probably won't look like this, but they'll be SO DELICIOUS. And they will be EATEN. Now you're jealous.

So there

"The flu vaccine contains less mercury than a typical tuna fish sandwich." source via

Fall Plans

Mmmm.... Venison.... Hopefully coming to a freezer near you. I'll keep you posted as plans progress.

Agri-Intellectuals

It's nice to see a logical, well-written reply to the locavore/small farm/slow food movement. But I still think this writer is wrong

The Omnivore’s Delusion: Against the Agri-intellectuals — The American, A Magazine of Ideas:

"On the desk in front of me are a dozen books, all hugely critical of present-day farming. Farmers are often given a pass in these books, painted as either naïve tools of corporate greed, or economic nullities forced into their present circumstances by the unrelenting forces of the twin grindstones of corporate greed and unfeeling markets. To the farmer on the ground, though, a farmer blessed with free choice and hard won experience, the moral choices aren’t quite so easy. Biotech crops actually cut the use of chemicals, and increase food safety. Are people who refuse to use them my moral superiors? Herbicides cut the need for tillage, which decreases soil erosion by millions of tons. The biggest environmental harm I have done as a farmer is the topsoil (and nutrients) I used to send down the Missouri River to the Gulf of Mexico before we began to practice no-till farming, made possible only by the use of herbicides. The combination of herbicides and genetically modified seed has made my farm more sustainable, not less, and actually reduces the pollution I send down the river. "

A place I should not visit

More to hold on to

I wrote before about how I am recovering from a depression that was so long-lasting that I didn't even know I was depressed... And while I am feeling better, there have been some unintended consequences of recovery.

Food tastes really damn good, for example. And my appetite has returned. This, as you might be guessing, has led to some weight gain.

So I'm trying to be make friends with my new love handles. The last time I can remember feeling this good emotionally was in high school, and my weight then was about fifteen to twenty pounds more than my norm over the past few years (pregnancy year excluded). So maybe this is my "happy weight?" That's the current theory, anyway.

And I am less horrified than the woman-sculpture there would suggest. Less horrified than she is, anyway.

My biggest problem is another unintended consequence: I need a new wardrobe, since I am down to just a few pairs of pants. And shopping is a whole other kind of trauma...

OMFG... I'm in <3

Just wanted to prove that I'm hip with the know and the txt talk and all that...*

And also, to share this with you.

Do you know what it is?

DEEP FRIED CHICKEN SKIN!!!

As happens so often, I am simultaneously horrified and fascinated (and a little hungry).

(Thx, Paul Constant. I want to be you when I grow up.)

*Obviously a lie, since, as a mom, I am no longer allowed to be hip. In fact, the fact that I know anything automatically determines that it is not cool. This is a law of nature.