Life and death

Last Sunday, the last day of our vacation, we spent half the day at the beach in Virginia. A few hours after getting there, the guys all still in the water, I lay on a towel in the sand reading The Unknown She, an inspiring book by my talented elementary school friend, Hilary Hart. I read these words, by Jackie Crovetto, a woman that Hilary interviewed in the book -

"Look," she says emphatically, "if I were told I had three months to live I would spend all that time with the ones I love. So why shouldn't I live that way right now? If you really bring in the reality of death, would you treat other people and yourself the same way you do now? Would you have made the same choices and decisions that you made today or that you are planning for tomorrow? When I listen to the news and hear about the rise of some dictator or the power struggles and atrocities we all at some time get embroiled in, I always seem to be left with the one thought - Why have we forgotten that we are mortal? Why have we forgotten that on the day we die all that we have grasped after, all that we have sought to control and have power over will be as sand flowing through our fingers? Many cultures have understood that one has to face death, know death and include death...As a society we are failing to provide for this primal need of our young men...[Women] have a deep instinctual understanding of death and how life and death exist in the same moment. We experience it in how we give birth, which is to stand on the very threshold where we cross into life and death, and through the cycles of our bodies, and the cycles within our daily lives. We know that life includes death, and we can live from this place of oneness! In tribal cultures people used to be so aware of death that they knew when their life was drawing to an end."

While reading this, I thought of another inspiring book about living fully - Patti Digh's book, Life is a Verb - essays provoked by having lived with her stepfather during his last 37 days of life. I put down Hilary's book and closed my eyes, burrowing my body into my few feet of Virginia Beach sand. The sun seemed to dance with the breeze against my skin. I was lulled by the sound of the waves and the families around me. I felt as if I floated above my body and pulled back into space, leaving my tiny frame back on the spot of beach where it lived for that moment. But then, in the next moment, I felt the deepness of earth's thick layers below me.

A few voices from behind me rose above the regular rhythm of the other beach sounds. They sounded panicked. I opened my eyes and turned towards them. There was something happening on the boardwalk next to the beach. I saw an upturned bike and a few people gathered round it. I imagined that someone had been hit by a bike while crossing the bike path. How awful. A few more people approached the scene. A girl who had gone there earlier to rinse off at the outdoor shower came running back to her mother next to me saying, "he is really hurt mom, come quickly." I resisted the urge to join those adding to the confusion around the accident and waited for Nicolas and the boys.

Twenty minutes later, the boys out of the water and ready to get in the car for our long trip to GA, the boardwalk crowd was even bigger. We rinsed off in the outdoor shower that was a few feet from the scene and looked over. There on the cement was a man surrounded by three EMTs, all working together to bring him back to life. His skin was chalk white. A guy standing near him turned back to someone he knew in the crowd. He held up three fingers on one hand and then held up six right after. This man had only inhabited this body for thirty six years. He wasn't especially big. He had been riding a bike. I suppose he may have had a heart attack. We quickly left the scene. We could still see that the ambulance hadn't moved once we had walked to our car, a few block away. At that point they had been doing cpr for over half an hour. I fear he never came back to life.

The kids were not disturbed by this scene, which surprised me. Gillen pointed out that he had seen a kind of grin on the man's face. Maybe they don't live in fear of death, as I did around their age. A few days earlier, while watching Billy Elliot on Broadway, Gillen had cried into my shoulder during a scene when Billy talks to his dead mother. Their awareness of death is less about fear than about grief. For now. I feel glad about that.

In about a week, my mother will have been dead for twenty years. She was 46. I do think she knew that she was going to die. I wonder if she felt like she had lived fully. She was such a vital woman, we all felt more passionate about life when we were with her. But there must have been much more choreography that she needed to give and she had only just begun sharing moments with Wilson, the love of her life.

I hope the 36 year old man on a bicycle had more moments of peace and joy than not. I hope he'd expressed much of what he most deeply needed to say.

Having a few reminders lately, again, of our common fate, has made being alive with those I love around me that much more vibrant, and sweet. Life is indeed about living.

The big picture

In this picture, from last night's dinner, I see Gillen and Jesse, really hungry, diving in to the pistachio parsley alfredo pasta and fried green tomatoes. I feel glad that they liked the new kind of pesto. I am aware that many people would see Jesse eating the fried tomato with his hands and see Gillen shoveling the pasta into his mouth. Nicolas has been known to be (a gentle version) of one of those people, especially when we are about to be with his family on vacation. We talk to the kids about others' expectations around table manners and about how they could be judged based on their table manners. Having been drilled unmercifully about table manners when I was young, I don't give a whole lot of feedback in this area. I'd rather talk about most anything else. But Nicolas is able to work it in once in a while and still preserve the peaceful meal.
In this picture, from an hour ago, I see a boy so excited to have his ATV working again. But most of my attention is on the frightening fact that there is no helmet. Nicolas sees a careful boy who knows not to go too fast with out a helmet. True. But my mother in law and I see the unexpected weeds and the glint in Gillen's eyes when he feels the motor revving up. Until we get the bigger helmet, later today, Gillen finally chose (it was that or not ride) to squeeze his valuable head into the small one. It is good that Nicolas and I see different bigger pictures and can help one another to look through each other's lens. It is especially good that we have gotten to a place where we can (usually) voice our fears and our perspective in a way that can be truly heard.
Later:
It is hot today. The red squished face in that helmet is also looking mad due to heat. He has decided that he is not so squished after all. He doesn't want to get the new helmet until we get back from our trip. We went out for ice cream after his guitar lesson (much closer) instead.

"Yes"es and "No"s; more ramblin' on

Several mentors/teachers in my life have paved the way for me to say "yes" more. The book Jump Into Life, by Arnaud Desjardin was a big inspiration, as was Sandra Dodd.

When Gillen started taking guitar he asked if we could eat at the expensive deli next door to his class. We agreed on this indulgence every six weeks. Today was deli day. He chose Scoops, the ice cream/candy store we hadn't tried, instead. A year ago I would have muttered something about having lunch first or dyes, so the yes would have been tainted.

This was a clear, colorful, bunny and Easter-Pez filled yes. Jesse had orange sherbet with sour dots mixed within, Gillen had strawberry ice cream with gummi bears and I had double chocolate chip. We sat at a booth and watched the rain through the window and talked about what Gillen is going to be practicing next on his guitar - "Ode to Joy" (he reads it as "Odie" to Joy. I so don't want to correct him).

The retro decorations brought back memories of bakery windows at Easter that I'd looked through as a child.

The "no" of the day concerns a cat. Our home has attracted yet another cat.

I was feeling so happy that Fracas is settling into a life without my bedroom in it - you see, here, that she still gets her own quilt covered arm chair in the closed-off art room. Tuki using her dog door was icing on the cake (pale yellow buttercream icing on easter cookies - I've got pastel sugars on the brain now). Then we heard it - a mewing from under the deck. Gillen investigated and found an unfixed male cat with no collar and a broken leg.

The "no" to keeping this cat involved discussion of what he would cost (organic food for all the animals; lots of cats at the farm already), how hard it might be for Tuki to stop chasing him up trees (which happened today, a very tall tree, despite "Cloud's" broken leg), and then there's the still-to-come Papa point of view. It was a no to more cats in our life right now but I did say yes to being responsible. We'll take it to Animal Control or the Rescue League tomorrow (so I guess the yes is still a possibility until then:)

The main objective in our life really has become yes. Even (pretty outrageous, I know) to myself! A few years ago, when my brother emailed about a ten-day job in Australia that I could do to make us lots of money, I immediately said yes. Last weekend, when a long-ago best friend Sally Solomon tracked me down despite my name change and told me about an upcoming school reunion with people I haven't seen in thirty years, my family saw the excitement in my face (these friends from Park School were some really great people) and made sure that I said "Yes". It is in Brookline, Mass. I am going to Montana later that month to see my sister who will have just had her first baby! I could so easily think about this being way too much indulgence, too much time for me. But they made me do it - I said '"yes".

Play part 2

After writing the last post, we went to see a performance art piece/science lecture about pollination. It was a collaborative work between scientists and artists. The most intriguing part of it was created by a pair of artists out of Seattle who call their work - Lelavision Physical Music. Sculptor/musician Ela Lamblin creates the fantastic (sometimes giant) instruments that are then played in their pieces with all kinds of bows, sticks and even with their dancing bodies. It was a lesson in physics as much as a new way of looking at pollination. Gillen and Jesse were mesmerized. If this show, Prop a Gate: Spreading the Stuff of Life comes to your area, don't miss it. Check out the videos on their web site.

I will never look at a flower or even an eggplant in the same way. I now truly understand the amazing journey that those tiny pollen cells are experiencing behind those fragile petals. I will also have to add a new element to the bee novel. Certain plants can only release their pollen once they are embraced by a bee that is buzzing at a specific tone. Who knew? Fun, slightly sultry possibility in that for my Irish bees, as they are buzzing through fields from Hadley, Mass. to Block Island on their way to saving the world.

In addition, I am thinking more about play. On the back of the program was this definition:
Lelavision = PLAY to the third power (playing with sound + playing on sculpture +playing through space) But what I've mostly been thinking about is something that was revealed in the question and answer period after the performance. The sculptor/musician, Ela Lamblin, grew up making his own toys. When he was six, his father told him that he wouldn't buy him any toys but would get him any materials he needed and would help him to make them himself. Ela credits this with enabling him to be so creative in his life, to not just let life happen to him. His work is brilliant. But, as an unschooling mother, I've been thinking about how his dad could have created the same possibility for his son without restricting him so intensely. And I've been thinking about how restricting possibilities can help one be more creative. I think the restriction has to be agreed upon by the artist, of any age. And I was thinking, what if legos or even a plastic GI Joe doll that were bought pre-made at a store could have been the tools to an even more satisfying creative discovery. Am I over-thinking this?

It's good I married a grounded farmer. Time to go stir the chicken stock. The roosters are no longer pacing in their farm pen yard.

Play

Last night, I found Jesse creating a stage for our resident head panda, Rosalinafini, and an auditorium for her audience. This set-up changed rooms a few times.
At the park the other day, ready to take on the monsters of the lake after "spreading" the water with pine needles to be able to allow them to emerge.
Lately, Jesse seems to be entering a new lighter, less serious and intellectual stage. Where he has always been called "old" for his age, into reading long book series and doing difficult puzzles and philosophizing about everything, lately he is all about silly jokes (the more pointless the better) squeaky, grandiose complaining (gotta have the ying with the yang ) and he is even more into imaginative play with his friends. He picked out a Charlie Brown DVD from the library a few days ago. We all giggled through it together last night. I hope that Gillen and Jesse will always keep their love of play and will mix in the innocent old favorites as their lives become more worldly and responsible. I remember how scared I was, on my tenth birthday, that being two digits now meant that I had to give up playing with my dolls. My mother answered my fear with the reassurance that I could play with my own kids someday. While I have loved playing with them, I hope that they don't ever feel like the time has come to "put away childish things" for a more mature perspective, on hold in terms of free play until the next generation comes along.

The unexpected

When I was in my twenties, in New York City, imagining being a wife and mother (because I probably dreamed more of making a family than of "making it" as an actor) I just never could have imagined this life, that is oh so perfect, but entirely unexpected.

This morning, Gillen was frying up some eggs and singing a made up song really loudly - some manly, guttoral, warrior belting. I was in another room looking for Nicolas' missing phone and was relieved, I admit, when the singing suddenly stopped. I went into the kitchen to help with the eggs and make some toast but the frying eggs were all alone. The outside door to the back deck shut. Gillen came back into the kitchen, his big dimples highlighted by shiny cold red cheeks. He washed his hands and went back to his spot at the stove.

"I just shot a squirrel," he said, pride stretching his grin.

"Just now? What? You shot a squirrel? How? ....Why?" His citified mama was very confused.

"I saw it getting into the bird feeder so I went and got my BB gun, and I shot it. First shot!"

"You were making eggs for papa and you left them to go shoot a squirrel?"

"Yes. I can't believe I got him. Do you want to see?"

I didn't. But I followed him outside and looked anyway. One shot in the heart. I was relieved to see he never suffered. Gillen's first kill. Wow. I can't say I ever imagined having to deal with guns in my home and a passion for hunting. Nicolas and I asked if he had thanked the squirrel, as previously instructed in many discussions about hunting. He had. He bagged it up and put it in the fridge and before I knew what was happening, the husband of my local homeschooling friend was here on our porch eager to teach Gillen how to mount it.

Jesse and I hid inside playing Quiddler. Jesse was shocked by the killing but had decided to wear his camouflage shirt out of respect for Gillen's moment - also unexpected, and very cool.

So right now, on top of my new art cabinet, a squirrel skin is laid out flat, curing in a plate of salt. There are four tiny squirrel legs soaking in salted water in the fridge, waiting to be marinated in something good while we go to gymnastics, and then eaten tonight (we have asked that Gillen eat anything he kills). The squirrel couldn't be mounted since its tail had been injured and it wasn't going to sit correctly. No mounted animals in my home. Yet.

I was also surprised this week by another example of how little I know about my children. I love how impossible they make it to pigeonhole them.

As a result of "that horrible Lassie movie" (I ignorantly brought home the one when Lassie is poisoned by an evil man and spends much of the movie dying), "The Yearling" (o.k., my bad) and "Around the World" (which had some frightening footage from race riots in the sixties) I have had a reputation with my eldest son for picking the worst movies ever. I keep trying to pick movies from netflix that everyone will like but most of the time Gillen won't even give them a try - until this week, when the netflix queue did not reflect conscious family choices that I hoped would appeal to everyone, at all. We watched "Mansfield Park" the other night, an historical drama that is based on Jane Austen's most autobiographical book. Not only did Gillen sit through the whole thing, he really liked it. Then, last night, we watched another historical drama about a farmer in MN meeting his mail-order bride. It was a slow, tender, visually beautiful film but definitely not one I'd have chosen for my sons. Gillen liked it.

You just never know.

Discovery

Right before leaving Chattanooga, we visited their Creative Discovery Museum. Jesse spent a long time making a stop action film, something he has been trying to do at home but without the fancy equipment and background scenery. It was an exciting story about a space cow surviving a dinosaur attack.
There was lots more water play:

Jesse bravely teased the T. Rex with his hand, wondering out loud if "Night at the Museum" could ever be real?While Jesse, looking into a widening mirror, got to take a look at what it would be like to take up a lot more space, I took this shot and saw myself taking up very little space on the left.This brought back a childhood memory for me. I was seven years old, the youngest camper at an overnight camp. I remember closing my eyes to go to sleep and having the sensation that my body was growing to take over the whole room, that I was a huge presence. It was scary but I also knew that if I opened my eyes I would be small again and I liked feeling so big for a change.

I've been thinking about what it is that makes us, as children and as adults, feel fully present in a strong, confident, big way. But that's for another post (or maybe part of a talk at a conference in New England :) Now, back to the Chattanooga scrapbook.

Gillen discovering the power of defying gravity, or just the power of a pulley?Though I took only one picture of our time with Mindy's family and of the sustainable farming conference which brought us there, these were major highlights of the weekend.

SSAWG, the southern sustainable ag. conference, was HUGE! It was exciting to see how big this group has gotten since the first time I went to one, while pregnant with Gillen. There are a lot of eager new farmers.
Here is sweet beautiful Sophie, after swimming with us at our hotel, suited up for her basketball game. She'll have to represent the whole wonderful family, for now, until our next visit.

the Undoing of Neatly Folded Laundry Costume Parade

I came here to write about how well I've done over the past few months with my de-cluttering, about how clear I feel with less piles, more restful blank space and rearranged furniture that gives us a fresh perspective.

Before I could take myself too seriously, the high-pitched boy team of Gillen, Jesse and (spending-the-night-friend) Logan enthusiastically burst my superficial bubble - all clad in costumes they'd created from Nicolas' boots, coats, glasses and the newly folded laundry and racing through the room in a loud parade. My moment of false organization pride threw itself into the pile up of superheroes and joyful noise.

Because (like everyone) I have presidents on the brain this week, I thought of a better picture that shows a child's joyful grandiosity - the one of John Kennedy in the oval office with his young son John-John underneath the desk at his feet. I have a feeling Obama's kids will be allowed to visit the Oval office too. And what could be better while making majorly important world-affecting decisions than to be reminded of what is at stake by the presence of a child.

Sometimes it's really loud around here. Sometimes it makes me a bit crazy. But, as parents of older kids remind me, the joyful, chaotic noise of these years will be gone all too soon and oh how I'll miss it.

On Whingeing and Worrying and hope

Inspired by the laid-back Aussies, I committed to no whingeing this year (their word for whining) and have not had much trouble with this resolution, though it got challenging this past week. Nicolas was struck down by an evil respiratory flue and Gillen's head was visited by uninvited little squatters - yes, lice. So it was a week of shampoos, shower caps, laundry, serving, cleaning, playing nurse and then more cleaning.

Nicolas is not very happy when he is forced to stop. The kids weren't super excited about wearing shower caps over the homeopathic lice lotion for four hours instead of going to our weekly playgroup...

Those more challenging moments are just "unlucky" as Gillens' soccer coach used to say. It is tempting to whinge, in a cynical, caustic manner like the lead character on "House" that I love so much (great series that we are watching on netflix). But instead, I'm going to focus on the silver lining:

-The hour when Gillen, Jesse and I groomed one another like chimpanzees in the hunt for lice. Maybe the fact that we only found them (and not many) on Gillen's head helped make this sweet rather than horrifying.

-Gillen's shorter hair. He agreed to let me cut a few inches off of the back and sides in order to have less hair to treat. Despite my chop job with bad scissors, it looks amazing.

-There was lots of very cool lego and playmobil creating upstairs. Jesse's solar-powered town and Gillen's dairy and pineapple farm bartered with one another amicably, while I got to read "Pippi Longstocking" to the builders during breaks in their negotiations. These moments in lego/playmobil land with a good book make me so happy.

-Seeing the small-budget film "Once" (that I talked about last year) win best song at the Oscars. It is so hopeful when a low-budget simple expression can move so many. That's what the film makers' song ("Falling Slowly") is about.

-Recognizing that I am really not a whinger, but am a worrier. So I won't have a hard time with this year's resolution; though it may be time to get real and take on that other Aussie inspiration - "no worries".

-We are heading into a new week.

Abundance

I am feeling like things are just too good and that there is too much. You know? Look at all of these advent calenders. I made the small matchbox one from Martha Stewart instructions in an old magazine years ago. Then there are two that were given to Gillen and Jesse by their grandmother, that are filled with chocolate (as will be the matchbox one when I find Andes mints) and the Victorian one that just has pictures and is similar to the ones I grew up with. My brother and I always had one like this and we had to take turns opening the numbered windows. It was wonderful. Or did my brother and I just resent sharing and I don't remember that part?

Yesterday, I got to craft for hours with friends at Claudia's house and with an abundance of cool stamps. Our kids were all happy. At one point, I got to hear Charlie Brown's Christmas Special in the background. All good.


We've been cold these last few mornings so we've gone upstairs, where the heat has accumulated. They play with legos or do puzzles while I read "The Children of Noisy Village" - about farm kids from another era, in Sweden, who are joyous over every small tradition.

It's not that mine are not appreciative but abundance can be a tricky thing. At the same time, scarcity creates all kinds of unhealthy cravings and obsessions.

I also feel a bit nervous when all is as good as it is right now. Undeserving? Ready for the other shoe to drop? Most moments, I am just glad - when I am not distracted by frustration over a child suddenly hating the strawberry jelly and preferring honey on his toast that I just smothered in jelly and did he ask me for honey(?) and I didn't listen(?) and yes, I was really impatient and out of line about it all.... But in all the other moments, it's good.

I am turning 44 tomorrow and am healthy. My friend Danielle is visiting for a few days (she arrives with her fabulous children this afternoon), and this weekend we get to go see Amy Steinberg with other unschoolers, in South Carolina.

I'm just trying to say I'm grateful, is all.

Halloween recap and the decline of candy

Helen, Scott and their Mario/Luigi clad twins and daughter hosted a good old-fashioned Halloween party, just the way we like it. The highlights (for me) were the decorations (check out her handmade Halloween quilt and her cats and owls and other cool stuff on her blog), the company, and watching Mario, Luigi, Link, Harry Potter, a mummy and other cool characters jumping on the trampoline, riding the zip-line (especially fun after dark, once we returned from trick-or-treating) and swinging in the tree swings. Jesse went as Harry Potter and the costume suited him so well (he read all the books with me and then again on his own) that he is now living in the glasses. Gillen went as a skateboard dude, getting to ride the pavement between houses with surprising ease (not many good practice surfaces in our neighborhood).

The highlight for the kids - of course. : )

Gillen neatly organized his this morning - what was left of it. So many pretty colors. But I don't know how they can stand the taste. Give me boring brown chocolate any day. I'm not saying it has to be Belgian or Swiss (though they are mighty fine), just keep it chocolate brown. I love the Hundred Grand bars, Reeses cups, even black licorice. Our kids gave most of theirs' to Nicolas and I, but there are less of the chocolates to be had every year. Too many blue candies with names like "Nerd" spell the downfall of civilization, if you ask me(Gillen and Jesse, and I'm guessing their friends, would not agree:) Were the candy versions of nerds and airheads always here and I just didn't notice?

One more picture, to show that there was a frightening side to the night as well. Creative Claudia (mom to the well costumed, by her, "Link", the GA football fan/mummy and the little Pokemom character), as a baby slung on the back of a monster.

Two Anniversaries

On October 15th, 1995, Nicolas and I were wed, by my amazing step-father Wilson, at a beautiful plantation a few miles from here. Two years ago, on that same day, I started this blog. I have paid much more attention to this blog (and other's blogs)in the past seven months than I did the first seventeen. It would stand to reason that I then gave less attention to my husband, which is sometimes true. I think he has appreciated the nights when he gets to watch more sports, uninterrupted by my "sharing" or by my need to change the channel. I'll have to ask him tonight, when all my attention is on him, on an actual date!

I have grown really fond of the blogging world. It gives me a way to connect to so many fabulous people, to ramble freely about whatever I please and gives me somewhere to put these pictures I so like taking. The only problem is that there are too many amazing blogs and too little time. I need some sort of blog IV to get my fix, while still being able to grind the spelt, soak the beans, create a full and varied life with the kids and watch the Red Sox with Nicolas - they're back, in the playoffs, Manny sporting wilder hair and more attitude than ever, Poppi even more focused, and I am loving the possibilities...

This next blogging year, I intend to get better at juggling everything in my life, not just my favorite blogs. As for my marriage, I aim to convince Nicolas that he doesn't really look quite as great as he thinks in these sunglasses:
oh, and find a way to get him to have more fun and less work.

Changing Perspective

At the Live and Learn Conference I got to hear a wonderful, moving, funny talk. It was Diana Jenner's talk about change. She talked about her life in terms of it being a beautiful lake that she gets to enjoy except when she suddenly finds her perfect view disrupted by the emergence of a tree. She talked about realizing that all she had to do to change that frustration over the tree being in her way was (and here she hopped sideways away from the podium) to move so that the tree was no longer in her way. I love that metaphor. If you want to hear Diana, in all her inspiring Diananess, you can download her talk at the Live and Learn Conference store site (as well as all of the other great talks).

I thought about that tree yesterday, with Gillen's soccer coach taking on the role of the annoying, view-blocking tree, when Nicolas and I were driving two hours to Gillen's soccer game in the North GA mountains. We had woken up super early to work at our farmer's market in Atlanta, had worked there for hours and were now having to get back in the car, really hungry due to not having time to get lunch and....I stopped, in the middle of a high pitched, tired moan, and looked at the beautiful day out the window. I looked into the back seat where my 7 year old was not whining and was reading the book _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ , giggling to himself. I put Eric Clapton and JJCale's CD on to try to tame the farmer's mood. He works really hard and it was the end of a long week, so he was allowed some moaning. And he too was able to change his perspective.

The day ended up being great. Gillen's team won their first game! A loud and bad-mouthed and obviously in the wrong soccer-mom on the other team (who wanted to insist that her kid was in the right and that mine should get a penalty card after her son had roughly pushed my son down) did NOT provoke me to loudly respond to her screeching; I walked away from her to watch the game where I couldn't so easily see or hear her. Gillen hadn't heard her and was fine so why not hop away towards better views. And after the game there happened to be a big bluegrass festival going on in that small mountain city so we got to listen to some amazing music, eat good Mexican and buy their local honey (we're buying local everything when we see it to get ready for our eat local month). Suddenly, the soccer coach tree was not so misguided in his insistence upon scheduling games in far away places. May my side-hopping abilities work well until December, as our Saturdays become about two games of soccer and other long drives. Just a small life-view obstacle. I'm so grateful not to be working my way around any large ones at the moment. Truly grateful.

When weak, focus on the sunflowers

These are just the sunflowers I get to look at when I do the dishes. There are also a vase of them on my windowsill and lots more waiting to be harvested at the farm. When I get my better camera this blog may become only about the sunflowers.

Earlier focusing on the long, neck and neck chess game between Nicolas and Jesse (rather than on Nicolas having gotten Jesse's sickness, with me feeling the beginning...) Piles of laundry are finished. I hear laughter from the kids' room. Nicolas moves inside so as to not see the gutters that need cleaning and has dropped onto the couch. Finally, he relaxes! An hour later, Gillen comes in from the yard with good news. Two avacado pits have rooted in the compost pile. I can throw out that fourth unsuccessful attempt to root a pit in a glass of water that is sitting on my window sill. We have discovered the secret and will have more avacado trees after all.

I am not getting much checked off the stuff-to-do list. The vacuum sits waiting upstairs. What are we going to have for dinner? We heard another story this morning about the disappearing bees. Now I know the name. It's called "colony collapse disorder" and 35 states are affected. Without bees we will lose one out of every three fruits and vegetables - cucumbers, cherries, onions, pumpkins, apples...

Time to refocus on the sunflowers. Just for today, just until I have succeeded in not getting sick. Just while they are still so pretty. Back to the bees story (and the vacuuming) when I'm stronger...

Target vs. Wal Mart

An editorial from a Boston Newspaper

The Calvert business rating for Target, which gives a lot of information about their practices - environmentally, in labor, etc.

One man's opinion.

A more in-depth article.

I was able to get all of the above links from other unschooling moms who did this research in Jan., in answer to a question on an unschooling list. So there may be more current information, if you feel up to finding it.

I was glad to have some facts about Target, as well as thought-provoking editorials. I don't agree with the commenter on my "paved paradise" post that the discussion on that unschooling list shows that Target may be worse in some areas than Wal Mart. I guess each of us may be interpreting things to suit our own preferences. I think that the above information show what I had thought - that big business creates big-business shady practices. But if you have to go to one or the other of these two chains, Target is not as big, not as shady, is a bit better environmentally, isn't selling lots of foods that are labeled "organic" when they really aren't, and isn't claiming in its' ads to have supremely good labor practices. One of the biggest points, for me, is that (in our part of GA at least) Target doesn't have even a fraction of the screaming mamas treating their kids horribly. The screaming (and hitting) mamas (and papas and grands...) in our Wal Mart run rampant - or did when I used to go. Actually, friends say they still do. I don't know why there are more there than in other stores but there truly are.

I may go to Target even less than I already did, as a result of thinking about all of this more (thankyou Christy for your comment) but I will go there, for what I can't get at the small stores, thrift stores and yard sales. I won't go to Wal Mart.

They paved paradise...

I took my father to dinner for father's day tonight and then we went to a movie ("Once" - it's a small, music-filled, lovely Irish film). Between the restaurant and the movie theater is a natural foods grocery store that we have been doing business with since Nicolas started farming. It is called Return to Eden and is owned by a wonderful couple. I went in tonight and talked to the owner before the movie. Josh looks thinner and more intense since the last time I saw him. I soon learned why. While it is a great thing that "organic" and "sustainable" and earth-friendly are concepts that are becoming popular, so much is being lost as the big daddy corporations see the profit to be gained in jumping on board the movement. Smaller stores, like Return to Eden, are not just losing customers to the big chains like Target and Walmart and Whole Foods but some are losing the vendors that they have worked with for years. These health food stores paved the way for the vendors to do well enough to then be able to sell to the big guy. But there are vendors who just save all their stuff for the big show now.

Furthermore, the products are being adapted to the chain-store mentality. For instance, Tom's of Maine is now sold at Target. I had thought that this was a good thing, having had to buy our toothpaste at a store an hour away from us or mail order it before. Well, there are changes in the ingredients in the ones sold there - not as natural as before, or as the ones sold at Return to Eden.

The most outrageous thing I learned from Josh was what he told me about the expectations of many of his customers. He has had numerous phone calls from people who have been to his store and bought a product only to find it later at Whole Foods for .50 or a dollar less, so they want the difference put back on their charge card!! I know for a fact that many items are less expensive at Return to Eden than they are at Whole Foods. Would that same customer call up Whole Foods and demand money back?

I am going to continue my boycott of WalMart as a result of seeing this documentary last year . I do shop at Target and a bit at Whole Foods (we sell to them as well) but I am going to keep supporting the smaller mom and pop's places (no longer so small - Return to Eden is a large grocery store) as much as I can. People like Josh and his wife Jody represent true customer service and honesty. They don't compromise their integrity in order to please the share holders. What's the cost of losing that?

Harry and the Potters meet Avatar on the trampoline

Last night, I took Jesse to his first rock concert. It was "Harry and the Potters". They are two brothers from Boston who look like twins and transform themselves into Harrys. One is Harry year 4 and the other is Harry year 6. They were hugely energetic and loud. I feel a little bit guilty for compromising my 6 yo's young ear drums. But he loved it. They came out several times into the audience and sang right to the kids and teens.

So this morning I found Jesse on the trampoline, wearing the Harry Potter pajama bottoms we inherited and singing a Harry and the Potters song - "I am a Wizard" - while he practiced airbending with a large pole. I read about the animated series "Avatar" on Danielle's blog and knew my kids would love it. They do. We've been renting it from Netflix and I got them the computer game at the scholastic book fair. It's giving them another outlook on meditation, martial arts, the elements and Asian culture.

I was thinking this morning about what we watched and listened to as kids as compared to now. I was so into that David Carradine Kung Fu show, but also "The Brady Bunch". I loved musicals like "The Sound of Music" at Jesse's age.

Though I sometimes miss musicals (mine aren't as into them) they have much cooler media than I did, especially since we can cut out all commercials with TiVo and we have things like National Geographic and Animal Planet, instead of just "Wild Kingdom" on Sun nights. AND we have a trampoline on which to perform!

editor's note: Apparently not JUST air bending in these pictures; lots of earth bending going on as well.

connecting

With encouragement from the Australian part of the family (though those in Holland will be glad as well) I finally downloaded the free skype software, enabling us to talk to family in far away lands for free. A few hours after I started the account, my computer started ringing! I "answered" the light blue ringing bubble on the screen and suddenly I was whisked into an episode of "The Jetsons". My computer was talking to me, in a familiar Australian accent. My mac laptop had come alive and had taken on Naomi's persona! It was surreal and freaky and I was hysterical.

When I finally stopped laughing and Naomi hooked up her camera so that I could see her (soo wonderful) I saw how cool this could be. We got to see her growing-with-child belly. sigh. That was something! We got to see Kenneth's new rock star haircut. Nicolas and the kids saw K. & N.'s Sydney apartment for the first time, including their beautiful view of the Bay from their terrace. We caught up on their new business venture, they got to hear the kids' voices (though mostly I was heading off Jesse from his attempts to have his stuffed dog Rufus kiss Naomi so much, in case Rufus inadvertently disconnected the skype). We shared Red Sox updates and reconnected with the pandas (Louisafini and Pandolfini who need an entire blog entry to themselves some time soon). It was all good. But that was because I could see them and they couldn't yet see me. I have to get a cord to connect our video camera to the computer.

I think that connecting in person is what it's really all about. We connected with some friends here today on their way to Vidalia. Sharing good food and laughs and the outdoors is so fine. If you can't have that, then connecting by voice is good; though I sometimes prefer writing. But this video phone phenomenon...I feel like the first phone generation must have felt. I think of Pa Ingalls saying "these times we're living in are going too fast, we have trains where we used to just have wagons, and telegrams, and kerosene lamps.... it's too much too quick." (I'm seriously paraphrasing Laura Ingalls Wilder) Am I afraid of even more technology? Been reading too many "Little House" books lately?

I want to see the new nephews (one niece?) when they are born. I loved seeing my brother after not having seen him for a year. It was so good to see Naomi looking so pregnant. But I don't want the computer to ring at any old time and have to literally FACE someone while talking. You feel like you're sitting in front of the person, but you're not! What is my problem? I'll stop wondering until I actually have a camera on me for the first time...if anyone even calls me again after this babbling.

OK, I am not stopping. My mac ibook is the way I connect to the world outside of my little town. I love being able to connect to such a fabulously diverse bunch of people, to reach out instantly to so many friends, family and yet-to-be-made friends, so easily. Skype just makes that possibility even bigger. It's a little wierd. But I can face it. Bring it on.

simplicity; and when to give it up

Some friends of ours, a couple who live in Arizona, were here for dinner on Mon. night and I got a lesson in living simply. They simply don't buy stuff unless it is for their basic needs or is of spiritual/moving significance... or is that very ocassional movie or Starbucks latte (they aren't puritans!). They don't include a lot in the above categories. truly. They talked about how having less really does make more room for the good stuff, that it just comes when needed.

They got me thinking about simplifying, yet again. I am not a huge consumer but I do love a scrapbooking supply sale, JJill clothes, books... I only get the JJill stuff when it's on super clearance, once or twice a year, a few things. The art/craft stuff - more often. But I get 90% of our books from the library. We spend most of our money on quality food. But yes, of course I could simplify, a lot! My house could probably use more than 27 more "27 Flings" (idea from Flea Lady to walk through your house with a bag, picking up 27 things to throw away).

Before I overcomplicate... - a story:

Here's where my thoughts about living more simply led us while talking in the car yesterday.

ME (after referring to our friends' lifestyle that we'd heard about the night before) : "So, If you had to simplify your life to the absolutely, positively, MOST important stuff, the essentials, what would you have in your life?"

JESSE: You and Papa and Gillen and Tuki..

ME: We will be with you as long as you can stand us; longer. I mean which of your things, no animals or people?

So as I drove, these are the lists that evolved, in the order in which they said them (for once, I wrote something down right away):

GILLEN: Bike, skateboard, bike helmet, skateboard helmet, fishing pole, bait, hook, canoe, drift wood to hang fish on if it's big, the book "Swordbird" (he's reading it now), Music- U2, Red Hot (he said Hot Red) Chili Peppers, the "Exorcist" song (we have it on a Halloween scary music CD), Aaron (he forgot he couldn't include people), an RV (!)

JESSE: Towel, pillow, YuGiOh cards, Pokemom cards, "Harry Potter" books, "Series of Unfortunate Events" books, Garfield books, sleeping bag, tent, Monopoly, the game of LIfe...cruise ship, hybrid car, mansion "with solar powered electricity".

So they lost track of simplifying, by the end. I believe they are good lists. Children should have grandiose dreams, should BE grandiose. I learned that a long time ago from a very wise man and that thought came back to me after listening to them. May they be filled with their own grandiosity, filled to overflowing! And I'll just model simplicity... in those areas where it's simple.

Radical Assumption and death of a squirrel

You know that "Secret" (book, video, show on Oprah) that everyone was talking about a month or so ago? It was about the law of attraction and how you can use it to create what you want in your life? Nicolas and I were at a seminar over ten years ago where we learned the same principle but it was called "radical assumption". We have used it lots.

Apparently, Gillen has become a master of it. Last night, while the rest of us were eating dinner, Gillen sat at the edge of the pool for an hour. He was really sad about the squirrel being free. I don't know what he was thinking as he sat there all that time. But I looked out the window this morning and saw a dead squirrel floating face down in the four inches of water. We haven't finished filling the pool, so he obviously wasn't leaning in to take a drink. How did that happen? It's never happened!

I dread Gillen knowing about this. It will be creepy to see him excited about this death. But then, maybe he can let it go - this anger at the squirrel population. Nature will take care of them. A balance between the birds and the squirrels can exist.