About six weeks or so ago, a friend asked me if Someone and/or I would be willing to go to Wisteria for an event, help her set up her booth. Usually her daughter would hep, but her daughter's in school and can't...so my friend thought of us. She knows we love the venue and are delighted to be there as much as possible.
She offered us our gate and space to vend with her.
How could we refuse?
We've spent some time since then trying to get ready - usually I have a year to prepare for my one event at Wisteria. This is a bonus, and I only had a few weeks...eek!
We leave on Wednesday morning at Ohgod:30 in the morning, and I AM NOT READY! I am not packed, the laundry is not all done, I do not have all the groceries, I have not cleaned out the van or loaded the trailer...halp!
Before you ask, Someone is busting his butt, too...sorting through all our gear is a full-time job, especially as we decided to leave some things behind that we didn't use...which means going through boxes and removing the unwanted items. He has also cleaned the garage so we can actually move around in there, which will make loading the trailer worlds easier.
I HAVE pre-cooked and frozen the things I needed to, and MOST of the laundry is done and just wants folding or packing, which I will do some of tonight and the rest of tomorrow. Bird has offered to help clean the van. Someone and I can crank out the trailer in short order once we put our minds to it.
Meanwhile, the baby needs feeding and loving and playing with, Bird needs much of the same, the garden need watering, the house tending, groceries need shopping, the cats reassuring (one of the cats, Ki, tends to meow plaintively when she sees the suitcases - it's kind of funny and sad at the same time), and at some point I will have to get some sleep because twelve hours is a long drive and only gets longer on short sleep - last time I did it, I drank a ton of coffee and my stomach gave me hell for it.
We'll be gone until Monday night/Tuesday morning. A wonderful friend is coming by to water the waterables, harvest the harvestables, and tell the cats they are marvelous. We're going to have a lovely time, even though I KNOW I'll forget something...
What's your Labor Day looking like?
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
What A Day
Yesterday I set up at the flea market. I was disinclined to do so, but decided to go ahead and show my support for the nice folks who are trying to make it a going concern - they are busting their butts, and it's not easy to run a flea market when your vendors flake and don't bother to call, or show up once and don't come back. It takes a minute to get a loyal customer base, you know? And part of that is having more than one vendor show up each week.
So I hauled my tired, sorry ass out there and set up.
Of course, the EZ-Up wouldn't open. I set it up by myself all the time, but it wasn't having any of it. After twenty minutes, I finally asked for help. Ugh, I loathe having to do that.
There was a good lot of vendors for a change, and a few customers. I didn't make much of anything (certainly not what I needed to make, nowhere close), but Sprout and I did our best.
I was invaded by small children whose mother apparently decided it was okay to let them run wild while she sat in the shade and ignored them. They wanted to see the baby and play with her toys, and it was all I could do not to lose my shit with them because they were filthy, snatching toys out of Sprout's hands, kept coming by and wanting to wake her up while she was napping, and said "her" instead of "she", as in "Is her awake now? Why is her awake? Her likes that toy, huh?" These are public school kids, by the way. You tax dollars at work. Were I you, I'd ask for a refund...
Towards closing time, one of the other vendors damn near scalped himself on the edge of a car port roof - the people running the market have a couple of metal-roofed, open-sided car port thingies for people who don't have canopies. He was ducking under the side and didn't duck quite low enough. It was a nasty scrape, peeling back a fair chunk of skin. Lucky he was bald. Sprout was sleeping in the back of the van, so I went for my first aid kit...and snagged my shirt on the rear door of the van, tearing a nice hole in it. Dang.
I cleaned and bandaged the fella's head and told him he would probably be okay, but that maybe he should go see his doc and have the skin flap taped, stitched, or removed so it didn't heal all funny and leave a nasty scar.
A little while later, Someone came over to pick up Sprout and bring her home. It's easier to pack up without her. Just as I was about to drop the canopy, an errant gust nabbed it. I grabbed the edge of the frame, but couldn't hold it...it was like hanging on to a huge kite!
Over it went, knocking down my tables and boxes, scattering clothing and sundry items in the dirt before landing upside down on a wooden table and a rusty metal stanchion, tearing several large holes in the roof and snapping the roof struts like matchsticks. The side rails were bent a bit as well. One EZ-Up, down the drain...and at what they cost to replace, we'll be shy one for a long while. Damn.
I wrenched my shoulders, neck, and wrist and offended my spine trying to keep the thing from going over. Sigh.
At least Sprout wasn't there - she and Someone had left a few minutes before.
And at least I was out on a clear, breezy day and not hunkered down awaiting a hurricane. So I'm a little achy - the roof I lost wasn't on Casa de Crazy, and we've about decided that we can use what's left of the frame for a trellis in next year's garden, so I call it even.
How was your Saturday?
So I hauled my tired, sorry ass out there and set up.
Of course, the EZ-Up wouldn't open. I set it up by myself all the time, but it wasn't having any of it. After twenty minutes, I finally asked for help. Ugh, I loathe having to do that.
There was a good lot of vendors for a change, and a few customers. I didn't make much of anything (certainly not what I needed to make, nowhere close), but Sprout and I did our best.
I was invaded by small children whose mother apparently decided it was okay to let them run wild while she sat in the shade and ignored them. They wanted to see the baby and play with her toys, and it was all I could do not to lose my shit with them because they were filthy, snatching toys out of Sprout's hands, kept coming by and wanting to wake her up while she was napping, and said "her" instead of "she", as in "Is her awake now? Why is her awake? Her likes that toy, huh?" These are public school kids, by the way. You tax dollars at work. Were I you, I'd ask for a refund...
Towards closing time, one of the other vendors damn near scalped himself on the edge of a car port roof - the people running the market have a couple of metal-roofed, open-sided car port thingies for people who don't have canopies. He was ducking under the side and didn't duck quite low enough. It was a nasty scrape, peeling back a fair chunk of skin. Lucky he was bald. Sprout was sleeping in the back of the van, so I went for my first aid kit...and snagged my shirt on the rear door of the van, tearing a nice hole in it. Dang.
I cleaned and bandaged the fella's head and told him he would probably be okay, but that maybe he should go see his doc and have the skin flap taped, stitched, or removed so it didn't heal all funny and leave a nasty scar.
A little while later, Someone came over to pick up Sprout and bring her home. It's easier to pack up without her. Just as I was about to drop the canopy, an errant gust nabbed it. I grabbed the edge of the frame, but couldn't hold it...it was like hanging on to a huge kite!
Over it went, knocking down my tables and boxes, scattering clothing and sundry items in the dirt before landing upside down on a wooden table and a rusty metal stanchion, tearing several large holes in the roof and snapping the roof struts like matchsticks. The side rails were bent a bit as well. One EZ-Up, down the drain...and at what they cost to replace, we'll be shy one for a long while. Damn.
I wrenched my shoulders, neck, and wrist and offended my spine trying to keep the thing from going over. Sigh.
At least Sprout wasn't there - she and Someone had left a few minutes before.
And at least I was out on a clear, breezy day and not hunkered down awaiting a hurricane. So I'm a little achy - the roof I lost wasn't on Casa de Crazy, and we've about decided that we can use what's left of the frame for a trellis in next year's garden, so I call it even.
How was your Saturday?
Friday, August 26, 2011
Good Night, Irene
There's a storm a-comin'.
Meet Irene:
She's a beauty, big, bold, sassy, and ful of spunk. She's eyeballing the eastern US as a likely vacation spot, a popular choice as summer draws to a close. She's had a long journey, so it's no wonder she'd like to linger along the easterm seaboard.
It seems she's not terribly welcome, though - folks are abandoning the coast in droves. I guess they aren't interested in the kind of fireworks she's bringing with her. Huh.
We here in Redneck Central won't get much, if anything, of Iren's party - she isn't interested in our boring inland burgh. She want surf 'n' turf, man. We may get some rain, if we're lucky, but not much else.
If you're in the storm's area of influence, I hope you weather it well...and I'm wondering - will you stay or get out of Dodge??
Meet Irene:
She's a beauty, big, bold, sassy, and ful of spunk. She's eyeballing the eastern US as a likely vacation spot, a popular choice as summer draws to a close. She's had a long journey, so it's no wonder she'd like to linger along the easterm seaboard.
It seems she's not terribly welcome, though - folks are abandoning the coast in droves. I guess they aren't interested in the kind of fireworks she's bringing with her. Huh.
We here in Redneck Central won't get much, if anything, of Iren's party - she isn't interested in our boring inland burgh. She want surf 'n' turf, man. We may get some rain, if we're lucky, but not much else.
If you're in the storm's area of influence, I hope you weather it well...and I'm wondering - will you stay or get out of Dodge??
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Preppies
No, wait, that should be "Preppers", shouldn't it?
Eh.
When I met Someone (goodness, it's only been a little over two years since we "met" online and then in person...wowzers), he was into something called "prepping". I'd never heard of it, but it turns out I was doing it a little bit, any way.
Preppers, to varying degrees, store essential items against future need. They store food, water, non-food but useful things, and even weapons and ammunition. Me? At the time I had a case or two of water around and I always like to keep canned, dry, and frozen foods on hand, enough for a month or so. That behavior was a throwback to two things - when I lived where snow could make going anywhere a non-starter, and when I was working sporadically and didn't really know if there would be steady pay...and I have this silly habit of eating every day, sometimes more than once a day. I know, I know...
Since I wasn't a gadget gal and really don't care about clothing, makeup, shoes, purses, or other money-sucks, I bought foodstuffs.
Thanks to Someone and his uncle and a few other folks in the Blue Nowhere, I learned about prepping. Seem like quite a few people think life is going to get ugly very soon in this old nation of ours, and they want to be ready, so they're acting accordingly. Sometimes I agree, sometimes I don't, but I see the sense in having a good stock of food and whatnot on hand just in case.
Several time I've been glad for my small buffer, using it when the money ran low or ran out, or giving it to a friend who was broke with an empty cupboard. It's not the fanciest of eats, but when you are looking at hunger from a very close angle, a can of beans sounds just fine!
So I'm building up our preps, lately. Someone put some shelves in a closet for me - originally, we had things in bins with inventory lists, in case we had to grab and go, but the bins were getting in the way, and hopefully if the end of the world as we know it comes along, we'll have a minute or three to box our life and haul it up to Mum's (where we hope to move before the world ends, anyway).
When looking at this idea of preparedness from the outside, it looks weird. When stepping into the mindset, it feels overwhelming - where does one start?? With an empty box or closet, honestly. Then...fill it.
But with what?
Oh, hell, don't look at me for that - I am trying to buy extras of whatever goods I usually use, and sometimes grabbing things I don't use, like, or particularly want but may come in handy or be good for trade if we enter into a new Dark Ages. I have some cast iron pans, a few sewing supplies (because I will use them), some tools, games, seeds, first aid kits, and of course, food. As I shop, I put new items in the preps closet and pull old things out to use, keeping our stock as current as I can. Can...hah!
I've been reading up and taking notes and have a list of things to add to the closet as I can.
So my questions for you are: If you are a prepper or were to begin stocking and storing for a questionable future, what sorts of things, food or non, would you have? What is essential? What extravagances would you include? Would you prep for bad weather, rough finances, or the end of things as we know them? Would you prep for a community, or more as a hermit? Would you include family, friends, trade goods? Would/do you prep for complete self-reliance? And for how long? Days, weeks, months?
Tell me...
Eh.
When I met Someone (goodness, it's only been a little over two years since we "met" online and then in person...wowzers), he was into something called "prepping". I'd never heard of it, but it turns out I was doing it a little bit, any way.
Preppers, to varying degrees, store essential items against future need. They store food, water, non-food but useful things, and even weapons and ammunition. Me? At the time I had a case or two of water around and I always like to keep canned, dry, and frozen foods on hand, enough for a month or so. That behavior was a throwback to two things - when I lived where snow could make going anywhere a non-starter, and when I was working sporadically and didn't really know if there would be steady pay...and I have this silly habit of eating every day, sometimes more than once a day. I know, I know...
Since I wasn't a gadget gal and really don't care about clothing, makeup, shoes, purses, or other money-sucks, I bought foodstuffs.
Thanks to Someone and his uncle and a few other folks in the Blue Nowhere, I learned about prepping. Seem like quite a few people think life is going to get ugly very soon in this old nation of ours, and they want to be ready, so they're acting accordingly. Sometimes I agree, sometimes I don't, but I see the sense in having a good stock of food and whatnot on hand just in case.
Several time I've been glad for my small buffer, using it when the money ran low or ran out, or giving it to a friend who was broke with an empty cupboard. It's not the fanciest of eats, but when you are looking at hunger from a very close angle, a can of beans sounds just fine!
So I'm building up our preps, lately. Someone put some shelves in a closet for me - originally, we had things in bins with inventory lists, in case we had to grab and go, but the bins were getting in the way, and hopefully if the end of the world as we know it comes along, we'll have a minute or three to box our life and haul it up to Mum's (where we hope to move before the world ends, anyway).
When looking at this idea of preparedness from the outside, it looks weird. When stepping into the mindset, it feels overwhelming - where does one start?? With an empty box or closet, honestly. Then...fill it.
But with what?
Oh, hell, don't look at me for that - I am trying to buy extras of whatever goods I usually use, and sometimes grabbing things I don't use, like, or particularly want but may come in handy or be good for trade if we enter into a new Dark Ages. I have some cast iron pans, a few sewing supplies (because I will use them), some tools, games, seeds, first aid kits, and of course, food. As I shop, I put new items in the preps closet and pull old things out to use, keeping our stock as current as I can. Can...hah!
I've been reading up and taking notes and have a list of things to add to the closet as I can.
So my questions for you are: If you are a prepper or were to begin stocking and storing for a questionable future, what sorts of things, food or non, would you have? What is essential? What extravagances would you include? Would you prep for bad weather, rough finances, or the end of things as we know them? Would you prep for a community, or more as a hermit? Would you include family, friends, trade goods? Would/do you prep for complete self-reliance? And for how long? Days, weeks, months?
Tell me...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Sleeeeeeeeep...
So the baby has a new game.
It's called "Let's give Mama sleep deprivation!"
Here's how she plays: She goes to sleep and sleeps soundly for a few hours, usually right up until I go to bed. Then she wakes up and fusses until I hold her, rock her back to sleep. Then she sleeps until I am just about good and asleep myself, and she repeats the process. Sometimes for fun she'll wake up as soon as I put her down. Then she'll sleep for a few hours and start fussing in her sleep (because she is THAT talented, y'all), so I will get up and rock her some more. Finally, she'll sleep a few more hours and then it's time to start the day.
What's that? She's a baby, you say? Well, yes...and I agree that babies aren't notorious for sleeping through the night...but THIS baby has been sleeping through the night since she was a few weeks old, dang it.
I think she gets chilly in her sleep and wakes up just enough to complain about it.
I cover her with a blanket, but she wriggles out from under it. I've never seen a baby move around so much in its sleep - she's wriggling a freaking marathon, I swear - so the blanket winds up shoved to the side or the end of the crib, where a cat can get the benefit of it but Sprout? Who is at the other end of the crib, shoving herself into the bars and occasionally managing to turn on the musical aquarium thingy (which, by the way, has Rook bumfuzzled - she can't figure out how to get to the fish in there!) with a well placed flail? Not so much.
To add to the fun, Sprout doesn't play every night - only on the nights when I'm up late and/or need to be up early. I don't know how she knows, she just...knows. And if Mama and Papa want a little...umm...personal time? Forget about it.
I fooled her, though. Last night I decided that I wasn't doing the flea market today. Too tired, too much to do, not enough time to get it all done.
Thank goodness for naps. Now, if only I could train the phone not to ring when we're snoozing...
Meanwhile, when I went in to get her this morning, she was sitting up in her crib! Holy cats, what's next, mountain climbing??
Check out her picture in the sidebar - Someone has an Armenian Yard Long cucumber vine (it's trying to eat the house), and he got one from it a few days ago. He had to cut it into sections just to get it into the fridge. Yesterday, he gave Sprout a section to gum, and she loved it - nommed on it all day. No worries - since she doesn't have any teeth, she can't bite off a chunk and choke, and the seeds are such that she can't get them out, so it was just a big, tasty teether as far as she was concerned.
Today I am determined to get a few things done, small things that have languished for too long. There will be some housework and some baking and some sewing, punctuated with a modicum of napping.
What's your Saturday looking like?
It's called "Let's give Mama sleep deprivation!"
Here's how she plays: She goes to sleep and sleeps soundly for a few hours, usually right up until I go to bed. Then she wakes up and fusses until I hold her, rock her back to sleep. Then she sleeps until I am just about good and asleep myself, and she repeats the process. Sometimes for fun she'll wake up as soon as I put her down. Then she'll sleep for a few hours and start fussing in her sleep (because she is THAT talented, y'all), so I will get up and rock her some more. Finally, she'll sleep a few more hours and then it's time to start the day.
What's that? She's a baby, you say? Well, yes...and I agree that babies aren't notorious for sleeping through the night...but THIS baby has been sleeping through the night since she was a few weeks old, dang it.
I think she gets chilly in her sleep and wakes up just enough to complain about it.
I cover her with a blanket, but she wriggles out from under it. I've never seen a baby move around so much in its sleep - she's wriggling a freaking marathon, I swear - so the blanket winds up shoved to the side or the end of the crib, where a cat can get the benefit of it but Sprout? Who is at the other end of the crib, shoving herself into the bars and occasionally managing to turn on the musical aquarium thingy (which, by the way, has Rook bumfuzzled - she can't figure out how to get to the fish in there!) with a well placed flail? Not so much.
To add to the fun, Sprout doesn't play every night - only on the nights when I'm up late and/or need to be up early. I don't know how she knows, she just...knows. And if Mama and Papa want a little...umm...personal time? Forget about it.
I fooled her, though. Last night I decided that I wasn't doing the flea market today. Too tired, too much to do, not enough time to get it all done.
Thank goodness for naps. Now, if only I could train the phone not to ring when we're snoozing...
Meanwhile, when I went in to get her this morning, she was sitting up in her crib! Holy cats, what's next, mountain climbing??
Check out her picture in the sidebar - Someone has an Armenian Yard Long cucumber vine (it's trying to eat the house), and he got one from it a few days ago. He had to cut it into sections just to get it into the fridge. Yesterday, he gave Sprout a section to gum, and she loved it - nommed on it all day. No worries - since she doesn't have any teeth, she can't bite off a chunk and choke, and the seeds are such that she can't get them out, so it was just a big, tasty teether as far as she was concerned.
Today I am determined to get a few things done, small things that have languished for too long. There will be some housework and some baking and some sewing, punctuated with a modicum of napping.
What's your Saturday looking like?
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Growin' Like A...
...well...like a Sprout!
Hey, Sprout here - Mama's tired an' have a headache so I blogging!!
I doctor today. They weigh an' measure me, an' admire my legs. I gots chunky legs wif good muscles in 'em 'cause I bouncy a lot in the day. Yay, bouncy!!
I like a bouncy.
Also, I like a roll around onna floor. Mama an' Papa call me Squidgie 'cause I roll around a bunch an' I like a wriggle. Mama say is hard to type when she holds me (I like when Mama or Papa holds me, an' I can kick and wriggle an' tell 'em what I'm thinkin', but they don't always unnerstan' so good what I say...somethin' wrong wif their ears, I guess).
So I 16 pounds, three ounces, an' I 27 inches long, and my punkin is more than 16 inches around, an' Mama says that means I'm tall an' maybe a little skinny an' I must have a strong neck.
I shots today, too. Big Brudder came wif us, an' he tol' me shots aren't very nice but they're better than gettin' even more ouchie an' sick later. I love my Big Brudder. I don' like a shots. I three shots, but it felt like forever, 'cause I only know right now, and they hurt! Big ones, inna legs! I try to tell the nurse "Ow, cut it out!!" but she didn' unnerstan' me at all, even when I said it louder.
Now I home an' Papa kiss and cuddle me, an' Mama made me a bottle an' some peas - I like a peas, Mama make 'em wif turkey stock an' carrots an' onions an' garlic an' she mashes 'em all up smooth for me, and I like a peas. I bouncy a little, then I eat, an' then maybe I take a nap wif Mama and make her head feel better. Poor Mama. I don't like a headache for her.
Whatchoo doin'??
Hey, Sprout here - Mama's tired an' have a headache so I blogging!!
I doctor today. They weigh an' measure me, an' admire my legs. I gots chunky legs wif good muscles in 'em 'cause I bouncy a lot in the day. Yay, bouncy!!
I like a bouncy.
Also, I like a roll around onna floor. Mama an' Papa call me Squidgie 'cause I roll around a bunch an' I like a wriggle. Mama say is hard to type when she holds me (I like when Mama or Papa holds me, an' I can kick and wriggle an' tell 'em what I'm thinkin', but they don't always unnerstan' so good what I say...somethin' wrong wif their ears, I guess).
So I 16 pounds, three ounces, an' I 27 inches long, and my punkin is more than 16 inches around, an' Mama says that means I'm tall an' maybe a little skinny an' I must have a strong neck.
I shots today, too. Big Brudder came wif us, an' he tol' me shots aren't very nice but they're better than gettin' even more ouchie an' sick later. I love my Big Brudder. I don' like a shots. I three shots, but it felt like forever, 'cause I only know right now, and they hurt! Big ones, inna legs! I try to tell the nurse "Ow, cut it out!!" but she didn' unnerstan' me at all, even when I said it louder.
Now I home an' Papa kiss and cuddle me, an' Mama made me a bottle an' some peas - I like a peas, Mama make 'em wif turkey stock an' carrots an' onions an' garlic an' she mashes 'em all up smooth for me, and I like a peas. I bouncy a little, then I eat, an' then maybe I take a nap wif Mama and make her head feel better. Poor Mama. I don't like a headache for her.
Whatchoo doin'??
Monday, August 15, 2011
The More Things Change...
...the more they stay the same.
Ready for a bit of irony? Here we are in the first post since my little Facebook rant, and what am I doing? Posting a video that my Aunt posted on Facebook. Hah!! I hope the folks who made it don't mind too much...I felt compelled to nab it because they filmed it where I grew up, rode my bike, bought lobster rolls and coffee frappes (pronounced "frap", not "frappay"), and got half-eaten by mosquitoes and deer flies. Ah, good times.
So, take a look while I blather on down below:
I was watching this and thinking about how very long ago I was back there, in those woods, biking those same roads, past those same stone walls. I was thinking about a time when I could look at the future and feel a sense of wonder, of optimism, that anything was possible.
And then I realized that yeah, I never felt much optimism about my future. I was too busy believing the people who raised me when they told me, directly and indirectly, that I was stupid and useless because I could never quite manage to live up to what they wanted me to be - the best I could manage was to be myself, and that just wasn't enough.
As with the town where I grew up, not much has changed in my internal landscape; the feelings are the same, I'm just living somewhere else among different people now. Still being made to feel I'm not wanted, and stupid, and useless...just by a different cast of characters.
Right now, today, in this moment, I am thinking I'm done answering anything but "fine" when anyone asks how I am. Right now, today, in this moment, I am thinking that it would be best for me to say "nothing at all" when asked what's on my mind. It seems like anything other than "Everything's wonderful"is something of an imposition. I already feel like a useless time/energy/resource suck - I don't need to feel it any deeper. Right now, today, in this moment, I am wishing that I could somehow manage to cease existing, cease being worthless and unwanted in my own life, cease being such a fucking burden on everyone around me. Right now, today, in this moment, I am wishing I didn't feel like a fat, feckless, pointless waste if matter who just does everything wrong and gets in the way.
This is not about you, it's about me and my stupid misfiring neurons, the mental illness that never gives me a moment's peace (like my children, but far less cute and cuddly than they are).
If I made you feel bad, sorry - go watch the video again, it'll make you smile. Anyway, it made ME smile...
Ready for a bit of irony? Here we are in the first post since my little Facebook rant, and what am I doing? Posting a video that my Aunt posted on Facebook. Hah!! I hope the folks who made it don't mind too much...I felt compelled to nab it because they filmed it where I grew up, rode my bike, bought lobster rolls and coffee frappes (pronounced "frap", not "frappay"), and got half-eaten by mosquitoes and deer flies. Ah, good times.
So, take a look while I blather on down below:
I was watching this and thinking about how very long ago I was back there, in those woods, biking those same roads, past those same stone walls. I was thinking about a time when I could look at the future and feel a sense of wonder, of optimism, that anything was possible.
And then I realized that yeah, I never felt much optimism about my future. I was too busy believing the people who raised me when they told me, directly and indirectly, that I was stupid and useless because I could never quite manage to live up to what they wanted me to be - the best I could manage was to be myself, and that just wasn't enough.
As with the town where I grew up, not much has changed in my internal landscape; the feelings are the same, I'm just living somewhere else among different people now. Still being made to feel I'm not wanted, and stupid, and useless...just by a different cast of characters.
Right now, today, in this moment, I am thinking I'm done answering anything but "fine" when anyone asks how I am. Right now, today, in this moment, I am thinking that it would be best for me to say "nothing at all" when asked what's on my mind. It seems like anything other than "Everything's wonderful"is something of an imposition. I already feel like a useless time/energy/resource suck - I don't need to feel it any deeper. Right now, today, in this moment, I am wishing that I could somehow manage to cease existing, cease being worthless and unwanted in my own life, cease being such a fucking burden on everyone around me. Right now, today, in this moment, I am wishing I didn't feel like a fat, feckless, pointless waste if matter who just does everything wrong and gets in the way.
This is not about you, it's about me and my stupid misfiring neurons, the mental illness that never gives me a moment's peace (like my children, but far less cute and cuddly than they are).
If I made you feel bad, sorry - go watch the video again, it'll make you smile. Anyway, it made ME smile...
Friday, August 12, 2011
Status: Quo
Dear Fellow Facebook User,
Hi, how ya doin'?? Enjoying that Farmville, are ya? Judging by the number of game updates scrolling up my screen, you're rolling in rutabagas right now. Congratulations on the birth of that green glowing cow - have you checked your water supply? Your new barn looks fabulous. No, I haven't built one. I know, I know, all I have to do is pester everyone I know on Facebook a few hundred times to send me weird parts so I can build my very own barn, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm lazy - three clicks per person is just too many.
About that Pot Farm game - it's just a game. Chill. Un-pucker your bits. I like watching my Hippie Farmer avatar run around harvesting stuff. Run, Hippie, run!! I am not attempting, via cartoon plants on a Facebook game, to make "connections" and build my own green, grassy cartel in Redneck Central. Relax, yo.
I see your Mafia Wars family is growing. Well done, you. Sorry I haven't been helping you knock over fruit stands, rip off drug dealers, or ice anyone. I haven't been playing in a while. This thing called "real life" keeps popping up in front of my screen. Tch, it's such a nuisance!
So hey, we need to talk a minute, Fellow Facebook User. I'm thinking about blocking you from posting on my wall. Now, don't cry - it's not you, honest! It's me - I just don't have the time to read all those game updates and quirky news stories, or watch all the videos of kitties and puppies and children doing Fun! Amazing! Things!! I know they're all fabulous, but they interfere with my ability to see what's going on with the handful of people on my friends list that I actually know, you know, in the real world.
What's the real world?
Umm...it's the place that starts to smell bad when you're on Facebook too long, cross-posting on Twitter when you have a minute. You know, where the pizza guy actually comes to your door and that big light in the sky keeps coming on, going off, coming on, going off at regular intervals. The place we're all trying to avoid because it is currently sucking. Yeah, the real world.
So, anyway...the thing is, I could probably handle the videos, the game updates, the links, and the weird "Post your shoe size as inches and a sad face but don't tell anyone why and hilarity will ensue" status games, but I just can't take any more of those chain-letter "post this if you love me/I'm sure no one likes me and won't re post/you're an asshole if you don't re post/you hate puppies and kittens and fluffy bunnies if you don't re post/you are Satan's sweaty armpit washrag if you don't re post/you're not a real Ahmuricun if you don't re post/you launch RPGs at soldiers if you don't re post/if you don't re post then you must want the baby Jesus to cry/if you don't vote left, right, or centrist, you clearly want the nation to fail and crumble into a communist, socialist, Zoroastrian* mess/re post if you think cancer sucks otherwise you must love it and want to have its babies/re post or you suck sweaty donkey balls/if you don't re post then an orphan in Somalia will be fed to a starving lion" status updates.
See, I don't do causes just because someone's trying to guilt me. I have no social conscience, in that sense. I do causes that I feel are actually worth my time/thought/effort/money, and I support them in person. I don't show my love by copy-and-pasting on Facebook. I show it by acting like I love people (you know, like not farting in bed and holding their head under the covers), and writing them, you know, personal messages rather than blindly pasting some anonymous, poorly spelled, poorly typed, nondescript status update that will quickly be lost among the newest cause-celebres. Causes-celebres? Umm...you know...fads.
So, dear Fellow Facebook User, I am giving serious thought to blocking wall access to anyone who bombards me with these pseudo-psychological, religious, guilt-inducing, manipulative, chain-letter statuses. I hope you understand...and if you don't repost this as your status then you don't grok where I'm coming from, and you suck**.
*No Zoroastrians were harmed in the typing of this post, and no aspersions were meant to be cast - Zoroastrians are lovely folks and don't deserve to be maligned in any way, I just think it's fun to say "Zoroastrian". Go on, try it. See? Fun!
**You do't really suck - that there was just a bit of ironic license.
Hi, how ya doin'?? Enjoying that Farmville, are ya? Judging by the number of game updates scrolling up my screen, you're rolling in rutabagas right now. Congratulations on the birth of that green glowing cow - have you checked your water supply? Your new barn looks fabulous. No, I haven't built one. I know, I know, all I have to do is pester everyone I know on Facebook a few hundred times to send me weird parts so I can build my very own barn, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm lazy - three clicks per person is just too many.
About that Pot Farm game - it's just a game. Chill. Un-pucker your bits. I like watching my Hippie Farmer avatar run around harvesting stuff. Run, Hippie, run!! I am not attempting, via cartoon plants on a Facebook game, to make "connections" and build my own green, grassy cartel in Redneck Central. Relax, yo.
I see your Mafia Wars family is growing. Well done, you. Sorry I haven't been helping you knock over fruit stands, rip off drug dealers, or ice anyone. I haven't been playing in a while. This thing called "real life" keeps popping up in front of my screen. Tch, it's such a nuisance!
So hey, we need to talk a minute, Fellow Facebook User. I'm thinking about blocking you from posting on my wall. Now, don't cry - it's not you, honest! It's me - I just don't have the time to read all those game updates and quirky news stories, or watch all the videos of kitties and puppies and children doing Fun! Amazing! Things!! I know they're all fabulous, but they interfere with my ability to see what's going on with the handful of people on my friends list that I actually know, you know, in the real world.
What's the real world?
Umm...it's the place that starts to smell bad when you're on Facebook too long, cross-posting on Twitter when you have a minute. You know, where the pizza guy actually comes to your door and that big light in the sky keeps coming on, going off, coming on, going off at regular intervals. The place we're all trying to avoid because it is currently sucking. Yeah, the real world.
So, anyway...the thing is, I could probably handle the videos, the game updates, the links, and the weird "Post your shoe size as inches and a sad face but don't tell anyone why and hilarity will ensue" status games, but I just can't take any more of those chain-letter "post this if you love me/I'm sure no one likes me and won't re post/you're an asshole if you don't re post/you hate puppies and kittens and fluffy bunnies if you don't re post/you are Satan's sweaty armpit washrag if you don't re post/you're not a real Ahmuricun if you don't re post/you launch RPGs at soldiers if you don't re post/if you don't re post then you must want the baby Jesus to cry/if you don't vote left, right, or centrist, you clearly want the nation to fail and crumble into a communist, socialist, Zoroastrian* mess/re post if you think cancer sucks otherwise you must love it and want to have its babies/re post or you suck sweaty donkey balls/if you don't re post then an orphan in Somalia will be fed to a starving lion" status updates.
See, I don't do causes just because someone's trying to guilt me. I have no social conscience, in that sense. I do causes that I feel are actually worth my time/thought/effort/money, and I support them in person. I don't show my love by copy-and-pasting on Facebook. I show it by acting like I love people (you know, like not farting in bed and holding their head under the covers), and writing them, you know, personal messages rather than blindly pasting some anonymous, poorly spelled, poorly typed, nondescript status update that will quickly be lost among the newest cause-celebres. Causes-celebres? Umm...you know...fads.
So, dear Fellow Facebook User, I am giving serious thought to blocking wall access to anyone who bombards me with these pseudo-psychological, religious, guilt-inducing, manipulative, chain-letter statuses. I hope you understand...and if you don't repost this as your status then you don't grok where I'm coming from, and you suck**.
*No Zoroastrians were harmed in the typing of this post, and no aspersions were meant to be cast - Zoroastrians are lovely folks and don't deserve to be maligned in any way, I just think it's fun to say "Zoroastrian". Go on, try it. See? Fun!
**You do't really suck - that there was just a bit of ironic license.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Hot, Hotter, Hottest
Holy cats, it's hot around here.
No kidding, I think the driveway is melting a little, and the corners and sharp angles of the Casa are softening a bit. I tried to fry an egg on the stoop, but it was cooked before I could crack the shell!
We could water the garden four times a day and it wouldn't be enough - the cukes, tomatoes, and eggplants are all petering out, producing fewer, smaller fruits. The okra are going great guns, though, and we'll have a fair bit over the winter. I may even have a bash at pickling some! Umm...does anyone like pickled okra? 'Cause I'll make it, but eat it? Thank you, no.
The thermometer and the weather dude say it's only in the nineties during the day. They lie. Cats don't ooze with that lethargic, boneless, graceless slink when it's only in the nineties. I think their paws have been sticking to the pavement. We're getting well into the one-hundreds around here, especially with the heat index. If the humidity is 99%, shouldn't it be raining?? Walking outside is like being full-body smacked by a steaming sponge and then trying to breathe through it.
The air conditioner is trying, bless its mechanical heart, to help us out, but it's too small for the house and is struggling mightily to keep us at eighty-one degrees, running all day and well into the night without stop. Believe it or not, eighty-one feels just fine after a minute outside.
Meanwhile, there's another plant doing well out there in the garden...the Thai Insanity Pepper, after a spindly and questionable start (grower error, not congenital defect), decided that Redneck Central is just fine, thankee, and decided to give the okra a run for its money.
Check this out:
This one's going to be a seed pod:
I've only harvested three so far...while Phelan told me they're edible at any stage, I want them to get all red and tear-inducing. Someone ate the least ripe of the three and pronounced it hot but not unpleasant, good flavor, nice spreading heat with a little ring of fire that traveled from lips to the back of the throat. His face flushed a little, but he didn't cry or burst into flames. I'm thinking of making pepper sauce with 'em - he likes pepper sauce, and I'll use a wee bit on eggs sometimes...I wonder if Tabasco would give me their recipe...?
How're you making out with the heat?
No kidding, I think the driveway is melting a little, and the corners and sharp angles of the Casa are softening a bit. I tried to fry an egg on the stoop, but it was cooked before I could crack the shell!
We could water the garden four times a day and it wouldn't be enough - the cukes, tomatoes, and eggplants are all petering out, producing fewer, smaller fruits. The okra are going great guns, though, and we'll have a fair bit over the winter. I may even have a bash at pickling some! Umm...does anyone like pickled okra? 'Cause I'll make it, but eat it? Thank you, no.
The thermometer and the weather dude say it's only in the nineties during the day. They lie. Cats don't ooze with that lethargic, boneless, graceless slink when it's only in the nineties. I think their paws have been sticking to the pavement. We're getting well into the one-hundreds around here, especially with the heat index. If the humidity is 99%, shouldn't it be raining?? Walking outside is like being full-body smacked by a steaming sponge and then trying to breathe through it.
The air conditioner is trying, bless its mechanical heart, to help us out, but it's too small for the house and is struggling mightily to keep us at eighty-one degrees, running all day and well into the night without stop. Believe it or not, eighty-one feels just fine after a minute outside.
Meanwhile, there's another plant doing well out there in the garden...the Thai Insanity Pepper, after a spindly and questionable start (grower error, not congenital defect), decided that Redneck Central is just fine, thankee, and decided to give the okra a run for its money.
Check this out:
This one's going to be a seed pod:
I've only harvested three so far...while Phelan told me they're edible at any stage, I want them to get all red and tear-inducing. Someone ate the least ripe of the three and pronounced it hot but not unpleasant, good flavor, nice spreading heat with a little ring of fire that traveled from lips to the back of the throat. His face flushed a little, but he didn't cry or burst into flames. I'm thinking of making pepper sauce with 'em - he likes pepper sauce, and I'll use a wee bit on eggs sometimes...I wonder if Tabasco would give me their recipe...?
How're you making out with the heat?
Monday, August 8, 2011
Questions, Questions...
Thank you for weighing in on the homes schooling issue - y'all are terrific!
Meanwhile, I have some questions. I must own up to no small amount of ignorance regarding the national debt issue. I have plenty of debt issues of my own to deal with, and all I understand about the whole national scene is that it would suck if the US didn't pay the water bill because turning Niagara Falls off means a huge deposit and it's a bitch to turn back on again - the valve gets stuck. Don't talk to me about the power bill...if we turn the national a/c to a warmer temperature, I'm pretty sure Kansas will burst into flames.
So...
Why did it take so long for Congress to figure out we have a debt and that it was reaching critical mass?
Why, when we have this monstrous debt, is Congress still worried about spending money on frivolous shit?
Why, when we have this monstrous debt, is Congress still getting raises?
Why is S&P to blame for saying our credit is somewhat less marvelous than it used to be? Isn't it? And what's the big deal about going from a AAA to a AA+ rating? I mean, it's not like they downgraded us to a Z- or something.
Is Congress unaware than when one spends more than one earns, one accrues debt? Because I'm a fiscal idiot, and I know that...
Shouldn't Congress be less concerned with the S&P rating and more concerned about this massive monkey in the room? Are they really mad that S&P simply pointed out that the Emperor's new clothes are somewhat less than the sartorial splendor we're supposed to see?
Why are we happy that China is buying our debt? Shouldn't we be worried? Also, shouldn't we be focusing on paying down our debt and not on whether China will keep buying it?
Why is Congress spending money like a broken water main gushing H2O when the rest of the nation is awfully thirsty??
Is China buying our debt different from making us a loan? It seems like it would be...
Or is it more like when you don't pay a credit card bill and the company sells your debt to a collection agency, and the agency can come after you for debt plus interest, or threaten to send Guido and Nunzio (or Cho Phan and Su Li, whatever) after you with a baseball bat/giant chop stick?
This whole thing seems stupid-simple to me - we owe money, so maybe we should quit spending it on crap we don't need until we can stand on our good credit again. Alas, the people in Washington forgot they were voted in and are actually supposed to represent us and not their bank accounts, which bank accounts are supported by lobbies, special interests, and the votes they buy with social programs funded by Somebody Else.
Can someone explain this to me, using small words and simple phrases??
Meanwhile, I have some questions. I must own up to no small amount of ignorance regarding the national debt issue. I have plenty of debt issues of my own to deal with, and all I understand about the whole national scene is that it would suck if the US didn't pay the water bill because turning Niagara Falls off means a huge deposit and it's a bitch to turn back on again - the valve gets stuck. Don't talk to me about the power bill...if we turn the national a/c to a warmer temperature, I'm pretty sure Kansas will burst into flames.
So...
Why did it take so long for Congress to figure out we have a debt and that it was reaching critical mass?
Why, when we have this monstrous debt, is Congress still worried about spending money on frivolous shit?
Why, when we have this monstrous debt, is Congress still getting raises?
Why is S&P to blame for saying our credit is somewhat less marvelous than it used to be? Isn't it? And what's the big deal about going from a AAA to a AA+ rating? I mean, it's not like they downgraded us to a Z- or something.
Is Congress unaware than when one spends more than one earns, one accrues debt? Because I'm a fiscal idiot, and I know that...
Shouldn't Congress be less concerned with the S&P rating and more concerned about this massive monkey in the room? Are they really mad that S&P simply pointed out that the Emperor's new clothes are somewhat less than the sartorial splendor we're supposed to see?
Why are we happy that China is buying our debt? Shouldn't we be worried? Also, shouldn't we be focusing on paying down our debt and not on whether China will keep buying it?
Why is Congress spending money like a broken water main gushing H2O when the rest of the nation is awfully thirsty??
Is China buying our debt different from making us a loan? It seems like it would be...
Or is it more like when you don't pay a credit card bill and the company sells your debt to a collection agency, and the agency can come after you for debt plus interest, or threaten to send Guido and Nunzio (or Cho Phan and Su Li, whatever) after you with a baseball bat/giant chop stick?
This whole thing seems stupid-simple to me - we owe money, so maybe we should quit spending it on crap we don't need until we can stand on our good credit again. Alas, the people in Washington forgot they were voted in and are actually supposed to represent us and not their bank accounts, which bank accounts are supported by lobbies, special interests, and the votes they buy with social programs funded by Somebody Else.
Can someone explain this to me, using small words and simple phrases??
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Hypothetically Speaking, Of Course
I have a friend.
This friend is divorced.
This friend home schools her son.
This friend's ex's girlfriend is, according to witnesses and the child, scoffing at home schooling, denigrating the friend's performance as a home schooler, and telling the child that he'd be much smarter if he went to a traditional school.
The girlfriend believes that my friend is doing a bad job because the child doesn't have a traditional store of knowledge learned on a regular timeline - they're schooling tends to be in clusters, beginning with a subject of interest and following it along different pathways.
The ex reinforces the girlfriend's opinion, echoing it as often as he can to the boy even as he's telling my friend that he's all for home schooling.
People constantly tell my friend how smart, polite, and well spoken the boy is. They marvel that he's only eight. They remark upon his maturity.
The boy is now asking to go to regular school because he doesn't want to be stupid. If he goes to regular school, it will be a public school, and he will likely be forced to take medication to keep him calm as he's used to freely moving and speaking his mind (so very NOT accepted in a traditional classroom), and does not do well when made to focus on one subject at a time for hours on end - the traditional school model for education.
So.
What would you do? Hypothetically speaking, of course?
This friend is divorced.
This friend home schools her son.
This friend's ex's girlfriend is, according to witnesses and the child, scoffing at home schooling, denigrating the friend's performance as a home schooler, and telling the child that he'd be much smarter if he went to a traditional school.
The girlfriend believes that my friend is doing a bad job because the child doesn't have a traditional store of knowledge learned on a regular timeline - they're schooling tends to be in clusters, beginning with a subject of interest and following it along different pathways.
The ex reinforces the girlfriend's opinion, echoing it as often as he can to the boy even as he's telling my friend that he's all for home schooling.
People constantly tell my friend how smart, polite, and well spoken the boy is. They marvel that he's only eight. They remark upon his maturity.
The boy is now asking to go to regular school because he doesn't want to be stupid. If he goes to regular school, it will be a public school, and he will likely be forced to take medication to keep him calm as he's used to freely moving and speaking his mind (so very NOT accepted in a traditional classroom), and does not do well when made to focus on one subject at a time for hours on end - the traditional school model for education.
So.
What would you do? Hypothetically speaking, of course?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Thoughtfetti From A Long Drive
I had occasion to haul the kids and myself down towards the Big City today, a drive that should have been an hour or so in fair conditions. Conditions being far from fair, it took two hours, plenty of time to ponder this 'n' that.
Here, then, are a few of the things I pondered:
WWJD? Hang up and drive, likely, and probably use his turn signal, too. I bet he wouldn't cut people off, either, and I'm fairly certain he wouldn't be flailing around the back seat trying to beat the child/ren and/or dog or throwing his cigarette leavings/fast food wrappers out the window. I am certain he would not be flipping anyone the bird or driving right up onto their back bumper and flashing his lights/honking his horn to make them go faster rather than simply passing on the left.
How come every highway or road I try to use is pretending to be a parking lot?
The "Don't text while driving" and No Cell Phone (red circle with red diagonal line through it over a cell) stickers would be much more effective if the driver wasn't going twenty below the limit, swerving into other lanes, while texting on their cell.
I want sushi.
When the baby laughs like that, and I can't see her, I worry. What's she doing back there?
I wonder if a chiropractor would be willing to barter.
If there are only a few drops, does it still count as rain?
If you're driving a Prius with recycle symbols on the rear, you sort of lose all credibility when you throw a plastic bottle out the window.
Why do people feel the need to lie? Especially about stupid shit. What's wrong with simply owning who we are and what we do/think/believe/want/need?
How can a person say "I love you" with one breath but with the next complain about all of the things they wish they could change about the one they "love"?
How exactly does the government think it has the right to mandate that insurance companies pay entirely for birth control? Isn't insurance a private business? And shouldn't private business be, I dunno, private? Shouldn't the consumer be the one to demand products and services and shape said products and services with their purchases? If the government wants birth control to be free, how 'bout the government give it out? Or is it afraid that people will be pissed about the whole meddling with reproductive rights thing? Do we even have reproductive rights? Or did some church/state decide we can't make those decisions for ourselves?
I wonder why the state chose now, the busiest vacation/drive time of the summer, to turn all the major roadways into one-lane nightmares?
If a semi pulls through a light, but the space available wouldn't hold a bug, is it reasonable to give the driver the stink-eye as I miss my turn because his trailer is blocking the intersection?
I wonder why someone would go twenty-five mph in the left lane when the speed limit is sixty-five and most traffic is going seventy-five...
I laughed out loud at the "My ADHD kid can run circles around your honor student" sticker.
I really want sushi.
I'll spare you the rest of the drivel.
Here, then, are a few of the things I pondered:
WWJD? Hang up and drive, likely, and probably use his turn signal, too. I bet he wouldn't cut people off, either, and I'm fairly certain he wouldn't be flailing around the back seat trying to beat the child/ren and/or dog or throwing his cigarette leavings/fast food wrappers out the window. I am certain he would not be flipping anyone the bird or driving right up onto their back bumper and flashing his lights/honking his horn to make them go faster rather than simply passing on the left.
How come every highway or road I try to use is pretending to be a parking lot?
The "Don't text while driving" and No Cell Phone (red circle with red diagonal line through it over a cell) stickers would be much more effective if the driver wasn't going twenty below the limit, swerving into other lanes, while texting on their cell.
I want sushi.
When the baby laughs like that, and I can't see her, I worry. What's she doing back there?
I wonder if a chiropractor would be willing to barter.
If there are only a few drops, does it still count as rain?
If you're driving a Prius with recycle symbols on the rear, you sort of lose all credibility when you throw a plastic bottle out the window.
Why do people feel the need to lie? Especially about stupid shit. What's wrong with simply owning who we are and what we do/think/believe/want/need?
How can a person say "I love you" with one breath but with the next complain about all of the things they wish they could change about the one they "love"?
How exactly does the government think it has the right to mandate that insurance companies pay entirely for birth control? Isn't insurance a private business? And shouldn't private business be, I dunno, private? Shouldn't the consumer be the one to demand products and services and shape said products and services with their purchases? If the government wants birth control to be free, how 'bout the government give it out? Or is it afraid that people will be pissed about the whole meddling with reproductive rights thing? Do we even have reproductive rights? Or did some church/state decide we can't make those decisions for ourselves?
I wonder why the state chose now, the busiest vacation/drive time of the summer, to turn all the major roadways into one-lane nightmares?
If a semi pulls through a light, but the space available wouldn't hold a bug, is it reasonable to give the driver the stink-eye as I miss my turn because his trailer is blocking the intersection?
I wonder why someone would go twenty-five mph in the left lane when the speed limit is sixty-five and most traffic is going seventy-five...
I laughed out loud at the "My ADHD kid can run circles around your honor student" sticker.
I really want sushi.
I'll spare you the rest of the drivel.
And In the End, It's Never Enough
Trying to solve troubles blind, dizzy, and hurting
Trying to find the way down a narrow, winding way
In darkness, unbalanced
Feeling the fall that waits
Waits
Waits
For one misstep
What's the point, except something to crash down onto
Some jagged thing
Made of up indifference
Greed
Selfishness
Petulance
Worthless dreams
Stupid things
Meaningless
And I the fool for having believed.
Never again.
I'm done trying.
Go away, stupid dreams
Go away and pester someone else
Who can give you what you want
What you deserve
Quit trying to shape me into your realization.
I've given over everything of myself
My health
My heart
My mind
Everything
And still you clamor for more
Never seeing that you have taken what little of the best there is
Used it all up
And hate what's left.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Lammas
Today I was busy with vague, time-devouring stuff and didn't post this in a timely fashion. Whoopsie. Anyway, it's Lammas and I've recycled a post below. Meanwhile, to celebrate the day, I baked bread, and for dinner we had BLTs made with that bread and tomatoes from the garden...loverly...
~~~
Happy Lammas, y'all!
Wait, you don't know what Lammas is?
Well, you've come to the right place!
Loaf Mass, it was called long ago, a day to celebrate the first of the grain harvested and ground to flour. It's a day for baking, for sharing the bounty of the field with family and friends, for celebrating the hope of a Winter without starvation and the renewing of the cycle in the Spring.
Sharing bread is old, a tradition rooted back beyond religion to something so primal it didn't even have a name. Bread is life. Bread is a blessing. The wedding cake we have today began as loaves that were broken and crumbled over the bride's head for luck and fortune, fertility and abundance.
When you greet new neighbors, if you follow old traditions, you bring them bread or some other baked good. Houses aren't warmed until bread has been baked, or at least served in them. There are bread traditions in almost every faith.
One of the oldest forms of hospitality is to offer bread and salt - representatives of the elements, the sacred things. To offer them is to offer a place in the home to one's guest, to make them welcome like family, to offer not just food and hearth, but protection as well. To accept them is to promise not to break the peace of the home, to honor the family, the traditions, to do no harm.
Lammas, Loaf Mass, a day to bake, to break bread with friends and celebrate the wonder of grain and all its goodness.
It's also a day for beer and ale, if you're into those sorts of things.
Celebrate the harvest with me today. Take a bite of toast, or a sweet, tart, crisp apple, or a sun-warmed tomato fresh from the vine, or anything that smacks of "harvest", and savor it. The taste, the texture, the hours of sunlight and gallons of rain that went into the making of it. Taste of the wind and the earth, as well. Whatever you've planted, I hope it comes to fruition and will sustain you through leaner times, as the grain from the field carries us all through Winter.
Blessed be, y'all, and happy Lammas.
~~~
Happy Lammas, y'all!
Wait, you don't know what Lammas is?
Well, you've come to the right place!
Loaf Mass, it was called long ago, a day to celebrate the first of the grain harvested and ground to flour. It's a day for baking, for sharing the bounty of the field with family and friends, for celebrating the hope of a Winter without starvation and the renewing of the cycle in the Spring.
Sharing bread is old, a tradition rooted back beyond religion to something so primal it didn't even have a name. Bread is life. Bread is a blessing. The wedding cake we have today began as loaves that were broken and crumbled over the bride's head for luck and fortune, fertility and abundance.
When you greet new neighbors, if you follow old traditions, you bring them bread or some other baked good. Houses aren't warmed until bread has been baked, or at least served in them. There are bread traditions in almost every faith.
One of the oldest forms of hospitality is to offer bread and salt - representatives of the elements, the sacred things. To offer them is to offer a place in the home to one's guest, to make them welcome like family, to offer not just food and hearth, but protection as well. To accept them is to promise not to break the peace of the home, to honor the family, the traditions, to do no harm.
Lammas, Loaf Mass, a day to bake, to break bread with friends and celebrate the wonder of grain and all its goodness.
It's also a day for beer and ale, if you're into those sorts of things.
Celebrate the harvest with me today. Take a bite of toast, or a sweet, tart, crisp apple, or a sun-warmed tomato fresh from the vine, or anything that smacks of "harvest", and savor it. The taste, the texture, the hours of sunlight and gallons of rain that went into the making of it. Taste of the wind and the earth, as well. Whatever you've planted, I hope it comes to fruition and will sustain you through leaner times, as the grain from the field carries us all through Winter.
Blessed be, y'all, and happy Lammas.
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