Being Invisible

Doesn't feel good.  At all.

Yesterday at the playground I saw one of the hubby's good friend's brother. Let's call the good friend Victor and Victor's brother Wellington.  Wellington and I have seen each other a few times before.  The hubby took me by Wellington's house to say hi to his parents (he still lives with his parents even though he's 30+ years old--no comment).  We sat next to each other--I mean right next to each other--at the table at the hubby's other friend's wedding reception.  And when the hubby's good friend had a cookout the last few times, I saw Wellington there.  Well, to me it was a pleasant surprise to see him at the playground.  I called the hubby to tell him that Wellington was at the playground and planned to say hi once I got the chance.  Well, when I got the chance, I waved and smiled at Wellington.

Not one wave of recognition passed over this brother's face.  He hadn't the faintest clue that he had ever seen me before much less that he even knew me.

All right, we've all had those times when you wave at someone and he/she doesn't realize you're waving at them and we've all felt that little flash of embarrassment that ensues.  Well, this was much worse because I felt like Wellington should have at least recognized me.  I mean, he shouldn't have been falling all over himself with joy at having seen me but . . . really?

Anyway, it so happens that right after I got off the phone with the hubby, Victor calls the hubby.  The hubby tells Victor that his brother Wellington is at the playground--that I saw him there.  I suppose Victor calls his brother Wellington to rag on him (What are you doing at the playground?  Trying to recapture your childhood?  Har, har, har!) and mentions that I was there.  Most likely, he had to have his memory jump started because honestly and truly, Wellington hadn't the faintest inkling of a clue as to who I was.

So I go to push Z2 on the swings and Wellington happens to be standing there with a woman and her son/childcare charge.  He tries to strike up conversation and I try not to smirk.  He starts, "Hey you (he has no idea what my name is)!  I haven't seen you in like forever (yeah, dude, I saw you last summer at Victor's)!"  I'm like, "Uh-huh . . . yeah, how have you been?  Great! . . . Excuse me, I have to locate my son."  Z2 is ready to get off the swing (I'm so glad he's mastered the word "off") and so off I go to "locate my son."

I told the hubby the whole story and he basically says something to the effect that Wellington is someone who stands out because of his height (he's 6'4") and that's why he's so easily recognizable.  I, on the other hand, "look like a lot of people" and, apparently, I do not stand out and am quite easy to forget.  Well, the hubby didn't go that far.  He stopped just short of putting his whole entire foot in his mouth.

I mean, the incident didn't bother me at the moment as much as it bothers me tonight.  I know Wellington's failure to recognize me is more of a commentary on him than it is on me.  We've seen in each other in rather intimate social settings on a number of occasions.  Even if he didn't know my name, if he had been looking at me instead of above or through me, he would have recognized me.  Now, I know I am horrible with names but I never, ever forget a face.  I take time to look into people's eyes and notice their expressions.  I try to read people's energy.  I look at people.  Especially in intimate social settings.  If I spend some time next to you, talking to you, and I see you more than once, more than twice, I will remember your face.  I know not everyone does this and I'm trying to not to draw conclusions about people who don't.  Although it's hard not to.

This occurrence was compounded by the fact that at Costco on Tuesday I saw a lady who I'll call Ann that worked the front desk of the main school where I used to substitute teach.  Ann would sometimes see my five days a week.  She kept me working.  And so as a small token of appreciation, I wrote Ann a thank you card and gave her a candle.  While walking down the laundry detergent aisle, I saw Ann.  I smiled.  She looked confused.  And then I realized she didn't recognize me.  But I was okay with it.  She probably saw dozens of substitute teachers a week.  We never had any really close contact.  Never sat down to eat a meal next to each other or anything.  Wellington's failure to recognize was much more . . . problematic.

And, you see, I've been very open on this blog about how I struggle with self-esteem, self-worth and self-confidence.  Wellington not recognizing me was a bit of a blow to my ego.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it's not all that important.  The hubby was quick to point out that Wellington doesn't really go for women of color anyway and really prefers White women as dating partners.  He was with a White woman at the playground.  That's fine--whatever rocks your boat.  I wasn't saying I wanted Wellington to be all into me.  In fact, that would be highly inappropriate.  I guess what I was getting at was that I felt invisible.  And in some ways, I feel invisible.  I don't have that confident sass that gets women recognized.  And I don't feel I have such stunning looks that I would be unforgettable.  I'm a dark-skinned Black woman in a society that really doesn't value what I am.  That constantly says what I am is just so nondescript.  So forgettable.  When was the last time you saw a beauty product being advertised by Black women on a channel other than BET?

And these days, I don't have the energy or the ends or the desire to go about doing the things that I suppose would make me less nondescript--like booty hugging jeans or plunging necklines.   Although if I'm really honest, these things did indeed get me noticed but not in any way that I wanted.  And dudes still never remembered my face.

I remember reading in The Knitting Sutra, how the author felt that once she hit middle age, she started to feel invisible because nobody really checks for older women.  I don't think that's necessarily true especially if an older woman takes good care of herself (although I wondered then when I read it if I had  already become invisible to men or if I just don't notice men checking me out because I'm usually hauling kids around or hauling groceries or just plain busy and not interested).   But one powerful thing I did garner from her sentiment and what she did to handle it (which was to perfect her knitting/become a knitting master) is that you can't let other's unwillingness to see you keep you from being authentically you.  I totally get that.  And I totally understand that.

But the incident still messed with me.  And continues to mess with me.

And I surely didn't want to pick a fight with the hubby about what he meant tonight when he said Wellington was so hard to forget that of course I'd recognize him.

So I thought I'd write about it.  At 1:30 in the morning.    And finally I think I can sleep.

Photo Credit:  "Memorias de un hombre invisible" by J on Flickr.com

Nothing like it . . .

Homemade bread, that is! . . .

I baked bread yesterday after a few weeks of buying it.  The summer was pretty busy and so I stopped making bread because I couldn't find time to fit it in.  But I'm back on my bread-baking game and boy am I glad.  Home made bread tastes so much better than store bought.  However, it seems that recently every time I bake bread, I get large holes.  I know that it's air that getting trapped but I'm pretty good about punching the bread down and rolling it very tightly into a loaf.  That's something I'm going to have to troubleshoot.  Nevertheless, the bread is delicious and I'm almost ready to try some new recipes.  Almost.

FO: A wool diaper cover

I haven't been knitting with any kind of consistency this year. With Z2 being as active as he is, it's almost impossible to get into a groove. But, I'm proud to say, I did manage to turn out something, albeit a small thing. It's a knitted wool diaper cover and I imagine it will be one of the last I ever make for my children, at least.

Specifications

Yarn: Filatura Lanarota Chaco (worsted weight)--1 1/2 skeins

Pattern: My Soaker Pattern (which is by far my favorite because it's basic, straightforward with no short rows but plenty of space for even the bulkiest of cloth diapers)

Size: Large/Toddler

Needles: #7 16-inch bamboo circulars which I abhor but which I will continue to use in the name of reaching my goal of saving $10K for each family member--I'll see how long I can make it work

Time: About a week and a half. I had a bit of yarn fiasco, had to stop a whole bunch of times, fought with my needles and was often too tired to do anything but look at it. But it got done.

Overall, I'm very pleased with it. It's quite large and is perfect for Z1 who still needs extra protection when sleeping at night. I'm looking forward to making the Sideways Grande Hat and have placed the book where the pattern was published (Boutique Knits) on reserve at the library. I saw the hat in my KnitPicks catalog and I thought it was stunning. It really caught my eye and it's small enough of a project where it won't drag on forever and a day.

Which is more (much more) than I can say for A Sweater for Emma which is still waiting on me to finish the right sleeve. I have vowed to finish this sweater this year, though. And I will. No I must. The funny thing is we don't even see Emma anymore so . . . is there a point? LoL. A Sweater for Emma taught me one valuable lesson--for large projects, a yarn you enjoy is crucial, no essential. I hate the 100% (cheap) cotton yarn I'm using--it makes the sweater feel like a wasted effort because the yarn just doesn't work well and shows up all the mistakes and unevenness. Ah well. I'll finish for the sake of finishing then move on to more appealing projects.

My new knitting philosophy? Small projects working with yarns I enjoy . This will keep yarn costs down but will keep the craft pleasurable and less frustrating.

When I was in high school . . .

He was just coming on the scene. And you knew then that he was the hotness. His longevity is stunning, at least to me. And when the boys go to sleep, I still enjoy his music. Had a boyfriend once who was an aspiring emcee . . . used to rail against him because he said he never, ever wrote down his rhymes. My boyfriend used to say he was a liar . . . nobody could do that. I don't know. It was hard to hide my admiration for him then and it's hard to hide it now. Oh yeah, I love my roots reggae. Love my classical music. But I also love my . . .

I think he's brilliant in so many ways.

I love this commercial and own almost every album of Jay-Z's. And Z1 absolutely loves this song so even though I can only somewhat tolerate Rhianna's singing, I play the clean (radio edit) version often.

Another use for vodka

We buy vodka around here to make vanilla extract and other tinctures. A few months ago, though, I started to use it as a deodorant and I really love it. A long time ago, I blogged about another liquid deodorant I made with lemon juice. That worked well, but this one works even better. It's basically the same recipe except you replace the lemon juice with vodka and reduce the amounts of essential oils.

All Natural Deodorant Spray

One 4 ounce spray bottle
3 parts vodka
1 part water
20 drops tea tree oil

20 drops of another essential oil (I've been using clove oil exclusively--I don't know . . . I like it)

Put everything in a bottle and shake well before each use.

I use this in combination with Kimberlily's Recipe for Cream Deodorant and it works just as well as Secret used to. I use it everyday except on occasions when I really don't want to sweat like if I'm going on an interview and I'll be nervous. For those occasions, I suck it up and use Dove which is, to me, although not as strong as Secret, easy to wash off (unlike Secret).

Just a note: you don't need the greatest vodka in the world for an underarm spray. You might want to get a little better quality for your tinctures and extracts although some sources say there's absolutely no difference in quality. I find that hard to believe though.

Photo Credit: "Tall True Russian Vodka" by True Russian Vodka on Flickr.com

Cast Iron Cookware is the Truth!

To say I love my cast iron cookware would be a huge, massive understatement. My cookware of choice is now and will probably always be cast iron. Some people say that cast iron is too heavy to use on a daily basis but I like to look at moving my cast iron pans and pots as an addition to my other weight lifting exercises. I don't mind it at all. See, cast iron is wonderful. It is the original non-stick cookware and there'll be no scary stories years from now about how the stuff that makes it non-stick will give you cancer or cause brain damage. Nothing sticks to a well-seasoned cast iron pan.

And of course, that's the next complaint folks have . . . taking care of cast iron is a pain. Well, no, that's not true either. Before using cast iron, you've got to season it. Here is a very simple guide to seasoning cast iron. I've never had to re-season my cast iron pans and I don't use lard or bacon grease to do it. I use vegetable shortening and it works well. You don't wash cast iron with soap. I use very hot water and a plastic mesh scrubbie--that's it. I don't let my cast iron air dry either. After I clean them, I just set them over a medium flame and drive off any moisture.

I bought most of my cast iron cookware at (you guessed it) the thrift store and I've really been able to build quite a collection with those pieces and ones that have been handed down to me or just thrown away. Really, even the rustiest of cast iron pans can be revived with some loving care. I did buy my largest cast iron skillet (12") at Bed Bath and Beyond and with a 20% coupon, paid just a touch over $20 which is really excellent considering the price of a top quality non-stick coated skillet.

There are so many good reasons to use cast iron including the trace iron that gets into your food. My cast iron cookware is versatile and, I think most important to me, basic. Your great great grandma may have used cast iron. It is tried and true and I love that.

From grilled cheese to braised greens . . . cast iron cookware is the truth!

Photo Credit: Simple Intergenerational Cookware by Zane Selvans on Flickr.com

On this day 79 years ago

Blessed Coronation Day!

Photo Courtesy of skibriye's on Flickr.com

2010 Fitness Goals?

Yup, I'm already thinking about what I'd like to achieve next year fitness-wise. My main goal next year is to really develop upper body strength. I want to be able to do push ups, chin-ups, planks, side planks, and all that. Right now, I'm barely able although I've come a long way since I started working out consistently in January. As is the case for many women, my upper body is a weak point and most of my strength is in my legs. I'd like a more even distribution and I'm looking forward to the challenge. My arms and shoulders are taking shape nicely and I'm pleased with the definition ("cuts") I'm starting to see. But what I really want are killer arms. :)

I found this useful article while googling tonight. And I've been doing The Trainer's Edge: Long and Lean Yoga by Baron Baptiste which is a huge challenge for me right now. By the end of 2010, I'd at least like to be able to keep up. See, what I love about yoga is that building upper body strength doesn't use weights--just your own body as weight. I agree wholeheartedly with Baptiste that this is a more functional, natural kind of strength-building. And while I don't totally discount lifting weights and enjoy lifting weights, I prefer yoga style strength training.

What are your 2010 fitness goals? Have you thought about it yet?

Photo Courtesy of http://www.thespafitnesscenter.com/myspa/index.html

The Frugal Fashionista?

Is that an oxymoron?

I'm willing to admit that for the last few years, I was not making an effort to look the best I could possibly look. There are a number of reasons but the main reason is that I was trying to be au naturel and also striving for modesty in my dress. Well, recently, I decided I was tired of looking frumpy, blah and old and decided to try to get my game back together. I stopped wearing sweats and workout clothes in public and started making a consistent effort to give myself a once over before I leave the house. It certainly helps my frame of mind and how I feel about myself.

If you read this blog though, you know that frugality has to be one of my top priorities in order for me to continue being a stay-at-home mom. Getting my game back, though, costs some money. I was trying to hook up my makeup game again. Even though I'm not a big makeup person, I realize a little foundation, lip gloss and eyebrow pencil can go a long way to giving you a polished look. But then I also realized I simply do not have $45 to drop on foundations and stuff. I was trying to revamp my wardrobe with some nice pieces. Now, believe me, I don't really shop other places besides the thrift store but I realized something else the other day while reading an excellent blog that I was recently introduced to: Wildflower. She advocates thinking really, really, really hard about every penny you spend and asking yourself, while looking through the lens of potentially difficult times fast approaching, the hard question: do I really need this ? And if you don't, you don't spend that money.

The thrift store is my slow money leak. I try to go on half-off days and all that but any good thrifter knows that the key to doing well at it is going often. So I go having the idea that I need a pair of nice fitting jeans or something. It's not that I don't have jeans but since my body proportions have changed, what I have doesn't fit quite right. I don't find what I was looking for but I do find 3 or 4 children's books, a cute purse, a nice shirt for one of the boys, or a lovely pair of shoes that would go with a particular blouse. I pay the $10 or whatever--it's great because I know that the stuff I have just purchased could easily be worth about $50.

But this is a slow money leak . . . I'm buying things I don't necessarily need. Just buying them because they're nice to have and more importantly, in relation to me upping my look game, it would be a nice addition to my wardrobe--something that would add pizzazz.

I could very well save that $10 or use it to pay for one of the childrens' activities.

But I also want to look cute. I want to accessorize and feel like I'm stepping out when I go out.

I've talked about this before but recently, it's come up again. So I'm asking myself again, how do I find the balance between being frugal and fashionable?

When I'm talking fashionable, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not a trendy person. I like classic looks with a hint of "what's in". And when I'm talking frugal, I'm talking about frugality with the goal of working toward financial security. I'm talking about saving enough money so that if an emergency hits, we can make moves. And even if no emergency ever happens, having financial security in our old age. Being fashionable is not an absolute necessity. I mean, , strictly speaking, neither is having high speed internet but the whole family uses the computer for entertainment, learning and business especially since we don't have cable. I'd say that things would have to be really hard before we got rid of the internet at home. A new pair of hoop earrings? Another bottle of nail polish? An eyebrow wax? I've thought of growing out my hair and getting it braided . . . These things make you feel nice and like a girl. Taken individually, they don't cost much. Frugality, in my mind, says wear the jewelry you have. Says you have enough nail polish. And no one but you notices your eyebrows.

You see, frugality in my mind has never meant being chic. It means being very practical. It means putting out $100 for a good pair of classic winter boots (which you bought at the end-of season clearance sale for $70). They might not match anything--no one would ever say you put together a cute outfit--but you'll be wearing those boots for years to come. Ah, but sometimes I'd rather pay $70 for the cheaply made boots that look oh so flyy with those jeans I managed to score. Is that irresponsible knowing what I know? Have I been tainted by American consumerism? Or is it the simple fact that I'm a woman and wearing cute stuff induces felicity? I'm constantly amused by those TJ Maxx commercials that talk about Maxxinistas . . . a play on the term fashionista and the newer term "frugalista". I mean, really, how important is fashion and being cute when it comes to survival and thriving in difficult times? Is it important at all?

So is it a necessity? Is your cuteness something you need? Something to really consider and take into account when you are trying to prepare for an uncertain future? It's a challenge weighing out those things that make you feel nice against the a very real reality: that the times are a changing and bank will make the change more manageable.

So, yes, I'm on the lookout for other slow money leaks but I've just identified one glaring one. Plug those small money leaks and you can easily sock away another 10%. The hubby's been saying that for years but I don't know, somehow it just clicked in a profound way the other day. Sometimes, someone else has to say it.

Do I plug the leak?

(((insert Z1's best whiney voice here)))But I don't want to!!!!

A little more money in the pocket, though, might just end up feeling better than being a frugal fashionista in the long run.

When to start talking about race?

So a friend of mine recently got her hands on two copies of Faith Ringgold's book Tar Beach and was so kind as to give me one. I actually really love this story and had used it in the classroom with older children (sixth grade) while doing my student teaching.

Well now that it's in my possession, I wonder if it's too early to introduce it to my children. Here is how it's described:

"Quilt paintings"--acrylic on canvas paper, with fabric borders from Ringgold's story quilt of the same name--illustrate a Depression era girl's imaginative foray to heights from which she can see and therefore claim her world. Picnicking on the roof of her family's Harlem apartment building--a "tar beach" to which they bring fried chicken and roasted peanuts, watermelon and beer, and, not least, friends and laughter--Cassie pictures herself soaring above New York City: above the George Washington Bridge, which her father helped build; above the headquarters of the union that has denied him membership, because he's black; above the rooms in which they live. Ringgold's strong figures and flattened perspective bring a distinctive magic to this dreamy and yet wonderfully concrete vision, narrated in poetic cadences that capture the language and feel of flight. Ages 4-8.

Copyright 1990 Reed Business Information

I have no problem with books that talk about working-class families and even families living in poverty. I think it gives the literature children are introduced to and familiar with a balance that if you don't strive for, you won't achieve. There are plenty of stories where the protagonists' problems, while not trivial, pale in comparison to stories where the main character's are facing life and death issues such as homelessness, hunger and displacement. It's important to have a diverse array of books--books that feature people of all colors and cultures and background. It rounds out our children's ideas of the stories that should be told, or more precisely, the stories worth telling.

In Tar Beach, however, there is a very strong reference to the father of the main character being kept out of a union (the very same union for which he's working on a building) because "he's colored or a half-breed Indian". This would be an excellent jumping off point to begin talking about the history of segregation in the United States but when is the appropriate age to do so? The description says it's appropriate for children ages 4-8 but just when are children mature enough to handle issues around race? Can this book be read with just an appreciation for the art? For the imagination of the story? The beauty of the simplicity in the way it's told? I'm not sure. So for now, I'll just keep it out of the rotation.

Knitting as Meditation?

I just finished reading a book by Susan Gordon Lydon called The Knitting Sutra: Craft as Spiritual Practice.

It was an interesting read and overall I liked the book. Lydon, a recovering drug addict, writer and master knitter, details how through her knitting she was able to heal herself and find her way spiritually. She tells of how she jumped from one religious practice to another trying to find her true path. Somehow, the act of knitting led her to the conclusion that her own path was something she alone could articulate and find. While reading the book though, I worried that her obsessive knitting was actually just a replacement for her drug addiction. Sometimes I felt that way but other times, I really did see how the absolute concentration of doing intricate knitting work could just be that absorbing.

Well, it's a funny thing . . . I was looking for a book to detail just how (i.e. the steps by which) we may turn crafting into prayer. Lydon does a good job of explaining how in many indigenous cultures, that's what it is but it is certainly not a blueprint for doing so in your own crafting. Still, this book re-inspired me to pick up my needles and I started a new project--a soaker--probably the last one I will ever need to knit. I also realized that for the time being, I am going to stick to small, simple projects to reduce the frustration and increase the enjoyment. As the kids get older, though, I'm determined to become a better, more advanced crafter (sewing, knitting and crochet).

I have to admit, though. It's a little off-putting (just a smidge) all this new age-y type books (check out on Amazon.com all the suggested related titles to Lydon's book) that place emphasis on both knitting and meditating, two things which are now ultra-chic but which the ancients have been doing since, well, ancient times. It feels like folks are trying to make a profit from something that should be obvious, that should have been passed down but somehow wasn't, something that wound up lost but really isn't. But I believe that if knitting/crafting and meditating or knitting/crafting as meditating can be reintroduced to us to bring more peace to our lives, bring us back to our roots, and reconnect us to the Earth and to each other, then it's really all good.

So, when you craft (cook, knit, sew, crochet) is your work a meditation? Or are you more focused on the finished product? I tend to be outcome oriented but after reading this book, I'm once again inspired to find "the stillness within, a way to contact the soul" through my work.

Apple Muffins sans Bran

I really wanted to bake something today. It's a rainy day and we're stuck inside plus I'm not in the best of moods. Baking helps with all that.

The other day I bought a bag of apples and made apple bran muffins. I've got quite a bit of apples left over and lots of applesauce too. So I decided to make muffins again but this time, not as "wholesome" tasting. So I used Cathe Olson's recipe for applesauce cake:

Applesauce Cake
Ingredients:

• 1/4 cup oil
• 1/2 cup maple syrup, brown rice syrup, or agave nectar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup unsweetened applesauce
• 3/4 cup raisins
• 3/4 cup chopped walnuts
• 2 cups whole wheat or whole wheat pastry flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon sea salt
• 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Oil a 10-inch round cake pan or 8- or 9-inch square baking pan. Beat oil, maple syrup, and vanilla together until smooth. Stir in applesauce, raisins, and walnuts. In separate bowl, sift remaining ingredients together. Dough will be stiff. Spread into prepared pan. Bake 30 minutes, or until cake pulls away from edges of pan and knife inserted in center comes out dry. Cool on rack. Serve cake plain or with whipped tofu topping. It's also delicious frosted.

Makes 12 servings

---------------------------------

I added one chopped Granny Smith apple (left the skin on). I also did not use maple syrup since it's simply too expensive these days. I substituted a half cup of soy milk (+ a little) and 3/4 cup turbinado sugar. This recipe makes 12+1 large, really moist muffins.

On top of the muffins, I sprinkled on a crumb topping which is very simple to make either using your hands or the food processor.

Crumb Topping

3 tablespoons of unbleached white flour

1/4 cup oats

pinch cinnamon

1 1/2 tablespoon non-hydrogenated margarine

1/4 cup (plus a little) turbinado sugar

You process that in the food processor or with your hands until it's crumbly.

The crumb topping adds a little bit of extra sweetness but overall, this is not a sweet muffin which is great. The applesauce cake recipe is recommended time and time again as a good option for a first birthday cake.

As usual, the kids are devouring them. Which is a good thing because it seems like all I really wanted to do was bake them and not eat them. I can't wait till I'm in a better mood.

I Can't Stand Freecycle Flakes

Warning: I'm in a foul mood today.

Freecycle is a brilliant concept. If you don't want or need something anymore, offer it on Freecycle. Someone who could use it requests it and they come and pick it up. Wonderful. Perfect. Great.

But the last few times, I've offered and people have requested, they have not shown up. Now, I don't dictate the times when these people should come. They tell me when they'll show up. I always make sure to have it on my front porch, properly labelled and such. It ticks me off tremendously when I come home from being out with the boys all day and someone who was supposed to pick up at 10 AM in the morning has not shown up. By 6 PM, they're still a no show. I e-mail . . . are you coming to pick this up? No response. There the stuff is . . . sitting on my front porch. Looking like clutter and mess an annoying the heck out of me.

Is it like a reflex to ask for things just because it's free? An uncontrollable urge to to say, "Gimme, gimme!"? I mean, when I ask for things on Freecycle, I take a moment to think. Where would I put this? Do I really need this? Am I willing to drive that far to get it? Could someone use it more than me? Am I asking just because?

I mean, I love the concept of Freecycle and how waste is eliminated. I love the fact that I've been able to give things away when people post "Wanteds" and I've gotten wonderful things that people have offered or that I've asked for including a bicycle for Z1, a checkers set, hundreds of die cast toy cars, cloth diapers, books, and other learning materials for the kids. I mean, really, it's been so worth it. But why, oh why, do these Freecycle Flakes insist on wasting my time? I could easily drop this stuff off at the Salvation Army or Habitat for Humanity and be done with it. I try to do Freecycle to cut out the middle man especially since I've noticed that the Salvation Army likes to overprice things these days--things that they are getting for free. But I hate complicating my life and making extra effort to no avail. Really, it's getting annoying and I've sent out some strongly worded e-mails to these no-shows instead of simply ignoring them and moving on to the next person who responded.

Ugh . . . I can't stand Freecycle Corny Flakes.

Photo Credit: Morning Ritual by vinduhl on Flickr.com

Keeping My Head

We were in the backyard today enjoying the lovely fall foliage and the bright, warm sun. Z1 was out there playing with his friend and Z2 was bumbling around doing baby stuff. At one point, he decided to play the game of going in and out of the house, opening and closing the screen door. This goes on for a few minutes and then he decided to close the back door. I didn't even *think* to take off the slam and so there we were. Z2 was locked inside and we were locked outside. I started to wrack my brain thinking of what to do. I hate drama and didn't want the firefighters and police in my space. I ran around the front to see if maybe I had left the front door open for some reason. It was locked. I called my family who lives upstairs hoping that maybe someone had stayed home from church. No one was home. I told myself to stay calm. Z2 had just started to cry now that he realized I couldn't get to him. I listened to myself and stayed calm. I took one of the resin chairs to the window at the side of the house, pried the bug screen off and shimmied the window open. There are stops on the windows that keep it from opening more than 3-4 inches. I applied some force and broke the stops. Then I scooted through the window surprised at the upper body strength I have. I mean really surprised. Once in, I dusted myself off and closed the window on to get my baby. As soon as the crisis was over, I had some time to reflect. I am disturbed at how simple it is to get into our locked house but pleased that an intruder couldn't really get in undetected if someone is home. I was very pleased with my ability to stay calm and collected. I was pleased with my ability to keep my head and with my ability to think without panicking. I was pleased with my own strength too.

Other projects today included finally collecting my family's emergency supplies in one large bin and putting together our grab-and-go bag (the hubby still needs to put in his change of clothes). I developed a list of things I still need to purchase and I'll be working on that within the grocery budget this week. This week I'm thinking about meet-up plans in the case of emergency, i.e. developing a plan to get us all out of immediate danger even if we're in different places. I also want to get a laminated checklist of things to grab/we should have in a hurry.

Of course, I'm approaching all this with a levelheadedness that was not there before. I'm watching and waiting patiently. And keeping my gas tank 1/2 full at all times.

Tradewinds

So much is going on now. If you're still for just a moment, you know that things are shifting, have shifted.

Makes me think of a song by one of my favorite female reggae artists, Judy Mowatt.

Read the lyrics here.