Yesterday was quite lovely. I had a crafting date with Greta, and we met at her house to get to work on some Zines that we've been brainstorming. We'd already started a ROC City zine, but we were really excited to get started on a menstruation theme. After a whole afternoon of yerba mate, storytelling, and rants, we turned out a couple of great pages. I wrote a page about different sorts of cups, like the Diva Cup, Moon Cup and Keeper. Greta will write one about Instead, and we'll have a DIY page for making pads, and also provide info about products like Glad Rags and Party In My Pants. These are fantastic alternatives to disposable feminine products, and many many women have never heard of them! I use a Keeper, and I like that it is natural rubber, but if I could go back I would probably invest in a Moon Cup. They are easier to work with and are probably just as safe.
Greta also has been working on a page for men about the experience of Catcalling, and why men should never do it again, ever. She, I think, has a particularly hard time with it because she looks younger, she has beautiful blond hair and she is often on her bike, on foot, or on the bus. She also works in a coffee shop where creeps like to hit on her and feel entitled to her attentions. All that said, we've both been pretty stumped about how exactly to approach a page directed at men, one that will actually make them think, and then completely change their ways. And I'm not sure we can accomplish that in a Zine.
However, Adam and I went to dinner last night with a very good friend, Jenna, who happens to be the most intelligent person I know on the topics of feminism, ending oppression for all beings and effective activism. I presented our conundrum, and we had a fantastic conversation that was really illuminating for me. Basically, it seems that most men who have the practice of catcalling deeply ingrained in them will never understand the fear and trauma that they inflict on their targets. Unless the patriarchal system is completely overturned, it will never make sense to them it is WRONG. On the other hand, there are men who are not deeply attached to the practice, but only do it as a form of male bonding or because they interpret their actions as a form of flattery. Both, I believe, are reversible. And here is where my brainstorm starts brewing:
Catcalling is based on the premise that men feel comfortable being the first to speak, and are empowered further when they can say anything they want and get little to no response. They can say dirty things to complete strangers, and they might get only a scowl or glare in return. Sometimes they'll even get a smile. The problem is, women do not live in a world where they can approach or say anything to a stranger (unless is it a motherly type who can tell you what time it is or if the #24 bus has been by). Women cannot smile at any man for fear of initiating more than a simple hello. And if spoken to, most women are terrified that if they express their displeasure in being objectified or threatened, they will be followed, harassed, or worse. This is NOT rare. I think I could talk to any woman I know, from age 11 to 65, and she will have a slew of stories to tell about times when she felt physically and emotionally threatened by being spoken to or looked at in inappropriate ways by men. I personally took the bus and Monday and counted no fewer than 12 stares, honks, comments, etc. It didn't matter that I had a scarf wrapped tightly up to my eyes and a hat pulled down past my eyebrows. It is not because they like what they see...it is because they have power and they have the freedom to exercise it. And it has to stop.
Most women will say they feel powerless when men make comments, even in personal situations. Jenna and I discussed the fact that many men are socialized into a sort of script that provides them with an array of comments they can make and actions (e.g. check out a woman's ass, look at her up and down, etc.) they can take when presented with an attractive female. Their friends, fathers, cousins, uncles, etc. teach them exactly what they should do. And many men are not taught this! Hallelujah! So many men are taught to just say a polite hello, glancing quickly at a stranger's eyes and then right back in front of them. I would LOVE it if I could say "hi" to everyone I pass on the street and not feel like I'm encouraging men's attentions.
So what do we do about all of this?
I think it would be useful to create a zine that breaks the silence around catcalling and other forms of sexual harassment. Just as men have a culture that teaches them how to exert their power over women, we need a culture among women that supports their right to safety and encourages women to teach each other how to speak out. I'm still working out ideas, but I think this is an important issue for women in Rochester and hopefully we will get the word out to them. Making some spaghetti now, so I've gotta run.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
breadmaking.
One of the things I have been doing to stay active while I search for a job is--and this is so cliche--bake. I've never really been much of a baker, since I don't like following recipes, but lately I've had such a sweet tooth, and I don't feel like bundling up to get some store-bought overly-processed cookies. Since I've been unemployed, I've made several wonderful batches of snickerdoodles, ginger cookies, scones, and even coconut cupcakes and shortbread. I've also made more than a couple of delicious loaves of bread, including French baguettes. I made those today, and they are delicious! The catch is that once you have some fresh out of the oven, the cooled bread just doesn't taste as great. And Adam surely can't get enough!
Anyway, I'm glad that I've had this time to get to know baking, and, especially, to make some delicious vegan treats that people simply adore. Brianne told me that the ginger cookies were hands-down the best vegan cookies she's ever had, and Charlie said that the coconut cupcakes were perfectly moist. I'm very proud to share these cruelty-free treats, and to have them enjoyed by all!
Baking bread used to be a mystery to me. The power of yeast seemed to be nearly godlike, having the ability to turn water and flour into gooey, expanding, airy dough. My mom used to put her bread dough in her KitchenAid mixing bowl with a towel over it in the front of our minivan to rise. It was pure magic. "Learn to bake bread" appears on my List of Things To Do alongside "Learn French" and "Hike to Machu Picchu". It's THAT huge for me. I feel that when I'm kneading dough, I'm connecting with millions of women over centuries and millennia who have mastered this art of nourishment. If I have nothing else in the house, at least I have a few cups of flour, a tablespoon of yeast and some salt, sugar and oil if need be.
I happened to have that same sensation of connecting with women when, in the backcountry, I would wash my clothes on the rocks in the cold river. Nothing makes you feel more indigenous than standing naked in the rushing water, rinsing the dirt from your day's activities off your clothes and letting them dry on the rocks while you scrub your shivering body. I used to throw everything in my sleeping bag case and hoist the heavy load onto my head to hike up the big hill back to camp. It really is the easiest way to carry such a load.
When I get fed up with life's complications, I like to think about simple, sustainable practices our species have carried on since the birth of our history. Despite the fact that we demand phone interviews, letters of recommendation, writing samples, electronic AND paper applications, and freaking NY State Drivers Licenses, life for human beings is really much simpler. We are not meant for the bureaucracy of this modern age. We were meant for more earthly purposes:
Create a home, create a community, bake bread, break bread.
We make things so much more complicated than they need to be. You can, of course, extrapolate and use these things as metaphors. Buy a house, start a family, make dinner, eat together. But I would encourage preserving the former and ignoring the latter. Except that you can eat more than just bread! I wonder sometimes how I can live in this world. It's hard to drive a car, take a hot shower, live in a house too big for its occupants, mow a lawn and send text messages when I have known another way. I have known what it's like to move exactly at the pace of my own footsteps. I have known cold dips in wild rivers and soothing baths in natural hot springs. I have lived in a tent with the wilderness as my living room. I have maintained trails and restored meadows. I have sat for hours around a campfire, writing songs and talking dreams with people who loved the mountains as I did. It's hard to take these things for granted.
Most days, I just want to move to a farm in a place that grows food year round. I want to "make a living" by building a life. Provide for my family by growing food that I then cook for them and serve. Put in a hard day's work and actually know what the weather was like that day. I want to move at the pace of my footsteps.
There are lots of reasons why that is not going to happen, at least not anytime soon. First of all, it's horrendously cliche and idealistic. And very privileged. I do believe in urban population and keeping the wilderness wild. I think cities are horribly designed and once cars become obsolete (okay, scarce) I will very much enjoy city life. There are great things that come from putting community within walking distance. I'm getting off track.
In the end, I'm thinking today about what is important in life. And I'm thinking about bread.
Baking bread is grounding. So is eating it. And washing clothes, and taking naps, and sitting still, feeling the earth between your toes. What have you done today that really grounds you? That makes you remember that you are a human being, with a long history of living off the earth? What makes you feel the stillness? What makes you feel whole?
I'm asking myself all of these questions, and thinking about the next good thing I will put into the oven...
Anyway, I'm glad that I've had this time to get to know baking, and, especially, to make some delicious vegan treats that people simply adore. Brianne told me that the ginger cookies were hands-down the best vegan cookies she's ever had, and Charlie said that the coconut cupcakes were perfectly moist. I'm very proud to share these cruelty-free treats, and to have them enjoyed by all!
Baking bread used to be a mystery to me. The power of yeast seemed to be nearly godlike, having the ability to turn water and flour into gooey, expanding, airy dough. My mom used to put her bread dough in her KitchenAid mixing bowl with a towel over it in the front of our minivan to rise. It was pure magic. "Learn to bake bread" appears on my List of Things To Do alongside "Learn French" and "Hike to Machu Picchu". It's THAT huge for me. I feel that when I'm kneading dough, I'm connecting with millions of women over centuries and millennia who have mastered this art of nourishment. If I have nothing else in the house, at least I have a few cups of flour, a tablespoon of yeast and some salt, sugar and oil if need be.
I happened to have that same sensation of connecting with women when, in the backcountry, I would wash my clothes on the rocks in the cold river. Nothing makes you feel more indigenous than standing naked in the rushing water, rinsing the dirt from your day's activities off your clothes and letting them dry on the rocks while you scrub your shivering body. I used to throw everything in my sleeping bag case and hoist the heavy load onto my head to hike up the big hill back to camp. It really is the easiest way to carry such a load.
When I get fed up with life's complications, I like to think about simple, sustainable practices our species have carried on since the birth of our history. Despite the fact that we demand phone interviews, letters of recommendation, writing samples, electronic AND paper applications, and freaking NY State Drivers Licenses, life for human beings is really much simpler. We are not meant for the bureaucracy of this modern age. We were meant for more earthly purposes:
Create a home, create a community, bake bread, break bread.
We make things so much more complicated than they need to be. You can, of course, extrapolate and use these things as metaphors. Buy a house, start a family, make dinner, eat together. But I would encourage preserving the former and ignoring the latter. Except that you can eat more than just bread! I wonder sometimes how I can live in this world. It's hard to drive a car, take a hot shower, live in a house too big for its occupants, mow a lawn and send text messages when I have known another way. I have known what it's like to move exactly at the pace of my own footsteps. I have known cold dips in wild rivers and soothing baths in natural hot springs. I have lived in a tent with the wilderness as my living room. I have maintained trails and restored meadows. I have sat for hours around a campfire, writing songs and talking dreams with people who loved the mountains as I did. It's hard to take these things for granted.
Most days, I just want to move to a farm in a place that grows food year round. I want to "make a living" by building a life. Provide for my family by growing food that I then cook for them and serve. Put in a hard day's work and actually know what the weather was like that day. I want to move at the pace of my footsteps.
There are lots of reasons why that is not going to happen, at least not anytime soon. First of all, it's horrendously cliche and idealistic. And very privileged. I do believe in urban population and keeping the wilderness wild. I think cities are horribly designed and once cars become obsolete (okay, scarce) I will very much enjoy city life. There are great things that come from putting community within walking distance. I'm getting off track.
In the end, I'm thinking today about what is important in life. And I'm thinking about bread.
Baking bread is grounding. So is eating it. And washing clothes, and taking naps, and sitting still, feeling the earth between your toes. What have you done today that really grounds you? That makes you remember that you are a human being, with a long history of living off the earth? What makes you feel the stillness? What makes you feel whole?
I'm asking myself all of these questions, and thinking about the next good thing I will put into the oven...
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Sun Challenge
Another one of my resolutions (that I've been kicking around since August) is to begin writing short stories using the prompts from the Sun Magazine. They have a Readers Write section, and give topics 6 months in advance. I would love love love to get a story accepted, but even if I don't, it's still a great way to start writing more regularly and seriously. Here are the next few topics:
The Last Word
Beauty
Slowing Down
Teenagers
The Office
Medicine
The Last Word is due February 1, and I'm pretty sure I could get something in by then. I can't think of a story at the moment, but I'll work on it. Right now, I'm going to get back to reading this month's issue and pay special attention to the stories they include.
It should also be noted that only non-fiction is accepted. Which is fine by me. Fiction baffles me. I don't know how people come up with entire worlds that are not their lives. I'm pretty good at finding a way to make my stories fit into any category, and I'm sure I'll be able to write about Beauty, Slowing Down, and Teenagers. We'll see about the rest...
The Last Word
Beauty
Slowing Down
Teenagers
The Office
Medicine
The Last Word is due February 1, and I'm pretty sure I could get something in by then. I can't think of a story at the moment, but I'll work on it. Right now, I'm going to get back to reading this month's issue and pay special attention to the stories they include.
It should also be noted that only non-fiction is accepted. Which is fine by me. Fiction baffles me. I don't know how people come up with entire worlds that are not their lives. I'm pretty good at finding a way to make my stories fit into any category, and I'm sure I'll be able to write about Beauty, Slowing Down, and Teenagers. We'll see about the rest...
resolve.
Words color my world.
I don't think I ever could have imagined the poetry that would weave my world together and make it dance in my memory for a lifetime. From journaling as a pre-teen and teenager, to livejournaling as a young college student and then to blogging in The Real World, writing has been my way of making sense of the experiences and adventures that compose my life. No matter where I've been, be it the confused darkness of a family paralyzed by divorce, or the bonnie Highlands of Scotland, writing is compelling, necessary, and important. She is my good friend, and my most trusted therapist.
My love of language, then, is the natural progression of my friendship with the written word. To learn to express myself in more beautiful and exotic words was like discovering a secret garden. I could use these new words with new people, and they would take me to places like San Sebastian, Vieques, and Chefchaouen. I learned more about grammar than I ever had known, and so I became more confident in using my native language to express myself. I find I am always curious about what one word means, and I am fascinated by the posse of other words needed to define one. And so, another etymological lesson:
Resolve. Re-solve. Solve again.
to bring to an end; to settle conclusively; to reach a conclusion.
Resolution. To make a new solution.
finding a solution to a problem.
It's a new year, a new decade. Time for a fresh start. Time to go back to those old decisions and remake them. Resolve to do what is good for us, for our health, for our wellness and our future. We forget that behind every resolution is a decision we made that something was BAD for us. Losing weight really means that we don't want to overeat or to remain sedentary. Quitting smoking, obviously means we KNOW that cigarettes are bad for us. Buying too much, spending beyond our means and wasting beyond our allotment are good reasons to save money and to be thrifty. Part of making a resolution means looking back at all the ugly moments from the last year and finding a new way. How do we make change? How do we start over?
The truth is, New Years is a farce. It is a scheme to force everyone to operate on the same schedule of putting off our resolutions until one day in January. Months in advance, we talk about how we will make changes. "My new year's resolution will be to start running again." "I'm going to finish all those projects I never got around to." The problem is, we can start doing that NOW. We don't have to wait until the ball drops to begin the race toward our dreams. It's like Dick Clark is holding the toy gun, and we're all at the starting line waiting for his signal. As soon as he says go, we can all begin again. But not until he says so. Are we insane?? Dick Clark didn't even say "13" in his countdown! It's time to find a new starter for the race.
What happens if we fall of the wagon in February? Or worse, January 2nd. What then? Is it all over until next year? We're fooling ourselves if we think we only have one chance at this. Personally, January is a horrible time for me to make plans for my future. I'm cold, depressed from lack of sunshine, and generally walking like a zombie till March. I'm hibernating. So I don't need Carson Daly telling me that it's time for a fresh start.
However, I do feel hints of inspiration as I walk mummified through these frozen streets. Yesterday, on a frigid bus ride home with Adam, I suddenly thought about our garden, and what I want to plant this year. Even though I can't put a darn thing in the ground until April, I can still look through seed catalogs and draw up designs for the garden.
The point is, every day is a new day. So hallelujah for that. Maybe yesterday was awful, but today can be completely new. And we should allow our dreams and goals to evolve with the fluidity of each passing day, instead of it all hinging on one cold day just past winter solstice. New Years always creeps up on me, and I find I've had no time during the holidays to imagine the possibilities of the new year. And so I leave that for February. Sometimes even June. No matter what, I give myself the power to decide ANY day that I want life to be different. And if I fail one day, I just go to bed early and let the world remake itself as I sleep. When I wake up in the morning, the day is new, with no mistakes.
That being said, since this is the time of confessing our resolve for change, here are some ideas I have been chewing on:
1. I need a solid, regular, committed relationship with my yoga mat. It seems at this point that the only way that is going to happen is with an unlimited pass to Tru Yoga. So as soon as I have a paycheck, I am going to be spending at least 4 nights a week glued to my purple mat.
2. I need a paycheck.
3. I have been thinking about some lyrics by Ani Difranco, and they've been digging in, so much so that I can't shake them anymore:
I think I hold much too tightly onto the idea of what I am instead of oozing with the beauty of who I am. As silly as it sounds, this obsession is currently manifested in the terror I feel in contemplating chopping off my long hair. I have been thinking about it for months now, and still haven't done it, even though I actually found a photo of exactly what I want my hair to look like. The problem is, cutting my hair short feels like such a permanent act. It takes years to grow it long. But I have to remember that it's not a tattoo, it's not a wedding vow, and it's not an infant. It's my hair, and I have the earthly right of doing whatever the hell with it that I please. Yes, it is pretty when it's long, but I also only shower every three days because I hate waiting for my hair to dry. And, as long as it is, all I ever do is wrap it up in a little bun at the nape of my neck. But it's long and pretty, and sometimes I feel like it is a huge part of who I am. If it's gone, who am I?
All that being said, I have a hair appointment today at 3:00. I wrote this because I'm afraid I'll go in and say, just trim it, please. And I think that's cowardly.
More than a few experiences over the past few months have made me realize that this life is really all we have, and the more we sink inside ourselves, the less we will ever know about the possibilities of this world. Having the courage to do such a little thing as cut my hair is part of a huge awakening. If I can't get myself to part with these curly locks, I will never be able to do the wild things I imagine for this life.
When I was little, I used to lie in bed, paralyzed, trying to get myself to get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. I was afraid of the dark, and monsters under my bed, and I would wait for more than 20 minutes, telling myself "Now!....Now!....NOW!" And I wouldn't lift a finger. This went on for months. Maybe years. Until the day I realized that if I had to tell myself to jump, I would never do it. So now I jump before anyone can say "Now!" And it works. That's how I get myself to jump off 20ft. cliffs into freezing cold water. That's how I buy plane tickets (and gear from REI...so bad). But seriously, I deliberate too damn long. I need to trust myself, and know that, as long as there are no rocks at the bottom, I'll survive any jump from any cliff I set my mind to.
So today, my resolution is to chop off my hair. If it's long enough, it will get donated to Locks of Love. The point is, I'm the one saying "Now!" Life is too short to waste on self-importance and fear. So here's to today, and all the possibilities that the rising sun brings.
I don't think I ever could have imagined the poetry that would weave my world together and make it dance in my memory for a lifetime. From journaling as a pre-teen and teenager, to livejournaling as a young college student and then to blogging in The Real World, writing has been my way of making sense of the experiences and adventures that compose my life. No matter where I've been, be it the confused darkness of a family paralyzed by divorce, or the bonnie Highlands of Scotland, writing is compelling, necessary, and important. She is my good friend, and my most trusted therapist.
My love of language, then, is the natural progression of my friendship with the written word. To learn to express myself in more beautiful and exotic words was like discovering a secret garden. I could use these new words with new people, and they would take me to places like San Sebastian, Vieques, and Chefchaouen. I learned more about grammar than I ever had known, and so I became more confident in using my native language to express myself. I find I am always curious about what one word means, and I am fascinated by the posse of other words needed to define one. And so, another etymological lesson:
Resolve. Re-solve. Solve again.
to bring to an end; to settle conclusively; to reach a conclusion.
Resolution. To make a new solution.
finding a solution to a problem.
It's a new year, a new decade. Time for a fresh start. Time to go back to those old decisions and remake them. Resolve to do what is good for us, for our health, for our wellness and our future. We forget that behind every resolution is a decision we made that something was BAD for us. Losing weight really means that we don't want to overeat or to remain sedentary. Quitting smoking, obviously means we KNOW that cigarettes are bad for us. Buying too much, spending beyond our means and wasting beyond our allotment are good reasons to save money and to be thrifty. Part of making a resolution means looking back at all the ugly moments from the last year and finding a new way. How do we make change? How do we start over?
The truth is, New Years is a farce. It is a scheme to force everyone to operate on the same schedule of putting off our resolutions until one day in January. Months in advance, we talk about how we will make changes. "My new year's resolution will be to start running again." "I'm going to finish all those projects I never got around to." The problem is, we can start doing that NOW. We don't have to wait until the ball drops to begin the race toward our dreams. It's like Dick Clark is holding the toy gun, and we're all at the starting line waiting for his signal. As soon as he says go, we can all begin again. But not until he says so. Are we insane?? Dick Clark didn't even say "13" in his countdown! It's time to find a new starter for the race.
What happens if we fall of the wagon in February? Or worse, January 2nd. What then? Is it all over until next year? We're fooling ourselves if we think we only have one chance at this. Personally, January is a horrible time for me to make plans for my future. I'm cold, depressed from lack of sunshine, and generally walking like a zombie till March. I'm hibernating. So I don't need Carson Daly telling me that it's time for a fresh start.
However, I do feel hints of inspiration as I walk mummified through these frozen streets. Yesterday, on a frigid bus ride home with Adam, I suddenly thought about our garden, and what I want to plant this year. Even though I can't put a darn thing in the ground until April, I can still look through seed catalogs and draw up designs for the garden.
The point is, every day is a new day. So hallelujah for that. Maybe yesterday was awful, but today can be completely new. And we should allow our dreams and goals to evolve with the fluidity of each passing day, instead of it all hinging on one cold day just past winter solstice. New Years always creeps up on me, and I find I've had no time during the holidays to imagine the possibilities of the new year. And so I leave that for February. Sometimes even June. No matter what, I give myself the power to decide ANY day that I want life to be different. And if I fail one day, I just go to bed early and let the world remake itself as I sleep. When I wake up in the morning, the day is new, with no mistakes.
That being said, since this is the time of confessing our resolve for change, here are some ideas I have been chewing on:
1. I need a solid, regular, committed relationship with my yoga mat. It seems at this point that the only way that is going to happen is with an unlimited pass to Tru Yoga. So as soon as I have a paycheck, I am going to be spending at least 4 nights a week glued to my purple mat.
2. I need a paycheck.
3. I have been thinking about some lyrics by Ani Difranco, and they've been digging in, so much so that I can't shake them anymore:
"I had to leave the house of self-importance
to doodle my first tattoo
realize a tattoo is no more permanent
than I am"
to doodle my first tattoo
realize a tattoo is no more permanent
than I am"
I think I hold much too tightly onto the idea of what I am instead of oozing with the beauty of who I am. As silly as it sounds, this obsession is currently manifested in the terror I feel in contemplating chopping off my long hair. I have been thinking about it for months now, and still haven't done it, even though I actually found a photo of exactly what I want my hair to look like. The problem is, cutting my hair short feels like such a permanent act. It takes years to grow it long. But I have to remember that it's not a tattoo, it's not a wedding vow, and it's not an infant. It's my hair, and I have the earthly right of doing whatever the hell with it that I please. Yes, it is pretty when it's long, but I also only shower every three days because I hate waiting for my hair to dry. And, as long as it is, all I ever do is wrap it up in a little bun at the nape of my neck. But it's long and pretty, and sometimes I feel like it is a huge part of who I am. If it's gone, who am I?
All that being said, I have a hair appointment today at 3:00. I wrote this because I'm afraid I'll go in and say, just trim it, please. And I think that's cowardly.
More than a few experiences over the past few months have made me realize that this life is really all we have, and the more we sink inside ourselves, the less we will ever know about the possibilities of this world. Having the courage to do such a little thing as cut my hair is part of a huge awakening. If I can't get myself to part with these curly locks, I will never be able to do the wild things I imagine for this life.
When I was little, I used to lie in bed, paralyzed, trying to get myself to get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. I was afraid of the dark, and monsters under my bed, and I would wait for more than 20 minutes, telling myself "Now!....Now!....NOW!" And I wouldn't lift a finger. This went on for months. Maybe years. Until the day I realized that if I had to tell myself to jump, I would never do it. So now I jump before anyone can say "Now!" And it works. That's how I get myself to jump off 20ft. cliffs into freezing cold water. That's how I buy plane tickets (and gear from REI...so bad). But seriously, I deliberate too damn long. I need to trust myself, and know that, as long as there are no rocks at the bottom, I'll survive any jump from any cliff I set my mind to.
So today, my resolution is to chop off my hair. If it's long enough, it will get donated to Locks of Love. The point is, I'm the one saying "Now!" Life is too short to waste on self-importance and fear. So here's to today, and all the possibilities that the rising sun brings.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
white bean & kale soup with parsnips
I have had a bunch of kale in the refrigerator and a hankering for some white bean soup lately, but every recipe I looked up seemed boring. Some featured a tomato base, which I didn't want. And so I did what I usually do: I gave up on the recipe and let my tastebuds guide me. The parsnips and the tahini add a nutty, warm flavor to the dish. And, as you'll notice, this is a true-to-the-season winter soup. Add a splash of red wine vinegar or lemon juice at the end to give it a crisp finish:
INGREDIENTS
1 C dry white beans, soaked overnight (or 2 cans fresh)
2 bay leaves
2 Tbs. olive oil
1 large parsnip, cut in quartered rounds
3 medium potatoes, cubed
2 tsp dried sage
3 cloves garlic, minced
1-2 C chopped kale, stems removed
2 Tbs tahini
1/4 C soy creamer or soymilk
In a medium soup pot, cover beans with water and add the bay leaves. Simmer for 1 hour. If using dried beans, drain the water once and replace it with fresh water about half-way through, to reduce gas effect. If using canned beans, cook for only 30 minutes.
With about 25 minutes left for the beans, pan fry the potatoes and parsnips in olive oil and sage. Set on medium heat and cover, stirring occasionally. After 10 minutes, add the garlic. Once the garlic is soft, pour a splash of water in the pan and add the kale, covering once again. Steam for 10 minutes more. Once kale is tender, stir everything into the pot with the beans. Add the soy creamer and tahini and stir until creamy and smooth. Add more water, if desired.
We served this with some homemade wheat bread and some dipping oil with herbs sent to us from my brother and his partner. It was delicious, and I hope you enjoy it! Buen provecho!
Post script: After I made this, Jen sent me a recipe for Polenta with White Beans, Braised Kale and Roasted Pears. YUM!
INGREDIENTS
1 C dry white beans, soaked overnight (or 2 cans fresh)
2 bay leaves
2 Tbs. olive oil
1 large parsnip, cut in quartered rounds
3 medium potatoes, cubed
2 tsp dried sage
3 cloves garlic, minced
1-2 C chopped kale, stems removed
2 Tbs tahini
1/4 C soy creamer or soymilk
In a medium soup pot, cover beans with water and add the bay leaves. Simmer for 1 hour. If using dried beans, drain the water once and replace it with fresh water about half-way through, to reduce gas effect. If using canned beans, cook for only 30 minutes.
With about 25 minutes left for the beans, pan fry the potatoes and parsnips in olive oil and sage. Set on medium heat and cover, stirring occasionally. After 10 minutes, add the garlic. Once the garlic is soft, pour a splash of water in the pan and add the kale, covering once again. Steam for 10 minutes more. Once kale is tender, stir everything into the pot with the beans. Add the soy creamer and tahini and stir until creamy and smooth. Add more water, if desired.
We served this with some homemade wheat bread and some dipping oil with herbs sent to us from my brother and his partner. It was delicious, and I hope you enjoy it! Buen provecho!
Post script: After I made this, Jen sent me a recipe for Polenta with White Beans, Braised Kale and Roasted Pears. YUM!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
possibility.
new topic, lots of time to get going on it.
i like to start my assignments by looking up the definition and etymology. not that i don't know what the word means, but sometimes we get lost in the various attachments we have to a word. it's good to start at the beginning.
possibility obviously comes from "possible" meaning able, but not certain to happen. Wiktionary says to also look at "power." so that in itself says a lot. power is not the same as action. ability is key.
(interjection: i'm listening to NPR's year review of music, and i just heard a great song by K'naan, who is a canadian rapper. normally, i would not like rap, but i liked his song, "take a minute", a lot. kind of a lesson in learning to welcome new possibilities and not to shut the door on opportunities.)
so part of the assignment this month is to look at where we squash our imagination and allow our expectations to be mundane. if the doorbell rings, we think postal worker, not long-lost friend. we set ourselves up for the ordinary, and we get comfortable with it.
the next part is, of course, to challenge yourself to do something to which you've said "i can't." it's hard for me to think about this, especially now, i think. i feel somewhat paralyzed by my financial situation (i.e. unemployment) and i'm not sure how to approach this. however, i'd like to tiptoe toward this challenge first by recalling the big goals that i have accomplished in the past, and to reflect on how i made those things happen.
i immediately think back to my time in spain as well as in the backcountry. those are the two things of which i am most proud. and i suppose i thought at some point leading up to them that they were impossible. my mom probably remembers one night the summer before i left for spain when i decided it wasn't possible to go. i was worried about money and logistics. and i probably started to worry about what it was going to be like to live away from home for a year. with the backcountry, i was worried that my schedule wouldn't line up, and that i was making a mistake in passing up my opportunity with Rochester AmeriCorps. maybe it wasn't a good idea to go live in the woods for 5 months. how was i to know then?
some people think it would be impossible to live in the woods for 5 months. some people couldn't manage to go to a country where they didn't know the language. some people wouldn't dare get on a plane! some people think it's impossible to bike commute during rochester's winter. or year-round, for that matter. some people think it would be impossible to give up cheese, to be vegan. (this is my pep-talk. i do impossible things!)
some things i think are "impossible":
1. having a regular yoga practice at home.
2. fasting. (this may seem strange, but i have weird fears of going without food...)
3. traveling around the world, for more than one month.
4. working in the backcountry again.
5. playing the guitar well
6. knowing more than 3 languages
7. being a professor, or getting a ph.d.
8. being a massage therapist or yoga teacher
9. living for more than a year in another country.
10. avoiding the use of gerunds.
these are some pretty big "impossibles" to make possible, especially by january 19th. but i think i can manage the first two by then. the most important lesson to take away from this month's theme is that impossible things take time to realize, and that small steps taken every day will lead you there. i once walked 70 miles to get half my sins forgiven. i hiked 20 miles in a day with blisters on my heels. the next day, i climbed a 10,700 ft peak. i jumped off cliffs into freezing cold water. i've gotten on planes & trains alone, and i've biked through the snow. all of these things took various types of steps. long, confident strides, small tiptoes, giant leaps, and near-misses. poco a poco...
the most important thing i've learned from this recap is that all of these goals were accomplished because i became obsessed with accomplishing them. i KNEW that these were things i had to do, and i did them. i knew i would never regret them, and always remember them. or at least i'd have some good stories to tell...
here's to the impossible, and to making it all possible.
cheers.
i like to start my assignments by looking up the definition and etymology. not that i don't know what the word means, but sometimes we get lost in the various attachments we have to a word. it's good to start at the beginning.
possibility obviously comes from "possible" meaning able, but not certain to happen. Wiktionary says to also look at "power." so that in itself says a lot. power is not the same as action. ability is key.
(interjection: i'm listening to NPR's year review of music, and i just heard a great song by K'naan, who is a canadian rapper. normally, i would not like rap, but i liked his song, "take a minute", a lot. kind of a lesson in learning to welcome new possibilities and not to shut the door on opportunities.)
so part of the assignment this month is to look at where we squash our imagination and allow our expectations to be mundane. if the doorbell rings, we think postal worker, not long-lost friend. we set ourselves up for the ordinary, and we get comfortable with it.
the next part is, of course, to challenge yourself to do something to which you've said "i can't." it's hard for me to think about this, especially now, i think. i feel somewhat paralyzed by my financial situation (i.e. unemployment) and i'm not sure how to approach this. however, i'd like to tiptoe toward this challenge first by recalling the big goals that i have accomplished in the past, and to reflect on how i made those things happen.
i immediately think back to my time in spain as well as in the backcountry. those are the two things of which i am most proud. and i suppose i thought at some point leading up to them that they were impossible. my mom probably remembers one night the summer before i left for spain when i decided it wasn't possible to go. i was worried about money and logistics. and i probably started to worry about what it was going to be like to live away from home for a year. with the backcountry, i was worried that my schedule wouldn't line up, and that i was making a mistake in passing up my opportunity with Rochester AmeriCorps. maybe it wasn't a good idea to go live in the woods for 5 months. how was i to know then?
some people think it would be impossible to live in the woods for 5 months. some people couldn't manage to go to a country where they didn't know the language. some people wouldn't dare get on a plane! some people think it's impossible to bike commute during rochester's winter. or year-round, for that matter. some people think it would be impossible to give up cheese, to be vegan. (this is my pep-talk. i do impossible things!)
some things i think are "impossible":
1. having a regular yoga practice at home.
2. fasting. (this may seem strange, but i have weird fears of going without food...)
3. traveling around the world, for more than one month.
4. working in the backcountry again.
5. playing the guitar well
6. knowing more than 3 languages
7. being a professor, or getting a ph.d.
8. being a massage therapist or yoga teacher
9. living for more than a year in another country.
10. avoiding the use of gerunds.
these are some pretty big "impossibles" to make possible, especially by january 19th. but i think i can manage the first two by then. the most important lesson to take away from this month's theme is that impossible things take time to realize, and that small steps taken every day will lead you there. i once walked 70 miles to get half my sins forgiven. i hiked 20 miles in a day with blisters on my heels. the next day, i climbed a 10,700 ft peak. i jumped off cliffs into freezing cold water. i've gotten on planes & trains alone, and i've biked through the snow. all of these things took various types of steps. long, confident strides, small tiptoes, giant leaps, and near-misses. poco a poco...
the most important thing i've learned from this recap is that all of these goals were accomplished because i became obsessed with accomplishing them. i KNEW that these were things i had to do, and i did them. i knew i would never regret them, and always remember them. or at least i'd have some good stories to tell...
here's to the impossible, and to making it all possible.
cheers.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
job search: part 6?
a quick update: i haven't heard back from either of the jobs that i'm semi-hopeful about.
but.
i just applied for aNOTHER job that i could potentially be hired for. a woman that i know through church is the assistant director of reslife at St. John Fisher College in a suburb of the ROC, and she wants to hire me as a Residence Director. yikes! It would be a lot of fun, but a LOT of work. and i'd have to live there. meh. at least i'd have a job! we'll see where this job search eventually takes me!
but.
i just applied for aNOTHER job that i could potentially be hired for. a woman that i know through church is the assistant director of reslife at St. John Fisher College in a suburb of the ROC, and she wants to hire me as a Residence Director. yikes! It would be a lot of fun, but a LOT of work. and i'd have to live there. meh. at least i'd have a job! we'll see where this job search eventually takes me!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
a continuacion....
So in my last entry concerning my job search, I explained the many hoops I've had to jump through to get this job with the Villa. Where we last left the saga, I was waiting for the hiring freeze to melt.
Meanwhile...
...a woman who runs a research project at the University of Rochester, who has my resume thanks to my friend Brianne, has "emailed" me because she wants to interview me. Two weeks ago. I know she never sent it, or sent it to the wrong address, because I do not have any emails from her. Now, if I do the math correctly, at the time she "emailed" me, I had just been told by the Villa that for them to hire me, I would need to wait...indefinitely. Therefore, had I received said email, I could have returned the call and maybe had a job by now.
Who knows.
I applied online to the research position, which could lead to me traveling several times to the Dominican Republic to conduct interviews about smoking cessation. Surprisingly, I'm very well qualified for the position, which is probably why the woman had wanted to interview me before she posted the position. But now it's posted and I am very very nervous about getting it. Because, I have always wanted this job over the other one, I just didn't think I had a chance at it. So here's my chance.
And it makes me wonder if all of these hoops were put here for a reason. I believe in those sorts of signs...
Meanwhile...
...a woman who runs a research project at the University of Rochester, who has my resume thanks to my friend Brianne, has "emailed" me because she wants to interview me. Two weeks ago. I know she never sent it, or sent it to the wrong address, because I do not have any emails from her. Now, if I do the math correctly, at the time she "emailed" me, I had just been told by the Villa that for them to hire me, I would need to wait...indefinitely. Therefore, had I received said email, I could have returned the call and maybe had a job by now.
Who knows.
I applied online to the research position, which could lead to me traveling several times to the Dominican Republic to conduct interviews about smoking cessation. Surprisingly, I'm very well qualified for the position, which is probably why the woman had wanted to interview me before she posted the position. But now it's posted and I am very very nervous about getting it. Because, I have always wanted this job over the other one, I just didn't think I had a chance at it. So here's my chance.
And it makes me wonder if all of these hoops were put here for a reason. I believe in those sorts of signs...
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
'tis the season.
Winter is hard on me.
Yesterday was gray and cold and rainy, and I didn't have the energy to leave the house. Even with the prospect of seeing my amazing teenage ladies at Teen City and helping them with a zine, and the promise that I would be there to pay for a planner that one of them picked up for me, I just couldn't make myself leave. At the thought of that bike ride in the dark (at 4:30!) I nearly cried. So I stayed home, let Adam cook dinner on his own, and read in a little bundle in bed. It's safe to say I have a combination of S.A.D. and P.M.S. that does not mix. After a nice warm dinner of lasagna with Adam, I finally worked up the energy to go for a quick walk with him to the Swamee Mart to look for cherry pie filling. We came back with only beer. Regardless of our findings, it felt good just to be outside for a bit.
It's hard to not have a job. Even in an employment position, I still need help figuring out what to do and how to spend my time. Now, when there's nothing to do, I sometimes feel paralyzed. I putz around the house, cleaning things, doing load after load of laundry, and cook a lot of food. It depresses me beyond belief to watch my savings account drain away as I make three loan payments. All the while, I'm just waiting for the Villa to call me. It's somewhat excruciating.
But each day is a little different. Today I woke up early(er) and managed to do the dishes that I had avoided yesterday. I read some more, because Barbara Kingsolver is good to my soul, and then I made sure I washed my face and brushed my teeth (something I don't always manage to do these days...). I rarely shower every other day, but I'm less concerned about that. When I do it feels good. That's about all I care about.
Like I said, today has been different. After breakfast, Adam and I went to the library and the public market. I bought 3 acorn squash, a stalk of Brussels sprouts, two bunches of celery, broccoli and apples. Still nothing to make a pie, but I think I'll make it to the store before long for those cherries I've been craving.
The point of all this is that I haven't been well. Despite doing things to take care of myself, like going to yoga, continuing to ride my bike, eating good food and getting lots of sleep, I still am unsatisfied with the state of my life. And that in itself is puzzling, because I couldn't be happier to be with Adam. It just goes to show you that having a great relationship does not solve all your problems. I've always known that, but I hope my being melancholy doesn't make Adam think I'm unhappy with us. I just can't seem to get everything else in my life to feel as good. That's all.
And yet, today, as the sun shines brighter than it did the day before, and as I've managed to give it a good start, I feel as though there is still a bit of clarity to my life that I sometimes forget. I've got my Christmas music playing, I've managed to sit down and put my thoughts into words, and I've got some inspiration sitting next to me: a book from the library.
I checked out a book called The Urban Homestead, and though it has a lot of information I already know, it defines a general purpose of my life that is uplifting. I truly believe in urban living. I think it's easier to be kind to the earth when we tread as little of it as possible. I believe that we all need to reinhabit the cities and quit building massive beige houses surrounded by nothing--a natural world those suburbanites rarely explore. In the city there are beautiful big old houses that are waiting for multiple families to enjoy, including the one in which Adam and I live. There are spacious backyards--spacious enough for small gardens and bug hunting. There are buses and more and more bike lanes and walkable neighborhoods and natural food stores with more options for cruelty-free foods than your average suburban supermarket. And there are gobs of fresh produce on display in a dozen farmers markets around the city. There are cafes that you can walk to, parks that are just around the corner, and trails that remain hidden in the center of urban jungles. I know I'm mostly talking about Rochester, but I know for certain these resources exist throughout urban America.
It is exhilarating to think about the ways that Adam and I are urban activists. We are full-time cyclists, vegan animal rights activists, and advocates of natural and organic living. We have vermicompost and a rabbit who works as a composter as well. We have a garden that will be busy next summer, and we are growing some herbs and other plants indoors. Unlike Betsy and Charlie, we haven't gotten into preserving, canning and fermenting, but I'm hoping that will also come with the garden next year. I spend a lot of time making natural cleaning supplies that are cheap and smell like tea tree oil, not fake lemon-lime mixed with bleach. We buy our food at the farmers market or the food cooperative (though we're known to buy discounted soy milk and pickles at Tops). We go to a progressive, liberal church that values social justice above just about everything else.
All this is meant to explain that I'm very happy with the effort I put into every day of my life, and to reiterate (to myself) that I do a whole hell of a lot to make this world a little better each day. I sometimes forget that these things require mental and physical effort (especially biking in the cold) that can, at times, leave me feeling exhausted and disenchanted.
But I'm proud of the way I live out my values, and reading about the things I can do to make a difference revive my spirit in a way lasagna and snuggling under the blankets can't. I'm happy that Adam and I have time now to put our house and lives in order. I'm glad that I have a little time to ease into this next phase of my life, to relax and sift through old things and make a place for myself in my new home. I shouldn't be so afraid of having a blank calendar, and I should make the most of this down time.
Sometimes I think the only point of the winter holidays is to have something to cheer us during these long nights and cold days. It's amazing what some Christmas lights and music will do to my tired little spirit. The excitement of the first snow and the comfort of a warm fire ease us through these harsh months. Adding warmth and spice to out food and drinks mean adding pizazz to an otherwise bland winter spread. We know how to make it through.
My mom keeps talking about how we need to make our own traditions, and that we need to be responsible for things happening, since she can no longer be behind the magic. It's true that without my family's initiative, I'm unmotivated to celebrate and prepare for holidays the way I'm used to them. When Zoe told me she and Jack were getting a tree, I was shocked, because it occurred to me I hadn't given a thought to how Adam and I would decorate the house. In fact, I'm quick to write off the holidays as frivolous and not worth the effort. Sometimes it's too difficult to get past my divergent religious beliefs. But there's nothing like some holiday lights shining out onto the street to warm the soul. Adam and I noticed that when we returned home to see the one strand of lights he managed to get to work shining out through the dark night through our kitchen window. This really is a magical time of year, and I want to be a part of it.
Yesterday was gray and cold and rainy, and I didn't have the energy to leave the house. Even with the prospect of seeing my amazing teenage ladies at Teen City and helping them with a zine, and the promise that I would be there to pay for a planner that one of them picked up for me, I just couldn't make myself leave. At the thought of that bike ride in the dark (at 4:30!) I nearly cried. So I stayed home, let Adam cook dinner on his own, and read in a little bundle in bed. It's safe to say I have a combination of S.A.D. and P.M.S. that does not mix. After a nice warm dinner of lasagna with Adam, I finally worked up the energy to go for a quick walk with him to the Swamee Mart to look for cherry pie filling. We came back with only beer. Regardless of our findings, it felt good just to be outside for a bit.
It's hard to not have a job. Even in an employment position, I still need help figuring out what to do and how to spend my time. Now, when there's nothing to do, I sometimes feel paralyzed. I putz around the house, cleaning things, doing load after load of laundry, and cook a lot of food. It depresses me beyond belief to watch my savings account drain away as I make three loan payments. All the while, I'm just waiting for the Villa to call me. It's somewhat excruciating.
But each day is a little different. Today I woke up early(er) and managed to do the dishes that I had avoided yesterday. I read some more, because Barbara Kingsolver is good to my soul, and then I made sure I washed my face and brushed my teeth (something I don't always manage to do these days...). I rarely shower every other day, but I'm less concerned about that. When I do it feels good. That's about all I care about.
Like I said, today has been different. After breakfast, Adam and I went to the library and the public market. I bought 3 acorn squash, a stalk of Brussels sprouts, two bunches of celery, broccoli and apples. Still nothing to make a pie, but I think I'll make it to the store before long for those cherries I've been craving.
The point of all this is that I haven't been well. Despite doing things to take care of myself, like going to yoga, continuing to ride my bike, eating good food and getting lots of sleep, I still am unsatisfied with the state of my life. And that in itself is puzzling, because I couldn't be happier to be with Adam. It just goes to show you that having a great relationship does not solve all your problems. I've always known that, but I hope my being melancholy doesn't make Adam think I'm unhappy with us. I just can't seem to get everything else in my life to feel as good. That's all.
And yet, today, as the sun shines brighter than it did the day before, and as I've managed to give it a good start, I feel as though there is still a bit of clarity to my life that I sometimes forget. I've got my Christmas music playing, I've managed to sit down and put my thoughts into words, and I've got some inspiration sitting next to me: a book from the library.
I checked out a book called The Urban Homestead, and though it has a lot of information I already know, it defines a general purpose of my life that is uplifting. I truly believe in urban living. I think it's easier to be kind to the earth when we tread as little of it as possible. I believe that we all need to reinhabit the cities and quit building massive beige houses surrounded by nothing--a natural world those suburbanites rarely explore. In the city there are beautiful big old houses that are waiting for multiple families to enjoy, including the one in which Adam and I live. There are spacious backyards--spacious enough for small gardens and bug hunting. There are buses and more and more bike lanes and walkable neighborhoods and natural food stores with more options for cruelty-free foods than your average suburban supermarket. And there are gobs of fresh produce on display in a dozen farmers markets around the city. There are cafes that you can walk to, parks that are just around the corner, and trails that remain hidden in the center of urban jungles. I know I'm mostly talking about Rochester, but I know for certain these resources exist throughout urban America.
It is exhilarating to think about the ways that Adam and I are urban activists. We are full-time cyclists, vegan animal rights activists, and advocates of natural and organic living. We have vermicompost and a rabbit who works as a composter as well. We have a garden that will be busy next summer, and we are growing some herbs and other plants indoors. Unlike Betsy and Charlie, we haven't gotten into preserving, canning and fermenting, but I'm hoping that will also come with the garden next year. I spend a lot of time making natural cleaning supplies that are cheap and smell like tea tree oil, not fake lemon-lime mixed with bleach. We buy our food at the farmers market or the food cooperative (though we're known to buy discounted soy milk and pickles at Tops). We go to a progressive, liberal church that values social justice above just about everything else.
All this is meant to explain that I'm very happy with the effort I put into every day of my life, and to reiterate (to myself) that I do a whole hell of a lot to make this world a little better each day. I sometimes forget that these things require mental and physical effort (especially biking in the cold) that can, at times, leave me feeling exhausted and disenchanted.
But I'm proud of the way I live out my values, and reading about the things I can do to make a difference revive my spirit in a way lasagna and snuggling under the blankets can't. I'm happy that Adam and I have time now to put our house and lives in order. I'm glad that I have a little time to ease into this next phase of my life, to relax and sift through old things and make a place for myself in my new home. I shouldn't be so afraid of having a blank calendar, and I should make the most of this down time.
Sometimes I think the only point of the winter holidays is to have something to cheer us during these long nights and cold days. It's amazing what some Christmas lights and music will do to my tired little spirit. The excitement of the first snow and the comfort of a warm fire ease us through these harsh months. Adding warmth and spice to out food and drinks mean adding pizazz to an otherwise bland winter spread. We know how to make it through.
My mom keeps talking about how we need to make our own traditions, and that we need to be responsible for things happening, since she can no longer be behind the magic. It's true that without my family's initiative, I'm unmotivated to celebrate and prepare for holidays the way I'm used to them. When Zoe told me she and Jack were getting a tree, I was shocked, because it occurred to me I hadn't given a thought to how Adam and I would decorate the house. In fact, I'm quick to write off the holidays as frivolous and not worth the effort. Sometimes it's too difficult to get past my divergent religious beliefs. But there's nothing like some holiday lights shining out onto the street to warm the soul. Adam and I noticed that when we returned home to see the one strand of lights he managed to get to work shining out through the dark night through our kitchen window. This really is a magical time of year, and I want to be a part of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)