A useful web resource – and it’s nutritious, too!

Every couple of weeks or so I get something in my e-mail box from the National Gardening Association. I don’t remember when or why I signed up for the “Edible Landscaping” newsletter, and admittedly I usually delete it before I even open it. But not today! Looking for a mental break from my hum-drum administrative duties, I decided to check out the latest installment and guess what – it’s actually kind of interesting! And helpful! And accessible to the wanna-be proficient home gardener!

The only problem is now I really want to grow purple potatoes and start composting, but don’t think the contractor would appreciate it if I converted the dumpster into a compost bin, and I’m pretty sure the crew would trample my cold frame. So, maybe next year.

Anywho, check out http://www.garden.org/ if you’re interested. I know I’ll be visiting them from time to time while I whittle away the weeks until the seed catalogues arrive!

A stitch in time (saves nine, at least -- if you're into that sort of thing)

Some more sites I’ve stumbled across (don’t ask me how) that I think I kinda like:

http://www.ncnblog.com/
http://beingfrugal.net/
http://www.home-ec101.com/
http://getrichslowly.org/blog/

Also, while I’m all about growing and storing my own food (with exceptions as noted previously), I’m pretty sure that I’m not cut out for this or this* (though this, in it's exclusivity, really makes me wish I was). As much as I want to be the kind of person who can very contentedly pass the hours by whipping out new hand-made goods for her family… I just. Don’t. Think so.

Any experts out there willing to change my mind? Cause I’m open to it!

* Seriously? That first link scares me. And the second one... well, I could do without the hat. But that's just me.

IPromise, UPromise

So, I just signed up for UPromise today. I know, I know -- don't bring me down with your "drop in the bucket" mentality.

Catch enough drops and eventually you can put out a fire, right?

Anyway, I'll be able to put percentages of my purchases (online or in-store) directly toward my student loan. It's all set up so they talk to each other. My grocery store cards are hooked up, too. AND, I can ask my family to join so their purchases can help me, too. (Did you hear that, family?) :)

I mean seriously -- no matter how crunchy I become I'm going to need to shop at Target or eBay or CVS or Kroger. Because vegetables are one thing, but until my hamburger & chicken breasts start popping up out of the ground in nicely wrapped packages I'll leave the dirty work to someone else.

Go figure

So color me surprised, but it's five days later now and I'm still smitten with the idea of living a crunchier life.  I love stumbling across new resources that offer no-nonsense, easy, relatively painless ways to save.  Save what?  Time, money, stress, materials, myself -- whatever.

Also to my surprise I am not really missing being a chronic consumer.  Right now, the three of us are sharing a room of about 144 square feet.  Chewing up most of that space is one twin bed and one king size bed; our clothes, shoes, and bare essentials fill in the rest.  Yes, we have other things scattered here & there in my sister's house but we haven't even approached taking it over.  So what this means is that I can't really buy a lot of things - where on Earth would I put them?

This is amazingly freeing.

And, it's buying me time (hee hee) to make some considered decisions about what we will need to purchase when we move back home versus what we can just do without.  Or do differently.  On my list?

Putting up a clothes line.  

Garden planning.

Boning up on freezing & canning.

Learning to use my sewing machine.

  Repurposing a small dresser for Sara's night stand.

Planting another tree in the front yard for afternoon shade.

Mastering the art of bread-making.  

OK that last one has very little to do with being crunchy;  I'm just tired of making a lousy loaf of bread.

The point is that none of this is original and none of it is rocket science.  But it does take a little more effort on my part while requiring a little less convenience.  And that's OK.  I'm enjoying these little epiphanies and find that it's making ever-so-slight changes in my thinking.  Like instead of begrudging what I can't do because it's too expensive, I find myself thinking about what I can do instead that will be just as enjoyable and, probably, a lot more creative.

A year ago?  No, no.  Not so much.  The wallowing would have commenced immediately, followed closely by a fairly obnoxious period of martyr sydrome.  It ain't pretty, I know.

Anyway, there's no real point to my rambling here.  Just happy to report that, so far, this seems to be more than just a passing fancy.  I am pleasantly, hopefully surprised.

Go me!

Oddly enough, green was my mother's least-favorite color...

I don’t consider myself crunchy. In fact the word itself conjures up images of long, fly-away hair, Birkenstocks, jars of sprouts, and the distinct smell of doobie floating through the air. (Yes, yes, I know – I just described one of my aunts circa 1985. I’m happy to report that she now eats meat, refined sugar, and shaves. Don’t know about the doobie, so I’m opting to go Clinton on that one: don’t ask, don’t tell.)

But I’m beginning to realize that crunchy has come a long way, and while it still seems to be planted squarely in the realm of politically liberal ideology (Ed Begley Jr, anyone?), it’s becoming apparent to me that this Republican from the middle of the Bible belt is enchanted by it as well.

Evidently I’m late to the party on this, as Rod Dreher has written a whole book about crunchy conservatives entitled, appropriately enough, Crunchy Cons.* I haven’t read it so I can’t claim to be a true Crunchy Con myself, but the little bit that I did read here does seem to line up more or less with my own beliefs.

Anyway, this is not a political post.

What I’m discovering is that the ideas of reusing, repurposing, reinventing, growing, harvesting, storing, sharing, simplifying, saving – all of these are incredibly appealing to me. The choices I’ve made thus far in life might not tend to support this statement, but it’s true. And really, it’s not all that surprising. I can’t tell you how many things I’ve found in my parent’s house that have sparked an idea about how I could fix it, or change it, or display it, or whatever. I’ve done it before (those of you who helped move my grandmother’s painstakingly refinished ten-ton secretary in the middle of a monsoon can attest to this), and I am quite certain I’ll do it again.

Only this time, it seems to have a purpose.

Right now, on paper at least, we are worth more than ever before (in other words, we have a net value that is greater than zero -- a novel concept, no?). Whether it is the current economic situation, my ever-increasing understanding of responsibility for our daughter, or my overwhelming desire to chuck my day job & stay home to care for my family, I am feeling a tremendous need to preserve what we’ve got and make it last. Being in the throes of major – did I mention MAJOR? – renovations doesn’t do much to help the preservation effort.

BUT!

That doesn’t mean that I can’t continue, in whatever small way possible, to put what might appear to be cast-offs to good work once the construction is completed:

An old, rusted table base without a top? How about a “new” table to use in our herb garden, with a top fabricated with stone scraps from the renovation?

A ridiculously heavy and oversized wooden locker, covered in 60-year-old stained & disintegrating fabric? How about a reupholstered storage bench for the guest room?

A toilet & pedestal sink, unused & tucked under a staircase for the better part of the last 15 years? How about using them to outfit our new powder room? Really – it’s already new. Why replace them?

A bent and warped cold frame, that long ago lost it’s membrane to the elements? Yeah – we’re fixing that too. Because, in case it’s not already perfectly clear, we plan to garden our brains out next summer.

Canning party anyone? (Amy H, I’m talking to you!)

I could go on & on. There are so many things that we’ve forgotten we even have that I can find a use for – and I fully intend to do just that. Sites like this one only stoke my fire. The best thing is that I like doing this. I enjoy finding creative uses for “trash,” cleaning things up and giving them new life & having people say “That is so neat – where did you get that?”

So if that makes me crunchy, then I guess I am.

Bring on the granola!

*Thanks, Amy for mentioning this to me. I'll have to add it to my never-ending list of things I'd like to read once I have a house to read them in.

October

O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost-- For the grapes' sake along the wall. --Robert Frost (With sincere thanks to Amanda Soule, who reminded me that I love Robert Frost)

This story reminded me why I still love Indiana, even with all of it’s faults.

How many places can you go where, just 30 minutes outside the state capital, you can visit the FFA pumpkin patch? (What’s the FFA you ask? Future Farmers of America, of course.)

How many public school systems still have agriculture teachers?

How many high schoolers use their savings to buy rabbits, calves, pigs & goats? And then allow them to be part of a petting zoo for little ones?

How many times do you get to hear a grown man say “I’d like them to do it forever and ever?”

I know, I know. It’s all kind of hokey. But give me hokey any day if it means reminders about what really matters: working together, working hard, and enjoying what you do.

Hokey, but refreshing.

Welcome to the asylum

Seriously. The child ought to be dead tired, with all of the extra activities she's had the last couple of days. But oooohhhh noooooo, she was up and unstoppable at "six-oh-freakin-two" today (timekeeping courtesy of Rob). And then this was her for the better part of the morning:

Naked, save for the infant-sized fleecy jester hat which she insisted on wearing because she was "wiwwy COLD."

Well no kidding.

I was just happy that the cats weren't being terrorized and my laptop wasn't being used as a trampoline.

Peniel

I'm spending some time these days hashing things out. Mostly with myself, I think, but probably just as much with God. Or maybe, God is hashing things out with me.

I have some decisions to make and making them will commit me to living life one way or another. I have reservations about both of my choices and wish I could have it both ways -- but that is the one thing I cannot have. Both options scare me. But to be perfectly honest, there is only one right path, I'm just afraid to chose it. (I'm more afraid not to.)

This is the conversation I find myself wrapped up in during those brief, scattered moments when I'm not asked to be Mama or wife or sister or therapist or friend. When it's just me and God, over and over again I am led to the same questions and fears and regrets and hopes. I spend so much time asking "why," bargaining with "what ifs," and kicking myself with "if onlys" that I don't generally shut up and listen. This is hard for me on a good day, when I've got someone sitting in front of me -- trying to do it with God? For crying out loud. It's nearly impossible. And (of course!) it's the one thing I really need to do.

So shut up already and listen, goose. Sheesh.

I was reminded today of the story of Jacob wrestling with God and it really resonated with me. I actually wish it didn't; I'd rather get through this without all the wrestling, thank you very much. But the good news, if I'm in the mood to look for it (and I am), is that in the end God blesses Jacob and tells him that he has overcome. I can only hope for the same.

The demo is underway!

You should check out this link for the visual play-by-play, but if you just want a quick hit, here's the scene at 6249 these days!
(Isn't that the sexiest dumpster you've ever seen??)

No, this is not tornado alley

Rob & Skip took out some trees this week. Much chipping commenced. Here is the "before..." I'll have to work on the "after." Actually, I guess that last one counts as an "after" after all. Hmmmm...

My BFF

Sara told me this week that I'm her best friend.  And at first I thought it was just a fluke, but she's said it quite a few times now so I'm pretty sure she means it.

Yes yes, the girl does have me right here (pinky proudly displayed).

Do you think she'll remember this when she's 15?  Or even 5?

No, I don't think so either...

Protesting too much?

I dunno.  I freely admit that I'm not a news junkie and most of what I pick up about the presidential campaign is purely accidental.  But the thing is, most of what I do happen to pick up is piece after piece featuring the Obama camp trying to discredit Palin.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa.  Hang on.  Palin?  Last I checked, Palin was running for VICE president.  And last I checked, the VICE president wasn't the person who ran the country.  Yes, yes, that whole "heartbeat away" thing.  I get it.  Not likely.

So, I don't know.  Maybe it's me but it just seems a little desperate.  

I'm also a little put off by the smart-ass ads Obama is endorsing.  Frankly, I don't want a smart-ass in the Oval Office.  The truth?  For a minute there, I was thisclose to becoming a believer.  Obama is smart, engaging, charming, and certainly talks a good talk about hope and change.  Plus, like most everyone else, I am more or less done with W and McCain just seemed too wacky an option.

But now that the pressure is on -- courtesy of Palin? -- which, again, I think is odd -- he's losing me.  Seems a little too full of himself.  Arrogant, I guess.  That fist bump never bothered me before, but now it strikes me as...  I don't know.  Cocky?

Oh, and by the by:  I don't believe for a minute that the pig/lipstick comment was "misconstrued."  

Please.  Spare me.

Writer's block

My problem is that I'm all too aware of the fact that, really, I'm  just sort of a so-so writer.  

I tend, frequently, and with little regard, respect for, or attention to flow or proper use of grammatical rules, to over-use, and generally abuse, commas.

I often times find it very difficult to pare down what it is that I'm trying to convey and end up using more words than necessary which, inevitably, leaves my point diluted or, worse yet, lost in the mire of overzealous use of language and, as mentioned previously, commas -- which, truth be told, may be only slightly more annoying than the over-use of dashes; semi-colons; or exclamation points!

I was saying what, now?

I remember.  Yes.  I was saying that I'm really not a very good writer.  Poor punctuation.  Non-adherence to the rules of form and structure.  Rambling iterations that surely cause my readers -- all three of you! -- to lose interest, if not their minds, as they wade through word after word and phrase after phrase of seemingly haphazard strings of letters, letters, letters, and commas, commas, commas.

I also have a very bad habit of starting new paragraphs with the word "I."

I -- oops, I mean -- argh!  No, no, let's try this again...  

(Oh, and then there's the ellipsis.  Surely my high school English teacher would faint dead away if she saw how casually I threw around the ellipsis....)

I've also recently started to realize that there are whole communities of bloggers out there that actually take this seriously.  They debate what makes for a "good" versus "bad" blog.  Bloggers and blogging have spawned whole new industries, with potential for ad revenue and special convention sessions (conventions?!  and convention sessions?!?!) on how to generate the most traffic through your blog -- which, I'm assuming, is to help prop up the aforementioned ad revenue.

I also tend to blow it by using words like "aforementioned" and "spawned."

I give up.  This is what it is -- namely, my online, take it or leave it, I'm-not-making-any-money-off-of-you-so-don't-expect-too-much-except-egregious-punctuation-errors, pompous -- or is it pretentious? -- use-of-lexicon-and-poorly-formed, rambling-thoughts-cause, you know, it's late and I've got a two-year old-so-what-more-do-you-expect-from-me, purging of ideas, opinions, hopes, dreams, failures, sorrows, triumphs, and thoughtful links to, well -- you know.  Other blogs.

And with that, I'll say good night.

I did it!  A new paragraph that didn't start with "I!"  Uh, no.... wait.....  never mind....

The one thing that made me laugh at work this week

And no, it was not the little Amish boy with a cochlear implant.

Instead, it was this little nugget I found in an online debate on our internal web page regarding whether or not Obama scrubs were "appropriate" to wear or would be cause for corrective action:

BARACK ME OBAMADEUS!

OMG. Love!

Color me disgusted

Another inspiring story about the fine "servants" we pay to screw us represent us in Washington.

Meanwhile, my siblings and I are forced to pay (I cannot bring myself to say "owe") the government tens of thousands of dollars, just because my father worked hard for 40+ years and made a point of leaving something behind for his family.

And our legislators wonder why we are jaded, why we don't care enough to show up and vote, why we have lost all trust in them and their system.

It's because it sucks, ladies & gentlemen. It sucks.

I could give a big fat rat's ass that this story happens to discuss a Democrat. Give it a few news cycles, they'll find a Republican pulling the same crap -- and I'll feel just the same.

I find myself wanting to feel hopeful that a new President (and either one would do, actually) could inspire change. But then I remember the beauty of our checks and balances, and realize that no one man can make the sweeping changes that are required. We as voters are the only ones who can do that... you know, those same jaded, impassive, untrusting voters who don't care enough to show up and vote in the first place.

Ah, the irony.

On the list of things I never expected to see:

The little Amish boy outside my office, going into an audiology booth for a follow-up visit regarding his cochlear implant.

Huh.

C jane shine

Not too long ago, a couple from Mesa, AZ was in a plane crash. There were three people on board -- the pilot, his wife, and a flight instructor. The filght instructor did not survive his injuries. The couple remains in critical condition, having suffered severe burns but thankfully no internal injuries.

Theirs is a long, hard, tenuous road. My heart aches for them, their children, and their family.

I learned about their situation here; I learned about their lives here.

I am blown away by the way this family has rallied together, and more blown away by the way one sister is managing to share the story with such grace, wit, hope, and humor. It's a true manifestation of their faith, hope, and love for God and one another.

A quick review of my blog posts through equally dark times reveals that I was not nearly so eloquent, faithful or hopeful.

Lately I am reminded over and over again of the passage that Elaine read at church last week from Expecting Adam by Martha Beck. I can't remember what was written, but I remember what I heard: The beauty of people is blinding if we allow ourselves to see it. Painfully blinding.

C jane has blinded me and the pain is real but consequential. I don't know what it will bring, but I believe that it can't help but change me.

God's blessings, healing, and peace to all of them.

The funniest nonagenarian I know -OR- I could tell you what her real name is, but then she'd have to kill me

I might have to make this a regular feature.

My Grammy is 94 years old.  She lives by herself in an old farmhouse in the middle of the country.  She has always been hard of hearing and, for all practical purposes is just about deaf now.  She insists on keeping up with some of her own yard work (like pruning bushes and sawing off rogue limbs) and sometime within the last few years was caught up on a ladder cleaning out a gutter.  Need a dish she's stored up on the extra-high shelf?  Not to worry -- she'll just climb up on the counter and pull it down for you.  (This is the same woman who didn't want to walk down her own front stairs during my wedding because she "usually just hops off the retaining wall instead.")

Hello!  She's 94.

She's also a lot like her son, my dad, in that she's stubborn and reluctant to accept help.  She is in considerable pain a good deal of the time due to osteoporosis and degenerative disease in her spine.  "It's just like my mother, nothing you can do about it" is what she says when you ask her if she'll go see the doctor.  That's great Grammy, just great.

Well, Grammy has fallen a couple of times over the past few months.  We tend to find out about these little spills accidentally.  This last time she did consent to go to the doctor and, good news! -- no fractures, no damage to her spine.  Just good old arthritis and osteoporosis.  He did suggest that she get a doughnut pillow to sit on, use ice instead of heat, up her dose of Tylenol (a placebo if ever there was one) and get some rest.  My cousin Molly, who just happens to be a nurse, goes out to check on her frequently and moved a chair into her regular "spot" that she thought would be easier for her to get in & out of.

And this is where we pick up our tale.

Sent an e-mail to my aunt earlier today, who replied with a couple of new Grammy stories.  I think I'll just cut & paste:

[Grammy] was in a really good mood when I got there... she was still sitting on the south end of the sofa...kidded me about being "late" compared to other mornings.  (Didn't feel any better, she said.)  I should have know she'd succeeded in putting one over on us.

 

Couldn't quite figure out what she'd done til I got ready to leave and realized her little LaZBoy was back in its old spot, and the higher, bigger upholstered chair that I had moved from its spot by the piano to the former LaZyBoy site in the family room was now in the dining room. 

 

I thought perhaps she might have asked Molly to move it yesterday.  So I asked her, "Did YOU move these chairs?" 

 

She replied, "Nah, I didn't really move them.  I just leaned on them a little bit."

And then there's this little gem:

Earlier this week Grammy was watching the weather, and I asked her how the "hurricane" was shaping up.  She raised her arm in the air and gestured as she said, "I'ts going 'round and 'round!"

Honestly.  I'm not that quick and I'm, well...  a lot younger than 94.

My aunt made me promise not to mention this to Grammy, as she is always afraid we're laughing at her.  Well, we are --but it's really in a good way (if you know what I mean).  So do me a favor:  If you run into a wicked funny old lady at the hardware store, in sharpening her pruners or looking for a new saw, don't mention that I shared these stories with you.  She wouldn't like us laughing at her.

Something in the air

Had an unsettling dream this morning. Won't bore you with the details, but money (actually an estate being settled), a break-dancing judge, and a tornado or two were involved. Pretty much in that order.

I woke up a little rattled.

Being a pragmatic Hoosier (descended from a line of even more pragmatic New Englanders) I'm not a big believer in dream interpretation -- though it did work for Joseph and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat. But sometimes, when the dream is just so vivid and so alarming... well, I let curiosity get the better of me and I turn to my old friend Google.

Turns out, tornados (and other strong winds) can mean many things. What I distilled from all of the internet kooks experts was that tornadic activity in your dreams can be a sign that you are stressed about something.

Oh. You don't say? Boy, that's a stretch. Because really, stress? I don't know anyone who is dealing with that.

Anyway, I'm hoping for less atmospheric disturbance in my sleep tonight. It's exhausting.