Mama on the Market

One might have thought that it would have occurred to me sooner, I mean, the Boy and I have been on our own for over 2 years now; but it has only just recently dawned on me that I am single, and perhaps ought to get out there and mingle –- I'm tellin you right now people, it's hasn't been pretty.

Prior to this fledgling single status, I had been “off the market” for almost 2 decades, and so have been away from the whole courtship dance, dating ritual stuff for nearly 20 years, and am woefully out of practice (Frankly, even way back when, I wasn't very good at it) So now, all these years later, rusty and road weary, I have been trying to read the signals and do the dance, and,due to my romantic illiteracy, I feel like I have been making a royal mess of things.

Several times now I thought there might be something brewing in the romance department, each time it has ended somewhere on the continuum between failure and disaster: here are but a few of the less embarrassing examples:

Shortly after the separation, in an effort to fill the weekends that The Boy was away, I began frequenting a local coffee shop. There was this one Batista who worked there on Sundays, when the place was nearly dead, who would come out and sit in the overstuffed chair next to the sofa I was camping on, and read the Sunday paper. There was nothing overtly sexual, but plentyl of under current. The Batista would share funny comic strips or interesting news items from the paper, and always seemed very interested in anything going on in my life. The atmosphere between us was charged, and yet at the same time it was very sweet and comfortable.
Then one day I said the wrong thing at the wrong moment, the whole atmosphere thing shifted, and the Batista suddenly had work to attend to. After that the Batista remained polite and professional, but our days of sharing lazy Sunday afternoons together are behind us.

Then there was the long time friend, who I had had a crush on while I wasn't available, who was suddenly more on-hand and solicitous once I was single. In retrospect, I feel like I can pinpoint the moment when it was on the precipous of becoming a romance, when we could have made that turn in the road. But I didn't see it at the time, or didn't realize that it would be my one shot. In any event, our wires got crossed, and so we remain buddies. Thoroughly, disappointingly, platonic buddies.

And then, more recently, there was the dear friend who I was dead sure was flirting with me: the friend whom I was nearly certain was waging a campaign for a shared future together --half the time. I don't know if I was reading the signals wrong or what, but half the time it seemed that I was being courted, that this vulnerable and tender soul was reaching out to me, and half the time it seemed like our friendship was simply blossoming in a friendly way. For a number of reasons (good reasons, damn it) I was reluctant to take the plunge and say somethin like “you and me, babe, how about it?”. Then, in a moment of temporary insanity, I kinda did --in a thoroughly embarrassing, awkward and ill advised way. I think I came on too strong, and now it is utterly and completely and in every way OVER.


It was at about that time that The Gardener started dating the teenage Intern, and, it should come as no surprise to anyone (though, apparently, it was a shocking revelation for the Gardener), that it rocked the Boy to his core. The Boy had been completely unaware of the near misses in my sudo-love life, and like any kid, he had been holding onto the dream that his parents would eventually get back together. I don't think the Intern is in it for the long haul, but there is something about this tryst that has put the the Boy and I on notice that the landscape of our lives has been significantly and irreversibly changed.

The emotional fall out for my son of one his parents dating had me convinced that the best course of action would be for me to live a monastic life, at least until the Boy moved out and had a life of his own . . . at which point I would be pushing 50. It seemed like a really good plan at the time, and maybe it is. But it is also a bit impractical

The whole monastic thing was lookin pretty good: uncomplicated, straight forward, conducive to completing my degree and maintaining my calm. A perfectly plausable path. Leave it to a chocolatier to break through my defenses and get me thinking amorous thoughts again. I ask you, who could resist a purveyor of hand-dipped vegan truffles?! And on top of it all, we have in common that we are both recovering from the demise of longterm relationships! The problem is, I am still a rank armature at this whole courtship thing. I think I have been flirting with the chocolatier, but who knows? Maybe I am just making polite conversation, maybe the chocolatier has been dropping hints and sending signals that I, in my infanent daftness, have simply missed. All I know for sure is that I have spent an inordinate amount of time and money loitering there, and don't feel like I have gotten a meaningful response, either way. I worry about being perceived either as a stalker or a glutton. sigh.

Perhaps I should draw on my activist back ground and try a banner drop to express my amore, or I could chain myself to the chocolatier's booth at the Farmers Market . . . then again, maybe not.

So I just don't know, the trail of failure and spectacular disasters left in my wake suggests to me that I am just no good at this romance stuff; Neither The Boy nor I needs more heart ache, and yet . . . I mean, theres chocolate involved: thats one hell of a powerful incentive --and not the only incentive, or even the most compelling one.
I wonder if theres some kind of “Flirting for Dummies” or 12 Step Program for the Dating Challenged that I could join?

A Bevey of Blogs

I have been coming across cool new blogs faster than I can link to them! I am also swamped here at the moment with too many commitments (I am sooooo talented when it comes to over-commiting!) SO heres some good reading while I'm away.

although not really about sustainability or cycling, An Accident of Hope is a delicious, honest, and wonderful chronicle that illustrates just how universal love, parenting and relationship issues are, regardless of the context. You dont have to be a mama or part of a 'non-traditional family' to appreicate her insights --if you are anything like me you may find youself cringing at how close to home some of her epiphanies hit!
Perhaps because parenting is feeling like a real challenge right now, I was delighted to discover The Crazy Hip Mamas Web Ring, great stuff!

Oil Is For Sissies is brillient and insightful --and also includes plenty of other cycling and peak oil links

see ya all when (if) I dig myself out from under all this

Cycles of Life, Growth and Death in the Garden

At long last things are begining to ripen in the garden, although much of it in miniature! I dont know if is the chaotic, often freakishly hot weather we have been having, or something to do with the soil, or what, but I have the cutest little sweet peppers you ever did see. Nearly ripe and only slightly larger than golf balls! The first of the tomatoes (I have about a dozen different varieties, that mature at different rates) are coming in, only slightly larger than the peppers, and then there are the adorable and diminutive carrots and parsnips. I think I will make myself a cute little salad this weekend to celebrate!

We lost Ruby over the Fourth of July holiday, chickens just arnt built for that kind of excitment. Now Easter is wandering the chicken yard looking lost and sad. I had a professor once who was convinced that animals felt no "real" pain, physical or emotional, and that it was wrong to "anthropomorphize" them. He was a sad little man. Anyone who has shared any meaningful relationship with animals will recognize that they experience both physical and emotional distress, in much the same way, for the same reasons, and quite possibly to an even greater depth than we do: I dont imagine that animals make value judgments about how they "should" feel, or what is "appropriate" to feel, as we humans do. They just feel it. Ester misses Ruby terribly, as do I.


In part because because we are now down to one chicken, and in part becuase we are in a bit of a homeschooling rut, we picked up an egg incubator yesturday, into which we plan to put some furtile duck eggs next week! (we have to get the gizmo all set up and calibrated before eggs can go in) I think it will be a cool summer science project, and hopfully it will help pull of us out of the rut we have both been in.

At first, I was seeing it as an educational rut, and a reflection of a "bad attitude" on The Boy's part. All of which may be true. But as I was discribing the issues to a friend, I realized that the behaviors I was discribing sounded a lot like depession. My son and I both got counseling after his father left, and I guess I had been thinking "well, thats behind us now, time to move on!" This is where animals have the advantage, they dont think about wether it is time to "get over it". I think maybe that the Boy and I may still mourning our losses, and struggling with the transitions. So, perhaps a little change in the routine will help breath new life into our new life --and who can be sad with baby ducklings around! (yeah, I know, doubtless more work than that to be done). We will keep you posted, photos to follow.

Thanks to zilla for the amzingly cool phases of the moon display in my side bar! I will be putting notes below it on what to plant and harvest in accordence with the current moon phase, if you are playing along at home. I would love to hear from folks if they notice any diffences when they plant according to the lunar rhythems.

Tech Support, Please!

So, much as I love this free blog-osphere resource, I find their customer service somewhat lacking, so I turn to you, the wonderful bloging communiuty. Heres what I need

For all the time I have had this blog, my list of favorite books on my profile has not appeare online. It comes up when I go to edit my profile, I filled in my lengthy list of books I love, but it doesnt show up when one views my profile. Any thoughts?

I have been having a problem adding links on the sidebar, they keep appearing with bullets, which I wish they would not, and the deviders between catagories have a tendency to disappear. What do I do?

I would love any input you all might have

Score One For Mom!

Part of the adventure of parenting is that, just about the time you are convinced that you are the worst parent in the world and that you have done every possible thing wrong and ruined them for life, they do something to show you that you haven't done half bad.

Due to a series of glitches (3 flat rear tires in rapid succession, etc.) we have been busing more than biking the past few weeks; we finally got the bike up and running again and discovered that I have gone soft in the mean time. I was sure the hills were going to kill me (literally). But there in the stoker seat was my boy, peddling like hell and cheering me on all at once. I would have pulled over and walked for at least half of those hills, but for that angel on the rear seat, screaming "come one missy, cars are for wimps!" "how we gonna bike to Mount Hood for that camping trip if you give up now? We gotta get some legs on you, woman!!" (I had not realized that we were planning to bike there, I thought we taking a Flex Car, but . . . ok). We made it over every hill and dale, and had some great laughs doing it.

Of course, this isn't out of character for him, he is a GREAT kid, and I would have been pleased and proud under any circumstances --who wouldn't want their own cheering section on steep hills. But heres the thing, I am embarrassed to admit that I had,up until this weekend, fallen into the trap of competing with that @#%*& Intern.

Epiphany Number One: I am not a sweet, perky drop-dead gorgeous, painfully skinny teenager, I do not have my finger on the pulse of the latest trendy trends or nifty games, and I am not on top of the latest in youth culture. Try as I might, I can not compete on those terms. And because she is perky and fun and does have her finger on the pulse of all that is hip and cool in youth culture, dates his father, and gives him expensive consumer products that I would never get him in a million years, he worships her. He wants to spend all his time hanging with her and his dad, during this all too brief summer vacation when I don't have classes and want to be doing fun things with my son before he is all grown up and dating teenage girls himself. Even when he is here in the house, he is not really here, he is lost in that damn game that damn wench gave him. grrr.

So, because I am human, and because I want to have a close, wonderful relationship with my kid while he is still a kid, (and despite the fact that I am a Child & Family Studies Major and know better) I had been trying to compete. Bad plan, utterly doomed to failure. It all ended in an ugly meltdown last night. yeah. This is why mommies should be mommies, why people should be their authentic, phenomenal selves and not try to be teenie-boppers. That is Epiphany Number 2. He and I had the best day today, we have a lot of great times together, being exactly who we are.

Epiphany Number 3 is that these wonderful children with whom we share our lives, will have relationships with other people. Their own relationships on their own terms. They do not do this to hurt us, or because we have ghastly, unforgivable failings. Their friends will have charms of their own, just as we do, and so long as these friends are not Charles Manson or Jeffery Dommer or Catherine Tramell, it might be best to let them, or at least not try to fill their all too fashionable shoes. We are who we are meant to be,the only question is “what are you going to do with your one wild life” you irreplaceable you?

As I write this, The Boy comes over throws his arms wide and says, in one of his wonderful, comic voices, "hug me!!" Ballancing my lap top on my lap, I open one arm, to which he scowls "Move the computer, I want to REALLY hug you!" As he nestles into my arms he coos "I love you sooo much" There are times when I think that everything I know about love I learned from my son.

Now, I am going to return to our evening of wrestling, whiptopping covered confections, and watching anime. Cuz, in addition to my many other charms, I actually am a pretty hip mama --and I know how to have fun that teeny-boppers cant even imagine.

Supreme Court Blocks Guantanamo Tribunals

I'm not one to boast (ok, maybe some times) but I just cant help doing a little happy dance over the fact that, in a major rebuke to the Bush administration, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled today that Bush overstepped his authority and violated both the Geneva COnvention and the Uniform Code of Military Justice in ordering war-crimes trials for Guantanamo detainees without specific authority from Congress.

I said it, the heads of countless other countries said it,military lawyers said it: And today, Five justices of the Supreme Court agreed: we were right, the Bush Administration was wrong. Neener, neeener, neener.

Writing for the court, Justice Stevens said that the Constitution gives the Congress, not the president, the authority to make rules concerning captured prisoners and the implementation of the laws of war.

The president, Stevens wrote, is required both by the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the Geneva Conventions to use regularly constituted military courts, not special courts with special rules, to try accused war criminals.

For the Bush administration, Thursday's ruling was a stunning setback.


Andrew McBride, who filed a brief in the Supreme Court on behalf of former Bush and Reagan attorneys general, says the decision takes the wind out of President Bush's broad assertion of executive power and limits his flexibility.

"I think we will see less people tried in the military tribunals," McBride says, "and more people sent to their countries of origin or dealt with in other ways, as the president attempts to empty Gitmo over the next two years."


Thats the good news. In other news, Professor Goldsmith notes that under the court's decision, detainees can still be held indefinitely, without any trial.

full story

Weekend Update, ect.

Oy, why does life not come with an instruction manual? Because I love you, I will skip most of the trials, tribulations and transitions of my life at the moment and skip to the fun stuff.
Last weekend The Boy and I went to an amazing cycling event put on by Shift2Bikes , a cool local bike advocacy and activity leauge.
and had all kinds of crazy fun! They had an Eating By Bike relay, that was just a hoot, and a Bike Derby that The Boy wanted to enter until he saw it -there were water balloons and over-ripe produce involved, along with some of the most "assertive" cycling I've ever seen!

They also had a home-made version of the bike-powered smoothie blender I have been thinking about! The Boy and I got the first 2 smoothies of the day, and I got to pick their brain for ideas. They only do it for fun, at occasional events, but still had good insights and ideas --and even better, are willing to lend me their bike-smoothie mobile! I have plans to be pedaling juice at an event next month, and we'll see how it goes.

The thing about both house work and yard work is you knock yourself out doing it, and then it just needs to be done all over again! This house I live in, that for years I have lamented was too too small, with an equally too small yard, has somehow evolved into a palatial estate of epic proportions, and not only that, we got fairy tale weeds: brambles and vines that envelope all structures over night and reach the heavens by dawn. Any minute some giant is gonna climb down and ask for Jack. Since last finals week I have alternately had a gorgeous yard or a tidy house, but never both, and never for long. I want farm hands! House cleaning robots! A wife!

I ran into a friend who is a local business owner, and chatted with her a bit about my idea for the bike blender smoothies. She actually thought it was a good idea that could actually work, I was a little surpised, in part I guess because it alll started as what I thought of as a crazy scheme to earn some summer money without actually haveing to get a 'real' job. Who knows, it might just work out.

Sustainability In Motion

With all the wonderfulness in the garden I have not been posting much on cycling, or sustainability, or subverting the dominant paradigm But I have been thinking about it.

I have been involved in the effort to save an amazing --and all too rare-- urban farm from being developed into McMansions. Having successfully saved it, we have begun longterm strategic planning for the use of the land. Currently, there is a co-housing group living int the existing farm house, but they are not currently producing sufficient revenue to cover all the cost of maintaining the land. So proposals for everything from a CSA to a Retreat Center are being considered, and with them the fact that there is almost no on-site parking currently available. "Experts" assisting with the planning process insist that this needs to be addressed.

But if part of the mission and vision of Tryon Life Farm is to subvert the dominant paradigm, is seems obvious that inherent in that process would be the challenging the assumption that people must drive, particularly to a place located right on a bus line, and within a moderate bike ride of less than 7 miles from the city center. The surrounding neighborhood, who is unanimous in it's support of the farm, has it's own need for increased public transit, shuttles, and bike paths. It seems to me this is a golden opportunity for networking and creating community partnerships. No one wins if a new parking lot goes in, everyone wins with transportation alternatives.

If anyone needed evidence that more parking lots are no answer, there is the story of a new LEED-certified shopping center has become the subject of public scornand even boycott businesses in the Abercorn Commons, despite the fact that the project's developer seems be doing everything right, from using recycled construction materials to incorporating energy efficient HVAC schemes and recapturing rainwater.The reason for the uproara few of the parking spaces in the permeable surface parking lot are set aside for hybrid cars. And people are up in arems about it. People who own conventional cars.

One irate citizen was quoted as saying: "I've been looking forward to the new stores but I don't drive a hybrid car, whatever that is, so I won't be shopping there."

sigh. Thanks to John at Bike Year for the lead on the story of the crazed car-heads

Mean while I have a crazy dream (every girl needs one): a bike powered bussiness. Like many collage students, I have a background in food service, and even had my own baking and catering bussiness. And even this high falootin --and highly expensive-- education I am getting, I find the notion of bicycle powered smoothies delectible --and potentially a great way to make money durring summer vacations. So what do ya all think: totally nutty? Any thoughts on a biz name?.

The only thing standing between me and a beautiful pipe-dream is start up capital inventment of about $1000; anyone know any cool alternative venture capitalists?

I'm not saying that bike powered smoothies will change the world, but I believe absolutely that we must become the change we wish to see in the world. Whether it is finding creative solutions to parking and transportation issues, or whipping up sustainable, locally grownn meals, we must re-imagine our story,and our way of walking through this world.

Garden of Earthly Delights

Today was my fist day of Summer Vacation, and I had hoped to get out for a ride; but, alas, the day was dark and wet and rainy. After puttering around indoors for much of the day, there was finally a break in the weather in the late afternoon and I made it outside at last.
Once in the garden I discovered a veritable Smorgishboard of snap peas, lettuces, broccoli, figs and raspberries! The very first crop of raspberries! The bushes were planted a couple years ago, but --as is common-- it took some time for the first crop to come in, and now it is here! I have been feasting on them all evening: I feel as if I have never taisted them before --berries fresh off the bush taist nothing like the ones in stores!
It was as though the garden were celebrating the end of the school term with me, and welcoming me home.

Happy Birthday, Anne Frank

Today is the Anniversary of Anne Frank's birth, which was kind of the last straw for me. I have been listening to NPR, as I do all too often, and following recent events at Guantanamo Bay prison, where 3 people have abandoned all hope and killed themselves.

“The Nuremberg Defense” is generally characterized as “I was just following orders”, when people refer to “the Nuremberg defense” today, thats what they mean. But in reading the transcripts from the tribunal you find that the Nazi defendants carried out their master race policies under the belief that Germans were entitled to subjugate, dominate, and exterminate other races and peoples. At least one of the defendants was quoted as saying that no one ever said that what they were doing was wrong.

On the anniversary of Anne Frank's birth, our own government is rounding up people of a certain religion and nationality, and taking the position that they are entitled to subjugate, dominate, and exterminate other races and peoples. They insist that there is nothing wrong with what they are doing.

The fact that a handful of Saudi Arabs, working out of Pakistan, Afghanistan and Germany, hijacked 3 plane's in America is somehow being used as an excuse to invade Iraq (go ahead, try to connect those dots) and imprison hundreds of people, without charge, to circumvent our justice system with a trick of geography that keeps them in legal limbo, without legal counsel, without any access to any form of justice indefinetely. And, some how, all of us are going along with it. Too many of us, in any event.

Even in their most desperate hour, with all else is stripped away, all hope gone, their suicides --the thing that most potently demonstrates their shared humanity with us-- is characterized as “an act of aggression”. Dude, suicide is not an act of aggression. It is an act of desperation.

I am a psychology major, and have not doubt (much as I wish I did) of just how inherently detrimental conditions at Guantanamo Prison are. Locking people up for years, absent any system or procedures for challenging their incarceration or proving their innocence; absent any rights; sealed off from all contact with the outside world, legal counsel, family, or representatives from their own faith; traped there, in the knowledge that they can be held indefinetely. There can be no question of the irreperable impact this would have on any human being (what ever anyone may think of them, we may not deny their humanity). The effects are clearly documented and understood by the mental health community (we have a wealth of research and data based on survivors of other concentration camps and holocausts) and yet there is this deafening silence on the part of that very community. The shame of that silence is more than I can bare.



The cells at Gitmo, if you can call them that, are smaller, less protected from the elements, and more humble than the hen yard that Ruby and Ester live in. Proud as I am of my poultry palace, I am horified that anyone, anywhere would consider it an acceptable place to hold a person, even temporarily, let alone for 5 years and counting. I cant imagine anyone being immune to the hopelessness, degridation, and dispare that would come of being trapped in such a place. I can fathom no justification for it.

During the Holly Wars, Afghanistan made a point of treating their prisoners of war humanly. They did this absent any Genivia Convention, UN observers or letters from Amnesty International. They did this not out of bleed-heart liberalism, not even out of an ethic of assuming innocence until guilt was proven. They treated their prisoners with basic human dignity because of how doing so reflected on they themselves, the captors. They held themselves to high standards, and in doing so, held the moral high ground. This policy of humane treatment did not make them weak, or vulnerable, or less effective in their wars. It just meant they stood for something.

I considered whether or not to get up on this soapbox, but there was this news about Gitmo, and there was Margaret Cho on the DVD I was watching last night, saying “If we all got together and had this big, too-much-information, go-there voice, if we just went and did it, that voice would equal power, and that power would equal change, and that change would equal a revolution”

We need that voice, it has to start somewhere: I am using my go-there voice, on this anniversary, to say that what is happening in Guantanamo Bay is wrong. Years from now, when those who conceived and authorized the policies at Guantanamo, in the Patriot Act, and throughout this so-called “War on Terror”, are brought before a tribunal of their own, let none of them be able to claim that no one ever said that what they were doing was wrong.

When I was growing up, one of the great burning questions of history was how “good Germans” could have allowed what was going on during the war to go on. They saw the trains, they knew about the camps, why didn't they do something? We all believed we would have done something. What will we say we did about what was going on during the 'war on terror'? We know about Gitmo, we saw the photos of the torture. What now must we do?

Amnesty International
ACLU
Human Rights Watch
Foreign Prisoners Support Services
MoveOn.org

The Mama Circle

As the mother of a medically fragile child (The Boy has a weird and obscure liver condition) I become a big sloppy mess when I hear about other women on this challenging and treacherous path: It is an indiscribably daunting and overwhelming ride.
Being the Boy's mother has been an unfathomable blessing, disease and all. In fact, I have always viewed the weathering of the the many trials and tribulations surrounding his diagnosis as a great gift, in that --from the moment he was born-- I never had the option of taking him for granted, of getting complacent. Many parents will tell you that they cant imagine their life without their kid(s), but I had to look into that dark place, and find my way out of the abyss that swallowed me as a result. From the moment one stoic and unfeeling doctor told me "don't get attached to him", I have been faced with the possibility of him not being here. I have no doubt that the possibility does not hold a candle to the reality.

The amazing and profound Ms.Zilla turned me onto the story of Erin , a mama who has lost two children to heart defects, and rather than being crushed under the weight of that grief, Erin is taking to the streets to raise money and awareness. I am an organizer and fundraiser for good causes from way back, a dyed in the wool, card-carrying do-gooder. I would like to believe that, in her shoes, I would have the strength and courage to be the kind of example she is being, but I have my doubts. In any event, thanks to Erin we all have the opportunity to rise to the occasion and make a difference.

Erin writes "Heart defects are the #1 most common birth defect . . . In the vast majority of cases, the cause is unknown, there are no steps for prevention, and there is no cure. That is the current future of our children.

I want to do my part to change that future. My life has been, as most of you know, deeply impacted by this lack of awareness and research. In an effort to stop other parents from losing children, I've decided to participate in the Charlotte Metro Heart Walk 2006 on September 16th to support awareness and research of Congenital Heart Defects. I'm aiming to raise $2000 in donations. If you'd like to support my effort, you can donate online at:

http://heartwalk.kintera.org/charlottenc/novasheart
[link has info for mailing donations as well as how to give online]

It isn't required by the AHA, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd put "In Memory of Nova LeClair" in the memo slot."

I know first hand what a difference funding for research can make, it has made a world of difference in combating so many diseases. Here, then, is an opportunity to have a powerful impact on the world, on the future, and on children's lives --without even getting out of you jammies. Don't miss it.

Of Step-Parents and Sustainability

Children are meant to hate their step parents, and other interlopers in their parent's romantic lives. That is the natural order of things. I don't makes the rules, but there they are none the less.

I say this as someone who has dated and been married to folks who came with kids. The Gardener had both a child and a step-child, both in their teens, when we met. And they both hated me. As they grew into adulthood they outgrew their need to hate me, but as kids they had their psychologically and developmentally appropriate loathing for me, as was only right and proper.

Recently, The Gardener, from whom I have been separated for over a year, went on a date with The Intern. And The Boy has spent the past week going on and on about how good and nice and wonderful the Intern is (my son spends a lot of time at the Gardener's place of employment while I'm in class, and so has known the Intern for some time) The Boy tells me how --unlike me-- the Intern knows how to "duel" with Yugio Cards, is brilliant at any number of games and fun activities, and (wait for it, people) what a great step-mother she would make.

yeah.

It feels just a little like I am loosing my son, along with The Gardener, to this interloper; and all the while being cast as "The Mean Parent". The Intern took the liberty of granting the Boy his life long wish for a GameBoy, a treasure I had so far denied him; not because I couldn't afford it, which I cant, but because I value children being engaged in the real world and real activities, rather then spending bright summer days plugged into electronic consumer products. I had been encouraging The Boy to save up to purchase one for himself, imagining that he could gain insights and skills around setting goals and working towards them, perhaps even a sense of empowerment. But the intern cut through all that with instant gratification. So, my credibility as a parent had been undermined, and I have dropped several notches on the Cool Scale. But that not the worst part.

The worst part isn't feeling that I am loosing the Boy, MY boy, to this all too young intern, it's not even that the Boy thinks she will make a great step mother, though that relates. I am all but sure that The Intern will not become his step-mother, that she is just one more siren, the first The Boy has met, sweeping through the Gardener's life. The worst part is that my dear, sweet, wonderful boy, who loves with the biggest heart I have ever encountered, has already gotten attached to the Intern, just as he had been attached, without having ever given it any conscious thought, to the family we once were with The Gardener. The worst part is how his view of love, commitment, and loyalty will change, is changing even now, due to these failed romances.

The GameBoy is like a metaphor for The shiny and seductive new “must have” consumer products bombarding our airwaves; for the 'Thursday Morning Girls'*; for our cultures insistence on valuing instant gratification and novelty over things that have substance, things that are real. A GameBoy, valued at over $100 when first purchased, quickly looses it's novelty and 'new toy glow', and the next thing you know it is cast aside in favor of the Next Big Thing. Recently I saw one available at Goodwill for $10, once some boy's heart's desire, it now had a few dings and scratches, perhaps, and as a result it is now seen as old, boring, uncool, incompatible with the latest games and trends: possessing all the flaws the Boy sees in me at the moment.

This is how resources get depleted, and landfills filled: we move from one new toy to the next, looking to be amused or entertained externally, never finding real satisfaction. Casting our treasures aside as their novelty wares off. Feeding our insatable appitites on a finite planet.

“The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.”

No surprise, I have been thinking a good deal of late about theVelveteen Rabbit The Shiny, The New, The Untried will always have some degree of seductive charm, but we must evolve past our susceptibility to it. Me must get to a place where we recognize the value and meaning of what we have, of that which has stood the test of time. If we can not love the worn and storied in ourselves and each other, if we can not value the history and experiences in eachothers eyes, how can we hope to create sustainability in the larger community.

If we are not careful we get lazy, get swept up in the seduction of the new, the novel, the 'next big thing', and then we will see only the flaws, the worn and real places, in what we have and not even remember the role we ourselves played in creating those flaws, that we created those flaws as we created our history together. We forget that theses are what make them, and us, real. Scratches can be buffed, tares and breaks mended, but endurance and history can not be purchased or replaced


"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When someone loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."


[*"Thursday Morning Girls", taken from an episode of Gilmor Girls --see, I am so hip! Essentially, a reference for Sirens; sperficial and seductive distractions, diversions]

Oy with the chickens already!

First, a disclaimer: nothing in this post is meant to discourage the keeping of poultry. Chickens are charming, ducks are delightful, poulry is fabulous and I plan to be keeping poultry of one sort or another for the rest of my life.

Right. So, that said, chickens are wacky, and a great deal of trouble besides. As the reader (I can not fathom that theres more than one) may remember, I began the spring with Ruby and Ester, two spring chickens who were delightful, if a little inconsistent in the laying department. Due to insufficient egg production, I added a third chicken, a Bantam who never really got a name. I had always heard how sweet and wonderful Bantys are, and they lay these lovely little light brown eggs. But this one somehow brought out homicidal tendencies in Ruby and Ester, which I found quite shocking. It also resulted in a complete stop to all egg laying by all concerned.
So, for a number of reasons, including the fact that I had really wanted Bantams in the first place, I sent Ruby and Ester packing. The Bantam was good at laying, but tried to scratch our eyes out whenever we entered the hen yard. She, in fact, flew into a panic whenever we came near the yard. We didn't dare let her out into the garden to eat slugs and weeds, as we had with Ruby and Ester, as we feared we would never get her back in. So there has been a slug festival going on in the garden, which has not been getting it's daily dose of organic chicken manure fertilizer, and I was feeling that I was taking my life into my hands whenever I went to collect eggs --I didn't dare let The Boy do it!

So, today we sent the Banty packing, and Ruby and Ester are back: Yay!

Writing from The Wound

I have been taking this amazing class this term, called Writing To Heal (an amazing gift from the goddess) in which we are encouraged to "write from the wound". Good advice that is hard to follow. The two primary challenges that I have encountered are, first, knowing which wound: recognizing the the original source of the pain. The second is know which stories are mine to tell.

My wounds and my pain, the stories I most need to sort though and get down, are tangled with those of others. And the quandary becomes, how to tell my story without telling anyone elses? What is mine to tell and what is not? In the past I have sometimes solved this by writing fiction --or claiming so. If all the 'characters' are fictional, then all their stories are mine to tell. But it doesn't work in every case, or with every story.

I suppose must of us cloth our stories in fiction, or present them as such. We simplify, accentuate the positive, or the parts we think serve us best. We edit around the would and hide from the pain. We ask out the pretty, simple girl, rather than risk the intimate depths and murky darkness of an intelligent and complicated woman. We take the safe and easy path, the one that keeps us within our comfort zone. And always, always, we confuse where the line lies between our stories and the stories of others.

The trouble with making a fiction of our lives is that we become the stories we tell. The mask we wear becomes our face. And so I have been trying to find my real story, amongst the fiction I have woven, trying to untangle it from the stories that are not mine.

As I do so I have been thinking of the story that lead me to go back to school. A parable of sorts. The story tells of a teacher who becomes frustrated with an impertinent student: outraged by the students questions, the teacher seizes a world map, tears it to pieces, and tosses the pieces at the student, telling the student to busy themselves putting the map back together. The student does so in remarkably short time. When the teacher demands to know how, the student explains "On the back of the map was a picture of a person, I put the person back together, and in so doing mended the world" That was the story that put me on the path of becoming an Art Therapist, and I think that may be the true secrete of sustainability. If we can mend our broken selves, and broken ways, we would -in so doing- mend this broken Earth.

Cant See The Garden for The Weeds

School, computer failures, and other circumstances have kept me busy and delayed postings --and a great many other chores. Just as well, it's been a weird couple of weeks, and by my not posting you were all spared the strange tale of how I was verbally attacked for cleaning my living room; as well as the grim and depressing details of the demise of my relationships with my best friend, my therapist, and my chickens. Then, of course, there was my son's near death experience after he flushed homegrown broccoli (broccoli that I had tenderly nurtured and into which I had tirelessly pored my blood sweat and tears) down the toilet and then claimed that he had eaten. grrrr. nuff said

A dear friend was visiting last weekend and asked to see my infamous garden, I knew that I had been neglecting it the past few weeks, but even I wasn't prepared for the weed insurgency going on in my back yard. Oh, the humanity --or perhaps I should say 'Oh the vegetation'! The grass surrounding the garden is nearly as tall as The Boy, and members of the weed Axis of Evil have infiltrated every bed! It is just unbelievable. You would think I had been planting weeds, and that a few veggies had crop up among them, rather than the other way around.

It was so embarrassing, not just because I have been crowing about my garden in this blogg, and in every other setting where folks couldn't shut me up, but also because I have enormous respect for this friend, who is brilliant at just about everything, and there we were, standing among the ravages of weeds and slugs, in this jungle that had once been my garden . . . jeeeeeze, my head is hung low.

19th century plant breeder Luther Burbank, held the philosophy that when humans domesticated wild plants into vegetable crops, we entered into an enduring covenant with them in which we agreed to shelter and sustain them, and to eliminate predators and competing plants. Having bred them to be comparatively delicate and dependent, as well as succulent and delicious, we took on responsibility to nurture and protect them from invading weeds. So I am feeling like I broke some sacred pact. They'll take my gardening licence, sure, I'm after thinkin

Luckily, a few weeks neglect, however regrettable, is not fatal. I have been working my way through the beds, slowly turning areas so thick with vegetation that I can not see the soil back to weed-free garden space. Work in the garden is something of a double-edged sword for me. On the one hands it is a walking meditation, like chopping wood and carrying water, it is therapeutic and lends itself to the kind of mindfulness I strive for. But in the mindfulness, and the rhythmic and cyclical work of the garden, are memories and emotions every bit as thick as these weeds. The memories are so sharp and clear, yet the life to which they are attached to feels so far removed from me, it is as if that life belongs to someone else, some other pair of gardeners. The hope is that, as I weed out the unwanted, I will create space for new growth.

First Harvest

Brought in my first harvest from my fledgling garden this weekend: spinach, broccoli, "baby" salad green and green onions. Can't ask for a better Mother's Day weekend than that! Made personal pizza for dinner to celebrate the garden's bounty. Had I been gardening last fall I would also have garlic, carrots and possibly ripe peas. Ah, next year!

These early offerings make wonderful additions to pasta, without needing to worry about formal "recipes". Peas, garlic, green onions and grated carrots can be added, to taste, to fettuccini or linquini: just cook the pasta, adding the peas in the last minutes if you like, drain, place in bowl. Crush garlic/chop onions and combine with olive oil, drizzle over pasta, add grated carrots, if desired, and parmisian cheese and toss.

Lasagna is also an easy way to use just about any combination of veggies: cook lasagna noodles, drain. Layer cooked noodles, roccata cheese, veggies (spinach, broccoli, grated carrots, chopped onions, crushed garlic, etc) in dip dish baking pan. Top with grated cheese.

Of course, there are dozens of things one could make with these ingredients, and these recommendation are not so different than those you will find in just about any cook book. The difference is the fresh, homegrown, organic veggies: the difference there is indescribable.

I have to admit that, in additions to the epicurean delight of the flavor that comes from garden fresh ingredients, I get a great deal of smug satisfaction knowing that this food comes to me with zero food miles, zero chemicals, zero abusive labor practices and zero animal cruelty.

Tips for Commuting by Bus with Kids

Today went a bit better (relatively) and I realized that it is not really the car I miss, it's my bike. A normal weekday has me riding three miles from where the carpool drops me. Riding alone, able to zip along whatever route I choose, able to complete errands between or after classes before picking my son up. Sometimes I go home on my own, arranging for him to be brought later in the afternoon. Buses do not offer that kind of flexibility, nor does full-on, non-stop single parenting. I didn't choose to be a single parent, and I certainly didn't choose to be suddenly and unexpectedly without any form of childcare. A car wouldn't really fix any of these issues. Although a car would have allowed me to go to therapy this week, and bitch at my therapist, rather than y'all.

So, in addition to getting a reality check about my need to expand my network of parenting support, I gained a new appreciation for the plight of bus commuters --especially those traveling with kids. Although I have a Trail-A-Bike for my son, it is not reasonable to expect him to be able to bounce out of bed and onto a bike, nor is he up to riding all day, all over town. And so I offer what little wisdom I gave gained so far . . .

Tips for Bus Commuting with Kids:
*Pack snacks -lots, more than you can ever imagine needing. Cheese and veggie sticks, mixed nuts, fruit, etc. If you add frozen berries to plain yogurt in a reusable (Tupperware-oid) container it will stay good all day. Bring juice in a reusable plastic container --you can freeze some of the juice in an ice tray and add the "juice ice" to your container of ice, allowing you and your kid to enjoy fresh, cold juice all day.

*Bring maps so the kid can "navigate" can sometimes help with boardom. Packing along the commic section of the morning paper also works

*Many light layers.

*Those mini folding umbrellas are lifesavers, as are “emergency” rain ponchos that come folded up smaller than a salteen cracker. Collect them and keep them on hand

*Reading material and art supplies can help keep the kids busy during stops and long waits. Let the kids carry their own cargo in a comfortably fitting back back.

*Rolling back packs, like those used by students, and folding "Granny Carts" can save your back and your sanity

*Really consider what errands need to be done, and if they need to be done today. I am finding that I need to really scale back what I think can be done in one day.

*Organize errands along the bus routes: today we went to the yarn store, The Boy's Tae Kwon Do lessons, and the video rental store, because they were all along one bus route. We delayed a trip The Boy wanted to make to get trading cards, so that we can do it as part of a cluster of errands on another bus rout on another day. One problem with Monday was we tried to do things in several different parts of town, requiring several bus transfers. kids, dont try it!


Several of these tips apply to traveling by bike with kids. More than anything I am learning the importance of having a LARGE network of folk to call on and lean on, otherwise one finds oneself considering putting one's child up on eBay. ;)

May is Bike Month, dude, deal with it

May is National Bike Month, this is an important thing to remember. I need to bare it mind. I need to remember this --appreciate this fact-- because my auto-assist/carpool buddy has left town. It is National Bike Month, making it the perfect time to go fully and completely car free. It's like fate. I wonder if it is also fate that the person my son hangs with while I am at school is not available this week. Well, it may not be fate, but it makes sense, because they are the same person. So, I found out Friday that I will not have access to child care or car share all this week. SUPRISE!

SO, today I dragged The Boy and I outta bed and to the bus stop (it became clear that we were not going to get out the door in time to go by bike). Absent any child care, I lugged the kid along with me to class (wonder if he can get collage credit while homeschooling?) Had to empty my change purse into his hands and send him out to find snacks so that he would not hear a reading in Lit class that I don't think I was old enough for (he got spared, anyway). Got to deal with him being board much of the day. Got caught in the rain without our coats after class and took shelter in the bookstore. While there we found all these books sure to enhance our homeschooling experience: bought way too many and had to lug them with us as we completed our errands for the day. All completed by bus. The one bright spot in an otherwise rather nightmarish day was an all too brief visit with a wonderful friend.

By the end of the night, as we staggered across our wee little threshold and collapsed in bed (actually had dinner in bed) I have to admit that, after juggling The Boy, my books, etc. while navagating my education, errands and social life, I missed having a car just a little. I miss having help with The Boy a whole lot. I am hoping that today was just a rough start to an unexpected lack of both carpool and child care. It is National Bike Month, after all, the perfect time to go car free.

The Peaceable Kingdom

After a weeks separation, and one failed attempt at reunification, a truce has been called among the chickens of our urban homestead, and they are all back together in their opulant hen yard. This experience has underscored for me how intelligent these critters are, how complex their social structure is, and how indefensible standard poultry industry practices are.

Because we live within the city limits, the chickens are not, technically, allowed to be 'free ranging', and my past experience with urban predators has illustrated the value of a fully enclosed yard around the hen house. The aviary provides our chickens with access to soil, sun shade and allows them enough room to fly. But I also know the value, to both the chickens and the harvest, of allowing them to patrol the garden, so every afternoon we let them out, under supervision, to chase bugs and drop the freshest organic fertilizer available on the garden beds while we plant, or weed, or just sit back and enjoy watching the natural cycles at work.


The garden, which is over 300 square feet now, is recovering from a series of late season frosts. Our last frost date in spring is supposed to be mid April, but there have been a couple of frosty mornings (the first arriving without warning) since then, and the tomatoes did not take it well. The first frost came without warning, after I had already transplanted the tomatoes starts out into the garden. About half succumbed to the cold that night. The subsequent frost was forcasted, so I was able to take measures to protect the tomatoes, as well as the newly transplanted sweet peppers. The peppers stayed snug and have faired well, but some of the sheets covering the tomatoes were dislodged by wind, and again some were lost to the cold. I have noted with interest that the heirloom tomatoes that I selected because they originated either in this area, or in similar climates, have held their ground far better than the Romas. Still, I waited till we had past the last date on record for freezing temps before replacing the lost starts.

I have been combining organic, permaculture, and biodynamic principles in the garden, which has been interesting. The organic part is easy enough, but the others require me to stretch my rather underdeveloped organizational and planning skills. For example, biodynamic principles follow the lunar cycles and seeks to coordinate planting, cultivation and harvest with natures rhythms. There is much I like about this system, not the least of which being the way it enhanses my sense of connection to natural cycles, but there are down sides. For example, if one looses half of ones tomatoes crop due to a late frost, one might find that, according to the lunar planting chart, tomatoes and other “fruits with seeds” arnt meant to be planted again for another 3 weeks; or one may find themselves with fingerling potatoe tubers that need to go in now, before they spoil.

I'm no expert, but my own answer to this has been that these are the times when wise women fall back on their own good sense. Waiting 3 weeks to plant more tomatoes could be a fatal mistake, and just the thought of what my great grandmother's expression at the very idea of waisting tubers, just because the moon isnt full yet (oh, it gives me chills!!). So, I follow the charts religiously, except when I don't; and avoid waist, except when I cant. So far, it's working

New Wheels

The garden I began so tentitively early in the year has been unfolding across the back yard, it just takes my breath away. I have been combining permaculture, biodynamic, and organic principles, in part because I am naturally obsessive, and in part because I want every advantage: I figure that each of these methods has some truth to it, and if I combine them I'm bound to get some harvest from the effort.

Even though I have gardened for much of my adult life, I have always done so with a more experienced gardener. As I stumble along I am finding great satisfaction in watching the garden's progress, and my own growing competence. I also have a growing recognition of the myriad interconnecting wheels of sustainability.

Although this blog takes it's name, in large measure, from the notion of the shift to bikes as a revolutionary --and nessisary-- move toward sustainability, the vision for the blog has always about the broad and often ephemeral elements of living a sustainable life. Appropriate transportation remains an essential piece, that becomes more important with every passing day, but it is not the only piece, and it will not, by itself, create the paradim shift we need.

Intimately intwined with the issues surrounding appropriate transpertation are the the issues related to the issues of "food miles", multi-national agri-bussiness, and localization.
These, intern, intwine with social justice issues, and envronmental justice. Like the gears and wheels of a bike they work together to create the complex systems that required for sustainability.

The current multi-national corperate conglomerate system of delivering "consumer goods" robs us of so much more than clean air or finite fuel. It deprives us of knowledge about where and how of food is grown and products made, it deprives us of relationships with the people who grow and create the things we buy, it removes us from the systems that make up and support our lives, and make us dependdent on an inhuman network of interconnected corperations that are not accountable to us or the greater good.

None of this is "new" news, but what has been lacking, I thing, is a way to adress it, a meaningful, do-able response to a system that feels all powerful and overwellming. How does one 'walk away from Omelas' when it feels that the Omelas has taken over the planet? One step at a time, but not with one step alone

MAY IS NATIONAL BIKE MONTH

May is National Bike Month! What a great opportunity to experiment with alternatives to fossil fuel dependent transportation!

In anticipation of this annual event, and in order to avoid shopping on May Day, I went on a massive grocery shopping trip at the end of April, purchasing all the non-perishable food items I will need for the month of May. You should have seen the expression on the checker's face as I rolled up with a shopping cart filled nearly to the point of overflowing with several dozen jars of pasta sauce, pounds of dry pasta, two giant bags of dog food, and so on. I did use a car for this trip, but heres my point: I wont have to drive to the store again all month. I can pick up parishables and treats by bike on my way home in the evenings. You don't have to go to these extremes in order to reduce your driving, planning and grouping the trips for which you really do need a vehicle can allow you to have whole days on end where you don't have to drive at all. One car-free day a week can have an enormous positive impact on the environment, your health, and your budget

BikeLeague.org
BicyclingInfo.org
CyclingBooks&Resources

Juggling Chickens

Chickens, I am discovering, are trouble.

About a month ago I got two white hens, Ruby and Ester, and for all their delightful qualities, including bug eradication and spreading organic fertilizer, I was only getting one egg a day from the two of them, which is not enough for the Boy and I. So, Saturday I (foolishly) acquired another chicken, a very sweet little black Bantam hen. To quote my son: oy vey. Ruby and Ester, resentful of this sudden interloper, insisted on ganging up on the little Banty hen with more savage persistence than I ever could have imagined.

I managed to get the little hen back into her plastic pet carrier, and hoped that having her in the chicken yard, protected by the carrier, would allow she and the other hens to work out their differences (I am such and idealistic pacifist!)

I had had great plans for Sunday, hoping to catch up on a long list of neglected chores and projects. Instead I spent the day intervening on the Chicken Civil War in my back yard.

In the morning, when I let her out of the carrier, there was a brief cease fire, after which the attacks resumed. I tried having both Ruby and Ester in the carrier (effective in preventing attacks, but rather inhumane), I tried having Ester, who appeared to be the “Ring Leader” in the carrier and letting Ruby and the Banty get to know each other one-on-one. This appeared effective at first, but after a short time Ruby took up the campaign against the Banty. I considered several recipes featuring chicken.

I had been considering setting up a "chicken tractor" click to see example to help in preparing some garden beds, and this seemed like a really good time to have a second chicken area. So I hastily put one together at the North edge of the garden, where I hope to add one more bed ("just one more", thats what I say each time). Once it was ready, I brought the carrier over and put Ester in, then went to get Ruby out of the chicken yard and away from the Banty.

When I went to put Ruby in, Ester got out.

For the uninitiated out there, catching a chicken is no small matter, even in an enclosed area. They move very fast, can fly, and have a tendency to hurl themselves at your head when you try to corner them. The Boy and I do alright herding then around the garden each afternoon during their daily constitutional, but in that case we arnt actually trying to catch them, we're just keeping them off the new starts while they hunt bugs, then herding them back into the chicken yard. Catching a hen in the fully enclosed chicken yard is one thing, catching one that is loose in the yard is quite another. It usually requires two or three people. My son was at his dad's house, so I was on my own.

I did finally managed it, hours later, using ingenuity that would have put McGiver to shame.

So, my Sunday was completely shot, and now, after all that trauma, none of the hens are laying, we are all grumpy, and I have a new found sympathy for Mrs. Tweety's character in Chicken Run. grr

"Watch this Space"

I am pleased to announce that rumors of my death are greatly exagerated.
My computer, however, did have a fatal collaps, taking with it all my passwords, etc. So even after replacing my laptop, I have been unable to log into my own blog. grr.

Much news, changes and what-not to follow, but for the moment I am typing this during a class, just to say "watch this space", I'm back and theres more good stuff to come. New Wheels, new ideas, new perspectives, new life in the coming spring.

Excuse #1

As National Bike Month (May) approaches, I have been asking folks I know who don't commute by bike for the reasons and challenges that keep them from doing so. Over the coming month I will site them, in no particular order, along with some solutions.


Excuse #1 I Couldn't Possibly Bike Commute: I Need To Look Professional at Work.

There are easily half a dozen solutions to this, possibly more:

A Bike Bucket will hold approximately 3 complete changes of clothes, for your day at work/school you will need approximately one change of clothes

“But I don't HAVE Bike Buckets”

ok thats just lame. For less than $10 you can make a pair of buckets (DIY instructions coming soon); for less than the cost of a tank of gas you could buy a pair of buckets, a basket, or a rear rack.

or . . .

Depending on how prim and proper you need to look, you could also carry a change in your bag or back pack

or . . .

You can keep changes of clothes at work/school. Hang a garment bag on the back of your office door or in your locker.

or . . .

For that matter you can reconsider whether you need a change of clothes: I rarely bother with a change of clothes. I wear light layers, adjusting so that I feel just a wee bit cool as I ride, and find that I generally don't break a sweat. Use antiperspirant, and keep some on hand at work/school as well.

You can do this , people!



"Looking prim and propper in rout to work"
(photo credit: Community Cycling Center's Worst Day of The Year Ride)

She's got no car!

I have friends who have begun introducing me as "This is Kyrstin:she doesn't have a car", almost like a modern variation of "dances-with-wolves". I suppose it's a refreshing change from having my whole identity be, apparently, “The Boy's Mom”, but I'm not sure my lack of car is as defining as all that. I have yet to achieve full car freedom, and even if I had, my real goal is to live a sustainable and rewarding life. Cycling is a big part of that goal, but it is a far cry from being the whole kit-and-caboodle

Perhaps it's the new moniker, or just because I love a challenge, anyway I am going to begin an experiment to see how long I can go without getting in a car. They say you are defined by what you cant give up, so I guess I'll see how well I do giving up cars, and how long I can make it last. Sunday is the start of the week, start of daylight savings time and start of the new quarter --what better time to start the experiment.

Looking for Slug Stoppers

Our garden has, I believe, the highest per capita slug population on the planet. In the past we kept them in check, to a degree, with ducks. Now we have chickens, who provide all kinds of advantages, but do not eat slugs. SO, here is your chance to waigh in with your favorite organic pest control measures.

Monsoon Season

Inclement weather and urgent home improvement projects have kept us off the bike this past week, and technical difficulties have kept me off line. I have managed to knock back the encroaching clutter in my home, some what, in preparation for an energy audit, appraisal, and the arrival of appliance repair people to work on the furnace and clothes washer. I was aided by the enthusiastic assistance of The Boy, who was eager to impress upon me how mature and responsible he is, so that I would agree to let him go to an event on the weekend. I didn't mind the ulterior motives one bit, when motivated he makes an excellent assistant!

The chickens are here!!
Ruby and Ester are settling into the chicken yard, which I am told is much swankyer than their previous digs. The two are sisters, born under the same mama at the same time, and they are so sweet together. Their arrival was delaid while I completed work on a bi-level hen house with individual reclaimed cedar nest-boxes and the works; and after all that they are nesting together in the old duck house, barely a glorified crate, that has been rotting in a corner of the yard the past few years. Go figure!

We opted for adopting adult chickens so we could start getting eggs right away, though we were warned that, with all the excitment of the move, they might lay off laying for a few days. But I guess all the human grade organic grains and produce, as well as the sweet crib, are paying off
because they havn't missed a morning. The aviary at the East end of the garden allows them to fly, and gives them access to sun, soil and bugs --they love the bugs. They are great company while I work in the garden, and they latest step in our journey towards sustainability.

The monsoons brought work on the garden to a stand still earlier in the week, and the weather report has the rains lasting into the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, the veggie starts in the kitchen window continue to grow! The plan is to have over 200 sqare feet of garden, from which we hope to get most of our produce --if it doesnt all flaot away!

I know that my ancestors, and the other farmers of yore, had to contend with unending rains and other adverse conditions, but I imagine they had some better idea what to do in this kinda situation. I have managed to play catch-up, to a certain extent guess thats all anyone can do.


Bike Miles This Week: 7 miles
Cumulative Bike Miles Since Febuary 1st: 160
Cumulative Cycling Expenses: $40
Cumulative Cost per Mile: $0.25

Hey Mikey -he wont eat it!

Another day, another trip to the Chiropractic clinc -SUVman is going to make them rich, which is only right and proper.

I was tired enough on the way home with my son that, while we were making a quick stop at the store, I started to reach for a boxed instant pasta dinner thing --hey, it was organic! My son wrinkled his nose and said "Mom, that has fake powdered 'cheese' that when you mix it up looks like fondue, thats not real food." oy vey, thats what I get fer raising him right!

Had to share this photo, taken yesterday, of my lovely and amazing bike with the buckets, leaving the farmers market loaded with yummy organic groceries and veggie starts for the garden




Wednesdays Ride: 2 miles
Cumulative Bike Miles Since Febuary 1st: 153
Cumulative Cycling Expenses: $40
Cumulative Cost per Mile: $0.26

Market Day

Wednesday I woke up to NPR announcing that Oregon has the third highest air pollution in the Nation, owing largely to auto emissions. The paper went on to explain that Oregonians have some of the highest rates of Cancer due to air pollution. Sure made me glad not to be contributing to the problem.

I had another Chiropractic appointment, after which I peddled to the hardware store, City Bikes, and onto the Farmers Market. I love market day, especially in spring, everything looks so new and vibrant. People's Food Co-op hosts one of the city's only year round markets, and even though there are fewer booths this time of year, the teaming baskets of produce, the musicians, and the people are a delight to the senses. I love knowing the people who raise my food.

My bike buckets drew a lot of attention (I hope to have photos soon), the Farmers Market is in a neighborhood with a large cycling population. Several people were curious as to why I have them mounted over the front wheel, rather than the rear (I didn't have the Trail-A-Bike attached, so the answer wasn't obvious), as well as exactly how I built and mounted them, so I will be posting DIY instructions here soon.

Thanks to the bike-scale bungee cords that I picked up at City Bikes, I managed to use the top of the buckets as a surface on which to strap a flat of veggie starts and other delicate items from the Farmers Market. Also noteworthy: I was able to get all of my errands done in just over 3 miles: most car trips in America are under 5 miles -many are under 1 mile- making utility cycling a real option. Yet many folks have the misguided notion that they have "too much running around to do" to go by bike. If they actually looked at the mileage, and perhaps planned their trips, they would find utility cycling not only very do-able, but also far more enjoyable than fighting their way through traffic

Wednesdays Ride: 3 miles
Cumulative Bike Miles Since Febuary 1st: 151
Cumulative Cycling Expenses: $40
Cumulative Cost per Mile: $0.26

Cancer Cuasing Emissions: O

Subverting the dominant paradigm: Priceless

Shopping on a Bike

Peddled over to the Co-op Tuesday to forage for dinner before picking up The Boy. I was pleased to discover that the new buckets hold a canvas bag of groceries each with a minimum of juggling. While there I ran into a friend who has a huge garden --really, it's a small homestead, last year he was selling his surplus at the farmers market. Remembering how much he enjoyed the eggs I used to get from my ducks (before their sad demise), I mentioned that I was going to have poultry again and would love to barter my eggs for some of his produce, an idea he was very amenable to. One more step towards sustainability!

With National Bike Month coming up (May), I have been thinking about writing a series of posts on different aspects of utility biking, but in the case of grocery shopping, it just strikes me as so simple. But here are some tips:

Handlebar baskets can hold a limited number of essentials, for example, a box of rice milk, a bag of pasta, jar of sauce, and a roll of TP. Basically one meal. Too much weight in the basket can complicate steering and handling of the bike.

One grocery bag will fit in:
a back pack
a bike bucket
panniers
When loading any of the above, take care that heavier/ridged items are at the bottom, while lighter/delicate items are at the top. I don't frequently buy a lot of frozen items, but when I do, I try to have the cold items together in one bag, or together at the bottom of the bag, to keep each other cold.

Someday I hope to add a FreeRadical from Xtracycle to my rig, allowing me to do big shopping trips like the woman in this photo. They just got a nice write-up in the local paper as part of an article on inventions created by collage students. I understand that these racks can hold 4+ fully loaded grocery bags on either side, plus theres that wooden platform over the rear wheel that can hold more gear -or even a kid!

Bikes At Work offers a wide varriety of sturdy, versatile bike trailers that will allow you to haul anything from a tub of groceries to a refrigerator (seriously)

Shopping by bike is quite possibly the easiest example of utility cycling: no worries about deadlines, or professional appearance as or anything like that, so why not give it a try?


Tuesday's Ride: 4 miles
Cumulative Bike Miles Since Febuary 1st: 148
Cumulative Cycling Expenses: $36
Cumulative Cost per Mile: $0.25
Subverting the dominant paradigm: Priceless

Happy Equinox

I have been pondering a number of sustainability issues this Equinox, including Peak Oil and permaculture gardening. I hope to distil my thoughts into some posts in the coming weeks, but in the mean time I couldnt resist sharing this article about how Cuba has thrived after a suden and drastic recuction in thier access to imported oil and foods. Some people think that life post Peak Oil will look like a Mad Max movie, but this story shows that it doesnt need to be that way

Night Rider

My first real ride since the accident also ended up being my first ever late night ride –and cross town no less-- as well as my first opportunity to try out the bike buckets.

Over the past few days friends and family have been doting on me and shepherding me to appointments and places I needed to get, but by Sunday I was feeling well enough to accept an diiner invitation, and to get myself there by bike.

I was really pleased with how my home-made bike buckets worked. The first pair I made fell victim to the car accident before I got the chance to really use them. The new set of buckets worked beautifully and carried an impressive amount, I was able to bring my contribution to the dinner, as well as extra layers for the ride home and my Supper Hero Cape (ok, it's not really a cape, it's this crazy reflective yellow biking poncho that fits over me like a giant tent and looks ridiculous, but also makes me extremely visible at night)

One thing I have noticed about riding with the buckets is that people get out of my way and cars give me a wider berth! The buckets give the effect of a wider profile (although they do not extend beyond the widest part of my handlebars), and just generally lend themselves to a more substantial, commanding presence. I have noticed a significant difference in how much room I am given, both on the street and shared pedestrian/cycle lanes. It's a real added benefit, along with the extra cargo space!

The date went late, and I found myself winding my way home through unfamiliar streets in the middle of the night. I was a little nervous about it at first, especially given that this was both my first real ride since the accident, and my first night time ride, but my bight yellow buckets and bright yellow Supper Hero Cape made me very visible (along with my front and rear lights), and it felt so good to be back on a bike, I arrived back home feeling elated and renewed.

Last Nights Ride: 9 miles
Cumulative Bike Miles Since Febuary 1st: 144
Cumulative Cycling Expenses: $36
Cumulative Cost per Mile: $0.25
Subverting the dominant paradigm: Priceless

The New Garden

This is the first time I am gardening alone. Two years ago, and going back 15 years previous, I had a partner with whom I created this garden and every garden that came before.

As I begin turning the soil, it is as if I am exhuming the memories. Breaking up the clods and reveling forgotten bulbs, I am reminded of the songs we sang and the plans we made here. Almost as if the memories themselves were planted here. I turn them back under tenderly and prepare the place for new seeds.

Last season I did not garden at all, I did not even set foot back here. The yard grew wild, shaggy and feral, all thorns, barbs and snares. Now we are slowly getting re-acquainted and finding how we fit together in this new arrangement, and in doing so I am falling in love with gardening all over again.


The peas are in, sewn along the south fence. I managed to slip them in between the rain and snow and other storms and adverse situations we have had of late. Roma tomatoes starts are growing large in my kitchen window, and bell peppers have begun to emerge next to them. I'm thinking I am going to need to buy broccoli starts, as mine are spindly and annimic for want of a warm spot in the garden. Poor things just didn't get enough sun in the window

I am regretting, just a little, not going with my very ambitious inclination to create an elaborate, swirly, permaculture inspired garden design. Instead I am following, more or less, the layout that was there before: long straight East-West rows. Not as interesting, but infinitely more manageable, and thats the thing: I really need this garden underway, and for it to be bountiful, as W keeps cutting my Financial Aid and raising the interest on my student loans --I would love to see he and Laura try to make ends-meet on my budget!

If things go as planned, this will be the largest garden I have ever tended, although weather and my school schedule have thrown a wrench into the plans and delayed progress. When I headed into the garden Saturday morning, the weather report indicated sunny skies for most of the rest of the week, and with that the possibility of getting the beds turned and the plants in seemed almost doable. When I cam in last night, covered in soil and scratches, and tuned into the weather report I got the update: it now looks like I only have till Tuesday night! So I better get back out there.

Weekend Update

I had intended to post updates on my various cycling and sustainability projects early this week, but then a big ugly SUV plowed through a red light and into me, which has thrown the schedule off a little

Sustainable Eating
Work began on our new improved Poultry Palace last weekend, and continues. We had ducks last year,but had not realized that predators lurk in even the most developed and urban of environments. Not sure whether it was raccoons or feral pets that got them, but we lost them last fall and have not wanted to get more without the ability to protect them from all comers.

We have missed having fresh, organic, cruelty free eggs, as well as the pest control and free fertilizer that egg-layers provide, and our timing in raising our own couldn't be better: the last local organic family poultry farm in our area just “closed it's coops” (they are shifting to other crops and critters), so our only options for store bought eggs will be conventional, cruelty-intensive varieties, or eggs shipped in from large scale facilities hundreds or thousands of miles away.

Not sure what varieties of poultry we will be raising, other than I know we will have quail because my son brought home a pair quail chicks from the feed store earlier this week(long story, don't ask). We are considering the addition of ducks, as we just loved the Cambells that we had last year, as well as Bantams.

In The Garden
Well, ok, sadly not much is happening in the garden, this is perhaps the area where I am most behind in my chores, but every surface in my home is covered with starts urging me on, anxious to be transplanted. The Boy and I are planning our biggest garden yet and are eager to see how much of our own food we can grow (he wanted to plant wheat so we could “harvest” our own pasta)


Mama Called Doctor and The Doctor Said . . .
Went to my first ever Chiropractor appointment following my run-in with SUVman: apparently I drink too much coffee, don't get enough sleep, and take care of everyone other than myself, so clearly my mama credentials are firmly intact.

All that aside, there is damage from the accident, but nothing permanent. Rather than years of physical therapy, I'm just looking at months of Chiro, massages and hot tub soaks. It could have been so much worse.

The Bike Lives!
The genius mechanics at City Bikes somehow managed, without Kings Horses, Kings Men, or even a King's ransom, to put my bike together again! Many parts were replaced, but it is back good as new, and I hope to be soon as well. I took the bike out for a brief ride, still feeling a bit shaky, but all the better for being back in the saddle. I definitely feel safer, and better on a bike.

War -UH!- What Is It Good For . . .
This weekend marks the 3rd anniversery of the war in Iraq, marches are planned in nearly every part of America today and Sunday. Thomas Jefferson said that dissent is the highest form of patriotism. I would go further, and say that without, without the freedom to express dissent, we are not patriots, we are not Americans.
One more quote before you head out into the streets, from Ed Murrow: "We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it . . . We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home".
Thats the update, now lets get out there.

CRASH

Caught in the crush of Finals Week and errands and the various pressures of life, I took to the streets in a car Wednesday morning, my beloved bike riding on the bike rack, when a massive black SUV plowed through a red light before crashing into the side of the car I was driving. The impact threw my bike completely off the rack and shoved the car into the next lane, and oncoming traffic.

I am alright, as is the SUV driver, but my bike suffered significant damage. After exchanging information and formalities with the other driver, I took my bike directly to City Bikes, and tonight it sits at their shop waiting for a welder and frame builder to see what might be done.

Had things gone only slightly differently, I would be dead. Had that happened I would have died doing something that conflicts with my core values and belief, and which steels the planet from future generations in incriments.

The good folks at City Bikes, after giving me a cozy chair and making sure I was ok, observed how lucky it was that I had been in a car, rather than on my bike. Strictly speaking this is true, there no way I would have survived such an impact, it is a miracle I survived it in the car. But I don't believe I would have been in the collision had I been on my bike, for a number of reasons, and am in no way grateful for having been in a car.

Absent a car I would not have been trying to fit so many errands into a single morning. Even if I had been running the same errand I was on when I got hit, I would have been using a different rout in order to take advantage of bike lanes. As a cyclist I am hyper vigilant in watching for cars and other dangers, in a way that it is not possible to be in a motor vehicle. As motorist we travel in these metallic bubbles that insulate us from our communities and even our own senses.

Hurtling along in these missiles of steel and glass, our ability to see and hear is compromised, as is our connection to the surrounding environment, while our sense of protection and invincibility is heightened. Children and pets are killed every day because they couldn't be seen in rear view mirrors or over the hoods of a cars, or because the driver could not stop or change trajectory in time.

Approximately, 6,000 pedestrians and cyclists are killed annually by cars, another 125,000 people are injured, according to data from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

Those 6,000 pedestrians and cyclists are among the 42,000 + people killed annually in traffic fatalities; meaning that in any two year period more Americans are killed by cars that were killed during the entire Vietnam War -and those are just the deaths resulting directly from collisions and accidents.

I guess all of this is a long-winded way of saying that I don't believe in driving cars, for all these reasons and more, and yet I nearly died while doing so, and it has me reevaluating the choices I make --and fail to make-- in my life. It has me noticing how easily we are lured away from those things that matter to us, even when we are cognizant of all these facts and and reasons for doing the right thing.

Cracking The Mt. Tabor Ridge

In cycling, as in life, the barriers and obsicles we encounter are often more mental than literal. In my pursuit of a more sustainable, eco-friendly life, I have been making the shift to using bikes as transportation, but I have had this mental block about cycling the full distance (over 7 miles) to school every morning. The Mt Tabor ridge has become, for me, the symbol of this barrier. Friday I cracked it.

My rout to school takes me over the Mt Tabor Ridge, a ridge formed by a dormant volcano, creating a narrow East/West divide that runs about a mile. Put that way it sounds very rugged, treacherous and legitimately daunting. How many people need to face a volcano on their way to school? In actual fact, from my home, it's a rather steep incline of 3 or so city blocks. Actual city blocks, paved, with sidewalks and street lights, even has bike lanes through part of it. The ridge is long enough that riding around it seems impreacticle, but it takes fewer than ahalf a dozen blocks to cross over it, once over the ridge the rout is nearly all flat or down hill. Still, combined with the 7 miles that follow, it has felt daunting to me. So up until this week I have "carpooled" over the ridge and to a point just 3 relatively flat miles from PSU.

I am no athlete, and between the demands of single parenting and the approach of Finals week, I have been cycling less and busing more. In doing so I have been feeling that my "conditioning work" was not moving in the direction I wanted it to. Friday morning's clear sunny skies beconed, and I didnt need to be on campus till late afternoon, so I headed out plenty early and rode the full 7 miles to school. As is so often the case, doing it was easier that thinking about it.

The next challenge, riding the full distance home, nearly all seven miles of which is UP hill.

Snow Day

Ah, I had such plans for today: I was going to get the chicken coop finished so we can once again have "home fresh eggs" and organic pest control in the garden, I was actually going to get work don putting in the garden, and I was going to going to get some riding in. But I woke this morning to a winter wonderland.

The rows of starts coving the kitchen table, arching toward the light as starts do, look as if they are peering out the window at the snow. Not yet my dearies, cant go out now.

So, the boy and I headed out for some provisions, as the light flurries turned to a cacophony reminiscent of a child's snow globe. We gathered supplies and hustled home through the "blizzard" and have currled up on the bed with warm drinks, our two cats, and good stories.

I suppose I could take the opportunity to write my Final paper, but instead am boning up on permaculture principles and planning the spring garden. Spring is right around the corner, after all.

Juggling Life, School, and Bike Buckets

I have been in a bit of a funk the past week or so, I wonder if this is, at least partly, inherent to the process of the shift I am making: I have lost some of the bright-eyed, giddy enthusiasm of the newly converted, mastered most of the novice level challenges, and am getting down to the real work of creating a sustainable life.

It hasn't helped that I the boy and I have been plagued with myriad complications and theoretical barriers to going by bike: cold and flue season, I have had an ankle injury, finals are looming large. Making the life I have work, while concurrently creating the life I want is proving daunting, and I'm not far enough along to see the rewards and benefits, gotta go on faith at this point.



The good news is I got my bike back from the shop, complete with front rack (managed to score a used one: more affordable and more sustainable) and have finally, just this evening, gotten to work on the "bike buckets". These awesome pannier alternatives that protect contents form crushing as well as the elements, while widening the bike's profile (thus making it more visible) and offering the perfect surface for political stickers and extra reflectors. (photo, above, shows an example)

I figured that I could make a pair myself for far less than the $50 the shop was charging.
Sure enough, for less than $8 I was able to get the hardware to mount 2 buckets obtained from the local food co-op's bulk food department (DIY photos coming soon)

The Serendipity of Cycling with Children

I have found so many unexpected benefits to cycling in tandem with my son --and have had so many questions about how to get started cycling with kids-- that I thought it deserved it's own article

I think that starting when when my son was young has been a real key to our success, although we only recently gave up the car, my son has never known a time when we didn't have and use bikes. When he was an infant I towed him to the park in a bike trailer, and he has had bike of his own from a young age.

When we as we made the shift to being full time bike commuters I tried to make the trips we took by bike fun and manageable, aiming for routes and destinations that were interesting and appealing to him. With the Trail-A-Bike, knowing that we can komokazi down hills at speeds he would never be able to do on his own is reason enough for my son to want to join me on rides, and he loves the attention we get (you would think we were freakin Super Heroes for all the heads we turn)

Layers
One important element, at least with my son, has been packing layers for him. Like most kids, he figures that if he is comfortable standing on the front porch, then thats good enough. He doesn't take into account that we create out own wind chill factor, or that it might rain or get warmers or colder.

Prior to their first birthday, infants should ride in trailers, the child seats that attach to your bike frame [http://www.whycycle.co.uk/images/rearbseat.jpg] more neck and muscle strength than infants have. Trailers can be used with kids up to about age 6, many models come with attachments that allow you to also use them as push strollers, and many offer sufficient space to carry a bag of groceries.

Although I know a number of families who have used and enjoyed the plastic baby seats that attach to an adults bike frame, I never used one. I used a trailer from the time my son was born until he outgrew it at almost a decade later, when we switched to a Trail-A-Bike. I still use the trailer to haul cargo. The baby seats may offer advantages, but they also have a very short useful life, and cant be converted for other uses.


Trail-A-Bikes
These magnificent inventions may take a day or two for you child to adjust to and feel comfortable on. My son panicked the first time he tried one, we had to start with me walking the bike as slowly as I could manage while he screamed that he was going to crash and die. The movement and overall feel of a Trail-A-Bike is different than a solo kids bike, and of course there is the small matter of no steering or breaks (from the child's perspective). Gradually my son warmed to it, and now loves how fast can go on it. One would never guess that the kid bellowing “Peddle Lady!” and “DONT put on the breaks, I wanna go FAST” is the same kid that was sure he was going to die as I walked along side the bike.

Riding in tandem is a great way for me role teach The Boy bicycle safety. Without the distractions of navigating his end of the bike, he has a front row view of how I negotiate traffic, handle tricky intersections, use hand signals, etc. of course this means I have to use good sense and appropriate hand gestures.

Perhaps the best benefit of cycling as a family has been that my son has grown up outside the dominant paradigm, unlike so many kids (and adults for that matter) he does not worship cars, nor does he share the widely held belief that they are necessary. He has been compiling a list of all the places we can go by bike, and proudly proclaims that "bikes are the cars of the future"

Cycling as a family has been, and continues to be, a wonderful experience for my son and I. I feel like it has really enhanced my relationship with my son, as a Child and Family studies major, I know that boys tend to open up during recreational and sports activities, and I have experienced this numerous times while biking with my son. Cycling together has facilitated conversations and provided opportunities for bonding that I don't think we would have had any other way.