Insane Parents Unite!

Global Gatherings

2012-01-31T10:45:00.000-08:00

Back when I home-schooled my children, I had to think up ways to facilitate the natural curiosity that children have – the kind that often gets swallowed up by video games and Nickelodeon. At least it did in my house. One way I did this was with Global Gatherings.

My House is Me

2012-01-18T18:50:00.000-08:00

Let me talk about my house.

The kitchen feels like my mom. Iwant to sit at this table – that my grandfather made – and drink the coffeethat my mom got up so early in the morning to drink. Before the rest of thehouse awoke.

Later

2012-01-10T06:35:00.001-08:00

So much to update that I can't imagine putting all down in one post.
But I'll try.
Later.

maybe it's not mine after all

2011-12-20T22:36:00.000-08:00

despair. a good day turned black fog.
Julia Stone's This Love
brings panic, a scrambling and nostalgia for a time
barely dead.

rising above the smog to the pristine crispness of your face and the firmness of your jaw
I reach for your soul
my own salvation
and turn off the lights to my hope.
maybe it's not mine after all.
maybe I'm hurting us anew.

from dark to light to dark again
my spirit fluctuates
dims and brightens with the sound of your voice
over the miles.

exhaustion is the plain unromantic truth
and sustainability is a mirage.

tsunami and drought
butterflies and grubs
mt. everest and the grand canyon
water and clay.

crushing vascillations,
doubt reproducing like
cell division.

rising above the smog to the pristine crispness of your face and the firmness of your jaw

I reach for your soul

my own salvation

and turn off the lights to my hope.

maybe it's not mine after all.

maybe I'm hurting us anew.

I'm here with you

2011-12-19T18:40:00.001-08:00

Hiding under dupatta

Listening to jingles when I walk

Echoes of laughter

Wonderment

Memories

Coming alive

I wish

I want

I learn

I cry

I feel

I swim

I drown

I rise to the surface.

Sleepless nights

Phone calls in darkness

After nightmares.

I’m here with you.

Bouncing on toes

Barefeet

Fingers in the air

Sweating

And spinning

And love

And yearning

And hope

For more days

For better days

For neverending days

With you, with you, with you.

Incense billows and fills in the cracks

Ganesha smiles and reassures

Pink quartz and Namascar

Floating through it all

The room

The bodies

The anxiety

And even pain

It won’t last

It’s transient

Like all other things

Joy and peace

And contentment

With reality

The reality I’ve chosen

The one with you in it

Are coming my way

I’m here with you.

Pulling Myself Up and Out

2011-12-19T18:31:00.000-08:00

Crunchy dead Yule tree

Presents unwrapped

House boxed up

Waiting

How to wait

In happiness

That’s what I want to know

How to live in the present

And find joy

And have

Gratitude

For what I experience and own and feel and live

Right

Now

Music

Dance

Friends

Entertaining

Watching movies

With

Those friends

And

Not

Alone

I promise

Uncovering

Self

From under

The snow

Time

With myself

Honoring

Understanding

Loving

Celebrating

With pink cheeks

And cold nose

Breath puffs in the air

I will

I will live

And love

Me.

I’ll be alone

And not alone

Rejoicing in the coolness of me.

South Asian Challenge 2012 -- Because.

2011-12-16T23:31:00.000-08:00

Ok.
Because I don't have anything better to do (Ha ha ha,) I'm signing up for this challenge.
And.
I will read ... 8 books this year either about South Asia, or written by a South Asian person.
In addition to all my other reading pursuits.
Because ...

Read more »

"Creative People Feel."

2011-11-27T22:40:00.001-08:00

I have writer's block. But not the regular kind. It's self-induced ... sort-of.

I was looking through some old content on this blog and recognized a certain open-ness that doesn't seem to exist on here anymore. And then I went to Facebook, and the same is true there, too. I'm not posting in either place. Or, I am, but in a vanilla sanitized way. Not too emotional. Not too raw. Not too edgy. Not too ... real.

Read more »

It's Winter

2011-11-21T09:55:00.001-08:00

It’s winter already. You know how Ican tell? Because my feet are cold. I’m weepy and I stand in the middle of theliving room looking at the coffee table laden with books and magazines andcandles with waxless corners and blackened rims.

The Crazies Are Setting In

2011-11-14T20:26:00.001-08:00

I have seven books on how to get organized. One of them boasts I can even do that without resorting to arson.

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I Need a Name For My New Home

2011-11-10T20:29:00.001-08:00

I'm so excited about my new house!
Even though I can't move into it for six weeks.
How will I wait for that?!

My friend, Tamara, says, "Whatever. You'll be packing. It's not that long." Call me insane but, I didn't actually think I'd have to pack. It's just a few blocks away. Like fifteen, or something. I thought that I could make a few van trips with some laundry baskets full of clothes and kitchen utensils and it'd be done. Right?

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The Ghosts of Unwritten Blog Posts

2011-11-06T23:06:00.000-08:00

Makes you wonder
what happens on Thursdays at 11am.
You know?

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and thought of all the blog posts that have been rolling around in my head lately -- unwritten.

First there was the one about my vacation and love and what it's been like in long-distance relationship realm. Then there was the one about abortion and how single parenthood could affect someone's stance on that issue. And then that blog post segued nicely into the one on religion and what last vestiges of power and guilt organized religion still hold over me. Also how my cyber-friends in Portland can make classy barbs at religion -- during Halloween no less -- and still have a following.

Then there was the post on Ikea and secrets.
One on assimilation, and becoming someone else -- how hard it is to stay authentic, especially in relationships.

One on moving yet again.

One on the pros and cons of having a baby later in life. Or more specifically do I want to have another baby. Because being newly divorced means you can ask yourself these questions now.

There was another post I thought about on self-improvement, living in line with your principles, and saying sorry when it's the right thing to do.

But dammit.

I had a conversation with a friend that turned that post on its ear.

Another blog post was going to be about my favorite sweater. The one I love and looks great on me -- like it was made for me -- painted on. With a hood and cool buttons. My Faerieworlds sweater.

But.

How every time I wear it, I think of my ex-boyfriend.

And that's crummy. Because it's coming on winter now and I'll be wanting to wear it all the time. The only thing I can think to do is ... wear it. And hopefully new memories will come from that.

And then there's the post on my son and counseling: more invisible special needs, and my fears surrounding those.

And my fears surrounding the future. Everyone has those fears. That would make a good blog post, too.

But not in the middle of the night.

Secret Lessons from Grief and Books, and the Traditions You Pass On To Your Children

2011-10-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

Strange.
Emotional spilling over.

While reading a book, I move from one scene to the next -- one sentence to the next -- and start to cry. With no hint of a reason why.

The Wind Has Wings With Feathers

2011-10-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

In a lot of ways I feel like I'm being born again. I'm ready. Excited. Full of anticipation. Growth, Change. .... but also, the breathlessness of anxiety -- like a gust of wind that takes your breath away. Smack in the face.

I'm going to reactivate my inactive massage therapy license.

And I've challenged myself to a renewed mission of authenticity and self-honesty. And courage. Courage to say what's on my mind.

To live the way I feel inside.

To inhale life and breath out art.

Read more »

Therapeutic Value of Rearranging Furniture

2011-10-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

Book "Mid"view

2011-10-09T14:55:00.000-07:00

This book cover has a boob on it.
How could I miss a BOOB on my book?
I looked again, and the publisher had added a 'sleeve' tacked on to cover the nudity!
I immediately ripped it off and trashed it.
I liked the boob.
It's a nice boob.

I can't help it.
I'm not finished with this book, but I have to talk about it anyway.
So it's not a book REview, nor a book PREview. It's a book MIDview.

I love this book because ... she writes like I think. Short, staccato sentences. Verbs. Blurting. Metaphors bleeding.
Read more »

"Gonna Learn to Bend"

2011-10-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

What came first? The melancholy nostalgia in-between ache, or the music of Amber Darland on a No Shame Eugene Theatre night amongst friends I used to have. Ones that smile and hug me when they see me tonight, but whom I've lost touch with because of my divorce.

With heart beating, my fingertips rubbing against themselves, I see hijab. I see art. I hear "I Am." I hear whispers and quiet footfalls and the warm chords of acoustical guitar. My favorite.

Struggling not to cry, I applaud instead.

I feel stupid in the skirt and tights I've worn tonight, and wish instead I could hide in jeans and the wool cap my friend crocheted for me.

No hiding for me tonight though -- I'm performing. Reading a monologue. Something different. Jump into the fire, no toes in the water.

Exhaustion Times Four

2011-10-04T16:16:00.000-07:00

The number four has no relevance in the title. I'm just damn tired. (I was going to put an exclamation point, but it would've taken too much energy to yell that, so I just left it a period.)

Yesterday morning=boot camp class
Yesterday day=work, writing group
Yesterday night=foam rolled and watched Bosom Buddies episodes until 12:30a.m.
Today morning=yoga
Today day=work
Tonight=work and then crash in bed asap

Super short post today. It's a little after 4pm. I'm going to look for airline tickets to NJ and then nap for a short while. Then back to the bank, and back to work.

I hope I can talk to N sometime today. His phone died this morning in mid-conversation.

Can't wait to visit him at the end of this month. :)

Bikram Boot Camp?

2011-10-03T07:10:00.000-07:00

I'm embarking on another round of Let's See How Long it Takes to Pass Out From Doing Exercise.

I've started a beginning boot camp class. Again. I'm still a beginner because the last time I started, I technically wasn't IN the beginner's class. I was just tagging along. I wasn't on the google boards, I didn't have a manual, I wasn't getting the mentoring. I was just ... you know... getting my ass kicked from bear crawls. (I hate bear crawls.)
Read more »

My Oldest is Thirteen ... well, we had the party for it at least.

2011-10-02T12:09:00.000-07:00

This weekend is all about THE KIDS.

And I'm glad of that.

Sometimes it's awesome to be selfless.

Between

2011-10-01T10:52:00.000-07:00

This post will just highlight my ever changing moods and frames of mind. I actually wrote this in my journal last night, but woke feeling different. Not totally, but you know, much-less-dramatic-than-at-night-when-you're-tired different.

~

I want to write a little about inspiration and -- NaBlPoMo. Which is strangely fun to say. I feel like I'm in sore need of some artistic influence -- enter NapBloPoMo. NaBloPoMo's (National Blog Posting Month's) theme this month is "Between." When I read that I knew I needed to play along. For realsies.

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This Moment Stolen From SouleMama

2011-09-23T10:05:00.000-07:00

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

I put two in; so sue me.

Oh.

I also added words.

Doh!

Coming Back Into Myself

2011-09-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

I've made myself a cup of tea and I'm sitting down for an hour before needing to go to work. I'm working a double shift today, so we'll see how my energy levels go for the rest of the day.

Right now I'm feeling fairly upbeat. I've been battling some depression this week, so a respite now and again is nice.

I need to re-evaluate what brings me back to me. When I'm feeling discouraged or emotionally under the weather, what can I do to nurture myself?
Read more »

Chimney Swifts at Nana's Place

2011-09-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

2011-09-19T08:48:00.000-07:00

So I'm driving a Prius these days.

And by "these days" I mean for-the-next-three.

My daughter's class is going on a camping trip and one of the dads sent out a frantic email yesterday saying, Our van broke down and I was carrying all the gear and THE WATER for all the campers for three days. I could take our Prius, but .... THE WATER!

So I magnanimously offered him my eleven-year-old-falling-apart-van, in exchange for his Prius.

Nice.

Everyone's happy.

I dropped off a last minute sleeping bag at the school this morning and the class teacher said, Thanks so much for the van! and I tried not to laugh. I think I played it off fairly suave. "Hey, I get to drive a Prius for three days -- chuckle, chuckle."

I'm Really Good at Lying

2011-09-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

I’m really good at lying to myself. But I wish I weren’t.

“I love the extreme-ness of my boot camp class. It’s theonly way I can get myself to do exercise.” (It sucks ass. I hate it.)

Dragging My Feet?

2011-09-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

I went walking with the kids yesterday. A big long, fat walk. We were gone for about two and a half hours. Our goal upon setting out was timing how long it took for Robert to walk home from school, and if the walkie-talkies could make the distance. Could I hear him on the walkie-talkie if I was at home or work or driving, and he was at the school?

I don't have a complete answer to that yet, but I do know
Read more »

How I Became Stupid

2011-08-29T08:05:00.000-07:00

It's 7:22am. I've been awake since 4am, and slept fitfully before that. But the reason I woke up at 4am was because I set the alarm. Yes.

I set the alarm for 4am, brushed my teeth and hair and pulled on stretchy comfy clothes, then rode my bike in the dark to attend f%@king bootcamp. I almost fell asleep on the bike ride home.

In my bike panniers were: a yoga mat (which I didn't use), a bottle of water (which did get used), my purse ('cuz every woman needs a bag stuffed full of useless shit while doing calisthenics until you pant, growl and just generally feel like you're going to pass out), and ... wait for it ... two five pound dumb-bells. Don't *you* carry dumb-bells in your bike panniers?

Serious headsmack.
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Invisible Special Needs

2011-08-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

So I just spent THREE hours reading blogs written by mom's with kids with Asperger's or Autism, and websites that touted the iPad as a great resource for these kids. Apparently there is a butt-load of apps specifically designed for kids on the autistic spectrum. Who knew?

Now, I don't actually *have* an iPad, but my ex does. I just sent him an email with a few links to apps that might be helpful to our son.

What's gotten me on this special needs kick all of a sudden? A number of things. Some silly. Some profound.

Here are a few, in no particular order:
Read more »

Time Suck

2011-08-17T08:43:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who has been unplugged for a month now. A noble gesture for sure, but one I’m unwilling to emulate. I don’t have cable, so I don’t watch TV, but I am a movie junkie and definitely use my $15/month at Netflix. I’m also on the internet a lot.

This weekend I’ve been having intermittent internet access. Sketchy at best. It’s frustrating and irritating – and slightly embarrassing, because I can’t figure out if it’s a router issue, or operator error. I’ll spare you the troubleshooting and just move on to my personal discovery.

Soooo Many Books To Read

2011-08-07T20:52:00.000-07:00

A surprising, or not so surprising, by-product of attending writers conferences, is the books you end up buying that you weren't planning on. I came home with four more (not counting the review copy of Tasting Rain that was waiting in the mail box upon my return) books than I left with.

I justified them all.

Duh.

First of all, The Chronology of Water was mandatory because it's a memoir. And I write memoir, so I need to read memoir for research purposes. (See how I justified that?) Lydia Yudnavitch's writing is brilliant. Lyrical. Random. Poetic. Like how I like to write. Picked at random: page 115 shares when she met Ken Kesey the first time:

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What It Looks Like For Me

2011-08-05T18:22:00.000-07:00

I wondered seriously about posting this entry. It’s extremely personal and screams T.M.I. (too much information). But I so don’t want to feel censored in my writing. I’m struggling right now between the difference in revealing too much and putting myself out there for “friends” (or even family members) to state their disdain and disapproval of my choice of words, topics of conversation, or even the pictures I share on Facebook – and being an authentic writer that attracts the right audience to her.

I think this topic that I’ve written about today is one that all women face, or have faced in the past, or will face in the future. So, it seems rational that I’d speak of it here. It just happens to broach a delicate subject.

What a Day Off Looks Like

2011-08-03T20:09:00.000-07:00

I woke too early. It's my day off and my children are with their dad today, so I was hoping for a good 8 to 10 hours but am only granted six. Upon waking I am greeted with a fearsome vision -- kind of a nightmare where I'm partially awake. I gain alertness as the vision increases in it's horror. And by the climax of it, I am fully awake -- though paralyzed from shock and sickness.

Failed Book Review

2011-07-31T21:26:00.000-07:00

I have failed.

I did not complete this book.

Finishing books I've started has always been an unwritten law for me. If I start one, I have to finish it.
It's only been recent (in the last five years or so) that I've allowed myself to not finish a book. I had conceded that my time was precious and that if I was not riveted to what I was reading ... it was OK to stop.

So, I didn't complete "Desperately Seeking Paradise." I purchased it at that great Mecca of booksellers: Powell's City of Books with the understanding that it was a memoir. What originally sold me on it was the quote on the back by James Buchan of the Guardian. He said, "Desperately Seeking Paradise draws on an old Muslim literary tradition in which a man sets out from home and friends, ostensibly to make his pilgrimage to Mecca, but really to indulge his spiritual restlessness ... add some British-Indian blokery and some slapstick, and you will have some idea of the scope and charm of Desperately Seeking Paradise. Interspersed through these adventures are meditations on episodes in Islamic history and other political and religious movements."

A memoir, right?
Read more »

"Wanna see my fishtank?" -- an euphemism for ???

2011-07-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

I recently met up with my other 37 year old girlfriends going through divorce (it's so wild that there are so many of us!) and we started talking about online dating. Two of us had met our ex-husbands and/or current boyfriends online, and two of us met them through regular social means. And two of us are currently on an online dating site right now.

It seemed that online dating (the merits and demerits of it) would be a good topic to write about here, because it is something that a lot of women have had, or will have, some experience with. Also -- and especially because -- if you are a single mom, the chances of you going through the online dating experience probably quadruple, or something. I mean, if you are a single parent of small children .... are you going to go to a bar to pick up guys? Well. Maybe you are, but that's besides the point. The point is, online dating is becoming more and more prevalent and less and less taboo.

So when my lady friends came over, and we pillaged through the snacks everyone had brought, and we made ourselves drinks, and we settled into the living room, and we started laughing immediately about nipple size, blogs and small children ... also marbles -- I opened up the online dating topic.
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"Nook"y on the Plane

2011-07-11T16:10:00.000-07:00

I have a Nook.
I got it in the divorce.

I've only used it once though, and I didn't buy it for myself. (I didn't inhale disclaimer.)
My ex bought it for himself, and then bought the iPad he really wanted but couldn't rationalize the cost. (snort)

So I snagged the Nook. You know, just in case.

I've never wanted an ebook reader. I don't need one. To mirror Emma Thompson in "Stranger Than Fiction," "I don't need [an ebook reader], Penny. I [read books.]" (Only she was talking about the nicotine patch and smoking cigarettes.)
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"...I pledge allegiance to Turtle Island, and to the beings who there on dwell ..."

2011-07-03T00:48:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like Nature for clarity and grounding ...

Long Distance Relationships

2011-07-03T00:37:00.000-07:00

A long-distance relationship has never been what I’ve wanted . But I’m in one by my own choice (in a way.)

Once my boyfriend moved, I could’ve said, ‘well, it’s been nice knowing you,’ but I didn’t. I wanted to stay connected. I wanted to stay in relationship. So, here we are. Long Distance.

Fears and challenges will arise – have already arisen. But that doesn’t make me want him any less, nor does it make me want to give up trying.

We both believe that these challenges are just that – challenges.

We both believe that we can overcome them.

We both believe in our love, and

We both believe our separation is only temporary.

We just need to hold on.

Hold on to each other,

Hold on to our dreams,

And we can make “us” happen.

That said, not giving our fears and challenges an airing once in awhile so they don’t turn dirty and dank – growing mold and getting bigger – is not healthy.

Not whine, or be-labor them. But not stuff them either. Just show them the light, acknowledge they are there, so they will shrivel in that light.

Some fears/challenges we face:

Writing about your Divorce

2011-06-28T10:17:00.000-07:00

So.

Writing about your divorce is tricky. There's always the censor dude in your mind with a taser gun threatening to zap you if you: get too snarky, get too whiny, get too personal, say something that your ex would be embarrassed about, say something that your ex would be hurt by, say something that would alienate your friends -- your mutual ones anyway, or say anything that makes you look bad.

I have an online friend that I met once (I met her in real life first at a writer's conference and then became a lurker on her blog) who wrote about her divorce for all to see -- with no censorship. It was awesome. So refreshing, so real, so honest. And so damn funny! I want to be able to do that. ... Write without censorship. And. You know. Be funny about it.
Read more »

Divorces, Parenting Plans and Pictures of Kids

2011-06-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

Divorces are for trying new things, like wearing fishnet stockings and dying your hair pink or blue.

It's for starting new relationships and stopping them because you realized that you really wanted to commit to giving your all to a long-distance relationship that is giving you so much peace and love and worship right now that you swim in the knowledge that this might be the One.

Divorces are for figuring out what's best for the children, but maintaining your own sanity by "putting your own oxygen mask on first" factors in big-time.

Paul and I have come to an agreement.
Whew.
It looked like more time and mediation were going to be necessary. But. As of yesterday it is not.

Unless .... since we filed a motion for mediation, we are now bound by law to do it ..... hmmm. That would be a waste of time.

My little aspie boy wasn't doing well with the visitation set up. We had him at his dad's four nights a week, and at my place three nights a week and he felt like he was finally settling into a place and feeling "at home," when it was time to move on again.

I came up with a plan and Paul shot it down. (The second one, btw.)

I talked with my mother-in-law and friend about my concerns (and hers) and she came up with an alternate version to mine -- one that would have Robert in one place for longer stretches of time, and one that would still enable Paul to have the children on his days off.

My friend, Tamara, also reminded me that visitation schedules can look like anything. There is no standard.

So.

Visitation will look like this: (after Paul secures a nanny and the children get back from their summer Massachusetts trip to visit another part of their family -- Rob's side)

It's a version of week on/week off, but Paul will always have them on his days off.

So it'll be five days on with me, and nine days on with him.

I'm willing to try it at any rate. We can always alter it if it's not working for the family.

Co-parenting should be interesting .....

.... said with a smirk.

Other things on the divorce agreement that we've settled on:

~joint custody

~we're splitting the increase in paul's 401K since the date of our marriage on feb 12, 2006.

~no child support
~no spousal support
~paul will get the eugene house and its debt and rental income
~i will get the albany house and it's debt and rental income
~the costa rica property will be sold and the money will be split between the two of us

The only part of that that is difficult to describe, but makes perfect sense to me when it is explained to me is that the money from the Costa Rica property sale will be split amongst us depending on the debt/equity ratio between the two properties on Oregon.

Basically, we're going to split up the debt on the properties, but only after the sale of the CR property.

In other news, I've been mulling around a few new writing projects that I'm starting to get excited about.

More on that later.

Though I will say that both of them are blogs. One will be a joint blogging effort on long-distance relationships, and one will be geared toward single women issues.

Turns out I have a lot to say about that.

Now I just need a catchy byline .....

writing

2011-06-11T10:35:00.000-07:00

I dream about writing.
When I'm sleeping.
When I wake, in that dreamy half-sleep,
I think of the things I'm going to write about -- the things I have to say, to the world, to my self, to my friends.

To my not friends.

To the friends I haven't met yet.

I don't think I have any enemies, but if I do, then to them, too.

But when I fully awake and settle into the computer ... or my journal ... other "things" get in the way. Other emotions that block my writing behind a barrier of 'what ifs' and the bricks of 'you're not good enoughs.'

Hope is a Flat Rock

2011-05-23T18:22:00.001-07:00

Hope is a flat rock

All shiny and polished

With possibilities.

It sits in your stomach

Wedged in between

Worry and Giddiness.

You skate across it

Wondering and Wishing

Sometimes with double lutzes

And swizzles.

Despair is sometimes there

Flitting across the rock in

Shadows. But mostly it’s

Wondering that keeps the rock

Shiny

Going over it again and again

Like praying with beads.

Should I go there?

What is my motive?

Will it fill a need?

Hope

Giddiness

Second-guessing

Despair

Worry

Wonder

Wish

Hope.

Confessional

2011-05-14T02:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging for ages. There are so many thoughts and worries and .... chores. Everything is new and different and still changing.

Mostly I haven't been writing here, because I've got the damn thing syndicated to my Facebook page and I know that anything I write here will be seen by all my friends. I know that's sorta the point, which is why I haven't turned off the syndication. Readers for your blog is a good thing. But.
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"Dropping the Bomb" or "Sorry to tell you this way"

2011-04-20T00:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends and Family,

Many of you may know of this already but today we've told the children, so it is "final."

Paul and I are separating. I have an apartment downtown and we've got a visitation schedule set up for the children. We are considering this a "trial" separation. I'm confident that the separation of emotions and space will enable us to do some personal work and will allow me to identify what kind of life is best for me ... keeping in mind the children, of course.

If you email me directly, I will give you my new contact information.
Read more »

Enough about me, Let's talk about Me

2011-03-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Shall this post be all about me? My birthday *is* coming up in two days .... Well, alright. I'll make it about all of us. Because, really anything I do spills over on to the other people in my lives. So I couldn't actually talk about me *without* talking about others.

So much for narcissism.

Or. Wait.

Maybe that still was.

Anyway!

Chinese Homestay Concluded + Aubrey's Play

2011-02-22T13:34:00.000-08:00

The Homestay Rep took all the kids to Putter's where they

had pizza, soda, miniature golf, arcarde games and lazer tag.

A totally American experience.

Whew. I'm back. It's been a weird almost two weeks. It's really just crazy. But, you know? I must secretly *like* it so crazy, because I'm a magnet for it. Truly truly. Chaos is just a part of my life.

Dreamy House Plans

2011-01-31T22:20:00.000-08:00

So. For a few days now, Paul and I have been working on the house plans. The latest ones were emailed to us and we printed them off, made some adjustments, scanned it, and emailed them back (with notes).

I tried inserted the copy onto this blog but it appears that since it is in pdf format, my blog server doesn't want to upload it. So you will have to content yourself with knowing that it is
Read more »

Twelve -- January "Wishes"

2011-01-25T13:49:00.000-08:00

I'm taking part in a photography project hosted by Mocking Bird. These are the first two photos I've uploaded this month.

Each month is a new theme and/or color. This month's theme is "wishes" and the color is "white."

Come along if you like. You can join the Flickr group "Twelve" and see the other photos that people share.

Wrapping up my memoir is taxing my creativity in ways that need to be replenished. This is one of the ways I am taking care of myself this year -- allowing myself to participate in another form of art.

Beans and Business

2011-01-13T19:18:00.000-08:00

I was emailing a friend of mine today and filling him in on our latest .... and it occurred to me that I could TOTALLY cut and paste. No Shame.

Here's what's going on:

Regarding Paul. He just told me yesterday that he wanted to spend the next year really working on his health: exercise, eating healthier, and losing weight. He wanted to see if that would alleviate his symptoms. The surgeon said that his AVM shouldn't be causing his symptoms and the radiologist said, "Well, yeah! It would." So. Since he got conflicting info, he thought he'd try this and avoid surgery altogether.

But TODAY, the radiologist's asst. called him and said, "Ok. We're all ready for you. We have all the glue we need and we've been trained how to use it. We've heard back from the specialist. You'll need 3-5 surgeries this year."

.....

He's not a happy camper.

It is now my job to call the doc, get all the info he was given but didn't write down. Get the name of the other doc he recommended for a second opinion. Research the glue they want to use. Make an appointment to see the second opinion doctor (in Portland), and make appointments with the three other alternative medical "doctors" that have offered to work on him to avoid the surgeries.

Basically, he's too stressed to deal with it. :(
He wants to just do it and get it over with, but he doesn't want glue pumped in his veins.

**

We're about ready to close on the Costa Rica property. And
we're researching business ideas. For instance, should we import an already manufactured ice cream to sell in a scoop shop over there, or buy the equipment and make our own from local ingredients? If we rent out DVDs, will we buy Costa Rican dvd players and movies, or will we import American ones to rent and then have to rent out the players too? 'Cuz the two don't cross over. (Damn!) Should I bother trying to perfect a gluten-free flour mixture/recipes, if it will turn out to be too expensive to import the special flours? Probably Uvita doesn't sell sorgum, teff, rice, coconut and potato flours. ;) Or xantham gum.

Plus, I'm trying to fix a mysterious garbanzo bean scent coming from the hot tub water. And we're hosting a Chinese exchange student for two weeks next month.

Lots on my plate. LOL

Love and Kisses to you,
Valerie

Chinese Homestay

2011-01-12T11:21:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well.

It looks like we are hosting a Chinese middle school student for two weeks next month.

!!!

Time to start researching China.

I picked up Aubrey from school the other day and one of her friend's handed me a flyer about this homestay program. Very excitedly, mind you. Like, she might've even jumped up and down. I read the flyer.

"Do you want to do this, Aubrey?"

"Uh-huh." She smiled.

"Where would they sleep?"

"My room."

I raised both my eyebrows and looked out of the top of my glasses at her.

"I'll clean it." She smiled again.

"Done! If it gets you to clean your room, she can stay!"

We laugh.

"But what about a bed? It says here they need they're own bed."

Aubrey's friend said that the coordinator had air mattresses to loan out to families that needed them.

So.

I filled out the application this morning and met with the coordinator. The first snaffu: it's not a girl.

I guess he'll bunk in Robert's room.

More later.
I guarantee it.
;)

Silliness

2011-01-05T09:22:00.000-08:00

We're on the About Us page at Osa Mountain Village's webpage! Just our picture. The bio will be in an upcoming newsletter. :) Does this make us famous?

Venting ... With a Question at the End.

2010-12-30T13:08:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I feel like I have so much to say it wants to leak out the crevices and orifices of my body, overflowing. And sometimes it feels like I have nothing to say. Dry. Tired. Too much work to open my mouth and call forth the images within for translation. And sometimes these two opposing states occur at the same time.

Like now.

Maybe bullet points would work.
I could get some stuff out, but not really have to elaborate on them.

Paul was supposed to be in surgery today, but the doctor cancelled again. He wants to do more research and get more materials. Paul is second-guessing his trust in this doctor and wants to get a second opinion from OSHU. We will miss our end of year deadline for remaining medical procedures and doctor's appointments and come January 1st will have to start paying on the deductible all over again. $5000. Out of pocket. Shit.
I'm starting to think garden already. I've got tons of seeds left over from last year and I'm going to check in with some neighbors and see if they want to do a co-operative gardening project this year. I think it would be good if I came up with some ideas of how I would want that to look like before I approached them tho. But probably it won't be a big deal.
I am going to mail off an entry for a publishing contest today. The first 5000 words of my manuscript.
I'm going to line edit a friend's YA manuscript within the next couple of weeks. I suspect this will entice me to start working on collecting my own bushel of clients. (Did I tell you about my friend Nawaz's idea about editing college entrance essays as a business?)
I need to get serious about building platform so that I can get an agent for my memoir. I had a scheduled day once a week to devote to reading blogs and commenting on them and researching magazines to query and updating social media, etc., but it isn't working. As in, I'm not doing it. So. That either means I'm trying to do it on the wrong day, or I just have sucky discipline. Hmm. Maybe both.
The kitchen is starting to crust over.
I need to follow up with a couple of resumes I dropped off.
I need to vacuum, but the cleaner's broken.
I need to clean off the dining room table in the next ten minutes because Aubrey's Japanese teacher is coming over for a lesson.
I want to finish the baby sweater I'm knitting for a friend.
I want to connect with my two best friends.
I want to get the building plans finalized for the Costa Rican house.
We're still waiting to get the sales agreement for the lot signed by the landowner so we can wire the money to escrow and close on the deal.
And there's more. There's always more.
Like, my bedroom is turned upside down and looks worse than my kids' put together. !!! And that's saying something.

January 2nd starts a new diet, a new writing schedule, a new commitment to querying agents and magazines at least twice a month .... and a blessed routine. I am suffering from lack of routine right now. The kids being home from school is nice for the sleeping in and relaxing, but not for the I-haven't-been-to-yoga-regularly-for-three-weeks. Or I-haven't-written-anything-new-on-my-manuscript-since-the-kids-have-been-home. Those parts suck.

Robert goes back to school on January 4th and Aubrey back on January 6th. Whew.

Life back to normal soon.

Uh. And then I'll need to start thinking about our anniversary and Valentine's Day. And the building on our house will start. !!!!! Our realtor, Ricardo, said that he would send us pictures of our house being built, so I can share them with you, as well.

Our plan for an ice cream shop might need to wait a bit. We definitely don't have the capital for start-up. The loan we got was a little less than we thought (because we hadn't factored in the paying of the property taxes) and now Paul's medical bills will be more than we counted on. So. That's a disappointment. A little one. More that I'm worried about disappointing Jim (the landowner), because he really liked the idea. And I also want to start making money over there as soon as possible. I hope the rents coming in from the house will be substantial enough to cushion us. Our budget will be super tight for the next three years. Or more.

Lots to think of.

In the coming days, I will most likely be posting my New Years Resolutions. Despite the controversy of them. :) I can call them something different if you want. I just like to write down my goals. It makes them more real and ordered for me. If they just float around in my head, I don't focus on them and they don't get addressed.

What is your process for setting goals? Or. As my husband says, Commitments. He doesn't set goals. He makes commitments. I like both. You?

Contract Woes

2010-12-27T10:10:00.000-08:00

These are completed photos of one of the villas over at the Village. The details are beautiful. I can't wait to get our own construction going. We are still finalizing the contract, even today. I'm getting stressed.

Finally. We get the construction loan after having to jump through massive hoops. Finally. We get the contracts from the landowner in hand to sign and send back. Finally. We get word to our Costa Rican lawyer that we can start on the corporation process. (In Costa Rica it is customary to have a separate corporation to own all your assets. Safer that way. Plus, if we have a corporation owning our land, we are a Costa Rican entity owning the land. Much better.)

BUT NOW. Now I'm worried. There seems to be some .... mis-remembering on the part of the landowner regarding the agreed upon price. The original price of the lot was USD$110,000.00. While Paul and I were in Costa Rica, we negotiated down to USD$103,500.00. We put a USD$5000.00 deposit down already. So that leaves us with a balance of USD$98,500.00. NOW, the revised contract emailed to us is saying that we still owe $103,500.00, even after our deposit. *Sigh.*

We've forwarded him our email negotiations from back in October to remind him. But he's in meetings all day with clients, so we won't hear back from him until tonight. What if he doesn't like our changes? What if he says he won't accept anything less than $110K? What if the deal falls through and we won't get to go to Costa Rica after all?

My dream job. Jobs. My tropical paradise. My ex-pat life. :(

So, I'll worry all day now. Drat.

I woke up this morning thinking of the next chapter in my book and how I would start it. But now. I can't get this contract business out of my mind. So I didn't write this morning.

And now I have to go to the bank and deposit the loan check. Then open up a line of credit on our rental property in Albany so that we can pay the landowner his money for the lot. Theoretically, we will close on January 31st and have title to the land free and clear.

I also have yoga class today. Maybe I'll stop thinking and worrying then. Thank goddess for yoga. :)

Then my writing critique group. BUT. I didn't get any new writing done.
But. I DID print out my first two chapters of my memoir and edit them. I could bring that. The group's heard it so many times already, but I'm going to be entering it into a contest so I want it in tip top shape.

That will have to do for today.

Also, in job related news: I dropped off a resume at The Supreme Bean on Willamette and 29th. Maybe I'll get lucky. :) I've always thought being a barista would be fun.

Christmas Traditions in Costa Rica

2010-12-21T14:43:00.000-08:00

I have blatantly stolen this post from the folks at Osa Mountain Village for the sole purpose of entertaining you.

Christmas Traditions in Costa Rica

Christmas traditions in Costa Rica are full of the Latin American flavor,

but they are uniquely done the Tico way.

Snow...Snow...Snow... We Northerners hate snow, especially after a long winter. But Costa Ricans (Ticos) are fascinated by snow. They rarely, if ever, see the real thing because they are so close to the equator. The floats in the Festival de la Luz, which are decorated in fluffy white, draw much attention because of the oddity of snow.

December is a very special month in Costa Rica. The children begin their long "summer" vacation from school. The four month long rainy season has ended. The hot, muggy weather is replaced with dry, cooler temperatures of about 70 degrees. All working adults receive their aquinaldo from their employer. This is a bonus required by law and is equal to one month's pay. And of course, it is Christmas (Navidad) complete with so many festivals, parades and Costa Rican Christmas traditions.

Mucha Fiesta!

Costa Ricans love to celebrate special occasions and many take vacations at this time of year. They have three main parades after the

beginning of the Christmas season, beginning on December 16th .

El Carnival - Dancers and musical groups from all over the country compete for the

best of show in costumes, dancing talent and music.

El Tope - A Parade of showy horses, beautiful horse-drawn carriages and famous

hand- painted ox carts. Originally, these carts were pulled by people until 1840, when the exporting of coffee exploded. The Las Carretas carts were then pulled by oxen, transporting coffee to the ports and bringing other goods back on the return trip. Decorating the carts began in the early 1900's. The San Jose Tope is the most famous parade. It is a grand parade that also includes floats, clowns and marching bands.

El Destile de Luces - A nighttime parade made beautiful with thousands of
Christmas lights. This parade is a favorite of the people.

There is so much more to the Holiday Season in Costa Rica. . .
We hope you can join us during this festive time next year in 2011!

Free Healthy Food!

2010-12-16T09:49:00.000-08:00

Paul and I have a new food budget.

We have four people in our family, but we often feed our friends or our children's friends when they come to visit. And our house is often full.

Nevertheless, we are trying to stick to $600/month.

My mother-in-law, perhaps rightly, scoffs at trying to do this during the holidays.

"People always buy more food in November and December," she says.

Well. I'm still trying. And, for the record, when we do inevitably (because we've only recently started this new food budget) go over, I know it immediately. I agonize over it. I'm looking for different places to shop; I talk myself out of buying organic produce this one time.

I give myself huge kudos for this because BEFORE, we didn't have a budget. I didn't know when I'd spent too much ... it would take months (or longer) to realize that I was spending enormous amounts of money for food. (One month I recorded it at $1200.) So, I'm glad of where I've gotten to so far.

But I certainly want to keep improving.

I know we can stick to our food budget.

And the sooner I can make that a reality ('cuz I do the majority of the grocery shopping), the more comfortable our wait for our Costa Rican dream will be.

I was aching for the peace and warmth of Osa Mountain Village this morning.

I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Yesterday was an emotional day for me. I'm feeling stressed and restless and out of sorts.

The holidays are coming up and I'm only partly prepared. (I need to make some more lists! Then I'll feel better. Why didn't I think of this before?)

Paul's surgery is coming up.

And this morning? I just wanted to be on Osa Mountain in a little casita rental, watching my house being built.

I thought about emailing Jim, the land owner over there, and just saying 'hi' and that I was missing Costa Rica. But then I worried that my contacting him would remind him that he's still waiting for his money for the land. So I didn't do it.

Instead I looked over a current newsletter. And funny enough, it was talking about food.

Free food.

Wouldn't that be nice right now? ;)

(This is a Starfruit tree.)

Here's an excerpt from the newsletter:

90% of food cost is in packaging and transport. So true!

Our goal is to create 100% "Food Security" using our 750+ acres and by trading

with local farmers. So easy to be a 'locavore' here!

We've already planted over 2,300 fruit trees. Close to 40 varieties!

Guava, Mango, Mamone, 5 types of oranges, many other kinds of citrus, 4 types of

avocado, bananas and plantains ... [etc.]

[And] we are using a vertical system for growing 38 varieties of veggies, herbs and

spices. The system allows us to grow vast quantities of veggies organically in a small

area.

The first two greenhouses are already built... I so can't wait to get going on this.

Oh yeah.

One more thing to worry about.

We still haven't heard about the financing.

The lender says it "looks good" but we still haven't gotten the call from the title company to come in and close.

Cross your fingers, Everybody!

And here's to hoping you have a wonderful holiday season and that you have plenty of food to eat wherever you are.

Blessings and Namaste.

December is my "Mad World."

2010-12-15T09:39:00.000-08:00

It's all craziness over here.
Well.
Maybe not craziness.
But
a certain feeling of ....
needing to recuperate is settling in
And it's not even Christmas yet!

Paul has been having doctor's appointments galore and just two days ago, on Monday, he had an angiogram to take still more pictures of his Arterial-Venal Malformation. The radiologist thought he might be able to do an intervention during the angiogram (funny name for it -- it means to put some sort of coil, "cement", or particle into the vein to stop up the blood flow from going to a place it's not supposed to be going.) However, the situation looked too big and scary to rush into. Dr. Z wanted to make sure he was doing the exact right surgery for Paul (there are a few options) and to make sure he had enough of the equipment he needed to finish the procedure properly.

Paul has three big veins (the size of an adult male's pinky finger in diameter) on one side of his pelvis, and one big vein on the other side of it. This means lots of fast moving blood is feeding an area that isn't supposed to see that much, resulting in an "aneurysm" the size of one of his kidneys. It's huge. Every time a medical professional sees this balloon of blood on an ultrasound or CT scan, they very unprofessionally say, "Wow! That's huge!" and go and get another medical professional to come and look at it -- who then says the same thing.

There are a few options open to him regarding the surgery(ies) that he can have. Right now an expert on Arterial-Venal Malformations (AVM's) from Minnesota is looking at a CD of photos from Paul's angiogram to give his advice to our radiologist and vascular surgeon. Well. Paul's radiologist and vascular surgeon. (I was just guilty of turning this into a we situation -- like when men say "We're pregnant" -- when it is so clearly happening to Paul.)

Another doctor's appointment on Monday will let us see the photos from the angiogram and hear what the expert in Minnesota advises. And then on Thursday, Paul will have surgery (or a "procedure" depending on Monday's outcome). They've also blocked out time on the 30th of this month for another surgery if it is needed.

Procedural options:

1) the radiologist can go up his femoral artery again (like in the angiogram) and push a platinum wire up the catheder. The wire will coil up into a large vein, blocking the blood from rushing into the anuerysm from that side. Then he'll do it again and again in the other veins. (By the way, Paul has more than four, but those are the big ones and Dr. Z doesn't want to cut off all the blood supply to his other pelvic organs.)('Cuz, you know, that could be problematic.)

The theory is, without the blood flow to the balloon, this bubble of blood will clot and then dissolve over time and/or shrink down. This will take the pressure off Paul's internal organs and will not cause him pain and discomfort anymore.

At the same time as the "coil" procedure is happening, Dr. Z will also put in a filter (it acts as an umbrella in the vein) higher up by his lungs. This will be insurance against the hopefully small possibility of part of the "clot" from breaking off and turning into a real blood clot. Pulmunary Embolisms are fatal, dontcha know.

Paul said, "What's the difference from a blood clot getting caught in the filter or the lungs? Both of them block off the artery/vein." Dr. Z said, "If it gets caught in the filter, I can fix that. I can melt it away and remove it. If it goes to your lungs, you die. Instantly."

Nice.

So we're a little creepified right now.

Option #2) They do the above procedure, but instead of waiting for the aneurysm to dissolve and shrink, once it gets hard like a scab, a vascular surgeon (Dr. S) will go in and surgically remove the grapefruit-sized chuck of pain and repair and reconnect the veins.

They might also do this if we try option 1 and during the "hard" stage (before it gets to dissolving), it just gets way too painful for Paul. His discomfort and pain will get worse after the procedure. We're just hoping that time period is small and manageable. If not ... that's when option 2 would be necessary.

Option #3 isn't really an option right now. Both Dr. Z and Dr. S think it is risky and are hoping to not go there. At least that's my impression. Option 3 would be to forego the coil procedure altogether and go straight for surgery. Just cut the bastard out of there and sew up the holes. This would be scary scary though. Way too much blood. Especially because of the arterial connection. And the aneurysm is very deep in the pelvis. Hard to get to. The combination is fairly dangerous.

Again. Those are my words, but that's the vibe I got from the doctors.

So, we find out Monday which of the options we are going with. Thursday he'll have the procedure, and stay overnight for safety and observation. Hopefully, if all goes way, he'll get to come home on Christmas Eve.

If he needs another follow up procedure -- because the first one is taking too long or something -- he'll go in on December 30th (two days after his birthday and the day before New Year's Eve.)

It doesn't feel like Winter Solstice.
It doesn't feel like Christmas.
I don't feel like celebrating much.
I feel like wishing and hoping and being grateful.
And not taking things for granted.
And not taking people for granted.

Perhaps I'm being melodramatic.
Perhaps this is fairly routine. (His condition is rare, but the procedures and surgeries he'd have are not.) But it's hard to keep my past out of this. My baggage is weighing heavy this week.

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

2010-11-28T18:25:00.000-08:00

Right now, at Osa Mountain Village -- our hopeful new home, many paths are being cut out of the jungle by hand (or shovel). These paths will make the jungle available to both the tourists (on the jungle tours and night jungle tours) and to us residents who fancy a lovely walk in Nature.

Waiting

2010-11-27T18:51:00.000-08:00

I hate waiting

For word

On our financing.

Fuck.

A Bio of Sorts

2010-11-18T11:39:00.000-08:00

I am supposed to be writing a bio of Paul and me to send to the folks at Osa Mountain Village. Since we are all coming from around the world to live together in this community, the web designer wants to include info on us on the webpage so we can get to know who our neighbors will be.

I've been avoiding it. Writer's block, I could say. But mostly it is not knowing how to summarize ourselves in a paragraph enough to get our new neighbors to like us. It's a bit like internet dating.

So, I thought I'd share my writing process with you. I started just free-writing and eventually the bio appeared. At the end. Of course. :)

I did, however, know exactly what picture I wanted to use for our bios:

Bio for Osa Mountain Village:

Hi future neighbors! We’re so excited about joining you and living in Costa Rica with our family. Our hope is to make the full-time move in the summer of 2013. I know. It sounds forever away. (Sigh) But that’s the way it will have to work for us. Maybe that will give us the time to learn some Spanish – ‘cuz we know about six words. And. It seems important that we would learn some before moving to a Spanish-speaking country. You know?

I’m supposed to be writing a bio for my husband and myself, so that you will know a little about us. Wouldn’t it be cool if we were able to make friends before we actually all moved in next door to one another?

Why I want to move to OMV: for the adventure of moving to a new country, for the increased time that I’ll be able to spend with my family (especially my husband who works long hours with unpredictability in his schedule), and so we can have the sheer joy and excitement of starting our own businesses and working for ourselves. We could perhaps have done this in the States, but it would’ve taken us far longer to accomplish because of the cost of living being higher here – and the market for our businesses being saturated.

What we hope to get from OMV: an increased feeling of community. I want to know my neighbors and have our children play with yours. I want to work towards common goals (sustainability, permaculture, living off grid, sharing responsibilities, community-building, etc). I want to make new friends and live through new experiences. I want to write about all of it.

A little about us:

Paul is a thinker. He sits back and listens. He smiles and likes to joke around with our kids. He’s silly. He’s great one-on-one or in small (5 people?) groups. Not so much with anything bigger. He’s a leader. He’s a superb salesman. He looks at the big picture. He likes to write, act, and talk politics. Lefty progressive politics. He’s agnostic and an existentialist, but will talk about Jesus and the Bible with you as long as you don’t pray for his conversion to Christianity. He likes live music … all of it. Especially anything with a bluesy hint to it. He loves watching movies and reading but also wants to get out more in the world and experience and be more active. And to connect with those around him on a deeper level.

Valerie is an experiencer. That’s how she relates to the world. Dips in and swims around in it and THEN thinks about what just happened. She’s passionate about whatever she’s doing or learning about. In the last year that’s been: writing, knitting, unschooling her kids, urban homesteading, eating healthier, advocating for her son’s needs at his new school, Bikram yoga, No Shame Theatre, communicating on a deeper level with her husband, living an alternative sexual lifestyle, traveling, making new friends and loving everyone. She’s a lousy housekeeper and doesn’t like cooking, mostly because she forgets about dinner until 5:45pm and then has to think of something quick – which often turns out to not be very healthy. She loves reading and has bookshelves of books she hasn’t yet read but still compulsively buys. She’s writing a memoir right now and has a blog or two in her pocket. When she moves to Costa Rica, she will miss Bikram yoga, decaf lattes (why is there no decaf coffee in Costa Rica??), and her Smart phone. And Netflix! And wearing a scarf on chilly days. But mostly her best friends Tamara and Julian.

Oh. And she’s not religious. Organized religion scares the crap out of her … but she identifies as pagan.

So there it was. In the last bit. I often have to "clear my throat" on the page before I can get to the meat of what I want. Of course, I'll still have to edit it a bit and polish it, but the meat is there. And for those of you that actually know us in person, have I hit the mark? Is that a good representation of us?

How Vacations Lead Me To A Job Hunt ...

2010-11-15T11:58:00.000-08:00

We want to visit Costa Rica twice a year. We want to witness the growing of the Osa Mountain Village community, and to meet our neighbors and grow our connections with them even before we move there. And we just want to vacation there 'cuz it's cool! :)

It's funny. I've spent a couple of years feeling nostalgic for something that I've never had ... and now I almost do.
Lots of times I've found myself envious (in the most polite way, of course) of those families that vacationed at the same place every year. You know the ones. That cabin at that lake that you remember going to since you were ten? Now you've started bringing *your* kids to it?

It wasn't *real* envy. I didn't pine for that imaginary cabin. I just sort of wistfully thought it would've been nice to have had that experience when I had been a kid. But it didn't happen, so, oh well. But. Should I want that for my kids? Should I figure out a way to get that for them?

That's what went through my head for a couple of years. But I didn't really do much about it. It kind of already happens by default with the Massachusetts trip every summer. My kids do have that every-summer-trip-since-they-can-remember trip. But the crappy part for me and Paul, is that it doesn't happen with us.

So. Costa Rica. The house in Costa Rica can be that for us while we are prepping for our move there.

Once we live there, we'll have to come up with a new one. :)

The challenge we now face is that if we want to visit Costa Rica once or twice a year .... we need the money to do it. *snort*

Ok. So, trying to cinch our budget to fit my income -- leaving Paul's for Aubrey's private tuition and rental expenses for Aniela in Portland -- doesn't leave any room for a vacation fund.

"We'll just have to put it on a credit card then," I said to Paul two nights ago.

"No."

Well, there was more to it than that. Something about the cost of a trip divided by twelve monthly installments, the total being paid off before putting another trip on the cards meant affording a trip every two years. Hmmm.

So how were we going to afford the trips?

"You just need to get a job," Paul said.

Now, let me explain something about myself.

I am not a slacker.

By any stretch on the imagination.

Even though this weekend I spent almost 40 hours of it either in the hot tub or laying in bed.

My first paying job (other than babysitting) I obtained at thirteen years old. And I've worked every year since then ... with a few months off a year. UNTIL .... my husband died in the year 2000. Then I didn't have to work. And I've been sooooooo grateful for that opportunity. I've been helping my family live and eat on Social Security Survivor Benefits and Veterans Affairs DIC income. I feel blessed and so lucky that this was the case when Rob died. I know that other widows are not that fortunate.

So, a job.

"It can even be from your writing! Sell your book! Write articles for magazines! We just need the extra money if we want to do any traveling," Paul said.

I earned my massage therapist licensure a couple years back. I could re-activate that and work as someone's employee instead of for myself. Maybe my chiropractor friend would hire me to work in his office. But. I would have to go back to school to earn my extra CEU's to get current on my license requirements and pay the license and insurance fees .... and I definitely don't have the money for that.

I looked on craigslist this morning. For jobs. (I keep typing "jogs" ... I wonder if that means anything.)
I think a good job for me would be working as a barista in a local coffee shop, or in a bookstore. A health food store like Sundance would be awesome, too. Something part-time and that wouldn't require me to use child care. 'Cuz my income would get all eaten up from paying that.

So that limits me a lot.

That must mean that I need to concentrate on my writing. :)

See how I turned that around?

I'm brilliant.

But I'm not afraid of hard work. Really.

Just practical.

I'll keep looking and at the same time, beef up my querying and writing of shorter pieces as well as FINISHING MY MEMOIR so I can start marketing it.

... and, oh yeah, AUTHOR PLATFORM. *sigh*
I really must start working on that !!!!!!!!

Pleasures -- from 2/15/06

2010-11-10T10:06:00.000-08:00

These are the pleasures I have known:

The sound of running water.
The sound of water splashing in a fountain.
The sound of water rushing rippling over rocks in a river bed.
The chaise lounge in a beautiful garden on a beautiful patio.

Holding hands with my lover.
Smiling with a friend.
Reading a good author.
Writing something that feels true.

The texture of honey in my mouth.
Hearing my lover moan because of something I did.
Seeing my children's eyes sparkle with joy and enthusiasm.
Watching my sleeping babies.
Seeing our dog's delight when running as fast as she can.

Snuggling with my children before they are too old and don't want to anymore.
Discovering a story in a painting.
Talking about art and the emotions it arouses in me.
Sculpting the essence of a face and waiting for the soul that comes through to introduce him or herself to me.

Freedom.
Sobbing and screaming while another held me and just witnessed my grief.
Creating.
Exploring foreign lands.
Feeling a part of the Divine.
Nature.

A sense of belonging.

Am I a Bitch, or Am I Real?

2010-10-27T05:00:00.000-07:00

Am I a bitch,
opening my fingers
to let loyalty and devotion
slip through?

Do I shush the me
that lingers in trepidation
hovering over a panic attack
of instability?

And then welcome the
confidence of desire and ego

And strut in long skirts with mirrors
And spaghetti-straped push-up tank tops?

Walk with lengthy strides
And swishy hips in
Fuck-me boots
And painted lips
And wear eyeliner
Under Vogue librarian glasses?

Or am I real?

If I close my fingers tight
And let loyalty and love
And all my lover's organs
Pool up in my hands --
Held fast,

Will I preserve my peace?
Will I be accepted?
Will I be honored?
Will I last?

Would I be real?

Am I a bitch,
Selfish and singular,
Or am I real?

Or am I both?

Can I be both?
Do I have to be a bitch to be real?

Can I live with my fingers closed
And still be real?

Self-Description #1

2010-10-26T12:34:00.000-07:00

I am a rosey blush with teal sparks,

a curvy goddess

that swirls and bops to

a jazzy ballad in a smoky room.

I am the number 18, full of beginnings,

a roll-top desk with hidden compartments

living in a sunset

in a sultry, mountainous forest.

I am a deciduous tree

shedding fear each year with

passionate acceptance hidden

behind my eyes.

A curious conundrum,

I let go of nothing

and everything.

I've forgotten how to forgive myself,

and then I remember

that my soul is old

and knows all the answers

to my questions.

Costa Rica -- Day Seven and Eight

2010-10-23T21:02:00.000-07:00

(Paul at breakfast this morning)

We've been working the last couple of days, mostly. Though there always seems to be time to read our books or sit by the pool, too. :) Just the thing for tired out folks.

On Friday we had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel (free) and then we drove into Dominical, which we hadn't yet explored, and finally made it to a beach!

We walked along it a ways, picked up a couple of rocks to bring back home and got our feet wet. The water was warm! Not the Pacific Ocean I know. :)

We've started noticing itchy bug bites on ourselves. Strangely, we notice the read mark with no symptoms, and then a day or two later it starts itching. Weird. And some of the bites visually present differently then mosquito bites, too. So we are thinking it's coming from some other biting bug. And my guess is they are biting (me, at least) at night, because I never see bugs around me during the day; I never feel bugs biting me. I haven't worn bug spray since I got here. And I had maybe three bites. I don't need bug spray for three bites. However, these delayed itchy bites have a cumulative effect, as Paul says, so that all of a sudden (it seems) on our last day here we have all this itchy bites. :)

After checking out the beach and walking through the town in Dominical, we had lunch there at a Thai restaurant called Coconut Spice. Yummy.

Then we went to a bank to see about a construction loan for the house. Big Fat Zero.

Due to the economic crisis, they aren't loaning money to non-residents.

We let Ricardo and Jim know and they said over here it's really important if you know someone who knows someone. So, Ricardo called his friend Alex and the two of them met us at a bank and then a credit union on Saturday morning to have Alex introduce us at the banks. Strike Two. Strike Three.

Across the board -- they won't loan money to foreigners. You need to be a resident for eight years before you could qualify for a loan. Or. Marry a Tico.

Ricardo says to not give up hope. Jim knows some private mortgage companies that lend money.

We go back to Dominical and talk to a guy from the States (but was actually born and raised in Panama with American parents) that worked in a real estate office and was affiliated with Alliance Mortgage Company. They have a pool of fifteen lenders that they can access so he was real hopeful we could get a construction loan. Especially when we told him we'd own the land.

We came back to the hotel fairly confident and then also received pone calls and emails from Ricardo and Jim about three other banks to try -- one a for sure deal (Scotia Bank) they say, because it's an international bank.

So we have four or five leads in our pocket now to take home with us. We're feeling much better and we'll know -- most likely -- within the week if we qualify for a loan with any of these lenders. If so, we close on the land, we close on the construction loan, we start building in january and we have a house built by July or August.

The plan is to take a family vacation there then, to see the house all done and pretty and then to start renting it out to tourists. And then when Aniela's out of college and Paul's not helping to pay her rent while she's in Portland, and Aubrey's out of private middle school and Paul's not paying the tuition for that, and he's done paying off the 401K loan he borrowed against himself to buy the land, we can move to Costa Rica and our Spanish Colonial house with a courtyard. (We've been talking house plans with builder today.)

It'll be tight, but doable. When Paul quits his job in three-ish years after all that stuff I just listed happens, we'll have my social security and VA income for a couple more years and hopefully by then (when my survivor benefits stop) our businesses over in Costa Rica will be creating enough income for us to live comfortably. Our living expenses will be lower with most all our food being provided for.

Check back in the coming weeks to read more about our businesses for Costa Rica and how we get those started remotely. Jim would like the ice cream shop to be operational by December. !!!! Recipes, C.R. corporation, equipment and hiring someone to make it, hand out ice cream and collect the money. All in a month's time? I don't see how, but we'll get it going asap anyway.

Tomorrow we pack up here, settle our bill, drive to San Isidro in the mountains to visit Jim and meet his family and see his house, drive to San Jose by 4pm to return the rental car, and get checked into our hotel. The next morning (Monday) we fly out for the States. With all the changing of flights and layovers, we won't land in Eugene until just before midnight. We'll taxi home and sleep in our. own. bed. <3

(relaxed at lunch this afternoon)

(Ooh! Ooh! And we finally had banana flambee for dessert tonight!

They've been out of bananas every time we order it and get the pina one

instead -- which in some ways is better -- but finally Paul said he was walking

through the bar today and Olmar "waved his banana" at Paul (we laughed at Paul's

choice of words there) and so we finally got to experience Olmar's own recipe. Delish.)

Random observation: Apparently my Costa Rican name is Ballerie. Even when I correct them with an accentuated "V" they just smile and nod and say, "Ballerie." So, Ballerie it is.

Costa Rica -- Day Six

2010-10-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

After breakfast, our day began with the zip line/canopy tour.

11 different zip lines, 2 rappelling stations, and one Tarzan swing -- which I did not partake of.

(Paul says this is my you-fucker-I'm-gonna-get-you-while-you-sleep look.

I didn't know I had that look.

Did you?)

(he had so much fun!)

After the almost-two-hour adrenaline rush, we went to check out our land again and found our first squatter. :)

(more views from our lot)

Then we had lunch in town and came back to our hotel, which I haven't shown you yet, so here you are:

(view coming downstairs from the recepcion)

(the building on the other side of the delicious pool is the restaurant/bar)

We hung around and rested from the excitement of the morning. I read on the patio off our room and Paul wrote a skit for No Shame. Then we had dinner and treated ourselves to Pina Flambee. OMG.

(This is our favorite waiter, Olman.)

(here he has set the liquor on fire, turned the lights out and pours the liquor back and forth to mix the two -- brandy and triple sec -- in two different pitchers.)

(it's super rich and to die for)

Yum.

Costa Rica -- Day Five

2010-10-20T17:17:00.000-07:00

(my favorite thing I've seen here so far)

It has been noted by one of my readers (how cool does that sound?!) that I haven't written about any of the people or wildlife here. At the hotel I see very little accurate representation of either. The people at Cristel Ballena smile and laugh and are extremely gracious -- but that could be because they're paid to be. :)

And the 'wildlife' here at the hotel mostly consists of butterflies, hawks in the distance that ride the thermals in spirals, and this really cool spider I saw today. Also, an occasional little lizard that looks like the sticky lizard toys my son used to throw at the wall.

Yesterday on the property we saw an animal meander across the road called a pizote. It's kind of a racoonish animal with a longer snout and bigger everywhere. And I've heard howler and congo monkeys in the distant jungle around the hotel.

So, sorry to disappoint on the wildlife aspect. :) Though up in the mountains and earlier in the morning -- like 5:30am -- I've heard that the monkeys and macaws come to life and make a delightful racket. I'm looking forward to hearing them. But that will have to wait until I move here, as I don't anticipate being up in the jungle at 5:30 in the morning within the next four days.

We met with Jorge, a local realtor, who is so super nice that I feel guilty not buying anything from him. I almost want to pay him some commission just for the amount of information he's given us. He's given us names of some reputable real estate lawyers in San Jose, he's taking us to the bank on Friday and translating for us so we can get a construction loan (or at least the pre-approval process started.) And he's also given us specific things to ask the developer for, such as: do you have the water concession already? are the lots already separated and can I get a legal copy of the plan to take to the bank?

Jorge's just awesome. He works for Century 21 right now and has been a realtor for many years and lived in a handful of towns around this area. His English is charming and says a long drawn out "A" while thinking of his next word -- like a monotone Fonzie.

He's in the process of starting a sports bar for the tourists in a couple of months. He's going tomorrow to buy "four big screen TVs, plasma." He told us three times. :)

He's generally interested in how things go with Osa Mountain Village and wants us to keep in touch. he admires the concept and approach of OMV and says they are pioneers. That this concept they have hasn't been done in all of Central America, he thinks.

Today we were stopped by the policia (for the third time this trip, btw. The first two times was because they were looking for someone ... one officer even had a rifle. We had to show our passports.) I'm not sure why we were stopped today. The officer's motorcycle was parked on the side of the road, and he stood a little into the highway. He walked towards our oncoming car and waved his hand for us to stop. We did.

"Buenos Dias," we say.

"Buenos Dias. Como esta?"

"Fine," we answer in English, cluing him in that we didn't really speak Spanish. Though I'm sure he could tell by our accents.

"Habla espanol?"

"No."

"License?"

I handed him my passport and I fished out my driver's license, too.

It turns out in Costa Rica it costs $400 (as in US Dollars) if you are not wearing your seat belt.

Paul. Paul. Paul.

I always wear my seat belt.

Always.

Through very bad Spanish and English on both our parts (the police officer and us), we discover that the way it works is this: he writes a ticket, we take it to a bank and pay it there.

"Ok," I said, a bit haggard. I'd even pulled out the cash I had on me to both show him that I didn't have $400 (in case he required the $ then -- that's when I found out about the bank), and also to make it available to him in case he decided to not write the ticket. If you know what I mean.

When Paul finally handed him his passport, the police officer asked if we were on vacation. (Paul caught that, I didn't understand it.)

"Yes. Yes. On vacation."

"Ok," and he flicked his hand. "No ticket."

"No ticket?! Thanks!"

"No ticket. Ok." And he stepped back.

And we left -- with Paul's safety belt on.

We continued our search for an open restaurant. It was lunchtime and after a couple of misses, we found a nice open air on on a hill with views of the ocean. The waitress didn't speak English and we'd left our dictionary behind. Two only-Spanish speaking people in one day. Not that I'm surprised that people speak Spanish in Costa Rica, but I guess I'd fallen into a false sense of complacency due to every other person I'd spoken to up to today had spoken English.

But we do fine with pointing and asking for Coca and aqua.

And the newest news: Paul talked me into going on the zipline with him tomorrow morning.

Fuck.

After lunch, we tried to find one of the beaches here. Playa Tortuga (Turtle Beach) didn't work. We found it alright but the tide was in so there was hardly room to walk between the water and piles of driftwood, let alone lay down. So we opted to go back to the pool and try to find the other recommended beach tomorrow -- after talking with Gary and going on the zip line.

We saw the entrance to it, though, on the way back to the hotel, so I spontaneously swung in.

I haven't yet mentioned the state of the roads here.

We were warned by our friends, Dr. Matt and Robbin Freedman about those roads. But when we got here, the highway was perfect. Ok, there were three potholes in a section of the highway that I've driven back and forth on since we've been here, and , it's true that when you turn off the highway and drive into the teeny towns, you will experience a bumpy ride, and I've had to shift into first gear to get up the road to OMV. But the road to this beach ...

(this looks deceptively easy)

Well. It just wasn't passable for a couple of tourists like us. At least with Paul in the car. :) (His lunch hadn't agreed with him.) So we turned around -- which was educational all by itself.

We laughed at ourselves all the way back to the hotel.

It started to rain on the way. Sigh.

Paul went and laid down and to check if any emails came back from the builder or Jim. I went to the pool, dammit, despite the clouds and drizzle. Because it was still in the 80's! It's the rain forest, doncha know! :)

Olman, my awesome waiter, helped me open a pedestal umbrella over my deck chair and brought me a pina colada. (I'm having one for you, Robbin!)

Does anyone actually know the next line of the song: "...if you like pina coladas, and dancing in the rain...."? That's all I ever hear anyone sing. It's a famous line, to be sure, but I don't even know who the singer is, or if it has any other lyrics. !!! LOL

The rain has stopped. It's not hot at all. The sun is taking a break and only shining silvery on the ocean which I can see from the pool side. Perhaps I'll hang my feet over the edge of the pool while I read my book.

Costa Rica -- Day Four

2010-10-19T15:46:00.000-07:00

(the view from the tarzan swing on the property)

Just back from the property again. We met Jim Gale, a couple (Robin and Lea) that have already moved here, and had lunch in the nearby town of Ojochal.

I'm sitting by the pool in humid 80 degree weather with a slight breeze. I've left my camera at the room and now, of course, wish that I haven't. I see my strawberry daquiri approaching, so all is well. :) My towel is coming soon so I can slip into this delicious-looking swimming pool. I'm not a huge fan of swimming pools -- I don't begrudge or discourage them for others, but I don't swim gracefully and without effort, so I've never seen much use for one personally. A couple of feet of water to wade in or sit in socially to keep cool in the summer -- sure. But, like, swimming laps? I can't really do that. I'm more of a: keep-my-head-above-water-after-I've-fallen-out-of-the-boat kind of swimmer. But this pool looks divine and I so want to share it with you. Thus, the missed camera. Perhaps another day.

On the Costa Rican adventure -- I think we're sold. After meeting Jim Gale, we shifted our original villa idea to purchasing a home lot. Because the value of our homes in Oregon dropped along with the housing market, we have far less money to purchase property with.

With the purchase of a villa, you also received shares in the company (that collects rents from the tourists staying on the property, among other things) -- but no actual deed. So, no bank would lend money on it. It needed to be purchased free and clear.

With a homesite, however, we can get a bank loan for the construction of the house. (We can buy the land using a loan off Paul's 401K and a line of credit off our Albany rental.) Plus, our line of thinking was corrected today on the case of building a home here. We assumed we wouldn't be able to afford both a plot of land and building a house on it. In the States, that could easily run us $350,000. Here, you can build a nice three bedroom house for $57 - 80K. The labor costs are considerably less expensive.

Jim's wife built their house here (she was the general contractor) for $57,000. Jim's invited us to go and see their home on Sunday on our way out of town. So, we'll see how much house $57K can buy. :) Our's would be closer to $80K because we'd have to hire a contractor instead of doing it ourselves, and it'll cost more to truck the supplies in. Osa Mountain Village isn't on the highway; it's quite a haul up the mountain and getting a truck there will, frankly, cost more.

Looking at the property again today -- with more of a focus on home lots -- I admit, I shifted out of if we decide to move here, to I really want to move here. I don't know if it was: considering the benefits of a home lot to a villa (like: we'd get to keep our dogs with a fenced yard), Jim's extra energy and excitement about the place, or if it was the amazing sob-inducing views from the lots -- but I did find myself tearing up.

Wow.

Can you imagine? Living an expat life, in dream jobs, with like-minded people, off the grid, growing and raising all your own food (oh! I found out they'll have pigs for food and goats for dairy on the property, too!), and having a loving, accepting community around us from the start?!

Ok. That last one was wishful thinking, but I'm calling it "manifestation" instead. I'm visualizing into being.

I was worried about the schooling for the kids, but the teacher they'll have on site will be a lovely substitute for a Spanish-only speaking high school. It'll be kind of like homeschooling/HomeSource, but not. And if they want to go to the public high school, we'd be happy to take them. Jim also said that if we had any schooling ideas, the parents had a ton of say in what and how the teacher taught. If I find a Waldorf school high school curriculum for Aubrey, for instance, I can have the teacher use that to the best of her ability. If Aubrey wants to learn Japanese, she can be supervised by the teacher there. Giving the kids the choice between the two schools will give them some sense of control.

And ultimately, though I hate to play this trump card because it feels so righteously unfair -- we are the parents. We can make this choice whether the kids are on board, or not.

But the stance I think I'll take against their opposition -- which might not happen, but I'm thinking it will -- is this: This is our dream. Mine and Paul's. We really want to do this. We understand that this quite probably isn't Aubrey and Robert's dream -- though it could become so -- and when they are 18, they can go and live their dream. And we'll totally support them 100% of the way in whatever capacity we can. And we think this move will give them the courage to go and live those dreams.

Because they saw their parents do it.

(Paul keeps telling me there's something wrong with the glasses that keep coming from the bar. The pina coladas keep emptying too quickly -- there must be a hole in them.)

Tomorrow we'll meet with a local realtor (the one from the other day) and see if plots of land in the less-than-quarter-of-an-acre, distant ocean view and 300 degree mountain and jungle views go for $110K around here. 'Cuz that's what Jim is selling our favorite of his lots at. (Then we'll hit a beach or two in the afternoon.)

(view from our favorite lot)

(the lot we want)

On Thursday we're meeting with Gary, the builder for Osa Mountain Village (but we could use anymore we wanted), to talk about plans and permits, etc.

If we bought the land before we left, or shortly after we got home (after having a real estate lawyer look over the papers) and got the building of the house started right away (after securing a construction loan, of course), we could have a rentable house by the summertime.

We'd go up and see the construction at least once during the building probably, and then Paul wants the family to stay in it first, before we rent it out to any tourists.

We'll have to furnish it, too. Hmm.

We've also been talking to Jim about the ice cream shop idea. That is an excellent business that could be run without us here that would generate income for us now. We could have two locations for the shop. One up the mountain for the people getting off the zip line tours. ("Whoo-eee! I just flew down a mountain! I need me some ice cream!") And one on the highway where the Osa Mountain Village office is.

It costs about $350 to get a limited corporation here, and then Jim would provide the locations for us, so it would be simple and easy to get it started. We'd hire a local person to serve the public and collect the monies. And a really nice wage around here is $500/month (taxes included). Sounds easy enough to me.

Now all we have to do is make up some upscale recipes -- using local ingredients, of course: coconut, mango, etc., try them out and buy the equipment to make it with. And the freezers to keep it cold. :)

Stay tuned to hear about whether this is a good local deal, and if the beaches are, in fact, awesome here. :)

Pura Vida!

Costa Rica -- Day Two and Three are a blur

2010-10-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

"... and we're driving, in my car ... " ~lyrics from a Cake song

Jesus! We've done so much driving in the last two days.

We landed in San Jose, Costa Rica on Sunday afternoon, found our rental car company, rode in the shuttle van to the office, and I drove out in a manual four-wheel-drive SUV. (It's been fun using a stick shift again ... which reminds me of another Cake song ... )

(following a plantain truck on the new road to Caldera)

We drove from San Jose west to the Pacific coast, and then south down to Uvita. Osa Mountain Village was supposed to have housed us in one of their villas while we were there, but the villa wasn't ready yet -- I think the rainy season slowed down construction a little bit. They found an awesome place for us to stay though: Cristel Ballena. One of the admin/sales people from Osa Mountain Village emailed me and asked me if it was ok to reserve this space for us. It looked way too beautiful to be in our budget, but when I asked him, it turned out to be less than it would've been if we'd stayed in the rental villa. So I confirmed the reservation through the Osa Mountain Villa dude. (Can you hear the foreshadowing?)

We reached Uvita in about three hours of driving from the airport. It gets dark early here, so at 5:30 p.m. we are driving slow, trying to find the entrance off the highway. We find it, we drive up the long driveway, park the rental rig, drag our sweaty, stinky, travel-worn, haven't seen a shower in 36 hours asses into the recepcion and. find. it. full.

At this point we are ready to sleep in our car, we just want a shower and brush our teeth, maybe some food.

We explain the situation. They explain the situation.

Apparently there was a reservation, but they had no credit card info or contact info to hold the room. They held the room until 4pm with a family waiting in the restaurant just in case we didn't show. So they finally released the room to them.

I would've done the same thing.

They were so gracious. So accommodating. Totally bent over backwards so far I'm still feeling guilty for it. See, they have this spa. It's a lovely suite of rooms that has a waiting area, a huge bathroom, a massage area, a place for other spa-like treatments, and a manicure station. And then called someone up at 6pm to come into that room, shove everything in there up in a corner behind a curtain, and bring a king size bed in.

We are mortified at all the effort put into this. But our evening is marvelous. We were given complimentary drinks while we waited for the manager (who also came in special to talk with us), had dinner in the restaurant and had a delightful waiter who made us pineapple flambee in the dark (!!!), showered for many hours (not really), had a romp in the king-size bed (!!!) and slept forever.

The next morning, well-rested, we had a complimentary breakfast (it comes with price of the room -- which is only $67/night!).

(the view from our breakfast table)

(this is Paul-well-rested) <3

After breakfast, we drove into Uvita and found a realtor to chit-chat with. We talked about different locations, which towns he recommended living in, schools, and factors and tips to consider if we decided to move here. Then we drove down to the Osa Mountain Village office and met up with Ricardo. He's the sales guy/realtor for OMV. We talked to Glenn, who is designing all the greenhouse verticle growing systems for the village. It's way high-tech and super simple at the same time. And then Ricardo hopped in our rental 4x4 and we rode up the mountain in first gear (the road's still unpaved) to see the property and the building sites.

(a ginormous mango tree)

(a pineapple growing wild on the property)

(Ricardo let one of the workers know that he was low on plaintains and when we were done with the tour, we found these by the SUV, waiting for him.)

The goal for the food production at OMV is to be able to grow all the community's food. Whenever you need something, it will be available for you. There will be a "market" on the property, but when you "shop", you just collect what you need with no money changing hands. Your $150/month in "fees" covers all the food your family can use.

(the first set of villas in construction)

(This villa is a four bedroom unit.)

(The site for the community center.)

(Ricardo is cutting up a citrus fruit for us to taste -- it tasted a bit like grapefruit to me.)

(one of the zip lines on the property)

(the start of a small nursery ... plantings will be provided for any resident that wants to grow something in their yard.)

(a mango tree that sprouted up in the middle of the road)

(a tiny chicken coop ... for the time being. chicken will be one of the foods OMV will provide for its residents.)

(a "marker" for future tilapia ponds -- another food provided)

(building materials that now stand in the future location of a big tilapia pond that will house mature fish ready to be caught and eaten. any resident is welcome to go fish and catch dinner!)

After the tour, we drove into a couple of the neighboring towns and Ricardo showed us a bakery one of the community residents owns, a few supermarkets, the place where the farmers/saturday market is held and introduced us to an American woman that opened a private elementary school in Uvita. Then we went out to lunch.

We're meeting up with the landowner, Jim Gale, tomorrow and will check out Dominical -- a town close by that supposed to have some night life. Hmm. We shall see. Also, I bet we check out some beaches tomorrow, too.

With thoughts of starting up businesses like coconut ice cream shops, bookstores and yoga studios, I am ready to slip into bed next to Paul -- who has been sleeping for an hour and half.

Our only real concerns so far have been: the kids being bored. Sure there's zip lines and waterfall rappelling (cool! maybe we'll run that business, too!) and having your own machete to harvest bananas whenever you want them, but what about going to a Spanish high school where you can barely speak the language?

Maybe we can bribe them with their own personal lap-tops and Skype accounts ....

Anyway, bedtime.

Pike's Place Market

2010-10-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

The search for rice milk for Paul's coffee led us past 8 Starbucks, two independent coffee houses, a Seattle's Best and landed us in Seattle Works. Hands down awesome. I even charged my cell phone that will be un-useful soon enough.

We fly all night and land in Miami tomorrow morning. One more use right before we board the plane to Costa Rica to check in with the kids before the phone working ceases for the duration of our trip.

We have an almost ten hour layover in Seattle, so Paul and I took the train (electric, btw) to Pike Place Market. A nine-acre conglomerate of historic buildings, indoor markets, outdoor markets, vendors, farmer's markets and artisans. And food.

And flower markets. (Gorgeous! I've never seen such brilliant and huge blooms.) And O.M.G.-How-Hilarious-There-Are-So-Many-Coffee-Shops. Seattle is definitely the birth of the coffee shop.

I've found AMAZING handmade journals that I really want to go back for, but we haven't even left the country!! Part of me wants to wait until Costa Rica before I buy handmade art, but another part demands I go back and support the local artists here! :) See how I'm trying to rationalize?

There was a burgundy buffalo hide, handmade cotton paper journal with black leather binding that I was particularly drawn to.

Sigh.

Here's me being responsible and not going back to buy it. If Paul asks me if I want to -- I don't think I'll be able to withstand it. I'll break under the power of suggestion.

We found Indian food at a food cart and walked down to the waterfront to eat lunch and listened to an Asian busker playing a string instrument I didn't know the name of.

Paul is holding my hand and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles while he reads his novel and I've finished my 2nd latte today (it is Seattle after all) and listening to Ingrid Michaelson over the cafe's sound system.

We've found ourselves browsing in an anarchist bookstore, Seattle's own Left Bank Collective, and watching (with tipping some) buskers that ranged from guitarists covering Monkees and Beatles favorites, an organ player, awesome gospel singers, a banjo player, and one guy that played guitar, sand, blew on a harmonica and kept a hoola-hoop up all at the same time.

We read in cafes, took photos, talked about the type of city architecture that Paul misses from New York and bought applesauce bread and oatmeal raison cookies from a gluten-free bakery called Cinnamon Works.

A walk to the other side of downtown revealed the Science Fiction Museum Hall of Fame, and the Experience Music Project entrance fee to be $15 a piece, and closure in a half an hour. We opted not.

"I've been to Seattle a few times now and never been to the Space Needle," Paul said.
"Well, let's go then."

We get so far as taking pictures of ourselves outside of it, but don't actually ride up it. I don't actually mind this as it seems uber-touristy (which I don't want to be) and I'm slightly nervous of high places, which is code for:

"Shrek! I'm lookin' down!"

But I was trying to gird myself up for the canopy tour/zip line that we'll undoubtedly do at Osa Mountain Village.

I'm resting now in Seattle Center's Food Court that looks and feels (and therefore is) a depressing facsimile of a mall, but without the shops. And in a few minutes we will go in search of a real Chinese food restaurant and then to the airport for another round of security and waiting for our flight.

My Wheels are Spinning

2010-10-07T21:59:00.000-07:00

Paul says my wheels are spinning. They are. I'm obsessing about something and I've been purposely not posting on my blog about this because I didn't want to upset anyone, but part of my draw to this thing I haven't been posting about, is that it would give me a whole new market of people to write to. To sell to. To build audience and platform for. So I'll just write it now. Possible side effects for the reader have been noted.

You've been warned.

Before I start explaining, I should say here (as purely a reminder for myself so I don't get lost in the edginess I'll feel writing this post) that:

Whatever's meant to be, will happen. We will land right where we are supposed to.

So. Now that that message is plastered to my psyche's bathroom mirror, I shall continue.

We've long wanted Paul at home with us. He works many hours away from home and all of our relationships suffer for it. The children forget to consider him, I (on bad days) feel like a single parent, and Paul is lonely and misses his family. And we all miss him. The children beg for family game nights and one-on-one time with Paul and I, and with Aubrey turning twelve earlier this week, Paul and I worry that the window of time when the kids will want to connect with us may be closing up and we don't want that to happen. Or if it has to -- like some child psychology books say-- we want to be prepared for it with lots of loving quality bonding time under our belts, to stay the execution of us, as parents, on pedestals. Fuck. Us, as human beings.

I remember as a teenager thinking my mom was afraid and cornered and didn't understand. And that was with a good relationship with her. I had a non-commital relationship with my dad. He was just there around the fringes. ( I don't want that kind of relationship for Paul and our kids.) Imagine how I would have felt if I'd had a bad relationship with my parents.

So it is against this that Paul and I want to secure ourselves. And we think the best way to do this is by him being home more. We can't do this if he's at his current job, with us living in our current house, with the current state of our budget (like we have one) and our bills. So, Let's get creative.

On a previous post, I spoke about selling this place and buying a smaller home in Eugene. We figure the mortgage would be a smaller sum, or non-existant, if we move our assets around judiciously. Without a mortgage payment, we could wrangle ourselves into living off my income -- freeing up Paul to open up his own business, buy an existing one, or working part time at .... Blockbuster. :)

Sounds good, right?

Enter Scary, Exciting, Life-Altering, Alternative Plan.

We move to Costa Rica.

We've been researching for months now and have been in contact with a land developer from the States that's moved there full-time and married one of the locals. It would cost us $150/month to feed our family of four. Homegrown, organic food. All living expenses wouldn't exceed ... $1300/month? We wouldn't hardly have to work. Though without the competition, we could open our own bookstore and coffee shop that most certainly wouldn't thrive here in Eugene.

So, a cool kick-ass job for Paul (one he owned), I'd still get to write as my chosen profession and Paul would be home. We'd finally get to hang out as a family on the weekends! Something we've never been able to do because of the industry Paul works in. And we'd get to do it all in a paradise Southern Pacific Costa Rican location. With waterfalls, wild animals, zip lines, river rafting, canopy tours, and jungle.

We'd live in a sustainable community that grows and raises 80% of their own food, and would be off the grid within three years. That in and of itself is dear to my heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCXGUL9cP3gOsa Mountain Village video

But.
I love Eugene.
I love the communities we've been a part of, or still are.
I love the friends I've made and the connections that are still very dear to me.
I don't make friends very easily. (Maybe the universe is giving me the opportunity to get better at this.)
I live a unique and alternative lifestyle/sexuality that may not be accepted in the Osa Mountain Village community, whereas I am (and it is) here in Eugene.

And that brings me to my relationships. I have a couple of long-distance ones that wouldn't technically be altered by my moving, but -- but -- somehow I fear that by living out of the country I wouldn't see them as often. Which is silly, really. And most likely inaccurate.

I worry about the kids' friendships and connections, and their school experience. I worry about Robert's special needs being met.

I lose my writing community.
And what would we do with our dogs?! :( Most likely we couldn't keep them.

And there's so much more to think about .... it's flooding my brain.

But, I'll stop here. Paul and I are going to Costa Rica on a "vacation" to scout out the area and see if the village is compatible with our dream. So we shall see. Most likely we will be making a decision over there, and I will be able to come home and tell you what we've come up with.

We'll return the last week of October.

Wish us .... Clarity.

:)

"Living in Truck, Need Dogfood"

2010-09-15T11:07:00.000-07:00

On the way to dropping off my kids to school this morning, my son sees a man on the corner with a cardboard sign. "Living in Truck, Need Dogfood." I didn't even see him. We were at a red light and I was frantically trying find something before the light changed.

My son is mortified. He is heart-broken that this man lives in his truck and that the beautiful black dog at his heals needs to eat. My son begins weeping.

I promise him that I'll pick up some dog food and bring it back to him before I go back home.

This settles him down a little, but he is still affected.

"The man was so skinny, he'll probably eat some of that dog food, too," he says.

My heart swells at his compassion.

As promised, after dropping them both off, I swing around to Market of Choice and pick up some apples, bananas, and a small bag of dog food. I drive around for a half an hour trying to find him. He is not where he was before.

I scan the park under the bridge across the street from where Robert reported seeing him, and where a lot of homeless people live and visit. And I think I might spot him. I circuit up the bridge, off an exit, and back on the bridge three times before deciding that it most likely is him. Remember I never actually saw him?

I just don't know for sure though. And I'm leary of walking into a group of homeless people (maybe twenty?). That's far different than handing something out your window at a light. That's right. I'm chicken.

I get almost all the way home before I know with certainty that there is no way I can pick up Robert at school today and tell him I didn't help him. And the stuff is in my car. Reminding me I had failed. So I turn around again and had back over the bridge.

I park across the street and carry the dog food and bag of apples and bananas to the group of people.

I don't see a dog anymore.

Shit.

What am I going to say to these people?

A couple have noticed me, one shielding his eyes from the morning sun as I advance.

I call from about 10 yards away.

"Were one of you guys on the corner with a dog earlier?"

My heart is pounding.

A series of 'yeah's' follow and a sweetie of a dog (black lab something) comes out from the middle of the group.

"My son saw you and wanted me to bring you this."

"Aw, thank you."

"That's so good of you!"

"God bless you."

"That's sweet."

"I'm sorry there's not more of it," I said.

A shook someone's hand. Another offered me a free concert -- he would play me his guitar. Another asked me to pray for him.

I pet the dog and tried to tell them how affected my son was, but I don't know if they heard me. They were all exclaiming and thanking so loud.

It felt good.

That Feeling

2010-09-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

That feeling before you leap

of exhilaration, anticipation, fear and ecstasy.

That feeling when you think it might happen

and you're terrified and shaky and oh so blessed.

That feeling when you know it's best for you

but that one -- or ten -- niggling feeling won't leave.

That feeling of what if you're wrong

and sickness settles in the space under your lungs.

And that feeling you get when you just do it anyway.

Writers Block

2010-09-08T18:36:00.001-07:00

I've got it.

It will away soon.

But not today.

Next week.

I promise.

Bistro

2010-08-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

He was seated at one of those rickety bistro tables that try to look chic in some part of town that tries to look French, or at least multi-cultural.

He had a pipe with him, un-lit, because he thought it might make him more distinguished, but he didn’t know how to hold the damn thing in his mouth. On the side? Sticking out perpendicular to his nose? Or at a jaunty angle to his jaw? And how did it stay in? You couldn’t press gently with your lips like with a cigarette. But pursing his lips made him look like a fish. An angry one. He tried biting down on it to hold it in place and that worked for a time – but his jaw started aching from the clenching.

He set it down on top of the paper he was reading, and looked around the other outside tables again. The street in front of him offered people to watch and laugh at and the noise was a gentle hum – as cliché as that seemed.

He repositioned the pipe at a more pleasing angle and picked at a stray thread on his sweater. He rumpled his hair and rubbed his face with both hands, then sighed.

She wasn’t here yet. Did he want her to come at all? He hadn’t seen her for eight years.

And then.

Before he could re-live the past, as he’d done countless other times, and pondered the what ifs and if onlys, she walked up the street.

He saw her before she saw him. A confidence he remembered shown in her walk, but her lips betrayed a nervousness that delighted him. No. But that was un-charitable. He only meant that it was gratifying to know that she was nervous, too. That she’d been thinking of him, as he had of her.

He’d known near nothing of her life after they’d moved on from each other. And that seemed so strange to him. For, once he knew the locations of the freckles on her shoulders and of that one to the left of her right kneecap. That one killed him. He always missed it when her left leg would cross the right and the freckle would be hidden for a time.

He knew what brand of cocoa she liked and what movie reminded her of her drunken uncle. He knew her. Ah. But she knew him well.

It occurred to him that the café he’d picked, because of – what he considered – its Frenchness, would absurdly pale from Lydia’s reality in France. And she’d see through that gesture. It was stupid to have picked this one, and she’ll see the shabbiness in comparison and transfer it to him.

He will now be shabby, and not as good as she remembered.

She approaches the line of black wrought iron tables and scanning, she sees him.

She smiles and warmth floods to his elbows. Her bag slips to the floor and she sits in the chair opposite him, all in one graceful motion. Her short blond hair swings about her jaw when she sits back up. She pulls the sleeves of her tee shirt down over her hands and wraps her arms around her legs, her knees bent up under her chin.

“I like this place. It reminds me of France,” she says. But she doesn’t look around as she says it. She only looks at him.

This might be a good day, he thought, and cleared his throat. His hands trembled, unseen, under the tabletop. But whether from excitement or trepidation he could not tell. But then she often made him feel that way.

“A pipe?” She raised her eyebrows.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have brought the thing. He didn’t even smoke it. It just seemed writerly. Like it would lend credence to his three published articles and the lone manuscript he’d edited twenty-three times and still remained agent-less.

“Oh this?” He flashed what he hoped was a comically conspiratory grin. “It’s nothing.” And he swiped it off the table clattering to the ground. He moved it over with his shoe until he was stepping on it. Invisible now. Like it had never been.

She tilted her head at him in question. Though this also seemed cliché. A waiter came by with a coffee cup, which Lydia nodded at, and a water goblet. He pulled a menu from under his arm, placed it on the table and then expertly disappeared.

The man opposite Lydia – sometimes he thought of himself as Adam, but other times Matt, though neither were very scholarly – just smiled and tossed the quizzical look back.

“So tell me. Where did the world take you?” he asked.

Her answer was slow coming, like deciding where to start with 800 puzzle pieces spread out on the table in front of you. He really had no idea what she’d say, or why, really, she’d called. She’d shared no particulars, only that she was back from some travels in Europe and wanted to see him.

Her finger traced the rim of her mug, and she offered another smile. A coy one this time, but he saw through that right away.

She was terrified.

“It’s brought me back to you,” she said.

The Woman on the Floor

2010-08-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

The woman on the floor was young. In her thirties. Her bandana kept her brown curly hair, that was only hinting a few strands of gray, out of her face while she scrubbed the kitchen floor. The smell of oven-roasted free range chicken from the Market of Choice grocery store down the block permeated the house and the woman’s stomach growled. But hunger wasn’t the only thing distracting her.

Normally her two children fighting with each other over somebody touching somebody, or not sharing the computer echoed through her brain – combined with the two dogs racing across the hardwood floors and growling in their play – prevented complete thoughts. But today one was upstairs reading and the other was sick and taking a nap. The dogs were sleeping on the couch, each with a head resting on one of the arms.

The woman scratched at her forehead with her wrist and sniffed. The dishwasher hummed its sloshy hum and she continued scrubbing apple cider and dirt-encrusted dog drool off the walnut floors.

The other thing distracting her was her unsettled, restless thoughts. They ping-ponged and pinballed around the desire in her mind.

Unsettled because there was so much she craved that didn’t seem available to her, at least right now, and she felt guilty for wanting more when she already had so much – she didn’t deserve any more blessings than she already had. She had enough. And she was filled with gratitude for those things. A loving husband; beautiful, funny, unique children; a gorgeous house; friends and food.

But restless because maybe she did deserve more. It was every person’s birthright to pursue his passion and happiness, right?

The woman dumped out the dirty water from the pink washtub and re-filled it with new, hot water after squeezing out the dishrag she knitted last Fall.

She thought of the French language books littering her office floor that begged perusal and the European cruise she longed for. She tallied up the number of friendships she’d started over the years that had faltered and dribbled into nothing. She craved the solitude of writing her novel and the peace and enjoyment she received from reading. And then she thought of all the responsibilities and self-imposed obligations that prevented her from any of those things.

Going to Europe by herself would be lonely, and she’d miss her family, but if they came with her it would be too costly, and afford no time for writing. Or reading, for that matter. And some of the people she felt drawn to befriend were ones that her family disapproved of. Sort-of. Actually, that was hardly fair and untrue to boot. Her husband didn’t disapprove of her friends, just the type of relationship she wanted, and how much time that it would take away from the rest of the family.

She craved closeness and intimacy from many people and worried and wondered again why it was that all her closer relationships petered out. She was sure she was the common denominator in this pattern, but what was it that happened, what was it that she’d do to pre-maturely end these friendships?

The woman sat on her butt and extended her right leg to give it a rest from kneeling on it. She struck out at the blackened floor again. Her elbow ached, too, and she wondered if the chicken were done yet and if she should start the rice yet.

Was it fear of closeness, despite her desire for it? Did she back away from the friendship right as the potential for closeness was realized? Was it too high of expectations for the friendship and when she was disillusioned by her own hand, she’d drift away and then think it was the other person that had done the drifting? Was it a craving for a characteristic the other person showed that was lacking in her own self that attracted her in the first place, and not any real common interests that could hold a friendship together, so that without any contributions of spirit and conversation, the friendship faded?

The woman dumped the water again and washed her hands. She rinsed out the sink and dried it with a polishing cloth, then checked on the children and let the dogs out, then back in again.

She poured herself a mug of blackberry tea and turned on the movie “Anna and the King” with Jodie Foster and dreamed of travel because it was easier than answering those other questions.

She’d been asking them for many years; they could wait for a couple more hours.

My Writing Place -- a writing prompt

2010-08-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

The house smells of brownies.

My roommate is cooking lunch. My son and a new friend are playing video games in the living room in front of me. My daughter, my roommate’s daughter, and my friend’s son just came in from playing outside to remove the brownies from the oven.

The sounds of my house include at this moment: water running from the kitchen sink, my son singing to himself, laughter, conversation, the oven door closing, the digital timer being set, the keyboard letters depressing under my fingernails, the kids’ feet stomping up the stairs, a fork scraping the bottom of a skillet on the range top, the dishwasher running, the oven heating up again from when the kids put the brownies back in because they weren’t quite done.

Something just fell on the floor.

Visually I am distracted as well. When I write, I am often drawn to what my peripheral vision conjures up: wine colored yarn, file folders, my camera, a candybar wrapper, a bag of cough drops.

When I raise my eyes beyond the kitchen table that I am writing at, my craft table looms with clutter and other things I could be doing right now. Five dvds that need to be returned to Blockbuster, a ship my daughter made out of toothpicks and other pieces of wood and gave to me for my birthday, fingerless mittens, more skeins of yarn, a sewing machine and bins of notions. Also a basket of knitting needles.

Beyond that the coffee table has folded clothes that I didn’t fold piled high. The video game graphics rush past and, though there is no sound turned off – a stipulation I had for the tv to be on at all – my son is supplying his own soundtrack.

Kaya munches a raw carrot and the other children cut the too hot brownies. Steve cleans out the refrigerator, the trash can nearby for the moldy rotten food that we waited too long to eat.

“I can sound like a goat,” my daughter informs our guest.

“I can sound like a pigeon,” he counters.

More laughter.

My house is full of enchantment and experiences and clutter and toys and dogs and dirt and paper art on the walls. Also quotes and lists and bulletin boards. My friend says this is hard to look at. That if I took all the scraps of paper taped to kitchen cupboards down, the qi would flow better. That it would feel less scattered. That then I would feel less scattered.

It makes sense. What she says. But I like the lists and quotes that remind me to treat my children with love and kindness and respect. That remind me of the holiness and divinity within myself and all that I meet. That remind me to eat all my vegetables and what foods have protein in them. That showcase my children’s brilliance in art – reminding them that they are loved and important and capeable of greatness. That remind me of small things I can do to save the planet. That remind me how to build community.

The clutter that bothers me, that affects my mood and creates those stagnancies of energy in the house, are the paper collections on horizontal surfaces. The ones that grow vertically at alarming rates. The pile on top of the stereo: Japanese flash cards and dictionaries and a sewing calendar. The pile by the back door: bills and phone numbers and scratch paper and pens and markers that are spilling out of their jar. The pile on the bar: old science dioramas, a laptop case still fresh in its packaging, laundry that is drying over bar stools, homemade candles and more paper of unknown origin.

The dryer buzzer sounds and I wonder about the timer for this writing prompt. Only two minutes remain.

The writing space I envision is so completely different than what I’ve just described that to say that it is laughable would be cliché and …. laughable.

The writing space I want is mostly silent. But how do you visualize silence? Maybe a room with the breeze blowing white gauzy curtains and no paper on the walls or flat surfaces. One where the children aren’t playing Apples to Apples with friends or squealing at the Xbox 360. One where the puppy doesn’t ring the jingle bell hanging from the back door’s knob to let me know he wants to go outside. Or where the dishwasher doesn’t remind me that another load needs to be done, or the laundry piles in the laundry room don’t remind me that I still need to pack for an upcoming trip – which then reminds me that the rest of the day holds: a counseling appointment for one of my children, a trip to the bank, a cacophony of phone calls to finalize the able-bodied friends that are helping me move a hot tub tonight and the electrician I will need to find-hire-and-pay for the hooking up of said hot tub.

My imagined writing space will be a place of silence and harmony where distractions are minimal and where I can access the section of my soul that knows what needs to be written. The key will unlock with a delightful click and the room I enter will be fresh and new and I will write down what I see.

Conversely, if the room the key opens – because it is different most times I go there – is alley dark with the ammonia stench of fear and shameful loathing, then the silence allows me to excavate in privacy and to take time with the slow removal of the bandaid that covers this super ouchy time in my life.

How Am I Not Myself?

2010-08-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

"How am I not myself?" ~ I Heart Huckabees

If Art is communication -- and that makes sense to me -- what message am I trying (or what message do I want) to send? What do I want to say?

When there are no words, I go deeper. Feel inside. See in color and texture. See pictures, movements. Do I hear sounds?

Art is also self-expression, though it has been argued that even self-expression is communication. Either by receiver seeing who the artist is, or by the artist receiving as he is creating. Understanding who she is through her own artistic expression, even when no one else sees.

How am I not myself?

Cooking dinner for my family. Cooking -- for me -- is not an expression of love for my family. I don't feel love when I cook.

When I clean house, run errands, carpool and chauffeur when I'd rather be creating art: painting, writing, building with clay.

When I watch my life in a movie or read it in a book, but don't live it.

That's how I am not myself.

Grocery Scare

2010-07-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

I'm already at the EEK! moment of curtailing our monthly expenses. The kids and Paul are distraught at losing cable, too.

I went grocery shopping Sunday or Monday and spent $90. I was feeling pretty smug about my weekly grocery bill. $600/mo? No problem. But then yesterday I didn't know what to make for dinner and the family decided on turkey sandwiches and sweet potato fries. We stopped at the store on the way home from a doctor's appointment for Joey (Robert introduced himself as Joey for the first time in three years!). We bought a bunch of bananas, a bag of grapes, two nectarines, three yams, a box of tangerine fruit popsicles on sale for $2.50, a bag of cotton balls because I've been out for months, a pound of Diestel turkey ($10), a loaf of gluten-free bread ($5), and a bag of frozen sweet potato french fries also on sale. We spent $60.

$60 on dinner.

Ok, there was some fruit in there. Let's call that breakfast.

So $60 for dinner and breakfast for four people.

We could've eaten out for dinner AND breakfast for less than that.

Maybe eating out IS cheaper.

I don't know what to do about this. I don't know what to believe. And at $150 spent this week already (actually more because I went to Costco, too! and I don't know where the receipt for that is) ... I shouldn't be able to go shopping for another week AT LEAST but realistically two because of the Costco trip. And that feels impossible.

We have no meat in the house. No gluten-free bread. The fruit certainly won't last us two weeks. (Try four days.) Almost out of yogurt. No cheese (non-dairy or regular) because I forgot to buy any. I think we are low on gf pasta, maybe one more bag of it.

And we're traveling next week. I'm going to have to go shopping when I get to Massachusetts. I'll need to stock up Fernanda's (the kids' Portuguese gramma "Vavo") pantry with gluten-free, casein-free foods for Joey to eat while he stays with her. And when I'm at the conference I'll have to eat out for dinner at least three times, maybe four.

The eating out will have to come off my allowance, but the shopping for Joey will be more grocery money spent, so that for the rest of August I estimate we'll only have ... oh wait! Whew. This is still July. In August I'll get a whole new $600 to spend on food. August might actually be ok. The kids'll be gone for 18 days of it, so Paul and I can get away with eating lightly and cheaply. Rice and beans for us is just fine. We actually LIKE to eat that. And I can do a big shopping trip right before they get home.

Ok. I can do this.

And I'm sure the kids'll not be traumatized without cable. We have Netflix, You Tube and Saturday morning cartoons. Paul will not parish without his news. He can get it all online anyway. Even his favorite news shows, like the Rachel Maddow Show. But he will lose his boxing channels. And I'm sorry for him there.

Next up: Should we cancel the land line? Should we cancel the internet? Both Paul and I can receive emails and send them from our phone (albeit MUCH slower), but Aubrey can't chat with her friends. And neither can Paul or I for that matter. And we totally use it. Almost every day. Plus those news shows he now has to get on the internet because we don't have cable? That'll be gone, too.

(And we've got three cars. One isn't used all that much. We can cancel the insurance on it and park it out at Paul's mom's house in the country to be used whenever one of our other cars goes belly up and we don't have the funds to resuscitate it. That'll save a few dollars.)

Bicycle Power

2010-07-25T08:04:00.000-07:00

Bicycle-Powered Blender!!!

I love it!

I want one.

We went to Bite of Eugene at Alton Baker Park yesterday and lots of local food vendors showed up. It was an interesting break from the almost constant tv/computer viewing my children have been coercing me into.

These smoothies were free to passersby but have yogurt in them. I asked if it was possible to just make the next batch with apple juice and the fruit and leave the dairy out so Robert could drink some. They were totally game, and even rinsed out the blender to make sure there wasn't any yogurt residue.

Shortly after they started doing it, another woman walked up asking the same thing. :) Serendipity.

Robert quite enjoyed helping to prepare the smoothie.

Then some free jumping!

Even Aubrey partook.

And here is my non-sequitor photo.

I had planned a solid week of sewing last week. All the children and myself are short of summer clothes and I have all the fabric and notions at my fingertips. So on day one I sat down and sewed up these shorts for Robert within two hours. They are completely huge. But he still wants them.

Alas, I haven't sewn since (and that was seven days ago.)

Money Drudgeries

2010-07-23T18:26:00.000-07:00

Today I'm crunching numbers and trying to get creative about low-cost (read: free) activities and entertainment. And how in the world to half my grocery bill.

My garden is a bust this year because ... well, of all the reasons a garden might go bust: forgetting to water, not planting in time, etc. And plus, my uber-responsible Master Gardner roommate moved out and I haven't gotten into the swing of things regarding garden mentality.

So no free food there.

There's a Grower's Market in Eugene that I can take advantage of. I can donate a couple of hours there every week and then I can get 15% off my groceries purchased there, as I understand it.

And I can talk to a friend of mine that does really interesting things with her food budget, like: buying all her grains online wholesale, and shopping at Costco for certain things and picking fruit all summer long and preserving like mad.

I think I'm a little behind in the season for preserving all the things I could preserve, but I've already frozen blueberries and raspberries for smoothies, and canned strawberry jam. I'm interested in picking apples and making applesauce and apple butter, and picking peaches for canning and freezing. That was a big hit last year; they went fast. But honestly, I doubt I will have the energy or know-how for much more than that.

I could start buying produce at Farmer's Market and just put that into my schedule (for instance, tomorrow is Saturday's Market/Farmer's Market ... I could go and see if there was a type of food that the family would eat and buy something there instead of at the wonderfully convenient and shiny Market of Choice down the street from me.)

And I'd need to start buying produce more often, because oftentimes it whithers before we eat it and I just compost it.

OK.

Disclosure time.

Paul and I are extremely serious about cutting back our expenses this year. So serious in fact that we are going to (most likely -- still leaving a loophole) sell our huge house. It's been a good house, but the mortgage is just too high. We knew the house was too expensive for us when we bought it, yet still we did. It was just the right decision at the time. But now. We don't need it so much. And we especially don't need the ginormous mortgage.

So, we'll take a few months to work out the details ... like, do we want to buy a smaller house here in Eugene? Or rent an apartment and try to save even more money? And I anticipate making this change by the end of the year.

We'd like to be able to subsist on my income only, leaving Paul's for extravagant things like paying off credit card debt and paying for the girls' tuition. Aubrey wants to go to the Eugene Waldorf School and Aniela's getting into a private fashion school in Portland and needs some help with the living expenses that will evolve because of that. And he'd also pay the rent/mortgage at the new place.

So ... my income will pay for everything else. For a family of four. I get $2483/month from the VA and Social Security Survivor Benefits. (This will go away when the kids reach a certain age.)

Let's take groceries for a minute. I just added up the receipts I could find for the last month (and a few days), and I spent $1093.37 on groceries. I'd like to take that down to at least $600/month.

(insert blank stare)

I'm not sure where to even start.

And that's just groceries. We've allowed for me to have $200/month for allowance for me and the kids to use for everything. Everything. Last month I spent $359.14. (A little bit on underwear and socks, a gift for someone, a few drinks at Starbucks, a game for Family Game Night, and ordering a pizza on a day I couldn't fathom cooking dinner.) Oops. That didn't include all the money I spent on babysitting. I guess that'll have to come out of my allowance from now on, too.

Then there was $178.99 emergency vet bill for Kiya's hives, and the hundred dollars I spent in supplements for us yesterday.

I'm not trying to be one of those people that complain about having to give up their Gucchi allowance, and I don't get a latte everyday -- more like once every week (or even two!) But I am concerned about how to make this huge change. I grew up maybe not "poor," but I remember my mom deciding which of the bills to pay that month, and I learned from her that even if the bill is $63 and you only pay $10, you can't get sent to a collection agency or have your service shut off because you've at least paid something.

And when I got married the first time, we lived pay check to pay check and sometimes had $16 to last us until pay day. And when I was married to Rob (2nd husband), we lived with his mom the whole time and rarely went out to the movies or on dates or ate out. And still, sometimes Fernanda (Rob's mom) provided a buffer between our paychecks and reality. So when Rob died and I got some cushion, I stopped having to count my quarters to buy a few gallons of gas (or cigarettes depending on which time you're talking). Some might say that I chose not to worry about money at that point, some might say I didn't have to.

Either way, the result is ten years of not concerning myself with what things cost and allowing my values to dictate where I spend my money, thereby creating a dynamic where I don't know how to live frugally anymore.

Allowing values to dictate where you spend your money is not necessarily a bad thing. But when I go to the grocery store, I automatically throw the organic canned beans in the cart and don't even look at the difference in price for the conventional ones. Or sometimes I'll notice that organic peppers are $freaking-three or four ninety-nine EACH and the conventional ones are 88 cents. Bugger. So then I go through the huge conundrum of Do I Choose To Poison My Family This Week? Which pepper should I buy?

Shopping takes a long time for me and my conscience.

Or the DOG FOOD.

Damn. That one took me years to settle. Raising cattle is so destructive to our environment and I've watched so many documentaries about the hideous living conditions they live in, not to mention the antibiotics and hormones that are injected into them. And that the diet they are given kills them slowly and painfully. So if I don't want to support that industry and buy dog food with beef in it, then I need to go with lamb, chicken or turkey. Lamb doesn't agree with one of my dogs, so "no" for that, which leaves poultry.

Can you say "battery cage?"

I can't go down that road either. Paul and I were on our honeymoon in Mexico and happened to be driving down the highway behind a big truck FULL of stacked battery cages stuffed with white chickens. I could tell by looking that a third of those birds were already dead -- or wished they were -- from pure mistreatment.

So I've tried making my own dog food, which is spendy when you add in all the supplements that I've been told need to be added for their health and so I don't give them a deficiency in their diet, making them sick.

I've tried buying dehydrated raw food from my vet. Just add water and mix with your kibble to cut the cost in half. Still spendy.

And I've found one source in Eugene that carries organic dry dog kibble. So I'm currently feeding them that. But it's $50 for a 25 lb. bag. And I only knew that because I just went into the garage to look at it.
So, I identify two problems. One, that I can support my value of only buying organic meat products and pay $50 for 25 lbs of food, or not, and buy a 40lb bag of a FAR inferior product with god knows what in it (I've read those reports, too) for $20. And Two, that I didn't even know what the bag cost, because I just buy without checking in .... and that I think will save us the most money this year, if I can manage to not do that anymore.

I'm stopping. I feel like this post has turned into a rant. And I'm sorry for that, Dear Reader.

But I still don't know what to do about my budget. :)

Any suggestions for ways to cut back on spending? What has your family done for this past recession?

Sacred Writing Time -- Strike One

2010-07-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

I had a strange dream last night.

You know what I would do if there was an earthquake?

Can you do the closure on my bra?

Then the dog stepped on my foot.

You know why I love the internet?

And in my dream I: (insert HUGE story here).

Could you get the stuff ready for me cleaning the back door? I can't find the vinegar.

I'm hungry. I'm not saying you have to get up right now and get me something, I'm just saying that if I get too much more hungry, I'll get a little bit grumpy.

Yaw-Hoo! Yea, Baby! Uh-huh, Oh Yeah! (exclaiming over the computer game my son is playing.)

I take it the dishwasher is clean.

I would wait except for the fact that I'm so hungry it hurts!

Poison Arrow! (more computer gaming) Booya! Poison, poison, poison, poison, poison!

Will you stop chanting poison?

What? It's a poison arrow. (pause) Fine.

Two slices of deli meat.

Deli meat? What do you mean deli meat?

Turkey.

Oh.

My work time/writing time is from 10am to noon. This is the rule around here. I write, the kids leave me alone unless there is blood or a fire.

Today. It didn't work so much.

To Be Free of the Me Others need me to Be.

2010-07-19T10:23:00.000-07:00

Creation channels
the Rage in the Cage.
Battering, fluttering
Held against my will.
Who does the holding?
None other than me.
Set yourself free!
I yell.
To no Avail.
What's keeping me?
Why do I curtail?
Fear.
Of.
Me.
Who Am I?
Will I like what
I discover?
Set Fire.
And banish
The old thoughts
And patterns.
Screaming to be me
To be free.
To be free of me?
No.
To be free of the me
Others need me to be.
What do I want?
To find the hidden spring,
The well that
Holds all my passion
And ernst.
My glorious, cleansing
Complete.

~6/14/2004

A Precious Paul Day Off ... spent at the pool

2010-07-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

"Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle K."

2010-07-16T07:42:00.000-07:00

As I was trying to find a suitable picture to insert in this posting, I ran across this shot taken at Mt. Pisgah earlier this month. It seemed appropriate considering the path disappears into the trees, not identifying what direction it's heading -- let alone where it'll end up. And that seems to epitomize my life right now.

Not in a vaguely frustrating restless sort-of way, but more in a the future's so bright I gotta wear shades sort-of way.

The future holds delicious uncertainty for our family, and exciting things loom. Or maybe not. Maybe we'll stay right where we are on our path, but I think not. I don't feel at liberty to go into detail right now. But in a couple months time, I'll have a better idea if big and wonderous announcements need to be made.

So, for now, whether you are an occasional lurker on this blog, a die-hard follower, or even a family member -- continue checking back to see what things are afoot.

I don't say these things to be coy, or mysterious, but simply because I haven't been posting here because the only things on my mind are these unmentionables, and I wanted to reach out and explain my absense here. But I also am not divulging information because I just don't know the outcomes. I don't know where the path leads, or even if we'll stay on it. I could tell you what we are debating, but that might set things in uproar before we are ready to discuss it. So, please, be patient ... and maybe look for clues on here. (Because it is exciting, and I'd love to talk about it, but it just seems pre-mature.)

Read more »

Summer Snarkiness

2010-07-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

My lovely children are soaking in the summer rays and sinking into the lazy mentality of, "It's summer vacation, Mom." This quote comes complete with either eye-rolling or a snarky tone to the voice. Fully automated. Batteries included. Every time I ask them to do something.

I'm getting a little bit tired of it.

But here are moments captured that don't involve said snarkiness:

The Celebration of Me

2010-07-07T12:12:00.000-07:00

At first contemplation, the only times I've been celebrated have been on my last few birthdays where I've invited my friends to congregate around me and share the most precious of things with me ... time. Their time.

But that is not true ... for I am celebrated every day. Every day my son hugs me, every day my husband touches his skin to mine and every day my daughter smiles at me.

I am celebrated because they love me and choose to share that with me.

Whenever I receive an email from Jesse he signs it *Big Jesse Hug* and when I see my friends, their faces light up like they are so happy to see me. And they are. And that is how I am celebrated.

When I read something at a No Shame performance, I receive applause, and (though all do) I see this as a celebration of me. Of what I've shared -- that piece of me.

When I share my writing excerpts to Paul, or my critique group, I receive honest feedback and constructive critique -- and I feel celebrated then, too. Celebrated for my words and honored that I am spoken truth to. That I am worthy of being told the truth.

And so, I celebrate me for being me. Because I am a good person. Worthy of love and compassion and friendship and truth and authentic relationships.

And I celebrate me because I like who I am.

I'm me.

Why I Love Music and Movies

2010-07-06T18:10:00.000-07:00

I often wish that I were more musically inclined -- either with playing an instrument or with singing. But not enough to actually put the work in for learning and training. But despite this I feel a great affection for musicians and have at times in my past called them my friends and supported their musical efforts as best I could.

I've had musicians as roommates, friends, and co-workers.

I listen to all sorts of music and, like reading the written word, I find myself moved and swayed through emotions depending on what type of music I'm listening to. This is one of the reasons I've been in awe of musicians -- as well as writers: their ability to carry people on waves of emotions, and usually at their own manipulation. They write sweet melody to sway listeners to love, they write angry rants to instill indignity so people will sit up and listen.

When I listen to music, I remember. And that is why I love it.

If I listen to Frank Sinatra, I think of Paul, my husband and love.

When I listen to The Cranberries and Dishwalla, I think of Mobin and searching and my time spent living at Zach's house trying to find who I was.

When I hear Seal, I think of Tim and our few perfect moments and the more moments feeling not that perfect.

When I hear No Doubt, I remember a restless time in Montana and secrets and a crazy summer working at Blockbuster and riding a motorcycle and a jet ski and flirting outrageously and being the 'other woman' briefly. And oddly, I think of my sister, Leslie.

When I hear eighties music, I'm transported to 7th grade innocence and dreaming of my crush, Mike Spowehn, and discovering masturbation (but not because of Mike), and then later high-school and dating my first real boyfriend and MTV and 'butt rock bands,' like Bon Jovi and Europe, Poison and Warrant.

But Firehouse and Erasure remind me especially of Eric (that first real boyfriend), and OMD reminds me of Kari Martin -- my locker partner in junior year.

And movies. There are certain movies I watch over and over purely for the feelings they instill in me. Like a nurturing friend.

I'll watch Sabrina (with Harrison Ford) when I feel lost in myself and need to feel stronger. I watch Little Women (with Winona Ryder) when I miss my sisters. I watch Jane Austen (especially Pride and Prejudice) when I want to go to a slower time, when I feel like I'm trying to do too much, or that too much is expected of me. Or, strangely, when I feel carried away romantically or sexually with a new partner or crush and I feel I need to slow down -- to take lessons from a time when you only kissed a man if you were engaged to him. I watch Uncorked if I want to remind myself to be authentic. And I watch Serendipity when I want to feel closer to Paul and re-live our early dating days.

And then anything foreign is awesome. :)

I Am My Own Conundrum

2010-06-30T10:40:00.001-07:00

I am a mother, a wife, a failed housekeeper, a disgruntled non-vegan, a reader, a procrastinator, a polyamorist, a writer, an urban-homesteader, a future ex-pat.

I am a fringe A.D.D.-er, an advocate for my son's "special needs," a "special needs" detective, a sugar addict and a frequent consumer of chocolate, cheese and olives.

I am a wannabe living simply seeker and a not-so-closet book junkie that wants to travel many places for long vacations involving rat-race jobs to fund them and foreign oil guzzling, carbon foot-printing airplanes to take me there.

I want to hang my clothes to dry and raise chickens and rabbits and knit and write on my idyllic farm and take my dogs running on my land, but I also want no responsibilities and to live in a little cottage across from a city park with a container garden on my porches and have gatherings at my home amongst friends.

I want to move out of the country and escape my husband's job where I rarely see him with its unpredictable days off and long days with no set closing time or lunch hour, to a place where the cost of living is low enough that our jobs keep us together in goal and spirit and commitment, rather than apart.

I want to move out of the country for the excitement and new challenge and for new writing fodder. But I don't want to because I'd miss Starbucks decaf mochas and my writing group and Bhangra dance lessons and Bikram yoga and No Shame Eugene Theater group.

I'd miss the friends I've finally made -- the ones that take longer and longer to make the older I get.

I'd miss my dogs that we might very well have to leave behind if we left.

I don't want to move because what if there isn't a school that I would touch with a ten foot pole for my kids. Before, I'd just say I'd home/un-school them, but I feel done with that now. I don't feel I have the energy, my attention is strongly diverted to my writing right now, and Robert's needs suddenly seem beyond my scope of expertise. But then again -- if we moved, it would be likely that Paul would be more helpful with the children and engage with them in ways that I wouldn't, haven't, or won't. And a friend brought up that maybe in another country, where they treat their children differently and award them different station, he wouldn't have special needs. Maybe he'd blossom into who he really is.

I also don't want to move because of my daughter. She's a teenager now -- even though she's only eleven -- and walks around with her iPod earbuds in, trying to shut us all out and she hates moving. Despite our long times at each of our two Eugene homes, she's necessarily had to move schools and daycares for various reasons and she remembers each kid that was important to her from each school (all the way back to her preschool daycare.) And she cries about them and misses them to this day.

We've finally gotten her back into a school we should've left her in all along and it'll take her through middle school. So I really don't want to move her out of that and even if we plan and wait for the three year mark (until she's out of 8th grade) -- many of her friends would be scattered to different high schools anyway, so maybe the loss would be diminished or at least not added to it - but then Robert's schooling would be interrupted mid-middle school.

So I can't win there.

But maybe, again, if our family were planning for the next three years to go, and Robert all along knew that he'd be moving the summer after his 6th grade year, maybe it wouldn't be a big deal to him.

I love the idea of our family all working together towards a common goal, like all of us learning Spanish together. Not that I've ever wanted to learn Spanish, but ... you know what I mean. And I'd like the idea of all of us making decisions based on our future move.

Paul and I are going to start researching other countries this year. We'll be taking a scouting trip to Costa Rica this fall, and I'd like to add Scotland, Ireland, Wales, New Zealand and Australia to the list.

France has intrigued me for years and Italy, too, but Paul doesn't want to learn a new language. Party Pooper. I mean, half the reason to move to a foreign country would be to learn a new language and immerse yourself in their culture!

Yes, Costa Rica is a Spanish-speaking country, but if we ever did move there, we'd most likely join a sustainable community full of expats growing their own food. So maybe no need for Spanish.

But there now. Paul would chide me for thinking too far ahead.

The Call of the Donut

2010-06-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

Ok. My cleanse is over. I capped it off early with a baked potato and grilled chicken, the holiest of holy donut and Bijou organic popcorn with nutritional yeast. It was heavenly. And I did it all with my honey. He's such a lovely man. You rock, Paul! <3

This morning Tamara and I drove to Holy Donuts and picked up donuts and coffee for everyone. I had light sugar in my coffee and one donut and started feeling over sugared. I figured I didn't feel over sugared last night because my donut was dessert after the chicken, so I fried myself an egg from one of our beautiful ladies.

I feel better. And today I'm still going to drink two quarts/liters of water today and only fruit for any sweet tooth I may still have. I'd like to keep it like that for the rest of the week actually. Let's see if I can do it! :)

Day One of MediCleanse

2010-06-21T09:19:00.000-07:00

I just consumed the first shake for my MediCleanse cleanse. As I was making it for my husband (we're doing it together) earlier this morning, I was very afraid. It smelled horrible and looked vaguely like the color of baby diarrhea. I brought it to Paul and he chugged it, reporting that it was gritty and had "kind-of a bad aftertaste." I still had huge reservations, but was a little less terrified.

He left for work. I fed the dogs. I made my special tea that I'm drinking this week to help detoxify the liver. I filled up a water bottle. I put away some things in the kitchen. I switched a load of laundry. I gave my daughter a hug. ... And then, with nothing left to delay me, I made myself the shake.

Knowing that when I take my supplements, I use lots of water to swallow them, I figured I would use the shake to take my pills. That way I'll be forced to chug the thing. I put two of my pills in my mouth and put the jar to my lips and poured some of the drink in my mouth. It was so gross I couldn't even swallow it and started to gag immediately. I aimed for the sink and mostly made it all in.

By now I'm horrified and use clean, filtered water to take my supplements and get the vile stench from the shake off my lips.

I glared at the jar with the nasty in it. This, by far, was the single most disgusting thing I've ever tried to consume. And I have a naturopath who puts me on herbal tinctures all the time. I've tasted yucky.

A straw!

If I used a straw I could drink faster thereby ending my suffering sooner, and I wouldn't have to smell it, which is what caused the gag reflex, I was sure.

I found the only straw in the house at the back of the junk drawer. It was one of those bright orange Halloween straws that you can get at the dollar store for goody bags. It smelled faintly of that citrine-something that's supposed to ward off mosquitos when burned.

It worked. It was gritty and it there was a "kind-of a bad aftertaste." I took a gulp of my special tea.

First one down, eight more to go.

I'll keep you posted.