tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67518963258113393482024-03-13T09:58:52.267-07:00 Polymathic IntentionsAmberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-13344299158690255892014-10-02T12:35:00.005-07:002014-10-02T12:35:59.523-07:00Wit Fit Prompt - 10/2/14Wit Fit Writer's Prompt for <a href="http://www.writers-collective.com/wit_fit/2014-10-02/">October 2nd, 2014</a>. <br />
<br />
Word Prompt: Scourge<br />
Scenario: Relive the past or see into the future?<br />
<br />The rolling "r" sound always tripped her up. It had for as long as she could remember. Her tongue couldn't say it right, and she didn't feel like it was her tongue's fault. Her brain thought it was made one way, but when it came out she knew it wasn't right. It wasn't just the "r", really. It had to have a shrill sound right before it, or a grunting guttural vowel, for her mouth to really make mush of it. <br />
<br />
Girl became "gourrel". <br />
<br />
Squirrel became "skorwel".<br />
<br />
Scourge became "skerage". <br />
<br />
And each time her tongue tried to form the word she would blush pink, reliving the embarrassment of elementary school years that came with a brain that was able to handle the six syllable words and a tongue that couldn't even pronounce "word" without making it sound too long and soft. <br />
<br />
Years later, teaching college level courses and presenting nerdy academic papers, she would find herself avoiding simple words. Her fear that her mouth would fail her and make a fool of her in front of a class of fifty was intense, given her confidence with the concepts and material that were the real trick of each talk. <br />
<br />
Each mispronounced word bringing her back to pigtails and people so confused about why she was speaking of sea gulls, when all she wanted to say was "girl". Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-67058982908140880772014-10-02T12:19:00.001-07:002014-10-02T12:19:05.064-07:00Wit Fit Prompt - 10/1/14Wit Fit Writer's Prompt for <a href="http://www.writers-collective.com/wit_fit/2014-10-01/">October 1st, 2014</a>.<br />
<br />
Words: Porter, portray, portico.<br />
<br />
She didn't always use her world to the best of her ability. It was a flaw she could feel, this inability to functionally organize all of the energy and passion and strength she always had rattling in her skull. She felt like a bull in a china shop, but instead of shards of china she left the overwhelming unimportant chunks of her chaotic life in her wake. Too many pairs of shoes for the back of a car to reasonably hold. Cereal bowls with remnants of oatmeal sitting for days while her brain pursued more exciting bits of the universe. <br />
<br />
Her front porch was proof of this. Plants, and two metal sitting chairs from the fifties, sat on the covered space. The portico was screened to keep the insects out. It should have been warm and inviting, but instead it always seemed to be her home's first line of defense against her. The shoes that made it in from her trunk but failed to make it all the way to the rack. The jacket then wet and now dry. Still sitting from an unexpected downpour. A stack of recycling that had not made it all the way out to the curb. Gardening tools that still lived where they had been set after a sweaty afternoon weeks before, crusty muddy gloves still keeping them company. <br />
<br />
A shame, she thought. Each time she pulled up to the house. A shame. Such a charming space, her side street protecting it from the chaos of the world, perfect for sitting and drinking a cold porter beer or iced coffee. Maybe cider, to match the cooling nights and warming fall colors. But instead it only worked to portray her personal chaos to the world. To show them the nastiest shreds of her daily failures. It reminded her of walking past the neighbors trash when that mean old gray tomcat had gotten into it. Their shameful sugary treat wrappers, too many beer cans, their bathroom trash, all over the sidewalk for the whole world to see. <br />
<br />
She wished she could leave an annotated note on the space. "Please Pardon, my excited brain has too many other things to consider..." But even to herself the explanations rang with the tense high pitch of an excuse. So instead she just walked inside quickly, keeping her eyes down like a small guilty child. Avoiding eye contact with the clutter that spoke to her clumsy bull nature. Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-66272328257315119482014-08-14T21:59:00.000-07:002014-08-14T21:59:34.976-07:00The Riot Grrrl Collection: Edited by Lisa Darms<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Angry pissed off <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Riot_grrrl">Riot Grrrl</a> punk was the anthem of a particularly mundane “color in the lines” period of my life. When I was in grad school I would sit alone in a little lab room, entering data or running stats, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bikini_Kill">Bikini Kill</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calamity_Jane_(band)">Calamity Jane</a> would blast through the shitty speakers. One wall of the room was bright orange, for some unknown reason, and I managed to write thousands of words in APA style while Riot Grrrl angst bounced around the bright tiny room. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://syndetics.com/index.php?isbn=9781558618220/LC.JPG&client=sprgr&upc=" width="240" /></div>
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<span class="s1">Now, years later, my mind is building creativity. I have abandoned that world of data entry for one of nerdy writing and slam poetry and mail art. Yet the universe keeps building infinity loops. Round and round. And so, the Riot Grrl movement has come back again. This time, in the form of <a href="https://coolcat.org/search~S1/X?searchtype=t&searcharg=the+riot+grrrl+collection&Submit.x=0&Submit.y=0&Submit=Submit&SORT=D&searchscope=1">The Riot Grrrl Collection</a>, an archival collection of zines and writings and goodies edited by <a href="https://twitter.com/Lisa_Deee">Lisa Darms</a>. I noticed this collection on the ever exciting new materials shelf at my local library and had to take a look. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The book is a carefully curated collection of zines, pamplets, letters, and lyrics from the Riot Grrl movement. It comes from the personal papers of women like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kathleen_Hanna">Kathleen Hanna</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johanna_Fateman">Johanna Fateman</a> and is an excellent example of the archivists value at documenting the less tangible moments of a historical movement, in the thick. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">This collection speaks to the feminist movement, and the creation of a space where women feel safe. It is easy to look at the times around us and label our times as progressive. The Riot Grrrl movement shows that the current progress is built on the marginalized foundation of the women who came before. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Awareness of street harassment through websites like <a href="http://ihollaback.org/">ihollaback.org</a> has been growing, but lyric drafts from The Riot Grrl Collection show that punk rock icons like Kathleen Hanna were ruminating on street harassment twenty-five years ago. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">hair on your face and glasses that hid your eyes</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">you slow down at the stop light</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">you start to stare at me</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">and this happens, a thousand times</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">and this happens, a thousand times</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">why is your favorite pasttime</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">making me feel like i’m pinned to wax</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">why is your favorite hobby</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">reminding me that i’m being watched</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<span class="s1">your eyes </span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">and your half smile</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">look like</span> </blockquote>
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<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">they will eat me</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
<span class="s1">your eyes</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">and your half smile</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">look like</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"></span><span class="s1">they will eat me</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
- Draft Lyrics, [Hair on your face and glasses that hid your eyes}, Kathleen Hanna, circa 1989. The Kathleen Hanna Papers </blockquote>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I would like to believe that we have made progress when it comes to domestic and relationship violence, yet reading the accounts in the Riot Grrrl Collection, I feel like they could be written by my friends today. Relationships often find themselves built on a skeleton of power structure and violence. On page 55/56 there is a story titled “The Tribulation” about a woman’s struggle with a boyfriend beating and forcing her to participate in sexual acts with one of her friends. Similarly, a story on page 89 documents a woman’s slow infatuation on her waitress and the eventual witnessing of a man acting abusive towards her crush. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
The discussion of the sexualized nature of power struggles comes up again and again. Sometimes it speaks to the larger conversation, outside of the confines of our individual relationships. <span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">Do I shut my own mouth, or is there a cock down my throat? And do i simultaneously have my cock down someone else’s throat? Do i? Do you?</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
-Zine, Girl Germs no. 3, Molly Neuman and Allison Wolfe, circa 1992. The Molly Neuman Riot Grrrl Collection. </blockquote>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">In BIKINIKILL #2 a clip discusses revolution. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1">A belief in instant revolution is just what THE POWERS THT BE want. That way we won’t realize that WE ARE THE REVOLUTION. It’ll look so hard and instant and far off, someday, someday, that we won’t even try to enact it right now. </span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="s1"><br /></span><span class="s1">-Zine, excerpt, Thorne no. 2, Kelly Marie Martin, 1992. The Kelly Marie Martin Riot Grrrl Collection. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The Riot Grrrl Collection reminds me that the revolution is gradual. That it is building. That change is building and that what is now mainstream (catcalling = street harassment, domestic violence as a topic of conversation) was mainly the fodder for the absurd angry feminist zines twenty-five years ago. Reading through the zines and pamplets and letters of this movement allowed me to better understand the gradual errosion path that progress takes. It is not instantaneous, one song or one poem or one zine will NOT change the world. But it is setting the foundation for the next generation of thinkers and doers. It is the drop that someday will become the roaring river. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
It also influenced my perception of zine creation and compilation. Lisa Darms did a beautiful job editing the collection. It is inspiring. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Overall, I encourage any angry feminist, be you young and spiteful or old and saggy, to read through this collection. </div>
Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-4361499195678139882014-08-09T14:32:00.000-07:002014-08-09T14:32:18.210-07:00Skull Mail Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ukcPtTnVd_U/U-aTL5-lrLI/AAAAAAAAAlo/-IXYoflEBmM/s1600/Sugar+Skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ukcPtTnVd_U/U-aTL5-lrLI/AAAAAAAAAlo/-IXYoflEBmM/s1600/Sugar+Skull.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-21350404771971489942012-12-19T18:15:00.001-08:002015-06-30T12:00:24.137-07:00I am... I am this.<br />
<br />
I am a shirtless paperback,<br />
thumb thickness of well thumbed pages,<br />
no title, no smiling author.<br />
Just smoked stained shimmers,<br />
and slivers,<br />
of stranger's lives.<br />
I am the glued binding showing it's teeth,<br />
capitalistic illegitimacy,<br />
whose words read the same.<br />
<br />
I am a 200 calorie cliff bar,<br />
snagged at 12:47 pm,<br />
swallowed quickly,<br />
not quite a meal,<br />
but enough to settle stomach lining shudders.<br />
I am never enough to sit satiated,<br />
Harlequinn happy tryptophan.<br />
But enough to tide a hungry man over.<br />
<br />
I am the four shots in my five chamber 38 special.<br />
Steady swagger chin up,<br />
unsure enough in this concrete maze,<br />
to leave trigger tug,<br />
of noncommittal shrug.<br />
I am bullets in the gun,<br />
but gun tucked out of sight.<br />
Smiling politely,<br />
shoulders back,<br />
while hands shake in hoodie pockets.<br />
<br />
I am this.<br />
Inverse educated idiot.<br />
Knowledge without a publishers mark.<br />
A feast without five stars.<br />
Four fifths committed to tomorrow.<br />
I am never all in, but always in.<br />
Naked fractured commitment.<br />
I am this.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-47030684366543388212012-11-27T20:04:00.001-08:002012-11-27T20:05:03.815-08:00TodayToday has been a day of:<i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>soaking</i> up hot showers, my bones are still not use to this cold.<br />
<br />
<i>frying</i> up bacon with brussel sprouts. Dash of minced garlic, and I am in heaven.<br />
<br />
<i>fixing </i>couscous. Specifically whole wheat couscous with pomegranate and shrimp. My supper tonight, both our lunches tomorrow. (His with pretzels on the side, mine with more brussel sprouts, because bacon is delicious.)<br />
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<i>drinking</i> a jelly jar of white zin. Again, my bones are still not use to this cold.<br />
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<br />
<i>anticipating</i> a <a href="http://www.soulemama.com/soulemama/2012/11/wood.html">mailbox full of goodness</a>. <i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>contemplating</i> good things to come. I am just around the bend from great big changes. The sort of changes that require lots of before and after pictures, and lots of hours of peeling and painting and scrubbing.<br />
<br />
I hope all your worlds are as gloriously delicious as mine, but with a few degrees tacked on the thermometer. Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-91121494345783163552012-11-13T19:00:00.000-08:002012-11-13T19:05:03.507-08:00Frosty Mornings...The chickens are tractored right out near the brassicas right now. When I went out to feed the ladies this morning I realized that there was a real solid frost last night. Beautiful, but a little scary.<br />
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Luckily, it looks like they survived this round. Plus, as a bonus the cold killed some of the cabbage-pillers. Hopefully we will have broccoli and brussel sprouts, if they can survive just a little longer. </div>
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<br />Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-74732695971609300592012-11-11T14:45:00.000-08:002012-11-11T14:48:41.529-08:00Farmers Market of the Ozarks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Farmers-Market-of-the-Ozarks/288572937834131?fref=ts">Farmer's Market of the Ozarks</a> meets every Saturday out on the southeast corner of town. They have delicious goodies year round. They are also pet friendly, so I often take Baggins when the work schedule allows. It is amazing how affordable local healthy produce is when you take out the middle-grocer.<br />
<br />
This week's haul:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WhxeqGw6KRQ/UKAmdTASt6I/AAAAAAAAAc4/0Gzp8y4YCCA/s1600/IMG_1193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WhxeqGw6KRQ/UKAmdTASt6I/AAAAAAAAAc4/0Gzp8y4YCCA/s320/IMG_1193.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kabocha - 2.00 - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Echigo-Farm/120342311330817">Echigo Farm</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nRR1mRxYey0/UKAm0A7dS0I/AAAAAAAAAdA/CUSqyLIlUjA/s1600/IMG_1194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nRR1mRxYey0/UKAm0A7dS0I/AAAAAAAAAdA/CUSqyLIlUjA/s320/IMG_1194.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brussel Sprouts - 2.50</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5Oh7dY-gT0/UKAm3qFZAPI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/oq-X2O2GOCA/s1600/IMG_1192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v5Oh7dY-gT0/UKAm3qFZAPI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/oq-X2O2GOCA/s320/IMG_1192.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smoked Gouda - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Springhill-Dairy-LLC/220820218017074?sk=photos_stream">Springhill Dairy</a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GlozQwoqavU/UKAm2ekqc9I/AAAAAAAAAdI/HfpeoNq_a2c/s1600/IMG_1195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GlozQwoqavU/UKAm2ekqc9I/AAAAAAAAAdI/HfpeoNq_a2c/s320/IMG_1195.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Pork Cutlets - 7.00 - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/realfarmfoods">Real Farm Foods</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Overall, great additions to my table this week. The brussel sprouts have already made it onto two plates, and the cheese is going to disappear in no time.<br />
<br />
Even Baggins managed to get himself a treat, a big ol' smoked cow ribcage from Real Farm Foods. Happy doggy.<br />
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Can't wait to see what we get next week.<br />
<span id="goog_1770117506"></span><br />
<br />Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-46055360048411834032012-11-11T12:46:00.002-08:002012-11-11T12:46:44.981-08:00Martinmas Today is Martinmas, a traditional harvest festival that has traditionally occurred across Europe.<br />
<br />
You can read up on Wikipedia about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Martin%27s_Day">all the details</a>, the short version is that it is a Catholic holiday that combines a harvest feast with a Saints Day.<br />
<br />
The main features of the celebration are massive harvests and slaughters as well as walks where small children go door to door seeking treats while carrying lanterns. (Picture is Wikipedia Commons <br />
Bild 194-0273-38.)<br />
<br />
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I love the lantern projects you can find. <a href="http://frontierdreams.blogspot.com/2012/11/martinmas-lantern-tutorial-can-i.html">Frontier Dreams</a> has a precious tutorial for a bright paper lantern they made this year.<br />
<br />
I have a soft spot for harvest festivals, yet Thanksgiving in the United States feels tainted by the sins of my forefathers. Martinmas is a holiday that I will keep in mind as years pass and traditions need created.<br />
<br />Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-76271329022802408142012-11-10T11:47:00.001-08:002012-11-10T11:50:33.911-08:00Autumn Hand PiesLately I have been taking Sam lunches at the glass shop and at the flower shop where he works, so I am always on the lookout for easy meals that aren't too messy. Hand pies are such an basic meal that won't drip everywhere, and fit nicely in a lunch bag.<br />
<br />
I tend to make hand pies with whatever goodies I have on hand. All the summer veggies are gone, but lots of yummy autumn crops still exist, and meat never goes out of season.<br />
<br />
Autumn Hand Pies - Makes Two Servings<br />
<br />
Ingredients:<br />
<br />
1 Cup - Chopped cabbage. (I got this particular head from <a href="http://echigofarm.blogspot.com/">Echigo Farm</a>.)<br />
1/4 Cup - Cranberries. Fresh. <br />
1/2 Cup - Ham, precooked and chopped up into small pieces. I freeze up small batches of ham in advance for this sort of project.<br />
1 1/2 Tbs - Butter. <br />
1 Pie Crust, uncooked. You can make your own, use one you froze in advance, or use a store bought roll out one. <br />
<br />
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. <br />
<br />
Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat. Toss in the cranberries, wait a couple minutes and then throw in the cabbage and chopped ham. Wait until the cabbage is cooked down and the cranberries have popped. <br />
<br />
Set out the pie crust and cut it in half. Each half becomes one pie, aka one serving. <br />
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Place half of the cabbage-cranberry-ham goodness on half of each pie crust piece.<br />
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Fold the crust over, and use a fork to press the two pieces together. <br />
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Bake in an oven until the top is toasty and brown. Usually about 12 - 15 minutes. I would show you a picture of the finished product, but it was just too delicious and got gobbled down. Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-84476751272494321442012-10-25T15:29:00.002-07:002012-10-25T15:29:43.998-07:00Three Minute PoemsThe messy results of a timed writing prompt response circle. The basic idea is that you are given both a title and a series of words that you are forced to incorporate. The words that I know I was forced to include are highlighted here. For your giggles and enjoyment.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ELCTU7piGp8/UImdvNWH4qI/AAAAAAAAAZE/pEbZfSp7jps/s1600/IMG_0920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ELCTU7piGp8/UImdvNWH4qI/AAAAAAAAAZE/pEbZfSp7jps/s320/IMG_0920.jpg" width="261" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[A dream about] [my work life] </span></div>
<br />
<br />
The <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">wet</span> morning <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">whispers</span>,<br />
good morning!<br />
Serene mist.<br />
Pull on devoted <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">muck</span> boots in the mudroom,<br />
and slip out into the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">air</span>.<br />
<br />
Love for those inside,<br />
but also energetic motivation for the girls,<br />
in the warm clucking coop,<br />
and the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">putrid</span> yet productive goat pin.<br />
Love and scraps for the bunnies,<br />
and last night's leftovers,<br />
for the ground turning pigs.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yOX87Bidkjc/UImduu3a74I/AAAAAAAAAY8/HdChEdFSxcQ/s1600/IMG_0919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yOX87Bidkjc/UImduu3a74I/AAAAAAAAAY8/HdChEdFSxcQ/s320/IMG_0919.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[A vision for] [my family]</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If his <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">nerves</span><span style="background-color: white;"> can ever be settled, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">we can have our hands devotedly </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">clasped</span><span style="background-color: white;">, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">never </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">glancing</span><span style="background-color: white;"> at his apprehensive "what ifs", </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">instead resting our backs, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">trusting, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">against the gnarled surface of the </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">trunk</span><span style="background-color: white;">, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">of the old tree in our yard. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Watching our happy children play, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">my </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">daughter</span><span style="background-color: white;">, or son, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">heling their </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">sister</span><span style="background-color: white;"> climb up the branches, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">of the gnarled but peaceful family tree. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oa2l31a0q_U/UImdv54j8aI/AAAAAAAAAZM/KJhdZLAyYcU/s1600/IMG_0921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oa2l31a0q_U/UImdv54j8aI/AAAAAAAAAZM/KJhdZLAyYcU/s400/IMG_0921.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[Padlock]</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No fence, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
no gate,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
no lock. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My home is a safe, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
a box. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
locked tight. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
locks.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
tightly checked. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But my garden has <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">no</span> fence. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No locks. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Come eat from it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Consume</span> handfuls of lettuce. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mouthfuls of scrambled eggs with fresh chard. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">He</span> should kneel here. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">She</span> should eat here. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">war</span>. A garden. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No bounderies - no locks. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We should eat here. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This garden</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hTwRZOQUC8s/UImdwkmGBuI/AAAAAAAAAZU/LtRyQCGrk_Y/s1600/IMG_0922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hTwRZOQUC8s/UImdwkmGBuI/AAAAAAAAAZU/LtRyQCGrk_Y/s400/IMG_0922.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[Eyeball]</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Look down upon the angsty, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">dilemma</span> ridden mess, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
we have begat ourselves. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Civilization. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Do not rock me gentle across your <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">cradle</span>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This mess we stand in is appalling, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
choking our live, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
every future impossible. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Shelters, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the paranoid hopes of those able bodies watching this, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
mess, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
unfold from the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">shady</span> sidelines. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Daily oil-feasting grocery store trips from those,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
unnoticing of the impending drama. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4DXNvejY-ao/UImdxd1A8HI/AAAAAAAAAZc/EeQXGwDHWX4/s1600/IMG_0923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4DXNvejY-ao/UImdxd1A8HI/AAAAAAAAAZc/EeQXGwDHWX4/s400/IMG_0923.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[Cellphone]</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A decade ago, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I craved the phone. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Electronic communication with cute boys, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the whole internet lighting up an exciting world, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
into my daily moments, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
of <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">livingroom</span>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What now I crave, with anticipation, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
is dark silence. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No screen. No blue glow. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Just the world and a single cute boy, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">shivering</span> in the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">water</span>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Dancing</span> on the dark <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">ridge</span> behind the tent,<br />
escaping what,<br />
static noise we can.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jl1knCviOIY/UIm9A6xeX4I/AAAAAAAAAa8/oqyoaW5N2Cg/s1600/IMG_0918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jl1knCviOIY/UIm9A6xeX4I/AAAAAAAAAa8/oqyoaW5N2Cg/s320/IMG_0918.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">[A desire][for my future]</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
As fall <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">winds</span> blow,<br />
desolate loneliness,<br />
in with the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">season</span>,<br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">logical</span> contentedness in the present,<br />
is lost.<br />
<br />
Wishes for the future,<br />
press so deep into my daily moments,<br />
terrified my fertility is <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">flying</span> by.<br />
Making my own,<br />
fears of abandonment,<br />
the <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">villan</span>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-77875358962442448002012-10-20T22:04:00.002-07:002012-10-20T22:10:19.696-07:00Sippin' and craftin'.I have been craving some arts and crafts time lately. For a while I was working the desk shift at work, which involves a lot of sitting and waiting for people to decide to come in. There was a good deal of crochet happening, feeling good on my fingers. But recently I have been having another woman work that job, while I bop around being busy.<br />
<br />
I am starting to notice little prompts in my environment, begging me to set up a studio space at my new house.<br />
<br />
Today these sort of lame t-shirts caught my eye while I was out. They are clearly inspired by old linoleum block prints, and it made my fingers itch to carve into the soft medium.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfKryLbNDKA/UIODT1bZ-gI/AAAAAAAAAYE/Xx7Bt3wevec/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-10-21+at+12.07.30+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfKryLbNDKA/UIODT1bZ-gI/AAAAAAAAAYE/Xx7Bt3wevec/s320/Screen+shot+2012-10-21+at+12.07.30+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
But one project at a time. This evenings project involves a glass of Rex-Goliath merlot and a lot of slip knots.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJOH9DPHOPA/UIOCFGktlZI/AAAAAAAAAXs/HiuPMbxCRY8/s1600/photo+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJOH9DPHOPA/UIOCFGktlZI/AAAAAAAAAXs/HiuPMbxCRY8/s320/photo+%25285%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I can't show you the big pictures of my newest project, since it is going to a friend that may read this. But I can tell you you that it involves 3, 300 slip knots. I am 1,977 knots in. Over half way there!<br />
<br />
Rex-Goliath and slip knots, here I come.<br />
<br />
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Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-20596325947811330012012-10-19T22:10:00.000-07:002012-10-19T22:11:33.438-07:00Syn. I am struggling with a heavy load of cognitive discomfort this evening. I am seeking balance between what I believe is the best path for myself and what choices I believe other have to (and need) to make for themselves.<br />
<br />
I live and work very near a pawn shop in Springfield that has begun selling "Syn". Syn is one the the K2-like synthetic cannabinoids that has popped up recently. They are legal, for periods of time, but their long-term impacts on the mind and body are unclear. Check out <a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-03-04/marijuana-like-high-helps-ex-trashman-s-syn-battle-solid-sex.html">this article </a>for a quick (mainstream media) view of what is going on with these drugs.<br />
<br />
My main concern with Syn, compared to marijuana, is that it seems to attract a different group of people. I know pot heads, and the people smoking this drug look less like pot heads and more like junkies. I have also, in the context of my job, seen several people suffering from psychotic breaks or paranoid episodes who recently smoked Syn. Syn worries me, as it seems to bring out the worst in the shufflers of the city streets.<br />
<br />
As soon as the neighborhood pawn shop started selling this drug the character of the neighborhood changed dramatically. Cars are lined up to purchase this drug before the shop even opens, and pedestrians loiter near the shop after it is closed. There are always five or ten different people outside the shop, openly smoking this drug (as you would weed, rolled up in cigars or papers) in their cars.<br />
<br />
I am responsible for an older warehouse that is across the street from the pawn shop. I have asked dozens, if not hundreds, of people to move when they are parked in our parking spots. I have run off homeless people smoking Syn against our loading dock. I pick up dozens of pieces of trash (Syn wrappers, cigar wrappers, and food wrappers) each day. Our garage doors have been tampered with. The warehouse has been peed on, since the pawn shop does not have a public restroom.<br />
<br />
Today the first piece of graffiti showed up on our building.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrvCE-9B4so/UIIv9WUypvI/AAAAAAAAAXA/X0_cR27Jw1Y/s1600/photo+(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrvCE-9B4so/UIIv9WUypvI/AAAAAAAAAXA/X0_cR27Jw1Y/s320/photo+(4).JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I painted over the graffiti as soon as it appeared, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broken_windows_theory">Broken Window Theory</a> up in this bitch. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Still, I am at my wits end with this parade of degradation. I have always preached tolerance and legalization, but lately I find myself wishing that the City of Springfield would just hurry up and criminalize this junk. </div>
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No simple answers, no plans. Just an imbalance, an excess of cognitive dissonance. </div>
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Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-67243376225611873392012-10-16T22:52:00.003-07:002012-10-16T22:52:56.357-07:00Bacon, Blue Cheese, and 'Bama. Just coming off the mend of a crazy flu. What better to way to spend the evening than gulping down good ol' fashioned comfort food with your baby, and watching two potential Presidents duke it out on Youtube?<br />
<br />
I made a blue cheese and bacon casserole. It was mainly potatoes, but tasted wicked good. Served up with green beans and an apple and poppy seed salad it was relatively healthy, too.<br />
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Okay, not *that* healthy.<br />
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<a href="http://instagram.com/p/Q30ceTSxvR/"><img alt="mmmmm...." border="0" height="289" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5F4E-p6WVjo/UH5HDcgZQqI/AAAAAAAAAWI/8FrQqeh1eIg/s320/Screen+shot+2012-10-17+at+12.48.53+AM.png" title="" width="320" /></a></div>
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The debates were, well, the debates. Heartlessly depressing because you know ONE of those two men are going to hold all the power of the free world in their claws for the next four years. Slightly reinforcing because Obama is clearly the better choice, and seemed to come out swinging this time around.<br />
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At least we had bacon.<br />
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<br />Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-4453675363327524402011-12-12T15:22:00.000-08:002015-06-30T12:20:51.339-07:00I want a flock of meat birds...I recently read a piece of philosophical musing on vegetarianism. It wasn't a great piece, so I am not linking it. However... It got me thinking about where the meat I am eating is coming from.<br />
<br />
I really want a flock of meat birds. It would make me feel really good to have a giant freezer full of yummy chicken all winter, and to know they had a good life.<br />
<br />
-aAmberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-25300237094417393812011-11-08T21:50:00.000-08:002015-06-30T12:21:12.703-07:00Apples and chickens...I am currently drooling, almost literally, over a chicken coop and flock set-up that is listed on <a href="http://springfield.craigslist.org/grd/2675480199.html">Craigslist</a>. If I had a chunk of land I would buy it in an instant, no question asked. <br />
<br />
In other news, the house smells amazing. I have four racks of apples dehydrating, filling the whole house with that warm harvest season smell. Pumpkin pies last week, apples dehydrating this week. Must be autumn. <br />
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Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-87451086026839352442011-08-11T20:24:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:21:48.051-07:00Chickens...Last spring I bought six chickens. I gave two away to a friend and kept the other four. Her chickens began laying eggs today. This is <i>very exciting</i> because it means my chickens should begin laying soon as well. I came home today and made sure they had nice clean nesting boxes.<br />
<br />
Fresh Eggs..... SO EXCITED. <br />
<br />
As soon as let the chickens in their new home Pterry hopped up in her clean nesting box and started brooding. Usually they sleep perched, so the brooding seems like a good sign.<br />
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<span id="goog_1520581494"></span><span id="goog_1520581495"></span>Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-64772228590860789892011-07-20T05:57:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:22:15.159-07:00"And people in 'the summer' want ice water..."I would like to make butter today. I am now the proud owner of a KitchenAid, and apparently you can use those to make butter.<br />
<br />
I would like to get my back yard mowed today. Cut the grass down short, make the yard smell like summer.<br />
<br />
I would like to curl up and finish reading <u>Island</u> by Huxley. And <u>I sing the body electric</u> by Bradbury. And <u>Hocus Pocus</u> by Vonnegut. And...<br />
<br />
I would like to work with the chickens. Get their coop set up better. Get them a whole bunch of grass clippings, or let them run around the yard for a couple hours.<br />
<br />
I am going to go hold office hours, teach about theories of self-justification, write on my thesis, drop of copies of tests for students to take, take a friend to lunch (that will actually be fun), go to a doctor's appointment, and then go write even more.<br />
<br />
I would have made an excellent stay-at-home-wife, circa 1910.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-29717482330597621892011-06-27T11:00:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:23:30.511-07:00Gratitude Post...Today I am grateful for:<br />
<br />
- Fresh veggies straight from my garden. Cucumberscucumberscucumbers!<br />
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- Incredibly long and soft puppy ears. Attached to a puppy that can sleep through the night without needing out. <br />
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- The first UU Church service in Fayetteville where I have felt a true sense of community. <br />
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- Too many projects. I am so grateful to feel overwhelmed with work. I don't know what I would do otherwise.<br />
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- Somehow managing to disentangle myself from some of the doubts and anxiety swirling around me. <br />
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- A potential start-up is brewing in my head. Exciting!<br />
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- The simple and aesthetically pleasing use of stone in this area. Houses, walls, retaining walls, everything is made of rock.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-71829695094240649992011-06-07T17:10:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:18:41.615-07:00Beautiful and Tragic.There is a beautiful little stone house down the street from me. It has been occupied by the same couple for the last fifty years. It is on a huge lot. It is beautiful, in an ugly duckling sort of way. <br />
<br />
It is being torn down. Well, <a href="http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/1340-Porter-Rd_Fayetteville_AR_72703_M78823-65749?source=web">it is for sale for 495,000</a>. Which is only feasible if you consider it is a commercial lot. So, it is being torn down.<br />
<br />
Let me introduce you to one manifestation of my dream home...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5K4TDwBTQhE/Te67ribXV7I/AAAAAAAAAOs/tvW0H0qAcvo/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-06-07+at+6.59.25+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="170" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5K4TDwBTQhE/Te67ribXV7I/AAAAAAAAAOs/tvW0H0qAcvo/s320/Screen+shot+2011-06-07+at+6.59.25+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1.24 Acres. </td></tr>
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It sits on four lots, minimum. It has an old gravel drive leading up to the house.<br />
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It is entirely made of hand placed stone. The front porch has a stone floor. The front step is a giant slab of stone. The individual windows are ledged with stone. <br />
<br />
If I build a stone house it is going to be in the will that you cannot tear it down and sell it as a commercial property.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-7535195614123322762011-06-07T10:00:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:19:05.045-07:00Currently...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<i>Brewing </i>sun tea. Green tea with grapefruit, to be exact.<br />
<i>Walking</i> in creek beds with the puppies. <i></i><br />
<i>Smelling </i>all the wild flowers along the pup's morning walk. <br />
<i>Watching</i> fresh yogurt do it's thing in the sun.<br />
<i>Contemplating</i> <a href="http://goodyproctor.tumblr.com/post/6286057347/dream">creative creations.</a> <br />
<i>Thinking</i> about low-acid foods to help Jacob's heartburn.<br />
<i>Enjoying </i>the sprinkler as it brings life to the garden.<br />
<i>Anticipating </i>new potatoes.<br />
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**Format shamelessly stolen from <a href="http://soulemama.com/">SouleMama</a>.**Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-67564820083046733312011-05-31T12:17:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:19:27.436-07:00Thinkin' again...Contemplative day. Listening to a lot of Rehab. Although I don't worship the porcelain Gods, I think the underlying angst is the same.<br />
<br />
Between mopin' around like a fourteen year old I need to:<br />
<strike>-Build up the new bed. </strike><br />
<strike>-Plant pepper plants.</strike><br />
<strike>-Plant watermelon plants.</strike><br />
<strike>-Sweep up giant piles of dog hair.</strike><br />
-Mop defurred floors.<br />
<strike>-Repaint ceiling where water leaked through durin' the great flood of '11. </strike><br />
-Put a giant pile of shit next to the road with a 'FREE' sign on it.<br />
<strike>-Water the beans. </strike><br />
<br />
I can do this. Right? Right.<br />
<br />
Edit: All in all, not too shabby. I didn't mop or get rid of stuff but I did transplant some parsley, wash and hang a load of laundry, and cook and eat dinner with Jacob. And make homemade frozen yogurt with fresh blueberries. =DAmberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-26554202032290022552011-05-18T11:03:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:24:30.686-07:00Rhythms of LifeIt is remarkable to me how different the rhythm of my life is now than it was two or three years ago.<br />
<br />
A few years ago I lived alone (or with a roommate) with a big solitary dog named Murphy. I had literally nothing that needed done in my life at a specific time.<br />
<br />
Murphy required very little attention. He grazed on his food, he would let me know when he needed out, he basically required ten minutes a day of upkeep. (Pets aside. He was a whore for the pets.)<br />
<br />
I ate healthy, but like a bachelor. Lots of easy-to-grab fruits, veggies, granola bars, and microwave pasta meals.<br />
<br />
On the days I didn't have school you would likely see me slowly meander out of bed, find a granola bar, read some web comics. Maybe, MAYBE, do something productive like let Murphy out. If he asked. <br />
<br />
I woke up this morning and immediately let Prophet and Odin out. I then took two seconds to let myself pee before:<br />
Putting on boots and a sweater. (Rain.)<br />
Going outside with the dogs.<br />
Opening up the chicken coop so the chickens have run of the yard.<br />
Turning on the light to the coop.<br />
Refilling the chicken's food and water.<br />
Throwing some of the chicken poop on plants that need it.<br />
Pulling off the wet chickeny boots and sweater.<br />
Bringing the dogs inside and feeding them.<br />
Making Jacob and my bed. <br />
Taking the dogs back outside to poop.<br />
Making myself a plate of food. <br />
Taking the dogs back outside to poop, again.<br />
<br />
What a different pace. The astonishing thing is that I am not doing dramatically less, overall. Instead I am fitting more in the same amount of time. Instead of wasting the first thirty minutes of each day waking up, I am spending it doing the things in my life that really need attention. <br />
<br />
Being an adult... Still weird.Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-42790689074813279222011-04-27T19:31:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:17:27.993-07:00Cloud SculpturesThree quotes have been shaping my thoughts today.<br />
<br />
The first, rediscovered via these <a href="http://cannedyams.blogspot.com/2011/04/fantasizing-about-flash.html">lovely</a> <a href="http://meaningfulmemes.blogspot.com/">ladies</a>, is from Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire nation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off. </i> </blockquote>
The next from a radio ad. A quick Google search confirmed that this is their new slogan:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>Wal-Mart. Save money. Live Better. </i></blockquote>
And the final quote, stumbled on while reading "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters" by J.D. Salinger:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>He [Buddy] would disprove of Muriel's mother, too. She's an irritating, opinionated woman, a type Buddy can't stand. I don't think he could see her for what she is. <i> A person deprived, for life, of any understanding or taste for the main current of poetry that flows through things, all things. She might as well be dead, and yet she goes on living, stopping off at delicatessens, seeing her analyst, consuming a novel every night, putting on her girdle, plotting for Muriel's health and prosperity. I love her. I find her unimaginably brave.</i></i></blockquote>
Amberhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04969499418229295814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6751896325811339348.post-39133500044904893332011-04-22T11:19:00.000-07:002015-06-30T12:16:37.225-07:00This moment."<i><a href="http://www.soulemama.com/soulemama/2011/04/this-moment-a-friday-ritual-a-single-photo-no-words-capturing.html">{this moment}</a> - A Friday ritual inspired by Amanda Soule. 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." </i><br />
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