A peanut sauce to write home about...
The Meat Lover's Vegetarian Cookbook Steven Ferry and Tanya Petrovna
Here's the recipe from the book:
Makes 4 cups
10 minutes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped medium
6 cloves garlic, sliced finely
3/4 cup roasted peanuts
1 14-oz can of coconut milk
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 tsp red chili flakes
1. Saute onions and garlic in oil until transparent.
2. Place onion and garlic mixture in a blender or food processor, together with other ingredients. Blend thoroughly into smooth paste. Serve warm.
Here's how I did improv with the ingredients I had laying around:
I used oat milk instead of coconut milk and bragg's instead of soy sauce and ground peanut butter instead of whole peanuts and a combo of agave and maple syrup. Oh, and no chili flakes...SO, one could say this is an entirely different recipe! All that is missing are cilantro and green onions!
Episode 6...
Here's a good little article that came out on our art collective:
http://www.good.is/post/how-to-make-an-american-quilt-out-of-plastic
You Don't Look, Period - Hebrew Mamita
A elder friend of mine passed this along and it's worth the post:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubdGjzzJiVs
I liked that it challenged even my own expectations around being a Jewish woman....spoken word is not typical of the Jewish culture...that I'm aware...I liked how strong and confident this woman is and I like that in that tiny amount of time my heart was changed and that this was partially why she did this piece: I managed to learn something new about my culture, feel reaffirmed as a Jew, and let go of some of my stereotypes. I also like that the audience was full of people of color and that she wasn't preaching to the choir. oh, and a lot of what she shared reminded me of some of my inner homophobia and some of the things I've already been confronted with (you're gay? with an expression following that suggests I don't seem gay because I don't "look gay").
My Sweet Charlie
Ode to Charlie - February 20, 2010
It is hard to imagine that Charlie came into my seven fateful years ago. I was on my way up to leading a workshop in the bay area at an student animal rights conference (about a 10 hour drive). My dear friend, Kathy Kan and I who had both studied the egregious impacts of animal agribusiness, decided that we would stop off in the Chino area, AKA armpit of the dairy industry, to capture some photos and take some footage of the conditions. I knew this footage would lend further credibility to my presentations in school classrooms.
In searching for dairy lots, we came across a veal ranch instead (baby calves stripped away from their mothers at 1-2 days of age - often chained at the neck and unable to even turn around in their tiny stalls so as to produce the highly demanded anemic flesh, otherwise known as veal - such a euphemism) and decided to use our video camera to document what we could from the side of the highway. My heart was broken within the first minute...seeing baby calves deprived of every shred of decency, anything that is natural to them.
But something else quickly caught our attention. Sitting in plain view was a small, shivering dog. He looked terrified and as we approached him, he took off running towards the barbed wire fence that separated the veal farm from the highway. Fortunately, Kathy grabbed his back legs just as he nearly slipped through the fencing and he reached back to bit her. Tellingly, he didn't break skin. He was skittish and displayed definite signs of having been neglected or abused. We quickly discovered he had a lacerated shoulder and knew he needed immediate veterinarian help...Kathy used her wildlife rehab knowledge and compressed his shoulder with a handful of grass to stop the bleeding. It worked like a charm. Who knew? Good thinking.
We scooped him up, decided to leave the site in search of a local vet...I had no desire to find his "owner" - who would abandon a young pup and leave him without any identification...perhaps he never had a home at all, but if he did, he wasn't going back. We found a vet clinic about 5 miles away and they happened to have one remaining appointment slot and 15 minutes before closing. Upon entering the clinic, we were asked for Charlie's name and since he was unnamed, they assigned "stray" to him. His name would eventually become Sikora (the last name of a mentor and dear friend who had a similar rescue story) and then finally Charlie.
They said he was about one-year-of age and they based that on his dental records. After some x-rays ruled out major issues like having been shot, he was given Rimadyl and Clavamox and we were well on our way. We had a 9 hour drive ahead of us and Charlie happily konked out for most of it. He was virtually silent, the antithesis of the personality I'd see develop months down the road - my fiesty, scrappy, protector! Kathy lives in Maine and she knew she could not adopt him. At the time, my sister and I were living with three cats and a rabbit and the possibility of bringing a hunting breed (terrier) into the house seemed a recipe for disaster. Yet my heart could barely handle the thought of adopting him to someone and leaving him behind in San Francisco. I visited the potential of having my parents foster him, but every idea I had faded with each passing hour on the drive back.
Charlie is my best friend here in Oregon - he's loyal, incredibly bright, completely zany, gets away with anything with his pools-of-chocolate eyes, is consistently stubborn and one of my best teachers. He's grown immensely since we moved to Oregon - his trust in others had noticeably shifted. He's just about the cutest dog around. We've shared countless fun memories together and I am so happy he's in my life.
I love you and honor you today, Charlie. Happy eight birthday - here's to many more. xo, Dani
Single at Weddings Blues
July 2009
After attending my friend Martha and Bernie's wedding, I contemplated the familiar anxious feeling that washes over me with every wedding I attend as a 30-something single. A friend of mine from the gay community shared the following article with me and it helped shift the nagging sadness and emptiness I feel during these weddings. It made me feel a little less alone in my sentiments and human for having them at all.
The Single Girl's Guide to Wedding Season Blues
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One of Glamour's female dating bloggers shares remedies for single women who can get a little down and feel some pesky jealousy and insecurity while their friends are preparing to get married.
It's the peak of summer, so that means it's still wedding season! I'm pumped to party. I feel mentally and financially prepared this year, in part because I've been saving my money for all the gifts, flights, and dresses. But last week, I was listening to a friend stress about going to a wedding alone, and I remembered, all too clearly, the days of the wedding season funk.
Sometimes, a single girl gets upset when she anticipates seeing all her married friends at a wedding. She starts to imagine the looks of pity, probing questions, having to explain herself, the onset of feelings of
isolation, and people thinking she's a freak. This can also happen pre-baby showers and high school reunions - any place where marriage or family (a family other than yours) is being celebrated or where you might see lots of couples.
Symptoms start to appear the week or day before the event, but you don't really connect them to the wedding. You just experience heightened sensitivity about your single status, sadness, self-pity, and/or
irritability.
Here's what to do:
1. Acknowledge your feelings. It's not wrong to be bummed.
2. Pamper yourself or do something selfish. (After spending so much time and
money on other people, you deserve it!)
3. Get a mani-pedi or buy something that will make you feel hot and/or
expensive.
4. Try not to exhaust your mom's patience. She probably already goes above
and beyond by reading your blog every day.
5. Go on a date.
6. Hold off on filing those adoption papers.
7. Put on a smiley face for the event. This day is not about you.
Time and time again, I have found that I was only imagining that stuff about people pitying me. Friends have not been fixating on my single status, because no one thinks that much about other people and their problems. Who has the time? I was projecting. So there you have it! It's all in your head.
A New Look #1...
January 2010
These photos were taken by an old neighbor and friend of mine, Anna. She needed a model to illustrate to clients what the head shot process looked like and I needed an updated photo for the relaunching of my website. Win-win! It all gave me a great reason to finally get some blazers and professional digs for interviewing!
We had a lot of fun taking these photos - good laughs, especially about the contrived nature of photos!
A Born Writer...
Below is an impressive account of the travels of Dan, Hava and Dani over the weekend of January 22-25th. Dan captured the surreal nature of the weekend down to the hour. What follows is the story of my road trip back to Portland....enjoy!
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Hello all,
Dani, Hava and I thought it would be interesting to share our individual experiences over this past weekend as we all strove to meet and instead had our own adventures independent of one another. So, here is my weekend in a nutshell:
Thursday, Noon - Upon checking the weather report, I dig out our Honda CR-V's chains, read the instructions, do a practice run at putting them on and pack them with a pair of gloves and my headlamp in an easily accessible spot.
Friday, 9:30 a.m. - Dani and Hava arrive at our house in the Monterey area as scheduled. They spend a little time with Cori while packing up our CR-V for the first real test of its all-wheel drive credentials. While the girls were catching up, I was running around in the pouring rain trying to figure out why the pump used to clear standing water from our house's storm drains was not working. I failed.
Friday, 10:30 a.m. - We leave in the downpour. Spirits are high! SoCal, here we come.
Friday, 10:31 a.m. - I make my first mistake, opting to take county route G16 instead of doubling backing a few miles to stay on the main highway. This route which, on paper, is 30 miles shorter has been one I've wanted to try for sometime. Looking at the map, it seems like a slam dunk (you've all made this mistake, yes?). Cori has repeatedly talked me out of it because it might be curvy and our daughter has a tendency toward motion sickness (inherited from me). About 20 minutes into the trip, it becomes painfully clear that Cori was right. The road has transitioned from the 2 lanes of 55 mph traffic I know to a scenic but very slow and windy rural route. Isabelle is pale and looking ready to blow when I pull over and solicit Hava's help with the driving so I can move into the back seat.
Friday, 11:00 a.m. - Isabelle throws up a sweet smelling orange sherbet looking liquid that I later learn was smoothie consumed just before our departure. On the upside, all but a drop of it lands in the large ziploc freezer bag I had at the ready and she then felt much better. The drive, though certainly not the brilliant shortcut I had been hoping for, was spectacular and included sightings of a wild turkey, wild boar and a trio of Australian Sheperds lounging at the gate of a farm. The dogs chased our car a short ways and clearly had little such work to do judging by the total absence of other vehicles on the road. The driver of one of the few cars we did pass waved at us, recalling for me our days on the island in Washington where that was a common gesture in our small community.
Friday, Noon - We reach Hwy 101. In all, it has taken about 30 minutes longer than back-tracking would have but has offered many spectacular views. We finished the drive on G16 by crossing a suddenly swollen river on an old one-lane bridge. Beautiful scenery.
Friday, 3:30 p.m. - We are driving across Hwy 58 east from Bakersfield. We are starting to gain elevation slowly, a counterpoint to the southern approach to the Big Bear Lake area. As we drive through the high desert, scenes of Joshua Trees covered in snow abound on all sides. There is a windmill farm near Tehachapi and the old airport where commercial jets go to die (and be turned to art) outside Mojave. Dani and Hava begin challenging each other to games of memory (Where did we first meet Melissa? [who was responsible for Chad's trauma around bananas? where did we pick apples growing up - Apple Valley? Oak Glen?]) accompanied by small bets and the occasional conversation with Melissa and their mother to confirm the answers. Chad and Melissa are in Pasadena, well ahead of us it would seem. We are still several hours away.
Friday, 4:30 p.m. - We turn south on Hwy 395 as the sun begins to set. The rain has subsided for the moment and the light is brilliant. We pass through Hesperia and sweep east and then due south on Hwy. 18. As we approach the base of the mountain, it becomes dark and the snow flurries began to pick-up. A call from Chad and Melissa alerts us that they are now stuck in traffic of an unknown nature. We are suddenly confronted with the prospect of being among the first to arrive. All along, we thought we would be among the last. Ironic, don't you think?
Friday, 5:30 p.m. - We arrive at the spot where the CHP is indicating it is time to put on our chains. I make the mistake of stopping right in front of the rear guard patrolman who advises me (via his public address system) that it would be better if I moved forward a ways because he doesn't want to see me get in an accident and the last car in such a line is the most vulnerable. We move forward and my practice from Thursday proves useful as I don my gloves and headlamp quickly get the chains on in weather that is beginning to resemble a full-blown snow storm again. I felt like a one-man NASCAR pit crew. As we pull out, Isabelle mentions that the rattling of the chains on pavement is "annoying." It doesn't take long for the rattling to subside as the road is shortly covered with snow and ice.
For the next hour plus, we crawl up the mountain (a distance of 10 miles) and though the car handles great (nary a slip) and our progress is steady, our trip is not without disconcerting moments. There are a handful of folks struggling in the road around whom we are barely able to slip. Presumably, it is some of these same folks who eventually become stuck causing the road to close before anyone else can get through. About 8 miles into the climb, the road levels off and I begin to breathe a bit easier. Never having driven our car in such conditions, I had no idea what to expect. I am now a bigger fan than ever of AWD and our CR-V.
Friday, 7:00 p.m. - As we pull into Big Bear Lake, the streets are virtually car-less and the road signs are largely obscured by snow banks. Even the signs that stand above the snow are caked with it rendering them difficult to read. This is less than ideal as one of my passengers is not yet literate and the other two are suffering from a one-two punch of nausea and stomach cramps. Hava and Dani take turns gamely trying to make sense of my Mapquest printouts while I hold on with white knuckles and look for Beaver Lane. Isabelle has gathered that all is not going according to plan and someone (D or H) has the brilliant idea of turning our misadventure into an episode of Dora the Explorer. For the remainder of our trip to the cabin, Isabelle asks repeatedly, "When are we going to get the magic key?" Failing to find Beaver Lane, [Dani discovers a Cool Cabins office and feels proud of herself]. It appears well lit, warm and open. I have to drive by it by 1/4 mile before I can find a safe place to turn around without risking getting stuck. We park carefully at the edge of the road and I carry Isabelle inside. They wouldn't dare delay a hearty traveler in this storm with a small child in tow, would they?
[Meanwhile, Hava and Dani are tempted to eliminate in the woods. Dani doubles over in shooting pain and cramps from the lemon and garlic-infused mock shrimp they've consumed the evening before. Hava is nearly as uncomfortable. The unfortunate lesson: instant gratification has consequences].
Friday, 8 p.m. - They would. Chase (all of 20 years old with an impressive mouthful of braces) informs me that he does not have a fax copy of Kevin's documents which he needs to check us in and that, in either case, I am not the approved person who can check in. The final straw: The "keys" are at the other office. I am now at the OTHER office. The trip here was challenging as the road in front of it is down to one lane and there are folks trying to get by in both directions. There is a lot of getting in and out of the car to communicate with other drivers and figure out how to get by before we manage to get parked. I again take Isabelle and tromp through the snow in the general direction of the office. As I reach it, I find no apparent route to the door and so I begin plowing through a waist-high snow drift in my pants and sneakers holding Isabelle above. We knock on a door. A confused patron says the office is around the corner. Around the corner (and through another drift) I find a note affixed to the door, apologizing for any inconvenience and directing me (you guessed it) back to the office we were at earlier.
Friday, 8:30 p.m. - Okay, I'm getting mad now. We are back at the original office. Safely parked again, I return inside after assuring Dani and Hava that I will not be denied this time and we will soon get the lot of us to a restroom. Chase greets me again and I do my best to sound ticked when I say, "The other office is closed." He responds with, "When did you get there?" "Right after you sent me over there," I say, now making no attempt to sound friendly. I think he gets it because he seems to figure a few things out. Like the fact that someone in the office does have a copy of Kevin's paperwork though I am, admittedly, not Chad. Kevin is now getting a blow-by-blow from me via cell phone and doing his best to talk them into letting us check in. After insisting for 20 minutes that Kevin would have to fax them a permission slip (middle school flash back), Chase figures out that he can confirm Kevin's identity over the phone and move the process along. The "magic key" ends up being a code for the lock box on the front door of our cabin. (You try explaining this to a four-year old one hour past her bedtime.) Chase ends with the best news I've heard all night: Our cabin is along a well plowed route meaning I won't have to depend on Cool Cabins crack staff to help us gain access. Chase assures me that the road will be accessible and the driveway will be plowed. I ask if there is a shovel at the house in case that is not accurate. He assures me there is.
Friday, 9:30 p.m. - We arrive at the cabin. The driveway, though plowed, is blocked by a snow drift. I jump out and run to door #1. I try both combos. No luck. (Ironically, I will later discover that the side door to cabin #1 is open and a snow drift is protruding into the kitchen area.) I go to door number two. The box is actually open so I grab the key, go inside and run from room to room looking for a snow shovel. There's nothing to be found. I return to the car, tell the girls to hop out, go inside and make themselves comfortable. I flip through the channels trying to find something suitable to distract Isabelle and find the only cartoon I can, Family Guy. I then return to the driveway and begin kicking snow out of the way with my shoes before making an attempt to ram my way in. Now I'm stuck. Almost 12 hours into our journey, across the state and up a mountain side in a blinding snow storm and I get stuck in the driveway with my car's butt hanging out in the road. I run back up the street to a couple of guys shoveling away at their drive, introduce myself and borrow a shovel. I return and manage to get the car in with about 10 minutes of work. I then return the shovel and, as thanks for the loaner, help them dig for a few minutes. (Incidentally, their names are Jay and Brian from Burbank.)
Friday, 10:30 p.m. - We get the car unloaded and I see that Family Guy has now become Runaway Bride starring Richard Gere and Julia Roberts. Isabelle is transfixed. She later asks me if I will give her away when she gets married. [Hava and Dani find the first batch of skeevy (aka "skeevatz") dishes and pots and make a point of repeating their dissatisfaction with the quality of the cabin!] Maintenance is called to open the other side of the house in anticipation of everyone's arrival. He can't make the combo work either so he opens it with his hammer and gives me the keys. It is during my brief exploration of cabin #1 that I discover the open door and virtually break my shoulder trying to close it against the intruding snow drift.
Saturday, 12:30 a.m. - We all go to bed. Isabelle has been a champ and she and I sleep in the bunk bed room. I spend the night trying not to roll over because the beds' springs make a horrible noise and I fear that I will wake her. I needn't have worried. She sleeps like a rock ... until 6 a.m.
Saturday 9 a.m. - Our cell phones have all ceased working for reasons unknown so we continue to plan for the arrival of the gang. We take a walk in the snow, toss a few snowballs and make our way around a downed power line on the way back to the cabin. Dani and Hava work diligently on their lasagna and we make a trip to the grocery store for a few supplies and firewood. On our return trip, we get stuck behind a couple of adults arguing about something in the middle of the road. A guy in a car has jumped out to confront a snowball fighting dad about the possibility that a snowball was thrown at his car. I get out and ask if it would be possible for us to get by. This results in the conclusion of hostilities and all parties move on. As I drive by the snowball fighting dad, I re-introduce myself, "Brian, right?" Brian smiles and nods as we briefly re-live the good karma of shared snow shoveling from the night before.
Saturday, Noon - Still no word and no cell coverage. Hava breaks out a previously unused cell phone and discovers that she has service. It is then that it becomes clear that no one will be joining us. Isabelle again takes the news like a champ. Though she is never officially advised that the other kids aren't coming, she stops asking when they will be here and dutifully entertains herself with the toys we brought.
We spend much of Saturday afternoon hurling snowballs at one another and eating. Our cell coverage returns during the snow ball fight and Dani gets Will on the phone. Will manages to reduce Dani to a fit of uncontrollable laughter while Hava and I wish the cell had a speaker phone function and await our chance to again begin pelting her with snowballs. The fight had the usual share of apologies for (too) well aimed snow balls and everyone was tired when all was said and done. Saturday evening is spent around the dinner table, fireplace and playing Jenga.
Sunday, 8:30 a.m. - After trying our best to clean up the cabin only to discover that our cabin had no ash can, working vacuum or broom, we depart. The trip down the mountain takes about 90 minutes with several extended stops to wait for individuals trying to get up who are stuck and blocking the road. As we reach clean pavement again, we stop to remove our chains. While putting them back in the rear of the car, a snowball narrowly misses my head and slams into a bag in the car. This is accompanied by the sound of juvenile laughter. As I pull back onto the road, keeping my eye out for the offending black SUV, I see it ahead being accosted by several angry adult men who were (presumably) also dissatisfied with the onslaught of snowballs. The rest of the trip proves uneventful. Dani and Hava do yeoman's work at the wheel and we make good time back toward Monterey. Needless to say, we stay on the main road and avoid our beautiful but curvy rural detour.
Sunday, 5:30 p.m. We arrive in Monterey shortly after sunset and have dinner with Cori before Dani and Hava depart for points north.
I look forward to hearing of everyone else's misadventures. I hope that we can join the next attempt.
Dan Kraft
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9:45a - Dani stops off at Faletti's Market for some snacks - she discovers Columbia Gorge juices have a market in San Francisco and feels proud of the small Oregon-based company.
10:00a - 2:59p - Dani delights in mixed CD's from friends and whatever music can keep her awake.
3:00p - Dani ascends Mt. Shasta. A slight flurry simultaneously
Helping the Homeless - Choosing Not To Look Away
January 19, 2010
This was my Daily OM and one I felt moved to share. While stopped at an intersection on the way to get to the highway, I passed a homeless woman. Another car obscured me from making eye contact, but this is what I wanted to do. I often feel paralyzed - guilty for my privileged life, deep shame at a society that allows social ills like homelessness to be perpetuated, and frustrated that I can't offer more than food if it's available or eye contact. One of the situations that breaks my heart in two is seeing homeless people and homeless animals out on the streets. I started volunteering for an organization that addresses the connection (Portland Animal Welfare Team).
One of the things I've started doing is supporting Street Roots, a local newspaper covering homeless and other social justice issues. Seventy-five cents of every dollar supports the vendor.
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Daily OM
Homeless people in our communities are a fact of life, especially in big cities. Many of us don’t know how to interpret this situation or what we can do to help. We may vacillate between feeling guilty, as if we are personally responsible, and feeling angry, as if it is entirely on their own shoulders. The situation is, of course, far more complex than either scenario. Still, not knowing how to respond, we may fall into the habit of not responding at all. We may look over their heads not making eye contact, or down at the ground as we pass, falling into a habit of ignoring them. Each time we do this, we disconnect ourselves from a large portion of the human family, and it doesn’t feel right.
Most of us know in our hearts that the homeless and the poor are not so very different from us. They may be the victims of poor planning or an unavoidable crisis. Some of them are mentally ill, some are addicted to drugs or alcohol, and some are choosing to be homeless for reasons we may never understand. We can imagine that, given their lives, we would likely have ended up in the same place. This does not mean that we are meant to rescue them, as they are on their own learning path, but it does remind us that we can treat them as equals, because that is what they are. Even if we aren’t able to offer food, shelter, or money, we can offer a blessing as we pass. We can look them in the eye and acknowledge our shared humanness, even if we don’t know just how to help them. This simple act of kindness and silent or spoken blessings can be so helpful to those living on the street.
If you want to help with information, you can learn about the services in your area and share the locations of food banks, shelters, and other resources. Perhaps your family would like to have a plan ahead of time, talking with your children about how as a family you would like to handle these situations. Whatever you decide to do, you will feel much better when you make a conscious choice not to simply look away.
Nia....memory lane....
January 18, 2010
Pictures above: the sheets I created for my DreamWalker routine ("doing my bars"), me in my Nia Wisconsin tanktop from Nita, my Nia training, and the scarves I used for one of my classes at Shakti.
An old family friend of mine, Anita, affectionately known as "Nita" and I have recently reconnected after months and months of business in both of our lives. Nita has a special place in my heart - she was my first therapist and life coach of sorts - in my post-college confusion. Her vibrance, confidence and sparkle provided a very healing space as I explored the many pieces of my life that felt incongruous at the time. She was also the person who planted the very first seed about a movement form called Nia. I remember scoffing at the idea of going to a dance class. The thought of it brought me immediate anxiety.
Nia was then reintroduced to me years later in the form of an apprentice at Shakti Rising, Lindsey, who has since become a friend of mine. I lit up when she spoke about it and remembered that Nita had talked about it years back. Eventually, I got up the nerve to attend my first class (taught by a former college instructor who has also become a lovely friend) and fell in love. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I was in my body. The earthy music, the barefoot dancing, the movements...the whole package was life-altering.
Years later, I decided to go through a white belt training in Asheville, NC with the vision of teaching the women at Shakti. This would symbolize having come full circle in my own transformation. I had started out teaching classes at Shakti in women's rights issues and political activism, moved onto graduation committees, cooking for FRi night dinners, spearheading an organic garden project, staffing the house to help staff out, and then my decision to actually teach Nia. This decision would put me way out of my comfort zone and I liked that. I'm so glad I took the leap of faith.
Fast forward...I find myself in Portland, OR, AKA Nia headquarters...I have re-fallen in love with Nia and adore my instructor, Erika. ROOT Whole Body hosts these classes and I feel so happy about that because the place is full of positive energy.
Newfound Freedom
December 28, 2009
A friend recently asked me how my newfound freedom felt with my departure from NWEI and this is what I shared:
'It's rather mixed actually, a combination of sheer glee and trepidation with a pinch of anxiety and smidge of overwhelm swirled in there...the mystery of my future is both freeing and frightening. It scares me to feel like I have this much control in my own life, to know that I have an opportunity to choose a different path. I always possessed that "control," but I see it differently now...hard to explain.
I'm mostly establishing some kind of rhythm for my day so I don't get paralyzed in the lack of structure. I'm at a coffeehouse and just about to launch into the job search. It's rather bizarre to go from an 8-5p job to all hours in the day.'
I talked to my friend, Martha's mom for about an hour on Sat. night about all of this and it was so helpful and comforting just to have a listening, unbiased ear by my side! She commented that while freedom feels liberating when you leave a position that makes you unhappy that it is still disorienting. I am still obligated to pay rent, utilities, make my car payment, and balance everything else that keeps my life going.
A friend recently asked me how my newfound freedom felt with my departure from NWEI and this is what I shared:
'It's rather mixed actually, a combination of sheer glee and trepidation with a pinch of anxiety and smidge of overwhelm swirled in there...the mystery of my future is both freeing and frightening. It scares me to feel like I have this much control in my own life, to know that I have an opportunity to choose a different path. I always possessed that "control," but I see it differently now...hard to explain.
I'm mostly establishing some kind of rhythm for my day so I don't get paralyzed in the lack of structure. I'm at a coffeehouse and just about to launch into the job search. It's rather bizarre to go from an 8-5p job to all hours in the day.'
I talked to my friend, Martha's mom for about an hour on Sat. night about all of this and it was so helpful and comforting just to have a listening, unbiased ear by my side! She commented that while freedom feels liberating when you leave a position that makes you unhappy that it is still disorienting. I am still obligated to pay rent, utilities, make my car payment, and balance everything else that keeps my life going.
Winter Solstice...
December 21, 2009
A silence blankets Portland tonight....the streets seem even quieter than usual tonight. As I motivate myself up from resting my tired eyes, I give into the coziness of my gloves and the closeness of a scarf around my neck. I face the cold and there's something about it that warms my heart. I can feel my face getting flush and I smile about the crisp air and the quiet moment that I have all to myself.
It's hard to believe that it was already a year ago that Arctic Blast descended upon Portland, with it's bone-chilling, unforgiving snowfall. That was the time of my life. I'll never forget walking 3 miles through the snow - all the way from SW Chinatown to NW Industrial Area in ski boots! Public transit was spotty and unreliable and the whisper of the night called me. The streets were eerily quiet and deserted, taking me back to the set of 80's film "Gremlins."
Ahhh, it feels good to be aligned with the cycles and rhythm of the seasons.
Happy Winter Solstice, family and friends!
What if...
I wanted to share my immense gratitude to my cousin, Adrienne for extending herself way back when I began my search for housing in Portland. She helped me land this place (Macleay Gardens). It's been over a year and a half already since I've moved in...this is a place I've come to know as home and while it isn't permanent, I have made the nicest circle of friends (most of whom were out-of-state and looking for connection too) in this complex, friends that will always be friends and friends that I have made really nice memories with- that connection helped me stay grounded in times of uncertainty and it made it easier to commit to living in Portland, even when I was jobless and wondering if I had made a mistake in moving 1,000 miles from home.
What made me think of all of this is that my circle of friends is shrinking - two of the last neighbor friends, Bernie and Martha just moved to NE Portland and I am missing them immensely already and feeling fairly lonely. While my heart feels a little empty and blue without their presence, it's equally weighted by gratitude that I can experience such a depth of emotion for people who were once strangers. I remember meeting them in the parking lot days after I moved in. They were unpacking and moving their stuff into my 4-plex. I liked their down-to-earth aura immediately. We had a conversation about why they moved to Portland - they said they were recently engaged and looking for a place to call home and that Boston just didn't have what they needed to feel settled. I hoped that we could become friends.
Who would have known that we'd become such nice friends and that I would attend their wedding a year later (see photo of vegan doughnuts they got special for me)? We shared the one-and-only and intense Arctic Blast 2008 together, watching snow from Bernie and Martha's living room while sharing Hannukah and Christmas together. We shared weekly soccer games and drinks at the local pub, Lompoc together. We convened in the courtyard for stories, laughs and to let our dogs run rampant. We performanced the giddiest of dance routine together for Meg's 24th birthday (yes, 24!).
When I moved here, everything was so unfamiliar. I felt like I had regressed. I was resistant to living without privacy of a backyard. I worried that Charlie would never get along with the at least 20 other dogs in this complex. He befriended a puppy who doubled in size and is now one of his pals and he eventually learned to trust his guardian, Bernie (6'5" man!) to take him on walks while I was at work. I worried that my cats who had become accustomed to playing in my front yard would get cabin fever. They have favorite spots in the bush outside of my door and go no farther than 15 feet away from my front door. I worried I'd have no space to grow food and yet I managed to grow tomatoes, peas, peppers and strawberries in a tiny plot of poor quality soil.
Lastly, but most importantly, is that in this circle of friends was a woman who I would fall for, a woman who would become the "gateway"of sorts to my finally, finally, finally coming to terms with a truth I had intentionally ignored for nearly five years, a truth that pained me to confront.
I truly believe that when I put pen to paper nearly two years ago that this place manifested itself and that, if for no other reason, to address this vital piece of my life.
If I hadn't trusted my intuition on pursuing this place, if Adrienne hadn't taken the time to take photos, do walk-thru's and put a deposit down for this place, if ... If just one of those things hadn't happened, I would have ended up with one of the other rentals scribbled down in a notebook I just found tonight from my housing search and I would have experience an entirely different set of life experiences.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
October 21, 2009
I can hardly believe October is nearing an end. I am blessed with the plethora of people who have visited me in Portland and am still brimming with memories. More later!
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