Things have been crazy all morning at our house...and it's only 11!
Mike and I went to bed just after 2 AM, as usual. At 7, I woke up choking and coughing like I had just inhaled a piece of grass, or a gob of spit, or something. It took me a few minutes to finally stop coughing reflexively. I have no idea what happened there.
No sooner had I climbed back in bed and gotten comfortable than Cali jumps up on me to take her usual spot on my hip--except she decides to walk on every single pressure point from my knee to my shoulder, and to hit every rib in the bargain, so I push her off and tell her it's just not going to work this morning. I begin to fall asleep again when she once again jumps up on me. Of course, her added weight makes the position no longer comfortable, so I shift my weight--which means she decides to jump down. Apparently, that position would just not suit her at all. I begin to fall back asleep, and Cali once again leaps onto my hip. (We're nothing if not persistent in this household.) I once again tell her it's not going to work this morning and tip her off, vaguely contemplating shutting her out of the bedroom, then realizing I don't have the energy to get up and close the door. She seems to agree this time, however, and decides to curl up behind me on the very edge of the bed.
Finally, I had found a comfortable position, Cali behind me, and had just fallen asleep. And then Megan woke up and began crying--a full 2-3 hours early. I leapt out of bed, walked into her room, gave her a toy flashlight and another pacifier after changing her diaper, and I told her it was quiet time because Mommy and Daddy weren't ready to get up yet.
I decided to just curl up on the couch instead of trying to get comfortable in bed again. All was quiet. Until I fell back asleep, at which time I was awakened by her voice over the baby monitor: "Up. Up. Up! Up! Up!"
I ignored her the best I could, and she trailed off and began talking to--I assume--her stuffed animals, or the walls, or whoever toddlers talk to when they are apparently alone in a room. Over the next hour and a half, I was awakened periodically by her imperious commands: "Up. Uuup. Up!" Once again, I would ignore them, she'd realize she was getting nowhere, and she'd entertain herself.
Finally, at 9, I heard, "Up. Up, up, up! Uuuuup! Daaaa-dyyyyy! Up!" and some crying. The jig was up, so I got up and pulled her out of her crib, with three stuffed animals, one sippy cup, and one blanket in her arms. She discarded the blanket, showed me that the sippy cup was empty as she thrust it in my arms, and ran as fast as she could to the kitchen to await a refill.
As soon as her cup was refilled, she dropped everything, yanked the cup from me, sucked down a quarter of the water in one breath, then gathered up the three stuffed animals (all together as big as she is) and took off at full speed to our bedroom to find Daddy. I asked her where she'd gotten her speed and if she'd tell me the name of the dealer so I could get some too. (Inappropriate question to ask a toddler? Perhaps, but perhaps not. I seriously wondered if she had somehow learned how to climb out of her crib, open her bedroom door, climb up to my coffee shelf hanging on a wall, and snorted some of the grounds, then concealed all evidence of it and climbed back in her crib before waking me, but I can't figure out how she did that.)
So, back to the hallway and bedroom. I'm still somehow feeling like yesterday beat me over the head with a club and then ran over me a few times with a steam roller, even though all I did was mow half the yard (Mike did the other half) and spread straw around 4 trees yesterday. That's it, other than working at my computer. I lifted Megan up onto our bed, where she promptly threw herself onto her daddy's head to cuddle--for a whole half second. She began pointing to his ear and loudly and proudly announcing, "Ear!" And then she pointed at his eyes, then her eyes, then my eyes like a child possessed, repeating, "Eyes, eyes, eyeseyeseyeseyes!" Then she spotted Maury curled up at Mike's butt. She raced to him (as quickly as our very saggy and bumpy mattress plus piles of blankets and her three stuffed animals would permit) and, remembering our constant admonitions to be gentle with the kitty (I presume), pet him softly and gently, then tried to boop his nose. She looked at me, announced around her pacifier (she has this amazing ability to move the pacifier to one side of her mouth and either sticking her tongue out or talking around the edge of it, sort of like a man holding onto a stogie with his teeth), "That's a kitty!" When I said yes it was and asked her which kitty, she said, "Fat!" Well, she's not wrong.
At this point, she collapsed between me and Mike (I had climbed into the bed and covered up when she began pointing out family eyeballs). Mike was snoring. (Seriously, he sleeps through anything, even though he'll insist he's been awake all night.) I had one of the stuffed bunnies--Klaus, a Christmas gift--start nibbling on her toes, and she collapsed in a fit of giggles. Suddenly, she was up and diving for Mike's head, so I distracted her by tickling her. She was distracted momentarily but not dissuaded. I left her there to torment--I mean, wake up--her father so I could put breakfast in the oven.
As I was hobbling back down the hall from the kitchen (somehow yesterday or last night, I managed to do something to make my knees very sore and stiff this morning), I heard Mike ask her if she wanted down from the bed. Oh, Lord in heaven, he had released her! I collected two of the stuffed animals. (The one that had been "nibbling" on her toes seems to have been "disappeared.") She took them and her sippy cup from me as I asked if she wanted to watch a DVD. She took off--again at full speed--down the hall and grabbed her DVD--Ice Age: The Meltdown (at least the third watching of it since Tuesday). She kept dancing and repeating, "Watch. Watch. WATCH!" as I opened the case, turned on the player, turned on the TV.
Confident that the DVD was loaded and would be playing soon, she pulled a throw pillow over to the floor in front of the sofa, and used it as a step stool onto the sofa, one stuffed animal in hand, the largest (Hoss, short for Hossenpfeffer, a bunny she received for Easter) having been abandoned unceremoniously when she grabbed the movie from her movie shelf. As she had nearly conquered the sofa, she realized that the small animal--Helga, another teddy bear she got at Christmas--had somehow fallen from her grasp and onto the pillow. She leaned over very quickly, flattening herself against the sofa and stretching her arm out as far as she could to reach Helga--and promptly rolled off the sofa and onto the pillow...with Helga firmly in her grasp. Barely blinking, and apparently not noticing that she had just rolled off the sofa, over the pillow, and onto the floor, she scrambled back up the pillow and onto the sofa, Helga in hand, then looked at me and patted the cushion next to her and said, "Sit."
I sat, and she curled up next to me, and all was quiet and serene for a few minutes as the previews played and then Scrat chased after his beloved acorn.
It was 9:15.
At 9:20, she spotted her shoes on the floor and squealed, "Shoes!" She clambered off of the sofa and grabbed her shoes. Thinking I could use this opportunity to finally use the restroom, I also got up. She rain after me, calling, "No, no, no, no, noooo!"
I stepped into the bathroom, and as soon as I reached the toilet, I heard the bathroom door closing behind me. Megan and her shoes had come in, and she had closed the door, which she has decided must be done anytime she enters a room except a bedroom. While I was using the restroom, she set her shoes neatly on the floor, together, as if they were just waiting for her to step into them, and then she squatted against the door and simply watched me.
As soon as I had finished and washed my hands, she got up, grabbed her shoes--once more proclaiming, "Shoes!"--and ran out into the hall when I opened the door. She took off like a rocket toward the kitchen, then flung her shoes away from her, spun on a dime, and took off for our bedroom again.
Mike was still asleep, but moving a bit and talking in response to her presence in the room. She began trying to climb up into the bed using the side rail for a footrest, so Mike picked her up. Somehow, as he was half asleep, he seemed to think she was going to rest quietly on his chest or beside him--a notion she disabused him of quickly.
Soon, Megan was back on the floor and running to the living room to watch her movie again. I decided to take the opportunity to start brewing some coffee.I was reaching up for a coffee filter when I realized things had gone very, very quiet, so I called out, "Megan, present yourself, please!" (she has agreed, by some miracle, to come running into my sight 98% of the time when I make this request, since she first started crawling). I heard her start running toward me, and then suddenly I heard a strange noise, Mike making a strangled sound, and what sounds like two objects colliding and water splashing.
I stopped what I was doing and, thinking that perhaps Megan and Mike had collided as he was walking down the hall and she was coming to me, asked, "What just happened?"
I heard Mike reply, "That's a good question. What the hell just happened?"
So, I abandoned the coffee-making pursuit and walked to the hallway. Megan was frozen in the doorway between hall and dining room, pacifier in her mouth, eyes wide, some bunny (Hoss?) her arms. Maury was running away. Mike was holding his water cup with one hand and rubbing his chest with the other hand, looking like he had just been shot. Apparently, when he got up, Mike had picked up Maury, who had still been asleep in the bed, and had begun walking down the hall. Something (perhaps my call to Megan, or her stomping footsteps?) had awakened Maury, and he had immediately made some unnatural sound, hissed, and used Mike's chest as a springboard to propel himself down the hall. The shock of his sweet-tempered cat suddenly awakening and growling at him like a demon from hell--along with the claws in his pectorals, and the weight of a twenty-pound cat--had caused his arm to jerk and his water to splash out of his cup and all over the wall and carpet.
I turned on the hall light and was going to grab a towel, and Megan decided to run toward Mike. Mike hurriedly handed me his cup and said abruptly and loudly, "Here, take this, and keep her away while I clean this up." Megan must have thought she was in trouble, because she immediately began to wail, her little eyes brimming with tears.
I hugged her and kissed her and reassured her that she was not in trouble, that Maury had simply freaked out and daddy was trying to clean up the mess without her help.
Finally, she was calm, though still breathing raggedly, her little chest heaving, and the water was cleaned up in the hall. I suggested that she and I go back to watching the movie. We got to the living room, and Mike entered as Megan was preparing to climb onto the couch. They settled in together, Megan on Mike's lap, calm as could be, and I walked to the coffeepot to finally start my coffee.
It was 9:38.
We sat together to watch the movie, then the timer went off on the oven around 10. I got breakfast out and set up the dining room table. Mike opted not to eat breakfast, and Megan chose to forgo my berry-apple crisp for a sleeve of crackers...which she took 45 minutes to eat. The first thing she'd done slowly all day.
What the heck is going on here today?
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Special Requests?
Dear readers, I have decided to try to consistently post to this blog. I'm striking out in a new vein as I mentioned yesterday. I've got a couple of posts already planned, including one about sweeteners added to some strange things (no spoilers here!), and (eventually) reviewing some of my successful freezer-meal creations. But I would really like to know if you have any special requests.
I'm thinking specifically of food- or homesteading-related topics, even gardening topics. Basically, I'm happy to do some of the research or to share with you what Mike and I already know about any topic that you've been wondering about but just haven't had the time or the inclination to research yourself. I may not be able to accommodate all requests, and some might take a while, but I'm up for a challenge!
So, if you have requests, please comment below, email me, or let me know on Facebook.
Happy plotting!
I'm thinking specifically of food- or homesteading-related topics, even gardening topics. Basically, I'm happy to do some of the research or to share with you what Mike and I already know about any topic that you've been wondering about but just haven't had the time or the inclination to research yourself. I may not be able to accommodate all requests, and some might take a while, but I'm up for a challenge!
So, if you have requests, please comment below, email me, or let me know on Facebook.
Happy plotting!
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Food: Is Organic Better? How Local Is Local? Should We Skip Conventionally Grown Food Altogether?
One
of my friends shared an article on Facebook about a lawsuit against Kroger for its
Simple Truth product labeling being misleading. The truth is, Kroger is
no better or worse than any other company out there. FDA labels allow a
ton of leeway sometimes. Don't just see something labeled as "organic"
or "free-range" and think that makes it better or worse than another
option. Here are some resources.
One of my favorite blogs, 100daysofrealfood.com, shared some information a few weeks back about egg labeling. It's eye-opening, really. It just goes to show that foods labeled organic aren't necessarily better than foods not labeled organic.
Here's another example, a great image from the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CPSI):
I read a fantastic article a few weeks back about how some people forgo regular produce if they can't find organic produce, and the effects of organic pesticides on the environment compared to pesticides used by most commercial farmers. The effects are surprising to me after hearing so much about the dangers of commercial pesticides. Admittedly, my husband is well informed about chemicals, and so I knew that organic doesn't mean pesticide-free. Still, I was enlightened further by this explanation, which was a little less science-y than my husband's, and so a little clearer for me.
The key, though, is to be informed. Don't just jump on any bandwagon without a lot of research and thought. "Green washing" gets a lot of people--any label claim should be suspect (think "low fat" or "sodium free"). Marketing isn't done for your benefit--it's done for profit. And remember all sellers out there are trying to make a profit--some try to do it while also trying to be good to the environment, and some don't give a crap about the environment. Some farmers grow food responsibly but can't afford to get an organic certification. There are a lot of hoops and requirements, some of which are out of the farmer's control. The key is responsibility.
We prefer to buy locally whenever possible, though what grocers call local and what we consider local can vary by hundreds of miles. [A sign at our local grocery store claimed it bought produce from local growers--which in this case meant up to 400 miles away. That's a little far afield for our taste.] Of course, we also like foods that just cannot be grown locally, so we have to decide whether we want to benefit from them being non-organic and non-local or if we prefer to have whatever benefits they provide. (Hm, balance, perhaps?) Also consider, if you're going organic to benefit the earth, how far that organic produce/meat has to travel to get to you. If a lot of fossil fuel has to be burned for your earth-friendly food to get to you (say it's out of season locally), is it still earth-friendly? (Here's a tip: It depends.)
So, when it comes right down to it, balance and responsibility--educating yourself is the key. Whether you're trying to do better for the environment, better for your direct health, or a little of both, things are rarely black-and-white. Maybe organic is better for one food but conventional is better for another, and food from a friend down the road is better. This year, we'll be growing a lot of vegetables right next to a field that is commercially farmed, Our food could never be considered organic because of that, but we're still going to eat it over organic produce purchased at the local grocery store. We all have to make tradeoffs, and it's up to us as individuals to decide which ones we can live with.
One of my favorite blogs, 100daysofrealfood.com, shared some information a few weeks back about egg labeling. It's eye-opening, really. It just goes to show that foods labeled organic aren't necessarily better than foods not labeled organic.
Here's another example, a great image from the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CPSI):
I read a fantastic article a few weeks back about how some people forgo regular produce if they can't find organic produce, and the effects of organic pesticides on the environment compared to pesticides used by most commercial farmers. The effects are surprising to me after hearing so much about the dangers of commercial pesticides. Admittedly, my husband is well informed about chemicals, and so I knew that organic doesn't mean pesticide-free. Still, I was enlightened further by this explanation, which was a little less science-y than my husband's, and so a little clearer for me.
The key, though, is to be informed. Don't just jump on any bandwagon without a lot of research and thought. "Green washing" gets a lot of people--any label claim should be suspect (think "low fat" or "sodium free"). Marketing isn't done for your benefit--it's done for profit. And remember all sellers out there are trying to make a profit--some try to do it while also trying to be good to the environment, and some don't give a crap about the environment. Some farmers grow food responsibly but can't afford to get an organic certification. There are a lot of hoops and requirements, some of which are out of the farmer's control. The key is responsibility.
We prefer to buy locally whenever possible, though what grocers call local and what we consider local can vary by hundreds of miles. [A sign at our local grocery store claimed it bought produce from local growers--which in this case meant up to 400 miles away. That's a little far afield for our taste.] Of course, we also like foods that just cannot be grown locally, so we have to decide whether we want to benefit from them being non-organic and non-local or if we prefer to have whatever benefits they provide. (Hm, balance, perhaps?) Also consider, if you're going organic to benefit the earth, how far that organic produce/meat has to travel to get to you. If a lot of fossil fuel has to be burned for your earth-friendly food to get to you (say it's out of season locally), is it still earth-friendly? (Here's a tip: It depends.)
So, when it comes right down to it, balance and responsibility--educating yourself is the key. Whether you're trying to do better for the environment, better for your direct health, or a little of both, things are rarely black-and-white. Maybe organic is better for one food but conventional is better for another, and food from a friend down the road is better. This year, we'll be growing a lot of vegetables right next to a field that is commercially farmed, Our food could never be considered organic because of that, but we're still going to eat it over organic produce purchased at the local grocery store. We all have to make tradeoffs, and it's up to us as individuals to decide which ones we can live with.
It's ALIIIIIVE!!!!
Oh, it's been so long. Once again, I've fallen to using Facebook for updates, but not all of you are there. (Is anyone still here? I can only hope.)
I posted last nearly two years ago. Crazy. Today, however, I started thinking about trying to post regularly again, once again chronicling our gardening results, the growth of our family, and, mostly, tips about healthy eating that we've been picking up along the way..and the things we find that benefit our family in all ways. Okay, so that's a lot to cover, and there are plenty of blogs out there that do the same, but I can read them and bring them together here for you, our loved ones.
So, does everyone know where we stand? Megan Lenore was born in August of 2012. Mike left his job at Ball in September of 2013. He now works at home as full-time caregiver for Megan, and then part-time as a freelancer. I work full-time in my editing. This year, we're hopeful to have a good garden. We're not planting a lot of things, knowing how difficult most things are to grow in our soil. This year, we're focusing on catching up on care of things that fell by the wayside while Mike worked ridiculous hours (plus commute) at Ball.
So, there's your update. Right now, I'm gathering together some information that I just posted on Facebook today and posting it here (see the next post).
* Stringham high: Family togetherness
* Stringham low: Taxes, healthcare...you know, the usual
* Stringham super-high: Did I mention family togetherness with a wonderful daddy and amazing daughter?
I posted last nearly two years ago. Crazy. Today, however, I started thinking about trying to post regularly again, once again chronicling our gardening results, the growth of our family, and, mostly, tips about healthy eating that we've been picking up along the way..and the things we find that benefit our family in all ways. Okay, so that's a lot to cover, and there are plenty of blogs out there that do the same, but I can read them and bring them together here for you, our loved ones.
So, does everyone know where we stand? Megan Lenore was born in August of 2012. Mike left his job at Ball in September of 2013. He now works at home as full-time caregiver for Megan, and then part-time as a freelancer. I work full-time in my editing. This year, we're hopeful to have a good garden. We're not planting a lot of things, knowing how difficult most things are to grow in our soil. This year, we're focusing on catching up on care of things that fell by the wayside while Mike worked ridiculous hours (plus commute) at Ball.
So, there's your update. Right now, I'm gathering together some information that I just posted on Facebook today and posting it here (see the next post).
* Stringham high: Family togetherness
* Stringham low: Taxes, healthcare...you know, the usual
* Stringham super-high: Did I mention family togetherness with a wonderful daddy and amazing daughter?
Friday, June 15, 2012
Approaching Delivery Day
With the craziness that is our lives in the spring and
summer, given yard work and dear hubby’s ever-changing work schedule, I realize
I haven’t written anything of length in a long time, only quick little updates
on Facebook. So, here’s something a bit more substantial.
Everything is going well with the pregnancy. I’m a furnace
and am miserable on most days it gets above 80 with no breeze if I’m outside, so I try to stay inside as much
as possible. My blood pressure has been behaving, though my OB says he doesn’t
think it will stay that way; he’s wagering that it will shoot up around Week
34. I’m hoping for NOT. I’ve had no headaches or visual disturbances to worry
about. Occasional dry eye and blurriness from the pollen, and occasional
headaches from muscle tension or congestion (again, thanks to the pollen)—but nothing
that a single Tylenol capsule doesn’t get rid of.
The next few weeks are going to be full of doctor appointments (OB, chiropractor, ophthalmologist) and classes (infant CPR and first aid, childbirth, childcare, hospital tour), along with many projects that my clients want done before my weeks of maternity leave and much overtime for dear M. We had two baby showers last week here in Indiana, and between the gifts we received and the money and gift cards, we now have the basics for caring for a newborn. Now we just need to get things unpacked in the baby's room, and we'll be as ready as it is possible to be to welcome a new person into our home and lives.
I’m at Week 32 when Father’s Day hits, so 8 weeks or less (I
hope) until we meet Baby Stringham! I’m not incredibly uncomfortable, but Baby Stringham is now growing fast
and large enough that it’s sometimes a struggle even to get dressed. I’m ready to be
done, even though I’m enjoying the pregnancy. It’s close enough that my brain
will now allow me to consider birth as a real possibility—something I wouldn’t
give too much thought to before, after two miscarriages and all the
difficulties I’ve faced in the past 2 1/2 years. Along with considering birth
comes considering the possibilities of what can go wrong leading up to and
during labor, including preeclampsia and postnatal hemorrhaging (that one based
on my experiences with the miscarriages). These have been discussed with my OB,
however, and we have plans in place. [I think it's good that the next few weeks are going to be so busy, so I can't devote too much thought to those things that might cause me anxiety.]
Still, I have begun a daily affirmation, which I’m going to
share with you. Please feel free to say it each day with me, or to pray for us,
or to do nothing but wait excitedly for Baby Stringham’s arrival—whatever floats
your boat.
Affirmation:
I am staying healthy for the remainder of the pregnancy,
through labor and delivery, and after. My blood pressure is NOT going to rise.
My vision is NOT going to worsen—it might even improve. My intracranial
pressures are going to stay normal. I am not going to stress out and cause
myself or the baby undue hardship. Whatever happens will happens, and we have
plans. We know what CAN happen, and we know how to handle any of those things,
which empowers us. Labor and delivery will go smoothly. I hope Baby Stringham
will come into this world as quickly and easily as I did, but if not, so long
as things move quickly enough that I can maintain my strength, all will be
successful. I will not need pain relief or intervention of any kind, because my
body will behave and will act appropriately. This pregnancy has gone smoothly
so far, so there’s no reason to expect it will not continue that way through
delivery and afterward. All is well. All will be well. Our little family is
strong and can face anything together, and knowing that makes us even stronger.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Joy Is in the Living
As Christmas approaches, I feel the urge to write...especially because a friend told me the other day that she misses reading these updates. I apologize, dear reader, for not posting here more often in the past few months. I have been responding to the siren's call of Facebook and using it to update so many people about our day-to-day lives, even though not everyone is on Facebook very often.
So, here's a brief (let's not kid ourselves--it's as brief as I can make anything) summary of our year:
Mike began a contract in November 2010 at Ball Corporation, and in May of 2011, they hired him full time. He, the new man on the team, was going to be relegated to working a lot of overtime while everyone went on vacation in the summer. That never let up. Since about July or August, he has been working 60- to 84-hour work "weeks." Understandably, much of the responsibility for the gardening and care of the house fell to me.
In the spring, a lovely neighborhood dog showed up at our house and seemed to adopt us. We loved her greatly and renamed her Princess from Snowball, because she really was a princess. She kept us company and brought us much joy throughout the summer. Around the beginning or middle of August, she showed up a little injured one day. Then she disappeared.
In July, we learned I was pregnant again. We were cautiously optimistic, but we didn't want to tell anyone until we made it out of the first trimester. In August, we lost that baby, as well. I was about 6 weeks pregnant. The good news was that the miscarriage went much more swiftly and effectively than the first. I still had to go to the ER because I lost so much blood, but it was over very quickly and I suffered no more than the "normal" ill effects of a miscarriage--almost all emotional, and only a few cramps physically. Overall, we were sad but hopeful. It took us less than two years to get pregnant this time, whereas it had taken us three or more years the first time, and this pregnancy progressed further, and we had a lot of emotional and physical support this time, in the form of very good friends, Becca Sparks Lowry, Christina James Chase, Dana Fischer Welborn, and Jill Bastian Truax chief among them.
In the late summer/early fall, Sir George, our older kitty, began to decline healthwise. I made an appointment to have him put to sleep, but either I waited too late or he decided he preferred to pass on at home. Becca was with me via text, and Tina was with me through the day. Both provided tremendous emotional support. George passed away at the ripe old age of 18. It wasn't as peaceful a death as I would have hoped for, but he died at home, with me right by his side. I was incredibly honored to be with him in his last few hours. I know, he was only a cat, but to share a natural death with another being you love is truly touching. George is "planted"--for whatever reason, that day, when I talked about trying to bury him, all I could say was "plant," go figure--in our front yard, under the maple tree and next to the boxwoods lining our driveway.
A very short time later, because Maury seemed to be very much missing George's company, we adopted Cali, a real sweetheart of a kitty. We were told she was a little more than a year old, but she is still very much a kitten, though she had already had a litter of kittens before we adopted her. She was not very keen on Maury at first, doing a lot of hissing and spitting and growling, but with patience and calm, he soon won her over. Within two weeks, they were almost as good of friends as Maury and George.
Our garden gave some good harvests this year, despite its neglect. Through the summer, we were on a night shift, so we didn't have long each day to really tend it. Even now, only three days from Christmas, we haven't removed the stakes or fencing from our garden, because we have so little time. In addition, this was the busiest summer *I* have ever had for my freelance work, and even though I had a full crew of people helping me, we were still swamped at maximum capacity with slow turnaround times for most of the summer...the summer I had wanted to use to go slowly so I could care for the house and garden while my husband worked insane amounts of overtime.
So, you ask, why aren't I mentioning my husband more? Well, because I barely see him. The only things I really know about him since August are that he is perpetually exhausted, he's trying to fix his Montero single-handedly, and he has a blood elf paladin that has partnered with my blood elf priest for the past two weekends in the world of Kalimdor while he has been too exhausted to do anything but sit in front of a computer and I've been too tired to care, as I'm in the first trimester of my third pregnancy.
We've shared the news of the pregnancy this time. Not telling most people last time turned out to be a little too emotionally stressful for me, especially trying to work out getting to doctor appointments and the like with Mike's very limited free time. Plus, I believe strongly in the power of prayer and positive thoughts and know that when two people get together to pool their "spiritual resources," they create benefits greater than two working individually. So, I'm telling anyone and everyone and unabashedly asking for prayers, energies, positive thoughts, whatever, to keep this pregnancy going in the right direction. So far, it seems to be working well. I've had some spotting in this pregnancy, as I did in both the others. The thing is, we don't know if the spotting in those other pregnancies were precursors to my miscarriage or if it's just normal for me to spot. With all the prayers and positive thoughts for us, however, the spotting has been minimal this time and has tapered away. Now, if it appears, it's once, maybe twice, a day, right before bedtime and right when I get up in the morning. I'm amazingly calm this time around. Even though I have yet to find an OB. Even though I have a history of miscarriage. Even though hormones are doing their damnedest to make me anxious. It's partly because I know that if I'm going to miscarry in the first trimester, there's not much I can do about it, so I take the best care of myself that I can, getting plenty of sleep, not overexerting myself, but still staying active, and eating the best I can with random nausea spikes and food aversions. With every new "pregnancy woe," as one of my friends called them, I cheer. I smile. And I share. And my friends on Facebook cheer with me. And smile with me. And offer words of encouragement. And so that's another reason I'm amazingly calm--because I know that, no matter what happens, I have amazing friends and family supporting me, cheering with me, crying with me. And that makes a HUGE difference.
I just keep hoping and praying for the best and telling the baby that he or she is very, very loved and will be fortunate to be born into such a loving circle. In addition, the baby will have a grandpa (we haven't yet worked out if he wants to be Pappaw, Grandpa, Gramps, Geezer, etc.) with a new lease on life. My dad had bariatric surgery not long after our miscarriage in August. My mother tells me I won't recognize him, as he's lost more than 100 pounds. I'm looking forward to seeing him tomorrow to see him at the lightest I've ever seen him. Hell, he might even be lighter than me now...I have no idea!
We miss Mike's friends and family in Oregon, but our friends have really stepped up to help lighten the sadness a bit this year. Though we didn't get to travel to share Thanksgiving with my parents or his, and though none of our family members could share that holiday with us, we did get to host Becca and her husband, Shaun, and we had a great day.
And so, as Chanukkah has begun, people all over the world are celebrating Yule, and Christmas approaches, we are happy and hopeful. Mike is researching options for starting his own business. He's also trying to study so he can take a test for another certification. And he's enduring the incredibly long hours at work, getting whatever experience he can as he sorts out when he will leave if he wants to leave, and what he will do when he leaves. He's got two (nonconsecutive) weeks of vacation coming to him in May if he's still at Ball then--the first vacation he will have ever received. That's right, EVER. Since leaving grad school, he's been unemployed or employed in seasonal jobs or working as a contractor and in jobs that don't award vacations or that give vacations only after a full year of employment. So, May is when we have our sights set on him taking more than two days off. He may be taking a week-long certification class, but who knows?
2011 has been a challenge for us, but it has also been rewarding. We've had sorrow, and we've had joy. And I'm sure we have more of both to come, but we look to 2012 [even the coming return of Nibiru/release of Becca 2.0/end of the Mayan calendar/shift of the magnetic poles/return of Cthulu/galactic alignment/return of Jesus/Armageddon/cosmic shift in consciousness/zombie apocalypse (well, *I* can never look forward to a zombie apocalypse. We all know my fear.)] with hope. It's the only thing that keeps us going--aside from each other...and all of you.
So, to all of you, I wish you the happiest of whatever holidays you are celebrating, and the rosiest of new years. Thank you for being there for us, and for loving us. We appreciate all you do for us.
* Stringham high: Life is beautiful.
* Stringham low: Separation from loved ones for far too long.
* Stringham super-high: Our blessings, including loved ones, are too numerous to count!
(Remember that if you view the post on my blog, the title links to a video specially chosen for the day.)
So, here's a brief (let's not kid ourselves--it's as brief as I can make anything) summary of our year:
Mike began a contract in November 2010 at Ball Corporation, and in May of 2011, they hired him full time. He, the new man on the team, was going to be relegated to working a lot of overtime while everyone went on vacation in the summer. That never let up. Since about July or August, he has been working 60- to 84-hour work "weeks." Understandably, much of the responsibility for the gardening and care of the house fell to me.
In the spring, a lovely neighborhood dog showed up at our house and seemed to adopt us. We loved her greatly and renamed her Princess from Snowball, because she really was a princess. She kept us company and brought us much joy throughout the summer. Around the beginning or middle of August, she showed up a little injured one day. Then she disappeared.
In July, we learned I was pregnant again. We were cautiously optimistic, but we didn't want to tell anyone until we made it out of the first trimester. In August, we lost that baby, as well. I was about 6 weeks pregnant. The good news was that the miscarriage went much more swiftly and effectively than the first. I still had to go to the ER because I lost so much blood, but it was over very quickly and I suffered no more than the "normal" ill effects of a miscarriage--almost all emotional, and only a few cramps physically. Overall, we were sad but hopeful. It took us less than two years to get pregnant this time, whereas it had taken us three or more years the first time, and this pregnancy progressed further, and we had a lot of emotional and physical support this time, in the form of very good friends, Becca Sparks Lowry, Christina James Chase, Dana Fischer Welborn, and Jill Bastian Truax chief among them.
In the late summer/early fall, Sir George, our older kitty, began to decline healthwise. I made an appointment to have him put to sleep, but either I waited too late or he decided he preferred to pass on at home. Becca was with me via text, and Tina was with me through the day. Both provided tremendous emotional support. George passed away at the ripe old age of 18. It wasn't as peaceful a death as I would have hoped for, but he died at home, with me right by his side. I was incredibly honored to be with him in his last few hours. I know, he was only a cat, but to share a natural death with another being you love is truly touching. George is "planted"--for whatever reason, that day, when I talked about trying to bury him, all I could say was "plant," go figure--in our front yard, under the maple tree and next to the boxwoods lining our driveway.
A very short time later, because Maury seemed to be very much missing George's company, we adopted Cali, a real sweetheart of a kitty. We were told she was a little more than a year old, but she is still very much a kitten, though she had already had a litter of kittens before we adopted her. She was not very keen on Maury at first, doing a lot of hissing and spitting and growling, but with patience and calm, he soon won her over. Within two weeks, they were almost as good of friends as Maury and George.
Our garden gave some good harvests this year, despite its neglect. Through the summer, we were on a night shift, so we didn't have long each day to really tend it. Even now, only three days from Christmas, we haven't removed the stakes or fencing from our garden, because we have so little time. In addition, this was the busiest summer *I* have ever had for my freelance work, and even though I had a full crew of people helping me, we were still swamped at maximum capacity with slow turnaround times for most of the summer...the summer I had wanted to use to go slowly so I could care for the house and garden while my husband worked insane amounts of overtime.
So, you ask, why aren't I mentioning my husband more? Well, because I barely see him. The only things I really know about him since August are that he is perpetually exhausted, he's trying to fix his Montero single-handedly, and he has a blood elf paladin that has partnered with my blood elf priest for the past two weekends in the world of Kalimdor while he has been too exhausted to do anything but sit in front of a computer and I've been too tired to care, as I'm in the first trimester of my third pregnancy.
We've shared the news of the pregnancy this time. Not telling most people last time turned out to be a little too emotionally stressful for me, especially trying to work out getting to doctor appointments and the like with Mike's very limited free time. Plus, I believe strongly in the power of prayer and positive thoughts and know that when two people get together to pool their "spiritual resources," they create benefits greater than two working individually. So, I'm telling anyone and everyone and unabashedly asking for prayers, energies, positive thoughts, whatever, to keep this pregnancy going in the right direction. So far, it seems to be working well. I've had some spotting in this pregnancy, as I did in both the others. The thing is, we don't know if the spotting in those other pregnancies were precursors to my miscarriage or if it's just normal for me to spot. With all the prayers and positive thoughts for us, however, the spotting has been minimal this time and has tapered away. Now, if it appears, it's once, maybe twice, a day, right before bedtime and right when I get up in the morning. I'm amazingly calm this time around. Even though I have yet to find an OB. Even though I have a history of miscarriage. Even though hormones are doing their damnedest to make me anxious. It's partly because I know that if I'm going to miscarry in the first trimester, there's not much I can do about it, so I take the best care of myself that I can, getting plenty of sleep, not overexerting myself, but still staying active, and eating the best I can with random nausea spikes and food aversions. With every new "pregnancy woe," as one of my friends called them, I cheer. I smile. And I share. And my friends on Facebook cheer with me. And smile with me. And offer words of encouragement. And so that's another reason I'm amazingly calm--because I know that, no matter what happens, I have amazing friends and family supporting me, cheering with me, crying with me. And that makes a HUGE difference.
I just keep hoping and praying for the best and telling the baby that he or she is very, very loved and will be fortunate to be born into such a loving circle. In addition, the baby will have a grandpa (we haven't yet worked out if he wants to be Pappaw, Grandpa, Gramps, Geezer, etc.) with a new lease on life. My dad had bariatric surgery not long after our miscarriage in August. My mother tells me I won't recognize him, as he's lost more than 100 pounds. I'm looking forward to seeing him tomorrow to see him at the lightest I've ever seen him. Hell, he might even be lighter than me now...I have no idea!
We miss Mike's friends and family in Oregon, but our friends have really stepped up to help lighten the sadness a bit this year. Though we didn't get to travel to share Thanksgiving with my parents or his, and though none of our family members could share that holiday with us, we did get to host Becca and her husband, Shaun, and we had a great day.
And so, as Chanukkah has begun, people all over the world are celebrating Yule, and Christmas approaches, we are happy and hopeful. Mike is researching options for starting his own business. He's also trying to study so he can take a test for another certification. And he's enduring the incredibly long hours at work, getting whatever experience he can as he sorts out when he will leave if he wants to leave, and what he will do when he leaves. He's got two (nonconsecutive) weeks of vacation coming to him in May if he's still at Ball then--the first vacation he will have ever received. That's right, EVER. Since leaving grad school, he's been unemployed or employed in seasonal jobs or working as a contractor and in jobs that don't award vacations or that give vacations only after a full year of employment. So, May is when we have our sights set on him taking more than two days off. He may be taking a week-long certification class, but who knows?
2011 has been a challenge for us, but it has also been rewarding. We've had sorrow, and we've had joy. And I'm sure we have more of both to come, but we look to 2012 [even the coming return of Nibiru/release of Becca 2.0/end of the Mayan calendar/shift of the magnetic poles/return of Cthulu/galactic alignment/return of Jesus/Armageddon/cosmic shift in consciousness/zombie apocalypse (well, *I* can never look forward to a zombie apocalypse. We all know my fear.)] with hope. It's the only thing that keeps us going--aside from each other...and all of you.
So, to all of you, I wish you the happiest of whatever holidays you are celebrating, and the rosiest of new years. Thank you for being there for us, and for loving us. We appreciate all you do for us.
* Stringham high: Life is beautiful.
* Stringham low: Separation from loved ones for far too long.
* Stringham super-high: Our blessings, including loved ones, are too numerous to count!
(Remember that if you view the post on my blog, the title links to a video specially chosen for the day.)
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Life's Purpose, in Context
Last night, a little wistfully, I was going through the children's books that I have "waiting" in the guest room, which will eventually become the kid's room when we have a kid. I came across a book from my childhood, "Prayers for Children," a Little Golden Book. In it, I found a prayer that must have had a huge effect on me, because what it requests is what I've always striven for my life to be, even when I hadn't read the book in years and had forgotten completely about it while it was tucked away in a closet.
A Child's Prayer
God, make my life a little light
Within the world to glow;
A little flame that burneth bright
Wherever I may go.
God, make my life a little flower
That giveth joy to all,
Content to bloom in native bower,
Although the place be small.
God, make my life a little song
That comforteth the sad,
That helpeth others to be strong
And makes the singer glad.
God, make my life a little staff
Whereon the weak may rest,
And so what health and strength I have
May serve my neighbors best.
God, make my life a little hymn
Of tenderness and praise;
Of faith, that never waxeth dim,
In all His wondrous ways.
--M. Betham-Edwards
This prayer/poem sums up my life's goal succinctly, to make a difference in the world through small ways, through living and being me, always conscientious of others and of the effect that my behavior has on others.
* Stringham high: Quick recovery
* Stringham low: Second miscarriage, and Mike's job woes
* Stringham super-high: We're more fertile than we once were!
A Child's Prayer
God, make my life a little light
Within the world to glow;
A little flame that burneth bright
Wherever I may go.
God, make my life a little flower
That giveth joy to all,
Content to bloom in native bower,
Although the place be small.
God, make my life a little song
That comforteth the sad,
That helpeth others to be strong
And makes the singer glad.
God, make my life a little staff
Whereon the weak may rest,
And so what health and strength I have
May serve my neighbors best.
God, make my life a little hymn
Of tenderness and praise;
Of faith, that never waxeth dim,
In all His wondrous ways.
--M. Betham-Edwards
This prayer/poem sums up my life's goal succinctly, to make a difference in the world through small ways, through living and being me, always conscientious of others and of the effect that my behavior has on others.
* Stringham high: Quick recovery
* Stringham low: Second miscarriage, and Mike's job woes
* Stringham super-high: We're more fertile than we once were!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Exciting Happenings
Someone came knocking on the front door around 6:30 this evening. A family pulling a camper had a blown out tire just in front of our house and wanted to know if they could park the camper in the driveway while they went in search of a tire for it. This was their second blowout in two days on the thing and so had already used the one spare they'd brought with them.
I told them to pull it on up, and I searched the phone book for tire places that would be open that late on a Sunday night. Found out that Walmart Tire Center was going to be open for another 25 or 30 minutes. They pulled up and disconnected the camper from their truck as quickly as they could, got hasty directions from me (they're from Wyoming), and took off for Walmart, which is 15-20 minutes away. They called ahead, and the folks at the tire center agreed to stay open a few minutes late for them.
While Dad was changing the tire, their son tried to run after Princess and play with her, but she was shy and led him "on a merry chase" around the yard. So Mom picked up Son and put him in the camper to play with their dog--there had been some tense moments between Princess and the visiting dog, so Dog got to stay in the camper for the duration.
While they changed the tire, I gathered food from the garden. Got a big basketful--one ripe tomato (several others were ripe but were rotten on the bottom), one green tomato that had fallen from the vine, a few grape tomatoes from a volunteer plant, several cukes, a couple handsful of green beans, and a bunch of turnips that were being forced out of the ground.
We have a TON of green tomatoes, but many of them are already going bad on bottom (blossom end rot, I think, though I'd have to verify with my gardening husband). I'm holding out hope that we'll have a bumper tomato crop again, as these plants are all taller than me and most are taller than M, but after seeing how many are bad, I'm just not sure how likely that is.
Plus, out of the random old squash seeds M threw into the garden this year, we have butternut squash growing with acorn squash and table queen squash, and some other kind I couldn't identify. I think I may have also seen a spaghetti squash in there. I'm not sure if he planted that many different seeds or if we're just seeing hybrids. In a 2' x 3' area, I had a butternut, acorn, and unidentified squash growing. No idea how that's happened.
Several of the tomato plants have fallen over from their own weight. One of our tomato cages has even been bent out of shape by them. And the green beans have bent at least one of the poles supporting them. The squash plants are growing out of the garden into the yard, and the cucumber plants are falling all over themselves. The plants are all ridiculously huge, but only time will tell if we are going to get huge crops. So far, it's a basketful of miscellaneous food every week or two...which is actually kind of nice, because we don't get bored of one thing, but we can't put anything away for winter.
Anyway, as soon as I had finished gathering from the "produce department" of our backyard grocery store, the father of the family came up to shake my hand and introduce himself while thanking me for the tipoff about Walmart and the use of our driveway. While shaking my hand, he palmed some money into it. I protested, following him back to the truck to give the money back, but he wouldn't hear of it. They had got their tire, got it changed in our driveway, and pulled out less than two hours after their blowout, not having to stay in a hotel until morning, so he thought it was well worth it. I had to agree, but I certainly didn't need the money.
All in all, though, I think it was a pretty good outcome for all involved.
* Stringham high: 80 degrees! The coolest it's been in days.
* Stringham low: Blowouts (Brought back memories of our two flats a few weeks ago, one of them on a Sunday night, as well)
* Stringham super-high: Fresh produce and helping others all in the same day!
I told them to pull it on up, and I searched the phone book for tire places that would be open that late on a Sunday night. Found out that Walmart Tire Center was going to be open for another 25 or 30 minutes. They pulled up and disconnected the camper from their truck as quickly as they could, got hasty directions from me (they're from Wyoming), and took off for Walmart, which is 15-20 minutes away. They called ahead, and the folks at the tire center agreed to stay open a few minutes late for them.
While Dad was changing the tire, their son tried to run after Princess and play with her, but she was shy and led him "on a merry chase" around the yard. So Mom picked up Son and put him in the camper to play with their dog--there had been some tense moments between Princess and the visiting dog, so Dog got to stay in the camper for the duration.
While they changed the tire, I gathered food from the garden. Got a big basketful--one ripe tomato (several others were ripe but were rotten on the bottom), one green tomato that had fallen from the vine, a few grape tomatoes from a volunteer plant, several cukes, a couple handsful of green beans, and a bunch of turnips that were being forced out of the ground.
We have a TON of green tomatoes, but many of them are already going bad on bottom (blossom end rot, I think, though I'd have to verify with my gardening husband). I'm holding out hope that we'll have a bumper tomato crop again, as these plants are all taller than me and most are taller than M, but after seeing how many are bad, I'm just not sure how likely that is.
Plus, out of the random old squash seeds M threw into the garden this year, we have butternut squash growing with acorn squash and table queen squash, and some other kind I couldn't identify. I think I may have also seen a spaghetti squash in there. I'm not sure if he planted that many different seeds or if we're just seeing hybrids. In a 2' x 3' area, I had a butternut, acorn, and unidentified squash growing. No idea how that's happened.
Several of the tomato plants have fallen over from their own weight. One of our tomato cages has even been bent out of shape by them. And the green beans have bent at least one of the poles supporting them. The squash plants are growing out of the garden into the yard, and the cucumber plants are falling all over themselves. The plants are all ridiculously huge, but only time will tell if we are going to get huge crops. So far, it's a basketful of miscellaneous food every week or two...which is actually kind of nice, because we don't get bored of one thing, but we can't put anything away for winter.
Anyway, as soon as I had finished gathering from the "produce department" of our backyard grocery store, the father of the family came up to shake my hand and introduce himself while thanking me for the tipoff about Walmart and the use of our driveway. While shaking my hand, he palmed some money into it. I protested, following him back to the truck to give the money back, but he wouldn't hear of it. They had got their tire, got it changed in our driveway, and pulled out less than two hours after their blowout, not having to stay in a hotel until morning, so he thought it was well worth it. I had to agree, but I certainly didn't need the money.
All in all, though, I think it was a pretty good outcome for all involved.
* Stringham high: 80 degrees! The coolest it's been in days.
* Stringham low: Blowouts (Brought back memories of our two flats a few weeks ago, one of them on a Sunday night, as well)
* Stringham super-high: Fresh produce and helping others all in the same day!
Friday, July 1, 2011
My Stab at Activism--Educate Yourself!
Any of my Facebook friends will have probably seen part or all of this post, but I feel the need to collect them all together. Over the past couple of weeks, I've been watching the documentary "King Corn." I can't yet pull all my thoughts together about what I'm learning and how I feel about this, but I think I need to post it, so I can spread the word to at least some people. Please, watch "King Corn." (You can watch it instantly on Netflix.) For your own health, for the health of our country, watch this documentary. Below are the facts I learned, in the order I learned them, and my thoughts about them: 70% of antibiotics in the US are consumed by grain-fed cattle. They're fed antibiotics with their food to help treat the acidosis that they suffer from--and that would kill them if they weren't slaughtered only a few months after being fed a strictly grain diet--at being fed too much grain for too long.
Here's a tip: spend more money on less meat that is of higher quality, and you won't need to eat so much meat--and you'll likely be thinner, because grain-fed beef is much higher in fat per serving than grass-fed.
Seriously, EVERYONE should watch this documentary, "King Corn"--everyone!
Every few minutes on this show, I'm impressed with an astoundingly retarded fact. I don't know how our country is still going, how we haven't killed our economy and ourselves completely... I knew almost all of this before, but they're showing the connections that just astound me.
Farmers used to brag about a 40-bushel acre. Nowadays, 180 bushels from an acre is average.
Because farmers lose money growing corn and the government subsidizes that, the government is essentially subsidizing all the high fructose corn syrup that goes into all our sodas and baked goods, nearly every food and beverage in our country. And all that corn that goes to animals and leads to their health problems and fattier meat, which all contribute to our health problems. We ARE what we eat.
I support farmers, and corn farmers. But the system that has come into effect since the early 1970s is completely unsustainable and harmful to all of us. It is all done for the almighty dollar. One of the farmers interviewed in this documentary said it best--they aren't growing a quality crop any more, they're growing "crap." But he still grows it, because he gets paid. Most corn in this country is not grown for food--it's for fuel, for high fructose corn syrup (with absolutely no nutritional value and which contributes to greater likelihood of Type II diabetes), for animal feed.
Corn has been modified so it can tolerate the stress of being grown in a much more crowded area--so 180 or 200 bushels can be grown on 1 acre, where 40 acres used to be a bumper crop. That pulls huge amounts of nutrients out of the ground, which means the corn MUST be fertilized with chemicals. And then the herbicides must be sprayed--but the corn has to have been treated so that the particular herbicide it will be sprayed with won't also kill it. The corn is sprayed with herbicide, just not killed by it. And we're not even eating this corn...not directly. But we're eating it in the meat we consume, in the oils our foods are fried in, in the sodas and gums and breads and chips that have high-fructose corn syrup in them.
This all relates to our health--the health of our bodies, the health of our land, the health of our economy. One cattle farmer interviewed said that they grow corn to feed their cattle because Americans demand cheap meat. If Americans demanded grass-fed beef, he said, that is what they would grow. We speak with our money.
It's no accident that the people who typically suffer from obesity and Type II diabetes are poor. It's because they (we) have to eat the cheapest foods, made with the cheapest products. But if you know how, you can find cheap unprocessed foods and be healthier. We did it. When we were poorest, we learned how much cheaper it was to live off of non-processed foods, and NOT "cheap" prepackaged foods. And now we're healthier for it. Be informed. Make informed choices. We can't eliminate all this crap from our diets, because it's so pervasive, but we make the conscious decision about what we are and are not willing to consume, to do.
Buy more expensive food that's of higher quality. You won't need to eat as much, you'll feel satisfied longer, you'll be healthier. Make a conscious, fully informed decision.
I know how hard it is to take someone's word for this. I'm the same way. But if you are reading this, you know I don't urge people to action lightly. My body knows the difference between good food and bad food. If M and I eat fast food, we feel uncomfortable in only a few hours' time. Sure, it's cheap and it's fast, but the way we feel... Try it. Stop drinking sodas for a week. Stop eating fast food for a month. Choose to pass on potato chips. Notice how much better you sleep, how much better you feel...don't just take my word for it. Try it.
So, it may seems like I'm all over the place with this post, but that's because it's all related. EVERYTHING is related. The food we buy now in supermarkets is of lower nutritional quality than the stuff grown just a generation or two ago, because it's forced to grow in a cheap way, which may mean more plants per acre or given a fertilizer boost so it'll grow faster. That means we have to eat MORE of it. And we all know where that leads. You know WHY that food you get at the local farmer's market or from your own garden is so much better than what you likely get in the grocery store? THAT'S why.
So long as we keep buying and eating crap, we're "demanding" crap, so crap will continue to be produced.
And if you have questions, I'm always willing to tell you how we did things, or to point you in the direction of more information. M and I have made all the changes in our lives in the past three or four years through much transition, so please don't think "Life is so crazy now, I can't possibly change this." We've made all our changes through buying a home, transforming our land, both of us being employed full time, one of us being unemployed for a year, my miscarriage and subsequent health problems, 4 job changes and constantly shifting schedules, etc. You want to talk about making purposeful changes during times of transition, I'M YOUR GIRL.
Please, if you're still reading this, do yourself a favor and go watch "King Corn." Then think.
Here's a tip: spend more money on less meat that is of higher quality, and you won't need to eat so much meat--and you'll likely be thinner, because grain-fed beef is much higher in fat per serving than grass-fed.
Seriously, EVERYONE should watch this documentary, "King Corn"--everyone!
Every few minutes on this show, I'm impressed with an astoundingly retarded fact. I don't know how our country is still going, how we haven't killed our economy and ourselves completely... I knew almost all of this before, but they're showing the connections that just astound me.
Farmers used to brag about a 40-bushel acre. Nowadays, 180 bushels from an acre is average.
Because farmers lose money growing corn and the government subsidizes that, the government is essentially subsidizing all the high fructose corn syrup that goes into all our sodas and baked goods, nearly every food and beverage in our country. And all that corn that goes to animals and leads to their health problems and fattier meat, which all contribute to our health problems. We ARE what we eat.
I support farmers, and corn farmers. But the system that has come into effect since the early 1970s is completely unsustainable and harmful to all of us. It is all done for the almighty dollar. One of the farmers interviewed in this documentary said it best--they aren't growing a quality crop any more, they're growing "crap." But he still grows it, because he gets paid. Most corn in this country is not grown for food--it's for fuel, for high fructose corn syrup (with absolutely no nutritional value and which contributes to greater likelihood of Type II diabetes), for animal feed.
Corn has been modified so it can tolerate the stress of being grown in a much more crowded area--so 180 or 200 bushels can be grown on 1 acre, where 40 acres used to be a bumper crop. That pulls huge amounts of nutrients out of the ground, which means the corn MUST be fertilized with chemicals. And then the herbicides must be sprayed--but the corn has to have been treated so that the particular herbicide it will be sprayed with won't also kill it. The corn is sprayed with herbicide, just not killed by it. And we're not even eating this corn...not directly. But we're eating it in the meat we consume, in the oils our foods are fried in, in the sodas and gums and breads and chips that have high-fructose corn syrup in them.
This all relates to our health--the health of our bodies, the health of our land, the health of our economy. One cattle farmer interviewed said that they grow corn to feed their cattle because Americans demand cheap meat. If Americans demanded grass-fed beef, he said, that is what they would grow. We speak with our money.
It's no accident that the people who typically suffer from obesity and Type II diabetes are poor. It's because they (we) have to eat the cheapest foods, made with the cheapest products. But if you know how, you can find cheap unprocessed foods and be healthier. We did it. When we were poorest, we learned how much cheaper it was to live off of non-processed foods, and NOT "cheap" prepackaged foods. And now we're healthier for it. Be informed. Make informed choices. We can't eliminate all this crap from our diets, because it's so pervasive, but we make the conscious decision about what we are and are not willing to consume, to do.
Buy more expensive food that's of higher quality. You won't need to eat as much, you'll feel satisfied longer, you'll be healthier. Make a conscious, fully informed decision.
I know how hard it is to take someone's word for this. I'm the same way. But if you are reading this, you know I don't urge people to action lightly. My body knows the difference between good food and bad food. If M and I eat fast food, we feel uncomfortable in only a few hours' time. Sure, it's cheap and it's fast, but the way we feel... Try it. Stop drinking sodas for a week. Stop eating fast food for a month. Choose to pass on potato chips. Notice how much better you sleep, how much better you feel...don't just take my word for it. Try it.
So, it may seems like I'm all over the place with this post, but that's because it's all related. EVERYTHING is related. The food we buy now in supermarkets is of lower nutritional quality than the stuff grown just a generation or two ago, because it's forced to grow in a cheap way, which may mean more plants per acre or given a fertilizer boost so it'll grow faster. That means we have to eat MORE of it. And we all know where that leads. You know WHY that food you get at the local farmer's market or from your own garden is so much better than what you likely get in the grocery store? THAT'S why.
So long as we keep buying and eating crap, we're "demanding" crap, so crap will continue to be produced.
And if you have questions, I'm always willing to tell you how we did things, or to point you in the direction of more information. M and I have made all the changes in our lives in the past three or four years through much transition, so please don't think "Life is so crazy now, I can't possibly change this." We've made all our changes through buying a home, transforming our land, both of us being employed full time, one of us being unemployed for a year, my miscarriage and subsequent health problems, 4 job changes and constantly shifting schedules, etc. You want to talk about making purposeful changes during times of transition, I'M YOUR GIRL.
Please, if you're still reading this, do yourself a favor and go watch "King Corn." Then think.
Monday, May 23, 2011
The Island of Misfit Toys
Tonight/this morning, on a popular social-networking site, I was chatting with a friend—to be more precise, the significant other (SO) of a close friend of mine—who happens to have Asperger’s syndrome (if I remember correctly). He had started this conversation with me after seeing a few frustrated posts from me after said social-networking site was giving me grief, not letting me see posts, including the angry ones I had just made. Very sweetly, he’d wanted to make sure I was okay physically, emotionally, etc.
After reassuring him that I was, indeed, okay and just frustrated with the site, we got into a discussion of his anxieties with making small talk and being afraid of what to say, running out of things to say, and the like. As any of you who have known me for long know, I used to be pretty quiet and shy, and still can be (no, really), and I use that past experience to help me better understand people. I learned as a kid that by being quiet and just listening, I heard a lot more things than I would by talking…especially when people forgot I was around. (This will come into play later.) Anyway, as irony would have it, not long after we had discussed his worries, we were joking around, and then he said something. But said problem-causing social-networking site didn’t give me his message. In fact, I stopped hearing anything from him so assumed he had signed off to go to work, no worries. Several minutes later, I got a big block of text from him. He was worried that his last comment had weirded me out, that I had just stopped speaking to him because he said something that I, for whatever reason, might not find appropriate. Having met me only a handful of times, he wasn’t aware, I suppose, that (1) there are very few things I find inappropriate in general conversation and (2) if I had found it inappropriate, I would have said so gently and explained why I felt that way.
By the time his messages came through, he really had logged out to go to work. I felt sorry for him and hoped he wouldn’t worry further about upsetting me in some way. In fact, at the time, I was speaking to another friend, who happens to have Asperger’s syndrome, so I mentioned this incident to him. This led to a conversation in which this friend explained his occasional fear when e-mailing someone about a conversation they’ve had that that person might never speak to him again based on the e-mail and the previous conversation. I sympathized, having occasionally felt such things before. But, I said, then I got over those feelings, figuring that if such people were going to get bent out of shape by who I was, they didn’t deserve me (or just weren’t ready to have me in their lives). You see, I grew up with parents who taught me well my own inherent value and who taught me that I was loved just the way I was.
Growing up a fat, quiet, smart girl wasn't exactly easy. But my poppa told me, about the time I was 8, on the way home from a track meet that I had competed in (and probably many other times besides), that if people didn't like me based on how I looked, that was their problem, not mine, and most of them teased me because they felt insecure and teasing me somehow made them feel more secure. And all while I was growing up, I knew that it was fine to be exactly who I was. I had a grandmother who reiterated that one to me quite often: don’t act not as smart as you are to try to fit in; don’t worry if they don’t like you, plenty of people like you just fine. And then I stood up for others who were quiet, awkward, teased. Even if I didn’t necessarily know them or like them, I stood up for them, because everyone is worthwhile, no matter what the insecure kids on the playground said, and no one deserves to be teased if the teasing isn’t full of love. When people teased me, I just let it roll off my back, usually. I knew if I bit, they’d keep going but if I let it go, it wouldn’t be as fun for them anymore. But I would step in for others. I got angrier about other people being teased than about being teased myself because I could see how much it hurt or confused them. But how was the best way to stand up to someone who teases because he/she was insecure? Pointing fingers and giving like for like never teaches anything. It just passes the buck and makes you another bully.
Only now do I realize that I was like the Island of Misfit Toys, a magnet for the “misfits,” some of the other kids who didn’t necessarily have many friends except each other. I was friends with “weirdoes” and loudmouths and painfully shy and awkward kids. They couldn’t bloom into “normalcy” or quietude or social grace because they were teased and taunted and never given the chance. They were given a hard time by our schoolmates because, well, “kids are cruel.” But kids are cruel because they haven’t learned how to pad their blows with pillows and other soft things to not leave bruises. They use that most basic part of the brain that tells them that same is good and different is bad, making us versus them. But too many kids never learn better from their parents. They aren’t taught to see past all that stupid superficial shit to the beauty that lies beneath in people’s hearts and souls. Even worse, I think, is when kids get teased by their parents for not being “normal.” They end up carrying deep hurt, feeling unloved, and pass on that pain, trying to make themselves feel better by making others feel worse, or simply by acting like their parents, in the way they think they should. The status quo.
So, when I saw other kids teased, I was the one who helped. Once in high school, in our chemistry class, a girl who shared the table with me and another friend told me that she had made fun of me in elementary school because I was quiet and, because of that, she had thought I was stuck up. I told her I had been quiet because I didn’t have much to say and that I didn't talk to her because she teased me. When I asked her then, in high school, years after she had teased me, "Why would I want to talk to you if you teased me without trying to talk to ME first?" it was clear to me she hadn't even considered it before. If people aren’t taught acceptance, they don’t practice it. If we aren’t taught how to look beyond us/them and same/different, we’ll be forever stuck in that loop of cruelty.
As I told my friend of these things and of my fantastic parents, he got quiet. I knew he was reliving some unpleasant memories. Even now, in his 30s, he’s dealing with pain inflicted by “innocent” ignorant teasing from his first decade or so of life. He’s stuck in that loop. He’s healing, and he knows he is, but it’s still there, the scarring. True, his experiences have shaped him into who he is today, and he’s a fantastic person, but imagine how much more fantastic we all could be if we didn’t have to experience such things.
I don’t have any of those dark places in my soul left over from childhood because I had amazing parents and extended family. They made me who I am today. Their example inspires me to be as amazing and warm and welcoming to other people. I was, still am, and forever will be the one who offers shelter from the storm. I give out hugs of comfort. I act like the mother with her rolling pin in hand, chasing off the neighborhood brats while drawing her loved ones to her, hugging and shielding those I love, and those who are beaten, battered, and bruised physically, emotionally. I remind all of you that those terrible moments sucked but they helped make you who you are today. You will be the givers of hope to the next generation, and to the other battered and bruised souls in the world. I welcome you all into my heart and to my island of misfits.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A Little Slice of Heaven
The dog turned up from her patrol this afternoon covered in stick-tights and a few ticks. She suffered me brushing and cleaning her for about a half hour, then she was done with me, nipping at me any time I touched her. I got the picture--she had enjoyed the "spa treatment," even through the annoying bits of pain, but enough was enough. So, I let her go, still carrying more than her fair share of stick-tights.
Then I turned my attention to the real reason I had gone out--to weed around the strawberries. I did that for 30 or 40 minutes, through the beginning of the gentle rain. Then I lay down on the blanket I had with me and enjoyed the gentle feeling of the rain on my upturned face and bare arms and legs, listening to the gentle patter of the rain on the grass, trees, and strawberries surrounding me.
After a few minutes, I sat up, completely relaxed, and realized that the dog and I were in a role reversal from our usual routine--now I was lying in the rain, she watching me from the shelter of the garage.
I took my blanket and weeding implements inside, then took a walk in the rain, as some color had caught my eye. One of our magnolia trees, which had sprouted only one blossom very late, a week or two ago (the first in its life) had suddenly opened three more flowers. Since yesterday.
Then I ambled to the backyard and checked on the irises. Three stalks are covered in buds that look fit to burst open at any moment. Yes, they're going to be late blooming, but they, like just about everything else on our property this year, seem to have doubled in size and/or number this spring. Everything has both brown vigorously AND bloomed this year. Finally, this year, we haven't had to settle for one or the other.
It's promising to be a lovely, productive year here at S&M Acres.
Then I turned my attention to the real reason I had gone out--to weed around the strawberries. I did that for 30 or 40 minutes, through the beginning of the gentle rain. Then I lay down on the blanket I had with me and enjoyed the gentle feeling of the rain on my upturned face and bare arms and legs, listening to the gentle patter of the rain on the grass, trees, and strawberries surrounding me.
After a few minutes, I sat up, completely relaxed, and realized that the dog and I were in a role reversal from our usual routine--now I was lying in the rain, she watching me from the shelter of the garage.
I took my blanket and weeding implements inside, then took a walk in the rain, as some color had caught my eye. One of our magnolia trees, which had sprouted only one blossom very late, a week or two ago (the first in its life) had suddenly opened three more flowers. Since yesterday.
Then I ambled to the backyard and checked on the irises. Three stalks are covered in buds that look fit to burst open at any moment. Yes, they're going to be late blooming, but they, like just about everything else on our property this year, seem to have doubled in size and/or number this spring. Everything has both brown vigorously AND bloomed this year. Finally, this year, we haven't had to settle for one or the other.
It's promising to be a lovely, productive year here at S&M Acres.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Morning Thoughts after Osama bin Laden
I'm taking a slightly different approach today. Nothing about our home here in Crawfordsville today, but about humanity's larger home.
At the risk of angering a lot of people, I'd like to state that even though some people might consider OBL a bad man, still, a man has died, and that's not an occasion for celebration. He was a symptom of a larger problem, not the cause of America's or the world's ills. You can believe, if you like, that he was solely responsible for 9/11. However, everyone--including those who participated in the 9/11 attacks--is free to choose their behavior, and even their thoughts, in this world.
In that light, I encourage all of my friends to pray that the world gets better, that we all treat each other better by learning from the events of the past decade, and by not becoming as full of hatred and self-righteousness as OBL perhaps was. Don't let hatred breed more hatred. No one wins in a world full of hatred.
At the risk of angering a lot of people, I'd like to state that even though some people might consider OBL a bad man, still, a man has died, and that's not an occasion for celebration. He was a symptom of a larger problem, not the cause of America's or the world's ills. You can believe, if you like, that he was solely responsible for 9/11. However, everyone--including those who participated in the 9/11 attacks--is free to choose their behavior, and even their thoughts, in this world.
In that light, I encourage all of my friends to pray that the world gets better, that we all treat each other better by learning from the events of the past decade, and by not becoming as full of hatred and self-righteousness as OBL perhaps was. Don't let hatred breed more hatred. No one wins in a world full of hatred.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Rainy Days and Puppies Always Make Me Smile
We planted five more nut trees last night (2 pecan, 2 chestnut, 1 almond), under the close supervision of our newest addition, Princess. Princess even tried to help her daddy dig a hole last night...or show him up. We discovered last weekend that she can get very intent and dig--she was digging around a tree, apparently for a grub or rodent, both of which we have aplenty. We couldn't call her off of the darn thing, and we couldn't believe how deep the hole was, nor could could we find most of the dirt she had dug up, she had spread it out that well.
So, last night, she dug a hole right alongside the one M dug. It was really deep, though not as deep as needed for a tree, she dug it MUCH faster than M dug his hole, even with his "fancy" new toy. Unfortunately, she doesn't fill her holes back in. :)
So far, she hasn't decided that any of these trees are sticks for her to play with, like she did with one of the paw paws we planted a few weeks ago. But every time I poured gravel into a hole, she ran over to see if I was pouring kibble for her. That's about all the help she offered, other than trying to pick up a terra cotta pot I was using for a scoop, but she was a careful supervisor...probably because she had already accidentally run into the shovel that M was wielding and didn't want to go through that again!
We are pretty sure now that she's either a Golden Pyrenees (mix between golden retriever and great pyrenees) or a full Great Pyrenees)...great herding instinct, very intelligent, very sweet, loves to announce her presence at ANY noise or distant "foe," and falls "deaf" when she finds something more interesting than what we're trying to do with her...especially if that something is a possible foe in the fields!
Today, I'm trying to convince her that the garage is better than outside during a thunderstorm. She's waffling on that...she loves being outside in the rain and seems to become energized by the cooler weather, but when the thunder hits, she's not sure whether to run into or out of the garage! (I'm not sure how she handled the somewhat-close tornado the other day--we didn't realize she was here until M left for work the next morning and found her right outside the garage door.)
* Stringham high: Ah, puppies!
* Stringham low: Where did the warmth of spring go?
* Stringham super-high: We have run out of room in our prepared orchard area for trees!
So, last night, she dug a hole right alongside the one M dug. It was really deep, though not as deep as needed for a tree, she dug it MUCH faster than M dug his hole, even with his "fancy" new toy. Unfortunately, she doesn't fill her holes back in. :)
So far, she hasn't decided that any of these trees are sticks for her to play with, like she did with one of the paw paws we planted a few weeks ago. But every time I poured gravel into a hole, she ran over to see if I was pouring kibble for her. That's about all the help she offered, other than trying to pick up a terra cotta pot I was using for a scoop, but she was a careful supervisor...probably because she had already accidentally run into the shovel that M was wielding and didn't want to go through that again!
We are pretty sure now that she's either a Golden Pyrenees (mix between golden retriever and great pyrenees) or a full Great Pyrenees)...great herding instinct, very intelligent, very sweet, loves to announce her presence at ANY noise or distant "foe," and falls "deaf" when she finds something more interesting than what we're trying to do with her...especially if that something is a possible foe in the fields!
Today, I'm trying to convince her that the garage is better than outside during a thunderstorm. She's waffling on that...she loves being outside in the rain and seems to become energized by the cooler weather, but when the thunder hits, she's not sure whether to run into or out of the garage! (I'm not sure how she handled the somewhat-close tornado the other day--we didn't realize she was here until M left for work the next morning and found her right outside the garage door.)
* Stringham high: Ah, puppies!
* Stringham low: Where did the warmth of spring go?
* Stringham super-high: We have run out of room in our prepared orchard area for trees!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)